Sixty Nine (Payne Brothers Romance Book 4)

by Sosie Frost

I rubbed my cheek. “What?”

  “Do you think I’m that goddamned helpless? That I can’t handle myself?”

  “I—”

  “You know nothing about me except for the color of my lingerie.”

  “Glory—”

  “You want to walk a mile in my shoes? By all means—let me get the four-inch heels and we’ll go for a dance on a beer-soaked stage while strangers shove dollar bills down your thong, hoping to score a grope.” She crossed her arms. It did nothing but plump her already ample curves. “I’ve dealt with my share of pain before. Start with druggy parents, a foreclosed home, living out of a car. Dancing for money. Meeting the wrong men. Escaping even worse men. Getting pregnant. Raising a child on my own.”

  “I didn’t mean—”

  “Oh, shut up, V.” Glory groaned. “Shut up and listen to me. Look at me. I am not some rosy-cheeked angel sent from Heaven. I’m a stripper. I’m a single mother on her own trying to keep her head above water. I’m a woman who fell for a goddamned minister and is now pretending to sew with one busted arm so that a congregation who loves their preacher doesn’t assume I’m the devil-incarnate here to seduce and destroy the soul of a man who needs help he’ll never ask for!”

  Christ. “I’m not fighting with you.”

  “Like hell you aren’t.” She poked my chest. “You aren’t protecting me. You’re trying to protect yourself. Stop being so damned sanctimonious and see the world for what it really is. It’s always been dark and terrible, but that’s why there’s men like you to help us find the good. And sometimes, even those good men need to ask for help.”

  And she still didn’t understand. Didn’t see.

  “Glory, you’ve already helped me. You are my salvation.”

  “I’m only saving you from the shit you’ve inflicted on yourself.”

  The woman was infuriating. Frustrating and dangerous. A blessing masquerading as a curse. What had I done, trapping her in a hell of my own creation?

  “You can trust me, V.” Glory stepped too close, challenging me, threatening me, comforting me. “I’ve been through more than you can imagine—and I know how to defend myself because of it. Don’t assume that I’m some helpless, weak little girl.”

  The sweet vanilla of her perfume dizzied me. The plump perfection of her lips was a sinful tease. I didn’t deserve the warmth of her hand, but I took it anyway.

  Just like I stole her kiss.

  I didn’t ask, and it wasn’t gentle. It was a ravenous, consuming kiss, hardened with a dark intent. I tasted her. Savored her. Every inch of me hardened in a conquering pleasure.

  Her fingernails sunk into my arms, but she didn’t push me away. Her murmured groan reverberated in my chest, and a sizzling bolt of heat shot through my body, spine, and into the desperate monster trapped in my jeans.

  Glory’s breath turned frantic, torn between curse and gasp of pleasure. She beat me. Held me closer. Moaned my name.

  Then chapel doors opened.

  She pushed from me, frazzled and panting. She grabbed Lulu as the first of the parishioners filed out, but the toddler giggled and nearly gave us away.

  “Kiss!” Lulu pointed at her mother. “Kiss!”

  Glory swallowed hard, tearing her eyes from me so she could swoop over Lulu and reward the laughing toddler with a dozen kisses to her cheeks. The first members of the congregation filed out of the chapel, older ladies who rested on their canes and walkers with a soft aww as they watched Glory play with her baby.

  “Have you ever seen anything so precious, Pastor?” One of the women winked at me, pinching my arm as she passed. “Good to see you up on that pulpit…even for a few moments.”

  My heart thudded.

  Damn it.

  I’d made another mistake. Threatened others with my own sin.

  Glory’s kiss warmed my lips, but the warmth bound against the wretched sorrow tearing at my soul. Binding it. Bandaging it.

  Inviting her inside of me.

  And, just for a moment, I wondered how it would feel to keep her there. What would happen if I let her complicate my life, heal those wounds, and share that darkness.

  Both Glory and Lulu laughed, teased with kisses, tickles, and upside-down bubbles blown on the child’s tummy.

  For a moment, I forgot the misery.

  For a moment, I imagined a life full of smiles and laughter.

  For a moment, I imagined feeling happy.

  Glory had no idea the blessings she offered. Even an imagined moment in her arms was greater than every second, day, week, month, year since the storm.

  And for that, I wasn’t strong enough to resist the promise of her.

  And because of it, I would be the one who would ultimately damn her.

  10

  Glory

  The town of Butterpond was fucking insane, but I was the idiot who refused to leave.

  Varius’s knock at the door was right on schedule. Too bad. It wasn’t going to change a thing about the production, no matter how many casseroles or ministers the church sent.

  I’d made my decision. I let the cast and crew know.

  And then I bolted to the safety of the parish house and hunkered down for the inevitable fallout.

  Hell hath no fury like a Christmas Pageant tradition scorned.

  Lulu beat me to the door, squealing with glee as she escaped the confines of her bed. She stomped her feet in the onesie and cried out a greeting like the perfect lady and hostess that she was.

  “Lulu jammies!” My baby danced in the doorway, proudly displaying the Minnie Mouse pajamas. But her excitement quickly faded, replaced by a practiced pout. She wagged a scolding finger at Varius. “No sleep, Bastard V?”

  Varius actually smiled. All it took was one missing baby napping in a church to soften him, ease the panic, and cast aside the pain. No longer did he approach Lulu with that dreaded fear. Instead he seemed…

  Amazed.

  And sure, Lulu could charm anyone when she smelled like bubblegum bath soap, danced in her pajamas, and snuck some fruit snacks from the kitchen when I turned my back. Trick was chasing the diva down her warpath at seven in the morning with a toothbrush in one hand, a clean dress in the other, and pleading promises to find her lost blankie even though I knew it’d been shredded in the wash.

  “What are you still doing up?” Varius poked her tummy. “Did I interrupt bedtime?”

  “Oh yes,” I said.

  “Oh, no!” Lulu hadn’t learned how to just shake her head. Her whole body rotated as she declared her intentions. “No bed!”

  “Yes, bed.” I took her hand. “Time to sleep, Lulu Hawkins.”

  Lulu whimpered, her lower lip edging into a pout. She played the odds and snuck closer to Varius, wrapping her arm around his leg. He stilled, but didn’t panic. Instead, he gently brushed his fingers through her hair.

  Enough to melt a woman’s heart.

  “She’s stubborn like her momma,” he said.

  I sighed. “A momma who really would like to get some sleep tonight. You know, before the town burns down the parish house in vengeance.” I pointed at him. “And don’t tell me those little old ladies wouldn’t do it. They’re all armed and dangerous.”

  “With canes.”

  “And they know how to use ‘em.”

  I reached for Lulu, but Varius took the initiative. My heart thudded harder as he effortlessly swung her into his arms. Lulu kicked her feet in delight and wrapped her little arms around him.

  “Momma! Up!” She clapped. “Up!”

  “Wow.” I swallowed as the words lodged in my throat. “Look how high up you are.”

  Much higher than I could lift her, and so safe and secure in Varius’s strong arms. One of the few times Lulu had been held by a man. A rare opportunity for me to enjoy watching a handsome, muscular man scoop my baby into his embrace.

  She looked upon Varius like he was her hero, defender of late nights and lax bedtimes. He shared her astonishment, holding her like the precious, litt
le angel she was.

  “If you wind her up…” I tickled Lulu as she hid her face in his shoulder. “Then you’re responsible for winding her down.”

  “Not a problem.” He nodded toward the hall. “Her bedroom?”

  “Door on the left. Good luck.”

  Varius carried her into the guest bedroom turned nursery, decorated with the few stuffed animals and books I’d managed to swipe from the apartment before all Hell broke loose and we’d had to run. Lulu didn’t seem to mind. She introduced Varius to her family of misfit toys. The bunny without the stuffed carrot. The teddy bear missing his coat. The baby doll without the bottle.

  Lulu didn’t realize what was missing.

  I did. But it was one of life’s few blessings that she wouldn’t remember the night we had to leave it all behind.

  My baby bee-lined for the bed, leaping onto the mattress and turning to jump at Varius. He caught her, gave her a tickle, then gently tossed her into the pillows.

  “Yeah. That’ll put her right to sleep,” I said.

  Varius caught Lulu as she bounded across the mattress and nearly elbowed him in a very sensitive spot. “Just wearing her out.”

  “You better behave.”

  He brushed me away. “Oh, she’s fine.”

  “I was talking to you, Pastor V.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  I arched an eyebrow. “You know better than to stop by here this late at night. What will the congregation say when they learn their minister is visiting a single woman in the parish house, alone and unchaperoned?”

  “Let them talk.”

  I grabbed Agnes the bunny from the stack of toys, persuaded Lulu to lie down, and sat on the edge of the bed if only to ensure her little tush stayed in it too.

  I glanced at Varius, brushing away the locks of hair which had fallen from my ponytail. He said nothing, simply admiring the sweat pants and tank-top. Far different from my usual evening apparel.

  A hell of a lot more comfortable too.

  Lulu made grabby hands for her favorite Minnie Mouse book and cracked it open, upside down, so she could jabber out loud and pretend to read to Varius. He listened intently, leaning against the door frame.

  “So, I’m going to assume this isn’t a booty call,” I said.

  He nodded. “I do try to be a gentleman.”

  “A gentleman would ravish me.”

  “I’ve already done that.”

  “And if you do it again, you’ll ruin your reputation.”

  “Already did that too.” He shrugged. “Besides, Butterpond could use some new gossip.”

  “So much for your ministry.”

  “After a night with you, Glory, I wouldn’t care what anyone said.”

  It might have been sweet if I hadn’t known his true motives. “You’re here about the damned pageant, aren’t you?”

  Lulu offered him her bunny. He played along, giving Agnes a scratch behind the ears. His voice softened as Lulu yawned, snuggling deeper into the pillow.

  “You’ve gotta understand…” He struggled with his words, doing his best to showcase the town in its best, most frustrating, light. “Butterpond has some very longstanding traditions.”

  How many times had I heard that today? “Yeah, yeah. They have it every year. It’s a town staple. Christmas isn’t the same without it. Don’t make baby Jesus cry.”

  “There’ll be hell to pay if you cut it from the pageant.”

  “You aren’t serious.”

  “Butterpond loves it.”

  “Butterpond doesn’t know what love is—they’ve been culturally abused for too long to understand real entertainment.”

  “How can you not like The Twelve Days Of Christmas?”

  Lulu’s eyes had closed, but she practically murmured in her sleep. “Chrissmus!”

  I shushed him with a finger over my lips, kissing Lulu’s forehead before adjusting the pillows so the little blanket-monster wouldn’t roll right off the edge. I’d left her crib in Ironfield, but she’d adjusted to the big-girl bed quick enough.

  She didn’t have a choice.

  I hated myself for it, but at least this would be the last time I ever made her grow up any faster than she already had to.

  Varius followed me to the living room, still in disbelief.

  “They tried to get through the song for fifteen minutes, V.” I flopped onto the couch, kicking aside costumes waiting to be sewn, scripts to rewrite, and a plate of spaghetti that had gone cold. “The Alzheimer Society of Butterpond presents the Butterpond Community Church Christmas Pageant Handbell Choir featuring The Twelve Days Of Christmas. You really want it to open the pageant?”

  Varius hesitantly shrugged. “If they don’t open the pageant, they usually forget why they’re there…”

  I groaned, covering my face with a pillow in case it turned into another frustrated scream.

  “Handbells are the most annoying sound in the world—and this is coming from a mother with a daughter in her terrible twos.”

  “It’s not that bad.”

  “They tried to perform the song at rehearsal today and half of the choir forgot which day they were on! We only got to Eight Seniors Sundowning before I had to step in!”

  “It’s just a song.”

  “Just a song?” I stormed to the dining room table, brushing aside the crayons Lulu had used to decorate everything besides her blank sheets of paper. I’d storyboarded the pageant acts, but my kid’s doodles made more sense than the production’s arrangement. “I’ve got a male ballerina playing the Sugar Plum Fairy, a seventy-five-year-old Virgin Mary, a Border Collie playing both a wise man and a sheep. There’s no camel for the Nativity scene, a bat colony has taken up residence in the sound room, and I’m putting out literal fires right and left, including from the pyrotechnic show we purchased from the trunk of a man everyone around here calls Three-Fingered McGee.” I sighed. “And have you looked at the budget?”

  “I’ve never been a numbers guy…” He glanced upwards. “Usually the Lord provides.”

  “Well, you better get him on the phone and let him know we’re two grand short for the lights. It won’t matter who we put on the stage if no one can see them.”

  “We can ask for donations.”

  “We need the donations for makeup and last-minute costumes.” I hesitated. Why did a minister have to stand in my living room? “I know the guy who works lights at Starbutts in Ironfield—the coffee house gentleman’s club? He said if I dance there, bring in some new business, he’ll do the pageant lights for half-price.”

  “You can’t cut the handbell choir and then light the stage neon pink and purple.”

  “Well, I didn’t say yes.” Yet. But it was a quick way to score some extra cash, both for the pageant and for me. “But we have to do something. If we plan to make any money, I need something better than a handbell choir.”

  “You’ll upset the town if you cut it.”

  “Upset them?” I grabbed the scrap of plastic from the table, tossing the severed wires and little mechanical button to Varius. “I found that on my doorstep this afternoon.”

  “The…doorbell?”

  “I’m being threatened by the Ghosts of Christmas Vandalism,” I said. “Someone stuffed my purse full of licked candy canes. Another person looped a belt of jingle bells around my muffler. And I don’t want to imagine what they did to Frosty, but a mitten full of chopped carrots was stapled to the wall in my office. Who knew they’d take this song so personally?”

  Right on cue, my phone rang. My eye twitched as the ringtone blared Feliz Navidad for the millionth time that day.

  “You promised me you’d help me with this production in any way I needed.” I pointed at him. “You’re taking this call, and you’re going to tell them where to hang their stockings, you get me? No amount of whining, bribery, or holly jolly intimidation will change my mind about that stupid handbell choir!”

  Varius caught my phone with a wink. “Traditionally, a
minister is just the messenger.”

  “Isn’t that convenient?” I collapsed on the couch. “And tell the practical joker who keeps caramelizing my pencils in peanut brittle to knock it off.”

  I expected the call to be from one of the church ladies, bargaining a casserole for the song.

  Instead, a profanity riddled threat blasted from the speakerphone.

  My stomach heaved.

  His was a voice I’d never wanted to hear again.

  Andre had an uncanny ability to spit my name with the same force as a fist to the face. “Glory! Where the fuck are you? What the fuck are you doing—ducking my calls? You think you can just ignore me?”

  I dove for Varius, knocking the phone from his hand. But my fingers trembled as I struggled to end the call.

  “You better run, you fucking bitch. I ever find you or that kid again, so help me God, you gonna wish you was still hiding—”

  Damn it.

  I nearly crushed the phone in my hand, slamming it onto the ground as I blocked the number with a frustrated gasp.

  That son of a bitch.

  He dared to call me? To find me?

  To threaten my daughter?

  I’d bested him once, escaped that hellish life, and made it to safety. I’d do it again. As many times as it took to get rid of that sleeze. And if he thought he could intimidate me?

  He was an idiot.

  An unfortunately big, strong, violent idiot.

  I slowly stood, uttering my first prayer since the day I’d raced from the apartment with my baby in one arm and as much as I could carry with a broken wrist.

  How much had Varius heard?

  I met his gaze.

  It was the first time I saw Varius Payne angry. For as often as Andre swore, yelled, and threatened, he had nothing on the wrath of a good man provoked to anger.

  Varius’s jaw set, tight and twitching. His eyes, so often hollow and distant, snapped to a sharp, dire attention. Within moments, the gentle man hardened, his chest far broader, shoulders much stronger than I’d remembered.

  He had no need to raise his voice. When Varius spoke, the smart listened, and the dumb learned quick what a foolish mistake it’d be to underestimate the man.