Calmly, Carefully, Completely (The Reed Brothers 3)

“Where’s your shirt?” I whisper. I look around in the lump of blankets and don’t see it.

“Oh shit,” Link says again. He pops his head up beside mine and holds up Pete’s blue T-shirt.

“Oh, blue shirt,” Pete says.

“Oh, blue shirt,” Link parrots.

Pete takes it and pulls it over his head. He reaches out to ruffle Link’s hair, but Link steps to the side. “At least he’s not saying shit anymore,” Pete says.

“Shit,” Link says.

I groan and run a hand through my hair.

“Lincoln!” Dad barks. “Bring me that bucket.”

“Bring me the bucket,” Link says. He scampers off to get Dad’s bucket.

“Good morning,” Pete says quietly. He turns to drop his feet to the floor and stands up, stretching tall. He shows a small strip of his abs, and I want to lean forward and lick him. God, where did that come from?

“Morning,” I mutter. I lick my lips.

“Stop looking at me like that,” Pete whispers.

“Like what?” I whisper back. But a grin tugs at the corners of my lips. I can’t help it.

“Like you want lick me like a lollipop,” he says. He adjusts the front of his pants, and I can’t help but notice the bulge there. “Stop looking at it,” he hisses.

I look for my dad, but he’s gone outside the barn. “I don’t even know what I’m looking at!” I complain. Pete takes my hand and presses my fingertips against the bulge of his erection. He gasps in a breath as my fingertips explore the ridges of him. “Reagan,” he groans. He turns his hip and puts up a knee to block me. “Would you stop it? I’d like to walk out of here sometime today.”

“Licking it like it’s a lollipop?” I ask, unable to get the idea out of my head. “You can do that?”

He grins and scratches the back of his head. “Well, I can’t. But you could.” His voice is gravely and kind of nasally since he just woke up. “Never mind,” he says. He pulls me to my feet and presses a quick kiss to my lips.

“Uh,” I say, brushing him away. “Morning breath.”

“I don’t care,” he says, leaning to kiss me quickly. I give him my cheek. “Give it to me,” he says. I pucker my lips and touch his quickly, careful not to breathe on him. “That’s better,” he croons. “Should I go talk to your dad?” he asks.

It’s really sweet that he would even think of that. “I doubt that’s a good idea.”

I hear a horse blow, and I remember the whole reason why we slept in the barn in the first place. I step onto a bale of hay and look down at Tequila. She’s on her feet and apparently, I was wrong. False alarm on the foaling.

Pete drops an arm around my shoulders and pulls me close to him. Dad bursts back into the barn with the slam of a door. I jump. Pete doesn’t let me go.

“Pete, don’t you have somewhere to be?” Dad asks. “Like in your own cabin in your own bed?”

Pete nods his head. “Yes, sir,” he says. He turns to me. “I’ll see you later?”

I nod. My belly does a little flippy-floppy thing, and he touches his lips to mine.

“See you later, Mr. Caster,” he calls.

“Not if I see you first,” Dad calls back.

Dad slams around the barn for a few more minutes while I feed Tequila a carrot. I totally missed the birth. I’m so relieved that things went well.

“Have a nice night?” Dad barks. He doesn’t look up from whatever he’s doing.

I smile. My belly drops down toward my toes at the thought of it. “I did, actually.”

“Reagan,” Dad breathes.

“Yes, Dad?” I say sweetly. He’s mad, but I can’t make him un-mad. And I probably deserve it for spending the whole night in the barn with Pete.

“Don’t make me have to kill that boy,” Dad warns.

“Yes, sir,” I say, dipping my head so he won’t see my smile. “You should know that we didn’t do anything wrong, though. He was a perfect gentleman. He just…” I square my shoulders. “He just held me.”

Dad draws in a quick breath. I don’t let anyone touch me, and Dad knows it. So in this situation, I might as well have said, “he just f**ked me all night long.” The level of intimacy is about the same in my dad’s mind. I’m sure of it. “All right,” he mutters. He throws hay to the horses, one flake at a time.

“Dad,” I call out. He stops and looks up at me. “Is it okay that I might be falling in love with him?”

Dad’s eyes open wide, and he blows out a breath. “Reagan,” he says quietly. “You should go and talk to your mother about this.”

“Okay…” I say.

“If you want to talk about the best way to knee him in the nuts,” he says, pointing to his chest, “then I’m your guy. But if you want to talk about feelings and emotions and birth control and stuff, go talk to your mother.”

“How did you just jump from feelings to birth control?” I have to ask.

“Because that’s what happens, Reagan. You jump from strong feelings to birth control. It’s the natural order of things for men.” He takes off his cap and runs a hand through is hair. “I was a twenty-one-year-old man once myself.”

“That’s when you met Mom,” I say, and I start to smile. He looks uncomfortable. So I have to press it. “So you and Mom went from strong feelings to birth control?” I ask. I snap my fingers. “Like that?”