by Angel Lawson
Smith’s eyes are stormy, but he nods. “Fine.”
“And you,” I say to Holden. “You have to maintain some boundaries. I know you think I’m a flirt, but you’re worse with all the helping and do-gooding.”
“What?” he says, frowning. “I’m just being nice.”
Smith and I both laugh. “Whatever. It’s your long-game, and we all know it.”
His lips twist into a smile. He’s so busted. Holden is a nice guy. He is genuinely helpful. He also uses it to win over girls way out of his league. Girls like Sierra.
“I can’t help it if a girl likes me as a friend before she sleeps with me.”
I stretch my arm out, hand balled in a fist. “We’re not here to seduce, Sierra, okay? We’re here to live, and help out, and get our lives back on track.”
Smith pushes his fist out and presses it to mine. Holden does the same. I sense the reluctance in both of them. I sense it in myself. They’re right, though. I like this girl, a lot, and the last thing we need is the three of us fighting over her and getting tossed on the street.
The creak of a door alerts us to her coming out and we all straighten, pretending like we didn’t just have this conversation. I scoop eggs and bacon, arranging them on plates. She pads up on bare feet in a long T-shirt that hits at her upper thigh. If she’s wearing shorts underneath there, or anything at all, it’s hard to tell.
“Good morning,” she says, stretching her arms over her head, letting that shirt tug a little higher.
The three of us look at her, trying to keep the gawking at a minimum. She’s gorgeous, even still half-asleep, hair messy and out of control.
“Good morning,” we all say, averting our eyes. I hand out the plates, realizing that it’s a good thing we just had that talk, because living here? Rules are definitely going to have to be in place.
I just hope we can keep them.
13
Sierra
The road to Lee Vines is never very busy, but with the fire in Yosemite, things seem extra quiet. Katie told me they’ve had cancellations at the lodge and a disaster like this can really throw off the tourist season. None of that is why I’m driving up to the Wayward Sun.
The fire rattled me. I’d had a nightmare. Smoke filled my lungs and I stumbled through the house in Lee Vines, calling out to the boys. I woke with a start, sheets twisted and sweat down my back, knowing they were safe. The fire hadn’t spread that far, but I needed to see them for myself.
I feel a strange apprehension as I drive up the road. What if they don’t want to see me? What if they’re upset at me for abandoning them? Especially George and Charlie. What if I walk in the shop and don’t want to leave? The pull of home—of my business and family was strong—but I’d left for a reason. I need to get my head on straight and that hadn’t happened yet.
Haze from the fire lingers as I enter the small town of Lee Vines, passing the Epic Café and the Outdoors Shop. I pass the diner and green lawn on the lodge, slowing before the main office. Through the window, I see Katie talking to another girl at the counter. Starlee. My stomach rolls. I owe her an apology. I owe everyone an apology.
I blink at the little town I’d made my home. I can’t do this. Not yet.
I pull into the small driveway in order to turn around. My heart pounds as an eighteen-wheeler barrels down the road. I wait, the road is on a curve, and the truck drivers don’t always slow. It’s even worse with the hazy smoke, making visibility harder. Looking over my shoulder, I wait until it’s clear.
The knock on the window scares the crap out of me.
“Holy--!”
George’s handsome, grownup face fills the window. With my heart in my throat, I roll down the window.
“Hi.”
“Sierra. What are you doing here?” He glances toward the shop. I follow his gaze and see Jake standing on the step, apron covering his chest.
“Hey, I, uh, came to check on everyone. You know, the fire.”
I look him over, then back at Jake, scanning him. He looks perfect. They both do.
“The fire was wild, right?” he says, opening my door. “It was close—just a mile or so away, coated the place in smoke, but we’re okay. They stopped it before it spread too far.”
His hand is on the top of the car—it’s not an invitation to get out.
“I wanted…I wanted to come up and see how you’re doing.”
“We’re fine, the shop is fine.” His jaw tenses. “We piled a lot of shit—stuff—on you over the years. It’s not a surprise you needed a minute to yourself. We’re okay.” He glances up at Jake, whose crystal blue eyes shoot daggers in our direction. “Even if we may need a little more time.”
“Charlie, he’s okay?”
He nods, a smile breaking across his face. “Freaking nerd got a huge scholarship. He’s at a tournament right now.”
“Good.” I think of all the times I told him to get off the computer. Now he’s going to school for his passion. “I’m so proud of all of you.”
Jake watches us carefully, my heart hammering around my chest. He’s huge, preparing for college football. I can’t help but notice his tight, set jaw, and the dark hurt in his heartbreaker eyes.
“Dex told us that you’re cleaning up the house down in June Lake.”
“I am.”
“Then what?”
“I’m not sure, I’m hoping to figure it out.”
There’s a gap between us. I’d never struggled to talk to these boys. They told me everything—even stuff I never wanted to know. My job was to stick by everyone. I didn’t follow through.
“Dexter’s at the big farmer’s market up north, but he left some tarts. They’re killer. That’s actually their name; Killer Tarts.”
He chuckles at the cleverness, and I smile with him. I miss them so much. Despite the invitation, I don’t think he means it, not with the guard dog on the porch step.
“Nah, I should probably head back. There’s a ton of work to be done at the house. Actually, I’m housing a few park employees who lost their housing in the fire.” I don’t explain further. I’m not sure how. “Thanks, though.”
George says, “Why don’t you take some to go. I can go grab it.”
It’s an offering. I take it. “That would be great. Thanks.”
I wait in the Jeep as George walks across the lawn. He and Jake speak for a moment, before both head back into the shop. I consider bolting—getting out of there while I can, but that’s the wrong thing to do. If they need to let me back in on their terms, I can handle it.
When George returns, he has a cup of my favorite iced coffee and a bag full of treats. I know that maybe we can work all of this out—someday.
“Thank you,” I say once again, taking a sip of my drink. So good. “You guys take care, okay?”
“We will,” George says, reaching into the window and squeezing my shoulder. I back out of the driveway, leaving the two at the shop, no longer looking like boys, but men.
I drive away thinking about the good I did for them, and the bad, hoping that with three new lost souls in my house, I won’t mess them up, too.
14
Sierra
“I’m going to do a load of laundry, does anyone need anything washed?” Adrian calls out from the small room next to the kitchen.
“I’ve got a few things,” I say, placing the last glass in the cabinet. “I’ll go get them.”
The front door is open because Smith and Holden have spent the evening up on the roof, fixing the flashing on the chimney. It’s been three days since the fire broke out. The guys are on leave, waiting to hear from their superiors about when the park will reopen and their new assignments.
The good news is that we’ve been able to get a lot of work done on the house.
The bad news is that working alongside three handsome, often shirtless men is a challenge of its own.
In my room, I grab my hamper and take it into the laundry room, where Adrian leans against the washer. His shir
t, thankfully, is on.
“Thanks” I say, handing it over.
“No problem.” He starts to load my clothing in. “I like to do laundry.”
“Really?” I wrinkle my nose. “I kind of hate it.”
He smiles. “Good, then it’s something I can take off your hands.”
I happen to look down at his hands, where he’s inadvertently holding a pair of my panties. Blue lace.
His eyes follow mine and the tips of his ears turn red. Quickly he tosses it in, along with a few other things, before dumping in the soap and starting the load.
I pretend it didn’t happen.
I pretend a lot of things aren’t happening in this house.
I pretend that I don’t catch the whiff of their clean, soapy manliness as they exit the shower.
I pretend that seeing them shirtless, in low slung shorts and pants, doesn’t make my lower belly twist with desire.
I pretend that them being here when I go to bed and wake up doesn’t make me feel safer.
I pretend that Holden’s easy smile and easy nature isn’t the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen.
Or that catching Smith do something sweet, like straightening the couch pillows, isn’t charming.
Or that brushing up against Adrian in the hallway, or by the kitchen sink, doesn’t make my skin itch.
I walk back into the kitchen and find the pot in the sink, scrubbing the bottom. I’ve done a lot of dishes the past few days, keeping my hands busy and my eyes focused out the window. Which usually helps, except right now Smith and Holden are in the yard, cleaning up from their project. Smith’s shoulders are so broad, tanned and wide. My eyes follow the lean, tapered lines down to his waist, where his jeans hang over the curve of his ass, and two dimpled indentions sit just above. I swirl the sponge around the pot, eyeing Holden’s easy laugh and the casual way he does everything. He scratches his stomach, forcing my eyes down to the dark hair that runs down his lower belly. You’d never know he lost his home a few days ago. He looks up, and our eyes meet. He winks, and I swallow thickly—
“Do you have a wrench?”
I yelp, drop the pan and spin to find Adrian two steps away. “Jesus,” I mutter, reaching for the towel to dry my dripping hands. He grabs it first and hands it to me, our fingers brushing.
Zing!
Like a lightning bolt, running through my veins.
“I’m sorry, a what?”
“A wrench? I thought maybe I’d check out that leak in the bathroom while no one was using it.”
“Yeah, sure.” My heart is still pounding, from both being startled and his proximity. I lead him to the hall closet and the box my father kept his tools in. He kneels on the floor and sorts through the tools until he finds the right one.
“Got it.”
“Need anything else?”
“A flashlight, maybe?”
That’s how I end up on the bathroom floor next to him, holding the flashlight while he takes apart the sink.
“Hey.”
I look up and see Holden in the doorway, his forehead furrowed as he takes us in, our positions awkward. “We’re going to head into town to hit the hardware store before it closes. Need anything?”
“Yeah,” Adrian says, holding out a piece of rusty pipe. “Can you get me one of those? I can make a quick fix for now, but we’re going to need a new one.”
“Sure,” Holden says. “Be back soon.”
I hear the door slam and shift so I’m leaning on my elbow, holding the light against the underneath of the sink. “Can you hand me that duct tape?”
“Yep.” I offer him the roll, watching as he tears off a strip with his teeth and then wrapping it around the pipe. “Where’d you learn to do this?”
“I spent a summer helping my uncle. He was a handyman and did all kinds of jobs.”
“How’d you end up a park ranger?”
He grimaces, tightening the wrench. His arm muscles bulge and the bottom of his shirt rises up, giving me a view of his taut lower belly.
“Well, that summer, I was sixteen, I became friendly with a few other guys on my uncle’s crew. They were a little older and would let me hang out with them. They shared their beer and weed. I thought it was pretty cool.” He spins the wrench one last time. “Even after I realized they were going back into the houses they were working on and stealing stuff.”
“Oh.”
His eyes flick to mine, shame evident. “My tenure as a thief didn’t last long. I got caught the second time I joined them. The judge was strict and gave me a choice of detention or a wilderness program. I chose the wilderness program thinking it would be easy.” He laughs. “Boy, was I wrong. It was hard as fuck, but I learned to camp, hike, track, hunt, and fish. My hands were busy and my lungs full of fresh air. It was a good fit, and when I graduated the program, they offered me a slot in the ranger training school. It was a no-brainer.”
He shifts so he’s propped on his elbows. Sweat covers his forehead and his shaggy blond hair hangs in his eyes. “I was a dumb kid.”
“I’ve known a few of those.”
He laughs quietly. “I guess you have.”
“I’m glad you found something that fit. That’s all I’ve ever wanted for the boys.”
“It sounds like they’re on the right track.”
I’d told them about the boys and where they are headed.
“Yeah, I think so.”
"I think I’m almost done.” He turns on the shut-off valve, allowing the water to run back through the pipes. There’s a loud pop and a curse tumbles from his mouth, right before water shoots out from under the sink, like a geyser.
“Turn off the water!” Adrian shouts.
“I’m trying,” I shout, the water slamming into my face as I scramble for the shut-off valve. My fingers are slippery, and I struggle to get a grip. Finally, I manage to twist the knob and a moment later, the water slows.
My hair, my arms, every inch of me is soaked. With my hands, I wipe the water from my eyes. The first thing I see is Adrian, standing up and pulling off his shirt. The second thing I see is his magnificent body, dripping wet and heaving from adrenaline. The lines of his chest are smooth and firm, this abdomen tight with laddered muscle. His pants, soggy and wet, hang low, revealing soft hair that my fingers itch to touch.
He runs a hand through his wet hair and glances down at me, eyes jumping from my face to my chest. They linger, wide and appraising. I look down and see my cream-colored shirt clinging to the curves of my body. It’s completely see-through, the lace outline of my pale-pink bra showing through. My nipples are fully visible. Adrian licks a drop of water off his upper lip and my stomach bottoms out.
I know I should be running for towels, that I should be doing whatever I can to clean up this mess. I know I should keep ignoring Adrian the same way I have been for days, but with him standing like this in front of me and my body intent on betraying me, I feel my resolve crumbling.
He must feel the same because he takes a step closer, which we’re already very close, and he reaches out, pushing a wet strand of hair off my cheek. His eyes zero in on my mouth, and butterflies burst in my stomach.
Adrian’s fingers trail down my cheek, gently lifting my chin. I swallow thickly, my heart pounding like a drum.
“We’re back!” a voice shouts from somewhere in the house, followed by footsteps and a slamming door. “You guys still working in the bathroom?”
We both jump back, feet sloshing in the water coating the floor. My face burns, and he glances guiltily toward the door.
“Woah, what the hell happened back here?” Smith says, stopping just outside the door. He’s holding the pipe Adrian asked for, but slowly his gaze lifts from the mess to the two of us, standing wet and awkward in the small space. His jaw drops when he sees my soaked shirt.
My body, already aroused, crackles beneath my skin at the way he looks at me.
“Excuse me,” I say, squeezing past him and crossing my arms over my chest.
I brush my teeth and wash my face, getting ready for bed. I turn off the light and open the door, heading back to my room. My heart skitters as I see that a faint light shines underneath Adrian’s door. I hesitate outside, wanting to thank him for fixing the sink and cleaning up. For running away. For putting us in such an awkward position in the first place.
I hold my fist up to knock but before I can, the door swings open. Adrian stands in front of me, shirtless and in pajama pants.
This is a bad idea.
“I wanted to—” I whisper, but he doesn’t let me finish. He reaches for me, less gentle this time, less tentative, and without asking permission, he kisses me.
I’m startled. Overwhelmed. Accepting. I’m not a fool. I’d wanted this as much as he did, which is why I stopped outside his door.
His jaw is strong, his tongue skilled. Every inch of my skin pebbles with need. He pulls me to him, and I push up on my toes, grabbing at his upper body, feeling the lean muscle under my hands, the hard want between his legs.
I step back, shocked into awareness by the feel of him.
“I’m sorry,” he says, wiping his mouth, “that was…”
“Thank you for fixing and cleaning up the bathroom.” I give him a slight smile, pretending my heart isn’t about to leap out of my chest. “Good night, Adrian.”
“Good night, Sierra,” he says, clearing his throat.
He watches as I enter my room, our doors right across from one another. My pulse is still erratic once I’m in the bed, and I have to force myself to stay in my room.
That kiss?
That kiss was epic.
And there’s no way I’m going to only want one.
