Keep Her (10 page)

“Dude, if you don’t stop whistling that fucking tune, I’m gonna get the hose and blast the shit out of you,” Derek barked from his usual spot on the community recliner in the rec room of the firehouse. There was nothing community about it when Derek was around.

I guess I really wasn’t getting the song out of my head any time soon. In fact, it must have been a subconscious thing, because I didn’t even know I was still whistling it. “Sorry, Derek. Kinda can’t help it.”

“What the fuck’s got you all
whistle while you work
at fucking eight a.m. anyway? Last I heard, you and Marissa were on the outs. Things change over the weekend?”

“Things have certainly changed, but not with Marissa.”

Derek’s eyes went wide and his grin grew devilish. “Ah, so you finally took my advice, came to your senses, and ditched the bitch?” There was no hiding his feelings toward Marissa. He hadn’t been a fan all along. He didn’t like that she’d dismissed having a family from the start—that was his biggest gripe. He knew deep down that’s what I wanted—whether or not it was what I wanted as a probie. But after spending time with these guys, they kind of reformed me.

Derek was a reformed frat boy himself. Now in his mid-thirties, he’d been married for ten years and had two boys and a baby girl on the way. His wife was a fucking gem and a saint for putting up with him and his rowdy sons. So when Derek talked about women and whether or not they were wife material, it kind of made sense since he’d hit the jackpot with Kelly. I probably should’ve listened to him all along rather than wasting two good years of my life trying to convince Marissa I was husband material.

But I didn’t want to talk about marriage, kids, and the future on this fine Monday morning. Unlike Marcus, Derek was the kind of person I could tell anything to without judgment. I wanted to bounce ideas off him and tell him all about Riley. It certainly couldn’t hurt.

“So, are you gonna elaborate or make me pull it outta you? I may have been with the ball and chain for what seems like an eternity, but I can sense when a guy’s sampled some new pussy after sticking it in the same one for a while.”

What a way with words. “Yes, new pussy, Derek. You read me so well.” I didn’t look up from the stove, where I was preparing the usual massive breakfast for the guys.

“I fucking knew it! Anything worth regaling my underused one-pussy-for-the-rest-of-my-life dick with or was it just a one-nighter like old times?”

“Definitely not just a one-nighter. We’re talking Riley Grayson here.” It surprised me how easily that slipped off my tongue.

Without looking, I could tell by the loud thud and the squeak of the lever that Derek had propelled the recliner from lounged to upright rather swiftly. “You must have a death wish.” He was making his way toward me. “What would possess you to fuck Marcus’s sister, Beck? He’s gonna freak.” He attempted to steal a piece of bacon from the steaming pile, but I swatted his hand away.

“Precisely why we’re not telling him,” I answered matter-of-factly.

“Oh,
we’re
, as in the two of you are an item? Why would you to start a new
we
when your old
we
is still warm on the slab?”

“Calm down, old man, there is no
we.
And back away from the pancakes. Can’t you wait for me to finish, you fucking beast?”

“Stop thwarting the topic,” he said, chewing with his mouth open.

“Thwarting? Seriously? Been reading the dictionary lately?”

“Yeah, exactly, smartass, but I’m serious. Why her? Don’t you have enough problems with Marissa? Why complicate your friendship with Marcus
and
Riley?”

It was more complicated than I cared to admit, but talking on the phone with her, laughing and joking and just having a good time—it made all the other shit go away for a while. I wasn’t ready to over complicate things, but I wasn’t ready to stop whatever was going on with Riley before it even started. “I don’t know, bro. It just kind of happened. It’s not like I haven’t thought about Riles like that before, but—I don’t know. I kind of always stayed away from her because of the age difference, and Marcus, and then Marissa. But now that we’re both adults the age thing isn’t even a thought. Marissa and I are on a break so it’s not like I’m cheating, and—”

“And that still leaves Marcus, and he’s one big mother fucker. I have a sister, Beck. And even though I think you’re a good kid, I wouldn’t want you fucking around with her fresh out of a two-year relationship with someone else. It’s not fair to her or you, and when you get your head out from between her legs and go back to Marissa, or realize this isn’t going anywhere, Marcus is going to hand you your balls in a neat little package.”

Did he think I was afraid of Marcus, physically? That was so not the case. I might not be as bulky, but I was just as strong, if not stronger. We benched the same weight at the gym together and with all my free time sitting around at the firehouse, I probably worked out at least three more times a week than he did. This wasn’t about battling fist to fist. It was a head to head thing. It was about respect. In that aspect, Derek was right. I didn’t want to fuck with Marcus because he was my oldest friend and I didn’t want to piss him off over something that might turn out to be nothing.

“What are you pussies coffee-talking about in here? Sounds like the fucking Oprah show.” Ramos came booming in from the back room, a towel wrapped around his waist. He headed straight for the bacon, barging his way into the conversation. He was one to talk about us being pussies. He was the most pussy-whipped of us all. His wife was also pregnant. They had a quick shotgun wedding when they found out about the baby, but Ramos wasn’t suckered into anything. He’d loved Angel—as we liked to call her for being so damn sweet to everyone—since their first date in high school. He only pretended he was some macho, alpha male who wore the pants. We all knew otherwise.

“We’re talking about your mother, Ramos. She was really good last night,” Derek chuckled from his stool at the table.

“Your mother” jokes were always the lowest blow, but they also got the most laughs.

Following suit, I catcalled, “Ohhhh! Ramos’s mother gets around. I had her the night before.”

“Very funny, dick. But from what I heard while eavesdropping on you clucking hens, you fucked Marcus Grayson’s sister and you’re gonna be a dead man,” he cackled, tightening the towel around his loose and flabby middle.

“What the fuck, guys? You really don’t think I can take Grayson? Not that I plan on fighting him, but why are you all so hell bent on him kicking my ass?”

“Because you’re gonna hurt his sister, and even though it’s usually bros before hos, when you fuck with a dude’s sister, your ass is grass.”

I darted a frustrated glare at Ramos—now he was a poet? What the hell did he know? “And how do you know I’m going to hurt her? It’s not like that. We’re just having fun. She knows my situation with Marissa and she has no expectations. It’ll be fine.”

“Until he finds out,” Derek added with a disapproving shake of his head.

“Jesus Christ, you two. So much for gloating about my hot piece of ass. You’re taking all the fun out of this.”

“And Marcus is gonna take the jizz out of your balls.”

Derek nearly fell off the chair laughing at Ramos’s remark. “Shit, kid. You’re one stupid mother fucker, but do what you want. It’s not like you forced her into it or anything, so I guess just go with it. But, when the shit hits the fan—and it will—just remember… we told you so.”

Please.
I knew what I was doing. I was just having a good time. There was no reason to overanalyze where this was going. Somewhere in between our
Cabaret
interpretations, we actually talked about not taking anything too serious. She was on board with that
and
not telling Marcus. We had all our ducks in a row and I wasn’t gonna let these cocks make me think otherwise.

Me:
Don’t you have a cat to rescue from a tree or something?

Beck:
Nope. The only pussy that needs rescuing is yours.

Me:
LOL. You’re right. Come over.

Beck:
Can’t. 12 more hours and then I can finally get outta here.

Me:
Aren’t you exhausted?

Beck:
No. Been doing nothing but sitting around. Not many fires to put out.

Me:
I’ve got one for you to put out.

Beck:
Being a fireman leaves us with endless possibilities for innuendoes doesn’t it?

Me:
Seems that way. Can I play with your big, long hose?

Beck:
LOL. That never gets old.

Me:
So. Have you thought anymore about how we’ll play it cool over the weekend?

Beck:
I’d much rather you ask me about my hose ;)

Me:
Seriously, B. Marcus isn’t stupid. We’re gonna have to keep our distance.

Beck:
He’s so far up Tessa’s ass it’ll give me plenty of opportunities to be all over yours.

Me:
Yeah, or so you hope.

Beck:
Don’t you hope too?

Me:
Mmmmhhhmmmm

Beck:
Oh, baby. I love it when you text-moan.

Me:
Are you wearing your gear right now?

Beck:
That depends. Do you want me in my gear or in nothing at all?

Me:
Gear = sexy

Beck:
You = insanely sexy

Me:
Me = horny

Beck:
Me = really wish I didn’t have to stay at this house tonight.

Me:
I’m about to start a fire just so you can come here. What will cause the least damage but get you here the quickest?

Beck:
LOL. Step away from the matches, Riles. We’re not first responders to your hood.

Me:
Darn it :(

Beck:
You’re cute, sweet thing.

Me:
Just cute?

Beck:
Hot as fuck too!

Me:
Did you ever picture this?

Beck:
What? Texting one of my oldest friends? Sure…totally normal.

Me:
LOL. No, I mean THIS. I know it’s not really a THIS but still. Did you ever think we’d wind up all flirty and sexty, and screwing around?

Beck:
Want honesty?

Me:
Always

Beck:
No

Me:
:(

Beck:
But not because I didn’t want it. I always thought you were hot. Always wanted to jump your bones, but the timing was never right and there were too many things in our way.