by Liz Crowe
She stood, sending all the toys crashing back onto the concrete. “Do not call me that. Don’t touch me…don’t ever speak to me again.” Her jaw clenched, not unlike Antony’s when he got his temper up. “And at least I ended the day in a way that your parents could appreciate. Unlike some people.” With that, she flounced off in a huff, leaving him breathless with anxiety and the words, “Antony and I are getting married,” whirling through his brain.
He barely registered the ride home in the dark, with the Mustang’s top down and radio blaring. Renee prodded him through the front door, and he headed for the kitchen seeking water. He gulped down three full glasses then set the empty on the counter, eyes closed, processing all he’d seen, done, and experienced in the last few hours. Exhaustion crept up and pounced, until he wanted to sink to the floor and curl up in a ball.
“Aiden, sugar bear,” Renee called from the bedroom.
He groaned, remembering he “owed her” for the quick-and-dirty in the pool that had so distressed Rosalee. “Coming.”
“Come on in here and just settle down, let me take care of the rest,” she crooned, soothing him, and making him horny all at once. Three times in one day had to be some kind of personal record, but he flopped back and let her tug his shorts down and off. The room faded on him then, and he sighed, stretching his arms over his head.
“Aiden,” a female voice whispered. “Open your eyes.”
A womanly shape appeared in front of him—full hips, lush breasts, thin waist, thick hair tumbling around her shoulders. She walked closer, a breeze from the open windows lifting her hair. She stood at his knees then straddled him, fisting his miraculously hard dick. Her lips found his, no…they were on his cock. Wait…there were two sets of lips.
He groaned and reached for the woman who had him down her throat, wanting to see her face, but finally surrendered and arched into her efforts.
When the second woman straddled his face, he gripped her hips, licking and sucking, teasing, fingering, and moaning when she came all over him. At that moment, luscious suction girl stopped, leaving him on the knife-edge of orgasm. As he lay there gasping like a beached fish, one of the girls crawled up his body and settled onto him, gripping him so tight he grunted as she rocked her hips.
Where in the hell am I? Still poolside? At my parents’ house? Lord, I hope not. I’ll never live this down.
Shit.
Goddamn that feels good.
The woman on him ground down, using her inner muscles to clench and release him, tugging him back to the edge. But then, she disappeared, too.
Confused, heart hurting, chest aching, and ready to explode down below, he blinked, trying to sort out what, exactly, was going on right now.
“Aiden,” a voice whispered in his ear.
“Aiden,” another said, nearer his crotch.
“Huh,” he croaked.
“We want to watch you come.”
A set of lips found his balls, the other his nipple. He fisted his own dick and let it happen as warmth flooded his brain just before it coated his hand. A blanket covered him. Soft female lips kissed him one by one, teeth nipping his lip, fingers teasing him over the fabric. Then, they were gone.
He woke in the morning with a pounding headache, stickily sandwiched between Renee and Tricia.
Chapter Fourteen
September
Rosalee shifted in the uncomfortable faux-leather recliner next to Lindsay’s hospital bed. She glanced at her phone to confirm the time—well past midnight, but not enough to justify giving up on sleep just yet. Her over-caffeinated brain spun, making her eyes burn.
The room door creaked open and a nurse peeked in. “She sleeping still?”
Rosalee nodded, getting up to stretch her lower back, thinking she might as well walk around, as sit and be miserable.
“Bless her heart.” The nurse held the door open so Rosalee could exit. “She’s such a fighter.”
Rosalee nodded. The last couple of months had been such a blur she got tired thinking about it. Waving at the nurses on night shift, she headed for the lounge, needing a change of scenery. Lindsay would likely wake in another couple of hours and she’d want someone nearby.
Dropping into a chair, Rosalee let gravity tug her down as she stretched her legs out in front of her. She’d been living on crappy food for nearly two weeks since Lindsay had been sent back to the hospital. A post-operation infection after Aiden had found her shivering, burning up from fever, crouched in her bathroom and babbling like a crazy person, put everyone in the Love household back on edge.
They kept pumping that god-awful poison into her, in an aggressive attempt to kill every healthy cell she possessed, on the off chance they’d kill the cancer ones, too. Lindsay alternated between practically comatose from painkillers, and puking her ever-loving guts out—brutal and awful to observe. But her family had worked out a schedule so that not one of them stayed with her longer than a couple of days in a row for sanity’s sake.
Rosalee flat out refused to leave her alone at night, something everyone else seemed willing to do, which infuriated her. She’d actually screamed at Antony when he’d dared suggest they come home the first night and let the nurses deal with her.
“Goddamn you to hell, Antony Ian Love. If that were any of you ungrateful shits lying there, do you honestly think she’d ‘let the nurses deal with you at night?’ Really?”
“Well, she’d charge you two bucks for all those bad words if she could hear you.”
He’d collapsed into a chair then, fueling her guilt. He’d been dealing with so much with AliceLynn back at home, trying to be a dad, while not throttling her at the same time. A challenge, Rosalee knew. The girl did her level best to make life miserable for the man, despite their regular therapy sessions with that Margot person.
Rosalee tried not to let her lowlying jealousy about the time Antony spent with his therapist overwhelm her. She held her hands up over her face, reassured by the sight of the diamond ring he’d given her the weekend after that bizarre “family-conference cookout” when he’d rushed back from fixing the therapist’s car, grabbed her, kissed her, gone down on one knee, and asked her to marry him.
The expression on his face that night had been one of desperation and despair. She preferred to think about it as concern that she might say “no.” But more than once, something made her think otherwise, especially lately.
Rosalee closed her aching eyes, willing images and memories of Aiden out of her brain. She had to be done with him. He’s an immature punk, like Antony frequently stated. Spoiled rotten and ruined by it, but hopefully willing to work back into some kind of usefulness now that he’d landed a teaching job at the community college to round out his hours at Love Garage.
“Hey,” a soft voice teased her half-waking dream state. She stretched, relishing the memory of Aiden’s lips on hers.
“Rosalee,” the voice spoke again, making her smile at the sound of Aiden’s voice in her dream. Something tickled her cheek. She brushed at it, still reliving that first kiss, when he’d threaded his fingers through hers.
When her chair tipped back, making her gasp and grab the armrests, she cursed and opened her eyes, coming face-to-face with the man in her dreams.
He grinned, which did not ease her pounding heart. “Truce. Seriously. I just thought you might be hungry.” He held out two chocolate-dipped ice-cream cones.
She frowned but her mouth watered at the sight. “Fine. Give it to me.”
He raised an eyebrow and held the cone closer to his body.
“I’m not in the mood, Aiden,” she warned, her face growing alarmingly hot.
“I can see that. When did you last shower? I mean, really.”
“Fuck you. Give me the ice cream now.”
“Such a delicate desert blossom.” His grin widened and he handed hers over then settled back to eat his.
Rosalee inhaled it, relishing every creamy, fattening bite.
“How is she tonight?” he
asked, after he passed her a napkin.
“Better I think. A lot better than last night. Which is good, they say.”
“Infection is gone, right?”
“Yeah, but she’s fighting the chemo, too, so she’s just so worn out. She can hardly hold her head up when she’s awake, which is about five hours a day.”
“How’s Jeff?”
“Freakin’ out, most days. Paul’s mama deals with him mostly. I don’t know.”
“You don’t have to be this person, you know—the one who watches over our mother twenty-four-seven, making sure the nurses and doctors don’t screw up.”
She glared at him. “Don’t make me give you the same speech I gave your brother.”
“Want me to grab Jeff tomorrow? Take him to the pool and keep him at the house, maybe spell Mrs. Norris for a couple of days? I don’t start teaching until next week.”
A bolt of relief shot through her. Without thinking she reached out and grabbed his hand. “Yes. Thanks. That would be great.”
After following his gaze down to their joined hands, she tried to pull away, horrified at how natural it seemed to touch him. But he held onto her, using just enough pressure to let her know that he wouldn’t let go.
“I miss you.” His words sent a jolt down her spine.
She sucked in a breath. “I look a fright. I don’t think I’ve showered in two days, if you must know.”
Aiden made a show of pinching his nostrils shut. She smacked his shoulder but couldn’t bring herself to let go of his other hand. An awkward silence descended between them.
“Does he know?” Aiden’s voice stayed low and intense.
Rosalee blinked, processing that. She frowned and tugged at her hand, but Aiden held on tight, boring into her with his intense hazel eyes.
“Does who know what?”
“Does Antony realize how lucky he is?”
She tried not to giggle, or burst into tears.
You don’t get to have them both, Rosalee. Get a hold of yourself.
“Spare me your sweet talkin’.”
He let go of her hand and moved back, stretching his legs out so they were on either side of her feet. “I suppose he does,” Aiden said, softly. “When do you think they’ll let her come home?”
Grateful he’d changed the subject, Rosalee blew out a breath. While she’d never admit it to him, his presence soothed her. It must be his place in the Love family pecking order that made him so relaxed and calm and seemingly drama free. As she opened her mouth to reply, a nurse stuck her head into the lounge.
“Hey y’all, she’s awake and askin’ for you.” Her eyes flickered over the somewhat intimate way the two of them sat, Rosalee with her elbows on her knees, Aiden with his legs framing hers. “Hey, Aiden.”
“Hey, Sherry.” He flashed his wide smile at the attractive girl, who blushed.
Rosalee had an irrational jealous spike, the same one she’d endured during that terrible display in the pool the night of the family conference. She’d had to drag Antony away from the window, saying he had to help her distract Lindsay and Anton from the noise.
Her face flushed hot at the memory so she fiddled with her hair, hoping to smooth it and wishing she’d slapped on some makeup that morning, however long ago that was, of course. She’d lost track of time.
You’re engaged to this man’s brother. You do not have to primp for him.
Stop staring at his ass.
She shook her head and she followed Aiden and Sherry the adorable nurse back down the hall to Lindsay’s room.
Chapter Fifteen
“Aiden! Aiden! Aiden!” Jeffrey jumped up and down and clutched at his jeans.
“Yeah, pal, now tone it down to a dull roar a second, please. I need to talk with your Grandma.” He took the boy’s hand. “I’ll keep him overnight and tomorrow Mrs. Norris. Get some rest.”
She nodded, but gave her grandson a fierce hug, seemingly unwilling to let him go despite the fact she looked like ten miles of bad road after ten days of one-on-one with him. Jeffrey struggled away from her in a typical, selfish, four-year-old way. Aiden picked him up and fastened him into the car seat Antony now kept in all of his vehicles.
A sign, Aiden. They are getting married, hitched, ’til-death-do-they-part. Lord forbid that would happen to either of them again. Stop obsessing. Stop. Stop. Stop.
They sang Old MacDonald all the way across town to his parents’ house. He wrestled the squirmy, over-excited kid into swim trunks, lathered sunscreen on him as best he could, stuck his floaties on his spindly arms, and tossed him in the pool. Aiden stood, trying to catch his breath, wondering how in the hell his mother had done this thing, not once, not twice, but five different times.
Jeffrey spluttered and spat then grinned so wide something in Aiden’s chest did a strange sort of twanging. A kind of pang of missing something he wanted, that had nothing to do with getting laid, filled it—a wholly new sensation and one he didn’t know how to take. He shook his head, took off his T-shirt, and jumped in, bringing squeals of frightened delight. After endless rounds of Marco Polo, some quick, but ear-splitting efforts to go without the floaties, a cannonball-splashing contest, and a water-gun war, they sat together on a lounge chair, covered in a dry towel.
“Hungry,” Jeffrey insisted, half-asleep. “I wants a hot dog.”
“Gross.” Aiden hauled them both up and out of the chair. “How about a peanut butter and jelly sandwich? It’s my specialty.”
“I am allergic to peanuts.” Jeffrey had a grip on his neck with one hand, his other thumb lodged in his mouth, eyes at half-mast.
“Oh, right, good to know. Okay. Let’s see what’s floatin’ around in the kitchen. Go pee and then sit on the couch.” He wandered into the kitchen, hoping something resembling food could be found. He hadn’t been to the store in over a week, ever since they’d readmitted his mom. His father went from brewery, to hospital, to home, in a weird, uncharacteristic daze, so Aiden figured he hadn’t thought through the food thing yet. He paused as a shiver shot down his spine at the realization if what they all prayed would not happen, did happen, they’d be fending for themselves a lot more pretty soon.
He shook it off and opened the pantry, shocked to find it overflowing with staples. Grabbing spaghetti noodles, he set water on to boil. The fridge practically overflowed, chock full of tinfoil-covered disaster-oles from the neighbors, two gallons of milk, a huge pitcher of lemonade, and a bunch of fruit suspended in jello. A couple of gallons of homemade ice cream sat in the freezer. He wouldn’t have put it past Rosalee to have devised all of this, but he figured it for a group effort. In a small town, one where Lindsay had grown up, raised her family, and organized similar efforts for sick folks, word traveled fast, and the good Christians in town moved faster with their help.
He found the butter and Parmesan cheese, poured a giant glass of milk, downed it then poured some more.
“Hey, come on in here. I found something.”
Jeffrey wandered in, rubbing his eyes and looking alarmingly red on his shoulders and cheeks, making Aiden wince and wish he’d applied more sunscreen. But the boy had his dad’s complexion, slightly darker than Rosalee’s, so he figured it would fade, no harm, no foul.
Placing the milk on the table, he told Jeffrey to grab a seat then cut up an apple and a banana, and stuck them in front of him.
After glaring at the fruit, he said, “Jeffrey doesn’t like it.”
“Okay.” Aiden hadn’t been a fan of fruit when he was little either. “Well, what do you like?”
“Hot dogs.”
“Here’s the thing,” he said as he drained the noodles then mixed them with plenty of butter and cheese. “I know for a fact that your mama would not let you eat hot dogs. So try that with some other babysitter. It won’t work with me.” He divided the noodles into two bowls and sat, holding up his fork. “Dig in, little man. This is gourmet stuff.”
Jeffery just glowered at him then crossed his arms and stuck out his l
ower lip. Aiden braced for an outburst, but kept eating.
“I don’t like s’ghetti.”
“Really? Cool. I’ll eat yours then.” He grabbed his bowl, wondering if he should just drop him into bed and worry about eating when he got up.
“Jeffrey wants a hot dog!” The last two words were a high-pitched screech, accompanied by the crash of the milk glass hitting the cabinet. “Aiden gets me a hot dog now!” Before he could launch off the chair and into the glass shards, Aiden snagged him and hauled him up onto his shoulders.
He managed to avoid piercing his feet on his way out of the now-destroyed kitchen, and keep his cool. Finding a towel, he tried the wrapping up trick that had worked at the cookout. But this time, Jeffrey used every ounce of his furious energy to thwart it, managing to punch Aiden twice in the eye and stomp on his nuts.
“I hates Aiden!” he screeched. “I wants Mommy!”
At that moment, Dominic appeared, arms loaded with grocery bags. He set them down and took two steps across the room, picked Jeffrey up, and held him over his shoulder until he stopped struggling and lay limp, sniffling, and sucking his thumb. Aiden dropped onto the couch, rubbing his sore eye while Dominic carried Jeffrey upstairs.
After coming back down, he sat in the chair opposite Aiden and pinned him with a dark, Love-patented glare. “You gotta stop this.”
“Stop what?” Suddenly bone tired, Aiden wanted nothing more than to crawl in bed to take a nap.
“Oh, little A, you’re gonna cause trouble no matter what you do, aren’t you?” Dom got up and smacked his head hard enough to make him yelp.
“I have to teach Monday. It’s my first class,” he said, apropos of not much, but feeling a need to justify his existence.
“Okay then, Professor Love, try to keep out of co-ed panties.” Dom picked up the grocery bags and headed into the kitchen. “Shit! Motherfucker…you could have warned me about the minefield, Aiden. Get in here and clean this up.”