Flutter: The Nash Brothers, Book Three

by Aarons, Carrie

  “The way I can hear you thinking, instead of springing from this bed, I’m about to ask if you want seconds.” That conceited voice taunts me.

  Shoving off him, I screw my face up in disgust. “You’re an ass.”

  “And you’ve got a great one. Get it back in bed so I can show you just how much I enjoy it.”

  Even though I flip up my middle finger in his direction, my core still tightens and tingles. Traitor, I say silently to my vagina.

  I nearly trip over the nightstand trying to scramble for my clothes, and I realize I’ll have to sneak up the squeaky wooden stairs to my room in a walk of shame outfit. Should I ask for his button down? What would look worse if I was caught; my wrinkled bridesmaid dress or a man’s overlarge shirt?

  Probably the shirt, because there will be more questions. I can say I passed out drunk in the lobby or something if I’m still in my dress.

  “You don’t have to run off,” he says, no joking in his voice.

  Looking back to the bed as I gather up my second heel, I’m actually tempted to stay. First-thing-in-the-morning Forrest is lethal. He had that swag … the kind of confidence that couldn’t be taught. You were born with it. And although some might underestimate the pull and charm he exerted, what with the total nerd status and thick-rimmed glasses, that’s what made him ten times more dangerous. He could shoot an arrow through your heart without even batting an eye.

  “Right. Because I actually meant to stay the night.” I roll my eyes. “No, I think I’ll be happier at the breakfast buffet than in here with you.”

  “Not what you were saying last night. When you cried my name not once, but twice.” He grins cockily.

  A frustrated breath blows out of my mouth. “That was a moment of orgasmic weakness. This isn’t happening again.”

  Forrest’s thick fingers drum on his naked abs. “That’s what you said last time. And the time before that.”

  “You … you …” I’m too frazzled and hungover to fire back with an appropriate jest.

  Doing a sweep of the room with my eyes, I make sure I haven’t forgotten anything. My dress hangs wrinkled from my frame, and my shoe buckles are gripped in my fist.

  “What if we just … do this?” Forrest’s voice seems uncertain.

  The organ in my chest sputters, beating wildly and then irregular all at the same time. “What do you mean, we?”

  He sits up, the sheet pooling around his waist. It tents, and I realize with a tiny blush that he’s ready for some morning delight.

  “I don’t mean there has to be a we. But, it’s convenient. We’re around each other a lot, what with all of my brothers being married to your friends. When they go off and fuck like bunnies, so can we. Or, whenever we feel like it, really. Call it friends with benefits.”

  “We’re not friends.” I scowl.

  “All right, hook up buddies. I think we can both agree that the sex is great.”

  I cross my arms over my chest. “It’s all right.”

  “It’s fantastic and you know it.” Forrest smirks cockily. “So let’s make a deal. We don’t have to tell anyone about it, but when you feel like getting off, call me. And I’ll do the same.”

  For one second, he’d caught me in a weak moment. Any other time and I probably would have laughed this off outright. But Forrest was striking while the iron was hot, and he knew it. The bastard. I allowed the idea to simmer.

  His proposition is … interesting. Since Travis died, I’ve been lonely. Before Forrest, I’d only slept with one other man; a blind date that ended up in a friendship. But I kind of forced myself into the hump to, well, get over the hump. I’m glad I’d chosen that friend to be with for my first time after Travis. After all, my husband owned my first time, the only other time I’d had sex with someone.

  Then, Forrest had come along. I hadn’t intended for it to happen. But now that I’d added his name to the notches in my bedpost, and he was offering no-strings-attached orgasms … maybe I should take him up on it?

  For all of his more annoying qualities, I did know I was safe with him. He wouldn’t stand me up or chase his own pleasure without fulfilling my own. This was a deal for mutually pleasurable sex without the threat of catching feelings.

  And I had to admit, it sounded appealing.

  “Maybe,” I spit out, annoyed that I was even considering this.

  “No, Penelope. I need a yes or no. I’m not going to come at your beck and call if I don’t have free rein to ask the same of you.”

  God, I loathe him. And when he used my whole first name, as if he was scolding me with it. Except, looking at him now in that bed, I’d be an idiot to refuse this prime agreement.

  “Fine. I’m in. Again, though, if you tell anyone about this, I’ll cut your balls off.”

  9

  Penelope

  “Where did you run off to the night of the wedding?”

  Lily asks as we stretch in the middle of Presley’s yoga studio. She closes the place on Monday, but if the three of us can manage it, we do a private class. And when I say class, I really mean vent slash gossip session in leggings and sports bras.

  I stutter, my heart catching on a beat and pausing until I have to suck a breath in. My brain goes full panic because I swear, the next thing out of her mouth is going to be that she noticed Forrest missing too. Ever since I confessed, a couple months back, that I slept with someone, my best friends have been like international spies trying to get the who out of me.

  “Had too much to drink and passed out when I went to my room to pee.” I shrug, trying to come off as nonchalantly as possible.

  Presley sits down on her mat, which is placed in front of us, and giggles. “I hear that, sister. I was wasted by the end of that wedding. Keaton had to carry me up to the room.”

  “I bet that wasn’t all he did with you.” I wink.

  Lily blushes at this. “You’re always in the gutter.”

  “Says the married woman. Tell me Bowen wasn’t like a starving, carnal beast after you two bid your guests good night?” I shoot a pointed look her way.

  This causes her to flush an even deeper shade of scarlet. “All I’ll say is that we consummated the marriage if that’s what you’re asking.”

  “You damn well know I’m asking for much more than that, but we both know I won’t get those details.” I stick my tongue out at her.

  Presley starts to stretch, gauging our interest in actually engaging in practice. I guess she decides against it because she starts in on me again.

  “You know, you could have brought a plus one to the wedding.”

  I roll my eyes. “Are we going to do yoga or not?”

  “You could have, I would have loved if you brought a date!” Lily encourages.

  “A date from where? The karate dojo? I don’t have time to date,” I say, my tone harsher than intended.

  Presley’s eyes are sympathetic. “Penny, I know I didn’t know Travis, but I think he’d want you to be happy.”

  That earns her a stare so cold, I can feel my own insides freeze. “How about you don’t talk about things you don’t know about, then?”

  I rarely spoke about Travis, and usually, it was only with my mom or Marion. Not even Lily got my inner thoughts about my husband’s passing, and I’d sat through a coma with her. Something inside of me just hesitates every time I go to explain my thoughts. Like I am disgracing his memory by talking about moving on. Or that I couldn’t possibly detail every conflicting emotion I feel, so why even bother?

  But Presley and Lily had never attempted to force me to talk about it, so I didn’t understand what was happening right now.

  “Penny, we’re only trying to help. We love you. You’re a smart, caring, beautiful young woman. There is someone out there who could make you very happy.” Lily pats my hand.

  “Who says I’m not happy? I don’t need a man in my life, unlike some people.” I was lashing out with any defense strategy I could.

  They exchange a look that conveys
offense, sympathy, and worry.

  I hesitate for one second, weighing if I should tell them about Forrest or the deal we made. No strings, just sex … that’s what he had said. And I’d agreed. It felt explicit and naughty to guess when would be the next time he’d call or text for a quickie. The excitement kept this buzz glowing inside me, I could physically feel it, almost as if I was a different person after that night at the wedding.

  Telling my friends how taboo it felt to be sleeping with their husbands’ little brother, and that we had plans to meet up tonight … it just wasn’t an option. Something about Forrest being my dirty little secret and having to sneak off to the abandoned railroad cars on the outskirts of town … it made me feel young and free. I didn’t often get to feel that way in my current reality, so I’d take every dose I could get.

  Penelope and Lily are still staring at me, expecting an answer for my outburst, when Corey Watters bursts into the studio.

  “Ah!” All three of us jump out of fear, surprise and utter shock.

  “I’m so sorry to interrupt. It’s just, your mama couldn’t get ahold of you, Penny. Told her I’d come down here to get you,” Corey says, his big brown eyes landing on me.

  Corey had been Travis’ best friend; we’d all gone to high school together, and they’d enlisted at the same time. He had been there for me with the kids after Travis died and still was to this day.

  “Oh, crap, I left it in my bag up front.” I jump up from my yoga mat and run to my bag. When I pull my phone out, I notice there are six missed calls from my mom, and two from Corey. “What’s going on?”

  “Ames started throwing up about an hour ago. Is running a fever and your mom wanted you to know,” Corey fills me in. “I can follow you home if you want?”

  As I start pulling on my shoes and jacket, I can feel Lily’s stare at the back of my head. She’s never much cared for Corey, and she likes most everyone. When I’ve questioned her in the past, she says she can’t quite put her finger on it. But in the past two years, she’s sworn multiple times that Corey wants to step into Travis’ spot. And while I genuinely appreciate everything he does for the boys and me, I do not view Corey in that light.

  “I’ll be okay, thanks. I’ll see you girls later. Thanks again, Corey.” And I rush out the door.

  Nothing like a puking kid to save the day from a hostile dating conversation with your girlfriends.

  10

  Forrest

  Driving to her house is probably the stupidest fucking thing I could do right now, but my ego is bruised and she blew me off.

  I want to know why.

  My ego, this arrogant core of me, begs to know how Penelope could have stood me up for perfectly good sex. No, not good, great. We had great sex, multiple orgasm sex. And after she’d taken my offer, sex with no commitment, my chest had swelled with pride.

  After decades of lusting after Penelope Briggs, I was finally going to have her. Sure, we weren’t in a relationship, and our inner circle had no clue so I couldn’t brag about it, but she had agreed to fuck me … which had to mean somewhere deep down she was interested in me.

  It was a win for me, because I’d been trying for so long. It had nothing to do with trying to land her for real … hell no. I didn’t want marriage or babies, or the instant family she came with.

  But, I’d waited inside the abandoned train car for almost half an hour. Stood inside the exact spot we’d set for our quickie, and she never showed. I’d told her she was beautiful at the wedding, what the hell has gotten into me? Should have just stuck to crude, dirty talk instead of flattery. Maybe P would have shown up.

  Fuck me, I really am pathetic. Was I so hooked on her pussy that I couldn’t cut my losses and just go home?

  When I pull up to her decently sized Cape Cod, all the downstairs lights are on. Penelope’s car is in the driveway, and she’s probably in there having a good laugh at my expense while she bathes or feeds her kids or any of the other things that mothers do.

  Storming up to the front door, I don’t even take a second to pause and consider the ramifications of this decision. This is her home, where she lives with her children. If they see me here, at this hour, what will they think? What lies will we have to tell if some neighbor sees me here?

  I’m too worked up, though, for these thoughts to penetrate my furious brain.

  My fist slams into the wood door. Once, twice, three times. About three minutes after I’ve shaken her front door on its hinges, it swings open.

  To reveal a disheveled Penelope.

  “What are you doing here?” Her eyes are clouded with distraction, and her mouth purses in annoyance.

  “We had a ‘date,’ so to speak. Remember?” I cross my arms over my chest, pissed that she’s either pretending we weren’t supposed to hook up tonight or that I’m just not important enough to even give her full attention to.

  “Oh, God … I forgot …” She trails off when someone starts yelling in the background. Directing her voice to the yelling, she shouts. “I’ll be up in just a minute, Trav!”

  Something in her tone, maybe the wobbliness of it, has me rethinking my decision to come here. “Do you want to call me later?”

  Penelope’s sea glass-green eyes turn murderous. “You’re the one who drove to my house to confront me about not showing up for our fucking appointment. And I don’t mean a fucking appointment, I mean our appointment scheduled to fuck. You risked my kids seeing you, or the neighbors, to what? Stick it to me? Your ego is really that bruised that I didn’t show up to service you?”

  Yeah, it was a mistake to come here. I hold up my hands, feeling the tiniest bit of regret. “Jeez, don’t shoot me. I just—”

  She cuts me off. “You just wanted to confront me for not keeping up my end of the deal.”

  Someone yells again from the second floor, and the wind goes out of her sails. Penelope looks defeated, something I don’t ever remember her being, not even when she became a widow to three young songs.

  “What’s wrong?” I demand more than ask.

  The sigh that bursts from those pretty lips is depressing. “My youngest, Ames, he got sick. Puke everywhere. I had to relieve my mother but forgot that I ran out of Baby Tylenol four days ago. And I can’t leave them here, the pharmacy in town is closed …”

  Penelope looks like she’s on the verge of a breakdown, and I’ve never seen this confident, brazen woman look so worn down and frazzled.

  “Text me what you need. I’ll run to the CVS a town over. They’re open twenty-four hours.” The offer pops out of my mouth before I can stop it.

  “I couldn’t ask you to do that. I’ll call Corey or my mother-in-law …”

  Pissed that she doesn’t want to rely on the perfectly good offer I just presented, I snarl. “You’re not calling that dickwad, Corey. And Marion Briggs doesn’t need to drive around in the dark. I’m saying I’ll go, so tell me what you need.”

  My brothers and I have always hated Corey Watters. He’s a two-faced douchebag who has always sweet-talked from one side of his mouth and cut corners from the other side. Corey is the kid all the teachers loved but would shove you in a locker when their backs were turned. He hasn’t gotten much better in adulthood, and even if she means nothing to me, I hate that he’s around Penelope and her kids so much.

  She chews her lips, her eyes darting back and forth from the stairs just behind her and my face.

  “I need Baby Tylenol, I’ll text you a picture of the bottle. And some Gatorade, but only the orange kind. Pedialyte too if you can find it. And maybe some Saltine crackers if they have them in stock.”

  Mentally, I start a list in my head, remembering everything she’s saying word for word. “Got it. I’ll be back in forty minutes.”

  Before Penelope can argue anymore, I’m off her porch and heading for my car.

  * * *

  It only takes me thirty-eight minutes before I get back to Penelope’s house with her list of goods in tow.

  And by the way sh
e gingerly accepts the Baby Tylenol from me, you’d think it was liquid gold in that minuscule bottle. She races up the stairs and disappears for a good thirty minutes.

  I don’t get a good glimpse of the throw up, or the son who seems to be producing it, which I’m happy for. What I do see are her other two boys, the oldest, Travis, and her middle kid, Matthew. I’ve met them before, obviously, we’ve all lived in the same place since they were born and in a small town like Fawn Hill, it would be nearly impossible not to bump into them.

  Before I know it, I’m sitting cross-legged on Penelope’s living room carpet, kicking Matthew’s ass in Madden.

  “Dude, you have to watch my quarterback. Pro tip, he’ll make the call and you can respond with the right combination of buttons to block me. Like this, watch.”

  I block him, preventing his receiver from scoring a touchdown.

  “Woah! Where did you learn to do that?” Travis says from the couch behind us.

  Their mother will kill me if I tell them I spent my early hacking years breaking down the codes on video games to discover the best cheats. So I bite back that answer and reply with, “I’m an old guy, I’m supposed to know how to smoke you in video games I’ve been playing since before you were born.”

  “Let’s play again!” Matthew cries, his little face so determined to beat me.

  I indulge him twice more until Penelope comes down and there is quiet from upstairs.

  “All right, boys. Kisses and bed. Please, no arguing with me tonight. Your brother ran me ragged, and I can’t do any more nonsense.”

  The boys seem to realize how exhausted their mom is and don’t say a single thing but good night as they kiss her cheeks. I give them a fist bump each and then they’re off, trying to elbow each other as they race up the stairs.

  “They remind me a lot of my brothers and me.” A small smile stretches my lips as I watch them go.