by Emilia Finn
“It’s kinda nice where I grew up.” Ally joins the conversation, but I don’t know if it’s to help send Rob to the brink of insanity, or me. “The city is always moving, always evolving, so even though I was in the same school most of my life, we still had new faces passing through regularly.”
“Ugh, not here,” Em grumbles. “In this town, whoever you meet in kindergarten is basically who you’re marrying… unless you can escape.”
“Who’d you meet in kindergarten?” I peel her cards up and glance at the straight flush she’s keeping on the downlow. “Was it Gerard Whatshisface who shit his pants that time?”
“Nope.” She grabs a fresh bottle of light beer and slams the fridge door. “I was buddied up with Ernest Kay.” She smiles when Rob’s fiery gaze slowly comes up. “He’s actually really nice, and he let me borrow his red pen a billion times in sixth grade. He knew I was unorganized and always losing my stuff, so he made sure to sit near me in class, and he’d toss his stuff over.”
“Ernest and Emma, sitting in a tree.”
“Shut the fuck up,” Rob growls.
“K-I-S-S-I-N–”
“I will gut you,” Rob grits his teeth and speaks so low that I’m certain only Ally and I can hear. “Brotherhood forgotten, you’ll be dead to me.”
I smile. “G.”
“You guys have any of that…” Emma stands on her toes and reaches up so high that her dress rides up, and Rob groans in literal pain. “Ah! Hennessy, you beautiful lad.” She grabs the half empty bottle, four shot glasses, and turns back to us with a seductive smile.
She’s going to be the end of my dear baby brother. He follows her wherever she leads. To the rest of the world, sweet Emma Kincaid is merely a friend, a little sister, a jokester who enjoys running around with the Devil Twins. But from where I sit, she’s the fucking instigator, the most likely to do hard time, and the one who controls switches that could set this town on fire.
“Here.” She drops a shot glass in front of me, then another in front of Ally. “Strip poker, but each time you lose a piece of clothing, you also take a shot.”
“I never agreed to this.” Rob tosses his cards down and crushes his chips with his elbow. “Absolutely not.”
“Okay.” Em takes back his shot glass and places it beside hers. “I’ll drink twice as much, but I won’t strip twice as fast. I don’t have that many pieces of clothing.”
“We can only play a few hands.” I snatch up Rob’s cards – he had sweet fuck-all – then Emma’s, then the remaining deck, and after shuffling them all together while Em pours our shots, I start dealing. “We go clockwise. We strip and drink on the final toss, not before. But because Rob is clumsy as fuck, we have no chips.”
“I wish we had chips,” Emma laments. “I’m hungry already, and I’m gonna need something to soak up the booze before I end up needing my stomach pumped.”
“Give me that fucking glass,” Rob grumbles. “For fuck’s sake. Why do you wanna piss me off?”
Emma stops pouring, tilts her head, and smiles. “Hmm?”
“Nothing. Fuck you, Kincaid.”
While those two bicker, Ally moves in my peripherals and draws my gaze. She plays with the unicorn on her wrist, and when she thinks I’m busy dealing and not watching her, she grins.
So because I’m an ass, I cough and draw her attention to me. Her eyes widen just a little, and her grin drops into an embarrassed grimace, but then I smile and toss her cards across the table. “Ally met Mom and Dad today.”
“I know,” Rob grumbles. “Mom called after you called about the BJ bullshit. She told me all about the harlot holding her baby’s hand.”
“She called me a harlot?” Ally questions with, dare I say, a little hurt in her voice.
“She did, but don’t fret, she called me an asshole for laughing at her. Calling names is her defense mechanism. If she hated you, she’d have picked you up and booted you out of that estate herself. The fact she didn’t is basically a seal of approval.”
“It’s true,” Emma adds. “Tink is a savage. You guys remember that one time Alexandra brought a boy home?”
“Heh.” I sit back and chuckle when I’m done dealing. “Alexandra is Uncle Aiden and Aunt Tina’s daughter. They live in the house beside Mom and Dad’s,” I explain for Ally. “Alexi brought a boy home for study group—”
“Study group,” Emma does the finger quotes just to add her own flair for the dramatic.
“Alexi’s dad is Aiden, right, who is basically the scariest motherfucker on this planet if you mess with his girls. But still, Aunt Tina told him to cool it and be nice.”
“He’s not really capable of being nice to boys who look at his daughters, so instead of feigning nice, he left and hung out outside with his brother.” Emma stops, and smiles. “His brother is my dad.”
“So then Alexi is inside studying,” Rob adds his bit to the story, “and all the moms are inside the kitchen, cooking and gossiping and such.”
“Which is basically what they do,” I insert. “The dads hang out outside, and the moms gossip inside. Before we came along, before the kids overtook their lives, it’s important to remember the moms were best friends. Legit best friends, so motherhood isn’t the foundation of their friendships.”
“Anywho,” Emma singsongs. “That stupid prick – Gage – thought study group was code for ‘touch Alexi under the table’. They were working on their stuff for class, Gage made his move, Alexi decked him, then Tink picked him up and tossed that stupid ass on the street.”
“She picked him—” Allyson’s eyes bulge. “But she’s– she’s only—”
“Don’t mention her height,” Rob says ominously. “She doesn’t like it.”
“The other moms were busy holding Uncle Aiden back,” Emma says with a wicked grin. “He heard Alexi’s squeak, he felt Gage fall like a log, then he was in extermination mode. It took all the moms, Daddy, and Aunt Tina monkey-climbing onto his front to stop him from killing an eighth grader.”
“And so, the moral of the story is,” Rob picks up his part. “While the others were busy with Uncle Aiden, Mom tossed Gage’s ass out and clocked him a second time. He was a kid, so she couldn’t kill him or anything, but Mom’s reputation precedes her, and not one boy ever fucked with Alexi or her sisters ever again.”
“So Mom calling you a harlot means you provide a real threat to her,” I say. “As in, she knows I could actually, truly like you, and that scares her because she has attachment issues with her babies. But she didn’t physically assault you, which means she knows you’re a good person. It makes you important.”
“Fucking hell.” Surprising me, Ally grabs her shot glass and tosses it back with a gasp. “I’m terrified of your mother.”
“Don’t be.” Emma stands again and refills Ally’s glass. “The hardest part is over. You’ve met her, and you survived.”
“I met your mom too,” Ally replies. “Tall, blonde, badass.”
“It’s like you’re describing me,” Emma preens. “Though my mom is taller than me. Was she nice to you?”
“Yeah. She was fixing to hold Luke’s mom down. She warned her to cool it.”
“She does that. Rest assured, as long as you don’t purposely hurt Luke, my mom will defend you from her bestie. She’s got it down to a fine science now where they can be spitting fire and beating each other up, only to then be giggling on the couch, sipping something fruity and boozy within minutes.”
“Comforting,” Ally drawls. “So your moms are best friends?” She looks between Emma and Rob. “Before kids?”
“Yep,” Emma answers. “The Kit and Tink Show lives on in infamy. They were a couple before my parents were a couple.”
“But our dads were also best friends,” Rob says. “Bobby – her dad,” he tilts his head toward Emma. “And Jon, our dad. They’ve been best friends since kindergarten. They basically lived together for a massive portion of their lives.”
“Then one day,” I say, “these fr
iends happened to go out on the town, one set of friends met another set of friends…”
“And the rest, as they say, is history.” Emma finally picks up her cards and studies what she has. “Aw, shit. This ain’t gonna end well for me.”
Four hands of cards, five shots of Hennessy, and Emma remaining fully clothed while the rest of us work our way down to our underwear, I stand from the table with a hard cock – don’t judge me – and a belly swirling with good liquor.
Smiling, I take Ally’s hand and pull her up to stand. She’s stripped down to a lacy black bra and jeans, seeing as how she stalled as she lost games, tossed her shoes and socks first, and eventually had to concede on the top, but since I have no desire for my brother to see her bra, I call the end of this stupid game and pull her away from the table.
“We’re going to my room for a bit.” I look out the window and nod my approval at the lack of sun. “Then it’s time for our anti-crime crime. Ally…” I pull her along, and when we’re far enough away, drag her under my arm and try my fucking hardest not to touch her boob. It’s right there, exposed but for a scrap of lace, and her skin is so soft under my hand, silky smooth, and warm as a summer day.
She’s not in doctor mode when she’s like this; rather, she’s just Ally, fun and silly. She’s flirty, and a little less uptight. It’s interesting how her natural inclination is to be wound tight, but give her a shot or two, and she can meet me on my level all the way down here in the land of immaturity.
“You wanna sleep over at my house tonight?” I pull her toward my room and grin when she swings through the doorway with a roll of her eyes. “We could stay up all night long and tell scary stories. I’m fairly certain we have marshmallows, so we could make s’mores. And if you ask really nice, I’ll let you touch my belly button. It’s an outie.”
She snorts, loud and unladylike. “Well, jinkees, Luke Hart. You drive a hard bargain.” Then she stops and turns back to meet my eyes. Her cheeks are pink and splotchy, her eyes large and unfocused. “But still,” she adds with a playful grin, “I think I’ll pass.”
Since she’s already moving, and not drunk, but not sober either, I steer her toward my bed, and chuckle when she drops down with a huff so her hair puffs out from the movement. Now she’s half-naked on my bed, and hell, but I’m only a man. A mortal. So I follow her down, rest my knees between her legs, and my elbows beside her head.
In this space, in the quiet where her eyes search mine and her breath tastes of sex and liquor, it’s hard to remember the part where she said no to us sleeping together. It’s hard to keep my hands to myself in my quest for all of her.
“I swear it would be the best night of your life.” I lower, come closer, and slide the tip of my nose along hers until her breath catches and stops. “Just one night where you say yes, and you won’t ever want to leave again.”
“You’re so arrogant.” She reaches up and slides the pad of her finger over my top lip, not so far from where it split that time I was whacked with a bat. “Perhaps you wouldn’t get hurt so often if you were a little more cautious, a little less arrogant.”
“Didn’t someone famous once say something about life happening while we’re busy being careful?”
Ally bursts out laughing and incidentally pushes her chest up to press against mine. “You just completely butchered a Beatles song.”
“No, sweet Allyson.” And now it’s my turn to be the intellectual genius. “I butchered Allen Saunders’ quote.” I smile when she stills, and bite my lip when her eyes come down to them. “Not just an uneducated small-town hick, am I?”
“I never said anything about education,” she breathes out. “Just the small-town thing.”
“There was also some saying about not judging books by their covers, and Harts having the biggest dicks.”
“I’ve heard the first…”
I push my hips down, and smile when her pupils grow larger. “And you know about the second. Remind me again why we can’t fuck?”
“You mean, apart from the fact I said no?”
I grin. “Apart from that.” I lower down and press a feathery light kiss to the corner of her lips. We’re a few shots in, and we’re about to commit a crime of passion. A peck here, a peck there… it’s all okay. “Tell me, Allyson. Because from where I sit, it seems like a really good fucking idea.”
“Because I’m your therapist, and because you’re a client currently undertaking sessions because of a court order.”
“Imagine if I never fought that dude. You and I might never have met.”
“Exactly.” Weakly, she pushes me away so I roll off her and land on my bed with a huff. “We only met because of a crime you committed. That doesn’t feel like something that was meant to be. It sounds like you did something bad, and I’m supposed to be your warden and your guide, not your nasty little fling while incarcerated.”
I push up to sit when Ally goes into my closet and starts flicking through my shirts. Her bracelet glitters from the light in the ceiling. Her hair dangles, dark and dangerous as the red tones remind me she can kill me with little more than a glare.
Settling on a tank, she pulls it from my closet with a semi-drunk “Aha!” and shrugs into it like wearing a man’s shirt four sizes too big is normal. The arm holes are so big that her bra is still exposed. The fabric is too long, so she reaches down and ties a knot in the side, effectively ruining my shirt, but fueling the next year of sex dreams and filthy fantasies.
The tank is black; I guess she’s preparing for our night of crime, but I think she forgets that her skin is white, and that tank barely covers a damn thing.
But who am I to tell her she’s wrong? What kind of self-respecting man would I be if I told her to change, and denied myself the next few crime-filled hours of seeing her in my brand?
Too bad for her – I suspect she has no clue my gym brand is plastered all across her back.
“Alright,” she turns and grumbles when I make no move to get off my bed. “It’s time to get this done. Chester has been away from home for too long.” She takes a step toward the door. “You ready?”
“Yup.” I jump up, lithe as a cat, and tug her closer until she slides under my arm with a harrumph. But her hand goes to my opposite hip. Instinctively, reflexively, and without a single complaint.
She’s already half in love. She just doesn’t realize it yet.
“Shh…”
For some reason, it seemed easy to grab a six-foot-tall llama statue and run away from a crime scene amid cackling laughter and zero concerns for who saw. But trying to return that sucker is a whole other kettle of fish.
“There’s police tape!” Ally hisses as we round the corner onto Main and get a glimpse of the front of Dixie’s shop. “Dammit, Luke! She’s got a full police investigation going on here.”
“We’re gonna dump and run.” I step up closer to Ally, rest one hand on her hip – and stretch my fingertips around to touch her stomach – and with my other hand, I caress Chester’s rump, and push him along the uneven concrete. “There are no cops up there, just an old crime scene, so we—”
My phone rings, loud and cheerful, and sends Ally jumping two feet into the air. The street is practically empty, she has no reason to freak out, but she dives for my pockets now, and touches me in ways that force my eyebrows up high with surprise.
“Shut it off. Shut it off!” she panics and fumbles the phone out of my front pocket. She turns the device over for just a moment, scrambles to hit the silence button, but the name on the front brings me up short.
Frowning, I snatch the phone and bring it to my ear. “Sophia?”
“Hey there, Devil. You doin’ something illegal right now?”
“Who the hell is Sophia?” Ally snaps. “Are you seriously taking another woman’s call right now?”
“She likes you,” Soph singsongs. “There’s absolutely no reason a smart, educated woman would be out in the dark with you right now unless she liked you.”
“Sh
e gets a little possessive when she’s drunk or tired. What’s up?”
“I see you, fool. Why are you putting the llama back?”
I look around – up, down, and across the street in search of the cameras Sophia Solomon of Checkmate Security has illegally installed all through this town. “Why do the cops even need to investigate crimes anymore? If you’ve got this town covered, why don’t they just come to you and ask for footage?”
“You mean apart from the fact very few know about my system?”
“Yeah,” I snort and crowd Ally against the llama. Our legs twine, and her breath tastes of something delicious I’d like to devour. “Apart from that.”
“Cops need a warrant to take my stuff. No warrant, no love.”
“But you love the cops. You literally eat dinner with them at least once a week.”
“First of all, I don’t love the cops. I barely tolerate cops in general. It’s just lucky that I like these few, what with my sister-in-law being related to them. And second, that thing I said about warrants. If I happen to catch a crime that offends me, I’ll make a recording, add a label, drop it into the post, and make sure our local boys and girls in blue get it. That way, no warrant is needed. Anonymous tips are perfectly acceptable. If, however, the crime I catch is that of an idiot, and the woman he wants to bang, stealing something hilarious, I stop recording, and instead, grab a bowl of popcorn. If the criminal is extra lucky, I might call him while he’s on the job, and ask if he knows what he’s doing.”
“I think we’re okay over here.” I smile when Ally’s patience wears dangerously thin.
Her body vibrates with rage at being ignored. I’m talking to another woman, and she’s pissed about it because I won’t explain myself.