Wargasm (Payne Brothers Romance Book 3)

by Sosie Frost

  I grinned. What a perfect opportunity. “So move in with me.”

  I hadn’t expected a complete silence to befall the municipal center. Swings stopped creaking. Water fountains dried. Birds practically dropped from the sky.

  And Cassi laughed her ass off.

  “Move in?” She patted Mellie’s behind and sent her running to the sandbox. “You’ve gone insane.”

  “You could be a live-in nanny.”

  “You can’t afford a regular, full-time nanny.”

  I could do one better. “I’ll guarantee you a bed, a bathroom, and a fresh box of wine in the fridge every day.”

  “Well, damn. Marry me now.”

  Would if I could. “Limited time offer.”

  “Are gonna find some other easily manipulated early-education major to seduce?”

  “What can I say?” I hauled Tabby up, kissed her cheek, and realized then that most of her breakfast had ended up in her diaper. “I have other interested parties. These kids are usually quite cute.”

  “Usually?”

  “Yeah…” I held the baby at arm’s length. “This one has done something decidedly not cute. Did you clock in yet?”

  Cassi tapped her chin. “Yes, but I like to watch you squirm.”

  “Rather watch me change her in the grass? A couple kids turned the changing table in the men’s bathroom into a trampoline.”

  She gestured for the baby and grunted as Tabby bounced in her arms. “You win this round.”

  “Enjoy your prize.”

  Cassi whistled, calling for Mellie. “Potty break. Come on, kiddo.”

  Mellie promised me she hadn’t needed to go before leaving the house. Now she danced in the sandbox. “I don’t gotta.”

  Cassi snapped her fingers. Mellie pouted, but she wiggled cross-legged to her nanny and hobbled towards the bathrooms.

  Just in time too. I stared across the playground towards the municipal building. Part county offices, part sheriff station, part take out hotdog stand, the parking lot was almost bigger than the governmental seat of Butterpond. The space was just small enough so everyone’s dirty laundry aired in front of the town.

  And this laundry was real dirty.

  Chad Bilcon hit the bottle like he hit his women—hard and often. The slimeball was old enough to be Emma’s dad when he’d knocked her up. He left her after Mellie was born. Waited two years. Then came home to finish the job. Out popped Tabby, and off he ran.

  Just like me, the bastard wasn’t even supposed to be in town. Last I’d heard, the potbellied, balding asshole had spent time up at State, earning the tattoos staining his rotten flesh. He wasn’t good for anything, least of all child support. A man like that deserved to be hung from his ankles until every last cent he owned struck the floor.

  Wasn’t bad enough the kids didn’t have a dad.

  But to know that he was their father?

  Revolted me.

  Chad tore a yellow citation into three pieces and shoved it into a nearby garbage can. He staggered towards the parking lot. I didn’t let him get far.

  “Who the hell said you could come back here?”

  Chad turned, eyes bloodshot with whatever drug of the month he’d decided to shoot into his veins. He stared at me, unrecognizing, and spat a lug of chew onto the pavement. The bastard marched a couple steps closer before he realized he should’ve kept walking.

  “Remington?” He wiped a hand across his sweaty forehead—a pale slug of skin that now extended to the crown of his head. “I could ask you the same question. The fuck are you doing here?”

  Chasing toddlers. Avoiding the gaze of the mothers who shuffled the children to the opposite end of the playground from us. Consoling Mellie once she realized no other kids were allowed to play with her.

  “Patrolling the gutters to find slime like you,” I said.

  “Get your ass outta my business.”

  “Your business is my business nowadays.” I squared my shoulders as he encroached. “You chasing Emma again?”

  “A man has some standards.”

  Classy. “Then you here to see your kids?”

  He held his arms out. “Got no kids.”

  “I know those girls are yours. You know they’re yours. Bout time you acted like it.”

  “Only birth certificate with my name on it is my own.” Chad sucked the spittle from his lip. “Emma can’t remember who knocked her up anyway.”

  “Well I got a good memory.”

  “Last I heard…she was in a bit of trouble.”

  His fault. “Yeah. Feel bad for that?”

  “Emma made her own bed. Got more dicks than mine in it too.”

  “You mother fuc—”

  “Emma got her own problems. Ain’t mine anymore. And those…” He pointed over my shoulder as Cassi returned, Tabby in her arms, Mellie racing to the sandbox. “Those ain’t my problems. Keep the brats away from me.”

  “They aren’t brats.”

  “And they ain’t mine.” He spat once more. “So don’t come reaching for my wallet when Emma finally kicks it.”

  I reared back, fist balled. Cassi caught it, spun me, and forced Tabby against my chest.

  Not many men could fight with a squirming one-year-old in their arms. Cassi knew it.

  Cassi banished Chad with a frustrated wave. “There’s no trash on this playground. Move it before we shove you into the garbage.”

  Chad seized the opportunity and stumbled away. I should have followed—should have showed him how shit was settled in the middle of the wilderness with no police or laws preventing a man from solving matters of disrespect.

  Tabby tugged on my ear and punched her enthusiasm.

  “Ba!” She pointed over my shoulder at the kids playing with an inflatable ball. “Ba!”

  If I wasn’t careful, Cassi was about to rip my ba off. She stared at me, bewildered.

  “You are twenty-seven years old. Are you really gonna have a fist-fight on a playground?”

  I stared as Chad started his beat-up Chevy and sped away. “Someone has to take responsibility.”

  “And beating up some burnt-out junkie is the way to do it? Rem, you’re better than that.”

  “Am I?” I let Tabby down, holding her arms as she toddled across the grass. “Don’t pretend, Cas. You look at me, and you still see the same fuck-up from five years ago.”

  She frowned. “Only because you swear in front of the kids.”

  That wasn’t the reason she hadn’t welcomed me into her bed. Why she was resisting me. Why she denied the feelings we both shared.

  “I’m serious,” I said.

  She sighed. “So am I. I know things are different now. My dad’s gone. My brothers are back. The farm has turned on its head. In five years, a lot can change. We’re not the same people we once were.”

  “You are.”

  It seemed to offend her. “I am not.”

  “Didn’t say it was bad. You know I always liked you. Probably too much.”

  “Well, I am quite lovable.”

  “More than you realize.”

  She looked away. “You always were a sweet-talker.”

  “Only with sweet girls.”

  Mellie ran over, babbling and pointing with such enthusiasm she fell, face-planted in the dirt, rose, stomped her feet in a pout, then resumed her excitement. Her blue eyes widened, bright and pretty, as she practically foamed at the mouth.

  “They. Got. Balloons!”

  At three years old, Mellie’s life had never been and never would be the same again unless she could possess a poorly twisted balloon animal haphazardly strung together by a burnt-out college-aged punk in oversized shoes, a red nose, and smeared makeup. She bounced in place and tugged on our hands.

  “Balloons!” She squealed, supersonic over the playground. “Kitties!”

  As if anyone could resist.

  As if anyone had a choice.

  Pretty sure if Mellie had a sharpened stick she might have held it to my throat for a
crack at the balloon animals. A dozen or more kids had already formed a mob around the clown, climbing over each other Walking Dead style to wrench the animals from the stoner clown’s hands.

  Tabby whined for a snack, so I braved the crowds with Mellie, letting Cassi go sit with the baby on a viciously guarded table, patrolled by a rash of mothers on the lookout for a place to park it.

  And I thought the kids were malicious trying to get their grubby hands on the balloon animals. The mothers practically flung their babies at the picnic tables to reserve a spot for their families. Purses swung. Cell phones cracked. Coffee cups splattered.

  Butterpond might have been small—every family knew each other, no news went ungossiped, no family unjudged—but all was fair in war and playgrounds.

  I returned with a snail-turtle-frog for Tabby. Mellie spun in circles on the grass with a cat that looked suspiciously like a rabbit. And I poked Cassi with my personal favorite.

  She stared at the shaft and two orbs with a gasp. “What the hell is that?”

  I grinned. “Supposed to be an elephant. See the trunk?”

  “That’s vulgar.”

  “Pretty impressive, huh?”

  Cassi rocked Tabby and kept her delighted with a stash of grapes. “Oh, you wish.”

  “Like looking in a mirror, Sassy.”

  “I doubt that.”

  “You never thought to check.”

  She baited me with a quick smile. “Oh, I thought. I thought about it a lot.”

  “Did you?”

  “My brothers thought about it too.”

  I frowned. “That’s…not as flattering.”

  “They just worried about me and…” She poked the balloon. “Your elephant.”

  “Why? Nothing to worry about. I would have shown you a good time.”

  “Glad I didn’t,” she said.

  “I’m not.”

  She arched an eyebrow. “And if I had…there you were…running off to chop down trees and be all reclusive.”

  “True.” I grinned. “But you did think about it.”

  “Is that all that matters?”

  “If you’re not stroking anything else, at least give the ego a tug.”

  “And that is why I didn’t.” She tossed a grape at my head. “You were my first crush. My first kiss. I thought you’d be more. You meant a lot to me.”

  “And if I said you still meant that much to me?” I asked. “And it would have meant just as much five years ago?”

  “Good to know.”

  Tabby attempted to eat her frog. She gnawed on the balloon, made a face, and tried to spit out the bad taste. Cassi popped a teething ring into her mouth before she fussed.

  She was a natural at this. So why didn’t she have a kid of her own? Butterpond’s usual pastime was breeding. Some even raced to get started—fourteen, fifteen years old. Most popped one out as soon as they had a high school diploma.

  But Cassi was different.

  “What’d you do after I left?” I asked.

  She gave me a sidelong glance. “If you’re expecting a sob story about how I wailed, gnashed my teeth, and tried to set myself on fire aboard a Viking burial ship, you’re only partially right.”

  “Once you got off the pyre, what did you do?”

  “Went to college. Came home. Took care of my dad.”

  “Not what I mean.” I gave her a shrug. “Who…did you see?”

  “Everyone I looked at.”

  “Very funny.”

  “Well, you gotta be joking too,” she said. “I’m not answering that.”

  “Why not?” I pretended the jealousy wasn’t searing my heart to ash. “You’re a beautiful girl. Someone must have snatched you up in college.”

  “I studied in college like a proper student, not like any of the girls who you ever chased.”

  “Only ever chased you, Sassy.”

  “Yeah, the others threw themselves at you.”

  “And I stopped catching when I realized I had a shot with you.” Easiest decision I’d ever made. “So come on. You can tell me.”

  “Nope.”

  “Why not?”

  She bit her lip. “Because it’s none of your business.”

  “Oh.” I got it now. “You’re embarrassed.”

  “Am not.”

  The edge slipped into my voice. “You hooked up with one of the Barlow boys, didn’t you? The only guy who’d be worse for you than me.”

  “I did not hook up with a Barlow boy.” She poked my chest. “And I’d always thought you’d be good for me. For my first time.”

  That I liked to hear. “Yeah?”

  “I’ve always wanted you to be my first.”

  “I’m flattered.”

  “You should be.”

  She paused. Stared at me. Eyebrows rising.

  Holy shit.

  My heart dropped to my balls. Everything hardened, and it didn’t help the situation.

  “Don’t tell me that you waited for me, Cas.”

  “You broke my heart.”

  “Jesus Christ. You didn’t…” I edged my words around the baby. “You mean you haven’t…”

  “I’d like to say that you frightened me off of men.” She didn’t look ashamed. Instead, she seemed rather at peace with such a revelation. “But I think it was the opposite. No one compared to you.”

  My heart would have stopped if the blood weren’t all draining to my cock. I rubbed my face, exhaling a dozen silent profanities so I didn’t corrupt both girls sitting before me.

  “Shit, Cas.”

  I needed to stop imagining her. Pure. Innocent. Untouched. Begging for me. In my bed, in my arms, in my life.

  What the hell was I doing? This wasn’t right.

  I wasn’t a good man, but indulging that?

  Then I would be a monster.

  “You know what I want,” I said. “But I am not good enough for you.”

  “I didn’t say hop on.” Cassi laughed. “You asked. I answered.”

  “But there’s so much you don’t know. So much that happened. It’s a good thing we never…”

  “Why?” Her voice never wavered, but she stared at me as if trying to understand a day, a life, a decision I couldn’t explain. “Why not? What are you hiding that’s so bad?”

  “You heard the story.”

  “Not from you,” she said. “I never heard it from you. Only Tidus. Why don’t you tell me what happened?”

  A dangerous question that I sure as hell wasn’t answering. I swung my legs from under the table and watched Mellie destroy a bush leaf by plucked leaf.

  “You already know everything,” I said. “I was smoking in the barn. Wasn’t paying attention. The cigarette must have caught on the hay—everything was so dry that year. It went up. I tried to put the fire out. Couldn’t. Tidus ran in and got me out of the barn before I died. He saved me.” I didn’t look at her, though I kept my voice firm. “I was careless.”

  “And that’s all that happened? That’s why you ran?”

  “Isn’t that reason enough? I was no good back then. Pissing around. Drinking. Drugs. What else was there for a fuckup like me to do? I got into trouble, I got Tidus into trouble, and I was good at it. You didn’t need me chasing you.”

  “I don’t think that’s true.”

  It was. “Your family lost so much in that fire. It wasn’t right to stay. I had to get away. Better myself. Try to be…something. If not a good man than just…someone sober who could control himself.”

  “Did it work?” she asked.

  “I don’t live in the woods because I’m ashamed of myself,” I said. “I stay away from town and people and civilization because that’s the only way I trust myself. When I was logging, I had to stay clean. Out there, I had to be smart so I wouldn’t freeze, starve, or get hurt. So I did it. And I recovered. And I’ve stayed clean.” I looked away. “Never wanted to come back to Butterpond, especially after the last time.”

  “When was that?”

 
; Not a time I wanted her to remember. “I came for your mom’s funeral.”

  The pause of grief. It only lasted a breath. “I didn’t know you were there.”

  “I didn’t want you to know.” I hated every minute of this confession. “I came home for a couple weeks and immediately fucked it up again. Got into trouble. Got into drugs. And I knew that wasn’t what I wanted for myself. That’s when I realized I couldn’t be a part of this.” I waved a hand over the wholesome park. “I had to stay away. By myself. Isolated. And it worked. I’ve been clean for four years.”

  “That’s good.”

  “I got some money. Had a good job until…” I nodded to the kids. “But I have enough to get by. I finally found a place in the world, even if it’s outside of it.”

  “And you like it?”

  I’d spent the better part of an hour last night begging the project manager to keep my position open. “Yeah. I’m good at it. Responsible. If only you had met me now. We might’ve had a chance.”

  Cassi snorted. “Are you kidding? If I didn’t know who you were, I would have assumed that you were a crazy hermit living off in the mountains. Someone who’d kidnap me and whisk me away to do terrible things in that cabin.”

  “I still might. You never know.”

  Cassi shuffled closer. “I guess I’ll have to take my chances.”

  “With the kidnapping…” I brushed her hand. “Or with me?”

  She didn’t look at me, but she smiled. A beautiful, hopeful smile.

  “Like I said, Remington Marshall…” Her words were a velvet promise. “No one compares to you.”

  11

  Remington

  The promise of a free bathroom with complimentary bubble bath was the key to a woman’s heart.

  Better than chocolate, wine, or sex.

  Well, maybe not sex.

  All it took for Cassi to pack her bags and move her gorgeous ass into my cabin was a fight between Tidus and Quint. One busted showerhead and five hundred dollars’ worth of water damage to the downstairs bathroom, and she was mine. I had a tub, some bubble bath, and a pledge to give her all the time she wanted to soak without interruptions.

  Once the kids went to bed and Cassi’s bags rested in the corner of my bedroom, I banished myself to the couch like a gentleman. But the thought of her naked, sudsy, and hot in the tub? Not my most wholesome of fantasies.