by A. C. Bextor
She’s not a challenge. She’s not a quest. She’s not available. She’s Trav’s sister.
“When are we eating? I’m not missing the Snapped marathon,” Sarah explains to the room as if her television schedule affects our evening at all.
“Fuck Snapped. You’re gonna hang with us tonight,” Ace demands, his voice falling on deaf ears.
Sarah takes the opportunity to rattle her brother, as she always does when the chance presents itself. “I have it recording at home.”
Before Ace and Sarah have the chance to ruin everyone’s evening with their friendly-fire banter, Lacey comes back from taking the call; she wasn’t gone two full minutes. Standing near the living room entrance, she explains, “I got the job. Shelby wants me there tomorrow at five.” Still smiling, she hands the phone back to Travis.
A small, proud grin makes its way to her, then he replies, “Well, all right.”
From the looks of it, the two of them have gotten to know each other and seem to be settling in after her unexpected arrival. There are many things to learn about each other and their pasts, but if Travis lets his guard down and lets her become part of his life the way I hope he does, they’ll have a family in each other. He needs this, and she wouldn’t be here if she didn’t need it as well.
“You’re sure this is a good idea?” Ace voices my own thought out loud to the room.
Travis stands and walks toward the kitchen. “Too late now. We’ll be around most of the time anyway. She’ll be fine.”
“God damn it, Ace. Stop your damn dog!” Rae shrieks as Diamond, Ace’s golden retriever, comes running and jumping smack into the couch with a gift for Lacey. He drops what I assume used to be a piece of Rae’s lingerie and then sits quietly in place, waiting for Lacey to do something with it. The only response offered is her wide eyes as she takes in what it is. Ace’s dog loves anything personal of Rae’s. Hairbrushes, toothbrushes, makeup, or underwear—doesn’t matter, as long as it’s Rae’s. She’s not so fond of the dog.
“Jesus Christ,” Travis mutters under his breath while looking away from the pink lace lying at Lacey’s feet. I’m laughing, Rae’s fuming, Lacey is still, and Sarah is giggling uncontrollably. Bean is sighing in disgust.
“Out!” Ace yells to the dog. Diamond cowers immediately while looking at Ace with pathetically sad eyes before he starts spinning in wild circles.
“Stupid, stupid dog,” Rae proclaims to the room.
“Why did you bring that mutt with you here anyway, Ace?” Bean exclaims from her chair. She’s been so quiet I had almost forgotten she was here.
Ace grabs a hold of his collar, trying to calm him. “Deck wanted to bring him along.”
“You lie!” Rae exclaims. “Deck wanted a break from him. See these?” She holds her lace underwear up and Ace grabs them with the hand not holding the dog before she continues on a rant. “Deck thinks these are Diamond’s toys! He must have packed them in his backpack to bring here for him.”
“Raegan, calm the fuck down!” Ace’s version of getting a hold of a situation is to use his temper.
“I hate your dog.” Rae’s version of keeping a hold of a situation is to taunt Ace. She’s perfected this maneuver to the extreme.
I let the others know I need a few minutes. I hate chaos, and my friends are everything crazy. “I’m going out to make a call.”
Heading toward the front door, I nod to Bean as I pass her. She looks so tired and worn out, but not just from this evening. She’s aged rapidly over the last few years; I see it around her eyes. She used to worry about all of us when we were younger, but back then she had more control. She doesn’t now, so she worries more as we’ve grown older.
“I’ll go with you.” Sarah stands, walking to me and looking up with those cornflower blue eyes that are certain to bring a man to his knees when she’s ready for him.
Rubbing her head as I’ve always done, I repeat with emphasis. “I’m going to make a call. You stay and be good.”
Last year, Raegan told me Sarah has ‘feelings’ for me; her words, not mine. I knew this in the way she had been acting over the last couple of years. She tries too hard. She’s young and it’s understandable she’d crush on someone safe. Travis is an ass and Toby is married, so her lost affections can only be aimed at me. The issue with them being aimed at me, however, is that it makes me unquestionably uncomfortable.
I hate it.
I feel sorry for her. Her life is surrounded by men who are on constant, unnecessary guard. She’s not allowed to make those typical teenage mistakes or do crazy things other teenagers are able to do behind their parents’ back.
She’s a beautiful young girl but she and I will never happen. I’m not a big brother to her; I don’t watch her movements constantly like the others. It’s not my place. She’s going to be a holy terror soon, and I’m staying as far away from that shit as I can.
“Fine,” she answers, sulking back to her place on the couch.
I don’t need to make a call, but getting some peace and quiet is required.
After texting my dad to see if he needs anything tonight and getting his confirmation that he doesn’t, I hear a small knock on the inside door once it’s opened. The brightness from the living room casts a shadow from where I’m standing.
Lacey informs me of the reason for her interruption. “Ace told me to come get you.” She stops in thought, still looking directly at me. “We’re about to eat and he said Raegan’s music is about to be turned up.”
I don’t say anything yet; I just take my first good look at her since I got here. She was mostly sitting earlier and to avoid the others catching on to how attractive I find her, I didn’t ogle. Now I’m open to do it without interruption.
And I’m taking the opportunity now.
Fucking hell, she’s stunning.
Her body is incredible. Her denim jeans are tight around her thighs with a black belt wrapped around her small waist. Her V-neck blouse hangs low in the front and from here, my trained eyes can see the black camisole she wears under it.
I bet she’s even more stunning without clothes.
“Okay. I’ll be in,” I answer then turn back around into the dark night.
“What’s with the music?”
“Rae likes old shit,” I say, then look in her direction and continue, “Not classic, just old.”
“There’s a difference?”
Oh, God, she’s Travis’s sister and she’s not musically persuaded. “Yes, there is,” I answer with a dismissive tone. She turns around to shut the door, but I stop her. “So, you’re staying here for a while?”
“Yes,” she replies quickly and without hesitation before starting to get away again.
She’s avoiding me and I don’t like it.
“Hey,” I call out.
“What?”
“How are you doing?” I smile at her face that falls after interrupting her escape.
She stands still at the door, the knob in her hand. “I’m fine.” Her response is clipped.
“You don’t talk much.”
“I just met you. You don’t know how much I talk.”
“I don’t bite,” I challenge while perusing her body with my eyes.
“Well, that’s a shame,” I hear her say as she closes the door, blocking herself from my view.
‘That’s a shame’? Well, all right.
CHAPTER FOUR
Lacey
HE DOESN’T BITE. Right. Men like him always bite and when they’re done, they don’t stick around to lick your wounds or comfort their mark. They fuck up or run. Still, after he said it, I wanted to know how his teeth would feel digging into the flesh of my neck.
It’s not fair to stereotype someone you just met without proof of their intent, but he’s obvious about his. Maybe it’s friendly flirting or maybe it’s just his charismatic personality to be so . . . I don’t know. However, he’s definitely confident.
And hot.
After we finished eating, I starte
d cleaning up to keep myself busy. I would’ve done anything to deter my thoughts from the man who sat across the room staring at me with brutal intensity. I tried not to look his way, tried not wondering where his harem of possible one-night stand varieties could be during his absence.
Travis and Rae never clarified his technical social status, only that he was a ladies’ man/player. Rae said he sleeps his way through many women, sometimes two at once. This ignited my imagination, so sadly my mind kept pacing between visions of me on top of him or him kneeling behind me in a raging passion as he released himself into me.
“Lacey?” the voice calls abruptly, as though I had ignored its first intention.
Turning around wearing yellow rubber gloves and an old apron I found in one of Travis’s linen closets, I respond. “Yeah?”
Hayden smiles while reaching around me into the fridge to get another beer. He’s the only one who stayed back after all the others left. I was both relieved and disappointed he didn’t follow the others out. When he told Bean goodbye, the sweet act caused my eyes to sting. When he told Sarah goodbye, it became evident that she’s boy crazy and her sights are set on the much older and more experienced Hayden. I think I saw him shudder silently as he waved goodbye and closed the door behind them.
He lifts the beer, showing me why he called for my attention. “You want another drink?”
“No way, beer goes to my head. I’ll have water, though. Thank you.”
His smile is seductive and I ache as I look at it. “Beer it is then,” he answers on a smirk.
Player’s rule: Get the woman drunk; she’s easier to control.
Not this one.
Rolling my eyes, I start to remove the gloves and apron but he sets the beer beside me and pins me in, pushing closer so I step back until my back hits the counter behind me.
“I’ll get this,” he says, reaching around my neck to remove the apron. I don’t say anything, paralyzed by the smell of him. Rugged and masculine; even his scent screams sex.
When he unties the apron, he drags it down the front of my body between us and leaves me feeling naked like it’s my shirt, not the apron, he’s holding. He studies where he removed it and I fold under the appreciative gaze. In order not to say something stupid, I look away and study the silver pendant around his neck. Curiosity has me raising my hand and grasping it between my fingers.
He answers my un-asked question. “Saint Cecilia. Patroness Saint of music.” His eyes are sincere and for the first time since meeting him this evening, I find there’s something behind them.
“I’m not Catholic, but I’m familiar with saints. I’ve never heard about this one, though.”
Dismissing my attempt at conversation, he takes a half-step back, rolls the apron and puts it on the counter next to me then takes my hands one at a time and removes the gloves. His eyes never leave mine; I hold his with challenge.
Thankfully, Travis interrupts and when I hear him walk into the kitchen, I jerk my hand back and finish removing the second glove. “I’m going to bed. It’s after midnight and some of us work in the morning.” Aiming his stare directly to me, he asks, “You all right?”
I nod, not saying anything.
“She’s fine, Trav,” Hayden replies then turns his face to mine again. We’re not standing as close as we were but close enough that it’s questioning. “We were just getting to know each other.”
“Yeah, well . . .” Trav pauses, looking at the side of Hayden’s face with frustration. “Don’t get too comfortable.”
Hayden steps back completely, taking the beer on the counter with him. He takes a pull, still looking down at me, and when finished he sets it back on the counter. “Got it, big brother. I’m heading out in a few.”
I hear Trav mumble before turning around and walking away. The slight slam of his door causes me to jump.
*****
Hayden
Throughout the evening, I tried the only way I know how, to get Lacey’s attention. Offering to refill her drink and attempting to make small talk with her fell short. She wasn’t having any of it.
Unfortunately, Travis being who he is, he blocked her from me in a sense. He sat her on the other side of the table by Bean who kept her busy talking. I watched her laugh and smile with appreciation at the others as they welcomed her officially into our small group. She avoided my eyes almost entirely. The few times she did look up, I was caught staring and didn’t feel at all ashamed. She held my stare for brief moments, and then turned away while looking irritated.
She’s just as fucking beautiful when she’s irritated.
After dinner, Trav and I talked once the others had left about Ace trying to set up a venue at The Ward which would house two bands in one night: Devil’s Despair and Dragon’s Mansion. Personally, I think this is a mistake. It’s too many mix-and-match fans and it would cause unneeded negative exposure if things went bad. Trav and Ace disagreed and they’re doing it anyway. What do I know, though? I’ve only got a four-year college degree in business management and graduated with honors.
Grabbing the beer I left beside her, I hear myself ask Lacey, “Do you want to come sit and hang out for a few before I head out?”
Say yes.
She nods her agreement with narrowed and suspicious eyes, but I feel her coming in behind me as I walk into the living room. My thoughts are fucked-up and even knowing they’re wrong, I’m enjoying them. It’s probable I’ve had too much to drink, and I’m not sure if I should stop drinking and give myself time to sober up or take Trav’s couch and hear him bitch about it in the morning.
“Do you live around here?” I hear her ask before I’m able to pull a decision together.
“Close, but not too close. About twenty minutes, give or take.”
“Trav said you sing. How long have you done that?”
“Since I was about eleven, I guess.”
She sits quietly on the other end of the couch, giving me a few free seconds to study her. She looks flustered and nervous, a feeling I’m used to watching women own while in my presence. Some don’t talk to me at all. It’s part of being ‘pretty.’ I’m not unappreciative of my appearance; it’s not conceit though, as most times I wish I wasn’t so pretty. I’m jealous of Ace and Travis’s tough, moody composure.
“Do you have any brothers or sisters?” Her third question is asked in the same monotone as the others.
“Nope. None.”
“Do you . . .”
I cut her off, tired of answering questions. “You ask a lot of questions.”
“Sorry. Just curious. I got to know the others; they talk more than you do.”
“Talk,” I repeat. “That’s what you want to do?” I watch her face blush a shade of red, unsure if it’s embarrassment or anger as I lose her eyes. She’s studying her hands in front of her. “Lacey?” I interject, hoping to get her focus.
“Sorry.”
“Don’t apologize, but look at me.”
“What?” she snaps; I can see her body’s position and sense she’s starting to get annoyed. “I’m just trying to get to know you.”
“There’s not a lot to know,” I answer shortly.
“I’m sure that’s not true.”
Deciding to turn the tables, I ask, “What about you?”
“What about me?” she returns in a defensive gesture.
“Tell me about yourself.”
“Like what?”
“Do you like men?”
“Seriously?”
I laugh. Like Travis, I note she doesn’t have much patience. “No, but you’re cute when you’re anxious.”
“I’m not anxious.” She shakes her head in disagreement, dismissing my reference to her being cute. “I’m going to head to bed, I think. Are you . . .” She starts to ask another question and stops.
I interrupt dryly, “No, Lacey, I’m not sleeping with you . . . yet.”
She smiles wide, her green eyes dancing with humor. “I wasn’t going to ask that!”
<
br /> “You were thinking it,” I say, still feeling a little intoxicated.
She laughs but speaks through it. “What we think and what we do are two different things.”
Admission.
All evening she played her disinterest well; I wasn’t fooled. Not only is she affected in my presence, she feels what I feel when I look at her. She feels the attraction.
Walking past me to her room, I reach my hand out to grab her wrist and stop her movement. She looks down on me with an obvious tension, and I hold onto her as I bring myself up from the couch. She takes a step back and I match hers with a bigger one of my own, not giving her room to turn away.
Leaning down, my hands cup her face and I kiss her. It’s not a sweet seduction I’m used to working with other women. I pull her bottom lip in my mouth and suck it viciously, but she doesn’t respond at all. When I open my eyes, I see hers are still open and now questioning.
“Why’d you do that?” Her tone is merely tolerant to say the least. I don’t answer and don’t remove my hands from her face. I lean down and peck her now roughly kissed bottom lip. “I . . . I think I’m . . .” She tries to continue, but can’t.
“Talk,” I say, enjoying another flustered stare.
Rather than turn away as I had expected she would’ve, she passes me, positions herself on the floor by the couch and makes herself comfortable.
“What are you doing?”
“Watching you,” she states, shifting her shirt in the back as a way to distract herself.
“Watching me?”
“You’re obviously drunk. You just kissed a girl you just met. Without being invited or coerced, I may add.”
I laugh out loud at her observation. This means Travis and Ace didn’t taint her first impression of me; I did that all by myself.
“I’m not drunk.”
“Sure seemed it, ya know . . . shoving your tongue down my throat and all.”
Moving to sit next to her, the couch taking the weight of our backs, we both look ahead. “You didn’t like the kiss, huh? Too drunk and disorderly?”