Romeo (Payne Brothers Romance Book 6)

by Sosie Frost

  Cassi rolled her eyes. “You aren’t serious.”

  I gestured toward the hallway. “Take a walk, Sassy. You’re not the one tethered to this equipment.”

  Varius frowned. “And how did you end up tethered to said equipment?”

  My brother paused, squinting at my lips. I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand, cursing the delicately nude lip gloss that now decorated my fingers with pretty shimmers.

  “Do you want to tell us why we're really here?” Varius asked.

  “Something about a blood sugar, autoimmune thing,” I shook my head. “I never really paid attention to what the doctor said.”

  Varius had the patience of a saint, but given enough time, I could wear it out.

  “Quint, what’s going on? Why were you out all night? Again?”

  I wasn’t explaining myself to anyone. “I told you. If you miss me, we’ll schedule some special time together, just you and me.”

  Julian groaned and collapsed in one of the guest chairs. Varius wasn’t so easy.

  “You can’t keep doing this. Staying out all night, doing God knows what at hours so late He’s not even awake.”

  “It’s fine, V. I can handle myself.” I shrugged. “It’s not like I don’t sleep.”

  “It’s where you’re sleeping that has me concerned.”

  “I’m always very comfortable, thank you.”

  “You must not be, or you wouldn’t be jumping bed-to-bed.”

  “Careful, preacher. That holier-than-thou attitude was cute a while back, but before you judge me, you better remember where you first met Glory.”

  Cassi flicked my forehead, bouncing her middle finger off her thumb directly between my eyes. “Don’t you dare judge Glory.”

  “I wasn’t judging her,” I said. “Hell, I admired her…until I realized she was V’s, of course.”

  And as lovely a couple as the small-town minister and stripper made, I knew it was hitting below the belt. V might’ve had his dark times, living in his own version of sin and misery while the world did its best to destroy him. But he’d survived that darkness. And now, he had himself a pretty little family. One hell of a woman in Glory, her adorable toddler, and the bright future for his family and the congregation.

  It would’ve made me resentful if my brother hadn’t been one of the few men in the world who deserved that sort of happiness.

  But Varius believed in an honest form of confrontation. He never hid from the dirty, nasty truth, even when it was his own.

  “I strayed more than a little,” he said. “I lost myself. And I found my way out because I met Glory. When will you start searching for the person who can lead you back home?”

  “When I need to come home, and it’s not now.” I shrugged. “What’s wrong with my life? I’m out having a good time. That’s normal.”

  Julian kept his voice low. “Meeting strange women every night? Drinking yourself into a stupor? Meaningless, forgettable sex?”

  I swore at him, pointing to Cassi. “Maybe we don’t talk sex in front of her?”

  Cassi rolled her eyes. “Newsflash, Quint. I’m not a virgin anymore.”

  All three of us plugged our ears. Julian clenched his jaw.

  “For the love of God, Cassi, let’s just pretend you are. For our sanity.”

  Her voice rose loud enough for a passing nurse to flinch. “At least I’m having sex with someone I love! What’s Quint doing? Anything that moves. That’s not having a good time. That’s a cry for help. And it’s about time we answered it.”

  Enough with this shit.

  Wasn’t diabetes bad enough?

  Did I really need an intervention in the middle of a hospital room?

  No wonder Tidus hated when we used to corner him. The last thing any man needed was a handful of family members telling him what he already knew.

  I’d had enough hospital stays to know how to remove an IV. I reached for the tape, but Cassi pounced on me before I yanked it from my vein.

  “Quint, I think it’s time we talk about everything,” she said. “Especially the diabetes.”

  She dropped a handful of pamphlets onto my lap.

  I knew what they were. It was the same equipment the doctors had tried to offer me before. Pods. Smart phone apps. Constant blood sugar monitoring software. Insulin pumps.

  “All this stuff can make treating this disease so much easier,” she said. “It takes all the guesswork out of it. This one tells you where your sugar is at all times. It will even alert you if you go too high or too low. Wake you up in the middle the night to make sure you take care of things. It could save you from a lot of episodes like this.”

  “Absolutely not,” I said. “I don’t need it.”

  Julian rubbed the exhaustion from his eyes. “Obviously you do.”

  I never liked what anger did to me. How it bubbled up, cracked under my skin, forced me to grit my teeth. I did my best to avoid that blistering irritation. Unfortunately, siblings were the only people who could summon that demon.

  “It’s my fucking body,” I said. “If I want to fill it with sugar, I will.”

  “And when was the last time you actually checked your blood sugar?” Cassi asked.

  “All the time.”

  “Really?”

  For the most part.

  “There’s no use,” I said. “I know how my body feels. If it’s low, I eat something. If it’s high, I get the shot. I watch my carbs. I keep to a schedule. I’m fine.”

  Jules didn’t believe me. “You’re playing with fire.”

  I matched his tone. “So are you.”

  My oldest brother wisely walked away. Varius did too. But it was Cassi who never knew when to quit. Never knew when to stop.

  Never knew how to stop loving somebody.

  “We’re all worried,” she said.

  “I’m not the one you need to worry about.” I took a breath before that shadow of anger edged my voice. “What did you tell Duke, Jules?”

  The question made everybody uncomfortable. Julian shook his head.

  “I told him to fuck off.” He hesitated. “But we should think about the offer.”

  That was bullshit. “What’s there to think about? It’s our farm.”

  “There’s a lot more at stake now. We’ve got families. Mouths to feed.”

  “Good thing we're growing food,” I said.

  Julian ran a hand through his hair. Just like Dad. Only difference between him and our old man was that Dad would never have tolerated the sort of talk.

  “Quint, it’s just you and me working the fields. Varius has the church and the parish house. Cassi is going to move in with Rem…” He gave her a stern glance. “After the wedding. Marius and Gretchen moved into her father’s old place now that he’s in the Caribbean and they needed space for baby Claudia. Tidus is traveling with Honey. And I’ve got to think about Micah and my son.”

  “You’re not considering walking away,” I said.

  “The Barlows have more money than brains, but they’ve got a lot of balls to approach us on this. If the price is right, it might be a good thing. Farming isn’t a forgiving job. I don’t think I can do it on my own.”

  I sat up, nearly bolting from the bed. “You’re not on your own. I’m going to be the one out there working the fields with you.”

  “Not if you drop dead from a diabetic coma, Quint.”

  “I’m fine.”

  “Are you?”

  “We won’t know until we try.” The words tasted bitter. “And now nobody even wants to try. You’re right. Everything’s changed. Everyone’s got something new. Families. Babies. Jobs. Everyone’s thinking about the future, but what about right now? What about us? What good does it do us to think five years into the future when we are struggling now? Sure, you have your baby, Marius has his daughter. Cass is getting married. Varius has the church. Tidus is sober.” And it all sounded so fucking wonderful I could spit. “But that doesn’t mean we throw away everything that got us here.�
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  Cassi sighed. “We know you care about the farm—”

  I didn’t let her finish the thought. “It’s not just the farm. It’s the entire family. It’s us. It’s everything.”

  And it was nothing they would ever understand again.

  Because the farm was the only constant I had left.

  So many things had changed. So many people had improved their lives. Started families and found their happiness.

  But I’d liked the way that things were. I liked living in the moment.

  Especially since I knew what waited for me ten years down the road.

  The medications I’d have to stuff into my body. The ailments that would plague my every move. The shortened lifespan. Propensity for other diseases. The shit quality of life.

  The future was nothing but life’s opportunity to fuck me over.

  I owed now to myself—to have some fun, to live free of worry. Only God knew how screwed up I’d get in the future.

  Lady was still in the bathroom. I had to get her out before anyone discovered the Barlow in our midst.

  “Look, I don’t know when they’re gonna let me outta here,” I said. “Go home. I’ll call one of you if I need a ride.”

  Cassi planted her feet. “You’re out of your mind. I’m not leaving you here alone.”

  I expected that. “Who’s watching Mellie and Tabby?”

  “Rem.”

  “And who is watching him?”

  She hesitated. “Micah.”

  “You don’t need to stay here. Go back home to your families. I’ll be fine. I could use the sleep.”

  Julian snorted. “Especially since you’re the only one in that bed.”

  They didn’t have to remind me.

  My brothers relinquished their posts, but Cassi was another story. I relented, allowing her to stay on one condition.

  “You know what I want,” I said.

  Cassi was eager to help. “The freshly squeezed, sugar-free lemonade from the food court across the street?”

  “That’s the one.”

  When I was in the hospital, everybody felt more useful if they had a task. Cassi grabbed her purse and headed to the door.

  “One lemonade, coming up.”

  “See if you can’t find me a beer after that.”

  “Don’t press your luck.”

  Julian and Varius gave me the customary, awkward slap on the shoulder and the mumbled terms of affection and followed Cassi down the hall. Lady waited a good thirty seconds before peeking out of the bathroom, her eyes wide with worry.

  “I could have got you that lemonade,” she said.

  “Why? We puckered up without it.”

  She ignored me, studying the pamphlets on the bed. “I have an uncle who uses some of these devices. He says they really help.”

  Not her too.

  “I don’t need them,” I said.

  “Why not?”

  Wasn’t it obvious? “Because those are for sick people.”

  Lady gestured around the room. “You do realize you’re in the hospital?”

  “Not for much longer. You want to help? Bust me out of here.”

  She scowled. “I should sit right here with Cassi until you’re better.”

  “I don’t think this hospital has enough blood in storage for a Barlow/Payne showdown.”

  “I’d behave.”

  It wasn’t her I worried about. “You’re overreacting. There’s nothing wrong with me that I can’t handle at home.” I winked. “If you’re still concerned, I can prove to you how healthy I am right now.”

  “You know these nurses want blood samples, not sperm?”

  “Good thing I can multitask.”

  Lady shook a finger at me. “You already got a kiss.”

  “Sweetest treat I’ve had all week.”

  “I can’t be responsible for any swings in your blood sugar.”

  “You’re already pooling blood somewhere in particular, if you know what I mean.”

  “Everybody always knows what you mean, Quint.”

  “See how good we are together? We're on the same page.”

  “And I suppose that’s what makes us such great friends.”

  And here I thought I knew all the filthy F words. I nearly groaned.

  Maybe I did need the glucose monitors. I always seemed to make stupid fucking mistakes when my sugar got low.

  How the hell had I let this woman get away?

  “I should get going,” she said, backing toward the door. “I’m glad you’re okay.”

  “All thanks to you.”

  That made her happy. My stomach twisted. I liked that smile. Made the hospital room seem brighter, friendlier. Gave me something to focus on besides the IV, heart monitor, and shit Jell-O the nurses would inevitably try to shovel down my throat.

  I didn’t want her to leave.

  “Text me when they break you out of here?” she asked.

  “You text me first. I’ll need some entertainment.”

  “I can send you a copy of the plans I have for the festival.”

  “Good,” I rolled my eyes. “If you bore me to death, they can shock me back to life.”

  Lady laughed. She hesitated for only a moment, wrapping her knuckles against the door as she headed into the hall.

  My heart went with her.

  So did my dick.

  What the hell was I doing?

  The last thing I wanted was Lady Barlow leaving the hospital room with images of me trapped in a bed, clad in a hospital gown, and ashen from the episode.

  I was better than that. Stronger than that. I was a healthy, virile, energetic man who just happened to have a little condition that sometimes fucked him up.

  And I hated that she had seen it.

  Hated that she knew.

  Hated that I let her leave without saying anything that might have charmed her, teased her, convinced her to pull the chair beside the bed, giggle my name, and reward me with more of those sweet, perfect kisses.

  What the hell did men say when confronted with the perfect woman?

  What were they supposed to do? How were they supposed to act?

  I had to say something before Lady got away. The right words. Something romantic. Something devilishly charming and irresistibly perfect that would draw her back to me.

  But I wasn’t a guy who planned. And I sure as hell never learned how to be a proper gentleman worthy of wooing a Barlow girl.

  So, I blurted out the first thing that came to mind.

  “Send nudes!”

  8

  Lady

  I was starting to think it was impossible to fall out of love with Quint Payne.

  “I never knew that it would be so…” My voice trembled with raw anticipation. “Slick.”

  His heat radiated over me. “Yeah. It gets real slick.”

  This man had no idea what he did to me.

  And I had no idea what he could do for me.

  His size. His strength. The dirty words he said and the dirtier things he intended to do. He fit so comfortably at my side, and yet I was a jumble of nerves and excitement, humming with energy and melting with heat every time his skin pressed against mine.

  “I’ve never actually looked at it before,” I whispered.

  The confession surprised him. “Really? Every girl should get a good look.”

  Maybe. But this was something no Barlow girl was supposed to explore. It always seemed so low class. Common. Even though I knew everybody else was just as curious.

  Fortunately, Quint was patient and gentle. “Get a good look now. You’re safe with me. I won’t tell anybody what you’re doing.”

  I met his gaze, though I wish I hadn’t. Those green eyes promised infinite trouble.

  I bit my lip. “I can’t believe there’s so many…folds and crevices.”

  His smile grew. “That’s the best part. All those places get so slippery.”

  “Is it bad that I want to touch it?”

  He chuckle
d. “Trust me, Lady. All girls touch it.”

  “But it’s so dirty.”

  “I think it looks good enough to eat.”

  I gasped. “You’re terrible.”

  “I’d run my tongue all over it.”

  “What if someone sees?”

  “Hell, as long as I get a taste, they could take a damn video.”

  I stared harder, but this was a mystery even I couldn’t unravel. I had no idea why people liked it so much. The men especially.

  I made a face. “But why is everybody so enamored by it?”

  Quint laughed. “It’s rare. People don’t get it that often. And when they do, it always ends up such a delicious, sticky mess. What’s not to love?”

  Everything.

  I gestured to the town square, marveling at the decorations, music, and general festivities that had transformed Butterpond from a little hole in the wall to one of the wackiest tourist traps this side of the Mississippi.

  “But this doesn’t make sense.” I studied the statue again. “It’s a life-size sculpture of a man made out of butter.”

  Quint was quick to correct me. “Oh, not just any man. This is Jedediah Butterpond. the founder of our town. Without him, there would be no Butterpond. No Barlows. No Paynes. And no giant butter statue that commemorates the founding of our bizarre little town.”

  But would it have been so bad if Butterpond, this one time, had allowed a commemorative event to pass without inflicting some bizarre tradition upon our people?

  Sculpting a life-size statue of Jedediah Butterpond each year was a unique event in itself, but the melting of the town’s founder was the most alarming of rituals. Every year, the historical committee would splatter together an effigy of Jedediah, leave him to melt in the sun, and contain his buttery goodness in a kiddie pool representing the pond where Jedediah had initially stopped to rest, drink, and ultimately settle Butterpond.

  …Before attempting to secede the territory from the United States.

  Which led us to the other festivities. The feast of annexation was a historically accurate representation of the real meals Jedediah and his followers had consumed before their one and only ill-fated battle. Unfortunately, as the secession had isolated the community, the settlers had grown only corn to eat. And thus, in true historic fashion, only corn-based foods were permitted during the commemoration.