Wild, Crazy Hearts

by Melissa Foster

  Grace wasn’t just lucky; she was smart, stable, and careful, which Brindle used to think made her boring. But now she realized her oldest sister’s careful nature was what allowed her and Reed to have a stable relationship without drama or jealousy. Maybe Brindle should start taking notes.

  The bell above the bookstore door chimed as Brindle walked into Story Time, greeted by the familiar scents of warm cinnamon and relaxation. Amber, Grace, and their friend Aubrey Stewart stood by a display of bookish gifts. Aubrey and Amber had attended Boyer University together, where they’d bonded with a group of girls who shared a love of writing. They’d started their own sisterhood called the Ladies Who Write and lived in a shared house like a sorority. Aubrey and two other LWW girls owned LWW Enterprises, a multimedia corporation in Port Hudson, New York. Aubrey ran the film and television division.

  “Hi, Brin,” Amber said as Reno ambled over to greet her. “We missed you at Mom’s this morning.”

  “Sorry. I just need a little space to deal with life right now.” Brindle and her sisters often had breakfast with their mother before work, but the last thing Brindle needed was Sable questioning her every move. She petted Reno and said, “Aubrey, it’s good to see you. I didn’t know you were in town.”

  “And I didn’t know you were knocked up,” Aubrey said with a tease in her eyes. She hugged Brindle and said, “You’re as gorgeous as ever. I hear Paris was very good to you.”

  “Thanks, but I’m glad to be home. I didn’t know you were coming into town.”

  “She was checking out a bed-and-breakfast about an hour away for Charlotte’s movie and stopped by to discuss the script,” Grace explained. Charlotte Sterling was another LWW sister, and an erotic romance author. Aubrey was turning one of Charlotte’s books into a movie, and she’d hired Grace to write the screenplay.

  “Don’t you have underlings to check out locations for you?” Brindle asked.

  “Do you really think I’d let anyone else decide what locations to use for Charlotte’s movie? No freaking way,” Aubrey said as they headed for the nook of comfortable couches and mismatched armchairs in the back of the bookstore. “Besides, I needed a change in scenery. Sexy times have been a little sparse in Port Hudson.”

  Brindle followed them back. “What? Ms. Single Billionaire can’t find a guy to hook up with? I don’t believe that for a second.”

  “Her go-to hookup is in Belize,” Amber said as she sat on the couch and Reno settled in at her feet.

  “Belize?” Brindle asked. “As in the place Morgyn and Graham just returned from?” Aubrey’s silence told her she’d hit the nail on the head. “Are you talking about Graham’s business partner? Knox Bentley? Morgyn told me he’d stayed in Belize to negotiate another deal.”

  Amber’s grin and Aubrey’s effort not to meet Brindle’s eyes confirmed her deduction.

  “Holy crap!” Brindle exclaimed. “I knew you had a guy you hooked up with all the time, but how did I not know it was Knox Bentley? If I were you, I’d jet my ass over to Belize. That man is hot.”

  “Yes, he’s hot and impossibly good at sex.” Aubrey ran her fingers through her blond hair. “But we’re not like that. We just like to have fun, so please keep this to yourselves. I’d hate for Graham and Morgyn to get the wrong impression.”

  “I won’t say anything,” Brindle promised, but she couldn’t keep from making the correlation about how she’d fooled herself into thinking she and Trace were just having fun, too, and that she didn’t want more out of their relationship. Look where that got me. Pregnant, with my heart breaking because I’m stuck in a lie I can’t figure out how to undo.

  “‘The lady doth protest too much, methinks,’” Amber said with a smile.

  Aubrey scowled. “Don’t use that literary prose on me, missy.”

  “I vote for jetting over to Belize.” Grace waggled her brows and said, “Becca said you’ve been bitchy for the last few weeks, and now we know why.” Becca was Aubrey’s assistant.

  “You’ve all lost your minds. Knox and I are fuck buddies, nothing more.” Aubrey crossed her legs and said, “You’ll see. I’ll go out tonight and find a hot cowboy who’s looking to score. Then you can all kiss my perfect ass.”

  Just stay away from my hot cowboy and we’ll be fine.

  While the girls talked, Brindle admired her sister’s store. Amber put her heart into every aspect of it, adding homey touches and offering events that made people of all ages feel welcome. She held contests and let the winners choose the books that were featured in the front window, and she was always open to local authors running book clubs and giving talks. But Brindle’s favorite part of the store was the children’s area, where vines and flowers snaked up the sides of a cylindrical bookshelf made out of stacked wooden crates. A multitude of potted plants and ivy sat atop the shelving unit, giving it a treelike appearance. Carpet mats were stacked for children to move around and sit on while they read. Amber had such an easy way about her, and that carried over to everything she did. It struck Brindle that one day her child would use those carpets and lay on the floor reading while her mother and aunt chatted nearby.

  Holy cow. She touched her belly, remembering why she’d come to the bookstore in the first place. It hadn’t been to visit with Aubrey and her sisters while Aubrey talked about her upcoming movie and Grace gushed about Reed. She needed to prepare for her baby. But maybe what I really need is a book on how to communicate with Trace…

  Trace had texted her several times since Tuesday night to check on her and taunting her with dirty innuendos, just like old times. It had taken all her willpower not to invite him over or take him up on his offer to come to his place. They couldn’t be near each other without wanting to touch, and she felt guilty enough for having sex with him before telling him the truth. She didn’t want to see him again until she’d figured out how to undo her lie.

  Her stomach knotted, and she pushed to her feet, blurting out, “I need baby books.”

  “Look at my wild sister acting like a grown-up,” Grace teased.

  “I told you guys I wasn’t going to screw this up. Are you going to help me find books, or talk about Reed all evening?”

  Amber and Aubrey stood and headed for the parenting aisle.

  “I’d much rather talk about Reed,” Grace grumbled, which made Brindle smile because before Reed, Grace had spent a lot of time telling her siblings what they were doing wrong with their lives.

  They leafed through baby books and parenting books, talking about the benefits of each and helping Brindle decide which books to purchase. After Grace and Aubrey left, while Amber was busy with customers, Brindle went in search of the self-help section, where she checked out books on committing to and creating positive relationships. She gathered the stack of books she’d chosen and carried them up to the register. Her head was so full of information, she could barely see straight.

  “Wow, Brin. Do you really think you need”—Amber counted the books—“five baby and parenting books and four relationship…Wait…you probably need those.” Compassion rose in Amber’s eyes. “Are you okay?”

  “I’m not even sure I know what okay means anymore. I didn’t realize how much there was to learn, and looking through these books made me realize something else. I’m not like you and Grace. I don’t know how to live a quiet life and be content reading or relaxing at home.”

  “Brindle, stop worrying. You’re going to be a great mother. Who says you have to live a quiet life? I don’t think Mom and Dad have ever lived a quiet life.”

  “That’s because there were seven of us, and we were noisy. But what if I suck at being a mother? What if I screw this baby up? What if I teach it to be rebellious and opinionated like me?”

  Amber laughed. “Then Mom and Dad will probably take pleasure in your frustrations.” She came around the counter and said, “I think your baby won’t be able to help being rebellious and opinionated. It’s your child, Brin, and that’s not a bad thing. You’ve never worried about
who you were, so why are you worrying about this?”

  “Because I’m not sure I’m a good person anymore.” The confession came unbidden, but she realized it was true. “I don’t want this baby to be like me in that way. I don’t want it to hurt the people it loves most.”

  “You didn’t hurt any of us by getting pregnant. Oh, wait. Are you talking about Trace?”

  Brindle nodded, tears sliding down her cheeks. Damn hormones.

  Amber put her arms around her, holding her without saying a word. It was just what Brindle needed, to cry the tears she hadn’t realized she’d been holding back. If she wasn’t careful, she’d tell Amber the truth. She’d already told Morgyn, who had texted her first thing Wednesday morning asking if she’d told Trace yet. It felt like a betrayal that Morgyn knew and Trace didn’t, but every time she told herself to call, or decided to tell Trace the truth, the pain of knowing he wasn’t ready for a child held her back.

  When she stopped crying, Amber handed her tissues from a box on the counter and said, “Brin, Sable said you and Trace were looking pretty cozy Tuesday night. Was that just for show? Have you had another falling out? She thought you two had made up.”

  “No, he’s been great. I’m just losing my mind because of hormones or something.”

  “Do you want to hang out tonight?” Amber offered. “Watch a Hallmark movie?”

  Only Amber, her sweetest sister, would suggest she watch a sappy Hallmark movie. She’d tried to watch one once, and she was so frustrated by the characters hardly ever kissing and never making out, she couldn’t finish it. Real life included kissing, touching, arguing, and incredible makeup sex.

  “I love you for asking, but I have a lot of reading to do tonight.” She patted the stack of relationship books.

  “That’s okay. I know you’re more of a Cinemax girl, anyway.”

  “Actually, these days I’m more of a Cinnabon girl. In fact, after I pay for these, I think I’ll head over to Pastry Palace and eat my worries away.”

  Amber put the books in a bag and pushed them across the counter. “Keep your money, Brin. You’ll need it for my new little niece or nephew, and enjoy every second of that delicious treat you’re going to get. You deserve it.”

  “You’re the best. Thank you!”

  Ten minutes later, Brindle’s was salivating over pastries in the bakery when Trace’s mother walked in. Brindle froze at the sight of the chestnut-haired woman who had always treated her like a daughter. Nancy Jericho was lovely and sweet, but that sweetness might have turned sour given Brindle’s current condition and the lies surrounding it. Brindle was sickened by the thought that her lie had probably hurt his parents, too.

  Nancy looked uncomfortable, forcing a troubled half smile as she said, “Hello, Brindle. Welcome back.”

  “Hi,” she said meekly, and they moved in for an awkward embrace.

  “I would ask how Paris was, but I hear congratulations are in order, and I assume it was a nice trip.”

  The hurt in her eyes sent Brindle’s emotions into a tizzy again. She wanted to tell her she was sorry and that the baby was Trace’s, but all that came out was, “Yes, thank you.”

  Nancy looked down at the bag in Brindle’s hand, her mouth twitching as if she were struggling to keep her own emotions in check. When she looked up, sadness brimmed in her eyes. Trace shared his mother’s cleft chin, and when she truly smiled, they shared a look that had no name because it was too bright for words. Brindle would give anything to see that look right now, but she knew she didn’t deserve it.

  Her throat tightened and her chest ached. She had to get out of there before she broke down like she had with Amber. “I’d better go,” she said shakily, motioning toward the door. “It was nice to see you.”

  When she turned to leave, Nancy touched her arm, stopping her.

  Nancy’s eyes dampened as she said, “I always thought it would be you and Trace having babies, but life changes, and I wish you nothing but happiness.”

  Brindle had no idea how she managed to thank her, or if she really had before running out of the bakery and toward her car, determined to tell Trace the truth.

  SHE PARKED BESIDE Trace’s truck in front of his two-bedroom A-frame cabin. Her heart hammered against her ribs as she raced toward the front door. His house sat on several wooded acres overlooking a creek. They had taken full advantage of his privacy over the years, making love in the grass, on his porch, down by the creek, in the creek, and just about everywhere else, including on the hood of his truck.

  She banged on the door. “Trace!” When he didn’t answer right away, she pulled it open and hollered, “Trace?”

  “Upstairs, darlin’. Come on up.”

  She dropped her keys by the door, shrugged off her coat, and raced upstairs. “We need to talk,” she said as she entered his bedroom.

  He came out of the bathroom wearing only his jeans and a smile, and damn, she lost her train of thought. Not because of his bare, broad chest, muscular arms, or the treasure trail that disappeared beneath his unbuttoned jeans. It was his smile, those crinkles at the corners of his eyes, and the way his eyes simmered with as much desire as happiness as he closed the distance between them.

  He tugged at one side of the scarf she’d forgotten she was wearing, and it slipped from around her neck. He tossed it on the bed and said, “Tuesday night was not enough for you either, huh?”

  “I…no…but that’s not why I’m here.”

  He dipped low, pressing his warm lips to her neck. “I’m just about to get in the shower.” He began unbuttoning her shirt. “Perfect timing.”

  “Trace, we need to talk,” she said as his adept fingers reached the bottom button.

  He gazed into her eyes as his hands slid beneath the shoulders of her shirt and pushed it off. His lips tipped up as he dragged his finger down the center of her chest, stopping at the clasp of her bra. “My favorite pink bra. Nice touch.”

  “Trace,” came out as a half warning, half plea. She had never been able to deny him a damn thing.

  “Come on, Mustang.” He brushed his lips over her cheeks and then traced the shell of her ear with his tongue. “We do our best talking naked.”

  He bit her earlobe, sending a shock of pleasure between her legs. He soothed the tender spot with his tongue and then he gazed into her eyes and gripped the front clasp of her bra. “Want me to stop?”

  Somewhere in the back of her mind she knew she should say yes and tell him what she came to say. But what if this was the last time he looked at her this way? The last time she would ever feel his body against her, inside her? She had a fleeting thought about being selfish, but if this was all she would ever get, she’d take that chance, because going the rest of her life without him would be punishment enough.

  “No,” she said. “But I wanted to talk about something important.”

  “Being together is important.” He unhooked her bra, and as he slipped it off, his gaze ignited. “God, you’re beautiful, Mustang,” he said, full of heat and so much more.

  It was the more that shredded any remaining doubt about giving herself—giving them—what might be their one last chance to be together.

  He ran his fingertips over her breasts, circling her nipples, bringing them to burning peaks. He stepped closer, his chest hair tickling her skin as he lowered his mouth over hers, kissing her so deeply and slowly, so thoroughly, she couldn’t hold on to a single thought. His arms came around her as he intensified the kiss, taking and giving in equal measure, until she was wet and needy. He pushed down her leggings, and she was so dizzy with desire she couldn’t remain upright. At least she had enough sense to cover her little belly. But as he bent to help her step out of her leggings, he pushed her hands aside and pressed his soft, warm lips to her baby bump. That single, thoughtful kiss made her love him even more.

  He ran his hands down her thighs and abruptly buried his mouth between her legs.

  “Oh Lord,” she cried out, clutching his shoulders.

/>   He knew just how to lick and suck to make her lose her mind, taking her right up to the brink of release, and then he rose to his feet. She was trembling and panting, and her legs felt like wet noodles. He unzipped his pants, his erection straining against his briefs, the broad head poking out from beneath the waistband. He kept his eyes trained on hers as he stripped bare, his thick arousal bobbing between them.

  THE LOOK IN Brindle’s eyes as Trace took her hand and led her toward the bathroom was everything he needed. It said he owned her, at least for now, and hell, he wanted to live in that fantasy as long as he could. He was sure she wanted to talk about Tuesday night. She probably felt guilty about having sex at the bar, but he wasn’t about to let her feel that way, and he sure as hell didn’t want to hear it. All he wanted to hear was his name coming off her lips in the throes of passion.

  They stepped beneath the water, and he scrubbed clean as fast as he could. Then he drew her into his arms, kissing her so deeply he wanted to disappear into her. As his hands moved over her slick body, he told himself to go slow. But she was rubbing all her softness against his erection and grabbing his ass, nipping at his lips. She knew how to make him crazy with desire. Slow didn’t have a chance around naked and needy Brindle. They’d never been good at slow or no.

  “I want all of you,” he said against her lips as his hand moved between her legs.

  He kissed her again, rougher and more demanding, earning a greedy sound as he dipped his fingers inside her, expertly stroking over the secret spot that made her buck and quiver.

  Her fingers dug into his arms, and her head tipped back. “God, what you do to me,” she said in a throaty whisper.

  He sealed his mouth over hers, taking her up and over the edge until she cried out with pleasure. He lowered his mouth to her breast, sucking hard enough to send her soaring again. Every time she came, every time she cried out his name, it fed a beast deep inside him that wanted to see Brindle happy and complete in every way. He dropped to his knees, needing more than the taste he’d gotten in the bedroom. She leaned against the tile and he took his fill, feasting his way to her next orgasm. She came hard, pulling his hair, begging him not to stop. As if he ever would before she was completely satisfied.