Page 10 of Brandishing Betrayals (Devil’s Psychos MC #2)

Maya

I was losing my mind. Jason and Marcos had both stripped off their shirts in the late afternoon heat and humidity.

Why the fuck where they staying? Marcos really needed to get over the fact that Luke had plans.

He didn’t call the kid, he didn’t make plans with him for today, he couldn’t be upset when Luke already had plans with his friends.

I went inside when I had finished mowing the front yard and it was clear that the guys had fixed the tractor that wouldn’t start.

With one of them riding the tractor and the other one weed-whacking and edging, there really wasn’t anything else for me to do.

Not outside at least. I went inside and took a quick shower before I went into the kitchen to set the table and check in with my mother.

My mother had a pot of homemade spaghetti sauce simmering on the stove and a fresh loaf of bread cooking in the oven. The house smelled divine.

A quick glance at the clock showed I still had an hour until Luke would be home.

With dinner taken care of and the table set, I found myself with an hour of down time.

Feeling out of sorts, I looked out the back picture window at the two men taking care of the yard and sighed.

It had been a very long time since I had seen them doing physical labor.

Both men were in amazing shape. Marcos was shorter and stockier than Jason, who was built lankier like a runner, where Marcos was more compact like a football player. It made sense as he had played in high school. They both had, but only Marcos had a passion for it until he dropped out of school.

Clearly both men still kept up with their workouts, if the near zero percent body fat was anything to go by.

Watching the rippling muscles from the window had my heart pounding in my chest. I wasn’t sure how the fuck I was supposed to sit through an entire dinner with the two of them, Luke, and my fucking mother.

Feeling on edge, I turned toward the liquor cabinet and pulled out a bottle of Vodka. I was going to make myself a cocktail, sit in the front room, and read a book. I wasn’t going to look out the back window and watch the stupid, sexy, sweaty men do lawn work. No. I wasn’t. No.

Once I was sitting in the front room, far away from the back window, I opened my kindle and pulled up the last dark romance novel I had been reading.

I took a sip of my cocktail and tried to jump back into the scene where the Dom had his Sub tied to a St. Andrews Cross.

He had strapped a magic wand to her high and had it pressed against her clit.

Even the sexy punishment scene was enough to pull me out of my thoughts. That was better said than done though, not when my own Doms were in the backyard, sweaty and shirtless, looking for all the world a hot steamy piece of man pie, all but imploring me to drop to my knees and beg for forgiveness.

Goddamn, how many times had I had that very thought?

If I just explained it all, dropped to my knees for my Doms and explained why I had to leave back then, why I disappeared in the first place—and begged for their damn forgiveness—they would have to understand, right?

They would see and understand why I did what I did, wouldn’t they?

Annoyed with my thoughts, I set down my kindle and took a long pull from my cocktail. The reusable plastic straw was bright pink and helped the alcohol go down so smooth. I didn’t know how I was going to get through this damn fucking dinner. Why the hell would Luke invite them to dinner?

I groaned and stood up. I stalked toward the back window and peered outside. Marcos was still riding the tractor around in straight rows, but Stone was standing on the back patio, not ten feet from the window.

He had his back to me, so he didn’t see me, and was hunched over the weed-whacker he had propped up on the wooden patio table. He had a fresh roll of weed-eater string and was undoing the current line around the head of the machine.

I watched his deft fingers easily unwrap and pull apart the line. Those thick, long fingers that were so talented at doing any millions of things—most of which I was intimately familiar with.

In the six months since I’d returned, I’d barely spoken to Jason—not since our very first argument.

The one where I’d blatantly lied to him at the hospital.

He had been pissed, beyond pissed really.

I couldn’t remember a time that his steely eyes had ever glared at me that way. It had hurt me—still hurt.

Sweat dripped down his back, his jeans hung low on his hips. I warred with myself before I finally grabbed two bottles of water out of the fridge and headed for the door. It was the least I could do, right? He was helping me out, after all.

I braced myself for his stony silence and gruff attitude. “Here,” I murmured, and set the bottles on the table out of his way, but still close enough for him to reach.

He grunted, but didn’t turn to me.

I ran my eyes over his torso before I turned back for the backdoor. “Thank you for the yard,” I said.

God, that was awkward, I thought as I walked back in the house. I wasn’t going to stay around and wait for his judgment. I knew I would get that tenfold from him at dinner, unless I got lucky and he outright ignored me, like had been doing the last six months.

Back inside, I berated myself for even going outside. It had been a dumb idea, and I was only opening myself up for heartache. I needed to stay away from them. The damn yellow carnation left on my windshield the day before was all the proof I needed that HE still remembered and was still watching.

My heart sank. HE was still watching, and my boys had been here for hours, being domestic and fixing my tractor and mowing the lawn. If HE was watching, I could only imagine what he was thinking.

Fuck, I’d been stupid. I should have told them to fuck off and schedule plans with Luke later.

There was nothing I could about it now. I went into the kitchen and started prepping a salad for dinner to keep myself busy.

I forced myself not to look out the back window, until the front door flew open and Luke came running in the house, right on time at five p.m. on the dot.

“Woah! Where’s the fire buddy?” I asked, looking up from the book I’d finally been able to read.

“Dad’s staying for dinner?” he asked, looking around.

“Yeah, he’s out back with Jason,” I said, feeling a tinge of pain in twist as Luke referred to Marcos as Dad. He’d only recently started doing it, finally feeling comfortable with their relationship.

“Yes!” Lucas cheered and headed straight for the back door.

I looked around the window, to see both Marcos and Jason were standing around the picnic table when the door flew open. “Dad!” Luke shouted and went running toward his father.

Marcos was shirtless and sweaty and caught Luke with ease, holding him tighter when Luke realized he was sweaty and tried squirming to get away.

Marcos laughed as he tickled Luke while holding him tight against him.

The smile that lit up Marcos handsome face was breathtaking.

He really was aging like fine wine with his chiseled jaw and cheekbones, his dark eyes and goatee. He embodied tall, dark, and handsome.

I turned away from him and Lucas when I couldn’t take it anymore.

It was then, that I noticed Jason was staring at me, watching me as I watched Marcos and Luke.

He had his arms crossed over his bare chest and he stared me down in that silent, dominate way of his.

It was the same stare that used to have me lowering my eyes and sliding to my knees.

I dropped my eyes, but I fought the urge to drop to my knees.

He wasn’t my Dom. I wasn’t his Sub. We had too much baggage and history between us to ever go back to that dynamic anyways.

Those dynamics were built on trust. Trust and communication.

Neither of which I was accountable for at the moment.

I sighed and turned away from the window.

I headed back to the living room and picked up my book, just as my mother came out of her bedroom and entered the kitchen.

She would start the noodles and finish up dinner.

I had a few minutes to get myself ready for the epic shitshow that was about to be family dinner.

I only hoped I came out the other side in one piece.