I’m stunned, shocked into silence. I was expecting her to damn near kill me, feel betrayed, and filet me with her tears. And she’s totally fine with my mouth-fucking Brody, and maybe more. In fact, she’s already acquired her next target, a doctor.
“I don’t know what to say. This is not at all how I expected this conversation to go.” Not thinking, I drain the entirety of my glass in one go and then cringe at the gross taste. “Fuck, how do you drink this stuff?”
Emily smiles and sips hers, eyeing me over the rim of the glass. “Okay, so now that we have that figured out . . . when are you going out with Brody?”
I reach for her glass, plucking it from her hand and chugging it too because as gross as it is, I could use a little blurriness as I confess. “Em, I’m not you. I’m not looking for the husband, two-point-five kids, and a dog. I’ve got a husband . . . Cole Automotive. That garage is my husband, baby, and a not-housebroken dog all rolled in one. I don’t have a lot of time for anything else. I’m not planning to date him. I just want to fuck him. Maybe a lot if he’s as good as I think he’ll be. I get the feeling that’s Brody’s deal, too.”
I’m not sure if that’s true, but I hope it is. Most guys, even if they have plans for the whole Norman Rockwell painting life at some point, are quite fine with keeping things casual for a while. It’s worked for me in the past, and I hope to hell and back that it’ll work with Brody.
Her brows jump in surprise. For all her mouthy game, she’s a good girl. I’m . . . not.
“Well, when’s your dick appointment?” She’s trying, bless her heart.
I shrug on the outside, but inside, I’m replaying that kiss, the masterful way he took my mouth but let me take his too. I’m thinking about the hard planes of his belly I felt beneath that T-shirt and the thick bulge I could see in his jeans. I’m hearing that ragged breath as I pushed him back, knowing he wanted to shove me up against the truck and fuck me but was a good man and held tight restraint over those urges.
I must smile or fucking whimper or something, but Emily goes nuts.
“Rix! Oh my God! You’re in love! It’s about time, girl!” She hops up from the couch and starts dancing around like that girl from Flashdance, running in place but with arms flailing as she jumps a bit. Her downstairs neighbors are probably going to call the landlord on her.
Who am I kidding? Emily has the neighbors and the landlord wrapped around her pretty little finger too. Just like everyone. Except Brody, apparently.
“Whoa, slow down. I didn’t say all that. I literally just told you I’m dick-only, no hearts need apply.”
She plants one hand on her hip and points at me with the other, the picture of Mom. “Well, any man who makes you all stammery and nervous is someone I want to see you with because this” —she gestures her open palm at all of me— “is a riot. No matter who he is—oh, shit!”
Her eyes go wide again as she falls to the couch beside me. “What are you going to tell Reed?”
“Nothing. It’s none of his business.”
She twists her lips wryly. “You know it is, Rix. Everyone thinks you’re gonna end up together, including Reed.”
I shrug. “I’ve made it clear that I don’t think that. We haven’t dated since high school.”
“You know he’s waiting on you. He follows you around like a damn labradoodle with sad puppy dog eyes, begging for treats. To be clear, you’re the treat.” She smirks, looking me up and down like I’m something different from what she sees in the mirror every day.
Damn.
Emily’s right, and I do know it, even if it pisses me off that everyone still thinks they get some say-so in how my life plays out. I chose escaping to the Army as a show of creating my own destiny, a fuck-you to everyone who thought they knew best for me, even though I loved them and they only did it out of love for me.
But the Army hadn’t played out like I thought it would, since here I am, back home a few short years later, and while I’ve changed, nobody else has. Neither has the picture in their heads of little Rix and where she’s going.
I’m pretty sure Dad thought I’d come home, finally marry Reed, and start popping out grandkids.
But that’s his plan, along with Reed and Uncle Smitty.
Know whose plan it’s not? Mine.
“I’ve made it clear to Reed that I’m not interested, regardless of who plotted what when we were kids or what I thought I wanted when we were in high school.”
Yeah, losing my virginity in that Toyota Corolla in bay three? That was to Reed at an embarrassingly young age. For me, it’d been a sweet progression of our puppy love, an adventure into something adult-ish. For him, it’d been a declaration that I was onboard with the whole marriage-babies plan that started immediately after high school.
I hadn’t wanted that then, don’t want it now, and don’t know that I ever will. But even if I one day wake up and decide I want that life, it won’t be with Reed. I know that much. He’s safe, he’s easy, and he lets me walk all over him. None of those are things I want, for a right-now guy or a forever guy.
Emily shrugs noncommittally, obviously not convinced. “If you say so. Just don’t hurt him too much. But Brody? Go to work on that man and tell me all about it.”
A smile teases at my lips. “Are you sure, Em? Really sure?” I don’t want to look back on this moment and see that I shouldn’t have believed her, that I fucked us up again.
Her hands cover mine and she looks deep into my eyes. I might as well be looking in a mirror because I know every fleck in hers just like my own. “I’m positive. Now tell me everything.”
It’s like no time has passed between us, like we’re back to being teenagers, giggling about boys at school.
I tell her about almost taking Brody’s head off with a wrench and cussing him out, and she gasps and proclaims it ‘classic Rix.’ I don’t dispute that she’s right.
I tell her about the almost kiss that Reed interrupted, and she raises a knowing brow at me that I pretend not to see.
I tell her about being stingy and bitchy inside about introducing her to Brody, and she smiles as she tells me I’m a good sister. I almost believe her.
And last but not least, I tell her about that mouth-fucking kiss. We both fall back on the couch, swooning. I even drink another glass of wine in one gulp, like I’m swallowing medicine, but instead of a gross bitter flavor, it’s just a little bit sweet this time. Not too bad, just like telling Emily wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be. And also, I might be a little tipsy.
“I’m no saint, obviously, and have kissed my share of guys. But I swear, Em . . . that was something else entirely.”
“So, now what?” she asks, careful to let me fill in the details, an allowance I appreciate more than she could possibly know.
“Now, I’m gonna call him. Obviously.” I laugh as I say it, but I mean every word.
Chapter 8
Erica
“Remind me again how I let myself get talked into this?” I grumble, holding Em’s bags while she browses.
“Because you love your sister, you’re a glutton for punishment, and I think you secretly like to be forced to do things that don’t involve testosterone and beer.” My mom’s right, as always.