Easton Page 2

  “That’s what my sister tells me. Every day.”

  I glance at the number on the paper, unprepared for just how low it really is. My brothers will never go for this. We’d lose money taking this project on. “I have to talk to my brothers,” I tell her, wishing I could promise this woman the moon. “I’ll call you before the end of the week.”

  “Thank you.” There’s such hope in her words. She’s counting on me to save her. I don’t know how the hell I’m going to pull this off, but I’m going to do everything I can for Emma Benson.

  3

  EMMA

  The past two days have been so restless. I’ve spent hours and hours online looking at tile, paint colors, light fixtures, and flooring. Everything I can’t afford. I have a few clearance items sitting in various online shopping carts, but until I hear from Easton, I can’t hit buy on a single one.

  Easton Ryan.

  Now there’s a problem without a solution.

  I’ve been dreaming about that man nonstop since the moment he got in his truck and drove off. Those muscles. Those intense eyes. That electrifying touch. I’ve imagined his hands on every inch of my body.

  “Em? You there?” Amber’s voice comes over my speaker phone and I wonder how much of the conversation I’ve missed due to the unavoidable daydreaming.

  “I’m here.”

  “Well, have you heard anything?”

  I clear my throat, trying like hell to erase the images of Easton from my head. The ones where I picture him naked in my bed. But they don’t want to leave. And for the life of me, I can’t recall what Amber asked me. “What’s that again? Sorry, the phone cut out.”

  “Sure it did.”

  I haven’t mentioned to Amber that the Ryan brother who showed up at my door was hot enough to set the house on fire. I wonder if she thinks I’m polishing off another bottle of wine and staring longingly at the ugly green wall with the sledgehammer at the ready. “What was your question?”

  “Did you hear from anyone yet? About the house?”

  “Not yet. Should be any time, though. Easton said this week.” Just saying the man’s name makes my entire body heat with want.

  “You can call him you know. The week’s almost over.”

  I’ve thought about it more times than I’ll ever admit, but I’ve chickened out on every attempt. “I’m sure I’ll hear something—” Another call beeps through. Easton’s name appears on my screen. My heart starts pumping double time. “Actually, that’s him right there. Gotta run. Bye!”

  I switch the call before Amber gets out more than two words.

  “Hello?”

  “Emma Benson?”

  “Speaking.” I’m glad the questions are simple so far, because words are hard. If only I could get my breath to calm the hell down. He’s not calling me to ask me out on a date. He’s calling me about my house. As a client. But my stupid body, brain, and heart don’t seem to realize that.

  “It’s Easton Ryan.”

  “Oh, hey.” I twirl a lock of hair around my finger as I lean forward on the kitchen counter. Feeling entirely too much like a teenager again. I don’t remember ever being this nervous talking to my ex before we started officially dating. In fact, I don’t remember being this nervous around any man before. Odd.

  “I wanted to talk to you about your house.”

  My breath stiffens in my lungs and suddenly I find it hard to breath. I’m terrified that not only is the news not what I want to hear, but that said news will mean that I’ll never see Easton again. “Oh yeah?” Man I sound like such a dork right now.

  “I’m just about wrapped up on a project for the day. I could swing by in about an hour if you’ll be around?”

  He wants to come here? “Um, sure. I should be home.”

  “Great. I’ll see you then.”

  When the phone clicks off to silence, reality seeps in. Easton Ryan is coming here. On a Friday night. I catch my reflection in the hallway mirror I haven’t quite decided if I want to keep or trash and let out a tiny scream. “I can’t wear this!”

  I brave a cold shower—thank you broken water heater—and hope that I can find something in my mostly unpacked closet to wear. I know it’s not a date, but I can’t help but feel like maybe, just maybe, it could turn into one.

  On the tiny chance that it might, I dig through totes of clothes waiting on the closet to be torn apart and reassembled until I find my lucky black thong. “Hello old friend. I hope you still have some magic left in your lace.”

  EASTON

  The past two days have been hell. Absolute hell. Not just because I’ve been torn about Emma’s house. But because I’ve been away from Emma. Every minute without her in my presence has felt like its own lifetime. I don’t know what the hell has come over me.

  “Want to grab a beer?” My brother Flint asks me as we lock up our current project for the night.

  “Nah, not tonight.” I haven’t told any of my brothers that I’m going to see Emma. As far as they know, my earlier phone call delivered the inevitable news. I ran my proposal by them this morning, knowing they couldn’t agree to take on the project. There was no profit margin. No way for any of us to earn a dime.

  I couldn’t ask any of them to take on a charity project when they need the money to pay their own bills. My oldest brother Duke is working on a family now. A family he can’t feed on good intentions.

  “You sure?” Flint presses. “Game starts in twenty minutes. Thought we could order up some wings and put a little wager on this one.”

  Any other Friday night, I would jump at the offer to avoid going home to a quiet, empty house. I’ve longed to find a woman to settle down with for a while now, though I haven’t said as much to my brothers. Many of our projects require long days and weekends to complete on time. I’ve wondered if there’s a woman out there who’d accept those terms, not optimistic about the answer.

  Until I met Emma.

  “Go on without me,” I tell Flint. “We can catch the game next week.”

  At the end of the sidewalk, Flint stops. “I’m sorry we can’t help that woman, Easton. I know you really wanted to.” Flint is our number cruncher. Once I approve a property’s condition, he’s the one who gets to decide if the math makes sense.

  “I get it, man. It’s business.”

  “See you Monday. Enjoy your weekend off.”

  Though we tend to work through most weekends and some holidays, we made a rule in the very beginning that every weekend, at least one of us has to take it off. This weekend is mine. A weekend I keep irrationally hoping will be spent with Emma.

  I stop to pick up a large to-go order, hoping she likes Chinese food as much as I do. Maybe dinner will soften the news I have to give her.

  She greets me at the door wearing black leggings and a loose purple shirt that falls off one shoulder. Her golden hair cascades down her back in waves. “Wow, you look amazing.” Again, the words are out before I can sensor them. I’m not here on a date, despite how badly I wish that were the case. Emma might have a life outside of her flipper project. Plans after I leave. I don’t like the irrational pang of jealousy the thoughts cause.

  “Did you bring Chinese?” Her soft brown eyes light up at the sight of the bag I’m hauling.

  “I haven’t eaten. Thought you might be hungry too. I hope you don’t mind?”

  “Mind? You keep doing nice things like that I might never let you leave.” The blush that creeps immediately onto her cheeks is fucking adorable, but it also brings out my animalistic side. The one that recognizes this attraction is definitely not one-sided. “Come on in.”

  I follow Emma to the living room, setting the food on the coffee table.

  “I haven’t found a kitchen table yet,” she says in a tone that implies apology.

  “Emma, it’s fine.”

  I unpack the containers and spread them out on the coffee table as she retrieves plates. “I take it you didn’t come here with good news,” she says to me upon return. She s
its down on the couch, leaving hardly an inch of space between us. Heat swirls in that small space, begging for us to close the gap.

  “Ryan Brothers Renovations can’t take on this project,” I say before I lose my nerve. “I’m sorry, Emma. We discussed it at length, and there’s just no way that the budget is enough to fix everything that needs attention, much less leave anything left over to cover labor.”

  Emma lets out a heavy sigh. “I figured that would be the answer.” She turns a kind, understanding smile at me. “Thank you for asking anyway.”

  Out of instinct, I reach for the hand resting on her thigh, covering it with my own, and squeeze. I give her a beat to pull it away as she stares at our joined hands. Waiting for the moment to shatter. But it doesn’t.

  “I want to help you,” I say.

  “It’s okay, Easton. This is my mess, not yours.”

  The anger from the other day returns, slowly boiling inside me. I hate that Emma feels this way. I don’t know what happened with the divorce, but I know enough to put the pieces together. Emma didn’t do anything wrong, but she’s the one suffering.

  “I’m going to help you, Emma. For free.”

  4

  EMMA

  “I can’t let you do that,” I say in response to Easton’s offer to work for free, despite how painful it is to turn it down. Already fantasies about the two of us renovating my house together have overrun my brain. Some happy and productive. Others steamier and a bit on the erotic side. Man in a tool belt and nothing else anyone?

  “I want to,” Easton say with such finality in his voice it’s hard to argue.

  “You don’t even know me.”

  “But I want to.”

  That’s it. I’m done for. Any ounce of restraint I had left—and let’s be real, sitting this close to the man, it’s not much—is gone. I pounce, like I’ve wanted to do since the moment he showed up at my house the other day.

  Our lips crash together as I pin him to the couch, Chinese food forgotten for later. I wrap my knees around his hips as I kiss him harder, deeper, inviting his tongue into my mouth. His hungry hands caress my back and slide down to my ass.

  I moan.

  My fingers greedily find their way beneath his shirt, hopeful to get it off. His abs are hard and ripped, just like I’d suspected all along. We make out like a couple of horny teenagers on my living room couch, Easton sans shirt. Lips roaming, hands sliding, bodies pressed against each other.

  I feel his rough, warm hands slide up beneath my shirt, on a mission for my breasts. My nipples have been in constant agony, desperate for his touch since the moment I met him. He squeezes my breasts through my pesky bra. If the girls weren’t so enormous, I’d have gone without a bra. But that’s never been a viable option for me.

  “These are fucking amazing,” Easton growls at me between kisses as he squeezes my tits.

  We moan, grope, and tumble and somehow I end up on the bottom. My bra is undone, shirt pushed up, and Easton is devouring my nipples with that amazing mouth, just like I’ve fantasized for days.

  Through my hooded eyes, I see the bulge in his pants that promises he is every bit the man I thought beneath that zipper. As I reach toward his jeans, Easton catches my wrists, pushing them above my head. “I’ve thought about you too long to rush anything, babe.”

  My panties were drenched before, but now there’s a damn flood between my legs. He’s thought about me too?

  My eyes fall closed as Easton works his magic, caressing my breasts as his teeth teasingly scrape my pebbled nipples. I gasp when he bites down gently. No one has ever nibbled on my nipples like they were a snack, and it takes me a solid minute to realize that I actually fucking love how this feels. “More,” I plead.

  Easton laughs against my nipple, nipping again as one hand slides between my legs. He strokes my center through my leggings with his entire palm. The pressure and pacing are so fucking perfect.

  “You’re so damn gorgeous, Emma.” He locks his heated gaze with my own with his mouth still fused to my nipple. “I could eat you up. Every last bit of you.”

  Is this real life? I swear if I’m on the couch dreaming up this fantasy, nobody—and I mean nobody—better wake me up.

  Easton slides his hand beneath the waistband of my leggings, his fingertips grazing my swollen clit.

  A chime like a broken clock tower echoes throughout the house, causing both of us to freeze. “My doorbell,” I confess in a whisper.

  “That’s the first thing we’re fixing, babe,” Easton says with his hand still in my pants. I’d give anything to gyrate my hips against it and forget that anyone is at the door. I hold my breath, hoping whoever it is will just leave.

  The awful chimes rings out again.

  “Emma?”

  Shit, it’s Amber. “My sister.” I shimmy off the couch, clasping my bra and fixing my shirt. Easton stands, sans shirt, and reaches out a hand to smooth my wild hair.

  “Want me to hide?”

  “In the bedroom?” I suggest, though I don’t know why it’s such a big deal. Never mind that Amber practically raised me and often feels more like my mom than my older sister. I was married once for crying out loud. “I’ll get rid of her. Fast.”

  “I’ll be waiting for you.” He leans down, kissing my cheek. In my ear, he whispers, “Naked in your bed.”

  Amber pounds incessantly on the front door, sending Easton off down the hall and me to the door. I’m lucky I locked the damn thing or she’d have burst right in and gotten a show.

  “You are home,” Amber says, barging in with a big bottle of wine in hand. “And I smell—is that Chinese food?”

  Shit, forgot about that.

  “What took you so long to answer the door?” She finds the spread on the coffee table and raises an eyebrow at me. “You have company?”

  “Nope.” I feel like a teenager who just got caught by Mom and the boy is hiding under my bed. But in this scenario, the boy is all man and waiting in my bed. Naked. So, so naked.

  “You’re eating all that food?”

  “I couldn’t make up my mind,” I lie. I could come clean about Easton, but I’m afraid Amber will see it as a rebound. Which will come with a lecture. One I don’t need right now until I figure out what this is or isn’t on my own.

  “I brought wine. Didn’t want you to spend your Friday night with a sledgehammer again.” She stares at the bottle of chardonnay. “On second thought, maybe we shouldn’t open this.”

  How do I get rid of her?

  “What did you hear about the house?” she asks, slipping the bottle of wine back in the tote bag draped over her shoulder. One win. But she keeps eyeing the spread of Chinese like she’s waiting for an invitation.

  “Easton’s going to help me out,” I say, hoping that will be enough to shoo her out the door.

  “Really?”

  “Yep, really. Hey, Amber, I don’t mean to be a total prude. But I have somewhere to be. Meeting up a with a girlfriend.” I add that so she won’t question me going on a date. “Any chance we can rain check on the wine night?”

  She stretches her neck over my shoulder. “You haven’t even touched your food. You sure you don’t have someone over?”

  “Do you see anyone here?”

  She scans the living room and kitchen, but I don’t let her take more than two more steps inside. It’s while I move to block her path to the hallway that I notice the truck outside. One that has Ryan Brothers Renovations stenciled on the side. It’s parked across the street, but still close enough for her to figure this all out.

  “I’ve got showings all day tomorrow and an offer to write tomorrow night. Rain check for next weekend?”

  “Sounds good.” I usher her to the door, holding my breath and praying she doesn’t notice the truck. But it’s so glaringly obvious from the front stoop that I brace for the inevitable question instead.

  “Why is there a Ryan Brothers Renovations truck parked across the street?”

  “Oh, Easton
stopped by earlier to deliver the news. Then his truck broke down, so one of his brothers picked him up. He’s coming back in the morning to get it.” I mentally pat myself on the back for the genius little white lie that buys me a sleepover with Easton should things go that way tonight.

  “You might want to brush that hair before you go out. There’s a knot in the back.”

  I close the door behind Amber before she can assess me any further. I comb the knot out with my fingers, spotting Easton’s T-shirt piled up on the floor beside the couch. It’s a miracle Amber didn’t see that.

  After she drives away, I cut the lights. I have to admit, I’m a little nervous to find out if there’s really a naked man in my bed or if I dreamed the whole thing up.

  5

  EASTON

  I wait naked in Emma’s bed as promised, inhaling her floral scent on her pillow. My dick’s been hard since that first kiss, and it’s pitching a tent beneath the sheet as I wait now for her to join me, praying her sister doesn’t break up the one-on-one party Emma and I have going.

  I hear the click of the front door, causing my heart to race.

  Admittedly, it’s been over a year since I’ve been with someone. But being with Emma isn’t just me bedding another woman. It feels like something more, something powerful. Since the moment I met her, she’s invaded my every thought. Every dream.

  In seconds, I plan to have her naked with me beneath these sheets.

  One by one, lights extinguish down the hall.

  Emma appears in the doorway, illuminated by the full moon outside. “You’re still here,” she says in a sultry way that makes my dick twitch. Her widening eyes fixated on the tented area of the sheets tells me she notices.