Riding the Sugar High: a Grumpy Sunshine Romantic Comedy

25. You’re Too Easy To Miss

“Logan, please, enough,”she whines as she comes down from her orgasm. Her hand smacks my face, and when she almost shoves a finger in my eye, I rise over her and lick my lips.

Sweat trickles down her forehead, her damp hair stuck to the sides of her face. I lean down to kiss her, and she frowns against my lips. So fucking pretty.

“What is it, Barbie? Tired already?”

“Already?” she asks as I peck her jaw, then the curve of her neck. “What the hell are you made of, titanium?”

“Even harder than that.” I free myself of her hold and kiss her chest.

“Logan, seriously, what’s with all the foreplay?”

I snort against the sweaty skin of her shoulder. “Said no woman ever.”

“It’s been all morning?—”

“Forty-five minutes.”

“Forty-five minutes is a long time to go down on someone!” she squeals.

I guess, but it’s not like we didn’t take breaks. We kissed, we laughed, we chatted. Plus, last night, we collapsed, and I wanted to show her all the fun ways in which I can make her shake. Really, she’s making it sound much more dramatic than it is.

“Your jaw must hurt,” she says as her fingers brush over my beard.

“I like eating your cunt, Barbie. Is that a bad thing?”

“No.” Her fingertips massage my scalp. “But I think there’s a line between liking and obsessing, and we crossed it ten minutes ago.”

“Okay.” I kiss her chest, making my way to her left tit. “Then I’m obsessed.” I wrap my mouth around her small, pink nipple and suck. “With your taste.” I let it go with a loud pop. “With you.”

She breathes out, eyes shuttering. “You can go down on me whenever you want, Logan.”

I lean down, but she grips my shoulders. “Later. Not right now.” She gently pushes my chest until my back is on the mattress. “Now, let’s try something else, okay?”

Watching her straddle me, I swallow. She’s so gorgeous. I can’t decide if she looks better like this, all disheveled, or when she’s dressed to the nines.

I think I like every version of her.

“I hope you’re ready for some moderate fun,” she says as she leans down, her tits pressing against my chest as she hovers on my lips. “It would have been ‘exceptional fun’ two orgasms ago, but my muscles hurt now.”

“Love it when you talk dirty.”

She laughs, her hand cupping my cheek before she leans forward.

Her lips press on mine, and knowing she can taste herself on my tongue is driving me insane. My hands find her hips as my tongue swipes against hers, warm and wet and tasting like summer.

“Hmm,” I moan into her mouth when she grinds over my cock, drenching me as she slides over. My balls tighten, an orgasm threatening to spill, and I try to focus on something else. Anything else. But then she does it again, and the only thing I can think of is the fact that she’s wetting my cock. That she’s so soft and warm. That I need to be inside her, and I need to come, and I need her.

She rises to her knees, and my dick throbs in anticipation. A shiver racks through me when she wraps her hand around it, then dips the tip in. I can’t breathe. Can’t move. Can’t even look at her, because everything is so perfect, and I’m about to feel her cunt again.

Then there’s a knock at the front door, and she freezes, wide eyes staring into mine.

Fuck. No.

“Ignore it,” I say as I grip her hip. My cock sinks a little deeper inside her, and I groan. “I need you to ride my cock, little backpack.”

“What if it’s an emergency?” she whispers, her eyes closing as she lowers herself more.

“Unless it’s a bomb, it’ll wait until this afternoon.”

There’s another knock at the door, and she lifts off me with a sigh.

I want to die.

With a sigh, she pulls the blanket over herself. “Come on, cowboy.”

“Fine, goddamnit.” I stand and fit into my clothes. Whoever is on the other side of that door better have a good reason to be here, or I’ll punch them in the stomach. “Don’t you dare get dressed.”

“I would never,” she purrs.

I walk out of the room, but not before sparing her another look. My chest warms as I watch her head settle on my pillow, her blonde and pink hair ruffled, her eyes gleaming, and her smile full.

With a decisive step, I walk through the house and swing the door open.

“So you are sleeping with her,” Aaron mumbles as he looks down at the open zip of my jeans. “Didn’t see that coming.”

Of course. It had to be Aaron.

“I’d show you proof, but I don’t give a single fuck about what you believe.”

His severe gaze meets mine as he fits his hands into the pocket of his gray suit, and I could barf. We used to make fun of corporate idiots, and now he’s one of them. With his tailor, expensive aftershave, and hair pulled back with gel. It’s ridiculous, and it’s not Aaron. “Look, I’m here because...”

He looks down at his feet, and my blood pressure rises as my fists clench. “What?” I bark. “Are you pausing for effect?”

As he glances up at me, his throat works hard. For a moment, he seems to be deciding if what he wants to say is worth mentioning, and an uncomfortable tingling moves up my spine.

His shoulders drop, and with a sigh, he takes his hand out of his pocket, holding his checkbook. “Tell me how much you need.”

“I’m not taking any money from you,” I say flatly. I’m pretty sure this isn’t why he’s here, but it works just fine for me. Whatever gets him to leave faster.

“Logan, this is our family farm. Set aside your feelings about me for once, and please think about Mom. Think about yourself. Your life, your work.” He steps forward, then scribbles in his checkbook. “Just take this. And next week, I can come over. We can figure out a plan to make it work. Maybe not one hundred percent vegan farming, but?—”

As soon as he holds the check out, I grab it, rip it apart, and set it in his hand. “Good enough for you?”

He laughs, his lips bending bitterly. “Always the same Logan. Act first, think later. No matter who pays the consequences, right? Fuck everyone else.”

I give him a shrug. “All I can say with confidence is fuck you. Now, if you don’t mind, I was obviously busy.”

I push the door to close it because, truth be told, I couldn’t care less if he does mind. There’s a woman in here I intend to do terrible, terrible things to.

Aaron holds his hand up. “Logan, wait.”

There’s an edge to his voice—something that feels a lot like desperation—and for that reason only, I open the door again, meeting his distraught expression.

“The farm isn’t the reason why I’m here. Not—not the only reason.” He can’t even look at me, his eyes stuck on the floor as he mumbles, “I can’t find...Josie.”

A shiver runs down my spine. “The fuck does that mean?”

“She called in sick at work, picked up Sadie and went home. Then she called the babysitter, and she just...left.”

“When was this?”

“Three hours ago.”

I roll my eyes, exhaling in relief. “Good god, Aaron. She’s probably running errands or grabbing a drink with a friend.”

“The babysitter said Josie ran out without a word the second she arrived. That she was visibly upset.”

Okay, well...that’s weird. “Did you try her parents’ place?”

“On my way here. They haven’t seen her.”

“I haven’t either. Since I went to the station yesterday.”

He rubs his forehead, and now that I’m paying attention, he looks like shit. His gaze is weary, heavy in a way that wasn’t there before. It’s a sobering realization, witnessing the toll that life has taken on my brother and not knowing what caused it. We’re strangers now.

“Aaron, what’s going on with you and Josie?”

He shrugs but doesn’t meet my gaze. “I better go. I’ll give you a call once I find her.”

There’s a chasm forming between my mind and my gut. On one side, an eager want pulls me toward Primrose, back home, whispering promises that are hard to resist. And on the other, Aaron. He’s an asshole, but a duty that tugs at my conscience. I love Josie, and Aaron is still my brother.

“Wait,” I call. He stops, and by the time he turns around, I’m already slipping my boots on. “Let’s go.”

“What about Primrose?”

“I’ll call her from the car.” I advance toward his gray BMW—pretentious, like everything he’s taken up in the last five years of his life.

“You don’t have to come with me,” Aaron says as he reaches the driver’s side. Our eyes meet over the car’s hood, and for a moment, I don’t say anything.

I know I don’t have to go with him—in fact, he doesn’t deserve it. But I will anyway, because he’s my brother. Because he was my best friend for most of our lives, and that’s not something you forget. It just stays there, stabbing you with pain and sometimes dragging you away from the woman you want to sleep with.

“I’m not doing it for you,” I say as I open the car door. “This changes absolutely nothing between us.”

* * *

“Okay, I’ll see you soon,” I say into Aaron’s phone.

“Yeah, please keep me updated.”

I close my eyes, letting Primrose’s voice wash over me as the car struggles over the uneven terrain back to the city, my body wobbling from left to right. “I will. If you need to reach me, Aaron’s phone number is in the black notebook next to the phone, okay?”

“I’ve been alone before, you know?” she sing-songs.

“Stop being yourself for a minute,” I grumble.

“Why? Do you miss me too much?”

“Yes.”

She sighs softly, the rattling almost comforting against my ear. “Help out Josie and Aaron. Then come back so you can show me how much you missed me.”

I smile, quickly using my hand to hide it. “Yeah, deal.”

“I’ll see you later.”

I hang up, then set my brother’s phone on his dashboard stand. I’m not sure where we’re going, but he’s her husband, so he must have a better idea of where she usually hangs out than me.

We drive in silence for a while, my mind switching between worry over Josie and obscene thoughts of Primrose. I can still taste her. Still smell her. Still see the way she grinded on my face until she was screaming my name.

“So, how long has this been going on?”

With my daydreaming rudely interrupted, I glance at Aaron, whose eyes bounce my way before returning to the road.

“And don’t try to sell me the story you gave Josie.”

He’s not serious, is he? He can’t possibly think I’ll discuss my life with him. “Unless you’re up for brushing my hair, I’m afraid I’m not spilling my heart to you.”

“Is it a serious thing? Just physical?”

I exhale, shifting position on the seat, and after a few minutes of silence, I ask, “Where are we going?”

“I have no idea. I’m just driving to Roseberg, but...no clue.”

Great. I guess I forgot to account for my brother being a shitty husband too. He probably has no idea where she hangs out. “Who has she been spending time with lately?”

He shrugs, and it’s tough not to smack him in the face. Josie deserves better than this. She deserves someone who knows her. Someone who cares. Aaron? He only cares about himself.

“Don’t you think you should know this shit? Know what her routine is, and who her friends are, and?—”

“Josie works part-time three days a week, including today. Usually, she picks Sadie up from school on her way home, then cooks dinner. She and Sadie spend the afternoon together—if it’s sunny, at the park on Merrilord Street. If it’s raining, she either tries to set up a playdate or they hang out at home. Draw, watch cartoons, read. We have dinner together when I’m home from work, and then...” He swallows. “And then I try to get her to do something with me. Go on a date somewhere, or stay in and watch a movie. I get her flowers or chocolates. Usually, the answer is no, which is either met with resignation or, sometimes...”

I look down, uncomfortable. “Sometimes?”

“Frustration.” He doesn’t sound proud of it, which I can relate to. “Either way, she doesn’t spend time with anyone. Her life pretty much revolves around Sadie and avoiding me.” He rests one elbow on the window, tugging at the root of his hair. “You think I don’t give a shit, but you’re wrong. That’s hardly our problem.”

Or that’s exactly what someone like Aaron would say. Deflect and hang the blame on her rather than take responsibility for his actions. “Okay,” I say, barely hiding my sarcasm. “Then what’s the problem? Why is she drinking herself numb, and what are you doing about it?”

“What am I doing about it?”

“Yes, you. You’re her husband, and she’s clearly developed a drinking habit.”

He shakes his head, chewing on his nails. I haven’t seen him do that since he was a kid. “It’s not...She doesn’t even drink at home, you know? It’s only when she’s stressed, or...”

“Aaron,” I scold. “That’s a bullshit excuse, and you know it.”

“How’s it different from you smoking weed when you can’t sleep?”

“It’s different because I don’t smoke weed until I stumble to the floor. I don’t make a scene in front of a crowd of people because of weed. I don’t up and vanish. And I’m not a police officer.”

“She doesn’t drink on the job,” he barks.

I don’t see how he can be sure of that since, by the sound of it, she doesn’t share a whole lot about her life with him. “Even if that’s true, I doubt they’d let her keep her job if they found out.”

He doesn’t say a word, but his teary gaze is like a punch in the guts when I look his way. I’ve only seen Aaron cry once when he was twelve, and some kid broke his skateboard. He didn’t cry because of the skateboard—that happened later, when Mom grounded me for smacking that kid in the face.

“Yesterday,” I mumble.

He turns to me, brows bent over his eyes. “What?”

“Primrose and I started sleeping together yesterday.”

“Oh.” He sniffles, his lips bending up. “Shit. I really interrupted you.”

“Yes, you did.” I look out the window. “And you wonder why I hate you.”

“No, I know exactly why you hate me, Logan.”

Shifting in my seat, I stick to silence.

“So, did you tell Primrose? What happened between us?”

“Parts of it,” I mumble.

“Hmm.” He rubs a hand on his jaw. “Why not all of it?”

What a question. I didn’t tell her all of it because it’s humiliating, that’s why. Because it’s too painful to talk about.

“You think it’s a smart choice?”

“I don’t know,” I snap. “Was what you did a smart choice?”

Neither of us says anything for a while, until he parks in front of a small building and takes his phone out. “There’s this one bakery Josie likes. I can’t remember the address.”

“What’s it called?” I ask, checking the time. Businesses will close soon for lunch, so we’ll have to rush.

“Desserts for?—”

“Stressed People? Yeah, they’re my clients.” I point ahead. “Keep going another five minutes; it’s next to that small square with the horse fountain.”

He pulls away from the curb, and we silently head toward the square. I’m not going to let this one small interaction with Aaron change my mind about everything, but I guess I could admit to being partially wrong. I figured he was a shitty husband because he’s always working, and Josie does everything by herself. But maybe that’s what she wants, and the situation isn’t as straightforward as I assumed. Maybe her drinking isn’t on him.

But he’s right. Not telling Primrose the whole truth immediately was a stupid choice. She needs to know the whole story—today. No matter how hard it is to bring it up.

“Do you think it’ll lead to something more? You and Primrose sleeping together?”

“What kind of dumb-ass question is that,” I mutter. “What are you, a teenager?”

“Jesus, Logan. Do you have feelings for her or not?”

“You still sound like a teenager.”

He rolls his eyes. “Right. Because admitting you feel things is so immature. Real men only grunt their approval.” With a shrug, he asks, “Do you know how she feels?”

Not really. She likes me and wants to sleep with me, but we hardly had time for that, let alone discuss what will happen when she leaves in four days.

All I know is that despite all the reasons I’ve given her, she hasn’t turned her back on me yet. Despite how hard it is to be around me, she makes it look easy. But I also know better than to expect things from people, because people disappoint, just as Aaron himself has shown me on more than one occasion.

“She’s leaving soon. She has her own life; it’s not like she’ll drop it all for me.”

“You wouldn’t go with her?”

I scoff. Me in Mayfield. I couldn’t think of a worse recipe for happiness than throwing myself into a maze of concrete and skyscrapers. “No, of course not.” And besides, it’s not like she’d want me to go anywhere with her. “You heard the part where I said this started yesterday, right?”

He shrugs. “Sometimes, one day is enough to know you want to be with someone.”

I wonder if he’s talking about Josie, but I have no intention of asking, especially because we’re here, on the opposite side of the square where the bakery is. “There it is.”

I remove my seatbelt and open the door.

“Thank you,” Aaron mumbles. “For trusting me with the truth about her.”

Trusting him? As if. “The only reason I told you is because even if you tell Josie, you can’t prove it.” I get out of the car, and before slamming the door behind me, I mutter, “I’ll never make the mistake of trusting you again.”