Page 60 of Castaway Whirlwind
“You’re not giving up that easily, are you?” Paul prods at Max, who hangs limply between us from the pull-up bars I have screwed to the wall.
“Eleven,” I count out loud when my chin clears the bar,rubbing salt into Max’s wound. “Twelve.”
“Thirteen,” Paul counts next, easily lifting himself without breaking a sweat. “Come on, Max. Fourteen. Don’t give up. Fifteen. We’re just getting started. Sixteen.”
“I’m not giving up,” Max says with a dry throat. “It’s just the heat getting to me.”
It’s a fair point, given that he’s already dry-heaved a few times while trying to keep up with Paul and me for the ten minutes we jumped rope.Not that I’ll tell him that.
Max eventually drops down when he fails his next pull-up, guzzling water from the filtered water cooler while Paul and I finish our set. He beats me by three reps.
It’s downright mean when Paul laughs after we move onto bench presses and Max’s limp noodle limbs can’t lift our warm-up weight higher than an inch off the rack. “How are you supposed to lift Cora and show that woman a good time if you can’t even lift the bar?”
Max goes ramrod straight, barely avoiding banging his head on the bar and giving himself a concussion. “The fuck did you say?”
I shoot Paul a look that he easily reads, and he holds his hands up. “You’re right, you’re right. I shouldn’t have spoken so crudely about her. I’ll apologize to her when we’re done.”
“You’re not saying shit to her,” Max says, standing up. “I’ve seen the way you look at her like you want a piece. She’s mine ‘til I say so, fuckface.”
Throwing his brows up, all humor flung out the window, Paul says, “You’re seeing shit that doesn’t exist. She’s a mighty fine-looking woman, but she’s not my type, so you’ve got nothing to worry about. Not from me, at least.”
If anything, that pisses Max offfurther. “You calling her ugly?”
“Get your ears checked, asshole. The only one here who’s ugly is you, you weak little bitch, and I hope for her sake she finds someone better than you.”
“Shut your fucking mouth,” Max spits, stepping forward with his hands fisted at his sides.
“Fucking make me,” Paul answers, straightening his spine to give him another inch taller than Max, rage mottling his already flushed skin from our workout.
“Ah, what the fuck, Paul?” Mentally scratching my head, wondering when my son developed my temper, I push in between them since this has taken a nasty turn, even if he is right about Cora doing better than Max. It doesn’t matter that Paul started it and could take Max down if it came to blows—I won’t give either of them the opportunity. “Either you boys drop this pissing match and finish your workouts, or you get the hell out of my gym. I’m not ruining this day for my darlin’, and I won’t let you two ruin it, either.”
The boys eye each other for another solid minute, but when I cut my son a look to take the high road, he clenches his jaw and eventually backs away…but not before I see the promise of violence in his eyes.
Chapter 19
Layla
My skin heats despite the cool temperature of the pool, and I rub my thighs together when Russell, Paul, and, surprisingly, Max step out of the garage gym, all stripped down to just their athletic shorts and shoes, sweat pouring off of them. Max and Paul have only a smattering of hair on their chests, while Russell is the opposite with unbelievably sexy chest hair, his biceps and calves nearly twice the size of Max’s. I scoop water up to pat my cheeks and neck, gaze locked on the flex of Russell’s abdominal muscles when he slows and swaggers toward me with a smug smirk.
“No, I definitely get it now,” Cora says to my side, helping Gauge float in the water in one of his swim diapers we ran out in Russell’s truck to get since we also both needed swimsuits and sunscreen. “I thought he was old and fat—no offense,” she says quickly. “I mean, I usually like ‘em skinny as a toothpick, but now…” She drops her voice low. “I can see the appeal. Mature and thick. The money is just an added bonus.”
I huff. “Stop looking at my husband,” I tease, splashing her with water and making her laugh.
We both scream and shield Gauge when all three men kick off their shoes and jump into the pool at the same time, creating a tidal wave that throws the water over the edge of the aquamarine tiles, drenching the stone patio. I crow with laughter when Russell pops up behind me and scoops me up, tickling my waist.
Kissing the crook of my shoulder as he turns me around, he asks, “What was that? Did you just call me your husband?”
I bite my bottom lip and toy with the wet strands of his hair at the nape of his neck. “Is that a problem?”
“You know it’s not,” he says with a husky voice, working his lips across my jaw.
Max does the same with Cora, and I see it—the flash of the man she fell in love with when he twirls her and Gauge around, giving her a big fat kiss after telling her how pretty she looks in her one-piece red swimsuit, a twinkle in both their eyes.
After a minute, Paul hops out and lies back on a towel beside the pool, one arm propped under his head as a pillow, thumbing open a thick paperback with two dragons on the cover that I want to borrow when he’s finished.
“I wish it could always be like this,” I tell Russell, wrapping my legs around his waist while he supports me with his hands on my bottom, resting his back against the ledge in the deep end.
Russell’s face turns serious when he says, “It could be. I’ve done the research.” One hand drifts over my hip to splay across my belly. “Got it all planned out.”
