Page 56 of Someone to Call My Own

“It’s not fair that we have shortened versions of our names, but you don’t, Memphis,” I told him. “How about Phis?”

“How about you choke on that cranberry orange muffin,” he replied in a singsong voice. “Oh! There’s Andy.” Memphis bolted from his seat like his ass was on fire.

I looked over and saw that Andy was indeed quite a beefcake. Could his fucking gray flannel shirt get any tighter? I glanced over to make sure Emory wasn’t checking the guy out. He was looking at me and grinning like a fool.

“Memphis seems quite smitten with Beefcake Andy,” I told him.

“He has to get in line though,” Emory said, hooking his thumb over in the direction of the coffee counter.

I saw that Milo was watching Andy flirt with Memphis and his clenched jaw made it obvious that he didn’t like it. I was shocked that he openly lusted after a guy with his wife standing right there. Even odder, Maegan appeared to encourage him when she handed Milo a cup of coffee that was obviously for Andy because she kept tipping her head in the carpenter’s direction. Milo kept shaking his head no.

“They must have a really open marriage,” I said to Emory.

“Who?” He looked around the room as if trying to figure out what I saw. He turned back around and took a sip of his coffee.

“Maegan and Milo.”

Emory practically spat his coffee at me. “That’s so gross,” he sputtered. “They’re brother and sister. Twins, to be exact.”

What? They looked nothing alike. Maegan had curly blonde hair that she had wrestled into a messy bun on top of her head, fair skin, and light eyes. I thought they were green. Milo was taller, had a darker skin tone, medium brown hair, and blue eyes. The only thing similar about them was the scowls they aimed at one another while they silently argued over Beefcake Andy.

“Twins?”

“They’re paternal twins instead of identical,” Emory explained. “Maegan is clearly trying to encourage Milo to go over and talk to Andy. There’s definitely some history between the two men, but I don’t know their story.” Emory had his back to them so how did he know?

“Did you have a vision?”

“No, smartass,” Emory quipped. “I can see their reflection in the window. Not only that, I’ve been observing them for a while now. A person doesn’t have to be psychic to know things.”

“Smartass, huh?” I asked with a raised brow. My voice had dropped to a lower pitch, and I saw the excited shiver that worked through my guy. For the last few weeks, Emory had hinted that he was ready to be a little more physical with me, but I worried that it was too soon. His green eyes darkened, and he inhaled sharply through his nose. “Grab your muffin and let’s go.”

I recalled my earlier comment about playing hard to get and Emory’s reaction. Instead of snatching up my muffin and cup like I wanted to, I leaned back in my chair casually and pinched off a tiny bite of my baked goodie. I let the flavors explode on my tongue and moaned indecently.

“Oh yeah?” Emory asked. “That’s how you want to play it?”

“Baby, I’m not playing.”

Jon broke off another tiny chunk of muffin and popped it in his mouth. He licked the corners of his lips to make sure no crumbs remained. Not playing, huh? Well, he wasn’t the only one who could play dirty.

“To think I planned to give you a wonderful anniversary gift,” I told him, shaking my head sadly.

“What anniversary?” Jon said in confusion.

I made a big production of looking around the room to assure that no one was listening. “I really shouldn’t say right now. It wouldn’t be proper.”

“So we’re ‘proper’ people now? You didn’t mind slipping your tongue into my mouth for the whole town to see fifteen minutes ago.” Jon was a tough customer, but I was only getting started.

“Kissing in public is not the same thing as talking about…” I let my words trail off and sat back in my chair like I didn’t have a care in the world. I had many cares, and the primary one was to entice Jon to fuck me without restraint. I saw how hard he struggled to rein himself in these past two months, and I wanted him to be completely free with me. I loved the hard, physical fucking just as much as the tender way he made love to me. It had been too long since he pinned me down and took what he wanted. I rose to my feet and said, “You take your time with your breakfast. I’m going to head on home to do a load of laundry or something mundane since you’re not interested in celebrating this special occasion with me.”

“What special occasion?”

I left the coffee shop but didn’t make it very far before he caught me. Jon grabbed both my shoulders then turned and backed me up against a tree. The heat and possession I saw in his eyes sparked my lust and gave me an instant hard-on.

“What special occasion?” Jon repeated. He lowered his head and brushed his morning scruff against my neck, and it had the same effect as if he reached between my legs and massaged my aching balls. I was no match for him.Yet.

“We met a year ago today,” I said throatily.

Jon pulled back and tipped his head to the side. “No, we didn’t. We met at Gabe and Josh’s house on Easter Sunday. That particular anniversary is in a few days.”