Wyatt-1(Lane Brothers, Book 1)(50)

She never once complained about leaving her old life behind and seems so focused on Ellie and the renewed friendship that I haven’t had the heart to ask her what made her leave Philly so easily.

I’ll get to the bottom of that, though, because I won’t have any trouble at my little sis’s doorstep now, especially not with her seven months pregnant and ready to pop at any second.

But Clara does intrigue me, and boy, does the woman know how to tease my lust. I’ve jacked off to thoughts of her for a month solid now and haven’t so much as looked at another woman since laying eyes on the beauty.

“Good God, man, stop trying to eye fuck that woman if you’re going to cold shoulder her every chance you get. Mixed signals are beneath you, dude,” Jared says and I snarl when his eyes land on Clara and stay there.

“Stop looking at her, moron.”

“Why? It’s not like you’re going to go for it, so why shouldn’t I give her a try? She seems nice and sweet and looks so good, I bet she’s a good girl turned wild in the sack.”

That does it.

The push I give him to get him out of the room as quietly as possible sends him reeling before he comes back with a sucker punch to my nose and I give him a knee to the gut.

“Goddammit, calm your ass down, Miah. I was just looking, bro.”

“You don’t look. You don’t think about her. She’s not on the fucking market, moron!”

Calm down, Miah. That sounded a lot like you claiming that woman, and we do not do that shit, dude. Not ever.

Too bad, because I’d spend a good portion of my life wanting to wake up to that kind of sweet beauty every morning. Maybe that includes thinking about fucking her, too.

She’d need a ring, though, and maybe a few babies to round things off.

“Jesus Christ, Jeremiah, if you’re so possessive of the woman, why don’t you just ask her out, bro?” Jared wheezes, bending at the knees to catch his breath.

“You know why, so stop trying to goad me, asshole. Just stop looking at her and leave me alone.”

“Huh, and here I thought you were smarter than that shit. You still tripping over Carrie? Dude, she made her choices and there’s nothing you can do or say that would change the outcome, man. Get over it and move on already.”

The mention of that name makes my blood boil and threaten to explode out of me, and it takes a force of will to wrestle the memories back and lock them away where they belong.

At least with a bad girl you know what you’re getting. You have a good time and you can both walk away happy and sharing a mutual respect that good girls never seem to have for guys like me.

I’ve dated a good girl, and I got my heart stomped on for my effort. No matter how much I want Clara, and no matter how many looks she throws my way, I’m not going there.

Definitely not.

I think.



~ END OF WYATT ~

Miah's story will be released on the 13th of May





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RED LOVE





Chapter One


The Metropolitan Museum of Art is my favorite place in the world, hands down. I love everything about it, from the steps at the entrance to the crowds of people vying to see the art.

I visit at least once a month without fail and never cease to be spellbound by everything all over again, nevermind how many times I’ve been. My favorite painting is Monet’s Sunflowers.

It’s the happiest painting I’ve ever seen, or at least, it makes me happy every time I see it.

My college professor despaired of my one-dimensional view of art the whole time he’d been cursed with me and my uninspired ass. He said my interpretation of art is skewed, flat, and altogether too happy when faced with a world of possibilities.

All I know is that I love creating something that is happy and colorful, something that brings joy to those who see it. And I love flowers.

Sue me.

It’s as I’m leaving that I make the quick decision to pop into the gift store, even though I know I won’t find the print I’ve been looking for. Every time I come here I’m disappointed. I never get my print of the Sunflowers.

Last year Mom had bought me a tote of the Water Lilies for Christmas. I don’t have the heart to tell her it’s not what I wanted, so I’d aaahhhed and held it aloft and then gone home and hung it from a hook to store extra brush rags.

“It’s a beauty, this one,” I hear from somewhere to my left.