by RC Boldt
Interrupting him, she raised one eyebrow pointedly. “Darlin’?”
The handsome former Green Beret held her gaze before breaking into a wide grin. “I hate to break it to you, but I call everyone darlin’ … darlin’. I rarely call anyone by their name.”
Miller snickered. “Nice job on inserting a country song into your response.”
“I tend to grow on people, Ford,” Kane said with a smile.
“Like a fungus,” Foster muttered before turning his gaze on her. “Hey, we’re getting together over at Mac and Raine’s place Friday night. Hope to see you there.” The way he said it, the underlying message was clear in his tone.
Translation: I expect you to be there because I want you to bond with everyone. And I’m not buying into your excuses anymore.
Yeah. She wasn’t proud to admit that she’d basically signed up for every half-marathon she could find in the surrounding southeastern states the last few months. Simply to avoid having to endure the majority of social outings such as the one Foster had just mentioned.
Noelle made a face at their boss. “I was invited by your sister, so … unfortunately, that means I’ll have to endure a double dose of Hannibal Kavanaugh.”
“I haven’t eaten anyone’s face, Davis.”
“Yet,” their blonde office manager mumbled.
“I can tell you what I have eaten, though.” Foster’s tone was full of insinuation, eyebrows arched suggestively.
Their office manager made a sick face, raising up one hand. “Please. Stop. I’m about to be violently ill.”
“You bringing a date Friday, Noelle?” Kane asked, suddenly.
“No, sir.” Noelle shook her head. “I’m anti-men.”
Noelle’s got the right idea, she mused silently.
“Oh, hey, Ford. You looking for a bigger place?” Miller asked.
She shrugged. “Not really.”
“Well, just wanted to throw it out there, we’ll have vacancies depending on whether you can deal with roommates or not.” Miller went on to elaborate, “I’m moving out of the place I rent with Kane, and then Lawson’s roommate has moved out.”
Foster shook his head. “I always forget Lawson had a roommate. Dude was like a ghost. Never really saw him but once. Hid in his room most times, from what I’ve heard.”
Nodding at Foster before returning his attention to her, Miller continued. “Anyway, those are two places up for grabs if you’re interested. Although our place is a little more pricey on rent than Lawson’s place since it’s on the beach.” He shrugged. “Just throwing that out there.”
Yeah. Throwing that out there. Because the question was, would she prefer paying a higher price in rent to live with Kane Windham, the charming Texan who would call her darlin’ every chance he got?
Or would she prefer to live with Lawson Briggs, the tall, bearded man who was the joker of the bunch, always teasing and often ridiculous in his humor? A man who made her uneasy because she couldn’t deny the hint of attraction she felt toward him when they had first met.
More than that, he was a man who—with his twinkling blue eyes and engaging smile—made her yearn to let go, to let those walls she had erected out of necessity down, to bask in his easygoing, lighthearted demeanor.
But she’d learned her lesson the hard way. There was only one person who could protect Langley Ford.
Langley Ford.
C
HAPTER TWO
Law of perversity of nature: You cannot determine beforehand which side of the bread you should butter.
Lawson’s take: Yoda once said, “Butter the underside, you must.” Oh, wait. Maybe that was me.
~
“Hey, man. CAN I BORROW two of your Miss Rumphius books for a lesson?”
Lawson looked up to see that his friend and coworker, Pearce Hadley, had entered his classroom. Pearce—a former combat pararescueman—often raided his book collection for his own sixth grade class as he was still a new teacher and building his own classroom library.
He’d been sitting at his teaching table, grading reading tests and entering them into the electronic gradebook program on the school-issued laptop sitting before him. “Sure.” He pointed with his pen. “It’s over there on the top section of the bookshelf. One of my student helpers for the week just organized them.”
“Sweet. Thanks.” His friend walked over to retrieve the books in question. “How’s it going with not having a roommate, nowadays?”
Letting out a derisive laugh, he shook his head. “Dude, it always kind of felt like I didn’t have a roommate. Kev stayed holed up in his room so much I started to wonder if maybe he had captives in there. Luckily, he was always on time with his rent.” He made a face. “Who knew the dude had a girlfriend? But apparently that’s who he’s moving in with.”
His classroom door opened and he watched as Mac and his wife, Raine, entered, the door falling closed behind them. Mac was a fourth grade math teacher and Raine was the Science Lab teacher for the upper-grades.
“Well, hello, Mr. and Mrs. Mackenzie,” he greeted them with flourish. “Just get finished making out?” He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively. He loved giving the couple grief, but in reality, they were so in love that is was nauseating adorable.
They were also known to have a lot of sexy time. A. Lot.
Raine rolled her eyes. “Seriously, Laws? We just got finished with car rider duty.”
One eyebrow raised, he grinned. “Is that what you crazy kids are calling it these days?”
Mac shook his head, his infamous dimple showing as he chuckled. “You’re all coming over tonight, right?”
“I’ll be there,” Pearce answered. “I may be a little late since I promised my sister I’d check out a few places she’s interested in renting.”
Pearce’s sister was planning on moving from Pensacola to the area for a position she’d been offered at the University of North Florida. She’d been having a tough time finding a place within her price range, so Pearce had been trying to scope out some reasonable rentals nearby.
Turning to Pearce, he looked the man over from head to toe. “So, what’s your sister look like, Hadley?”
Throwing up a hand, Pearce gave him a stern glare. “Don’t even think about it. She just got out of a relationship so she is officially off-limits.” His friend’s tone was terse, brown eyes conveying his seriousness.
Hands held up as if in surrender, he said, “Whoa, whoa. Those horses? Rein ’em in. Besides,” he lowered his hands, “I’ll have you know that I’ve got my sights set on another beauty.”
“Aww, that’s so sweet.” Pearce grinned. “It’s me, right?”
He made a face. “As if. You’re way too high maintenance.”
Hand coming to lay over his heart, his friend wore an expression of mock sadness. “That wounds me deep, Briggs. Wounds me deep.”
“Well,” Mac began, “word on the street is that we’re going to have to prepare for a wedding soon for Miller and Tate.”
“Miller and Tate are planning to get hitched asap?” His eyes widened in faux surprise. “Is Miller knocked up?”
His friends’ responses came rapid fire.
Raine: “Laws.”
Pearce: “Seriously, dude?”
Mac: “Briggs, you’re killing me.”
Pearce deadpanned, “Yeah, Laws. That’s exactly it. Miller Vaughn is pregnant.”
He pumped his fist in the air. “Yes! I’m going to be an uncle!”
Raine laughed. “Laws, stop. They’re not pregnant.” Sobering, she stated, “But they are getting married.”
“Not wasting any more time, is what Miller said,” Mac added.
“Don’t blame the guy.” Pearce nodded. “It’s long overdue.”
“Anyway, Kane got his certification online to be an officiant—”
His hand shot out. “Hold up. Did you say that Kane’s going to be the officiant?”
Mac gave him an odd look. “Yes. Kane’s going to be the officiant
.”
“But I can totally be an officiant,” he offered, ignoring their immediate snickering.
Raine looked at him, rolling her lips inward as if trying to restrain a smile. “Um, no offense, but they might not want mentions of inappropriate things and such in their wedding vows.”
“Because we all know that’s what would happen.” Pearce folded his arms across his chest with a smirk.
He put his palm over his heart. “That hurts.”
“Speaking of Miller,” Mac started, “he’s about to close on the new place so that means Kane’s going to be down a roommate. And you’ll be down one, too.” Their friend turned to Pearce. “Are you looking for a better place?”
Pearce lifted one shoulder in a half shrug. “Not actively looking. It’s not a pressing issue or anything. Yeah, my place is small but it’s not claustrophobically tiny or anything.”
“I know someone who has a super tiny place right now.” Raine paused briefly. “Langley,” she sing-songed, flashing a meaningful glance in his direction.
He had to admit, the idea of having Langley as a roommate was tempting. Really damn tempting. He doubted she would be interested, though. Yet, there was undeniably something about the woman that … called to him.
And, yeah, he fully admitted how hokey that shit sounded. But the instant he had seen her, met her, traded quips with her, things had suddenly become clear.
Langley Ford was a game changer.
More specifically, though, he had a feeling—deep down—that Langley Ford might possibly be his game changer.
C
HAPTER THREE
Law of selective gravity: An object that is dropped will fall and, in turn, do the most damage.
Langley’s take: I’m pretty sure I’m the object falling. Into a pit of despair. Or just a pit of über feminine women. And the damage? It’ll end up being to my defenses.
~
“YOU DO REALIZE THAT RESISTANCE is futile, right?”
Laney Kavanaugh—her boss’ sister—linked an arm through hers, leading her into the large master bathroom of Raine and Mac’s beach home. She glanced over at Tate Donnelly, the petite blonde currently standing with a shoulder propped against the doorway leading from the master bedroom to the bathroom, munching on a bag of what looked to be organic cheese puffs.
As if noticing where her attention had been drawn, Laney snorted. “Don’t mind Tate. She’s always eating.” Leaning in toward her conspiratorially, she added in a loud whisper, “Kind of scary to think that possibly someday she’ll be pregnant and eating more than her usual nine thousand calories per day.”
Tate shot her friend a look. “I’d throw one of these at you but they’re too delicious to waste on a hater.”
“You love me, hooker.”
Shrugging, Tate gave a melodramatic sigh. “It’s true.”
As she entered the bathroom, she saw Raine turn, setting down the curling iron on the vanity. Wide smile forming, the brunette beamed at her. “I’m so glad you made it, Langley.” Raine took what seemed like a bouncing step toward her, wrapping her arms around her in a hug. She awkwardly patted the other woman’s back, instantly hearing snickers from behind her.
Disengaging the embrace, finger pointed at Laney and Tate, Raine tossed them a sharp look. “Don’t.”
Wide-eyed with innocence, they looked at one another before Tate responded, “You have to admit. It was funny.” She stuffed another cheese puff into her mouth, chewing and swallowing. “She looked as stiff as a board when you hugged her.” Turning to face her, Tate smirked. “No one warned you that she was hugger, did they?”
Her facial expression must have been answer enough because Tate immediately gave a tiny laugh.
“Anyway,” Raine began, “I wanted to see if you wanted to maybe borrow some clothes or we could mess around with your hair and makeup.” She looked up at me, her wide green eyes brimming with excitement. “It’ll be fun.”
It was clear that she hadn’t been able to mask the mixture of horror and shock on her own face at the offer when the dark-haired woman burst into laughter.
“I’m sorry. I don’t mean to laugh at you. It’s just that your expression right then was like …” Raine trailed off, turning to the other women for help in supplying the word. Immediately, the two offered responses, both appearing as if they were having a difficult time schooling their expressions, restraining smiles.
“Unadulterated horror?”
“Pure and utter terror?”
“I’m not exactly well-versed in, uh, female stuff.” She inwardly winced after she spoke. God, she sounded like an idiot. Not to mention, completely insecure.
Give her a med kit and toss her out into a war torn country to rescue injured people and she was confident—badass, even. But throw her in the midst of three attractive women who were not only comfortable but basked in their femininity?
Yeah, that was when she was completely thrown off her game. Felt like a fish out of water.
“That’s what we’re here for, sweetie.” Raine smiled at her, gesturing for her to step into the bathroom, waving for her to sit upon the closed toilet lid.
Tate, having disposed of her bag of cheese puffs, was finishing washing her hands in the sink. Wiggling her fingers playfully, Laney approached where Raine had deposited her upon the lid of the toilet.
“Wait ’til we get our hands on you, Langley Ford. Mr. Funny Pants won’t know what hit him.”
What?
“Hey.” Laney’s words made her head jerk up. Tossing her light brown hair over her shoulder, Foster’s sister pointed at her. “That frown? It just won’t do.”
Eyeing her warily, she asked, “What do you mean? Who’s Mr. Funny Pants?”
Please don’t say Lawson. Please don’t say Lawson. Please don’t say—
“Lawson, of course,” Tate answered succinctly.
As if she might glean more of an explanation, she glanced at Laney, who now had a wide grin that was actually a bit … scary. Like she knew something. She and her brother, Foster, had that same creepy I can see inside your head and know your thoughts kind of thing going on. To say that it was unnerving would be a grand understatement.
Raine playfully shoved at Laney. “Stop. You’re scaring her off.” With a hand on her hip, she waved the other as she spoke. “Then what will we do? I like even numbers. A lot. She’s our fourth.”
Tate looked over to where she still sat, rigid. “They’re actually normal when they need to be. I promise.” Tossing an amused glance to her friends, the petite blonde added, “Now’s just not the,” she used air quotes, “‘need to be’ moment, I guess.”
Raine reached toward her to remove the tie she had used to pull her hair back into a simple ponytail. Immediately noticing her stiffen, the woman paused, focusing her green eyes on her. “May I?”
Inhaling deeply, she closed her eyes and muttered a half-hearted response, “Sure.”
Because, really. When was the last time she’d ever had girlfriends who wanted to do each other’s hair? Who had wanted her—Langley Ford—to be their ‘fourth’?
Oh, hmmm. How about … never?
More importantly, when was the last time she’d had female friends? The fact that she had to ponder that for far longer than a minute spoke volumes. Because it had been years since she’d had a female friend.
It had been back in elementary school. Before kids began to understand and realize what kind of person Regina was, before the other mothers had to watch their husbands around the woman. After that, she hadn’t been asked over to other kids’ houses, and never got invited over for birthday parties. Basically, she got shuffled off to the side. An outcast.
As she heard the three women begin carrying out whatever it was they were planning on doing to her, she kept her eyes closed, practicing calming techniques so that she didn’t freak out.
Because, shit. Foster Kavanaugh hadn’t been kidding. These people were clearly not the type to allow anyone to get shuffled to the
side and not be included.
The soft palm of a hand laid upon her shoulder instinctively made her stiffen. “Relax,” came Tate’s voice, tone subdued. “We’re going to take good care of you. Promise.”
It wasn’t just the way Tate spoke or the words themselves that struck her core. It was the combination of the two. There was a softness, a gentleness in the woman’s tone; an underlying tenderness and sense of caring that came through in her voice. That, in itself, was powerful. But that wasn’t the true zinger.
It was the fact that she could explicitly recall the last time another female—not a motherly figure like Claire Brooks—but a fellow female her age, had ever truly taken the time to care for her, to do something for her just because and not for any self-serving reasons. The answer to that was simple.
Never.
C
HAPTER FOUR
Newton’s first law of motion: Objects in a state of motion remain in motion.
Lawson’s take: Yoda once said, “In motion, you will stay. And get a semi in front of a lady, you should not.” Oh, wait. Again, that was me.
~
“WORD ON THE STREET IS that your woman’s coming tonight.”
Kane’s words caused Lawson’s head to whip up. Noticing Foster had done the same, he cocked an eyebrow at the man. Because, since when did Foster have a “woman”? Unless …
“Who are you talking about?” he asked, eyes flitting over to gauge Foster’s expression before returning to Kane.
His friend chuckled, southern drawl seeming to thicken. “Well, I was actually speaking of you, Briggs. But,” his eyes focused on Foster, amusement obvious. “I know that your woman will also be making an appearance.” Allowing his eyes to take in Foster’s attire, he added, “And, clearly, you planned accordingly. I have to say one thing, though …” Kane trailed off, speculatively eyeing Foster’s khaki cargo shorts.
Foster crossed his arms, the muscles in his biceps stretching the fabric of his short-sleeved polo, eyes narrowed on his friend and employee. “And just what is that one thing, Windham?”