Right?
To make sure neither one of us falls into temptation, I drag Sophia to the next booth.
“Well, look at that,” I say as we step into the tent, and there’s a hot, shirtless man with nice abs and a lot of tattoos on his body.
“Great marketing,” I joke. “Everyone is going to come over and buy at least a bead.”
The guy winks at us and says, “Loose beads are here, kits are on the bottom of that shelf, and handmade jewelry is here.” He waves his hand right where the expensive merchandise is, close to his very well delineated abdominal muscles.
“Gorgeous,” Sophia agrees. “Whoever thought of this setting is a genius. I bet you’re just the pretty face behind the artist.”
He nods and points at a petite woman with orange-red hair. I like the blond highlights she has. “My wife.”
“Nice,” I confirm. “You guys aren’t from around here, are you?”
He shakes his head and tells us that they are from Idaho. His wife sells jewelry online. They travel to other cities or states for artisanal festivals when possible. They come twice a year to Baker’s Creek, once in February during the Tiara and Crown Festival and today.
“What are you ladies looking for?” he asks, showing us finished pieces and trying to sell us the most expensive ones.
Sophia buys a bracelet for her niece, who is sixteen. She makes me want a big family with lots of children. They seem to get along well and look after each other.
“I’ll be right there,” I call after her. “I’m undecided.”
“Take both,” the cute guy suggests.
“Just wrap them both for my wife,” I hear Pierce’s voice, handing his credit card. He’s towering over me, and his hand is on the small of my back.
The woman who had been busy with another customer until now turns her attention to us. “I’m Elissa. You already met Jax, my husband.”
“Leyla,” I shake her hand. “This is Pierce.”
“The husband,” Jax is the one who finishes the sentence for me and shakes Pierce’s hand. “Nice to meet you, man. I’m just…what, did you and your friend call me?”
“A marketing tool,” I answer.
Everyone laughs.
“You should put him to work,” he suggests. “What is it that you do?”
“I’m a veterinarian,” I answer. “He’s great with animals. I’ll think of something.”
When another wave of customers step up, we wave at them and walk away. “What was that?”
“You were flirting,” he growls.
“Why do you care? How was Mary Beth’s casserole?”
Earlier, Mary Beth Tattle and one of her sisters came to the house to visit him. They brought him breakfast since they know he wakes up early to tend to the animals.
Yes, we do.
Together.
Because he is still married!
I shouldn’t care, but that upsets me so much.
He glares at me. “I already told you I don’t care about her or any other woman.”
“Have you been with anyone since our separation?” I ask.
“Ley, please don’t ask nonsense, babe,” he whispers in my ear, and I shiver.
I speed up when I find Henry and Sophia. We are walking a treacherous path. We are five seconds from getting into a stupid fight—our usual excuse to have sex.
“Nice couple,” he sneers. “I skipped the thanking since you had done it already.”
“How’s Mary Beth, Pierce?” Sophia asks mockingly. “Are you two going out on a date?”
“Only if Henry and Vance agree to join us since she can’t go out without her sisters.”
Sophia doesn’t engage and instead asks, “I still don’t understand why they are called the Marys when the third sister’s name is Nina.”
I wasn’t here during the first three weeks. That’s when Blaire, Sophia, Hayes, and Henry were learning everything they could about the factory, The Lodge, and the town in general. Of course, I hear stories all the time.
So, I ask, “Wasn’t Nina the one who was trying to catch the doctor?” Because obviously, this conversation irritates Pierce, and I am nothing but superb at pushing his buttons when I’m bored or bitter. I think I’m both today. “They have their sights set on the Aldridge boys. I’m sure at least one of you is going to end up related to Anna Tattle. It could be you, darling husband.”
I swear the way he looks at me reminds me of a wolf about to pounce on his prey, and God, I’m so turned on I wouldn’t care if we end up doing it in a public bathroom. It’s been a long time since I’ve been this desperate.
When we started dating, we didn’t care where we were; we just made it happen. Pierce always found a way. He’s desperate too because suddenly he makes it his mission to locate some long drinks, hoping they have alcohol to keep him entertained.
“They have to be somewhere,” he insists, and I swear he sounds like an addict in withdrawal.
It’s not the alcohol he needs. It’s sex. I know it because I’m in the same boat. When he finds them, he drags me with him.
“Are you okay?”
His eyes are almost set on fire. “What do you think?”
“You should try running a marathon to burn off all that energy,” I suggest, almost laughing, not at him, but at both of us because I am so desperate to have sex—with him—it’s pathetic.
The lady behind the counter greets us, “Good afternoon, what can I do for you?”
“What do you have that has a punch?” he asks the attendant.
“Black tea lemonade,” she responds.
He growls with frustration, and I burst into laughter.
“Do your lemonades have something stronger than tea?” I ask.
She shakes her head. “I can give you a lavender lemonade. It’s a good relaxer.”
“Sure, give me one of those, a regular lemonade, and what do you want, Ley?”
I point at the Rooibos tea lemonade and whisper close to his ear, “You need to calm down.”
He snorts and shakes his head. “Count yourself lucky because you and I both know what I want to do right about now.”
I shiver and step away from him, because I want him to do it.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Pierce
Leyla is driving me crazy.
She’s not even doing it on purpose. Just seeing her makes me want to drag her away and fuck her. Not sweetly making love to her. No. Fucking her to remind her that I belong to her.
Is it the endless weeks without sex? I could blame the lack of sleep. I definitely need to do it because the Marys dropped by and pissed off my woman.
Do I like Mary Beth Tattle? She’s a nice woman. I’m sure there’s somebody out there for her. Not me. I’m taken.
Leyla and I might be broken. She’s leaving me, but I’m hers for life.
To stop loving her would be as if the Earth stopped orbiting around the sun. It’s impossible. It’d be the end of the world.
We should make a new deal, like the one we did when we met. We are fuck buddies. Who the fuck am I kidding? I was hers the moment I kissed her.
I can feel she’s just as worked up as I am and avoiding me the best she can. Wherever she goes, I’m joining her. There won’t be another Jax incident. The dude was cool, but what if the next one is single?
I follow her to the next booth. When we’re out, Henry and Sophia have disappeared. They have an emergency. That’s it. I’m dragging her to the barn with me. We can use the dog’s room.
“Do we need to help them?” Leyla asks, distraught.
I shake my head because I’m almost sure that my brother is about to get lucky, unlike me. Should I just drag Leyla to the barn? That’s our turf. There’s nobody there unless…did Vance finish cleaning?
The answer arrives almost immediately when Beacon appears and says, “I need to stop betting on the cleanup of the barn. I swear Vance wins every time.”
Leyla and I snort.
“What did you
do when you lived in Colorado?” he asks. “Doing this daily is fucking exhausting, and both of you worked.”
“We had help,” I respond the obvious. “Just for the cleanup. I fed the kids in the morning, Leyla tended to them during the evening.”
Leyla glares at me because before our separation, that wasn’t the case. She did everything herself, even during the weekends.
I’m ashamed of myself. I neglected Leyla and the kids. It was my fault. I chose my promotion, my pride, and my family over them.
“Okay, another sore subject,” Beacon scoffs. “Everything is touchy for you, isn’t it, Pierce? Surely, there has to be something safe that won’t make you cringe, cry, or be embarrassed.”
I look up at the sky, searching for patience because this kid, I swear, just likes to poke and prod until he finds a way to fuck with us.
“I mean, you’re almost in your mid-thirties,” he continues. “Why would you care what others think about you?”
“Stop,” I order.
“It’s okay to be vulnerable.” He puts one hand on his chest. “I’m an artist. I bleed feelings all the time. There’s nothing wrong with it. My fans appreciate it. You, on the other hand…I bet you didn't tell your wife ‘I love you’ until the third year you were dating her.”
He pats me on the shoulder. “It’s okay, dude. We are all different.”
“I’m not embarrassed by anything. We got married ten months after I met her,” I clarify. Do I recall when I said “I love you?” No. Am I ashamed of it? Yes. I hate regrets, but every time I’m talking to my therapist, I get frustrated with myself because I could fill an entire stadium with all the remorse I carry.
This conversation is just pissing me off. Should I punch him? Probably.
“Don’t lie to yourself, Pierce,” he insists, and Leyla is shaking with laughter.
“Are you bored, Beacon?” Leyla asks with such a soft, almost hypnotizing voice. “Or anxious?”
He gives her a strange look.
“Worried,” she says. “Why are you concerned?”
He checks his phone, takes a deep breath, and lets out a groan. “They were supposed to be here an hour ago.”
“Who?” we ask at the same time.
“My bandmates,” he answers, combing his hair with his fingers and then resting his hand on the back of his neck. “I wouldn’t care if they’re in some fucking ditch, but G is with them. She should’ve flown. Vance offered to pick her up in the helicopter. I should go and pick her up next time. This concert was a bad idea.”
“It’s a great idea,” she assures him. “She’s fine. Text her. I bet she’s going to call you out for being so hovery.”
“Hovery is not a word,” he corrects her. “But you’re right. She’s going to give me shit about this.”
“You Aldridges are something,” she complains, rolling her eyes. “You whine about each other, but I swear you are not different at all.”
He punches me out of nowhere and says, “I am nothing like this asshole.”
“Behave,” I order. “You’re in town in the middle of the festival.”
He rolls his eyes, “Ugh, I’m embarrassing you. See, you get fucking embarrassed about everything.”
“I don’t.”
“Of course, you do,” he insists. “You’re telling me that we can have any conversation, and you’d be cool with it.”
“Nothing you say will embarrass me,” I challenge him.
“Okay, that’s respectable.” He turns to look at Leyla and asks, “How’s your sex life, Leyla?”
“Keep me out of this,” she says, turning a slight shade of red.
“Sex is natural, right, Pierce?”
I nod.
“Since I don’t have steady relationships, I don’t do a lot of kinky shit,” he continues. “Anal play could be in my top favorites, but it’s hard to convince a chick I just met to do it.”
“We’re not discussing my sex life,” I warn him.
“Because you’re embarrassed,” he confirms.
“No, because that’s—”
“Taboo?” he asks. “Unnatural? Huh, you’re telling me you’ve never had anal sex before? Try anal play. It’s fucking amazing when they are blowing you.”
“I didn’t say any of that.”
He steps toward a booth and grabs some beads, pays the woman, and says. “Use this. Leyla can stick them in and pull them out when she blows you. You don’t need lube.”
Flustered, I tell him, “Are you a savage? You always need lube when you’re having anal sex—even anal play.”
“No,” he insists, and by now the entire town is around us, watching and listening to his nonsense. “You’re wrong, my dude. I feel like I need to give you a sex-ed class. No wonder you have trouble in the bedroom.”
Sophia and Henry arrive at that moment. She looks at us and asks, “Everything okay?”
Beacon turns to her with a severe face. “Do you use lube when you use anal beads?”
Henry’s face turns crimson red, and fuck if I don’t want to take a picture of him. I’m sure mine was just as bad as his though. I better not mock him for this one.
Sophia’s eyes open wide. “What?”
Beacon offers her the beads he carries. “Touch them. They are smooth. Why would you need lube?”
I’m about to run away because the entire town is around us. Please kill me now. Reason number one hundred why I’m thankful I didn’t grow up with this kid. I would be in jail for pushing my baby brother out of the window.
Oops! It was an accident. He was driving me fucking crazy.
Sophia grabs Leyla and says, “Leave these men to their nonsense.”
“Where are you going?” Henry calls after them, scared of Beacon and the audience gathered around us.
“To buy smooth anal beads. Where else?” she answers.
Beacon and I laugh.
“Fine. Henry is the one with bigger issues than you,” Beac confirms and then looks at Henry. “Are you and hottie finally together?”
Our oldest brother nods and grins like a little kid who finally got his wish.
“Well, it is about time,” I say.
“When is your time?” Beacon asks and shrugs. “Just saying, little red is perfect for the big bad wolf.”
“It’s too complicated.”
Before he speaks, his bandmates approach us. This time, there’s a woman with them. She looks short among them, but she’s about five-ten. Her hair is all shades of purple. She has a few tattoos on her arms—mostly musical notes and scribbles. Beacon runs to her and picks her up, twirling her around. His face brightens. The sun just came up; everything is well again.
“I’m assuming that’s G,” I tell Henry.
He nods. G, short for Grace, is a famous cello player. He and Sophia are big fans of hers. I haven’t seen her before, though.
“She looks different from her usual long black dress and dark hair,” he states, “but it’s definitely her.”
“Does he know he’s in love with her?”
Henry grins. “No, but we will use this to get to him. I’m fucking tired of being his target.”
We shake hands. “This is going to be fun.”
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Leyla
The Lodge and the Bed & Breakfast at Happy Springs are at full capacity. Even the few Airbnbs that we have in both towns are full. Since the weather is nice enough, people are camping too. It’s not because of the infamous festival. They came to see Too Far from Grace. Beacon organized a concert outside the bar and posted on his social media about it. We’re right in front of the stage.
This is beyond perfect. I love their music.
TFFG is one of my favorite bands. I should be enjoying myself, but I’m not. The memories crush my chest. I am barely breathing. Pierce and I used to go to concerts often. We even traveled to watch these guys play in New York. He’s near me, and I can’t reach him. We’re no longer together.
Torture isn’t stretching
you on the rack until you confess. It’s putting you next to the one person you love the most, but you can’t have him anymore. Add to it that my best friends are cuddling with their significant others, and I feel lonelier than usual.
I’ve been to concerts with my guy, making out while we sway to the rhythm of the music. I don’t have him anymore. Pierce was my one and only.
Why did I fall for him? Because sadly, love strikes in the strangest moments and chooses blindly.
Back when we met, I could see myself spending the rest of my life with him.
Now…it’s hard to define what I feel for him. There are so many emotions pushing and prodding at my heart. Sometimes he makes me so mad, and yet, so sad. Other times, I fall in love with him all over again. I wish we could erase the past. To be just him and me without the pain we inflicted on each other.
The music becomes too much when Grace and Beacon play a solo that sounds more like two souls making love in a magical forest than a new song. There’s too much love around for me to stick nearby.
Since the bar is right next door, I leave. Staying is just too overwhelming. I want him to make everything better, to erase the outside world, and make me forget that I still hurt. My wounds haven’t healed. I was burnt to smoke and ash. He can’t make it better because he was the arsonist who destroyed me.
When I step into the bar, the place isn’t full, but there are people coming and going with their drinks. I bet Levy is making a killing out of this. I order a glass of wine and a shot of tequila. I’m still undecided on what I want to use to drown my sorrows.
It doesn’t take long before I feel his presence.
“What are you drinking, gorgeous?” his deep, sensuous, and smooth voice asks.
It’s one of my favorite sounds in the world. It carries a charge that pumps adrenaline in my blood and makes my pulse beat fast. There’s pure and unadulterated sex in his baritone.
His body presses against me; his hand goes around my body. Pierce places his hand on my belly to make sure I’m close to him. It’s a way to claim some kind of ownership over me.
Without waiting for my answer, he asks Levy, the bartender, “Three fingers of your top-shelf single malt. Give my lady a Moscow mule.”
Defying Our Forever (The Baker’s Creek Billionaire Brothers Book 3) Page 18
