Chapter 23
ALEX
IndexEcho: Three weeks, Poet. Three weeks and I’m flying home to you. There will be no more restrictions on what we can share. Your address is the first thing I’m asking for.
DrunkenPoet: I’m making a list of all the things I want to show you. Fair warning: it’s getting long.
IndexEcho: I’ve got time. We’ve got time.
_____________________
The next morning at breakfast, I laid into Aunt Tilly. “You think you’re hilarious, but you’re not. And you could have seriously screwed up my professional reputation,” I snapped as I sat down.
Papa’s eyes grew large from where he sat next to her. “Woah, hold on. What’s happening?”
I pointed at Tilly. “Manage your attack dog. She stole my phone, downloaded a hookup app, and then sent a dick pic from me to a professional colleague.”
So what if that wasn’t the entire truth? Chief Kincaid was definitely a professional colleague of mine; he just happened to be one whose inner thigh I’d tasted.
“Colleague, my ass,” she said. “The two of you have hate burning so hot, there’s bound to be a conflagration soon enough.”
My cheeks were a conflagration at the knowledge of how right she was. But from the way she was talking, it sounded like she hadn’t had time to scroll my actual text messages. “That’s my business, not yours. Stay out of my damned phone and my business.”
I gathered my things and went to sit at another table. Unfortunately, this one had my cousin Jett at it. I’d been avoiding him all weekend.
“Well, well,” he began. “If it isn’t my harasser. Tell me, did you get to enjoy my castoffs? That was a long time ago; I’m surprised the guy remembered. Who can remember one random hookup from three years ago? Christ.”
I put my middle finger in his face. “You blowing him off caused me a lot of grief. Stop doing rude shit if you’re going to walk around with my face and last name.”
He laughed and sat back, resting his coffee cup on his chest. “Not my fault we have the same biological parents.”
Our aunt Simone flicked Jett behind the ear. “Watch it. Alex, I would claim. You, not so much.”
Papa’s sister, Simone, had donated her eggs when my dads had decided to have another child with a gestational carrier.
The carrier got pregnant on the first try, which left several embryos leftover, so when my uncles decided to start their family the following year, Dad, Papa, and Simone had donated the embryos to them.
Jett and I shared the same DNA. Aunt Simone’s and my dad’s. We rarely talked about it because it simply wasn’t important, but at times like this, I wished Uncle Mav and Uncle Beau had gotten their own damned genetic material instead of using mine.
It was true what I’d told Judd: Jett didn’t take anything seriously, and he loved sex. He’d practically made a career out of sleeping with as many people as possible, always claiming he was planning on growing his body count until the moment he stepped off this mortal coil.
Simone’s son JJ always teased Jett that he was going to be like one of those retirees in the Villages in Florida, having to get treated for an STI from all the old-man sex.
“At least I’ll die happy,” Jett always responded with a grin.
“My family’s going to be the death of me,” I murmured into my coffee. “First you, now Tilly.”
“What did she do?” Simone asked. I told everyone at the table about Tilly’s Flint app extravaganza.
Jett barked out a laugh. “That explains why she asked me to take a dick pic in the men’s room last night. She told me to borrow your socks.”
“Tell me that wasn’t your dick in my phone,” I groaned.
“Fuck no. Even I have my limits, and sending my great-great-aunt a picture of my junk is one of them.” Jett shrugged. “Besides, I was too busy hooking up with the lead singer of the band. Worth every flirty look, let me tell you.”
I held up a hand. “Save the raunchy escapade stories for someone who gives a shit.”
“Agreed,” Simone said with a nod. Then she pinned Jett with a look. “One day, a man is going to knock you over with his special sauce, and you’re not going to know what hit you.”
I pointed at him. “And then he’s going to say, ‘No, thanks,’ and leave you wanting.”
Simone nodded, and my cousin Cami’s big doe eyes flicked back and forth between all of us.
“And then,” my cousin Wolfe added softly, “you’re going to spend the rest of your life wanting someone you can’t have.”
“Harsh,” I said, clapping Wolfe on the shoulder.
I tried to lighten the mood, if only to distract everyone from his comment.
Most of us knew that Wolfe had fostered a crush on Trace Bishop for years.
But Trace was one of Wolfe’s father’s best friends and at least twenty years Wolfe’s senior.
That dream wasn’t ever going to come to fruition.
“But Jett would deserve it from all the poor boys whose hearts he’s probably inadvertently stomped on over the years. Right, Jett?”
“Hey, they know the deal when they invite me up, right?” He winked at me, but I could see the understanding in his expression for our sweet cousin.
We continued to joke around until Mattie and her new husband finally showed up. And then our family did what we were best at—giving people love and hell at the same time.
Judd was strangely quiet the rest of the weekend, but I assumed the conference had taken more of his time and attention than he’d expected. I remembered one of his early rules: work came first.
Which made sense. Not only did I never want to come between him and his career, but I also didn’t want him to come between me and mine. And while I cared a hell of a lot about Judd Kincaid, Timber was my priority. I was proud of the work I was doing there and eager to get back to it.
But when I did get back to Legacy and found Judd Kincaid standing in the back lot of Timber, waiting for me, all of those thoughts about priorities went out the window.
“Ask me up to your place, Firebug.”
My heart took flight in my chest. “What about Tavo?”
“Tell Tavo you’ll keep his secret if he’ll keep yours.”
There was something odd in his expression. His words were teasing, but his eyes weren’t. He looked bothered by something. Or maybe just tired.
“Yeah. Come on up,” I said.
Thankfully, Tavo wasn’t home. He’d been over at Lennon’s place to help with some ranch work, and chances were, he was staying over anyway. Rosie had started keeping a guest room ready for him anytime he wanted a hot meal and a quiet night at their place.
After a quick tour, I led Judd into my bedroom and closed the door.
“How was your conf—nngh!”
His mouth crushed mine as his arms came around me, holding me tighter than he ever had before. My back hit the door with a thump, and I nearly tripped over my heels.
I sucked in a breath and let it happen. Being mauled by Judd Kincaid was no hardship, and I was here for it in every way.
And what followed was definitely a mauling. Within moments, I was naked and face down on my bed with Judd’s cock buried inside me.
It was hot as fuck.
I could barely catch my breath. My dick was so hard I couldn’t think. And Kincaid’s voice in my ear mumbling mine, along with various expletives, like a rough, growly chant, tipped me over the edge.
I came embarrassingly fast, and as soon as I cried out, Judd pulled out and flipped me over, shoving back inside of me while kissing me hungrily on the lips.
He whimpered into my mouth as he came but never stopped kissing me. By the time we were done, I felt like I was a Mentos dropped into a bottle of soda and shaken.
“I missed you so fucking much,” he said, tucking his face into my neck. The words sounded desperate and strange.
I hugged him. “It’s okay. I’m here. We’re back.”
Even though we were both now covered in a variety of ick, I continued to hold him close and rub his back until I felt his body relax further.
“You okay?” I asked.
He pulled back and met my eyes, except he seemed to be looking into my fucking soul. “I am now, yeah.”
Was this how Judd was after a weeklong break from someone he cared about, or were these remnants of fear left from the man who broke his heart?
Either way, my plan was to reassure him and be there for him without pressing him to tell me more. We’d only just started this thing between us—hell, we hadn’t even had our real date yet—and I didn’t want to do anything to fuck it up.
“Come shower with me,” I said. “And then you’re going right to sleep. You look like hell.”
“I need to tell you about this weekend—”
“And you will. Later. Right now, you need to clean up and catch up on some zzz’s.”
It turned out Judd wasn’t the only one who wanted to give expert-level care. Part of me wanted nothing more than to protect and soothe the bear of a man.
And that wasn’t the only surprising revelation of the evening. Because for the ten minutes it took us to shower, brush our teeth, and get back in bed, Judd Kincaid—my grumpy, standoffish fire chief—was clingy.