Chapter 9
Chapter Nine
STARLING
T heo McGuire has incredible eyebrows.
He also has gorgeous, deep blue eyes, a fabulous smile, and a lean, fit, runner’s build. He has a great job as a marketer for a new real estate developer in town, volunteers at the senior center—that’s how Nora knows him and why she introduced us—and loves goofy comedy and 70’s soft rock as much as I do.
On paper, Theo looks like a fantastic potential mentor.
He’s been in several long-term relationships, has an easy confidence that makes me think he likely knows what he’s doing in the bedroom, and is clearly interested. He’s barely taken his eyes off me since he joined Nora and me in line, even when Nora got really excited about the glasses of mead the waiters were handing out to sip while we wait, and nearly bounced her boobs out of her dress again.
But Theo’s gaze didn’t stray. If anything, his attention grew even more fixed on my mouth as I sipped my mead and licked the honeyed liquid off my bottom lip.
I would bet my next paycheck that Theo wants to kiss me.
There’s only one problem—Theo McGuire isn’t Christian McGuire and for some stupid reason my body still wants Christian. Even though Christian made it clear that he thinks I’m a ridiculous virgin whose attempts at seduction sound more like a fart joke than quality dirty talk.
He was so repulsed by the thought of sleeping with me that he ran away from me and seems to have vanished from the fair. He’s probably off banging a woman who doesn’t have an ancient hymen and questionable flirting skills without a care in the world.
So really, I’m practically obligated to bang Theo.
Or at least kiss him. Just to see if there might be something there. Sparks don’t always sizzle right away. Sometimes you have to give the flame a little kindling to get the fire started.
In the name of kindling things along with Theo I rest my hand on his arm as I say, “No way, Daddy’s Home 2 is the best Will Ferrell movie. Hands down.”
“What? Are you feeling okay?” Theo reaches up, resting the back of his hand on my forehead. There are zero tingles, but the feel of his cool hand against my forehead isn’t repulsive, either, which I decide to take as a good sign. “You seem to be feverish. It’s clearly a tie for best movie between Elf and Anchorman: The Legend of Ron Burgundy.”
“No way,” I say, laughing as I playfully guide his hand away. “Daddy’s Home 2 is awesome. It’s funny and cringy and heartwarming.”
“And horrible,” he counters. “Elf is heartwarming without the horrible. If you’re going for heartwarming, that’s the obvious choice.”
“Guess we’ll have to agree to disagree,” I say, holding his gaze as he steps closer.
“Or we could do a rewatch at my place.” He glances past me to Nora, who has been pretending to be very absorbed in something on her phone as she sips her mead, giving Theo and I space to chat. “You could come too, Nora. I have a giant couch in my movie room in the basement. Plenty of room for everyone.”
Nora looks up. “Oh, thank you, but I should head home after the banquet. My brother doesn’t know Gram’s pre-bedtime routine as well as I do. I want to make sure he doesn’t forget any of her medications.” She glances my way, giving me a quick wink before she adds, “But you two should go. A movie night sounds like the perfect way to unwind after a day at the fair.”
Theo beams a hopeful grin my way. “What do you think? We could start with Daddy’s Home 2, let you point out the brilliant parts I’ve apparently missed in my viewings thus far?”
“Theo, what’s up, man?” a deep voice booms seconds before Christian stumbles into the small space between us, forcing Theo and I to take a step back to avoid having our toes stomped.
Christian throws his arms around Theo, pulling him in for a hug so tight, the shorter man is lifted completely off his feet. Theo grunts as his face starts to turn red.
“It’s been too long, cousin,” Christian continues. “What the hell have you been up to? We missed you at the last family disco.”
“I had a big project at work,” Theo grunts, his face veering out of the red zone into purple as he wheezes, “Could you put me down, Chris? I need oxygen.”
“Oh sure, sorry,” Christian slurs, setting Theo down with a laugh before turning bleary eyes my way, his grin widening. “I see you met Starling. Isn’t she the b-best?” he asks, ending with a loud hiccup.
“Are you drunk?” I hiss, glancing toward the tent where the rest of the serving staff is hurrying to open the feast in a few minutes. “I thought you were working for your sister tonight?”
Christian waves a loose hand through the air. “I had a few beers after the jousting, but it’s fine. Melissa won’t care. I’m just bartending.” He executes a painfully slow wink. “People like a fun bartender.”
“Do they now?” I ask dryly, imagining all the ways Melissa is going to kill him. Melissa and I aren’t close, but I know her well enough to realize that beneath her fun-loving, bubbly exterior beats the heart of a no-nonsense businesswoman who takes zero shit from her employees—even if those employees happen to be family.
“Totally. They totally do.” Christian loops an arm around my shoulders, leaning heavily against me as he adds, “Right? It’ll be fine, right? It’s okay that there are two of you right now.” He rests his forehead against my temple with a goofy laugh. “Wait, there we go. Now there’s just one. One. One Starling. Mwuah ha ha . Did I sound like the vampire from Sesame Street? Sarah Beth says I do a great impression, but she’s my niece and loves the shit out of me so she’s probably biased. I want real feedback from people I can trust.”
I cast Nora a “what should I do with him?” glance.
Nora widens her eyes and shrugs in the universal sign for “hell if I know, water maybe? Water is always a good idea.”
I nod and wrap an arm around Christian’s unsteady torso. “Okay, buddy. I’ll give you my honest opinion of your Count impression, but first we’re going to get you some water and bread to soak up that alcohol.” I shift my gaze to Theo. “I’ll be right back. Save my spot?”
“Sure,” Theo says. “Or Nora can save our spots and I can come help with Chris. Wouldn’t be the first time I’ve helped him sober up.”
“I’m not drunk,” Christian says, pointing a wobbly finger at Theo’s face as he draws me closer to his side. “And I want Starling to go with me to get bread and water. Just Starling. She’s my friend, and she smells better than you.” He turns and pulls in a deep whiff of the top of my head, nearly stabbing himself in the eye on my crown in the process. “Ouch. Your hair is sharp.”
“Sometimes hair is sharp,” I say, humoring him as I start toward the far left of the banquet area, where I can see just a sliver of the bar Christian will be tending behind the tent flap. Surely, I’ll be able to get him water there. Then I can go looking for bread while he’s pounding the H20. “Watch your step, there’s a?—”
“Ow,” he says as he trips over the rock, I was trying to warn him about.
“A rock,” I finish with a sigh, adding beneath my breath, “You’re in rare form, McGuire. If I can get you sobered up and functional before Melissa finds out you made bad, drunk person choices, you’re going to owe me one.”
We reach the tent and I pull the heavy fabric to one side.
Christian ducks inside first, waiting until I’ve joined him and dropped the flap back into place before he adds in a perfectly crisp voice, “I seem to remember you making some drunk person choices not long ago.”
I jerk my focus his way, studying his face in the dim light. There are candles and lanterns on top of the bar to our left, but no one’s lit them yet. Still, there’s enough sunset creeping in between the cracks in the tent to see his bleary eyes are now clear and sharply focused on my mine.
My jaw drops. “Were you faking all that?”
“I was faking all that,” he confesses without hesitation. Or shame.
I prop my hands on my hips. “What? Why? And how? I don’t want to encourage your sociopathic tendencies, but your acting wasn’t half bad.”
Though, now that I think of it, I should have expected these skills. His cop stripper was also very convincing.
“Yeah, well, guess I perform well under pressure,” he says, stepping in close and fast, making me instinctively sway backward. But the bar is only a foot behind me and soon the back of my skirt is pressed against the heavy wood and Christian’s arms are braced on either side of my chest.
He leans down until his face is nearly level with mine before adding in a husky whisper that goes straight between my legs, “You’re not fucking Theo. Not tonight, not tomorrow night, not ever. Is that clear?”
“You don’t get to tell me what to do,” I whisper back, a smile curving my lips as I realize what this is all about. “Jealousy is a bad look on you, buddy.”
“No, it’s not,” he shoots back, his focus dragging down to my mouth, sending my tingle levels shooting off the chart. “In fact, I’d bet a hundred bucks your panties are already wet.”
My breath rushes out and my nipples pull into tight points, making me grateful for the thick corset fabric. If not, Christian would instantly know what he’s doing to me, and I can’t let him know, not yet.
Not until I’ve taken control of this situation…
“Maybe they are,” I say, fighting to keep my cool. “Maybe they’re not. Too bad someone could head over here and spot us at any moment, or you could slide your hand under my skirt and check.”
His jaw clenches, the muscle balling into a knot beneath the skin that makes me think he’s finding it as hard to keep his hands to himself as I am. “Just tell me you’ll mark Theo off your mentor list, and we can stop torturing each other.”
“But what if I like torture?” I ask, sliding my fingers through the empty belt loop on the side of his jeans and giving a gentle tug.
He resists, pushing his hands into the bar on either side of me, making the muscles in his forearms flex deliciously. I suddenly want to lick every sexy ridge of those arms. And the cord standing out along the side of his neck and his tight jaw and most especially, his lips.
Those plush, full, oh-so-bitable lips, I’ve been dying to feel on mine…
“Stop,” he breathes.
“Stop what?”
“Stop looking at me like you want me to fuck you against this bar,” he says, dealing the final blow to my poor soaked panties.
“But I do,” I whisper. “You know I do. But you told me to find someone else. You can’t have it both ways, Christian. You can’t tell me no and still think you get a say in who I invite to sleep over.”
“You can’t invite Theo to sleep over at Barrett’s,” he counters. “You’re housesitting. You have responsibilities, and Kyle and Keanu would be pissed.”
“Kyle and Keanu love spending time in the backyard in the nice fall weather, but they won’t be an issue tonight. Theo already invited me over to his house after the banquet.”
The heat that flares in Christian’s gaze is different than anything I’ve seen there before. It takes me a beat to realize he’s angry. Really angry.
The kind of angry that makes men do dumb things.
I reach out with my free hand, fisting my hand in his pale blue t-shirt. “Don’t hurt him. He’s your cousin.”
“I’m not going to hurt him,” he practically growls as he moves close enough for his hips to flatten the front of my skirt. “I’m going to tell him to back the fuck off because I have it on good authority that you have multiple STDs.”
I tip my head back, breath coming faster as my lips nearly brush his. “You wouldn’t.”
“Try me.” His hands shift from the bar to my waist, wrenching a soft moan from low in my throat. “Just stay away from people I’m related to. If I have to think about Theo or any other McGuire inside you, I’m going to lose my damned mind.”
“Why?” I say, the longing for his lips on mine becoming almost painful. “If you don’t want me, why do you care so much?”
“I never said I didn’t want you,” he says, his hands molding to my ribs just below my breasts, making my breath come faster. “I said it wasn’t a good idea. And it’s still not. We’re family, we’re connected for life. If you decide you hate me after, this bad decision will haunt us both forever.”
“I’m not going to hate you,” I say. “I could never hate you. Just like you could never hate me.” I lift my chin, stretching my neck until our lips are a whisper apart. “Right?”
“No, I could never hate you,” he says. “But I could hurt you, even without meaning to. And…you could hurt me.”
The words make my heart bust into a soprano solo worthy of an opera star. Because he sounded like he meant them. Like he really thinks I could hurt him, which means…
Well, I’m not entirely certain what it means, but I know it makes me feel about a thousand times more confident as I slide my hands up to grip his biceps through his shirt. “I won’t hurt you, Chris, I promise. And if I did, I’d do whatever it took to make things better again. You’re my friend. At the end of the day, when all the sex mentoring is done, that’s the most important thing to me.”
“It’s important to me, too,” he says. “But if we cross that line, things will be different.”
“They don’t have to be.” My breath hitches as his hands slide higher still, until he’s practically cupping my breasts through my dress. “We could take precautions to make sure they’re not.”
“Precautions?” he murmurs, the tip of his nose skimming the tip of mine, making my head spin. “What kind of precautions?”
“I don’t know,” I say, my fingers digging into his muscled arms. “I’m having a hard time thinking straight right now because I want you so much. But if I had time to think away from your sex vibe, I bet I could come up with something.”
“No sex in the house,” he says, his lips brushing against mine ever so slightly.
But even the hint of a kiss is nearly enough to make me pass out.
Or maybe it’s the corset.
Either way, I’m grateful for the steady presence of the bar behind me and Christian’s hands tight around my ribs.
“If we don’t have sex in my house or your house,” he continues, hovering, brushing, tormenting me with near-kisses, “then we won’t have to worry about any memories hanging around, haunting us when we’re trying to get on with our lives.”
I’m about to ask him if he really thinks I’ll haunt him—or grab his face and kiss him so hard, the ghost of my kiss will haunt his lips for at least the next few days—when someone clears their throat and a perky voice says, “Well, well, if you two aren’t about to charge full speed into a giant pile of shit.”