Rattle His Cage: The Baxter Boys #4 (The Baxter Boys ~ Rattled)

by Charles, Jane

  He straightens and looks at me. “I think there is something you should know if we are going to be friends.”

  Friends. I hate that word when it is said by a hot guy, who I’m seriously falling for, while I’m standing in a robe with nothing on beneath it.

  “I’m a bit OCD, though my roommates claim it is OCPD. I haven’t bothered to correct them.”

  My face heats. This room probably put him over the edge.

  “I’m assuming you know what OCD is?”

  I gesture to the psychology books. “Obsessive Compulsive Disorder.” Then I tilt my head and study him. “Are you sure?”

  Dylan seems to choke on laughter. “Um, yeah. I would know.”

  “Well, that explains why the brownstone is so clean when six guys live there.” I should have figured it out when I looked in his closet with the way all the clothing was hanging from dark to light as well as categorized together.

  “Trust me, you don’t want to even think about what it would look like if I wasn’t there, and you don’t want to stray up to the 3rd or 4th floor.”

  I grab a book off my shelf and find the section on OCD and symptoms. I read through them, running my finger over the list and peeking at him out of the corner of my eyes.

  “Another symptom is compulsive hand-washing, which I didn’t see you do. You had pizza and didn’t get up to wash them once.”

  “I did use the restroom,” he reminds.

  “Well, I hope you would have washed them after that?” He’s so serious that I just want to lighten the mood. Maybe I shouldn’t. I’m finally learning something about him. I feel like all I’ve done is talk about myself. Every time the subject changed to something about him tonight, he answered a few questions, but turned it right around on me.

  “You don’t seem the type to seek reassurance and I doubt you hate your looks.”

  “A person doesn’t have to have all or even most of the symptoms, you know.” He chuckles, but by the way Dylan is stroking his beard I have to wonder if he does hate his appearance. Clearly the man has not looked in a mirror if that’s a problem.

  “It’s the beard I hate,” he says as if reading my mind. “But I’m trying to let something go and not try and control it, but I may have to shave it.”

  “No.” I blurt out before I can stop myself.

  “Really?” He seems surprised. “The girls hate it.”

  “The sister wives,” I tease.

  “Quit calling them that.” He laughs. “But yes, them.”

  “I like the beard.”

  “Really?” he asks as if he doesn’t believe me. “I’m thinking of trimming it.”

  I study him. “Maybe, but don’t lose it.” Then the idea hits. “Can I?”

  “Can you what?” he asks with a little wariness.

  “Trim it.”

  Dylan steps back. “I’m not so sure.”

  “Come on. It’ll be fun. What could possibly go wrong?” With that I grab his hand and drag him into the bathroom. “If you hate it, it will always grow back out.”

  “Are you always like this?”

  “Like what?”

  “Doing things on a whim?”

  “Sure. Life is an adventure. Risk things and have fun.”

  14

  I can’t believe I’m sitting on the cluttered counter in Mary’s bathroom and she’s standing between my thighs and taking a small pair of scissors to my beard. She’s ordered me to hold still and not talk so that she doesn’t cut me or accidently take too much off of my chin.

  When was the last time I was this physically close to a beautiful woman? Mia and the other girls don’t count.

  Sister wives, I nearly snort.

  Mary smells like honey and vanilla—delicious—and makes me wonder what she would taste like.

  Those thoughts have to stop right now, but it’s damn hard not to be thinking about touching, holding, and tasting when she’s so close, wearing nothing but a robe, and we are alone. But, I’m also not so sure she’d welcome a kiss or anything else from me, and I’m starting to seriously doubt Kelsey’s belief that Mary is interested in me. Since I came across her on the stoop, she’s treated me no differently than a friend. No flirting, seductive looks, or anything. Not like before when I’ve been here. Tonight’s just been good conversation over pizza and beer and sharing a little about ourselves, and now she’s improving my appearance. Just like a caring sister wife would. Except that the last thing I’m feeling toward Mary is brotherly. Damn, it’s all I can do not to put my hands on her waist and pull her closer. Forget the beard. Forget the party, and just get to know each other on a different level.

  Mary pulls back and studies me, narrowing her eyes as she looks from one side of my face to the other, even though she’s really only looking at the beard. Then she puts a finger under my chin and pushes up. “Don’t move,” she orders and starts clipping again.

  I could stay here all night, or morning, given the time.

  She stands back again then smiles. “All done. Take a look.” And then she is gone. Well, not totally, but she’s not between my legs anymore, and I want to grab her back. Instead, I hop off the counter and turn to look in the mirror. She’s shaped the beard nicely, and I’m not hating it so much anymore. “Nice! Thanks.”

  Mary grins. “My pleasure.” Then brushes the hair off the front of her robe.

  “You should have put a towel down.” Now there are what looks like pubic hairs on her bathroom floor. Not a good look and if I hadn’t been here, I would have been wondering where exactly the hair had come from.

  She dismisses me. “I’ll get it later.”

  It’s all I can do not to clean her room, her closet, and her bathroom, but it’s not my place. I’m not the one who lives here. I probably shouldn’t have started picking up when she was in the shower, but the longer I sat there, listening to the water and looking at the clutter, the more it put me on edge. Only two choices for easing my tension were running through my mind. I could strip down and join her or clean. As she didn’t invite me to scrub her back, I found a garbage bag.

  I probably should go and let her get some sleep, except there are strange guys in the living room, and they aren’t exactly quiet. The walls in this place are paper thin, unlike the brownstone that was built at the turn of the century. Thick walls with thick plaster.

  “Well, time to get dressed,” she says out of the blue and heads into her closet, closing the door behind her.

  I have a funny feeling she doesn’t mean pajamas.

  Is she leaving? Does she want me to leave? Where is she going to go at this time in the morning? I could take her back to the brownstone. There is plenty of room, and it’s quiet, but only one empty bed.

  That is a dangerous thought. The more I’m with Mary, the more I want her. I know it would never work. We are as different as night and day. She’s impulsive, I’m cautious. She’s a slob, I must have things neat. Her mom, dad, and the major are honorable people. My parents are rotting in jail. She was sheltered, protected. I raised myself.

  No matter how much I may want Mary, am drawn to her, and falling for her, it would never work. I learned that lesson about falling for someone from her world and won’t make that mistake again.

  Dylan doesn’t want me. It couldn’t be any clearer. He had to know I had nothing on under my robe, but he showed no interest whatsoever. I’m another sister wife to him, and it’s frustrating as hell.

  Something bangs against the wall and there’s laughter from the living room.

  Well, sleep is out of the question, just like sleeping with Dylan will never happen.

  It’s two in the morning, I’m wide awake, and frustrated as hell.

  After pulling on a pair of leggings and a long sweater I come back out of my closet.

  He’s just standing there, hands on his hips, and eyebrow raised in question.

  I grab the large green garbage bag. “I thought I’d finish up what you started.”

  “I’ll help.”
<
br />   “Aren’t you tired?” My clock is screwed up enough. I’m used to being awake at this hour, and I’m getting a second wind.

  “I slept for five hours, remember, and woke up at like eight.”

  “I think I’m gonna be sick, man,” someone says from the living room.

  Dylan and I both react. He grabs the garbage and I open the door. The living room is trashed enough without someone puking all over the floor or furniture.

  Retching can be heard and I just stand there and hope it doesn’t start a chain reaction.

  “Drink some water and take an aspirin,” Dylan tells them before coming back into my room, with new and unused garbage bags. After shutting the door he looks at me. “So, where do you want to begin?”

  I look around my room. It really does need a thorough cleaning. “Anywhere, I guess.”

  He grins. “Best to start at the back and move to the front.”

  “I’ll work on the closet,” I finally say. Until that is straightened up, I can’t really put anything cluttering the bedroom away.

  “I’ll get the bathroom. After all, it is my hair all over the floor.”

  This isn’t exactly how I hoped my night with Dylan would end, but it’s better than being alone and sitting on the stoop waiting for everyone to leave.

  15

  I grab one of the garbage bags and head into her bathroom.

  There is so much crap on the counter and around the sink that I don’t know where to start. Curling iron, another thing that looks like a curling iron, but the insides are flat, a blow dryer, makeup, toothpaste, hair stuff, and stuff I have no idea what it is. The only other female’s bathroom I’d been in before was Patty’s. She had some of this shit, but it wasn’t out everywhere like it is here.

  If I had not been separated from my family, would our bathroom have been like this once Nina and Jade were teenagers? The bathroom in Mom and Dad’s house was about the only place that wasn’t cluttered with stuff. Just shampoo, toothpaste, toothbrushes and toilet paper. I used to just go and sit in there when the rest of the house felt like it was closing in on me, though it did have its fair share of towels and washrags on the floor, when I hadn’t done the laundry for a few days. It was the one room I kept clean because it was the only room I could keep clean. The other rooms were packed with too much shit to even move in, let alone dust and vacuum.

  I tighten down all the lids and start dropping her makeup into the bag that already has lipstick and eye shadows in it. There has got to be a place to put this stuff so it isn’t cluttering up the place.

  After opening one of the drawers, hoping that there is space in there, I just see more stuff, including makeup and start dropping that into the bag, until one vibrates in my hand.

  I twist the bottom, and it vibrates harder, so I turn it back until it stops.

  What kind of lipstick vibrates? I pull the lid off and my face heats. The kind of lipstick that isn’t makeup. I’ve heard about them, of course, but never really been around one. For all my writing and research I have zero experience with sex toys. Not that I’d ever openly admit that to anyone. They’ve just never come into play, but knowing Mary has one vibrator in here, I can’t help but wonder what else she might have stashed in her apartment. Is that why she wanted the closet?

  Stop! I shouldn’t be thinking about Mary and sex toys and how much I’d like to play with her.

  I hurry up and drop it back in the drawer before glancing in the mirror to make sure Mary is still busy in the closet. I’m not sure who would be more embarrassed if she came in. Me for holding it, or her for me finding it, and I don’t want to find out.

  Or, maybe I could go ask her about it? That could be an interesting conversation. Except the flirting she’d done in the past was missing tonight while we were at Gino’s. She’s clearly not interested, even if she did once say I was hot, and asking her would just make things uncomfortable.

  “It’s so sparkly.” Literally. The sink and tub shine.

  “Glad you like it.”

  Dylan is wiping down my mirror and getting rid of the water spots, some of which may or may not include toothpaste. Damn, is there anything sexier than a man cleaning?

  “I didn’t know where you wanted all your stuff to go, so I just moved it to the side.

  My stuff being my curling iron, straightener, makeup, cleansers, etcetera. I open a drawer to drop the makeup in and see my vibrator and quickly push it to the back. Thank God he didn’t start opening drawers. Normally I wouldn’t care if anybody knew it was there, but I’m not sure what Dylan and I are, except maybe friends, and that’s just too personal to share with someone I’m just getting to know and won’t be sleeping with. And I’m sure as hell not telling Dylan it’s named after him.

  The shelves are empty in the cabinet by the mirror. They weren’t always that way. When I first moved in, the stuff that’s now on the counter was neatly stored inside. Somewhere along the way I just stopped putting it all back.

  He just shakes his head and starts putting stuff on shelves until my counter is free of everything but my curling irons and blow dryer. I grab those and shove them under the sink.

  “This is really nice. Thanks.”

  “My pleasure.” He tosses a rag into the laundry basket that is overflowing. Between me cleaning out my closet, picking stuff up off the floor, and Dylan cleaning in the bathroom, I’m now stuck with laundry that will take days to finish.

  The music in the living room comes up again. “My God, are they ever going to leave?” I look at my phone. “It’s four-thirty!”

  More people showed up about an hour ago because the guys down the hall kicked them out. I was just about to do the same when I heard Tiffany welcome them in to join the party. Then I heard Shelby’s laughter and knew they were far from finished too. I really shouldn’t be surprised. When Shelby and Tiffany have gone out and partied, the sun is usually coming up when they loudly stumble in the door.

  Dylan follows me back into the bedroom, carrying the laundry basket. He stops and looks around. “Looks good in here.”

  “Thanks!” I grin in return. I do like having a clean and organized room. Just having everything in its place takes away some of the tension that’s been building in me. I need to remember that about myself. When things are closing in and I’m irritated, I probably just need to clean my room.

  “Want to get out of here?”

  “Yes.” There is nothing left to do and it’s not like I can sit back and enjoy the cleanliness or do my laundry with a party still going on. I grab my laptop, phone, and e-reader and put them in the bag with their chargers, then pull on boots.

  “You need all of that?” He practically laughs at me.

  “Who knows when it will be safe to come back? I may need something for entertainment.” Hoisting the heavy bag over my shoulder, I open the door.

  “Hey, Mary, decide to join us?” Shelby asks with a sugary sweet smile. I’m the last guest she wants. She and I both know that.

  “Headed out.”

  “Hope we didn’t disturb you,” Tiffany says with mock sincerity.

  “I’m good,” I answer brightly and grab Dylan’s hand. Let them make of it what they will, and I’m not about to let them think they got to me.

  “Oh, just so you know,” Brit calls as she comes out of her room. “This party is going to be off and on through Sunday. More people will be by tonight, then we’ll start up again on Thursday.” She grins. “Hey, what’s the last semester for if not to have fun?”

  “Great!” I clench my jaw to keep from yelling. “Well, see ya.”

  Dylan is chuckling when we get outside of the building. “Planning your revenge?”

  “You got it!” I don’t know what I can do to them, but I sure as hell am not going to put up with parties every weekend, especially when I have Friday classes.

  16

  “Well, you two kids were out pretty late.”

  Mia is standing on the landing at the foot of the stairs leaning hea
vily on the bannister. The bruising around her mouth and eye have darkened into a deep purple, almost black.

  “What are you doing up?” Mary drops her bag and rushes forward.

  “I think it’s time for meds. At least it feels like it’s time for meds.”

  She’s bent over, breathing carefully and holding her sides. I’ve never had bruised ribs before, but I hear they hurt like hell.

  “Zach has been keeping a schedule, written out on a pad in the kitchen.”

  “I’ll go check.” Mary hurries off to the kitchen.

  “Let me get you back to bed.”

  She gives me a half smile. “Thanks.”

  As I’m helping Mia get settled in bed, she lets out a sigh and then narrows her eyes on me. “So, where were you two all night?”

  “Pizza, beer, party.” I’m not telling her anything else because Mia doesn’t know the reason I went after Mary in the first place.

  “Be still my heart,” She pats her chest.

  I just frown at her.

  “Christian told me what she said in the kitchen. Is she okay?”

  Well, I guess it isn’t a secret after all. “Yeah. It wasn’t what we feared, so no worries.”

  “Whew. I’m glad.”

  “Here you go,” Mary says as she comes in the room carrying a glass of water and what I assume are pills in her hand. “Actually, you are about an hour late in getting these.”

  “I woke up over an hour ago and it took me a half an hour to get from my bed and down the stairs,” Mia takes the pills and sticks a straw in the fresh glass of water.