by Lily Kate
The sun has arrived today, extra bright, sparkling even, as if to show Andi just how beautiful the countryside can be. We pass the huge center where we play our home games, and I point it out to her. Then we pass through St. Paul and continue on I-94 toward our neighboring state.
“You live in Wisconsin?” she asks, her eyes watching the sign.
“Of course not,” I say. “I’m not a traitor.”
“Didn’t mean to touch a nerve.”
“We don’t joke about these state lines,” I say with a smile. “I live near the border.”
“And what is our plan for today?”
“My mother and Lilia are out shopping or whatever,” I tell her, suggestion heavy in my voice. “So I can show you to your room…”
“You don’t waste any time, do you?”
“I see our minds are in the same place.”
She gives the slightest shake of her head, but she doesn’t deny it. A second later, she slides her soft fingers into mine, locking them there, and I sense a whisper of curiosity.
I squeeze her hand, tightly, letting her know the gesture is more than welcome. I step on the gas, floor it, and concentrate on getting us home as quickly as humanly possible.
It’s not a far drive, but I can’t last much longer. Sitting this close to her, smelling the scent of her still damp hair wrapped into a messy thing on top of her head, is intoxicating.
We’re home in ten minutes flat, the fastest I’ve managed to make this journey. I give her the fastest tour of the house ever. It’s empty, which is a miracle in itself with five of us brothers.
We’re all back in town to see Lawrence get hitched. He’s the second youngest, a little spoiled, but we’re all happy for him. I’m also happy we don’t see my family right away as I lead Andi straight to my old bedroom.
“I have a condo in Minneapolis,” I say. “But my mom wanted us all together for the weekend, starting with dinner this evening.”
“It’s only…” She looks at her watch. “Three in the afternoon—what time do you eat dinner?”
“Honey.” I sweep her into my arms, weird crunchy rain jacket and all. “Dinner’s at seven—that’s not the problem. The problem is that my plans for you can’t be rushed.”
Her cheeks turn a little bit pink. “Oh,” she says softly.
I lean in, tilt her chin upward, and do what I’ve needed to do for these past few weeks. I press my lips to hers, long and slow, savoring every moment of her skin on mine.
Neither of us is in much of a hurry; we have hours until dinner, the house is silent, and she is finally mine.
Andi has other plans for how things are going to go, however. She nips at my lip, pulling my head hard in toward hers. A second later she’s lost her jacket and both of her hands are wrapped into my hair. I meant to get it cut before the wedding, but at the moment, I’m glad I haven’t. I like her fingers holding tight with fervor.
“Slow down, we’ve got time, baby,” I tell her. “We’re going to do this right.”
“There’s time to do it right later,” she says, a playful sparkle in her eye. “I haven’t had sex in a month, and—”
Her eyes widen suddenly, and she looks up at me as my hands slide under her shirt and luxuriate in the softness of her skin.
“I didn’t mean anything by that,” she says quickly. “If you’ve had sex, or whatever, I mean—we’re just friends. I just didn’t have the opportunity, I guess—very busy with school, you know, and—”
“Andi.” I smooth her hair. “There hasn’t been anyone else for me, either. I didn’t want anyone but you, and I still don’t.”
“Ryan,” she looks at me through her lashes. “I didn’t want anyone either. I think…”
“What?”
She shakes herself out of whatever she was about to say, smiling instead. “Never mind. Where were we?”
I’m about to argue with her, demand to know what she was going to say. I have a feeling the very same words were on the tip of my tongue, but then her hand slides down the inside of my pants, and she inhales as she strokes me. My mind is now blank.
“Shit,” I mumble, unable to control the words coming out of my mouth. “I need you, sweetheart—so damn bad.”
“Then we’ll do it right, later,” she says, her breath coming in gasps. “I need you too.”
Her chest heaves beneath that V-neck, her breasts pert, in need of attention—which is fine by me, since I’ve missed her boobs. Desperately.
Our pants are off seconds later and I have her spread on my high school bed. If I’d known back then there’d one day be a girl as hot as Andi in my bed, I probably never would’ve left my mattress.
Back in high school, I was quieter, a background player. The looks, the girls, the money came later in life, once I matured in college. It would’ve blown my high-school mind to learn I’d be here now, like this, with her.
She lays sprawled on the bed, her hair in waves around my pillow. Somewhere along the way on our journey home, the thing holding her hair in place got lost, and thank God for that. She looks striking like this, her hair loose and free.
I move over her, holding myself up with one arm while I tease along her panty line with the other hand. I can feel through the fabric that she’s ready; I can smell her, and I need to touch her.
The moan that comes from her throat as I slip my finger past the fabric sends a surge of desire pulsing through my veins. I lower myself onto her, just barely brushing skin to skin, needing to feel our naked bodies touch.
She holds me tighter, closer, arching her hips to meet my fingers. Judging by the sounds she’s making, she’s close already. Her hips buck higher.
“Baby…” I say, and then I feel her clench around my fingers.
I swallow my words, too intent on watching the wave of pleasure wash over her face as she spirals into me, her fingers tearing at my back, my hair, my skin, my—
Suddenly, everything is wrong, and both Andi and I realize it at the exact same moment.
Footsteps.
Right outside my bedroom door.
The handle is opening, we’re scrambling to get decent, the door is swinging open.
“No,” Andi murmurs, diving for covers. “Oh no.”
Lawrence strides right through the doorway without bothering to think. He’s engrossed in looking at the screen of his phone while I’m shoving blankets around Andi left and right.
“Asshole!” I yell at him. “Get out.”
“Crap!” Andi’s scrambling to pull the comforter over her face, and I’m scooping pillows on top of her for some reason. I don’t even know why; I’m just trying to protect her from my dickhead brother.
“God, Ryan!” Lawrence covers his eyes with his hand and backs out of the room as quickly as he entered. “You can’t wait two damn seconds to take your pants off?”
“What the hell happened to knocking?” I stand up and check myself out briefly in the mirror to make sure I’m not flashing my brother. I have my jeans on, my face is red, and my hair is mussed. I probably have scratches down my back, but I don’t care. Once I’m sure Andi’s covered, I pull the door open a hair. “What did you think you were doing? Didn’t we have this conversation about knocking in like, the fifth fucking grade?”
“I just came to say hi to your friend,” Lawrence said. “I yelled up the stairs, figured you didn’t hear me.”
“Of course we didn’t hear you. We were occupied.”
“I see that now.”
I run a hand over my face. I don’t really care all that much, except Andi seems mortified. Any other girl, and it wouldn’t have been a big deal—bunnies tend to like that sort of attention—but Andi isn’t a bunny; she is the polar opposite.
Lawrence gives me a little smirk and a thumbs up, his dickhole personality returning. “I suppose I’ll leave you two alone to finish what you started.”
“Go away.”
I slam the door shut and turn to face Andi. She’s sitting up in bed, the covers
pulled up to her chest. She’s doing a magnificent job of pretending she’s not bothered.
“I’m so sorry,” I say. “I should’ve known—”
“It was an accident,” she says with a wave of her hand. Her nonchalance belies the reddish tinge around her neck. “Don’t worry about it.”
“I should’ve locked the door.”
“I said don’t worry about it.” She shrugs. “I’m a big girl. If I say I’m fine, I mean it. The only problem I see is that, once again, you made me feel quite excellent, and you didn’t get the chance to finish.”
“How are you still single?” I ask, moving across the room. “I could marry you tomorrow, Andi.” I’m half kidding, but she seems unsure of whether or not it’s a joke. “Relax,” I tell her. “Kidding.”
“I knew that,” she says. “Anyway, why don’t you lock the door, get over here, and take your pants off?”
“About that marriage proposal,” I say, letting my hand cup her cheek as I swoop in for a kiss. “Maybe I’m not kidding.”
She nips my lip. “Sounds good to me.”
I clear my throat. We’re in dangerous territory.
“I’m kidding,” she says. “Relax.”
“Me too,” I say, the tension easing. “But really, we can wait. There’s plenty of time tonight.”
“Is there?” She lets the covers fall from around her shoulders, exposing silky white breasts in a lacy purple bra. One strap has slid down her shoulder. “Are you sure?”
I reach for her strap, bringing it to the correct position on her shoulder. It’s a trap—her hand snakes out, snaps at the waistband of my jeans, and instantly I’m ready.
“You sneak,” I say, looking down.
“I thought he might feel differently,” she says, nodding toward my crotch. “What do you say we head back to the bed?”
“How can I resist an offer like that?”
She leans backward, spread like a beautiful, exquisite platter before me, filled with all the delicacies of the world. I start to follow her, drawn toward her figure, when she raises a finger and shakes it at me.
I panic. “What? Everything okay?”
“Lock the damn door, Pierce!”
I can’t help but laugh. I shouldn’t be surprised; she makes me laugh more than anyone else. I make quick work of the lock then join her in bed.
“I’ve missed this,” she says, pushing me back against the pillows. Her lips trail down past my ribs to the sensitive edges of my abs then approach the score zone near the rim of my pants. She teases the zipper down, and then, with a devilish look, frees me from my boxers.
I hiss and close my eyes as she takes me into her mouth. “Andi, baby—”
“I’m home!” a shrill voice yells up the stairs. “Anyone else home? Ryan, is that your car outside? Do you have a friend over?”
“Goddammit!” I bite out. “Not now.”
“Who…” Andi murmurs, then falls silent as the voice continues to pierce the air.
“Lawrence, is that you making all that racket?” my mother yells from the hallway. “You know how I feel about cursing when you’re in this house. Is your brother home with his friend yet? I don’t want her first impression to be a houseful of boys with filthy mouths.”
I shake my head, my jaw tense as Andi slowly sits up. “I’m so sorry.”
Andi has this look on her face that’s halfway between disappointment and amusement. Then, the sound of footsteps on stairs reaches our ears, and we simultaneously scramble to pull ourselves into some semblance of presentable attire.
By the time the knock sounds on the door, I’ve thrown most of the pillows on the bed and Andi’s essentially dressed, with the exception of one missing sock and some mad sex hair. I fling open the door.
“Lawrence, why are you in your brother’s—” My mother is already speaking before she realizes it’s not Lawrence. She stops abruptly and scans the two of us, her eyes going from confusion, to realization, to that motherly look that says she knows exactly what was going on before she arrived.
I give Andi credit—she hardly flinches at the intrusion.
“Hello, Mrs. Pierce.” She extends a hand, a polite smile on her face. “We were just about to change for dinner. I didn’t get a chance to fix my hair yet, and I fell asleep on the plane.”
God bless Andi, and God bless my mother. They are both champions of the highest quality because they completely ignore the situation. My mother puts on her perkiest smile and bypasses Andi’s handshake, pulling her in for a full-on Pierce hug.
“It is so great to have you here,” my mother says, holding Andi at arm’s length. “You are gorgeous. Another girl in the house—another woman! Do you know how long I’ve been waiting for this moment? Lilia has been a godsend, and now we have another. My dreams are coming true!”
“Well, I’m happy to be here. Thank you so much for the generous invitation.” Andi bows her head a little, smiles again. “You have a beautiful home.”
“Well, then let me show it to you!” Raising five boys means my mother has seen it all, and she isn’t about to be played a fool. She knows what we were doing, and clearly, she doesn’t want us messing around before dinner. “Come with me, dear.”
“Oh, I already got a tour,” Andi says. “Thank you so much. I should probably fix my hair.”
I feel like it’s my turn to chip in and say something, but I’m not sure what to say, so I stand there with a dumb look on my face. I think I deserve a break though, since my mother almost walked in on a sight she should never see.
“Oh, Ryan’s never been very good at giving tours of the house, except for maybe his bedroom,” my mother adds a little pointedly. “Come on, darling, let me show you the kitchen. Have you ever had lefse? Ryan’s father is Norwegian, you know…”
“Mom,” I say weakly. “Leave her be.”
“I’m just being hospitable,” she says, a sharp edge to her words. “Did you even offer this poor girl something to drink? Can I get you water, coffee, tea? She’s probably starved, Ryan. She’s been on the plane for nearly four hours. Look at her! She’s tiny. She needs food.”
“I’ll go downstairs and help get dinner ready,” Andi says, giving me a look that I interpret to mean everything’s okay. “I’ll…see you soon.”
I nod, and then they’re gone.
Apparently the entire welcome committee has decided to pop in and say hello. I sigh, running a hand through my hair in frustration. Don’t get me wrong, I love that Andi’s happy, satisfied, and yes, welcomed by my family, I’m just not sure what to do now, standing alone in my bedroom with my boner, wishing Andi’s transition to the Midwest had gone just a little bit smoother.
CHAPTER 38
Andi
They live in a fairytale cottage.
Mrs. Pierce, who is incredibly pretty in a soccer mom sort of way, guides me down a hallway lined with pictures of her boys in all stages of hockey careers. She’s going on and on about how much trouble they’ve gotten into over the years, but all I can think about is that this place feels like home.
It’s a little bit hard, I admit, to be here—not because Lawrence burst in while Ryan had his fingers doing unmentionable things, and not because his mother almost caught me doing dirty deeds to her son, but because she’s here—Mrs. Pierce, a mother, and the most motherly mother I’ve ever seen besides my own.
I miss my mom. I miss the way she smelled of cinnamon and vanilla. While my dad had cornered the pizza market, my mom had baked everything. Maybe it was the soft, gooey smell of chocolate chips wafting from the Pierce’s kitchen or the warm, lingering hug she gave me before knowing my name—whatever it was, she reminded me of what life was like before my mother died and things began to fall apart.
On top of all that, their house is yellow with sunshine washing in through generously sized windows to bathe the walls and floor, bouncing its rays all the way up to the vaulted ceiling. Parts of the exterior look Victorian, while other sections appear a little lopsided wit
h a modern spin, as if the Pierce family has made adjustments over the years with each new family member.
Though Ryan’s earlier tour was admittedly short, I didn’t miss the array of pictures out on every surface, or the little trays of peppermints and candies in easy reach on all the end tables. If my nose isn’t lying, a pot of coffee is brewing from the same place as the baking cookies. The whole package is a bundle of warmth and hominess.
“It really is lovely to have you here.” Mrs. Pierce pushes up her sleeves. “Ryan hasn’t stopped talking about you since he came home weeks ago.”
“Really?”
She winks. “I know he can come off as…I don’t know, a little resistant to the idea of dating, but, my dear, it seems you’ve got him infatuated.”
“Oh, well, I don’t know about that. It’s still early in our relationship.”
“I know I’m right, dear.” She gives a tinkling laugh, pats my hand. “And it’s quite easy to see why.”
“Oh,” I say again, for lack of a better phrase. I hadn’t expected this much welcome from Ryan’s mother, especially not after she caught us fooling around five minutes after we stepped foot into her house. “Well, thank you. Thank you so much, again, for letting me stay with you. I could’ve gotten a hotel, or—”
“Any girlfriend of Ryan’s is family,” she says, cutting me off midsentence. “Make yourself at home. Can you grab me the spoons?”
I must go all dazed and confused for a long minute because she points toward the silverware drawer and repeats the question. I hand over a set of spoons and she takes them briskly, organizing them on a towel.
“If you’d like to join Ryan upstairs, you may,” she said softly. “I didn’t mean to kidnap you to the kitchen. I just thought… I’ve never had a daughter, and Lilia’s far too busy to help—it is her wedding, of course.”
“I’d love to help. Really.”
“Are you, by chance, interested in learning to make lefse? I’d love to teach you. The boys always end up throwing it across the room or wrestling each other to the floor.”
A sudden wave of emotion rocks my body, and I swallow past a lump. I haven’t baked since my mother died. Making lefse might not technically be baking, but it feels close enough. “I’d love that,” I say. “My mother was a baker.”