Wild & Sweet (The Haven Brotherhood)

by Rhenna Morgan

  She snickered none too delicately and covered her mouth with one hand. “Your anger and my silence. Aren’t we a pair?”

  They were, actually. She’d said more to him in the thirty-minute car ride than he’d heard her say in the past few days. And he’d managed to actually sit at a poker table with his brothers without getting up once to pace. At least until she’d left and hadn’t come back.

  He pulled into her neighborhood and navigated the slow curving street beneath the soft streetlights. Their almost pink tint gave the already cozy environment a dreamlike quality. No wonder she had Realtors knocking on her door day in and day out.

  He killed the engine and opened his door.

  Gabe’s voice shot through the car’s interior as he climbed out. “What are you doing?”

  He propped one hand on the window and the other on the roof, and ducked so he could see her. “I’m walking you to your door.” With that, he slammed the door shut and rounded the back of the Camaro. By the time he got to her side, Gabe had managed to get her own door open, but her ribs had slowed the process of prying herself from the deep bucket seats. He held out a hand and pulled her upright.

  “Really, you don’t have to do this,” she said. “I can let myself in.”

  “I know you can. Doesn’t mean you will.” He waved a hand at her purse then waggled his fingers. “Give me the keys.”

  “Why?”

  “You had a guy knock you on your ass next door a week ago, it’s late, and your brother’s not here. At the rate he and Trevor were going at it, he might not make it home at all. Give me the keys. I’ll check it out, you can lock up behind me, and we’ll both sleep easy.”

  She rolled her eyes and tried to throw a long suffering sigh at him, but her ribs cut it short. Still, she handed the keys over.

  He made quick work of the lock and flipped the main switch to the living room by the front door. “Wait here. I’ll check the back rooms.”

  Toothless hopped down from his spot on the arm of the sofa, froze long enough to consider whether he needed to bolt, then walked a long path around Zeke toward Gabe. As names went, Gabe really couldn’t have picked a better one for the fickle cat. All he needed was a set of wings and some fire breathing skills and he’d be a twin for the movie’s dragon.

  The sliding glass door was locked up tight, as was the door that led out of the utility room toward Danny’s detached garage. Neither bedroom light was on, but he flipped the switches and scanned the rooms anyway, making sure everything appeared in place.

  He strode down the dark hallway to the living room and found Gabe cradling Toothless in her arms like a baby. “Everything looks good.”

  “I knew it would be. The thing with Mrs. Wallaby’s house was a fluke and bad timing.” She stroked under Toothless’s chin and he arched his neck higher, making room for more of her touch. Even from ten feet away, the cat’s purrs rivaled a speed boat. The damned cat had it good. Very good.

  “Well, I’ll leave you to it,” he said. “I’m sorry things didn’t go better for you tonight, but maybe we can try again sometime if you’re up for it.” He smiled and ambled to the front door, his mind scrambling for an excuse to stay.

  “Zeke?”

  He paused at the threshold, cursed the rush that coursed through him at the sound of her voice, and faced her.

  She glanced at the kitchen, then scanned the couch. “I was going to watch a movie for a little bit. It takes me a while to unwind enough to go to sleep after something like tonight.” She trained her gaze on her fingers still slicking through Toothless’s glossy black fur. “I was wondering...” Her chin lifted as though she’d processed an uncomfortable swallow. “Do you want to watch one with me?”

  * * *

  It was official. Gabe had lost her freaking mind. She’d already shown Zeke and all of Danny’s other friends she was an awkward idiot, and now she wanted to drive the point home inviting him to stay and watch a movie?

  Zeke shuttled his gaze between her and his Camaro parked outside, his mouth opening and closing at least twice while he ran his fingertips through his closely cropped beard.

  “It’s okay,” she said, waving her hand as though it was no big deal. “It’s late, and you want to get back to your friends. It was a stupid—”

  “Yeah, I’ll stay.” He looked almost as shocked agreeing as she’d felt inviting him in the first place.

  “Really?” She nearly groaned out loud the second her unfiltered response took flight. If she could’ve snatched it out of the air and stuffed it back to whatever idiotic vault her mind had yanked it from, she’d have done it in a New York second. “I mean, your friends probably expect you back there, and sitting with me watching a movie has to rank high on your boring scale.”

  Something about his smile sent her insides winging like a flock of startled birds from a tree. “I’ve felt a lot of things around you since last week. Bored isn’t one of them.” He ambled to the tall bookcase next to her knock-off flat screen and stuffed his hands in his pockets. “Did you have something particular in mind?”

  Normally after an event like tonight, she’d watch a guaranteed tearjerker, or a high-octane chick flick. Probably not the best selection for Zeke, though. She meandered next to him and scanned her DVDs. An action movie would be a good bet for a guy like him, but then she’d still be amped by the time it was over and in no shape to fall asleep.

  Her gaze snagged on one of her favorites. Suspense, murders, with just enough lightness and romance to take the edge off, but not enough to make Zeke uncomfortable. “Have you ever seen The Big Easy?” She slid it out of its space on the shelf and handed it over to him. “It’s older, but it’s got a good cast. Plus, it’s in New Orleans.”

  His gazed slid to her. “You like New Orleans?”

  “Well, I’ve never been, but I’ve read a lot about it in books. I always thought it sounded really nice. The history and the food. Writers always make it sound like a magical place.”

  “It’s a great place.” He flipped the case over and studied the back. “Dennis Quaid and Ellen Barkin, huh?”

  “Yeah. Dennis is really young in it and has a sexy Cajun accent.”

  “Got a thing for accents, huh?” He grinned big enough to hit her with the dimple. “How do you feel about Portuguese?”

  Oh. My. God.

  Even without a mirror shoved in front of her face, she could tell her cheeks were about twenty shades of raging red. If any more blood rushed to her face, she’d go up in flames.

  He coiled his hand around the back of her neck and smoothed his thumb along her jawline. “Relax, gatinha. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.” He stepped back, giving her space to catch her breath. “So is that what you normally wear when you watch your movies?”

  She glanced down at her jeans and boots. “Oh, heck no. Usually I’m in my pajamas and have a huge bucket of popcorn, beer, my phone and the remote within grabbing distance.”

  “You plan for the long haul, huh?” He waved her toward her bedroom and moseyed to the kitchen. “You change then, and I’ll drum up the popcorn and beer.”

  He’d already disappeared into the galley when the full force of what he’d just maneuvered her into registered. Or was it maneuvering? She traipsed down the hallway in a stupefied haze. That had to be it. Zeke wasn’t anything like Jimmy Franklin. He was the kind of guy who unscrewed your water bottle for you and waited until you started eating before he appreciatively inhaled your food. And he wasn’t interested in her. If anything, he probably viewed her as a little-sister type and felt bad she’d had a rough night.

  She snatched her pajamas from the bottom dresser drawer, a soft pink cotton nightshirt that hung down to her knees, but was made of the softest cotton she’d ever felt. It would have been nice if she’d been able to find one that wasn’t two sizes too big for her, but
the outlet she’d found it at didn’t always work to a bargain hunter’s advantage.

  She plunked down on the edge of her bed and pulled on her gray knitted socks. They were thick and probably looked more like leg warmers than socks, but they were the perfect, cozy addition when curled up on the couch watching movies. She snatched her phone and Googled g-a-t-i-n-h-a in the Portuguese translator.

  No way. Kitty? Really?

  She stomped down the hallway, double-checking the translator along the way. The scent of fresh popcorn hit her right before she made the kitchen and sure enough, there was Zeke, emptying a full bag of popcorn into the same bowl she always used. The guy was freakishly efficient with things like that. “I looked it up.”

  “Looked what up?”

  “Gatinha.”

  The way he smiled, she was a little surprised her panties didn’t melt. He shook the rest of the popcorn from the bag. “Yeah? What’d you find out?”

  “You think I’m a kitten?”

  He tossed the empty popcorn bag in the trash and took his time turning around, as if he were weighing how he wanted to answer carefully. “I think you’re like a feral kitten. One who’s hungry and has a bowl of cream right in front of her, but can’t quite decide if she wants to lick it up, or hiss and hightail it back into the woods.”

  He did? And was that a good thing or a bad thing? To her mind, it seemed kind of nice, but then she had a wonky way of looking at the world compared to most people. “I’m not sure how to take that.”

  “Take it the way I meant it.”

  “How’s that?”

  He picked up the bowl and handed it to her. “That you’re wild and sweet.”

  Even with the oversize white plastic tub between them, her heart hammered like he’d plant a kiss on her at any second. He wouldn’t, obviously. But it was still a nice image, one unlike anything she’d have conjured for herself. “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.” He picked up the two beers he’d opened for them, and motioned with one toward the living room. “Now let’s get our movie going. I’ve got a shift at seven in the morning and want to make sure I get a few hours in beforehand.”

  Oh, damn. He really was here out of pity. Somehow she’d known that deep down, but knowing she’d be responsible for him slogging through work tomorrow sat wrong in her conscience. “I didn’t know you had to work tomorrow. You don’t have to stay if you don’t want to.”

  He nudged her shoulder and prodded her on toward the couch. “Gatinha, one thing you need to know about me is that, when I say I’m wired most of the time, it means I’m really wired. As in I get very little sleep. I can’t tell you the last time I got eight hours straight. So if anything, you’re helping me wind down enough to sleep a solid four hours at least.”

  He paused, studied something on the end table closest to him, then set his beer down and picked it up. The stack of Realtor cards she’d brought home from Mrs. Wallaby’s house over the past few weeks were pinched between his fingers. “These are all the people who’ve stopped by your house?”

  “No, those are the ones who’ve left cards for Mrs. Wallaby while she’s been gone. I chuck the ones we get. The last thing I want is to move.”

  “How long has she been gone?”

  Gabe propped a bunch of pillows next to her to support her ribs and tucked her feet beside her on the couch. “A few weeks.”

  “Gabe, there are at least ten here.”

  “Yeah, I told you they come by a lot.” She punched the power button on the remote. “I’ll man the remote if you’ll pop the movie in.”

  For a second, he looked like he wanted to dig deeper, but he tossed them back to the end table, picked up the movie and slid the disk in the player. A few practiced clicks from Gabe on the remote and the movie came to life, aerial shots of swampland and the gulf mingling with an upbeat Cajun song.

  Zeke killed the kitchen and dining room lights and settled on the end of the couch opposite her.

  Accustomed to the routine, albeit without a hot doctor along for the ride, Toothless hopped onto the couch between them. It took him a few casual passes and a whole lot of feline nonchalance, but he finally crept close enough to Zeke to give a careful hello.

  Zeke held out his hand and waited.

  Toothless stared long and hard at the offering then rubbed his cheek on Zeke’s fingers. The purring roared right behind the capitulation, welcoming Zeke’s scratches behind the ear like a strung out addict.

  “Fickle damned cat.” Gabe focused on the murder investigation underway in the movie. God, she’d seen this movie so many times, she could quote it in her sleep. Zeke would probably think it was stupid, or at least seriously outdated, but there was something inherently sexy about it without being over the top.

  Before she knew it, the world fell away. All her blunders. All her oddities. Even Zeke’s steady, strong presence so close and yet so far away. The characters, the sites and the emotions sucked her in, so much so she bit her lip at a particularly sensual scene, imagining the heroine was her instead of the leading lady. To be kissed that way, a man’s hand fisting her hair while his mouth devoured hers.

  Zeke shifted at the far end of the sofa, ripping her from her steamy moment on the screen. Except he wasn’t watching The Big Easy. He was watching her, and he looked hungry. Big-bad-wolf hungry.

  “You’re not watching the movie,” she said.

  “Watching you is better.” No saucy gleam in his eye to indicate it was a joke. No follow-up snicker to suggest she should brush it off. Just his warm, husky voice and so much heat in his eyes she could barely breathe. “You liked what you saw.”

  “Um...yeah. It was hot.”

  “Which part?”

  What did he mean, which part? You couldn’t dissect any portion of a Cajun Dennis Quaid putting the moves on anyone. “All of it?”

  He rubbed one finger below his lower lip, thoughtful.

  She managed a deep, shaky breath and refocused on the TV. “It doesn’t matter anyway. I love movies and romance, but I’m a realist. Passion like that doesn’t exist. Doesn’t mean I can’t enjoy the fantasy.”

  She kept her gaze locked on the movie, but her senses couldn’t quite unlock from Zeke. It was like her whole body was supercharged and tuned into his presence. So much so, when he reached out and wrapped his big hands around her ankles, she nearly leaped off the couch.

  He carefully picked her feet up and urged them over his lap. “Stretch out. It’ll be easier to breathe.”

  “I don’t want to crowd you.”

  “It’s your couch, Gabe. I’m the one who crashed your movie, so relax.” He gripped one foot and slowly massaged his thumb along the arch.

  Holy. Freaking. Cow.

  The man had amazing hands. Confident and strong without manhandling her. Perfect pressure mixed with a languid sensuality. Even better, he didn’t seem to be in a hurry, giving slow, diligent attention to each foot. Staying still was hands down the hardest thing she’d ever done, second only to holding back her satisfied moans. When his hands shifted to her calves, she gave up trying to watch the movie and simply let her eyes drift closed, imagining them much, much higher.

  He’s just a friend.

  Actually, he’s Danny’s friend.

  He’s just being nice.

  Okay, all of that was true, but he had an exceptional talent for touch. If he weren’t already making bank as a doctor, she’d recommend he look into work as a massage therapist.

  Eventually, his strokes slowed, the twists and turns of the movie luring him in until he stopped altogether. It was still nice. Cozy and connected, his hands rested on top of her feet, sending his heat through her thick socks and warming her clear to her soul.

  Perfect.

  She closed her eyes. Colors from the screen flashed behind her eye
lids, and the familiar dialogue droned well-worn through her mind. God, she hoped she never forgot this feeling. So peaceful and protected.

  The actors’ dialogue faded farther and farther away, and the sweet lull of sleep pulled her under.

  * * *

  Thirty minutes past midnight. In another six and a half hours, Zeke was due at work for a twelve-hour shift. Logic told him to get his ass in gear, get home, and at least try to get a few hours of sleep, but all he could do was sit at his end of the couch and watch Gabe sleep. Her breaths were shallower than he’d like to see, but it didn’t surprise him with her only being a week out on healing. The way she’d adjusted to the injury, bracing and protecting her ribs when she moved, was impressive. Most people just planted themselves on their bed and avoided moving.

  But not Gabe.

  Toothless lay curled up next to her, his body tucked into the crook of her hips. The television’s pale blue menu screen cast a soft glow on Gabe’s face. He didn’t have the first damned clue how the movie ended. As soon as that love scene had come on, the only thing he’d been able to concentrate on was Gabe. The way she licked her lip then bit it. How her eyes got big and glossed over. At one point, she’d snagged a handful of popcorn, held the fistful up to her mouth, and flicked a few pieces into her mouth with her tongue. He’d been rock hard and ready to go ever since.

  For the first time in the past hour, he shifted, those insanely homely, but cute as fuck socks of hers tickling his fingers. He’d never rubbed a woman’s feet before. Had never wanted to. With Gabe, it had been nothing short of erotic. And she’d liked it. A lot. He’d bet the brotherhood’s accumulated wealth she didn’t have a clue just how much her body had given her away. The soft little sighs and the tiny shifts from her hips. Talk about tilling fertile soil for his wicked thoughts. The fact that he’d kept his hands from coasting up and under her nightshirt to that pert ass of hers practically guaranteed him a fast track to sainthood.