Sucker Punched (13 page)

“That’s a dick move right there.”

“Right?” Macy groans again. “I can’t live there, Blake. I love my family, but I just. . .” She puffs out her cheeks, looking overwhelmed. “There’s no privacy when you share a wall with your seventeen-year-old brother. I’ve heard things that no sister should ever have to hear.”

“I remember those days. I saw Declan naked more times than I care to admit.”

“Yeah, but you guys are brothers. I think it’d be less traumatic if it were my sister grunting out her orgasms at one o’clock in the morning.”

“
Orgasms? 
Shoot, when it’s just me and ol’ Righty, I’m one and done. How many is that kid pumping out?”

Disgust twists her face, but she chuckles. “I don’t know, it’s hard to tell. Maybe it’s just one really long orgasm. Twenty-minute orgasms are a thing, right?”

“If they are, I seriously need him to teach me.”

Macy throws her head back and laughs. Loudly. She covers her mouth and looks around, but it only makes her laugh harder. 

I generally don’t like making girls cry, but I love that she’s wiping away tears right now. 

“Oh, geez. I needed that.”

I feel bad for her, but that doesn’t explain the words that come out of my mouth next. “If you ever need a break, you can always come stay with me.” I think the only explanation is that I’m a fucking moron who doesn’t think before he talks, because seriously,
what the fuck?

Her eyes widen. “Really?”

I shrug, trying to seem indifferent, but I’m secretly freaking the fuck out. Why would I suggest that? I’ve had some pretty stupid ideas before, but this takes the cake. And then, because the filter from my brain to my mouth apparently doesn’t fucking work around this chick, I say, “Sure. I have two extra bedrooms. They’re just sitting there.”

She frowns. “That won’t be. . . I don’t know, weird?”

“Probably not. We get along great.” But it doesn’t matter, because I seriously doubt she’s going to take me up on my offer.

“That’s the problem. We get along so great our clothes tend to disappear.”

I pound the table and point at her, trying to keep a straight face. “That is
not
true. Your clothes stayed on the whole time.”

Macy rolls her eyes. “You’re such a smartass. You know what I mean.”

Leaning back in the booth, I sigh. “Look, Duchess, I like you. I do. And I’ve been upfront about that since the beginning. But even if this
could
go somewhere, it won’t.”

I frown, trying to figure out how to phrase these next words. It’s like trying to communicate with someone who speaks an entirely different language.

“You’re the kind of girl who deserves an epic fucking love story. You deserve romance, and a knight in shining armor who slays dragons. I’m not the knight in this story. I’m the fucking dragon. I’m not moral and just and all that bullshit a knight’s supposed to be. I breathe fire on everything around me and burn it all to ash. I
destroy
things, not save them.” That’s a massive understatement if I ever heard one. “So you can relax. I might joke about getting in your pants, but I’m not gonna try anything.” I swallow, suddenly feeling like the worst parts of me are being exposed. 

Jesus Christ.

Clearing my throat, I grab the menu, needing something to look at other than her deep, chocolate eyes that apparently have x-ray vision. “I could never be the guy you deserve, Duchess, and I’m not about to ask you to settle for anything less.”

She leans forward, resting her elbows on the table. “Normally I’d be peeved you’re making that decision for me, because it’s such a fucking cop-out, but I’m going to let it slide since we can’t really go down that road anyway.”

“It’s not a cop-out, it’s the truth. One way or another I’d fuck it all up. That’s what I do.”

“It’s what you
think
you do. But really, it’s just an excuse not to try.”

Shaking my head, I laugh. It’s a nice theory, but she couldn’t be more wrong. “Trust me, I’m a trainwreck. You just haven’t known me long enough to realize you need to get the hell out of the way.”

An hour later and I’m ready to get the fuck out of here. The guy sitting at the bar is starting to piss me off with the way he’s blatantly checking Macy out.

It’s fucking disrespectful. I’m sitting right across from her, for Christ’s sake. He doesn’t know that we’re not together.

I’m trying not to let this ruin my night, but it’s hard when I can see him practically undressing her with his eyes. And it’s not helping my mood that Macy refused to let me pay for dinner.

“It’s not a date,” she says, sliding out of the booth.

Frowning, I watch him eye her ass as she slips on her coat. “I never said it was. Friends pay for things from time to time,” I mutter.

Macy’s not mine to get jealous over. She’s not mine to lay claim to. But that’s exactly what happens when I take her hand in mine and lead her through the restaurant, glaring daggers at the asshole who dared look her way. 

He has enough sense to drop his eyes as we pass him, which I’m thankful for. I’d be hard-pressed to explain to Macy why I had to drag his ass outside and beat him senseless if he hadn’t backed off. 

I’m being a hypocrite, I know. I was with Tori last night, and Macy’s free to be with anyone she wants. But the thought of her flirting with this guy or being the
least
bit receptive to him hitting on her?

I’d rather gouge my eyes out with a rusty spoon than see that shit.

When we’re outside, I let go of her. Don’t want her to think I’m trying anything.

She pulls her jacket tighter and points down the street. “I’m just over here.”

I gesture for her to lead the way, and she frowns.

“You don’t have to walk me to my car.”

It’s dark out and there are shady as fuck alleys all over the place. If she thinks I’m letting her walk to her car alone, then she’s got another thing coming.

“It’s not up for debate, Duchess. Now lead the way before my balls freeze.”

Her lips purse, but she starts walking. Almost every storefront we pass has some kind of Christmas decoration up.

I normally don’t give a shit about the holidays, but it suddenly occurs to me that I’ll have a little niece or nephew next Christmas. It’s fuckin’ weird.

“What?” Macy asks as we walk. “You have this really intense look on your face.”

I shake my head, trying to clear it. “Nothing. I’m just realizing that this time next year, I’ll have a baby to go Christmas shopping for, and I have no fucking clue what to buy a baby. They like video games, right?”

Macy laughs. “When in doubt, buy ’em a stuffed animal. Something cute and fluffy.”

I frown as she stops by a sleek, white Mercedes. “Did you get a new car?” That’s not the car she was driving on Thanksgiving.

“No, this is my mom’s car. Mine’s acting up.” The car beeps as it unlocks. She pauses as she opens the driver’s door, groaning. “Oh my god, I’m living at home and driving my mom’s car. It’s like I’m sixteen all over again.”

I should probably try and cheer her up. Feed her some trite bullshit about how it’ll get better. That’s what a real friend would do. . . “If we’re pretending to be sixteen, then I should sneak through your bedroom window tonight so we can fool around. If you’re lucky, I might even let you go all the way.”

“
We?
You were twenty when I was sixteen.”

That wipes the smirk right off my face and kills any erection I might’ve had. “It sounds gross when you say it like that.”

Macy laughs. “It doesn’t matter anyway. Sixteen-year-old me was a good girl. I never did any of those things.” Even in the dark, I can tell she’s blushing.

“Then you don’t know what you’re missing. I could show you. . .”

She rolls her eyes. “You’re such a bad influence.”

“Duchess, I’m the best mistake you’ll ever make.”

She bites her lip, grinning at my line. “I don’t doubt it.”

I groan. “Don’t smile at me like that.”

“Like what?” she asks, playing dumb.

“Like you’re remembering how fucking perfect I felt inside you.” I step closer, trapping her against the car. “Every time I think about that night, I’m convinced I’m not remembering it right.”

She swallows, glancing down at my lips. “How are you remembering it?”

“Like it was the best sex of my life.”

She smiles again, in a way that really tests my self-restraint. What I wouldn’t give to see her in nothing but that smile. “You’re definitely not remembering it right. It was good, but the
best
sex of your life? I kinda doubt it.”

“I don’t.” Sighing, I force myself to step back before I do something stupid, like kiss her. “All right then. Let’s go take a look at your car.”

“Wait, what?” Her face scrunches up in the cutest way.

Damn it, stop noticing that kind of shit.

I clear my throat, stepping back some more. I can’t fucking think when I’m this close to her. “You said your car was acting up. So let’s have a look.”

“I appreciate the offer, but you really don’t have to do that. I’ll just have my dad take it to the shop.”

“Those assholes overcharge you every time. I should know, I’m one of those assholes.”

Understanding crosses her face before she glances down to the keys in her hand. “Are you sure you don’t mind?”

I’d get to spend more time with her this way. What’s to mind? “I wouldn’t have offered if I did.” Wincing slightly, I tell her, “I’m selfish like that.”

“You’ve actually been quite generous with me.” She lowers her voice, saying it almost shyly.

I love it when she gets all bashful on me. “That’s true. I did give you
two
orgasms that night, when I only had one.”

I grin as her mouth flops open, and then start walking across the street. I dig out my keys, calling over my shoulder, “Text me the address, Duchess, and I’ll meet you there.”

Macy’s parents are fucking
rich
. I almost asked her what they do for a living, but I don’t want her to think I care. I’m sure they’re doctors or lawyers or what-the-fuck-ever. It doesn’t matter. I’m not interested in Macy’s money. 

Just Macy.

Although I shouldn’t be. We’re just friends.

Maybe if I start telling myself that often enough, I’ll believe it.

I park on the street in front of her parents’ brownstone in Back Bay, trying to ignore the fact that her expansive Victorian house is almost three times the size of mine. 

“So what’s wrong with it?” she asks as I kill the engine.

“Your CV joint needs to be replaced.” More than likely that’s what caused the crunching sound as we drove around the block. I close the driver’s side door of Macy’s car and toss her the keys as she walks around from the passenger’s side. “Swing by my place around six tomorrow and I’ll fix it for you.”

As soon as the words are out of my mouth, Macy’s front door opens. An older woman appears on the right side of the double doorway, stepping out onto the stone steps.

Everything about this woman screams money, from her clothes, to her jewelry, to the elegant yet severe updo she has her red hair styled in. Jesus, it’s almost nine o’clock at night and this woman’s wearing pearls.

Her face, though, that’s all Macy. She’s gorgeous, just like her daughter.

“Oh.” She stops as soon as she sees us, pulling her cardigan tighter. “I didn’t know you had company.”

“Mom, this is Blake,” Macy says, gesturing to me. “Blake, this is my mom, Diane.”

She eyes me like I’m an insect that dared walk across her dinner table.

I nod to her anyway, forcing a polite smile. “Evening, ma’am.”

“It’s nice to meet you.” Her eyes drift behind me. “What an interesting car you have.”

Meaning,
get it out of here before the neighbors see.

My crappy old Camaro sticks out among the late model Audis, Lincolns, and BMWs lining the street like a sore thumb. It may not look like much now, but it’ll net me a decent profit by the time I’m done with her.

I shove my hands in my pockets, trying not to give Macy’s mom the stink eye. “I fix up old cars and sell ’em. It’s a little side business I have.”