I punched him in the shoulder. “The hell, man! That’s Avery, little girl Avery, the one that’s working for me now. I texted you about her yesterday! And that’s her best friend. You can’t just screw her best friend and then expect it not to affect my workday! I have to see Avery on a daily basis—you screw her friend over, and she’s going to blame me!”
Thatch’s eyes narrowed. “And you care why?”
“Because she’ll make my life more of a living hell.”
Thatch peered around the corner as Avery’s laughter trickled into the custom kitchen. “Yeah.” His eyebrows rose. “You realize she’s like a fourth your size, right? You could sit on her, and she’d probably puke up her pizza.”
“I’m sure that’s what I’ll do, then. Thanks for the wisdom. When I’m at work, irritated as hell, I’ll just sit on my new intern?”
He shrugged.
“Helpful,” I snapped.
“Look, Austin’s hot.” His grin was shameless. “And I haven’t gotten laid in a few days. Besides, she doesn’t seem to care that I’ve done nothing but stare at her tits for the past two hours. Get this, she asked to see my bedroom.”
“Oh gee, Thatch, maybe while you guys are back there you can show her your comic book collection.” I punched him again and swore while he cackled.
Bastard really did have comics, not that it mattered.
“Or . . .” He held up a finger. “I could just screw her sideways into Sunday.”
“Solid plan.” I exhaled. “I’m just going to go.”
“No!” He held out his hands. “You have to take the other one.”
“Avery,” I said through clenched teeth. “Not a chance in hell. You invited her here—ergo, you uninvite her so you can get in her best friend’s pants. I refuse to help.”
“I’ll fix your nose.” He winked.
“Low blow, you cock-sucking bastard.”
He sighed and ran his hands through his overly long, shaggy blond hair. If you didn’t know he was a plastic surgeon, you’d think he were a nomad living on the beach with a surfboard as company. “Look, just make up some lame excuse about getting her into bed at a decent hour so she can be fresh for Monday.”
“Tomorrow’s Sunday.”
“Is it?”
“Thatch.”
“Dude, you cheat on chicks all the time. Just do what you do best—get her out so I can get in.” His chest puffed out like he was proud of his own wordplay.
“It’s not cheating.” I rolled my eyes. How many times did I have to explain myself? Especially to my best friend.
Avery’s laughter caught my attention again.
I’d always loved her laugh.
Now it just reminded me that I’d gone four years without it. Laughs are funny like that; just like scents, they can be attached to memories you’d rather forget.
“Fine.” I let out a defeated sigh. “But you owe me, big.”
His only answer was to pull out a bottle of Prisoner sweet red wine and shrug.
“Minion!” I yelled, turning the corner and entering the living room. “Time to go.”
Avery crossed her arms and leaned back comfortably against the couch, stretching out her legs; they went on for days. I ignored the way they swelled gently into her full hips, just like I didn’t curse my best friend to hell when she licked her luscious lips and muffled out, “Yeah, I don’t think so.”
“Pretty sure”—I stalked toward her—“I didn’t ask what you think or thought. It’s getting late, and as much as I’m loath to admit it, I need you on your A game next week at work, alright? I would hate for you to get fired, live on the streets with the bums, and end up digging through trash cans for a Twinkie, all because you stayed up too late and refused to go night-night.”
Avery’s eyes narrowed into tight slits. “You’re—you’re—”
“Go.” Austin shrugged. “Besides, I think Thatch and I”—she grinned and released a happy sigh—“have some really important work to do too.”
“Slut,” Avery coughed.
“Jealous?” Austin fired back.
“She has a boyfriend,” I said smoothly, confidently, looking back and forth at Avery and then Austin. “Right? Male dancer?”
“Um.” Austin’s cheeks reddened as she slowly nodded. “Y-yes, she does.”
I don’t know why I did it, why my teenage self suddenly came alive like a vampire at night and decided to launch my adult body across the room and slap a hand over Avery’s mouth. “What’s his name again?” I said.
Avery tried to bite my hand.
Austin kept mumbling.
Avery kept biting.
Until Austin finally said, “I forget. They’ve only gone on two dates.”
“What?” I roared, pulling my hand back. “You slept with him after two dates?”
Avery groaned and covered her face with her hands. “You have no right to be angry when you sleep with a different girl every single night.”
“He doesn’t sleep with anyone on Sundays,” Thatch piped in as he made his way into the living room, where the third world war was breaking out.
“Thanks,” I said through clenched teeth.
He shrugged and offered Austin a glass of wine. “Want to see my comic book collection?”
I moaned, while Avery burst out laughing.
“Is that what the kids call it these days?” Austin stood and let out a sultry laugh. “Tell me you have costumes to go with, and I’m in.”
“God, where have you been all my life?”
“I think it’s time to go,” Avery whispered against my fingers.
Her lips were hot.
Her tongue touched my skin.
And I suddenly didn’t want to wash my hand—ever.
Which clearly meant that Avery and Austin were bringing down the average age of the group by their collective immaturity. Great, by next week I’d be twenty-one again, doing Irish car bombs and puking in the streets. Couldn’t wait for that fun!
Thatch led Austin to the bedroom, and I held out my hand to Avery. Naturally, she slapped it away because she was an ungrateful pain in my ass, but at least I’d offered.
We started walking out of the apartment in silence.
“Don’t forget your purse!” I called out just as she passed it.
With a near stumble and face-plant against the counter, Avery grabbed her purse and hooked her arm around it, then her blurry eyes connected with mine.
“Shit,” I muttered. “Are you drunk?”
“No!” She laughed while she said it.
I counted to five.
I was trying to keep myself from dropping enough F bombs to make her sob her eyes out and impale me with the shoes she was still having trouble walking in. If she was drunk, I couldn’t just happily send her on her way.
I had to take care of her. Damn me to hell.
“Come on,” I said in a gruff voice. I was gentle as I wrapped my arm around her waist and helped her walk toward the elevator.
She clung to me.
I didn’t expect to like holding her—or to move a little closer while she nestled her head against my chest and yawned. “I’m tired.”
“Well, it’s one in the morning.”
“That’s so early!”
“God, was I ever that young?” I asked, mostly to myself.
Her body slumped heavily against me as the elevator surged down toward the lobby.
“Hey, where do you live? I’ll get you a car.” I shook her a bit.
She didn’t move; instead, she wrapped her arms tighter around my neck and made a little mewling sound that was cute as hell.
Her breath was hot against my neck, her body soft.
“I better get a damn medal for this,” I whispered to myself, careful not to wake her as I lifted her into my arms and walked the two blocks to my place.
By the time we reached my apartment, she was full on snoring, and every few minutes she whispered, “Twinkie.”
I’d like to think I was the reason she wa
s dreaming of Twinkies chasing her since a Twinkie was one of the last things I’d mentioned to her before she conked out.
She was a strong little thing, clinging to me like she was afraid I was going to put her down.
It had been a long time since I’d let a woman cling to me at all. All arms and legs, wrapped around me, with no sex in the foreseeable future.
Just thinking about sex with her had my body responding when it needed to stay the hell dormant. Like a bear during the winter.
I didn’t turn on any lights as I walked into the spare bedroom and laid her across the bed.
I would not take care of her.
I would not put a blanket over her or make sure she had water by the nightstand.
Nope.
She did this to herself.
Not me.
I shrugged and got as far as the door before I stopped, turned, saw her smile in her sleep, and heard her make a quiet sound. With a curse, I banged my forehead against the doorframe a few times before returning to the room, pulling the covers back, and slipping her beneath them, but not before taking off her shoes.
I even went so far as to go into the adjoining bathroom, get a glass of water, and set it by her bedside.
It felt wrong somehow—her being in my apartment.
In one of my bedrooms.
And I had no idea why.
Frowning, I stared down at her small body.
How many times in the past decade had I helped her sneak into her parents’ house after a night out with friends? Taught her how to get over a hangover? Or just let her sleep over when her entire family was out of town and she had to stay for softball practice to avoid getting kicked off the team.
That certain night needed to never, ever, never enter back into my consciousness.
Ever.
“Thorn!” Avery yelled, barreling toward my house. I was home for the weekend and staying with my parents, who just happened to live across the street from Avery’s family. “Open the door!”
“Shhh!” I opened the door and smirked. “Avery Bug, my, my, my, this is a surprise—do you do this often? Go to strange men’s homes and ask to be invited in?”
She slugged me in the shoulder. At seventeen, she was still all arms and legs, but her strength was impressive. “I’m scared, let me in.”
I pushed the door wide. “Be my guest, little sis.”
She stuck her tongue out and skipped into my house, then plopped onto my couch, putting her feet up on the table and sighing happily. “Sorry. I’m alone all weekend, and I heard a noise.”
I nodded. “Probably a burglar or an axe murderer. They do seem to know whenever girls are alone in all those horror movies. Good thing you’re here.”
“Make me popcorn?” Her smile about killed me.
“You do realize some people work for a living, right? And don’t often get time off.”
She wiped a fake tear. “You’re so . . .” She frowned. “Old.”
“Why did I let you in again?” I wondered aloud.
Avery laughed and pulled her long strawberry-blonde hair back into a ponytail. “Because you love me?”
“True.” I couldn’t help but smile. “I do, but not enough to make popcorn all by myself.” I held out my hand.
She jumped up from the couch and took it. “Race ya!”
We stayed up until four in the morning, watching horror movies and eating junk food. I’d been working so much to save for the wedding and honeymoon that I hadn’t taken any time for me. Kayla was working as a schoolteacher and trying to get her master’s at the same time. So although I loved her, I rarely saw her, especially since I’d taken a job downtown while she was still in Mill Creek. With the traffic snarls and my having to leave really early in the morning, things between us were . . . strained.
“So.” Avery laid her head on my shoulder.
I stiffened.
But I had no damn clue why.
It was Avery.
She was like a sister.
Except I swallowed and looked away, careful to pull the blanket up over her bare legs and short-as-hell shorts.
“Thanks.” She yawned. “I was cold.”
“Wearing shorts like that, I imagine you’re lucky you don’t have hypothermia.”
“Hey!” She slapped a hand over my stomach and left it there. “Not my fault they’re in style.”
“Whatever you say.”
Feelings I didn’t understand started pounding through me, blood roaring in my ears. No, no, no, I could NOT be attracted to Avery.
Seventeen.
She was seventeen.
I was such an ass! Marrying her sister in less than a year, and I was lusting after Avery, of all people?
Avery? Who got her braces off two years ago and had yet to grow into her body?
I really was stressed, overworked.
Avery sighed. “I got dumped.”
“Sorry, Bug.” I wrapped an arm around her tightly. “But he probably didn’t deserve you.”
“Yeah, that’s what I said after I punched him in the face.”
I burst out laughing. “Oh, please, please tell me you gave him a bloody nose.”
She shrugged. “He shouldn’t have messed around with another girl.”
My stomach clenched.
Was I capable of that?
Fear paralyzed me.
Because suddenly I wondered, if I had the chance to make out with Avery right then—if I had the chance to do even more than that, no strings attached—without Kayla finding out, would I?
The thought haunted me the rest of the night, including when I brushed a kiss across Avery’s cheek and then her lips as she slept against my chest.
I knew, in my gut, I already had my answer.
Chapter Ten
AVERY
I smacked my lips together, my very dry lips. Note to self: hydration saves lives. Ugh, why hadn’t I had any water at Thatch’s? Maybe because Austin had kept pouring wine and I’d kept drinking it, chugging it more likely.
I blinked, then rubbed my eyes. Awesome, they were almost glued shut with mascara, making it nearly impossible to see.
This was all Thorn’s fault! I’d left with everyone because I wasn’t about to let my best friend go to some strange man’s apartment. And then Thorn had gone and ordered pizza—with my favorite topping—that cheating whore! Okay, so my logic was a bit screwy. It’s not like he’d forced me to eat all the pizza and drink all the wine, but still!
It’s sad when you start to like a guy based on the fact that he remembers you love pineapple on your pizza even if he picks it off his own piece because he hates pineapple.
I was too spoiled. Too set in my ways!
I would so not survive on the streets.
I groaned again and then finally got one eye open.
The room was pretty dark, which was weird since sunlight woke me up most mornings. My apartment faced east, so I always knew when it was time to get up. It would probably help my attitude in the mornings if I could afford curtains instead of those five-dollar blinds you get at the big-box store and cut to size. I must have failed scissors handling in grade school, because my blinds didn’t fit, not even close.
“Why . . . ?” I whispered hoarsely into the silent room, angry that I had let him get to me again, and even angrier that somehow I could still smell him.
All warm, and spicy, but like a hot whiskey spice—or pancakes. I sniffed, wondering. Why it smelled like pancakes. I didn’t have a roommate. And I didn’t cook.
I pried my other eye open.
My body froze.
Heart stopped beating.
Lungs collapsed.
Not my room.
I shrieked and pulled the covers up to my chin. Not my bed.
And then, the devil himself appeared at the door, sans shirt to cover his ridiculously cut body. Lucas smirked. “Morning. Was it as good for you as it was for me?”
My brain straight up exploded.
Muscles flexed again
st the doorframe. He held a spatula in one hand and a plate in the other. The aroma of awesomeness drifted to my spot on the bed, and my stomach grumbled.
“Great trick, by the way—you know, that thing with your legs. Though damn, Avery, no need to slap my ass so many times. And I mean, if you want to call me your daddy, that’s all you, but since I know your daddy, maybe cut back on all the dirty talk referencing him while orgasming.”
My eyes must have been as wide as saucers. I couldn’t find my voice, my stupid stomach was now growling, and he was still standing there, like we hadn’t just had drunken sex. Sex I couldn’t remember.
I quickly peeked under the covers.
I was still dressed.
“Lighten up.” He padded over to me and handed me a plate. “You were asleep before I kidnapped you. And since leaving you on the street corner would have been frowned upon, I had no choice but to bring you home.”
I frowned down at the plate. “Where’s my fork?”
His low-slung jeans and chiseled stomach were inches from my face. It wasn’t fair; I cursed fatness on him, his family, his dog, his cow—
“Here you go.” He pulled a fork out of his back pocket. “I thought it wise not to give you weapons until I knew without a doubt you wouldn’t stab me.”
I snatched the fork and smacked him on the hand with it anyway.
“Shit.” He jerked back. “I did a nice thing for you last night. You know that, right? Nice. Also known as doing a solid for another human without expecting anything in return.”
Glaring at him over the giant plate of pancakes, I stabbed a few bites with my fork and stuffed them in my mouth.
“Oh good, the silent treatment.” He winked. “Hurry up and finish your pancakes. My sister’s on her way over, and I’m pretty sure the last thing she needs is to see Avery Black in my spare bed looking—” He licked his lips.
“Ugh . . .” I swallowed. “Say it. I look like shit.”
“No ugh. I was going to say ‘looking like she’s been thoroughly screwed.’” He didn’t smirk, or wink, or do anything that would indicate if he was kidding, being an asshole, or just being plain honest.
“You’ve got syrup on your nose.” He swiped it off with his finger and walked away.
I stared after him like I’d just woken up in some alternate universe—one where somehow I was the Black sister who’d ended up with Lucas Thorn, and he was making me pancakes in bed.