“My mom should understand why I didn’t feel comfortable staying,” I say softly.
“Should your mom also understand why you refused to take or return any of her calls?” he asks. “She was really worried about you.”
“I didn’t have any service at Ford’s cabin. There was nothing I could do about that.”
“You could have called to let her know where you were. I don’t understand why your trip had to be such a big secret.”
Wow. He really is going to keep going with this.
“You know what prompted me wanting to leave. Maybe you should be the one feeling guilty about how things turned out.”
Danna is watching our back-and-forth conversation like a game of tennis, her eyes gradually widening with each exchange.
“Well, Laura. I think you are taking a very negative view of everything. There are millions of women who would love to be in your situation. They’d be jumping at the offer rather than treating it as you are. If anything, it is me who should be upset at all this. You are essentially rejecting my family and for that I cannot pretend to be unaffected.”
Oh. So that’s what he thinks. That he offers me his sons and I should be jumping at the chance. He is making me feel so low, as though I am worth nothing in comparison to the McGregor brothers; a girl who should be grateful for the scraps anyone will chuck at her. I’m devastated.
“Dad, you need to back off,” a voice says from down the corridor. Blake is there, making his way slowly because of his limp. He catches my eyes and his cheeks flush. I get the feeling he doesn’t like me seeing him walk.
“Blake,” Roderick says in a low warning tone.
“Don’t ‘Blake’ me, Dad,” he says coming to stand by my side. “Laura hasn’t been here for five minutes yet and this isn’t how we treat new guests let alone how we treat new family.”
Roderick’s head looks like it might explode but he can’t find the words to reply because he knows his son is right. “You need to give her a chance to find her feet here, and stop putting so much damn pressure on her.”
“Yeah.” Casey and Cameron also appear in the corridor, coming to stand behind Blake, now ominous as three against one. “This isn’t right, Dad,” Casey says. “It’s a miracle Laura hasn’t completely run away.”
I’m waiting for Roderick to tell his sons to mind their own business but he doesn’t. I suppose because the plan is all of their business, the McGregor boys more than their father. Instead, Roderick looks us all over as though he’s eyeing meat that has turned. Then he turns and goes back to the room he came from, closing the door noisily.
I start to walk away in the direction we were heading and Danna, Blake, Casey, and Cameron follow.
“Wow,” Danna says. “Looks like you’re in someone’s bad books.”
“Something like that,” I mumble. “Thanks,” I say to Blake and the twins. “You didn’t have to do that.”
He shakes his head. “You don’t need to thank us,” he says. “This wasn’t a good thing right here. I think my dad has gotten used to talking to everyone like they are staff. He forgets his manners.”
“Well, I appreciate it anyway.”
“I should go,” Danna says. “I think you need to just get settled, Laura.”
I nod. “Okay. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
She tugs her purse onto her shoulder. “Sure. Coffee shop before lectures?”
I nod and Blake walks with us toward the front door. Cameron’s cell starts to ring and he and Casey look apologetic and disappear up the stairs, answering the call on the way.
Blake is chivalrous and opens the door for Danna and stands with me while she jogs to her car. She gives us a big wave and a grin but I can see her eyes are worried for me. I think we both built this move into something very different to what it is turning out to be.
Blake closes the door and looks me over. “You okay?” he asks.
I nod but I think he can tell that I’m not.
“Look, I was going to take a swim. You wanna come? It’ll maybe take your mind off all of this.”
I was planning on getting some work done and then I promised to pose for Donnie but a swim sounds amazing and I feel as though I should spend some time with Blake since he was so strong in defending me against his father.
“Sure. That sounds good.”
He walks me to my room – it seems everyone in this house knows where it is – and I find my swimsuit and some sandals.
“Everything you need is down there,” he tells me. “The changing rooms have towels and all the toiletries you might need.”
As we make our way down to the swimming pool, Blake asks me about my leg.
“Is it always like that?” He sounds cautious as though he knows how difficult it can be to answer awkward personal questions.
“I hope not,” I say. “I keep tearing a muscle and I don’t seem to know how to rest it for long enough that it heals permanently.”
Blake nods. I debate whether I should ask about his. If I do, he could think I was being rude but if I don’t, he might think I don’t care. He’s limping next to me so it seems weird to ignore it.
“How did you hurt yours?” I ask tentatively.
“I was a kid,” he says. It’s not a matter of fact statement of something that happened long ago. There’s a rawness to his voice that I wasn’t expecting. “Barret was always the messiest and he left a toy on the stairs. I tripped and fell down. My pelvis shattered and my femur broke and part of it came through here.” He indicates the place on his thigh where my leg feels the sorest.
“That must have been so painful,” I say, wincing at the thought. “How old were you?”
“Eight.”
“I hope Barret apologized?” I say, trying to lighten things. I imagine them as cute, tousled little boys, hugging on Blake’s hospital bed.
Blake looks at me very seriously. “He tried but…” There’s a pause as though he’s working out what to say next. “. . .little things can have a big effect. There’s no making this better.”
That wasn’t what I was expecting to hear. It seems as though Blake is still holding a grudge against his brother for something that happened so many years ago. That must be difficult when the person you are holding a long term grudge against is your identical twin, especially as they live and work together.
It doesn’t take us long to get to the leisure area. There is a loud beat coming from the gym and as we open the doors it only gets louder. Elliot is running and he turns and smiles, pressing buttons to bring the machine to a slower pace.
“You coming to train?” he asks me.
“Swim,” I say, holding up my suit.
There’s a look between the brothers that I don’t miss. “I’ll come and join you,” Elliot says, “when I’m done here.”
“Sure,” Blake calls. We walk to the right of the gym and he pauses at a set of doors. “You can change in there and I’ll meet you in the pool.”
I nod and head into the women’s changing room. It’s so sparkling new in here that I wonder if it’s ever been used. I suppose the male changing rooms must get way more use in a family with this many men. I find a bench to rest my things on and take a seat to change. It doesn’t take me long to slip on my simple navy swimsuit and sandals. There’s a mirror on the far wall, with a walnut vanity unit that looks like something from a high end hotel. I gaze at my body, taking in my thighs which have always been thicker than I would have liked and the roundness of my belly. I have a womanly shape despite all the training I’ve done. It’s not a bad shape. I try not to look at myself with a critical eye which can be hard with the amount of airbrushed photography on show in the media. I guess, I have a traditional woman’s shape from before high intensity training and lean muscle became the look. Grant, Ford, Donnie and Antony all seemed pretty pleased with it, too. I turn so I can get a view of my ass which is round and wide. I know there’s a little cellulite there but there doesn’t seem to be much I can do about that. I eat well
and exercise. It’s just a part of my body’s design. I pull my hair up into a high ponytail and exhale a deep breath. This is about relaxation not self-assessment.
When I exit the changing room I’m immediately hit by the heat of the pool environment. It’s almost tropical in here. Blake is already doing lengths, cutting through the water like a fish. It would seem that his leg works just fine when he’s swimming. I head to the shallower end and descend the stairs into the perfectly warm, clear water, allowing the calm of it to wash over me. As Blake turns and heads back, I duck under the water to wet my hair ready to start swimming. We must pass each other fifteen times as we make our way back and forth, counting off the lengths. My bad leg is holding up but by the end I can feel some tightness so I take hold of the wall and have a rest in the deep end. Blake eventually does the same, holding on with one hand and using the other to wipe the water from his face. There are droplets in his beard and the blue of his eyes is identical to the blue of the water around us. I don’t know if all the McGregor brothers work out but he has such amazing shoulders and biceps. It’s hard to find a place to look that isn’t getting me all in a fluster.
“You swim well,” he says. There is nothing flirty about Blake, just simple conversation. It’s kind of nice, in a way. Respectful and not my experience of time spent with the rest of them.
“Mom insisted I have lessons from a really young age. She had a cousin who drowned so safety in the water is a really big thing in our family.”
“I’m sorry,” he says. “That must have been difficult.”
“Before I was born,” I shrug, “but I’m glad I learned early.”
Blake nods and there’s a moment of what feels like awkward silence. Then I catch him looking at the scar I have on my upper arm. It’s from an accident I had on my bicycle when I was young and I hardly think about it these days. It’s only the size of a child’s hand but I suppose it’s quite noticeable. He blinks and then looks back at my eyes, realizing he’s been caught looking. “I…sorry,” he stutters.
“It’s okay,” I say, moving my shoulder forward so I can look at it. “It doesn’t bother me.”
“Really?” His voice is filled with surprise. “I mean, that’s really good. Not that it should bother you.”
“Do you have a scar?” I ask him, remembering the injury he talked about to his leg.
Blake nods. “On my thigh. I hate it.”
This is a testy subject. I completely understand where he’s coming from because handling our imperfections can be hard, but I’ve never wanted to feel that way about myself. My physical and emotional scars tell my story. They make me the person I am today and without them I know I’d be completely different. I tell Blake that our scars are part of us and I feel it’s important to embrace everything that makes us who we are. I don’t know if it registers but I hope it does. I hate to think of him being conscious about his body, or that his feeling about the way his leg looks might be stopping him from living the life he wants to live.
He nods. “It’s just hard when you see a perfect version of yourself walking around every day. It’s a constant reminder of what I lost.” It’s then that it truly hits me just how difficult it must be for Blake. To have a carbon copy of yourself who can walk properly and who has no external imperfections must be a constant reminder of just how damaged Blake has been. I feel sorry for both of them. Blake because he’s having to live with this and Barret because he was just a kid who made a silly mistake. He can’t help being unaffected any more than Blake could have prevented the accident.
“I saw this Facebook video once. It was about a man who developed dysphasia overnight. He went from being perfectly healthy to struggling to talk and use his hands. He became disabled and his whole life changed.”
“Shit,” Blake says. “Poor guy.”
“He wouldn’t agree,” I say. “He said in the video that having his disability has made him kinder and more thoughtful. He loves the person he became after he became imperfect in the eyes of society.”
Blake raises his eyebrows and his expression is skeptical. “Sometimes it’s the very thing that could break us that makes us, Blake,” I say. Instinctively I find his hand in the water. “Should I feel lesser because of this?” I ask him, bringing his hand to my scar. His fingertips trace the lumpiness of the skin there, a dull sensation since the nerves were damaged. His eyes flick between the scar and my gaze as though he’s checking how I feel about him touching me this way.
I wonder if he ever lets anyone see or touch his scar. “It’s okay,” I say softly.
Blake draws his hand away slowly. His brow is a little furrowed and his jaw set more firmly than before as though he’s intent on making a decision. Then he finds my hand in the water and looks me in the eye.
“Will you feel mine,” he says. There’s a gruffness in his voice that reveals just how difficult this is for him. I get a lump of emotion in my throat as I realize what a big step this must be for him and I nod, letting him know that I’m fine with what he’s asking me.
He draws my hand deeper in the water, turning my fingers gently until the press against the cool skin of his thigh. I feel the ridge immediately. The skin is thick and bumpier than mine. His legs have a fine dusting of hair and beneath the scar I can feel the solid strength of his thigh muscle. I can’t look in his eyes while I do this – it feels too intimate – so I fix my gaze on his mouth instead. His lips are slightly parted now and my stroke of his skin suddenly feels less about scar-exploration and more about caressing. The moment is ridiculously intimate and I barely even know this man. What I do know is that he will stand up for me against his father and do what is right. I know that he’s wounded and sensitive and far too self-critical for his own good. When I finally look up to his eyes, he leans in to kiss me.
Was I expecting it?
No.
Do I pull away?
Part of me wants to. He will be the sixth McGregor brother who I’ve kissed in four days. That sounds crazy in my head, but Blake is so tentative and so gentle. It’s as though he doesn’t feel worthy of my kiss and that hurts my heart. So I kiss him back, not because I feel sorry for him but because it feels right where it should feel so wrong. I kiss him because I can feel the need in him for acceptance and how tough it must have been to make this move when he is feeling so vulnerable.
And it’s a kiss I will never regret. Soft lips caress mine, capturing my lower lip and gently sucking it until the hairs stand up on the back of my neck. His arm goes around my waist drawing me close to him. He kisses my cheeks, my forehead, my neck and just when I feel like I might melt in his arms he presses the softest kiss onto my scar.
It’s the sweetest thing that anyone has ever done for me. Just that one gesture shows me how sensitive Blake is and how deep his sense of understanding of the damage that life brings to us as we walk its perilous pathways. If we weren’t in the water, I’d kiss his, too. I want to show him that the damage he considers to be such an issue for him means nothing to me.
I’m totally focused on Blake but to my left I hear a splash and feel a swell of water. Blake stops and turns at the same time as me. There is someone else in the pool and they must have seen what we were doing. The figure cuts through the water elegantly and I see Blake narrow his eyes.
“Barret,” he mutters as though he wishes it was anyone else.
It’s not until the figure reaches the end wall and surfaces that I see that Blake was right.
“Well, well, well. Looks like you beat me too it, bro!” he laughs.
“I didn’t know it was a race,” I say, raising my eyebrows.
Barret laughs. “Just call it a little harmless twin-rivalry.”
“Brothers should be allies, not rivals,” I say.
A look passes between them but neither of them agrees or disagrees. “So what did my brother say to make you want to kiss him?”
“It’s never just one thing, is it?” I say. “It’s a feeling that you get from lots of things.”
“I’m glad,” Barret says. He pats his brothers shoulder and then squeezes, and I can see that he genuinely means it. For all Blake’s resentment, Barret is definitely not a bad guy. “So, shall we swim?”
Blake looks at me with longing. I can see how much he wishes his brother hadn’t chosen now to get his lengths in, but continuing to kiss him with company would be strange. I push off from the end wall and slide quickly into front crawl which is my favorite stroke. I hear more splashes as I surface to breath so I’m pretty sure the boys are swimming, too. I do three lengths, turning underwater. On the third, a hand grabs mine under the water. We come up spluttering and before I know what’s happening, I’m being kissed. My first assumption is that Blake is picking up where we left off while his brother is busy swimming. I kiss back because it’s such a cute thing to do.
It’s only after a few seconds that I pick up on how different this kiss is. There’s more passion here, less tentative care. The slide of his tongue is more urgent. I put my hands on his shoulders and pull back to find Barret grinning like a Cheshire cat. “I’ve been wanting to do that since you arrived but my brothers keep getting in there first.”
“It’s not a competition,” I say, but I can’t be angry with him because his eyes are sparkling with mischief and his fingers are entwined with mine beneath the water. There’s a playfulness about Barret that makes me smile.
“Oh, it definitely is,” Barret laughs. “Do you seriously think that ten men could be vying for the same woman without there being some rivalry in who wins her over first?”
I shake my head because it sounds so caveman. “You must all be pissed at Grant then,” I laugh.
“He’s a dark horse, but we won’t hold it against him. If he didn’t get you to see what a great man he was, I have a feeling you would have bolted this stable on the first night.”
“Wow with the horse analogies.”
“You know what I mean.” He grins with a perfect white even smile, blue eyes reflecting the swell of the water around us and I have to agree with what he says. It was Grant’s reluctance to be involved in the plan that made him feel safe to me. It was his independence from his family that made me comfortable with him. In a way, I guess that sleeping with him had been a form of rebellion. I didn’t realize how quickly his brothers would win me over after, though.
10 MEN: A MEGA MENAGE REVERSE HAREM ROMANCE (HUGE SERIES Book 7) Page 19