Slow Grind (Men of Mornington Book 1) (6 page)

“You better. You promised
.” If this is some kind of death-bed promise and he’s further gone than I’ve been led to believe, I’m going to be pissed.

A few moments later, the water stops running, Max’s side of the bathroom door closes again and our wing of the house remains quiet until Max’s soft snores fill the air. Knowing he’s safe, comfortable and resting, I’m finally able to get some sleep. Within no time, I drift off to sleep in my old room surrounded by old memories, both good and bad.

Chapter Five
Drew

I push my way back into Max’s room and swoop up my jacket in my arm. I’m trying not to wake him, but I don’t do a very good job. His eyes flutter open and he looks at me, confused.

“Forgot my jacket,” I explain with a chuckle. I’d gotten halfway home before I’d realised. If my phone wasn’t in the pocket of the damn thing, I would’ve just left it there. “And it’s cold as fuck out there. Speaking of which, what the fuck was your sister thinking, wearing a skirt? Did she get her seasons mixed up?”

“Probably,” Max says, managing a smile. He stifles a yawn and shifts onto his side. He looks even worse than he did five minutes ago, if that’s even possible. “In her defence, she did have to pack in a hurry to get out here. Thanks to my mum and her big mouth. Either way, it’s great to see her.”

“I’ll say,” I mutter. I shake my head and laugh, unable to get the image of her in that tiny skirt out of my head.
Holy fucking shit, when did that happen? And where the hell have I been? How did I have no idea Max’s little sister is such a fucking angel?
I would’ve been hounding him to let me come on all those trips to America. I grin, her image in my head again. Those legs would give Miranda Kerr a run for her money. I chuckle and shake my head. This is fucking crazy.

Glancing to my left, I notice Max watching me strangely.

“Man, no. Just no. Whatever you’re thinking, it’s not happening, okay?” he says in a strained voice. I can’t help but smirk because as hard as the guy is trying to be authoritative, he sounds like a little girl begging me not to take away her stuffed toy.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I grin. I reach forward and throw a chip in my mouth, but he continues to scowl at me. “You okay there, Max? Is it that time of the month? Do you need something for the cramping and bloating? I didn’t know you were a chick or something.”

“Or something. I’ll kick your fucking arse,” he grumbles, glaring at me. “You know exactly what the fuck I’m talking about, Drew. My sister. I saw the way you looked at each other.”

I straighten up.
She was looking at me? Why does that make me feel so damn good?
Of course, I shouldn’t be surprised. Like all of Em’s little friends, I’m pretty sure she had a crush on me back then. It was quite funny when I’d go pick up Em—and sometimes Aubrey—from school after I got my licence. Em suddenly became way more popular,and
I
wa
s
expected to drive dozens of pre-teen girls everywhere.

“Max, I’m not going to hit your sister up. Besides the fact she’s too young for me—”

“
Way
too young,” Max interjects.

“I don’t have time for another girl in my life right now. I’m already trying to get rid of the one I have.” Seriously, though, how hard is it to take a hint? Apparently, for Darla, it’s near impossible. I might have to take Nash up on his offer to take Darla off my hands. Let him deal with her crazy for a little while.

“Good. Well, make sure it stays that way,” he warns. He pulls out that look and I groan. It’s a look he reserves for wanting me to feel bad about how shitty a friend I am in comparison to him. He’s helped me out so many times I’ve lost count. I know, me getting myself into trouble is hard to believe, but it happens a lot. “I’m serious, Drew. I need to know you won’t try anything. I don’t need to be worrying about that on top of everything else. Promise me you’re not gonna try anything.”

“You got my word,” I promise him. Seriously, the guy’s worrying about nothing. I put my jacket on and take out my keys. “And how come you’re not having this conversation with her?”

“Because I already know she’s going to be a problem,” he mutters. “My sister hates being told what to do, so the more I tell her not to do something, the more she’ll do it.” I shake my head and walk over to the stairs, waving at him as I leave.

“You have to be the adult here,” he yells after me.

Ms. Rosewood greets me as I reach the front door, a drunken smile plastered on her face. She holds a glass of wine, and from her glazed eyes I know it’s not her first glass. Probably not even her first bottle.

“Leaving so soon?” she asks, putting her hand on my chest. I laugh and step back. Though Max didn’t say anything about his mum… No, I can’t ever go back to that. Ever.

I’ve kept that secret once before; I can’t do it a second time.

“Yeah, sorry, Ms. Rosewood, early start in the morning.”

“You’re still doing that, uh, what was it?” she murmurs to herself, her expression thoughtful.

“Welding,” I offer when it’s clear she has no idea what I do for a living.

“Welding.” She smiles, wetting her heavily applied lips. “You must get awfully hot and sweaty under all that gear,” she says, her eyes on my chest. I laugh, inching further away from her. I have a pretty good idea what she’s thinking right now, and it isn’t going to happen.

“Sure do. I gotta get going now, Ms. Rosewood. I’ll see you around.” I move slowly as to not offend her when I peel her fingers from my pecks, and her hand lazily falls to her side.

“You could stay for a drink or two,” she purrs, swirling the diminishing red liquid in her glass.

“I’d love to, really, but I have to get home. Next time?” I lie.

“Anytime, Andrew. See you around.” She tosses a wink my way, and I suddenly feel dirty. I have no problem getting chicks my own age, but what is it about these middle-aged women? Why, all of a sudden, am I on their radar? Shouldn’t they be speed dating or making online dating profiles instead of chasing after men at least
half
their age?
And people thin
k
older men are the perverts. Pffft, if they could only see what I deal with on a daily basis.
Between Ms. Rosewood and Darla, I’ve hit my quota for girls over thirty.

I quickly wave with the clear to leave and bolt out the door to my car. About halfway down the street, I’m able to shake the awkward feelings surrounding my most recent interaction with Ms. Rosewood. This isn’t the first time it’s happened, and I’m sure it won’t be the last. She’s been slyly hitting on me since I turned seventeen, and most of the time she’s at least able to disguise her feelings with sarcastic wit, except for when she’s been drinking.

From what Max has told me, she’s been hitting the bottle more and more since his most recent diagnosis. I can’t say I blame her. I have no idea how I’d deal with my child being so sick and me being so helpless, but I probably wouldn’t try to jump into bed with his friends. Then again, her first marriage ended with her bent over a desk in her husband’s office—though it wasn’t the first time she’d had an affair—but romping around with her husband’s student happened to coincide with the era when Aubrey and Emma started acting out. This might just be how she deals with her children’s problems. And obviously, by looking at Aubrey, how she pushes them away.

I decide home isn’t where I want to be right now, so I make a quick detour and head toward Sam’s job. He mentioned something about some kind of experimental treatment he researched for Max. Who knows if it’ll amount to anything, but it’s worth a shot at this point.

*****

“This is what you get to do all day?” I ask, stepping into Sam’s office. He looks up from the catalogue he’s perusing—probably picking out the next lingerie ensemble he’s going to stock—and laughs.

“Jealous?”

“Absolutely. You hiring? How does one get a job where he gets to look at tits and ass all day?”

“Well, jackass, you start by having a marketing degree and an eye for detail.”

“Touché.” Sam sets down the catalogue and stands, ushering me to have a seat at one of the two chairs in front of his desk. He sits back down and yawns, rubbing the back of his neck. “Big day?”

“Big night,” he admits. “Laura is on my back about moving in with me.”

“What’s the problem?” I ask. “You’ve been with Laura for more than a year. You love her, right?”

“Sure I do, but I’m not sure I’m ready to give up my apartment.”

I laugh. “Seriously, dude? You’re gonna risk your whole relationship so you can keep your cinema room and gaming computer?”

“You forgot about the indoor pool and sauna,” he chuckles. Sam does have an amazing apartment. The whole thing is larger than most single-family homes. He bought it just out of Uni, when some big marketing firm paid handsomely for his thesis advertising plan. Sam put down more than half the purchase price, and I’m not exactly sure how real estate works, but it’s gotta be nearly paid off.

“So have her move in there,” I shrug. Relationships are about compromise, right?

“I suggested that. Apparently, my place isn’t right to raise a family,” he mutters sourly.

“Kids now?” I chortle. “Dude, no wonder you’re scared. I’d be shitting myself.” Why do women want to rush into everything? What happened to starting slow and placing the building blocks for a healthy relationship? If they’re arguing about whose place to move into, kids shouldn’t even be on the table at this point.

“Not helpful,” Sam grumbles. He shakes a few unruly dark curls—a testament to his mother’s Italian heritage—out of his equally dark eyes and turns back around, focusing on his computer screen. “So… I’ve found some stuff out.”

“About the treatment for Max?” I press.

“It’s not really a new treatment, per se, but more of an experimental drug they’re administering in Europe. They’ve had some success but not enough for it to be recognised around the world yet.”

“Something’s better than nothing. Did you know his doctors did the last round of chemo yesterday and they won’t be doing any more? It’s like they’ve already written him off. I can’t sit back and wait for him to die. We’re his best mates. We have to try something.”

“I’m with you, Drew. After I saw him the other day, I dug further, and it’s going to be hard. Because it’s experimental, there’s no insurance to cover the treatment. It’ll have to be out of pocket. The flight alone, to transport him in his condition, is more than six thousand. With that, the stay in the hospital, probably a hotel for whoever’s going with him, and the treatment, we’re looking at around one hundred thousand.” Sam shakes his head. “You know I’d sell my place for Max, but I’ve just refinanced to invest in Cam’s game. All my cash is tied up in that.” Here I was thinking Sam could float us the cash we needed. How’d I forget about Cam’s game? Probably because I’ve been too busy trying, but epically failing, to keep Darla off my dick and get through the work day in one piece.

Cam, a game developer, has been working on a computer game for the last two years, and I have no doubt it’s going to be fucking insane one day. What that guy can do with his imagination and a computer is ridiculous.

“I know, man. I’m feeling guilty as hell that I’m so shit at saving,” I say. How the hell are we going to raise a hundred grand? “Do you think his parents have that kind of money?”

“I really don’t think so. Cam was helping Rosalind with a refinance a few years ago, and she’s maxed the equity on her house. Frank probably isn’t much better off since he’s been teaching high school in America and he paid for Aubrey’s college. It’s fairly safe to say the Rosewoods are broke. Unless Aubrey can touch her trust. I think Max got his at twenty-five. Maybe petition to have Aubrey’s unlocked?”

“I know she would, if it’s even an option.”

“We all do. She’d kill herself to save Max. She’s always been a good kid like that.”

“She’s not a kid anymore, man.” I shake my head, the image of her long, toned legs filtering through my mind again. I have no idea when she stopped being the little tomboy who ran around with Emma all the time and turned into a sexy, confident woman.

“It’s Aubs. She couldn’t have changed that much.”

“Just wait until you see her. I don’t lie. She’s not the same kid we watched grow up.”

“Don’t even think about it,” Sam scolds.

“Are you kidding me? I’m not going to start fucking with Max’s little sister. Why is everyone so paranoid?”

“Because we know you,” he laughs. “If it has a vagina, chances are you’re thinking about screwing it.”

“I’m not
that
bad,” I retort defensively.
Okay, maybe I am.

“You really are.” I pluck a pen from the cup on the desk and hurl it at him. “And a bad shot at that,” he says as the pen sails past him and clangs against the window behind the desk overlooking the city.

“You’re a dick. I’m going to go figure out how to get together enough money to get this treatment for Max while you sit here and look at lace-covered tits. Call me later?”

“Yeah. If you think of anything, let me know. I’m sure between all of us we can figure something out. Check if the pub in Mornington will let us do a benefit. We all grew up there, and if we’re going to get help from outside our group, they’ll be the ones to do it.”

“Okay, I’ll call and get some information.”

Before I leave, Sam slips me a piece of paper with the name of the treatment and tells me to do some research. That’s not really where I excel, though. I’m the one who can plan and execute; Sam and Cam are the ones who are good at getting the fine details, but I agree to do my best.

As I’m pulling out of the parking lot, my phone rings and Max’s name displays on the front screen.