Devious Wingman: A Cocky Hero Club Novel

by Hagen, Casey

  Emory rolled her eyes. “Please, I don’t need protection from him, but he might need it from me,” Emory said, the comment delivered with such pure confidence it had my eyebrows shooting up on my forehead.

  “Honey, I have no doubt.” Soraya squeezed Emory’s shoulders and kissed her on the cheek. “Call me if you need me.”

  “I will. Now go home and tell your husband you’ve been bad, and just what you’ve done. If he’s good with it, I fully intend to take you up on your offer.”

  Soraya glanced up at me as she passed and patted my shoulder. “Good luck, stud. You’re going to need it.”

  I watched her teeter down the stairs on high heels, her fingers flying over her phone, wondering if I needed to walk her out so she didn’t land sprawled across the landing with a broken neck.

  “What do you want, Falcon?” Emory demanded from her doorway, her hands on her hips, her foot slightly raised off the floor, and a glimpse of her abdomen on display where she hadn’t fastened the bottom three buttons of my shirt.

  I nodded at the foot she babied. “Tell me about the foot?”

  She crossed her arms and blew a wayward strand of hair out of her eyes. “I stubbed my toes. I wouldn’t alert the media or anything.”

  Making my way over, I crouched down to look at the damage. Daisies adorned her big toenails, at least, one of them, the other lost some paint, likely in the accident. “Hawk said you didn’t want to get it looked at tonight.”

  She yanked her foot away and hobbled to get her balance back. “He’s right, I don’t.”

  I glanced up and pierced her with a hard stare, wanting to know, needing to know what her deal was with Hawk so I knew when this torture would end. “If it’s not so bad, why didn’t you go out with him anyway?”

  “I couldn’t wear my fuck-me heels. What’s a hot date with Hawk if he can’t fuck me in my favorite Isabel Marant pumps as a nightcap?” she asked with a smirk.

  Grinding my teeth, my jaw muscle quivering, I rose to my feet and gripped the doorjamb next to her head. I glanced away, doing everything in my power to avoid taking the bait, but fuck if the thought of Hawk tasting her, touching her, swallowing her sighs didn’t have me ready to massacre a city block. “You should get it checked out.”

  “You should mind your own business,” she said in her sing-song suck-it voice.

  As much as I wanted to take the bait, the only way I could think to shut her up was shoving my tongue down her throat. Somehow, I didn’t get the feeling I was welcome, and I sure as hell wasn’t adding forcing myself on women to my sins. “Did you put ice on it at least?”

  She snorted. “I put wine on it. Personally, I think it was the better decision.”

  “Emory,” I warned, my patience wearing thinner with each smart-ass reply.

  “Look, I’m not some damsel in distress,” she said with her hands flying between us. “This isn’t the good old days, and I don’t need you rescuing m—”

  I swooped low, leaned in, and hoisted her over my shoulder in one smooth action.

  “What the hell are you doing?” she yelped, her legs kicking behind her.

  Adjusting her over my shoulder, I locked my hands on her round, soft ass. “Picking you up because you look like shit hobbling around on your busted stump.”

  “Gee, aren’t you afraid to be this close to me? Wouldn’t want you to catch some fucking feelings—”

  She reared up to give me shit at the exact same moment I stepped through her doorway. I winced at the sound of her head smacking against the doorframe.

  “Ouch, dammit!”

  Kicking her door shut, her words about catching feelings almost identical to my inner monologue from Rigby’s Friday night a stark reminder of how dangerous it was for us to be close.

  She fit. She left me nowhere to hide. She hovered inside me, pulling out pieces of my psyche ready to lob them at me at the slightest provocation.

  Get in and get out, Malone.

  I crossed over to the love seat and dumped her on the pile of throw pillows there, still taking care to protect her foot I dropped down onto the cushion next to her. “That had to hurt.”

  The lashes of her closed eyes fluttered as she rubbed the back of her head. “Nah, it felt fabulous. Exactly the kind of bang I hoped Hawk would give me tonight.”

  “Don’t push me, Emory,” I warned. Elbows propped on my knees, I scanned the room, my eyes stopping at the deck off the kitchen where the sunset started its descent on the horizon. “The feelings are there, proximity not required,” I said, immediately wishing I hadn’t.

  She cracked open an eye and glared at me. “Don’t do that,” she muttered.

  “Don’t do what?”

  “Drop lines thinking my heart's going to flutter and fall at your feet,” she said as she swallowed hard, her throat bobbing.

  Did she still taste the same there? Would her skin still feel like silk brushing against my lips? “No lines, no expectations,” I said, clearing my throat. “And I’d prefer if you’d keep the fluttering to yourself.”

  “Oh, so you’re actually here to fuck then; why didn’t you just say so?” She reached for one of the three buttons holding my fucking flannel shirt closed over her naked breasts.

  How did I know they were naked? Because her fucking hard nipples were looking at me with eagerness by the way they strained against the red and black flannel.

  I pushed her shoulders down. “Lie down, keep your clothes on…or in this case, my clothes, and shut up while I look at your foot.” I reached for the bag at my feet, eager to get this done so maybe I’d have a shot at sleep tonight, especially since I had a flight first thing in the morning.

  “Oh, so you're a doctor now?” She sneered.

  “So, liquor makes you horny and wine makes you bitchy…message received.”

  “You know what, you can fu—ouch, shit!” She yelped, gripping the injured toes she’d just dug into the end of her love seat in an effort to twist toward me and give me a mouthful.

  I yanked out gauze bandages and first aid tape, wondering if she planned to leave me needing medical attention of my own. At least if she kept bitching at me, I had a fair chance of overriding my urge to fuck her until she couldn’t utter a single sound. “You done acting like a child now?”

  “Don’t you mean aren’t I done being stupid?” she asked, wielding the words with a fifty-pound sledge of broken heart crusted in a layer of pure scathing attitude.

  I might have been able to convince myself her outburst was her way of lashing out in irritation or eagerness to get me out of there…if it wasn’t for the slight break in her voice.

  I did that to her, and I sure as hell couldn’t undo it. If there had been any other way…at the same time, I couldn’t deny it was better this way. With her loathing me. I’d destroyed us with harsh words delivered with a side of disdain. Left in the wake—our attraction…and her wearing my fucking shirt, whatever the hell that meant.

  Taking her foot in my hand, I carefully probed her toes, and nothing more. “I never should have said it.”

  “It was a long time ago,” she said, tears in her voice whether from the memory or the pain, I may never know.

  “A long time and it still hurts. Wiggle your toes for me.”

  “I felt dumb enough getting myself into the situation, but you calling me stupid—” Her breath hitched. “It hurt worse than anything he did to me that night.”

  I froze but didn’t look at her. The truth she dropped between us cut me to the core. I’d surrendered every damn thing I wanted to protect her, to save her—knowing she carried the pain, pain I inflicted at one of her weakest moments filled me with shame.

  “I’m sorry.”

  “No, you’re not. You do everything with intention, Falcon.” She winced, hissed out a breath, but her toes moved jerkily with effort. “You thought you were protecting me. I just wish you would have considered the collateral damage so when the time came and I needed…”

  The words died o
n her lips as we stared at each other, guilt hovering in the place between us.

  She glanced away and sighed. “Someone should tell Hawk you’re a shitty wingman. You don’t stick.”

  Some conversations cut too close to the bone, even for Emory. If that meant we found safer ground, I’d follow where she led. “Being a shitty friend is nothing new for me. He wouldn’t be surprised.”

  “Yet, he puts up with you anyway.”

  “Yeah.”

  “There’s a story there,” she said.

  “Hawk comes from a long line of revered Air Force pilots. Not everyone took kindly to the reputation he had when he entered the Air Force Academy. They fucked with him, for a time. Until they didn’t.”

  “Because of you,” she said quietly.

  I shrugged, uncomfortable with the recognition. I didn’t need her making me out to be some kind of saint or some shit. “Hawk worked his entire life to get there. Didn’t seem right to watch a bunch of assholes steal what he’d earned. I didn’t belong there, but it was too late to back out so it gave me a purpose.”

  “You earned your place there, Falcon.”

  For years, I’d studied half the night after my dad passed out. The only time it was safe; otherwise, he’d have a few fists for me thinking I was showing off how much better I was than him.

  Grades came so much easier to Ethan. I didn’t begrudge him his intelligence. But if I wanted to stay with him, keep my safe haven with his family, I had to hammer the information home. I didn’t graduate valedictorian, but I made it in the top ten percent of my class. I excelled in basic training, I earned my BA in engineering, and I applied to the Air Force Academy, my best friend right there with me the entire way. And still, even with perfect grades, my chances were slim.

  It was the first time I had to face the fact I had no control. Even growing up with my father, I had some semblance of power.

  “It wasn’t my dream. I never would have gone for it if it hadn’t been for...” I couldn’t say his name. Sometimes it hurt too fucking much to force the syllables from my lips…even after all these years.

  Emory curled her fingers around my forearm. “It was as much my fault as it was yours.”

  I pushed her words away. There were things she didn’t know, things I’d never tell her. Truths shame wouldn’t let me share with her even if it meant alleviating her sense of guilt. Only a few words into this talk, and slipping into bed together seemed so much safer than the heartfelt conversation she wanted from me.

  “I doubt they’re broken, but they’re definitely bruised. Your big toe is the worst. Buddy taping them won’t do a thing, but I’ll wrap your foot and it’ll help support them while you move around.”

  “That’s it? That’s all you’ve got to say?” she asked, pushing herself up so she reclined back on the arm of the couch.

  My gaze darted to the cluster of golf umbrellas propped in the corner by the door. There had to be at least ten in a multitude of colors and designs. “What’s with the umbrellas?”

  She smirked. “I have a thing about matching, but right now, with the way you’re pissing me off, all I can think about is jamming one right up your ass.”

  Temper. I could spar with her fucking temper as long as we veered in any other direction. What rattled me to the core was the way we slipped into old camaraderie. She had the power to peel back my layers with just a look.

  I needed out. Before I memorized her pillows or the pattern of the fleece blanket on the back of the couch. Before I found more of her past in knickknacks and photos ready to chain me to this place.

  To her.

  Solid footing. I just needed solid damn footing.

  I looked to push her buttons for my salvation.

  “I’m an adventurous guy, but right now, I’d much rather be sliding something up yours.” I held the gauze in place against the top of her foot and started wrapping, my movements quick, the pressure consistent.

  “Funny,” she drawled.

  Holding the end of the gauze against her foot, I snatched the first aid tape, grabbed the tab, and snapped the roll out like a yo-yo, the force peeling a four-inch section free. I tore the piece free with my teeth. “I wasn’t kidding.”

  “You don’t want me.”

  “All I’ve ever wanted was you, but woman, you’re the one goddamned thing I can’t have.” I pushed to my feet.

  Time to fucking go.

  “Where are you going?”

  “Home. I’ve got a flight in the morning.” I glanced down at her, missing the heat of her thigh against my hip the minute I broke the connection. Such a stupid thing to miss.

  Hungry aquamarine eyes roamed over me as though she was ready to devour me like the first meal she’d had in a week.

  If I had a mirror, I probably looked the same way. “Don’t look at me like that.”

  “Like what?” she asked.

  I shook my head and dialed my defenses back to insensitive bastard. “You know I’m going to walk away.”

  She shrugged, and when she looked back at me, resignation filled her sad eyes. “You left me a long time ago. Don’t worry, Falcon… I’d never confuse you with forever.”

  I opened the door and turned back to her, but she wasn’t watching me; she’d turned to the last vestiges of the sunset clinging to the horizon as though waiting for her to watch its performance. “Go watch the sunset,” I said, a twinge of heartache in my voice for the choices we’d been forced to live with. “Don’t forget the marshmallows.”

  8

  I clutched the steering wheel and stared up at my childhood home, searching for the familiar sense of awe the sight used to fill me with. The house at 44 Sycamore Lane grew smaller each time I visited. The shift from grandeur to comfortable simplicity over the past twenty years forced me to acknowledge this transition might be me shedding the last vestiges of childhood.

  I’d been an adult for a long time, but never once had I been in the heap of shit I landed myself in this time around where so much hung in the balance. The timing sucked. So full of fuck you toward Vera and Falcon on Friday, I’d tapped into my spitfire reserves hard. After the short time with Falcon last night, I’d burned away every last bit I’d been using as my armor, leaving vulnerability in its wake.

  The days of turning to my parents as though they had the magic wand to fix my life had vanished a long time ago, but still, here I sat…needing something.

  Maybe this moment of weakness had to happen here.

  One more time.

  It’s not like I wanted to be that kid again—I had a mortgage for God’s sake—but when Falcon walked back into my life, I couldn’t deny how I still held tiny shards of my teenage longings close to my heart. Sixteen-year-old me hadn’t noticed the curves in the road ahead. She’d only known one thing; she’d always wanted him.

  Our stolen moments, as exhilarating as they both had been, only proved how over my head I’d been with twenty-two-year-old Falcon.

  He’d known though, the shithead. Okay, so not exactly his fault for that kernel of knowledge, but I absolutely hated how naive this whole thing made me look.

  Well, my heart hardened a whole hell of a lot in the man department since then. Full of dreamy gazes and breathless sighs at one time, yes, but now I knew how to separate raw attraction and lust from happily ever after. No more daydreaming. No more hoping he could be different.

  Maybe that’s what made twenty-six-year-old me hop in my car on a Monday without a word of warning to my parents. The need to put away those last pieces of my teenage heart. Here I could pack them away with my childhood mementos right where they belonged. I’d return to the city armed with only big girl intentions if I saw Falcon again. I’d be ready, and if he wasn’t, well, the boy was going to have to hold on until he could catch up. While I had my way with the man, there would be no recalling hurtful words from the old us, no more guilt, just two damn adults free to rub against each other.

  No expectations.

  No commitments.
>
  A shudder rippled through me and I sighed.

  So, this was letting go.

  Glancing up at my old bedroom window, a resigned numbness replaced the tension. Full of laughter, loud family dinners, game nights, and music, my childhood home had been everything I wanted in my own place one day. Only now did I see how hard my parents worked to give us this magical spot in a turbulent world which once had been so much more than where a vegetable garden flourished in the backyard and the colorful flowers bloomed from spring into late fall. No fanciful magic from fairytales involved, only hard work and dedication. They tended what they owned the same way they nurtured the family they’d raised here.

  The same hard work and dedication they’d nurtured in me, only making this blow to my career so much more devastating.

  Don’t go there, girl. Deep breath. You’ve got this.

  Forcing myself out of the car, I headed for the door. The minute my foot hit the bottom step, my cell vibrated in my hand. Knowing the minute I walked into the house, my phone would be all but forgotten, I shielded my eyes and swiped at the screen.

  Falcon: Where are you?

  I sucked in a breath as electricity danced over my skin. I glanced over my shoulder—why, I don’t know, but something about getting a text from Falcon in this moment seemed so damn forbidden it sparked defiance. Hovering in the space between teenage and adult me, I read his words again, and chose to rebel.

  One bandaged foot and now he thought he was my keeper? Ummm, no, but how adorable of the buffoon to think so. Still, a smile spread over my face and heat raced through my veins, kicking up the speed of my heartbeat.

  Me: Fucking Hawk. Where are you?

  Three dots waved on the screen immediately, telling me he was typing. I swore they rippled with the aggression I imagined in him as his thumbs while he typed out a response.

  Falcon: Cut that shit out.

  See…aggressive.

  That streak of troublemaker buried in my heart took pleasure in pushing his buttons. I’d never had the upper hand with him. Not once. But maybe now, since we’re both adults, I might just manage to win a few rounds of this fight.