“So—are you still up for offering those two the scare of a lifetime?” She wrinkles her nose, and I fight the dirty grin dying to take over.
“I’ll say it again. I’m in.” I lean in, towering over her like some sexist oaf. “Where do we draw the line?” Everything in me wants to trace out her lips with my finger. I’d die happy just to trace out her body with my hands.
She swallows hard. Her breathing picks up, but her eyes are still secured to mine. “I’m in it to win it, Gordo. Do whatever you have to do to make this believable. It’s only the deep end that matters, right?”
A small laugh gets buried in my chest. That’s a saying we came up with shortly after we both mastered the fine art of swimming. An analogy for the hard part of things that we needed to conquer. It was only the deep end that mattered in most things. Poppy and I shared so many firsts together, it’s touching when you think about it. But we shared the bitter firsts, too, when things began to go south.
“This is the deep end, Pop. If you need a boost out of the pool—”
Her affect flattens from an opened mouthed smile to a stern, I-might-just-kick-your-ass frown. “I won’t need a boost, Stade.” The fact she just invoked my last name is not a good sign. Any invoking of the last name by either party was a clear signal someone was damn pissed. “I’m going to put on a show out there, and I suggest you do the same. This is no-holds-barred. Now, grow some hair on your balls and let’s have them eating out of our wicked palms by the end of this night, got it?”
A dark laugh rumbles in my chest, but I won’t give it. “I got it. You realize this might kill your brother.”
“You realize my brother might kill you.” There’s a touch of a smile when she says it, and now I’m wondering if that’s been the plan all along.
“Touché.” I touch my thumb to her cheek, just shy of her lips, and she twists into it as if begging me to touch her mouth. “We’re going to make this look like the real deal. You and I are going to date, Eight Ball—and you’re going to like it.”
And deep down, so the hell am I.
If Poppy wants a show, that’s exactly what she’ll get. I’ll deal with Conner later.
Dinner goes off without a hiccup with Poppy seated right next to me as if it were a natural occurrence and not something more along the lines of a solar eclipse, or a comet that shoots by Oak Grove for a hot L.A. minute.
Conner keeps me busy with talk of sports, the office, the girl he took home last night. Mom and Char yak up a storm about their favorite things, themselves, their friendship, their blog, their big sixtieth bash coming up in a few weeks, and, of course, their secretive announcement that has had us curious for over a month now. Most likely some new recipe that they believe will be groundbreaking in the culinary world that exists outside of Oak Grove, or some new stunt their sixty-year-old twisted minds think is pretty nifty and will most likely cause unending humiliation to whomever they’ve pegged as their victim.
“Speaking of announcements.” Mom tips her head my way, her blue eyes filled with curiosity. “You mentioned you had something very special you wanted to share with us this evening.” Her eyes enlarge without stopping, and for a minute I’m convinced they’ll take over her head.
“Oh?” Charlene is seemingly perplexed by this. “Poppy mentioned she had something she could hardly wait to get off her chest as well. Isn’t this an interesting turn of events?” She strums her apple red nails over the table.
“That’s right.” Poppy stands and smacks my arm for me to do the same. Her chest pulsates in and out as she pants up a storm, and for a brief moment I envision her on top of me, those sweet tits that have been staring me in the face all night dripping into my mouth like honey. The thought alone makes me feel guilty for carrying on an entire conversation with Conner while thinking about licking his sister’s body in all the right places. “There’s something I’ve been keeping from you.” She picks up my hand, and an audible gasp circles the room. My own mother’s jaw roots to the hardwood floor. “Something we’ve both been keeping from you.”
Mom sucks in a hard breath as does poor Charlene, the two of them with their hands pressed against their chests. If this goes over too well, we just might have a double funeral to plan.
Conner clears his throat, his arms crossed over his chest as if to protest whatever is about to fly from her mouth.
Jules slaps a hand down over the table in protest, and poor Jensen looks up from the kiddie table at me. My heart breaks because I never wanted to lie to any of them. But I’m here, and Poppy Montgomery is holding my hand, and for a moment, everything seems right with the world. It wouldn’t surprise me in the least to see Dalton Stade, my own dead father, walk right through those doors. This is a night of impossibilities, and surely that would be the biggest one of all—outside of this miracle taking place beside me. I want to pinch myself to see if it’s real. Every face that I’ve known all my life stares up at me in a mixture of horror and disbelief—utter delight in our mothers’ eyes, and yet a twinge of doubt there as well.
My mother tosses down her napkin with all of the drama she can drum up on this cold January night. “What in hell’s name is going on?”
I clear my throat as I look to Poppy. She’s frozen. Her breathing has gone from panting to hardly taking in enough oxygen to keep her on her feet.
“What we’re trying to say is”—I look into Poppy’s lime green eyes, and a swell of relief comes over me because I don’t want to pretend with her. I want to believe it’s so, that every bit of this is real—“the two of us are together now.”
An audible grunt comes from the motherload end of the table, followed by whimpers and the frantic flailing of limbs as they fan one another in an attempt to keep from passing out. Conner stands for a moment in protest, mumbling an indistinguishable threat before falling back into his seat.
“Okay.” Char holds out a hand. “You’ve got us. I don’t think I could take much more. The gig is up. It’s not funny.” She wags her finger our way as if to admonish us further.
Crap. I glance to Poppy, and her smile tightens as she squeezes the shit out of my hand, code for what I’m assuming means do something right fucking now.
“No joke.” I pull Poppy’s hand to my lips and linger over her velvet flesh a moment too long. “We’ve been secretly in touch for months now. We’re officially a couple.” Her eyes widen a notch when I say it. “And we wanted to let you in on our little secret.”
Jules shakes her head in protest, but for the most part I’ve managed to silence the masses once again.
Kali looks right at me with that this-is-the-no-bullshit-zone look on her face. “Is this true?”
“Yup. I went out to see her this Christmas.”
Mom gasps and points over to me with a stabbing finger. “You swore you had a business meeting in New York you couldn’t get out of.”
“You did.” Conner shoots a suspicious look from Poppy to me. Conner may be aware of my schedule, but he doesn’t have a GPS tagged to my briefcase.
Yes, I did, but that’s beside the point. Poppy didn’t show up for Christmas, so that creates the possibility.
“I knew if I said Los Angeles you’d put the pieces together.”
My mother shakes her head as if there wasn’t the slightest chance she could have, and judging by that shocked as hell look on both their faces, I can tell we’re off to a damn great start.
“Oh dear. Is this really happening?” Char clutches onto poor Frasier as if everyone in the room is suffering a mass hallucination.
“It’s happening,” Poppy assures. “In fact, the reason we’ve decided to spring it on you so quickly is because, well, we’ve sort of been moving quickly ourselves.” She straightens. “Not like that, Dad.” The room breaks out into a nervous chuckle, with her sister being the loudest and Conner being the quietest. I don’t know what Mack finds so funny, considering this was her bright idea. I make a mental note to send her a thank you somewhere down the road.
“What she’s trying to say is”—I wrap my arm around Poppy’s tiny waist and pull her in close—“we’re madly, deeply, crazy in love.” I gaze into those lily pads she calls eyes, those deep unknowable wells you could dive into. “We don’t want to keep our feelings a secret anymore.” I kiss the back of her hand and pull her in tight until her soft tits rest over my chest. “And try as any of you might, there’s not a thing that can ever keep us apart again.”
“Oh my God!” Char sways in her seat, and I almost feel sorry for her. Heck, I almost feel sorry for my own mother who seems to be equally struggling to hold it together.
Frasier clears his throat, his face still rife with suspicion. “When exactly did the two of you reconnect?”
“I’d like to know that myself.” Jules offers me a hard look that says my ass is grass once we’re alone. I’ve never kept much from Jules. Kali was just a kid when Poppy and I went our separate ways, but Jules was someone I could talk to and I did. She knows just about everything. Just about.
“I’m in line myself.” Conner offers a smug look my way that says despite the evidence he’s in control of this haunted hayride. He gives a hard look to my arms positioned around her waist. “And, dude, get your hands the hell off my sister.”
Char swats him over the shoulder. “Oh, hush, you. They’re a couple now. Couples hold one another in public. Get over it. Your sister is in love.” Her entire face lights up like a Christmas tree. “They’re lovers!”
“They’re lovers!” Mom cries—and holy shit, the entire rest of the table looks as if they’re about to be sick.
Poppy picks up a knife and taps it over her glass, calling the room to order. “We’re not moving that fast,” she trills. “This is still something pretty new.” Her face darkens a severe shade of crimson. Poppy has always blushed at the drop of a hat. When we were kids, I used to say the first embarrassing thing to enter my mind just to watch her cheeks do their best impression of a pomegranate.
“But we are moving quickly.” I wrap both my arms around her tight.
Poppy looks up with those long lashes, that hot as fuck mouth, and all I want to do is run her up to the nearest bed and have my way with her. Poppy has always been the unattainable girl in a world where a plethora of girls offered themselves to me as a carnal sacrifice—usually in exchange for cash and prizes. I learned early that my bank account was just as great a lure to my mattress as any of my features.
“Very quickly.” She lets out a frenetic laugh, and dinner is officially over as Mom and Charlene clear the table and land a chocolate cake the size of a small car before us.
“It’s better than sex cake!” Mom yodels. Words and sounds you never hope to hear from your mother. “Of course, we made it for dessert, but it’s perfect to honor the occasion!”
Kali and Jules help dole it out while Mack pulls Poppy to the side for a minute. Most likely to congratulate her on a well-done performance.
Conner comes in red-faced and angry. “What the fuck, dude?” Those daggers in his eyes promise to stab the balls right off my body first chance they get.
“Whoa.” I nod as we step off to the side. “Watch your mouth. There are ladies present.” Okay, so I might be holding in a laugh, but only because I know how much this is killing him right now. A part of me knows I should put him out of his misery, but I’m rather enjoying that pained look on his face.
His shoulder butts into mine as he sets his angry face before me. Conner has Poppy’s eyes, and there have been times where just looking at him hurt. “One of those ladies is my little sister. Dude, have you lost your mind? I see what you do with those girls you pick up at the bar—it’s not pretty. And it’s not happening to my baby sister.”
“Look, loosen up. I’m not doing those things with her.” There. At least now he can catch his breath and maybe sleep at night. The dude is about to stroke out. “We’re taking it slow. Just seeing where things might lead.”
“They lead nowhere.” Conner jabs his finger hard into my chest, leaving a sting that radiates from his furtive stab. “Knock this shit off. I’ll have six girls sent to your office come Monday. Just lay the hell off my sister.”
“What’s this?” Poppy pokes her head between us. “He’s not laying the hell off me, Conner. He’s my personal boy toy.” Poppy cups my cheeks with her palms, and I twist into her. Holy hell, she is about to get us both killed. “Jax Stade doesn’t need six women sent to his office.” There’s something just this side of a dare in her eyes, and instinctively my balls warn me to be very, very afraid. We might be playing our mothers, taking her psychotic brother along for the ride, but something in that glib expression of hers says the joke might just be on yours truly. “The only woman Jax will ever need is me.” Her eyes linger on mine, and I’m mesmerized by how convincing she is. She’s right, of course. I’m just not sure she’s aware of it.
“A toast!” Charlene cries while holding up a slice of her sinful chocolate cake.
“Yes!” Mom shouts, holding up her own slice of chocolate heaven. I’ve grown up on that better than sex confection, and I can attest to its name. Although I’m betting a roll in the sack with Poppy might change that perspective. A visual of her falling over my lap like a jackhammer treks through my mind. Her naked body, pale, beautiful, those tits bouncing like—
“To Poppy and Jax!” Mom brings her hand to her chest as tears glitter in her eyes. “May the journey lead to a blessed union in the very near future!”
Poppy and I groan in unison. It never takes long for our mothers to do the matrimonial math.
“And children!” Char holds up a fork full of cake. “Lots and lots of children!”
The room breaks out into a sorry sort of congratulatory chaos—with the exception of the sheer exuberance of our mothers.
“How about a kiss?” Frasier holds up his wine, proving he’s legitimately toasted.
Both Charlene and Mom look to one another slack-jawed—most likely ticked that they didn’t think of it first.
“A kiss?” Poppy whispers. “That just might be the icing on the cake.” Her fingers press into my side as if encouraging me to take the initiative. But I don’t need encouragement. I’m already there.
I lean in, and her eyes widen. Her mouth falls open, and as much as I’d like to think it was out of anticipation, Poppy looks just as floored as everyone else in the room.
But I go for it. My lips brush lightly over hers, and the world, my life, my heart stops. I have kissed a cast of thousands—mostly horny as hell women. My lips have touched even more than that, but this simple, lighter than air, feathery brush has proven far more erotic than anything I’ve ever experienced.
Poppy pulls back with a breath caught in her throat.
Our mothers moan and gasp for breath themselves in disbelief.
“You kissed me,” Poppy mouths just before biting down on a smile waiting to break through.
“And I’m going to do it again.”
“Oh no, you’re not.” Conner spins me toward him, and the last thing I see is the whites of his outraged eyes before his fist connects with my jaw. And just like that, a fistfight of the ages breaks out.
There are two things I’ve waited years to do—first, land another kiss onto Poppy’s lips. And second, beat the shit out of Conner Montgomery.
Sensual Shenanigans
Poppy
There are two things I’ve waited years for. The first was to feel Jax Stade’s lips against mine just one more time. And the second, to see our mothers worked up like a pair of cackling hyenas who unbeknownst to them have landed on the receiving end of the high jink laden crazy train they’ve been commandeering for as long as I’ve known them.
The Starry Nights Bar and Grill is sparsely populated on this cold as a witch’s tit afternoon. I’ve always hated that sexist expression that my brother seemed to be so fond of, but on this below zero arctic hour, it seems to be a fitting description. I glance around and spot Sadie talking to Hunter, our old childhood fr
iend who took this place over from his father. Handing things down to your children is sort of a rite of passage in Oak Grove, be it a billion-dollar steel company, a bar and grill, or even a crappy sense of humor.
I head over, offering Hunter a spontaneous hug. Hunter is handsome and sweet—a dangerous combination of everything right. He once asked me on a date to the movies in our junior year and never bothered to show. He apologized profusely and cited cold feet, and we’ve never brought it up again. I never seemed to have any luck with the boys in Oak Grove, so the incident didn’t scar me all that much.
“What’s up, Montgomery?” Hunter hands me a soda from under the counter. “What’s this I hear about you taming Stade?” His blond brows meet in the middle as if this were a genuine crisis of vaginal proportions.
I glance to Sadie as the truth bubbles up my throat. I can’t go around lying to everyone I know.
Sadie gives a slight shake of the head. “Yes. It’s a new endeavor they’re embarking on—but come on. Everyone who’s anyone in Oak Grove has known those two were destined for one another.”
“Right,” I say convincingly. “We’ve finally laid our mothers to rest.” Way to sound morbid. But if the bitter truth does them in, then it’s spot-on.
Hunter grunts, “Nice, Pop. It sounds like you killed them. And you know what else you killed? My business. Word on the estrogen-laden street gets out and my nightly bar crawlers will reduce by a third.”
“A third, huh?” I muse at my old friend. “I didn’t realize Jaxson Stade’s penis was responsible for boosting both the clientele and the economy at Starry Nights.”
Hunter groans just as an entire gaggle of distraught looking women stagger in. “Please don’t say the word penis under my roof. And I’d better go console the masses. I just want you to know, I’m holding you personally responsible for the financial decline around here.”
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