Stepbrother Backstage (The Hawthorne Brothers Book 3) (36 page)

I cut my headlights and force a deep breath into my lungs.
Though the storm has let up some in the past few hours, the raging tumult in my
heart has only grown wilder. This is the last remaining moment before I’m
forced to make my final decision; the last chance I have to turn tail and run
away as fast as I can.

But as bruised and baffled as my heart may be, it won’t let
me betray myself like that. Not after all this.

With trembling fingers, I cut the engine and sink back into
the driver’s seat, staring straight ahead at a modest brick building filled to
the brim with motorcycles in various states of disrepair. And as I keep my eyes
trained on the open door of the shop, a familiar figure strides into view.

My breath catches in my throat as I lay eyes on Cash. Though
it’s hardly been more than a week, my body rallies as though we’ve been apart
for a decade. He’s alone in the shop, working methodically on a bike as the
rain pours down outside. His collar-skimming curls are even more distinct in
the heavy summer air, falling across his forehead as he works. The muscles in
his arms flex with each turn of his wrench, and every cell in my body remembers
what it’s like to be worked over by him.

But although I’m catching a glimpse of Cash in his element,
the one place on earth where he should be most at peace, I can’t help but
notice the tightness of his jaw. The furrow in his brow. Something is troubling
him, weighing down his mind even in this moment of solitude. It may be
presumptuous—conceited, even—to imagine that he may be thinking of me. Of us.
But if he’s as wrecked by what’s happened as I am, at least we can offer each
other a spot of comfort, just by being face to face once again.

Before my rational mind can stop me, I push open the car
door and step out into the downpour. I race across the lot, the warm summer
rain soaking me in seconds. My heart beats out my marching orders, sending me
flying toward Cash as fast as my feet can carry me.

“Cash!” I cry out, his name swelling inside of me, unable to
be contained.

He looks up from his work, his hazel eyes blazing with
recognition. I watch his mouth fall open as he rises, a look of amazement
coming across his gorgeous face. I skid to a stop beneath the tin awning of the
shop, my soaking wet body framed by the open door. For a long, silent moment,
Cash and I stare at each other across the threshold, entranced by the sudden
presence of the other.

“Maddie,” he breathes, testing my name in the rain-scented
air.

“H-hi,” I stammer, a tentative smile playing across my lips,
“It’s so good to see—”

“How—What—” he says, taking a step toward me, “What are you
doing here?”

My stomach flips over as he stares at me, clearly taken very
much off guard by my sudden appearance. Now it’s my turn to be confused. “I,
uh…My job sent me,” I reply, trying to jog his memory, “About the campaign? The
interviews, or—”

“Wait,” he cuts me off, cocking his head, “Just wait a
second. You’re here for work?”

“Yes,” I tell him, trying to keep from quivering. I don’t
think it’s just my wet clothes that have me shaking. It’s the uncertainty about
whether Cash is even happy to see me.

“That was
your
agency that called this morning?” he
goes on, shoving a hand through his hair. “Why didn’t you just…Why didn’t you
tell me you were coming?”

Did Allie conveniently fail to mention that I’d be the one
arriving on Cash’s doorstep this afternoon? Typical.

“It’s a really long story,” I breathe, steadying myself
against the doorframe.

“Sounds it,” Cash says, his expression unchanging. “But let
me see if I’ve got the short version right. You’re not here because you want to
see me. You’re here because you think I’d look good in a denim ad? Is that
about the gist of it?”

“No!” I exclaim, hurt by his assumption. “You honestly think
I’m just here for work?”

“What else?” he asks, crossing his arms, “It’s not as though
I’ve had any word from you, so how should I know?”

“I haven’t heard from you either,” I reply heatedly.

“Of fucking course not,” he shoots back, “You made it pretty
damn clear that what you wanted was time alone. To
think
. I may not be
the brightest man around, but even I know what that means.”

“Cash, please…” I murmur, bracing myself against the
doorframe. “Just listen to me. I know I shouldn’t have left you like that,
without any explanation. Without any answers. But I did need to think. Because
what I feel for you…it deserves to be thought through. It’s too important to
leave up to chance. We have to choose, Cash. If we want each other, then we
have to choose each other. We owe ourselves that much.”

He lets his eyes trail down along the length of my body, his
inked chest rising and falling hard. My heart swells dangerously with hope. One
harsh word from Cash, and I know it will shatter to pieces. When he speaks, his
voice rakes along the bottom of his register in an impassioned growl.

“I chose you the first night we met,” he tells me, bringing
his searing hazel eyes to mine. “So. What do you say, Porter? Do you choose me,
too?”

“Cash,” I breathe, my knees going weak beneath me, “You…You
must know the answer to that.”

“I don’t know a damn thing,” he replies firmly, “Not
anymore. I need an answer. Why are you here?”

My lips part as my brain reels through possible answers. I’m
here because I don’t know how to leave well enough alone. I’m here because I
heard a song on the radio and thought I’d take my chances. I’m here because
even though I know better, I still have a nasty habit of courting disaster, I
guess.

But I know that no answer my mind can produce will be good
enough for him, in the moment. He wants the truth. My truth. And that is
something that only my heart can provide.

“I’m here….” I begin, my eyes stinging with sudden tears,
“Because I need to be, Cash. Because I need to be…with you. I choose to be with
you, if you’ll have me.”

He draws a deep breath into his lungs, drinking in my
answer. I watch the truth wash over him, filling him with certainty.

“I was hoping you’d say something like that,” he growls.

In two long paces, he’s closed the space between us. He
strides across the shop’s threshold and enfolds me in his arms. I give my body
over to him at once as he brings his mouth to mine. He spins me around, pushing
me against the brick wall beside the shop’s doorway. The taste of him as he
kisses me harder and deeper than ever is like a revelation to me. I bury my
fingers in his curls as he holds my face in his work-roughened hands, pinning
me against the wall with his powerful hips. Rain courses down over the edge of
the tin awning as thunder rattles overhead. But after a week of torment and
heartache, I finally feel like I’ve reached the eye of the storm here in Cash’s
arms.

“I missed you so much,” I gasp, as he pins my hands over my
head, kissing along my throat with ardent need.

“You have no idea,” he growls, as a low moan rises from my throat.

I can feel the raw, searing need for him coursing through my
very blood as my heart pumps wildly. How could I have ever doubted my body’s
response to this man? This gorgeous, singular man? I arch my back as his kisses
along my collarbone, pressing his lips to the soft rise of my breast.

“I hope you’re the only one working here today,” I breathe,
grinning wickedly as rivulets of rain water course down my skin.

Cash raises his eyes to mine, fiery want smoldering there in
his hazel-tinted gaze. In response, he grabs me by the hips and pulls me up
into his arms. I wrap my legs around him, pressing my lips to his as my short
pencil skirt bunches around my hips. Without another word, he carries me over
the threshold of the shop, slamming the door behind us.

* * *

“How do I look?” I ask Cash, stepping back into the shop’s
private back office from the adjoined bathroom.

He turns around to face me, buckling his belt. His rippling,
shirtless torso is still flushed from our vigorous reunion on the office’s
well-worn leather couch. A smile spreads across his face as he takes in the
sight of me, standing before him in nothing but his white tee shirt and a pair
of navy blue cotton panties.

“Very nice,” he laughs, as I do a little spin for him, “It’s
a good look for you, Porter.”

“Why thanks, Hawthorne,” I reply, settling back down on the
trusty leather couch, “It’s nice, having something dry to wear.”

“You were pretty eager to get out of those wet clothes in
the first place,” he teases me, sitting down and pulling me onto his lap.

“Excuse me,” I laugh, “But I seem to recall that you were
more than happy to get me out of them.”

“I guess we’re both a couple of sex fiends,” he grins,
circling his arms around my waist.

“Might as well accept ourselves for who we are,” I sigh,
brushing the curls away from his face. The stubble along his jaw is darker than
I’ve ever seen it. As if he couldn’t bring himself to be bothered with self
care these past several days. The empty whiskey bottle sitting on his desk only
fuels to my notion that he’s been aching every bit as much as I have. But I get
no satisfaction from knowing that we were joined in our misery. All I want is
for him to be happy.

“Why do you look so concerned all of a sudden?” Cash asks,
giving me a playful tug.

“I just feel so badly for how I left things,” I murmur, “It
was wrong of me to leave you back there at the house. There was just so much
going on—”

“That’s for fucking sure,” he says, shaking his head, “But
you’re here now, aren’t you? We don’t need to drag all that shit back up.”

“I’m sorry, is all,” I tell him, “I need you to know that.”

“Well. I’m sorry too,” he says, “The ultimatums, the big
talk…you didn’t need that from me. Not after the bomb our parents dropped on us
that night.”

“Have you, uh…heard anything else? About their plans?” I ask
him, tracing my fingertips absently across his chest.

“I left that place about two seconds after you did,” Cash
tells me, “Haven’t heard a word since. Luke’s back at Sheridan, now. And Finn’s
pissed off back to Portland, or so I hear. You never can tell with him. Good
old Mom and Dad are on their own to fuck their shit up however they like, now.”

“God. How did everything get to be so messy?” I ask, shaking
my head.

“Maddie…we’re out of there,” Cash says softly, running his
hands down my arms, “Let’s just put it behind us. I like the view right in
front of me much better.”

“I can’t just forget everything that happened at that
house,” I tell him, “Everything that’s still happening between our families.
Our parents. I mean, they’re already moving in together. What if things go even
further? What if they want to get married, or—”

“Slow down, would you?” he cuts me off, “First of all, take
a breath. Nothing like that is going to happen, Maddie.”

“How can you be so sure?” I ask him.

“Because there’s no way my dad is going to get married
again,” he says simply, “That’s the one thing I know to be true in this world.
Hell, he’s been driving it into my head since I was in the single digits that
marrying my mom was the biggest mistake of his life. My brothers and I were
raised to believe that monogamy and marriage are bullshit.”

“That’s encouraging,” I scoff, raising an eyebrow.

“I said we were
raised
to believe that. Not that we
actually do,” Cash laughs, “Do I seem like a man who can be told what to
think?”

“Not in the slightest,” I reply, lowering myself to the
couch next to him and curling up against his side. “I just wish I could put the
whole thing out of my mind. Focus on this. On us.”

“Why don’t you try it?” he says, putting his arm around me.
“Don’t think of me as part of that whole Hawthorne-Porter shit show. Think of
me as a sexy stranger you met in a bar. A sexy stranger you had your coworker
track down like some kind of creep so you could get a little more tail…”

“That is
not
what happened,” I laugh, giving him a
little shove.

“Oh no?” he grins, “‘Cause it sure seems like—”

“Allie tracked you down all on her own,” I tell him, “And to
be honest, she was acting more as my best friend than my coworker at the time.”

“Ah. So the best friend already approves of me? I’m knocking
this one out of the park,” Cash says. “Does she know about our, uh, situation?”

“Not really,” I admit, “I mean, I told her about that first
night. She has photographic evidence, for god’s sake.”

“Ohh,” Cash says, “She’s the one who made the one night
stand bet with you? Remind me to thank her when I meet her.”

I sit up straight, looking at Cash with surprise.

“When you meet her?” I ask him.

“Well yeah,” he says, settling back on the leather couch,
“For this ad campaign or whatever the hell you’re working on.”

“You mean…you’d actually be interested in taking the Asphalt
job?” I ask him incredulously, “For real?”

“Why not?” he shrugs, “You’re gonna pay me, right?”

“Of course, but—”

“And from what your friend said, all I have to do is come to
some parties and let you film me doing the job I’m already paid to do anyway?”
he goes on.

“That’s…the long and short of it, yeah,” I smile slowly.

“Then I don’t see why I wouldn’t take it,” he says simply,
lacing his fingers behind his head. “This is my shop. It’s not like I have to
ask for permission. Besides, how could I deprive the good denim-buying people
of America a look at this kisser of mine?”

“You know that most of the events will be in Seattle?” I ask
him tentatively.

“How convenient,” he says, “I’m pretty sure I’ve got a place
to crash there.”