Beauty and the Brute

by Nikki Winter

  “Am I to guess that you were born and raised in Hokeytown with squidbilly?” she asked Ashleigh.

  The defensive end gave a short nod. “Yes ma’am. Waynesville, North Carolina; population 9,739 as told by the last count.”

  “Less than ten thousand people? That sounds…awful. I’m sorry,” Alana said over their chuckles. “It just sounds like the worst existence to me.”

  “Understandable,” Ashleigh said in response. “Noel and I managed to claw our way past the general sense of disenchantment combined with the scent of horse anus and pork belly.” He winked. “We had the itch.”

  Alana jerked a bit, cast Noel a look over her shoulder. “What is this itch and do I need to see my local physician for antibiotics and a medicated soap or…?”

  Noel snorted. “He’s talking about the, I-have-to-get-the-fuck-out-of-this-hole-centered-in-hell-before-I-start-to-skin-people-and-wear-them itch.”

  “Ah. See here we just call that a mental break where a man or woman—because I don’t differentiate in who can be crazy as all fuck—loses their sense of self preservation and the ability to feel pain, therefore making them an unstoppable machine of insanity that should, in fact, be immediately exterminated from the face of the earth by the nearest tactical group.”

  Noel and Ashleigh shared a stare and then looked back to Alana, saying simultaneously, “Same difference.”

  She finished off her mug and set it aside. “So because of this itch, you two concocted goals—plots if you will—to leave your small town upbringing with the local fairs behind, knowing you would miss the exoticism of a new Taco Bell being built?”

  “No,” both men answered.

  “That’s creepy,” Alana announced.

  “We didn’t concoct anything aside from how to successfully knock the players of rival schools the fuck out while on the field,” Ashleigh told her. “Because it was fun to stand over someone and listen to them sniffle in open anguish about how they’d just been beat to the ground in front of their Nana who probably didn’t have many more game attendances left in her.”

  Her cheeks puffed out. “There’s a level of definite psychosis there that intrigues me. Please continue.”

  “We became so good at it that eventually we were dubbed—”

  “—B&B,” Noel completed for his friend. “What you now know as the Brute and the Barbarian. Eventually university offers started pouring in.”

  “You ended up at FSU,” she said pointing to Ashleigh. “Which lead to Miami taking you and you,”—she turned her head towards Noel—“wound up at Virginia Tech, leading to your playing and sticking with the Blackbirds for all these years.” Her eyes narrowed slightly. “Why? The large burly fellow—”

  “I don’t know how I feel about being called burly.”

  “—has done a trade but you haven’t and I know you’ve had offers,” Alana went on.

  Noel rolled his shoulders. “Not any that I’d consider being that I’ve settled in comfortably here. Maybe someday but it would have to be absolutely impossible to ignore.”

  And even then I’m not too sure I could walk away from you… He left the thought unsaid. Particularly because he feared she may concuss him in an attempt to escape.

  She grunted, placing her attention back on Ashleigh. “I see you’ve brought along a rather perturbingly huge duffle bag, large and burly fellow.”

  “I am still not sure how I feel about that description and my duffle is not that big.”

  “It looks like it could carry a human body…or five. Given our recent discussion and revelation of your homicidal tendencies, I’m rather inclined to believe that it has.”

  A laugh rumbled up from the other man’s chest. “I promise the only thing that bag has ever held was a change of clothes for training and the occasional doll who may or may not have been missing a limb.”

  When she stiffened, Noel grinned and sat back. This was about to get fun…

  Alana looked the man over with the same raised brow expression she’d delivered several times since venturing downstairs. “Explain.”

  “They’re his dolls,” Noel said from behind her. “They’re his and he’s named them.”

  “Lies!”

  She snickered at Ashleigh’s outraged cry.

  “Amethyst, Jewel, and Sapphire because he has a thing for precious stones. I’ve stumbled across him singing ‘Diamonds are a Girl’s Best-friend’ to himself on more than one occasion. And there’s a boa involved. Feathered.”

  “Oh my God.” Her forehead thumped against the countertop as her shoulders shook. Whether it was the fantastic lie or the imagery of someone several inches over six feet, built like a UFC fighter, and covered in ink shimmying…

  “Arista named those dolls you flexuous fold of skin on the world’s oily underbelly,” Ashleigh retorted, flipping Noel the bird while pulling out his phone. He then held it up to Alana for inspection, on the large screen a picture of a little girl with brown Kewpie eyes, curling lashes and a cupid’s bow mouth which was stretched wide to show the loss of several bottom row teeth. Her skin was toasted almond and her thick hair had been gently brushed back into a giant puff of kinks that sat fastened with a pink bow. Just behind her was a woman around Alana’s age but she couldn’t make out all of her features, as the only thing not blocked by the little girl’s hair was the woman’s own pair of brown Kewpie eyes and a nose that was pixie-like. Her head was surrounded by a halo of ombre colored locs in a loose bun. However, even without much of her face revealed, Alana knew she was beautiful.

  “She’s gorgeous,” she told the defensive end.

  “Something he can thank Mackenzie for because as you can see, ugly is an unfortunate disease that can strike at any moment, rendering one immobile and upset.”

  Alana smirked at Noel’s teasing but his assessment wasn’t, by any means, close to the truth. Genetics had been kind to Ashleigh Thyne; delivering him a lottery winning of sharp angular features softened by a lavish mouth, catlike midnight-gray eyes, a straight prominent nose and a strong chin. Over his granite jaw sat a short, precision cut beard that was just as neat as the dark, barely-there strands of his hair resting close to his scalp. Every inch of his large form was covered in an even deep oak complexion that had ruddy undertones. She’d catalogued it all. And then she’d promptly dismissed it. Because apparently her land of Nod was dead to all of those aside from Mr. Baby Bear. Annoying.

  “You’re a lovely example of that, aren’t you? With your low sloping brow and eye that just starts to wander…”

  She snorted at Ashleigh’s words before she could stop herself. They were horrible to one another. But this was nice. This was entirely too nice. And she was getting entirely too comfortable with a man who’d had his fingers in precarious places just hours before. She was pretty sure she shouldn’t have let that happen without jewelry being given first or…you know…a meal.

  “The duffle bag that may have held dismembered corpses is for your training session right?” Alana asked. “The one I’m interfering with?”

  “You’re not interfering,” Noel told her, skimming his fingers down her sides. She had to say, the decision to stake a spot in his lap was one she didn’t regret. Something about the simple domesticity of the act felt natural. Which was why she needed to get the hell out of here.

  “I should’ve called first,” Ashleigh tacked on. “But he never has anyone here so I just thought…”

  Interesting. The amount of years they’d known one another told Alana that Ashleigh should’ve seen a bevy of women skipping out of Noel’s front door, pushed to their sexual limits and ready to write sonnets about it and yet, he was telling her that she’d been allowed into his friend’s sanctuary whereas others hadn’t. Heh. Yeah. She needed to leave like yesterday.

  “You two can always take up your weights and your grunting and I can leave.”

  There was a pause and then another simultaneous mind meld of idiots. “Nawl.”

  She rubbed her fingers over
her closed lids. “I’m beginning to think that is a purposeful move to make me get stabby.”

  “Now who’s the one rife with psychosis?”

  Alana glared at Noel. “Your blood. On my hands. That can happen.”

  Ashleigh’s head went back. “Oh sweet, sweet Messiah of Bethlehem, she’s going to ruin your entire life and I am so okay with that!”

  Noel reached across the counter and slapped him. The other man’s hands quickly came back. This went on for several seconds, giving her ample time to slip out of Noel’s lap and up the stairs. For now she could pilfer a bit of his clothing and then replace what had been lost because…reasons. Reasons that revolved around leaving.

  Eight

  “Are you alive? Have you been taken? Do I need to call Liam Neeson?”

  Alana snorted at Alexander’s greeting from the other end of her phone, tugging up and tying off sweatpants that she’d swiped from Noel’s drawer; the same place she’d found her pilfered t-shirt. “No, you goober. I’m fine. I’m just…I just…I got distracted on my run this morning. I’ll be back in a bit.”

  No she would not give her brothers the sordid details of how Noel had pretty much stalked her and then did dirty things to her with her complete consent. She wouldn’t breathe a word as to how she was literally fighting to make herself walk out, to make herself chalk this up to chemistry as opposed to some inevitable draw that she couldn’t beat. Just the thought of leaving Noel behind for nights on end again left a cool sheen of sweat between her shoulder blades. But she would do this. She had to do this.

  He went quiet for a moment and then… “Jezebel!”

  “Alex…”

  “Fallen woman! Unclean one! Child of iniquity!”

  She bit the inside of her cheek. “Finished?”

  “Yeah,” he brother sighed. “It’s out of my system now.”

  “Excellent,” she retorted. “Find an activity to participate in today that doesn’t make me want to strangle you.”

  “Are you even going to tell me the distraction’s name? I’d like to know who the assassin should target.”

  Alana stopped in the midst of throwing her hair into a loose topknot. “Since when do you cock-block?”

  “Cock and…what?” There was a gagging sound. “Excuse me while I go take the brakes off of my rental and lay behind the back tires. Clean mine eyes savior! Take the agony away!”

  Her head went back on her shoulders with a yelping laugh. “Stop.”

  Alexander’s voice dropped to a gentle murmur. “’Lana?”

  She leaned up against Noel’s dresser. “Yeah?”

  “Be careful, okay?”

  The warning threw her. Typically, she fussed over him as opposed to it being the other way around but the tightening of her gut told her there was more to his commentary.

  “Worried?” she questioned.

  “I know you. I know you and I know you don’t get distracted. Distractions aren’t welcome. So whoever he is…just be careful.”

  He was right. Her brother was right and that shook her more than the realization that her entire itinerary for the day had been derailed. Alana bit her thumbnail, paused for a moment to regain her casual air, to push past the questions swarming her like African bees, each sting angrier than the last. What are you doing? What is he doing? This is just sex right? It’s just really wonderful sex?

  She wouldn’t—couldn’t—expect more than that. Alexander had a reason to be concerned. She had a reason to be concerned. Expectations led to the constant wonder of crushing disappointment. Alana knew that. She knew that with everything in her. Her life now—who she was today—had been spun from crushing disappointment.

  “Fret not, sweet boy. I know how to leave the money on the night stand and scoot out before they get too attached.”

  “I’m going to hang up now,” her brother answered. “Because you made things really uncomfortable.”

  She chuckled again, jumping slightly when she caught Noel filling the doorway. Tossing her phone down, she eyed him. “The Barbarian gone?”

  He frowned, seemingly annoyed. “No. Decided to stay and use the gym anyway since he came all the way here.”

  Alana shrugged. “I’m getting out of your hair so you can still go train.”

  Shaking his head, he came further into the room and closed the door behind himself. “No training.”

  “Oookay…” she drawled. Alana was just about to ask him what he planned to do if he wasn’t going to train when her phone jingled.

  Alex: Hey, can the guy touching you up possibly get me into a meeting with Ricardo or…?

  She rolled her eyes. “Why is he so fucking nuts?”

  “Sibling?” Noel questioned.

  Alana lifted her head, tilted it. “Genuinely curious or trying to determine whether or not I’m planning my next date?”

  With a smirk, Noel folded his arms. “Sugar, you could plan a thousand dates and I would take great joy in showing up to each one, spreading you wide and stuffing you to the fucking brim with dick.”

  There was nothing following that statement. Nothing that said he was even remotely kidding.

  “You’d do it, wouldn’t you?” she accused, ignoring the rasping of suddenly tight nipples against her stolen t-shirt. “You and that country logic would knuckle drag to any and everything else I chose to do with another man.”

  His blink was slow and the fire that ringed his normally soft gaze made Alana tuck her lips in. “There isn’t gonna be any you with another man.” His voice vibrated so furiously that she just about swallowed her tongue.

  She went for bravado. “Because I had a moment of weakness and fell in line with your He-Man act?”

  His chest moved with a deep inhales. “Because if there is going to be a thousand dates, they’re going to be with me and me alone. I plan to court you properly.”

  “Court. Me?” she said, drawing out the words.

  He nodded. “Court you.”

  Alana felt her lips pulling downwards. “No.”

  “No?”

  “No,” she responded, sighing when he said nothing else, just continued to stare. Urgh. She had to get out of here; escape while she still had a modicum of sense and self-preservation left. He’d twisted her inside out and Alana needed to right herself, to dig past the buzzing in her loins and find her center, her zen. He’d un-zenned her and it wasn’t okay!

  “So you can commit grand acts of larceny with my clothing but you can’t eat pasta in front of me?” the zen-violator in question demanded.

  Alana frowned. “I planned to return the t-shirt…and the sweats…and the boxers.”

  He blinked. “You took boxers?”

  She tucked in her lips. “You had an unopened pack in the back of the drawer and I’m not particularly fond of commando living so…”

  Noel opened his mouth, seemed to have second thoughts about his response and promptly closed it. “I don’t understand you.” He sounded so…despondent. “Why can’t I understand you?”

  For some inane reason she wanted to comfort that forlorn query as opposed to continuing her great escape. “Noel, whatever this is…I just can’t.”

  “You can’t?”

  She shook her head. “I don’t trust myself to make wise decisions concerning you.” It was the truth. Alana had ventured down this rabbit hole once before and because of it, she was left crippled for weeks on end while every accomplishment, every award, in her name had been scrutinized. And the person responsible for it all had gone on to a lovely early retirement and a condo in Boca Raton.

  Noel wasn’t him. No man after the one that she’d almost lost everything over had been remotely close to him. It was a purposeful choice to insure that she always had the upper hand in her relationships. How else would she avoid having her heart gutted from the cavity of her chest twice? She could if she never allowed it to come into play, if she cut those niggling feelings of attachment from herself and cauterized the wound. It had all been so uncomplicated until no
w.

  “Probably because they might end in latent displays of kleptomania.”

  Her mouth curved involuntarily. He was irritatingly amusing and that was such a problem.

  “I like you, Alana,” he told her in a tone that made her feet suddenly grow roots to the spot where she stood. “Why won’t you let me like you?"

  How did she even begin to answer that?

  His voice turned imploring. “I can’t pretend. Don’t make me pretend.”

  She broke their mutual staring, looked down and silently admitted that she couldn’t pretend either, that it would be frustrating to keep up the smoke and mirrors. But still…

  Alana exhaled and caught his gaze again. “Wariness keeps me aware. It keeps me grounded. It keeps my life as private as I want it to be as opposed to having the discomfort of being bled for the satisfaction of others.”

  Because that couldn’t happen again. Twenty-year-old Alana had carried that cross so twenty-five-year old Alana never had to bear it again and she wouldn’t go back. She wouldn’t be skewered again, have the ugliness of her past mistakes and regrets drug up from the pit that she’d buried them in. Even while digging that hole, she’d known that it would never be deep enough because the scars were still there. Naiveté was a hell of a drug and self-disgust was always the come down.

  Noel remained silent for a beat and then took a step forward, eating the few feet between them with his much longer legs. “Let me like you.” Another step. “Let me have my way.” Another.

  She swallowed, leaning backwards onto the dresser as he pinned her in, the ridges of his belly brushing her own when he exhaled. He bore down on Alana, hovering his mouth over hers when he whispered, “Let me remind you of why you can’t say no to me, sugar.” A predatory flash of his teeth passed before he cinched them down of her bottom lip, released and then repeated the action. With each pass, his tongue swept further; laving and dismantling any argument she had thought to form. There were a bevy of things that made her skin goose pimple but Noel’s kiss—the fierce urging of his hands—choked all cognizant behavior from her.