Maybe Matt's Miracle (The Reed Brothers 4)

My mom gets up and turns to me. She hugs me tightly, holding me close. I don’t remember her ever doing that before, and I stiffen in her arms. “Let. Love. In,” she whispers close to my ear.

She leaves, and I fall back into my chair. My legs won’t support me, and I can’t leave yet. I’m shaking too badly. It’s like everything I never wanted has now fallen into my lap, and I don’t know what to do with it.

When I finally can, I get up and go to the only place where I know I can find peace. I go to Matt.

Matt

Paul is in a shitty mood. I don’t know what’s up with him, but he’s been particularly irritating today. Friday’s a little bit off, too, but I don’t what’s up with her any more than I know what’s up with Paul. Paul bangs his tattoo gun on a nearby table, hitting it hard enough that even Logan looks up.

WTF? Logan signs.

I shrug my shoulders. Logan is working on some particularly intricate designs for the catalogs we have pinned to the walls. When he’s not at school, Madison Avenue, or doing tats, he occupies himself by making designs for people to choose from. Some people come in with no idea what they want, and they look through the catalogs until they find something. Other people come in with designs in their heads, and then we have to translate them into real life. I’m glad Friday can draw, too. She’s almost as good as Logan. I’ve seen some of her art, and it’s breathtaking.

“Dude, you trying to bust it or fix it?” Pete asks, his brow raising as he stares at Paul. We all have our own equipment, so I don’t particularly care if Paul breaks his when he has a tantrum. But I’d rather avoid it if we can talk him through it.

“The damn thing isn’t working right,” Paul mumbles.

Logan walks over to him and holds out his hand. Paul glares at it and then he rolls his eyes and hands over the tattoo gun. Logan does something to it really quickly and gives it back. He doesn’t grin or gloat. He just goes back to the light table, a special table he uses for tracing, and continues his drawing.

“I f**king hate you,” Paul mumbles to his back.

I grin. I can’t help it.

“What?” Logan asks, looking from me to Paul and back.

“He said thank you,” I say.

“I’m sure he did.” He glares back at Paul. “What the f**k crawled up your ass?” he asks.

The rest of us go quiet. No one usually messes with Paul when he’s in a snit. We step around him and keep on moving until he gets over it.

“He’s pissy because he did something stupid last night,” Friday tosses out. She doesn’t look at him. She just talks about him. She has bigger balls than any of us do, I’ll say that for her. “Then he wanted to take it back, but it was too late. So now he feels guilty.” She blows out a breath and starts to pack up her backpack. She shoves her books into the bag one by one, using a lot more force than is necessary.

“Where are you going?” Paul barks. Storm clouds are brewing in his eyes.

“I don’t know,” she barks back. “Maybe I have a date. Maybe I want to get laid. Maybe I just want to have an earth-shaking orgasm and not have to feel guilty about it ten minutes later.”

“Oh f**k,” Pete says under his breath. I shoot him a look, and he covers his mouth.

“Wait a minute and I’ll walk you home,” Paul says as he puts his things away.

“No, thank you,” Friday chirps. She raises her arm and waves at us from behind her head, her fingers wiggling as she calls, “Good afternoon, all.”

“You’ll be back tomorrow, right?” Paul yells to her. He’s looking a little unsettled, even more than a minute ago.

She doesn’t say anything. She just slams the door hard enough that my feet shake under me. Shit. That was awkward.

Paul sinks heavily into a chair and drops his head into his hands, his elbows resting on his knees. He looks up, and he looks so tired. I want to go to him and make him feel better, but I’m afraid I can’t.

“You should go after her,” Logan says.

Paul looks up. “That’s the last thing she needs,” he says quietly. He shakes his head. “Never mind.” He stands up. “Get back to work,” he says to all of us.

Pete opens his mouth to give him a hard time, but I cough into my fist, and he looks at me and throws up his hands. Pete’s gaze follows Friday, like he wants to go make sure she’s all right. I see him pull his phone from his pocket, and he texts really quickly. He’s probably asking Reagan to check on her. He looks up at me and nods. She’ll ensure Friday is all right.

There’s this crazy tension between Friday and Paul that no one understands, not even them. He can be such a man whore, particularly now that Kelly is seeing someone. He sleeps with just about everyone, but for the past couple of weeks or so, he hasn’t been quite as flirty with girls in the shop, and he hasn’t even been on many dates.

The bell over the door tinkles, and I look up. My heart stutters when the woman of my dreams walks through the door. Sky is outlined by the sun as she stands in front of the window, and I’ve never seen a more beautiful sight. She shifts from foot to foot and crosses her arms beneath her br**sts.

“Hi,” she says quietly.

She’s wearing jeans and a sweatshirt, and she looks so damn pretty that I can’t keep from grabbing her. I walk across the room and draw her against me. Her arms stay stiffly at her sides, so I lift them and put them around my neck. “I’m so glad you’re here,” I say, and I mean every word. Honestly, she just made my belly flip. I bend my head and kiss her quickly, but her lips follow mine when I start to pull back. Her mouth is soft and warm and wet, and the kiss shoots straight to my center.