Hayden (A Next Generation Carter Brother Novel Book 4)

by Lisa Helen Gray

  A low, pleasant hum warms my blood at his appraisal. After earlier, my hormones are all over the place, and right now, I don’t trust myself not to jump him. I saw a different side to him today, and it only made me want him more. It’s like a hunger.

  “Nothing going on, my arse,” Dad mutters over my shoulder.

  I glance behind me, arching my eyebrow. Before he can say anything else, Mum pulls him away.

  “How did the rest of your day go?” I ask Clayton as he draws closer.

  He makes a sound at the back of his throat. “I’m alive, so there’s that.”

  “But?” I tease, knowing there is always a but when it comes to him

  He gives me a lopsided grin. “You know me so well.”

  “So?”

  “I’m hungry,” he moans. “I could eat a cow right now.

  “Did you not go with the rest of them to the restaurant? You were invited,” I remind him, worried he didn’t.

  “Yes, Hayden, I did. Your dad is worse than you when it comes to food. How the hell does he stay in shape?”

  “High metabolism and good genes,” I immediately answer, used to being asked the question. “What did he do?”

  “Apart from scar me for life? You don’t want to know. It’s safe to say we won’t be allowed back during our time here.”

  Which is what I was afraid would happen after this morning’s incident.

  “We’re all here,” Charlotte announces, stepping up beside me.

  We begin to head over to the entrance, when everyone suddenly stops, nearly causing me to walk into my aunt Denny.

  “What the fuck is this place?” Mason growls, turning and sending an accusing gaze towards Clayton.

  I take a peep around him to the entrance, my jaw dropping. Men and women exit and enter the large building, kitted out in black leather, collars and chains.

  “Holy crap!” I whisper.

  “What the fuck have you got my daughter into, Cross?” Dad snaps, his tone going high-pitched towards the end.

  Clayton takes a step back as nearly everyone forms a group in front of us, aiming their angry glances at him.

  He holds his hands up. “Don’t blame me for this.”

  “You booked it,” I point out. “Why on earth would you bring us here?”

  He sighs heavily, his eyebrows pinched together. “For the last time, I’m not an actual party planner.”

  “You suck at it,” I admit, nodding.

  “Why would you pretend to be one?” Dad accuses.

  “Max,” Mum soothes.

  “Ask your daughter.”

  I shrug impishly. “Sorry?”

  “Hey,” Faith interrupts softly. “We really appreciate everything you’ve done by doing this, but I really don’t want to go in there. You don’t mind, do you?”

  “My girls aren’t stepping foot in there either,” Mason snaps.

  The large bouncer manning the door steps up to the side of our group. “If you guys aren’t going in, I’m going to need you to move back and away from the doors.”

  “What is going on in there?” Charlotte asks, her gaze shifting to the door.

  “It’s BDSM night. They’re doing role play this week and selling sex toys,” he answers, running his gaze over Charlotte, licking his lips.

  “Really?” Charlotte and I ask, both glancing back at the entrance.

  “No!” Dad yells. “Over my dead body.”

  Charlotte pouts. “But—”

  “No, Charlotte,” Myles declares, red-faced.

  The bouncer takes another look around our large group. “Barbra’s, around the corner, is having a drag night. Karaoke.”

  “Yes.” Faith grins. “I love drag.”

  “I love karaoke,” Maddox announces, causing us all to groan.

  He might love karaoke, but karaoke doesn’t love him. A dog is more in tune than him.

  “Barbra’s it is,” Beau yells, taking Faith’s hand.

  “Have a good night,” the bouncer announces, heading back to the entrance.

  *** *** ***

  My upper body sways to the beat of the music, my hips wiggling in my seat. Mingles had me interested for a second, but I’m glad this is where we ended up. Men in drag are the best.

  When we first arrived, they had a drag queen called Luna doing stand-up. We hadn’t even been seated before we were laughing.

  It must be a regular night here because pictures of them are mounting the walls, along with advertisements of what else is happening in the week.

  “Whoohoo,” I howl when another tray of shots is placed on our table. I reach for mine, then shoot it back, the dark liquid burning my throat.

  “Your dad and uncles are up to something,” Clayton yells as he leans in, his cologne reaching my senses.

  Twisting my head to their table, I note that he’s right. Dad, after monopolising time with a red-headed drag queen, questioning her with random crap, finally sits down with Malik, Mason and Myles, not letting anyone sit next to them. I’d noticed not long ago that he kept looking over, but until now, I didn’t see his cunning expression.

  The minute they spot me watching, they glance away so quickly I’ll be surprised if they don’t have whiplash. Uncle Malik, however, seems bored, his attention on Aunt Harlow.

  I sigh, sitting back in my seat. “You’ll be fine. After they nearly killed Jaxon, they promised they wouldn’t overreact again.”

  “That really does not make me feel better.”

  “Next up for tonight, we have a hot totty, Clayton Cross,” Cindy, the stage diva, announces.

  Liquid sprays across the table as Clayton chokes on his drink.

  “Really?” Maddox mutters, wiping the alcohol off his arm.

  Clayton turns to me with wide eyes. “Please tell me I didn’t hear my name.”

  I grin, because this I have to see. “You really did.”

  “Did you do this?”

  “Nope,” I admit, turning my head to Dad’s table, where he’s laughing it up with the others. “You really can’t back out. They’re counting on that. Live a little.”

  He turns away from their table and focusses on me, his lips pulling into a smirk. “Then you won’t mind doing it with me.”

  “I’m not drunk enough,” I yell, grabbing a shot off the table and downing it when he pulls me up.

  We reach the stage, where Cindy greets us. “Hey, sugar. Hey, hot pie,” she drawls, running her gaze over Clayton. I can’t blame her. Tonight, he’s skipped his black slacks and gone for dark, navy-blue jeans and a white shirt with light blue stripes on, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows. Brown shoes and a brown belt to go with it.

  He looks good enough to eat and smells even better.

  “Hey,” I greet, giving her a small wave.

  “Do you still want to sing ‘It’s Raining Men’?” Cindy asks, her voice scratchy.

  “God no,” I mutter, shuddering. “Do you have ‘Islands in the Stream’?”

  “Dolly Parton? You’re a girl after my own heart, darlin’,” she gushes, pressing her padded chest into my arms as she hugs me.

  I twirl a strand of her hair around my finger, grinning. “This is Dolly all over.”

  She winks, her long, glittered lashes fluttering. “Maybe later we could sing ‘Jolene’ or, my favourite, ‘9 to 5’.”

  I push away, smiling. “You’re on.”

  Clayton rubs his hands down his jeans before reaching for the mic.

  “Why this song?” he whispers as we walk onto the stage, to where the screen sits, facing us.

  “It has a lot of intro,” I explain on a whisper, beaming out at the crowd.

  He chuckles under his breath as the song begins to play. “Baby when I met…” he sings, shocking me to my core when it turns out he’s pretty good.

  I shake my head, grinning like a fool when our duet comes. “You do something to me…”

  His lips spread into a wide smile as he arches his eyebrows. I’m not one to brag, but I’m pretty
fucking good.

  The female members and a few male members of our group stand, cheering and singing along with us. I sway side to side, bumping my hip with Clayton’s when he slips up.

  A laugh breaks from his chest during the middle of the song. He gazes down at me, wrapping an arm around me as he continues to sing.

  I’m so caught up in his crooked smile that I don’t realise I’ve stopped singing. Joy and happiness radiate from him, and I’m unable to turn away.

  I startle when someone slips up behind me. Everything hits me at once. The sound of cheers, the light intro music playing, and Cindy standing between us.

  “Singing like that, this couple will go far,” she shouts into the microphone.

  “They aren’t a couple,” Dad yells. “Fake news.”

  The crowd laugh, and I snigger at his crestfallen expression. I take a bow before standing, raising my arms in the air. “Thank you for coming. I’m here all week.”

  “Not so fast, short stuff. We need you for the next game,” Cindy reveals.

  “What?” I ask, forcing a laugh.

  “We have a hen and stag party in attendance. Can the bride-to-be and groom come to the stage,” she declares, before scanning the crowd. “You two love birds swallowing each other’s faces… yeah, you, come on up. And you two hotties.”

  Aiden and Bailey slowly push up from their seats, reluctantly making their way to the stage, along with Beau and Faith and, to my horror, Mum and Dad.

  “Oh God,” I groan, standing closer to Clayton.

  Another drag queen steps out from behind the curtain, carrying four balloons.

  “Please tell me they’re to throw in the air and not for what I think they’re for.”

  “Bucker up, buttercup, we’re doing this. My dad has his ‘I’m going to win’ face on.”

  “Seriously? You want to do this because of your dad?”

  “We’re a competitive family,” I argue.

  “First couple to get the balloon from their waists to their mouths, without popping it or touching it with their hands, will win a bottle of champagne.”

  “Prepare to lose, spawn of mine.”

  “Bet you fifty quid I win.”

  “You are on. Get that fifty ready. I’ll be cashing in.”

  I roll my eyes, yet it’s Mum I address and not Dad. “You’re going to need his favourite pudding to pacify him after he loses.”

  Dad snorts. “Pudding is a euphemism for sex.”

  “Really,” I snap. “I’m already piling up things to talk to my therapist about when I get one. You had to add to it?”

  “Ignore him. He’s lying.”

  I scoff because her deep blush says differently.

  “Get ready,” Cindy yells.

  Clayton puts the balloon between us, before lightly placing his hands on my sides, just below my boob area. He clears his throat, jerking them away and placing them lower down.

  My fingers twitch as I fight to keep them at my sides.

  “Steady.”

  Clayton takes in a deep breath, his pupils dilating as I press a little closer.

  “Go!”

  It’s a rush of movement as everyone begins. Bending at the knees, we thrust and wiggle our hips and stomach, trying to move the balloon higher, yet we only manage to get it lower.

  “Stop moving and let me do all the work,” I snap.

  Clayton freezes. “I hope you aren’t this demanding in bed.”

  “You say that like you’re going to find out,” I heave out, bending lower and pushing the balloon up with my boobs.

  “I-I just—oh my God, what are you doing?”

  “Shut up and keep still,” I growl, ignoring my breast brushing over his dick.

  “Stop bossing me around,” he orders hoarsely.

  “It’s my competitive side—sorry.” I grimace, reaching his chest.

  I duck my head, using my chin to get it higher, before reaching my target.

  A horn blares as Cindy announces, “We have a winner.”

  The balloon pops and our mouths smash together. Heat rises in my chest as Clayton grabs me around the waist, stopping me from falling.

  It could be the drink, the adrenaline, or maybe it’s just the chemistry constantly simmering between us, but I kiss him. My tongue flicks his bottom lip as my lips enclose around his.

  His fingers dig into my sides, and as I’m about to deepen the kiss, my surroundings slap back into place at the sound of my dad’s voice.

  “No, we’re going to do this,” Dad yells.

  “Babe, it’s over,” Mum explains, amusement in her voice.

  Slowly, I pull away from Clayton, blinking away the lust coursing through my system.

  “I-I—”

  “They aren’t even a couple. They should be disqualified,” he argues.

  “Didn’t look that way to me, sugar,” Cindy mutters.

  Pulling my gaze away from Clayton, I turn to the others, laughing at Dad’s sour expression. “You are such a sore loser. Pay up.” I hold my hand out, tapping my foot on the wooden floor.

  He reaches into his back pocket, pulling two twenties and a tenner out before slapping them down in the palm of my hand. “This isn’t over."

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  There’s still a bit of a bite to the wind as we step out of Chicken Palace, in the middle of town, on the other side of where Cabin Lakes is located.

  A group of us who were hungry let the others get in the remaining taxi. It’s one in the morning and most pubs or clubs are closing, so taxis are limited.

  So, me, Clayton, Dad, Charlotte, Malik, Maddox, Mark and Hope all decided to grab something to eat and walk the rest of the way. Luckily, we don’t have much further to walk, though with the way Mark’s swaying, it could take double the time. He had taken part in the roulette shot game with Beau, winning a free drink at the end. Beau was worse off when we left him passed out in the taxi with Faith and a few others.

  “This is so good,” Clayton mumbles around a mouthful of food.

  I chuckle as I wipe a bit of mayonnaise off his lip. “I can tell.”

  “Can we go to the library now?” Charlotte asks, hopeful.

  “You can do whatever the fuck you want, princess,” Dad tells her, digging into his family bucket.

  “Maybe tomorrow,” Malik offers, glaring at Dad as he struggles to keep Mark upright.

  “I want to go swimming,” I declare, turning to Clayton. “We should totally go swimming.”

  “You can go to bed,” Dad orders, narrowing his eyes. “You never listen to me. Charlotte listens to me.”

  I roll my eyes. “And I’m not going to start now.”

  “Who took my bed?” Mark stammers, closing his eyes as he rests his head on Malik.

  Dad points a southern fried chicken drumstick at Clayton. “You’ve corrupted my daughter.”

  “If anyone was corrupted in this scenario, it was me. Have you met your daughter? No one tells her what to do,” Clayton replies, more relaxed than I’ve ever seen him.

  I beam at the praise. “Thank you.”

  “Ooh, look at that fighting talk,” Maddox teases, stepping close to Dad. “He’s making out you don’t know your own daughter.”

  Dad snorts. “Pfft, like he could beat me.”

  “I dunno, Max, I think you’re losing your touch,” Maddox taunts, smirking at me. “Did you see him all over her on the stage?”

  “What?” Dad screeches, going for Clayton.

  Malik lets go of Mark, who falls against a lamp post, to stop Dad, placing a hand on his chest. “Eat your food.”

  Dad steps back, ripping into another drumstick, his gaze still on Clayton.

  “I think we should go on a nature walk,” Charlotte blurts out. “We could look for bears.”

  “Where’s the bear?” Mark slurs, rubbing the lamp post.

  “We don’t have bears,” I remind her, before turning to Maddox, narrowing my eyes. “And stop trying to cause a fight because you’re still
sulking over what happened earlier. He got you back for running him off the road, fair and square. Live with it.”

  “Aww, does he need a girl to stick up for him?” Dad sings, wiggling his chicken in the air.

  “I really did you both good. Your faces,” Clayton muses, laughing abruptly at the image he’s probably painted in his mind.

  “They were hilarious,” I agree, noticing a cop car pull up just ahead, followed by two officers getting out.

  “Look at him laughing at you,” Maddox whispers next to Dad’s ear.

  “Stop trying to goad him, son,” Malik orders, slapping him upside his head.

  “Child abuse!” Maddox yells, acting like Malik gave him a blow to the head. He steps back, and before anyone can warn him, the backs of his legs hit a small bench and he flies back, his arms flailing as he tries to keep his balance.

  I flinch when he falls onto his back, rolling into a water fountain. Water splatters over the side and all over Mark, who is now resting near the bin.

  “I don’t want a shower,” Mark whines, swatting thin air.

  I lean in to Hope, whispering, “Did you get any of this on camera?”

  “I’ve been recording since your dad started going off again.”

  The two cops come to a stop in front of us. “We’ve had some complaints about a disturbance. Have you guys been in the area long?”

  “No, we’ve just grabbed food and are on our way home,” Hope replies, grimacing when Malik accidently drops Maddox back into the fountain.

  “Sir, we’re going to need you to come out of the fountain,” the taller of the two officers orders.

  “I’m trying to get him out.” Malik heaves, grabbing Maddox’s hand.

  “You need to arrest him,” Dad suddenly shouts, pointing at Clayton. “Not them two misfits. He’s been trying to get in my daughter’s pants. She’s not even eighteen.”

  “Sir, have you been drinking?” the smaller officer asks, bracing his feet apart, his hand resting on his belt.

  “Legal age limit is sixteen, Dad,” I point out before forcing my eyes to well up. “I can’t believe you forgot my age. You never forget Liam or Landon’s, and we’re triplets.”

  Dad shoots Clayton a venomous look before he throws a drumstick at him. “Now look what you did. You made her cry.”