Present Day
“We’ve got two parties this weekend and you mean to tell me you can’t fix the damn water heater until Monday?” I slam my fist against the wall so I don’t completely explode on this man on the phone. This idiot that my father told us is the best in the area…best my fucking ass. The best would fix this thing right now. These people paying for their parties to be here this weekend are paying for hot water, too, goddammit.
“Sorry, Ford. I’m all out of the new sensor and it ain’t runnin’ till I get a new one.” He’s too old to be doing this job. That’s gotta be it. I’ve offered him whatever money he wants but he won’t fucking take it.
Fuck that.
“Thanks, Pete,” I mutter, ending the call.
“Linc!” I bellow, storming into his office. He glances up at me with an un-amused look on his face. “Pete can’t fix it till Monday. We need a new plumber.”
“Why the hell not till Monday?” His eyebrows crease and he finally stops working on whatever he was to give me his full attention.
Ever since the three of us siblings took over West House he’s been working more than his ass off to make this place bigger and better. He’s winning at it too, but Jesus he’s stressed.
“He’s old.” I grab the chair and spin it, sitting on it and resting my hands on the back.
“Old. Got it.” He laughs and stretches, groaning loudly. “This place takes too much some days. Pete’s been working with West House for years. We can’t just drop him.”
“We don’t have to drop him, but we need this fucker fixed today. I have a wedding tomorrow and a graduation party on Sunday that we need fucking water for.”
Lincoln nods and sighs. “I got a guy. I’ll give him a call.”
“Thank you,” I say, standing. “You going out with us tonight?”
“You and Reagan? No.” He laughs hard, rubbing his eyes. “Nah, Wren and I are taking Carter to the movies.”
“A four year old at the movie theatre. That’ll be…intense…” I grin.
“It’s Nemo. If he needs to leave we can. You two have fun tonight.”
“Oh, I plan on it,” I say and smirk, then walk out of his office.
I moved out of my brother’s house and into my own about three months ago after living with him for a while. It’s easier this way. Living with a married couple and their kid really put a damper on my sex life. I miss seeing Carter, my nephew, every day, but Yellow, my black lab, and I live pretty happily together. Solo. I figure by this age, after moving out of my house at nineteen then breaking up with the girl I was moved in with shortly after, going to my brother’s wasn’t nearly as bad as moving back home. I’ve been sort of a nomad until now, but going home at this age just felt like failure. Not that my parents are bad people. I fucking love them and know how lucky I am to have such an amazing support system, but a man’s gotta keep some of his pride. Plus, coming home drunk with a one night stand is easier when it’s at your bro’s as opposed to mommy and daddy’s. So, I took Yellow and bought a house a few blocks away from my brother.
Yellow is my childhood dog who follows me pretty much everywhere but work. He’s an old soul…probably because he’s fucking ancient but he’s still kicking something fierce.
Lincoln calls in the big guns to fix this thing, and thank fuck for that. It costs a little more than Pete was asking but we have hot water for these parties and for that it’s totally worth it. Three years ago my dad handed over ownership of West House to Lincoln, Reagan and I, and we split the business three ways. Lincoln, my older brother, took the tours, finances, and house general management, Reagan, my younger sister kept the boutique, and I took the parties and banquet hall management. There’s a bar across the street we technically own, but the managers and crew there run it like their own so we rarely need to get involved with it. It works best this way. In previous years we had other people managing the banquet hall, but trusting family is way easier. Plus, it’s a kickass job. I didn’t want it at first, but I’ve come to terms with it and love it now. I’m a party guy, I love planning shit no matter what it’s for. I think it has something with being the middle child and always needing attention.
I have an amazing crew, so most weekends I’m not even here. I have a few managers who keep things rolling for me and as long as I keep payroll rolling, my weekends are set at work and completely free for me to do whatever I choose, which most times includes booze and girls.
I know my family worries about me, but they shouldn’t. I’m doing just fine. Caroline is just a blip on my mind lately. A daily, sometimes multiple times a day, blip that never fully stops hurting. Losing her is a pain I’ll never get over, but I try every goddamned weekend. I’d never wish losing a loved one, someone as much as I loved her, on anyone. Not even my worst enemy.
I get home and Yellow’s barking up a storm, so after a quick change of clothes and a shot of whiskey, I head out with him for an afternoon walk. The air’s crisp, and the change of summer to fall is in full effect. It always reminds me of Caroline and our final few months together. We seriously thought we had it all. We thought that was it. And then one day, driving down a road across town, a tractor came out of nowhere and bam, she was gone. It took weeks sitting in the hospital for her family to realize she wasn’t waking up. It took me years after it to not be so angry.
Alcohol helps.
When she died I didn’t leave my parents’ house for weeks. I slept on the floor in the basement, because even the cold floor couldn’t bring back feeling to my numb body. I was dying. Her funeral was the single worst day of my life. When they lowered her casket into the ground I lost it, throwing myself on it and surprising her whole family with my cries. My brother and dad had to pull me off it so they could keep lowering it.
I haven’t seen her parents since. I heard they moved, but I doubt it. She was an only child. They loved her; they loved me. They wouldn’t leave this place, not when she’s buried here.
A car horn blares and I stop in my tracks, realizing I was crossing the street without even knowing where I was. I think that shot I had when I got home is getting to me a little harder than I meant for it to, but it’s fine because we’re going out tonight. It’s just a party starter.
When I get home, I down two more shots and blare the radio while I get ready. Sometimes being solo in this house sucks. Sometimes, like right now, it helps to clear my mind. Going out with your sister may seem lame to some people, but my sister kicks ass and has the best ways to get us into all the up and coming clubs in the area. When we’re feeling extra crazy, we’ll head up to Chicago for the weekend and party at one of her friend’s parents’ clubs. Tonight’s just another night at a bar in Springfield, however, but that won’t stop me from bringing someone back here with me.
I make sure shit’s cleaned up before I head out, leaving Yellow with bowls full of food and water. By the time I’m picking up Reagan, I’m ready for a few good drinks. The shots helped, but beer is what I need.
“You look worn down, big bro.” She nudges me in the cab of my car before buckling up and I slug her in the arm.
“You look like a washed up hag,” I mutter, grinning when I hear her gasp next to me. Literally. She’s looking at me like I killed her cat. Bitch doesn’t even have a cat.
“Remind me why I hang out with you, again?” She flips down the visor and applies her lip-gloss and I tug her hair.
“Because you’re my little sister and you’re pretty lame.”
“Fuck off,” she laughs.
Is it weird my best friend is my little sister? I mean, for a while there it was my older brother, but he had to go and fall in love and the two of them became this perfect being that makes me so happy for them I want to vomit. My siblings and I are close in age, sure, but that doesn’t mean it was easy to always get along with them growing up. Being only a year younger than my brother made me hate him in grade school. I was always ‘Lincoln’s little brother.’ It wasn’t until he moved away for college that I finally was able to be my own person. My sister’s always been the youngest. The runt. She’s got two older brothers to stand up for her and when there are only three years difference between all three of us she didn’t stand a chance in the dating pool in high school. Now she’s an excellent wingman for these one night stands I’ve been frequenting lately.
Love is for pansies. I loved before. True love. The type of love that, even at seventeen years old, I knew it was us forever.
That didn’t pan out so well, so here I am, in my early twenties living life as free as I can.
“Park out back. It’s less crowded back there. Plus I know the guy working the door tonight so we won’t have to wait.”
I do as I’m told, because if my sister’s anything, it’s good at getting us into these places. She’s also pretty good at finding ways around having to pay for drinks. We have to go to a neighboring city in order to let loose most nights since almost everyone in Springfield knows who we are, but that’s never stopped us from having a good time.
“You got a ride home, right?” I ask as we walk up to the back door.
“Of course. It’s called Uber, ya fucking old man.” She laughs and stops, adjusting her skirt, then grins at me. “Ready for this?” She wiggles her eyebrows and I roll my eyes.
“It’s kinda fucked up weird that you’ve turned me into your wingman,” I grumble, taking a seat at the bar.
“Don’t be an idiot, Ford. You get shit out of it, too.” She orders us two drinks and smiles at the bartender.
“I can get girls without the help of you distracting the other men in the bar.” I say, tipping the bartender and taking a swig of my beer.
“You can, but it’s more fun when you have me as your wingman.” She grins and her eyes trail the bar. I should hate bringing my sister to a bar to find hookups, but I leave most of the overprotective brother shit to Lincoln. He’s the perfect older protective brother. I’m just here to make sure Reag gets to experience the highs and lows of life.
“I don’t need a fucking wingman,” I say, laughing. “But I guess you’re not too terrible to hang around.”
We sit in silence, every now and then commenting on the patrons of the bar or dumb music that’s playing. She laughs at the bartender as he lays another round of beers in front of us, amping up her flirting hardcore tonight. My sister’s a great person, but she’s the most unlucky in love girl I’ve ever met.
“Think I can bag the man in the suit?” she says, grinning from behind her beer.
I follow her glance and laugh. Loud. “Unless you have platinum blonde hair and a fetish for leather, I think not.”
“What?” She laughs. “Where the hell did that come from?”
“Look at him!” I boast, shifting in my seat so he’s in a better view. “He’s got that Dom vibe about him. I draw the line on letting you go home with a man like that.”
“Oh you draw the line, do you? What are you, my protector?” Her eyes wide, she gawks at my selection of words but all I can do is laugh.
“Trust me. It’s for your own good, little sis.” I take a swig of my beer and while she starts bitching at me about letting her live her life, she walks into the bar and everything around me ceases to exist.
There I was, minding my own damn business, seven beers and two shots in and standing on the floor was about as hard as riding a goddamned surf board.
Then she walks in and I fall. Head over heels, I fall hard with just one goddamn look. It pisses me off and exhilarates me at the same time.
My siblings both urged me to go talk to her, so here I am. Slurring my words and all.
“I’m Ford,” I say as suave as possible.
“You’re drunk.” She says, smiling a sarcastic little grin I’d like to wipe off her face with my dick in her mouth.
“I’m fun.” I’m a fucking moron. Who says these things to a girl they just met? “And you look like a lot of fun, too.” Goddammit I’m messing this up. Those shots were a bad idea. Even this inebriated, I know I’m fucking this up.
“I’m unavailable,” she says, holding up her ring finger and my heart plummets to the depths of my stomach as my eyes take in the massive diamond ring.
“Good to know.” I nod, taking another drink, then awkwardly stumble away.
“Earth to Ford,” Reagan says, snapping her fingers in front of my face. I break my trance on this girl; Mackenzie was her name, if I remember right.
“What?” I grumble, still angry that I let her get to me that easily. Only a few glances across the bar that night and I thought I was in love. A few words with her and I knew it. Then she had to go flash her fucking ring and yet again, I was immensely let down by my feelings.
“Go talk to her.” Her eyes light up as she glances over in Mackenzie’s direction. Obviously she doesn’t remember last year as vividly as I do.
“She’s taken,” I say, finishing off my beer and signaling for another one.
“I don’t see a ring,” my sister says, pulling her phone out. “And I think I know that girl…” She clicks away on her massive iPhone that we all made fun of her for getting before grinning and spinning the screen. “Mackenzie Mueller. Owner of the Cake Wars winning bakery, Dough It.”
I grab the phone and see that Reagan in all her youthful investigative glory has found Mackenzie’s Facebook page. God, she’s beautiful.
“Okay, stop drooling,” Reagan says, grabbing her phone back and sliding it into her purse. I chance a glance over at Mackenzie again but for the life of me can’t see her hands clear enough to see if there’s been a wedding band added to the engagement ring she so willingly flashed at me last year. “You should talk to her. Can’t hurt anything.”
I glance back at Mackenzie, then to Reagan who’s still grinning with her eyebrows perched high on her head.
“You want me to go introduce you?” she says almost in laughter.
“No I fucking don’t—” I huff. “Goddammit, Reagan. She’s taken.”
She doesn’t reply, just shrugs and takes another drink and stares at me. I glare at Reagan who’s threatening to make me look like an even larger tool than I did last year, then sigh. Maybe she won’t remember me.
I slam my beer, and growl, taking a deep breath before walking over to her.
The first thing that hits me is her laugh. It’s airy, happy, and so fucking beautiful.
I slide into the empty seat at her table and her friends all look at me but she’s just shaking her head at them.
“Hey. I’m Ford.” I extend my hand and she finally lets her eyes travel to mine. God, they’re beautiful. Dark blue with specks of gold. Who the hell has eyes like that? So powerful, and shiny, and…angry?
“Yep.” She nods, slurping the bottom of her fishbowl margarita.
“How’s things going tonight?” I grin and watch her friends sneak away from the table. She gawks at them then huffs.
“Well my friends just left me.” She rolls her eyes. “And I’ve had two of these things.” Her gaze trails back to me. “And you’re super cute.” She bites her lip and I’m a goner. All those feelings that slammed through my chest last year are back with a vengeance.
“Oh yeah?” I chuckle. “Please keep going.”
She lowers her head, a sly grin playing on her lips. God, what I could do to this girl.
“You’re wearing a shirt that says free hugs,” she giggles, dipping her head down to her straw again and pouting her lip out when she realizes it’s empty. Still.
“You want one?” I quirk an eyebrow and try to adjust my pants because they’re growing tighter in the crotch the longer I sit here with her.
“Wanna get out of here?” She whispers it so quietly as her eyes hit mine that I’m almost certain I mistake her words for something else. When she trails her slender fingertips down my forearm, however, I know her words were exactly what I thought they were.
“Fuck. Yes.” I grip her hand and pull her through the crowded bar, nodding to my sister on the way out.
The ride back to my place is a blur. One minute I’m driving us home, her hands roaming my thigh, and the next I’m slamming her against my front door while trying to shove the key in the lock.
“Fuck,” I grunt when she slides her hand down between my legs to find me already hard for her. The keys tremble in my fingers as she sucks on my neck and rubs my cock. I’m acting like I’ve never touched a girl before, but something about her makes me nervous I’m going to fuck something up tonight.
“Having trouble finding the right hole?” she whispers, her warm breath on my ear.
I groan and break contact with her for just a moment to unlock the door, then we’re back at it. Clothes flying, shoes flying, and the ease that she slides the condom on my dick is so fucking sexy.
When I bend her over the couch and slam into her, my entire world tilts. This girl’s moans are enough to make any man nut his pants. Being inside her while she’s making these noises?
Fucking ecstasy.
It’s skin slapping skin and the only other noise I can hear are my huffs as I pump into her. Her moans of pleasure and my growls of trying to hold off to enjoy this more mix into a chorus of the sexiest fucking noises I’ve ever heard.
“Shit!” she squeaks, reaching her hand between her legs.
“Goddamn are you playing with yourself?” I growl, wishing I had a better view. She tilts her head back and smirks at me with hooded eyes.
“Oh you better believe I am.” She bites her lip and moans. Her pussy starts clenching onto my dick, milking me tight, and I’m fucking done. So fucking done. She’s killed my game and before I know it I’m bellowing loud as my orgasm starts.
“Holy fuck!” I slam into her a few more times, and then grip her hips as I catch my breath. “God fucking dammit.”
She hums and stands, shifting her dress down a bit and grinning at me. “Bathroom?” she asks and I nod down the hall.
“Down that way to the left.” I pant and watch her ass as she walks away. Good lord.
After tossing the condom in the kitchen trash, I head to the bedroom and lie out on the bed, gripping my dick in my hand. Usually I can’t go this close to an orgasm, but right now with her walking down the hallway completely naked looking at me like that, it only takes a few good strokes to be hard for her again. She must have stripped her clothes in the bathroom, and holy fuck she’s hot.
This girl’s going to fuck me into a coma tonight from the look on her face.
“You have a shower curtain that says ‘Fuck it, Let’s Get Naked’, Ford,” she laughs, slowly moving to the bed, her body swaying on the way but it’s probably from the alcohol in her system.
“Gotta get naked to get clean,” I moan, rubbing my already hard again dick and watch her cup her tits in her hands, then look down at them. She grins, then licks one and giggles before kneeling on the bed.
“Your bathroom is too clean for a dude’s bathroom,” she whispers, crawling up the bed. She straddles one of my legs and stops when her face is in line with my dick.
“Is that a bad thing?” I murmur, jolts of pleasure shooting straight to my dick when she trails her fingernail down my shaft.
“Not at all, as long as there’s no chick living here. I’m not into cheaters.” Her eyes narrow and I feel like I should be scared that she’s stroking my dick with her pointed fingernail and threatening me, but it’s hot as hell.
“No chick,” I whisper. “No cheaters –fuuuuck,” I moan out as her lips wrap around me. She hums, popping my dick out of her mouth and grinning at me.
“Good,” she whispers. Her eyes glossy and her face flushed and I know she’s still drunk, but I’m not about to stop her when her wet mouth opens and wraps around my cock again.
I fist my hand in her hair and her head bobs up and down my shaft like it’s her only job.
When she starts rubbing herself on my leg I curse.
“I’m not gonna fucking last like that,” I growl, trying to wriggle out from under her, but it’s futile and when she starts moaning louder, then swallows my dick down I shoot up, cursing loud. I fall back to the bed, breathing through the ecstasy because I could fucking come again, right now, and when the grinding on my leg speeds up and her moans grow louder, that’s exactly what I do.
Fuck. Me.