CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
PAIGE
His sister. His freaking sister was coming. Nothing like throwing me into the fire. While I tried calming down as we took a quick shower, rinsing off our bodies and keeping my hair mostly dry, I still wanted to slaughter him.
What if they’d shown up early?
How would I face her knowing I’d just let her brother have sex with me against a wall?
I wasn’t exactly a prude in bed. I liked variety. I liked changing it up now and then and like most girls in their mid-twenties, I survived dry spells with my handy-dandy operated helper.
But being thrown against a wall and taken like that, having someone finish on me and not in me…well, that was new.
It was also passionate, filled with a fire I couldn’t stop burning whenever I was around Beaux. Since I had no intention of dousing those flames, I stopped being mad and started worrying about Shannon.
They were close. From everything Beaux had told me, and he always talked about Shannon, she’d not only pretty much raised him, she’d always protected him. She took care of him. She sacrificed what she wanted in order to help Beaux reach his dreams.
When he could, he repaid her by buying her a building for her own business, something I saw talked about constantly on local design blogs. Her jewelry was cool. Funky metal bangles and bracelets and necklaces and earrings, she handmade everything herself. The woman must have been a sorceress, able to stop time with a blink of her eye or wiggle of her nose.
I had no idea how she worked so hard and managed to have a life.
Plus, she was engaged to Oliver Powell. One of the hottest and most famous tight ends in football. Hell, he’d even done some commercials and appeared on television shows over the last couple of years.
Together, they seemed like an unstoppable force. At least a couple I wanted to make a really great impression on.
I wasn’t certain fucking her brother and still being wet from a shower when they arrived was the best way to handle that one.
I was fixing my mascara with Q-Tips and water because since Beaux hadn’t warned me, I didn’t have anything at his place. I hoped Shannon didn’t think my flushed cheeks were after sex glow, but excitement over the win.
I needed a drink.
“Beaux!” I shouted. He’d already left the room, but I was still fussing with running makeup and frizzed out hair.
“What?” he shouted back. Seconds later, I heard pounding footsteps on his wood stairs as he rushed up to me. “What is it?
I held out my hand, trembling like I’d drank too much caffeine. Nerves and crazy sex adrenaline crash the causes for sure.
“Do you have wine? I need a drink. A big one. A box, maybe, not a bottle. Do you have anything?”
“Woah.” He threw up both hands palms out. “Slow your roll, psycho. It’s just Shannon.”
“I need a drink.” I leaned in, hissing. “You’ve freaked me out, I can barely stand up straight, thanks to you, and I didn’t have time prepare to meet your only family. Plus,” I circled my face with my finger, “I have this freshly-fucked look going on and I need to chill out.”
He leaned against the doorframe during my rant and grinned. “You can barely stand up straight? Legs shaking too bad?”
I tossed the Q-tip into the trashcan. “I’m freaking out!”
“I know, crazy. It’s funny. Seriously, it’s Shannon. And as far as your freshly-fucked look, do you know how many times I’ve shown up at their place to see her looking the same? It’s about time I got my payback.”
I had no way to respond to that.
Nothing. This man was the biggest ninny I’d ever met.
“Beaux,” I said, warning him.
He stepped back. Wise choice. “I have sauvignon blanc and pinot noir. What would you prefer?”
“Red, please.” A rush of breath fell from my lips, shoving my shoulders down. “And thank you.”
“No need. I grew up with Shannon. I know how to calm down psycho.”
He skedaddled quickly, giving me no time to retort and by the time he returned, I was working on calming down.
I still drank half the glass in one large gulp.
***
I had nothing to worry about. Damn Beaux for not only being a sexy beast in bed but for always being right. Well, mostly always right.
I was sure he’d been wrong a time or two at some point in his life.
Still, Shannon and Oliver showed up at Beaux’s place approximately five seconds after I finished my first glass of wine and they came with three large plastic bags of carryout.
She’d dropped the bags in her hand to her feet when she saw me and threw herself at me so hard, I went back a step. “I’m so glad to meet you,” she’d exclaimed. She shook me like a rag doll and pulled back, grinning. “I was going to come to your suite today but I didn’t want to scare you. But I insisted we have dinner tonight since they’re gone next week again. Oliver and Beaux have told me so much about you. Any girl who’s willing to dump a bucket of ice on my brother is a-okay in my book.”
“Uh,” I ‘d said, my gaze flying to Beaux.
“See?” he’d said. “I know how to deal with psycho.”
“Shut your pie-hole,” Shannon had snapped. “I’m being friendly.”
“You’re scaring the bejeezus out of her, babe,” Oliver had said. He’d pulled his fiancée into his hold and with his free hand, held it out to me. “Nice to see you again, Paige. Your dad like the game today?”
“Well, you won, so yeah.”
“Glad I could make that happen for him.”
“You?” Beaux had cried out, aghast. “You made it happen?”
“Again,” Oliver had said, ushering Shannon into the kitchen, not looking at Beaux. “I’m so glad you and I have come to an agreement on things.”
“Smug little son of a bitch,” he growled. His face was twisted with such confused aggravation I burst out laughing.
Like sheep, we followed them into the kitchen, Beaux wrapping his arm around my lower back as he guided me there. Shannon had made herself at home, pulling out plates and silverware, while Oliver unloaded the carry out containers.
They lined everything up, we filled our plates, Beaux gave Shannon and me more wine while he and Oliver stuck to water, and then we sat down at his dining table and ate.
And talked.
And laughed.
It took me about twenty-two point two seconds to not only stop being nervous around Shannon but to absolutely fall in love with her.
She was a bit loud, a lot crazy, insanely in love with her fiancé, and fiercely protective of her brother. That came about when she started bitching about comments he’d already received on Instagram.
Oliver had turned to her and asked, “Why don’t you get this worked up about people saying shit about me?”
“Please,” she’d winked, “you’re a grown man. You can handle yourself.”
“And what the hell am I?” Beaux had asked.
“My little brother.” Her expression showed she meant every word, and I knew we’d get along perfectly. Because I loved that Beaux, even if he was technically a grown man, had someone like that in his life.
They left shortly after dinner, claiming they didn’t want to stay out too late and it was already closing in on ten, and they still had to drive back to their house outside Raleigh quite a distance.
As soon as Beaux had closed and locked the door behind them, engaged his security panel, he picked me up, flung me over his shoulder and carried me to bed.
Where we stayed for hours.
Not sleeping until much, much, later.
***
Life moved quickly over the next few weeks.
The Rough Riders were leading the league, undefeated, surprising no one.
I saw Beaux when I could, sometimes going to his place, sometimes him hanging out at mine with my dad and me. He stayed the night with me, despite my quiet protests he shouldn’t with my dad there.
He’d laughed at me and carried me to my room saying, “Your dad likes me, so I think we’re past the concern of him shooting me. And it’s not like he doesn’t know we sleep together when you’re at my place.”
Still, I kept the physical contact to either the bathroom or above the waist in the bed.
No girl wanted to have her dad hear her having an orgasm. With as effectively and powerfully as Beaux delivered them, it would have happened.
One Saturday when Beaux had left for an out of state game, Dad, Melanie, and I went to eat dinner at Ride’Em Rough. As much as I had been enjoying the freedom of having a life again, I was also missing Hannah and my job there. Unfortunately, she wasn’t working when we went in and I made a mental note to check in on her.
Sure the uniform sucked, getting ass-grabbed and propositioned every ten minutes wasn’t my favorite thing in the world, but while things were going well at the garage, the looming hospital bills I knew were coming from Dad’s surgery and recent hospital stay were already stressing me out.
We had decent insurance but even then, the bills were going to be astronomical.
I’d rested and spent time with Beaux like he’d wanted to have happen when he hired Melanie.
That didn’t mean I didn’t still have additional responsibilities.
And after our dinner the night at Ride’Em Rough, I talked to Paulie about returning in another week.
“About damn time,” he scolded me. “You’re lucky I haven’t replaced you yet.”
I leaned in and kissed his cheek. “You’re a sweetheart, Paulie, you know that?”
He’d growled at me. “Get out of here before I change my mind.”
I hurried away but grinned the entire time. He blustered and puffed out his chest, but deep down even if he wouldn’t admit it, Paulie was a big ol’ softie.
Dad wasn’t only healing from his surgery and his leg, but his paralysis was continuing to improve. It was something we’d always known could happen, but with the additional therapy Melanie provided during the day, he was now spending more days out of his wheelchair than he ever had before.
Then he gained a different cast and crutches to use to hobble around the house, and Melanie was becoming less of a constant necessity. She took him to physical therapy appointments several days a week, but now that he was more mobile again and off his pain meds, she usually only stayed a few hours in the afternoon and overnights when I wasn’t there.
I was beginning to feel guilty Beaux was basically paying for her to be our friend.
When I mentioned it to both of them, they told me to be quiet and enjoy the help.
So I stayed quiet.
The garage business was picking up.
I assumed that had something to do with customers who had several times spotted Beaux leaving there when he stopped by to see me either over lunch or after he was done with practice. Candid pics had hit the Internet after that and made the rounds on fan sites and Instagram and Facebook.
I wasn’t aware of it until Mike shoved his phone into my face when I showed up to work one morning wondering why we had fifteen cars lined up for oil changes and maintenance. That particular morning, all our customers were beautiful women, around my age, wearing a lot less clothing than I ever did and who had clearly spent a lot more time on their makeup.
I tried to forget the bitchy comments about my ass being fat or being too ugly for him.
I never spent much time caring what people thought and I was trying not to let it bother me. The fact I could be found doing squats and lunges and eating salads after that meant nothing.
Overall, life was good. I had help. I had a guy I was falling ass over kettle for. I was in love with Beaux Hale, had been falling in love with him for weeks by the time I realized it but was too chickenshit to say anything.
My dad was healing not just from his broken leg but his stroke, regaining strength every day.
I had new friends. A social life. Even Shannon and I spent some time together occasionally and when the guys were gone, she would come and watch the game with Dad and me.
Life was better than good.
It was perfect.
But like so often when you were riding the top of the wave, enjoying the freedom and exhilaration of beautiful scenery, at some point, you had to crash into the dark water below.