Lawn Boys Page 2

  “So you should, uh, go mow or whatever.” My cheeks continue to blaze with heat. It’s the way he looks at me. Nobody does it like Anthony Blakely. Not even Damien Rice. Sure, Damien is interested in me, but he doesn’t look at me like this.

  Joe did.

  Pain, sudden and fierce, clutches at my throat.

  My knees buckle as I remember how he’d grin at me in the mornings as he woke me with kisses to my breasts. So much time has passed that I don’t get hung up on these memories, but Anthony triggers them. This also happened yesterday when he showed up on my doorstep. I ended up bolting to my room and crying after he left.

  “Hey,” he murmurs, his deep voice infecting me like a plague I have no defenses against. His strong hands steady my hips. It’s then I realize I’m shaking and my knees keep buckling. I start to push him away, but I end up clutching onto his shirt instead to keep from collapsing. My breaths come out choppy and ragged. A cold sweat breaks out over my skin. “Calm down, Greenwood. You look like you’re about to pass out. Breathe. I think you’re having a panic attack. I used to see this a lot with my teammates before a big game. Breathe.” His calming words do slow my racing heart.

  “I’m sorry,” I whisper, my words thick and sludgy in my throat. “I just…I was…” Tears well in my eyes and I blink them away quickly. “I was thinking about my husband.”

  His thumbs are running circles in a comforting way on my hip bones. It’s distracting me. Perhaps that’s his intent. “You miss him.” His words are a statement, not a question.

  I make the mistake of raising my gaze. The arrogant smirk he wears so well is gone. His dark brows are furled together in concern as his steely eyes flicker over my face as to assess for damages or tears. It warms my heart. I’ve spent the last fifteen years pouring every ounce of me into taking care of my daughter. But nobody has ever looked at me. Not with concern or worry. I’m Stephanie Greenwood, badass single mom. I kick butt at my advertising firm and give those other gym rats a run for the money when I’m on the Stairmaster. I’m not weak. I’m tough as nails.

  So why am I suddenly so soft and vulnerable in Anthony’s grip?

  I blink away the silly thoughts of him leaning down and kissing my lips. He’s just all male and imposing. Anthony smells so good. Of course, it’s natural to react to someone like him. I’m not dead, for crying out loud. Just old.

  “I…do you want a muffin?”

  The concern on his face melts away as he flashes me a panty-melting grin that must have made him very popular at his high school before he graduated. I bet this very young eighteen-year-old kid had the entire cheerleading squad in his back pocket.

  Just like Joe.

  I pull away from his strong grip and stumble toward the kitchen. My heart is on fire and aching and out of control. Thoughts of Joe—memories I haven’t thought about in forever—flip through my mind like a movie.

  Homecoming game.

  Prom.

  Graduation.

  All moments when we’d been young and in love. Before marriage. Before our baby. Just when the need for each other outweighed everything else. More than cheerleading and football. More than good grades. We simply had that hot, heavy type of love that was real.

  My hands shake as I uncover the lid to where the muffins are hiding. Sometimes, when I’m stressed out, I’ll bake. It’s terrible for my diet, but it’s something I’ve always done. I pull out two muffins and set them on the counter. The tears are barely at bay, so I stare at the chocolate chips on the baked goods until the sadness drains away.

  “Are you okay?” Anthony asks, the heat of his solid body warming me from behind. He reaches past me and picks up a muffin. I turn to watch him unwrap it, a crooked smile on his handsome face.

  “I’m fine. They’re chocolate chip.” My voice is squeaky and I want to shake myself. Of course they’re chocolate chip. Ugh.

  “You made them?” His brow lifts in question as he bites the muffin top.

  I try not to stare at his mouth. He has a man’s mouth. Dark hair dusts his face and those lips are full. Delectable and soft.

  “I did.”

  “My brother is going to love you.”

  Another surge of heat rushes through me. I’m reminded in this moment that Anthony has a twin named Aiden. “Oh, how nice.” Really, Steph?

  He smirks as he demolishes the muffin. I don’t argue with him when he steals the second one. Truth be told, it makes me happy to see someone besides me eating the damn things. Once he’s finished eating, he tosses the wrappers in the trash and stares at me with soft gray eyes. “Let me help you.”

  “I can manage—”

  “Oh, I know,” he utters. “But if anything, you could use the company, right?”

  The last thing I need is to be hanging out with Quinn Blakely’s hot as hell son. And yet, I’m nodding. I’m agreeing to something that has the potential to be very bad. I can’t even act normal around this guy. He’s so stupid-hot that I lose my mind. Very bad. Bad. Bad. Bad.

  “We good?”

  So good.

  “Yep,” I squeak out.

  “It’s settled then,” he says, a wicked gleam in his eyes as he reaches behind him to grab at his shirt. I watch, completely dumbfounded, as he pulls his T-shirt off over his head, baring his sculpted tanned chest at me.

  Holy shit.

  Abs for days.

  And dear God, that dark hair that trails from his belly button and disappears under his shorts is harmful to my health. I think I’m developing a heart problem. It’s stuttering right out of my chest. His hands go back to his hips and his fingers settle into the groove of his V-shaped muscles on his lower abdomen. I want to swat his hands away so I can admire them unobstructed.

  He laughs—smug ass—and I jerk my eyes away from his lower body. I certainly don’t want to get caught looking at his crotch again. Thankfully, he saves me and saunters out of the kitchen.

  I drink an entire bottle of water to cool off before I do anything regrettable like jump on his back and hump him like some horny animal.

  This is bad.

  So bad.

  Damn you, Anthony Blakely.

  Damn you.

  Anthony

  I dip the roller in the paint and begin rolling the ceiling. Her eyes burn into my back. I can’t help but smile. I’ve had a thing for Stephanie Greenwood ever since I first saw her working out at the gym one day last year. She didn’t see me, but me and a couple of my buddies were lifting nearby. I most definitely saw her. I’d been staring at her ass so hard, Sean and Matt gave me shit for days over it.

  MILF.

  That’s what they called her.

  That term still annoys the crap out of me. Stephanie is much more than a mom I’d like to fuck. Sure, I want to fuck her all right. But there’s more. I want to taste her. To watch her face as I kiss her in places she doesn’t get kissed often. I’ve been sexually active since I was fifteen and Dad let me off his tight leash. Sex isn’t anything new to me.

  But sex also isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.

  It’s a means to an orgasm.

  The chicks I’ve been with have been around my age, but they’re not very adventurous. You try to stick a finger up their butt and suddenly they want to go home. Something tells me Steph wouldn’t complain about a little ol’ finger in her ass.

  “So, are you ready for me tomorrow?” I ask over my shoulder.

  Her face turns bright red when she notices I’ve caught her staring at me again. Truth is, I like when she stares at me as though she wonders what my cock tastes like. I’d be happy to let her lick on it to see.

  “W-What?”

  “The internship. Tomorrow. Remember?”

  Her dark blond brows knit together. “That’s tomorrow?”

  “Yep. I’ll be your shadow until college starts up in the fall and hopefully some after that. Ready to teach me all there is to know about advertising?”

  She gives me a small smile. “You don’t find that boring
?”

  “It’s one of the few things Dad ever got excited about growing up. As a result, Aiden and I sort of got excited with him. I want to help my dad out with his company, so I’m looking forward to it,” I tell her honestly.

  “Willing interns are the best interns. I think it’ll be fun.” She seems to relax and walks over to the wall directly in my line of sight. When she bends over to tape off the light socket, my dick thickens in my shorts. Goddamn, Steph has a nice ass. Now it’s my time to stare. Her bare thighs are slender and muscular. The honey-colored skin just begs to be sucked on and bruised.

  “I’m very willing.”

  She turns to beam at me. Her hair is in a messy bun and paint speckles it, but I’ve never seen her so pretty before. “You’re a flirt. You know that?”

  I continue rolling the ceiling but wink at her. “I knew that. You’re the one who’s just discovering it.”

  “Well, cut it out,” she tells me with absolutely no venom in her words.

  “I’ll do no such thing, Greenwood.”

  “An intern, huh?” Damien, one of the ad guys at HK Advertising questions, his brows lifted. “I’m shocked Howard had that in the budget.”

  I shrug. “Steph got it cleared. And it’s not like they’re paying me anyway.”

  He laughs. “Sucks to be a kid. But I suppose with you being Quinn Blakely’s son, Howard saw that as an advantage. Probably hopes you’ll tell some of your daddy’s secrets.”

  The fucker is having fun at my expense. I’ll have some at his. “How’s Alani? Still life guarding at the public pool?” I flash him a wolfish grin—a grin that says, last summer I had my dick in your daughter.

  His jaw hardens and his brown eyes darken to almost black. Damien Rice may be this town’s big name being that he played basketball for the Knicks in his twenties, but he’s nothing but an arrogant asshole hell-bent on making himself look better than everyone else. It’s fun knocking him down a few pegs every now and again.

  Before he can open his mouth to answer, Steph comes striding out of her office. She’s the complete opposite from last night. Her silky hair has been straightened into long, smooth locks that beg to be fingered. Bright blue eyes shimmer with confidence and joy. She really fucking loves this job. The charcoal gray pencil skirt should be illegal for someone as sexy as her to wear in public. It hugs her perfect body in a sinful way. I’m staring at the way her tits bounce in her fancy white shirt when Damien clears his throat beside me. His narrowed eyes flicker with jealousy.

  Knowing he likes her pisses me off. Steph can do much better than giant assholes like Damien. And he is giant. He’s got at least two inches on me. I, however, could whip his ass in a heartbeat because I’ve got at least thirty solid pounds of extra muscle compared to his lean frame.

  “Anthony,” Steph chirps, a sweet smile turning up the corners of her lips. One day I’m going to kiss each corner of her mouth. “So glad you could make it.”

  I take a step closer to her and revel in the way her breath hitches at my proximity. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.” Despite being exhausted from the busy three-day weekend that ended with me painting a ceiling, mowing two yards, and cleaning two pools, I’m eager to work near Steph. Even if it’s only an hour each afternoon.

  “Good.” She beams. “Let’s get started then. Follow me into my office.”

  When she turns to walk away, I stare at her ass for a long moment. Damien lets out a grumble before stalking after her. He reaches for her and grabs her elbow. His mocha-colored skin is a stark contrast against her sun-kissed flesh.

  “Let me take you to dinner tonight.” His brown eyes flicker to mine and triumph dances in his gaze. Fucking prick.

  She casts a quick glance my way. When our eyes meet, her neck burns bright red. As if to shake away the wrong thoughts buzzing in her head, she nods absently at him. Jealousy spikes through me.

  “Great,” he purrs as he releases her. “I’ll pick you up at seven.”

  He strides away, reminding me of a panther in the jungle. Sleek. Dangerous. Calculating. I grit my teeth and storm after Steph. Once inside her office that smells like her, I calm down considerably. I can daydream about me and Stephanie Greenwood fucking all damn day, but the truth is, she won’t ever let that happen. From the intel I gathered discreetly from both Lacy and Dad, I know she doesn’t date hardly at all. And she mostly dates men older than her. Like Damien. But the very thought of him gripping her so possessively all damn night on their date irritates the fuck out of me.

  “So, I thought for today, you could just kind of watch me work. It’ll give you a sense of my work flow and how I do things. Feel free to take notes and I’ll answer any questions along the way. Then, tomorrow, we can see about breaking down each part of my job.” She sits in her leather chair and straightens her back. Her full tits poke out and once again, my dick is hard for this woman.

  We spend the next half hour with her effortlessly flitting through her work day. I spend more time staring at her cleavage than what’s on her computer screen, but she doesn’t notice. Eventually, I blurt out what’s on my mind.

  “You’re really going to go out with that prick?”

  She swivels in her chair and regards me with a frown. “It’s just dinner.”

  “Is it?”

  Her nostrils flare and she crosses her legs. The action causes her skirt to rise up her thighs. I lazily skim my eyes across her naked flesh.

  “It is just dinner. Not that it’s any of your business,” she huffs.

  “You’re going to fuck him.”

  “Anthony!” she cries out, horror flickering in her pretty blue eyes. “You can’t say stuff like that to me.”

  “Why?” I challenge. I lean forward and rest my elbows on my knees so that I’m even closer to her.

  “Because…” she trails off and lifts her eyes to the ceiling. “You’ve just barely graduated high school.”

  My hand twitches to touch her. I run my knuckle across her knee because I have to feel her smooth skin. “So? I’m eighteen.”

  She rolls back away from my probing finger. “It’s unethical to talk about these things at work.” Her gaze softens. “Look, I know you like me. And in another world, maybe I could like you too. But nothing will ever come of it. You’re young and about to go to college. I’m a mother. A grandmother, for crying out loud.”

  A hot as fuck grandma.

  “Please just be professional. I’m sorry.” She stands abruptly and I snag her wrist. A choked sound escapes her.

  “He’s a predator, Steph. Guys know this shit. He’ll find a way to fuck you. Mark my words,” I bite out, my grip squeezing around her tiny wrist.

  Her hand jerks from mine and she glares at me, fire blazing in her blue eyes. “You don’t know anything, Anthony Blakely, because you’re just a boy. Now that’s enough. Don’t make me call your father.”

  Fury explodes inside me and I jump to my feet so that I tower over her. She wants to play mommy all of a sudden? Like she wasn’t just lusting over my cock last night?

  “Whatever, Greenwood. I’m out. See you tomorrow.” I give her a long stare before I turn on my heel and stalk out of her office.

  “I’m taking my break,” my twin brother Aiden hollers to someone behind the counter at the bakery he works at.

  He nods with his head to follow him outside. Once outside of the busy establishment, he crosses his arms and frowns at me. “What happened?”

  Twin intuition.

  Aiden and I have always had that link that normal brothers don’t have. Something that hardwires our brains together.

  “Stephanie Greenwood is going out with Damien Rice tonight,” I snap, my body thrumming with fury.

  Aiden’s brows scrunch together. “And?”

  I glower at him. “And he’s just going to fuck and dump her.”

  “Okay, let me start over. Why does this piss you off?”

  My jaw clenches and understanding flickers in his light smoky eyes.

/>   “Ahhh, you like her. We’re talking about Lacy’s mom here. The blonde?”

  The sexiest damn woman in this town. As if he doesn’t know this already.

  “Yep.”

  “Dad would have a fit,” he tells me in amusement.

  “As if he has any room to talk,” I bite back. “Ava’s not much older than us.”

  “Touché.”

  “Stephanie’s just too nice for that asshole to fuck with her, you know?”

  He nods. “But she’s a grown-ass woman. She’s going to do what she wants. And apparently, that’s not you,” he teases.

  Today, though, I’m not at all amused.

  “Fuck off, man,” I snarl as I storm past him.

  He snatches my bicep and keeps me from running off. “Maybe she won’t be into him. I wouldn’t worry about it too much.”

  “Whatever. I’m just a boy,” I mutter. “It’s not like it matters anyway.”

  “Anthony…”

  “I’ll see you at home.”

  I leave my brother and spend the rest of the evening driving around. Every time I think about her hooking up with that asshole, it pisses me off. By the time I go home, everyone is in bed. I creep upstairs to find Aiden sprawled out on his bed next to mine texting someone.

  “Do you think I’m gay?” he asks suddenly, his brows furled together.

  I shrug out of the stupid suit jacket Dad made me wear and toss it on my bed. “What the fuck? Where is this coming from?”

  He frowns and shows me his phone. My brother watches more porn than anyone I know. And that’s what he’s showing me right now. Porn.

  “So?”

  “Look at it,” he grumbles.

  I snag his phone and stare at the guy kissing another guy. “Your point?”

  “I like it.”

  Snorting with laughter, I look at the picture again. “I like it too.”

  His eyes widen in surprise. “You do?”

  “I also like watching two chicks going at it. And a man and a woman. If it’s hot, I’m into it. Doesn’t make me gay. Also, doesn’t make you gay.”