Page 2 of Tied up in Knots (Gummy Bear Orgy #4)

My eyes drift back to Warren as Owen and Izzy bicker.

Sadly, he does appear more upbeat as his time in Homer dwindles.

He grabs a shirt and hops out of the boat onto the dock my grandpa built when he and Gigi first moved into this house decades ago.

He makes it halfway to the house before stretching overhead to slip the black thermal over his head.

I watch over the rim of my glass and pretend to drink.

Like always, my gaze follows the progression of his shirt down his naturally bronzed chest, abs and over the dark happy trail leading below his waistband.

Hair the same dark brown as the shaggy locks on his head.

His mochaccino light brown eyes glitter in the low dusky sunlight, the last we’ll have for a while.

My heart sinks when I notice the giant smile on his face as Owen hands over the box he brought. It’s deposited in his boat before he makes his way back up to shore, this time slipping a jacket on.

“Alright, who’s ready to party?” Owen cheers as they both arrive at our table.

I don’t feel the same enthusiasm as him and let it be known with a displeased frowny face.

I was never a party girl and never will be.

Every time we go to the bar together, I’m usually the one driving everyone else home or sneaking out early to go home and curl up next to my wood burning stove and read a book.

“Oh, come on Raelyn. You can’t be grumpy tonight,” Owen pouts.

“Sure, I can. Watch me,” I challenge him with a grin that holds absolutely no joy but plenty of defiance.

“Come on Bambi, you can’t be like that tonight.

” Warren’s voice is like a balm to my charcoal heart.

He’s been calling me Bambi since we were kids.

I never knew why, but I like that I’m the only one he has a nickname for.

He even got mad when Owen tried to call me Bambi once, claiming Owen wasn’t allowed to call me that, only he could.

“It’s my going away party. No one is allowed to be a sour puss tonight. ”

“Well, some of us aren’t happy you’re leaving,” I protest, crossing my arms over my chest. He’s heard this all before, but I feel it bears repeating.

“You know I’ve been planning this for years, Bambi. It’s not like it’s a surprise.”

I groan because that’s not even close to the reason why I’m not happy about him leaving. Yes, I’ve had years to prepare for this eventuality, but that doesn’t mean I have to like it. I’m free to be as unhappy as I like.

“No more grumbling. Now get your overall clad ass up and let’s go.”

Warren circles the table and drags me up by my elbow.

I, the mature twenty-six-year-old that I am, ragdoll in his hold, forcing him to hoist me up by the waist. It’s an age-old game we play, and I revel in every touch it allows me.

He bands an arm around my middle and locks me in place with my back to his side.

He’s a lot larger than me and holds me in the familiar position with ease.

“That’s not going to work today, Bambi. You’re coming, and you’re going to at least pretend to be happy and toast to my good fortune at finally escaping this town.”

I ignore his demands and continue to play a life-sized doll in his arms.

“Jesus you’re getting heavy,” he jokes, because I know for a fact, he can carry my hundred and fifty pounds just fine. He carries loads of fish twice my weight on a daily basis. “Okay, you can take over walking now Bambi,” he orders, but I ignore him.

He drags me dramatically down the porch towards the side yard where the cars are parked in the gravel driveway.

“You better put your feet down or I’m gonna drop you.”

He’s not going to drop me.

When I don’t respond he grumbles, and I feel him reach up and deftly pull the hair tie, holding my strawberry-blonde hair in a ponytail, off my head.

Strands of copper fall forward blinding me.

Just as I’m sure he intended, I instantly plant my feet on the ground and grab for my hair tie.

If I can’t wrangle it out of his hand, I’ll never get it back.

He likes stealing them and wearing them around his wrist, mocking me with his victory.

“Give it back Warren.”

“Not a chance. Not until we get to Anchor’s Bottom . Then you can have it back.”

Hmm. There’s a fifty-fifty chance he’s lying and I’m not sure if this is one of those times he’ll actually give it back.

I stare at him dubiously, not sure I believe him.

He slides the black elastic band around his wrist triumphantly, knowing I’ve never been able to remove it once it’s locked around his inked wrist.

“Fine. But you have to give it back when we get there.”

“Of course,” he says with a cocky grin, that’s equal parts sweet and smug. “Besides, I like it when you wear your hair down.”

Reaching up, he messes my hair like a little sister, and I have to pull out of his reach before he tangles it completely.

I don’t like wearing my hair down often, it gets in the way and in my face, forcing me to constantly tuck it behind my ears.

Wearing it in a ponytail is just practical.

Thankfully I just got my bangs trimmed so it’s not as annoying as it could be.

I stick my tongue out at Warren, which only makes him chuckle.

“Can we get going now? I’d like to get there before it gets dark.”

It’s only six o’clock but night settles earlier and earlier the closer to winter we get. It won’t stop Owen and Warren from staying at the bar until midnight though, so I don’t know why Owen is complaining.

“Chill out, Owen. We’ll get there soon enough, and you can party to your heart's content,” Izzy elbows her brother and they both make their way to the driveway.

“Is James meeting us there?”

James is Izzy’s fiancé. They’ve been together for years and are planning a wedding, but Izzy hasn’t set a date yet.

She can’t make up her mind if she wants a winter wedding or a spring wedding.

We go back and forth about the benefits of each, and the conversation usually ends with me telling her, once again, to just go down to the courthouse and get it done.

Then we can have a party at Gigi’s afterword. No fuss no muss.

I don’t know why she insists on a color scheme and five bridesmaids, with flower arches and a four-tiered wedding cake.

None of that matters in a marriage. Just the two people who love each other and a celebration of their union.

Why does everyone have to make such a mess out of something so simple?

However, I will admit I do love looking at wedding dresses with her.

I’ve never had much reason to wear a dress, let alone one as fancy as a wedding dress, but it would be nice to wear one someday.

“Yeah, he’s going to meet us after he gets off work. Which means we can all ride together in Owen’s car.”

“But I plan on partying. How am I supposed to get home once I’m smashed?” Owen pouts as if this is the biggest inconvenience in the world, even stomping his foot like an impertinent child.

“Don’t worry, you big baby, I’m sure you can find someone to give you a ride home.”

Owen is more likely to go home with someone than the other way around, but I don’t mention that. We all pile into Owen’s SUV, Izzy in the back with me as usual, Owen driving and Warren in the front seat, and head out to the bar. My mood only grows more dour the closer we get.