Porter (Men of Lovibond 3)

I left a beautiful woman wearing porn-star panties to come over here and help his ass. Frankee and I could have spent all day in bed together. This better not be in vain. “What do you need me to do?”

“I need help getting my furniture out of my apartment.”

I can’t envision Stout’s bachelor pad furniture in this nice house. “Lawry’s letting you bring that junk over here?”

“My old stuff is going to her workshop so she can refinish it. Wants to give it life again.”

I suspected as such. Lawry wants to repurpose everything. Damn hippie. “How could I forget? Turn crappy into happy.”

I run my hand over a box labeled Brewster. Our first beer brewer. “Wow. I haven’t seen this in a long time.”

“Me either. Been boxed away for years.”

Brings back a ton of memories. A good kick-in-the-ass reminder about how far we’ve come and what we can accomplish together. “You should put it on display. Maybe down at the brewery if Lawry won’t let you do it here.”

“Not a bad idea. Like a where-it-all-began plaque.”

I move to the large window and pull back the curtain to see the surrounding neighbors. “This is very you.”

“The floral shit will be the first thing to go.”

The house will be cool when Stout and Lawry finish with it but right now it does looks like a grandma lives here. “I meant the house and quiet neighborhood. The privacy. Your own driveway. Garage. Workshop.”

I’d kill for a garage like his. I hate putting my Porsche in a rented storage building across town. Such a pain in the ass to have to work on it away from home. But that’s condo life.

“I’m hoping I can pick up my woodwork projects again.”

Woodwork projects. That sounds like something a husband does. Not a single guy who’s looking for a different girl to fuck every night. “The only thing you’re lacking now is the wife and kids to complete the full package.”

“I think I’ll just take the house for now.”

“Do you ever think about it? The full package?” I know he did once. He was going to ask that cheating bitch to marry him before he caught her in bed with another guy.

“I haven’t for a few years.”

“Right.” I guess you don’t think about that kind of stuff when you don’t have a woman that you’d consider sharing that kind of life with. I know I haven’t.

“There’s a house for sale two streets over if you’re considering giving up condo life.”

I wouldn’t mind leaving it behind and having a place like this. Maybe it’s something I’ll consider.

A pretty redhead coming toward Stout’s house catches my attention. “Well, that all depends.”

“Depends on what?”

“If all the women in this neighborhood look like the one walking up your driveway right now. If that’s the case, house sold.” Stout suspects I’m sneaking around with someone. Maybe even in a secret relationship. I need to show him I’m still game, still noticing beautiful women.

“No idea. Haven’t met any of the neighbors.”

He moves to the window to see what I’m talking about. I can tell that he likes what he sees. “Looks like I have a visitor to receive.”

Stout moves toward the door but stops and looks at me when I don’t follow. “You comin’?”

I shake my head. “Nah. You go on. I’ll wait in the truck.”

“Wait in the truck?”

I admit it. I always try to beat Stout to the girl. But not this time.

“Who is she?”

I try my damnedest to keep a straight face, but it’s impossible. “Already told you, dude. Nobody.”

“Damn liar.”

I chuckle because it’s killing him to know I have a secret fling happening. “That redhead’s your type. Go meet her. I’ll be in the truck when you’re done.”

“This conversation isn’t over.”

This conversation is over. “Whatever.”

“Gimme five.”

Stout is full of shit if he thinks he’s only going to give this woman five minutes of his time. “Got a Benjamin in my wallet that says I don’t see you for at least fifteen.”

“Sure. I’ll take that bet. I can always use an extra hundred bucks.” Stout can never resist one of my bets.

I hold up my phone. “I’ll even give you a whole minute to get out there and initiate the conversation before I start the timer.”

“You’re on, fucker. Get ready to pay up.”

It’s blazing hot in Stout’s truck, so I start the engine and air conditioning. I decide to pass the time by looking at Frankee’s pictures on Instagram, but her account is private. For shits and giggles, I send a request to follow. But mostly I want to see what kinds of pictures she posts.

Twenty minutes later, Stout finally comes to the truck. He opens his wallet and tosses a hundred-dollar bill at me. “She’s a hot-as-fuck, unmarried redhead and she bakes.”

“Sounds like you just found your dream woman.”

“I don’t know. Getting involved with a neighbor seems questionable. What happens if things go south?”

“I happen to love it when things go south.” I especially loved it last night.

“Think about how many times you’ve fucked a woman and then a few days later, she shows up at the brewery because she doesn’t know where you live.”

That has happened more than I care to admit. It’s gotten downright ugly a few times. I never asked either of them to do it, but Scott and Molly have spared me some shit by putting a stop to anyone getting beyond the office and warehouse entry door. I know they’ve done the same for Stout.

And now I’m fucking Scott’s daughter. What a way to repay the guy.

“I can see your point. May be best to leave that one alone.”

I know my best friend: he’s thinking it over, wondering if this one is worth the risk.

Sometimes it is.

Ava is standing at the apartment door waiting for me when I arrive. “Why are you so late getting here?”

Do I tell Ava and Dillyn I’m late because I didn’t crawl out of Porter’s bed until almost noon? “I have a good reason.”

“It’s only a good reason if it involves that fine-ass boss of yours.”

“It does.”

“Get your ass in here and tell us all about it.”

“Can I put my bag down first?”

Dillyn takes my bag from me and tosses it on the floor. “Bag is down. Now tell us everything about last night.”

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nbsp; I smile and the two of them burst into giggles.

“Look at her, Dillyn. She’s blushing.”

I’m sure I am. I feel the heat in my cheeks.

“That means it was good.”

I’ve been hearing about Ava’s and Dillyn’s sexcapades for three years. It feels strange to be the center of attention. “I don’t know where to start.”

“Duhhh… the beginning. We want to hear everything.” Dillyn is a details person. She wants to hear about every little thing.

“The first thing he did was take me to a tattoo studio. You aren’t going to believe this. He found my sketchbook and saw a drawing I had done of one of his tattoos. I had added some new design work to go with it and he had the tattoo artist do it. He put my design on his arm. A piece of me. On him. Permanently.”

“That’s some significant shit.” Ava means business when she uses the triple-S term.

“You really think so? I don’t want to make more of it than it really is.” That would be so embarrassing.

“Hell yeah, that’s significant. And special. He’s wearing you for the rest of his life. He’ll never be able to look at his arm and not think of you.”

“That’s exactly what he said.”

“See? He knows that putting your design on his body is a symbol of something important.”

But our relationship is so new. Why would he do that?

“What happened after the tattoo?”

“He took me to dinner… and then he took me to bed.”

Ava squeals. “How was it?”

“Well, what I didn’t tell you was that last night wasn’t the first time. We did it earlier this week.”

Dillyn’s mouth is gaping. “Whaaat? The last we heard was that he drove you home after the concert and kissed you. I can’t believe that you withheld this information from us all week.”

“I didn’t want to talk about my first sexual experience and what I thought about Porter’s dick on speakerphone.”

“Tell us everything.”

“You know I don’t have anything to compare it to, but oh my God… Porter is…” I struggle to come up with the right words. “…spectacular in bed.”

“Did he make you… you know? Happy?” Happy is Dillyn’s word for orgasm.