Page 13 of Brandishing Betrayals

I nodded absently, “It cool if we stay for dinner?”

Again, Maya froze ever so slightly. I smirked internally; I loved getting under her skin. She clearly wasn’t used to it anymore. She shrugged a shoulder. “Sure, dinners at five thirty, I’ll be mowing.” She bent over slightly to pull the rope on the mower to start it and I got a nice view down her bikini, almost seeing nipple, before she straightened and turned away from us, creating another row as she walked away.

“Awfully big yard to be doing by hand,” Stone commented.

“Yeah, I’ve seen her using a tractor before,” I said. “There’s a shed out back.”

Stone grunted, but turned toward the backyard. We walked around the side of the house and headed for the shed tucked back behind the detached garage. We found the tractor We were looking for in the open shed, along with a weed-whacker and blower.

I jumped up on the tractor and tried to fire it up. When it sputtered and refused to turn over, I quickly realized why Maya was cutting the front yard by hand. “Well shit,” I grumbled and climbed off the tractor.

Stone popped up the front hood and looked underneath. The tractor was an older model John Deer that had clearly been taken care of well, but with how Maya’s dad was meticulous about his shit, it made sense. Since the accident, I hadn’t seen him. Maya said he was bed-bound, which was why she moved home in the first place.

Stone messed with the spark plugs, pulling them out and putting them back again. He put his hand on the seat and leaned, putting weight there for the sensors to register it, then tried cranking the engine again. When it fired right up, he motioned to me.

“Alright, I’ll drive, you trim.” I pointed toward the weed-whacker hanging on the wall.

We spent the next two hours mowing the lawn and weed whacking around trees and bushes. After Stone finished, he pulled out a sidewalk edger and cleaned up the overgrowth around the driveway and sidewalk. Then he went around blowing the grass off all the surfaces and blowing any grass in the street back into the yard.

There was no reason for grass to be in the street, it killed bikers daily. Blow the damn grass back into the yard and save a life.

At some point, Maya had gone inside, leaving us to finish without her. I was annoyed and grateful at the same time when she disappeared. She had been an utter distraction and my dick was still hard as nails in my pants from her barely there clothing. I was getting sick of her stonewalling though, the absolute nonchalance from her was rage inducing.

I was already planning everything I would bring up during dinner. I was tired of her brushing me off, I wanted answers—and if I had to put her on the spot in front of her mother, I would.

Maya

Iwaslosingmymind.Jason and Marcos had both stripped off their shirts in the late afternoon heat and humidity. Why the fuck where they staying? Marcos really needed to get over the fact that Luke had plans. He didn’t call the kid, he didn’t make plans with him for today, he couldn’t be upset when Luke already had plans with his friends.

I went inside when I had finished mowing the front yard and it was clear that the guys had fixed the tractor that wouldn’t start. With one of them riding the tractor and the other one weed-whacking and edging, there really wasn’t anything else for me todo. Not outside at least. I went inside and took a quick shower before I went into the kitchen to set the table and check in with my mother.

My mother had a pot of homemade spaghetti sauce simmering on the stove and a fresh loaf of bread cooking in the oven. The house smelled divine.

A quick glance at the clock showed I still had an hour until Luke would be home. With dinner taken care of and the table set, I found myself with an hour of down time. Feeling out of sorts, I looked out the back picture window at the two men taking care of the yard and sighed. It had been a very long time since I had seen them doing physical labor.

Both men were in amazing shape. Marcos was shorter and stockier than Jason, who was built lankier like a runner, where Marcos was more compact like a football player. It made sense as he had played in high school. They both had, but only Marcos had a passion for it until he dropped out of school.

Clearly both men still kept up with their workouts, if the near zero percent body fat was anything to go by. Watching the rippling muscles from the window had my heart pounding in my chest. I wasn’t sure how the fuck I was supposed to sit through an entire dinner with the two of them, Luke, and my fucking mother.

Feeling on edge, I turned toward the liquor cabinet and pulled out a bottle of Vodka. I was going to make myself a cocktail, sit in the front room, and read a book. I wasn’t going to look out the back window and watch the stupid, sexy, sweaty men do lawn work. No. I wasn’t. No.

Once I was sitting in the front room, far away from the back window, I opened my kindle and pulled up the last dark romance novel I had been reading. I took a sip of my cocktail and tried to jump back into the scene where the Dom had his Sub tied to a St.Andrews Cross. He had strapped a magic wand to her high and had it pressed against her clit.

Even the sexy punishment scene was enough to pull me out of my thoughts. That was better said than done though, not when my own Doms were in the backyard, sweaty and shirtless, looking for all the world a hot steamy piece of man pie, all but imploring me to drop to my knees and beg for forgiveness.

Goddamn, how many times had I had that very thought? If I just explained it all, dropped to my knees for my Doms and explained why I had to leave back then, why I disappeared in the first place—and begged for their damn forgiveness—they would have to understand, right? They would see and understand why I did what I did, wouldn’t they?

Annoyed with my thoughts, I set down my kindle and took a long pull from my cocktail. The reusable plastic straw was bright pink and helped the alcohol go down so smooth. I didn’t know how I was going to get through this damn fucking dinner. Why the hell would Luke invite them to dinner?

I groaned and stood up. I stalked toward the back window and peered outside. Marcos was still riding the tractor around in straight rows, but Stone was standing on the back patio, not ten feet from the window.

He had his back to me, so he didn’t see me, and was hunched over the weed-whacker he had propped up on the wooden patio table. He had a fresh roll of weed-eater string and was undoing the current line around the head of the machine.

I watched his deft fingers easily unwrap and pull apart the line. Those thick, long fingers that were so talented at doing any millions of things—most of which I was intimately familiar with.

In the six months since I’d returned, I’d barely spoken to Jason—not since our very first argument. The one where I’d blatantly lied to him at the hospital. He had been pissed, beyondpissed really. I couldn’t remember a time that his steely eyes had ever glared at me that way. It had hurt me—still hurt.

Sweat dripped down his back, his jeans hung low on his hips. I warred with myself before I finally grabbed two bottles of water out of the fridge and headed for the door. It was the least I could do, right? He was helping me out, after all.

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