Hunks, Hammers, and Happily Ever Afters Read online

  Often.

  Yeah, so there might’ve been some denial in there on a pretty frequent basis on my part. Denial we were friends, denial I found him hot, denial I liked the way we all were together when I could pull the stick out of my ass. So if she wanted to go, I’d go too.

  Otherwise, I was going to skip it. Even if it turned out he didn’t discriminate between X and Y chromosomes, his washboard abs weren’t enough for me to risk opening that can of worms. He’d blab to Lily and tell her I wasn’t just the sweet older brother stand-in she’d always thought. I also liked to fuck rough and hard. To bruise and be bruised.

  “It’s up to Lily.” I didn’t elaborate, just waited.

  She tilted her head as if to say “seriously?” but she didn’t complain. She only bit her lip and nodded. “All right, fine. We’ll come over for a little while to check out your new place. Happy?”

  “Ecstatic.” JC grinned and picked her up to spin her around, making her laugh. “You made my freaking day.”

  He looked at me over her bobbing ponytail, including me in the moment. He always seemed to do that in one way or another.

  “We’re going to have a great time.” It was as if he was speaking directly to me. “The best time ever. You’ll see.”

  “Just make sure there’s beer.” I turned toward the door. “I gotta get back to my workout.”

  “Yeah. Good luck at the fight, man. See you Saturday.”

  In the doorway, I hesitated. There was something in his voice. Something I couldn’t place but recognized on an elemental level.

  Maybe I didn’t want to place it. Not then.

  “Yeah, thanks.” I tapped the flat of my hand on the unfinished frame above my head and kept going.

  Friday night needed to be my focus. Supposed “best time ever” or not, Saturday night wasn’t going to change my life.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Lily

  I was nervous. Stupid, since I was just going to a party with my two best friends and a bunch of other great people. How pathetic was that?

  Very. But that had never stopped me before.

  I played with the chandelier earrings I’d put on at the last minute and stared at my reflection. My dad had considerately put up a small mirror in our front hall a few years ago. He’d always been sensitive to a girl’s unending need to primp.

  So far I’d changed my outfit three times. I don’t know why, but it felt like I needed to be on point tonight. Normally, I didn’t care much about my appearance. I spent far too much time covered in wood shavings and bonding agents—and yes, ink—to worry about how I looked. Tonight, nothing seemed right. Not jeans, not a skirt, not a dress.

  Finally, I’d settled on a stretchy black dress that clung to more than I usually showed off. I liked my body well enough, so the semi-revealing outfit didn’t bother me. It was more why I was wearing it.

  I wanted Emerson and JC to notice me. Both of them.

  That didn’t make sense, even to my addled brain. I couldn’t date them both. Nor would I. They were my closest friends, and I’d never pit them against each other. Besides, it wasn’t like either one of them had ever given me the slightest inkling they even realized I was a female. I mean, I knew JC was open-minded when it came to his dates, liking both women and men, and I was cool with that. Fascinated, actually. I’d sneak-watched some guy-on-guy porn one night, and shit, I’d been turned on. If I had a vibrator, it would’ve gotten a workout that night.

  Alas, I did not. I had my small, wholly inadequate fingers, and the truth was, I wanted something a bit more substantial.

  Even thinking that made color rush to my cheeks.

  For God’s sake, I was twenty years old, and I’d had exactly one lover. One. We’d belonged to the same church and met in secret a few times to do the deed in various decrepit places. The backseat of his car with the springs poking in my ass. In the park on the verge of winter when I’d been too cold to even unclench my legs. And once, in a closet near the altar room.

  I’d never given a blow job. Never had a guy go down on me. And I’d never had an orgasm I didn’t give myself.

  My phone buzzed. I jolted and guiltily dug it out of my purse.

  I’m outside.

  Emerson. My best friend. My protector.

  It was probably too much to hope that one day he might also be my lover. Especially since as much as I wanted him, I was pulled toward JC too. It didn’t make sense. I didn’t understand how I could want them both, when I’d never really wanted anyone else but Jesse—AKA church guy. And he’d turned out to be a whiny dud.

  Emerson and JC wouldn’t be whiny duds. I’d bet my practically born-again-virginity on it.

  I texted back a quick reply.

  On my way.

  It was May, but it still got chilly at night so I grabbed my beat-up denim jacket and rushed to the door. “See ya, Dad,” I called, undoing the locks.

  “What time will you be back?” he boomed down the hall from his easy chair, tuned to a fight on cable.

  I tried not to roll my eyes. In a few months, I would be twenty-one, not that my father cared. As long as I lived under his roof, he would make sure I never stayed out too late or did anything dangerous. And probably even after I moved out. It was a good thing I rarely partied, because he’d most likely meet me at the door with a Breathalyzer.

  But I had one ace in the hole. One way I could stay out as late as I liked without fear of hearing him bitch.

  “I’m not sure. I’m going to see some friends with Emerson.”

  “Oh, well then, have a good time. Don’t rush back.”

  I smiled and slipped out the door. My dad adored him as much as he would a natural-born son. More probably, since he’d gotten to pick him in a sense.

  He was so proud of Emerson doing so well in local MMA, though he had to turn a blind eye to the fact it was illegal in New York. Considering my dad was a cop, that was hard for him to do. But he’d gotten Emerson into MMA in the first place, so he took some personal responsibility. Plus, he hoped he might make it out of the local scene altogether and go pro.

  He loved Emerson enough he couldn’t look down on him for anything. Not even technically breaking the law.

  Full of nervous energy, I jogged down the three flights of stairs from our apartment to the lobby, then rushed out into the night. Emerson sat in his dark sedan at the curb, one wrist thrown over the wheel, the other hand probably thumping on his leg like it always did. He never managed to stay still. He was obscenely physical in a way that made a girl’s thighs press together.

  Especially a girl like me, who’d gotten to watch him grow up from a boy into a man. Such a gorgeous, broody, amazing man.

  “Hey.” I bent and stuck my head in his open passenger window. “How much for a ride?”

  It was a flirty statement, but he only smiled in that benign way he always reserved for me. The gesture held affection, definitely, but not an ounce of heat.

  Dammit, I wanted him to burn like I did every time I was in his presence.

  “For you, I’d pay.” He leaned across the seat and pushed open my door. “Get in already before I get towed. Illegal spot.”

  “Oops, sorry.” Cursing myself, I slid inside the car and snapped my belt into place. He veered into traffic and I stayed silent, studying his profile.

  His eyelashes were ridiculously long, his nose crooked from being broken once or twice. He had full lips, the kind that were meant to smile easily and often. But he didn’t. He saved them for special occasions, like when we were alone. Though he probably didn’t see me as a woman in the strictest sense, I knew he didn’t like to share me. With anyone. I was pretty sure that was out of some kind of weird sense of obligation or possession. He was obsessed with keeping me safe.

  Probably something he’d picked up from my father. The two stubborn, prideful men I loved more than life.

  Now I loved JC too. He made me laugh and never took anything too seriously. As hard as he worked, he was always up for a party.
I needed that new sense of perspective. For so long, I’d lived in a box with barely any airholes, building tiny houses for inanimate creatures. My work fulfilled me in many ways. It connected me with my long-gone mom, reminding me of the days we spent decorating my dollhouses, and eventually, it might even grant me financial freedom if the current resurgence lasted. It would require focus and dedication, two things I had in spades.

  What I hadn’t had nearly enough of, until JC, was fun.

  “You’re thinking loud enough to give me a headache. What’s up? Problems with an order?”

  No, I want sex. I want to be alive. I want to live before I’m not young anymore.

  I didn’t say any of that. I flipped my fingers through the ends of my hair and stared out the window. “Nah, just kind of stressed.”

  “No wonder. You work too hard.” He reached over and cupped my knee, rubbing the side with his thumb. From anyone else, that gesture would mean something. In Emerson’s case, it was just about kindness and concern.

  “Not hard enough. I’m still trying to come up with the cash for that stupid transmission.”

  I knew it was the wrong thing to say when he stiffened. It had been a kneejerk reaction, some kind of mental defense against him somehow reading my sexual thoughts.

  “Let me give you the rest of the money. A loan, if you insist,” he said, raising his voice above my objections. “I don’t like the idea of you riding the subway at all times of the day and night, anyway.”

  “No way.” I wasn’t budging. “You’re not much less strapped than I am. Besides, if I wanted a loan, I’d just ask JC. He’s got money coming out of his ass.”

  He remained silent for a beat. “He’s rich, is he?”

  “His family is, and they love to share the wealth. He just doesn’t use their money much. He wants to make his own. That’s why he’s always busting his hump on job sites.”

  “Hmm.”

  I sighed and shifted toward him. “Why do you dislike him so much?” This topic wasn’t any better than the last, but I couldn’t keep shoving everything down. If I did, the rock-solid foundation between us would eventually crack. And I’d never be able to live with that.

  He was my touchstone, my north star, and every other hokey thing that could be named. I couldn’t imagine him not in my life.

  That I kept picturing him in my bed too was my problem, and mine alone.

  Emerson’s jaw tightened. “Who said I did?”

  “It’s kind of obvious, don’t you think? You barely look at him. You always snarl in his direction. I know you didn’t want to come tonight either.” I cupped his hand on top of my jittery leg. “I also know you did it just for me, so thanks.”

  “I had a shift this morning,” he said under his breath. “Four lawns out in Long Island, all of them huge. And then after the fight last night—”

  “The fight. Oh God. I forgot to ask.” My hand went to my mouth. Lord, could I be any more selfish? That was it. Errant sex musings were banished for the foreseeable future. “I’m so sorry. Did you win?”

  The corner of his mouth lifted. “You even gotta ask, babe?”

  “Oh, Em!” Not caring about rules, I undid my belt and launched myself across the seat toward him, hugging him as best as I could and planting a noisy kiss on his cheek. “Does Dad know? He’s gonna be busting buttons. He said Giordano was one to beat.”

  “Yeah, I called him last night, afterward. Hey, hey, sit down.” But he was smiling, and that was enough for me to kiss him again, harder. And if my lips skated too close to his smile, it was an accident, I swear.

  Mostly an accident.

  For a fraction of an instant, I would’ve sworn he kissed me back. Probably just as friends. Of course just as friends. But the tingle along my mouth as he gave me an unsteady shove back toward my seat said something different.

  For a second, there had been heat and pressure. The corner of his full lips imprinting against mine. His rough exhale warming the path he’d jumped off even before he’d taken a full step toward it.

  I fumbled for my seatbelt and gazed straight ahead, watching high-rises and businesses fly by in the darkness without really seeing them. I wanted to ask him so many questions.

  Why did you kiss me?

  Why didn’t you kiss me?

  God, I didn’t know what had happened. Perhaps I’d imagined the whole thing. Undersexed dollhouse builders had fanciful imaginations, for sure.

  “If you need to borrow money,” he began, his voice lower than I’d ever heard it, “I’ll give it to you. Not him. Okay?”

  I blinked, unsure how we’d gotten back on that path again. But I was still too stunned by what had almost happened—maybe—to put up a fight. “Okay.” I swallowed hard. “But I won’t. I’ll do it on my own. I appreciate the offer though.”

  “And as for JC, I don’t have a problem with him.” He jerked the wheel to the curb about a block up from JC’s new brownstone. He must’ve gotten the address from JC on his own.

  I was pretty sure he hadn’t heard my response. “Sure about that?”

  He shifted toward me, his eyes narrowed. Even in the darkness of the car, I could sense the intensity in his expression. “Except for one thing.”

  For some reason, my heartbeat skipped. Like literally missed a beat. I hadn’t had any coffee today, so it wasn’t caffeine overload.

  It was all Emerson Confusing-As-Hell Knapp.

  “What’s that?” I asked, both craving and fearing the answer.

  “He wants you—and I’m not going to let that happen.”

  Before I could shut my mouth, he slammed his way out of the car.

  CHAPTER THREE

  JC

  I opened the door to Lily and Emerson with a wide smile. “About time you got here. The party’s in full swing.” I stepped back to let them inside my new, barely furnished apartment. “Grab a beer.”

  Emerson gave me a look as he nudged Lily inside ahead of him. Though she went first, I had no doubt he’d leap in front of her to block any passing threat. Like, oh, a speeding train or maybe a dude who wanted to feel her up.

  To Emerson, I was reasonably certain the danger level would be the same.

  After taking a few steps and assessing the obviously empty apartment, he turned toward me. “What full swing? There’s no one here.”

  “Yes, there is.”

  “Where?” Lily asked, glancing around in obvious confusion.

  They were both adorable, and I was probably a dick for prolonging their puzzlement. But I figured I should get a pass, considering what I had in mind. If I’d read them both correctly, I was about to grant their fondest wish.

  They could thank me later.

  “You two are people, right?” I shut the door and pointed at my chest. “I’m a person.”

  “Hold up. No one else is coming but us?” Emerson’s eyes narrowed, his most popular expression. “Why would you claim you were having a party and only invite two guests?”

  “You were the only guests I wanted to celebrate with.” I slung an arm around their shoulders and guided them into the living room.

  It wasn’t huge, but it was bigger than my old one and especially looked that way since only two long couches and a coffee table had been added so far. Well, and there were a couple of ladders, and a half-built custom shelving unit. But they didn’t count as furniture.

  I picked up the oddly shaped bottle of Samuel Adams Utopias on the coffee table and poured the smooth brandy-colored liquid into the three waiting glasses.

  “Beer for you,” I said to Emerson, passing him a glass. “And for you,” I said to Lily, pressing the cool drink into her outstretched hand.

  At least she wouldn’t sulk through my party. I didn’t think.

  “What the hell is this?” Emerson picked up the doorstopper bottle and lifted it to the light as if he suspected I was trying to poison them.

  Actually, I was trying to fuck them, so he’d pegged that one wrong.

  “It’s beer. You
asked for beer, did you not?” I sat down on one of the couches and took a long sip, demonstrating that I was drinking from the same well. “This is beer. Very fine beer, in fact. Expensive as hell, with a little sweetness for our non-beer drinker over there.” I smiled at Lily, who was thoughtfully peering into her glass. “There’s maple syrup in it.”

  She took a tentative taste, her face screwed up in preparation to hate it. Then her forehead smoothed and she smiled. “Hey, that’s not bad.”

  “See? Finally, some trust.” I took another drink and lifted a brow at Emerson. “If you wanna be a pussy about it, I have some Coors on ice.”

  Though I didn’t look her way, I saw Lily fidget out of the corner of my eye. Anything bordering on naughty language always made her nervous. I don’t think she minded it so much as she wasn’t used to it. From what I could tell, her big cop daddy and Emerson kept her on a damn short leash.

  That needed to change. Tonight, I hoped.

  Emerson took a defiant gulp, then held the glass stein at arm’s length. “Shit, that’s not bad. Holy strong though.”

  “Mmm-hmm.” I smiled around the lip of my glass. “Twenty-seven percent alcohol. Banned in thirteen states for too high a content for beer.” I finished off my glass in another handful of sips and reached for the bottle. “More?” I asked them, noticing they were both putting serious dents in their own glasses.

  “Lily isn’t twenty-one,” Emerson reminded me.

  “I know. She’s also not on her daddy’s watch right now, so let her breathe, huh?” I glanced at her and noticed the color already rising in her cheeks. With her size and lack of tolerance, she’d be buzzing soon if she wasn’t already. “More?”

  “I’m not driving, so sure.” She cast a glance toward me and held out her glass.

  “You can sleep over,” I said quickly when Emerson didn’t reply, just continued staring into the scant inch of brown liquid left in his glass. “There’s a guest bedroom,” I added as his head snapped up.

  I sincerely hoped they’d be in my king bed by the end of the night, but I knew there would be many steps to reach that point. Possibly more than could be covered in a single night.

  I’d always been an optimistic fucker.