Naughty by Nature Page 5

  “Very funny,” I say, pulling Sadie into the nearest seat. “Could you believe that riot last night?”

  She leans in as her lids grow heavy. “I’m still stuck on that kiss.”

  “That kiss.” I suck in my bottom lip as I drink down the memory. Sure, it was just a whisper, but it might as well have been a scream as far as my girl parts were concerned. I had an honest to God thigh quivering, orgasmic power surge right there in front of our families—my mother, my irate brother, and my father for God’s sake! “Who knew it was volatile enough to send cake flying? And don’t for a minute think I feel bad about it. It feels sinfully delicious serving those mischief mavens their just desserts after years of living under their tyranny.”

  She winces. “How’s poor Conner?”

  “Poor Conner was doted on all night by my mother. The swelling has gone down, and unlike Mack’s unofficial diagnosis, I’m positive he’ll have children one day.”

  Conner may have started the fight, but Jaxson Man of Steel finished it.

  “I guess this thing between the two of you might actually cost them their friendship.”

  “Are you kidding?” I practically fall over in disbelief. “This thing we have is about as real as that plastic Christmas tree still sulking in the corner. As soon as we break the news to our mothers, Conner will have a good laugh and recover. I’m sure they’ll hug it out, and Jax will probably buy him a private jet or something equally ridiculous that screams this might be over, but my dick is still bigger than yours.”

  Sadie belts out a laugh. Her tiny white teeth glow against those ruby red lips. I’ve always admired Sadie’s perfect picket fence smile. While I suffered years of orthodontia at the hands of the town sadist, my good friend with the consummate chompers invested her time and energy in garnering boys who appreciate that pretty white smile. For as many dates as I didn’t have, Sadie made up the depraved difference.

  “So, what’s next? You taking that billionaire bad boy into the living room and having a feast off his body for all to see?”

  “As tempting as teaching our mothers a lesson via better than sex cake, I think I’ll pass on the voyeuristic display. Seeing that my father and brother are being pulled into this indelicate disaster, I think I should at least show an ounce of decorum.”

  “Okay, but just an ounce. This isn’t about your father or brother. It’s about teaching a lesson to those two nosy Nancys, who by the way rained on all of my parades by proxy. Who do you think was left holding the bag during your sweet sixteen when they thought it was a good idea to set your hair on fire?”

  “I’m pretty sure that was an accident.” The memory of leaning in to blow out my cotton candy pink candles comes to mind and I shudder. “It was simply a case of too much flammable hairspray.”

  Sadie grunts, “That coupled with the fact those seemingly innocent birthday candles morphed into rocket launchers the second you puckered those pretty little lips.” She makes a face. “I couldn’t drive any faster to the ER, Poppy.”

  “That’s because you weren’t the one who was driving. It was Jax who was breaking laws behind the wheel.”

  Her lips twist as she nods in agreement. “He was always there for you, Pops. I don’t know why Conner is shocked by your fake news. It should be real. Both you and I know that.”

  My phone bleats and does a quick spin over the table, and I scoop it up. “Hmm,” I muse. “It’s a text from the mischievous maven herself.” POTS is having their annual dinner gala next Friday night! Deb and I wanted to know if you and Jaxson wouldn’t mind popping in! Dinner and dancing at the Leopard Lodge. All the spaghetti you can eat! Let me know, and I’ll cover the cost.

  I flash the phone at my old friend. POTS stands for Pounds Off the Sensible Way. I’ve always been amused at how the word way was left off for the sake of creating a lingo friendly acronym. My mother and Deb have been members since before I was born, always battling those thirty unwanted pounds while whipping up an entire kitchen of delicious desserts that landed them there in the first place. Of course, Mom and Deb provide the local chapter of POTS with their latest, greatest kitchen creations, which in turn keeps the local chapter the least productive in weight loss in the entire Western Hemisphere. I’m convinced their efforts to join the chapter is just one long-running practical joke they’re playing on the hips of the women of Oak Grove. After all, if Char and Deb were going to be forced to carry their freshman fifteen for the rest of their lives, they’ll be damned if the entire town isn’t going to join them.

  “This, my friend, is what I’ll be doing in exactly one week.”

  “Sounds perfectly scandalous. But an entire week?” She shakes her head with a look of disappointment. “You’ve got to step up your messing with mama game. If you want to play this off as the real deal, the two of you need to see one another far more than just the requisite visit sponsored by dear old Mom. A real couple would be joined at the hip by now.”

  “Joined at the hip.” A visual of Jaxson’s very naked hips thrusting up against me floats through my mind, and suddenly it feels a balmy one hundred sixty-nine delicious degrees in here.

  “Easy, girl.” Sadie fans me with the menu. “If that’s what thinking of doing the deed with Jaxson does to you, I’d hate to see the aftermath. Being laid up in the burn unit isn’t a good look on you. Your sixteen-year-old self can attest to that. Girl, you are going to go up like a Roman candle.”

  “Am not.” I snatch the menu from her and get to business with it myself. Damn air seems to have lost all its oxygen. “Besides, we’re not sleeping together. We’re just threatening to. Speaking of which, who are you heating the sheets with?” Yes, I’ve stooped to invoking my mother’s own euphemism for sex with my bestie just to get off the topic of Jax thrusting at me a million blue-eyed miles an hour. Dear God, she’s right. If Jax ever landed me horizontal, I’d rocket right into space and burn up long before I hit the stratosphere.

  She gives a little nod toward the bar. “What do you think we’re doing at Starry Nights in the middle of the afternoon?”

  “Having lunch?”

  “No, you nitwit. We’re having the owner. Or at least I’m attempting to.” She straightens in her seat a bit. This is a good time to pause and let you in on the fact that Sadie Richards is the only person on the planet who has garnered the right to call me a nitwit to my face and not get throat punched in the process. Besides, we’ve both done enough storied things to earn a dunce cap made of solid fool’s gold.

  “You’re trying to bag Hunter?” My mouth falls open as I marvel at the thought. Everyone in Oak Grove knows that Hunter is a good catch. In fact, before Sadie met and divorced Pervy Hervy—okay, so it’s Peter Hervy, but trust me, it amounts to the same damn difference—I tried my best to set her up with the cute bar owner in question. “What are you waiting for? Go up there and set your net. I’m always looking to learn from the master. Besides, you know I’ve been dying to see your game in action.” I’m not teasing. Sadie is a genius when it comes to picking out a guy and landing him flat on his back with the deft and dexterity of a pro wrestler. Thankfully, she and Peter chose not to procreate, so the disassembling of their union went a lot cleaner and neater than expected.

  “Oh, hon, there are some secrets a girl has to keep to herself. Once I teach you my wicked ways, there’s no turning back from that good time. Besides, you don’t need a net.” Sadie leans in and pulls a strand of my hair off my forehead. “When was the last time you landed a man between those sexy hairy legs of yours?”

  “Ha! I’ll have you know I shave regularly now.” So what if I preferred the furry look in high school? Have I mentioned the subarctic climate in this neck of Colorado?

  “No, you don’t. And again, when is this boy expected to face plant into your—”

  “Would you stop? That’s disgusting.” I pretend to be affronted, but at this point Sadie knows me too well.

  “Both you and I know Jax specializes in gifting women a night they can nev
er forget. This is your golden moment, sister, and if you don’t take it, I’m going to have to revoke your girl card. Get out of here right now—find that boy and bed him. And trust me, you won’t have to tell me when it happens. I’ll already know.”

  “You’re a sexual psychic now, too? It’s good to know Oak Grove has been good to you.”

  “I’ll know by the smoke signals your happy, finally content little fun box sends into the sky.” She pulls a tight smile. “Jaxson and you aren’t going to heat the sheets—you’re going to set the entire damn town on fire. Now, get out of here.” She gives a little wink to Hunter as he makes his way over. “Two’s a party. Three’s a good time I’m not having with you. Now, scoot!”

  “I get it,” I say as I hightail it to the exit. It’s time for Sadie to get her groove back.

  Maybe getting my groove back with Jaxson wouldn’t be such a bad thing?

  And with that, I head to the car. Oddly enough, it takes me straight to Stade Steel.

  Go figure.

  I’ve spent my childhood on this deserted end of town with Jax. Jaxson’s father used to host a field trip with the entire school each year. But my favorite times were the private tours that Jax would give me. He was an exceptional tour guide, and I pretended to be very interested in melted alloys being laid out in sheets. But the only thing I was really interested in was the boy proudly showing me the empire he would one day take over.

  I park just outside the corporate office, a tall, boxy building that spans nine floors with Stade Steel taking up a majority of it, but the first few floors are rented out to everyone from dentists to an art gallery. Stade Steel has always been the heart and lungs of Oak Grove. My mother used to say we would have faded off the map long ago without them. I know it’s true. Stade Steel has turned into the biggest industrial employer just this side of Denver. I get out and pause as I take in the factory in the distance with its haunting large smokestacks set amidst piles of fresh fallen snow. The contrast of dark and light—you couldn’t tell the story of the rich and poor in Oak Grove better than that. My father has always done pretty well for himself, so we never felt the sting of not having our basic needs met, but I knew from hanging out at the Stade’s mega mansion that we were far from wealthy. I think the only thing that’s kept Jaxson’s feet on the ground is the fact his grandfather chose Oak Grove to bless with this factory.

  The wind picks up and ushers me into the slick stainless building, crafted from what else? Stade Steel. The lobby is elegant with glass and black granite. When I was a kid, I thought this was a beautiful place to host my fab dream wedding to Jaxson. Yes, my mother and her cohort in engagement-ring-bearing-arms had me brainwashed for a time. Although now that I’m older and wiser, I clearly see that the lobby of Stade Steel, Incorporated is much better suited for a naughty daytime romp than it ever is crystal flutes of champagne and dinner plates full of prime rib.

  I give a quick hello to the secretary and hop into the elevator as I make my way to the penthouse floor where I fully expect to find Jaxson sitting on his steel throne.

  My heart palpitates unnaturally as the doors whoosh open, and a modern, not modest by any means, whitewashed enclave awaits with bodies bustling to and fro as if this were a New York conglomerate and not a blip on the map of Oak Grove. I head toward the row of offices and can’t help but note the new sparkling granite floors, the stainless steel desks with their new age design. There’s a minimalist atmosphere here in general, and the entire scene looks far more polished than I ever remember it. That last time I visited was the day I helped Conner move his boxes up to his office. It was Thanksgiving weekend, many moons ago, and I made sure that Jax was nowhere near the facility. Jaxson and I have made it a fine art to avoid one another, but not today. Today is all about finding that bad boy and teaching him a lesson.

  “Poppy?”

  I turn to find both Conner and Jaxson dressed to the nines in dark inky suits, but it’s the suit on the left—Jaxson’s to be exact—that has my ovaries popping like a Fourth of July grand finale.

  “Mother of God,” I whisper.

  “What are you doing here?” Conner comes over and offers me a quick embrace, but I can’t seem to take my eyes off Jaxson in that navy Italian masterpiece with the gold tie I’d love to use to kink things up a bit.

  “Pops?” Conner waves his hand over my eyes. “Shit. Tell me you’re not swooning. I’ll have to kick his ass all over again if you are.”

  “Of course, she’s swooning.” Jax breaks out into a sexy grin akin to any big bad wolf worthy of his granny eating salt. Wait, that did not sound right. Of his Poppy eating salt. I bite down on my lower lip so hard, I nearly draw blood to keep from giggling. “I’m glad you stopped by. I was just about to call you.”

  “Really?” Heart stops. Dies. Jaxson Stade, love of my life, was about to use those seven magical digits to tap me on the technological shoulder to tell me he loves me. Okay, so maybe not that. But still. Communication efforts were underway. It’s a start.

  “Yes, really.” His brows twitch, and I melt under the duress of those violently blue eyes. When God made Jaxson, he might have dumped a little too much testosterone in the mix because Jaxson has the power to turn any girl into an ovary popping puddle. I swear, I hate this part of me. I used to be strong—attack with my words and then run the hell away was my MO around him for so long. But I can’t help the fact I’m weak as water. When Jaxson Stade pours out all of his attention on you, he has a way of making you feel like the only woman on this lonely planet. “My mother is here.” He nods toward the boardroom. “Let’s go in and say hello.” His arm finds its way around my shoulder as he gives a little wink.

  Conner steps in and flips Jaxson’s arm right back off of me. “Why don’t you head in first?” he grunts at his best friend. “We’ve got a little family business to tend to.” My brother offers me a strange combination of a frown and a grimace.

  “Will do.” Jax bounces his finger off my nose before heading into the room just down the hall.

  “What family business?” I try to peer over his shoulder to catch a glimpse of Jax through the wall-sized window that leads to the boardroom.

  Conner steps over to make sure my view is completely blocked. He was this way when we were kids, too. Always making sure he wasn’t being ignored while acting like an ass. “Have you lost your freaking mind?”

  “No, I haven’t lost my freaking mind. I’m trying to lose my freaking virginity in the event you haven’t noticed,” I tease while jumping up to catch a glimpse of what’s going on in that boardroom without me.

  “What?” Conner squawks while stepping in front of me with his refrigerator wide girth, and I give up all hope of sneaking a glimpse of my childhood crush in a zoot suit.

  “I’m kidding. I lost my virginity ages ago to Tommy Macintosh in the back of that old VW he used to have.”

  “Geez!” Conner covers his ears half-heartedly. “Would you cut it out? Are you trying to kill me? Is that what this is about?”

  “No, I’m not trying to kill you. Don’t flatter yourself. This isn’t about you. It’s about me.” And our mother, I want to add but don’t. “I’m happy.” In a revenge-fueled kind of way. “Besides, that’s Jaxson Stade back there. Any girl in town would be glad to claim him, and he’s all mine. You should be happy for your little sister,” I bleat out that last sentence like a threat.

  “I’m not happy. I’m weirded out. You’re right. That’s Jaxson Stade, the boy you practically grew up knowing as your second brother. Hell, he’s my brother. And my brother and sister can’t do things like that together.” Conner softens with a pained look in his eyes as he walks back to his office, and I don’t stop him. “You don’t know what you’re getting yourself into. And I don’t know what’s gotten into you.”

  What’s gotten into me? I shake my head. It’s clear something has gotten into him. Yes, Jax was close to both of us, but it’s clear Conner is the only one who saw him as a spare sibling. My hormones wer
e too devout in worship to see him that way. But he’s right. I don’t know what I’ve gotten myself into.

  I take a deep breath and step into that office, fully expecting to find Jaxson’s sexy self preparing his mother for the steamy show to come, when I step right into a dark-haired vaginal touting vixen instead—Larissa.

  “Well, if it isn’t Ms. Yeast Infection herself.” I force a tight smile. “If you’re looking for a good ointment to cure that rash, I hear there’s a sale at Walgreens on that tutu cream you tried to peddle.”

  “You know—you’re still not funny, Montgomery.” She flicks me in the face with the stack of papers in her hands and walks out the door in those six-inch stilts she’s trying to pass off as heels.

  I step in to find a shocked Debbie Stade staring right back at me.

  “Poppy, is that you?” Deb honks so loud my name traverses around the cold sterile room like an echo chamber. She swoops on over in her chic pantsuit, her hair carefully coifed and sprayed to a menopause bob perfection.

  “Alive and in the flesh!” I head over to Jax without hesitation. I might have started on this road to deception with hesitation, but I’m all aboard the Jaxson Express, or at least I’m hoping to be before midnight. Sadie is right. What is wrong with ending my dry spell while I’m in between jobs? Hopefully soon, I’ll be back in L.A. getting coffee for my new, requisitely tyrannical boss while pretending to be important to my friends and family back home. Okay, so it’s not that bad, and if I had a new job, I’d be more than happy to play barista.

  “I just couldn’t stand to be away from this one another livelong minute!” I wrap my arms around Jax Stade in a suit and die a thousand GQ deaths. His chest expands as he takes in a breath, and I’m mesmerized by the way the fabric of his smooth shirt stretches over that rock-hard chest of his. Jax was on the track team back in high school, and the swim team, and the football team—and let’s not forget his love of baseball in the spring. He’s an all-around competitor, whom I might have called Jock Cock a time or two, but only because I was teasing—and drooling. I’ve always been fascinated by the things this boy could do with his body, right up until he started doing the entire cheerleading squad. That sort of killed my fascination—and thus, my fascination sort of turned into a bona fide fear for the general hygiene of his balls and our future children he was housing in there. Although that dream eventually faded just like our friendship.