Favors, Strings, & Lies_Men of NatEx_A Package Handlers Novel

by Kyle Autumn

  I give her a sympathetic look. “Sorry to hear that.”

  But she waves me off. “It’s fine. My mom is more than I can handle most days, anyway. Between her and my sister…” She trails off and then takes a sip of her drink.

  “Your sister—she’s the one getting married?” I ask before drinking some water. My throat’s dry after that almost-confession, mental or not.

  She nods. “Mmhm. Gina. Her fiancé is Paul. He’s a good guy.”

  “Is Gina older or younger than you?” I prod.

  “Younger,” she says, looking uncomfortable as she gazes away, perhaps for the waiter, hoping he’ll bring the food.

  But that means I’m getting close to something personal. Something I probably want the answer to. So I dive in. “So how come you’re not the one getting married, then?”

  When she pins me with her gaze, hurt blazes from her eyes. Pain I didn’t anticipate radiates over to me, and I reach a hand out to cover one of hers. She allows it, staring at our hands.

  “I’m sorry,” I tell her. “I seem to keep upsetting you.”

  “Well, isn’t this conversation supposed to be about you?” she asks, putting her hand in her lap.

  “No. Not me.” I shake my head. “Brian. Remember him? I sure do. Well, kinda.”

  That gets her to crack a tiny smile, which I gladly accept. “I do,” she says purposefully. Then she focuses on me and holds my gaze, a sexy smolder glittering in her eyes. “And I wonder if he likes grape jelly over strawberry jam.”

  ∞∞∞

  Cadence

  The rest of dinner went fine. Really well, actually. He’s cute and funny. Okay, he’s sexy and hysterical. I don’t want to think about him that way because I don’t want to get attached, but I do think about him that way. He seems up for something more between us, though he hasn’t come out and said it. So maybe he’s not. Maybe this is just how he is with women who bribe him into going to weddings with them. I wouldn’t know otherwise.

  We’ve laughed for nearly the whole meal, and I figure we’ll continue to do—until the not-date takes a sharp nosedive. Once we’ve paid the check—or, rather, he’s paid. He wouldn’t let me touch it—we leave the restaurant and find ourselves face-to-face with the bride-to-be. My sister. Gina.

  Oh yay.

  “Cade?” she asks, her eyebrows pinched together. “I didn’t think we’d see you here! And hey! It’s Brian!” In the most embarrassing move ever, she wraps him in a hug and says, “It’s good to see you again! You’re treating my sister right, aren’t you?” Then, even more embarrassingly, she winks at him and knocks him on the lapel of his shirt.

  What the hell is going on?

  “You too, Gina,” he says like this isn’t unusual and/or awkward as hell. “Is this Paul? I’ve heard so much about you, man. Good to meet you, and congratulations on the wedding.” He reaches his hand out to Paul.

  Paul accepts the handshake. “Thanks. I’m sorry though. I don’t know who you are. I can’t always keep up,” he says, making a weird hand gesture that’s probably supposed to apologize for his lack of knowledge.

  “No, I told you about him on Sunday morning. This is Brian,” my sister squeals, “Cade’s date to the wedding!”

  “Ahh, yeah. You know, Gina did mention your name,” Paul tells him. “Sorry. Wedding brain.”

  This is such a strange moment that I don’t have enough time to really examine how opposite Paul and my sister are. But I don’t particularly care in this moment, either. That’s not what’s important. What’s important is getting the fuck out of here before more trouble I can’t fix starts.

  “Speaking of dates,” my sister says, flicking her wrist toward me. “Did you ask him about Friday yet?” She jerks her chin toward him like he can’t hear us speaking.

  Before I can answer, he speaks up. “No, I’m afraid I haven’t heard about Friday. What’s Friday?” he asks, looking at me with a huge shit-eating grin on his face.

  “Friday’s dinner with the family.” Gina puts a hand on his shoulder. “And we want you to be there to connect with the family before the wedding. Our mom can’t wait to meet you.”

  “Mom can wait—” I try to say, finally waking up enough to butt into the conversation.

  But Brian cuts me off. “I’ll be there.” Then he turns to me. “What time should I pick you up, Cade?” he asks, using my nickname, his eyes sparkling with so much lust and amusement.

  Fury flies out of my pores, and he knows. That amusement in his eyes grows by the second.

  “We’ll figure it out in the car,” I grind out between clenched teeth.

  “Wonderful!” My sister shoots her beaming smile my way. “Well, it was great to see you both. We’re going to eat now.” She takes her fiancé’s hand and leads him toward the door of the restaurant. “Have a great night, you two!” After an overdramatic wink to me, she follows Paul inside.

  When the door shuts, I spin and nearly sprint to the car. This is not how I wanted this night to go. Not even close. And I’m wishing I’d have stood my ground and met him here. Then this whole thing could be over already.

  He waits until he’s close to the car to unlock it. After the click, he grabs the handle and opens the door for me. “Your sister is lovely.” His upturned lips practically beg me to fly off the handle.

  But I don’t. “She’s a peach,” I say as I get inside the car.

  His chuckle floats in the air as he closes the door and walks around to his side. Once he’s in, he starts it and we’re off. To where, I have no idea. But I’m too mad to care.

  “Were you planning on telling me about Friday night?” he hedges, one hand on the steering wheel, the other on the gear shifter.

  I shake my head without offering any further explanation.

  “Care to tell me why?” He lets the gear shifter go and hovers his palm over my thigh.

  I still say nothing, staring at his fingers as if they’ll suddenly turn into birds.

  When he rests his palm on my jean-clad thigh, he doesn’t ask another question. Instead, he goes with something smoother. “You look great tonight, by the way. I like this look on you.”

  “What look?” I ask before I think better of it.

  With a slight squeeze of his fingers, he says, “The look that says we slept together tonight. The way your hair isn’t quite as neat as it usually is. The jeans instead of the business suit.” He keeps his gaze on the road.

  Until he realizes I’m not responding. Then he glances at me, one dimple flashing my way and doing its magic. I don’t want compliments. I don’t want niceties. We’re not in a relationship, and once this wedding is over, this is over. So I change the subject and give him what he wants so he’ll quit.

  “I was going to tell her you were sick.” Then I realize my mistake and clear my throat. “I mean, that Brian was sick. Or busy with work. Either one.”

  “Or you could have just asked.” He smooths his hand down my jeans in a gentle, comfortable way that makes me wish he’d do it forever.

  And that’s exactly why I say, “We agreed to the wedding. Nothing more. You shouldn’t have to be subjected to my family twice for no good reason.”

  “Oh,” he says, trailing his finger from my kneecaps up the seam of my legs, “I can think of a good reason.”

  I clamp my hand over his just before he reaches the Promise Land. “And we also agreed to one night, which has spilled over into two. That’s more than enough.”

  Another one of his light chuckles fills the car, giving me goose bumps I don’t want to admit to. “You keep telling yourself that.”

  “It’s the deal we made,” I insist, though I feel like a five-year-old who’s upset about not getting cookies after dinner.

  “I distinctly remember that your package-handling skills were part of the deal,” he reminds me, “and I don’t think I’ve been shown those yet.” He flashes me a wink and one dimple. “You’ve seen mine, Cade.”

  Inwardly, I want to kiss the hell out of hi
m. Strip him down and show him exactly how expert my package-handling skills are. Outwardly, though, I don’t know if I have much choice but to agree. I mean, I have a choice. Obviously. But I’m leaning so far toward giving him what he’s asking for that I can’t make myself stop.

  After several sexually tense moments, I say, “Fine.”

  He pats my leg, a permanent smirk etched onto his face. “That’s what I was hoping to hear. Well, not quite, but I’ll take it.”

  But, to turn the tables and put this back on my terms, I cover his hand with mine and clarify with, “Friday night though. After you’ve graced my family with your presence.” My own sarcastic smile spreads across my face. “Tonight, you drop me off at home.”

  “After I’ve—”

  “Nope,” I say, popping the P at the end of the word and shaking my head. “Right now.”

  The hand under mine flies into the air in a surrender gesture. Then, with a glance my way, he smiles and winks like he thinks he won this round. But I now have three deliveryman-free days to get some work done and focus on my marathon goals.

  If nothing else, I bought myself some time.

  Now, to use it in ways that don’t include wondering what he’ll think of me in that new bra-and-panty set…

  Chapter 10

  Matt

  The first person I run into at work on Friday is Aidan—finally. I don’t know who randomly takes most of a week off but shows up to work on Friday. Why not take the whole week off?

  “Dude! The fuck have you been?” I ask as soon as I see him.

  “Some personal stuff came up,” is all he grumbles at me with a shit-ass attitude.

  “Seriously?” I throw my stuff into my locker and slam it shut. “That’s all you have to say for missing four days of work?”

  He closes his locker and glares straight at me. “Uh, yeah.”

  And that’s that. I know Aidan well enough. He’ll tell me when he’s ready to spill. Pressing won’t get me anywhere, and it’s not something we do anyway. Plus, he only gets this shit-ass attitude because of Veronica, so he won’t budge an inch anyway. So I move on and jump straight into telling him about my crazy-ass week.

  “Well, maybe you’d like to know that Cadence and I had dinner.”

  He freezes on our way to our trucks. “No shit, man. You finally had the balls to ask her out?”

  I nod, a proud smile stretching my face.

  “Was this when you left the bar with her this weekend?” he asks as we continue walking. “What happened to your no-dating rule?”

  “Oh, it’s wasn’t a date,” I tell him, pulling my keys out of my pocket. “It was just a meal shared between two people. Two people who have an agreement.” I overpronounce the last word for emphasis.

  “Seriously?” His brow creases as he says, “After all this time, there’s an agreement and no date?”

  So I stare straight at him and throw his own words back in his face. “Uh, yeah.” Then I head out the back door without holding it for him.

  “I don’t believe,” he says when he’s outside, catching up to me, “for one second that you’re okay with this. This was your idea?”

  “Actually,” I tell him, one hand on the hood of my truck, “it was hers.”

  He looks at me like I have four heads, his eyes nearly bulging out of his own. “I think I need an explanation.”

  “No, not really.” I gesture toward my body, giving him a shit-eating grin. “She wanted this, so I’m giving it to her.”

  He roots his feet to the ground and folds his arms over his chest. “Again, I don’t believe you.”

  I huff out a breath. “Okay, fine.” Then I start from the beginning, telling him about leaving the bar with her, agreeing to the wedding deal, spending the night with her, plowing into her during a delivery, sleeping with her in her bed, finally getting dinner with her, running into her sister, and needing to get ready after work for the family dinner—as someone named Brian.

  His eyes are even wider when I’m done. “Dude. What the fuck.”

  “Who cares, man?” I wave him off. “She’s sexy.”

  “I know you’re telling yourself that,” he says, leaning against my truck, “but we both know that’s not it. There’s no way this is only a two-week thing for you. Sure, you haven’t had a serious relationship with anyone in years. But this is the woman you’ve been after for a year. I mean, does she even know your real name? How does that not bother you?”

  I open my mouth to answer him with some smartass remark, but then I realize she’s never said it. Not once. And I don’t think I’ve told her. Which does kind of tug on my heart. This really is that impersonal to her.

  “I don’t know if she knows,” I admit, still thinking hard about it but acting like I don’t care. “I mean, maybe she saw some mail at my house when I left her to go meet up with Joyce.”

  “You did what?” Somehow, his eyes stretch even wider. He might lose his mind in a second.

  Oh yeah. I left that part out above. So I give him a sheepish smile. “It’s fine,” I tell him, giving him a dismissive wave. “Joyce apologized for everything and we’re moving on. No big deal.”

  “Like hell,” he replies. “It’s been years. There’s no way you’re just ‘moving on’ now. And we both know that it’s never ‘no big deal’ with her.”

  I narrow my eyes, ignoring the first part of his diatribe. “That’s what my grandpa basically said too.”

  “Well, we both can’t be wrong. You’re probably not seeing it clearly, being on the inside of it.” Then he stands up straight. “What else did your grandpa say? How’s he doing?”

  I let out a long sigh. “He’s basically the same. Asked about her though. Wants to meet her.”

  He does nothing for a moment, but then his eyebrows rise and he snaps his fingers at me. “That’s it! Take her to meet him.”

  “Excuse me?” I ask, folding my arms over my chest. “What good would that do? It’s already nuts that I’ve been lying to him about her for a year. That’s literally the last thing in the world I should do.”

  But he shakes his head. “No, it’s a great idea. Plus, it sounds like she owes you a favor for doing all this pretending with her family. Because then you’ll—”

  Whatever he wants to say about this dumbass idea gets cut off when George, our boss, comes out the back door.

  “You plannin’ on making any deliveries today, boys?” he asks as he signs off on another guy’s manifest. His tone is full of humor though.

  “Yes, sir,” we both say at the same time.

  “Good. Keep up the great work.” Then he waves us off and goes back inside.

  “Wanna explain yourself?” I grit out at Aidan once our boss is gone.

  He points finger guns at me. “Nope. Just do it,” he says before backing away and laughing.

  “You’re the worst!” I yell at him as he retreats to his truck, but he just flips me off and drives away.

  Naturally, all I can think about is his shitty idea. Take Cadence, the woman who clearly doesn’t want a relationship with me, to meet my ailing grandfather, the man who thinks I’ve been dating said woman for a year? That’s the worst fucking plan on this planet.

  But… My brain won’t shut up as it whispers things like, It’d make your grandpa happy, and His spirits might be lifted by seeing that she’s real. And then other things like, Aidan was right. You know she owes you a favor for the wedding date. And the family dinner date.

  Fuck you, brain. Fuck you. And Aidan.

  Goddammit.

  By the end of the day, I’m actually considering this fucked-up plan. I’ve somehow convinced myself that maybe it won’t be that bad. My grandpa can see that I’m “happy” in a relationship and that’ll help him. No harm, no foul. It’s not any worse than having me pretend I’m someone named Brian to make her family happy, right?

  A lie for a lie. Done and done.

  ∞∞∞

  Cadence

  After a long, stressful day
of showing houses to a couple with many opposite tastes, my doorbell rings at five. Right on time. Dinner is at six, but we have to be there at five thirty. So, as soon as I’ve opened the door, I rush right out. Because we’re in a hurry. That’s what I’m telling myself.

  It’s not at all because I haven’t seen him in three days and he’s all I’ve been thinking about. No, that’s not it. Can’t be. And I don’t want to acknowledge how ridiculously sexy he looks in dress clothes. Seriously, it’s not fair that he looks this good. Not fair at all.

  But he reaches out for my arm to stop me, like he so often has to do. I’m always physically trying to get away from him when my mental desires are so, so different.

  “You don’t have time for me to tell you how amazing you look before we get in the car?” he says before eyeing me up and down.

  With his gaze on me, I wonder what he sees. More than the little black dress—which is dressy enough for dinner but not too sexy—I put on mostly for him but also for the occasion? More than the new black heels that might kill my feet but give my legs a little more length? More than the dangling earrings in plain view because my hair is pulled back into a sleek ponytail at the nape of my neck? From the heat in his eyes, I’d say yes. Which doesn’t help my cause. Not a bit.

  I swallow hard before straightening my stance and facing him full on. “Go ahead. Get it over with.” My sarcastic words are punctuated with a sly smirk and a saucy hand on my hip. Then I extend the other one, which has my small clutch in its grip, so he can take it all in.

  He brings one hand to his mouth and bites his knuckle. “That one-night business is such a shame.”

  “Well, we did make it two,” I remind him, dropping my arms to my sides and walking over to his car. When I get there, I spin to face him and press my backside against his vehicle. “Unless you don’t feel like you can perform.”

  When he reaches me, he comes within kissing distance, his lips a breath away from mine. Then he reaches his hand behind my butt, and I think he’s going to squeeze it, but he doesn’t. Instead, he presses his front against me and speaks, his breath fanning over my lips.