Hunks, Hammers, and Happily Ever Afters (17 page)

Lance Matthews never gave up without a fight.

“He’s serious, isn’t he?” JC asked with a sigh.

“Very.” When JC grabbed my hand, I realized it was shaking.

“Hey, hey. It’ll be okay.” He curled his arm around my shoulders and pulled me in close to kiss my hair. “Everything’s going to be just fine.”

A few minutes later, we walked out to the foyer to join Emerson. JC had his arm around me still, and I clutched his waist. Emerson was speaking quietly to my dad, but all conversation ceased when we stepped into the hall.

“Lily,” my dad said stiffly.

“Daddy.” I fumbled for the necklace at my throat. It had been given to me by my mother, and most of the time I forgot it was there. The little ballerina on the chain had been a replica of one of my first dolls. Another link to my past, and my future.

Just like Emerson and JC.

“So you’re with both of these men.”

The bald statement threw me off. I started to move away from JC, but he held fast. And Emerson moved to flank my other side.

My silent sentinels, always ready to do battle for me. But it was time I stand up and fight for them too.

“Yes, I am.” I slipped my hand into Emerson’s and squeezed his fingers tightly. My other hand gripped JC’s waist. “I love them both, and they both love me. And...and...” This would be the stickiest point for my conservative father. Tied with the whole my-baby-girl-has-two-boyfriends thing, I was sure.

“And we love each other too,” Emerson finished. “JC and me.”

“That so?” My father crossed his arms over his barrel chest. He wore his uniform, and the badge hooked on his belt seemed particularly mocking.

Any moment now, I was going to lose my father, within twenty-four hours of gaining the best two men I could’ve ever wished for.

JC nodded. “Yes, sir. It’s so.”

“Lily?”

I took a deep breath. “Yes, we’re all in love, and we’re all together, and we’d like your blessing, but if you can’t give it, I’m not giving them up. Mom fought for everything. She fought to have me, and that afternoon she fought for her life with those men.” I heard his intake of breath, saw the flare in his eyes so like mine, but I didn’t stop. I couldn’t. “She fought every day, and I didn’t. I haven’t. I’ve just let you and Em wrap me up tight. But now I’m going to take care of them. Both of them, just like they’re taking care of me.”

My father’s jaw locked. “Oh, I can just bet.”

Heat rushed into my face. Okay, not the best choice of words. “I want to take care of you too,” I murmured, easing away from them to inch closer to my father. “I want to help you move on. To date. Maybe you could find someone to—”

“No.” He shook his head. “I’m not going to discuss it. I’m not moving on from your mother. She’s the only woman I ever loved.”

“Then you understand where I’m coming from,” I pleaded, searching for some crack in his icy façade. “These are the only two men I’ve ever loved.” Ever will love, but I wouldn’t make that declaration now.

Only time would tell if my gut feeling was right.

My father shut his eyes. “I have to go to work, Lily.”

The resignation in his voice sliced through me, and I nodded, already stumbling back to the safety of the ones who loved me. Who approved of me, still. But he wasn’t done yet.

“We’ll talk later.” His eyes opened, laser-sharp, and focused on mine. “I promise. Okay?”

I nodded and grabbed hold of the strong hands already reaching for me on both sides. I couldn’t ask for any more than this. If my dad was willing to talk, there was still a chance. “Okay. Thank you.”

He turned to the door and pulled it open.

“But I’m not going on no damn dates. Don’t you get any ideas either, son,” he added, glancing at Emerson. Then he shook his head and let the door slam closed behind him.

Emerson glanced down at me, lips twitching. “Hear that, Ms. Matchmaker?”

Somehow I managed to laugh. He’d called Emerson son. Everything was going to be all right. It had to be.

JC bumped my hip, which bumped me into Emerson. “Let’s go back to bed.”

I looked between the two of them and smiled. “Yes. Let’s.”

Epilogue

JC

The crowd was spoiling for a brawl. Handy thing we were at yet another Friday night fight night.

Tonight’s ticket consisted of Giovanni Costas and Emerson Knapp. And the people were ready for a show.

Me, I was ready for anything. In the past two months that Lily, Emerson and I had been together, I’d discovered I didn’t always have to be a smart-ass. I’d turned into a guy who was stupidly in love. And I wouldn’t change a second.

I gripped Lily’s waist and kissed her neck. “You doing okay?”

“Mmm, better than.” She pressed a hand to her belly. “Probably should’ve skipped that corn dog. I’m nervous.”

“No reason to be. He’s going to kick ass.”

“Yeah, but Giovanni’s incredible. And Carly’s about to pop, so he’ll probably be taking some time off. He’ll want to go out on top.”

I bit her ear. “I want to go out on top. Bottom’s okay too.”

“Pervert.” Her laughter quieted as Kim, ring card girl extraordinaire, climbed into the ring to announce the match.

I held her through three rounds, then four. Neither of them were tapping out. Half the rounds were freaking draws. By round five, Emerson was stumbling around like he was drunk and Giovanni was wheezing like he needed oxygen. Lily had her knuckles pressed to her mouth and the crowd was torn between screaming for their favorites—and they were pretty evenly split—and watching in shocked silence as the men pummeled each other.

Just when I was I sure they’d go another five rounds, Gio dragged Emerson into a combination that defied logic and gravity. Legs tangled, they crashed to the mat. Somehow they reversed positions, and amazingly, it was Emerson who raised his fist to deliver the final blow.

I expected the sound of bones crunching, but there was only the ref’s whistle. It was over. He’d won.

Hot damn.

The audience went wild, screaming, yelling. Boos sounded from Gio’s legion of fans, but they were drowned out by the cheering. Lily and I led the brigade. No one was going to shout or whistle louder than we would for the guy we loved.

Once Emerson headed back to the locker room, I grinned down at Lily. She was still pale, but her bright green eyes burned with excitement. “So...” I looped an arm around her shoulders and we joined the groups of people swarming for the doors. “How do you feel about a quick shower?”

But she didn’t smile. “No way.”

My smile faded. “Why not?”

We’d all been insatiable for weeks, unable to get enough of each other no matter how many times we were together. I hoped she wasn’t growing tired of our sex-a-thons, since I had a feeling I never would.

Sex with Lily and Emerson was basically the pinnacle of life as I knew it.

“It’s a long shower or nothing, pal.” She poked me in the ribs and sprinted down the hall, taking the most likely route to the locker room.

Halfway there, she turned back. “Guess who has a date tonight, by the way?”

“Hmm. It’s not you. Unless you count naked Chinese.”

“Works for me. But no, it’s not me. Try my dad.” She pumped her fist. “He’s going out with a woman who, get this, is one of Emerson’s landscaping clients. He had to give her up when he started training with Einrich, but he still tries to help her out when he can. One day he couldn’t make it, and he mentioned my dad being handy with a long lopper and—”

“Whoa. Dirty.”

She giggled. “They’re going out for steak and a movie. I’m so happy I could bust.”

I caught her around the waist and lifted her off her feet, giving her a smacking kiss. “Me too.”

“Hey you two, gonna get in here sometime soon?”

Emerson’s lazy drawl had me looking over Lily’s head to where he stood in the bathroom doorway. He wore his shorts and a telltale maroon hoodie wrapped around his waist.

Recently, he’d had some sweatshirts made that said “Lily’s Dollhouses”, and he’d taken to wearing them before fights. Lily’s business had exploded from the increased exposure. Instead of people thinking it was an old-fashioned hobby, she was doing all kinds of tricked out designs to accommodate her new clients. Her latest project was a replica boxing ring. I kept telling her she needed to include a tiny Em with a jacked up dick, but so far she hadn’t obliged me.

The shorts and hoodie wrapped around Em’s waist weren’t all he was wearing. He also sported a colorful assortment of bruises—and a let’s fuck smile.

I gave Lily a light shove. “Sounds like we have an appointment of our own, babe.”

She rushed toward Emerson and smiled at me over her shoulder. “And I think it’s going to take all night.”

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CARI QUINN

USA Today bestselling author Cari Quinn wrote her first story—a bible parable—in 2nd grade, much to the delight of the nuns at her Catholic school. Once she saw the warm reception that first tale garnered, she was hooked. Now she gets to pen sexy romances for a living and routinely counts her lucky stars. When she’s not scribbling furiously, she can usually be found watching men’s college basketball, playing her music way too loud or causing trouble. Sometimes simultaneously.

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By Cathy Clamp

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Hot Summer Nights

Copyright © Cathy Clamp 2015

G
abriel Silva started working as a handyman at the Starlight Motel when he emigrated from Brazil a decade ago.  When the owner died, he inherited half. The other half went to Sophie Greene, the man’s granddaughter. And oh, what a woman she was! Smart, fiery and gorgeous  and could hammer nails as fast as him . . . maybe even faster. He could watch her climb and stretch all day, and all night too! But she wanted to turn the Starlight into a high end resort spa! Never!

It made sense that Sophie would inherit the motel, since she’d managed Grandpa Will’s string of rental properties in Texas, but the Starlight had always been a money pit. She had better get the place profitable, and quick, if she wanted to eat next month. Meeting Gabe sent shock waves through her. Not only suave and handsome, but he could handle power tools as well as her. She saw how he looked at her, his eyes raking her body as she put up roofing next to him. Maybe there were other ways to convince him to see things her way...

CHAPTER ONE

The pounding in Gabe’s head was getting worse. If he didn’t get out of the sun pretty soon, he was going to wind up with heat stroke. The buzz of cicadas in the ancient cypress trees overhead made the air feel even heavier— thick enough to cut with a knife. Even if the sun hadn’t been so unrelenting, the humidity weighed down his clothes. They hung from him like he’d been swimming in the pool.  The patterned scarf covering his head was soaked with sweat and his eyes stung from the salt. But the new roof panels were up and just in time, if the dark clouds on the horizon were any indication.

“Gabe!” He looked down and saw tiny Mrs. Hernandez using her extension tongs to hold up a bottle of water from her third floor balcony. “You’re all red. Drink. Drink.”

Her age spotted hands shook as she reached the bottle as high as she could with the metal pincer contraption she always carried around. It was a nice gesture, but he honestly wasn’t sure if he could bend far enough down to grab it without falling head first onto the pavement.

He waved at her and walked down the steep slope of the roof, keeping the tie line of his safety harness at an angle so it didn’t tangle. She squinted up at him. “
Obrigado, Senhora Dona
Hernandez. Thank you. But I have water up here. I will take a break soon. I promise.”

She lowered the water bottle and shook her head. “You work too hard, Gabriel.” She always pronounced it as though he was French, with a soft ‘a’ and an emphasis on the ‘el’. It wasn’t correct, but he liked how she said it. “You should tell Mr. Will that you need help.”

“Mr. Will passed away,
Senhora Dona
. Don’t you remember? A few months ago.” And he’d just used the last supplies that the old owner had paid for. Other than the few wrappers of shingles to cover the wood and a little paint, the supply room was empty.

But he was ready. He’d saved nearly every dime he’d been paid as an employee, just like Will Green had taught him. How many nights had he slept hungry, even while there was money in the bank? When the motel was officially his, he could care for it. Mr. Will had kept track of  much the shingles cost, and the same for each plate of glass, square foot of carpet and even pillows. He’d read the reports and understood them.
I’m ready. Like I promised.

He let out a slow breath as the frail widow escaped back into her room, probably to put her face deep into the breeze from the air conditioner. The Louisiana heat was hard on the people who lived here. He had to make sure he kept their rooms in good repair. Every air conditioner worked, was top of the line. The independence of living at the Starlight Motel, not being a burden on their families, was their pride . . . and his. This wasn’t a motel. It was a community.

He opened the cooler tucked in the shade next to the television antenna, but even though he’d packed it with blocks of ice when he’d started on the roof, the bottles of Gatorade were floating in a pool of tepid water now. Still, warm was better than hot and he gratefully gulped down the salty orange fluid.

There was no way he was going to have time to get the shingles put down before the storm hit, so he started to roll out plastic sheeting to cover the bare wood. It was exterior grade, but it would still be easier to shingle tomorrow if the wood wasn’t wet.