Page 30 of Beautiful Desire (Blossom Beach #3)

Georgia

“ H ere you go, ladies.” Sam, our server, sets a heaping plate of nachos on the table before looking each one of us over. “Can I get y’all anything else?”

“Can we get another round of margs, please?” Grace asks sweetly.

“Of course.” She nods. “I’ll be right back with those.”

“My god, these look delicious ,” Gemma murmurs as she grabs a fully loaded chip from the pile. Shoving it in her mouth, she groans while chewing. “Yup, this is exactly what I needed tonight—my girls, frozen margaritas, and these freaking nachos. So good. ”

It’s a little after eight on a Saturday night, and me and my sisters are two drinks in at the High Tide Tavern, one of the only bars in our small town.

Country music plays from the jukebox in the corner, and a few people are even dancing in the middle of the room, but overall, it’s not too crowded.

Although, that’ll change the later it gets.

“When’s Charley getting here?” Grace asks before finishing what’s left of her drink.

“She should be getting off soon, right?” Gemma looks over at me for confirmation.

I nod. “She got off work at eight, so I’d imagine she’ll be here any minute.”

Even though we see each other all the time for various reasons, it’s nice to get out like this, with all of us, when we can let loose and have fun without any responsibilities.

It’s been a while since we’ve had a true night out, especially because Gemma’s still nursing, but it was her idea to go out tonight.

Rosie, my sweet little niece, has been teething for the last couple of weeks, and she said she needed an evening where she wasn’t “ just a mom.”

“Is everyone at your house?” I ask Gemma. “Fletcher mentioned having a guys’ night earlier when I told him about coming out with y’all tonight.”

This is the first time Fletcher’s hanging out with the guys.

He ran into Everett at the grocery store the other day, and he invited him out.

It’s cute that he’s making friends here, and with men who are dating and married to my sisters—well, our sisters, I suppose—even though he won’t be here for long.

That thought bums me out more than I’d like to admit.

Shaking her head, she says, “No, they went to some sports bar in Sweetwater to watch the basketball game.”

“Why’d they go all the way over there?” Sweetwater is only a town over from us, but it has to be at least a twenty-five-minute drive.

“They went with a couple of Conway’s buddies,” Grace offers. “And the bartender is one of their girlfriends, so they’re drinking for cheap.”

“Who’s watching all the kids, then?”

“Graham.” Grace snorts, then adds, “Well, him and Megan.”

“How the hell did you get him to agree to that?” I ask.

Not only did our brother and his wife just have their first baby, but he’s also never been one to babysit.

Although, I have a hunch it’s more like Megan isn’t one to babysit, so Graham doesn’t offer.

She’s not really the kid type, or the spend-time-with-her-in-laws type.

“Megan’s nephew is staying with them while his parents are out of town,” Gemma says. “I think they wanted someone for him to hang out with.”

“You’re here!” Grace blurts out, a grin splitting her face. Turning my head in the direction she’s looking, I spot Charley strolling over to our table.

“Oh my gosh, I’m sorry for being so late.” Charley drops down in the chair between Grace and I, rolling her eyes as she says, “The freaking night person was late, so I didn’t leave work until, like, fifteen minutes ago.”

It doesn’t take long for the four of us to get carried away, yapping and laughing, like we always do when we get together, and by the time we finish our third margarita of the night, I’m feeling pretty good.

My phone buzzes in my lap, and when I flip it over and see who it’s from, my heart beats a little faster.

Fletcher: You’re at High Tide?

Me: Sure am.

Fletcher: Having fun?

Me: Sure am. *cocktail emoji*

Fletcher: You’d have a whole lot more fun if I was there.

Heat rolls down my spine, spreading low in my belly as I read the insinuation in the message.

Over the last week and a half, Fletcher and I have fooled around a couple of times, and to be honest, I still don’t really understand what I’m doing with him—or why I’m doing it—but I can’t seem to make myself stop.

Aside from that day while I was on my period and I jacked him off until he came in my mouth, we haven’t done a whole lot.

Mostly some making out and dry humping, which sounds so juvenile, but fuck , even thinking about it now is enough to make my core clench.

Just like how thinking about that day in his room makes my cheeks heat, which is rather inconvenient, considering it’s on my mind all the time.

I don’t know what came over me that day, or how he was able to talk his way into my pants again , but I can’t deny it was hot as fuck that he didn’t give a damn that I was on my period and munched like it was his job and rent was due.

Another message comes through, pulling me from the dirty ideas swirling around in my mind.

Fletcher: Fuck, Peach. You look sexy as hell tonight.

My brows pinch with confusion.

Lifting my gaze from the phone, I scan the room that’s a whole lot more crowded than it was earlier, and as my eyes find the group of men sauntering over to our table, electricity zips through my veins.

Biting the inside of my cheek as I spot my stepbrother among them, I shamelessly drag my gaze down the front of him.

A red-and-black hat sits backward on his head, and he’s wearing a black hoodie that’s at least a whole size too small, with white-wash jeans snug around his beefy thighs, and a pair of red-and-white high-top Nike’s on his feet.

Fletcher looks like such a douchebag frat boy, but for some sick, twisted reason, it really fucking does it for me.

“We’re not interrupting, are we?” Conway drawls, coming to a stop behind Grace as he squeezes her shoulders with his hands.

Looking up at him, my sister’s eyes widen as she lets out a squeal. “What the heck are y’all doing here?”

“Game’s over,” he mutters. “Figured we’d stop here before going home.”

Unable to help myself, my attention slides back over to Fletcher.

Grabbing an empty chair from the table beside us, he spins it around and sits down beside Gemma.

His mossy-green eyes are flirty and twinkling with mischief as they find mine across the table, and as a cocky smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth, all I can think about is how good that fucking mustache felt on my pussy.

Charley nudges my knee with hers under the table. Leaning in, she covers her mouth with her hand as she says quietly, “Correct your face, unless you want everyone at this table to see you eye-fuck your stepbrother.”

“I am not,” I hiss, even though I know it’s a lie.

“Sure, you’re not,” Charley hums, pulling back with a knowing grin.

Knowing she’s right, I focus my attention on the conversation happening at the table instead. Everett’s giving a play-by-play of the game they watched, and while none of it makes a lick of sense to me, it helps keep my mind off Fletcher and all the filthy things I want to do with him.

Well, it sort of helps… Until it doesn’t.

It’s actually ridiculous how much I want him again.

His tongue, his fingers… But so much more than that.

I want to wrap my fingers around his smooth, thick cock again, feel the weight of him on my tongue…

and in my pussy. Even the thought of letting Fletcher fuck me has my pussy clenching and heat pooling between my thighs.

I blame the margaritas. Tequila makes me horny, and horny Georgia tends to get herself in trouble, and the last thing I need to do is hook up with my stepbrother while our family is around and could easily catch us.

Which is why I’m relieved when the guys announce they have to get home to the kids. When they leave, Gemma goes with them…but Fletcher and Davis don’t . Because of fucking course , they decide to stay.

“How’s the living situation going, you two?” Grace asks, and for some reason, it makes my heart race, like somehow, she knows something is up. But that’s impossible.

When I don’t respond, Fletcher says, “Think I’m growing on her.”

Charley coughs, hiding her laugh, but it’s enough to snap me out of whatever the hell that was.

“I don’t know about that,” I mutter, biting back a smile. Then I look at my sister. “It’s fine,” I say casually. “Not as bad as I expected it to be.”

“Well, that’s good!”

“It helps that I’ve been a good boy and help out around the house,” Fletcher adds, which causes Charley to choke on her margarita, spewing it all over the table.

“Sorry!” She coughs again, trying to catch her breath. “Went down the wrong pipe.”

Knowing exactly what he’s doing, Fletcher flashes me a shit-eating grin before sauntering over to the far wall with Davis where the games are. Charley, Grace, and I watch them take turns throwing darts, the whole time my body tense.

“That was weird,” Grace murmurs. “Who calls themselves a ‘good boy’?

“I mean, he is Fletcher,” I drawl, trying to play it cool.

“How have I never noticed how fucking hot Davis is before now?” Charley asks before taking a sip from her drink, thankfully pulling the attention off me and Fletcher.

“That’s the liquor talking.” Grace snorts. “Don’t even think about it.”

“Grace, look at that man,” she drawls, and we all turn our attention in their direction again. “He is gorgeous , and that is not the liquor talking.”

“I wouldn’t go there if I were you,” my sister pushes. “I love Davis, but he can’t stay faithful to a woman to save his life.” She pauses before adding, “What about Fletcher?”

“What?” Charley and I ask in unison, my head snapping toward my sister.

“Oh, don’t look at me like that.” Gaze bouncing between us, Grace giggles. “You even said it yourself at Georgia’s house, you think Fletcher’s cute, and apparently, a good boy.”