Page 2

Chapter 2

McCoy

Lately, every single time she made a bet with Sloane, she came to regret it. Coy liked to believe her sister enjoyed living vicariously through her since, between the two of them, Coy was more suave with the pickup lines. Sometimes, though, it really felt like Sloane loved watching her crash and burn. Coy stared up at her bedroom ceiling, a disheartened sigh escaping her lips. To say the night before hadn’t gone as planned was an understatement. The bet had been simple. Decide on a possible one-night lover, inform Sloane, and go make eye contact with said stranger. There, Coy would obtain a name and/or number, whisper a few sweet nothings into the femme’s ear, and for one night have them forget every other lover before McCoy Miller. It should have been an easy bet, one Coy could have done blindfolded or sweaty and dirty after a hard day at the shop. Winning beautiful femmes over was practically a personal goal of hers—one she’d achieved more times than she cared to think about.

But, as she was staring into a pair of incredible smoky gray eyes the night before, all Coy’s training and smooth pickup lines had gone awry. She’d been nervous, which never happened, and instead of playing it casual and easing the femme into conversation, she’d become a babbling idiot who missed all the nonverbals until it was too late.

But hell, the woman at the warehouse had been stunning . Older than Coy’s twenty-seven years, perhaps late thirties or early forties, with a tanned complexion. Silky smooth waves of black hair had covered one cheek, the rest cascading down her back. A few age lines bracketed her sensual mouth, but in no way had it taken away from her natural beauty. And the way her off-the-shoulder red top had fallen had exposed the finest throat and collar bones Coy had ever seen.

Coy rubbed a calloused hand over her face—to wipe the sleep from her eyes and also to hopefully snap herself out of the slump of rejection. The action caused Ash’s hand to dip lower onto Coy’s stomach but thankfully didn’t wake them. She didn’t want anyone to see her this bothered over a woman, especially one of her one-night stands. There was a likely possibility the woman from the night before was straight, but Coy’s gaydar rarely failed her. There had been enough suppressed lady-loving vibes emanating from that dominating personality and sexily accented voice to have Coy picking her tongue up off the floor.

She was mystified. She couldn’t remember the last time she was turned down flat. Elementary school, maybe? She groaned, knowing that was a bit of a stretch, but fuck, charming her way into a woman’s bed was part of her identity. McCoy Miller—daddy’s girl, twin sister of Sloane, car-obsessed mechanic, mountain bike enthusiast, and playgirl extraordinaire.

Ash snuggled closer to McCoy, their sleepy voice breaking the silence in the room. “You’re up early.”

Coy peered down at her friend and occasional lover, pressing a kiss into their hair before pulling back the blankets. “Sorry if I woke you. Go back to sleep.” She slid out from under Ash, scooting to the edge of her king-sized bed. One glance over her shoulder witnessed Ash doing as instructed, their enticing ass wiggling a little as they got comfortable under the covers once more. Coy got to her feet, lumbering down the apartment hallway to the bathroom.

She was washing her hands when the unmistakable sound of glass breaking made her slap the sink faucet closed mid-clean. Muffled crying commenced, and Coy’s heart leapt in her throat. She’d know upset Sloane anywhere. Dashing from the bathroom, she landed directly in Sloane’s firing range, barely dodging a picture frame flying over her head to hit the man behind her.

“Fuck!”

“Get out, Lucas,” Sloane sobbed from her bedroom doorway. She wore just a thin tank top and hipster briefs, too distraught to notice they now had an audience.

“That’s what I’ve been trying to do, you crazy bitch!” Lucas growled. Coy’s eyes flared at the venom in his tone, and instant rage boiled in the pit of her stomach and set her teeth on edge. No one spoke to her sister like that.

“Clearly not fast enough, Lukey,” she drawled, bending to scoop his bundle of clothes up that Sloane must have thrown out of her room. Coy shoved them into his naked torso, probably a little more forcibly than necessary she realized when he stumbled into the wall. Fuck, cool it, She-Hulk . Sometimes, she forgot her own strength.

“Well, if Sloane would stop—”

“Nope,” Coy cut him off. “Fuck off.” She grabbed his arm, guiding him through the apartment to the front entrance. “I don’t give a shit what Sloane did. You don’t speak to her like that.”

Lucas did the honors of opening the door, huffing in frustration. “She can’t handle a breakup. Not my problem, Coy.”

Coy snatched Lucas’s shoes from the boot rack, handed them to him and said, “I’d say it’s been a pleasure, but the truth is,” she gave him a little push past the threshold, into the hallway of the apartment and smirked, “I never liked you, Lukey. B-bye now.”

Coy closed and locked the door, rolling her eyes at Lucas’s several choice words out in the hallway. It took about a minute, but she finally heard his footsteps retreating. Sloane was curled up in a fetal position atop her messy bed when Coy walked in. Her face was buried in the pillow she was hugging to her chest, but Coy could still make out her hushed words. “D-Did he say why?”

Sighing inwardly, Coy climbed on the bed behind Sloane. It always took her some time to think of the right things to say to placate her sister, especially when all she wanted to do was rejoice. Sloane had only dated Lucas for the last three months, but they were three months too long in Coy’s opinion. “C’mere,” she murmured, pulling her sister into her arms. “I’m sorry, Sloane. I know how much you liked him.”

“I loved him, Coy.”

Coy fought the desire to roll her eyes. She literally says that for every relationship. Like what the actual fuck?

Sloane’s unrequited instalove crash and burns were one solid reason Coy didn’t do relationships. No way in hell would she let someone in deep enough to break her heart. Not after seeing what Sloane went through, or witnessing their father mourn their mother for most of their childhood. Nope, a quick hit it and quit it was more Coy’s style.

“I know you did, honey. Let it all out, okay? I’ve got you. Shhhhh, I’ve got you,” Coy soothed as she wrapped her arms tighter around her sister. She kissed Sloane’s forehead, one hand making slow, comforting circles over her back.

Sloane sobbed into the crook of Coy’s neck, a gross mix of snot and tears leaving a sticky trail along her skin. “Why does this always happen? Things start out so well, you know? I become everything they need, and it’s still not enough.”

Becoming everything they need was part of the problem, but Sloane was in no shape to hear it. When she wasn’t being a smartass, Coy’s sister had one of the biggest hearts around. That she fell too hard too fast was the thing, and despite stereotypes, Coy figured the general population wanting a relationship wasn’t necessarily looking for an immediate “lesbian” U-Haul. “I think,” she began, reaching for the extra pillows on the bed. She tucked them behind her so they propped her against the wall more, “you just haven’t met the right one yet. It’s not you, Sloane. It’s the situation, the timing, the person. It’s not you, okay? You’re perfect.”

Coy used her thumbs to wipe away her sister’s tears, watching as Sloane’s green gaze met her own. “You might not believe it, babe, but eventually, you’ll realize Lucas did you a favor. You deserve way more than he can give.”

A humorless laugh escaped Sloane, and she glanced away. “You’re just hoping I’ll end up with a woman. The only person you’ve ever approved of was Alice.”

Coy furrowed her brows. When had she given Sloane that impression? “I just want you to be happy, Sloane. No matter who it is, so long as they’re good to you.”

“Yeah? And what about you? You deserve to be happy.”

“What makes you think I’m not?” Coy tapped her on the nose, giving her a wan smile. “Now, what’ll it be? I’ll send Ash home, and we can do one of two things with our Sunday: drink our sorrows away and binge Bridgerton , or hit the trails.”

“Whoop!”

“Gonna beat you there!” Coy maneuvered her bike’s handlebars over the rough mountainside terrain, the thick tires sliding easily over the rocks and exposed tree roots on the trail.

“Cockiness will get you nothing but dust in your face out here,” Sloane shot back, already acting as if Lucas was forgotten. Sure enough, her purple high-end mountain bike started inching past Coy as they grew closer to the sloped bend. Their cousin J.D. was well behind them, already choking on the dust left in their wake.

With a vigorous push forward, Coy was once again head-to-head with her sister. She’d drunk too much the night before; the typical bloat the day after made her feel like a deadweight on top of her bike. That was the only reason her sister was squeezing past her right now. Well, that and perhaps a teensy part of her felt bad for Sloane. “C’mon!” Coy exclaimed as her twin reached the bend first, her gloved hands firmly on the handlebars as she shifted her body and expertly guided the mountain bike over the slope. Coy could hear Sloane laughing, basking in the small win, knowing they were equally competitive. Her quads burned from exertion, the plantar fasciitis that had plagued her since high school already stabbing the heel of her left foot, but she pushed on. There was no way she was losing to Sloane without a struggle.

“Hold up, hold up!” Coy called once they’d made it into a clearing once more. She watched as Sloane reduced her pace and followed suit, eventually coming to a halt off the trail in the wooded area.

“What’s up?”

Coy held up her hand, out of breath as she reached for her water fastened to the bike’s holder. She chugged a quarter of the bottle before panting out, “Let’s wait for J.D. He probably passed out between the ten and twelve-kilometer mark.”

Sloane sniggered, reaching to undo the strap on her full-face helmet. She lifted her bottle of Gatorade to her lips, saying between swallows, “How come you’re quieter than me today? Still hung up on the good ol’ crash and burn from last night?”

Coy rolled her eyes, letting her sister’s ribbing slide for the time being. Honestly, it was just good to hear her laughing again so soon after Lucas. There was a high possibility Sloane wasn’t as into him as she’d thought. “How’d you know, anyway?”

Sloane shrugged. “She wasn’t there to take anyone home. Her posture was stiff and closed off, and she hardly glanced at the crowd the entire time you were checking her out. Not even a legend like yourself could land a mark if she was a million miles away.”

“Too bad, huh? She was something else.”

“You and your age gap attraction,” Sloane chuckled, teasing Coy about the sapphic books she read. What could she say? Older women were more experienced and weren’t afraid to go after what they wanted in the bedroom. “After all these years, you still trying to make Frankie jealous?” They could hear the fast-paced crunch of tires a good stretch away, and Coy figured they had about twenty seconds before J.D. caught up.

She adjusted her goggles and got ready to go again. If her sister only knew how unattached Frankie was to Coy. Her sex life with Sloane’s boss, the edgy lone wolf who ran one of the more popular gay-friendly pubs in Vancouver, was strictly casual. She doubted Frankie could love anyone, let alone feel true jealousy. With the older woman, Coy was able to give in to her submissive desires without falling in love. There was no compromising with Frankie, and that emotional barrier was the key reason their non-relationship worked. There was no jealousy.

Frankie would just as soon hogtie Coy to the bed and use the paddle on her than bask in anything Coy could do for her. To her. And that was fine. Hell, sometimes that was exactly what Coy needed at the end of a long day. But sometimes, she wanted to be the top calling the shots. Frankie understood her in a way no one else did.

J.D. came flying around the bend, his clothes full of drying mud and gravel like he’d fallen a time or two. He noticed them too late and zipped past, having to backtrack once he’d gotten safely off the trail. “Hey, you know, I’m thinking this trail is beyond my experience level.”

Coy grinned. “You insisted on this trail if I recall. ‘I can do it, Coy. I’ll even bet you I can!’ Aren’t you glad I didn’t take that bet?”

“You bet on literally everything.”

“Well, that’s an exaggera—”

“J.D., you’re bleeding!”

Coy abruptly shut up, pulling down her goggles to follow Sloane’s anxious gaze. “Fuck, you’re not lying. Cuz, did you land on something sharp in one of your falls?”

“I-I did, I think, once,” J.D. admitted. He frowned down at his ribs, where his shirt was torn. Blood oozed from an exposed wound, staining his Granny Smith apple green T-shirt.

“Let’s pull our bikes more out of the way so I can look at it,” Coy decided, her tone leaving zero room for debate. Already regretting how far away they were from a hospital, she hoped to all hell J.D. just had a messy scratch.

In less than a minute, Coy had her cousin sitting shirtless on a fallen log while she rummaged through her emergency pack. “Tell me again, Sloane, how carrying all this stuff is overkill?”

“Yeah, yeah, Mom,” Sloane groused, her face inches away from J.D.’s armpit. “That’s quite a gash.”

Coy got closer and whistled, observing the road rash and deep laceration, and then examined the rest of him for any further signs of injury. “Anything else hurt? I’m sorry we didn’t slow down sooner.”

J.D. shook his gorgeous head of sandy blond hair. “Nope, and I can hardly feel this one. I’m sure it’ll be fine, but I know what you’re like, Coy.”

“Oh?” Coy grunted, slipping on a pair of medical gloves. She tore open a couple packets of alcohol swabs, arching a brow up at him. He looked younger than his twenty-three years, his face still bearing all the perks of youth.

“Yeah, you know. Like you’ll nag me the entire way home if I don’t let you patch me up.”

“McCoy is trained in First Aid,“ Sloane reminded him, handing Coy the tweezers.

“The only one here, I might add. So shut it, cuz.” McCoy smirked, enjoying the hiss of pain as she poured disinfectant solution over his ribs. “Hold still.” Using the tweezers, she carefully dug out bits of dirt and splinters from the wound before applying ointment and gauze.

It was a basic clean and patch job for the most part. J.D. had been lucky, but that didn’t extinguish the guilt gnawing at Coy as they got back on their bikes. She was responsible for them when they were this far out. She was the most experienced, and yet her head had been everywhere but on the task at hand. Racing against Sloane hadn’t been the best idea, but Coy had been preoccupied all day. Thoughts of a beautiful stranger had taken up more than enough rent in her mind, and to what end? It’s not like Coy would ever settle down with one woman. So, what about this one had her so bent out of shape?