His smoldering smirk surges to a megawatt smile because he knows he’s got me now. “I need a place to crash for a bit.” His eyes darken with an unexpected solemnity that throws me, but with him, you never know what’s the truth and what’s a game.

“And you see a vacancy sign on my porch or something?”

He blows out an audible breath. Used to taking without asking, he doesn’t like having to explain anything. “C’mon, babe, I know Ry moved out.” I raise my eyebrows, causing him to pause and explain. “It’s not like speculations over her wedding details weren’t the buzz all over TMZ last night or anything.” He rolls his eyes and flashes that smile at me again, but I stand my ground, arms crossed, impatient. “I just need a couple of days, a week or two at the most, so that I can straighten some shit out.”

There is something about the way he says it—something about the stress lining his face—that has me angling my head and looking past his tough exterior and wondering what he’s really doing in town. “So, you came here? You think you’re charming enough that I’m just going to forget all of the shit from before?”

“You suck.” I almost laugh at the grade school response coming from this big, bad rebel.

“No, actually I don’t.” I shrug, looking down at his crotch and then up to his eyes. “Sorry, but small objects like yours are a choking hazard.”

A half smile plays at one corner of his mouth. We stare at each other silently for a moment before he begs. “Please, Haddie?” His plea does me in, and I’m ready to consent, but he continues before I can reply. “You know me. Know my story. Thought you might take pity on me when so many others would turn me away.”

We stare at each other for a few moments as I try to decipher what he means. Because yes, I do know his story: only child raised by his mom, dad nonexistent, so what’s changed now? Does this have to do with his mom? His job? What? Frankly, it’s none of my damn business, but between the look in his eyes and the desperation in his voice, I begin to feel sorry about my initial desire to kick him in the nuts.

Hell, it’s still an option, but I’ll make sure he’s okay first. I shake my head in resignation and close my eyes for a moment, mentally chastising myself for the disorder and chaos I know I’m inviting into my life.

“No funny stuff, Dante. I mean it.”

He holds his hand up. “Scout’s honor,” he promises with a victorious smirk.

“Yeah, that’s what I’m afraid of,” I tell him, knowing full well the Boy Scouts kicked him out for inciting mutiny when he was in grade school.

He flashes a devil-may-care grin and steps over the threshold.

And so it begins, I think as he walks past me and into my house.



Chapter 5



BECKETT

I roll my truck to a stop, glad to finally be here and thankful traffic was nonexistent. I turn off the ignition, and say a silent thank-you to Howard Stern for allowing me to push the fucking thoughts out of my head, all the ones I’m not supposed to be thinking.

As I climb out of the truck and look at the trees around me, I take in the one place where I’ve always been able to clear my head, forget my worries, and just chill. So why, when I should be walking up the porch, cracking a cold one, and sitting by the pool, are my thoughts still stuck on her?

Haddie.

Sweet fucking Haddie, and that look on her face as I pulled her to the edge of the bed last night and stared at her: blond hair fanned out beneath her, cheeks red, lips parted, and pussy so goddamn wet and tasting like Heaven. Why do I keep remembering that look in her eyes—taunting, innocent, and weary—and wondering what put it there? Am I right to assume she wanted to feel to forget?

I shake my head and whistle at Rex to jump out of the truck before I slam the door. Her words run through my head over and over now that Howard Stern’s voice is no longer filling my ears. We said no strings. But there was no fucking we about it. She said no strings. She made it clear over and over that we were a one-night stand. No strings, my ass. I feel like she threw a goddamn lasso around me and pulled it tight.

No strings, yeah … but rope? She didn’t say a fucking thing about any rope.

I knew I should have done more to resist her advances last night, knew that one goddamn taste wouldn’t be enough. Shit, that’s why I’ve kept her at arm’s length this past year and a half. Haddie being sexy was a given, but getting tangled with her in the sheets was something I didn’t want to risk since she was Rylee’s best friend. And best friends dating best friends usually always turns ugly.

So I tried to play it safe. Lot of good that did me since I fell off the cliff last night and don’t even think I want to be rescued from the rope I’m dangling from.

I reach up and adjust my ball cap, and then I grab my bag out of the bed of the truck. This is the problem with pussy: When you want it you can’t get it, and when you don’t want it, you get it and then you can’t get it out of your fucking head.

And fuck if I can erase sweet goddamn Haddie’s from owning my thoughts.

“Hey, asshole?”

The voice shocks me from my thoughts. I snap my head up and look toward the porch. “What the fuck are you doing here, Walker?”

“Glad to see you too, dude,” my brother says as he leans over to get a sloppy kiss from Rex. He laughs and ruffles his fur before looking back up at me.

I look around to make sure I didn’t miss seeing my brother’s truck on the way in, but nope, it’s not here. “I didn’t know you were going to be up here.” I pull my bag over my shoulder and start walking toward the old ranch house.

“Yeah, well, it was last minute. Aubrey had a bachelorette party in Vegas.” He shrugs as he lifts the beer in his hand to his lips. “I figured I’d head out here for a couple of days while she was gone. Recharge. Relax. Become one with nature,” he says with a raise of his eyebrows as he repeats the motto our mom used to say when she hauled us off to this old house in Ojai. It has been in her family for years. We used to roll our eyes at the motto as kids, but understand it as adults.

“My truck’s behind the barn. I was letting Raul use it,” he explains, causing me to look over toward the barn to see if the caretaker is there to wave a greeting to, but he’s nowhere in sight. “What’s your excuse for coming up?”

“I was looking for some time. Alone,” I say as I climb the steps.

“Oh, poor baby,” he teases. “Is my big brother sad that his bromance has been interrupted by a little wedding?”

“Fuck off,” I tell him, even though I already know he’s not going to. He never does, when it comes to how close Colton and I are. “I just needed some R and R. I drank too much last night … thought I’d come up for the weekend and recover. By myself. Leave it to my dumb-ass little brother to ruin my plans.”

He slaps my back and laughs. “Good thing he did, because he stocked the fridge with ice-cold beer.”

“Seriously?” Sweet. Saves me the trip into town to get more.

“Seriously. Dontcha love me now?” he says as he heads toward the kitchen while I head toward the bedroom to drop off my stuff.

“I’d love you even more if you grabbed me one. Or two or three,” I yell down the hallway to him.

Pulling the brim of my hat down, I sink down in the chair a bit more. The sun feels good on my skin and the ice-cold beer sliding down my throat feels even better. Walker keeps yakking on and on like a woman, and I tune him out. He definitely got our mother’s talk-about-fucking-nothing-ad-nauseam gene.

I close my eyes, and my thoughts wander back toward last night. And then they drift to how fucking great the sex was. How great Haddie was. I feel like a chick thinking about it again, about her again, but shit, the sex was incredible. Not to mention that it’s such a damn turn-on when a woman is confident and not afraid to speak her mind in the sack.

“What’s your deal, dude?”

“Huh?” I glance at Walker.

“Who is she?” he asks with a smirk.

“Who is who?” I aim for classic avoidance. Walker doesn’t need to know zip about Haddie because it was just a one-night stand. And if he thinks any differently—Mr. I love to be in a relationship—he’ll run blabbing to Mom, and then she’ll start in on me about grandbabies. And of course, then I’ll get the phone call from Dad telling me she’s driving him crazy with all of this baby nonsense, but can I hurry it up some so that he can have some peace and quiet? Shit, I’m okay with having kids someday, just not now.

I’ve still got oats to sow, places to see, and people to do before I take a chance and bareback.

“Becks … you’re sitting over there with your eyes closed, a stupid-ass smirk on your face, and you’re adjusting your dick every five fucking seconds.” He raises his eyebrows at me. “So either you’re remembering getting lucky—and it seems like it was a damn good lucky—or else you’re having some kind of pornographic wet daydream, and if that’s the case, you’re a sick fuck since you’re doing it while I’m sitting right here.”

I stare at him and see amusement in my pestering little brother’s eyes. “Shut up.” It’s not a very good comeback, but it’s all I’ve got, because he caught me red-handed.

“Ha! I knew it!” he says, turning in his lounge chair to face me. “What poor woman was subjected to your lack of skill last night?”

And so his screwing with me begins. I love my brother to death, but he needs some new fucking comebacks. I swear to God he hangs out too much with his girlfriend, Aubrey, because he couldn’t be sporting more estrogen if he were wearing some lipstick and heels.

I start to respond to his dim-witted comment when I hear a cell phone ring. I drop my head to the side and stare at him. Yep. Way too fucking much estrogen. “Please, tell me that is not your ringtone?” I beg of my brother as a Katy Perry song plays on.

He looks at me like I’m crazy. “Dude, my cell is right here,” he says, holding it up for proof. “That’s yours.”

What the …? I rise from the chair and head toward the sliding-glass doors, where I set my phone on the counter inside. Katy keeps singing about California girls and melting Popsicles, and I swear to God, this has to be one of Colton’s fucking pranks. A final parting gift before he left for his honeymoon. The last time he did this my ringtone was “I Touch Myself,” and it went off in the middle of a pit crew meeting. He’s such an asshole sometimes.

I reach for my black iPhone, the screen announcing Rylee’s name. He had better not have fucked with my contacts too.

“Hello?” I answer the phone cautiously.

“Becks? Why do you have Haddie’s phone?” Rylee’s voice comes through loud and clear, and all of a sudden, it hits me. Haddie picked up the wrong phone this morning when I dropped her off. But what female has a plain black cell phone case? Haddie’s anything but plain. “Becks, you there?”

This is fucking stellar. I might as well post on social media that I had sex with Haddie because me answering her cell phone did just as well. For fuck’s sake. Deflection is my only choice. “I’m here…. Shouldn’t you be doing something else on the first day of your honeymoon instead of calling me?”

“We’re delayed at the airport,” she says at the same time I hear a flight number being called in the background.

I laugh. “Like that’s gonna stop Colton from getting busy—”

“Are you with Haddie?” she says, cutting me off, and I can hear the curiosity in her voice. I don’t want to deal with this, especially because Walker is standing in the doorway, hanging onto my every word.

“No. I don’t know where she—”

“Then why do you have her cell phone?” She lets the question linger, and I struggle with an explanation that she’ll believe. “Did you two—”

“Give me the phone.” It’s Colton’s voice, and now I know I’m screwed. I hear shuffling and then, “Becks?”

“Hello, Mr. Rings-with-strings, you old married fucker.”

He laughs. “Dude, at least I’m getting some on a more than regular basis. You’re just jealous. If you decided to lower your standards and get some too, you’d be a much happier…. Oh shit …” And I swear I can hear the light switch on in his head. “You slept with Haddie, didn’t you?”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” I tell him, grimacing momentarily. “Nothing happened.”

“Aha, you so did!” He shouts out with a mocking laugh. “Nothing happened, my ass…. Besides the only time you take a chick’s cell phone is if you’re escaping in the dark before she wakes up, or if you’re so flustered from figuring out whether to kiss her good night … er … good morning”—he chuckles again—“that you grab it accidentally.”