Ask Me Why(57)

“Daddy?”

“Yeah, buddy?”

“Do you love Miss Braelyn yet?”

I grunt. “No, Ollie. We’re just friends.”

He peeks up at me, shuffling his feet. “Are you sure? She smiles at you a lot. Just like you smile at her.”

“Positive. We’re just happy to be around you.” I ruffle his hair, but it doesn’t have the usual effect. Ollie’s features remain flat.

In the next beat, his eyes take on their familiar sparkle. “You should hold her hand. I’ll take the seat on the end so you can be together.”

My little matchmaker is back in action. Guns blazing at rapid fire.

I look in the direction Braelyn went but don’t see her. “No, buddy. You can sit between us. Otherwise it would feel funny.”

He stomps his foot, and I laugh. Ollie sees something over my head, his gaze expanding with something I’m terrified to discover.

This time, his smile is victorious. “Well, what if you two get on the big camera screen? Will you kiss her?”

The evening plays out before my eyes, and I groan. Inviting Braelyn to this game suddenly seems like a horrible idea. Or the best one yet.

With a bit of coaxing, or bribing, Ollie agrees to sit between us. Until the sixth inning. I didn’t think much of it until that cheesy ass music started up. A knot the size of Lake Superior twists my stomach. This type of fanfare gives major league sports a bad name.

Spread across numerous jumbo screens are unsuspecting couples, or two random people of the opposite sex trying to enjoy a simple non-date. From the corner of my eye, I catch Braelyn laughing and pointing. She’s enjoying the show, of course. I want to chuck a ball at the video camera hovering nearby. With each passing duo, the bricks in my gut crumble. The chances are damn unlikely they’ll plaster us up there.

But, as my shitty luck would have it, Braelyn’s gorgeous face and my scowling mug flash on screen. I watch her eyes bulge, a flush already racing up that slender neck. Asshole I might be, but leaving her hanging isn’t my style.

So, I do the reasonable thing. I lean over and kiss her.





Braelyn



Castles



Brance buries his face in my neck, nipping at the sensitive skin. I arch up and silently beg for more. He gives it, thrusting inside of me faster and harder. Good Lord, this man was made for sex.

He licks a trail down my throat while picking up his pace between my legs. The dual sensation is almost enough. I tighten my arms around him, nails digging deeper into his back. An upward arch of my spine. Oh, oh, yes. Brance does some magical grind with his pelvis. I crash our hips together and he hits my clit just right. Holy wow, my— Incessant buzzing yanks me from the X-rated dream I was having. Dammit, things were just getting really good. The fantasy is officially popped with my loud groan, followed closely by a stretch to make any cat jealous. It’s my one day to sleep in. Who the hell is calling so early?

I reach for my phone, prepared to give the recipient a tongue-lashing. I falter when catching sight of the screen. There’s a slew of messages waiting from Brance. Even in my state of dismay, I snicker at his nickname.



B-Ran: Good morning, Brae. Plans today?

B-Ran: Ollie says hello. (image attached)



The picture gives me pause. I rub the crust from my eyes and take a better look. That kid is so cute. Smiling wide for the camera, dimples on full display. I resume scrolling.



B-Ran: Still sleeping?

B-Ran: (image attached)



When I open the picture, all the fizzling heat in my lower belly launches to piping hot and ready for action. I zoom in on Brance’s handsome face. He’s not smiling, but the cocky tilt to his lips is even better. His jaw is dusted with weekend stubble, just the right amount to leave evidence on my inner thighs and neck. Or breasts. I squeeze my legs together and check the time. Maybe I can self-love before coffee. With this new spank-bank material, my orgasm is already halfway there. It’d probably only take a few swipes. I scan the remaining messages with a quick glance.



B-Ran: Nothing? Would below the belt work?

B-Ran: Tough crowd.

B-Ran: Ollie is getting restless.

B-Ran: Wake up, babe. Please?



Babe? Please? What alternative universe did I wake up in? We’ve been sleeping together for weeks, but I wasn’t aware that granted me an upgraded nickname.

Plans of getting myself off are forgotten with a simple word. This is a game changer. Or I’m digging far deeper than he intended. Probably the latter. It’s just a pet name, the most causal one at that. But Brance using it feels very different.

My cell vibrates in my hand, and I almost drop it.



B-Ran: I tried the simple way.



I furrow my brow. What does he mean by that? I jump ten feet straight in the air when my doorbell rings. The loud knock calls out immediately after. My lungs seize, and I cough out a breath. He wouldn’t just randomly show up. I glance back at my cell. This morning’s events have proven his recent unpredictability. Shit.

With the speed only several mugs of caffeine induce, I get my ass moving. I toss on a shirt and stumble into some shorts. There’s no time for a mirror check so I pat my hair down into some semblance of tame. I dart down the hall, tripping over who-knows-what in my haste to investigate his level of crazy.