Chapter 3-1
2307 Words
3
INDIGO
Ford took my pants. He took my f*****g pants!
I stared out the open door and into the rain.
“That asshole,” I swore.
I technically could have stayed in the greenhouse until the weather let up then hiked back to my truck bare-legged and panty-assed, but I wasn’t dumb. Ford knew that. The fucker.
I had no choice but to tuck my feet into my soggy hiking boots—which he’d so generously left—and trudged through the rain to the house. In just my t-shirt. Ford’s property was huge, and it took a few minutes to cut across it. I took the time to mutter and swear like I’d been the one in the Navy. By the time I stomped through the back screen door, I was fuming and soaked.
“Listen, you asshole, I—”
A man held up his hands at my verbal attack, but it wasn’t Ford.
I stopped short and shut my mouth.
Oh God. Another guy saw me in my panties today. It kept getting worse.
He was built like a lumberjack and was hot as hell. Jesus, what was in the water over here? I pegged him at six-four and well over two hundred pounds. All muscle. The guy had zero body fat, and I could tell because his t-shirt was practically painted on his sculpted torso. Strangely, he had a lollipop tucked in the pocket of his cheek.
I wasn’t the only one doing a body scan. His blue eyes roved over every inch of me. Every wet, bare or drenched inch of me.
“I’m not the asshole, sweetheart.” His voice was deep and rough. “Trust me, I have more pleasurable ways of getting a woman wet.” He winked.
Holy s**t, who was this guy?
I glanced away from that megawatt smile when heavy footfall came down the back stairwell. The one I’d once used to sneak up into Ford’s bedroom that fateful night when he and my brother had been on leave. There’d been a party. I’d been invited, and I’d naively thought that meant he was interested.
His grandparents had been out of town, I guessed, since they hadn’t been home when I’d snuck in. I didn’t remember. All that stuck was the unpleasant shock on Ford’s face when he’d found me in his bed and the sound of his curse echoing in my ears before he told me to cover myself and get out.
Ugh.
Ford paused on the last step in only a pair of jeans, top button undone. His shirt was missing and a towel was draped over his broad, bare shoulders.
A dog came down the steps behind him and trotted over to me, tail wagging. He was square and brown and looked up at me with eyes that said he was now my new best friend.
I patted his head and scratched behind his ear. “Who’s this?”
“That womanizer is Roscoe,” the other guy said.
I smiled down at him as he leaned his weight against my leg. “Such a good boy,” I praised, and I swore he grinned at me.
“That dog has zero shame,” Ford muttered.
That had me looking up from Roscoe.
Holy s**t. I’d never seen a man built like him… except maybe the other guy in the room, but my ovaries only perked up at the sight of Ford.
With his hair longer and a beard, Ford looked so different than the man I once knew. He’d been so precise. So focused. He wouldn’t have dared let even a hair on his head be unruly. But now? He was far from having the Grizzly Adams appearance, but he looked like a mountain man. My clit pulsed at the sight of him, making me want to jump him and throttle him in equal measure. The washboard abs and the dark happy trail didn’t hurt either.
“Roscoe’s one thing, but you leave her the f**k alone,” Ford growled at the guy. When his gaze turned my way, his jaw clenched. “f**k, woman.”
He grabbed the slung towel and moved to hold it out in front of me. For a second, I thought he was repulsed by what he saw, but I glanced down and noticed my t-shirt was sodden and clung to me like a second skin. Even with a utilitarian sports bra and panties, nothing was hidden. I could see the little bumps around my n*****s and…oh God, was that camel toe?
I snagged the towel and held it in front of me.
Ford spun on his bare foot and pointed at the guy although the only reason I knew that was because his right arm was out. Ford was too big for me to see around, and that seemed to be his point because he said, “That’s Buck’s little sister you’re eye-fucking.”
All I could do was stare at Ford’s defined delts and lats. From his wide shoulders, those back muscles tapered in a solid V to a trim waist. Why did I have to hate someone so perfect? My body didn’t care that he was an asshole.
“I’m sure the woman knows she’s hot.”
I bit my lip when I heard Ford’s growl. Roscoe nudged me with his nose since I’d stopped petting him, but I was distracted by the men’s argument.
“Why is she without pants?”
“She took them off.”
“Why?”
“They were wet.”
“So’s the rest of her.”
“She was out in the storm, dumbass.”
“Without pants?”
“I have them.”
“Why the f**k do you have her pants?”
Their conversation went back and forth, and I tried to step around Ford, but he threw his arm out as if stopping short in a car.
I ducked and went under it.
“I’m right here,” I muttered. “I have a name. And usually pants. I’m Indi.”
“Buck’s sister,” not-Ford said.
“That’s right. Indigo Buchanan.” I stuck my hand out for the guy.
“Kennedy.” He took a step toward me and held out his big paw, but Ford moved and swatted it away.
“You were part of Buck’s team, too.” I remembered some of what Buck had told me and my parents about his team through video calls and emails.
Kennedy nodded and gave me a small smile that crinkled the corner of his eyes. Then the smile disappeared, and he took the lollipop out of his mouth. “Real sorry about Buck. None of us will ever recover from the loss.”
I swallowed hard. I couldn’t say anything, so I only nodded. Not wanting to think about how much I missed my brother or the fact that he turned out to be a murderer, I switched topics.
“Kennedy. Right.” I cleared my throat. “I remember Buck mentioning you guys are all named after presidents.”
Kennedy grinned again. His teeth were extra bright with his California surfer tan and looks although his reddish hair wasn’t overly long or wild.
“That’s right.” He c****d his head toward Ford. “Our leader here, along with Buck, started it off.”
“Ford and Buchanan, you mean,” I replied, referencing the coincidence the two friends both had presidential names. He nodded. “Your real name is Kennedy?”
He winked again. “Nah. Your man here gave it to me.”
“Why Kennedy?” I asked.
He put the lollipop back in his mouth and crunched down. “Because the ladies like me.”
I had to laugh at that. From what I could tell, that was probably the case. Compared to Ford, he was laid back. Easy going. Charming.
“I’ve got you out of your pants, haven’t I?” he asked.
“Okay, that’s enough, Romeo.” Ford moved to stand in front of me again. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Roscoe settle onto a dog bed in the corner.
I whipped around and poked Ford in his bare chest. His bare, hard, warm chest. I took a second to process that, then got on with my anger. “Listen up, asshole.”
“f**k, woman.” Ford tugged the towel out of my free hand and wrapped it around my waist, grabbing the two ends and holding them in front of me. When I turned, I’d given Kennedy my backside.
“You’re the one who stole my pants. If you’ve got a problem with my bare ass, then maybe you shouldn’t have done that.”
“I don’t have a problem with your bare ass, but I have a problem with Kennedy seeing it.”
“My bare ass is not your responsibility.”
His dark eyes narrowed, and his jaw clenched so hard I wasn’t sure how his back teeth didn’t c***k.
“Can we stop saying bare ass? Also, every inch of you is my responsibility.”
I glared. He glared. He had no reason—or right—to be protective.
“Since when? If I remember correctly, you didn’t want anything to do with my bare ass or any other inch of me.”
“Your eighteen-year-old, barely legal ass that was in my bed?”
My cheeks flamed and shame swamped me.
I grabbed the towel and kept it wrapped around my waist. “Give me my pants, and I’ll put them on just as fast as I did that night. I wouldn’t want Mrs. L–your grandmother–to see me like this.”
“It’s okay for Kennedy, though?” he countered.
“I didn’t know Kennedy was even here.”
“I have three other men living here now. And Gram’s off on some senior group field trip.”
Four men on the property?
Kennedy came over and stood beside us. “All right, you two.” His hand went between our bodies like a ref at a boxing match. “Sweetheart, it’s raining something fierce out there, as you well know. Let’s get your clothes dry, and I’ll drive you back to town.”
“Thank you.”
“I’ll grab one of my shirts, and you can wear that in the meantime.”
“No f*****g way is she wearing one of your shirts,” Ford countered.
Kennedy only smiled.
“You want her to wear a towel or blanket until her clothes dry?”
I liked Kennedy more and more by the minute.
“She’s not wearing your shirt,” Ford snapped.
Kennedy sighed as if trying to have a conversation with a stubborn preschooler. “Fine. Top of the stairs is the linen closet, sweetheart. There are some flannel sheets and you can grab one. Bathroom’s across the hall. Bring your wet things down, and they’ll go in the dryer.”
I nodded. The faster my clothes dried, the faster I could be out of here.
I took the steps to the second floor but paused at the top when I heard their voices.
“Sweetheart? What the f**k? She’s Buck’s little sister!” Ford snapped.
“She’s not little. She’s all woman. Every inch. Believe me, I saw.”
I thought I heard Ford growl again, but it didn’t carry well up the steps.
“You’re not touching her.”
“Why? Are you going to tap that?”
Tap that. I was now a that.
“Nobody is going to tap that.”
Nobody? Excuse me? My s*x life was none of Ford’s business. He certainly didn’t have a say in whether I slept with Kennedy or the two other mystery men staying here or anyone else. He missed his chance at being a part of that, and he sure as hell wasn’t going to take over the controlling big brother act now that Buck was gone.
“Why the hell not?”
“She’s Buck’s sister.”
“You’ve said that five f*****g times. She’s what, mid-twenties? A grown-ass woman who can speak for herself. Besides, I’m sure some other guy claimed that sweet prize since you didn’t.”
They really were a bunch of foul-mouthed sailors. I wasn’t thrilled about my virginity being a topic of their guy talk. I had planned to give it to Ford that night, but instead, gave it to a guy in my dorm a few months later, in the first semester of college. If Ford hadn’t wanted it, then I hadn’t cared who took it, only that it was gone.
“f**k, Kennedy. What the hell is wrong with you?”
“Me? You stole her f*****g pants.”
I didn’t stick around for more. Tiptoeing, I found the linen closet and the soft sheets Kennedy mentioned. While Ford was military precise, I had a feeling it was his grandmother, Mrs. L, who’d made the linens so organized.
I needed out of this house. Ford brought back memories I didn’t want to resurface. Same went for the room just down the hall. Not only because he’d been so close to Buck, had been there when he’d died, but because of how I’d loved him—or imagined I had. I knew now it was a schoolgirl crush. I’d been naive and stupid.
I wasn’t either any longer.
I stepped into the bathroom initially to just shuck the wet t-shirt. Once I had it off though, the shower seemed to be calling to me. I removed my sports bra and panties, hung the wet clothes on a towel rack, and turned the water to hot. I stepped in and quickly rinsed the mud from my skin.
- Writer
