by Piper Rayne
“Yeah, come on in.” I bend down to pick up my phone and walk over to the couch he’s already sitting on. “How was the honeymoon?”
He nods. “Good. Relaxing. Had a great time.”
“That’s wonderful. Is Holly as tanned as you?” I smile.
“Not quite.” He chuckles. “She spent most of her time under the umbrella and took great pleasure in lecturing me about the risks of sun damage. She considers herself the expert since she grew up in Florida.”
“Well, she’s right.”
He rolls his eyes at me.
Never one to beat around the bush, especially with Austin, I get right to it. “I heard you’re trying for a baby.”
His head falls into his hands. “Seriously, the gossip in this town.” He looks at me a second later with obvious questions of his own. “I ran into Denver in town. We took Calista and Dion their souvenirs.”
I cross my legs and keep my phone tucked into my lap just in case Liam messages me. How can one twin be a vault and the other the exact opposite? “I told him if he told anyone that I’d put him on every dating site, saying he’s desperate for monogamy.”
He leans back and spreads his arms across the backs of the cushions. “Then I’d start downloading dating apps to your phone.”
I shake my head.
“Listen, I’m not here to tell you what to do. Before we left for the honeymoon, things were a little intense between you and Liam. I honestly worried one of you would be going to jail for assault. But Denver says when he’s allowed in the house, you guys seem cool with one another.”
If anyone understands taking the responsibility for your family at such a young age and how that can mess with your head, it’s Austin. We each did our part after our parents died. “I think I like him.”
He cocks his eyebrow. “You think?”
“Fine, I know I do.” My phone dings in my lap, and I grin.
“Is that him?” he asks.
I turn it over, see Liam’s name, and turn it back around, not reading the text yet. “Yeah.”
“From the smile on your face, I’d say things are better than cool between you two.”
Ever since Holly came into Austin’s life, we haven’t had many heart-to-hearts. Then again, she came as soon as the twins turned eighteen. Once he was no longer responsible for the day-to-day responsibilities of any of our siblings, his job was done. I’m the one who signed up for the forever job—being responsible for Bailey Timber Corp.
“Yeah. Though I’m sure it doesn’t make much sense to you.”
He smiles. “It makes sense.”
“He’s so easygoing.”
“Opposites attract.”
“He’s a recovering playboy… I hope.”
Austin sits on the edge of the couch. “Liam isn’t a playboy. I’m not sure he ever really was. I know he might’ve gone through a phase, and sure, he had his share of fun, but the guys used to hang at the house a lot. As bad as this sounds, our brothers were the bad influence on him. He helped them when they got in over their head more than once.”
“Really?”
He laughs and shakes his head. “Do you know your brothers at all?”
“Of course, but I always figured Liam was right there with them.”
“He was, but not with the same dumbass ideas. I mean, he had that house and the barn long before Denver or Rome got their shit together. He owns Smokin’ Guns, and he’s at all the fundraisers and town events.”
I don’t need reasons to think highly of Liam. In my mind, I put his past where it belongs—BS, Before Savannah. Which also happens to stand for bullshit, which is what I think of him sleeping with other women, but I can be mature about it. Regardless, hearing Austin go to bat for him is nice.
“All right, well, I wanted to see your face when I confronted you about it. But just so you know, if I was only in town for eight hours before Denver told me, I’m pretty sure all of us Baileys know. But I’m the only one who will bring it up.”
He stands to leave, and I do too, then hug him. When he hears me sniffle from the tears that are building, he not only puts his arms around me but tightens them.
“Are you okay, Sav?”
I draw back, wiping my eyes. “I’m going to tell you this, and if you tell a soul, I will kill you.”
“How well do you know me?”
Austin’s right. We were each other’s confidants for so long, but since he’s been married, I’ve felt that he was only Holly’s.
“I let Liam do this whole experiment thing with me.”
“Yeah, let me call Holly. I’m not sure this is something I wanna know about.” He turns toward the door, but I grab his arm.
“Not anything sexual.”
He stops and waits.
“It was about finding the person I was before Mom and Dad died.”
He nods and rocks back on his heels. “And?”
“And I think it’s working and now I’m constantly crying. I’m a hot mess!”
He laughs and squeezes my shoulder. “Then I’d say you’re almost there. You’re finally getting back in touch with your emotions. That’s huge for you.”
My forehead wrinkles. “What does that mean? I’ve always cared for everyone.”
“I’m not saying you’re heartless, but right after Mom and Dad died, you and I were thrust into new lives. We had to worry about getting our younger siblings through the grief of losing our parents and set our own aside. Through the years, I’ve noticed you shut down your feelings.”
“That’s not true. I cried at your wedding.” I teared up, but close enough.
He sighs. “I don’t think you ever properly dealt with your feelings about losing Mom and Dad. After a while, any time you felt something—good or bad—you kind of… pushed it away. Other than anger, I’d say your emotions are pretty locked down.”
“I’m starting to take offense.” My jaw clenches.
He laughs, running his hands through his hair. Him and his casual shorts and T-shirt because he’s a teacher. And his baseball team just won state. And he just got married. Mr. I Have Everything I Ever Dreamed Of is calling me out for not showing my emotions?
“Tears are awesome. If Liam is responsible for you finding yourself or whatever you want to call it, I couldn’t be happier. I love Liam. He’s like a younger brother to me.” He runs his hand down my upper arm.
“That’s another reason I questioned this thing between us. We’re five years apart. When I was nineteen, he was only fourteen. Isn’t that creepy?”
Austin laughs again. “Now you’re thirty-one and he’s twenty-six. You’re both adults. And seriously, I mean, if Liam was my friend, would it have been a problem? If he was the one who was nineteen when you were fourteen?”
I chew on my lip. What he’s saying is true and I want to be all female power about it and pretend I don’t care, but I’m hung up on it for some reason. “I guess you have a point.”
My phone dings again and I try to bite down my smile, but Austin points. “That’s the emotion you want to focus on right now.” He glances behind him. “Now, I need to get out of here before Grandma Dori finds me. She wants to come over for dinner, and I really don’t want to answer all her questions about us trying to have a baby. I’m going to kill Phoenix.” He snaps his fingers. “Actually, if you move in with Liam, can Phoenix stay at your house? Maybe she and Denver can live there.”
“I’m not moving.”
Shit. I haven’t even thought about moving back into my house. I mean, it’s been so long since I lived there. The thought of going back kind of depresses me now that I think of it. Liam has a better couch and all the kitchen gadgets you could want. His bed is pretty great too.
“I’ll let you contemplate that.”
Austin looks down the hallway before sliding out of my office as if rumor hasn’t already spread that he’s here. Just as he’s slipping down the hallway, Grandma Dori comes into view. He stops, his shoulders sagging a bit, but he opens his arms to h
I laugh when he glances over her shoulder at me, then I return to my desk to read Liam’s texts. It’s going to be a long night of waiting for him to finish work. Somehow, it just doesn’t feel like home unless he’s there.
Thirty-Two
Liam
The family room light is on when I return home at ten o’clock. I half expect to find Denver and Savannah in a screaming match, because Denver’s big-ass mouth sent three of the Bailey siblings to visit me at Smokin’ Guns today. Austin and Brooklyn had the courtesy to wait until I was between customers to talk to me, but Rome busted in, stole Rhys’s chair, and rolled over next to me while I was finishing Gerald, a client who was there on his fourth visit to finish a large family emblem on his back. Thankfully, all of the Baileys gave me their blessing and said they’d keep it quiet, per Savannah’s wishes. However, thanks to Rome, I have to make sure Gerald, an accountant from two towns over, keeps our secret too.
By the time I reach the door, I hear music coming from inside—“Dancing in the Streets” by David Bowie and Mick Jagger. When I step inside, I spot Savannah dancing in the kitchen with a spoon to her mouth, lip syncing.
I drop my bag, cross my arms, and watch her. Her hair is pulled back in a high ponytail, and she’s in yoga pants and my old Lake Starlight High School T-shirt, which is tied in a knot at her waist. I want to kidnap her and hold her hostage in my room until she’s had at least three orgasms. But it’s rare to see her like this, so I don’t dare. She continues dancing while she puts the wooden spoon in a bowl and stirs, her hips swaying to the beat.
Denver slides into the room in his socks as though he’s Tom Cruise in Risky Business, then he grabs her and they dance. He has one hand on her hip and his other hand in hers. Every step is exaggerated and they’re both laughing so hard by the time the song comes to an end, Denver falls onto a breakfast stool and Savannah bends over the counter, giving me a perfect view of her ass.
Denver spots me at the door and nudges Savannah, pointing at me. “Daddy’s home.”
Savannah glances over her shoulder and smiles.
Damn. I know with certainty that I could come home to that smile every night for the rest of my life and be a happy man.
She swivels around and leans her elbows on the counter. “You’re just in time. We’re about to frost.”
“Frost?” I push off the wall, happy to see she didn’t give Denver a black eye but wishing he’d disappear so I could place her on the counter, spread her legs, and make her scream my name.
“The cake,” she says when I fist-bump Denver.
I wrap my arm around her waist to bring her flush against my chest. “My entire eight-hour shift, all I could think of was doing this.”
I bend her down and capture her lips. At first, she pushes me away but relents for a half a second before pushing at me again.
“I guess I have to get used to this now, huh?” Denver heads to the other side of the counter as though he’s afraid we’re contagious.
“Yeah, you do.”
Savannah bites her lip, and I run my hand down her back to her ass then squeeze it. We share a look. I’m pretty sure she’s thinking what I was moments ago. Why the hell doesn’t Denver have somewhere to be on a Friday night?
“So you two made up?” I ask.
Savannah pinches Denver’s cheek. “He’s just too lovable, I suppose.”
I inspect the kitchen, looking for alcohol, but I don’t even see a beer bottle. They’re sober?
“I think she felt bad for me.”
“It was the orange chicken from Wok For U,” Savannah tells him.
“What’s with the cake?” I ask.
“Well…” She looks at her brother and they laugh. “I was watching a baking show and Denver said he could do better than the lady, so I bet him he couldn’t. We found this old mix tape in your desk over there.” She points at Denver as though he was the snoop. “And we’re wondering why you have a mix tape and a tape player?” She waves me off like I can answer that another time. “And we decided to make an ugly masterpiece together. Lucky for us, you had all the ingredients.” She runs her finger down my chest. “Are you a secret baker?”
I laugh. “I’m not a baker.”
“Neither are we.” She picks up their lopsided cake, which has one piece missing.
I wish I could watch her all night. She’s so free and living in the moment. Did all those things I made her do really make a difference? “And the missing piece of cake?”
They both laugh again.
“We had to taste-test,” Denver admits.
Not surprising for him, but I am surprised Savannah’s not annoyed by the less-than-perfect creation they made.
“Now we’re going to frost.”
Right after she says that, Pat Benatar’s “Hit Me with Your Best Shot” begins. Savannah screams. As she dances around us, pretending to punch us, Denver’s eyes meet mine. There’s an apology there. I nod in acceptance and take a seat at the breakfast bar.
“You created a monster,” he says, his gaze zeroing in on Savannah.
I don’t say anything because I’m loving how comfortable she looks right now.
“Where did you get this anyway?” She falls into my lap and wraps her arms around my neck. I’m happy to see that she’s growing more comfortable with showing me affection in front of her brother.
If I’m honest with them, I might put a screeching halt to this fun night, but then again, both of them might appreciate the truth. “Your parents. Austin shoved a crate at me with a bunch of your dad’s music after… I found this in there, and I bought a tape player to play it.”
Denver sits on a breakfast stool. “This was Dad’s?”
“I think it was your mom’s actually.”
Savannah goes limp in my arms, then she straightens, stands, and frosts the cake.
“Why do you think that?” Denver asks, but my eyes are on Savannah. She’s checked out of the conversation now. “I’m Free” by Kenny Loggins comes on, and Denver’s foot taps. “This is from that Footloose movie, right?”
I want to agree, but Denver’s gaze is on Savannah and her gaze is on the spatula moving the frosting around the cake.
“Remember your mom and her eighties movies? That red-haired actress was in almost all of them.”
“Molly Ringwald,” Savannah says.
“Yeah.” Denver’s voice softens.
Yep, I killed their good time.
“Want to watch one?” I ask.
Savannah finishes frosting the cake, and yeah, she might need a little more practice with this cake decorating thing. She dumps the bowl and spatula in the sink. “I have to do the dishes.”
Denver swipes his finger through the frosting and licks it off his finger. “It might look like shit, but it tastes grrrreat.” He does the whole Tony the Tiger from Frosted Flakes impression for the word great.
I laugh while Savannah keeps her back to me.
Silently, I ask Denver to give me a little time with her, and he nods.
“I gotta go take a piss,” he says and stands.
“Ugh, can’t you just say use the restroom?” Savannah snips.
Once Denver is gone, I run my hands around her middle and place my chin on her shoulder. She continues washing the dishes as though I’m not there.
“You know it’s okay to remember them,” I say.
“I remember them all day, every day.”
“You can smile at memories. Like I remember coming over during the Christmas break right before their accident and seeing you, Brooklyn, and your mom having an eighties movie marathon. You had all this food. Your hair was teased high and sprayed different colors, and you had on bright blue eye shadow and pink lipstick. Your mom bragged that you and Brooklyn were wearing her clothes from that era. Don’t you remember those times?”
She violently scrubs the cake pan. “They’re over now.”
I nod. “True, but you don’t have to pretend like they never happened. Come.” I lightly tug on her middle to pull her away from the sink. “We can do this later.”
“Then it will dry and it’s even harder to get clean.”
“I’ll do it. Come on. I worked all day and I want to eat your cake.”
“It’s not going to be very good. It’s dry and lumpy.” Her voice sounds gravelly, and I worry that she’s trying to hide her emotions again.
“Ah, it can’t be that bad. Plus I get pie later, right?”
She turns to me, apparently questioning my meaning, and rolls her eyes when it clicks. She elbows me and I pretend it didn’t hurt, but damn she’s boney. “Has anyone told you that you push too hard?”
I take a moment to stare at the ceiling. “No, I’m not sure I’ve ever gotten that complaint.”
I slide my hand down her arm to grab her hand and pull her toward the family room. She tries fighting me but eventually relents.
“Denver!” I yell.
He barrels down the stairs. “I’m ready.”
He runs into the kitchen, grabs the entire cake, three forks, three waters, and joins us on the couch. The cake ends up in Savannah’s lap as we all dive in while we watch Footloose. It takes Savannah a little while to settle in, but I take it as a good sign when she asks to watch The Breakfast Club after the first movie is finished.
She wasn’t waiting for me naked in my bed when I got home, but somehow, I think we made more progress toward the end goal. Tonight was exactly what she needed.
Thirty-Three
Liam
Saturday is pretty busy at the shop, so I end up having to go in for a while. I told Denver yesterday he needed to sleep somewhere else tonight, and he stops by at one point to let me know that he’s going to Brooklyn’s.
When we’re finally closed, I come home, and again, Savannah’s in the kitchen. She smiles at me over her shoulder from where she is at the stove.
“In the kitchen two nights in a row?”
She laughs. “Well, you said whatever we’re doing tonight is my last task, so I figured a celebration and a thank you are in order.”
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