Two Brutes, One Barista: An Alaskan Romantic Comedy (Alaskan Romance Book 3)

by Shaye Marlow

  “Yes, but I hire people to do such tasks,” Wreck said. “It is a man’s job to earn enough money to pay others to do his scut work, and to know when something is beneath him,” he said, crossing his arms.

  Over on the sidelines, Helly rolled her eyes. “You’re in Alaska now, buddy. You measure up to our standards, and believe me when I say, they’re not very high.”

  Wreck made a moue of disgust.

  Rory scribbled. “Pouting,” he murmured.

  “But, that is ridiculous,” Wreck argued. “Your Alaskan ‘standards’ involve camouflage and Pilot Bread crackers. You live in the forest. You shit in the woods. Why should I have to live up to your…” He trailed off as he realized he was standing amongst a crowd of primitive, armed Alaskans.

  “Right,” he said, popping his knuckles as he turned toward the furniture. “Let us not keep those bedrooms waiting.”

  Rory held up a hand to stall him. Dotty was whispering in his ear. Rory nodded, and Dotty beckoned to Thea, pulling her and another woman into their little huddle. Thea was looking at me as she listened, her eyes sparkling. The other woman giggled. They made sounds of assent, and both took off running to the bar.

  “A slight alteration has been made,” Rory announced. “You’ll each have a woman waiting for you, to direct placement of the items. Part of your challenge will be to please that woman, thoroughly—but quickly,” he said with a little grin.

  Zack nodded. “Contestants, to your marks!”

  If Thea hadn’t been waiting for me upstairs, I might have been contemplating ways to get out of this.

  “Go!” The crack of a gunshot made me jump. I hadn’t even seen the gun in Zack’s hand.

  Wreck was already at one of the piles. Grumbling, I jogged to mine. I lifted the lamp, turned to carry it inside, and caught sight of Wreck carrying both the lamp and bedside table at once. He had his arms around the table, the floor lamp tucked in the crook of his elbow.

  “Shit.” Losing precious seconds, I mirrored his hold, and awkwardly ran after him to the bar. The door shut in my face, denting the lampshade as the knob cracked my knuckles. By the time I managed to get the door open, Wreck was already at the stairs. The bastard grinned as he glanced back at me.

  I rushed to catch up, cracking my shin on the base of the floor lamp with every step. I chased him up the stairs, saw him duck into a bedroom—and upon glancing in, realized he’d taken the one with Thea waiting inside.

  Dammit. Dammit! I moved on to the next bedroom, finding the other woman. I didn’t remember her name, but thought maybe it started with an M. She had me set the nightstand next to the bedframe—big surprise—and the floor lamp in one corner.

  I was most of the way to the door when she changed her mind. “Actually, I think the Feng Shui might be just a bit better with the nightstand on the other side,” she said.

  I took a deep breath, then pasted a smile on my face before I turned around. I moved the little wooden stand swiftly but carefully.

  And then, I tweaked the location of the lamp about six times. She wanted it plugged in and turned on so she could see how the light would ‘diffuse’, and then she took forever and a day considering, and then she had me try another corner of the room… Behind my smile, I gritted my teeth and did whatever she asked me to do.

  Finally, she was satisfied, and I ran out the door. I’d thought there was no way I’d win now, and that Wreck probably had everything up in his room and was lounging back on the bed while Thea fed him grapes—but he was only just dashing out as well.

  I chased him down the stairs and into the sunshine, sliding as if to home base to get under my mattress. My brothers—the fuckers—had saddled us with queens. The mattress that draped over me as I straightened had to weigh at least seventy pounds, and had my weak arm trying to collapse.

  I had to turn sideways to see as I made for the bar. Wreck was there, but just barely ahead. I sped up, and jammed the leading edge of my mattress into his legs. Then, with a deft swing, I knocked him aside.

  The crowd cheered, and I had new hope—but then I came up against the front door. I set the mattress down to open it. As I was trying to get a good angle to wrestle the floppy thing through, Wreck drove his mattress into me. I clung to the doorframe, refusing to be knocked aside, refusing to let Wreck win. I strained, trying to pull my mattress through as Wreck tried to wedge his around mine, and I hoped like hell no one was taking pictures.

  My mattress refused to budge, and Wreck was gaining. I grunted as I put my shoulder into holding his off. His mattress bent, momentarily giving me a view of him standing on the corner of my bed. No wonder the fucking thing wasn’t moving. “Dammit, Wreck,” I growled.

  “All is fair in love and war,” he said with a grin.

  With a roar, I shoved both mattresses outward. Wreck fell on his face, and I jerked my mattress out from under him. Before he could recover, I had it through the door. I knocked bar stools aside as I charged across the main area, then folded my bed into a U shape, and started to drag it up the stairs.

  I just managed to duck beneath a flying bar stool. The stool clattered down the stairs behind me to hit the backs of my knees. “You sonofa—” Barely keeping my balance, I swept it up and tossed it back at the grinning Frenchman.

  Two things happened: The stool exploded upon impact with the rough-hewn floor. And, my mattress slipped my one-handed grip, and slithered down the stairs.

  Cussing, I ran to retrieve it. Wreck kicked it aside, and as I turned to give chase, I caught sight of Rory in the doorway, on the other side of the busted stool. He was slowly shaking his head.

  I flipped him the bird.

  Wreck laughed a remarkably wicked French laugh as he began to coax his mattress up the stairs in the same manner I had. Leaving my mattress for the moment, I chased him up, and threw myself into the middle of his bed. His smile morphed into a grimace as he strained, trying to hold on with the additional weight. I tugged, managing to rob him of a stair. The next tug unbalanced him, which was great—except, he landed on me.

  Both of us wedged into the mattress like two weenies in a bun, we slid down the stairs.

  We scuffled, tripping and sabotaging each other for the next minute or two—and a couple realizations hit me at once: 1) We could be at this all day. And, 2) Thea’d stuck her head out and was peering down the stairs, probably wondering what was taking us so bloody long.

  Planting myself in front of Wreck, I held up a fist. “Rock, paper, scissors?” I suggested.

  Wreck tilted his head.

  “For who goes up the stairs first,” I explained.

  He nodded, bringing his own hands up.

  “One, two, three.” I threw scissors.

  He threw paper, and frowned. “Best two out of three?”

  He beat me with his next paper, and then I smashed the hell out of his scissors to win it. I carried my mattress upstairs, with him grumbling along the whole way behind me.

  Grinning, I did the grapevine into Thea’s bedroom with the mattress draped over my back. I approached the bedframe… and realized there was no box spring. “Where should I put it?” I asked, turning to look at her legs.

  “Anywhere you want,” she purred.

  Taking her at her word—and really wanting to see if that suggestive tone was reflected in her expression—I flopped it onto the floor.

  She stood on the other side of the mattress, hands on her hips, and yes, her eyes were sparkling. “Hmm. Maybe, a foot or so toward you?” she suggested.

  I reached down and gripped the edge of the mattress.

  “No! No, I think it’d work better if you pushed it.”

  I straightened, and holding her gaze, I came around to her side. She didn’t move except to tilt her head. Standing there, looking down into her eyes, I wanted nothing more than to push her. Push her so she toppled across the mattress, come down on top of her, and muffle her laughter with kisses.

  Instead, I turned, bent at the waist, and put my hands on the
edge. “Like this?” I asked.

  “Oh yes. Now, push.”

  I did.

  “A little bit more. A little bit more…”

  I pushed the mattress to the wall, her gaze burning into my ass the whole way.

  “Now, get on it,” she said.

  I crawled aboard, and sprawled on my back. Unlike last time, I didn’t give even a single shit whether I made it out first. This was the goal, right here: Thea with that grin on her face. Damn, she was beautiful.

  I beckoned, inviting her to join me.

  Biting her lip, glancing at the door, she shook her head.

  “You could close it,” I suggested, sliding a teasing hand under my waistband. There was no way she could have missed the bulge growing at my crotch, with the way I was laid out like an offering before her.

  She backed up a step. “That looks good,” she said.

  “I know it does,” I said, deliberately misunderstanding. I began stroking myself under my pants.

  She squeaked, looking a little turned on, a little panicky as she glanced once more at the door.

  “Are you sure that’s all you desire?” I asked. “The last thing I want is to leave you… unsatisfied.”

  Thea made a sound remarkably like a moan. But, she was shaking her head. “They’ll be waiting for you. Pierre already ran down.”

  “Did he?” I hadn’t noticed. I’d been enjoying myself too much. There wasn’t much point in hurrying if he’d already won, was there?

  I lunged forward, grabbed her, then tossed her back on the bed. I came down on top of her, muffling her squeal, and reached down to pull her leg up alongside mine.

  “So tell me, Thea,” I said, gazing down into her eyes. “How sexually interested are you right now?”

  “J.D., the door’s open,” she protested. She was shaking her head, but she was also biting her lip, and her eyes were all a-glimmer. It was all the invitation I needed.

  “So?” I leaned down to kiss her chin. Let Wreck see me with her, let Miss M next door. Let my brothers, and Ed, and all the people here today whose names I didn’t know, see that—“You’re mine,” I said, and took her mouth.

  I came on strong, kissing away her protests, but very quickly developed the desire to savor her, to revel in the moment. My tongue slid along hers in a sensuous caress as I slowed. I relaxed into her, enjoying the warmth of her under me, the press of her breasts, her soft thighs. On that bare mattress in that empty room, we made out like teenagers. I kissed her until she was wrapped around me like my favorite blanket, and prying eyes were the furthest thing from her mind.

  I finally pulled back. Gazing down into her lovely face, taking in her flushed cheeks and drowsy eyes, I marveled at how precious she was to me. It was a few moments before I could speak.

  “So,” I said, my voice gone gravelly, “how sexually interested are you… at this moment?” I shifted, rubbing the ridge of my erection against her, torturing us both.

  She moaned as her hands rose to my chest, smoothing upward. “An eight?”

  I wanted her, wanted to take her right there. We were alone, on a bed, she was ready, I was ready, and… I loved her. The thought of being inside her made me hard as granite, and there was literally nothing I’d rather have done. But, realistically, it was as she’d said: The door was open, and everyone was waiting for me. It wasn’t gonna happen.

  But what I could do was tempt her, tease her—keep her coming back for more. “What can I do,” I murmured, “to get you to a nine?”

  Thea whimpered, gazing up at me. “I think I’m already there.”

  “Oh, yeah? All on your own?” I pushed myself forward, mimicking a long, delicious thrust.

  She nodded, dazed.

  “Well then, let’s get you to a ten.” I kissed her again, touching her all over, being as thorough as I possibly could with her clothes still on.

  I heard someone call my name from outside, but ignored it as I slid my hand into her shirt. Her breast was full and warm, the satin covering it smooth. I squeezed her nipple between thumb and forefinger, and had the satisfaction of her whole body straining up toward mine.

  “Harder,” she panted, raising her head to kiss anything she could reach.

  I pinched. I plucked.

  She arched, her breath rasping faster.

  “Tell me when you’re there,” I murmured, dragging my hand down her waist to pull her leg over my hip.

  She wiggled, her whole body writhing against mine in an unmistakable take-me-now motion.

  “J.D.!” I heard again, the sound filtering faintly in through the window and wall.

  Thea clutched at me. “Ten,” she gasped. “Ten! Please…”

  “Wait, did you hear that?” I asked, pushing myself up on my arms. “They’re calling me.”

  She tried to pull me back down. “Ignore them,” she said, gripping me with her legs. “Please.”

  “But, Thea. The door’s open. Anyone might see,” I reminded her, my tone playful.

  “Don’t care,” she whined, her hands on my back, nails scraping in a way that had my balls drawing up.

  I wished like hell we could, wanted to so damn badly, but…

  “J.D., quit fuckin’ around and getcher ass down here right now!” Zack yelled.

  “I better go,” I decided, and rolled away.

  “Dammit,” Thea griped, throwing herself back on the bed. Her cheeks were flushed, her arms akimbo… and she was glaring. She knew I was teasing her.

  Grinning, I blew her a kiss. Then I got out of there, before I changed my mind.

  Upon stepping outside, my happy little grin slid right off my face.

  Rory and Zack stood next to a new pile of items: Two box springs, two chairs, and two rolled rugs. “Due to your unsportsmanlike behavior, we have extended the challenge,” Rory said.

  “Unsportsmanlike?”

  “Rock, paper, scissors?” Rory asked, raising a superior brow.

  “Well, would you rather I’d killed him?” I demanded. Because that was pretty much the alternative, when we’d reached our stalemate at the base of the stairs.

  “You ducked the challenge,” Rory accused.

  “We communicated to reach an agreement,” I argued. “If we hadn’t, we’d’a been there all day. Did you want your mattresses upstairs, or didn’t you?”

  “Real men don’t ‘communicate’. We grunt,” Zack said.

  Harv grunted his agreement. Both of my brothers shot admiring glances his way.

  “But…”

  “Round two, part deux!” Zack yelled, lifting his gun. He fired into the air, and Wreck took off with a chair and rug.

  I glared at my brothers. Rory made shooing motions. Finally, remembering the fact that Thea was upstairs, where Wreck was headed—and I’d left her all hot and wanting—I turned and hefted my box spring.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  J.D.

  I lost that round, of course. Wreck got his shit upstairs first, scoring Thea for himself. My brothers credited him for becoming appealingly sweaty, while citing me for the dirty footprints he’d put all over my pillow-top, and the broken stool. And whatever he’d done with Miss M during round one had left her all breathless and starry-eyed, so he got bonus points for that.

  I came in a far second. And now here they were, having come up with some new nonsense.

  “We had a very deep philosophical discussion about what it means to be a man,” Rory announced. “And what we decided, is that manly is the opposite of womanly. One cannot exist without the other. Yin and Yang, and all that shit.

  “And so, one of our challenges is designed to test your readiness to be a man, to provide, to feed your pregnant, barefoot woman.”

  I was really surprised when none of the women in the audience killed him.

  Zack came forward and handed each of us a knife. “Compliments of Harv,” he said.

  I took it with irritation, but was somewhat soothed when I looked down at the blade in my hand. The knife was solid and
well-balanced, with an antler handle, brass guard, and wonderfully sharp, partially serrated blade.

  “The challenge is this: You take that knife, you go out, and you catch a fish with it. The first back with a fish wins. Simple,” Rory said with a grin.

  “Oh, fuck off,” I said. “This is the modern day. It’s called a fishing rod.”

  Rory narrowed his eyes at me. “A knife is more challenging. Harder. And, J.D., we wanted to give you a fighting chance. I’ve heard Pierre’s incredible with a rod. He’d slaughter you. This way requires strategy. Discipline. Your brain,” he said, tapping the side of his head. “You may use nothing but the knife, the clothes on your body, and what you find in nature. You can sharpen a stick into a spear with the knife, craft a net out of swamp grasses, whatever you need to do. Understood?”

  Wreck was nodding. He looked excited about the challenge.

  I wanted to groan. I knew how to feed a woman, and this wasn’t the way. First, I’d cream together the butter and the sugar…

  “Go!”

  Wreck shot off toward the river like a bolt. I sighed. “Does it matter what kind of fish we bring you? Salmon? Pike?”

  “Nope. Whatever you can catch.”

  Nodding, I turned and walked into the woods.

  “J.D.!” Rory called after me. “The river’s that way!”

  I ignored him.

  Thea quickly caught up. “So, where you goin’?”

  “There’s a pond,” I explained.

  “With fish in it?”

  “Some.”

  She followed me through the woods to the sheltered little pond I’d found with my brothers years ago. It shouldn’t have had fish in it… except, because of the floods every summer, it did.

  I knelt in the bog at the water’s edge, grimacing as it soaked through my knees. I set the knife down next to my thigh, and leaned in. I was quiet and still like a hawk, like a panther stalking my prey, like a gargoyle protecting my manhood, waiting for the moment to strike.