AllFreeNovel
Share Us
She nods.
“I’ll meet you in the house.”
“Are you sure? I didn’t bring you here to work.” She smirks, her gaze wild. “I brought you here because you invited yourself to dinner.”
I rub my forehead, hiding a smile, then glance up from under my eyebrows.
“Thanks.” She leaves the hutch and takes her eggs over to the house, her hips swaying under the hem of her jacket.
I let out a long, slow breath and crouch on the ground next to the chicken wire. I shouldn’t be hanging out with her again, feeling the way I do when we lock eyes. The wayI want to take her flirt and turn it into something more. I found the strength to walk away after Sly’s and rowed right back out into the storm. What the fuck is wrong with me?
Where the hell has my self-control and decency gone? I’m staring at my best friend’s sister in ways I shouldn’t and pushing my ankle to the goddamn limit just to be around her. I wish it was just her looks. Something shallow like that I could get past, but it’s more…
I don’t really see that little girl anymore, but in her place isn’t just a woman very much my type. In her place is a woman who picked up some darkness, and no matter how bright Jolie still shines, I know it’s in there. I’ve always seen it as my job to care for her, and the distance and time never changed that. Yeah. I’m doing the right thing being here. Getting to the bottom of what’s up with Joey is the goal. I’m here to help her get talking.
I find a breach in the chicken run, almost big enough to let in a fox, so I grab the supplies Joey dumped outside the run. I cut some chicken wire to patch up the hole and get to using the twist ties she put there to make it an easy job. Easy, but not resulting in expert craftsmanship. I hope she doesn’t tell anyoneIfixed this fence.
Especially not Logan…Logan.I stand and dust my hands off on my pants. There is no way he won’t find out I hung out with Jolie tonight, which means it’s best if I’m the one who tells him. I slide my cell from my pocket.
ME: HEY, JUST HELPED YOUR SISTER FIX HER CHICKEN RUN. WHAT KIND OF BROTHER ARE YOU?
The time on my phone reads five-thirty. I might catch him just before the pregame briefing with Coach. My stomach churns with what he might write back, and I remind myself Logan can’t see inside my head no matterhow good we’ve gotten at guessing each other’s thoughts. He doesn’t know I wanted to peel off her pants last night at Sly’s.
My phone buzzes.
PUCK BOY: I LEAVE THAT SHIT FOR YOU OR ELSE YOU COULDN’T FEEL LIKE A HERO. WHO WOULD YOU EVEN BE THEN? JUST CLARK KENT.
ME: SOME PEOPLE PREFER CLARK.
PUCK BOY: NO THEY DON’T. FIND OUT WHY SHE’S WORKING WITH YOUR MOM. COLT SAID SHE NEEDS A BREAK? FROM WHAT?
His text lowers my blood pressure. He thinks nothing of me being here. On the contrary, I know Logan. He’s glad I’m helping her out, and moreover, he trusts me.He. Trusts. Me.
ME: I’M HAVING SOME GRUB WITH HER TONIGHT, SO MAYBE SHE’LL TALK ABOUT IT.
PUCK BOY: BE THAT HERO AND GET TO THE BOTTOM OF IT. MAKE SURE THAT FUCKWIT OF AN EX ISN’T BACK IN THE PICTURE.
Eric Larose? They must have broken up over a year ago at least because I’ve seen pictures of him with the latest snack on his arm. Why would he be around? And why is my heart beating like a caged gorilla right now? Logan has always hated that guy, but in an unusual display of privacy, he never said much when I asked why he had those feelings. He never opened up about what was happening between Eric and Jolie. I figured it was standard relationship mess and Logan was just being protective.
But right now, those explanations do nothing to satiate my curiosity.
I glance up at the house. Is Eric actually the problem?
ME: ON IT. PLAY STRONG.
I step through the front door and into the kitchen prepared to be the man Logan needs in his stead, but as I slip my shoes off one by one, the anger at Eric Larose possibly having an effect on my Jolie melts into a swirl of other emotions. I take in the sight of her… she’s stripped off all her layers except for a spaghetti strap, low-cut, very thin camisole. And to top off the allure of her breasts spilling out of the virtual lingerie, she’s vigorously whisking eggs and her chest bounces invitingly.
Her hair is pulled up, exposing a cape of perfect milky skin. She blows a rogue tendril off her forehead. “Hot in here.”
The smile that follows is the same one I adored when we were younger, the one I couldn’t really read but was full of the kind of irresistible mischief any young man would like.
She takes a quick sip of an amber liquid with ice in a highball glass and then hands me one of my own. “Bourbon.” She wiggles her eyebrows. “Neat.”
When I take my drink from her, our fingers touch, and it’s enough for me to forget why I’m here at all. I sip, hoping some desire swallows down with the alcohol. This one isn’t as strong as last night’s, but it goes down with a warm familiar sting and when the burn fades, all there is in the world is us.
I take another drink, and the epiphany hits me. I’ve lived a life for a very long time where nobody really knew me. All those years playing without Logan, and especially the ones with Chloe, people concocted stories of me beingsome man I’m not. They’d write I was a party animal. They’d write I was addicted to spending money or that I had a bromance going with some actor I only met once.
That’s the beautiful thing about roots. About having a home. You can’t pretend but you aren’t misinterpreted either. I used to think that was a hindrance when I was younger. A lot of teenagers want to reinvent themselves at some point in their lives, but now that I’m older, now that I got to try on a few costumes and play roles I never asked to be cast in, I know there’s no happier feeling than being seen for who I am.
