Body of Work (23 page)

Wedged between the two giants, she’d been shepherded into the house to meet Brian’s mom. That’d been a surprise. Especially after seeing Angus, she’d expected a tall woman, one with long hair and a sturdy frame. She couldn’t have guessed more incorrectly. Cassie was almost eye to eye with Fiona Black. Almost in that Fiona was shorter by an inch or two. She had short, spiky hair a shade darker than Cassie’s. Honestly, Fiona looked more like she could be Cassie’s mother than Brian’s. Maybe that should’ve given her the willies—the possibility that Brian had a mama complex—but instead she had a warm, comfortable feeling in her chest. And when Fiona had embraced her, she’d felt utterly at home.

A rather large glass of wine later, Cassie was making herself very at home on a cushy bench seat in Fiona’s kitchen, staring out the window at Brian and his dad. “Is this normal behavior for them?”

“Pulling on the old stump? That’s part of their bonding routine.”

“Pulling?” A resounding thwack came through the screen as Brian forced his dad’s knuckles against the weathered wood for the third time in a row.

“Pulling—arm wrestling.”

“I’ve never heard it called that.”

“Brian’s never taken you to the pub on match night?” Fiona raised a dark eyebrow at her, then went back to peeling and chopping. “Probably didn’t want to show off too much. He’s my modest, unassuming boy. It’s the other one who’s full of himself.”

To hear Brian referred to as a boy made Cassie smile. But Fiona was right, he was modest and unassuming—except when they got naked. “Is your other son coming for Angus’ birthday dinner?”

“No, he had to work. Modeling for some la-di-da menswear ad at the harbor, as much as that’s working. Enough about Ian. Ask Brian to take you upstairs later and show you his trophies.”

She pried her eyes from the show out back to look at Fiona. “He won trophies for arm wrestling?”

“Among other things.” The last potato plopped into the pot of water. Hands on her hips, Fiona turned and gave Cassie another arched eyebrow. “How long have you known him?”

“A few months.”

“The way he talked about you on the phone and how he looks at you, I assumed it was longer.”

“It feels longer.” It felt like the beginning of forever.

“That’s good.” Fiona wiped her hands on a towel and came to stand beside Cassie for a view of the men. “Nobody believes in simply falling in love anymore. Always overanalyzing and planning and worrying, instead of following the heart where it wants to go. You’re in love, dive in. That’s what I did with Angus. Plenty of bumps along the way, but I wouldn’t want anybody else.”

Sometimes it wasn’t as easy as Fiona’s philosophy, but Cassie wasn’t about to argue with the petite matriarch. “Thank you for the advice.”

A small but sure hand curled over Cassie’s shoulder. “I hope you take it. I’ve waited a long time for another woman in this house to balance out three Blacks’ worth of testosterone.” When Cassie looked up at her, Fiona nodded. “Family rule. Once they moved out, I told the boys they can only bring home women they’re planning to keep. I don’t want to get attached to anyone they’re not invested in.” Fiona patted her shoulder. “You’re the first, my dear.”

What should she say to that? “I hope I’ll get to keep you company in the future.”

“Me too,” Fiona said with a final pat before wandering toward the oven.

Another crack of bone on wood drifted in from the yard. Cassie grimaced as Angus wiped a smear of blood from his hand. “I’m not sure how this is bonding. Brian should give his dad a rest.”

Fiona’s songlike laugh filled the kitchen. “Oh, darling. Good thing Angus didn’t hear that. And you wait, you’ve not seen anything yet. After dinner they’ll have the axes swinging, seeing who can chop wood fastest.”

Her panties might burst into flame watching Brian wielding an ax, especially while in a kilt. “Would it be okay if I go out there to watch?”

After a peek at whatever delicious-smelling thing she had cooking in the oven, Fiona linked arms with Cassie and nodded toward the back door. “Wait ’til you see what happens when they’ve an audience.”

At the sight of their women setting foot on the patio, both men peeled off their shirts. Chests puffed out, shoulders straightened and biceps flexed none-too-subtly.

“See what I mean about testosterone?” Fiona tipped her head close to Cassie’s. “Give them a wave or such, watch how ridiculous they get.”

Fiona was clearly a troublemaker of the best kind. Cassie already adored the woman.

“I can do better than that.” She left Fiona in a deck chair, her pulse picking up the closer she got to the stump. She’d intended to kiss Brian, but now that she was standing before the men, she had a better idea. “Happy birthday, Angus,” she said, stretching to plant a chaste peck on the man’s cheek. “I love your kilt.”

Oh, the whooping that rose from that yard. She’d been to wedding receptions less noisy than the laughter from these three people.

“I like this bonnie lass of yours.” The twinkle in Angus’ eyes matched his son’s. “I think she wants to see me kick your arse.” The older man winked, dropped one elbow on the stump and crooked his finger at his son. “Lefts. Come on, boy, let’s pull.”

She wouldn’t have thought it possible after watching Brian repeatedly best his dad minutes earlier, but when it came to left-handed
pulling
, he didn’t stand a chance against Angus. Over and over, Angus pinned Brian, hollering, “Match!” loud enough to be heard throughout the neighborhood. They’d set up again, Brian saying, “Ready, Go”, and the cycle would repeat. Adirondack chairs were meant for relaxing, but she’d only used the edge of hers since returning to the patio.

“You look a bit pale, darling,” Fiona said with a chuckle. “Did you think he was invincible?”

“Pretty much.” Each time Angus smashed Brian’s hand against the wood, Cassie cringed. “He won’t be able to train clients if he can’t grip the weights.”

“Guess he ought to call it quits, then…though I’ve never seen that happen. Stubborn, those Scotsmen.”

The next match must’ve hurt like a son-of-a-gun because Brian shot a string of curses at his dad while shaking off the pain. Angus’ response was to laugh and call Brian a bunch of names Cassie’d never heard, but could guess the meaning of. Enough was enough already. She pushed up from the chair and marched across the grass.

“Why don’t you two quit? Come sit and talk for a bit before dinner?”

“Quit? Not I.” Angus folded meaty arms over his chest and raised a thick russet eyebrow at Brian. “How about you, boy—ready to admit defeat?”

She stopped Brian before he could answer, wrapping her hands around the bulging muscles in his arm and urging him to her level so she could whisper in his ear. “I need your hands in good working order later.”

The fun-loving sparkle in his eyes turned hotter. His hand slid around her waist, pulling her tight against his body, squeezing the air from her lungs with a startled whoosh. “I give. You win.”

Whether he was talking to his dad or to her, Cassie wasn’t sure. Nor did she care.

“Fiona…you were right,” Angus called across the yard. “The boy’s in love.” A hearty smack landed on Brian’s back, then Angus ambled off to join his wife.

And hadn’t that just put the two of them on the spot. Even more so when Angus collected Fiona and disappeared inside the house.

“I really like your parents.”

“I’m glad. I see them as much as possible. I’d hate dragging you along if they irritated you.”

Her heart did a little dance in her chest. “Not at all, they’re great.”

“And they’re right.” His hands roamed up and down her back, one staking a claim under the curve of her butt, the other much higher, cupping the back of her neck as he looked into her eyes. “I’m in love with you.”

He’d said it. Not the way he’d imagined it going down, and definitely not the place. To hell with planning a moment with candles and soft music, it’d felt right. The only thing that’d make it more right would be Cassie returning the sentiment. Not quite what he got, but the “Oh, Brian” as she threw her arms around his neck and the frenzied pace of her heart hammering against his chest were close enough.

He pressed his face to her neck and inhaled. “You smell so good. I’m tempted to take you behind the wood pile and have a taste.” On cue, his cock thickened and shifted to a north-pointing position.

“Take me to your old room instead. Your mom did say you should show me your trophies.”

“Oh, I’ve got a trophy to show you.” He scooped up his t-shirt, grabbed her hand and headed for the house.

“Where’re you going—the food’s almost ready,” his mom said as they breezed through the kitchen to the stairs.

“Cassie wants to see my trophies.”

“Well, don’t take too long,” came the warning from downstairs. “And wash up before you come to the table.”

His hands, yes. Anything else that got
dirty
while they were up here, no way. He loved Cassie’s scent on his skin. In his beard. Anywhere and everywhere he could get it.

The floorboards creaked in the same places they always had as he steered her along the narrow upstairs hall. A collage of family photos dressed the wall on their left, catching her eye and slowing her step. “Keep moving,” he said, giving her ass a smack. “First door’s mine. In you go, cutie.”

“Wow, this room is all bed.” Cassie’s eyes roamed the trophies and plaques on an overhead shelf as her hand trailed along the navy-blue comforter on his old queen-size.

The door clicked behind his back. “When you’re a six-foot-two fifteen-year-old, you warrant something larger than a twin.”

“I guess so.” She pushed down on the mattress, a cheeky smile tipping her lips. “Ever sneak girls up here to try it out?”

“Don’t I wish. You met the people downstairs, right? Even if I’d managed to get somebody past the guards,” he tossed a nod toward the door, “there’s no lock. They’re all about full disclosure. Made jerking off an adventure, never knowing who might open the damn door.”

Her smile turned to a giggle. “You poor thing.”

“Yeah, now it’s on you to help me make up for missed experiences.”

Her eyes dropped to the front of his kilt, then to the door, then back to his face. “There’s still no lock.”

Small room that it was, he had her trapped within seconds. “Long as the springs don’t squeak too much, or you don’t scream too loud, we should be fine.”

“Should be?”

“On the bed, ass at the edge, with your skirt to the waist.” And up she went, as directed. Fuck, he loved it when she obeyed. Of course, he also loved it when she acted like a feisty, defiant brat. Being with Cassie defined win-win. He hooked the sides of her black string-bikini panties and pulled. “I’ll take these.” In the cargo pocket of his kilt they went. He spread her legs with his hips, went to his knees and looped her soft, warm thighs over his shoulders. “And I’ll take this.” One lick and his hips jutted forward automatically, seeking entrance to a prize that wasn’t available—yet. “You taste so fucking good.” Another swipe of his tongue had her arching to meet his mouth. “That’s my girl, press your pussy against my face.”

His girl did exactly that. Opened wider, tilted for him. Seared his skull with the tracks of her nails.

“Hey.” His dad’s deep voice accompanied a single, solid thump that rattled the paneled wood door. “You’re not married yet. You’ve got sixty seconds to get to the table.”

“Shit.”

“Oh my god, did he
hear
us?” She skittered off the bed, yanking her skirt so hard she probably lengthened it several inches in the process. “I need my underwear.”

He pulled the t-shirt over his head. Gave the raging hard-on tenting his kilt a shove to one side. Cassie’s eyes tracked every movement. Still glassy and dilated from her almost-orgasm. Hungry looking. As a test, he stuck his hand down front and adjusted his cock some more—a mistake since he needed it to go down, and touching himself while watching her tongue slide along her bottom lip was definitely having the opposite effect. Christ.

“My underwear,” she said again, this time in a raspy whisper that made his balls roil with heat.

“Are mine now.” This time, when he snagged her hand to tow her along, she didn’t follow as willingly.

She leaned into him from the top stair. Whispered in his ear, “Do I smell like sex? Are they going to be able to tell we were doing stuff?”

Hell yes to both, but she’d go six shades of red if he told her. No lying, though. That left evasion. “My dad’ll probably say something in hopes of embarrassing me. You should be good.”

“There’s that
should be
again.”

He chuckled, took the last step down and led the way into the kitchen, Cassie tucked behind him. His mom rolled her eyes and his dad grinned widely enough to look borderline maniacal. They weren’t mad, not really. Just being their normal, in-your-face, controlling selves. When in their house, follow their rules—even if he was a thirty-one-year-old man.

* * * * *

Miracle of miracles, they hadn’t gotten caught with Brian’s face between her legs, or worse, had Angus come to the door a minute later. Though both Brian’s parents gifted her with knowing looks after settling at the table, they didn’t say one word.