Erin McCarthy - Sweet

He shook his head, lifting his cigarette to his mouth again. “No. My aunt Jackie disappeared a month ago, probably shacked up with her drug dealer. Her son is in jail, and they’re my only family, besides good ol’ Dad, who isn’t eligible for parole for another ten years. But look around you, Jess. I mean, you clearly know it—this place is a dump. It reeks in here, and that social worker is going to take one look around and think that my brother belongs in some fucking foster home with people who don’t give a shit about him.”

Without warning, Riley took the whiskey bottle and hurtled it at the back door, where it smashed, amber liquid trailing down the wood.

I jumped.

“Seven years,” he said passionately. “Seven fucking years I have been working for the goal of making sure that kid doesn’t end up in the system and now I’m going to fail and he’s going to pay the price for me not being man enough to save him.”

“Hey,” I said gently, shocked by the self-loathing, by the burden that he clearly had been carrying for way longer than a twenty-five-year-old should have to. “You haven’t failed. We have a few days. A couple of cans of paint, we’ll pull the carpet up to get rid of the smell, no big deal. No one expects you to provide anything more than a clean and safe environment for Easton, and you’re doing that.”

He didn’t say anything.

“I think Easton is very lucky to have you. He may have drawn a shitty card when it came to your parents, but he has you and that’s going to save him, Riley. He’s going to be fine, and you can be proud of yourself for everything you’ve done and sacrificed.” I meant that. So many guys would have bolted, but Riley was in for the long haul.

“Tyler is better at the surrogate parent thing than me.” He took the last drag of his cigarette and stubbed it out. “I’m not good at the whole homework and shower and take-him-to-the-doctor thing. I seem to be missing the nurturing gene.”

“You and me both,” I told him. “I’m not sure I’m cut out to be a parent.” I had never admitted that to anyone. It made me feel like such a jerk. But I wasn’t sure I would be a good mother. I couldn’t imagine singing lullabies or cleaning up snot.

“I don’t want kids.” He dug into my shopping bag and pulled out a pack of peanut butter cups. “Can I eat these?”

“Sure.”

“I figure having kids is like the biggest gamble ever, and if you fuck it up, you’re not just messing your own life up but another human being’s. That’s too much responsibility.”

“That’s because you’ve been raising your brothers for years. Maybe you’ll change your mind some day.” I gave him a soft smile. “When you meet the right girl.” Isn’t that what they always said? You met The One and suddenly you were envisioning picket fences and baby strollers? It was hard to picture that for myself since I had never once come even remotely close to being in love.

Riley was the first guy I’d actually been genuinely interested in in about forever and a day and yet, he just might be the first legitimate friendship with a guy I’d ever had. Where you had real conversations and shared genuine thoughts and emotions. I didn’t want to screw that up.

“Nah, I doubt it. But yeah, it’s been hard. But I don’t resent taking care of Easton, I don’t mean that. I would do anything for that kid, and Jayden, too. They’re awesome kids, despite all of my mom’s shit, and I work hard to make sure they have food and a roof over their heads.” He flashed a quick grin, but his eyes were troubled. “For now, anyway. But they deserve better than I can give them, and that makes me angry.”

“Stop beating yourself up. Your dad is in jail. Your mother was a drug addict. It’s a miracle none of you are serial killers or junkies yourselves. I think if you can get Easton to eighteen and he is a decent guy, then you’ve done a damn good job. And if he ends up in an alley with a needle in his arm, it’s not your fault.”

Maybe that wasn’t exactly the right thing to say.

Riley stopped cramming chocolate into his mouth long enough to cock his head and say, “Now there’s an image. Thanks for that.”

I flushed. “Sorry. This is why I can’t be a mother. I give terrible advice.”

But Riley laughed. “No, you’re fine. I appreciate the effort. Most girls would have hidden in their rooms, or told me to suck it up, or tried to distract me with sex.”

Well, it wasn’t like that last one hadn’t entered my head. He was practically naked and we were both buzzed and I was oh, maybe falling completely head over ass for him.

I ignored that. “I’ll help you with cleaning up the house. I’m happy to help. We have all weekend. This place will shine like the top of the Chrysler Building.”

He gave me a lopsided smile. “Come here.”

“Come here where?” I asked, suspicious.

“Here.” He held out his hand.

“Are you going to give me a wet willie or something?” I asked, reluctantly standing up and going over to him. I took the remaining half of the peanut butter cup out of his hand and ate it. “Yum.”

“Sit down.” He gestured to his lap.

Oh, no freaking way. No, no, and no. I was not going to sit on his lap when he was in nothing but boxer briefs, eyes still glassy from alcohol. I wasn’t known for resisting temptation. As a kid, if you waved candy in front of me, I would have traded my family for a bag of Jolly Ranchers. I had to admit that I wasn’t sure I could control my feelings when he was so tantalizingly close to my touch.

“Absolutely not,” I told him, unscrewing the cap on the energy drink to hide my expression from his eyes.

But while I was sipping, he grabbed me and pulled me down onto him.

“Riley!” I tried to maneuver away, but it was too late. I fell with a thunk on his thighs, and I realized wiggling around was worse than sitting still. “What?”

“You’re really going to help me clean this dump up?” he asked, suddenly looking earnest.

I studied him for a second, my heart squeezing. “Yes. I already was, but this is just a little more large scale, but still no big deal. We’ll have this place looking amazing and they’ll give you custody of Easton. I promise.” Of course, I couldn’t promise any such thing, but I didn’t want to see him like that.

He smiled. “Thank you. You’re a good person, you know that?”

I shook my head. “I’m not, not really. I’m not awful, but I’m not so nice, truthfully.”

“You are, too. You’re helping me, aren’t you?”

“That’s what friends do.” I put my arms on his shoulders because I was losing my balance. “And we’re friends, right?”

“Yeah.” His hand was warm on my back. “We’re definitely friends, Jess. Though I just realized I don’t know your last name.”

“It’s Sweet.” I fingered his necklace, enjoying being this close to him. It might never happen again, so I was going to take advantage of the opportunity. Heat radiated off him, and I could smell the whiskey on his breath. “Ironic, huh?”

“Seriously, that’s your last name?”

I nodded, cheeks burning for some reason. I didn’t blush any more than I cried. So annoying.

“I think it’s appropriate. You are, actually, very sweet.” Riley’s hand shifted underneath my hoodie onto my bare skin, and I shivered. “That’s what I think.”

“I think you’re drunk.” Why did he have to touch me like that? His hand was just resting on the small of my back, his thumb brushing back and forth lazily.

We were in a dangerous position, and he didn’t seem to have a clue. For a long minute, he studied me, his eyes dark in the harsh light of the kitchen, and I held my breath, wondering what he was thinking, wanting him to say something . . . important.

“Maybe.” His gaze dropped. “I never realized how big your tits are. Damn, all this yellow is really distracting.”

Yeah. That wasn’t it.

Disgusted, I jumped up off his lap. “On that note, I’m going to bed. And you should too. Nine a.m., buddy, you need to be in the living room ready to work.”

He saluted me and reached for his cigarettes.

“And no smoking in here!” I zipped up my hoodie all the way. “We just painted this kitchen!” With a sound of exasperation, I threw up my hands and left the room.

Then I had a thought. Rounding on him, I added, “Don’t try to clean up that glass tonight. You’re too drunk and you’ll cut yourself. We can get it tomorrow.”

The corner of his mouth lifted. “And you don’t think you’re good mom material. I think it’s there, you just hide it under all that blond.”

As if that didn’t have me speechless, he chose that moment to stand up. Riley sitting in underwear was bad enough. But when he rose in an unfurling of naked hotness, standing in front of me like every girl’s fantasy, my mouth went dry. I half expected water to suddenly drop from the ceiling and land on him for a perfect package of gorgeous wet skin and finish me off completely.

The Wicked Witch had nothing on me when it came to melting.

“Put some pants on,” I told him.

He pointed an unlit cigarette at me and grinned. “See? Right there. Mom. That was perfect.”

First he said I was like his little sister.

Now like a mother?

It was going from bad to worse.

I didn’t expect Riley to get out of bed before noon, but there he was, in the kitchen at nine on the nose, brewing coffee and looking sexy in all his hungover scruff. He had a beard growing and dark circles under his eyes, his hair spiked out in all directions, as he shuffled barefoot in a pair of ratty jeans. No shirt of course. I was starting to think I was going to have to buy him a pack of T-shirts for my own sanity.

“What’s up?” he said, his voice sounding like he’d spent the night swallowing rocks. He gave a wet cough that made my stomach turn.

I wasn’t feeling all that fabulous, and the phlegmy sounds he was making weren’t helping. “Hey.” Flopping in a chair, I debated what to eat.

“Want some coffee?”

“No, it’s too hot for coffee.”

“It’s good for a hangover though, of which I have one.” He leaned with his elbows on the counter and rubbed his forehead aggressively. “Did I really kill a fifth of Jack?”

“Except for what you threw against the door, which wasn’t that much. So yeah, basically.” I stood back up, deciding I needed to eat something sooner rather than later. Fishing a yogurt out of the fridge, I asked, “So you don’t remember anything?” I was disappointed by that. It felt like we’d shared some kind of moment of bonding, and as stupid and lame as it sounded, I didn’t want that to be gone.

“I remember everything. I was just trying to convince myself that I really wasn’t stupid enough to drink that much.”

“Oh. Hey, it happens.”

Riley poured himself a cup of coffee and basically drank it all in one gulp. “Shit, that’s good.” He shoved himself up off the counter. “So what are we doing today? You’re the brains behind this, I’m the brawn. Just tell me what to do.”

I wished.

But practically speaking, in terms of the house, I did have a plan. “I’m going to finish cleaning up the kitchen. I bought new knobs for the cabinets, and I have some things to hang. You’re going to hang them, because I have no clue how to do that. Then we’ll tear up the carpet in the living room.”

“Alright.” He closed his eyes for a second, like he was calling up fortification. Then he snapped them back open and stood up, slapping his hand on the counter. “Let’s do this. You get what you need, I’ll get my drill and a knife to cut the carpet.”

Apparently he kept his drill and a knife in his bedroom. That struck me as more than a little weird, but maybe it was a safety issue with Easton and Jayden around. “Why don’t you keep that in the garage?” I asked as I came out of my room with the bags from the store.

“Are you kidding me? It would be stolen in ten minutes. Have you been in the garage? The only thing in there is a lawn mower that doesn’t run because someone stole the starter off it, and those old busted plastic sleds.”

“There’s a broom in there, too.” I started opening the individual plastic bags with the new brushed-nickel knobs. The eighties colonial pulls were gross and needed to go. “I found it the other day.”

“I’m sure it was happy to see the light of day since no one has used that in about a decade.” Riley was cleaning up the glass from the broken bottle with his bare hands, squatting down in a way that made his jeans drag down.

I balled up the receipt from buying the knobs and threw it at him. My aim was surprisingly good, and it landed in his butt crack before bouncing back off. “Score,” I told him, amused. No matter how sexy the guy, plumber’s crack has a way of killing the heat level.