by Alina Jacobs
I woke up the next morning with a headache. It was either from the drinking or the new sunroof I added in Josie's truck. I also had the worst case of blue balls in upstate New York. I was going to kill my brother. He specifically delayed his trip back to New York City so he could harass me.
Josie was in the kitchen when I went downstairs. She was nursing her own headache with what appeared to be a mixing bowl filled with cereal. There were three boxes of various cereals in front of her on the island, all pure sugar. I knew I didn't buy them. I wondered if cereal and candy just appeared wherever Josie went.
Several of my brothers were racing around and around the kitchen island, shrieking.
"I can lock them in the bunker," I offered, sitting down next to her on a stool. "And we can finish what we started."
She reached out and slowly felt my head. I took her hand and kissed it.
"You are more fit than me," she stated. "Don't you have a concussion?"
"I feel fine," I said. "Well, fine enough to, you know."
"Mm." She took another bite of cereal. "You want some?" She offered me the spoon.
"Only if there's whiskey and painkillers in it." That earned me a smile.
"I could use a nap," Josie said.
"I know a great spot," I whispered in her ear, kissing her neck to punctuate the words.
"You said you'd help me with my art project," Otis said, tugging at Josie. I needed to do something with my brothers.
"Do you really need her help?" I asked Otis harsher than I meant. Josie looked at me accusingly. I bit down a curse. No happy naps today.
"Do you have everything laid out?" she asked. She picked up the mixing bowl and walked after Otis while I watched in agony.
Eating my usual tofu scramble didn't help my mood. It also looked like she was settling down for a long day of homework helping. Josie had set up shop in the dining room, where she was helping with various school projects. Periodically one of the boys would sprint out of the room to the kitchen, grab cereal or marshmallows, and scramble back to the dining room.
"She needs fortification," Theo clarified as he ran through the kitchen. Henry was not fortifying, and Josie kicked him out of the dining room after an hour.
He spent the next several hours whining. He whined through lunch. He whined while I made him clean up the food he had thrown during lunch. He whined while I helped Isaac with his chemistry homework.
"No, it's easy," I told Isaac over Henry's wails.
"I'm not a freaking chemical engineer," he snapped.
"Watch your language," I scolded him. Henry wrapped himself around my leg.
"You're mean!" Henry wailed. "I'm going to see Josie."
"Don't bother her," I said as I wrote out a formula for Isaac. "She's helping the people who didn't get expelled from school."
"She's done. She went back to her hobbit house," Bruno said, opening the fridge.
I laid out on the warm flagstones after Isaac was done with his homework. Henry had run off to harass Josie. I would probably need to wrangle him back at some point.
I stood up. Everyone else had seen Josie today, but I hadn't had any of her time. Crossing the yard, I knocked on her door.
"Your house is so comically small," I said when she answered. I had to duck to walk through the doorway.
It felt even smaller inside. I hunched over and banged the side of my head on the hanging lamp.
"It's not for tall people," Josie said, sitting down on the tiniest couch I had ever seen.
"I feel like a giant in here." I peeked over the loft railing. Henry was scrambling around up there, running from window to window.
"He likes it in here," Josie said. "It's just his size."
I sat down next to her on the couch.
"That's the one good thing about the tiny house," I said, snuggling her close to me. "You have to sit practically on top of me."
"You shouldn't do this in front of Henry," she whispered.
"He's not paying attention," I whispered back, kissing her.
The tension left my neck, and the headache subsided as I wallowed in the nearness of her. She was wearing a soft athletic shirt, and I pulled it up to rub my hand across her back and under her bra, cupping her tit.
I moved her to straddle me. I caressed her thighs and ass through the tight yoga pants. I was about to suggest that we go inside to somewhere more private and with a lock on the door when there was a crack and the pop, pop, pop of several glass mason jars hitting the floor.
"Henry!" I yelled at my brother, jumping up and narrowly missing the sloped ceiling. "You destroyed her house!"
He immediately started crying.
"It's not his fault," Josie said as I picked Henry up out of the glass and inspected him for any damage. "My tiny house is trying to kill me. It's not just this shelf. Stuff randomly fails in here."
"I wanted to see the candy," Henry cried.
"You need to ask before you touch other people's stuff," I told him, patting his head.
"Don't cry, Henry," Josie said, tweaking his cheek as he buried his head in my shoulder. "This is a good thing! This means we get to go shopping!"
35
Josie
Unfortunately I had to go shopping in the Svenssons' kitchen. It was late, and the stores closed early in small towns.
Mace fixed my shelf, and I was carefully filling my new mason jars with candy. Henry had wandered off to play with his brothers.
"This should be pretty sturdy," Mace said as he tested the shelf.
"I don't know how much longer this tiny house is going to be with us," I said. "I feel like, sometime in the near future, it might be crossing the eternal threshold from tiny house village to freedom."
Mace chuckled and unplugged the drill. "I just wish they had made the ceiling a little higher," he said, ducking under the hanging light.
"Does all this candy have you inspired?" I said, moving past him with my newly filled jars. I felt him come up behind me as I reached up to place them on the shelf.
His lips were on my neck, and his hand moved between my legs. "I'm feeling very inspired." His other hand caressed my breasts. "I want to eat your candy," he said. His voice was an octave lower, making my jellybean melt.
"I thought you didn't like candy," I said breathlessly as his hands slowly pulled down my yoga pants.
"I think I'm going to like this," he said.
"If you want to see if you like something or not, you have to taste it." He blew softly on my bare skin, and I almost came right then and there. "And find out."
He kept one hand on my lower back while the other pulled my pants down to the floor. I stepped out of them as he pushed me forward.
The hand on my lower back traced down my ass to the wet, tight opening that was honestly ready for a good fucking from his cock. His fingers trailed through the slick, wet heat to my clit. I moaned when he rubbed it and whimpered when his hand went back up to dip in my opening.
"Can I taste your candy, Josie?" he asked. His tone promised all pleasure.
"That's what it's there for." I gasped as his fingers teased me, doing this thing like he was spinning taffy. "Don't play with your food. Just eat it."
"Or eat it out." Mace chuckled.
He grasped my hips, and then his mouth was on me. His tongue was warm, and he moved purposefully, licking me, tracing the lines of pleasure, moving to nip and kiss at my clit then back up. One of his thumbs moved to my opening, pushing in to rub me while his tongue teased my clit.
I bucked against him, but his hands held me steady.
"Mace," I pleaded, "I want you to fuck me."
He ignored me, his tongue making steady rolling strokes, teasing me, bringing me to the edge then back.
"I'm gonna come. You should fuck me. Fuck," I gasped, my fingernails scratching at the laminate countertop, causing it to peel up.
I knew I was close. My legs trembled and tightened. Mace was completely holding me up because, if I were on my own, I would have c
ollapsed on the floor in a melted puddle of syrup.
His tongue made two more twirls around my clit, and I was done. I bit down a scream as I came. I slumped over the countertop as he continued to stroke me.
"I'm toast."
"I thought you were candy," he replied, his fingers drawing out the aftershocks of pleasure.
"Toasted almond crunchy gooey caramel delight candy," I mumbled.
"That's not even a real thing." His hand was still stroking me. I felt the stirrings of pleasure.
Normally I needed a breather between rounds, but something about having that attractive man wanting me, totally content to bring me over wave after wave of pleasure, had me aching and wet for him all over again.
I licked my lips. "You going to use that Twizzler?" I asked.
"I'm almost insulted," Mace replied. I squeaked as his hand moved back down to my clit, and I moaned as he rubbed it.
"They make giant Twizzlers," I gasped. "Like really big, thick ones."
He hummed, his voice low and echoing through me. He came around to the side of me. One hand still moved between my legs while the other slid under my shirt to cup my breast, pinching at my nipple. Then he pulled me upright and kissed me hard.
"Fuck me," I begged him, pulling off my shirt and bra.
"Not after that Twizzler comment," he said, nuzzling my breasts and kissing each nipple.
Mace set me on the couch, still sucking and biting my nipples as his hand stroked me. This time my hips were free, and I bucked against his hand, gasping as he teased my clit. His mouth moved to plant kisses from my tits to my neck to my mouth, where his tongue mimicked the motions of his hand.
I was splayed over the tiny couch, my hips rolling against Mace's hand, my fingers tangled in his hair as he made me come again.
"Give me a minute, and let's see if you can do three for three," I slurred.
But I was the one who couldn't last. I woke up an hour later and pushed off the blanket he had laid over me. Yawning, I looked around the dark tiny house.
My phone blinked. I had new messages.
Marnie: You will not guess who's asleep on my air mattress
36
Mace
I was shocked at how quickly Josie fell asleep. I didn't know if I should be proud or miffed about it. But she had been working hard, and like Owen said, she probably was saving us billions of dollars with salvaging the marketing rollout of the gene therapy procedure.
I walked into the house, trying to tamp down my desire. Being with her was what I had fantasized about for the last week or so. Eating her candy, as she put it, hadn't slaked the desire, just dialed it up to a thousand.
The old Harrogate estate house had a large room that the architect told us was the clubroom. It had a built-in bar and was completely clad in wood. In the middle of the room stood a giant globe that I wouldn't let the kids touch because it was some sort of priceless antique. The furniture consisted of large leather chairs—a mix of what had been left over in the house when we bought it and pieces the architect said were period appropriate.
Usually, we kept the room locked because that was where we stored the liquor. I needed a drink. It wasn't locked when I walked in, but it was dark. If Isaac or one of the other teens had pilfered the liquor, I was going to—not hit them because I refused to be my father, but there were quite a lot of windows that needed cleaning in the house.
But the teenagers weren't there. Instead, when I turned on the light, I saw Hunter slumped in one of the chairs. He looked rough. His hair was a mess. His eyes were red, and his tie was loosened and draped over his rumpled shirt.
A bottle of cognac was on the table next to him, with a generous amount missing.
"Are you all right?" I asked him, taking the half-filled glass away from him before he could drink it.
"Don't get involved with women," he said, staring at the glass. "I think that's the mistake Dad made. He should have just stayed in the military."
"Dad made many more mistakes than leaving the military," I said carefully. I knew this had to be about Meg. I wasn't sure what had happened between them. Archer had sold it that they were madly in love and Meg was going to move in. Then the next thing I knew, she was in the Harrogate government and hell-bent on making the lives of every grown Svensson male as difficult as possible.
"All women are like Payslee, deep down," Hunter continued. "They're out to make your life as miserable as possible."
"No, they aren't," I admonished him. "Josie's nice. She's nothing like Payslee."
Hunter snorted. He looked a little green. I didn't want him to throw up on the carpet. I drained the rest of his glass and set it down.
"You're not thinking right," I told him. Slipping an arm under his armpit, I lifted him out of the chair.
"What you're doing with Josie is a mistake," Hunter slurred as I carted him down the hall. "Trust me. This isn't going to end well. We're cursed. We'll never be happy."
I couldn't stop thinking about Hunter's words as I tried to sleep that night. Was Josie a mistake? How well did I really know her? My father would show up randomly with a young woman, declare he was in love, and inform us she was our new sister mother. Maybe he and I had more in common than I'd wanted to believe. Maybe I was just infected with whatever sickness my father had.
But when I saw Josie the next morning, I knew that even if it was a bad idea, I wanted nothing more than to make mistakes with her.
She had an easy effectiveness with my younger brothers. Wearing a big straw hat and a sundress, Josie was organizing my little brothers for the picnic outing at the train park. They hung on her every word and were calm and well-behaved, more or less.
"Mace, did you see these picnic hampers?" she asked. Her eyes sparkled with delight, and my heart swelled. I couldn't help but lean in to kiss her.
"The Victorians had the best stuff!" she exclaimed.
"It's Edwardian," Garrett said as he strode past us from the carriage house, carrying a box of papers. "Can we try to use correct facts?"
I glowered. My brothers could be the worst sometimes.
Josie didn't seem fazed by his curt attitude. "Are you coming with us to use these glorious Edwardian picnic baskets?" she teased Garrett.
"Some of us have to work." He snorted. "You keep dumping Henry on me, and I can't get anything done."
"You're going to have to keep watching him," I said. "The marketing rollout needs to take priority in the next few weeks."
"Or you could find another daycare or a nanny," Garrett retorted. "There are any number of adequate solutions."
"You know that's not an option," I said, my gaze cold. I didn't want to ruin the day with the Payslee situation. Garrett scowled and went into the house.
"The train is coming soon," Otis said, bouncing up and down. "We have to go, or we'll miss it!"
"I probably should have been nicer," I said. "Then he could have driven." I sighed. "You can take Hunter's SUV. I don't think he's going to need it. It holds nine. Maybe if I go stroke Garrett's ego, he'll drive a batch."
Josie looked giddy. "We don't need to caravan. Remy and I have it under control."
I heard the rumble of an engine as we trooped around to the front of the house. Remy pulled into the roundabout with a school bus. It wasn't a nice new model—it was old and painted a familiar army green.
"I thought he was going to sell it," I grumbled.
"Why would you sell it?" Josie asked horrified. "It's your very own school bus!"
"Is this the one you bought at the auction?" I asked Remy while the younger kids loaded the picnic hampers in the bus.
"Five hundred dollars, can you believe it?" Remy hooted. "It needed some new parts for the engine. l thought I was going to have to buy a new one, but I fixed her up!"
It must have been all internal because the bus looked about as bad off as Josie's truck. I could see spots of rust through the paint.
"You're so clever!" Josie said, jumping up and down. "It's perfect." Remy be
amed.
"I'm not riding in that," I said flatly. I was having flashbacks to the compound. My father had a fleet of crappy school buses and vans. That was the only way to transport us kids to school or on the rare family outing. One of the reasons Liam was so good with machines was that as one of the youngest at the time, his hands had been small enough to fit in the engine. It was a miracle his arm hadn't been mangled.
"It hasn't been decorated yet," Remy said. "Josie's helping me decide how to brand it. My vote is for goats."
Funny, because I was thinking of how to quietly dispose of it in the night.
"I was thinking it would be like the von Trapps," she said. "Mace can be the mean father."
"Why am I the mean father? What about Hunter?" I complained. The bus shuddered as my little brothers jumped over the seats.
"It should have a name," Josie said as we took our seats.
"What about Buster?" Otis said.
"I want to name it 'The Boat,'" Theo called out.
"We'll have to have a meeting," Josie said, turning around to shout at the kids over the roar of the engine, "and take a vote."
"I want to name it Henry," Henry said.
"You can't name it after yourself," I told him.
The ride to the rail park was thankfully short.
"Watch the china," Josie said as the boys hauled the large picnic hampers down from the back bus door.
"You brought china?" I asked her.
"Of course. That's what's in the picnic basket."
"They're going to break it," I warned as the boys dragged the oversized wicker hampers off the grass.
"I had a chat with them about it. They'll be fine. If not"—she shrugged—"you can buy replacements online. Why have a bunch of dishes you can't even use?"
We set up at two of the tables. The whole park had been an abandoned switching yard back when more than just the one train to the Svensson PharmaTech factories went in and out of Harrogate. The landscape architects had used the old tracks to host tables on wheels that could move back and forth.