Page 25 of Messing With My Brother's Best Friends

“You did this?”

Connor’s growl had my smile fading, and when he took a few steps forward, my whole body tensed. Run the fuck away, my brain declared, knowing how this would go. That was what I did when the boys turned on me when we were kids, but not now. I forced my feet to plant firmly, my back straightening to the sound of the others’ laughter, right as I was forced to confront something I’d missed.

Connor moved like a goddamn panther, and being naked did nothing to create a sense of vulnerability. He was perfectly, completely comfortable in his own skin, and as he got closer, I could see why. I’d watched plenty of movies with guys that had washboard abs but that wasn’t the same as seeing them in reality. My smile faded as I traced the shape of each muscle, my eyes dropping down, down, down, until…

Shit, I was staring at Connor’s dick.

Like it was impossible not to, because even on the slack, he was impressive. Like a girl had to hope he was a shower not a grower, or he’d wreck her cervix on the first stroke.

Stop looking at his dick! my brain screeched.

But my eyes had a mind of their own, tracing the long vein that traversed the impressive length, catching the moment something jerked and then started to swell.

Look away. Look away. Look away.

My body quivered, all of this adrenaline pumping through me, but not sure to what purpose. Did I run away or towards the massive dick that was slowly thickening, showing me just what I’d have to deal with if I got closer?

Away.

My brain finally started firing properly and I just wiggled my fingers in the air in goodbye as I grinned at the lot of them.

“Gotta go or I’ll be late for work. Have a good one and watch out for stray dogs!”

It didn’t happen often, but somehow I had the key in the deadlock, flicking it open before I strode down the front path. Connor couldn’t follow without flashing the whole street, and the other two idiots were too busy laughing to stop me, so I was in my car by the time Connor reached the door. He was forced to close it mostly, staring through the crack as I started Daisy. The damn car had a sixth sense, the engine firing the first time I turned the key, so I threw her into gear and made a quick getaway.

“Fuck yes!” I shouted as I took off down the road. No matter how long I stayed with the guys, the look on Connor’s face was now a core memory I’d pull out and revisit any time I was down.

Work, of course, was a bit of a let-down in comparison. Chris, the baker that ran the place, greeted me the minute I walked in the door but was too busy bringing out all of the baked goods he’d been working on since the early hours to bother with chit chat. I set up the register, flipped the open sign, and then dealt with a steady stream of customers.

That was a good thing.

I loved and hated working at a bakery. The smell of flour and yeast that hit me the moment I walked in. The sweetness of icing sugar, the spice of cinnamon and nutmeg. It was familiar, and comforting, and stressful, and trauma-inducing all at the same time, but I could ignore it if I focussed on work, so I made coffees and placed pies and pastries into paper bags, handed over sliced loaves of bread all morning, right up until the point they came in.

The sight of bright-yellow, high-vis gear didn’t alert me to anything. We had a lot of the local tradies come through for smoko breaks, and as it was mid-morning, I expected to get a few through. They were always big spenders, needing a steady supply of carbs and protein to keep them going, as well as endless cups of coffee. These guys, I quickly realised, were not my regulars.

“How can I…?” My throat threatened to close up as three familiar figures came and leaned against the counter. “Oh.” I looked around me, even though the bakery was relatively quiet right now, I still had an audience. “What’re you doing here?”

“It’s smoko,” Connor said, a slow smile forming. “And I told the fellas I had a hankering for a beef pie this morning.”

“I was pretty keen for a beef sausage roll myself,” Van said, his blue eyes dancing.

“Fuck that,” Gage added. “I just want one of those finger buns.” He peered at the display case. “The ones with the hundreds and thousands on them.”

“A pie, a sausage roll, and a finger bun,” I said tightly. “Coming right up.”

“Hey, Bonox!” More men in high-vis gear came in through the door, all of them chuckling to themselves as they approached the counter. The one who’d yelled that went and ruffled Connor’s hair right before he elbowed him in the ribs.

“Your shout, eh boss?” another said before turning to me. “So are you the new house mate that got the jump on this dickhead?” He looked me up and down then turned to the other guys. “You didn’t tell me she was hot.” He thrust out a hand for me to take, and I went to shake it awkwardly, right before he turned it around, ready to kiss the back. “Well hello, I’m—”

“Dead if you don’t let go of Kendall’s hand right now.”

Where the hell had that ferocious growl come from? Gage stared at the man in question, but everyone else was watching him. His massive hand had grabbed the front of the other man’s shirt, twisting the collar until it started to turn his victim’s face reddish purple.

“All of you fucks go and take a seat and we’ll bring you a feed and some coffees over,” Van said smoothly, reaching out to release Gage’s grip. “If you’re quiet and well behaved, I might even grab something sweet for you.”

“I dunno, she looks good enough to eat,” one of the other guys muttered, but the rest of them pulled away and took a seat at one of the larger tables.

“How the hell did you find where I worked?” I asked, then reached for the phone in my pocket. “Did you track me?”

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