For Seven Nights Only (Chase Brothers) (11 page)

Sawyer snagged her by the waist and pulled her in. She quickly learned it was a ploy to relieve her of his shirt. “What about you?” he asked.

“Seriously? Are we not almost late?”

“Seriously.”

“Your penis is amazing. You’re definitely a god.” And he kind of was. Weren’t men supposed to need a recovery period between orgasms? Clearly, he’d been wired all wrong. He was sex, sex, and more sex.

Surely you’re not surprised
.

No, she wasn’t, but he had to have another gear. Maybe she’d discover that this afternoon. In fact, she’d better, because if the dinner conversation was about sex, she was
so
outta there.

“We’re going to be late,” she said.

“Maybe we don’t have to go at all.”

“Date five,” she said. The words were supposed to be a playful warning, but instead they felt like a punch to the gut.

Apparently not only to her. “Yeah,” he said darkly, plopping naked onto the bed. “Date five.”

Inexplicably hurt, she turned away. She found her clothes and wiggled into them, feeling his eyes on her but not returning the favor. He didn’t need her attention. He had every other woman on the planet to swoon over him. That would be enough for anyone else, but not Sawyer Chase.

But that wasn’t her problem, was it?

She forced down her irritation and locked herself in the bathroom long enough to clean up. When she exited, she found him in the kitchen-living-room-dining-area—New York apartments were closets to the rest of the world—kicking a chew toy to Marmaduke. She held back, watching while the dog snatched it up, snarling, and ran to deposit it at Sawyer’s feet. He then circled around and sat until Sawyer kicked it again, and the process restarted.

What. The. Heck.

She kept silent as she went to the stove, where the pan of brownies waited, and grabbed a knife. They probably weren’t cool enough to cut but close enough. Fortunately, they were only slightly overdone. She bit back a burst of nervous laughter and sawed harder with the knife.
Sorry these are a bit overcooked. I didn’t hear the timer over the loud sex.

Sawyer came up behind her and slid his arms around her waist, sending thrills through her. The man was heaven.
Heaven
. But it was just physical. Had to be.

While one of his hands crept lower, the other went for a brownie. She smacked his arm, but not before he’d snatched one. “Those aren’t for you.”

“Too late.” He popped the dessert in his mouth and immediately made a face.

“Did I mention they’re still hot?”

He shook his head and started rooting around the small kitchen. Calmly, she handed him a paper towel, which he snatched from her. “No, you did not,” he said a moment later.

“Lesson learned.”

“You’ve got that right.” He looked queasy. And gorgeous.

And entirely too much like heartbreak.

Chapter Twelve

In the elevator, Sawyer pushed the button for his floor. Kelsie looked at him in confusion.

“I borrowed a spoon from my mom,” he said, “and I need to return it.” Lies. What he really needed was to brush his teeth. That brownie was inexplicably worse than her buttermilk, garlic mashed potatoes, which was an accomplishment. The worst kind.

The doors slid open on his floor, and Kelsie hesitated. He grabbed her hand. “You’re not going to stand there smashing the
door open
button until I get back, are you? Come on.”

His last words were moot. By then he had her halfway down the corridor, those horrible brownies clutched in her free hand like she was headed to the gallows. The woman needed to relax. He’d hoped to do that with the sex, not that he needed a motive for that, but apparently he’d only reminded her of the countdown…and the end.

No wonder she looked like someone kicked her dog.

Or like anyone who had ever eaten her cooking.

He unlocked his apartment and gestured for her to enter first. She did so, but hesitantly.

“It’s not dangerous in here. I promise.” He paused to point out the damage she’d caused to his ceiling. The water stain was huge, the spot of flaking plaster considerably smaller. “Except there.”

To her credit, she looked slightly horrified. “I did that?”

“Yep, and maintenance has promised to be up here for repairs within the next six months, but if it actually caves, they’ll try to move me up a day or two.”

She averted her gaze from the ceiling to him. Aghast, she asked, “Is that even legal?”

He shrugged. “It’s classified as a water stain. They probably don’t have to fix it at all. Make yourself at home. I’ll be right back.” He headed for the bathroom and felt about ten times better after he brushed his teeth. It really was the little things. He had no idea how she’d screwed up a boxed brownie mix, but she’d done so beautifully. They tasted like bark. Hot bark.

He wiped his mouth on a towel and exited to find her standing where he’d left her. Clearly she’d decided not to get comfortable. The place might be a touch Spartan—mostly leather, hardwood, and electronics—but it was clean. Other than the spot on the ceiling. But they’d already established that was her fault. “You ready?”

She raised a skeptical brow. “Aren’t you forgetting something?”

“Am I?”

“Your mother’s spoon?”

Ah, shit. “I guess having you so close to my bedroom made me forget.”

Her brow lifted. “And what percentage of the population of New York has
not
heard that line?”

He inwardly winced. “I thought that was my selling point. Experience, I mean.”

“You’re right.” She sighed. “I should remember that.”

Her agreement hit him straight in the gut. “What does that mean?”

“Nothing.”

He touched her arm. “No, no
nothing
. Something’s wrong, and it has been since
date five
became a thing.”

A dozen shadows passed over her face before she seemed to settle on one. “I just have a hard time telling what’s real and what the lines are.”

He took the brownies out of her hand and placed them on the counter—with any luck, she’d forget them—and took her hands. “No lines. None. I’m not going to lie to you,” he said uber-solemnly. “Not even for sex.”

Her brow quirked. “You went to the
opera
with me.”

“But did I pretend I wanted to be there?”

Now she laughed. “No.”

“I rest my case,” he said, grateful for the lighter mood. He didn’t trust himself to examine anything below the surface—not hers and definitely not his. “You can trust me,” he said. “Now let’s get moving.”

He took her hand and headed for the door, only to be dragged to a stop. “Your spoon?”

“Oh, yeah.”

Her eyes narrowed. “And my brownies.”

Fuck
.

Fifteen minutes later, he handed the whole batch to his three brothers. And smiled, because he knew they were about to give him hell. Nothing like a preemptive strike, and this one ranked right up there with Hiroshima.

“Kelsie,” Sawyer said once they were inside, “meet Ethan, Liam, Crosby, and Estelle. Crosby will probably never see you because his eyes have yet to be surgically removed from Estelle, who is nevertheless the best thing to ever happen to him, but I thought you might want to know his name anyway. And this,” he added as his parents approached, “is my dad, Russell, and my mom, Alice.”

His mom and dad both greeted her warmly, then his mom excused herself to the kitchen. Crosby glared, but to his credit he was the next to stand and greet Kelsie. “Not to steal one of Sawyer’s lines, but I have to say I have no idea what you’re doing with my brother.”

Kelsie winced over Crosby’s use of
lines
. Sawyer made a mental note to punch him later. Hard. In the face. “She’s just a friend,” he said, and immediately felt like a jerk. But what was he supposed to say? She couldn’t get a date, so she settled for him?

Ethan’s gaze jerked to Sawyer in surprise, and Sawyer prayed he’d keep his mouth shut.

Unfortunately, Liam didn’t. “A
platonic
friend?”

“Sawyer doesn’t know the meaning of that word,” Crosby reminded the group.

“Boys!” Alice warned from the other room.

Russell cleared his throat. “Alice usually offers the apologies around here,” he said, “but since she’s indisposed with the kitchen, I’ll go ahead and say I do hope you’ll excuse these boys.” In a stage whisper he added, “They take after their mother.”

From the kitchen, Alice called, “You should be so lucky.”

Kelsie covered her mouth, her bright-eyed gaze full of laughter. Sawyer loved how happy she looked, but he couldn’t help wondering who that was for. She certainly hadn’t been so cheerful when she was alone with him.

Russell smiled at Kelsie, and Sawyer had to appreciate his old man’s lack of the obvious, blatant questions on which Crosby, Ethan, and Liam seemed to thrive. Sawyer might deserve it—he was typically the one pulling the punches—but Kelsie certainly didn’t. Although, if his brothers knew she shared their opinion of his sex life, no doubt they’d bond, and he didn’t like that thought. Not at all. As it was, she seemed to be looking a little too hard in the direction of the two youngest of the group. Hell, Ethan had already married once, and he was definitely a devoted, one-woman man. He was probably exactly the kind of guy she wanted.

“What do you do, Kelsie?” Russell asked, dragging Sawyer from his thoughts.

“Other than Sawyer,” Liam snickered.

“Liam Chase,” Alice warned. “Enough.”

But Kelsie was smiling. “I’m a digital strategist,” she said. “I advise firms on ways to maximize their online presence.”

Crosby nudged Estelle. “That’s right up Grady’s alley,” he said, referring to her brother, who, between his tech work for Fusion and likely position as future brother-in-law, was practically a fifth Chase. “Maybe we should introduce them.”

“Grady is a tech writer and computer expert,” Sawyer said darkly, even though he’d entertained the thought himself. But that was before. “This isn’t anywhere
near
his alley.”

“They both use computers,” Crosby said mildly.

“Who the hell doesn’t?” Sawyer snapped. Kelsie was oh-so-innocently eyeballing his fucking brothers, and now Crosby wanted to sic her on yet another guy?

But wasn’t that the point?

Sawyer was suddenly exceptionally glad Grady was out of town. Estelle had been trying to find him a woman apparently since birth, and the family was jumping on the Grady-Kelsie bandwagon a little too quickly for Sawyer’s taste. And it wasn’t like he could argue. He’d just said she was only a friend.

“Hey, Kelsie,” Sawyer said tersely. “My mom is an excellent cook. Maybe you could go to the kitchen with her and pick up a thing or two.”

Estelle’s jaw dropped, which kind of surprised Sawyer. He hadn’t realized she’d looked away from Crosby, although he could see why hearing her brother’s name linked to Kelsie’s would distract her. Glaring at Sawyer, she said, “You did
not
.”

“Did not
what
?” Sawyer met her challenge head-on. It wasn’t like he was going to tell the room,
Oh, by the way, I’m supposed to make her some other guy’s wet dream come true, so she really needs to be less scary in the kitchen.
He prayed Kelsie would get what he was saying, but her glare nearly matched Estelle’s, so he leaned close and whispered, “Consider it a much-needed lesson.”

Before she could respond, Estelle stood and snagged Kelsie by the elbow. “Let’s go help in the kitchen, and
not
because of what he just said.”

“Watch her close,” Sawyer called after them.

Estelle shot Sawyer a look of pure annoyance as she disappeared with Kelsie. His mom’s house had an open floor plan, but a couple of necessary kitchen elements provided a corner for some respite from the crowd. To that end, he was surprised his mom hadn’t by now turned the kitchen into a fortress, but she had a thing about keeping the whole family together, as if they didn’t see each other enough during the week.

“What the hell was that?” Liam asked.

Ethan, Sawyer noted, averted his eyes.

“She’s lives in my apartment building, and she has flat out refused to sleep with me. Any more questions?” The lie hung bitterly in the room, and he wasn’t sure anyone believed him. But he’d rather they question him than her, and what was more, he was not going to discuss his sex life in a group setting, let alone one that included his parents and his…upstairs neighbor.

“Yeah,” Crosby said. “I have a question. Why are you hanging out with her if she won’t sleep with you?”

Russell’s brow shot up.

“Must be the challenge,” Liam said.

“Boys,” Russell said. “Have some respect. At least for Kelsie.”

Sawyer barely heard him. Liam’s words hit a little too close to home. Fortunately, Ethan chose that moment to pop a brownie into his mouth. He chewed for a moment, his expression growing more wary by the second. Before too long, he stopped chewing altogether.

“Was this supposed to be eaten?” he finally asked, bewildered.

Sawyer tried not to laugh. He failed. It was a good thing Kelsie wasn’t there to see his brother’s face. He didn’t mind giving her a hard time, but that was his job to do. Not Crosby’s, not Ethan’s, and not Liam’s.

His.

For two more dates, anyway. Because he wasn’t what she needed, and the sooner they got this stupid dating game over with and ended things between them, the better.

For them both.

…

Kelsie studied the roomy, ultramodern kitchen teeming with scrumptious smells and friendly faces and felt miles from her apartment.

And confused. Sawyer had completely failed to mention that his brothers were equally insanely hot versions of himself, each with the same intense green eyes. One was clearly taken, but the other two might be available. Not that it mattered.
Hi. You’re ripped and those eyes slay me, so if you’re free to accompany me to this wedding, we’ll just pretend that sex I had with your brother never happened
.

Not. Awkward. At. All.

“I hope those boys didn’t bother you too much,” Alice said. As she spoke, she tended to food cooking on five of the six burners on her stove, and whatever was in the oven emanated a smell to die for. Just to the side of the cooktop, two pans of outrageously fluffy yeast rolls sat waiting for the oven.

No wonder Sawyer thought Kelsie was a disaster.

“After dealing with Sawyer all week,” she said, “it would take more than that to get to me.”

Alice returned a knowing smile. Already, Kelsie found her impossible not to like. She exuded warmth, making Kelsie feel at home despite being completely out of her element anywhere near a kitchen. She was outspoken and friendly and could clearly hold her own against her husband and four boys, and must have done so handily because she looked far too young to be their mother, not that there could be any doubt. She looked just like them.

“How did you and Sawyer meet?” Estelle asked.

At the question, Alice slowed whatever she was doing to the saucepan to a near standstill.

“We, uh, live in the same building. I had a plumbing emergency, and he helped me out.”

“Ironic,” Estelle said. “I met Crosby when I was apartment-sitting for my brother and the air conditioner quit. Actually it caught on fire, then quit.” She laughed. “I guess it’s a good thing these guys are handy.”

“Sawyer’s great with his hands,” Alice said, her voice full of a mother’s pride, potential double entendre apparently undetected.

Estelle snorted. “So we’ve heard.”

Alice paused a moment, then shook her head as she apparently caught the reference. “Oh, to be young again. Do you like to cook, Kelsie?”

Kelsie faltered, not just because she was a kitchen disaster, but because after fifteen minutes in the house—or at least five in the kitchen—she felt…accepted. And in some stupid little corner of her mind, she could see herself belonging there. The impossibility of that sent a pang through her. After sleeping with Sawyer, there was no way she’d actually hook up with one of his brothers, which meant this warm family moment would have to exist in her memory. She swallowed. “Not even close. I actually shouldn’t be anywhere near your kitchen.”

“All the more reason to be in it,” Alice said firmly. “How about you make the gravy?”

Kelsie took an actual step back. She’d seen enough Food Network holiday programming to know she should be even further from the gravy than she should the kitchen. “Isn’t the gravy the hardest part? And pretty much the most important?”

Alice smiled. “Which is why you start there. Although, to be honest, it’s not difficult at all.”

Kelsie and Estelle exchanged looks. Estelle’s was much closer to amusement than Kelsie suspected her own was, but it was clear there was no getting out of this gravy thing. “All right,” she said. “But you’re going to have to talk me through.”

Fifteen minutes later, Kelsie had produced the best gravy she’d ever tasted. It simmered on the stove, no idea how close it had come to a horrid existence, and she couldn’t help but smile. She felt a little…proud. “Sawyer is never going to believe I made this,” she said.