Page 82 of Nine Month Contract
“You have to call your woman,” Calder shouts from across the house we’re in the middle of hanging Sheetrock in. “Isn’t she an expert in this shit?”
“She’s not my woman,” I murmur under my breath as I pull my gloves off and smack the drywall dust off my legs.
“You only have yourself to blame for that,” Luke says with a smug tone. He props his hand on the wall and wipes the sweat off his brow.
It’s balls hot today, and this house doesn’t have central air installed yet, but we have to get the Sheetrock finished today because there’s a delivery of tile coming tomorrow, and…fuck…we are behind schedule on this development.
Our dad would be riding our ass over this.
“You didn’t offer Trista the ‘D,’ and now she’s clearly getting it somewhere else because she looked very happy during poker the other night,” Calder says in a chastising tone.
“Did she?” I ask, my voice high-pitched.
“Don’t sound so cheery, man. This means you missed your window, and someone else climbed right in. And it wasn’t me.”
“Or me,” Luke confirms like it needed to be said.
And a few weeks ago, before I had my way with her…I would have needed that confirmation. I would have pressed their necks up against the wall and made them swear they didn’t touch her.
Now…I know better.
She’s mine.
My head jerks back as I realize I’m reacting the wrong way to my brothers, who don’t know the truth and can’t know the truth per my promise to Trista. I should be mad. I should be sexually frustrated. I should be insecure over the fact that I’m not having mind-blowing sex every other day with a woman with curves that won’t quit and a mouth that pisses me off quite regularly but I still want to kiss every time I see.
“Fuck you both,” I grumble. “I’m not bothering Trista with this.”
My eyes blink rapidly when a tiny black-and-white kitten is thrust in my face. Calder’s voice is strained when he says, “I just caught it licking the nail gun, Wyatt. We need to call someone to pick this stray up, and if it isn’t Momma Bear, it’s going to be animal control.”
“Don’t call animal control,” I growl harshly. “They’ll probably kill it.”
Calder and Luke eye each other for a moment and then look knowingly at me. “She’s making you soft,” Luke says smugly.
“The fuck she is.”
Calder laughs. “Fletcher Mountain is one kitten away from being a petting zoo. Stop fooling yourself and call your lady so she can come save this fucking fuzzball.”
As if on cue, the kitten’s tongue begins licking Calder’s beard at the exact moment he finishes that sentence. He fights back a smile and whispers, “Stop it, Fuzz. That tickles.”
I roll my eyes and make the damn call, knowing full well this kitten isn’t going to the rescue center, and I’m too weak to fight about it.
An hour later, Trista pulls up to our jobsite in her beat-up Honda, and I have to physically stop myself from touching her as she approaches me and my brothers, currently perched on the tailgate of my truck.
“Hello, Fletcher brothers,” she says in a singsong voice. “I hear we have a new pet for the mountain!”
I fight a knowing smirk while Trista shoots me a wink that I feelin my balls as she moves over to Calder and holds her hands out for the kitten. Calder frowns and hands it over.
“And what do we have here?” She looks at the kitten’s backside and says, “Congratulations, it’s a girl!”
The smile on Calder’s face is weird. He should be embarrassed.
“She seems really sweet,” Trista says, holding the animal to her chest and petting its head. You can hear her purring plain as day. “Super tame. I’ll need to make a call to animal control to make sure she doesn’t already have an owner.”
“She wasn’t tame earlier in the week,” Calder says with a scowl. “I tamed her. Fed her my lunch and gave her water every day.”
Trista’s brows shoot up. “Maybe you should keep her, then?”
Calder shakes his head and slides off the tailgate with a dirty smile spread across his face. “I don’t need more puss—”
