Wyatt (Lane Brothers #1)

by Kristina Weaver

  “Imp, listen-”

  “He’s sick and you don’t even call! Seriously Devon, you must be the most thick-headed asshole I’ve ever met.”

  She’s in a full rage and lifting her hand to hit me again when I notice the carrier in her left hand. Coward that I am I dive for the thing and hold it against my chest, cooing at Immie and her round eyes.

  “Tell mummy to stop hitting daddy Im.”

  “Stop using my baby to save your ass, asshole.” She snarls, attempting to snatch the carrier back.

  “Now, now imp, is that anyway to speak to me in the presence of our impressionable princess?”

  I blow a kiss at the beauty and freeze when she winks up at me as if she understands a word I’ve said and finds me funny. Little genius. Must take after her mum.

  “All she understands is boob and bath time, the little hellion. And stop changing the subject. Why didn’t you call me Devon? Day is mine too you know.” She says seriously and I see the worry she’s trying so valiantly to hide.

  I don’t like that look on her which is why I’d waited for the results before calling her.

  “Firstly, please don’t talk about your boobs when I don’t stand a chance of getting near those milky beauties; it’s cruel and unusual punishment to tease me when I’m holding the baby and we’re in a public place.”

  I almost chuckle when her mouth opens and closes on a silent gasp before she blushes and clamps her lips shut.

  “Second I was about to call you and ask you to come over so we can talk to Davy together. You’re his family too imp, I would never not include you in something like this.”

  “Oh God. What did they say?” she asks, her hands shaking as I lead her to a chair in the waiting room and lower her to it before sitting beside her with Immie on the floor between us.

  “He needs surgery to repair a valve in his heart. We caught it before it could do any damage but it needs fixing and he won’t be recovered enough to play for the scouts.”

  “Oh God. He’s so talented at sports, I hope this won’t ruin everything.” She whispers, running a hand through her hair.

  When she leans her head back and stares at the ceiling I take a minute to peruse her. She’s wearing two different sneakers-one black with pink stripes, the other black with blue running down the sides-her shirt is buttoned unevenly and her hair looks like it needs a good brush before being soaked in shampoo.

  She’s bloody lovely and I want to grin at the thought of Devon Baxter, playboy and womanizer finding this dishevelled, somewhat sour smelling woman totally irresistible.

  “You look lovely imp. Even though you’re wearing two different shoes, need to wash your hair and smell a bit like throw up. Now stop fussing and come on. The lads are dying to see you and stinker here and I need you to hold my hand while we tell Davy.”

  I’m pushing my luck when I take her hand and pull her up and into my side and I know it. But as I lean down to pick up our girl imp looks at me and smiles, her hand squeezing mine and I feel that maybe there is still hope left for me after all.

  ***

  Becky

  It’s a week after Day got his chest split open and some quack had his grimy paws in my boy and I feel better than I have in a while. He’d come through the surgery with flying colours and joked that his chest scar would get him a lot of ass.

  On the subject of his now aborted football career the kid had been prosaic saying that if he couldn’t play his beloved rugby, he was really okay without a sport that makes no sense.

  Don’t yell at me, he said it.

  So yeah, I’m really relieved that everything turned out okay and that after all the testing that the family had endured everyone had come through with clean bills of health, Immie included.

  Now I’m puttering around Devon’s house making lunch for the three pigs while Day lies on the sofa ringing a little bell I regret giving him.

  “Ring that thing again and you’ll need surgery to remove it from your ass!” I yell from the kitchen, giggling when the ringing stops and Devon walks in holding the bell aloft as he smiles from ear to ear.

  “Who was it that gave him the bloody thing?”

  “Oh shut up you ass. How was I supposed to know he’d be such a ninny about it all? I swear, he rang the bell and when I ran in he asked me to scratch his foot!”

  That gets another chuckle and I go back to putting together roast beef sandwiches and a side of pickles when I feel arms surround me from behind, boxing me in and keeping me pinned against the counter.

  “Hhmm, you smell so good imp.” He murmurs close to my ear and I shiver when his breath tickles me and his lips graze the sensitive skin of my throat.

  “Devon.”

  I gasp his name and just resist the urge to cant my neck for a deeper touch. Living with them for the last week has been a dream that I’d cautioned myself not to get too used to.

  As soon as Day is back to normal and running around I’ll return home and resume the never ending cycle of feedings, poop and spit up so letting myself get too comfortable is a danger that I’ve been avoiding at all costs.

  But that doesn’t mean I haven’t taken the time to check Devon out and pine for something I want. Sex. A lot of sex. Any way he’ll give it to me and in every position I can get.

  So sue me. I’m over the long bleed to freedom and my vagina has re-awoken from its trauma ready to get back to work and give me the orgasms I haven’t had in months.

  Unfortunately the bitch only has one guy in mind so every time I get within scenting distance of him it goes on red alert and starts yelling at me.

  Insistently.

  “Devon. Stop.”

  “Why?” he purrs against my throat, slipping his tongue out to lick at my pulse point. “I want you so much imp.”

  To prove his point he grasps my hips and pulls me back, grinding himself into my ass in a rhythm that makes my clit ache with unfulfilled longing. When I don’t immediately protest he slips a hand down my front and cups my sex possessively, his fingers rubbing slowly over my swollen nub.

  My breath is panting, wheezing out of me and I have the insane urge to turn around and throw myself at him before I hear Davy yell for lunch, effectively breaking the spell.

  I still and scramble to push his hand away, my cheeks filling with blood and Devon groans, long and loud.

  “Christ, that lad is a real cock block.”

  Laughing, despite the discomfort and embarrassment raging through me I bump my ass back and push him away, shoving a plate at him and pointing with a raised brow.

  “Behave yourself and be useful.” I scold, going back to my task with a grin when he huffs and stomps out of the kitchen with an erection that’s hard to miss.

  My phone rings just as I finish clearing the mess away and I answer it with a giggle when the theme song to Three’s company starts playing.

  “Well as I live and breathe, Dillon Johnson. To what do I owe this unparalleled honour?”

  “Oh shut up you brat. Sorry about missing the big vagina unveiling but we were trekking through Peru and-”

  “Calm down Jane Fonda I’m kidding. So how’s the honeymoon going? The three of you still madly in love and breaking the boundaries?” I ask, loading the dishwasher as he starts going on and on about the amazing things they’ve seen and done.

  I listen with a smile of indulgence and keep an eye and ear on the baby monitor, my breasts tingling the longer Immie sleeps past her naptime.

  “So how’s the munchkin?”

  “Good. Great. Perfect. Now if only she wasn’t so much like her daddy and a little calmer like me I could stop worrying that the exorcist baby might jump out of her crib and attack me.” I joke, shaking my head at the comparison.

  Immie is great but that kid is huge, loud and incorrigible, even at her age. Definitely a Baxter.

  “Oy, stop insulting my seed and tell the wanker to bugger off. He’s got two of his own he can bloody well leave mine alone.”

  I giggle at Devo
n when he walks in carrying empty plates and scowls at the phone as if Dill can actually see him.

  “Tell Baxter to keep his briefs on, I’m more than satisfied with what I got. Not that you aren’t one smoking hot lady Beck, but that kind of high maintenance I don’t need.”

  “What! I am so not high maintenance.”

  I hear a snort behind me and turn to glare at Devon, my insides turning liquid when he smiles seductively and blinks slowly.

  “I love doing maintenance.” He drawls suggestively, his eyes trained on my breasts. “I’ll start now if you need me to.”

  “Oh shut up. I-oh cripes. Dill I have to go. My boobs are trying to-”

  “Give me the bloody phone. Bugger off Johnson, we have a baby to feed.” He snarls, disconnecting the call and swinging me up into his arms. “Don’t talk to him about my boobs imp, it makes me crazy.”

  And that right there is all the reason I need to pack my stuff and go home. I feel bad leaving before Day is completely back in fighting form but I have a heart to guard and not enough defences by far with the way he keeps looking at me and making suggestions no human woman can possibly resist.

  Of course I get a wink and a suggestive comment from Day when I kiss him goodbye and practically run out the door.

  “Hey hun! If you need to do some landscaping I’d do it now. You’ve not got much time.”

  And wouldn’t you know it the very next day finds me at the salon with mama while Grey and Lila babysit. I get the works and make sure my area is totally mouth friendly.

  I convince myself it’s got nothing to do with Devon and everything to do with needing a pick me up but my subconscious laughs for a good twenty minutes and keeps making comments like ‘he’ll definitely pick you up*wink, wink* and if you need something up…

  By the time I get my daughter and settle in for the rest of the day I have admitted to myself that my landscaping ordeal is nothing more than a plea to the heavens that my pick me up will come by soon.

  Stupid vagina.

  Chapter Thirty Seven

  The doorbell rings with an incessant peal that makes me want to rip my hair out and feed it to the evil person who can’t wait five seconds for me to shuffle to the door.

  I’m baby free for the next few days thanks to a cold I’d woken up with this morning. I’d called mama and she’d almost exploded with glee when I’d told her I needed some free babysitting while I fought the human plague that is a cold.

  I would have called Devon since the guy will walk over hot coals for any free time he gets with Immie, but he’s still out of town on some deal and the lads, while they adore Im, are not capable of changing a diaper without puking themselves to death.

  The doorbell chimes again and I stomp to the door with a huff before ripping it open.

  “Hold the hell on! Can’t you-”

  “You called your mum to look after Immie but not me?” Devon yells, clomping in and shoving the door shut.

  “You were outta town.”

  “I would have come back immediately imp. I told you to call me.”

  “Okay, sorry.” I mutter, shuffling into the kitchen with a groan as my aching joints protest the motion. “I’ll call mama and tell her you’ll come by to get Im.”

  “No. Sit down here so I can make you some tea. No, no arguments imp.” He mutters, pushing me into a seat and going to fill the kettle.

  It takes five minutes and then I’m cradling a cup of warm, soothing tea and being harassed by Satan.

  “Why didn’t you call?”

  “God! I said I was sorry. Go fetch Im if you’re so upset about this, just please stop yelling, my head is splitting.”

  “Goddammit Rebecca! I’m not upset about your parents getting her for a few days, I’m pissed that you’re ill and you didn’t ring me. You shouldn’t be alone when you’re feeling this poorly.” He snarls, ripping impatiently at his tie.

  “Oh, er…I’m not that sick.”

  “Really? Did you or did you not ring your mum and refer to it as ‘the goddamned plague’?”

  “Artistic license.” I mutter sheepishly, dropping my throbbing skull onto my arms where they’re lying on the table. “I felt much worse this morning.’

  “Well you bloody well look it. Now drink your tea so I can bath you and put you to bed.” He orders, giving me another glare for good measure.

  I shut my mouth and obey because it’s impossible not to when Attila the Hun is staring into your eyes and throwing his weight around.

  ***

  “Stop it.” I yell twenty minutes later, slapping at his hands when they go for my naked boobs with a wash cloth.

  “Calm down, I’m just trying to get you clean and out as quickly as possible so you can go to sleep.” He insists, prying my arms away to skim the cloth over my flesh in a wholly clinical way that bruises my ego.

  I’d refused, cajoled and then outright begged him to let me bath alone but he’d given me his patented blank stare and then overruled me anyway.

  I’m mortified to be naked and wet-not the good kind!-in front of him when he sits me down in the bath and my belly rolls, creating a little roll that’s been driving me nuts.

  Breastfeeding seems to be helping me shed the unwanted pounds but it’s not a substitute for working out and I really-

  “Stop bloody trying to cover your tummy you barmy monkey. There’s nothing to be embarrassed about here. I like your body.”

  Really? Because last time I heard you thought I was a fat cow incapable of seducing a rock.

  Oh stop it Beck. Just don’t go there.

  I sit meekly and allow him to wash me even when he takes liberties and pushes the cloth lower, lingering between my legs before dropping the cloth and rinsing me. Thoroughly.

  “You know that my vagina isn’t in need of care right now, right?” I mutter, tensing my inner walls when his hand skims my labia in a once over that has my blood heating in zero seconds flat.

  “I beg to differ imp. Seems to me she’s not as against my ministrations as you are.”

  Insufferable.

  “You are beyond arrogant. And delusional.” I mutter, rolling my eyes in an effort to mask the dropping of my lids when his fingers glance over my clit.

  “Keep telling yourself that and maybe one day one of us will actually believe it.”

  “Argh. Can you please stop touching my junk.” I whine, closing my eyes against the dizziness I’m not altogether sure isn’t from his touch, not the marshmallowy wooziness of my stuffy plague head.

  “Right. Out. You look like you’re ready to drop.”

  He doesn’t give me a chance to move and bends, whisking me up and into his arms, ignoring my squeals and protests when water sloshes all over him, ruining his shirt and suit.

  Ignoring me he whips a towel off the bar, dries me and then walks to the clean bed that he’s stripped and remade and puts me between the sheets.

  “Take a nap while I go start dinner. The pharmacy should have delivered your medicine by then.”

  I close my eyes with a smile and drift off to sleep a minute later, feeling bad but not altogether as terrible as I did an hour ago before he showed up and completely bulldozed his way in here.

  The sad truth is that I’d needed some care and attention since I’ve been moping around in a funk since leaving him and the boys. When even Immie hadn’t been capable of keeping the gloom at bay I’d had to face facts; I miss the oaf like crazy and I want him so much I burn with longing.

  Is it bad to be thinking about offering him another friendship type bargain if that’s what he wants? Probably, but I so would. I would, if the thought of being rejected again weren’t still so fresh in my mind.

  Uhoh.

  Chapter Thirty Eight

  I wake a few hours later just as the sun is setting, feeling much better. The ache in my bones and the muzzy feeling are still there but my nose is no longer stuffy and I can turn my head without feeling like someone’s dropping anvils on the thing.

  Sl
iding out from under the sheets I grab my robe and slip it on before leaving my room and tiptoeing down the hall into the kitchen. The smell of vegetable soup hits my nose and my stomach growls loudly, letting me know that skipping breakfast and lunch is not an option for someone who’s taken pride in feeding herself regularly.

  “Ah, you’re up. I was about to bring you your dinner on a tray.” Devon says, looking up from the pot he’s stirring.

  “Naw, I’m feeling much better. Just hungry. Did you cook?”

  “Are you nuts? I actually want you to get better imp. No, I ordered this from Ramone’s and they delivered just after your medicine arrived. Here, take this while I dish up.”

  I take the pills from him and swallow them down with water as he serves us both big bowls of steaming soup with crusty bread for dipping. I finish half before I’m full and watch in silence as he eats his fill before clearing the dishes and coming back with two glasses of water.

  “You’re looking much better since your nap.” He says and I can’t escape the heat that flares when his eyes land on me and stay, drawing me in and pulling at something deep in my belly.

  “I, uh, feel better. Just a little muzzy but it beats the jackhammer of earlier. You can, uh go home now, I’m sure I’ll be fine.”

  “Nope.”

  “But the boys…”

  “Are just fine. Garret’s home for the break and he’s catching up with Davy since the lad refused to let him come down for his surgery. Now stop trying to get rid of me and relax. I won’t try to ravish you while you’re feeling ill.” He growls. “Unless you ask really nicely.”

  I want to ask! Maybe order him to lean over the table and kiss me before shoving me onto the hard surface and stripping me bare. I want a lot of things that include tongue and lips and sucking and then maybe if I’m still able to function without half my brain he could drop his pants and-

  I snort to cover the choked whimper the images evoke and focus instead on a point directly above his right shoulder.

  “Imp.”

  “Don’t start.” I warn when his tone goes soft and low, just like every other time he’s tried to talk to me about the night I’d left.