An all-black Audi R8 sits parked outside of the four-car garage next to the triplets’ Mustangs, Shawn’s Ranger, and Theo’s Camaro. No space for my Charger.
If they’d park closer together, I’d fit my car beside the shiny Audi, but no. No way I’ll fit in there with how Colt parked his Mustang as if he’s ninety and blind in one eye. I block the driveway altogether, parking sideways in the narrow spot a few yards from the electric gate.
No one’s going home tonight.
The warm evening air stings with BBQ smoke and ocean breeze, soft wind rustling the leaves of an old oak tree nearby. I lock the car, shoving the keys deep into the back pocket of my jeans. With a bottle of Mom’s favorite wine in hand, I knock on the door of the masterpiece of an estate that’s my parents’ house. Floor-to-ceiling windows surround the nine–bedroom three-story house I spent twenty-one years in.
Growing up, my room was on the top floor overlooking the garden equipped with a full-sized tennis court, spa, and a pool. I used to climb in and out of there, using the railing of a wraparound balcony to lower myself to the balcony below, then jump onto the deck, and off I went, partying into the early morning hours. Mom and Dad found out about my escapades when I was in my sophomore year of college. I snuck a girl into my room, and later on, I tried to sneak her out again the same way she came: through the balcony.
Unfortunately, she was tipsy and broke her ankle, landing on the deck at three o’clock in the morning.
I got an earful from Mom and permission from Dad to bring the girls in through the front door and let them out the same way. He’s as laid back as they come. I guess it’s a must-have quality when you’re raising seven boys.
As per family tradition, I arrive fashionably late for the monthly get-together my mother insisted on hosting once the triplets moved out to live with Nico.
“We need to spend more time together.”
While I don’t mind, I am worried. Mom’s growing more insecure by the week. She fights to feel needed and craves the attention of her sons to the point where I’m scared she might blackmail Dad into having another baby. I shudder, pushing away the images of my parents trying to conceive at their age. It’d be quite the accomplishment for Mom at fifty-seven to endure pregnancy and labor.
Theo opens the left wing of the large double door, distracting my messed-up head from picturing my parents having sex.
“I’m glad you’re late,” he says, waving a hundred in my face. “Nico was certain you’d be on time today.”
That guy has too much cash if he’s willing to bet on me arriving on time. “Does he know me at all?” I shoulder past Theo and his wide grin, shedding my jacket in the foyer.
I hang it over the grand-staircase railing and smile when an acoustic piano version of “Imagine” by John Lennon reaches my ears. The house smells like freshly baked apple pie, which means grandma is here.
I move to one of the three living rooms where my mother sits in front of a 1904 Steinway grand piano, hands on the keys, head swinging to the music.
As expected, Nico’s on the armrest of the white chesterfield sofa, eyes glued to our mother. I’d bet a hundred dollars he was the one who asked her to play. And that’s the kind of bet that wouldn’t lose me any money. Nico rarely relaxes, but whenever he listens to Mom play, the anger that usually surrounds him like a stormy cloud is absent.
Mom lets the last note linger in the air when the song ends. I remember her spending every evening in front of the piano when I was a little boy, but I failed to appreciate her talent and sheer love for the instrument until later in life.
A smile spreads across her face as she spins on the stool. “Logan!” she cheers, rushing toward me in a light, flowy dress.
Not many fifty-seven-year-old women could pull off a dress like this—flared at the bottom, tight at the waist—but my mother is naturally beautiful; Miss California thirty-odd years ago. Lean figure with a wasp waist and the face of an angel. If I had a sister who’d inherit most of Mom’s features mixed with just a sprinkle of Grandma, she’d be the most stunning girl on this side of the Atlantic.
And seven of her brothers would kick ass left, right, and center to keep unworthy pricks away.
“Everyone’s outside already,” she says, taking the wine and pressing a soft kiss to my cheek. She rubs the spot, probably wiping off a cherry-red lipstick mark. “I think your Dad might need a hand with the BBQ.”
The weather improved over the last couple of weeks. May brought a heatwave worthy of the hottest summers, so we can enjoy a barbecue outside instead of spending time at the long table in the dining room.
“We’ve invited the Maroons, too,” she adds, sparkles dancing in her molten-steel gray eyes. It’s baffling that neither one of my brothers inherited the unusual color. We’re all shades of brown, from Cody’s caramel to Nico’s almost as black as his fucking soul. “They moved back here a couple of weeks ago.”
“Who?” I ask, drawing my eyebrows together.
“The Maroons!” she repeats as if she thinks I didn’t hear her the first time.
“Mom, I’m asking who the Maroons are.”
Theo tsks in the corner, shaking his head, a scowl of disapproval tainting his features and enhancing the scar marking his cheek. “That’s low, Logan.”
“It’s fucking appalling,” Nico adds, equally outraged, although it comes across more genuine on him than Theo. “Shame on you. How could you forget your fiancée’s surname?”
A shit-eating grin twists Theo’s lips, and a short laugh follows. “She still has the fucking ring you gave her!”
“Language, Theo,” Mom clips, shooting him her signature I-take-no-prisoners look.
He throws his hands in the air. “Really, Mom? Really? I’m thirty soon. And you didn’t scold Nico when he said the f word. That’s not fair.”
“Nico, language, baby. Please,” she says, but her tone is soft, eyes playful. That bastard could get away with murder.
“Back to the subject at hand. What fu—” I sidestep the landmine, catching a scowl on Mom’s face in time to correct myself. “Effing ring?”
“The engagement ring you made out of copper wire and glue,” Nico explains. “It’s the first time I’ve seen it today, bro, and honestly? Nice work.”
Shit. A wire ring with a small white pebble glued to the top with super glue. I glued my fingers together while making the engagement ring for the girl next door and cried for an hour before Mom came home and helped me.
Annalisa Maroon.
Gorgeous blonde with big eyes half-covered by an awkward fringe. Annalisa, the little bully. A pretty bully with cute pigtails. The love of my life for a month or so back in kindergarten. How, on God’s green earth, did I forget the girl I wanted to marry when I was four?!
Baffling.
It’s not like she didn’t move across the world to live in Australia before middle school started and never came back to Newport until, apparently, now.
“She’s still just as pretty as she was when she was a kid.” Mom beams, the fond glow back in her eyes.
I can’t keep up with this woman. On the one hand, she’s jealous of Thalia and annoyed she stole her son. On the other hand, she wants another son to settle down. Either she can’t add two and two together, or she has more against Thalia than she and Dad are willing to admit.
There’s the issue with Thalia being accused of murdering her husband when she lived back home in Greece, but I don’t think my parents are aware of that. And even if they know, the charges were dropped, and Thalia was ruled innocent, so Mom has no reason to be so pissy.
It’s not like she killed the guy, anyway. At least that’s the official, united front of Mr. and Mrs. Theo Hayes.
“Go say hi.” Mom pushes me gently toward the patio door. “She’s outside.”
“Yeah, Logan, go say hi,” Theo emphasizes. She hasn’t stopped talking about you two since she got here.”
I don’t want to say hi, but what choice do I have? I head outside, followed by my brothers. Annalisa sits by the pool with Thalia, laughing at something my sister-in-law must’ve said. She’s still pretty, alright. A halo of platinum blonde hair falls to the middle of her back, her legs are long and smooth, and she’s as skinny as they get.
Too skinny.
Collarbones and shoulder bones protrude, and the cleavage of her dress hides a flat chest. Cassidy is skinny, too, but she has a bit of fat on the bones to grab and enough tits to fill my hand.
This will be a long day if I keep comparing one blonde to another. Why am I even thinking about Cass? It’s been a week and a half since she stormed out of my house, close to tears. At first, I was beyond annoyed at the dramatic exit. I went upstairs into my bedroom, ready to crash, but guilt gnawed at my brain like a woodworm.
Maybe I was too harsh in telling her to get going, but in my defense, I didn’t expect her to still be in my bed when I got out of the shower. None of the women ever stay that long. It’s an unwritten rule everyone around Newport Beach seems to know, understand, and abide by, so Cass breaking said rule took me by surprise.
Didn’t she get the memo?
Regardless of her blatant overstay, instead of crashing for the night, I pulled a t-shirt out of the wardrobe and followed Cass to her car. I’m not a knight in shining armor. Not by any definition, but I’m not a teenager. Letting a girl leave when she’s distressed, without at least trying to find out the reason, is a play you can expect from arrogant, careless kids.
Now, knowing why she left in a hurry, I wish I was still a self-centered teenager just that once. That way, I’d keep thinking she was upset because I hurt her feelings.
Turns out, I jumped to conclusions way too fast. She didn’t do anything wrong. I messed up sending her on her way before offering a washcloth. I’ve never been in a similar situation. I’ve never spilled inside a girl before Cass. The notion of my cum making a mess, dripping from her sweet pussy and down her thighs, didn’t cross my mind.
Nothing does when I’ve got Cassidy naked and breathless. My mind fucking blanks, focusing solely on her. She’s addictive. The way she comes, parts her lips, and moans taking me in…
I’d kneel on glass to fuck her again.
Which is why I can’t.
While in the heat of the moment, it’s easy to forget that if my brothers were to find out about my dalliance with the public enemy’s bestie, I’d lose them. Maybe they wouldn’t point-blank cut me out of their lives, but we wouldn’t spend time together as we do now. They’d boot me out of the chat, stop calling and stop coming over. We’d only see each other on special occasions like birthdays and weddings.
There’s a reason why the seven of us are so close: rules. We started creating those once we hit our teenage years, and the testosterone spilling out of our ears got in the way of us appreciating one another.
Brothers come first.
No dibs on chicks.
Never touch your brother’s girl.
There are more, and there are exceptions, but what I have with Cassidy doesn’t fit into any exception. She fucked my brother. She’s best friends with the girl who hurt Nico. That’s enough to deem her off-limits to all Hayes, but the list of sins doesn’t end there. Over the years, Cass has been talking behind our backs, warning girls away. She even warned Thalia when Theo first met her. She’s been getting in our way for a long time.
“Look who’s here,” Annalisa beams, rising to her feet, flinging the blonde hair over one shoulder. Someone should feed that girl. Her legs resemble two thin sticks. “I was starting to worry you wouldn’t show up.” She crowds my space to kiss my cheek as if we’re long-time friends.
I’ve not seen her in twenty-five years. She’s a stranger, and the gesture is not appreciated.
“Hey, Ann. Good to see you,” I say, hoping the short, clipped line will be enough to paint a picture—Logan, out. Not interested. I veer off to the right, lean over Thalia’s lounger and kiss her cheek, or else I’ll hear about it later. She’s the most spirited woman I’ve ever met. “Hey, honey, please tell me you made the Greek salad and the dip.”
A BBQ just isn’t the same without the tzatziki dip since Thalia became a part of the family.
“And the skewers,” she admits, reaching for a tall glass of iced tea.
Her inquisitive eyes jump from me to Annalisa, who must still be standing a few feet behind. If only Thalia knew how much she has in common with my mother. They’re both trying to play cupid every now and then as if I’m incapable of finding a woman by myself. The track record of my relationships confirms the statement, I guess.
Funny that neither of them gets on Nico’s case.
“What did you make?” she asks in a normal tone, then mouths, “she’s cute!”
I answer the statement with a firm shake of my head, begging her to put down the bow and arrows with heart-shaped heads she’s undoubtedly aiming at my ass, and then I tackle the question. “I made an appearance.”
“You made that last time. It’s getting old.”
I ruffle the mass of her curly hair, turning back toward the blonde stick woman. It hurts just thinking about fucking her. I’d bruise my thighs, ramming into her from behind.
Grandma saves me from entertaining my long-lost love by walking out of the house with a plate of apple pie slices. At seventy-nine, she’s the most elegant woman I know. Always dressed to impress.
Now, her low heels click on the decking as she strolls toward the table in a cream, over-the-knee dress, pearls adorning her neck and dangling from her ears, white hair cut short and styled back. Grandad stands by the BBQ equally as elegant in a smart yellow shirt tucked into a pair of gray chinos.
Thankfully, apart from the older generation, no one made much effort. I don’t stand out in my distressed black jeans, a Los Angeles Dodgers jersey, and a white cap on my head as per usual.
“Logan,” Grandad calls me over, his tone hinting that this will be about business, and I see my mother frowning. “Just five minutes, sweetheart,” he tells her, drapes his arm across my shoulders, and leads me away from prying ears. “I wanted to tell you the news first before I make the announcement at the board meeting later this week.” He rests his back on the fence surrounding the tennis court.
I narrow my eyes, trying to read the news from the look on his face, but William Hayes has a killer poker face. An aura of authority surrounds him regardless of where he is or what he does. I stand straight in his presence like a soldier at attention, my spine resembling a metal pole. He exudes ruthless confidence and makes you feel like you’re in danger.
Both Nico and Colt inherited the quality. Colt’s more mellow, though. Nico, on the other hand, took Grandad’s genes and cranked them up to fucking infinity.
“I’ve decided to retire at the end of the summer,” Grandad says, each word punctuated. “Your grandma…” He clears his throat, loosening the collar of his shirt. “I believe it’s time for me to enjoy the silver of life I have left.”
Yeah right. It wasn’t his call. Grandma made him do it, I’m sure. She’s been busting his ass for years, asking him to retire, and it looks like she finally wore him down. At eighty, you’d expect he’d be retired for at least ten years, but I could never picture him willingly handing over the company he built from the ground up. I thought he’d die at his desk, working until he drew his last breath.
A sense of dread washes over me at the thought of Stone & Oak being sold to the highest bidder.
“I’m happy for you,” I say and surprise myself when it comes out genuine. “You deserve the rest.”
He bobs his head, peeking over my shoulder with unseeing eyes. “I want you to take my place, Logan.”
There’s a moment of silence as if someone muted the whole goddamn world with his words. I stare at him, wondering if I heard him correctly. There is no denying I work my ass off at the company, and without sounding arrogant, I am a fine architect, but I’ve only been there for six years. Not in my wildest dreams would I have expected to receive an offer like this one.
“That’s very generous, but I’m not sure I’m the right person for the job. I don’t have the knowledge or experience—”
He shushes me with a dismissive wave of his hand. “It’s not that hard or complicated. I’m not retiring tomorrow. We have time to get you settled into your new duties. I know this is sudden, and you need to sleep on it, so let’s not dwell on the subject today and enjoy the barbecue instead. We can talk more tomorrow.” He pats my shoulder, gracing me with a rare smile. “If I didn’t believe you have what it takes to lead my company, I wouldn’t have chosen you.”
Way to boost my ego.
I’m on cloud nine for the rest of the day, joking with my brothers, dodging Annalisa’s flirting, and stuffing myself with food and beer. Cody ends up moving my car to let everyone out close to nine in the evening, but I don’t leave. I crash in my old room, wondering what my life will be like in a few months when I take over Stone & Oak.
