Right. She was fairly certain whatever the words were that just died on her tongue would’ve had Taylor fuming. She gritted her teeth briefly and then returned the pleasantries, pretending her boyfriend’s mother hadn’t almost talked trash about her.

  Behind her back.

  It made her wonder what kind of conversations Joanie and Bryson had about her since they’d started dating.

  Pushing that thought away, she said, “What can I do to help?”

  Joanie waved her hand. “You’re a guest. Go sit. The guys will finish up.”

  Translation? You’re an outsider. Go away. I don’t need your help.

  Bryson had already rushed to the caterer’s van to get more food, so he hadn’t been right there to come to her defense. Not that she was sure he would. Instead, she nodded and walked over to the lake to look out over the water.

  Was it time to go home yet?

  She wouldn’t be so lucky.

  “You’re pretty,” a tiny voice said from beside her.

  Taylor looked down and smiled at the little Goldilocks holding a doll. “Thank you.” She glanced around and didn’t see any adults within earshot.

  Or within reach, which was weird since this girl was standing by the lake unattended.

  “Where’re your parents?”

  “Over there.” She pointed to the side, which didn’t tell Taylor anything.

  “Mary Kate!” a woman screeched and started running toward them. Taylor noticed several of the people who seemed to be with the family reunion look up and watch in horror, many of them dropping what they were doing and moving her way. When the frantic woman drew up beside them, she snatched up Goldilocks. “What are you doing by the lake? You know you can’t leave the picnic area. And you are not supposed to talk to strangers.” She glanced at Taylor and mouthed an apology.

  “She’s not a stranger. She was talking to Aunt Joanie.”

  “Oh.” The woman’s brow furrowed, and she looked at her again. “I’m sorry. Have we met? I come to these things every year, but we live in Colorado and I don’t remember everybody from one year to the next.”

  “No, we haven’t. My name’s Taylor. I came with Bryson Reed.” She wasn’t sure if the last name was necessary but not all family members here had the same last name. She knew that first hand. Well, second hand, considering she’d picked up a lot of family gossip over dinner last night, no matter how hard she’d tried tuning it out.

  “Ah, he’s my cousin. I’m Kara.” She tickled the girl in her arms until she giggled, which took maybe three seconds. “And this here is my little munchkin, Mary Kate.”

  “Hi, Mary Kate,” Taylor said, sticking her hand out. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

  “You talk funny.”

  Taylor snorted and Kara gasped. “Mary Kate, that’s not nice.”

  Really? She thought she was the only one she’d spoken to so far that sounded normal. But she guessed that’d make her the odd one. “It’s my accent. I was born and raised in Northern California.”

  “Wow, that must’ve been nice,” Kara said, and the word nice lasted three times longer than necessary. “I’ve lost most of my accent, but whenever I come home for a visit, it slips back in like it never left.”

  “Time to eat!” someone yelled from the picnic tables.

  “That’s our cue. We better get up there before the boys pick everything over.”

  Huh? Kara made it sound like the guys would push the women aside to get to the food first. That didn’t sound like Bryson at all.

  “He’s not.”

  Taylor glanced at her as they walked toward the tables, realizing she’d said that out loud.

  “Aunt Joanie runs a tight ship. Her boys were all raised to have manners. Granted, chivalry isn’t dead around here, but that’s not always the case where family is concerned.”

  She wasn’t sure what she meant by that, but she didn’t know this Kara person well enough to press for more information. When they reached the tables, they stood in line behind some more people she didn’t know. Kara turned to the people who had stepped up right behind them and started talking when Bryson came over to her.

  “That’s cuttin’,” someone yelled from a crowd coming to stand in line.

  Bryson smiled and looked back. “She was holding my spot.” He put his arm around Taylor, and she didn’t try to get away. When he looked down, his smile slipped and he whispered, “You doing okay?”

  She nodded briefly and nudged forward as the line moved. It was keeping a steady pace, so they neared the tables pretty quickly. Once the plates were in reach, Bryson grabbed two and handed one to her. She got in front of him and started eyeballing the selection.

  Oh my god. Was everything fried?

  Did these people not know about heart disease? She spied some beans and some kind of small salad-like stuff, so she scooped spoonfuls of both before she eyed the artery-clogging section. Fish was easy to identify. She grabbed a piece and some fries. The round, fried globs, though, she couldn’t figure out what in the world those things were.

  “Hushpuppies,” Bryson said beside her, answering her unspoken question, as he grabbed some fish fillets.

  She frowned and asked, “What’s a hushpuppy?” as she picked it up, taking a closer look.

  Someone laughed.

  Then another person did, too.

  Taylor looked away from the food item she held and discovered the hecklers were watching her. She felt her face flame.

  “Sweetie, it’s like fried cornbread, but with pieces of corn and onion,” the lady across from her said.

  She swallowed the bile rising up in her throat. “Did you just say you fried bread?” Wasn’t breading what they used to fry stuff with already?

  More laughter.

  “I’m guessing it tastes nothing like Naan?”

  “What’s that?” someone standing in line behind her asked.

  “Indian food,” Bryson answered over his shoulder then focused on her again. “And you’d be right, darlin’.”

  She sneered at the offended item and dropped it back into the greasy container. Fried bread? Really? What next? Fried candy?

  “You’re slacking, son, if you’ve never taken her out for fish,” his dad said.

  “We eat sushi all the time,” she said.

  There were legit gasps of shock.

  When she reached the end of the line, she saw another table perpendicular to the one with most of the food. There were cups and ice and two big jugs. One labeled sweet and the other unsweet.

  Okay, that was informative. Sweet what? It was dark, so it wasn’t flavored water, and she saw kids getting some, so it wasn’t some kind of mixed alcohol. “What is this?” she asked the woman standing behind the table filling cups with ice and lining them up for everyone.

  “Oh, it’s tea, darlin’. We’ve got sweet and unsweet.”

  Tea. She liked tea just fine. It wasn’t her favorite, and she’d only had it hot with some honey.

  “Is there any water?” she asked softly, and the woman stared at her like she didn’t understand the question.

  So tea was the only option? She could work with that. Maybe the sweet version was like the hot tea she’d had? Instead of a single serving, they’d just put a bunch of honey in a big batch like this. It was a poorly educated guess, but the best she could theorize. If she was right, she could try it cold. She did like iced coffee. Maybe it’d be like that. She nodded at the woman who’d placated her and placed a cup underneath the spigot.

  “I didn’t know you liked sweet tea,” Bryson said, coming up beside her and getting some of the unsweetened variety.

  “Don’t know.” She shrugged.

  They made their way to a table, and as soon as she sat down, she took a sip of her beverage.

  And almost spewed it across the table.

  Gah! Was this syrup? She choked it down and immediately took Bryson’s drink to chase away the incredible sweetness in her mouth. His was much better.

  He took her cup and switched it with his. She wasn’t going to complain. No way could she stomach another mouthful of the awful stuff she’d gotten.

  “Better save room for dessert,” Kara said, putting a small plate on the table across from her for Mary Kate and a bigger one for herself as she sat.

  “Yeah,” the little blondie said, bouncing. “There’s fried pies over there.”

  Fried what?

  Okay, it was official. She didn’t need to get close to anyone here because none of these people were going to live past thirty years of age.

  Chapter Four

  If Bryson stood, everyone within a twenty-foot radius would see that he was turned on. Damn, but he’d never seen that swimsuit before. Assuming one would call Taylor’s suit that. All he saw were strings and tiny scraps of material.

  All white.

  As if she were a sexy, virginal sacrifice ready for his debauchery.

  It glowed against her soft skin, skin he’d had the pleasure of kissing many, many times. Skin he missed. God, he knew he was in the dog house, and honestly, he couldn’t blame Taylor for being upset with him. He hadn’t handled the situation as best he could, but what could he do about it now? In a few days, they’d be back at work, and this weekend would become a distant memory in no time at all.

  “You gonna sit here and drool all over the table or are you going to actually go hang out with your girlfriend?” Brandon asked.

  He glared at his brother. “She’s been talking to Kara. I don’t want to be rude.”

  “Bullshit,” he whispered, only for Bryson’s ears. “I was there last night, remember? I know what Mom did.”

  Bryson narrowed his eyes. “She ever pull that shit with you?”

  Brandon chuckled. “Once.”

  “Jesus, man, you could’ve warned me.”

  He threw his hands up. “Dude, it was during my first year of college. I’d only been out of the house three months, and they were paying my tuition. Just because I’d been staying at the dorms didn’t mean I’d officially left the nest. Totally different. You’re a grown man, been on your own for years.”

  Nodding slowly, he sighed. “True. What about Brent? He ever bring a woman home?”

  Brandon chuckled. “Oh hell, no. I’ll be surprised if he ever decides to grow up.”

  Bryson laughed with him and glanced around. “Where is he anyway?”

  Brandon shrugged. “Last I saw he was hanging with Tucker, who just happened to be eyeing your girl.”

  Bryson’s gaze shot to his. “What was that?” he asked, deadly soft.

  “You heard me. Brent might not want to grow up, but at least he’s not a player like Tucker. Cuz over there wouldn’t give a shit if he poached or not.”

  Not if Bryson had anything to do about it. When he opened his mouth to say something about that, he caught Taylor walking away from Kara and heading toward the marina. “I’ll catch you later.”

  Brandon groaned and whispered, “Brother, get your dick under control.”

  Fuck, Bryson knew it was hard to hide evidence in swimming trunks. Luckily, Taylor had been moving away from the crowd. He’d be able to meet up with her without running into anybody if he stayed by the trees until he reached her. He headed her way, but not before flipping his brother the bird. By the time he reached her, she’d already skirted over to the other side of the marina, away from the prying eyes of his family.

  His dick twitched at the idea of unexpected privacy.

  Before he took the last few steps, he wondered what he should say to her. He could beg and plead forgiveness, but that’d just invite her to yell at him. His little Irish woman had a damn feisty streak in her. He could forego the conversation and push her up against the side of the wall…

  That idea was the best. No talking, only kissing.

  And maybe a little bit more.

  When she turned the last corner, he slunk around it, made sure no one was on that side, and then grabbed her, turning her and shoving her against the wall. She squeaked, and he slammed his mouth down on hers. Her little temper flared and she fumbled with her hands to push him away, he was sure of it, so he cuffed her wrists and pinned her arms above her head.

  “Damn, you, Bryson,” she breathed, but her breath was rushing out of her as her skin blushed with arousal.

  “Damn me? Baby, I’m not the one walking around practically naked. I’ve been hard as a fucking rock since the moment you took your clothes off out there.” He pushed his cock against her to prove his claim.

  She blinked playfully. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m not the only one dressed for swimming, but it’s not my problem you don’t know how to control your urges.”

  “You want control? Let’s see how good you are at it.”

  “Wh— ” She gasped when his hand slipped into the skimpy bottoms. And for the love of all things good in this world, she was already soaked. “That’s no fair.”

  No it wasn’t. He wanted to flip her around, tug her bottoms to the side, and slide into her hard and fast. He was so horny, he wouldn’t last minutes as he pounded into her.

  “Not fair is I don’t get to put my mouth right here and taste.” He punctuated that with a circle of her clit. She moaned, and he couldn’t keep his mouth off her any longer. He buried his head in the crook of her neck and bit lightly before sucking and licking. “I want to spread you out and feast on everything you have to give me. Then I want to fuck you for hours.”

  “I’m still mad at you,” she ground out.

  “I know,” he whispered. “Let’s call a momentary truce, though. I want to make you feel good, feel you coming on my fingers. Least you can do is give me that.” He didn’t wait for her to reply before he sank two fingers into her and started finger fucking her as he slammed his mouth down on hers again. He couldn’t risk her making any sounds—no matter how much he ached to hear every little whimper. When she struggled with her hands in his grasp, he let them free, and she immediately grabbed his head as she went up on her tiptoes. Her legs stiffened, so he knew it wouldn’t take her long to cream all over his hand. He pulled out of her and fingered her clit with hasty precision. He felt it get harder and then heard and felt her muffled screams in his mouth as she came.

  He slowly brought her back down, kissing her softer, stroking her gentler, until he pulled his hand out of her bottoms. He leaned back and watched her as he sucked on his fingers, unable to stop his eyes from rolling back at the sensation coursing through his body with that little taste. He wanted her so bad, he almost didn’t care about where they were.

  Almost.

  He slowly stepped back, and he could feel the moment she began to stiffen. “Feel better now that you know I can’t control myself around you?” she asked coolly.

  He sighed. “Sweetheart, it’s not about that. You know I love you. You know I’m sorry this weekend turned out like it did for you.”

  She shook her head slowly, a sad smile forming on her lips. “Do I? Do you even realize that’s the first time the word sorry has come out of your mouth since I was banished to the guest room?”

  What? That couldn’t be right. He’d apologized, hadn’t he? Surely he had. But as he saw the truth in her eyes, he wanted to kick his own ass. “Well, I am sorry, and I’m sorry I didn’t say it sooner. I thought I had, and if not, I figured you’d know I wasn’t happy about this situation, either. Is that why you’re still mad at me?” he asked softly.

  “No, Bryson, it’s not. I know you’re not thrilled with our sleeping arrangements. But you had the power to do something about it. How do you think it makes me feel you didn’t man up to your mother?”

  “What?” he asked, reeling back. Had she just called him a titty baby? “I show my parents respect. That has nothing to do with me ‘manning up’ as you said. It’s about giving them the goddamn courtesy they deserve.”

  Her shoulders slumped. “You’re right. Forget I said anything.” She started to move away and he reached for her.

  “Wait.”

  “Bryson?” Brent called out from far too close.

  He cursed and dropped her arm right before his brother stepped around the corner.

  “Y’all decent?” he asked, smirking.

  “What do you want?” he barked, not in the mood.

  He lifted his hands in a placating gesture and said, “It’s time for the annual horseshoe competition. We’re getting ready to set up teams and Dad’s asking about you.”

  He growled, knowing he couldn’t get out of it.

  Taylor smiled up at them, and he knew it wasn’t a smile of pure joy. “Sounds fun. Brindle told me about that game. We better get over there, so we don’t get picked last or something.” She giggled, and that too sounded fake.

  “No can do, doll,” Brent said. “It’s a guy tradition in this family. The chicks usually swim or cheer us on.”

  “Of course they do,” she said, her fake smile slipping briefly before she plastered it back on and turned to head back the way they came.

  Yep, he just kept digging this hole deeper and deeper, and the problem was, he didn’t have a clue how to make it better.

  Chapter Five

  The hot shower didn’t help Taylor’s agitation. The day had been one for the freaky record books. She’d never seen so much fried food in her life. They fried appetizers, meat, vegetables, dessert. Even bread. Bread! She still couldn’t get over that one. If grease was vice number one, then sugar was number two. If she’d known that this morning, she’d have avoided the sugar in her cup of coffee. Besides the massive amounts of calories—and she hadn’t been one to be too conscientious until this trip—there was the other matter entirely.

  Joanie Reed.

  Not only was she the matriarch of Bryson’s immediate family, Taylor could tell that woman carried a lot of weight within the extended family as well. She was confident and spoke with an air of authority that no one questioned. Even little Mary Kate had minded her aunt immediately when Joanie had called her out on playing with her napkin.

 

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