by K B Cinder
Dash headed straight to the shower after doing a perimeter search, washing away a day of funk before emerging in fresh clothes he kept in his truck. He hadn’t shaved, his features deliciously dark and stubbled, begging for me to have my way with him.
He kissed me as he came into the living room, catching me red-handed watching a Christmas romance right at a scandalous fade to black sexy time.
“You like master bakers now?” he asked with a raised brow, watching the incredibly cut actor strut his stuff on screen.
“Uh, duh. I like a man who can make me a pie on demand.”
He laughed, kissing me again. “Sorry. The only master I’m good for is masturbating.”
I giggled and shook my head, the stubble of his cheeks scraping my face. “Good to know.”
“I can fight fires, too. That’s a nifty skill. But I’m way better at masturbating.” He nuzzled my neck, peppering it with kisses, sending me spiraling with more laughs.
“Tell me the truth!” I demanded, hunching my shoulders up like a turtle in a shell to protect against the unrelenting tickles. “Did you ever….ya know…about me before?”
“Have I ever masturbated thinking of you?” he asked, cutting right to the chase.
I nodded, suddenly too shy to say the words. I felt like an idiot, too. Here I’d romped around in the sheets with him yet was too embarrassed to have a normal, adult conversation with him.
“Only for…I don’t know…ten fucking years now?” he laughed, his fingers leisurely stroking along my collarbone.
“Really?” I didn’t know if I was flattered or slightly horrified. He’d been firmly in the family friend category until I got a good look at him on Thanksgiving Eve. It was like blinders were lifted off of me or something.
He laughed, his breath fanning across the delicate flesh of my neck. “You never wondered why Sage didn’t like us alone together? He knew I had the hots for you after you came home for Christmas break your freshman year of college. I’ll never forget you leaving for a jingle ball concert in a peach dress and thigh-high boots. Fuck. My dick is getting hard just thinking about it.”
I slid my hand along the front of his sweatpants, and as promised, he had more than a chub started. “Why didn’t you ever say anything?”
“You and I were always dating other people. Your relationships were usually serious, and I was playing the field. Not to mention Sage would have killed me. He would have been even worse than now.”
“Hey! He’s made serious strides the last few days!” I protested, giving my brother credit where due. I was genuinely surprised Dash didn’t have a black eye at least.
“Oh, he definitely wanted to kill me when I pulled up,” he chuckled, kissing my neck softly. “But I’m the one that noticed your car, and then it was game on. We both went into defensive mode to protect what was ours.”
“Oh, I’m yours?” I teased, tilting his face up to look at me, his cheeks rough against my fingers.
“No shit, Sherlock.”
And he reminded me right there on the couch.
And later in bed, too, in case I forgot.
He was a hell of a helper when it came to that.
24
Christmas morning brought Christmas kisses along with its usual gifts, the tree visited by a drunken Karine Santa after Dash and I fell asleep. I woke up happy for the first time in ages on the holiday, wrapped snugly in Dash’s arms, my cheek pressed against his bare chest.
We exchanged gifts with Karine before heading to our parents’ houses, Karine gifting me a massage certificate and pampering goodies before giving Dash the biggest box of condoms I’d ever seen, along with a fleshlight in typical Karine fashion.
As hilarious as it all was, I was more than thankful our parents weren’t there to witness any of it. Mom and Pop would never let us live it down.
She didn’t get off easy, though, Dash firing back with a gift of his own to her: a blowup boyfriend that said nice butt when his hand was squeezed. Karine squealed in delight, christening him Tony and decking him out with shades and a hat before launching an epic Insta photoshoot with her new boo, wearing the new sweater and earrings I got her.
Dash was sweet with his to me, a locket with no written inside, making me laugh aloud as I read it. I felt like a dork for going the practical route, giving him a new pair of work boots and an ax-throwing lesson. Who knows if it would come in handy on the job?
As we walked out to leave, I did have a sinking feeling as we approached his truck, afraid his tires would be victims like mine, but thankfully, they were fine.
Hopefully Brandon had already had a meeting with a policeman or two and would give it a rest. I didn’t have his salary. I couldn’t keep replacing tires left and right.
We hit up the Bane’s place first for breakfast, Marie blessing my belly with homemade Nutella crepes and assorted pastries while we exchanged gifts and laughs.
There was a lightness to the air that I’d missed, the joy of the holiday lifting me rather than the darkness shrouding it as usual. The Bane parents fussed over me like no other, Marie slipping back into calling me petite genévrier and soaking up every second of Dash and his new girlfriend.
By the time we rolled out the door to my parents’ house, I was stuffed and glowing, Dash piggybacking me across the cul-de-sac, saving my ankle booties from the snow.
We walked in, finding Pop and Pierogi attempting to build a fire on the far wall of the living room. Well, Pop was cursing at the fireplace under his breath and Pierogi was chewing at the bark of piece of firewood, but it was a team effort.
The Christmas tree looked straight from the front page of Good Housekeeping, dripping in tinsel and garland, the oversized skirt beneath it almost entirely hidden by gifts. All expertly wrapped by Mom, of course. If and when I ever had kids of my own, I had a hell of an act to follow.
The house smelled drool-worthy, Mom’s cinnamon French toast and bacon heavy in the air. If I wasn’t about to burst, I totally would have raided the kitchen for leftovers.
Babcia was seated on the loveseat dressed in green, fully completing her transformation into the Grinch after ninety-five years. Her laser eyes snapped to us as we walked in, the fresh plate of cookies on the coffee table doing nothing to sweeten her acid tongue.
“Who’s this one now, Juniper?” she croaked, her nails pressed to her cheek as she studied us. “You get around.”
I smiled at her as I approached, giving her a stiff hug. Her nails bit into me as usual, managing to hurt despite the thick wool of my cardigan. “This is my boyfriend, Dash. He’s Sage’s friend, remember?”
She hooted with crackled laughter as she pulled away, eyes narrowing on Dash once she fell silent. “She’s not a show pony, son. She has some miles on her.”
Dash didn’t miss a beat, leaning in to give her a warm hug. Not that the crow deserved it. “I like my Juni just the way she is.”
My Juni. Those words alone soothed the sting of her bite. I was his Juni, and the whole world knew. Okay, maybe not the whole world but we did make it Facebook official, and his profile picture was a selfie of us. That was pretty dang public.
“You said he’s Sage’s friend?” Babcia asked a second later, reaching for her tea. She drank it black, naturally, just like her heart.
“Yes,” I replied, eyes on Dash as he crossed the room to greet Pop and help him with his fire. If anyone knew how to make a proper fire, it was a guy that put them out for a living. “And I really like him, Babcia, so please, let’s have a nice day.”
She wouldn’t scare him away with all the tricks she could cook up in her cauldron, but she could behave for one day. For me.
She scowled. “I am having a nice day!”
A nice day making everyone miserable. “Would you like some wine, Babcia?” I asked. Wine made everything better. Who cared if it was eleven in the morning. It was five o’clock somewhere.
“I can’t drink on the Lord’s birthday!” She squawked, face pulled tightly in disa
pproval.
I wasn’t sure why it mattered. For someone who hit up Mass three times a week, she still acted like she was on the guy downstairs’ team.
“Sure you can. It’s a party. Let’s get you some celebration cider.”
“Why didn’t I think of that?” Pop whispered as studied Babcia who was laughing and smiling on the loveseat with Sage.
She was nursing glass number two after presents, slowly unraveling from the ball of sparks into a real grandmother. Like the kind that told me I looked cute in my outfit. Crazy, I know. I was still pinching myself.
“Because you’re not a savage like me,” I laughed, dipping back into the kitchen to help Mom with lunch preparation.
“Mabel, we need to keep that brand on tap!” Pop followed me into the kitchen. “Juni, did you lace it with holy water?”
I giggled, heading to the cabinet for dishes to set the dining table. “No, but I did silently pray it’d make her nice for once.”
“A Christmas miracle!” Pop clasped his hands in prayer, dramatically lifting them high. “Thank you, Santa!”
“You two are too much,” Mom sighed with a laugh, stirring the Tuscan tortellini soup on the stove. “I can’t believe you’re getting your grandmother drunk, Juni. She’s flagged.”
“Duh,” I said with an eye roll. “I’m not getting her drunk, Mom. I’m getting her demons tipsy so we can perform an exorcism. This glass is her last. I didn’t even give her a full serving. Her demons are just weak.”
Dash stepped into the room, all eyes falling on my handsome honey. He cleaned up nicely, wearing the hell out of an ugly Christmas sweater and jeans. Even a poorly-drawn Rudolph didn’t stop me from wanting to pounce.
“Dash, you must be exhausted from last night,” Pop proclaimed, reaching in the sink to offer him a bottle of water.
I choked on my own spit at his insinuation, doubling over while Dash came to my rescue, offering me the bottle as he patted my back.
“Why’s that?” he asked with a grin once I stopped hacking. He looked back at me with a mischievous twinkle in his eyes, and I bit the hell out of my tongue to keep from laughing or smiling.
“You flew all over the world with Santa!”
I groaned aloud at Pop’s awful reindeer joke while Mom lost it, her whole body seizing up with laughter. She gave him a high five, Sage entering the room at the peak of it.
“What’s so funny?” he asked, reddening immediately as he looked down at his t-shirt, thinking he was the butt of a joke.
“Dash is very tired from his night with Santa,” Mom managed, wiping a stray tear from her eye over Pop’s awful dad joke.
Sage grinned. “Is that what we’re calling Juni now? A little harsh, no?”
Everyone lost it again, the room descending into laughs. But I kept my cool, smiling at my brother.
It was a small joke, a tiny step forward into friendly territory.
But it was a huge milestone.
He wouldn’t say it aloud, forever the bear.
But he’d accepted us.
25
Karine headed to New York to visit family in the morning, while Dash went into work, forcing me to go to the gym with Sage. Not because I wanted to drag myself out of bed and torture myself, but because Dash insisted that I not be alone.
I didn’t have many options. It was either hit the gym with Sage, or stay at my parents’ house with Babcia.
The decision was easy. I’d happily march up a stair-climber over being nitpicked to death. Death by cardio seemed gentle in comparison.
So, I slipped into leggings and a cami, two sports bras keeping the girls under wraps before Sage picked me up in his Jeep.
When we got there, he had a grappling class to teach in the back, so I was left mindlessly gliding on the nearest elliptical whose cup holder perfectly fit my crème brûlée frappuccino. I sipped away as I soared, the Golden Girls giving me life through my headphones with each rotation.
Serious athletes looked on in disgust at my setup, but I flipped them off if they stared too long.
Hey, I was in the gym and doing it my way. Juni style beat the hell out of the scary noises they were making while they worked out. Some of them sounded like they were shitting out a watermelon during sets.
My leisurely pace wouldn’t get me ripped, but I wasn’t planning on running a marathon anytime soon. Honestly, my only fitness goal was fitting into my jeans on Fridays. Then it was back to dresses and stretchy leggings.
I made it two miles before I felt a tap on my shoulder, screeching when I saw Brandon beside me. I lifted a foot to make a break for it, forgetting about the whole rotation and weight aspect of the machine.
Not only did I stumble off-balance. I fell hard and as ungracefully as one could imagine, Superman-diving headfirst into the floor, landing splayed out like a starfish.
In front of a packed gym, no less.
He was saying something, but I couldn’t hear him, nothing but an epic Blanche sex story playing in my ears.
He went to help me up, but I scrambled away, pulling my headphones off as I did. “Get away from me! Security!” I yelled. I didn’t even know if the gym had security, but it was worth a shot.
He stepped forward, getting too close for comfort as he tried to help me. “Juni, don’t. Please. I just want to talk.”
“You followed me, you stalker!” I shrieked, a muscled giant from the row machine coming to my rescue as I crab-walked away.
“Is everything okay?” he asked, glancing between us.
“He’s my crazy ex-boyfriend!” I explained, climbing to my feet behind the chiseled man. “He slashed my tires!”
“I came to apologize!” Brandon defended, his shoulders slumped. “I’m so sorry, baby. For everything. I mean it.”
Safely behind the stranger, I had a chance to really look at him, his usually clean-cut face rough with patchy stubble, deep circles under his eyes. Medical tape still stretched across his bruised nose. Even his clothes were disheveled, a major no-no in the polished world of Brandon Finger where appearance was everything.
People were beginning to flock around, curious onlookers unable to resist the drama unfolding. My drama, as usual.
I wrapped my arms around myself, suddenly self-conscious at my dirty laundry being aired. “I don’t want your apologies, Brandon. Leave me alone.”
“What’s going on?” It was Sage, his voice booming as he ran from the distance, panic in there somewhere. “Where’s my sister? Juni!”
“I’m fine!” I called. I wasn’t, my body likely going to bruise like a banana, but that was besides the point. The last thing we all needed was for him to fly off the handle.
He pushed his way through the crowd as it parted, looking relieved when he saw me. That look turned homicidal when he saw Brandon. He reacted, lunging forward like a man possessed, only to be stopped by my row-machine savior and two other men.
“Someone grab him! Call the cops! Don’t let him leave! He’s a stalker!” Sage roared, muscles bulging in his tank top as the men held him back.
“It’s not necessary,” Brandon assured, holding out a white envelope. “I came to apologize and give her this.”
“Open it,” Sage ordered, not taking any chances.
Brandon obeyed, pulling out ten crisp hundred-dollar bills. “This is for your tires, Juniper. I’m sorry.”
He sounded as broken as I’d felt when I saw him with Clare, cracking something within me.
“It’s okay.” I said it to no one in particular before looking to Sage who was still fuming. “I need a minute to talk to Brandon. Alone.”
Sage shook his head. “Not happening.”
“Okay, well, at least let us sit out in reception rather than here in the middle of the floor.”
His lip twitched, unwavering.
“Sage, please. I need this.”
I did, as much as I hated to admit it.
He gave a short nod but followed close behind as we walked, his ripped handlers hoveri
ng close by. I maintained a distance from Brandon, not because I feared him, but because being in his general vicinity made me nauseous.
The reception area was empty, Brandon standing awkwardly by the door waiting for me. He handed me the envelope once I was close enough, and I handed it right to Sage. He didn’t know it yet, but Dash had already volunteered to replace my tires with his help at Mr. Bane’s shop later that day.
I waved him off, and he reluctantly took a post a few feet away, his jaw clenched as he watched us intently.
“I’m sorry I punched you in the face,” I started, truly feeling guilty as I looked at the bruising around his nose. “You scared me when you wouldn’t let go.”
He shook his head with a sigh. “Don’t apologize. I deserved it.”
“You did, but I still feel bad,” I admitted. “Did I break it?”
He nodded, a smile cutting through the sadness weighing his face down. “I’m going to need a nose job. Someone taught you how to hit, Juni.”
I glanced at Sage who was beaming proudly, eyeing my bruised and battered creation.
“I learned from the best.”
Brandon laughed softly. “I’ll keep that in mind the next time I meet someone. I’ll be sure to ask if her brother owns a gym before agreeing to a second date.”
“Smart thinking,” I breathed.
His eyes were sad as they met mine, and I knew then that somewhere in that fucked up, self-absorbed head of mine he loved me. Maybe he realized it, too, and that’s why he was finally letting go.
“I’m sorry,” he said through teary eyes. “I’m sorry for Clare. For the other day in Rosen’s office. For your car. Both times. I’m a douchebag.”
“The biggest there ever was,” I agreed with a laugh, trying to shake the overwhelming urge to cry. After everything, it still hurt to see him upset. I wasn’t heartless. “But we’re good, okay? We’ll call it even and move on. No more back and forth. Let’s agree to be adults.”
I wiped a tear away that was threatening his bandage before giving him a hug. A hug we both needed.