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What’s the hardest part of trying to convince myself to see Mason in a purely non-sexual way? Well, I’ve already had sex with him. Duh.
I already know exactly what his lips taste like. I remember how they felt on my skin that night together in the motel. I remember how it felt when he touched me, when he pinned me down and fucked me like he’d never see me again. Except now, I have to see him every day and convince myself that I’m not thinking about him naked. That’s the part that’s killing me.
Don’t go there, Karli…
Too many reasons why that would be a bad idea.
On my way to Layla’s house for an early lunch, I pass through town and buy a slice of that double chocolate cake she so bossily requested the last time.I park in my usual spot in her overgrown yard and hop out of my car with all the food in hand.
As I’m bouncing up the broken front steps to Layla’s house, I hear sounds that make me slow to a halt. Laughter.
Laughter is coming from inside the house. Sure, laughter is a happy, normal, totally welcome sound in most households. But here, it raises the tiny hairs on the backs of my arms. Tiptoeing up the porch, I peek through the window and squint past the curtain.
Sure enough, my suspicions are confirmed. Razor is back. Ugh. I let out a groan.
The cheating rat bastard.
He’s sitting on the floor, chuckling and blowing raspberries on the baby’s tummy like he’s Father of the Year. Layla is curled up on the couch nearby, chowing down on pizza and looking on with a beaming smile. I want to barge in and chase Razor back to whatever hole he crawled out of, but Layla looks so happy.
She may be happy, but this is not right. Layla deserves better than a part-time partner.And Sky deserves better than a dad who comes and goes as he damn well pleases.
As much as I want to kick down the door and swoop in there like the SWAT team, I decide that it’s not my place to interrupt this family moment.
With a heavy sigh, I silently head back down the porch. I really don’t like Razor. I don’t have it in me to go in there and fake niceties with that jerk today. And judging by the twitchiness in my right fist, it’s probably best that I keep my distance.
As I’m putting the insulated bag with my shrimp and spinach risotto back into my car, I spot Archer pulling up at the curb in his truck. He lives right up the road from here so at first I assume he’s just slowing down to wave hello to me. But then he parks on the side of the road and walks around his truck, grabbing his push lawn mower from the bed of his vehicle.
“Hello, dear brother of mine,” I say, shutting my car door and hiking through the grass to greet him. “What are you doing here? Did you get lost on the way home again?”
When I say that, my brother bares his teeth at me like the big, savage thing that he is. “I get lost one time on a field trip, and I’m ridiculed for the rest of my life…”
“Well, to be fair, the police were called. K-9s were brought in. And you werefifteen. You will never, ever live that down,” I half-tease.
He snarls again and pretends to flick my ear. “You’re such a little brat.”
I laugh, ducking out of his reach. “But seriously, what are you doing here at Layla’s?”
Archer plants both big, meaty fists on his hips and stands back, surveying the unkempt lawn and shaking his head. “This yard is an absolute mess. Do you see it?”
“Yes. Yes, I do.”Doesn’t explain why you’re here though, I think to myself.
“The town is two minutes from issuing a citation for this crap. What kind of man doesn’t take care of the yard work?” As Archer pulls his supplies out of the truck, he carries on with his weird grumbly rant about a real man needing to provide for his family and handle his responsibilities. He ends his tirade with a grunt. “I’m just glad Layla got rid of the lazy douchebag once and for all.”
My stomach roils with disgust at the idea of Razor. “Sorry to break it to you, brother. The douchebag is back,” I announce, sounding just as pissy as Archer looks. “Today, at least.”
Archer pauses. He looks at me. Then his head flips to look at the house just as another round of carefree laughter spills out the windows.
My brother’s shoulders plummet, disappointment written all over his face. “Fuck that guy.”
Archer yanks the lawnmower’s starter string thingy, and the roar of the motor overshadows his mumbling as he proceeds to whack Layla’s overgrown lawn to the ground.
I stand on the edge of the yard, observing him, and I can’t help but smile. Damn caveman with a heart of gold.
It’s crazy. He may have the social skills of a patio chair sometimes but he’s a good guy. And I’m so damn proud of the person he is. All of my brothers.
The curtains flutter and I glance up. I see lame-ass Razor in the window—beer can in hand—watching Archer mow the lawn. Then with a scowl, he drops the curtains and turns away.Lame-ass.
Disgusted and annoyed, I’m about to climb back in my car. But the door swings open and Layla comes out wearing an oversized T-shirt and frayed running shorts.
