Not sure where that personal tidbit came from. Perhaps I’ve softened in the time I’ve been here, which is unusual for me. But seeing Penelope so out of her usual element … maybe it’s loosened something in my typically icy demeanor.
“If they grow up to be anything like the Nash brothers …” I’m pretty sure Penelope is going to say something rude as she breaks off on a yawn. “I’ll be proud.”
This rare show of kindness toward me, or I guess toward my family, startles me. It’s as if, for a night, we have both put our weapons down.
“I’m surprised you stayed,” she says as she bends to pick up a discarded sweatshirt on the rug. “You didn’t have to.”
“Figured you could use the help.” I shrug, not really sure why I stayed either. “Is Ames okay?”
“Hopefully he just has a twenty-four-hour bug. But thank you for getting that Tylenol. It doesn’t help with the sickness, but it does help with the nausea … and knocks kiddos out. Some may judge me for drugging my kid, but he needs to sleep this off. I’ve probably parented worse over the years.”
Penelope picks up a juice cup and then stares at it for a few seconds. Setting both of the items of clutter down on the coffee table, she sighs and collapses onto the couch. She must have decided against cleaning up.
And it’s now that I realize how truly busy her life is. She has three little people depending on her. I usually walk around in my self-absorbed bubble, not really giving a fuck what other people deal with on a daily basis. I certainly never considered what Penelope went home to each time I flirted with her, lusted after her, or best, tasted her.
“I can blow you in the garage or something,” she offers even though she’s lying motionless on the couch with her eyes closed.
“You may think I’m the biggest prick alive, but I’m not that much of an asshole. I don’t require payment for tonight. Rest, and I’ll text you tomorrow about—”
I’m about to lower my voice and say some very dirty things about our friends with benefits pact, but when I glance at Penelope, her breathing has evened out and her lids are closed.
She’s asleep, fully dressed on her couch with a disaster of a living room all around her. It’s strange that I’ve been sitting in her house for almost an hour, helping to wrangle kids while one pukes just above my head, and I’m not the least bit on edge. I’m not really a kid kind of person; never considered myself a parental figure or even really wanted one of my own. And even though tonight did not contain the kind of happy ending I’d signed up for when I scheduled a meet up with Penelope, I wasn’t exactly complaining.
Taking the soft knit blanket off the back of her couch, I cover her with it and quietly walk out of the room. I turn off most of the lights on the first floor and lock the door behind me before heading for my car down by the curb.
A shadow to my right has me pausing, all the hairs on the back of my neck standing up.
“What were you doing in there?” An accusatory tone spits out. The voice belongs to Corey Watters, who steps out of the shaded part of the lawn.
My heartbeat quickens, when it should be slowing since I know who this person is. “Jesus, Watters, what the fuck are you doing? Lurking?”
His bulging eyebrows and military buzz cut make him look like Biff from Back to the Future. “I came to check up on Penelope and Ames.”
“Well, they’re asleep. You can go home.” This guy annoys the shit out of me.
“What are you doing here, anyway?” He eyes me critically, posing the question again.
Making a pssh sound, I swat my hand at him as if he’s a nosy insect and walk off without answering him. The guy has a hard-on for Penelope, and I don’t need to deal with his macho army shit right now. If she wants to shack up with that bonehead, let her.
What do I care? We’re just fuck buddies.
11
Penelope
On the rare occasion people actually talk about me being a young widow to my face, they always mention how great I’m doing as a single mother.
In reality … my life isn’t much different now than when Travis was alive. That sounds horrible to admit, but it’s true. For most of the years the boys have been alive, he was either stationed overseas or at a base so far away from Pennsylvania, there was no sense in moving. He transferred so often that we thought it best for me to stay in our hometown with the kids so that our parents could help out. Because even if we moved the family around with him, I’d essentially be doing it on my own. We had no clue what his crazy work hours would require.
And so being a single mom, that was second nature to me. Aside from Matthew, I’d delivered two out of three babies without my husband. I might have screamed at the nurses in the hospital room to get him for me, but he wasn’t coming and never showed up. For years, I’d done dinners and baths by myself. Got them on the bus, picked them up from sports practice, kissed their boo-boo’s and taught them to ride bikes. I’d done all of it alone … with, of course, the help from our friends and family. But when it came down to it, I was a single parent raising these boys on my own.
So when Travis died, there was a weird period of feeling like nothing had changed. Some days, I could even pretend that he was just in an area of the desert with bad cell reception, and that’s why we hadn’t heard from him.
Having Forrest show up at my house, initially to confront me and then to help … take care of my kids? That’s what it had turned in to, and it was so damn strange. Yes, my mom and Marion, and even Lily or Presley, help out loads with the boys. But even with my closest allies, I keep them at arm’s length. Truly, if Forrest hadn’t shown up to save the day with a knockout serum for Ames, I wouldn’t have called anyone. I would have suffered through the night … even more than I already had considering Ames woke up four times even after the Tylenol dose.
What had been a meeting for mutual orgasms turned into Forrest sitting on my living room floor, playing video games with my two oldest children. Their own father had rarely done this, because of his selfless sacrifices to protect our country.
All the boys have returned to school today, two days after Pukemageddon, and I called out to pick up the shreds of my life. Fancy that, the school nurse taking a sick day to clean up after her sick kid. But other moms knew my pain … self-care and a clean house fell to the bottom of the list. Today was a day to dedicate to both of those, even if it was just a few short hours.
As I walk through my house, scrubbing and dusting to the musical renderings of Stevie Wonder, I’m overcome with a steel-toed boot impact of grief to the gut. It doubles me over, sucking the breath from my lungs and sending waves of tears hurdling past the corners of my eyes.
This happens, sometimes. I’ll be okay thinking about Travis and wondering what his view of our life now would be. And then, in the next second, my world is crumbling. My vision dances with black spots and the vise of misery on my heart won’t let up. It’s a blinding, self-deprecating tunnel of sadness, and I collapse to the floor in its clutches.
Clawing at my chest for it to let up, the pain and tension ease after a few moments.
“Pen, it’s me! Ames forgot his lucky cape so I’m running it back to the preschool.”
My mom walks into the kitchen, sees me slumped against the island, and rushes to me. “Oh my God, are you hurt? Can you breathe? Penelope?”
I realize that I’m staring at her blankly, trying to conserve enough energy to even speak. When I finally feel the color come back to my face, I choke out words.
“Do you think Travis is ashamed of me?”
Anguished tears spill down my cheeks, and I sniffle. My mother has no idea that I’m talking about sleeping with another man, or the way in which I’ve agreed to have a relationship with him.
Mom tutts, sighs and then sits down next to me with her back against my kitchen cabinets. “Honey, if you ever say anything like that again, I’ll slap you upside your head.”
A watery laugh escapes my lips; I am my mother’s daughter. “Good to
know. I’ll try to avoid the self-loathing then … I remember how hard you spank.”
While I’m of a different generation, my mother did resort to the spoon to swat my sisters and me.
“I can’t imagine what runs through that pretty little head of yours on a daily basis, raising those three boys without their father. But, before you even let this thought form, you are the greatest mother I have ever known. You are fair, fun, tough, and loving with those young men. They’ll be three incredible people by the time you’re done with them, you better believe that.”
I loop my arm through hers and take her hand, resting it on our knees.
“Some days I think so. And then one of them gets a bad grade or falls and skins their knee while my back is turned, and I think about how awful of a mom I am. I mean, I don’t even allow myself a bottle of wine a night and I still have guilt.”
We both laugh at my sarcasm.
“Honey, in my day, it was common practice to let children roll around in the back of a station wagon without seatbelts, let alone seats. I think you’re light-years ahead of me, and you lived.”
Nodding through the weepy lump in my throat, I admit the true crux of my emotional dilemma. “I wish that we had talked about what would happen if he died. Travis and I always avoided talking about anything like that even though his job put his life at risk most of the time.”
“You mean, would he have wanted you to move on with another man?” Mom knows me too well.
“Why does your mind always go to the romance aspect of it?” I pout, even though she hit the nail on the head.
Mom clucks her tongue at me. “Penelope, darling, don’t pretend your mother isn’t a mind reader. You may have these hard-headed little boys, but I raised dramatic girls. I have a sixth sense that can’t be taught. And, it’s been almost three years. For the first year, I watched you struggle through grief silently while trying to adjust your children to the death of their father. In the second year, you all came out of that dark period, but the sadness still lingered. Now, in this third year, I’ve seen the spark of life come back into your eyes. You’re wondering if it’s time to start dating again. Hell, from how much you’ve been humming, I dare to say you’ve already gotten back up on that horse.”
“Mom! Gross!” I object when she suggestively elbows me in the shoulder.
We may be loud, obnoxious, and keep no secrets in this family, but discussing sex with my mother is where I draw the line.
She holds her hands up in surrender. “All I’m saying is, there should be absolutely no guilt on your part if you want to find someone to spend some romantic time with. Travis was a good man, he would understand. And you can’t think of it like that. He was the man who taught you what love was supposed to be like … but he also couldn’t give it unconditionally. Travis had two loves, protecting his country, and you. Sometimes, you came second. There is more than one person for us in this world, sweetheart, I truly believe that, even if I love your father dearly. You’re going to get that second love story, and this time, it will be epic.”
I gulp, trying to deny every flutter vibrating through my heart. I wasn’t sure I wanted epic, or that I believed, like my mother, that there was no such thing as soul mates.
“And your sixth sense told you this?” I roll my eyes, trying to shut down the conversation that had become too deep, way too quickly.
Mom takes the hint. “It did. It also told me that you have some cookie dough that needs eating in that freezer. Which, aside from a good British rom-com movie is the only way to heal anxious hearts.”
12
Penelope
“Can you … ugh, can you lean the seat back a little farther?”
I blow a lock of hair out of my face, only for the blond strands to hit Forrest in the eyes as he tries to readjust. The rain splatters down the windshield, lending us privacy but not a lot of room in his tiny, do-gooder car.
“Your knee is in a very dangerous spot, P.” He chuckles as I try to balance myself on the gearshift and door panel.
“I feel like a teenager, and not in a good way,” I mutter, attempting to hike my dress up and pull my underwear down while teetering on top of this infuriating man.
Our plan to bang it out in the abandoned train car fell through this afternoon, since it’s pouring cats and dogs. So instead, we’re trapped inside this ridiculously expensive car, trying to maneuver our way to climaxes even though my knees feel a hundred years old and Forrest keeps rubbing his neck like he needs to go to the chiropractor.
“We could just go to my house. Come on, it’ll be five minutes tops.” The man is so confident in his ability to get me off, he’s ballparking it.
Not that he’s wrong … the newest record is about two-and-a-half minutes. I haven’t been a virgin in nearly fifteen years, and this boy wonder is teaching me things about my body that even I haven’t found yet.
“No, I have to be back at the high school in twenty minutes. By the time we drive over there, get down to business, and then right ourselves again, I’ll be late. This is why we agreed on the train tracks, central location.”
The sound of his zipper finally tugging down, and the scrape of his jeans on my inner thighs as he pulls them past his cock, is a welcome noise.
“Then we better get to it.” Forrest winks, fisting himself steadily so that I can sink down on him.
Our eyes connect the entire length of the journey for my thighs to meet his hips, and when he’s seated fully inside me, I groan from the fullness.
“Too big for you?” Forrest winks at me, but there is too much husk behind his voice for me to believe he’s fully in control.
If I was honest, which I won’t be because it’ll boost his ego into the stratosphere, Forrest has the biggest penis I’ve ever seen. And as a widow with three small children, I watch a lot of porn. I can attest that this cocky Nash brother has a gorgeous schlong. It’s perfectly colored, features just the right amount of hair at its base, and most importantly … it’s fucking huge.
“I’ve seen better.” I huff as I use his shoulders to hoist up and then sink deliciously back down.
Forrest claps a hand to the back of my neck, pulling my mouth to his in such force that I’m jostled and his dick hits the back walls of my pussy sharply.
“Ah!” I cry, grinding my hips to feel both the pleasure and pain of the depth.
As he bites my lip, I can feel Forrest imprinting a smile on it. “Hmm, guess I am just big enough. You’re running out of time, by the way. Better get moving.”
A sharp spank lands on my right ass cheek and I moan again, the pain smarting into such a blast of arousal that it spurs me to action. I crush my mouth to his, picking up my pace as I ride him like he’s the last cowboy in the world. Our grunts fill the car, the rain splashing in sheets over the window.
The car begins to steam, curling the baby hairs on my temple and slicking Forrest’s neck in sweat where I grab it for support. I plunge onto him, up and down in a tantric motion. The coil inside me bends and twists, knotting itself into such heated pleasure that I throw my head back. My tailbone collides with the steering wheel, setting the horn off, but I couldn’t care less at this moment.
“Come on, P. Come all over my cock.” Forrest growls, his thumb finding my clit and rubbing harshly.
And God, that just fucking does it for me. I go off like fireworks on July fourth, bursting out in a million pieces of light and sparkle. My orgasm drowns me just like the rain outside, overwhelming my senses as I feel Forrest take over, maneuvering me to seek his own pleasure.
All I can do is hang on limply as he slams me down onto his steel rod, groaning over and over again as he slides into my silky wetness.
“Fuck yes …” he murmurs as he stills, grinding my hips all the way down onto him and flexing his own up into me.
I watch his face as it contorts into a full pleasure mask as if he’s found the holy grail in my pussy. Those blazing blue eyes flash open, homing in on me as the last of his clima
x subsides.
We’re left breathless and sweating, with the rest of the world shut out past those steam fogged windows.
In all my life, I’ve never had a more singularly erotic moment. And this is after we’ve already had sex.
Something in my heart flips over like a surrender and scares the living shit out of me.
“Well,” I try to say casually while climbing off his lap. “Now I have to go back to the high school to teach children to wait for sex until they’re in love.”
Forrest snorts as he tucks himself into his jeans and pulls the zipper up, not even bothering to clean up. It’s so contradictory of his neat and orderly persona that it makes it doubly as dirty hot as I originally thought it was.
“Make sure to also tell them that the pull out method works every time. Oh, and that using birth control is against God’s plan for them. You know, all those great sex tips that make a lot of fucking sense.”
I hold my laughter until I’m in my own car, driving back to work. Because really, Forrest Nash is funny as hell.
But I’ll never let him know I think so.
13
Forrest
We don’t see each other after our tight squeeze in my car for about a week, due to Penelope’s hectic schedule.
I didn’t consider how truly often she wouldn’t be able to meet up, as evidenced by the two offers for sex that were shut down due to one of the boy’s homework issue or a tripped fire alarm that wouldn’t go off until Bowen came out and fixed it.
But aside from the inconvenience in scheduling that prevented from getting laid three times a week like I’d prefer—we still usually managed two—our situation was a dream. I didn’t have to small talk or take her out on dates, and there was no need for calling or texting to check in. Penelope didn’t want flowers or poems, just a good banging and a wave goodbye.
Flutter: The Nash Brothers, Book Three Page 6