by Lili Valente
“Long time, no see,” Mason says, his grin as wide as mine.
“You didn’t take the time to shave.” I lean against the doorframe and cross my arms, not missing the way Mason’s gaze flicks down to the cleavage displayed by my black baby doll dress and back up again.
“I was in a hurry,” he says, stepping closer.
“In a hurry for what?” I ask innocently. “Dinner isn’t being served until seven.”
“In a hurry to get back to this woman I like a whole lot.” Mason reaches for me, pulling me out the door and into his arms. “She’s about your height and wearing this little black dress that I think might drive me crazy by the end of the night. Or ten minutes from now, I can’t be sure.”
“Is that right?” I put my arms around his neck, standing on tiptoe to whisper my next words inches from his lips. “And why’s that?”
“Because she looks amazing, and I want to touch her so badly it’s probably criminal.”
“You’re touching me right now.” I lean in, pressing my breasts against his chest.
A pained expression flickers across his face, and I shiver.
I understand that pain.
I feel it all over, in every place that aches for him to touch me, taste me, slip his fingers between my legs and discover how much I want him. I’m so keyed up even a friendly hug on my parents’ front porch is enough to make my panties wet. I’m pretty sure I’m becoming what my Great Aunt Regina would call a “shameless hussy,” but Mason feels too good to care.
“You’re killing me.” He shifts until my hips are fitted against his, and the hard ridge behind his fly confirms that I’m not the only shameless hussy around these parts.
“Killing you?’ I echo.
“But what a way to go,” he says, his voice a low rumble that sends tingles across my electrified skin. His hand skims down to cup my bottom, nudging me closer to the thick length I’m dying to feel inside me.
“What’s the male version of a shameless hussy?” I ask, my breath coming faster. “A huss?
Mason arches a brow. “A hoss?”
“No, that’s like…a cool guy. In the seventies.”
“A man whore?”
I tilt my head back, bringing my lips closer to his as I whisper, “No. Hussies don’t get paid. They’re in it for the wicked, wonderful, shameless pleasure of it all.”
His jaw tightens. “I’m definitely in it for all of those things. God, Lark, you feel so good. Just holding you is…” He trails off with a shudder that echoes through me. His fingers dig deeper into my bottom, making me wonder what it will feel like when he does that with nothing between us but skin.
From there, my mind quickly spirals straight into the gutter and the last of my reason vanishes in a rush of desire. “Let’s get out of here.”
He blinks. “We can’t… Can we?”
“Sure we can,” I say, fisting my hands in his shirt. “We can go to my place. It’s close.”
“What about the cookout?” But Mason is already backing away from the door, drawing me with him.
“We’ll be fast,” I say, not caring that I’m barefoot or that I’m leaving without telling my sisters where I’m going, not caring about anything but getting closer to Mason. “We’ll be there and back before anyone—”
“Lark! Mason!” calls a light voice from inside.
A moment later Melody appears at the front door, her eyebrows shooting up when she sees us practically humping each other on the front porch. But she quickly recovers, playing it cool as she adds, “Um, hey you two! Sorry to bother you, but I think I messed something up.”
“Messed what up?” I run a hand over my hair, fighting to breathe normally as Mason sets me back on my feet. I turn, blocking his body with my own, hopefully providing some cover for the hard-on situation. I’m sure Melody won’t be looking in that region, but Mason isn’t small and the strained front of his jeans would be hard to miss. Hopefully we can keep this short and sweet and Melody will head back into the house.
“Am I supposed to bring the basting sauce to a boil and simmer it for a few minutes, or just bring it to a boil and then remove it from the heat?” she asks. “The notes on your old recipe card are smeared.”
“Let it simmer,” I say with a nod.
“How long?” Melody asks. “Because there isn’t a lot of excess liquid and I don’t want to run out of—”
“Just put it on to simmer and I’ll be in in a second.” I widen my eyes at my sister in a silent plea for a moment of privacy.
“Oh. Okay. I’ll go get the grill started then.” Melody backs away with a little wave. “Glad you’re here, Mason!”
“Thanks, me too,” he calls after her.
I turn to glance at him over my shoulder, biting my lip. “I think our escape has been thwarted.”
“Probably for the best. Nash will be here soon.” He takes my hand and pulls me through the door, adding in a softer voice, “And I don’t want a quickie with you, Sunshine. Not the first time. I want all night, hours and hours to worship every inch of your beautiful body.”
“Same,” I murmur before pressing my lips lightly to his.
It’s just the ghost of a kiss—only a few seconds long and the barest nudge of my warm skin against his—but it’s enough to make me feel like someone set a swarm of bees loose in my belly. In seconds I’m buzzing all over, from the tips of my fingers to the soles of my feet and everywhere in between.
God, this man just…does it for me. All of it. All the tingling and humming and aching and needing and wanting that I wasn’t sure I was capable of feeling again until he swept back into my life.
“Knock, knock,” a deep, male voice rumbles from the open doorway. “Hope I’m not interrupting.”
Mason pulls away and turns to greet the other man with a smile. “Nash, hey man. Good to see you. This is Lark, hostess and the best cook in Georgia.”
“Hey,” I say, laughing as I take Nash’s outstretched hand. “Not sure about ‘best,’ but top hundred at least. So glad you could make it.”
“Thanks for inviting me.” Nash grips my hand firmly, but gently, as he smiles. It’s a wide, friendly smile that showcases very straight teeth set in an undeniably handsome face.
As I take the bottle of wine Nash brought as dinner tribute and lead the way into the kitchen to open it, I give Mason’s friend a subtle once over.
Nash is about Mason’s height, but thicker all over, with muscles that strain the sleeves of his tight, red t-shirt and jeans that were obviously purchased at some kind of specialty store for men with giant quadriceps and tiny waists. Mason is an athletic, muscular guy, but Nash has the body of a professional athlete. Between the killer physique, tan skin, white teeth, bright green eyes, boyishly short brown hair, and sweet, lazy drawl, Nash is any red-blooded woman’s dream come true.
If Nash doesn’t remind Aria why she used to like spending time with boys, no man will.
Yes, indeed, I think as I pour myself a glass of the Chardonnay Nash brought and get both of the boys set up with a beer. Aria is going to love this one.
As if summoned by my thoughts, Aria appears in the doorway with Felicity balanced on her hip. She’s wearing a burnt orange sleeveless sundress that brings out the auburn in her hair. She’s actually wearing makeup, for once, and her chunky turquoise jewelry emphasizes her green eyes. Best of all, she’s smiling her big, bright, unguarded Aria smile down at Felicity.
It’s a rare smile these days, but it reminds me of why, when I was growing up, I always wanted to look like my big sister. When Aria smiles she’s more than just pretty, she is break-your-heart stunning.
There isn’t a man alive who can resist her.
I peek over at Nash to see if his jaw has dropped, to find an unexpected frown pulling at his handsome face.
“Hey, Lark, I turned on the bug lights, but I can’t reach the torches. Daddy put them up so—” Aria looks up, breaking off as her gaze skims over me and Mason to settle on the man beside u
s, her eyes widening with shock before her brows pull together in a frown that matches Nash’s to a T.
Chapter 17
Lark
“What’s he doing here?” Aria’s voice is cold enough to make me wish I’d grabbed a light sweater before coming downstairs.
Something is definitely wrong. Very wrong.
My nerve endings are sending out red alert signals even before Nash drawls, “Nice to see you, too, Aria.”
Mason and I exchange panicked glances behind his back.
Aria and Nash know each other? How?
Crap on a cracker, what have I done? My sister isn’t going to be distracted by a handsome single guy; she’s going to be livid with me for inviting someone she obviously can’t stand to a family barbeque.
“Looks like motherhood’s been good to you,” Nash continues. “Pretty as ever.”
Aria’s eyes narrow, but her lips stretch into a tight smile. “And it looks like you’re still a gym junkie. Still measuring your thighs every night before you go to bed?”
Nash chuckles, a warm sound that fills the kitchen, banishing the prickle left behind by Aria’s words. “Nah, now I measure my biceps. It’s harder to get the tape around my arm with one hand and you know how we backwoods hicks love cheap entertainment.”
Aria visibly bristles, like a hen ruffling her feathers.
I jump in before my sister can lob another verbal hand grenade.
“I invited Nash, Aria. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you,” I say with an apologetic smile. “He’s an old friend of Mason’s and we thought we might need some help eating all the steak. You know it’s never as good the next day.”
“That’s all right.” Nash sets his beer on the counter, shooting me a warm smile that makes me want to beg his forgiveness for exposing him to my sister in her current, caustic state. “I can go. It’s no big—”
“No, stay,” Aria says calmly, making Nash turn back to her with eyebrows raised. “I’m sorry I was rude. I was surprised, but that’s no excuse,” she continues, making my eyebrows shoot up right along with Nash’s.
Who is this woman, and what has she done with my refuses-to-apologize-unless-she’s-caught-with-her-hand-in-the-cookie-jar-sister?
“We’re not kids anymore,” Aria says as she shifts Felicity to her other hip. “There’s no reason we can’t all have a nice evening together. Especially since Daddy won’t be home until next week.”
“Well, that’s good news,” Nash says, but he makes no move to reclaim his beer, obviously still on the fence about whether to stay or go.
I honestly can’t say which I’d prefer. I don’t want to offend one of Mason’s friends, but I can’t deny I am dying to know what the backstory is between Aria and Nash.
Why do they despise each other?
And what the heck does Daddy have to do with it?
“I honestly had no idea this was your house,” Nash says, a hint of embarrassment in his deep voice. “Mason didn’t mention his girlfriend’s name, just gave me the address and a time to show up.”
“Don’t worry about it. Stay, eat with us,” Aria says in a breezy tone only a sister could tell is forced. “Come on into the backyard. You’re tall enough to light the Tiki Torches, and I’ll introduce you to Melody, my other little sister.”
“All right.” Nash grabs his beer and slips by Aria, out into the backyard.
Aria waits until he’s out of earshot before whispering through clenched teeth, “I’m going to kill you.”
“I’m sorry,” I whisper back. “I had no idea. I didn’t—”
Aria stops me with a hand in the air, rolls her shoulders back and sashays into the backyard. A moment later, I hear her introducing Melody and Nash, then telling Nash how to light the torches and thanking him for sticking around to enjoy the evening.
“She really is going to kill me,” I mumble as I set my wine down and go to check the simmering marinade.
“Why?” Mason asks. “How do they know each other?”
“I have no idea.” I shrug and shake my head.
“You don’t think they dated, do you?”
I arch a brow his way. “You think?”
He chuckles softly. “Yeah, that wasn’t ‘used to be friends’ tension.”
“Or ‘used to be enemies’ tension,” I agree. “They definitely were a thing at some point, but I have no idea when. I know I’ve joked about not remembering the names of all her boyfriends, but I would have remembered a name like Nash. And I have no idea what Daddy has to do with anything. He usually did his best not to interact with the guys Aria dated, at least not until it was clear she was going to keep one around for a while.”
“In denial,” Mason says with a smile.
“Totally in denial.” I laugh as I give the basting sauce one last stir before declaring it ready and turning off the heat. “He’s like that with Melody’s boyfriends, too. You were the only one he ever really liked.”
Mason comes closer, putting his arms around my waist. “Think he’ll be happy to see us back together when he gets home?”
I turn to him, unable to resist running my fingertips down his scruffy jaw. “Maybe not at first, but once he sees how happy I am, he’ll come around. Don’t worry about Daddy.”
“I’ll prove to him that I won’t screw up again. Just like I’ll prove it to you,” Mason says, leaning down to press a kiss to my forehead that makes my entire body light up. “Now, what can I do to help? Chop the salad?”
“No, Melody did the sides this afternoon. I just need to get the steaks started. Why don’t you go rescue Nash from my sisters, talk manly stuff, and I’ll be out in a second.”
Mason nods and ambles toward the backdoor. “I’ll do my best, but I’ll never be as manly as Nash. He’s even bigger than he used to be. Enough to intimidate we lesser specimens.”
I shoot him an amused look. “As if.”
Mason grins. “I get intimidated.”
“You’re no ‘lesser specimen.’ You’re the best looking man I’ve ever seen,” I say, propping a hand on one hip. “If you were any better looking, I’d have to beat other women off of you with a stick. A big, heavy, spiky stick.”
“I’d like to watch that,” Mason says, making me laugh as I shoo him out the door.
“Get out,” I say. “Or we won’t be eating until eight o’clock.”
I bustle about the kitchen, taking the avocado sauce out to warm up to room temperature and getting everything ready to bring out to the grill, smiling to myself the entire time. I can’t help it. Even knowing Aria is going to unleash her crankiness upon me as soon as the boys leave tonight isn’t enough to dampen my spirits.
Ten minutes later, I join the party in progress in the backyard, shocked to see Nash down on the grass on his hands and knees with Felicity, playing with a big red ball, making the baby squeal with laughter. I shoot Aria a look as I cross to the grill, but she only shrugs and takes a long drink of her Chardonnay.
“They look like puppies,” Melody whispers as Nash crawls across the grass to fetch the ball and Felicity follows with an excited burble. “They’re so cute!”
“Shush,” Aria says beneath her breath.
“But they are, Ra,” Melody says. “I wish Brian had been able to come tonight. He thinks little babies are boring, but I’ve never seen—”
“All right, time for a diaper change,” Aria calls out brightly, setting her empty glass down and hurrying to scoop Felicity off the grass. The baby fusses for a minute, but then Aria lifts her up to blow onto her bare belly and Felicity begins to giggle and squeal once more.
She really is the happiest baby.
Too bad Aria is so miserable.
As the evening wears on and we all settle down to eat, things only get worse. I know no one else realizes what’s going on—not even Melody, who is clearly enjoying the food and company—but it’s obvious to me that Aria is dying a little inside every time Felicity reaches for Nash.
I’m worried a blood vessel in my
sister’s brain is going to burst when Felicity finishes her baby food and chunks of banana and insists on sitting on Nash’s lap, gumming tiny pieces of steak he places on the edge of his plate for her.
“Are you sure that’s okay?” Aria asks. “I’m afraid she’s going to choke. She’s never eaten red meat before, only a little chicken I cut up in chunks.”
“Aw, she’ll be fine,” Nash drawls. “She’s nine months, right?”
Aria blinks in surprise. “Yes. Just about. Next week, actually.”
Nash nods and grins at the baby who gurgles happily and drools onto the big hand he has wrapped around her tummy, holding her safe on his knee. “Yeah, she’ll be all right. My mom always said that after six months babies could eat just about anything, as long as the pieces were small enough.”
“She should know,” Mason says. “Nash has, what, ten brothers and sisters?”
“Eleven of us total,” Nash confirms, his eyes still on the baby. “I’m the oldest, so I’ve got lots of practice feeding rugrats. My mama and daddy both worked nights growing up. Most days I was in charge of dinner for the whole tribe and whatever cousins decided to drop by.”
“Seems like you’d be sick of babies,” Aria says.
“How could anyone ever get sick of babies?” Nash jogs his knee and Felicity grins up at him, that gummy grin that always makes me want to scoop my sweet niece up and squeeze her tight.
“The waking up three times in the night part can get a little exhausting,” Aria says in a weary voice, making me feel terrible for not offering to get up with Felicity while I’ve been staying with them.
Felicity is a great baby, but she still wants a bottle two or three times a night, and Aria doesn’t get much uninterrupted rest. It’s really no wonder my sister is cranky. She’s probably severely sleep deprived.
“She should be sleepin’ through the night by now,” Nash says. “She’s just messing with you.”
“She’s a baby,” Aria says.