A Carpino Series Collection, Books 1-3

by Brynne Asher

  “You don’t like country music?” he asks frowning with his eyes, but I swear he’s grinning at the same time.

  “No, I like country music. I like all music, but I need to inform you that it sounds better on FM. Even better on Satellite. Or better yet, off an iPod. Although, I have to say, after meeting your scary cat named after a famous dead cowboy and now listening to your music preferences, I’m questioning your age. I think you lied and you’re near on retirement. You’re defying the aging process like a champ.”

  “Duke’s not scary,” he retorts.

  “Duke?” I ask.

  He keeps his eyes on the road. “The cat, John Wayne. John Wayne was known as The Duke. Cat answers to both.”

  “So you’re a cowboy wannabe?” I ask.

  Cam glances quickly before looking ahead. “Grew up on a ranch in Texas, Paige. Trained horses, herded cattle. My dad made sure I earned my way. When I wasn’t raising hell or playing football, that is.”

  Okay. There’s too much there I need to know about. I’m going to have to pick that apart to get all the information I want.

  I start with, “You played football?”

  “Have to know the game to coach it, darlin’.”

  “You really make me work hard for information, don’t you?”

  He gives me a sideways glance before explaining, “I can’t remember not playing. My dad started me young. My last two years of high school I was All State and heavily recruited. Pissed-off my parents by picking Nebraska over the University of Texas. I liked the program, good coach, and felt like I’d get more playing time as a freshman, which I did. I was a wide receiver and at the time, UT was heavy at that position. Didn’t want to wait my turn. So I pissed-off my parents who bleed orange and taught me the hookem’ horns hand gesture before I could walk, and became a Husker.”

  “Really? You must have been good,” I say, surprised for some reason. I mean, I know he’s a brick wall and a football coach, but it’s not like I know a lot of football players.

  He raises a brow. “All State two years in a row in Texas and Texas is not only a big state, but a big football state. Nebraska’s a top program. I didn’t suck.”

  “Did you play after college?” I keep on.

  He shakes his head at the windshield. “Even if I didn’t suck, I wasn’t the best of the best. I could’ve tried the draft, though the writing was on the wall. Going pro might be a dream for all players, but struggling for third or fourth string? Not the life I wanted.” Then he shakes his head muttering, “That wasn’t a popular decision with some.”

  “Wow.” I turn in my seat to face him in my seatbelt. “So you’re a football-playing-smarty-pants-cowboy-dad? You’re like an onion, you’ve got so many layers.”

  “What you see is what you get,” he states.

  “Somehow I doubt that.” I reach forward, helping myself to his radio controls. “Here, let me introduce you to new country, Just Cam. Prepare yourself, it can still be twangy at times, but it’s what all the young cowboys are listening to. I don’t want you to fall out of your seat. It’ll be upbeat, but they still sing about break-ups, hook-ups, and hang-ups. Trust me, once you switch to FM, not even the farm report will sway you back.”

  “Are you making fun of me, darlin’?”

  “I would never make fun of you, Cam,” I exclaim. I let my eyes go big and tip my head, totally making fun of him. “Or should I say, Campbell.”

  I see him blink slowly, minutely shake his head, and mutter, “Shit,” under his breath, low enough for the kids not to hear.

  I can’t help but laugh.

  Cam looks frustrated, even as he tips his lips and exits the interstate to take us somewhere for burgers.

  Cam

  I arm the security system at The Shed and move out to my Expedition. It’s late, I usually spend my extra time here when the kids are with Bekki to catch up on my books and scheduling.

  Jordy had a baseball game this morning and, this afternoon, as much as I hated to do it, I dropped the kids at fucking Bekki’s. Jordy was quiet as usual and Cara was wound tight as usual. I had another word with Jordy about his sister and he promised he’d stick close to her. But he’s only seven and shouldn’t have to worry about his sister when they’re with their own fucking mother.

  It didn’t help that Cara was quieter than normal last night when we got home after burgers. She said goodbye to Paige because Sophia and Lanny will be home tomorrow. It’s only been a week, but I can tell she opened up to Paige and she hardly opens up to anyone. Even Paige could tell Cara was sad and I know she didn’t know what to say. She looked at me with a questioning look before she said to my girl, “Maybe I’ll swing by after camp next week and see you. But you can call me anytime. Jordy has my number, remember?”

  This was all after we had dinner at Dinkers. Eating out with Paige Carpino was an experience all by itself. She studied the menu almost as long as it took her to leave the house, changing her mind three times when ordering. She finally decided on the Sirloin Steak Salad, because she said and I quote, “I’m just too curious, I can’t help myself.”

  She interrogated me on my football years, how I trained horses, what I did with cows, and my name—which I informed her is a family name and if she ever called me Campbell again, there’d be hell to pay.

  Then, we were in the middle of dinner when it happened. She reached over, picked up my plate with my half-eaten burger on it and slid her salad in front of me saying, “Do you mind if we trade? I’ve never been here, I can’t leave without trying a burger.”

  “Are you serious?” I asked, looking down at her salad in front of me.

  “Mm-hmm,” she hummed with a mouthful of my favorite Bluejay Burger. “It’s a good salad, you’ll like it.”

  I looked down at the salad in front of me, then back to her, and frowned.

  “This is really good,” she said wiping her mouth. “I’ve got to come up with something for the blog with blue cheese. Maybe I can switch it up with meatballs to make it more original.”

  I sat there watching her eat my dinner, realizing she was serious and I wasn’t going to get my burger back. I frowned while picking up her fork, thinking at least she ordered something with steak. The salad was okay, but I’ve never seen anyone do the likes of that and I would have preferred eating the rest of my burger.

  The woman is something else.

  Needless to say, none of us knew how to say goodbye when we dropped she and the boys off. I sent the kids home ahead of me to find a moment alone and hooked a finger in the waist of her pants, pulling her close. “I’ll call you.”

  She pulled in a big breath and caught my arms in her small hands. “Thanks for dinner.”

  “You ate half of mine. You do that all the time?” I narrowed my eyes on her and pulled her closer with my other hand on her bare upper back.

  “Depends. If it looks good, yes.”

  I shook my head once and leaned down to kiss her fast because I could hear Noah and Cayden in the next room.

  Leaning up, I said, “You sure make things interesting.”

  She said nothing but kept on grinning.

  I let her go and went home.

  But now as I pull up my drive, I see the kitchen light on at my neighbor’s house. She must still be up. I’ve seen her every day for almost a week and I’m trying to talk myself out of going over there.

  I shouldn’t go. I’ve got kids. She’s six years younger than me and only responsible for herself with nothing tying her down. I should drop it—chalk it up to an interesting week.

  I should leave her be.

  Going into the house, I let Cara’s dog out. As I stand on my deck looking through the expanse and dark of night, I see her standing at the kitchen window doing something at the sink.

  I make myself turn away, looking to the forest as Cara’s dog noses around the yard.

  Minutes go by and I don’t allow myself to look back.

  The dog finally comes running, finished with her b
usiness, and we both head in. Going to the pantry, I toss her a treat before looking for something to eat. Standing here staring into my mostly clean fridge, just not as straightened as she left it, I see the six pack of Sam Adams I couldn’t help but buy yesterday. Not wanting to think about why I bought Sam Adams when I only ever buy Bud, I slam the door and lean against it.

  I contemplate my life. My responsibilities. My headaches and all the pains in my ass I can’t seem to get rid of.

  But just like the last few days, my mind goes back to the woman next door who surprises me at every turn. To the woman who gives me sweet when all I’ve tasted is sour for a long fucking time. A woman who can hand me attitude one moment but turns soft the instant I get my hands and mouth on her. I know she wants it as much as me. I not only see it, but read it in her eyes, her face, her body.

  I squeeze my eyes and think. Finally, I sigh.

  Fuck it.

  Opening the fridge, I grab a Bud and Sam A. before heading through the garage, shutting the door after me. Once I get halfway across the yard, I pull out my phone to text her.

  Me: Open the patio door.

  I’m surprised I don’t get a wiseass text back, but before my foot hits the top of the patio, the door swings open and there she is. Waiting for me.

  She leans into the door, a small smile playing on her beautiful face. Tonight she’s wearing a white dress with thin blue stripes that looks a lot like a man’s dress shirt but has a loose tie at her waist. Her hair’s pulled back again, but neatly this time, tied at the base of her neck.

  She doesn’t say a word so I ask, “Boys in bed?”

  she answers, pulling in a breath. “Yeah.”

  I lift my hand up to show her the beer she likes and move around her. Heading straight to the kitchen, I search for a bottle opener. After banging through three drawers, I find what I’m looking for and pop the top of her bottle. I turn to find she’s leaning against the counter across the kitchen. Moving to her, I hand her the drink. She takes it and her eyes come to me with one brow raised, noting the fact I remembered.

  I twist the top of mine and lean my hips to the counter opposite her, the expanse of the kitchen separating us. She puts her bottle to her lips, taking a drink.

  Giving me her eyes, no words are offered. The air in the room goes thick, hanging silently between us like a tangible object. Taking her in through the translucent glow offered by the single light over the kitchen sink, she seems smaller. She’s barefoot, like she always is in the house and probably stands at five-two—maybe five-three. Her eyes are darker than normal in the dim room and my eyes go to her mouth when she pulls her bottom lip between her teeth. I see her exhale and shift to her other foot. This makes me close my eyes and drop my head.

  What the fuck am I doing?

  I hear her pull in a breath through the silence and look up to say, “I should leave you be.”

  She pulls her brows together, tipping her head. “Why?”

  I inhale and look to the side for long moments.

  I look back. “I’ve got kids.”

  “Yeah,” she agrees. “You’ve got great kids.”

  “I have a bitch of an ex-wife who’s a shit mom and I get no help from her.”

  “I hate that for you. But I especially hate it for Jordy and Cara,” she adds and I can tell she means it down to her bones.

  “I’ve got two full-time jobs. They’re demanding and they suck my time.”

  “You’re telling me things I already know, Cam,” she says.

  “What I’m trying to tell you is that these are my priorities.”

  “They should be,” she keeps agreeing with me.

  “I should let you be someone’s priority,” I go on.

  That shut her up.

  It’s her turn to look away. I meant what I said, the six-year age difference isn’t that big of a deal, but shouldn’t she deserve someone who can put her first? I don’t have the luxury of time. Giving time to someone else isn’t something I can carve out of my day, even if I wanted it.

  But fucking hell. I want it.

  I cannot shit where I live with my neighbor’s sister.

  She looks back and asks quietly, “Then why are you here?”

  I pull in a breath and exhale. “Because I’m a selfish asshole.”

  She pulls her lip in between her teeth again.

  “Tell me to leave, Paige.”

  She narrows her eyes on me and tips her head to the other side.

  “Tell me to get the fuck out.”

  She closes her eyes thinking about it.

  “Last chance, darlin’,” I warn, not able to keep my voice from sounding anything other than heavy and gruff.

  Her eyes flare open and her tongue barely sneaks out to lick her lips.

  That’s it.

  Slamming my beer down, I make short order of cutting through the thick air of the kitchen to get to her. I reach out for her face and pull her to me so I can get my mouth on hers, something I haven’t been able to get out of my head the last couple days. Something I fucking can’t wait another second to do.

  The moment I taste her, her hands come to my stomach and she slides them up my chest before fisting my shirt. I lower one hand to her ass, cupping her, and pull the tie out of her hair with the other, letting it fall over my hand. I give her a squeeze before pressing her into the cabinet and let my hands fall to her hips. Sliding my hands up her sides, I cup her tits, filling my hands perfectly and she lets go of my mouth to exhale audibly against mine. I lean back to look down at her, feeling her nipples hard through her thin dress. I give them a squeeze and she instantly closes her eyes, letting out a gasp.

  Responsive.

  I squeeze again and she lifts her hooded eyes to look at me.

  Damn, those deep, brown eyes. I could become addicted. I feel her move against me, the squirm I’ve come to love. I smile and let my hands drop further, yanking her dress up. I feel the bare skin of her hips in a tiny pair of panties as she opens her eyes wide to look up—and I have to know.

  I lean down to kiss her again, saying against her lips, “You wet for me, baby?”

  Her only answer is to breathe my name against my lips, “Cam.”

  Not giving her another second because I can’t wait any longer, I slide a hand in between her legs. Tucking a finger inside her panties, she jerks at my touch against her pussy.

  “Soaked,” I say and immediately hook my thumbs at her hips to rip her panties down her legs. Standing, I pick her up easily, lifting her to the counter and move between her legs to take her mouth.

  Her hands tense at my shoulders. Grabbing her ass, I give her a good yank pulling her to the edge, tight to me. I kiss her while making work of the top two buttons of her dress. Pulling it to one side, I give her nipple another squeeze over her bra.

  She gives me a whimper and I feel the inside of her legs tense at my hips. Pulling her bra down, I finally get my hands on her and her next whimper is deeper.

  “Cam.” She drawls out my name.

  “So fucking perfect,” I murmur against her neck and drag my hand up the outside of her thigh. I let my fingers trail over her hip to her pussy, open for me. I feel how wet she is and say, “Let me make your body sing, baby.”

  She lets out a long, “Oh,” still breathing heavy.

  “Tell me what you want,” I lean back to look into her eyes as I touch her, flicking her clit with my thumb.

  “What?” her body jerks and she sort of frowns.

  “I want to know what you want. You want my cock or just my hand?” I ask before I lean down to kiss her again.

  “Cam,” she starts against my lips. “I need…”

  I slide my middle finger inside her. Fuck, she’s tight.

  “Oh,” she breathes again and I feel her squirm on my hand, showing me she likes it. I pull my finger out, replacing it with two, filling her up.

  “What do you need, baby?” I whisper against her lips as I keep finger fucking her with my thumb light on h
er clit. I don’t want her to come just yet and, at this point, it’s not going to take a lot of work to get her there.

  I feel her legs tense at my hips as her hands slide up to my neck to hold on as she mumbles, “It’s just … oh … I don’t know…”

  “Baby, my cock or my hand?” I can’t help but smile against her lips at how hot she’s burning that she can’t make a decision. “It’s going to be my hand if you don’t make up your mind.”

  “Cam.” She leans closer to me and stuffs her face in my neck. “I just, well, I don’t know.”

  “You don’t know?” I smile into the side of her head, smelling her hair and circle her clit a bit harder.

  “It’s,” she takes in a breath and I barely hear her when she mutters, “it’s just that I’ve never…” and her voice trails off.

  I freeze.

  Never.

  Never?

  What the fuck?

  I pull my hands away, as if her body is searing my skin, taking two steps back. Her face is flushed, somewhere between turned on and embarrassed, but she doesn’t miss a beat. She immediately closes her legs and pulls her dress to cover her exposed body.

  “Cam,” she whispers out for me, her voice small and pained.

  “Never?” I bite back, but not in a whisper. It’s an accusation.

  A look washes over her face and I might as well have hit her. She instantly closes her eyes and turns her head as she pulls her dress tighter.

  “You’re a virgin?” I keep on loudly, now pissed at myself more than I’ve ever been.

  I see her pull in a deep breath while lifting her head a fraction, still not looking at me.

  “Shit, what in the hell am I doing?” I mutter to myself, bringing my hands up to rub my face and running them through my hair. And I can’t help it, I yell, “Fuck!”