by Lex Martin
When I crack open my eyes a few minutes later, I realize I’m gripping his hair. He’s resting against my legs, his mouth wet from me, a sly grin on his lips.
“Come here,” I whisper, my voice hoarse. I’m sleepy, so sleepy, but I still want the main event. You don’t drive all the way to the circus and not check out the Big Top.
He crawls up my body, and as he’s about to settle down over me, it happens.
No, no, no!
I squeeze my eyes shut as the baby wails through the monitor.
28
Brady
“Are you fucking kidding me?” I hang my head, too frustrated to move.
My mouth is still wet from going down on Kat, my dick so hard it hurts, and I’m being cockblocked by my niece.
This cannot be happening.
And yet it is.
Katherine scoots out from under me and reaches for some clothes. I turn my head in time to see her naked body disappear under my t-shirt. But before she runs out of the room, she ducks down to give me a kiss.
“I’ll be right back,” she whispers against my cheek. “Don’t move.”
I don’t think I could even if I wanted. You want to kill your enemy? Want to take him down? Shoot him ten seconds before he thinks he thinks he’s about to get laid.
Christ.
Collapsing on the couch, I try to catch my breath. Kat’s voice comes over the baby monitor. “Mamacita, what’s wrong?”
Izzy babbles something incoherent, and Kat coos back at her sweetly.
Reaching for the damn thing, I turn it off. Because you know what kills an erection? Baby talk. To a real baby.
How the fuck did my brother get his wife pregnant again with another child in the house?
I give my cock a tug to relieve the pressure before I reach for the remote and turn on SportsCenter.
My eyes glaze over as NBA game results flicker across the screen.
I’m pissed. I shouldn’t be. It’s not Izzy’s fault she’s a one-year-old and probably shit her pants. But for once, I want something to be easy. Just one goddamn thing in my life. And clearly this isn’t it.
Because the longer I sit here in the dark, the more I realize how fucking wrong this is. Number one, Kat is my employee. I pay her to help me on the farm, to take care of my niece, and I just tongued her up like a melting ice cream on a hot summer’s day.
Number two, she just lost her best friend. This has been an emotionally-charged week. Am I taking advantage of her? I think she wanted us to hook up as much as I did, but grief makes you do stupid shit.
Number three—and this one is the motherfucker of all reasons—we live together. Here. In close quarters. What if she ends up regretting this? What if I regret this? I’m moving back to Boston soon. Will she want more? Will she expect it? We’re constantly around each other, so if this goes south, we’ll have to face this awkwardness every day.
My temple throbs, and I press my palms into my eyes.
I toss the remote on the coffee table, and it hits with a bang. I reach for another t-shirt and slip it over my head. It’s cold in here now, but at least I know Kat’s room is warm.
Ignoring the urge to reach for the tequila, I check my phone instead. It’s late, but I have an email from Jose about two jobs. I head to the desk and open Cal’s laptop to pull up an estimate. I don’t know how long I work when the soft pad of bare feet sound in the hall.
“Hey.” Kat hovers in the doorway. “You’re working?” I can hear the hesitancy in her voice. And if I’m not imagining it, hurt.
You’re a dick, man.
“Yeah. Something came up. The guy who’s running my parents’ landscaping business needs some help on this estimate.”
She blinks, canting her head. “At midnight?”
I’m an asshole for doing this, but it gives me an excuse. Because do I want to tell her all of the reasons what we just did was a mistake? Fuck, no. I’m usually straight up with women, but I don’t want to hurt her feelings, and if I take the honest route, I know I will.
Not that I don’t want to get naked with her. God, I do. My cock is still throbbing. But the cost is so damn high. Too high. I can’t risk this going to hell.
I swallow and nod. “He needs it early tomorrow. I missed a text he sent me earlier.” Not a total lie. He needs it, but I could’ve gotten up in the morning and finished the estimate.
She nods slowly, but the expression on her face tells me she knows what I’m doing. She knows this is bullshit. Because I see it in her eyes. The disappointment. In me. And I feel like crap for it.
“Well, then,” she says with a sigh. “Good luck with that. Here ya go.”
And then she shucks off my t-shirt, tossing it in my direction, before she stalks out of the room stark naked.
I should be happy that she took the hint, but I’m not. I call out her name, but she doesn’t return, and I don’t go after her.
By morning, I’m pretty sure I’m the biggest douchewad on the planet. This beautiful, amazing girl lets me go down on her and I repay her with some bullshit excuse. I almost want to punch myself in the face.
I get up early because I can’t sleep and grab Izzy when she wakes up so we can let Kat sleep in. And I’m thinking my level of douchebaggery requires more than an apology. So I start by making her breakfast.
But Izzy and I aren’t very good at keeping down the noise because I’ve only scrambled the eggs when Izzy drops her bowl of Cheerios. It goes clattering over the hard wood floor.
A few seconds later, Kat comes sliding into the kitchen wearing her glasses and an oversized t-shirt, looking rumpled as hell and cute as fuck. Her hair is wild around her shoulders and her bare legs have me swelling in my track pants.
I want to toss her over my shoulder and finish what we started last night, but the look on her face when we make eye contact tells me I have some groveling to do first. I’m ready to own my own bullshit. I hope she understands.
“Kat, I’m sorry about last ni—”
“Don’t.” She tosses her hair into a ponytail and grabs a broom to sweep up the cereal on the floor. Her face is flushed like she’s embarrassed to be around me. Awesome.
“Katherine. Come on. I need to talk to you.”
When she stands, her expression is icy. “Do you really want to do this? Add insult to injury?” Her voice is raspy with sleep. She lifts her chin. “I got your message loud and clear, Casanova. We’re good. Let me do my job and get Izzy fed.”
Ouch.
“Okay, I deserved that. But let me explain.”
When she finishes cleaning the cereal, she pours herself a cup of coffee and glares at me over the lip of her mug. “I’m not sure anything you could say would excuse the hard diss you gave me last night, so maybe we should just spare ourselves this conversation altogether. I have shit I need to do anyway.”
Wow. She’s really pissed.
I blow out a breath. All right. I should man up and give it to her straight.
Stalking closer, I grab her shoulders. She gasps, but doesn’t move. “Stop being so damn stubborn and listen.” That glare intensifies, and I seriously think I might be in danger of losing a nut right now, but I take a fortifying breath and continue. “I like you. A lot. And I don’t want to hurt you. Izzy and I are moving back to Boston in a few weeks or maybe months. Hell, I don’t know. That’s the point. And the last thing I should be doing is getting involved with you.”
Her lips thin into a straight line. Yeah, I’m not helping my case here.
“What I’m trying to say—and not doing a very good job of it—is that I’d love nothing more than to spend whatever time I have here with you doing any assortment of dirty, naked things. But you work for me. I don’t want you to feel some weird kind of obligation or feel like I’m perving on you.”
I sigh and release her shoulders to run my hands through my hair. “Look, last week was rough, and I know you’re vulnerable. I don’t want to take advantage of you. You’re an awesome girl. If we wer
e in Boston, you’re absolutely the kind of woman I’d go for. And not just for a fling. I might be a dick for how I handled last night, but you have to know I have your best interest at heart. Because the very last thing I want to do is hurt you when I leave.”
Her lips flatten more. “Are you done?”
Um. That’s not very promising. “Yeah.”
“Great. Thanks for the pep talk. This was fun. I’m glad you think so highly of my own ability to care for myself and make good decisions.” She huffs a breath. “Why am I not surprised? No one else seems to think I can take care of myself.” Then she tosses up her hands and goes off in Spanish.
“Por qué todo el mundo me patrocinar? Mi padre, mi madre, toda mi familia, y ahora tú?”
I have no idea what she’s saying, but just when I don’t think she could get any more attractive, she yells at me in Spanish. I shouldn’t be turned on right now.
Her eyes are wild, her hair in complete disarray, and her mouth is moving a million miles an hour. I want her. Right the fuck now.
My restraint is hanging by a thread, and when she pokes me in the shoulder, I snap.
I grab her and crush her lips to mine. She pushes me once and then yanks on my hair and pulls me closer. I crowd her against the pantry, away from the kitchen table where Izzy is probably playing with her breakfast.
Kat whimpers into my mouth.
“Shut up,” I tell her between kisses. “I never want you to think I don’t believe in you.” And then I pick her up, and she crosses her ankles behind my back as I press her to the wall.
One very deep kiss later, I pause and rest my forehead against her. We're both panting. “I’m sorry. I know I was an ass. I panicked. I’m under a lot of pressure, and I wasn’t thinking clearly.” I close my eyes for a second and then tell her the God’s honest truth. “I just—I have so much responsibility right now. If we were to do this, it couldn’t mean more than a good distraction for both of us. And I don’t know if I feel right about that. I meant what I said—the last thing I want to do is hurt you.”
She slides down my body, and I wrap my arms around her as I push my nose into her hair. We stand there in an embrace, and I feel her nod. “I’m sorry I overreacted. You didn’t deserve my tirade.”
“No, I’m pretty sure I did.”
When she leans back to stare up at me, I’m surprised by the emotion I have for her. Then she places her small hand on my chest and gives me a sad smile. “Brady, I know you’re leaving. And I don’t expect anything from you. If you really don’t want this, I’ll understand.”
I start to protest, and she puts a finger over my lips. “Why don’t you think about it? If you want this”—she motions between us—“for the time you’re here, I’m a willing participant. If you don’t, that’s okay too. But know that I’m under no delusion. You don't have to worry—I'm not going to fall in love with you. You won’t break my heart. I get that this is no more than just two friends comforting each other before you leave.”
Then she steps up on her tiptoes to kiss my cheek and walks away.
But maybe her heart isn’t the only one I’m worried about.
29
Katherine
I can see the indecision on Brady’s face every time he looks at me. You’d think this would be a good thing, but it’s not. It’s torture. I laid it out there for him, friends with benefits—something I’ve never done before—and he still keeps a good three feet between us whenever we talk.
Hi, I’m Katherine Duran, and I’m a charter member of the Shameless Club.
But I see him watching me. Looking at my mouth, mostly. And sometimes, he winces like he’s in actual pain.
I don’t want to do this to him. I’m dying myself, but I’m not gonna beg. Hell, no. I said my piece. Told him to think about it, and clearly he is.
Apparently, shamelessness has its limits.
If there’s any bright lining, it’s that I went after what I wanted. I told him how I felt, and now the ball is in his court. Coming here to Mel’s farm has always been about figuring out what I want in life. Brady is one of those things, even if it’s just short term.
For the last two nights, we didn’t watch TV together after I put the baby down. He went to his room, and I went to mine where I tossed and turned. Eventually, I ended up in Izzy’s room on the couch. I don’t like sleeping alone, not since Mel’s accident, and at least in the baby’s room I have some company, even if she’s asleep.
Tonight, Brady and I are doing the same awkward dance around each other, and it’s so painful, I have half a mind to go home to Corpus. But Thanksgiving is tomorrow. I don’t think he even realizes it. And while I’m not enjoying the tension, I don’t want him and Izzy to be alone during the holiday. Besides, the social worker is coming next week, and I know he needs help preparing for her visit.
From the other side of the kitchen, I watch him work at the table, my skin heating when I remember what it was like to be together. What it was like to have his lips on my skin.
I clear my throat. “I was planning to make a roasted chicken tomorrow with a cornbread stuffing and mashed potatoes. I thought I could pick up a pie from work in the morning. Is that okay?”
He looks up from an impressive spread of invoices and bills. “Sure,” he says hesitantly, confusion written all over his scruffy face.
“Since tomorrow is Thanksgiving.” I answer the question he doesn’t know how to ask.
He closes his eyes and nods, running a hand through his thick hair. “Well, that makes sense.”
My eyebrows lift, and he continues. “Jose said something on the phone this morning about not working tomorrow, and I thought he was sick or had an appointment or something, but now I’m feeling pretty stupid.”
I chuckle and head into the pantry to get the ingredients for the cornbread. “I would make a turkey, but big birds kinda scare me. I’m always afraid of undercooking them, and I’m sure the last thing you want is salmonella.”
When I put down the armload of seasonings and cornmeal on the kitchen counter, I feel him staring again. Ignoring his presence, I get out a bowl and butter a pan.
“Kat.”
“Hmm?” I resist the urge to turn around. I know this recipe by heart. It was my grandmother’s. Cornmeal, raisins, cranberries, nuts…
He says my name again, and I glance over my shoulder.
His voice is gruff. “You don’t need to do this. You don’t have to make anything special. I could pick up some dinner so you don’t have to cook.” He groans. “You do too much as it is.”
Why this makes me want to tear up, I’m not sure, but I return to my bowl and start measuring and pouring. It’s hard not to wonder who takes care of Brady when he’s back home. Who makes sure he gets a home-cooked dinner? Who brews his coffee in the morning? Who makes sure he doesn’t work too hard?
I know I sound like some nineteen-fifties woman, but my family is very traditional, and if I’m being honest, I like taking care of Brady. Which is a little shocking. Because I didn’t feel this way with my ex.
But with Brady, every female instinct is dialed up. I want to take care of him. Feed him. Love him. Even if it’s only physical. And even if it has an expiration date.
This should scare me to hell and beyond, but for some reason it doesn’t.
I’m learning a lot about myself here. I used to think I didn’t want children. Ironically, it’s an argument Eric and I had more than once. But now that I’ve been around Mel and Cal and Izzy, I’d be hard pressed to say that again.
I decide to put Brady out of his misery. “I’d be knee deep in masa right now if I were home. I’d be slinging that stuff all over the kitchen forced-labor style while I made two hundred and fifty tamales so every family member could take home a dozen when they left our Thanksgiving table. So trust me when I say it’s no hardship to make dinner for the two of us.”
He’s quiet for a long time, and then finally asks, “So you have a big family?”
“Yup. My
mother is the oldest of eight, my father is the oldest of five. I already told you about my sister, who’s obnoxious as hell, and I have too many cousins to count.”
Then he surprises me. “That must be nice.”
I turn back to look at him, to see if he’s joking. He’s not. “Tell me about your family. Is it just you and your parents?”
“My mom has a sister, but she’s in New York. Otherwise, it’s just me and my parents.” He doesn’t have to say the rest—it’s just him and his parents now—but I hear it in his voice.
I bite my lip, trying to think of something to cheer him up. “Want some hot chocolate? I was gonna make some for myself.” I wasn’t, but I know he likes it, and if it helps take his mind off Mel and Cal, then it’s an easy thing to do. Maybe it’s lame, but it’s the first thing I think of.
“Sure. I’d love it. But, Kat, you don’t have to do this. You don’t have to wait on me.”
I turn, and what I see breaks my heart. Because I know he feels alone. It’s etched in his expression and in the slump of his shoulders. I feel it too. Acutely. And because I meant what I said about us being friends, I do what I would with any friend right now.
Wiping my hands on a towel, I tell him, “Get up.”
He stares at me, looking like he doesn’t understand. I repeat the words and he stands hesitantly. And then I band my arms around him in a hug. A second later, he’s hugging me back. We stand there for a minute, and I whisper, “Don’t make more of this than it is, but I kinda like taking care of you. It’s not a big deal, though, okay?”
He doesn’t say anything, just squeezes me tighter before he plants a kiss on the top of my head.
When I step away, I ask, “So marshmallows?”
His responding smile makes me grin too. “Please.”
30
Brady
The smells coming from the kitchen make my stomach growl. I bounce Izzy on my lap and kiss her strawberry-scented hair before I hoist her into my arms. “Let’s go see what Aunt Kat is cooking up, hmm?”