Gibson Boys Box Set Read online

  “Oh, shit.”

  I wonder, vaguely, how long you can have your blood pressure as high as mine without your heart exploding. From the moment he touched her—no, from the moment he sat down beside her—my veins have pulsed with a tempo that can’t be healthy.

  I hate that motherfucker more than anyone on Earth. He’s a worthless, pussified cocksucker who tried once, only once, to pull his shit on my sister. He got some free dental work out of that encounter.

  Sienna comes out of the restroom, her eyes darting around Crave. She’s tucking her hands into her pockets, not harboring that swagger of confidence that usually rolls off her. That alone pisses me off because I know it’s Tommy who took it. But when I see him head her way, my body vibrates in anticipation.

  “Patience,” Peck warns. “You can’t just go over there balls to the wall.”

  “I know.” And I fucking hate it.

  Someone like her shouldn’t be in the same room with the rest of us. She’s a good chameleon, blending in with whatever environment she’s in, but I can tell she’s just that—a faker. She doesn’t hang out in shithole towns with shitty bars. You can see the little nuances if you watch for them, like the way she looks at what everyone’s drinking before she orders or how she’d have no idea what a place like this would even serve. It’s adorable, really, highly entertaining. And it leaves her vulnerable.

  “I don’t think she likes him,” Peck notes as Tommy tries to step in front of her.

  “Me either.”

  She moves backwards, laughing, but the way her hands clench at her sides isn’t how she usually looks when she’s giggling. She’s not lifting her chin or cocking her head a touch to the left.

  Tommy reaches for her arm, grabbing her just behind her elbow.

  It’s one motion, one jerk of her arm away. It’s one moment of lip reading as she forms the word “Ouch,” that has me storming towards them.

  I can barely see straight and it has nothing to do with the two beers I drank. My body shakes so fucking bad, ready to break this asshole’s face for a second time. By the time I get to them, they see me coming.

  Sienna sags against the wall, Tommy taking a giant step away from her.

  “You okay?” I ask her before I even get there.

  “Yes,” she sighs, looking at me with wide eyes.

  “You,” I say, turning towards Tommy, “are not okay.”

  “I had no idea she was with you—”

  My fist slams into his mouth before he can even get his excuse out of his trap. The explosion is a perfect cross, shoving all the way through until my arm is extended with his face at the end.

  Sienna gasps, her hand flying to her mouth, but wisely stays to the side next to Peck.

  Tommy is crouched on the floor, one hand tapping at his mouth. He swipes a trail of blood down the side as Machlan shoves through the crowd and takes in the scene.

  My muscles flex, ready to lunge forward and hit him again. Machlan positions himself so I’d have to go through him to do it.

  “What the hell did you do now?” Machlan looks down at Tommy with no pity.

  “Your brother fucking hit me! Did someone call the police?”

  No one says a word, the song on the radio overhead wrapping up the only sound. Tommy looks around, getting to his feet. As he realizes everyone is watching, you can see the anger and humiliation building.

  “You’re going down for this one,” Tommy snarls. “I’m calling the police.”

  “You do that.” Sienna steps to my side, her head held high. “Call them. I’d love to talk to the Sheriff about how you grabbed my arm.”

  “You little bitch—”

  He doesn’t get that one out either before I rock him back with a left hook. His body weight twisting him around with the force of the punch, he lands again on his feet like a fucking cat.

  “Tommy,” Machlan booms, “I’m going to suggest you get the hell out of here while you can walk. Because if you open your mouth again, it’ll be the last time for a while.”

  “Fuck you and this hillbilly town.” Tommy spits a mouthful of blood on the floor. “Fuck all of you.”

  The crowd parts as he storms through it, the front door smashing so hard it sounds like the glass breaks. It’s the trigger that gets everyone talking again. Before I know it, it’s just me, Sienna, and Machlan.

  As the adrenaline settles, the blood shining in the light, I realize what I’ve done.

  “Fuck,” I growl, so many things floating through my head that I can’t make sense of any of them. The only thing that clears them for a brief moment is Sienna touching my hand.

  “This is swollen,” she says softly, holding my hand in both of hers. “Can we get him some ice, Machlan?”

  “I’m fine,” I grumble.

  “You aren’t fine.” She lifts my hand to inspect it, her eyes full of concern. Watching her trying to get a plan together to fix me makes me forget about all the pain.

  “I gotta get this mess cleaned up,” Machlan breathes. “You okay, Sienna?”

  “Yeah. He just grabbed me. I think he pinched a pressure point or something.”

  “Let me know if you need anything,” Machlan says before disappearing to the store room.

  She’s right in front of me, her soft skin against mine. Kindness and worry about me, even though she was the one hurt, is all I see on her face.

  Taking my hand away, even though my head screams inside not to, I lift her arm carefully. Her skin is smooth, a creamy white, and I’m relieved there are no bruises.

  “I’m fine, Walker. Really.”

  “It doesn’t hurt anywhere? You sure?” I run a hand down her arm, feeling for any lumps, watching for her to cringe. She doesn’t.

  “I’m sure.”

  Nodding, not trusting what will come out of my mouth, I place her arm back to her side.

  “Thank you for doing that,” she gulps. “I don’t really know what to say. Just … thank you.”

  “Yeah. No problem,” I say, exhaling roughly as the pain throbs up my wrist.

  “I’m worried about you,” Sienna says, reaching for my hand again.

  Letting myself give in for a split second, I touch the side of her face. She leans into it, her eyes filled with something I can’t put my finger on. Before I can do anything else, I flip her a nod and a tight smile and leave out the back door.

  Nine

  Walker

  “That oughta do it.” Machlan takes a step back and examines our handiwork. “Looks good to me.”

  “I think it’s sturdy,” I note, gripping the edge of the gutter and giving it a shake with my good hand. The other is still swollen from Tommy’s face. “Yeah. That’s solid as shit.”

  We walk back to my truck and lay our tools on the bed. My brother fishes around in the cooler until he retrieves a bottle of water. Popping it open, he takes a long, leisurely swig before wiping his mouth with his shirt.

  “You just left a smear of black shit across your face,” I say, nodding towards the line going from one cheek to the other ear.

  “Yeah, well, I gotta get a shower anyway.”

  The sun barely streams over the tops of the trees lining the back of Nana’s property. Deep purples and pumpkin oranges streak the sky as a flock of birds fly into the evergreens. I’m not sure what’s written on my face, but when I turn to look at Machlan, he’s smiling.

  “What?” I ask, unlatching the toolbox bolted into the top of the bed of my truck.

  “What’s on your mind tonight, Walker?”

  “Nothin’.”

  “I’m gonna have to call you out on that bullshit.”

  Resting my forearms on the bed, I look at him like he’s a dumbass. Of course there’s a lot of shit on my mind. Even if I could stop thinking about Sienna, my throbbing hand would remind me every time I go to move it. But I don’t want to talk to him about that. “Now how in the world do you know what’s on my mind?”

  “Because I’m your brother. I know you almost a
s well as I know myself.”

  “You don’t know shit,” I tell him, picking up the hammer and screwdrivers and tossing them into the toolbox. They clamor as they land on top of a variety of other tools.

  “So I can assume everything Peck said is false?” he asks.

  “Don’t we always assume everything he says is false?”

  “Not everything,” he insists. “Sometimes he’s right.”

  “Like when?” I snort.

  “Like when he said I should dump Janette because she was a whore.”

  “I fucking told you that too. Peck doesn’t get credit for that when the whole damn town knew it.”

  “Easy there, tiger,” Machlan says, wagging a finger my way. “Let’s not start talking about our history of whores. I believe you have—”

  “Enough.” Flashing him a warning glance, I slam the toolbox closed. In typical brotherly fashion, he laughs again. Louder this time. More pointed this time. “Machlan, I think it’s time to call it a night.”

  “I think we’re just getting started.”

  “See,” I say, swinging the truck door open as my jaw sets in place, “this is where you’re wrong. You never know when to shut the fuck up.”

  “No, I think I always know when you want to avoid shit and I force you to think about it.”

  “You don’t force me to do anything besides want to punch your face in.”

  “Well, by the look of Tommy’s face the other night, your skills seem to be pretty sharp. You might even be able to hang with me for a second or two.” He opens the passenger side door and looks at me through the cab. “You really like her, don’t you?”

  “Who?” I deadpan.

  “Come on, Walk.”

  “You want to say goodbye to Nana or just get out of here?” I ask, deflecting his stupid fucking question.

  Climbing into the cab, I ignore my brother as he takes his seat and buckles his seatbelt. I usually give him a hard time about strapping in like a good little citizen, but I let it slide this time. I simply don’t have the energy to rile him up. I expended every ounce of energy I could muster today trying to seem like I wasn’t paying attention to Sienna.

  If it wasn’t her ass in those shorts as she stood on a chair and washed the windows, it was the way she chewed on her bottom lip as she sorted invoices. If I got really lucky, her laugh would float into the garage bay and I’d fight a hard-on while changing someone’s oil.

  Sienna is organized. My customers love her. She got Standski to get parts to us within an hour all week. I can’t find a reason to dislike her no matter how hard I try.

  The logical, maybe even compassionate, side of me wants to tell her to call it even. That’s what I should do. That’s the smart option for both of us.

  The stronger side of me, the one that’s laced with testosterone, wants me to give Peck the day off, lock the doors to Crank, and just strip her down on the office desk. I’d start at her sweet lips, kissing my way down to her—

  “You still here?” Machlan asks, nudging me in the side. “I mean, I’m happy to sit here all night, but let me know so I can get comfortable.”

  Rolling my eyes, I start up the truck and pull down Nana’s lane.

  “Guess that settles that,” he mumbles as we pass her house. “So, Peck says Sienna is super hot, which I already knew, but he also said she—”

  “Peck needs to stop talking about her.” I say it too fast, with too much force. Keeping my gaze on the road, I don’t look at my brother because I don’t want to see the victory in his eyes that I know is there. “You, too, for that matter.”

  “That’s hard, in more ways than one, if you catch my drift.”

  He’s saying it to piss me off. It works. My knuckles turn white as they wrap around the steering wheel, imagining it’s Machlan’s neck.

  “You can keep your thoughts about Sienna to yourself,” I say through clenched teeth. Just thinking about him thinking about jacking off to her makes me want to come undone. I hate this feeling of not being able to control my reaction to Sienna and having to listen to these assholes poke me about it.

  “Well, if it’s nothing to you, I don’t see why it can’t be something to someone else. If she finds her way into Crave this weekend, you know what’ll happen. Every cocksucker in there will have his number in her hands.”

  I don’t have to look at my brother out of the corner of my eye to know he’s pulling my chain, but I do anyway. When I take in his cheesy smile and arched brow, I cut the steering wheel hard to bounce him around in his seat.

  Laughing, Machlan adjusts his shoulder strap. “I haven’t seen you like this in a long time, brother.”

  “Let’s not go there.”

  “I’m not going there,” he promises. “I’m just saying, it’s fun to see you like this.”

  “Like what?”

  “She’s gotten under your skin.”

  It’s a simple phrase, one I’ve heard used to describe people in songs and even, sometimes, in real life. But never have I truly understood what it meant until this very moment.

  He’s right. She’s burrowed her way into my mind, maybe without even trying. Something about her just sparks a match deep inside me, one I can’t put out no matter how hard I try. In a perfect world, I’d ask her to dinner. I’d ask her about the little drawl to her voice and what the ring on her finger means. I’d ask her why she chose purple to streak her hair and why she always hums the same catchy ditty to herself.

  But I don’t. Because that would be stupid. Because scratching this particular itch would only spread it. This isn’t a bug bite. This is poison ivy.

  I take the final turn to Machlan’s house and pull up in front of the two-story brick home that was our parents’. The house where we all grew up.

  Flicking the transmission into park, I look at him. “Thanks for helping me tonight.”

  “Yeah. No problem. I’m gonna grab a shower and then head into Crave. Our orders for the week go in tomorrow and I don’t know what we have and what we don’t.” He grabs the handle, but stops. “Walker, look, I know I was giving you hell, but really … I think it’s good you’re finally starting to come around. You’ve done everything right, brother. But fuck it. You deserve a life too.”

  “It’s not like that.”

  “Let it—”

  “Mach,” I warn, cutting him off. “Don’t. All right? Just don’t.”

  Fists clenched at my sides, I look at the house and not at him.

  “How long you gonna do this?” he asks. “Up until now, I get it. There hasn’t been anyone who’s worth a damn. But Sienna is different, Walk.”

  “You getting out or what?” I ask.

  Heaving a breath, he climbs out of my truck. “See ya on Sunday.”

  “Later.”

  As soon as the door closes, I peel out of the driveway. I should turn left to go home, but that would only make things worse. Instead, I take a right and drive aimlessly into the darkening night.

  Ten

  Walker

  A rock song blares on the overhead speakers as I fish under a table for a dropped bolt. The tune is one of my favorites, one that I play when I need to zone out and focus on a job. After getting here two hours early and getting nothing accomplished, I tried my luck with music. Turns out, my luck is out.

  My hand rolls along the cool concrete floor, grasping wildly for the errant piece. My mind is just as desperate for a resolution of its own.

  The lyrics, lines I’ve heard dozens of times over my life, sound brand new this morning. I’ve never picked up on the innuendo or the suggestive undertones before. As the words thump through the room, my mind is drawn further and further away from the broken axel on the pickup in front of me and closer to the blonde who should be walking in the door at any minute.

  The truck has been a headache, but Sienna is a fucking migraine. At least with the truck, there are procedures and handbooks and common knowledge that can be applied to solve the riddle. With her? It’s madness. There
’s not a handbook besides the back of a whiskey label to fix this.

  “Hey,” Peck says, breaking me from my spell. His head is stuck around the door, having just arrived. “Donaldson is in. Where’s his invoice?”

  “Fuck if I know,” I grumble. “Sienna filed all that shit.”

  “Where?”

  “All I know is the folders were all sparkly. There’s still glitter on the floor back there. I’d just follow the glitter trail, Peck.”

  “I’d like to follow that glitter trail,” he smirks.

  Flashing him a look, my lips pressing together so hard they hurt, I watch as he laughs.

  “I heard the guys at Crave talking about her last night. You have three calls on the answering machine right now with men wanting to bring their trucks in for basic shit they usually do themselves. You get what I’m saying?” he asks.

  “Charge Donaldson fifty bucks. Get what I’m saying?” I ask, lifting a brow.

  Peck laughs again, the sound cut off by the door closing. I go back to the truck and try to ignore the pain across the back of my shoulders. The lug nut is almost tightened when my hand falls from the tool. It dings off the concrete, making a racket, but I stay squatted down and wait. Within a few seconds, her laugh spills from the lobby and floods my ears.

  The grin that settles over my lips every morning when I feel her presence does its thing, but because no one is here to see it, I let it go. I let my stupid body react while my brain screams at it to stop. It’s like I’m trapped in a madman’s world where the two parts of me are in a constant battle. My brain is right. My body is wrong. We all know it. It’s common with men. But the override button I can usually press on my physical reactions is broken and that’s why I’m fucked.

  Angling my ear so I can hear her better, the faint pitches and dips of her voice as she teases Peck melt away a bit of my stress.

  She showed up. Again.

  Rocking back on my heels, I let out a breath before standing. As I turn around, the door is opening behind me and Peck’s dumb ass is whistling as he comes in.

  “Good Lord almighty,” he cackles. “You need to go see that.”