Chapter 16
Chapter Sixteen
PJ
The next evening, I roll up to Wes’s end-of-summer barbecue feeling like a king.
Honestly, I was pretty proud of taking Fallon’s dick down my throat like a champ. I was even more thrilled when he woke up from his post-orgasm nap, for the first time not looking like he’d been to hell and back. The constant bags under his eyes had faded considerably.
I’m kind of killing it at taking care of my man.
Oh yeah, and the part where Fallon wanted to return the favor on the covered lanai behind his house?
That was pretty damn awesome too. We were in an alcove, all shadowy and obscured from the neighbors, but the chance of being spotted by someone wandering their way down the beach made us both come so fucking hard.
The thrill of semipublic sex is one of the many, many things I’ve learned I’m into since meeting Fallon.
“What the hell is this?” Wes opens his front door with a beer in one hand and a pair of giant metal tongs in the other. He’s giving a judgmental look at me in general, but at the puppy in my arms in particular.
Fallon didn’t want to leave him alone yet, and Bruiser was tired, so I carried him. What’s Wes’s fucking problem with that? Nobody’s feeling abandoned on my watch.
I give Wes my best smile, because fuck him for threatening me. “This is Bruiser. He’s a good boy, but he has a little problem with his brain. Kind of like you, Wes.”
Wes narrows his eyes, staring now at my other hand and Fallon’s joined together. Fuck this guy. He seems to have a lot to say about me for someone who can’t out me without outing himself as the guy who hired a sex worker to lay out his brother.
Fallon diffuses the situation by holding out a six-pack in his brother’s face. “Brought your favorite.”
For the moment, Wes is distracted, grinning at the amber bottles. “Fuck yeah. Gina bitches whenever I get this stuff. Thinks it’s too expensive.”
“It is too expensive,” I say. “Who pays fifty bucks for a six-pack of beer?” After attending lots of fancy dinners with clients, I’m aware some people are willing to pay a hell of a lot more than that for alcohol. Ridiculous though, if you ask me.
A pretty blonde sticks her head around the corner.
“I don’t know who you are, but I like you,” she says to me.
Which only makes Wes scowl more, so I decide she’s my new favorite person.
“Burgers are gonna burn.” She cuts Wes with some stern side-eye.
He disappears, looking like he wants to argue but doesn’t.
“Fallon, it’s so good to see you.” She gives him a hearty hug and turns to shake my hand now that Fallon’s let go of me.
“I’m Gina. Come in and make yourself at home.
Drink some of Wes’s beers. Fallon, could I borrow your muscles for a few minutes?
I need some help filling the coolers with ice—oh my God, who is this little guy? ”
Bruiser, who’s awake and wondering what all the commotion’s about, reaches his paws out toward Gina. Next thing I know, she’s scooping him up in her arms and dragging Fallon down the hall. I love that lady already.
Well, aside from the fact that she’s left me flying solo in a house full of strangers without even a cute rescue puppy to use as a distraction.
I look around the foyer, peeking side to side and then down the hall, wondering where she and Fallon would have gone.
The house is cozy, with gleaming hardwood floors and lots of rustic-looking furniture.
Seems an odd choice for a house in a humid coastal town, but whatever.
I wander toward the kitchen, not finding Gina or Fallon, but I do stumble upon the beer. They’ve got one of those fancy gourmet setups with gleaming stone countertops and a whole separate bar area holding a variety of different types of alcohol.
I’m not much of a drinker, but since I’m not paying for it, I decide to go ahead and crack open a bottle. I’ve managed one healthy sip before a hand grabs my upper arm and drags me through the kitchen and into the living room.
“What. The. Fuck. Are. You. Doing. Here?”
Wes has traded his tongs for a long-handled spatula and his earlier annoyance for flat-out anger. My fingers clench and release, but I resist the impulse to go for my knife. This isn’t the time or place, as good as that might feel.
If I’m going to be the guy Fallon trusts, I shouldn’t stab his family members.
“Dude, you almost made me spill my beer.”
“That’s my beer, fucker.” Wes’s jaw ticks.
“Gina said I could have some.”
Wes rolls his eyes and mutters something under his breath about trying his patience. Whatever. Not my damn problem.
“I mean, what are you doing at my cookout, fucker. What are you still doing with my brother? One date and you’re getting a dog together? Showing up here holding hands like you’re goddamn boyfriends? You were supposed to get him laid and never see him again.”
See, what Wes doesn’t know, is I’ve been threatened by way more intimidating pieces of shit than him. I just shrug my shoulders, which I can tell annoys him to no end.
“It’s like I told you already, Wes. I’m attached to Fallon. He means a lot to me. That date you paid for was a long time ago, so I don’t see how you have any place to say anything about it. This horse you’re beating is so dead it’s starting to stink.”
Ooh, his face is turning red now. I like it. Awesome.
“You haven’t done shit to convince me that you’re not taking advantage of my brother,” he growls.
“Not my job, man. Fallon knows I’m not taking advantage of him, and that’s what matters.”
Because I’m not. I wouldn’t. No matter what Wes or anybody else says. No, it hasn’t escaped my notice that Fallon has a hell of a lot more money than I do. I live in an East End apartment where the landlord only takes cash. Fallon’s got a fucking beach house in Belle Argo, for fuck’s sake.
Doesn’t change that Fallon and I have a connection that’s something special.
I know we do, and nothing Wes or anyone else can say will convince me otherwise.
All I need to do is close my eyes and remember the sounds he made in my ear when I got him off in that alley downtown.
Or the way he looks at me when I tuck him into bed after giving him an orgasm.
“My brother spent a decade letting a crazy woman lead him around by the dick, and he’s fallen into the same trap again. He doesn’t know what the fuck is good for him.”
Is this fucker for real? Someone needs therapy.
Since I can’t stab him, I decide to piss him off by taking another swig of his beer. “Big brother, you’re being awfully rude. You weren’t in it with Fallon and his wife. You sure as fuck don’t know what’s going on with me and him.”
Wes waves his big, shiny burger-flipping spatula in my face. “What’s rude is leading my brother on when you’re out there dating God knows how many other guys. What’s he going to say when I tell him what you do for a living?”
We’re gonna go there, huh? “That’s an interesting change of heart, Wes. You could tell him, and then we’ll both find out. What are you going to say when he asks why the hell you thought you needed to pay someone to take him on a date?”
Granted, it won’t look good for me either.
I’m going to have to tell Fallon the truth about what I do sometime.
Belle Argo isn’t big or anonymous enough to keep that kind of shit under wraps.
I only have to hope that when I do, he decides to forgive me.
And if he doesn’t? I’m not sure what I’ll do, but I’m sure it won’t be pretty.
I see the exact moment Wes realizes he’s backed himself into a corner. His face has gone from red to a kind of purple color. One of my favorite colors, purple.
“Aren’t you supposed to be making sure the burgers don’t burn?
” I slap the oversized utensil, making it smack Wes in the face.
Not super hard. But hard enough that he spends a minute deciding whether it’s more important to kick my ass or not piss off his wife before he sputters and turns for the sliding doors that lead outside.
Meanwhile, I try to keep my laughter inside as I go searching for Fallon.
I find him down a quiet stretch of hallway that seems to lead to some bedrooms. He’s looking at a row of pictures on the wall, ones that were taken from Wes and Gina’s wedding, given that Gina’s front and center in a big white cupcake-shaped dress, and Fallon and Marina are off to one side.
Marina’s grip on his arm is even more possessive than any way I touch him. Not sure if that makes me hate her or if it makes me want to step up my game.
In the picture, Fallon’s wearing a sturdy gold cuff on his wrist. I remember it from our first date, but he’s not wearing it now.
I slide my arm around his waist. “Is that what I think it is on your arm?”
He nods. “I took it off about a few weeks after you and I met. I was just looking at this picture and thinking we may have had our ups and downs, but I liked belonging to someone.” He gestures to her hand on his arm.
“It felt like something deeper than companionship. Like love and security and certainty all rolled into one. Even though in the end that was a lie.”
My arm around his waist tightens. With my free hand I grab hold of his wrist, wrapping my fingers around the place where that cuff used to be. “I thought we already established that you belong to me now.”
A startled-sounding breath rushes out of his mouth. Then he gets a sexy-looking crimson stain crawling across his bare throat.
“I didn’t—” He glances around. There’s nobody near us in the hall, but I guess he wants to be extra sure, because he pushes open a nearby door and ushers me through.
He doesn’t speak again until it’s closed.
“I didn’t know if that was serious. All that stuff you said, I figured it was heat-of-the-moment stuff.
We’d been attacked downtown. There was…adrenaline flowing. ”