Delivering History (The Freehope Series Book 4)

by Jenni M. Rose

  Alex took pleasure in grabbing him by the tie to pull him closer, something she’d been wanting to do since the second they’d started flirting. It was just one of those things, an image that stuck in her mind, and doing it sent a thrill straight to her core.

  She pulled him closer, her leg still hooked around him. He came willingly, his hard length pressing tightly against her, his lips stilling on hers.

  “Good thing we shut the blinds,” she whispered, doing her best to not grind herself against him.

  Pregnancy had done strange things to her hormones, her sex drive suddenly a raging inferno rather than a little spark in the corner she ignored. The books all warned her it was a possibility.

  “Good thing,” he agreed, his words choked, before he kissed her lightly again. “Have I told you yet how beautiful you look today?”

  “No,” she replied. “Have I told you how sexy this whole suit thing is?”

  He looked down where Alex was still gripping his tie. She noticed too and let go, one finger at a time.

  “My bad,” she murmured.

  “You can grab me any time you want, babe. However you want.”

  She wouldn’t say anything about the name babe. Usually, that name sounded cheesy and stupid when she heard it, but coming from Dylan’s lips, it felt like a warm blanket around her shoulders, heavy and comforting.

  “However I want, huh?” she asked.

  His dark eyes locked onto hers and there was a banked heat there, an intensity she hadn’t seen in him before.

  “I was planning on letting you grab me all night long. Then you came in here talking about going out and inviting my partners along,” he explained.

  Alex nearly groaned. She’d been trying to make things less awkward by making some plans for them. That way they wouldn’t be stuck, sitting around, staring at each other all night. Being busy was always better for her.

  “I was trying to keep us busy,” she explained her thinking. “I didn’t want you to feel like you had to entertain me.”

  “There’s nothing I want more than to entertain you, Lex.” He was sending her one of those heated looks again. “But we can do whatever you want, however you want.”

  “You keep saying that,” she noted. “Pretty soon, I’m going to start to think I’m the boss around here.”

  Dylan laughed, big and bold, just the way she liked him to.

  “Babe, you can be the boss of me if that’s your thing. As long as you’re flushed all pink and pretty like you are and I’m this hard, we can play whatever game you want.”

  There was a loud knock on the glass and Brady’s voice echoed into the office.

  “We might not be able to see through the windows but the office isn’t soundproof!”

  “You would know,” Dylan shot back without missing a beat, his laughing eyes never leaving Alex’s. “I guess playing games will have to wait until later.

  Alex cocked an eyebrow. “Do I still get to be the boss?”

  “I don’t like being set up,” Audrey complained for the hundredth time.

  Alex had met them in front of the club Fiona’s band was playing at, and Audrey stuck out like a sore thumb.

  Alex had dressed in black jeans, a black sweater, and a black, leather jacket. Plus, very high, black, leather, ankle booties.

  On the other hand, Audrey was dressed in a cashmere sweater and a khaki skirt.

  The music that was blasting out of the bar was on the heavier metal side, something Fiona excelled at belting out. Audrey was more dressed for an evening listening to a string quartet.

  “It’s not being set up,” Alex argued. “You’re just meeting my brother. You met me today and it wasn’t a big deal. Same thing.”

  “You said—”

  “Don’t listen to what I said,” Alex argued, regretting trying to push Spencer and Audrey together. She clearly was not going to be her brother’s type and he wasn’t going to be hers.

  A guy like Brady Charles was more her type and they all knew it. Even Dylan looked uneasy about taking her into the bar.

  “It’ll be fine,” Alex told them both, leading the charge. “No set up. Just a bunch of people meeting up to have a good time.”

  The noise that spilled out of the door, when she pushed it open, was enough to rattle her brain. Loud guitars and heavy bass thrummed around them as the drums crashed in the background. Someone was singing and it was nothing but screaming. Alex turned to take in the crew of blue-blooded Bostonians she’d dragged to the club.

  Dylan looked as nondescript as she’d ever seen him in jeans and a long-sleeve white T-shirt.

  Brady had toned it down to jeans and a hooded sweatshirt.

  Lincoln hadn’t even bothered. He was still in his suit from work, minus the coat. He didn’t look like he cared much whether he fit in or not.

  She knew Spencer was already there because Fiona had texted to let her know, so she searched for his head above all the others. At six six, Spencer was usually easy to spot. Within seconds, she had his location pinned down and she weaved her way around people until she got to him.

  He didn’t smile at the sight of her, but held his arms open in welcome. She stepped into his embrace, as she always did.

  “Hey,” he yelled in her ear, still barely loud enough to be heard over the music.

  “Hey,” she yelled back.

  “Who’re the suits?”

  “Dylan’s partners. And Audrey.”

  “She looks like someone shoved a stick up her ass,” Spencer noted, and he wasn’t wrong. Audrey was holding her Birkin bag up to her chest, clearly out of her element.

  “Be nice and maybe she’ll let you pull it out.”

  Spencer just raised an eyebrow and took in her posse, looking a little bemused. She turned and made introductions as best she could, despite the noise, before Spencer showed them the table he had saved.

  Fiona leaned on the hard surface, some dude chatting her up. The guy was good-looking, like total rock-star, magazine-cover, swoon-worthy hot, and the woman looked bored. She gave off a stop bothering me vibe that could stop a Mack truck.

  Fiona had a bad track record with men and had sworn them off. Every last one of them. To hear her tell it, she was the Fort Knox of mutual attraction and had that side of herself on total lock-down.

  Alex imagined that if her ex-boyfriend had tried to sell her into the sex-trade, like Fi’s had, she might feel the same way. She motioned to her friend, grabbing her attention.

  With a quick dismissal to her admirer, Fiona hurried over and greeted Alex and her crew.

  “Look at you,” she yelled, holding Alex out so she could inspect her. “Motorcycle mama. Love it. You’re a total badass.”

  No one seemed to take note of the motorcycle mama comment and if they did, they certainly didn’t understand it.

  Alex leaned in anyway. “Let’s keep the mama part on the down-low.”

  Fiona nodded and once again, took in the crew. “Is this your accounting firm or something?”

  Dylan barked out a laugh behind her.

  “My friend Dylan,” Alex yelled. “His business partners, Brady, Lincoln and Audrey.”

  “Is that a Birkin bag?” Fiona asked, pointing at Audrey’s purse.

  “You know Birkin?” Audrey seemed impressed. “This is their last season.”

  “I don’t know their seasons, but I just finished season two of Jessica Jones.”

  Lincoln leaned forward and spoke directly into his sister’s ear. “Netflix. Superheroes.”

  “Never heard of it.”

  Fiona shrugged. “Expensive stuff. Better keep your eye on it in here.” She looked back at Alex. “Where’s the rest of the fam? Beth promised me she’d come.”

  “They couldn’t make it,” she told her, slapping a hand on her shoulder. “But I brought replacements, so don’t worry.”

  “Beth told me she’d get people dancing!” Fiona complained.

  Alex surveyed the partners of Charles, Greene, James, and Harr
ison.

  “They can fill in,” she hedged. “They look like great dancers.”

  The whole concert thing didn’t last long.

  First to fall was Audrey, which wasn’t surprising at all. She’d lasted halfway through Fiona’s screaming rendition of I’ve Had the Time of My Life from Dirty Dancing before she’d feigned a forgotten prior engagement.

  Lincoln, the upstanding big brother, made sure to see her home safely.

  Brady stuck most of it out though. He waited until Audrey left before he began trolling for women, striking gold at the pool table. When Audrey had talked about leaving, he’d almost made to stand up and go with her. She’d cut him a look, something Alex hadn’t been able to interpret, and he’d sat back down with a heavy thump.

  Brady had left when the set was almost done, two Harley Quinn impersonators on each arm.

  Spencer walked out of the bar at the end of the night with Alex and Dylan, the keys to his truck swinging in his hand.

  “You need a ride home?” he asked, eyeing her and Dylan.

  “No,” she told him, going up on her toes to kiss his cheek. “I’m good.”

  “I can follow you. Make sure you get there okay,” he pressed.

  Dylan stood quietly behind her, his hand on the small of her back.

  “I’m okay, Spence. I’ll talk to you tomorrow before I come in to work.”

  Spencer looked between them again before speaking. “Remember what I said about hurting her, pretty boy.”

  “Spencer!” Alex growled.

  “I’ve got her,” Dylan nodded, ignoring her protests.

  “She’s already knocked up— Ow!” He glared at Alex who’d just given him a swift kick to his shin. “How many times do I have to tell you? Don’t kick me, pipsqueak.”

  “How many times do I have to tell you not to call me pipsqueak, you overgrown ogre. And stop saying knocked up. It makes you sound like a moron. I’m pregnant which is not a life-threatening affliction, despite what you might think.”

  “I was just going to say—”

  “Something that involved Dylan’s tab A being inserted into my slot B which is none of your damn business.” She gave a shooing motion with her hand. “Be gone with you now.”

  “I’m not a fly,” he complained. “And I’m just trying to make sure you’re taken care of.”

  “Don’t make me kick you again,” she warned.

  Dylan stepped between them, the hand he placed on her shoulder gentle.

  “I’ll take care of Lexi if she needs it,” he said to Spencer.

  “I can take care of myself,” she sang sarcastically. “And I’m right here. Like literally, right here.”

  “I said if she needs it,” Dylan repeated, swooping in for a quick kiss. “If you need it, I’m here. If you don’t, you’re on your own.”

  Arms crossed over her chest, she gave a short nod and glared at her brother. “Fine. Be careful driving home. If you die, I’ll be pissed.”

  Spencer gave as good as he got, returning her glacial stare. “Don’t get yourself hurt. I’m tired of hunting down ex-boyfriends and grinding their faces into the pavement.”

  “How many ex-boyfriends are we talking about here?” Dylan cut it, sounding mostly curious.

  “With three sisters? More than I can count,” Spencer said, his gaze softening as he took a step back. “Less with this one. She’s tough as nails.”

  She didn’t feel tough as nails most days. She’d been an out-of-work pastry chef for the last who-knew-how-many years. She was the twin who, compared to the near-perfect Andy, didn’t have her life together. She was a hormonal tornado that cried at the Super Bowl commercial with the frolicking puppies.

  Dylan looked her up and down and Alex got the feeling that he could see right through her. That sarcastic and angry exterior was transparent, just for him. Instead of appraising her as Spencer had intended, as though she were one tough cookie, Dylan’s face turned thoughtful. Almost tender, in somehow knowing her truth.

  The truth that underneath it all, she was just as soft as anyone else.

  Everyone assumed that, because she was not the most outgoing people-person or because she was sarcastic most of the time, she was hard.

  She was not hard and Dylan James knew it.

  “Take it easy, pipsqueak,” Spencer said before turning on his heel and walking away. “See you tomorrow.”

  Dylan took her hand in his and led her away, walking with her down the sidewalk, hand in hand.

  “I hate when he calls me pipsqueak,” she grumbled as he pulled her along, tucking her under his arm.

  “He loves you,” Dylan noted with a smile. “I think it’s nice.”

  “Nice, my ass.”

  He made a show of leaning back and looking down, blatantly checking out her backside. “Nice is right,” he said quietly. “I’ve been looking all night.”

  “I hope so,” Alex told him, bumping him with her hip. “I didn’t squeeze myself into these jeans that don’t fit anymore, for you to be noble and not look.”

  He pulled her closer and spoke directly into her ear, his lips moving her hair. “I’ve been doing more than look, Lex. I’ve been imagining.”

  Well, that got her attention, making her wonder exactly what he’d conjured up in his mind when he checked her out.

  “I’d like to hear more,” she said with a smile. “In great detail.”

  Dylan stopped then, pulling her around so she was in front of him. Hands on her hips, he pushed until her back came flush with the cold steel of a vehicle, his lips crashing onto hers. It wasn’t quite the gentle exploration the kiss in his office had been; there was more heat to it than that.

  It was exhilarating and fun, the thrum of excitement simmering just under her skin as he pressed his hips against hers. He was hard, and she felt a jolt of pride that even pregnant, she could make him want her as much as she wanted him.

  She’d gone into this date eyes wide open. Well, and plans for her legs to be wide open too. She was a grown woman with needs and Dylan James was the perfect guy to fill them. He was smoking hot, handsome in a way that she’d never experienced before, but he was also approachable. She liked that he was easy to talk to and be with. He went with the flow.

  Hell, the man had eaten Sunday lunch with her family already, more than once, and they hadn’t even slept together yet.

  That had to say something, didn’t it? Whether it was his dedication to her or getting in her pants, she wasn’t sure yet, but not just anyone could hack it at a Walker Sunday lunch. Especially now that everyone was in town all the time. It had been one thing before Andy and Owen got married and Beth still lived out of town.

  Now that it was all of them, it could get overwhelming.

  Not for Dylan though. He just leaned back in his chair, taking it all in.

  Alex threaded her fingers through his hair, fusing his lips to hers as he grabbed her ass and squeezed, pulling her even closer.

  His hand slid lower and he wrapped a hand around her thigh, hiking it up on his hip.

  “Ow,” Alex winced, putting her leg back down.

  His eyes widened. “Did I hurt you?”

  “It’s these damn pants,” she complained, pulling him back, hoping to start the kissing back up again. “When I bend my leg like that, they dig into my stomach.”

  He looked down, as if he’d be able to see what was happening under her sweater, and then his eyes flipped up to hers. “We can’t have that,” he said, his voice soft. “Maybe we should go back to my place so you can take them off.”

  It could have sounded like a line. It was, but it also wasn’t. There was genuine concern in his voice like he hated that she was uncomfortable.

  “I think that sounds like a really good idea,” she agreed, her hands on his shoulders now.

  He still pinned her in place with his hips, but he reached behind her, opening the car door.

  “This isn’t your car,” she said with a laugh. She’d seen his car. She’d ridden
in his car, all buttery leather and new car smell.

  “It is,” he confirmed, pulling the door open and helping her into a little convertible and not the sleek sedan she’d ridden in before.

  “Just how many cars do you have? Or need?” she tacked on the end, looking up at him.

  “A couple,” he answered with a small tilt to his lips.

  He walked around the hood and slipped into the driver’s seat, closing his door and confining them in the supple, rich-scented darkness.

  “You sure?” His grin was devastating.

  He was asking, giving her an out, but he knew she wasn’t going to change her mind. They were speeding along a path that ended right in his bed, and she was pleased as punch about it. From the look on his face, he felt the same.

  “That I want to go back to your place and take my pants off?” she asked, making him laugh. God, she loved making him laugh. She tended to piss most people off. They pissed her off too, the feeling entirely mutual, but it was different with him.

  Dylan brought a sense of lightness to her usually annoying world.

  “Yeah, I’m sure,” she added when he finished chuckling. “How about you? Second thoughts?”

  He threaded his fingers through hers and brought her hand up, kissing the back of her hand.

  “I’m long past second thoughts,” he admitted. “I’ve got to be in the thousands by now, imagining peeling those pants off you.”

  “Keep talking like that and they’ll go up in flames before you get the chance. Better get on it and drive, hotshot.”

  Their eyes met and she nearly melted when she saw his face. There was heat there, a barely concealed excitement, but it was light. Fun. It took what pressure she may have felt off and she let it, wanting to enjoy him as much as he seemed to enjoy her.

  “Is there ever a time you aren’t smiling?” she asked, her own lips turning up.

  He weaved his way expertly through the city, which is nearly impossible because Boston streets are a clusterfuck of one-ways and crisscrossed intersections.

  “Sure,” he admitted. “But when I’m with you, it’s all I want to do.” His eyes met hers. “Is that so wrong, Lex?”

  She shrugged. “I’m not usually the sister that makes people smile.”