The Barrett Brothers Collection

by K B Cinder

  That left the woman I hated most next to me doing her damnedest to lean as far away as possible. Naturally, I had fun with it, spreading my arms wide with each turn of the wheel, making sure our arms brushed just to hear her quick inhale of breath.

  The ride to Pete’s was saturated with Lynette’s constant babbling, delivering doses of self-praise that would make Narcissus groan, while Josie stayed quiet.

  We reached the wrought-iron gates of Casa de Creep in less than ten minutes, the French Provincial estate an ostentatious addition to the surrounding hills. Who had a house with turrets and Juliet balconies in fucking Maine?

  “Isn’t it fabulous?” Lynette asked, whirling to face Josie, who jumped in surprise, bumping my arm.

  She flinched before turning back to Lynette. “It’s nice.”

  “Just nice? This is a ten-million-dollar estate, Josie!”

  We rolled down the driveway; the property illuminated with lanterns while dozens of luxury cars lined the road, all the fancy folk foaming at the mouth to hang with Pervy Pete.

  I parked in front of the monstrosity of a home, and Lynette hopped out, tits practically toppling out as she did, the pair of lady pillows easily passing for jousting honeydews.

  Two women holding trays of champagne greeted her, likely freezing in their one-piece swimsuits. At a second glance, I realized they were wearing nothing but red body paint, nipples jutting out.

  Josie spied them a second later, her breath hitching. Unlike Lynette, she stayed put.

  Pete sauntered down the front steps in an open dress shirt and slacks, his blond hair crafted into its usual knockoff Elvis coif.

  “Lynette! I thought you’d never get here, babydoll!” he cooed, pulling her in for a hug and running his hands down her body before pinching her ass.

  Any other woman would have kneed him in the balls, but not Lynette. She squealed with delight instead.

  Josie didn’t budge, her attention averted to her hands, nervously fidgeting with her fingers.

  Pete’s eyes fell on her as he released Lynette, a slow smile creeping to his lips. “And who is this stunner? You didn’t tell me you were bringing a guest! Another blonde, too!”

  Lynette didn’t hide her sneer, always thirsty for every drop of the spotlight. “That’s Josie Roberts. Remember her?”

  “No way! You look amazing, baby!” He rushed over to help Josie out of the truck.

  She didn’t take the offer or even scoot his way. Her shoulders were rigid, and she looked petrified.

  Pete either didn’t notice or didn’t care, coming to a stop at the open door and reaching in, fingers hovering inches from her arm.

  “Thanks.” I leaned forward to smile his way. “She’s feeling sick, so I’m driving her home. You two have fun.”

  I didn’t want to drive her anywhere, but I couldn’t leave her with him. It was one thing to leave a willing participant; it was another to leave someone who was clearly terrified.

  Lynette’s lined eyes bugged out of her head, but Josie stayed still, knuckles white as she clutched her exposed knees. At least one of them had common sense and wouldn’t risk a burn to bask in the glow of money.

  Pete frowned, stretching his arms wide, revealing both nipples. Nipples as beady as his creepy eyes. “No hug?”

  “I’d back up if I were you,” I warned. “Stomach thing. Probably going to puke the whole way home. Puke or poop. Who knows?”

  He heeded the warning, putting precious space between him and the truck. “We’ll catch up another time. I owe you dinner and drinks, beautiful.”

  Lynette tapped her foot on the driveway, her hair tossed over her shoulder in a wave of extensions. “Pete, let’s party, baby.”

  He extended an arm to shut the door, his beady nipples making another unwelcome appearance. As he did, he winked Josie’s way.

  Once he stepped far enough back, I pulled a quick U-turn, sending Josie sprawling into the passenger seat.

  “Sorry,” I muttered.

  Interesting how I was the first to apologize.

  Twice.

  Not that I was keeping track.

  “You should wear a seatbelt.” The one for the middle seat was against my thigh, abandoned by her thanks to its location.

  She ignored me, pulling herself upright and sliding over, practically hugging the door.

  “I wanted to get out of there. You looked like you did, too.”

  I didn’t know why I helped the witch, but even the worst people needed saving sometimes.

  “Thank you.” It came out so low I’d barely heard her.

  “I wouldn’t leave anyone at Pervy Pete’s against their will. Even you.”

  She cringed but didn’t bite back. The old Josie would have had my balls nailed to the dash. Odd.

  “Where are you staying?” I asked, stopping at the end of the driveway. “I’ll drop you off.”

  Drop you off, and call up anyone game for a rage fuck.

  She unclipped her seatbelt and reached for the door handle. “It’s okay. I’ll call Olivia to pick me up.”

  “No, I’ll drive you home.” I touched her arm, a gesture I’d done a thousand times — only this time she screamed.

  I flew back against my door. “Jesus Christ!”

  I ran a hand through my hair, trying to reason with the frightened animal across the truck. The wolverine I’d known was replaced with a rabbit.

  “I can’t leave you out here in good conscience. I’ll drop you off, and I’ll never see you again if I’m lucky.” I gestured at the surrounding forest just outside a predator’s house that would put any bear to shame.

  She stayed flush against the door, handbag clutched to her chest. “Anderson Inlet Lane.”

  Seriously?

  She was staying on my goddamn street?

  “House number?” I asked, clenching my jaw.

  She smoothed her dress, hiding a bit of exposed thigh before snapping her hands back to her chest. “Eleven.”

  No.

  Fucking.

  Way.

  She was the woman I saw at Mrs. Sutton’s with the suitcase and the kid.

  Who the hell was the kid?

  What the hell were they doing there?

  I kept quiet and made the turn toward the cove, leaving Casa de Creep in the hills. We drove in silence, the tension so thick you’d have to chop it with a goddamn ax.

  I sped up, flicking on the high beams as we headed into the thick forest, wanting to get the ride over with. The vengeful side of me wished I would have left her there, but I knew I could never have gone through with it.

  We rounded the final stretch before the turn onto Anderson Inlet Lane when I saw a flash to my left. I slammed on the brakes, causing a scream that rivaled the one unleashed earlier. Her body folded like a futon as my arm and her seatbelt kept her from whacking into the dashboard.

  A female moose bounded across the road followed by a new calf, the wobbly-legged baby only a few days old at most. The doe would have likely killed us if I’d hit her, a lifted truck still nothing compared to the nearly thousand-pound mammal.

  Nervous tremors ran through me, the two of us breathing heavy and staring straight ahead without saying a word.

  Rookie mistake.

  I should’ve known better. May and June brought moose down into the valley to birth, seeking the easier terrain and berry patches.

  In the meantime, the deer duo wandered into the woods without a care in the world, oblivious that one of them was seconds away from becoming venison tartare.

  “Are you okay?” I asked, pulling my arm back and glancing her way.

  She nodded, sitting up, her locks mussed by the sudden stop. She smoothed the strands with a free hand, the limb trembling.

  “Welcome to Maine,” I muttered, continuing along the last few hundred yards slowly before turning onto our street.

  The drive to the cottage stayed quiet despite the hundreds of questions buzzing through my mind, more ticking by with each second.


  I didn’t say a word, refusing to invite toxicity into my life again. There was a reason the past was behind us, and I didn’t care what she had to say. What was done was done.

  Just a few words could send her world crashing down, but I kept them to myself. She might’ve ruined me once, but I wouldn’t play tit for tat.

  I pulled into the driveway of the cottage I’d once visited almost daily, now a mystery as I parked next to a small SUV that sat where Mrs. Sutton’s green Pinto previously had.

  “Thank you.” With that, she fled, practically sprinting to the porch.

  I waited until she was inside to pull away, hating every second I sat there. But as I drove away, I hated the searing pain in my chest more.

  Josie

  Bridesmaid dress shopping sucked.

  Throw in a rambunctious kid tired of errands and a sleepless night, and it was downright painful.

  Luckily the store was in Briar, and it happened to be next to a coffee shop. We revived our plummeting patience levels with macchiatos before trudging in to start the arduous journey, having already survived car shopping with Linc.

  My new-to-me SUV was our day’s chariot after we returned the rental, and so far, it was the only high point of the day.

  As the only out-of-town member of the bridal party, I was the last to pick out a dress. Thankfully, I was permitted to wear whatever I wanted as long as it was Liv’s chosen shade of pink, a hue that made me look more like a Pepto bottle than a person. For my baby sister, I’d wear whatever she wanted, even baby diarrhea yellow, which seemed more appealing than the pink catastrophe staring back in the mirror.

  I forced a smile, turning side to side in the eighth and final option they offered. On the hanger, it was nothing special, but once I had it on, I felt better, free of the puffy tulle the other dresses favored. The simple cut of the strapless frock skimmed my curves, masterfully hiding the mommy zone, earning bonus points despite the horrendous eraser-top shade.

  Liv pouted as she tapped her acrylics against her phone case, knowing my fake smile when she saw it. “What’s wrong? You look hot!”

  Like hot garbage.

  I swallowed the thought, trying to stay positive. It was just a color, and it didn’t look that bad. Besides, it was the last option. It was either meh or cupcake queen.

  Linc’s eyes met mine in the mirror, freezing despite his ever-growing restlessness. He no longer wiggled around in the plastic folding chair, tablet held out to the side rather than glued in front of his face. “You look like a princess, Mommy.”

  Sold.

  “Alright, this is it.”

  * * *

  On the way home, I spotted a familiar black truck parked where trouble once lived and confirmed my worst fears. I couldn’t shake the feeling all night that Luke was the man I saw when we arrived, and the truck in the driveway was all the proof I needed.

  Great.

  I had three months left on my quarterly lease.

  Three months I’d be stuck across the way from him.

  Three months spent a few hundred yards from a criminal.

  A liar.

  A coward.

  I tried not to look at the house, but banging in the distance caught Linc’s attention, stopping him in his tracks. I glanced over to see a shirtless Luke on the dock with a hammer in hand, lining up a new board, his muscled back glistening with sweat.

  Linc looked at me in concern. “What’s he doing, Mommy?”

  “He’s fixing the dock, hun.” I continued on inside, keeping my eyes where they belonged, not on the sculpted body in the distance. The one that kept me up all night, twisted in more ways than I cared to admit.

  While Linc made a beeline to charge his tablet, I worked on dinner. A trip to the grocery store was on the horizon, but I was fighting it off until the next check arrived.

  Survivor benefits weren’t much, but they kept food on the table. As a single mom, I wasn’t rolling in dough, and while business was picking up steam, my savings took a hit from moving costs and the three-month deposit Dan required upfront.

  We sat down to a less than gourmet dinner of microwave meals, home-cooked anything impossible until the moving container arrived with pots and pans.

  “Does that man have a boat?” Linc asked, studying the noodle on his fork, a limp zucchini clinging to it.

  “Maybe,” I replied, irritated that Luke was coming up again. He was turning into a cockroach, dammit. “Stop playing with your food.”

  He sucked down the noodle, the sauce-coated starch making a vile slurp. “Can I ride on it?”

  I eyed him over, the sudden interest surprising since he’d wanted nothing to do with the beach in California. “He’s probably busy,” I muttered, pushing a noodle around my plate, just as guilty of playing with my food. “I’ll take you on a boat if you want. We can go whale watching.”

  It wasn’t too expensive, and the cottage was depressing. The smell of mothballs and just plain old lingered. Heading out would do us good.

  His eyes grew wide. “Whale watching?”

  “Yup. You ride out into the ocean on a boat and watch them swim.” I hadn’t been in years, but I doubted it changed much. Whales were whales. Boats were boats. If anything, people stared at their phones the whole time rather than the water.

  “Can we take Aunt Liv?” he asked, practically leaping out of his seat, the signature Linc liveliness barreling over any self-control. “Aunt Liv LOVES whales!”

  “She does?” I laughed, spearing a noodle. “I didn’t know that.”

  Like Linc, she hated the beach, but for vanity’s sake. As a hairdresser, she was sensitive about her locks, and salt air wasn’t kind to keratin.

  It drove her nuts when I laid out in Cali, shunning the ridiculous beauty routines she’d recommend. I was a mom. I didn’t have the time or money for three-hundred-dollar hair treatments. One day she’d understand.

  “Yeah, she told me.” He shimmied side to side, happy to have the inside scoop.

  “We should ask her to come with us then,” I suggested, knowing she’d be thrilled.

  Luke

  Sundays were for rest, and most of Briar still observed the old rule, with the little shops downtown shuttered unless it was tourist season.

  But there I was, installing the last of the brewing equipment instead of relaxing, a tight schedule sucking up every minute I had. With things up and running, the first batches could begin, right on schedule for our opening.

  My head brewer, Tucker, would start in the morning. The Kentucky-transplant blew the competition out of the water even in the city.

  Most owners liked to come up with all of their own mixes, but I was realistic with my skills. While great at drinking beer, I hadn’t perfected making it on my own yet.

  Upstairs, things were nearing completion; the furniture arriving slowly but surely. I spent most of the morning putting bar stools together, kicking Marsh out after he griped about Alanna for hours rather than helping. I could deal with a lot, but I wouldn’t listen to the same story I’d heard a thousand times while working myself to death.

  He was my best friend, but enough was enough. No pussy was worth an ashtray to the face, and the stitches on his brow boiled my blood. Yet he defended her, and I couldn’t take it anymore. If reasoning didn’t work, maybe tough love would.

  Once alone in the big empty building, my mind whirled, nothing slowing the wind tunnel of thoughts. Spending all Saturday resurfacing the dock hadn’t helped, the heavy hammering barely stifled the rage. With each swing, the anger grew, and a plunge into the frigid water afterward barely cooled it.

  Having Josie a walk away drove me wild, and not because of her. I hated myself, pissed that I blocked out the pent-up rage of the past to notice how beautiful she was. How she was everything I remembered and more.

  I wanted to hate her.

  I needed to.

  But I couldn’t.

  That was the danger of Josie Roberts. She was the worst of the worst, a savage that c
limbed into your heart to tear it apart from the inside out, looking angelic while covered in your blood, licking it off her fingers as she worked.

  In a few weeks, she’d be dancing above, laughing the night away in the place I built, the place I busted my balls to make. She would do it all surrounded by people she loved.

  Because everyone loved Josie Roberts.

  I loved Josie Roberts.

  And it was fucking disgusting.

  She destroyed me, yet she still held me in the palm of her hand in knots for her, worried about what happened when she was out of reach.

  The elevator dinged, making me jump, cracking my dome on the basin of the kettle, a loud bong humming across the room.

  “Hey, Luke!” Abby greeted, her cheery voice skittering as my head seemed to vibrate.

  “Here on a Sunday?” I tightened a bolt, grateful she hadn’t seen me clock myself. I wouldn’t live it down if she had.

  Like Tucker, she was from out of town, a Portland girl with years of experience running venues in the city. Barrett would be a new animal to tame, a three-level hangout with an event space, restaurant, and tasting room. I knew she could handle it, her Type-A personality as helpful as it was annoying.

  “Mama’s got work to do!” she laughed, rubbing her bump as she waddled towards the gift shop, her long braid swishing side to side.

  I shook my head, wishing she’d take a day off before the craziness started. “Bagging and tagging?”

  “Yes!” she shouted, disappearing into the small room, the bare drywall around its doorway a reminder that my little brother had a few last-minute projects left.

  He’d already completed a colossal mural in the dining hall. It would have cost me thousands, but Ethan wouldn’t take a dime, designing everything from packaging to logos for free. His work was amazing, and for the millionth time, I told him he needed to pursue art professionally. He was too talented to waste time doodling between trade calls or whatever the hell he did all day.

  I set down the wrench and wandered to the gift shop, spying Abby leaning over her laptop, glasses low on her nose as she read. “Tucker starts the first batches in the morning.”