Say You're Mine

by Alexis Winter

  “Yes, I did say that. But in my defense, I had signed my life away to this woman just a few weeks before that, so pardon me if I wasn’t in the mood for a drinking game.”

  “Don’t blame that on me!” Amanda says. “I will no longer be blamed for the times you wanted to be an asshole.”

  It seems like so long ago that Amanda came into my garage, setting off a course of events I still can’t believe were real.

  I thought I was going to need to testify against Big Al and The Kings, but it turns out a trial wasn’t even needed. They all flipped on each other, and Big Al had no choice but to plead guilty. But then he cut his own deal, bringing down the head of the gang, telling the cops about a lot heavier shit than just running a chop shop. No one is expected to see the light of day for a very long time.

  Our second location is not only up and running, but it’s thriving. Hell, it might be busier than our original location, which is still doing well on its own.

  And as for Tori and me? We couldn’t be better.

  We’ve had a few rough patches in the last six months, but when you put two stubborn-ass people together, there are bound to be a few fights. Though sometimes I think she picks fights just so we can make up.

  I’m not complaining.

  “Never have I ever kept a huge-ass secret from my best friend.”

  I laugh as I give a toast to Jaxson, who still isn’t over the fact that everyone at some point knew about Tori and me except him. Tori realized I told Maverick, and she told me she filled in Annabelle and Scarlett just before she went to Wisconsin.

  Tori figured Jaxson knew about us, given all of that. But apparently, his fiancée neglected to tell him, using some excuse about sisters over misters, so when Tori and I came into the bar holding hands when we got back from Wisconsin, we realized he was the only one surprised.

  You’d figure after six months he’d have gotten over it.

  “I’m sorry, man. I really thought Annabelle would’ve told you.”

  “Apparently my wife is a phenomenal secret-keeper, which makes me wonder what else she’s keeping locked up in that vault of hers,” he says, placing a kiss on her neck, and sending her into a fit of giggles.

  “My lips are sealed,” she says with a smile.

  Annabelle does know one more secret, but she won’t have to keep it in for long.

  Because it’s about to be revealed right now.

  “All right, everyone. Last question,” I stand up, making a big spectacle. “Never have I ever been proposed to while playing a drinking game in front of our friends.”

  Everyone looks at me as I drop down to one knee. Tori’s eyes are huge and I’m pretty sure I hear squealing behind her from the girls.

  And maybe Ben.

  “Victoria Brennan, from the first time I met you, I knew you were something special. Then I got to know you, and I realized you were going to be a handful. But it was a handful I couldn’t imagine not having in my life. I love your smile, your wit, and even your smart mouth. You are unapologetically you, and I want to spend the rest of my life making ridiculous bets with you and watching endless hours of ‘Golden Girls’ reruns. And loving you. Tori, will you make me the happiest man alive and be my wife?”

  Apparently when you propose at a crowded bar, it gets real quiet, real quick. I didn’t take that into consideration when I planned this out.

  Then I realize what I’ve done. For the second time in my life, I’ve rendered Tori speechless.

  “Tori! Say something!” Annabelle whisper-yells.

  “You haven’t said yes!” Scarlett follows.

  “For the love of God, say something or I will!” That’s Ben. I’ve come to really like him.

  “Yes! Yes! A million times yes!” Tori says, jumping off her chair and falling into my arms.

  I place the ring on her finger and kiss my girl like I’ve never kissed her before as cheers ring out around us.

  I’ve never claimed to be a good man. The roads in my life haven’t always been the easiest to navigate.

  But if those are the roads I had to travel to get where I am today, I’d steal a hundred cars and drive every one of them to end up here.

  Brother-In-Law’s Baby

  SOUTH SIDE BOYS SERIES

  BOOK 3

  A Novel

  By

  Alexis Winter

  Two pink lines...yup, pregnant by my hot AF brother-in-law/roommate,

  Baby number two couldn't have come at a worse time.

  * * *

  Look, this isn’t my dream life.

  I never planned on being a single mom begging to live with my brother-in-law.

  And it’s no secret he didn’t want this arrangement either.

  Fresh off a broken engagement, he isn’t exactly welcoming us with open arms.

  * * *

  But I can’t help noticing the way his eyes linger on my lips,

  heavy with lust and a look that says, ‘I’m about to devour you.’

  And don’t even get me started on how amazing he is with my son.

  * * *

  I can’t say I’ve been very innocent in this either,

  With rock hard abs and arms the size of pythons,

  It’s hard not to imagine ripping his tight t-shirt off his tattooed bod.

  And acting out every dirty scene I’ve ever read in a romance novel.

  * * *

  I just have to keep my focus so I can get my life back on track,

  Before my son isn’t the only one falling in love with Mr. Moody and Brooding.

  * * *

  You’d be hard-pressed to find a woman who wouldn’t pay top dollar for a drug like him.

  And I have it here.

  Right now.

  * * *

  So how do I tell him the reason I ran away is because he’s about to be a daddy?

  1

  Scarlett

  There are few things more depressing than walking up the stairs to your rundown apartment carrying a stack of mail you know must be full of bills. It’s like the worst walk of shame ever.

  And as I flip through the pile, I know I’m right.

  Bill. Bill. Another bill. Final notice from my building manager saying that when I renew my lease next month, my rent will be going up. Junk. Offer for a credit card I don’t need. Coupons for pizza.

  I’ll keep those. The rest I’ll deal with later.

  “Mama! Mama!”

  My three-year-old son comes running to the door as soon as I open it, making me drop the pile of mail in the entryway. But I don’t care. One day I know he’s not going to run to the door when I come home from work. So as long as he wants to, I’ll drop whatever I’m holding to be able to scoop him into my arms.

  “Hey, buddy. Were you good for Aunt Tori?”

  He excitedly nods his head as my sister comes walking into the kitchen, looking like she just ran a marathon.

  “What’s the matter with you?” I ask as I sprinkle kisses on my boy’s face.

  “Hurricane Grant was in full effect today. He was at a Category 4.”

  I laugh at my sister, who seriously looks like hell. I don’t know what kind of trouble my son could have gotten into during the four hours I was gone, but by the look on my sister’s face, it was a lot. Then I look at my son, who is smiling like a lunatic at his aunt.

  “Did Aunt Tori give you candy?”

  He nods enthusiastically. “And ice cweam!”

  I glare at my sister, who is currently ready to fall asleep on my kitchen table.

  “One of these days you’ll learn you can’t give him sugar this late. This is really your fault.”

  Her head snaps up as she points to the little angel in my arms.

  “My fault? It’s his fault. He’s too damn cute. I can’t say no to him. How do you say no to that face?”

  I agree with my sister: my boy does have a face that’s hard to resist. He gets it from his father.

  I should know. That’s how I ended up with a three-yea
r-old in the first place.

  I met Ryan about four years ago in the most cliché way possible.

  He picked me up with a cheesy line at a bar.

  I was going to school to become a certified nursing assistant, and a few of my classmates and I decided to go out for a drink one night. Somehow between the margaritas and the mozzarella sticks, Ryan and I made eye contact and one horrible pickup line later, I was smitten.

  I gave him my number. He had the whole bad boy vibe going on that I’ve never been able to say no to. Plus, he was hot and seemed like a nice guy despite the tattoos and the piercings. What was the harm in giving him my number?

  Everything started really well. Or at least I thought so. He was sweet and attentive, and pretty good in bed. Not that I had a ton of experience before him. But I had orgasms more times than not, so that’s good, right?

  Tori never liked him, which should have been a huge red flag. Every day she would tell me that he was using me and that he was a deadbeat. I didn’t mind loaning him a few bucks, or letting him use my car when I was at work. I always defended him, saying that she really didn’t know him.

  Then I got pregnant with Grant about five months into our relationship, and bless my sister for not saying I told you so. Because she’d earned the right to scream it from the top of a building.

  The second I showed him the pregnancy test, his face went white and I swear to God I thought he was going to pass out. He told me he needed to take a walk and clear his head about it.

  I didn’t see him again for 10 months.

  In fairness, he wasn’t gone that whole time just because he was scared of becoming a father. Which he was. But it turned out six of those months were spent in jail, because apparently my bad boy with a heart of gold was also a small-time drug dealer.

  Do I know how to pick them or what?

  Grant has seen him maybe a handful of times in his three years on earth. If he walked into our apartment right now, I’m pretty sure I’d have to explain who he is.

  But I would. I’d introduce Ryan as his daddy and make up some story about why he he’s been away. Because as much as I hate it, Grant is Ryan’s son, and maybe one day, Ryan will get his life together and be there for him.

  Or at least that’s what I keep telling myself.

  I put Grant down, telling him to go get ready for bed as I pick up the mail. It’s way past his bedtime. Or what should be appropriate for a three-year-old. But I hate not being able to tuck him in the nights I work my second job as a waitress after working all day as a CNA. So he stays up until 10. Probably not going to win me any “mother of the year” awards, but at least my son will never wonder why I don’t tuck him in at night.

  “Are you looking for something specific?” Tori asks as I furiously thumb through the pile of mail.

  “No. Why do you ask?”

  She gives me a look letting me know she sees right through my bullshit. I don’t want to tell her what I’m looking for. Because if it doesn’t work out, I don’t want to have to explain myself.

  “Fine. I won’t press you, because honestly, I’m too tired. Your kid wiped me the fuck out.”

  “Thank you again.” I give my sister a hug, not knowing what I’d do without her. Daycare is expensive, and the nights she helps when I pull hours at the restaurant are a relief for both me and my wallet.

  “Anytime. You know that.”

  “Maybe next time you won’t fill him full of sugar and you won’t be so tired.”

  She laughs, grabbing her purse and keys.

  “I’m the fun aunt. This is my job. Have fun getting him to bed.”

  I laugh as Tori leaves my apartment, but when I go to shut the door, I notice a letter I must have dropped in the hallway.

  I bend to pick it up and recognize the logo.

  This is it. The letter I’ve been waiting for.

  “Mama! I pooped in the potty!”

  I sigh, look at the letter, and set it down. I’ll get to it later.

  Because to be honest, I’m terrified of opening it.

  2

  Maverick

  “Which one do you think Tori will like?,” Kalum asks me. “If you asked her, she’d say the over-the-top one. But in private, she told me she really wants the classic, understated one. But what if she actually wants the flashy one and she’s saying she wants the other one because it’s not as extravagant?”

  I roll my eyes because I have no idea why the fuck I’m here with my brother right now. Shouldn’t Scarlett be here? She’s Tori’s sister for God’s sake. Or maybe Annabelle. She’s her best friend. Either one of them has to be more qualified for this than me.

  “Tell me why I’m here again? Because I still can’t figure it out. And don’t say because you’re taking me for beers after. Which you are, by the way. A lot of them.”

  My brother takes a deep breath. I’ve asked this question at least five times now, and I’m pretty sure he’s ready to deck me.

  “Because you’re my brother. And this is a big decision. I would like . . . no . . . I need your help. I can’t fuck this up.”

  “Dude. This isn’t that big of a deal.”

  “Not that big of a deal? What do you mean not that big of a deal?”

  Now it’s my turn to take a deep breath, because I’m gathering all the strength I possess to hold myself back from slapping him upside the head.

  “No, Kalum, it’s not. You are buying her a fucking purse. If this is how you act on her birthday, then I’m glad I wasn’t there when you bought her engagement ring. Just get both of them, but make sure you can return them. Then ask Scarlett and Annabelle which one she will like and go from there.”

  Twenty minutes later, Kalum leaves the store with both purses and a necklace. No clue why he bought the jewelry—I just heard him mumble something about having her wear it with a red dress. I didn’t want to ask any unnecessary questions that would stand between me and a beer.

  “I don’t know why you were bitching so much. It’s not like you’ve never overthought a present for a woman,” Kalum says as we slide onto two bar stools.

  “Don’t even fucking go there,” I warn my brother, already not in the mood.

  “I’m not. I’m just saying payback is a bitch. And I didn’t need a bank to help out with my purchase.”

  It’s a low fucking blow and he knows it. But I don’t respond because I don’t feel like getting into that shit now. It’s in the past. Where it belongs.

  Even though he’s right.

  And I didn’t make him go purse shopping with me; we went house hunting.

  “So what are the plans for Tori’s birthday?” I know them by heart, but I desperately want to change the subject.

  “She said she doesn’t want anything crazy. Just the usual group at the bar for a normal night out. Only with presents.”

  “Tori doesn’t want anything crazy? What have you done to her?”

  Kalum just laughs, taking a sip of his beer. “Nothing, man. We’re just . . . in a good place now. Things got crazy for a while there and we’re both liking the idea of chilling out for a bit.”

  I don’t blame my brother for wanting to take a step away from life for a second. Hell, I wouldn’t blame him if he wanted to check out for the next 10 years after all the shit we’ve been through in our lives.

  Growing up on the South Side of Chicago wasn’t easy, but we managed just fine. Then we decided to make a career out of stealing cars, which was great for a while.

  And then it wasn’t. Prison could have been worse, but we pulled a deal and served only a few years each.

  But the last few months have been especially stressful for Kalum. Not only were we in the middle of opening up a second location of our custom car garage, but he was working undercover with the cops to help bring down a gang and the illegal chop shop they were running out of our original location. Of course, I knew nothing about this at the beginning, but he eventually told me he was doing it to make sure I didn’t go back to prison.

/>   It was messy and complicated and stressful as fuck. But in the end, the bad guys went away, we’re all good, and everyone is now living a calm life.

  We deserve it.

  “Chilling out sounds good. And speaking of, it’s about time I headed out.”

  “When are you going to sell that house and move closer? It’s way too big for you, and it’s so fucking far away.”

  “It’s 20 minutes, Kalum. It’s not like I live in Indiana.”

  “But still, the rest of us live in the city. And the garages are there. I don’t understand why you won’t sell it. You don’t even like it.”

  There are reasons, financial and personal. Ones he doesn’t need to know about.

  “Good night, Kalum. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  I don’t know if it’s the night I just had or the memories that were brought up, but I don’t head straight home. Instead, I take a drive without a destination in mind.

  Kalum was right when he said I should sell my house. There’s a financial reason for keeping it, but hell, at this point in time I could take the hit to my wallet without it affecting me much. It would be much more convenient to live in the city. But every time I think about selling it, I just can’t pull the trigger.

  I might not ever want to fill that house with a wife or kids. Hell, I don’t even want a dog. Living alone in a house meant for five people is my punishment. My penance.

  Keeping that house is a reminder that only fools fall in love, and I never want to be a fool again.

  3

  Scarlett

  I’m a 23-year-old woman enjoying a kid-free night out with my best friends. The drinks are flowing, the laughs are constant, and I should be having the time of my life.