Enticing (Red Lips & White Lies Book 3)
Enticing: Chapter 10

There’s something about having two entire days off in a row during the season that makes me feel like a kid on vacation from school. It doesn’t happen often, so when it does, I’m torn between sleeping in and doing nothing and making plans to do something I can’t usually do during the season. The fact that it’s a Friday and Saturday should make me want to go to a bar. Maybe buy a beautiful woman a drink and see where the night goes.

It’s been a long fucking time since I’ve indulged.

So why the hell does the thought of indulging now sit sour in my stomach?

I mean . . . I know the answer before I can even ask myself the question, so I’m not sure why I’m surprised. Guess this means I need to figure out how to make a certain prickly blonde agree to see me. Maybe she’d let me take her and the girls out for dinner.

I pull my phone out to text her just as it vibrates with an incoming message.

I guess the guys and a ladder will do for now.

“Where did you say Caitlin is?” Killian asks from the bottom of the ladder as he hands Callen the next string of white icicle lights.

Callen’s basically screwed.

Caitlin’s pregnant with his baby, living with him, and she practically hates him.

You couldn’t pay me to walk in his shoes right now.

“Her friend Addie lives around the corner in the old Winbury bed and breakfast. I’m surprised she even told me where she was going,” he admits, and I keep my head down.

Oh, to be a fly on the wall of Adelaide’s living room tonight.

“I thought the old lady that owned that place died,” Nixon says.

“All I know is Cait’s friend lives there now. She’s barely talking to me. So it’s not like I’m getting a full story.” Callen staples a string of lights to the shingles, then tears his glove away, ripping off the staple and lights with it.

I don’t speak up. Not ready to talk about Addie with these guys yet.

Not yet.

“Can somebody tell me why we’re doing this again?” I hang green garland strung with white lights along the porch railing, trying to change the topic. I kinda like that Adelaide isn’t something I’m sharing with my family. I feel like they wouldn’t understand if I did, and I don’t feel like arguing. “Pretty sure this isn’t getting you laid, Uncle.”

Whether any of these idiots saw it or not, Caitlin and Callen have danced around each other for fucking years. Years. Pretty sure them ending up together was inevitable. She might be pissed as hell with him now, but my money is on them working it out.

“Because it’s what she wanted,” Callen snaps. “And it’s Christmas. Or how about because I’m leaving her alone while I play a game on the other side of the damn country that day, and I’m pretty sure she’s skipping her family’s Christmas, in case I didn’t already feel like a big enough asshole.” He groans and looks at the still half-empty roof like he thought we’d already be done by now.

I get it.

Who knew this shit took this long to do?

“Just saying, but I’m pretty sure you not being here is the best present you could give her.” Okay . . . yeah, I’m a dick when I want to be. In my defense, they kinda expect it at this point. I think the guys would be more surprised if I wasn’t busting balls.

“Dude. Do you ever hear the shit you spew?” Nix gets the wreath hung on the door, then moves to help me with the rest of the garland. “Do you have ribbons or something she wants with this?”

Callen shrugs, looking kind of defeated.

“What the hell do you know about ribbons, Nixon?” Killian questions as he unravels the next strand of lights.

“More than you three, since Kenzie had me do this shit the day after Thanksgiving. Apparently, ribbons are important. And according to Kenzie, they should be red or gold. And if they’re red, there are only a few acceptable shades.” He has the next string of garland up in half the time it was taking me. “My girl gave me a dissertation on the importance of it all as we got this shit set up.”

“Was it worth it?” Killian eggs him on, but Nixon doesn’t give a shit.

“Let’s just say there are a lot of uses for ribbons,” Nix answers, and Kill whistles.

“Okay. I hear ya,” I laugh, fucking jealous as hell of my big brother and his kick-ass doctor fiancée. She’s pretty awesome, and she makes him happy as hell. “Dude, do you have ribbons?”

“I don’t think so.” Callen’s face pales. “Fuck.”

“Kenzie got hers from that place right off Main Street. You think they’re still open?” Nix straightens the wreath and looks at us all like we should know the answer to that.

I look up the hours on my phone, then hold it up. “For another hour.”

“Let’s roll, men.” Killian pulls out his keys.

It takes the four of us two hours, a shit ton of ribbon, lights, and green garland later, but by the time we’re done, the house looks like something in one of those Christmas movies our grandma likes to watch. The bows aren’t great. We got the ribbons, and they’re tied into something, but I’m pretty sure Izzy could tie better bows than we managed.

Hopefully, it’s the thought that counts.

As the last extension cord gets plugged in, the four of us stand back and admire our handiwork.

Not too bad.

Nix picks up a roll of unused red velvet ribbon and tosses it to Killian. “Don’t say I never gave you anything.”

“Hey, man,” I bitch, kidding. “What about me?”

“Pretty sure you’ve got to have a woman around long enough to trust you for her to let you tie her up, little brother. And you . . . you don’t like to keep them around,” Nix argues. “What’s the matter, Leo? Cat got your tongue? No smart-ass answer?”

“Never found anyone worth keeping around before,” I grumble.

“Yeah well, when you do, don’t fuck it up like I did.” Callen shakes his head as he picks up the trash around us, and I consider telling them about Addie but ultimately decide against it.

Adelaide

“And then what?” Coraline asks from the other end of the couch we’ve been glued to for the past few hours, a glass of wine in one hand and a chocolate chip cookie in the other—because Caitlin swears baking fixes everything, and I’m content to reap that reward.

“And then nothing.” Cait runs her finger through the whipped cream topping off her hot cocoa. Apparently, she’s over talking about Callen and her shitty day. “I left and came here. I’ve been here since.”

“And then she baked,” I giggle as I take another sip of wine. Cori convinced me to pump and dump tonight so I could indulge with her in a bottle of wine. Well . . . one bottle may have turned into two. Don’t judge. It’s really tasty. “Where do you think the cookies came from?” I ask my sister and dump leftover chocolate chips in my warm bowl of popcorn, ignoring the way Coraline almost spits out her wine.

“Not from you. That’s for sure. These are actually good.”

I stick my tongue out at my sister. “Brat.”

“Speaker of the truth,” she defends herself as she studies the cookie, like figuring it out is the key to unearthing the answer to all our problems. “Your mom owns the bakery in town, right?”

Caitlin nods and dips her cookie in a glass of milk sitting on the coffee table. I was told the milk is for dunking and the cocoa is for drinking. I wasn’t about to argue with a clearly pissed-off, emotional, pregnant friend, so I went with it and got her big mugs of each.

I toss another piece of popcorn in my mouth, then lick the melted chocolate from my fingertips. “Her family owns everything in town. You’ll get used to it.”

“Do you guys own The Busy Bee? I put in an application there today. They legit have the best strawberry shake I’ve ever had.”

I tilt my head, studying my sister.

Why the hell would she put in an application here when her school is five hours and five states north of us?

“Right? They really do,” Caitlin answers Cori before my slightly sluggish brain has a chance to interrogate my sister. “And no, well not exactly. My uncle’s wife’s grandfather owns it, but someone else runs it for him now.” She eyes my popcorn, but when I hold it up, she waves me off. “I need your opinion, ladies. Am I allowed to send Callen out on cravings runs?”

“Why wouldn’t you be?” Coraline asks as she sips her wine, confused, because of course she is.

I may or may not toss a piece of popcorn at her head.

Okay . . . yeah. That was more like a handful, and none of it actually hit her head.

Oops.

“Try to keep up and try to slow down on the wine. You’re not twenty-one yet.”

Wait… is she twenty-one? Shit. How drunk am I?

I swing my glass between Cori and Caitlin, deciding I don’t care how drunk I am, and try to break down Caitlin’s predicament for my sister. I might not be able to wrap my head around my own fucked up issues, but Caitlin’s feel a little more cut-and-dried than mine do. “She loves him. He loves her.”

“It’s been years in the making. Totally epic love kind of shit.” I sigh, and the romance writer in me soars. “He fucked up. Like big-time fucked up. Kinda the biggest. Now she’s pregnant with his baby, and he’s kissing her ass because it turns out, it’s really all her big, scary, DILF-y dad’s fault.” I can’t help the giggle that breaks free because I’ve met her dad a few times at Sweet Temptations, and DILF is an understatement. He’s big and hot in that tall-dark-and-handsome hottie kind of way. Maybe not as hot as my hockey hottie, but he’s really, really hot. “Oh, and don’t forget her hot-as-fuck brother is his best friend, and they got in a fight over her.” Damn, Cait has a good-looking family. I look over and smile at my best friend. I mean, I’d do her if I swung that way. She’s stunningly beautiful. But unfortunately, I’m just not into that. Shame . . . I could totally rock a lesbian relationship. Wait . . . where was I going?

I look between the girls again, a little lost and maybe a whole lot more drunk than I realized. “That about sum it up?”

Cait rubs her temples like I just gave her a migraine.

“Seriously, Caitlin. If I wrote this in a book, my readers would tell me it wasn’t believable.” Maybe I could write that next.

Where’s my notebook?

Coraline laughs . . . hard. “Your readers wouldn’t care as long as the sex was good.” She taps her glass to mine. “Was the sex good?”

“The sex was incredible. Just short-lived.” Cait’s shoulders slump, and she runs a cookie through the whipped cream.

“Oh, I’m sorry. Two-pump chumps ruin it for everyone.” Coraline looks completely heartbroken, and I laugh so hard, I spit wine out all over the coffee table.

“Oh my God . . .” I can’t stop. Once the laughter starts, it’s loud and obnoxious and basically out of control. I try to wipe up my mess but somehow manage to make it worse instead. “She said it was incredible. Would it be incredible if he had a stamina issue?”

“He didn’t have a stamina issue. There were no chumps. He had a timing issue. Literally. We were only together a few days when everything fell apart.”

Sometimes I wonder if I’ll ever feel that again . . .

The weight of a man’s body on mine.

An orgasm that isn’t self-induced.

That look I’m not sure I’ve ever even seen but I write about in every single book.

“So use him,” Coraline offers like it’s the most completely logical conclusion, and she’s not wrong.

“Nobody tells you how horny you are when you’re pregnant,” Caitlin bitches.

“They kinda do.” My laugh turns into a snort, and I hide my face. “Haven’t you ever watched TV or read a romance novel? Everybody talks about how horny you get while you’re pregnant.”

“Yeah,” Coraline agrees. “And how good the sex is.”

I swing around to Cori. “How would you know?”

“Chill out, lightweight. I’ve never been pregnant. I just read your books and watch movies. Way too much Netflix.”

She’s nice enough not to mention just how much I bitched about it when I was pregnant with Izzy. God, I was a horny mess. Not so much with Lennox. Hating all men for the entirety of that pregnancy seemed to quell those hormones. “You live with him. You can’t get more pregnant. Just have sex with him.”

I can tell Caitlin wants to argue, but she sinks back into the couch and sighs instead.

“Do you have a picture? I need to see this man.” Coraline stares at her, her big doe eyes so similar to mine when she demands to see a picture of Callen.

Cait pulls out her phone and searches for a minute, then hands it to Coraline, who immediately jumps up from the couch. “Shut up.”

“Oh please, dear God, I promise I will never say anything bad about anyone ever again if you do not tell me that you slept with Callen Sinclair,” Caitlin pleads.

Before I can calm her fears, Coraline stops her. “Trust me. If I had slept with that man, I don’t think I’d ever let him out of bed. He looks like he knows exactly what he’s doing. Please tell me he can replace a clit,” Coraline begs, and I silently wonder if Leo can replace a clit.

Oh, who the hell am I kidding?

There’s no way that man can’t replace a clit.

I can still feel his warm breath fanning my face when he told me he wasn’t going to kiss me yet. Fear warred with want as I swayed on my feet, wishing I wasn’t such a coward. That I could have leaned in and closed the distance without my pulse pounding so loud I was sure he could hear it loud and clear.

Fuck . . .

But we’re not talking about Leo . . .

We’re talking about Callen.

Callen, who Cait already told me has no need to ask for directions or instructions. Fuck me. Focus . . .

“Oh . . . he can replace a G-spot and a clit with his mouth and his tongue,” I assure my sister.

“Adelaide—” Caitlin yells at me, and I stop, wondering how much of that rant was out loud.

Shit.

“Sorry.” I put my now-empty glass down and look at the bottle of red wine on the coffee table. “I think I may have had too much wine.”

“Ya think?” Caitlin asks while Coraline laughs.

She may never let me live this down.

“I say use him. You live with a man who looks like a sexy beast of a race car.” When neither Caitlin nor I follow, Coraline rolls her eyes. “High-performance with sleek lines and lots of muscle. Follow along here, ladies. And he already knocked you up. Hop on and take him for a ride.”

Ohhh, I like that line of thinking. “I second that vote. Then tell us all about it. I could use some inspiration for my new book hero. Porn is getting old, and Callen is hot.”

Caitlin’s mouth hangs open for a hot minute. “Porn?”

Fuck it.

I pick up the bottle of wine and decide if momma can’t get laid, at least she can get drunk.