Priceless (Forbidden Men 8)

“What...” Everyone in the living room shared a surprised glance of confusion before we all surged toward the hallway to see what was going on.

Of course, the girl in the wheelchair got there last and had to bring up the rear of the exodus. But that voice had sounded like Colton’s, and if Colton was warning someone away from “him,” the only other “him” it could be in this household was Brandt.

Worried about Brandt, I wheeled down the hall as fast as I could.

BRANDT

I pulled into the alley to park in my usual spot behind the house. After killing the engine, I grabbed my gym bag and climbed from my truck. My hair was still damp from the shower I’d taken after my workout, and my T-shirt and sweatpants were the first clean things I’d found in my duffle.

I felt good. My muscles were warm and limber, and food along with about a gallon of water sounded perfect right about now. Head drained of all thoughts of Sarah and red undies, I entered through the back door that led straight into the kitchen, only to pause and inhale the scent of barbecue. Moaning, I set my bag on the floor by the exit, grabbed a cookie from the plate sitting on the table, and then went to the stove to lift the lid and groan a little more.

As I breathed in the smoky fragrance, my stomach growled, letting me know it totally agreed with Aspen’s supper choice for the evening. After polishing off the cookie, I couldn’t stop myself from dipping my pinkie into the sauce. Wincing at how hot it was, I promptly popped the digit into my mouth.

“Mmm...” I closed my eyes and moaned. “Oh, God.”

Good shit.

I was debating on stealing another sample when I heard someone enter the kitchen behind me.

Worried about getting scolded by Aspen for sticking my fingers in her food, I whirled around, jerking all evidence free from my mouth while my other hand still guiltily held on to the pot’s lid.

Excuses of why I was by the stove near the food filled my head. “I was just...”

But the words died on my tongue, because as it turned out, Aspen wasn’t the person who stood in the doorway.

“Hello, Brandt,” the woman murmured.

I flinched at my name, and the metal lid slid from my hand to crash to the floor, clanging horribly.

She jumped and slapped her hand against her chest before laughing. “Sorry,” she offered. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

I just stared at her, dumbly, until she wrinkled her eyebrows with concern. “You remember me, don’t you?”

Remember her? I couldn’t fucking forget her.

It’d been nine years, but she looked exactly the same despite a couple wrinkles and an overdone tan job.

Shaking my head in denial, positive I had to be hallucinating, I glanced around the kitchen, wondering how the fuck she’d gotten here.

“I found Noel’s address online,” she answered my unspoken question. “I’m clean now and wanted to start over fresh with you guys.” When she stepped toward me, I stumbled backward until I banged into the cabinets behind me.

Halting, Daisy tilted her head to the side and frowned. “Hey, you’re not still sore about what happened that one night, are you?” With a sigh, she rolled her eyes. “You know I was high, right? I had no clue what I was doing, and besides, it’s not like I hurt you.” An arrogant little sneer twisted her lips and she stepped even closer. “Quite the opposite, actually.”

Bile filled my throat. Jesus, she did remember what she’d done. I thought I was going to be sick.

She didn’t even seem sorry about it.

Checking me out with a look that was anything but motherly, she tapped her chin with her finger before humming in her throat. “I was right, though. You’re definitely Derick’s. You two look almost identical.”

When she reached out to touch my face, I caught her hand, snarling, “Don’t.”

And then I grew pissed at myself. Here stood the woman who’d destroyed my childhood, affected every sexual relationship I’d ever had with any woman, and was probably keeping me from being with Sarah. I hated her. I hated every fucking thing about her existence. Yet, I was cowering against the cabinets, too petrified to say anything but a pussy little, “Don’t.” What the hell was wrong with me?

Flinging her hand away from me because even touching her skeeved me out, I growled, “Don’t touch me. Don’t talk to me. Don’t even be in the same room as me. I don’t want anything to do with you.”

“But that’s not fair,” she whined, reaching for my arm. “I’m your mother; I deserve a second chance.”

“GET THE FUCK AWAY FROM HIM!” Colton boomed from the back door as he ripped it open and barreled inside, startling the shit out of me because I hadn’t even heard him approaching.