Rosemary

 

 

The mattress shifted, and a familiar weight scrambled over her back.

“Are you awake, Mommy?”

Pinned, she couldn’t pretend to sleep. “You know, I’m old, and this is going to wreck my back.”

Michael scrambled off, all knees and elbows. “Aunt Hazel is making pancakes.”

“Real pancakes or cakes made out of something weird?” Her stomach rumbled at the promise of real food. A handful of snacks yesterday and a bite of ice cream were not enough to fuel the body of a grown woman.

“Hurry up, or Uncle Seeran and Uncle Lorran will eat them all.”

Uncle Lorran, huh?

“What are you doing up so early?” Normally Rosemary had to drag her son out of bed, kicking and screaming. Her honey bunny was not a morning person.

“Hurry up!” He leaped out of bed and took the blankets with him, leaving her bare legs exposed to the air. Typically she slept in a T-shirt and panties. Last night had been no different.

“Get back here, you little monster,” Rosemary growled, chasing Michael out of the room. He dropped the blankets and ran down the hall, cackling. She bent over to retrieve the discarded blankets. “Sure, you think it’s funny now, but I know the lady in charge of your allowance!”

A door down the hall opened, and Mene stepped out. He smirked, eyes sweeping up from her feet. “Do Terrans bellow every morning or that just you?”

Rosemary couldn't find the words to respond because he wasn’t wearing a shirt and it just short-circuited her brain. His biceps were as thick as her thighs. Mesmerized, she watched them flex as he planted one hand on the wall and leaned.

So much skin...

He licked his lips.

Hand over heart, he licked his lips like she was breakfast.

Rosemary tugged the shirt over her rump as best as she could and slammed the door shut. She leaned against it and placed a hand at the base of her throat. She didn’t appreciate the way her pulse raced or the way her skin tingled.

Stupid jerk. Why’d he have to be so sexy?

Stupid brain, not working because of some pecs, abs, and tattoos.

She’d feel better after a shower. The hot water might not ease all her tension, but she was used to ignoring her body’s desires.  Single parenthood and seven-year-olds did not make for the most robust dating life.

The dust of two worlds clung to her. Fixtures in the cleansing room were self-explanatory but Mahdfel-sized. A toilet was a toilet, even if she did have to hop up on it. The controls for the shower were embedded into the tiles, but otherwise, it was a regular shower, just very tall and wide. She could fit three of herself in there.

The shower, coupled with a solid night’s sleep, drove away the memories of last night’s chaotic dinner. Clean, dressed and feeling like a person again, Rosemary planned to make the most of the day.

Soft winter sunlight streamed into the room. She tied up her clothes and made the bed, returning the guest room to a near-perfect state.

A shout outside drew her to the window.

Purple-hued men worked in the vineyard, moving at a steady pace down the rows. Some carried baskets heaped with frozen green grapes. A certain man with more muscle than manners drew her eye. He wore no shirt and his light layer of perspiration gleamed in the sunlight.

Lorran approached, also shirtless. There was snow on the ground. Didn’t that call for clothes? The younger man said something and Mene nodded before amicably slapping his back. Whatever hard feelings that existed between the brothers had vanished overnight.

Lorran had a tall, lean build compared to his brother. Tattoos spread across his shoulders and back, the ink dark against his skin. The exact shade shifted with the shadows, from plum to boysenberry to sangria. Paired with his long, distinctly not military regulation hair, he had the casual air of trouble. Fun trouble, but not the kind of fun that appealed to her.

Her eyes kept going back to Mene. Now, that grumpy purple meanie was her flavor of fun. Unfortunately, with her track record, she was drawn to the jerks. Something about a bad attitude and a sour disposition paired with rock hard muscles made her ovaries stupid and her vagina tingle.

He was the opposite of his brother. Tight, close-cropped hair and a large build, every move screaming military precision. His tattoos, just as black against lavender skin, had purpose and order. She didn’t understand the characters of the tattoos, but her brain recognized it as language. A vicious, ragged scar graced his lower back, where the kidney would be on a human. She wondered if the same thing that gave him that scar also gave him the ones on his face.

Mesmerized, she watched his shoulders bunch and flex as he harvested the fruit. A little voice told her it was wrong to watch him like a piece of meat. She didn’t appreciate it when he and his brother fought over her like one.

Rosemary pulled herself away from the window. She did not come to Sangrin to flirt or hook up with a stranger. She came to visit her sister and spend time with the family. Getting hot and bothered about a gorgeous piece of man meat wasn’t on the agenda.

But he was a delicious piece of meat, she whined. Absolutely tasty and gorgeous, as long as the purple meanie kept his mouth shut.

Lorran wouldn’t be so bad if he didn’t come on so strong. She’d probably like him as a friend, though. She felt zero chemistry with him.

Mene, though…

If only he kept that mouth closed.