Full House (Stacked Deck Book 4)

by Emilia Finn

  “I don’t think it’s a lie,” she contemplates. “Because I’m here. And I’m not exhausted from a new baby.”

  “Maybe you don’t exist?” I pull off the side of the road as we approach the lake, slowly roll along the dirt, and do my best to avoid potholes. “Maybe I made you up after an evening of reading,” I glance in my mirror, check that Lyss isn’t listening, “special magazines.”

  Brooke snickers, and when I pull up at the timber fence, a two-foot barricade to stop folks from driving right up to the water’s edge, I cut the engine, and she leans forward to grab the chicken. Her dress rides up as she moves, as do her lips when she finds me looking.

  “I’m going to be crazy disappointed if I find out my life is a lie and I’m only a figment of your overenthusiastic imagination. By the way, totally unrelated question, do you still read those magazines?”

  I shake my head and push out of my side of the car. I start toward Lyss’ side, habit after years of being the only one around to do it, but Brooke beats me, unsnaps Lyss’ seatbelt, and helps her out with a hand to steady her.

  As soon as Lyss jumps to the dirt and they slam the door shut, I go to the trunk and take out a small cooler filled with sodas, and a folded blanket with a waterproof side so moisture doesn’t soak through from the grass, then I lock up and move around to their side so I can take the chicken from Brooke’s hands.

  “Alright, Miss Kincaid. Show us the best eating spots.”

  “Sure.” She and Lyss walk side by side, hand in hand, and let their arms swing as they leave me in their dust.

  “Over here is good.” She points toward a tall tree with wide branches. “The willows are nice, but I think the bugs might get us if we sit near them. So let’s sit by this one, the roots are raised enough to sit on if you wanna do that, otherwise…” She spins back to me in the way a man might dream; dusk, the sun is going away, and the beautiful girl is wearing a dress that flutters as she spins. Her hair flips, her calves flex and bulge as she moves, and her smile is enough to make or break a man’s heart.

  Fuck me, I’m playing with fire by entertaining this shit.

  But I don’t stop her as she snatches the blanket from under my arm, threatening the safety of our dinner, and flips it out so it falls flat against the cold grass. “This might be best, I think. Lyss, can you fix that corner for me, baby?”

  “Sure!”

  Lyss races to the opposite side, to a barely folded corner of the mat, but in her distraction, Brooke stops right in my path so we crash together, then she slams her lips against mine for one fast, hungry kiss that shoots electricity straight to my cock.

  “I got it, Miss Brooke.”

  “Great job!” She spins away from me, leaves me panting and breathless, and tosses her little purse to the grass without a single care for whatever may be in it. “Come on, beautiful.” Brooke steps onto the mat, crosses her legs, and sits down, and when she’s got her skirt positioned so she’s not flashing her panties, she pulls Lyss down to sit in her lap and kills me all over again.

  They look nothing alike; Brooke’s blonde hair, her Irish skin – the heritage I know flows through her dad’s side, the Kincaids, and her mom’s, Reilly. Brooke wears heavy makeup on her eyes, but bright blue orbs pop from the darkness and draw a man’s gaze until he can barely shut his trap before he spouts off promises he really shouldn’t be spouting before the first date.

  And Alyssa… brown hair and brown eyes. Her skin comes with a natural olive tan, she has a button nose that might almost be too small for her face, and though she’s slender and tall, I would bet that Brooke was a hell of a lot taller at the same age. My girl is petite, but she clings to Brooke like her iron grip can’t be broken.

  “Problem?” Brooke lifts a brow and grins when my gaze snaps back to hers. “You’re staring.”

  “Sorry.” I draw a deep breath and get started on dinner. I open the bag Katrina packed, and smile when, on the very top, I see three plastic plates and throwaway sets of knives and forks.

  I set them on the mat, and silently thank the woman for her forethought. I take out the first container of chicken and set it on the mat, then I dive back in and come out with a much lighter container. Opening it with a frown, I peek inside to find a bright salad with all of the best colors; tomatoes, carrots, fresh, crisp lettuce, and green peppers.

  “Salad too?” Brooke accepts the container when I pass it, and peeks inside as I take the next container from the bag and frown at its warm contents.

  “This looks great,” she comments as she sets the container down.

  She looks up and leans forward to take the box when I say nothing. “Oh my godddd, apple pie? You went all out.”

  “I didn’t order pie, Brooke.”

  My eyes go to Lyss, and my heart hurts when her face drops. “I’m sorry, baby. Nobody will eat the pie, because that’s not fair.”

  “No, wait.” Brooke continues to study the dessert with a frown. “She made the chicken crumb under strict instructions, the salad… no way did she mess up on the dessert and risk cross-contaminating everything.”

  My eyes shoot to the box of chicken, and my heart mourns what may go to waste since it was all bagged together. “Goddammit. I was hanging out for that chicken.”

  “Chill out, cranky.” Brooke leans toward her little purse, grunts when it takes extra stretching of her fingers to reach, but then she snags the strap and drags it close.

  I sit here on a picnic blanket with a beautiful woman that didn’t mind having a chaperone on our first date, while the sun lowers and the rays play through her hair, and I fucking pout, because I think it’s all been ruined.

  Brooke takes her phone from the bag, hits dial, and waits only a second before she speaks.

  “Hey, Smalls. You still at the diner?”

  She waits for Evie’s reply. Nods. “Can you ask Katrina what’s in the pie? Yup. I’ll hold.”

  “I can’t take the risk, Brooke.” I try to catch her eyes when she so obviously ignores me. “Brooke. It takes a tiny screwup, and everything goes bad.”

  “Yep, I’m here.” She completely ignores my existence, and smiles for Evie. “Okay… Uh huh… Oh, awesome. Thanks for the head’s up. I can’t wait… Yeah,” she chuckles. “He’s pouting. He really wanted the pie.”

  “I’m not pouting.”

  “Okay. Love you too. See you tomorrow. We’ll get breakfast.” She hangs up, tosses her phone aside, and wraps her arms around Lyss’ body. “You can eat the pie, baby girl. Katrina did it up right.”

  “For real? Daddy!” Her eyes snap to me. “I can have the pie!”

  “Brooke…” I shake my head. “We can’t take that risk. It’s a game of telephone; you asked Evie to ask Katrina, who asked—”

  “I heard Evie ask Katrina, and I heard Katrina’s answer. Straight from the horse’s mouth. She made it herself, she knows what’s allowed and what’s not. She assures me that not only is it safe, but she has a whole tray that you can take home and freeze. It’ll last Lyss a whole year if she portions well. Then she never has to miss out on pie.”

  “Oh my gosh, Daddy! I’ve never had pie before.” She whips around to catch Brooke’s eyes. “Is it good?”

  “You’ve never had pie?” Brooke’s eyes snap to mine. “What the hell is the matter with you, Miles?”

  “Allergies! I’m not a fricken sous chef, Brooklyn.”

  Disgusted with me, but snickering, she leans toward the cutlery, takes a fork, a plate, and the box of pie, then she plops a slice onto the little plate.

  “Here, baby. Screw the chicken. Tonight, you get dessert first.”

  “Brooke! You’re undoing my hard work.”

  “It’s date night, Miles.”

  She places the plate in Lyss’ lap, then takes the fork and steals a tiny corner for herself.

  She might pretend to be sneaking a piece for her own pleasure, but I know, deep in my heart, that despite Katrina’s assurances, she’s testing first.

  Pean
uts have a distinctive taste, so I fully expect her to toss the plate if the flavor dares cross her tongue.

  She closes her lips around the fork, tastes the piece for a moment, chews, and a rosy blush fills her cheeks as she swallows. “Eat, baby girl.” She passes Lyss the fork she just used. “You have my permission to eat dessert for dinner this one time. When you’re a grownup, you’ll remember tonight.” She presses a kiss to the side of Lyss’ head when my girl takes a forkful for herself. “I want this to be a memory that makes you smile.”

  “Oh, Daddy,” Lyss whispers with her mouth full. “It’s so yummy.”

  I sit back on the blanket with my hands propping me up from behind, my legs crossed at the ankle and stretched out ahead of me, and my eyes tracking Lyss’ light-up shoes as she runs around to work off the sugar in the pie.

  “Miles?” Brooke lays on the blanket with her head on my thigh and her hair fanning out between us.

  We seem to be existing in this in-between space – we’re not together, but we’re also not apart. We’re just… testing boundaries, I guess.

  “Mm?”

  “Are you mad I gave her the pie?”

  I chuckle and bring a hand up to push strands of hair from her lashes. “No. You gave my daughter a memory she’ll never forget. It’s just pie. I don’t care.”

  “She didn’t eat the chicken.”

  Again I laugh. “You filled her up with sugar, and the chicken Katrina worked so hard on was basically for nothing.”

  “Not for nothing,” she happily sighs. “Take it home. Toss it in the fridge, and you’re set for lunches for the week. The pie was good.” She places a hand on her stomach. “I love pigging out on food, then finishing it with something sweet. It’s the best way to spend an evening.”

  “Thanks for asking me to ask you out on a date.”

  She snickers. “Welcome. Boys can be slow, and I swore I’d be understanding if you didn’t ask as quickly as I wanted you to. I knew what was best for us, so I bided my time and hoped I wasn’t wrong.”

  “What do you know?” I frown. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, there’s this magic in the Kincaid blood—”

  I roll my eyes. “Of course there is.”

  “There is!” She laughs. “For as far back as we know, Kincaids meet a person, and they know it’s right. They’ve all been dudes, which was why my theory wasn’t proven until me, but they meet the girl of their dreams, they know, and then…” she shrugs. “They act accordingly.”

  “How do they act?”

  “Like she’s already his.” She exhales on a dreamy sigh. “There’s no doubt, no worry… well, there’s worry. Because just because he knows, doesn’t mean she does. And locking people away in bedrooms until the girl catches up is,” she lifts her hands in air quotes, “against the law.”

  “So you’re saying…”

  “You’re the girl of my dreams.”

  She says it so easily, so fucking coldly, she makes my stomach drop. Then she folds and holds her stomach while she laughs so loud that Lyss spins at the waterfront and watches us with a quirked brow.

  “You’re fucking crazy,” I huff. And yet, I slide my hand along her jaw, cup it until she stills and looks up into my eyes. “You know?”

  She nods. “I know. And the worry came when I thought you never wanted children. Because damn, then you’re asking me to choose between you and them. What I thought I knew… it all seemed so wrong. So backwards. I went a week wondering about the things I can live with and without. Could I give one up for the other? Could there be another person, and maybe he looks like you, so I mixed it up? I always said I would never date a fighter, so that was your first strike. It all seemed so wrong, but you’re you, ya know? So I was confused.”

  “And then I told you I wasn’t opposed to kids. But, like… way in the future.”

  She snorts. “Right. And suddenly the world was righted again. You’re still a stinky fighter, and I assure you, I will never come to watch you get your face smashed in for a paycheck. But the rest… it all fits.”

  “Wait,” I pull back with a frown, “you’ll never watch me fight?”

  She shakes her head. “Do you take Lyss to your fights?”

  “No. She doesn’t have to see that.”

  “And yet you’re surprised I don’t wanna watch?”

  “But you’re… damn. I’m really good at it.”

  She giggles. “I saw you that first tournament. I saw you win. You’re good. But now I’m done. I’ll hang with Lyss at home, and we’ll wait for your phone call to say it went well.”

  “Wow. I just… wow.” I exhale. “I never expected you wouldn’t be there. Maybe I was imagining you as my very own cheer girl.”

  “Get yourself a different floozie, because I’m not waving pompoms while you fight. It’s not my thing.” She stretches her neck to get a better view of my eyes. “Ya know… It’s not too late for you to choose a new career. What did you do in your old town?”

  “I fought.”

  “No, you had a day job, and you trained after hours. What did you do for your day job?”

  I shrug. “I worked in a factory. Machine maintenance, that sort of shit.”

  “You could do that here. I’d visit you at lunchtime.”

  I laugh. “I don’t know if you noticed, but I was offered my dream job. By your family. I worked my fuckin’ ass off to get out of that warehouse. No way am I going back.”

  “So I guess we’re at an impasse.” Though her words are hard, her twitching lips help set me at ease. “I’ll watch you train, though. It’s hot.”

  “What’s hot?”

  “Watching you lift in your yard. I love Lyss, I swear I do. But when I’m watching you work out, I edit her the hell out of my mind. My version is so much better.”

  “Pervert.”

  She snickers. “I’m not ashamed. Can I…” She hesitates. Swallows. “Can I ask about Karla?”

  My heart skips and winds me. “Um…”

  “I mean… I know it’s a sensitive subject for you. But if I’m gonna get my heart all invested in you and Lyss, I kinda want to know who came before me.”

  “It’s not a competition.”

  “Oh, I know.” She pushes up to sit, sets her hands on the ground the same way I am, and leans against my shoulder so the ends of her hair brushes the bare skin on my forearm.

  When she’s up, she takes a moment to watch Lyss chase the ducks. “I don’t feel like I’m competing, Miles. God knows, your dislike for her is apparent. So there’s that. But… I dunno. I’m a curious creature, I suppose. I always have been.”

  “What do you already know?”

  She scoffs. “Not much at all. I’m curious, but I don’t seek out gossip. If I can’t get the information from the person it’s about, then I’d rather not know.”

  “That’s… unusual.”

  She shrugs. “It’s the way I’m built, I guess. So I know she was your high school girlfriend. I know she’s not around anymore. I know that she’s been gone so long that Lyss has no recollection of her. And I know – according to you – her mother is a bitch, but in my world, that’s called gossip. So I’ll reserve my judgment.”

  “I feel called out.” I chuckle. “What you know… that’s basically everything in a nutshell. Karla was in the grade below me in high school. She was wild and loud. But it wasn’t like Evie’s loud. It was…” I consider. “I don’t even know. It’s hard to explain. She was a dreamer—”

  “Like me?”

  “Sort of, but not really. She’d dream about traveling the world and dating a world-famous fighter—”

  “That would be you.”

  I shake my head, but my smile comes anyway. “You know, I’m not even sure if that’s true. She wanted the glitz and the glamour, but I’m not sure it was me she saw when she dreamed. She wanted the fame and fun and craziness. It’s like she was allergic to sleep – which is where, I suspect, Alyssa got that from. She – Karla – she wanted
to be out at crazy hours, doing crazy things, and pissing everyone off while she was going. She had this need inside her, this need to be moving, to be rowdy, to always be the center of attention.”

  I lean onto one hand, and bring the other up to play with Brooke’s hair. “Don’t get me wrong, I was young and immature too. I didn’t argue about the parties, I didn’t argue about a lot of stuff. And fuck knows I gave her the attention she craved. I fed her addiction. I was sort of the voice of reason, but I went along with a lot of her plans too, which means I will never claim innocence in this story. But the thing is, she wanted all of this stuff, but she wouldn’t work for it.”

  “And you did?”

  “Right. I’d been working ever since I was old enough to, saving my pennies, only to spend them all on the weekends when Karla wanted to party. She wanted to eat fancy, but she didn’t want to pay, so she’d tell me we were going out somewhere nice, her friend’s friend’s sister’s restaurant or some shit. I knew we couldn’t afford it, but she knew the owners…” I purse my lips. “That’s what she’d say. She’d order up big, eat enough to fill up, then she’d drop some hair on the leftovers and throw a fit until the restaurant comped our meals. I had a fit of my own, cussed her out for lying. But she was my addiction, just like I was hers. We were young and silly, so I forgave fast, got over it. I was immature, I was naïve, and I was a stupid boy with a thing for pretty girls.”

  “Which explains your hopeless devotion to me.”

  I blow out a breathy laugh. “I guess. But you and her… like day and night. There are no similarities at all.”

  “Tell me what comes next?”

  “Ah…” My heart gives a painful thump. “Well, not much had changed in the time we were together. It was all fast and crazy. A whirlwind, but we fancied ourselves in love. You know how you think you’re smart when you’re sixteen? You figure, almost eighteen, close enough, that’s basically an adult. You figure you know everything… So we made adult choices. We had sex a million ways in a million unsafe situations.”

  Brooke jolts back with a scowl. “I don’t need numbers, ya know? That’s just rude.”