Getting Rough

by C. L. Parker

  I managed a stretch across the distance to the bedside table to turn the alarm clock toward me. Shit. 10:00 A.M. I’d been out for more than twelve hours. My arm dropped like deadweight and I closed my eyes again, wanting nothing more than to double that time, but I knew I had a flight to catch and one hell of a drive before I’d make it back to the airport, and none of that was happening before I had a chance to face off with a certain Cassidy Whalen.

  Hauling myself out of bed with a groan and a stretch, I made my way across the room, feet dragging and all, to take my cellphone off the charger and check my messages. Damn, but I’d forgotten the zero cell service shit. Luckily, Wi-Fi at least enabled me to get an iMessage to Ben for my flight information, which he should’ve already sent to me, I was sure to point out. After pressing the send button, I hit the shower.

  When my phone dinged, I abandoned my watery haven and crossed the room, stark naked and dripping wet, only to find a screenshot message from Ben with the flight information he’d sent exactly as he should have. Only, for some reason it’d never made its way to me. And I’d already missed my flight. I was a giant ass for getting in his face when I should’ve known better. So I shot him a very rare apology and told him to hold off on making other arrangements until I had a better idea of when I could make it to the airport. I hadn’t had my say with Cassidy, and I wasn’t about to leave until I did. I just had to find her first.

  By the time I was fresh, pressed, and dressed, I felt halfway human again. I even had a little pep in my step with the realization that the element of surprise was on my side. Cassidy had no clue I was here, in her town, right under the same roof where she’d grown up. I had to admit it made my dick hard, which just meant I was looking forward to seeing her that much more.

  The aroma of fresh-baked cookies wafted up the stairs as I started my descent, teasing my stomach into a whimpering sort of growl. Tendrils of sugar-laced air were like fingers with a come-hither curl leading the way to their origin. The wooden steps creaked under my weight, which I was pretty sure was the only thing covering the roar of hunger coming from some place inside me.

  At the bottom of the steps, I made a left into a large kitchen, bright and cheerful with its whitewashed everything and oversized windows framed by curtains of blue and yellow flowers. The countertops were a country blue, the same color as the stools that circled the island bar in the center of the room. A short, plump woman was busy transferring chocolate chip patties from a cookie sheet to a cooling rack as she hummed a cheerful tune in a soft voice. Something about the scene made me pause to soak it up, wishing with all my might that I’d had this stranger for a mother instead of the alcoholic who’d given birth to me and then left me to fend for myself.

  “Oh, I didn’t realize anyone was standing there,” the woman said, wiping her hands on the apron fastened around her waist. Her dark blond hair was only barely contained in a messy bun at the nape of her neck, a few unruly locks having made their escape to frame her soft, round face. When she batted one away from her eyes, a streak of flour marked her wrinkled skin like war paint on a Native American.

  “Not sure if you remember the introduction from last night, but I’m Abby. I’m running things around here for the time being. And you must be starving.” She put a hand on her hip and leaned against the counter. “Normally, I’d ring your room to give you a last call for breakfast, but I didn’t want to take a chance on waking you. You just seemed so tired when you checked in.”

  “Did I?” I knew how delirious I’d been so I wasn’t sure why I’d asked.

  “Well, I hadn’t even made it out the door after showing you to your room before you were face-first and snoring, so I’d say yes.” She laughed, taking my arm to usher me over to one of the stools at the island. “Sit. I’ll make you something to eat. Would you like eggs and bacon or a turkey sandwich?”

  I smiled up at her, but I was the one who’d been charmed. “Whichever one gets me a cookie for dessert.”

  “Turkey sandwich it is then,” she said, and then shuffled over to the refrigerator, pulling a few contents from within. Over at the stove, she pulled out a skillet, and busied herself with whatever else she was doing. “You never said if you’re here for business or pleasure or how long you’ll be staying.”

  It sounded like a question, one she expected me to answer. But how much should I say? If she was Cassidy’s mother, would she warn my target of my presence before I could get to her?

  “I’m, uh… I’m actually here to handle a personal matter before it can affect me professionally.” It was the truth, though it could’ve been the other way around as well. “Hopefully, I’ll be checking out today.” And to be sure I could, I picked up my cellphone, prepared to call Cassidy and find out where she was.

  “Oh, honey, if you’re trying to communicate with someone off the island, you best do it the old-fashioned way.” Abby waved to the rotary phone on the wall.

  Seriously? Those things still worked?

  “The town had a Wi-Fi connection installed last year, but it’s still sketchy at best, and you can forget about cell service unless you go up to the top of the hill. There’s a phone in your room, though. You’ll need a calling card to make long-distance calls, which you can get down at the store.”

  They still make calling cards? I no longer thought I was in an alternate universe or The Twilight Zone. I was now convinced I’d somehow traveled back in time; only, the silver DeLorean was a little white Yaris.

  A plate slid in front of me holding a buttery toasted sandwich cut in half to expose a mound of turkey and bacon with cheese oozing from the center. A pile of chips and two dill pickle spears took up the rest of the plate. When I’d asked for a turkey sandwich, I’d assumed it would be a cold cut on white bread with a slab of pasteurized cheese and a thin layer of mayo. What I got was a culinary masterpiece, every red-blooded American man’s fantasy. My taste buds started pushing and shoving toward the front of my mouth, salivating for the first smack of flavor. Using both hands, I picked up one half, careful to avoid the burn of melted cheese, and took a bite.

  “Have mercy…” I moaned around the decadent sensation making love to my tongue.

  Abby giggled, and it was damn adorable, too. I wondered if she’d adopt me, or if, at the very least, I could adopt her. She brought me a glass of ice water before going over to the stove and sink to start the cleanup process.

  I was more concerned about the sandwich than the water and I took another giant bite, as though someone might try to take it from me if I didn’t eat it in a hurry. It would be a mistake they’d never make again. “You have a lovely home.”

  Abby gave me a look, most likely because the words I’d said had been fighting for room with the food in my mouth. Yep, she was definitely somebody’s mom. “Do you want to try that again?”

  I swallowed before I made the same mistake. “Sorry. I said you have a lovely home.”

  She smiled in approval and then went back to her cleaning, happy to be doing so, from what I could tell. “Oh, it’s not mine. It’s Anna’s. I’m just helping out.”

  “Anna? Anna Whalen?”

  “Yep, just like the sign says.” She rinsed the skillet she’d washed by hand and put it in the drainer. “My Thomas and I have known Anna and Duff for all our lives. Everyone knows everyone around here, in fact, but the four of us…” She paused before continuing, “The six of us couldn’t be any closer to family if we shared the same blood.”

  “Six? I’m usually pretty good in math, but I only counted four names. What am I missing?”

  “Oh, I meant our children.”

  “Ah. One of those children wouldn’t happen to be Cassidy Whalen, would it?”

  She turned to face me, eyebrows reaching for the sky. “You know our Cassidy?”

  “I do. She’s actually the reason I’m here.” When she looked confused, I clarified, “We work together.”

  “I see. So you’re from San Diego, are ya?”

  “Well, I live
and work there, yes.” I finished off the sandwich and pushed the plate away, which Abby replaced with a saucer that held three cookies. “You wouldn’t happen to know where she is, would you? We have some unfinished business I really need to get wrapped up before I leave.”

  The sound of a Hemi engine started up the driveway, getting louder the closer it got to the house until it came to a stop and cut off just outside the back door.

  Abby undid her apron and hung it from a hook on the wall. “Ask and you shall receive,” she said with an infectious smile. Just then the door off the mudroom opened and the object of my obsessive and impromptu mini vacation popped inside.

  “Abby!” Cassidy squealed, and then practically skipped through the room to hug my kind hostess without noticing, or maybe not caring, that anyone else was present.

  Her back was to me, which meant I got a great glimpse of her ass in a pair of black leggings. I wasn’t used to seeing her attire so relaxed, but I would for damn sure be on Team Leggings from then on. Long ginger hair swung from a ponytail that I also hadn’t been used to seeing, and an oversized sweater was another added surprise. She was damn sexy and my cock was impossibly hard. Forget yelling at her. I wanted to fuck her until she could no longer walk. And I would. Just as soon as I could get her alone.

  “Ah, Cass, you’re too skinny,” Abby said, taking a step back to confirm with her eyes what she felt with her arms. “It’s all that Californian, so-called healthy-eating-lifestyle crap. Tofu and veggie shakes are not food. Not to worry, I’ll fatten you up in no time.”

  “Abbs, you keep making those famous chocolate chip cookies I smell and my ass will spread from the aroma alone.”

  And that was my cue. “Huh, and here I thought it was the leggings.”

  Cassidy nearly jumped out of her skin at the sound of my voice. When she turned to see me sitting there with a shit-eating grin on my face, she yelped a “Holy crap!” and then grabbed her chest as if by doing so she might be able to keep her heart from making a run for cover. It was cute how she stumbled backward and would have fallen if it hadn’t been for Abby’s quick save.

  I allowed her a moment to recuperate, which was pretty human of me, and more than she deserved. Especially since she got the added bonus of Abby doting on her all the while to be sure she was okay. Meanwhile, I ate my cookie and did that thing with my eyes that usually had women naked in two point three seconds.

  Apparently, Cassidy was immune, but I blamed myself. It was hard to feel sexy when you were in fight-or-flight mode. Unless that was the sort of thing you got off on. I knew some women like that.

  When Cassidy finally found her voice again, it was too composed. “What the hell are you doing here, Matthews?”

  I was equally calm. After all, I no longer had anything to hide, but it seemed Miss Shifty Eyes did. “Oh, I think you know very well what I’m doing here. I, however, can’t say the same about you.”

  Cassidy made a whole bunch of sounds that were either syllables out of order or words that weren’t fully formed. None of it made sense, but judging by the expression on her face, maybe that was because she was just as confused as her vocabulary seemed to be.

  That, or the cat had her tongue. Seeing her get all squirmy like that made me wish it’d had mine. I’d make sure my wish was granted soon enough, but as long as the roles were reversed, I saw no reason I couldn’t have a little bit of fun with it.

  “Is something the matter between you two?” Abby was in mama bear mode, ready to defend her cub, though I honestly didn’t know if it would be Cassidy’s rescue she would come to or mine.

  “No, we’re fine,” Cassidy lied, and then she plastered on a fake smile. “Shaw and I work together. I’m surprised to see him here… in my home… unannounced, though.” Clearly, she didn’t expect to see me here, but that was the point, so boo on her for stating the obvious.

  “I’m surprised to see you here, too… not in San Diego… unannounced,” I mocked her. “Why are you not in San Diego?”

  “My boss, my friends, and my clients know why I’m not there. As far as I knew, they were the only ones I owed an explanation. Why do you care?”

  “We have unfinished business. Or did you conveniently forget?”

  “I said all I’d wanted to say. There’s nothing unfinished about it.”

  “Isn’t there?” I countered. “Maybe we should go somewhere a little more private to discuss the matter.”

  Cassidy looked from Abby back to me before answering. She looked more nervous than any innocent person should. She was definitely hiding something. “I can’t. I’m here to relieve Abby, so you should probably go back to San Diego, crazy stalker man,” she said through a forced smile.

  Abby waved her off, completely ignoring the “crazy stalker man” comment. “Nonsense. I’m right where I want to be. Besides, what else am I going to do besides sit around and worry myself to death? At least here I feel like I’m doing something productive,” she said then grabbed the plate in front of me, but I snatched the last cookie before she could take it away, which earned me an approving smile and a pinch of my cheek. I really liked Abby. Maybe I could fit her into my suitcase and steal her away.

  “Besides, it’s been a while since you’ve been home. You probably need some time to get familiar with where everything is again.”

  Ouch. If the pained expression on Cassidy’s face was anything to go by, I’d say that innocent statement had cut pretty deep. My little round hostess seemed much too kind to have done it on purpose, so I guessed this was one of those times when the simple truth had hurt like a son of a bitch. There was definitely a story there, and even though I was curious, I shouldn’t have been. It would be best for me to handle my business and get the hell out of there. After I fucked Cassidy for one last time, that is.

  And then the mudroom door opened again and this man that drew a vague recollection in my mind strolled in and sidled up next to Cassidy like he was staking a claim. If I hadn’t already known this island was chock-full of lobster fishermen, I’d swear the bow in this guy’s legs was put there by years of riding horses on a stud farm. Not that I was saying he was good-looking enough to be a stud himself. On the contrary, he looked like he’d just mastered the upright movement on the human evolutionary timeline. His face was covered in three-day-old stubble and he looked sturdy as hell, so it was quite possible that he was the missing link. The way his brow furrowed over his eyes when he looked at me only added credence to my theory, but it still wasn’t enough. If I could just get him to carry a giant club and grunt out a few words like “me make fire,” I’d be on my way to the Smithsonian with my discovery.

  And then suddenly there was a pregnant pause in the room, one that was long enough for things to start shifting around with a primal realization. We’d somehow gone from a prehistoric jungle to the plains of some hot-as-fuck wilderness. Maybe it was instinct that had me on high alert, something ingrained in the very fiber of my makeup that made me steel up my stance, like a predator about to face off with another predator of equal strength. Cassidy stood between us like a zebra in the grasslands, frozen in place. Something in my gut told me shit was about to change.

  “Are those my cookies?” the new guy grunted.

  Well, he didn’t so much grunt as growl the words, but I wasn’t far off the mark. Jesus, had he eaten gravel for lunch?

  Abby smiled up at the guy. I’ll admit, it made me a little jealous. “And this would be my little cookie monster.” Up on the tips of her toes, she pulled at his collar until he stooped so she could kiss him on the cheek. A cheek she then patted a little too hard, but it seemed he was used to it. “You have to share your cookies with the guests, Casey. Don’t be stingy.”

  Whoa, wait. Casey? I’d heard that name before. Worse, I’d seen that name before. In permanent ink. Right above the lovely ass cheek of the woman I’d recently been fucking.

  Said woman squeezed her eyes shut like she wished she could rewind time and carve those two little syllables o
ut of the script before hitting the live button again. Oh, I was going to have too much fun with this. But first impressions were lasting impressions, so I had a little alpha work to finish first. And the one thing that spelled alpha, even more than brute strength, was confidence.

  I crossed the kitchen like I commanded it, the infamous Casey giving me the once-over all the while until we were standing toe-to-toe. And then I took one more step forward, breaching the invisible barrier to his personal space just to see if he would take one back. He did not. Instead, he squared his shoulders and leaned in. The thickness in the air that separated us arched with opposing energies of testosterone, our inner lions giving silent roars to test which had the stuff it took to be king. With his chest puffed and shoulders flared like a cobra’s hood, he stood his ground and looked me in the eye. I was impressed, though not intimidated.

  The offering of my handshake before he had the chance was the first victory in what I was sure would be a pissing match for the ages. The grip as he shook my hand was his silent acceptance of the challenge that now lay at his feet.