Page 2 of Riot of Autumn

I can see the outline of his dick.

Fuck me. Stop looking.

This is how it always is with Ezra. This damn push and pull of annoyance and wanting to rip all his clothes off. Since I was old enough to look at boys that way, he’s made my insides all swimmy. Even now, when I want to flick his ear, heat drips like hot lava to pool low in my belly at the sight of him.

“Whatcha looking at, Cube?”

Just like that, I’m doused with cold water. I hate it when he calls me Cube. This damn nickname has stuck since the sixth grade. Ezra’s the only one who calls me that, which should make me all warm and fuzzy, but not when I know the meaning behind it.

“Not sure, Ezzie. Looked like a pencil in your pocket. One of those little mini golf ones.”

Ezra barks out a laugh because he knows I’m full of shit. He’s not even remotely offended. Probably because he’s got an anaconda in his stupidly small pants.

I cross my arms and shift to look out my side of the UTV. The vehicle is completely open to the elements, with no windows. Warm September air whips my hair around my face, even though we aren’t going very fast.

“Cube.” Ezra reaches out and pinches my side.

“What?” I slap his hand away and give him my most annoyed glare.

It’s so late, the sun is coming up. I’m tired, hungry, and everything feels crispy, from my hair and dress to my face. I want a hot shower, a sandwich, snuggles with my dog Axil, and my bed. The last thing I want is to have a one-upping contest with Ezra. In fact, I don’t even know how we got to this place, where every conversation devolves into a battle. Fine, part of me likes it, but mostly I’m tired of fighting with him all the time.

“Someone needs a sandwich.”

“Yes, yes, I do. I’m starving and wasting away as we speak. Should I just get out and walk? Because you’re driving so damn slow, a turtle just lapped us.” My head drops back onto the headrest. “Why don’t I have a superpower that makes fully cooked meals appear?”

“That’s the superpower you’d wish for?” Ezra scoffs, and I turn to him with an evil eye.

Bad idea.

His long frame looks like sin. There isn’t an ounce of fat on his body, and his muscles are carved from fucking stone. His closely shorn hair makes me want to scratch my nails over his head and down the nape of his neck. Not to mention his face is the kind of handsome that stuns people into silence when they first meet him.

The button on his stolen pants popped at some point and they’re gaping a little. There’s a trail of dark hair teasing me, and so much warm brown skin on display, I don’t even know how to take it all in.

Normally, I avoid looking at him for too long. It makes my insides all floppy and strung out, but I can’t stop staring. I want to trace the carved six pack of his abs with my tongue.

I slap myself, forcing my face forward.

“Did you just slap yourself?” Ezra blinks at me for a few seconds before turning his eyes back to the path.

He pulls up in front of my duplex and I jump out before I say something stupid.

“I was falling asleep.”

I don’t wait to see if Ezra’s behind me. I already know he’ll follow me inside. The chances of getting him to leave tonight are next to zero.

“And also, what’s wrong with that superpower? I think it sounds amazing. What would you want? Something dumb like x-ray vision? Oh, wow, you can see what’s inside the Amazon packages you ordered two days ago before you open them. Shocker, it’s your wart treatment.”

Ezra snorts behind me, making me smile against my will. I hate it—fine, I love it—when my snarky comments make him laugh. Especially when he’s laughing at himself.

My place is on one side of a duplex I bought when I was eighteen. There was some insurance money set aside from my mom’s death that I used to pay for the house. It’s not charming like Archer’s home, or breathtaking like Wild Cottage, but it’s mine. I own it and knowing that no one can force me out is comforting.

Skeeter, my old, ornery next-door neighbor, lived in his place before I bought the building. The day I moved in, he knocked on my door, scared the crap out of me with his grizzled face, massive beard, and craggy skin, and asked if I was going to kick him out. I pulled up my big girl panties and told him no, but I was looking for a buddy who’d let me French braid their beard. We’d stared at each other for a solid minute before he finally chuckled, rapped his knuckles on the doorframe, and told me he’d be next door if I needed anything. Our odd friendship works for us.

The front door sticks a little. I shove my shoulder against it as I turn the key and am greeted by my dog, Axil. Axil’s a ninety-pound black lab with the best personality in the world. And that includes all other animals and humans.

I lean down and kiss the top of his head, scratching him behind the ears while I tell him how much I missed him. He gives me a lick and then promptly trots over to Ezra, way too damn excited to see him.

Traitor.

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