Chapter 43

Jamie

What the hell was I thinking?

That thought played on repeat inside my head for the rest of the afternoon. I'd moved onto a different job, unable to fix my first car without the part, and I didn't dare go back upstairs to ask how long it would take to arrive, so I'd looked through the other jobs on the roster, reading the list but not really seeing it. Scribbled down details in Brock's notoriously terrible handwriting were no competition for what had happened.

I'd never had a threesome before. A few of my previous boyfriends were keen on the idea, but they were only enticed by the thought of being with me and another woman. Women were never what turned me on, so I'd declined their kind offer, somehow knowing that bringing more women into our beds would just legitimise a lingering desire to cheat.

But this.

I still felt Hunter's hand on the back of my neck, pulling my hair away so he could see every damn thing I did. I started out sucking Brock's dick to stir him to shut down my mother's demands, but ended up performing for both of them. Did Hunter wish he was the one I was blowing? Did his dick ache with every bob of my head? I was willing to bet he did, considering how damn hard he was when I jerked him off. That was weird, hot, and urgent all at the same time, his scent filling my nose, his cock somehow even thicker than his twin's, throbbing in my palm right before he unloaded. I stared at my hand until Gary appeared at my shoulder, wanting to get to the job board.

"Everything OK, Jamie?" he asked me.

"Yeah, fine." I smiled and then backed away. "Just need a coffee. Did you want one?"

But as I busied myself in the garage kitchen, I stirred the tea spoon through the coffee, going round and around, lost in the almost visceral memory of what happened, my mind yet to let it go.

Because I couldn't work out how Brock was taking the situation. I saw him just once that afternoon when he came down to talk to Ken. He paused for a second, looking up and over the paperwork they were discussing, his eyes meeting mine yet giving nothing away before his focus was dragged right back to the conversation.

He wasn't there when I was finished for the day, nor when I got cleaned up and got ready to leave.

"Trouble in paradise?" Clinton appeared at my shoulder, waiting for access to the sink. I looked at him sharply, but he was actually expressing real concern for the first time. He glanced up at the stairs. "The boss has been quiet all afternoon. Well, quieter than normal."

"Want all the gossip?" I asked, keeping my tone light.

"No." He was serious, which had me turning around to face him as I dried my hands on some paper towel. "Look, I know I'm a prick?—"

"You are. You really are."

"But none of us want to see you get hurt." Ken and Gary walked into the room then, as if summoned. "If Brock fucks you over…"

"We know you've got brothers," Ken said, "but you're like a daughter to me. One that's way more interested in cars than makeup, but still."

"Just because he's the boss doesn't mean he can jerk you around," Gary grumbled.

"He's not…" My hands rose and fell. "We're not…" I blinked and blinked, but still my eyes ached as their words sank in. We didn't do touchy-feely shit at all in the workshop, so they caught me completely off guard. "I mean, I…"

"What's that, Mousie?" Clinton wrapped an arm around my neck, tugging me closer. "You need to squeak louder. Full sentences, you can do it."

That bullshit I knew how to deal with. I drove my elbow into his ribs, forcing him to gasp and the others to cackle, but right as things devolved into pushing and shoving, Brock walked into the room. Everyone fell silent like troops the minute their commanding officer entered the barracks.

"Jamie?"

He jerked his head, indicating that I should follow him, not giving anything away. I sighed and nodded to the rest of the guys, following him out into the garage. If I was wondering what this was about, he communicated that physically rather than verbally, pressing his body against mine as he pinned me to the side of a car.

"We're good," he said, cupping my jaw with his hands. "I just needed to process things." His nose grazed mine. "You go out with my brother tonight and have a good time. Try to forget about the bullshit of the engagement party for just one night and…"

Our mouths collided, as if staying apart was somehow a painful experience, one that could only be resolved by this. His hard, biting kiss branded my mouth with his beard, just as he had with his dick earlier this afternoon.

"So I don't need to kick the boss' arse today." We pulled away to see Clinton smirking, but one growl from Brock had him bolting for the door. "Good to know. See ya tomorrow, Mouse!"

"That little prick…" Brock shook his head. "Why do I keep him around?"

"He's really good at what he does?" I said, because he was. Clinton had an encyclopaedic knowledge of newer model cars.

"He is. And you…" The heat rising in his gaze, that slow smile, it was everything I hadn't realised I missed this afternoon. "Are really good at what you do." Another slower, softer kiss to make sure I knew exactly what he meant. "I'll be playing that moment over and over in my head when you go out on that date." He spoke the words against my ear so no one else could hear. "And I'm hoping you'll be thinking about the same."

When he pulled away, my hands wanted to reach out and drag him back. I instantly missed the warmth, the weight of him. One look at his smug smile and I knew that was exactly what he had planned all along. I shook my head and walked out to my car, heading home to get ready.

I'd turned my phone off silent when I got home, just in case Hunter needed to call me, so it shouldn't have come as a surprise when it started ringing. I was midway through washing my hair, so I spluttered and then was forced to rinse off before sprinting out to answer it, dripping water all over the floor. My hand reached for it, my thumb tapping on the screen before I bothered to see who it was, because I assumed it was Hunter calling with a change of plans.

"Hello?"

"Finally!" My grip on the phone tightened when I heard Mum's voice. "Why didn't you ring me back? Why haven't you answered my messages?"

Because I was at work. Somehow that never occurred to my mother. She would never ring my brothers during their work days, but for some reason I was different. Was it because she didn't work, preferring to stay home and keep house for Dad? Or was it simply because I was a woman and she'd grown up in an era where women's incomes supplemented the family budget but they were not the primary breadwinners? I didn't know, and asking her questions like that hadn't gotten me far.

"Mum, I'm in the middle of getting dressed to go out."

"With who?" Her voice grew sharp. "Not that Brock boy. He's not the one for you, I've realised. Neither is that other one. Leading the children in a water fight? Could you imagine what kind of father he would be?"

"With Hunter," I said.

She fell silent for a few blessed seconds and I sucked in a breath, banking on the fact she hadn't met him yet and so he was a tantalising possibility.

"You're going to ask him to be your date at the engagement party?" she asked.

"Maybe." A sharp knock on my door had me walking down the hall to unlock it and when it swung open, Hunter stood leaning against the door frame. He took in the towel wrapped around my body in a long, slow look before meeting my eyes. One eyebrow cocked upwards. "I'm still feeling him out to see if he's interested."

But he was, that was clear. He stepped inside, herding me backwards until the backs of my legs hit the couch. One hand went to the edge of the towel, a question in his eyes.

"Well, you'll need to do something about that promptly," she said.

"I'm trying, Mum."

A single finger trailed across the slick skin of my hip bone. Hunter smiled slowly, those blue eyes burning into mine.

"Try harder because time is running out. This is important, Jamie." The anxiety throbbing like a live wire in her tone forced me out of the moment. I couldn't feel Hunter anymore, not while I was listening to her. "Nadia is just lovely and her family is so close. Her mother has been incredibly welcoming of your father and I, which is such a pleasant surprise after the dramas that went down with Amber and her family."

I blinked, remembering exactly how my in-laws dealt with Mum's overbearing bullshit.

"We need to make a good impression, make them feel that Nadia marrying Frankie is a good thing."

"Not sure if the parents have much choice in the matter," I said. "Nadia, for reasons I don't understand, loves Frankie."

"The engagement party needs to be perfect, Jamie."

And there it was. Sometimes it felt like all my mother focussed on was the pursuit of perfection, followed by her inevitable disappointment. When I was a kid, I'd tried my damndest to meet her expectations because hey, she was my mother and I loved her. I wanted her to be happy, so if trying a bit harder was what it took, I'd do it. Of course the problem lay in the fact she never was. People were too weak, too fallible to ever meet her lofty standards, and so me and my brothers developed a strange kind of camaraderie. If we were always going to fail, we'd do so together.

"I can't do perfect, Mum," I told her bluntly and when I looked up, Hunter began to smile. An encouraging nod from him had me forging on. "I'll be there. I won't drink excessively. I'll bring the happy couple a nice present." She sucked in a breath, ready to instruct me on what to buy. "One I've already talked to Nadia about." My future sister-in-law wanted this pretty dining setting for their new place, so I'd ordered it ages ago. "And I'll do my best not to embarrass you and Dad. No funky chicken dances."

"With a date." She ground that out, because weirdly, this was my mother compromising. "If you've managed to find three men willing to date you despite the fact you spend most of your time dressed in men's clothes, then you can find someone suitable to attend the party. A man that looks good in formal wear."

"I'll see what I can do."

My hand reached out then, running a finger down the lapel of the short-sleeved, button-down shirt Hunter wore, because it wasn't hard to see him in the suit he'd worn on our first date. He looked sharp enough for anyone, let alone Mum.

"In a dress." I'd surrendered some ground, which meant that my mother needed to push harder and see what other compromises she could wring from me. "You can look at dresses at the bridal shop when you come to see Nadia try on some wedding gowns."

"Mum, I told you I wouldn't be able to make that?—"

"Because you're busy." Her tone turned acidic. "Too busy messing around with cars to accept a very kind offer from Nadia's family. In-laws often don't get a look in on these things. Nadia's trying to bring us all together as one. You can call in sick if that Brock won't give you the time off."

"Call in sick…?"

I was making progress seconds ago, but it was like trying to hold back an avalanche with your bare hands. The sheer weight and velocity of her intentions smashed into me.

"I tried to reason with that Brock, making clear why this is important to the family, but he went on and on about your schedule. This is our opportunity to get to know Nadia's family, get the relationship off on the right foot. You can try on some of the dresses in the wedding shop?—"

"Wedding dresses?" I squeaked, almost able to imagine Mum taking over the entire afternoon. Nadia would be shoved aside, as my mother's burning need to see me walk down the aisle would not be denied.

"What? No, I thought you could find something suitable in the bridesmaid section. Though it wouldn't hurt to take a look at some of the wedding gowns…"

I pulled my phone away from my ear, staring at it for just a second before Hunter swept in. He ended the call abruptly, tossing the phone on the couch and then turning to me.

"Hey… hey…" He was treating me like a spooked horse, and maybe that was apt. My heart beat as fast as a racehorse's, my muscles quivering with a need to run. My whole body jumped, my eyes jerking up as his hands landed on my shoulders, pinning me to the spot. "You're OK."

But I wasn't. I communicated that mutely with my gaze, and his expression softened. I was tugged closer, his arms wrapped around me as he held me. Suffocated and soothed, those contradictory responses raged inside me as I stood there, tolerating his hug.

"C'mon," Hunter said, finally pulling away to hold out his hand. "We're going down to the beach. I'm going to feed you up with a whole lot of grease, salt, and carbs, and then you're going to tell me everything."

I snorted, the initial numbness washing away, but a feeling of being weak, inconsequential, was left behind. No one can cut your legs out from under you better than a parent. I'd tried to push back, to make clear my feelings but… My head moved of its own accord, nodding along with his suggestion, because when he pulled me out the front door once I'd gotten dressed, I felt like I was walking away from all that shit.

"What about your phone?" Hunter asked as I locked my apartment door.

"Don't need it," I replied, looking up at him and smiling. "Anyone who really needs me will have to come find me."

The sun was starting to drop lower in the sky, creating a halo around his head, but his smile was brighter as he held out his hand.

"They'll have to get past me first," he told me, that smile widening as I grabbed it.

Each step we took down the stairs seemed lighter, the feeling growing as we got in his van and drove away. It was as if we were putting more than just kilometres between me and my phone. I wanted to run away before and now I was in a way.

No, I was running towards something.

Fish and chips that filled the van with the savoury scent of deep fried potatoes and salt were a perfect accompaniment to the smell of the sea when we reached the beach. I tossed off my sandals, feeling powder-soft sand between my toes as we walked out onto the beach and then found our own spot.

"This was the date we should've had," I said after we spread the butcher's paper wrapped around the chips out and I grabbed a golden spear of fried potato. His arm went around me as he sat down beside me. The chip was a perfect combination of crunch and fluffy cooked potato in my mouth, and I made a sound of satisfaction. "Ballantynes is better than any fancy-schmancy restaurant."

"Noted," Hunter said, grabbing a piece of fish and squirting some lemon juice onto it. "So… what the hell did I walk into?"

I dragged in a breath, the air at the beach somehow easier to breathe. Each time the waves went crashing down and then were sucked back, I felt like some of the tension inside me went with it.

"You really want to know?" I searched his face, noting the way the setting sun was casting it gold. "Pretty sure that falls outside the responsibilities of a fake date."

"Lucky this isn't fake then." His eyes dropped down, spending way too much time tracing the shape of my lips. "So, spill."

I shook my head with a smile and then I did.