Temptation, The Complete Serial Series 1-4 (The Temptation Serial Series) (13 page)

I watched as Brooklyn walked toward me, her and Willy bobbing and weaving through the crowd. The sun was setting, casting an orange-yellow glow over the festival. Some of the vendors had already turned their lights on. There were rides up on the hill, and I wondered if she’d ridden any yet. Unfortunately, I was on duty. I would have loved to take her up on that Ferris wheel, letting my fingers drift over to the smooth skin of her thigh, easing her dress up just enough …

“Evening, Officer,” she drawled in her fake southern accent.

“Evenin’ Ma’am,” I mocked her with a smile that hurt my cheeks.

Dalton coughed beside me, staring at me with an evil, intrigued grin. “You gonna introduce us, Stone?”

Matt Dalton was one of my best friends, but he was also a whore among men. And he wasn’t gonna sleep with
my
tenant. That would be awkward. My fists tightened involuntarily, just before I clapped him hard on the back. “This is my partner, Matthew Dalton. I call him Dalton. His mama calls him Pooky.”

Willy and Brooklyn burst into laughter. “Well, Pooky,” she snorted, extending her hand to him, “I’m Brooklyn Harris.”

His eyebrows rose. “The Vegas showgirl?” As his eyes raked over her, I felt my blood boil.

I had to intervene after watching the smile fade from Brooklyn’s face. “She dances and sings. She’s no stripper, and definitely not your type, buddy.” I made sure Brooklyn was watching as I continued, “Besides, she’s too classy for you, Dalt.”

Dalton’s eyes narrowed on me. “But not for
you
, right? After Chriss—”

“Shut your face, Dalton,” I ordered.

Willy coughed to cover his laugh, but Brooklyn was shutting down. She looked up at me and gave half a smile. “We’ll see you later. You’re obviously busy.”

I nodded and swallowed the thick words I wanted to say to her—that she was the prettiest thing I’d ever seen, that I never wanted to see her frown again, and that I’d kill my own best friend and partner if he ever doused the light in her eyes again.

She and Willy walked away, down the street that led away from the festival. She was going home.

I slugged Dalton. “Asshole.”

“What?” He looked up, slack-jawed, rubbing his arm.

“Don’t ever bring
her
up again,” I warned, trying to stare a hole in his thick head.

He shook his head. “You need to let
her
go, man. It’s been how long? Two years? She’s preg—“

“I’m trying!” I looked down the side street where I last saw Brooklyn walking. “I’m trying, Dalt.”

He held his hands up in surrender and smiled. “I can see that now.”

***

Vacation, for most people, meant lounging in the sun with a beer in their hand on some sandy shore where the salt water could wash their troubles away for a little while. For me, vacation meant more work. The condos weren’t gonna renovate themselves.

Willy was with me all the way. He never complained or relented. We worked well together, always had. And until this morning, the pair of us had never had an extra pair of hands to help us—especially not a slender, beautiful pair with pretty red polish on the nails.

Holding a piece of sheet rock for me, Willy smiled and jerked his head to the left. Brooklyn stood in the doorway wearing a pair of frayed jean shorts and a green tank top. Damn, she looked good in work boots, too.

“Where the hell did you get steel toes, Brooky?” Willy asked.

“Brooky?” I muttered under my breath.

She smiled and tucked her hair under the bill of one of my spare ball caps. “There’s a lot that you don’t know about me, Willy. You see, it was recently mandated that I take up volunteer work, and while the soup kitchens were fun, I preferred working with Habitat. Hammering a nail was much more cathartic than ladling soup.”

Willy snickered. “’Mandatory volunteering’? Sounds like community service to me.”

“It was,” she deadpanned.

That got my attention. “For what?”

She ticked her head to the side. “You mean you haven’t done a background check on me yet, Boss Man?”

“Boss Man?” Hell fucking yes. That sounded hot coming out of her mouth.

She shrugged. “That’s what Willy calls you.”

The loud buzzing in my ears wasn’t from the power tool in my hand. And it wasn’t the only thing that wanted to drill something.

“So you’re here to help?”

She smiled sweetly. “Yep. I’m all yours to command. Just point me in the right direction.”

I’d tell her what direction, and in what position.
Willy stared at her like a manther. What was I going to do with him?

“Oh, and you can pay me back by teaching me how to shoot a gun,” she announced in a chipper voice.

“A gun? What for?”

She stopped smiling and grabbed one of my extra tool belts, securing it around the swell of her hips. My dick fucking twitched. This woman was gonna kill me. Probably with the gun I taught her to use.

“Protection.”

“What do you need protection from, Miss Brooklyn?” Willy asked sincerely. He stepped away from the drywall now that it was secure, and waited as she fidgeted with the frays on her jeans. I’d never seen her look scared until now.

She cleared her throat. I expected her to tell him everything, but she didn’t. Instead, she steeled her eyes on me and said, “I just need help and if you won’t help me, I’ll find someone who will. I bet Dalton wouldn’t mind giving me private lessons.”

Fuck. No.

“I’ll do it.”

“Brook?”

“Brooklyn?”

The doorbell rang rapid fire. Ding. Ding. Ding. Ding. Ding.

“Coming!”

I ran to the door, flung it open, and then flung myself at her. There was a whole lot of flinging going on.

Pulling back from me, Morgan’s eyes went wide. “What happened to your hair? Why didn’t you tell me you changed it? I LOVE it!” She ran her fingers through the now-dark strands in utter awe of the mess.

Morgan had spent a few extra days with Shaney-pooh before he finally let her up for air and let her come back to Swift Rapids. Truthfully, she was safer when she was with him. She should’ve stayed. I told her this in many forms; verbally, via text, via e-mail. I even considered carrier pigeon. But with her stubbornness, it wouldn’t have worked. Frustrating woman.

“I have a ton of stuff to show you! Are you ready to get started today?”

“Sure. But first, caffeine.”

She grinned and held up one finger. “Be right back.”

Morgan loved me. She brought me coffee. She also brought paint and canvases and brushes and…what the hell was that?

“Morgan?”

“Shh. It’s equipment and props for the shoot, silly.”

The giant teal rolling tote was a beast for us to maneuver up the steps, but we did it, albeit with copious amounts of grunting involved. Thank goodness Colt and Willy weren’t around to witness it. I’d never live it down.

The skinny, I learned over a second cup of coffee, was that Morg’s father was going to try to cash in a few favors and see if he could find out anything that Riley hadn’t already. Shane reluctantly flew back to Vegas because Manny was whipping him into even better shape for a fight he had coming up in a couple of months. Plus, Morgan had every piece of photography equipment known to man that could be stuffed into the tiny rental car strewn all over the living room floor. “What is all this stuff?”

“Oh, just a few things I bought. D.C. has the best stores.”

“Um-hmm.”

She smiled. I told her about Willy taking me to the festival, about Dalton and his assholish assumptions about me (the ones that everyone on earth shared), how Colt had jumped his ass, and about how I’d helped with the renovations in Condo number four while she was gone.

“So, Colt’s ass looks pretty fine in a tool belt, huh?” Morgan asked, wiggling her eyebrows.

“Hell yes. It’s ridiculous.” I blew over the surface of the velvety brown liquid, watching the steam dissipate and imagining that taut ass of his.
Sigh. Pretty sure there’s a history of woman-hating there. Between Chrissy, or Christy, or whomever Dalton was getting ready to mention, and the psycho scissor wielder, Lynn… Poor guy.

She put her coffee cup down. “Is Colt still on vacation?”

“Yeah. Why?” I lowered my cup.

“We need a few things for the shoot today and I could use some muscle later on if he or Willy would want to help!”

“They’re busy, Morg.”

“Pssh. I just need to borrow a shirt from Colt and maybe fifteen minutes of their time later. They’ll be well compensated.”

“What sort of compensation?” I asked guardedly.

“They’ll get to see you all dolled up, of course!”

“Great,” I deadpanned.

She was down the steps and over at Colt’s before I could get up from my seat. And by the time I walked over to stand on his porch with Morgan, he was already rifling around looking for the items on a freaking list that she’d given him.

“A list?”

Morgan shrugged. “Better to bother him now with it all than to keep pestering him the rest of the day.”

I huffed, folding my arms over my chest. I didn’t want her to bother him at all. Ever.

“Y’all come on in. I’ll be a few minutes!” Colt’s deep voice came through the glass storm door.

Before I could swat her hand away from the brass handle, she wrenched it open and stepped into the foyer. “Damn it, Sin!” I hissed.

“What?” She fluttered her eyelashes. “Oh, it smells good in here. He smells yummy!” she whisper-yelled, her eyes wide.

“Shut up!” There was an inferno beneath my cheeks and it took a hell of a lot to make me nervous.

“What’s going on?” Colt smirked from the top step, holding a pile of weird things. I could see a dress shirt, frying pan, Tupperware of various sizes, flour, and a thick book.

I cleared my throat. “Nothing.”

“I didn’t have a couple of the things you need, but if you want I can take you to the store.”

“No, that’ll be fine,” Morgan answered. He walked down the steps and offered to carry the pile of stuff over to my place. “We can get it. There
are
two of us,” she added with a giggle.