Bend - Bromberg K. - Страница 85

My other older brother, Easton, was even more of a stranger to me than Trace. Probably because he hadn't been born to my mother. I had only brief, scattered memories of him growing up. He would stay with us during the summers back then. I had been in pigtails and braces at the time, but I had seen more of him over the past few weeks since I'd been here, than over the twenty-two years that I'd been on this planet.

His wife, Darcy, seemed like a pretty cool chick. She and Lindsey were tight, both being the same age and having been friends before they became sisters-in-law, but for whatever reason, I could relate to Darcy more than I could to Lindsey.

Yeah, they were like a little over a year older than me, but with having kids and all that, I guess it put them in a different maturity category; though, if I were a betting person, I'd say that Darcy had done her share of dudes, more so than Lindsey for sure.

I filed that away for future reference. If Trace and Lindsey were going to be so fucking uptight, maybe Easton and Darcy would open their huge house to little sister. I doubted that my craving for…male attention would be as off-putting over there as it apparently was over here.

Pfft!! Was Lindsey up-tight or what?

I was overjoyed that she'd taken the rug rats with her today. I don't think I could've accomplished everything she had put on my 'to-do' list while having to drag those two along with me. Harper was at least somewhat manageable at two and a half, but Jackson was another fucking story. I mean, I don't do diapers.

At all.

I knew that someday I would, because having a little rug rat of my own was in the plan—eventually. But that was a long ways off.

I'd been at Trace and Lindsey's for about six weeks now. I had started going through my P.T. at Quantico a few weeks ago. (P.T. means Physical Training for those of you not familiar with military lingo.) And let me add that physical training is a bitch under any circumstances, but for someone who hadn't bothered to condition before starting the program (like me) it was damn near suicide.

I gathered up the groceries, taking them into the kitchen and setting them on the countertop.

Fuck!

Lindsey had added yet another one of her pink post-it notes to the fridge.

What now?

She must've stopped home while I was out.

(Beotch.)

Paige - Forgot to tell you that I have a plumber stopping by this afternoon between one and two. He's to fix the shower in the master bath and leave the bill with you. - L

Okay, whatevs.

At least I didn't have to go back out. Trying to navigate around the metropolitan D.C. area was a bitch. Hell, I don't know how many times I ended up in Maryland instead of freakin' Virginia!

I had just finished putting the groceries away when there was a knock on the door. I opened it to a dark-haired, brown-eyed dude that had a fucking tool belt on.

Damned if he wasn't built, too.

"Hey," he said, and I noticed right off that his voice was deep and sexy. "I'm scheduled to check out a leaking shower faucet in the master bath. Are you Mrs. Matthews?"

"Hi," I said, flashing him a smile as I opened the door wider to let him in. "Actually, I'm the sister-in-law from hell," I joked. "But Lindsey did leave a note saying you'd be here. Come on in."

Now it was his turn to flash a smile at me, showing perfectly even white teeth. The name embroidered on his blue work shirt read "Jason."

"Well, Jason," I said, with just a hint of flirtation, "Let me show you the way."

Fuck, his hair was thick and curly. His arms and shoulders were muscular; belly flat. I was guessing he was late twenties, possibly thirty.

Did I mention he was wearing a tool belt?

Yep—definitely loved the tool belt, especially the way that it was slung low on his hips. It even made a sexy jingling sound when he walked.

He followed me upstairs and then down the hallway towards the master suite. I gestured my arm towards the bathroom door that was just off of their bedroom.

I couldn't help but notice his sexy swagger as he walked past me into the bathroom, bending over just a bit to place his toolbox on the tiled floor. This guy exuded sexual energy from every fucking pore. Trust me, that's something I pick up on within seconds of meeting someone.

"I'll just leave you to it," I called out, going back downstairs. "I'll be in the kitchen if you have any questions."

"Yep," he called back, already starting to assess the plumbing situation in the bathroom.

He returned downstairs no more than ten minutes later, wiping his hands on a rag. "Just needed a washer replaced and I had one in my toolbox. I went ahead and checked the fitting and it was fine, so I went ahead and re-greased it. Tested the shower head out and it's working fine. No more dripping."

"That was fast," I said throwing a bit of a double entendre into the remark. "I guess that's a good thing sometimes, huh?"

He gave me a good-natured laugh, his eyes glancing down to my legs in a subtle, but obviously not too-subtle way. I bit back a girlish grin as I watched him swiftly pull out the bill slip from his back pocket and jot some numbers down on it. Ripping the top copy from the pad, I caught the sexy-ass grin he tossed my way as he handed it to me.

Oh yeah. Game friggin’ on.

And before you go and get all judgy on me? I’m a woman who has an affinity for hotties with a Y-chromosome.

Sue me.

And I could tell that this guy wasn’t interested in anything serious.

The good news? Neither was I.

“You’re good to go,” he said with his grin still in place, wiping his brow with the back of his hand.

“Replacing that washer must've given you quite a workout, huh?” I asked him, feigning innocence.

He looked back over at me, the smile stretching even further across his face. “Why do you ask?”

“Well, you just look like you could use some ice-cold water,” I shrugged. “That’s all.”

“I’ll take some water,” he replied quietly, leaning up against the counter.

I broke the minor eye-fucking thing we had going there for a second, and made my way over to the cupboard and grabbed a glass. After it was filled, I hopped up on the same counter top that he was still leaning against and handed it over.

Jason’s eyes made their way down my tanned legs again as he raised the icy glass up to his full lips, drinking the offered beverage.

I rubbed my palms over my thighs for bonus points, masquerading it as a nervous gesture.

He replied with a loud swallow, breaking the glass-and-lips contact to give me an almost sheepish look.

“No worries, I’m a loud swallower too.”

That’s when he nearly dropped the glass. And before our flirtatious dialogue turned into something from a porn video, I decided it was time for a little action.

Hopping off of the counter, I made the entire two foot distance between us and took the glass of water out of his hand. Keeping eye contact with him the entire time, I took a long swallow from it.

I think this is what I loved about everything sexual: the control of it.

The power.

I thought of myself as someone who was comfy with my overall sexuality, and I also loved to tease a little bit. But with the way good ol’ Jason was looking at me now, he was ready to move past the teasing stage.

He stood up to his full height, his chest brushing the backs of my fingers as they maintained their hold on the glass. My eyes widened a bit as I watched him lean in, thinking that he was going for the kiss. I promptly closed them, and waited.

But his lips never did touch mine.

My eyes were still shut when I felt a hard suck on the side of my neck. Gasping and reacting, I took a step back and found my back up against Lindsey’s granite counter. Jason’s arms were now on either side of me, trapping me and turning me the hell on.