Relentless Habit: O-Town Series

by Karen Renee

  I shook my head. “No. I wouldn’t have struck out at Gabe if he weren’t a hot-headed, foul-mouthed prick when he’s pissed off. None of that has anything to do with you. He knew you had nothing to do with Mom runnin’ into us at IHOP, but he ran off at the mouth, anyway.”

  “But, Brock-”

  “Nope. Don’t ‘but, Brock,’ me. He was lashing out at you for no good reason. And he damn sure had it coming when I punched him in the gut at Pop’s.”

  Her hand tensed in mine, and she tried to pull away.

  “What?” she asked.

  I realized she wasn’t there when Gabe’s gut earned my wrath. “I, uh... Let’s just say, Gabe said something unsavory about you and I reacted by punching him in his stomach.”

  Her head tilted as though something had occurred to her, but she kept quiet.

  I squeezed her hand. “You didn’t cause me to do that. My brother did. You’re an incredibly strong woman, Cecilia.”

  “Not even close,” she scoffed.

  “Wrong. Anyone who can kick a habit like you did has strength aplenty.”

  Her chin dipped. “A strong woman doesn’t succumb to drugs.”

  “Pop and I were talking about how even if society says an eighteen-year-old is an adult, it isn’t the same as being twenty-two or twenty-three. You got hooked into that shit early. No offense, Sunflower, but you weren’t a woman yet.”

  She exhaled hard through her nose. “Call me crazy, but you’d make a great PR person, putting that kind of spin on my situation.”

  Bringing her hand to my lips, I brushed her knuckles just before I shook my head adamantly. “No, honey. You don’t have a situation right now. You’re making a go of life. That takes a strength many will never know.”

  She blushed, not as much as when Clint was giving her shit, but it was there.

  “Shut up,” she whispered.

  I kissed her knuckles again.

  My lips tipped up as an idea hit me. “I’ll shut up, but only if we go salsa dancing.”

  Her eyes bulged, and I let her hand go.

  “What?”

  “You heard me. We met at GILT, but I bet you can move your hips to some Latin music. Even if you can’t, I can definitely lead and nobody will know the difference.”

  Her lips thinned, but the light in her eyes told me the idea excited her. “Really, Brock. I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

  “That look in your eyes says otherwise.”

  One side of her mouth hitched in a smile. “I shouldn’t share this with you, but like I said when we first got together, any man with dance moves is sexy. The notion that you can ballroom dance, be that traditional, Latin, salsa, whatever is really fucking sexy to me. It doesn’t mean I want to do that with you for the first time in a club full of other people who damn sure know what they’re doing.”

  “Karaoke, then.” I challenged.

  Her chin dipped, and her eyes narrowed. “You set me up for that, didn’t you?”

  I shrugged. “It’s gonna be one or the other. Even if I have to take you in kicking and screaming.”

  She pursed her lips as she mulled it over.

  “How about–”

  “Nope.”

  “Brock, hear me out.”

  I arched a brow at her.

  “We salsa dance at your place. Not a legit club, at least not until I have a better idea of what the hell I’m doing.”

  Staring hard at her blue eyes, I debated the merits of her idea. “Only if you sing for me first.”

  Taking in a deep breath, she bit her lower lip, telling me she didn’t like that idea much.

  Quickly, I grabbed her hand again. “Honey, if you got an audition soon, you’re gonna need to practice for that shit. I want to hear you sing.”

  Her shoulders squared. “Fine.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  This Is Kind of Your Fault

  Brock

  I opened the bathroom door to see Cecilia on my bed with a conflicted look on her face. Not only did I not like that, but I was not going to entertain whatever put that look on her face. I slipped into bed beside her, pulling her to me so her head rested on my chest.

  Her gorgeous eyes glanced up at me. “Thank you.”

  My grin was reflexive. “What for, baby?”

  “For taking me on a real date, honey,” she said in a low voice.

  Those words gripped my chest. The sincere gratitude in her tone made me feel ten feet tall, yet sad at the same time. If that was the first real date she’d had... but it couldn’t be, could it? It damn well better not be.

  I kept my tone light. “Sure it wasn’t your first, Sunflower.”

  Her eyes went to my sternum. “Feels like it.”

  I cupped the back of her head, using my hand to force her gaze up to me as I leaned into her. “Well get used to that feeling, Cecilia ’cause it’s a crime you don’t have more ‘real dates’ under your belt. And I damn sure plan to fix that shit.”

  She exhaled and it sounded like laughter. “Gosh! Get pissed, why don’t you?” she chided me. Fucking chided me!

  Rolling over her, I cupped her cheeks with my hands. “Damn right I’ll get pissed. You’re prettier than the sunrise and sunset combined. Can’t fucking believe you haven’t had a legit ‘real date.’”

  She exhaled. “I didn’t say that.”

  With a quick swipe at her nose with mine, I retorted, “You didn’t not say it either. So let’s not split hairs. Now. What’s up for your day off?”

  Her eyes rounded while looking anywhere but at me. “I don’t know,” she mumbled.

  “Bullshit.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “It is not. I don’t know what I’m doing tomorrow, unless you’re sending me packing tonight.”

  Burying my face into the curve where her neck met her clavicle, I murmured, “Not a chance in hell.”

  She wrapped her soft limbs around me before she whispered, “Good.”

  Of its own accord, my hand slithered from the side of her generous breast down to her ample hip and to the inside of her thigh. When my hand hit the jackpot of her center, she hissed and it made my balls tighten. God. Even the noises she made forced a reaction from me. What the fuck?

  I glanced at my hand entering her, but dragged my lips from her cheek to her ear. “So, you’re spending the night, Sunflower,” I whispered a rhetorical question.

  Harder to say what was sexier, her satisfied, “Mmmm,” or the fact she purred that answer in my ear.

  CECILIA AND I DID NOT lack chemistry of any sort. So, given that I had a free day which coincided with her day off, I was not the least bit reluctant to engage her in exuberant morning sex. Whether it was my own designs or the fact that I was tuning into her more and more each day, we climaxed together. Coming down from that high, the errant thought hit me that I could not only get used to this, but I wanted to start all of my days this way, with only her.

  The crazy in my mind focused on the wrong thing. All of my days shouldn’t be the focus, but rather the ‘only her’ sentiment demanded my focus. When did I ever think any woman could be the only one? Never. That was when. Not ever. Who could blame me, seeing as the most important woman in my life had abandoned me and my brothers.

  In supreme bastardly fashion, I rolled away from her without a word and took a shower.

  Alone.

  After all, she told me twice last night she didn’t know what she was doing today and we both knew she had the whole day to herself. No way she needed to be under the spray with me.

  Once I toweled my hair, I dragged the towel down my frame. Feeling dry enough, I pulled my boxer-briefs up snapping the band in place when I heard Cecilia’s cry.

  “You’re what? No. Nuh-unh!”

  There was a heavy pause before her voice turned shrill. “Get out! How dare you!”

  It wasn’t ideal, but little in life ever was, so I opened the door and tip-toed toward the living room and her voice. I ogled her curvy ass in her short-shorts disguised as ‘sl
eep-shorts’ and ordered my cock to stand down.

  Then it happened.

  The doorbell chimed. Repeatedly. And dread settled in my gut. Which was exactly what I deserved. What I would always deserve.

  Cecilia’s head turned, but her eyes slid to the side and caught me in her periphery forcing her to turn to me fully.

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered.

  I shrugged, even though I didn’t know what was on the other side of the door. And to my dismay, I said words that boggled my mind, “Don’t worry about it. Open the door, Sunflower.”

  Cecilia

  He asked for it, so I opened the door to Brock’s apartment.

  “How you found out where Brock lives, I will never know.”

  Tennille beamed at me. “Vamp, of course.” Her gaze slid to Brock. “Hi, Brock.”

  I fought the urge to clench my jaw. Barely. Then I noticed Mom’s eyes were wide and MeMaw had a saucy grin on her face. Looking over my shoulder, I saw Brock was wearing his boxer-briefs and nothing else.

  I caught his eyes and since I was flustered my mouth ran away from me, as usual.

  “Good thing your Pop isn’t here,” I muttered.

  Brock hung his head for a moment. “Invite them in, I’ll be right back.”

  “No need to get dressed on our account,” MeMaw declared.

  “MeMaw!” Tennille and I cried at the same time.

  MeMaw paid us no mind, while she overtly watched Brock’s ass saunter back to his bedroom.

  “You are a dirty old woman,” I whispered at her.

  “Get to my age, honey, you’ll get your kicks wherever you can, too.”

  I couldn’t argue with that, so I didn’t.

  “I cannot believe my two daughters have dated the same man,” Mom murmured.

  “We didn’t exactly ‘date,’ Mom.”

  “Where I come from, meeting for coffee is a type of date.”

  Tennille’s expression turned exasperated, as did her tone. “Mom, let it drop. We didn’t work, and go figure! He was meant to be with CeeCee!”

  Mom’s expression hardened. “Wouldn’t go that far,” she muttered.

  “Now, Debbie, don’t be so quick,” MeMaw said.

  I couldn’t remember if sound carried from the foyer of Brock’s apartment to his bedroom, not that my family cared. I could only imagine how these three would behave around Brock himself. If my Guardian Angel took requests this might be one for the record books!

  I gave all of them my big eyes. “You three are talking about Brock as though he isn’t even here, when he’s getting dressed in the next room,” I cried.

  “Thank goodness,” Tennille muttered.

  “Pity,” MeMaw said.

  I shook my head. “Okay, y’all found me. Why are you here?”

  The troublesome trio shared a look and irritation bubbled inside me.

  Mom must have noticed. “I’ve wanted to check on you for a while, dear. Our phone conversations are good, but Tennille mentioned this man–”

  “And you couldn’t tell me you were coming to town?”

  “We wanted to surprise you,” Tennille said.

  “Not our fault you weren’t home, Cecilia,” MeMaw said.

  I speared Tennille with my eyes. “But it is your fault you guys are here.”

  She rolled her eyes at me. “You tell MeMaw ‘no’ when she’s dead-set on something.”

  I leaned toward her. “It’s called calling me, before calling Vamp for Brock’s addy!”

  Brock’s voice came from very close behind me. “Sunflower, it’s all right.”

  He moved past me toward MeMaw, holding a hand out to her. “Brock Sullivan. Mrs. Lyons, I presume.”

  MeMaw’s hazel eyes lit with pleasure. She took his hand. “I do love a well-mannered young man, Brock. You can call me Minnie.” With a jerk of her head toward Mom, she added, “I suspect you’ll be forced to call Debbie ‘Mrs. Lyons’. This will prevent any confusion.”

  Brock visibly bit back a smile. “Nice to meet you, Minnie.”

  My mother shot an exasperated look at MeMaw and sighed. Brock ignored it as he held a hand out to Mom and introduced himself. Mom shook his hand, but gave him an assessing look.

  “Nice to meet you, Brock. No need to call me ‘Mrs. Lyons.’ Debbie will do just fine.”

  He moved to Tennille to do the handshake business, but she moved toward him with her arms open. Even though it was a polite hug, jealousy slid through me. My sister must have sensed it and pulled away. “Good to see you again, Brock.”

  “And you, Neil,” Brock said, and slid an arm around my shoulders.

  “So, besides checking on me, what brings you three to Orlando?”

  Mom closed her eyes and shook her head, while Tennille looked at me as if I should know better than that, but MeMaw moved past all of us toward the couch while speaking.

  “It was high time to meet your tall drink of water, Cecilia. Especially since you haven’t been back to see me since you moved here, so I know you won’t be bringing him around anytime soon. Even if I hide it pretty damn well, I’m not a spring chicken any more, girl.” She sat on the couch and asked, “Now, Brock, what do you do?”

  Brock smiled at her. “Can I get you ladies anything to drink? It’s slim pickin’s but we got water, orange juice, and beer. And of course, I can brew some coffee.”

  MeMaw shook her head. “No thank you, hon. Was thinkin’ of takin’ you two out to brunch.”

  I smirked. “And leave Mom and Tennille behind?”

  “Cecilia Jane, you know better than that. It’s bad enough we left Razor and Sally Mae behind,” Mom said.

  My head tilted toward Tennille. “Your man and soon-to-be step-daughter are with you?”

  Tennille shrugged. “It’s summer. What eleven-year-old girl isn’t gonna jump at the chance to come to Orlando? He was trying to talk her into hanging at the pool, but I suspect she twisted his arm and he’s dealing with the heat at Universal.”

  MeMaw clapped her hands lightly. “Now, Razor told me all about this Hash House a Go Go. I say we go there. So, my lovely granddaughter, you need to get your tush in gear and get dressed.”

  I turned to Brock and tipped my head up to look at him. “Um, do you have to report in today?”

  He gave me a long look before his lips tipped up. “No. Just like you, I have a free day today.”

  Feeling my eyebrows crunch down, it was all I could do to not shove my family right out the damn door. I didn’t want Brock to feel pressured to come with us, but no way I could tell him that in front of everyone.

  With a quick grin at MeMaw I said, “I’ll be right back.” I looked back to Brock. “Do you know what I did with my bag? How about you–”

  Thank heavens he got me. “Yeah, I had to move it. I’ll show you where it is.”

  I closed the bedroom door behind us as MeMaw called out, “You’re not foolin’ anybody Cecilia Jane!”

  After a long blink, I opened my eyes to Brock. “You don’t have to go with us if you don’t want to. Though, I think it’s worth noting this is kind of your fault.”

  Brock had looked like he was going to smile at me, but with my last words he turned his head a touch to look at me from the corner of his eye. “And just how is that?”

  “Dinner last night? ‘When do I get to meet your MeMaw?’ I’m not saying she’s like the devil because I love her to pieces and she’s the best, but you asked and here she is, baby.”

  That earned me Brock’s full movie-star-worthy smile and he wrapped an arm around my waist pulling me to him. “And I’m glad she is. Had no idea what I was going to do today, and you said outright you didn’t know what you were doing... so, I say we go with it.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Tractor Driver

  Cecilia

  I loved Hash House a Go Go. When Tennille and Razor had visited a while back, I had insisted we meet here for breakfast. It was pricey and a magnet for tourists, but the food more than made up for it.
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  We were settled in a large booth and everyone silently perused the extensive menu, which was the only downside to the place.

  MeMaw looked up. “CeeCee, girl, this place just has entirely too much to choose from.”

  Brock had his arm draped around my shoulders in the booth. He looked down with a smirk at me before he looked to MeMaw. “Rumor has it, you have a rule about fried chicken or burgers being excellent choices when you can’t make up your mind.”

  Her eyes lit, but then they skewered me. “You talked to your young man about me before I even met him?”

  I scoffed and leaned toward MeMaw. “It was last night. No joke. I mentioned it, and then he asked when he could meet you and Mom both... and Bam! You guys show up. It’s crazy.”

  She did her best Mona Lisa smile. “It’s a gift, dear. Now, I have to wonder how well this place does with these outrageously overpriced Bloody Marys. I mean, yes, they’re putting a full rasher of bacon and what appears to be an entire rib of Romaine lettuce in them, but who is paying seventeen dollars for tomato juice, Tabasco, and vodka?”

  “Vacationers and tourists, MeMaw,” Neil muttered.

  “Right you are. So, Brock. What are you having to eat? The O’hare of the Dog, for you?”

  Brock laughed which tore my attention from my menu because watching that was always an excellent diversion. Feeling my eyes on him, he winked at me and turned to MeMaw. “No, Minnie. I have no need for a tall-boy and five pieces of bacon. Thinking I’ll order the Tractor Driver combo.”

  “Now, I do like the sound of that, don’t you, Debbie?”

  “MeMaw,” I said, a little more sternly than I had intended.

  “What?”

  “You should not be flirting with Brock.”

  Tennille and my mother both did lousy jobs of stifling their laughter.

  MeMaw shook her head. “I am not flirting, dear. Just making conversation. Though your concern tells me you’ve got a wicked mind.”