THE CORBIN BROTHERS: The Complete 5-Books Series

by Lexie Ray

  “Deal,” I said impulsively, and Paisley grinned. It wasn’t that she was unattractive. It was just that she was so … accessible. Paisley had been throwing herself at me for years and years. Maybe tonight, though, she could be just the distraction I needed.

  “Talk to me, then, Avery,” she crooned. “What are you doing out tonight? Shouldn’t you be at home after a long day of work?”

  “I really don’t want to talk about that.” I signaled the bartender for another round, and this time, he brought me a beer and Paisley a fruity little cocktail. Typical.

  “Then what do you want to talk about?” she asked, toying with the straw, clinking the ice cubes together. “I’ll talk about anything you want.”

  I shrugged. “Okay. How did you spend your day?”

  “Let’s see.” She drummed her pink fingernails against the surface of the bar. “This morning I got up and went for a jog. The sun came up while I was out — it was gorgeous. Don’t you ever just stop and watch the sunrise? I like to try and make it a point.”

  “The sun comes up,” I said. “I’m already on the horse, working.”

  “Then you get to see the sunrise every morning.” She sighed rapturously. “How wonderful.”

  “I don’t think it’s particularly wonderful.”

  “Maybe you should. Try shifting your views on the sunrise. Be thankful for it. Appreciate how beautiful it can be coming up over the horizon and gilding the land.”

  I studied her as she took a dainty sip of her dainty drink.

  “What are you doing here, Paisley?”

  “Here at the bar?” She clinked her drink against my beer bottle. “Having a drink with a handsome man.”

  “I mean here in this stupid town.”

  “I’m from here, silly, same as you.”

  “You might be from here, but you don’t belong here.”

  Paisley blinked at me. “That’s hurtful, Avery.”

  “I didn’t mean for it to be.” I really didn’t. “It’s just that you seem so fancy.”

  “I seem fancy?”

  “Look at your nails, and then look at mine.”

  We placed our hands together so she could understand what I was talking about. Hers were soft, the cuticles trimmed, the ends of her nails long and shapely. Mine were hard, calloused from use, the fingernails rimmed with dirt, jagged with injury. I still had scabs on the palms of my hands from an incident with barbed wire several weeks ago.

  “There’s nothing wrong with having nice hands,” Paisley reasoned. “All you’d have to do is be more careful with yours. Since you work with them, that’s something you should always be doing.”

  “You think I should be getting manicures? Pretty pink painted nails?”

  Paisley laughed, and it wasn’t unpleasant to listen to. “You could pick a different color, if you wanted. Maybe a bright purple? It is summer. You can get away with some pretty sassy shades.”

  I snorted at her. “Sassy shades. Right. Definitely sounds like me.”

  “Anyway, I love it here,” Paisley said. “I love this cute little town, and I love how beautiful the ranches are. That’s why I want to stay here.”

  “You just seem like you’re too big for this town,” I said. “Like you belong in Dallas or better — New York, even.”

  “I don’t know if you’re insulting me or trying to flatter me.”

  “Neither,” I said. “Just an observation.”

  “I don’t think I’ll ever leave here,” she said. “I don’t even want to.”

  “How could you not ever want to leave this place?” I asked, dumbfounded. “There are so many other places better than here.”

  “Oh yeah? Name one.”

  “Literally anywhere,” I said. “Any place has to be better than this one.”

  “But name one you’ve been to.”

  I knocked back my beer obstinately and lifted my chin at the bartender for another. “I wouldn’t know.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean I’ve never had the opportunity to leave this place.”

  Paisley gave a half shrug, her bare shoulder showing through a curtain of glossy blond hair. “I’ve left it. I came back.”

  “Where did you go?” I demanded, jealousy rearing its ugly head. Of course Paisley got to travel away from her hometown. Her father was rich and still alive, and she was an only child.

  “Well, I went away for school,” she said. “I did a lot of traveling then with friends I’d meet. East coast, west coast, Mexico, Europe for a study abroad program.”

  “Why did you come back at all?” I asked. “I wouldn’t have.”

  “You spend enough time away from home and you learn to appreciate where you’re from,” she said. “I missed it — a lot — when I was away. I guessed I sowed my wild oats and came back home to roost again.”

  The fact that she even got a chance to sow some wild oats was a concept foreign to me. I both resented and admired her for her travels, all the time wishing it were me instead of her who’d gotten to see the world, practically.

  “That’s enough about me, though,” she said, smiling. “Avery, it has been a minute. We were practically inseparable as kids. What in the world have you been up to?”

  The description of our past — inseparable — was a little bit of a gloss job. It was me who was having to peel Paisley off of me throughout high school, deflecting her advances almost constantly. Inseparable? Maybe in her memories. She was more like a little leech.

  “I’ve just been here, on the ranch,” I said. “Nothing as amazing as your charmed life.”

  She paused, weighing her response to that. “I don’t really think that I have a charmed life, but thank you. I’m actually pretty jealous of you, that you’ve been able to be here this whole time.”

  “Jealous? Of me?” I laughed derisively.

  “Well, if you wanted to travel so badly, why didn’t you?” she asked, stung. “Didn’t you go away to school?”

  “No. I didn’t.”

  “Oh.” She considered that, biting her lower lip, which was looking more and more luscious with each beer I guzzled. I was so drunk right now that I was almost happy — if only we hadn’t been talking about ranching, if anyone else in the world would’ve been sitting here, talking to me.

  “Oh is right,” I said. “I wanted to, but I didn’t. I couldn’t. You could, and good for you.”

  “I’m sorry that this life hasn’t been what you wanted,” she said.

  “And what the hell is that supposed to mean?” Had I been that obvious? I didn’t know what I’d do if it got back to my brothers that this wasn’t the life that I wanted, even though I was pretty sure at least a few of them had to suspect I was less than happy on the ranch. A Corbin boy who didn’t like ranching was worse than a simple anomaly. It was unthinkable.

  “I mean that you sound like you wish things were different.” Paisley twirled a strand of her hair on her finger. I noticed that beyond a couple of small sips she’d seemed to have taken, her drink was virtually untouched. I’d lost count of how many beers I’d had since she sat down beside me.

  “I don’t know what I want anymore.”

  “I think I know what you want,” she said.

  “Well, I wish you’d tell me.”

  “You want me to take you home.” She smiled so sweetly that it made me half happy and half suspicious.

  “Is that what you think I want?”

  “I think you need it, yes,” she said, not losing an ounce of sweetness. “You’re listing hard on that barstool.”

  “I’m fine.”

  “If you say so. But aren’t you feeling a little sleepy? You look tired.”

  “I heard you’re not supposed to tell a woman they look tired,” I said. “Why should it be okay to tell a man the same thing?”

  Paisley leaned close enough for us to nearly brush noses. “Would it be okay to tell you that you’re really drunk and the bartender just cut you off?”

  “Bul
lshit.” I believed that I was pretty drunk, but I didn’t believe the bartender would’ve cut me off. We had an understanding. But when I tried to signal him for another beer — even though I still had a few good gulps in this one — he shook his head shortly.

  “This has never happened to me before,” I said, bewildered and angry.

  “It’s nothing to be embarrassed about,” Paisley said. “You’re drunk. Good for you. You’ve obviously achieved what you sat down here to do. Now let me do you a favor and take you home.”

  I wanted to argue, but she was already gently leading me away from the bar, wiggling her fingers at the bartender, bearing most of my weight on her shoulder as my legs apparently decided to stop working properly. Her truck was so nice that I found myself hoping I wouldn’t puke in it. I managed to scramble into it with minimal aid, and Paisley hopped in handily behind the wheel even though she seemed too small to handle such a rig.

  “Your place or mine?” she asked, that smile shining in the dark.

  “Mine,” I mumbled. “Trailer near the house.”

  “A bachelor pad,” Paisley commented. “Nice.”

  I didn’t have much to say to that as my neck muscles were the next to go, my head lolling to a rest against the window. I was drunker than I had been in a long time, but it was nice. All I had to worry about was keeping the contents of my stomach firmly in my stomach, and then we were already home because I must’ve closed my eyes and slept for the entirety of the drive.

  “You snore when you’re asleep,” Paisley said, helping me out of the car. “And I love your ranch. Hard to believe that we’re practically neighbors and yet your land is so different from mine — well, my father’s.”

  “It’s okay,” I slurred, leaning heavily on her, relying on this person I never wanted to rely on to get me inside my trailer. I collapsed in my bed, throwing an arm over my eyes, dreading Paisley’s judgment on my trailer. It was a shit hole. I knew it was because I lived here and I didn’t let Zoe clean out here. She was our housekeeper, sure, but technically, the trailer wasn’t the house. I preferred it that way.

  I felt a tug on my boots and peered down at Paisley. “What are you doing?”

  “Helping you get comfortable, of course. I couldn’t let you pass out in your boots. What if someone found you and drew on you?”

  “My brothers aren’t like that,” I said.

  “Yes, but I would be well within my rights to draw on you before leaving if you pass out in your boots. There. Crisis averted.”

  She moved on to my waistband, her sharp little fingernails pricking my stomach in an oddly pleasant way as she fumbled with my belt.

  “Don’t tell me it’s the same rules for pants.”

  “It’s no fun sleeping in your jeans. Believe me. I’ve done it plenty.”

  She leaned over me and I caught a delicious glimpse of her cleavage. Could I help my hardening at that sight? It definitely didn’t help that she finally figured out my belt and moved on to my button and fly.

  “Well!” Paisley exclaimed. “What are we going to do about this, Avery Corbin?”

  “I’m sorry. It has a mind of its own, apparently.” Thank God I was so drunk. Otherwise, I’d be dying of shame.

  “Don’t be sorry. It’s flattering.”

  “Really?”

  “You don’t know how long I’ve been waiting for some kind of sign that you’re as attracted to me as I am to you.”

  I got a flashback to annoying little Paisley Summers in high school, hanging out by my locker between classes even if it made her late to hers, but the Paisley Summers straddling my thighs was nothing like the other one from my memories.

  I took her cautiously by the hips until she took one of my hands and placed it on her breast.

  “I want you so bad, Avery. I want you to see how bad I want you.”

  She hitched her denim skirt up over her hips — she wasn’t wearing panties — and put my hand between her legs. She was wet enough to surprise me, shaved bare, and then I was inside her, gaping up at her face as she lowered her body down on mine, her tongue poking out a little bit as she concentrated.

  It felt … so good. It had been such a long time since I’d been with anyone, thrusting upward, tasting her pussy on my fingers, rewarded with Paisley’s sighs and moans. I found myself on top, not sure how I got there, her legs squeezing my ribcage, my thrusts pounding into her. She was screaming, and I was thankful for probably the thousandth time that I lived in the trailer and not in the house, and then I didn’t remember anything whatsoever.

  The hangover was what woke me up, a splitting headache and a real urge to rid myself of whatever might remain in my stomach.

  But when I rolled over, my heart stopped, and I realized the full magnitude of my stupidity last night.

  I’d gotten way too drunk, and I had let Paisley Summers sashay right into my life. She had invited herself over, and seemed to be making herself at home in my bed, fast asleep, completely naked.

  Chapter 2

  Paisley Summers. This was a dangerous thing — very dangerous — to wake up next to. I didn’t remember much from last night, didn’t remember anything beyond the strange conversation I’d had with her at the bar, but this was a disaster I needed to try and avert immediately.

  I flinched as a memory of a wet mouth on mine came to me unbidden, fingernails raking down my bare back. No. I didn’t need that. Right now, all I needed was to figure out how to do damage control, to assess my situation.

  I was clearly in my trailer. It was definitely time to wake up and start the day. I had a near-debilitating hangover. And the girl — okay, woman — who’d chased after me throughout my public education had just caught me in her sticky net.

  God, she had been sticky. I’d tasted it with my own tongue, like a pot of honey. But honey always came with bees, and bees always came with stingers. I’d dodged Paisley Summers’ advances for twelve whole years and then some. How had I fallen for her now?

  No, no, no. I hadn’t fallen for her. It had been a one-night stand, and that was it. This was nothing I couldn’t wriggle my way out of.

  I moved as swiftly and quietly as I could, taking care not to rush so much as to rock the trailer. God. The rocking this trailer must’ve done last night as I was paying homage to those long legs, full breasts, golden hair that was mussed up all cute right now, spread across my pillow. Dammit, Avery, stay focused. I coached myself as I examined the contents of my trashcan. A pint of whiskey — Christ, that would explain the hangover, even if I had zero memories of drinking it — and a condom wrapper. Okay, it looked like I at least attempted to wear a condom last night. Now, just to find the proof so I knew I hadn’t knocked Paisley up and fulfilled her goal of being a Corbin princess by shotgun marriage.

  There was nothing in the sink, nothing in the toilet, nothing in the sheets so far as I could see, my panic mounting. Had I used the condom or hadn’t I? Maybe I’d taken it out, put it on, and Paisley had slyly suggested that we go raw instead, all according to her master plan. This couldn’t really be happening to me, could it?

  I grabbed my hair and pulled with fury before looking down to notice, with no small amount of horror, that the condom was still firmly attached to my dick.

  I’d been marinating in my own juices all damn night.

  I didn’t know if I was more disgusted or relieved that at least I had dodged the bullet of a shotgun marriage. Now I just had to escape my trailer and hope Paisley knew just to disappear whenever she woke up.

  I splashed myself in the sink a couple of times to try to clean up, not wanting to risk the noise of a shower to wake Paisley before I could get out of here, and pulled on the same clothes I had on yesterday. I was just pulling on my boots when I heard her stirring and made a mad dash for the door, all attempts at subtlety abandoned.

  “Don’t rush off, Avery,” she said, a smile in her voice. “Don’t you want a little something to take for the road?”

  I squeezed my eyes shut, my hand on
the door latch, foiled at the last possible second.

  “I didn’t want to wake you,” I said. “Things start pretty early here on the ranch.”

  “Uh-huh. You’ve been sneaking around for a good fifteen minutes, and by my calculations, you’re running a little late for work this morning.”

  I turned around and was at least rewarded with the majesty that was Paisley’s body, completely nude, posed perfectly on my bed, the creamy whiteness of the softer parts of her body at total odds with her sun-burnished arms and face. She was a girl who was used to being outside, that was for sure, and the parts she kept beneath her clothes were gorgeous. Paisley was a lot of things, and a beauty was certainly up there.

  “I’m not a little girl anymore, am I, Avery?” she asked suggestively. “I grew right up from a flat-chested dyke, didn’t I?”

  I flinched. “I never said that.”

  “I know you didn’t. That bully did, though, and you made him eat his words.”

  I was instantly and helplessly transported back to grade school in spite of the gorgeous naked woman laid out in front of me like a sexual buffet. Paisley had changed a lot. I’d realized it last night and I realized it in the light of day. She’d been a tough little thing back then, brown as a stick of jerky from tagging along at her daddy’s ranch all day and about as small. She was always getting into scrapes at school with girls and boys alike. Paisley seemed to think she had something to prove.

  “Why can’t you act like the little lady we all know you are?” That was the common refrain from all of our teachers, as well as the principals in charge of doling out the punishments for all of Paisley’s various infractions. I always sort of abstractly admired just how scrappy she was, how little she cared about getting in trouble, but I knew if I acted out the same way she did, I’d have hell to pay when I got home and my parents heard about it from school.

  “It’s because you don’t have a mom, isn’t it?” our class bully, Joe Durham, asked Paisley one day after tripping her at lunch outside, sending her crashing to the ground. The impact had been so hard she’d cried out involuntarily as both of her knees scraped against the concrete, busting the denim covering them. It had only served to give Joe more power.