Her shaking hands tightened around the steering wheel. She had to stop this. If she wanted to succeed in convincing her friends and family that she didn’t want to live here anymore, she had to appear calm, cool, and collected. Normally, she could pull that off easily. But, for some reason, she couldn’t seem to do that anymore.
Her whole body jittered with nerves, and she seriously considered turning around and driving back to Luscious, where she’d been staying in one of Deke and Adam’s many luxurious retreats.
She laughed out loud, not sounding humorous, just self-deprecating. Everyone probably had this insane notion that she’d shelled out thousands of dollars a night to stay at the ultra-exclusive Bed and Breakfast in the unconventional Kansas town. But nothing could be further from the truth. She couldn’t afford to stay in a pricey place like that and, as much as she loved spending time with the legion of bohemian people who lived in the artistic community there, she wouldn’t have anyway.
So, instead, she and Deke had struck a deal. If she would paint while she stayed there, he wouldn’t charge her a penny. It was the perfect arrangement, considering she had no money, and he needed artwork for his new restaurant. So she’d happily taken him up on his offer.
The last month had been the best and worst of her life. Being away from Landon, Shane, and the rest of the gang had worn on her. But being allowed to paint full-time had
almost
made up for it.
Painting was therapeutic for her, and she’d made more headway in one month than she had in all of last year combined. She had a feeling that, finally, painting a dove had set off her creative streak. After she’d spent the last sixteen years artistically avoiding anything with a bird on it, she’d found it quite cathartic.
So take that, Mother.
Katie-Anne groaned, wishing she hadn’t thought about the woman who’d fucked her up royally. She could still remember everything about her mother. The ways she smelled, and the way she acted. The way she moved and how she spoke.
Like I could forget Mommy Fucking Dearest!
Her mother hadn’t been known for being a nice lady. Hell, her crazy antics were legendary, but no one knew how psychotic she’d been toward Katie-Anne, too. She’d played the part of mother perfectly, treating her “precious baby girl” like a princess in public.
Bitch.
She’d shown off Katie-Anne around town like a fucking doll, making her into some twisted plaything. If that hadn’t been bad enough, she’d stolen the only thing that made Katie-Anne happy—her art.
Katie-Anne had never forgotten the day that her mother came home early and discovered her taking an art lesson from a friend that had not been approved beforehand. She’d completely flipped out and torn up Katie-Anne’s sketches and paintings in front of her art instructor then burned them in a metal trash can. She’d cackled the entire time.
Every picture had been of the same thing—birds. Katie-Anne had always felt this deep connection with the flying creatures. Their beauty and purity mesmerized her, and she would spend hours sitting in her room watching them outside her window or painting the ones she saw in her mind.
Katie-Anne had envied the freedom they had and fantasized about one day getting the chance to be the woman she wanted to be. She could just fly away from the misery holding her captive and be who and what she wanted. But her mother had torched that image and her dreams in front of her.
Katie-Anne had only managed to save one sketch, and it had been a miracle that she’d done even that. The paper was mostly charred, but she could still make out the dove taking flight and “Fly Free” scribbled underneath it.
Up until a month ago, she’d kept that piece of paper on her always. Now, Shane had it in his possession, and he probably had no clue what it meant or why she’d put it into the envelope. Not that she knew, either. It had just felt right in the moment.
“Just fucking perfect,” Katie-Anne muttered when she passed the turn to her brother’s house. “That’s what I get for thinking, instead of paying attention.”
Katie-Anne made it a quarter of a mile up the road before she found a spot to turn around. Moving quicker than was probably safe, she executed a flawless U-turn then drove back to the driveway she’d missed. But, rather than stopping, Katie-Anne kept going.
“I think it’s time for a drink,” she murmured as she blew past her brother’s house and headed toward the apartment her friends, Sam Carrington, Ethan Bartlett, and Brett Monroe, shared. She knew they would have exactly what she needed.
Milkshake or float?
It looked like it was going to be a bitch of a night, and she needed something tasty to keep her sane.
A chocolate milkshake it is.
A short time later, Katie-Anne flopped onto the stylish sofa in Sam, Ethan, and Brett’s living room. Bouncing ever-so-slightly, she glared down at the horribly uncomfortable white cushions. Who would want to have this damn thing in their home?
Obviously Ethan.
Only he would prefer fancy to function.
Sure, the massive, minimalist sectional was pretty. But, damn, it was about as comfortable as sitting on a boulder. She couldn’t sink into the cushions or relax against the soft back. It didn’t curve around her body and envelop her in its warmth.
Yeah, this sofa sucks.
Hell, I can’t believe that anyone would even sell this…this…this thing.
It’s not even a couch. It’s an over-the-top piece of decoration that no one should have to sit on—ever, not even for money.
Getting up, she moved to stand at the window overlooking Main Street. “Samuel Carrington, I have no clue why you would let Ethan choose something so horrid for a couch,” she grumbled. “I’m an artist, and I understand the need for beauty, but that should be outlawed.”
Sam chuckled from behind her. “And everyone around town thinks that you are all about the superficial. If that were true, you would adore that couch. It is by some hoity-toity interior designer.”
“Oh, honey, I know exactly who designed it,” she informed him with a huff. Spinning around until she saw Sam’s handsome face, she grinned. “And that woman is downright scary.”
“Of course you do,” Ethan said as he entered the living area, “and so do we. Sam just thinks he’s being funny.”
Sam glowered and shot back, “I’m taking lessons from you, angel boy.”
Over the last few months, Katie-Anne had noticed an odd, crackling air whenever her three friends got within ten feet of each other. It was as though something drastic had changed, as if an earth-shaking event had occurred. Yet none of them had said a word to her about anything out of the ordinary. All she knew was, at the rate they were moving, their friendship would falter then crumble.
After being friends for most of their life, she knew it would devastate them to lose each other. But it would tear Katie-Anne apart, too. She’d come to rely on them since she’d started hanging out with them only a few years ago, and one of the things she loved best was the camaraderie between the men. They were fucking adorable whenever they got together.
But not lately.
Ethan growled, “Stop calling me that.”
“You’re the one who made an ass of himself by hitting on Josie Martin with the lamest pickup line ever,” Sam replied with a condescending smile that someone should slap right off his cocky face. “I can’t help that.”
Pinning Ethan with her gaze, Katie-Anne arched her eyebrow. “Are you and Brett still after Josie?”
Shrugging, a sad light invaded his glittering green eyes, the trademark twinkle dying out swiftly. “I would do her. I mean, seriously. Most men would because she is playing hard to get. And God knows the woman is hot. But, if you’re asking, would I settle down with her. I honestly don’t know, but I doubt it. It isn’t like Brett and I plan to share a woman for the rest of our lives.” He frowned. “Besides, I’m not willing to lose him just yet, and I know that fighting over a chick would do that.”
Um, duh
. The three men had been sharing women for most of their teenage and adult years. To her knowledge, the only sex they had was when they shared. Well, that wasn’t entirely true. Brett and Ethan were friends with benefits. Whenever they didn’t have girlfriends to share, they had each other. So, by technicality, Ethan and Brett did have sex outside of ménages, only with each other and no one else.
It amused her to no end that the three men would date a woman but not sleep with them alone. Shit, they were as bad as she was. None of them would date someone for more than a few dates before calling it off.
We’re seriously fucked up. No, we’re commitmentphobes.
Katie-Anne nodded in understanding, heaving a sympathetic sigh. “I get that. I can’t imagine the three of you without each other. You are like me, Jaycee, and Shannon—just with dicks and big heads.”
Turning his eyes away, Sam ignored her blatant needling and said sadly, “I don’t have to worry about a woman coming between the three of us. I’m dating Brooklyn, and they don’t particularly like her.”
Katie-Anne had seen Sam with Brooklyn, and she didn’t like them together either. She loved him, and she adored Brooklyn, but they did
not
work together. It was obvious to her—and anyone else with eyes—that there was no love or spark between the couple. And they definitely had no chemistry. They might as well be friends, but she wasn’t about to say that.
She’d learned long ago to keep her nose out of these men’s relationships with each other and anyone else. They didn’t get mad at her, but they did push her away for a short time before crawling back to her and apologizing for their defensive ways.
She found it rather ironic that they hated for her to get into their business yet they didn’t give her the same courtesy. They constantly got in her business. Whenever they thought they were helping her, they would do or say anything to ease her along.
Frankly, she was rather shocked that they hadn’t stepped in between her, Shane, and Landon. Other than flirting with her in front of the two men to make them jealous, they hadn’t shared her secrets with Shane or Landon. Not that she believed that would go on forever.
She figured it was inevitable. If they believed that she had a shot with the two men, Brett, Ethan, and Sam would do whatever it took to get her in their arms.
We have a twisted ass relationship but damn I love it—almost as much as I love having them around.
“What has you thinking so hard?” Brett inquired, strolling in the room with his cocky attitude draped around him.
Now why couldn’t I fall for someone like him or, hell, Sam or Ethan? Because that would be a complete disaster.
She might love them to death, but they were more than she would be willing to handle. Besides, she had a feeling that they weren’t likely to share any woman—and she wasn’t thinking about it for the same reasons they were.
Katie-Anne plastered a fake smile on her face. “Oh nothing,” she murmured. “I just wanted to stop by and have a milkshake with my drinking buddy.”
“Uh-oh,” Ethan said as he came up behind her. Grabbing her hand, he pulled her back over to the couch she despised and eased her down then dropped into the open seat beside her. He threw his thick, muscular arm around her and frowned. “What is wrong with our girl?”
“Nothing,” she mumbled, refusing to look at him or anyone else in the room. Instead, she studied the only personal thing in sight—a picture of the three men on vacation with their arms around each other. “Nothing at all.”
“Liar,” Brett accused bluntly.
She usually loved how he didn’t let her get away with denials or any other negative bullshit but not now, not at this very moment. She didn’t need or want that.
Then why the hell did I come here in the first place?
“Fine, I’ll tell you,” Katie-Anne acquiesced as she met Brett’s nearly black eyes, “
if
Sam will make me one of his famous milkshakes.”
Getting up, Sam headed for the kitchen. “I can do that,” he called out over his shoulder before lowering his voice and mumbling, “Goodness knows I keep enough ice cream and chocolate sauce on hand for you,” as he disappeared through the swinging door.
She couldn’t hold back an amused smile. It meant a lot that these three men kept a few things around the house especially for her. Since she used to stay with them on occasion when they lived in New York, they always made sure she had the basic things she loved wherever they stayed. It was terribly sweet of them.
Brett sat down in one of the lavish accent chairs next to the couch. “So...” he said, trailing off deliberately.
“Oh, come on, Brett,” Ethan grumbled, keeping a watchful eye on her. “This is about Shane or Landon. Or it is about Shane
and
Landon. Take your pick.”
Lifting her middle finger, Katie-Anne flipped Ethan off then growled at him.
“Aw, how cute,” Ethan teased with a condescending grin. “Our favorite Chihuahua has come to visit.”
Shifting to the side, she shook Ethan’s arm off her shoulders and moved into an Indian-style sitting position. “You are such an asshole.”
“And you love me,” Ethan quipped. “Otherwise, you wouldn’t put up with my shit.”
He was right. She wouldn’t. The gorgeous blond-haired, green-eyed man was a pain in the ever-loving ass, but she loved him just the same. And it had nothing to do with his looks—even though he truly was delicious. Most people compared him to a lead singer in one of those popular ‘90’s boy bands. With his high cheekbones, strong jaw, and prominent nose, he was flat-out pretty. Not that he considered that a compliment.