“So, no guys?” he asks.
“No. Absolutely not. We want no men horning in on our fun.”
“What about Austin?” he asks.
“He doesn’t count,” I say.
“I think he might disagree with you,” Savannah says, humor lacing her words.
“You know what I mean. He’s our margarita man. MM.” I like that acronym. I think we need to start calling him that.
“Well, make sure you call me if you three need a ride home,” he says. I might be almost thirty, but my brother still sees me as a tween who needs to check in.
“Thank you. Now, go away. I’m sure you have numbers to crunch.”
He laughs and leaves us to our cupcakes.
“I have no idea why he puts up with you,” Savannah says.
“He has too. We’re blood. Plus, I’m still holding the goods on a few stories that can be used as blackmail. I know it. He knows it.”
I slip my finger over the icing lightly, just skimming a little of the sugary sweetness off the top. I lick my finger and bite back a hum. Barely. The fresh strawberry frosting is light and sweet and…damn. Just that little taste has my head thinking of all kinds of bad things. I imagine that he made this cupcake in particular for me—wearing nothing but an apron.
“You’re both adults. I have a feeling that blackmail time is past,” EJ says.
“You have no siblings, so you have no idea. Tell her, Savannah.”
Savannah pulls her attention back from ger phone and looks at me, then EJ. “She’s probably right. Plus, Harry is so OCD it’ll drive him crazy not to tie up all those loose ends.”
“What the hell does that mean?” EJ asks. She truly has no idea what we’re talking about.
“There’s this thing between siblings. It’s primal. We all fight for attention from our parents until they die. Knowing my brothers and sister, they would probably even figure out a way to get back at me after my parents leave earth,” Savannah says.
“And, let’s be honest. Part of the fun is leaving Harry wondering what I have on him.”
“He doesn’t know?” EJ asks.
I shake my head as I slowly pull the paper from my cupcake. I like to take my time whenever I eat an Ed cupcake. Part of it is because I don’t eat many of them, because I’d weigh six hundred pounds if I consumed as many of them as I truly wanted. But the other reason, the most important reason of all, is because Ed made them, and that makes them the best cupcakes in the world. Also, there was a little tiny part of me that hoped he was thinking about me when he made them. Even better if he baked them while naked.
My eyes slide closed as I bite into the little treat and moan. The tart lemon, with a hint of sour cream, along with the super sweet strawberry frosting, danced over my taste buds.
“Good lord, get a room,” EJ says.
My eyes pop open and I realize that both of my friends are watching me. I swallow, then reach for my coffee.
“What?”
“You sound like you’re having sex with your cupcake,” Savannah says. “Just ask him out already.”
I sniff. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Sweetie, please, we know you’re still in love with Ed,” EJ says.
My face heats. “I’m not in love with him.”
Sure, I told them more than once about my crush, but there’s no reason for my friends to know that I am neck deep in love and going under for the third time. Or that I think a lot about his…frosting.
“It’s the cupcake and that’s it.”
I glare them both into silence, then pick up my cupcake and start to eat it again. Nothing is going to dampen my experience with my treat.
Chapter Two
As I watch Allison take another bite of her cupcake, I almost pass out. My head spins as all the blood seemingly drains out of it and travels south. Jesus, this is embarrassing, but I can’t stop watching her. Her enjoyment of the cupcake I made for her borders on the erotic. I know she doesn’t think that way, but I do. I can’t help it. It’s my heaven and hell each time she devours one of my cupcakes.
She smiles at something her friend EJ says, and I feel my lips curve in response. Allison has the best smile in the world. It’s warm enough to make me want to pull her into a big bear hug. Then strip her down and lick every bit of flesh on her body.
I shift my feet trying to ease the pressure in my pants. It does nothing but rub the zipper of my jeans against my dick. That friction makes my arousal even worse. Every day, I try to convince myself that she won’t have this effect on me. I give myself a pep talk before she shows up. It’s all completely useless.
Every. Fucking. Time.
No matter how many times I tell myself she’s not for me, I forget all those rules the moment I see her. She’s a sweet woman. She’s my best friend’s little sister. Definitely off limits. Worse, the first time I met her, she was barely past puberty and was still all gangly and unsure of herself. She was a nuisance I put up with because she was sweet even back then.
Now, she’s definitely past that. Hell, she’s so damned sure of herself. That’s sexier on a woman than lingerie.
The second bite she takes sends another wave of heat coursing through my body. Jesus Fucking Christ. This is…
I take a long breath and try to get my dick under control once again. There are a number of kids in the shop since it’s Saturday. Walking around with a hard-on might cause a scene. Besides, she has no idea that I lust after her every damned day. I know I’m not the kind of guy she goes for and, because I am a sick bastard, that makes me want her more. I want her to look at me like she looks at the cupcakes I make for her.
When I first met her, she had a ton of frizzy hair and braces. Now, that hair is chin length, soft and straight, except for that curve at the very end of her tresses. Her eyes have always been sexy, the color of a green moss. Her emotions are easy to read, even now that she’s almost thirty years old. Nowadays, she does something cute with her eye makeup that draws them up, reminding me of a cat. And there is one thing you could count on is she showed her emotions in them. I always know what she’s thinking about in any situation just by looking at her eyes. EJ makes a comment and Allison frowns. Damn, I even find that sexy. Mainly because I want to kiss the frown away, then trail kisses down her body so I can bury my face between her legs and taste her sweet pussy.
“Hey, how’s it going today?” Harry asks as he claps me on the shoulder, ripping me from the very pleasant fantasy of seducing Allison. His sister.
Fuck. Nothing like having my best friend intrude on my mental stalking of his sister. It’s something that shames me on a daily basis, but I can’t seem to resist her lure. I am definitely going to hell.
“Doing okay. Already ran out of the snickerdoodle.”
“Not that I need any, but damn. What’s a guy got to do to have his favorite cupcake on hand when he walks in?” he asks.
“Pay me more?” I say as I force myself to turn around. I think I have myself under control, but I know watching Allison any more won’t help me stay that way. Standing there drooling and fighting my growing erection isn’t a good idea, especially with Harry in front of me.
Harry looks like his sister to a certain degree. He’s got brown hair and green eyes. That’s about where it stops. Harry’s over six feet tall and big like a linebacker. When he said he would grow a beard, Fritz and I thought he wouldn’t be able to let it go. But he’d grown a beard, and while it was as long as mine, it seemed like he kept it trimmed better than I do. Knowing Harry, he trims it every day. He’s one of the best friends a guy like me could hope for, which makes me lusting after Allison even worse.
“How long has my sister been here?”
“Just a few minutes.”
“I figured since she just started in on that cupcake. It usually takes less than three minutes from the time she gets a cupcake until it disappears. They’re going out tonight.”
“They?” Dammit. I didn’t know she was dat
ing again. I try to control my jealousy, but I fail. It’s not as though a woman like Allison would ever go for a guy like me.
“Yeah, Allison and the other two musketeers there,” he says, motioning with his hand.
The first thing that hits me is relief, which leaves me almost dizzy. Fuck. As Harry looks back over my shoulder at his sister and her friends, I fight the need to turn around. I shouldn’t look, because if Harry knew what I was thinking every time I looked at his little sister, he would probably kill me. Still, I can’t resist. It’s an addiction and seeing her is definitely the drug that I covet. I glance over and bite back a groan. She’s licking the icing from her fingers. Then she slips one finger into her mouth. As her eyes slide closed, I can’t help but imagine her wearing that look of sheer pleasure—and nothing else—as I thrust my cock between those two very plump lips. Good God, that should be illegal in public. Just watching her has every hormone in my body standing at attention and ready to attack.
My cock swells, the hum of arousal beats through my blood. I want to taste her. Her mouth, her flesh…I want to bury my face between her legs and make her come.
“Which means I’ll have to be on call even though I’ve got a date,” Harry says, pulling my attention away from his sister. I take a second to make sure I can even speak.
I close my eyes and thank the gods I have an apron on. Hopefully, her brother hadn’t noticed my erection. When I open my eyes, I find him frowning. “Why? They’re grown women.”
He rolls his eyes and starts rearranging things on the counter. Harry can’t stand to have things off even just an inch. Lately, he’s been getting worse. “Who always calls me when they need a driver?”
“Because you tell them to call. Man, you have got to take a step back.”
It’s something we talk about on a regular basis. Harry always hovers over those he cares about. Their business—because Fritz and I are his best friends—his sister…everyone. I know the reasons came from their mother’s battle with breast cancer when Harry was just sixteen. That makes it even more difficult. Fritz has never had issues like that in his life and, well, I never really had a family. None of my fosters ever made me feel like I belonged. So, Fritz and I can’t tell him how to behave. We really don’t understand what Harry and Allison have been through. Their mother survived, but I know the ordeal of her treatment had affected both siblings.
“Being the call to save the lives of three beautiful women isn’t a bad thing.”
No one would argue with that. “Hey, why don’t you let me take care of it?”
I really don’t want to do it, but Harry needs this break. I know it’s been months since he’s had a date. Not that I can talk, but Harry…he needs to release. Otherwise, he’s going to get even more uptight. He’s already driving us crazy with his OCD tendencies.
“What are you two talking about?” Fritz asks as he saunters in behind the counter.
The third partner of our business had an interview with a local San Antonio blog about their business. Fritz O’Bryan is the face of our business. He is definitely the prettiest—or at least, that’s what Allison says. He has the ability to charm just about any human on earth—especially women. From the ages of five to ninety-five, females seem to fall under his spell. The inky black hair and blue eyes tends to draw them in.
“The three musketeers are going out tonight, and I told them to call if they drink too much.”
“Which they will,” Fritz says. “Those women can’t handle their liquor. And you know, when Savannah starts drinking, she always talks them into tequila. I thought you had a date?”
“I do, but I can cancel.”
“No,” I say with a little more force than I meant to use. Both Harry and Fritz look at me. I clear my throat. “Listen, you need to go on a date. What if they don’t even call you?”
“Yeah?” Harry asks, cocking his head to the side. “You don’t have plans tonight?”
I shrug as I lean back against the counter. I rarely have standing plans or go on dates. I’m not that kind of guy. Harry is. At least until the last six months, which made the rest of their lives hell. If he isn’t paying attention to a woman, he needles both of us.
“Sure. I was planning on coming in tomorrow to work on some ideas for Fourth of July, so I don’t have plans. You need to go out on this date. When was your last one?”
“Why is that important?” Harry asks. I know it’s his way of trying to deflect the discussion.
“Was it the Date From Hell?” I ask. The Date From Hell is the title of his one time on a date with EJ. Allison had set them up and it had not gone well at all. In fact, the ladies had an acronym for it: DFH. They all knew what it meant and I’m pretty sure Harry does too.
“Oh, boy, you’re right,” Fritz says with a chuckle.
“I’ve been on other dates since then.”
“What are you three jabronies talking about?” Allison asks from behind me.
I jump at the sound of her voice. Dammit, she snuck up on us. I can usually control my reaction to her if I prepare. It takes a second too long to turn around, which gets me a knowing look from Fritz.
“Ed said he can be your call tonight,” Harry says. I can hear the doubt in his voice, and not because he doesn’t trust me. It’s because Harry trusts no one but himself.
“Oh?” she says, drawing out the word before making eye contact with me. “We can’t fit on your motorcycle.”
“I have an SUV also, and you know that,” I say crossing my arms over my chest.
“Yeah, and Harry has a date tonight,” Fritz says.
Her gaze travels to her brother. “You have a date?”
“He was going to cancel,” I offer.
Her eyes widen and right there, I can see the alarm in her green eyes. She knows Harry as well as Fritz and I do. “Oh, no. You go on your date. I said if worse came to worse, we would call an Uber, or Lyft, or whatever.”
“Either way, Ed offered since he’s going to continue on with his monkish life. Me, I have a date, as usual,” Fritz says. Of course, he does. Fritz never met a pretty woman he didn’t try to seduce. Except Allison.
She turns her attention to me. I feel it all the way to the soles of my feet. How can one glance almost make me come? “Is that so?”
“No plans tonight.”
“What? You have no plans for a Saturday night?”
I don’t know why people seem to think I have a lot of dates. Or hookups, or whatever. I haven’t had a woman in a really long time. And by long time, I mean we’ve been through an entire season of every sport since I had a hookup. Shut up. I don’t have time.
“I’m coming in tomorrow to test out some new recipes.”
She gasps, the dramatic sound completely over the top and I can’t help but smile. She smacks me on the arm and even that brief contact arouses me. It makes me want to grab her by the lapels of her red shirt and yank her closer for a kiss. And a whole lot more. A. Lot. More.
“And you didn’t tell me?” she asks, her voice filled with horror and mock anger.
“Now you’re in trouble,” Fritz mumbles.
“It’s new recipes, as in you don’t have any idea if they’ll be good.”
She narrows her eyes and crosses her arms beneath her breasts. It plumps them up a bit over the edge of her bodice. It takes all of my control not to slip my finger over the mounds of flesh…or my tongue. My tongue would be good.
“If you make it, then they will be good.”
“That means I don’t need a taste tester.”
She purses her lips, a sure sign that she’s pissed. Most men wouldn’t find it attractive. I’m not most men.
“I better get a text.”
I roll my eyes. “Okay.”
“Either way, I doubt we’ll be calling you tonight. We’re going to Savannah’s restaurant, so if we need a ride, someone in her family will take care of us.”
“Just remember to call if you need me,” I say.
I watch as some
thing comes and goes in her gaze, her expression turning neutral. For the first time since I’ve known her, I don’t know exactly what that look meant.
“Come on,” EJ yells out.
Allison rolls her eyes and smiles. “My friends are delicate flowers.”
“Allison,” Harry says with a warning tone.
“I promise to call Ed if we need him.”
“Thank you.”
“Have fun and use protection, Harry,” she says as she scurries away.
“Yeah, Harry,” Fritz says as he settles his arm over Harry’s shoulders. “Since it’s been so long, a lot of your condoms are probably out of date.”
“Get bent,” Harry says, pushing Fritz away.
“Who is it?” Fritz asks.
“One of my old clients. Tara Adams.”
I groan inwardly. This won’t work, just like that last woman he dated before the DFH. Harry always picks women who are boring. Tara Adams is boring. Beyond boring.
“I don’t remember her,” Fritz remarks.
And that says it all. If Fritz forgot a pretty woman, she has to be damned boring. Hell, any woman. Fritz is the kind of guy who can flirt with just about any woman and make her think she’s special. It’s why he’s our spokesperson.
“She runs that dress shop down on Barbe Street.”
The King William district in San Antonio is a small but thriving area and, for the most part, everyone knows everyone else. While we were trying to get our business up and running a couple years ago, Harry did a lot of bookkeeping for the area businesses. Tara is one of those people. One of those very boring people. Talking to her was a bit like watching paint dry.
“What’s wrong?” Harry asks me.
“What?”
“You’re frowning. What?”
I shake my head. “Nothing.”
“No. Not nothing. There’s something you want to say.”
I want to ignore the question but cannot. “You need a different kind of woman.”
“Who is this woman?” Fritz asks again.
“Black hair, blue eyes, has tons of trinkets in her shop,” I say.
“She doesn’t have a restaurant?” he asks.
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