SMITH (The Beckett Boys, Book One) (8 page)

Smith gives her a tight smile. He moves his hand to the table surface, and I suddenly feel bereft. What did I do? What did I say wrong? Somehow I fumbled things; all the talking we’d done seems to be over now. “I’ll be sure to tell them.” He goes to dig in his wallet, but Aunt Sylvia shoots him a glare so hard, he finally lifts his hands in the air. “Fine, but one day you have to let me pay you. This isn’t how you make money in a business.”

“Trust me, I’m doing just fine.” She moves away.

When she’s gone, he grabs a twenty out of his wallet anyway and leaves it on the table. I guess that’s our cue to go.

I feel deflated when we rise from the table. I want to say something, but I don’t know what. We step outside into the mild night air, and before he mounts on the bike, I touch his shoulder. He shifts his head so I see his profile.

“Hey. I…don’t know what happened back there.”

His walls are up; I can’t read his face at all. “Nothing. Totally fine.”

“Right. That’s why you just suddenly pulled away.” Frustration wells in me. My ex used to play these games—tell me nothing was wrong, nothing was wrong, then explode at me when I didn’t react the way he wanted me to, didn’t comfort him about whatever phantom injury I committed against him.

I can’t do that again. Can’t spend my days walking on eggshells, afraid I’m going to set someone off.

My chest tightens, and I turn from him, fighting back the emotion welling in me. “You know what? I’m going to get another ride home. Thanks for the pie.” I grab my phone and start walking in the direction we came from. I can find an Uber ride to take me, I’m sure.

“Aubrey.” His hand wraps around my upper arm.

I lift my chin and glare at him. “I’m not stupid. Don’t tell me nothing is wrong, because I know it is. And I’m not going through that anymore, so if that’s the bullshit you want to pull with me, I can’t do this.”

“This?” Smith steps forward. There’s a dark menace in his eyes, but I’m too heated myself to care if I’m pissing him off. “What
is
this?”

“How the hell should I know?” I swallow and try to ignore the feeling of his strong fingers on my bare skin. “Obviously ‘this’ is nothing.”

“It’s not nothing, and you know it.” He leans down until our mouths are an inch apart. “I spent all week telling myself to stay away from you. That we’re better off this way. You not getting dragged down by someone like me. I can’t let you.”

“You’re not dragging me down, Smith. I don’t know why you’d think that, either.”

“I don’t know. Maybe because I’m such a perv,” he says, a trace of bitterness in his voice.

It suddenly hits me that I’ve insulted him. “It was a joke,” I say. “I thought you’d laugh.”

“But that’s the problem. It’s not a joke,” Smith says, and there’s real emotion in his voice now. “I like things dirty. Rough.”

Something about that admission makes me throb, awakens all my nerve endings. “How dirty? How rough?”

He sees my reaction, and his nostrils flare.

Smith brushes his mouth on mine, a delicate touch that belies his next words. “I don’t think you could handle how rough I want it with you.”

“Is that…is that related to why you left while I was sleeping?” I have to know. To know it wasn’t that I did something wrong. That maybe he’s struggling with this demon inside him.

I go to drop my hand when he captures it and brings my fingertips to his mouth. He sucks them in, then licks them, and the desire that floods me from the tugging sensation is almost too much. God.

“The things I want to do to you…” He stops and drops my hand, steps away. “But I can’t.”

“Please, stop playing games with me,” I reply. I’m tired of the big, bad Smith acting like he’s the only one who wants dirty things in bed. Yeah, I’ve only been with two men—well, now three—but that doesn’t mean I don’t have a healthy sexual appetite. “I have a feeling I can handle whatever it is that you’re into.”

Even as I say the words, I wonder if I’ve bitten off more than I can chew.

He narrows his eyes and when he speaks, there’s a warning in his tone. “That sounds distinctly like a challenge, Aubrey. One I’m not sure you’re ready to undertake.”

Some boldness makes me assert, “Well, there’s only one way for us to find that out, isn’t there.”

“
M
y liver hurts
,” Jax complains as he drinks another beer. He kicks his bare feet up on my coffee table.

“Put your feet down,” I say to him, a complaint I’ve been lobbing at him for years. It’s a fruitless effort; I already know he isn’t going to. I take a swig of my own beer and settle back on my worn couch.

From his spot on the other end of the couch, Asher shifts, swigging his dark beer. “So, you’ve been busy lately,” he says in a casual tone, shooting a side glance at me. He’s so wanting to question me but he’s too nervous to do so.

Jax, however, has no fucks to give. “You and Aubrey are practically inseparable,” he murmurs, making sure to adjust his feet so they’re even sturdier on my coffee table. Dick. He gives me a careless smile. “You guys must be fucking like bunnies.”

“It’s none of your business,” I tell him as I turn my attention back to the TV. There’s a soccer game on but we’re not paying much attention. I watch the men run up and down the field chasing the ball. Sip my beer. Hope that they’ll drop the subject of Aubrey.

Because honestly, I don’t quite know what to think. After we went out for key lime pie a few nights ago, we’ve seen each other every day.

But I’ve tried my best to keep my dark urges at bay.

I don’t know why I’m not just banging the fuck out of her. I want to. Especially after she issued that challenge to me, her eyes glowing with fire. But Aubrey has no idea what she was asking me for. Because to fully release myself, to let her see the “perv” I really am, would destroy any chance we have together. She might think she wants to see what I’m all about, but she doesn’t.

A girl as pristine and angelic as Aubrey would melt in my fire. I can’t do that to her. I won’t do it to her.

I want more time with her, even if it means we aren’t fucking. Aubrey is quickly working her way under my skin.

“So she must be a tiger in bed if you’re still hitting that.” Jax tosses the crude words at me with almost a leer.

“Shut the fuck up about her,” I say.

“You like her.” It’s thrown out as almost an accusation. Jax’s eyes narrow. “She’s not just a piece of ass for you, is she.”

“I’m not having this conversation.” I turn away from him and drink my beer, trying to push down the irritation swelling in my chest. Fucking Jax and his fucking attitude. He’s the one who encouraged me to get out and go live a little instead of working so much. Now he’s giving me flack about it? No.

“No, of course you’re not having this conversation with us,” he counters in a harsh tone. “And why am I surprised about this? You’re a fucking uptight as a virgin lately, and as closed off as one too.”

“Where is all this coming from?” I ask him, turning to give him the full weight of my stare. “What’s your problem? Is hooking up with one or two different women a day not keeping you busy enough anymore?”

“At least I’m still me. You’re just…” Jax waves a dismissive hand at me. “You’ve changed. And not even since she came to town. You’ve been a fucking dick to everyone lately. Look at how you talk to Asher. He’s too nice to tell you, but you need to chill your shit out with him.”

I spin my head to glare at my youngest brother, who’s brow is furrowed, and he’s shooting deathly daggers from his eyes at Jax. “Don’t drag me into your fucking argument,” he says. “I already said my piece about all of this shit.”

“And yet I get the feeling you haven’t said it all, since you and Jax seem to be talking about me behind my back.” Anger is a quiet pulse in my lower belly. I can feel the heavy frown line between my eyebrows. What the fuck is this all about?

Today is supposed to be a chill-out afternoon, unwinding before the craziness of Thursday nights, our weekly ritual. Drink some beer, what whatever the fuck is on TV, bust each other’s balls, and so on.

This feels like more than just busting my balls. This feels like I’m being ganged up on.

Asher sighs and puts his beer on the side table. “Look, we’re just….You’re not acting like yourself.”

“Maybe I’m too fucking tired from running the bar to act like myself.” The words fly out before I can stop them.

Jax stills. “Complain much, tough guy? No one is asking you to carry the weight on your shoulders. But you act like we’re still little kids and you have to herd us into place. News flash, Smith—we don’t need you to be our parent anymore. Maybe we can, oh, I don’t know…try to be brothers or whatever.”

The pulse is throbbing at the base of my throat, and I struggle with my words. “Maybe if you guys, oh, I don’t know…pulled your own weight with managing the bar, I wouldn’t have to parent you.”

“Fuck you,” Jax says, standing and glaring down at me. The change in his attitude hits me hard. He’s not normally one to get this angry. He’s the jokester, the charmer, the guy to smooth things over. But apparently not today. No, Jax is letting me feel the brunt of his anger. “We’re trying to do our best if you’d chill the fuck out a little. And maybe if you weren’t distracted by Aubrey, you’d see how we’re keeping the bar running just as well as you are.”

Asher sighs and holds up his hands. “Shit is getting too out of control right now. Let’s all relax and take a moment before things explode. Our Beckett tempers are raging.”

Jax sits back down and drinks his beer with a purposeful casualness that irritates me. Fucking dick. It’s nice of him to throw out a bunch of shitty opinions then not have to answer for them.

Aubrey isn’t a distraction. At least, not in a bad way. Spending time with her has become the bright spot of my day. She reminds me what it feels like it have a real life outside of parenting my brothers and running the bar. She reminds me what it feels like to be a man—not just hooking up, but more.

With her, I feel like all my troubles slip away. Aren’t as important. I get an absurd amount of joy just watching her be happy.

Silent tension bubbles between the three of us for several minutes. The soccer game is still raging on in the background, the crowd cheering on the big-screen TV. We’re all staring blindly at the game but not really giving a fuck. Nursing our drinks and our injured feelings.

Jax exhales hard and smooths a hand over his jaw. “Okay, this is fucking dumb. I don’t want to argue right now, especially when we have bigger shit to worry about.”

“Like what?” Asher asks.

“Like the fact that the town is ganging up on us,” he says.

I ask, “What do you mean?”

Jax hops off the chair and moves to my kitchen, whipping open the fridge door. I hear another beer crack open. “So, I was driving yesterday and got pulled over by the police.”

I roll my eyes, and a little of the tension from earlier leaks from my shoulders. Jax getting pulled over for speeding is not an unusual occurrence. About as unusual as the sun rising in the east. That fucker loves the gas pedal a little too much. “Is this the part where we’re supposed to be shocked? You being pulled over for speeding isn’t some kind of town conspiracy.”

Asher laughs. “Seriously.”

“Very fucking funny,” he says, moving back to the living room. He swigs his drink and exhales. “I wasn’t even speeding when they pulled me over. The cop claimed I did a rolling stop when turning right on red. Total bullshit claim. He gave me a ticket and then told me that our bar is bad news and he has a few ‘friends’ working on driving us out of business. The cocksucker didn’t even try to be smooth about it.”

I sigh and rake my free hand through my hair. “The guy was probably just talking shit,” I say, knowing somehow that it’s not the case. Our bad rep is getting worse every day and I’ve been aware of the rumors and whispers around town for awhile now.

But this takes things to an entirely new level.

“I guess they’re stepping up their game,” Asher comments.

A couple of months ago, we had two police offers saunter into Outlaws, making a big show of looking around. They eyed all our customers to the point of making them nervous; several even left. It was easy to see what they were doing—trying to psych us out.

Okay, yeah, we’d had a few fights erupting before that, but it wasn’t anything unusual for our bar.

“I’m not letting them bully us,” I vow. “Fuck them. We’ll figure out what to do.”

“They can’t actually close us down, can they?” Jax asks.

“No,” I say, though truthfully, I don’t know. I never told my brother about the guy who came to our bar a couple of weeks ago offering to buy it from us. He’d lowballed so badly that I’d easily laughed him off.

But given the pattern emerging here, the town is working against us. It’s highly possible that guy was setting the stage for the police to shake us down, scare us enough to sell the property to him. And then what would happen? My dad’s dream would disappear and a big part of him along with it.

Nothing left to show the world he made a mark. Nothing left to remember him by.

I swear, sometimes in the bar, especially alone before it gets busy, I can actually feel the old man’s presence in there. I can’t lose that.

The thought makes me depressed and angry at the same time. We were robbed of our father. No fucking way is anyone gonna rob him of his one legacy. Outlaws might be a shithole, but it’s our shithole, and we’re fucking keeping it.

I don’t have the answers. I need time to think. A run after my brothers leave might help clear my mind, open me up to new possibilities and options before I head into work tonight. I’m tempted to ask them to go now, my body itching to feel the burn of muscles, the release of all my stress and escape into the moment.

I need space and time to think about everything my brothers unloaded on me just now.

It’s clear my brothers aren’t too happy about me seeing Aubrey…or whatever the hell it is between us. It sure as fuck isn’t just sex. There’s something deeper emerging. Something that makes me feel strange, not my usual self.

That makes me crave her in my presence all the time.

I can’t label it right now. I’m not even sure I want to. I just want to enjoy it and know her better. See what else makes her tick.

Maybe Aubrey is a distraction, after all. But if she is, she’s the best kind.

* * *

M
y feet pound
hard on the pavement as I run through the woods. Rhythmic slapping, my lungs burning, my muscles flexing, nothing on my mind except getting through this next mile.

I needed this escape, needed to clear my fucking mind. I can’t keep carrying the weight of everything on my shoulders—my brothers are right about that. But can I depend on them to help me?

Jax is a loose cannon who’s more into partying and fucking

There’s a gap in the trees, and the late afternoon sun washes me in its warmth. Sweat trickles down my bare back, into the waistband of my shorts. I’ve run this path every day since I was a young teen.

Rock Ridge is my home. My haven and my hell at the same time. The place where I have the best memories of my brothers and I spending time with my dad. The place where I felt the worst grief after he died. Where I feel like I’m living here but don’t quite belong. We’re the rebel boys, bad to the bone, insert your own cliché. Wanted in bed, hit on in the bar, but in public? Barely acknowledged.

But not Aubrey.

We went to the park the other day. I showed her my spot. And she held my hand and sat with me as we watched the ducks.

In that moment, I felt a peace, a stillness in me I’d never experienced with another woman before. It was fucking intoxicating. Addictive. Aubrey is my fix, and I want more and more of her.

I also want to fuck her so badly I can barely stand it.

I make my way out of the wooded area and back on the sidewalk toward my apartment above the bar. Just another mile to go until I hit home. Shower and get my shit together for work tonight. My whole body is drenched in sweat at this point.

Jax’s comment about the police nudges its way back to the forefront of my mind. Fuck. We have to do something about it. If we can get the bar to pull in more money, maybe we can prove why we deserve to remain here and we’ll be in a stronger position to not let them fuck with us.

I need ideas. Fast.

I cross the street and make it to my neighborhood. Kids are playing on small grassy lots in front of their homes, jumping in sprinklers, throwing balls, screaming and acting like little shits. I feel a grin lighting my face despite my troubles when I see a small boy tugging the hair of a small girl, and she hauls off and hits him on the ear.

When I turn the corner and make it to the sidewalk leading to my entrance, I find myself slowing in surprise. Aubrey’s sitting on my stoop, a plastic bag in her lap. I suck in several breaths and try to get my heart to slow down.

The pounding of blood in my veins isn’t just because of me running.

Aubrey’s wearing nursing scrubs. She’s either home from work or on her way to it. She stands when she sees me, a shy smile on her face, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear and putting the bag on the stoop. “Hi,” she says as I near her.

I don’t say a word in response. I cup her face and tug her mouth to mine. All I want right now is to fucking taste her mouth. I need it so badly that the ache is a throb in my entire body. I need to sink into her, escape from everything, let her drift me away from the stresses of my life.