A few feet.
“What?” Jason looked up at Max through his good eye. “What do you mean?” They stopped walking.
Max shrugged. “I’ve always wanted a guy friend. I don’t have many on account of my devastatingly good looks and all-around winning personality. I tend to intimidate those of the same sex—it’s not like I can help the fact that women want me to impregnate them. It’s probably my strong chin or spicy musk.”
“Please don’t say musk.” Milo cringed.
“Can we keep walking?” Seriously. A. Few. Feet.
Jason nodded, but I couldn’t tell if he was smiling because his face was still a bit puffy from the ants. At this point it looked like he’d been stuffing marshmallows in his cheeks and had forgotten to take them out. “I get you, man.” He licked his lips. “I get you.”
Max nodded his head. “I know, dude, I know you do.”
“You’re all right.” Jason held out his hand.
“Brothers don’t shake hands—”
“—they hug,” Jason finished.
“Dear God, save me from more movie references.” I sighed as the guys embraced.
And then panicked as Milo’s aunt slowly turned toward the hall.
“Guys, hurry—”
“Milo! Colton?” She placed a hand to her chest and coughed. “What are you guys doing?”
I can only imagine what it looked like.
A one-eyed, swollen Jason embracing Max. Milo and me watching, one of us without many clothes.
And then Reid and Grandma made it worse by emerging from the room opposite the guest room—holding hands.
“Oh, my.” The aunt fanned herself and looked behind her and then a certain gleam lit her eyes.
“Oh, no, no, no, no.” I held out my hands in front of me. “It’s not like that.”
Grandma slapped my ass and whispered, “I beg to differ, champ. Who’s next?”
Max raised his hand.
Jason smacked him.
“Fire!” Milo shouted.
Grandma screamed.
The aunt with the thick glasses fainted.
And I grabbed Milo and pushed her into the bedroom, slamming the door behind us.
“We left Reid!” She opened the door again.
“Leave him, besides, he was only holding Grandma’s hand.”
“No man gets left behind!”
“There’s nothing we can do for him now!” I pushed against the door. “He’s already been taken . . .”
“No.” Milo shook her head. “I won’t believe it. I can’t believe it.”
“Milo.” I exhaled. “Reid’s gone.”
A loud knocking sounded at the door.
“I know you’re in there!” Mrs. Caro shouted. “Now stop screwing around and get out here to greet your guests or so help me God I’m breaking down this door and I don’t think any one of us is mentally stable enough for that encounter!”
“We’ll be right out!” I said in a hurry.
“We will?” Milo put her hands on her hips. “But I thought—”
“We have to get rid of them—all of them, and then it’s just you and me.” I tilted her chin. “Promise.”
Her smile made my knees go weak. “Me, you, and Chewbacca?”
Max’s voice sounded at the door. “I named my penis once too.”
“Why can’t you be the one getting punched?” I shouted back, vaguely remembering that he had in fact been punched numerous times.
“Maximus. That was the name, then I realized I was putting undue pressure on my nether parts to perform and it wasn’t emotionally fair to do that to my person.”
“Go away!” I groaned.
“Now it’s just Max Jr.” He sighed. “Or if you’re picky, Big M.”
“Max!” Milo banged on the door. “Go find Reid.”
“He’s right here.”
“Is he okay?”
“Reid, tell them you’re okay.”
A throat cleared, and then Reid said in a very quiet voice, “I’ve been—compromised.”
“See?” Max’s voice was muffled. “Totally fine.”
“Give us five minutes?” I asked nicely, hoping it would make a difference if I used my inside voice rather than yelling again.
Max laughed. “Amateur, it should at least take fifteen, and that’s being generous.”
I opened my mouth but Milo elbowed me. “’K, thanks, Max, ’bye.”
We waited in silence, then Milo sighed. “You’re still there, aren’t you, Max?”
We heard a shuffling of feet and then, “Yeah.”
CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN
COLTON
It took us a good five minutes to get presentable, and even then Milo still looked like she had taken a midnight swim. Her skin was flushed, and the little black dress she was wearing did nothing to hide her body from me.
A body I desperately wanted.
Part of me was thankful that Max had interrupted—a thought I would take to my grave lest he decide to move in with us and make a career out of keeping me from sex.
It was Milo’s first time.
In a pool? Not the most romantic move I could have made. Wincing, I took a slow sip of wine and watched her across the room. She was talking to her aunt, the same one who had accused us not a few minutes ago of having an orgy in the hall.
Milo waved in my direction. I waved back and just watched her. I watched her laugh, I watched her drink, I watched her drum her fingers against her cup.
I wanted those hands on me.
Not the damn cup.
“Frustrated sexually?” Max said next to me in a low voice.
“Tell me, do you ever quit, Max? Or is your goal in life for no one to have sex if you aren’t getting any?”
He snorted. “I get plenty.”
“Where’s Jenna?”
“With Jason. I told her to take care of him on account that he can’t see how many fingers I’m holding up and was asking me why the ants were on him still.”
“He’s hallucinating? That can’t be good.”
“I may have slipped him a mild sedative.” Max shrugged. “At any rate, they’re on the way to the hospital—finally. And they’ll most likely be making out by the end of the night—that is, if Jason can actually find her mouth. Jury’s still out.”
“Wow, Cupid, nice work.” I patted him on the back.
“Shhh,” Max whispered. “No sudden movements. Baby powder.”
“What?”
“Baby powder.” Max closed his eyes and inhaled. “Grandma’s near.”
“How do you even—”
“Aha!” Grandma shouted, appearing in front of us. “Max, where’s that brother of yours? I’ve been looking everywhere!”
“I think you tuckered him out.” Max’s smile was tight. “Either that or he went and ran in front of oncoming traffic in hope someone would run him over.”
“What’s that?” She cupped her ear.
“YOU KILLED HIM!” Max shouted.
Grandma grinned and tapped Max’s chest with her pink fingernail. “Are you saying you’re going to stand in for him?” Her eyebrows arched.
I think I puked a bit in my mouth as Max’s eyes widened in horror.
“No, but thank you, ma’am.” Max backed away. “I’m gay.”
“You’re what?”
“Gay.” Max nodded. “So, very, very”—his eyes pleaded with mine—“gay.”
“Shit.” I put my arm around him and smiled at Grandma.
“But didn’t you just get married?” she asked me.
“Twin.” Max coughed. “That was his twin, er, Carlton.”
“Oh.” Her eyes narrowed. Good thing she was old and senile.
Max nodded and then kissed me on the cheek. “See? Totally not into elderly women with enough strength to hold me down for twelve hours straight while they feed off my beating heart.” He slapped my chest. “I’m all for men!”
Conversations around us stilled.
Max coughed
. “To the bride and groom?”
“Please let everyone be too drunk to care,” I mumbled.
“Drat.” Grandma snapped her fingers. “Guess I’ll go take a nap then. Ta-ta.”
I sighed in relief when she rounded the corner and walked down the hall to the bedrooms.
“You can let go of my hand now.” I bit down on my lip. “I mean, unless you’re digging holding it and then hell, who cares? I’m still having sex tonight and now everyone really thinks you’re gay.”
Max’s eyes narrowed as he released my hand and scowled. “Damn Reid. If he was capable of pleasing a woman, she wouldn’t be coming back for seconds!”
“Please don’t ever repeat that sentence again.”
“Damn baby powder.” Max continued talking. “I swear it’s like her tell.”
“Huh?”
“She smells like baby powder.” He sniffled. “I have a theory that she powdered Reid up before she—”
“Please! No more stories.” I held up my hand like a shield, knowing I’d need years of therapy if he finished that sentence. “I may never be able to sleep with my wife because of you. I’ll never look at baby powder the same again.”
“Look.” Max pointed at the couch. “Reid’s back.”
“Reid’s drunk off his ass.” I laughed as Reid held a bottle of tequila to his lips and started dancing in his seat, eyes closed. The champ was probably living the dream. Pain-free. Grandma-free. That was the life.
“All in all”—Max looked around the room—“I think the weekend went pretty good.” He slapped my back. “We should do this again sometime.”
“Right.” I rolled my eyes.
“Colt?” Milo walked up to us and smiled shyly. “Um, Mom says we don’t have to stay any longer, so . . .” She looked down at the ground, blushing to the roots of her hair.
Max puffed out his chest. “I got this.”
“Max—”
“Let me.” He thrust his chin high into the air. “It’s the least I can do for interrupting you guys in the pool. But dude, for the love, just look at the damn diagram, seriously, one glance won’t kill you.”
“Max—”
“What I do, I do for my friends. Milo, I love you. Now go make babies.” He saluted us, then walked into the middle of the crowd of people and started taking his clothes off.
“Aw, how cute.” Milo laughed. “He’s creating a diversion.”
I smirked as Grandma made her way down the hall; a look of pure evil crossed her features. “Right, and he’s about to get taken advantage of, poor chap.” Inspiration struck, and I gripped Milo’s hand in mine and whispered in her ear, “I have an idea, let’s go.”
CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT
MILO
Last time Colton said the words “I have an idea,” I ended up getting frostbite on my ass.
I’d had to sit in a tub of hot water for what felt like days while I thawed out. I was only six so I don’t remember much—what I do remember? The fact that he called me “icicle cheeks” for three years straight after it happened. Never mind that he was the one who dared me to—well, never mind. Water under the bridge.
I gripped his hand and followed him out of the house. “What’s your bright idea? Set Max on fire and make a run for it?”
“No.”
“Too bad.”
Colton’s eyes narrowed. “You’re a bad friend.”
“Well,” I huffed, “you’re a bad husband!”
He stopped walking. “Pardon?”
I looked down at my feet. “You heard me. I’m tired, I’m hungry, it’s possible Reid’s going to sue Grandma for improper touching, my brother hates me, and, and, I’m sexually—”
Crap. I stopped talking. I really, really needed a censor for that mouth of mine.
“Sexually?” Colton chuckled. “What?”
“Nothing.” I tried to walk past him but he grabbed me by the shoulders, holding me in place.
“Sexually.”
“Stop saying sexually.” I hissed. The fact that that word was coming out of his mouth while he was touching me, while I wanted to pounce on him, was not doing me any favors—physically, that is.
I felt trapped in my body.
Like a caged animal just waiting to get set free.
See! That’s probably why I inflicted pain on others—it really wasn’t my fault! It was Colton’s! “Aha!” I shouted.
“Aha, what?” Colt asked in a mocking tone. “My hands are on you for three seconds, and suddenly all traces of sexual frustration leave? Damn, I’m good.”
“It’s your fault!” I snapped, staggering away from him. “I’ve had a crush on you for how long? And suddenly we’re married and, oh, my gosh, why didn’t I think of this before?” Panic set in. I was attracted to him. I wanted to be the ice on his Popsicle, the charm on his bracelet, the milk on his mustache—you get the point. And he didn’t care! Nothing about him screamed sexual frustration. My mind whirled, my breathing quickened.
He didn’t want me.
Not the way I wanted him.
In that moment I kind of wanted to cry, because what guy, what man actually lets a guy like Max, a guy who—let’s be honest—cries during Cheerio commercials, interrupt what could have been the best pool sex to ever take place in the history of the universe? So I have high hopes. That’s not a crime!
“Milo?” Colt reached for my hand. I let him take it, mainly because I was still thinking about the pool, and what could have happened, and the fact that I had been naked and Colt hadn’t told them all to go to hell and leave us alone.
“Do you think I’m pretty?” I asked in a low voice, not willing to look him in the face because I was that embarrassed.
“Not really. No.” He shrugged.
My heart dropped into my stomach as I tried to pull away from him, but his hand tightened around mine as he jerked me across his body.
“Girls like you, sorry, women like you aren’t merely pretty. Pretty is the definition of something you put on a nice shelf for people to stare at. Pretty is a Christmas tree.”
“But—” I sniffed. “I really like Christmas trees!”
Colt groaned. “Milo, I’m not saying you’re a Christmas tree.”
“I can be a damn tree, Colton! Just give me a chance! I’ll even put those tiny silver balls on and—” Yeah, I needed to stop talking.
“Sweetheart,” Colton whispered. “You would be a very pretty tree, but what I’m trying to say is pretty . . . Pretty is something you can’t touch. Pretty is what moms warn little boys about. Hell, I can’t even count how many times my mom said, ‘Colt, that’s a pretty, don’t touch it.’ ”
“So I’m not a tree,” I croaked. “And now you can’t touch me?”
Colton shook his head, showing some frustration. “Women are such pretzels! Geez, let me finish!”
“YOU KNOW I HATE PRETZELS, COLT!”
“Holy shit, where’s Max when I need someone to say something stupider so I look like the good guy?” Colt groaned and leaned his forehead against mine. His whisper came out hoarse, almost raw. “You’re the sunset.”
“Oh.”
“Because I can’t describe your beauty—and every day I see you, it’s like seeing a new sunset, you’re never the same. I always notice something different about the way the light reflects off your eyes. Or the way your hair feels when I run my fingers through it. You’re not just pretty. You’re indescribable. You’re terrifying in your beauty—and I. Love. You.”
So maybe we didn’t have pool sex, but that speech was pretty epic. I was having a hard time breathing while trying not to swallow my tongue, so I nodded before saying, “So you’re attracted to me?”
“Do bears shit in the woods?” a male voice interrupted.
“A little late, man.” Colton shook his head and chuckled. “But thanks, Max, for totally ruining what could have been a really special moment. No really, I appreciate it.”
“Blue Christmas balls.” Max nodded. “Not such a merry Ch
ristmas or happy New Year? Feel me?”
“What?” I looked between the two of them as Colton flushed bright red. “What do you mean?”
“Oh, look.” Max thrust his fist into the air and sang, “And a happy New Year!”
Colt and I said nothing. Merely waited. It was Max. There had to be a point to his insanity, otherwise he was just that—insane.
“Fine.” He sighed. “Don’t sing, but at least thank me for being the best best man ever.”
“You weren’t my best man.”
“We never established it.” Max shrugged.
“I established it,” Colt argued. “And it was Jason.”
“Jason couldn’t see, nor was he even aware he was alive for at least half the day—dead people don’t count.”
“Nor do drunk ones, yet here we are,” Colton said in a singsong voice.
“Remember this moment.” Max nodded and took two steps toward us. “As the day Max saved Christmas.”
“It’s not Christmas.”
Max rolled his eyes. “It’s more badass-sounding than ‘the day Max saved the marital bed.’ ”
It was my turn to blush.
“Boutique hotel down the street, the one with the flowers in front and the bar with five-dollar mimosas.” Max grinned. “Honeymoon suite.” With a bow he finished, “Paid for in full.”
“Aw, you did that with your paper route money!” Colton teased.
“Ass.” Max rolled his eyes. “And if I did have a paper route I’d skip your house every damn time.” His gaze met mine. “But for Milo.” He shrugged. “You guys deserve some time uninterrupted. And I wanted to give you that, so take any one of the cars except for Reid’s since he’s probably going to have to sleep in it tonight on account that Grandma keeps copping a feel, and enjoy yourselves.”
With a watery grin, I went up to Max and wrapped my arms around him. He truly was one of the best people I knew. Had I not crushed on Colton all my life, I would probably love Max.
But his story . . .
I had a feeling it was just beginning. So I stepped back while Colt shook his hand and then silently went to Colt’s truck and climbed in.
“So,” I asked once it roared to life. “What was your plan going to be?”
“I was going to find a hotel but that sounded so cheap, so honestly? I was just going to sit in the car with you and try really hard not to peel your clothes off while we talked and drank wine straight out of the bottle.”
The Consequence of Loving Colton Page 21