Never Say Never (McLaughlin Brothers Book 3)

by Jennifer Ashley

  I’m breathless and scared, but also happy. Austin’s mouth is hot on mine, his hands finding my every curve.

  He always brings out the recklessness in me. I’m collected and buttoned-up most of the time—have to be—but Austin tears that away. He makes me want to do things like lick his cock, help him put on a condom, and then welcome him into my bed.

  He’s over me now, his warm weight familiar. I’ve missed it. Austin braces himself on his fists and gazes down into my eyes. I slide my hand between us and guide his cock to me.

  My head goes back as he slips inside. For a moment, we lie still, feeling, remembering. Something changes when you make love with a person, and it changes between us now. Whatever fragmented us is still out there, waiting, but at this moment the pieces of us coalesce, merging into what we once were.

  Austin’s face relaxes, passion erasing tautness. We’re together as I’ve dreamed, as I’ve longed for. He glides a little further inside, loosening the last of my anger and restlessness.

  Making up with Austin is always a hell of a ride.

  Austin smiles down at me, something wicked lighting his eyes. Then he goes for it.

  All the way out, all the way in. I catch the rhythm and rise to him, the two of us grappling, holding, making furious love.

  I laugh for the joy of it. Austin’s smile widens, his desire swelling my heart with excitement. We rock and ride, my legs lifting, my feet closing around his very fine ass.

  The sky is dark outside my window, the long summer day over. Inside it’s roasting, Austin and I searing the air. Our bodies are slick with sweat, hot where we join. He cups my breast, two fingers lifting my nipple. I hold him close, and he drives into me in desperation.

  Dark waves of ecstasy sweep me up. I hear myself shouting—his name, plus I think I yell that I love him, but he’s making so much noise, he doesn’t hear.

  I peak right before he does. I close my eyes, my body one tight point as a flood of euphoria threatens to drown me.

  Austin shudders, his body suddenly cool with sweat, and he hoarsely whispers my name.

  We’re holding each other as though we need to become one, our incoherent cries growing fainter until we crash down together. The waves recede, leaving us breathless on the shore that is my lumpy bed.

  Austin

  I don’t want this to end. I lie beside Brooke, catching my breath, running a hand through my drenched hair. She snuggles in beside me. No shoving me out of her bed, no remorse, no anger.

  Brooke has never used lovemaking to manipulate or win an argument. Sex for her is about the sex, about loving and enjoying. She leaves all our hang-ups and squabbles outside the bed and concentrates on lovemaking alone, squeezing as much pleasure out of it as she gives to me.

  It’s one of the reasons I fell in love with her.

  I realize as I lie here that I’m in love with her still. And I don’t want to let her go again.

  Well, crappity crap.

  Brooke strokes my chest with her skilled touch. “Still hungry?”

  “Yeah, but feasting on you has helped.”

  “We could go somewhere.” She scrunches her face comically. “Not back to my parents’ house. They’ll all know what we sneaked away to do.”

  “To work things out?” I suggest.

  “To have sex.” Brooke laughs softly and lays her head on my shoulder. “That’s what we mostly do.”

  “Between arguments, you mean.”

  “No.” More gentle caresses. “It was good, Austin. A large part of what we had was good. We just both have egos. And stubbornness.”

  I don’t want to say anything that will have us off this bed and back in the living room yelling at each other. “That’s true,” I agree.

  What I wish I could say was that we have to find a way to make our stubbornness work for us. As in, make sure neither of us wants to leave again.

  I love you, Brooke Marsh. How do I tell you that?

  “How about this?” Brooke rises on her elbow. “A truce tonight. We’ll clean up, go for some dinner. See what happens.”

  My heart beats faster in hope. “Okay,” I say, as though it doesn’t matter.

  She kisses me. I touch her cheek, our kiss warm with afterglow.

  We pry ourselves from the bed and into the shower in her bathroom. That leads to more play, and we bring each other to life with our hands. Brooke has never been shy with me, at least not after the first time we truly let loose.

  We finally finish when the hot water depletes, and we emerge, breathless and rubbery legged.

  I dry her off, and Brooke does me, which threatens to derail us again. Finally we gather our clothes, straighten our hair, and head out.

  I like her next to me in my small car, where I can reach out and touch her. She rests her fingers on my knee, and I cover her hand with mine.

  So comfortable, as though we’ve never been apart. The barrier between us hovers beyond our afterglow, but for now, it stays distant.

  We go to Mason’s, a great burger place that’s crowded tonight. We have to wait for a table, but it’s fine sitting at the bar, sipping wine until they’re ready for us. Mason’s isn’t fine dining, but everything they serve is good. Brooke and I soon face each other over a small table for two and enjoy the food.

  “I’m famished.” I start putting away my burger, and Brooke doesn’t exactly take dainty bites. “I’m not used to this.”

  “Sex?” Brooke leans closer to whisper. “Or great food?”

  “S-e-x.” I spell it out, as though no one will understand but us. “It’s been a while.”

  Brooke drags a roasted potato through the juice on her plate. “How long?” She asks the question nonchalantly, but her eyes hold uneasiness.

  “I can’t say exactly.” I set down my burger and lick my fingers. “You should know, though. You were there.”

  Her brows shoot upward. “What are you talking about? You went out with other women after we split up.”

  “Went out with them.” I wipe my fingers with my napkin. “Didn’t go home with them.”

  Brooke stares at me, dumbfounded. “Are you telling me you’ve not slept with a woman in a year and change?”

  “Yep. Couldn’t conjure the interest. Dancing and joking around is one thing. Getting serious between the sheets, something else. What?” I continue as her mouth remains open. “You don’t believe a guy can go a year or so without sex? We can. I’m not an animal. If I’m not into a woman, I’m not going to do it. Not fair to her or me. Besides, my heart wasn’t in it. It was broken.”

  Brooke sits up. “Now you are shitting me.”

  “Don’t you think that if I had slept with all kinds of women, I’d make sure you knew it? To show you I was over you?” I start to lift my burger but set it down again. “What about you? How many guys have you been with? Please don’t tell me Simon is one of them.”

  “No.” Her voice turns hard. “No one.”

  I lounge back in my chair. “Huh.”

  “Huh, what?”

  “I guess you and me never really broke up. We didn’t call each other for a year and a half, but neither of us started another relationship. We were in a holding pattern. Conclusion—we’re still together.”

  “Wait, wait, wait. How do you figure that?”

  “Think it through. We never officially called it quits. We just got mad and stormed away. I still have stuff at your house—unless you burned it. The stuff you left with me is carefully folded in a drawer. Though you probably don’t want those clothes anymore. A couple years out of style.”

  Brooke eats another potato, chewing slowly. “I didn’t burn anything.”

  “What’s that?” I lean closer as though I hadn’t heard her.

  “I kept your stuff. It’s in a box.”

  “Not as good as a drawer, but all right. Thank you. See? We’ve simply been taking a time out. We’re still together.”

  I flash her my best grin as my heart thumps. This is too dangerous. She can throw t
he words back at me and tell me to get lost. She can always call her brother for a ride home.

  “Let me think about this,” she says.

  “You do that. Except please don’t take another year and a half.”

  “I’ll think about that too.”

  “And don’t break up with me right this minute, either. I’d lose my appetite, and my burger is too good for that.”

  To my relief, Brooke gives me one of her warmest smiles. “Truce, remember? For the rest of tonight, those topics are off limits. We’ll enjoy our food and our wine.”

  “Maybe the rest of the port later?”

  “Maybe.”

  We share another long look. Good thing the tables are well spaced in this restaurant—this conversation is seriously personal.

  After dinner, I drive her back home. I’m bracing myself to say good night and leave her, when Brooke says softly, “Come in. Let’s have some more port.”

  Chapter Eight

  Austin

  The next morning I drive Brooke back to her parents’ house, where she’s left her car. She insists she can have Cedric bring it to her, but I want the opportunity to apologize to the family for vanishing from their dinner when they and Cedric had invited me.

  The truce between Brooke and me lasted through the night of exuberant sex—I didn’t have any more condoms, so there was no penetration, but we had a lot of fun anyway.

  The truce continues through breakfast, which I make, because Brooke doesn’t cook. The only reason she has eggs and bread is because Cedric occasionally drops off groceries for her.

  “You don’t have to drive me,” she repeats even as we get into my car.

  “I want to. I owe them an apology. I don’t want to be the jerk who has his way with their daughter then leaves everyone to eat my dust.”

  “They won’t think that,” she says with confidence.

  I shrug. “I’ll make it quick.”

  When we reach the house, Brooke resolutely walks inside with me instead of rushing to her car and high-tailing it out of there.

  Viola turns from the coffee pot as soon as Brooke leads me into the kitchen. “Good morning, you two. Coffee, Austin?”

  “Sure, thanks.”

  I accept the cup. Through the patio doors I see Brooke’s father, Craig, enjoying coffee outside. Brooke glances around as though she wants to be anywhere but here, but she also takes a cup and sits down at the large breakfast bar, hand straying to the newspaper next to her.

  “Sorry we ran out on you last night,” I begin to Viola. My cheeks grow warm, and I cover my awkwardness with a sip of coffee. “I’ll make it up to you. Somehow.”

  Viola chuckles. “I heard the yelling in the dining room. Then I see you driving off together. I was hoping that would happen.”

  Brooke jerks her attention from the headlines. “Mom.”

  “You two need to work things out.” Viola stirs sugar into her coffee. “So, did you work it out?”

  “Yes,” I say at the same time Brooke says, “No.”

  Viola looks back and forth between us. “Seems like you need a little more time to decide.”

  Gladly. If that time involves Brooke’s hands and mouth all over me, or us laughing hysterically while we play silly games like strip poker in her bed, so much the better.

  Viola winks at me and drifts to the patio to join her husband. She sinks into the chair next to Craig, reaching over to take his hand. Craig absently grasps it, two people so much in love they automatically gravitate toward each other.

  I take another sip and set down my cup. “Guess I should go.”

  Brooke swallows, but doesn’t protest. “Thanks for making me breakfast.”

  “Anytime. You need decent nutrition.”

  She shrugs. “I usually go out. I get nutrition from a restaurant.”

  “Home cooked is better. My dad taught us how, so …”

  “Tell your parents hi for me when you see them.”

  “Sure.” I clear my throat. “I’ll let you know my decision about the Ghibli.”

  Brooke returns her gaze to the newspaper. “No pressure. You either want it or you don’t.”

  For some reason, her reasonable words irritate me. “Like I said, I’m not a zillionaire. If I can make it work, I will.”

  She sends me a small smile, but the tension between us has returned. “I look forward to it.”

  And, just like that, we’re back to being frenemies. I take one more drink of coffee, which is good, and set the cup down.

  “See you, Brooke.”

  “See you, Austin.”

  I give her a once-over, recalling how we’d finished off the unused can of whipped topping she’d found in the back of her refrigerator last night. Her hair looked good spiked with whipped cream.

  Brooke says nothing, gives nothing away, and I turn and leave her.

  Truce over.

  Sunday means dinner at the McLaughlin family home. I had toyed with the idea of inviting Brooke today, but her cool good-bye made me change my mind.

  I go home, shower, put on fresh clothes. I’m slow, my mind on everything else, my usual energy gone.

  I couldn’t leave well enough alone, could I? I had to take up the challenge Brooke leveled at me after Zach’s rehearsal dinner to visit her dealership. I believed, in my arrogance, that she’d run straight back to me as soon as I gave her the chance.

  She’s showed me this will not be the case. Maybe we’re too different, too stubborn—although in the matter of stubbornness and drive, we’re a lot alike. Brooke works hard, is ambitious. And kick-ass. When she started as a salesgirl at the dealership, no one believed she knew anything about a combustion engine or how to calculate an interest rate, and now, she’ll own the dealership.

  I also work hard, but I’m content with what I have. I’m not eager to take over the business when Mom and Dad retire. I’ll keep working there, and Ryan will be the big boss. Fine by me—he can deal with the problems. I’m good at schmoozing for effective advertising placement at the best price, and at keeping our suppliers and contractors happy. I’ll keep on doing it, because I enjoy it.

  I think Brooke overdoes her business life, and she believes I’m not enterprising enough. Maybe she’s right.

  I’ll have to be very enterprising if I want to buy this car. I’m truly interested, not only because the Maserati is an amazing automobile, but it will remind me of Brooke. If I can’t have her, I can at least have something to remind me of our great times together.

  Most of the family is at the house today: Mom and Dad, Ryan and Calandra, Ben and Erin, Great Aunt Mary with her boyfriend, Andrew. Abby and Zach are on their honeymoon, and no one’s heard from them except a quick “We’re here in Santa Fe. We’re fine” text.

  I assume that with all the excitement of having Zach and Abby married off, Ben and Erin engaged, and Calandra and Ryan expecting, no one will talk much to me or about me.

  I assume wrong.

  “I heard you and Brooke were at Mason’s last night,” Ryan opens with as we gather around the dinner table. He knows everyone in town, and probably the manager of Mason’s called him to relay the interesting news. “Is that anything?”

  I’d told Brooke’s mother yes, but now I say firmly, “No.”

  I’m not let off that easy—I have to tell them everything. So I launch into a truncated version of the story, starting with me test-driving the car, Cedric inviting me to dinner, Brooke and I arguing at said dinner, Brooke and I taking our fight away from her family’s house so we won’t disturb anyone. I gloss over the part about having sex with her, and say we’d ended up at Mason’s. It had been good to talk without all the yelling.

  Not one person at that table believes I haven’t had sex with Brooke, but at least they keep quiet. For now, anyway. I know I’ll catch it at the office tomorrow, where Mom can’t be everywhere, glowering my brothers to silence.

  After supper, I corner Ryan. It’s hot though it’s about nine in the evening, and we stroll
near the pool. I can always strip off my shoes and step down into the water if I get too warm.

  “I need some advice, big brother,” I say.

  “About Brooke?” Ryan glances across the yard and through the lighted windows at his wife, who is laughing at something Great Aunt Mary has said. His eyes shine with the love in his heart. “My advice is to let her do whatever she wants with you. Worth it. Trust me.”

  Sure, like Ryan and Calandra never had problems at all. The two of them had sometimes been as volatile as Brooke and me, though not quite in the same way. Ryan and Calandra had been together since childhood, and had a bond no one could break. They’d had to work through some shit before they found a common happiness, but they’d started from a solid place. What solidity did Brooke and I have?

  “Not about Brooke,” I say quickly.

  Ryan raises his brows in perplexity. “What then?”

  “This effing car.” I let my shoulders slump. “I can’t bring myself to tell Brooke I can’t buy it—and I do want to buy it. But I can’t make it work unless I put down a boatload of money. I have some funds tucked away, but not a boatload. Even if I sell my car or they’ll take it in trade, it won’t be enough. Unless Mom and Dad suddenly give me a ginormous raise.” I send him a feigned hopeful look. Ryan is technically my manager, and he can run interference with our parents.

  Ryan laughs. “Yeah, that’s not going to happen. I’d help you out, bro, but all my finances are going to the kid.” His smile spreads, his pride almost comical. It’s also touching.

  “I’m not asking you for money. I’m asking if you have any ideas on how I can get some.”

  “Loan shark? No, I’m kidding.” Ryan lifts his hands as though he fears I’ll run off searching for one on the spot. “Sell your body? Kidding again.”

  “Thanks a lot.”

  Ryan grows serious. “I don’t understand why you’re hung up on this car. If you can’t afford it, buy something else. Or nothing. What you drive is plenty good.”

  “I know. It’s … I don’t know … symbolic.”