Busted (Barnes Brothers #3) (12 page)

Once more, heat flooded her face, while an ache settled in her chest.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said, managing a somewhat lofty tone.

Tori wasn’t fooled. “Son of a bitch. You
totally
jumped him in the elevator.”

“I most certainly did not,” she snapped, turning her head to glare at her friend. “I in no way jumped him in the elevator.”

“Okay.” Tori waited a beat. “Did you wait until you got to your room or did he take you to his?”

To that, Ressa really had no response. Oh, she could have lied, but there was no way she’d be able to pull it off, not when the need for him was rippling through her, a need that was growing stronger and stronger—damn it, she was supposed to have gotten him out of her system.

Instead, that need was worse.

“I don’t believe this. The man spends most of his career tucked up in his cave and the
one
time he ventures out, you end up doing him.” Tori shook her head. “I don’t know if I’m jealous or just in awe.”

“Oh, shut up.” Ressa unlocked her trunk and shoved her bag inside. One hand braced on the trunk’s lid, she looked at Tori. “Do you want to make it to the airport or not?”

“So did you get his number?”

Can I call you
?

Now that ache in her chest spread. Eyes closed, she braced her forehead on her bicep. “Tori, can we just let this go, please?”

“Hey . . .”

When Tori brushed a hand down her arm, the knot in her throat grew larger and, to her horror, she thought she just might
cry. She managed to fight it back, shoving all that misery down the way she always did.

“What’s wrong? Did he just up and leave right after? Shit, he’s not lousy in bed, is he?”

Ressa snorted. “If he was, trust me, I wouldn’t be sitting here miserable. It was . . .” Now she found herself smiling, and she realized this was the first time in her life she truly understood the term
bittersweet
. “Ever had one perfect night?”

“Maybe.” Tori shoved long brown hair back over her narrow shoulders, then she grinned. “But if I have, I was too drunk to remember it the next day.”

Sighing, Ressa looked up and smiled. “It was probably the closest to perfect I’ll ever know. But that’s all it was. One perfect night.”

Hands slid smooth and agile down his chest. Followed by a warm, seeking mouth. Crazy, wild curls trailed over his skin and he let his instincts guide him. He fisted a hand in her hair as she continued to move lower, lower . . .

When she closed her mouth around the head of his cock, Trey groaned, arching up.

The snarl that ripped out of him was choked and harsh, so ragged, he barely recognized the sound of his own voice.

Don’t stop . . .

He tried to say the words.

Maybe he did and just couldn’t hear it over the roar and rush of blood.

Don’t . . .

Her laugh teased his ears as she lifted up and trailed a hand up his thigh.
I won’t. I’m having too much fun.

Music crashed, cutting through the dream. Trey jolted and then sat upright in bed. The dream fell to pieces around him as he looked around the room.

It had been a month since New Jersey—over a month since he’d seen . . . tasted . . . touched . . . Ressa.

He still dreamed about her.

The theme song from
Buffy the Vampire Slayer
was blaring from his phone. The display had one simple word on it, and while maybe it wasn’t exactly the apocalypse, he felt like he needed to gear up for battle.

Grabbing the phone, he studied the display for a second longer and then silenced the alarm.

School
.

Clayton started school today.

It was six in the morning, still too early to get Clayton up. He had wanted it that way. He needed to get his head clear, brace himself. Psych himself up or something.

The phone rang as he finished up in the bathroom and he answered with a sigh. “You realize that I can handle this myself, Mommy.”

“Fuck you,” Travis said easily. “How’s my boy doing?”

Trey smiled despite the stress that tried to chew him up inside. “Excited. If I could work up even a tenth of Clay’s excitement—hell, a hundredth of it, I’d be doing just fine with this.”

“Today will be the worst. I . . . uh. Well, I had plans to be there, maybe drag you out to breakfast or something, but work wouldn’t let me off. Bunch of dickheads.”

“It’s cool, Travis. I got this.” He moved to the window, staring out at the eastern horizon. He loved this spot—had spent many mornings just here, watching as the colors bled from deep purple to pink then gold as the sun rose higher. With one arm braced on the cool glass of the window, he stared outside. “Much as I appreciate it, you can’t always be there to hold my hand.”

Silence caught, hung there. Then Travis blew out a heavy breath. “Fuck, Trey. You’ve spent the past few years shutting down more and more. Don’t act like you haven’t. I feel it. I just . . . you’re scaring me. And don’t try to lie to me about this. I—”

“Travis. I’m okay.” He cut his twin off. Turning away from the window, he moved to his dresser and stared at the gold ring that had rested there for the past few weeks. He’d put it on for the trip home, but since then, it had rested in that very spot.

The need to put it back on any time he ventured outside, whether it was to the library, to the grocery, or even those monthly trips to church with Aliesha’s folks, was going away.

He could handle life without that shield.

He’d even handled a few mild flirtations—not on his side—without feeling like he needed to bolt.

And maybe it was just because he needed it, but it seemed the ghosts that hung around him were a little lighter.

Of course, there was a ghost haunting him.
We had a good night but . . .

“Trey—”

“I’m
okay
.” He touched the ring. “I took my ring off. I was out running and this cute blonde started asking me about my tattoo. I didn’t turn into an Olympic sprinter in my desperation to get away. I ran into a woman in the produce aisle and she asked me for my name and I didn’t bolt.”

“Did you give her your name?”

Trey winced. “My name, yeah. But when she asked for my number . . . well. I wasn’t interested.”

*   *   *

Travis scraped his nails across the growth of stubble on his face. If he hadn’t been laid up in a hospital bed, he’d be on the other side of the Atlantic—and that had him pissed. He was more pissed off about the fact that he was laid up dealing with blood loss than the fact that he’d been shot two days ago.

Damn, but he wanted out.

He didn’t want to be here. He wanted to be back in the States.

He’d wanted to be there for his twin. Had been prepared to talk Trey through this. But oddly enough, he wasn’t feeling all that conflict he’d expected to feel. He eased up on the choke chain he’d lived with and realized something was . . . different, very different with his twin.

Normally Trey felt like a barren landscape.

“You are okay,” he murmured.

“No.” Trey’s voice was honest.

“Fuck, man.” Rubbing at the back of his neck, he tried to put his finger on just what it was he felt. There was something.
He could feel it. “Did you . . . hey, you finally went out with your librarian, didn’t you?”

“No.” Trey laughed and the sound was bitter, humorless. “No. That didn’t work out.”

“Okay.” He frowned, tried to figure it out. “What is it then? Something’s different with you. You feel . . . hell, you . . . aren’t as empty.”

“I’m not,” Trey said, his voice blunt. “I can’t say I’m back to normal, but I’m getting there. I’ve got a promise to keep. You, though . . . man . . .”

Trey went quiet.

Travis braced himself, the lie already there.

But Trey just sighed. “Something’s up with you, I think. Let me know when you’re ready to stop holding back on me. Listen, I gotta go. I need coffee if I’m going to get through the morning.”

*   *   *

Brooding, Trey took that coffee out to the pergola, watching as the early morning sunlight glinted off the pool. It was early yet, but despite the coolness of the morning, he didn’t bother going inside for a shirt as he sat there and continued his brood.

A faint ache still lingered in his side, although it didn’t come from him.

More than once, he’d dealt with this from his twin, although it had been less and less over the years.

He wouldn’t pry. Hadn’t then, wouldn’t now. But damn if he didn’t want his twin to stop holding back from him. Especially when shit like
this
happened.

The door creaked open behind him.
Slowly
. Although the coffee was still fairly hot, he took a healthy swig and swallowed gamely before leaning forward. Still acting all nice and casual, he put it down, taking care to nudge it far out of reach before he leaned back and laced his hands behind his head.

With a lusty sigh, he waited.

His internal clock told him he still had a good fifteen minutes before he’d planned to wake up Clayton.

That didn’t matter.

The floorboards shifted as the boy crept closer.

He managed not to grin.

Lowering his lashes, he waited.

Then—
oomph
—

“First day of school! First day of school!”

He caught Clayton before the kid could drive that knee any farther up into sensitive parts of his anatomy. Flipping Clayton onto his back, he stared down into eyes as blue as his own. “What?” he asked, although his ears were still ringing from Clayton’s screech.

“First day of school!”

“I think you’ve watched
Finding Nemo
too many times.” Hauling Clayton up for a hug, Trey sighed, taking a minute to just . . . enjoy. Clayton was still all warm from his bed and he smelled like the soap he’d scrubbed with last night. “I think your calendar is off. School starts
next
week, I bet. Besides, you can’t be going to school already. You’re not old enough.”

“I’m almost
six
years old, Dad. I should have started
last
year.” Clayton wiggled free and moved around until skinny,
sharp
knees were driving into Trey’s thighs.

“Nah. Besides, you didn’t turn five until it was too late to sign you up. I remember, they told me. Still I’m not sure you’re old enough. Maybe I should call and check . . .” He fixed his face into his best
thinking
expression. “And I’m sure it’s not this week.”

“And it is too this week. You reminded me last night and made me go to bed
early
. Did you forget?”

Trey scrunched his face, thought harder.

Then he sighed. “I guess maybe I did. Since you seem pretty certain it’s today, I reckon we ought to deal with breakfast and stuff, right?”

“Right.” A sly look crept across Clayton’s face. “Since it’s school and all, that’s like a special day. I bet it’s even special enough for chocolate chip pancakes.”

“Nice try.” Amused, he stood up, hooking his arm around the boy and then swinging him around until Clayton was on his back. “We can talk chocolate chips on the weekend. How about some plain waffles instead? I can whip those up in half the time.”

*   *   *

Six a.m.

Ressa studied her phone after she’d turned off the alarm. With a sigh, she went to her notifications and eyed her schedule for the day.

She had to get Neeci up and off to her first day at school and Ressa had a late day at the library. Her mother was helping out on the late nights—they’d worked it out a while ago and it was going to have to suffice, but days like today would suck because she might not see her bed until eleven or later. She still had work to get done on the blog, once she had Neeci settled.

Already she was tired, which sucked because she had to be at work at her regular time tomorrow.

I can do this,
she told herself, and she knew she could. The words had been her mantra ever since she’d taken over guardianship of her niece back when Neeci was a baby. Neeci had needed a stable life and Ressa was the only person who could offer it. She loved the little girl like she was her own, but there were too many days when she found herself questioning things—like whether or not she was equipped for the job that had been thrust upon her.

Child, nobody is ever equipped for the things they find themselves doing . . . you just do the best you can
. Words Mama Ang had told her, years ago, rose to steady her as she sat up. Yeah, the best she could do. She could do this.

With that in mind, she dismissed the notifications and went to the calendar on her phone. She couldn’t function without her agenda.

A series of notifications, an alert from her voicemail, and a list of the calls she’d missed came up.

She grimaced when she saw that her cousin Kiara had called.

Kiara, Neeci’s mom.

Once, Ressa had thought Kiara was like her guardian angel. She ended up being more like an albatross. Ressa loved her dearly and she knew Kiara loved her, but it was a poisoned, toxic sort of love.

It was the same kind of love Ressa had had for her father.

The same kind of love Ressa was determined to keep away from Neeci.

She had to wonder what Kiara wanted. She never called
over anything good. Kiara either wanted money or a favor or to see Neeci, and that always ended up with the girl crying and despondent for days on end.

Doubt gnawed at her, but she deleted the voicemail without listening. She’d seen Kiara a few weeks ago. She had plans to see her again in a few weeks on her birthday, and Neeci would see her, too. If it was important, Kiara could call again, or write. Morse code . . . something.

She tossed the phone down and climbed out of bed, determined to face the day without dread.

Or with as little dread as possible.

After all, it wasn’t every day her little cousin started school.

*   *   *

“I wish Mama was here.”

Flicking a look up, Ressa met Neeci’s gaze in the reflection. “I know, baby.”

“Granny Ang is picking me up, right? She won’t forget?”

“No.” Ressa managed not to chuckle. Like Angeline would
ever
forgot Neeci. She’d
never
forget her baby. “She won’t forget you.”

“Why can’t you pick me up?” Neeci demanded.

“Because I’m working, sugar. You know that.”

“That’s stupid. They can just let you come home. For today.” Neeci dropped her head—or tried to—onto the bathroom counter.
“Ouch!”

“Be still.” Ressa figured she’d told her cousin that five times in the past five minutes. In fifteen minutes or so, they’d be done—the good news was that they wouldn’t have to do this every day. The bad news, well, it didn’t matter to a five-year-old that you only had to deal with your hair like this every week—or less—the five-year-old still wasn’t going to go for being still.

“I
hate
getting my hair done.” Neeci stood there, her lip poking out and her bright eyes miserable.

Ressa’s heart broke a little and she put the brush down. Sitting down on the toilet, she smoothed Neeci’s bangs to the side. “We’re almost done,” she promised. “Come on now. Aren’t you excited for your first day of school?”

Neeci’s gaze darted away and she shrugged, one small shoulder jerking up and down. Then she brought her hand up to her mouth, automatically going to poke her thumb inside.