NIX (Daring the Kane Brothers)

  NIX

  Daring the Kane Brothers

  Published by Kelly Gendron

  Copyright © 2019 Kelly Gendron

  All rights reserved

  Edited by J Sims - Editing4Indies

  Photographer - Wander Aguiar

  Model – Colton Reiswitz

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without the written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations used in reviews.

  TABLE OF CONTENT

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  EPILOGUE

  CHAPTER ONE

  “Dad! I can pick out my own clothes!” Becca stomps into the kitchen, her orangish-red curly hair sticking up everywhere.

  Damn, she looks like her mom when she’s pissed, and I haven’t seen that face in over five years.

  With my coffee nearly to my lips, I wink at her. “Okay.”

  “And I told you before”—she waves the shirt clenched in her tiny hand—“I feel like Finding Nemo whenever I wear this thing.”

  “Oh, I don’t know. It kind of matches your hair.” I hold back my chuckle as I take another sip of coffee.

  “Dad!” Hands on her hips, she scrunches her tiny button nose as her green eyes shine up at me. “My hair isn’t orange! It’s strawberry-blond!”

  “Oh, yeah. That’s right, sorry.” Ever since Token’s girlfriend, Harley, mentioned my daughter’s hair looked strawberry-blond and not orange, Becca’s run with it. What six-year-old wouldn’t want hair the color of a sweet fruit rather than a sour one? I can’t even get her to drink orange juice. Maybe now that we’re calling her hair strawberry, I’ll get her to drink the orange shit. “Okay, my strawberry-blond girl, go get ready, or you’ll be late for school.”

  “I don’t care if I’m late!” She whips her full head of hair around and stomps out of the kitchen.

  “I know you don’t. It only makes me look bad,” I grumble. After finishing my coffee, I find my keys and wait patiently by the door for the little princess.

  Fuck, potty training was easier than this school stuff. Before, it was, “Sorry Daddy, I was running to the bathroom, but the poop was faster than me!” Now it’s, “Daddy, that makes me look like a baby!” or “Missy’s mom let her have one!” I don’t give a shit whose mom let her have what. And last I checked, she’s still a baby. She’s my baby.

  A few minutes later, I’m safely dropping off my six-going-on-sixteen-year-old daughter at school. She jumps out of the car without a backward glance. Man, I remember when I had to bribe her to go to kindergarten last year. It cost me a months’ worth of ice cream. The staff at The Goodie Shop knew us by name and flavor. Now, she can’t wait to get away from me so she can see her friends. Don’t get me wrong, I’m thrilled she has friends, but I just miss being the one she tells all her secrets to. I miss when she loved me more than everything in her room.

  I head over to my youngest brother’s garage. I figure I’ll check in on Crash since Maggie Mae, his dead best friend’s little sister, is back in town. Last time I saw him, he was a little fucked up over his recent discovery that he was married to Maggie Mae accidentally. It’s some messed-up shit, but true.

  Chicks. They can be a whole lot of trouble. I’ve tried to scale back my intake of the opposite sex. Let’s just say, one of my recent encounters didn’t turn out so good. Kimmy’s mom, Sarah Holter, got pissed when she realized she wasn’t the only PTA mom I was hooking up with for an afternoon quickie every now and then. I swear I explained we weren’t exclusive. I always make it a point to mention that somewhere between the first kiss and getting naked. Sarah was so upset when she found out she wasn’t my “one and only” that the last time we met, she took all my clothes while I was in the shower and locked them and my keys in my car, leaving me naked in the motel room. When check-out time came, my asshole brother Token never showed up. So I was stuck standing outside the motel room in nothing but the hundred-dollar sheet the motel charged me for. After exhausting all other options and all my other brothers, I had to call Ma for a ride. Nothing’s worse than being picked up by your mom in a hundred-dollar toga outfit on a Monday afternoon ’cause you got duped by one of your afternoon lays. I try, I really do to keep these kinds of shenanigans from Mom, but Sarah Holter (and my brothers) left me no choice that day.

  I enter Crash’s auto shop to find him talking to a customer. Well, with arms crossed over his chest and an annoyed look on his face, I’d say he’s tolerating the customer.

  The customer’s head moves in sync with her tight little body. Damn, I don’t think I’ve ever seen an ass make a skirt talk to me. Jeans maybe, but never a modestly long black skirt. It’s as if the tight material is daring me to come a little closer, daring my hand to reach out and touch the nicely rounded tush it’s harboring.

  The owner of the said skirt’s head twists around.

  I pull my eyes from her ass, but I’m too late. Busted. I smile as long brown hair slides over a slender shoulder and even darker eyes cut into me, canceling out the conversation I’m having with her skirt. But, like her fine ass, those near black eyes start talking to me, saying things like hot, moist, hard….

  “Well.” She blinks, and I quiver all over, like on a hot summer day when a breeze blows by you. She turns back to Crash, who looks bored and done with the chick. Apparently, her eyes aren’t talking to him the way they are me. Besides, my bro ain’t one to put up with anyone’s shit for too long. It amazes me that he’s kept the shop open as long as he has.

  “I don’t know what I’m going to do,” she says, raising frustrated hands in the air. “How am I going to get to work?”

  “Call an Uber,” Crash suggests with raised brows.

  “I would, but I left my wallet at home. I don’t have any cash on me or any credit cards. I assumed you’d have someone here who could give me a lift.” Her eyes flash at me, and out of nowhere, the darkness disappears. Bright blue specks flare up as if she finally sees me and likes what she sees.

  “Yeah, well, my co-worker is running late today,” Crash says with little regard or regret.

  He must be talking about Jaggs. My eyes take a stroll down the woman’s body. Well, hell, I got nowhere to be this morning, and I’d be interested in having a longer conversation with those sex talking blue eyes. “I can take you to work,” I say.

  They both look at me. Crash with hope and the woman with a hint of heat and caution. Shit! She’s really throwing off some fucked-up hot and cold vibes. I’m not sure if she wants to get me alone or not, and that’s unusual. Normally, I can tell what a woman wants from me within a few seconds of an encounter.

  Rubbing his hands on a rag, Crash starts, “Mrs—”

 
“Tucker, Payton Tucker.” As if on cue, she finishes for him, but then her eyes are back to having a private conversation with me. One that’s teetering on maybe she wants to fuck me, maybe not?

  “Mrs. Tucker, this is my brother Nix.”

  “Nix Kane.” I smile. “Nice to meet you, Payton.”

  She does a quick scan of my body, and after apparently finding nothing too displeasing, she smiles back at me. “Nix, are you sure you don’t mind?”

  “Not at all. Where do you need to go?”

  “Yeah.” She grimaces. “You might’ve wanted to ask that first.” She pulls her purse back up on her shoulder, and my eyes follow the smooth motion of her fingers moving up a long tan arm. “The Caulfield buildings.”

  “On Main and Birch?”

  “That’s it.” She nods at Crash, then me. “Too far? I’d understand if—”

  “No. No.” I hold up a hand, not prepared to let the opportunity get away from me. “I know right where it is, and it’s no problem.”

  “Great,” Crash grumbles, tossing the dirty rag over his shoulder. “I’ll call when your car is done, Mrs—”

  “Miss,” she corrects as candid eyes crash into me.

  Yes! Finally! Confirmation! She wants me! Well, at least, she wants me to know she’s available, and after all the exclusive things her eyes and body have been saying to me, it’s good information to have. Not that I’m going to act on it. I’ve taken a vow to lay off, not on, the female body, but shit, hers is tempting.

  Crash nods. “Miss Tucker.” Then he silently slithers away from the conversation.

  Chin lifted, eyes wrapped in thick black lashes, she looks up at me. “Are you sure you don’t mind?”

  “Not at all.” Pushing my glasses back up to the top of my nose, I smile.

  Her eyes flash to my biceps, then my mouth, and I hold my smile as I call over my shoulder, “Crash, I’ll stop back by later.”

  “Sure,” he says, brushing me off rather than letting me know he’ll see me later. Yeah, he can be a real asshole. He’s been like that since his best friend died. I’m hoping with Maggie back in town, maybe that shit will change. Maybe he’ll get laid.

  “Let’s go.” I nudge in the direction of the door, and Payton follows me.

  I open my car door for her. Once she gets situated, I jump in the driver’s side and shut us in. My nose fills with a hint of lilacs. I shake my head because I love that smell. It reminds me of my first kiss with the only woman I ever loved.

  Five minutes of small talk gains me some facts. She recently moved here from Miami for a job, she has a cat named Mittens, and she’s a Red Sox fan. Oh, and we have a couple of things in common; neither of us like ranch dressing nor football. Yeah, I usually don’t tell too many about the football bit. Having four brothers, I get a lot of shit for it.

  “Becca is calling,” the computerized voice announces into the car.

  “Your girlfriend?” Payton stares straight ahead at the road, wearing a small smirk on her pretty face. “Go ahead and answer it. I won’t say anything. Ya know, so you don’t have to explain why there’s another woman in your car.”

  She’s cute. I’ll give her that. I click the answer button. “Hello, Becca.”

  “Dad.” My daughter’s sweet voice fills the car, and I wink at my passenger. Girlfriend? This guy doesn’t nor will he ever have a damn girlfriend. Payton shrugs, cheeks turning pink. Also, cute. “I forgot the permission slip for the field trip to the aquarium, and the bus is leaving in an hour! Can you bring it to school for me? Pleeeeaaaassseee? I really want to see the penguins!”

  “Becca, can you put your teacher on the phone? I’ll give her permiss—”

  “No! I already asked her if you could do it over the phone. They need the slip signed for insurance stuff. Can you please, please bring it? It’s not like you have a job you have to be at, Dad! Please, they’re leaving in an hour!”

  “That’s because I work from home.” I quickly defend my employment status in front of the woman I’m not trying to fuck.

  “Dad!” Becca shrieks.

  I glance over at my patient passenger, and she mouths, “We can stop and get it.”

  I mouth back, “Are you sure? You won’t be late?”

  “It’s okay,” she mouths with a smile and a nod.

  “Okay, Becca.” I look back at the road. “Where’s the slip?”

  CHAPTER TWO

  I jog up the stairs two at a time, find the permission slip on Becca’s dresser, sign it with a pink pen, then fold and shove it in my pocket before heading back down the stairs. I whip the door open, and I’m met with big, sparkling blue eyes.

  Fuck, she’s gorgeous, and those eyes, they suck you right in. Her body’s not perfect, a little bumpy here and there, but I’ve always thought a woman with a little shape was a lot more interesting. Her tits are nearly perfect, though. Shit, I wonder if they’re real? They gotta be, right? She doesn’t strike me as fake. You can usually spot those girls right away with that annoying false laugh. Oh yeah, that high-pitched giggle is a dead giveaway. I never trust that sound.

  I haven’t heard her laugh, yet.

  But man, that mouth and those lips. Does she know what to do with them? Is she a good kisser? My cock thumps, prompting me not to forget about him.

  She blinks, and like windshield wipers, the action washes away the naughty thoughts racing in my head. “Can I use your bathroom?” She blinks again.

  “Oh, yeah.” I take a step back. “Sure. Come on in.” I glance at the clock. Damn, I gotta be at Becca’s school in thirty minutes. Not enough time for a quickie. Well, maybe for some men, but not this guy. If there are two things I believe, it’s that any computer program can be hacked, and when it comes to sex, the giver always gets more.

  “Thanks.” She walks in with new eyes, scanning my living room.

  “Down the hall, second door on the right.”

  She nods and leaves me closing the front door. I glance at my cell. I got time. My mind drifts for a few minutes. No, there’s no time for that, but at least I can chill for a second while the chick uses my bathroom.

  “I love the emoji shower curtain.” She laughs, and it’s a nice sound that doesn’t make my dick stand down.

  “Oh, yeah. That.” I shove my cell into my pocket. “Becca picked it out. No one’s usually here to see it but me and her. Well, except for my occasional brother. I have four of them, a sister, plus my parents …” Oh man, am I rambling? Why am I doing that? Women don’t make me fumble like an idiot trying to catch a football. Now that does, but not chicks. Hey, what can I say? These hands were made for two things—a keyboard and women.

  Her eyes slide over to the framed pictures on the fireplace mantel. “Where’s Becca’s mom?”

  “Gone.”

  “Gone where?” She walks over and picks up a picture, looking down at it. “Did she leave, or is she gone, gone?”

  Shit! Normally, when I say gone, women stop asking questions there, but not this one. Her large eyes move to me, tilted head emphasizing the persistent wait for my answer.

  “I’d like to think she’s gone, gone ’cause that’d mean she’s been absent from her daughter’s life for the past five years for a good reason.” I twirl my keys in my hands. There, that should squelch any further questions. “Ready?”

  Apparently not. Her eyes blink. “She left you and Becca?”

  Damn, this girl has balls. “More like disappeared.”

  “I’m sorry. That must’ve been hard for you and Becca.” She easily says my kid’s name.

  I shrug, flipping the keys again. “We’re doin’ okay.”

  “Were you …” She hesitates. “Are you married?”

  “No, never made it to the altar. Last semester of college, Lexi got pregnant. A few months later, Becca was born, then the next year, Lexi went out for some milk, or some shit, and she never came back.” Why am I telling her all this?

  “She’s beautiful.” Payton smiles and nudges at Becca’s kin
dergarten picture in her hand. “How old is she?”

  “Six going on sixteen.” I chuckle.

  “Oh, that’s a fun age.” Her dark eyebrows rise.

  She’s got a good face. I like that it’s not covered in makeup because she doesn’t need it. She’s got a natural glow about her that I’ve only ever seen once before on a woman.

  “Yes.” I smile, absorbing her beauty. Man, I want to spank her ass for all the questions, then bend her over and take her from behind. Don’t think I could do it from the front. I’d have to look at her beautiful face, and that could cause some trouble. I know, I know. I’m on a recess. No women! I need a break. Becca is starting to notice the way the moms at her school look at me; the ones I have and haven’t banged. “Are you ready, then?” I hold a hand out, gesturing at the door.

  “Oh, yes, sorry!” She sets the picture back on the mantel, shaking her head. “We have to get to your daughter’s school—” She spins around, and her purse slides off her shoulder and falls to the floor, spilling the contents all over the place. “Shit!” She drops to her knees and starts to pick up her things, ChapStick, cell phone, sunglasses …

  I bend down to help her and grab a pair of … “Socks?” I hold up the fuzzy, soft pink ball.

  Her cheeks flush red. “Yes. My—”

  “Feet get cold,” I finish for her. Lexi always carried around a pair of socks for the same reason.

  I’d say it was a coincidence, but when Payton explains, “Warm heart, cold feet,” just like Lexi used to say, like those crumpled socks, my stomach curls into a little ball, taking my ability to speak along with it.

  Her hand wraps around the socks before tossing them back into her bag. “Thanks again,” she stands, and I follow suit. Fixated on her eyes, I search for … I don’t know what. Lexi?

  With each year that passes, I search less and less for the mother of my child. However, standing across from the stranger I met less than an hour ago, I feel that familiar tug. The same one I’d experience when I got too close to Lexi, and I hate to admit it, but Lexi made me nervous too. It took me an entire semester to ask her out, and when I finally got the nerve to do it that day in the library, I thought she was going to blow me off. Thankfully, she didn’t. I wouldn’t have Becca if she had, and my daughter is everything to me.