Sweet (Landry Family 6)

“That’s no way to live your life, Paige.”

“I know.”

She looks down and frowns.

My heart hurts for her. I hate that she feels this way and can’t just be happy in the moment.

I drop my hands to her thighs and give them a gentle squeeze. It causes her to look back at me.

“You know what else scares me?” she asks, her voice wavering.

“What’s that?”

“Not feeling this way again.”

Sweet girl. I squeeze her legs again. “What way, exactly? I want to know.”

“Safe. Relaxed. Wanted. Pretty.” She sighs. “Right now, I feel like … like I can rest. This feels like my little spot in the world, and everything will be okay if I can just stay right here.”

I take her hand and bring it to my mouth. That’s exactly how I want you to feel.

“You’ve made me feel that way since I met you, in a way,” she says. “I liked you immediately. I was drawn to you. It was so easy to talk to you and hang out in your office and tease you.”

I smile at the memories.

“And you always knew when something was wrong. Like the whole Atticus thing. You went after him without even really knowing what he did to me.”

“He’s lucky I didn’t know the whole story, or Atticus would have met a much different fate that night.”

She smiles. “I just …” She presses her lips together and closes her eyes. “You know what? I understand what you’re saying.”

“About what part, exactly?”

She opens her eyes. “There’s really only one choice here.”

“Are your communication skills only good when I’m performing some sort of sexual act on you?”

She giggles.

“Because I need an answer, and if that means I need to roll you over and finger-fuck you to get you to talk, then lie on your back, woman.”

She smacks my chest. “You’re right. There’s only one choice here, and that’s to try this. To see what happens. The thought of walking away and not having this again or having to look for someone else to give me this—which would be stupid because here it is, right? So if I know I’m going to want this kind of thing, why don’t I just stay here?”

“Wow.”

“What?”

“You can really talk yourself in a circle, can’t you?” I furrow my brows. “Tell me in simple English. So I know you’re not just staying with me for sex.”

“No, Nate. It’s not just the sex. It’s the feeling of … safety that I don’t think I could replicate anywhere else or with anyone else. I’m choosing you.”

She lifts the hem of her shirt up one inch. Then another. A sexy smirk graces her lips. “And sex. I’m definitely choosing that too.”

I grab her hands just before she brings the shirt over her nipples because as soon as I see those, shit is going to go south. Fast.

“I want you,” she whispers. “Only you. And let’s see what happens.”

My spirits soar, and I flip her over onto the chip bag. She giggles as I smile at her.

“You want to see what happens?” I ask. “I’ll tell you what happens.”

“Honestly? I’m so sore.” She laughs, but the sound turns into a whimper. “I have to learn not to dish out more than I can take.”

I laugh at this sweet girl—at my sweet girl.

NINETEEN

PAIGE

“Oh, for heaven’s sake. Do you always drive like this? Slow the hell down, Nate!”

I grab the door and gawk at him. He grins mischievously back at me but eases off the accelerator.

The morning sun is bright and beautiful. There’s not a cloud in the sky. After a night’s sleep curled up against Nate, thanks to an impromptu sleepover for Ryder with the Landrys, it’s a perfect start to the day.

And seeing Nate making breakfast in nothing but his boxers? That didn’t hurt anything either.

He reaches over the middle console and squeezes my leg.

Maddox: We have a problem.

I swipe open my phone and type out a reply.

Me: Um, pretty sure I’m problem-less at the moment. But thanks for sharing.

Maddox: You know Mom’s cookie jar—the one shaped like a shoe or boot or whatever?

Me: Yeah. The one that no one is supposed to touch for any reason? The one her grandmother got for her before sliced bread was a thing?

Maddox: Yes. That one.

Me: Mad, I don’t like where this is going.

“Everything okay?” Nate asks. “You’re making a face.”

“Oh, one of my stupid brothers—and when I start a sentence like that for future reference, I always mean Banks—did something to my mom’s beloved cookie jar, I think. Maddox is texting me now.”

“What do they want you to do about it?”

I shrug. “Maybe bring bail money because Mom is probably gonna kill him.”

Nate considers this and, by the look of it, finds that acceptable.

Maddox: Your dumb-as-shit brother was doing God knows what and broke it.

Me: Dude, that’s YOUR brother. You share his DNA. Not me.