Young Love Dies Hard: The Young Brothers, Book 1 Read online

  “What are you doing?” he asked, eyeing me before focusing back on the road.

  “Looking at you. You look so different than what I remember.”

  “I can’t shift gears. Your shoulder is in the way.”

  “How about me?” I asked. “Do I look different?”

  “Come on, Maeve. You’re drunk.”

  I chuckled. “Yeah, so? You should try it some time.”

  I could feel him applying the brake, and he awkwardly downshifted the truck from fourth to third and then to second. He skipped first altogether and threw the gear in neutral. The red light glowed through the windshield.

  “You should be wearing your seatbelt.” He’d only look down at me for a few seconds at a time.

  “Not until you answer me.”

  He let out a frustrated sigh. “Of course you do.”

  “Better or worse?”

  “Are you really doing this right now?”

  “Better or worse?”

  “Better,” he said. “Happy now?”

  “Yes.” I slowly rose, feeling a little dizzy, and put my seatbelt on. “Same for you, by the way. Better. In case you were wondering.”

  I could tell he was doing his best to avoid looking at me, but when the light turned green, it highlighted a part of his face, most notably, his small smile.

  Chapter Four

  The next morning I found Jacob sitting cross-legged on a patch of hay in the kidding stall.

  “Hey,” I said, hanging one hand on the stall door.

  A sliver of early morning sunlight illuminated his face. “Hey.” The baby goat was nestled in his lap, greedily drinking the milk from the bottle Jacob was holding.

  I sat down next to him. “How’s he doing?”

  “Pretty good. He won’t nurse from mom. But he’s taking to the bottle really well.”

  I pet the baby on his head. “I think we should give him a name.”

  Jacob thought for a few seconds. “How about Roofus?”

  I raised my eyebrows. “Roofus? Is that the best you can do?”

  “You think of one.”

  “How about…Billy?”

  “Okay.” He gave Billy a scratch under the chin. “I like it. It’s very fitting.”

  “Can I try?”

  “To feed him?”

  I nodded.

  “Sure.” He scooped up Billy and put him in my lap. I grabbed the bottle from his hand, and Billy took to it right away.

  My hand rubbed over Billy’s round, furry belly. He nuzzled closer to me, completely trusting. Billy emptied the bottle, his heavy eyes giving way to sleep.

  Jacob reached for my right hand. “You still have this?” His index and pointer finger fiddled with the mood ring he’d won for me at the Greek festival just before he moved to Florida.

  I gingerly pulled back my hand. “I just like the way it looks.”

  “It’s black,” he said.

  “It’s been black for years.” I scooped Billy up from my lap, rested him in the hay, and then stood up.

  “Where are you going?” he called after me.

  I turned to face him. “Somebody’s got to get things done around here.”

  The blazing noon heat was relentless. Jacob was busy helping Jeff shovel cow shit when I found a secluded spot to smoke a cigarette. I leaned against the wall of the barn and met the flaming match to the end of the cigarette.

  “What are you doing?” Jacob popped up out of nowhere, startling me.

  An orange ember burned a spot on my leg.

  “What the hell, Jacob.” I wiped the ash away.

  “Since when do you smoke?”

  “I dunno…tenth grade?”

  “Weren’t you the girl who once said she would die before she married a guy who smoked or had tattoos?”

  “People change. Besides, I remember you telling me you’d never get a tattoo even if someone paid you a million dollars.”

  He shrugged. “People change.” He made a swipe for the cigarette. “Give me that.”

  I pulled my hand back. “No.”

  “Maeve, give me that cigarette.”

  “No way. It’s the first one I’ve had all morning.”

  “Don’t make me use force.”

  “You wouldn’t.”

  “I remember all the spots, Maeve. All of them.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous. We’re adults now.” I tried to hide my smirk. I couldn’t look at his face.

  We both stilled for a few seconds before he clutched my arm. The other hand found one of my most ticklish spots between my neck and collarbone.

  I fell into a fit of giggles, the cigarette still in between my fingers. I tried to talk, but I couldn’t. I was laughing so hard I was out of breath.

  He let up for a few seconds. But I could tell by the look on his face—this was far from over.

  “Stop,” I pleaded. I held up my hands. “Jacob, I’m serious.”

  He reached down, grabbed hold of my legs, and threw me over his shoulders. He used one hand to tickle me behind the knees. That was the one. The spot he tortured me with when we were kids.

  I kicked my legs and withered in his arms, letting the cigarette drop. “It’s gone.” I took a few deep breaths. “You got your way.” He placed me back on my feet. I smacked him across the arm. “Jerk.”

  He smiled wide, his cheeks rosy. “Good to know some things haven’t changed. You are a bit heavier than I remember.”

  “Yeah, and you smell like cow shit.”

  “Never bothered you before.”

  “Yeah, well, I think I was too used to the smell back then.”

  “Come on, I don’t smell that bad.”

  I crinkled my nose. “According to who?”

  He smelled under one of his arms. “All I get is the new deodorant I bought. Smells pretty good to me.”

  I bit my lower lip. “You must be hard of smelling.”

  “Come on, take a whiff. Tell me what you think.” He held up his arm, and suddenly, we were kids again.

  “No way,” I said, taking a few steps back.

  He followed my path. “Come on, Maeve. Just one. I don’t want to be the smelly kid that doesn’t know he smells.”

  I chuckled, even though I was trying to hide my amusement. “You’re gross and sweaty. Get away.”

  His mischievous smile returned. My pace quickened, but Jacob managed to lock his arm around my head. I’d fallen into such a fit of laughter my face was starting to hurt.

  “Terrible,” I cried, scrunching my face.

  He continued to walk with my head still clutched under his arm. Jack bounced up and down, barking at us.

  “Get him, Jack,” I said.

  But Jack was no help. He just spun in circles, seeming just as amused as Jacob. This close to his body, he didn’t smell all that bad. A little sweaty, but not in a bad way. Kind of sexy, actually.

  “What’s my smell factor? One being pleasant and ten being offensive.”

  “Seven,” I said.

  I reached my arm around his waist to maintain my balance. My finger caught the grooves of his stomach under his shirt.

  “You’ve made your point,” I said. “How much longer of this torture?”

  His grip loosened, allowing me to slip out. “I take my personal hygiene very seriously.”

  “Obviously,” I replied.

  His hand reached out to my hair.

  “Grass,” he said, letting the piece fall to the ground.

  We stared at each other, the silence getting heavier with each passing second.

  The phone in my pocket rang, and I flinched from the abrupt break of silence. It was Aunt Meg. I took the call, grateful for the distraction. Jacob waited until I hung up.

  “She needs a ride home to change and bring the car back to the hospital.”

  “I’ll go with you.”

  “No, it’s fine. Make sure Billy gets his bottle. We have goat-parent responsibilities now.”

  I headed inside to shower and change. T
hirty minutes later, and I was headed to the hospital. Thankfully, the drive wasn’t too far. When I pulled into the hospital parking lot, my phone rang again. It was Sal.

  “Hey, Doll.”

  “Hey, Sal. What’s up?”

  “I need you to fill in for Crystal.”

  Great, I needed the money. “Sure. When?”

  “Tonight.”

  “Tonight? Shit…how was that going to happen? “I can’t tonight. It’s going to take me at least two hours to drive home and—”

  “Two hours?” he bellowed. “Where the fuck are you?”

  “I had to come home. My uncle had a heart attack, and I’m helping around the farm.”

  “Look. You owe me about a hundred fucking favors. You either show up here tonight or keep playing farm girl and don’t bother calling here begging for work again.”

  Asshole. I was only one who showed up on time and did my work without a single complaint. “Fine,” I grumbled. “I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

  * * * *

  Aunt Meg had already left home. It would be another few days before Uncle Jim would be home, so she decided to stay at the hospital. It was almost six, and if I was going to make it to the club on time, I had to leave now. Kasey had called on the drive home from the hospital and begged Aunt Meg to let her sleep over Riley’s house. Aunt Meg had looked at me for affirmation. Like she wanted my consent. I had shrugged and Aunt Meg had relented. I didn’t see why it would have been a problem, or why Aunt Meg had felt the need to confer with me before giving her a final answer. Maybe it was because, technically, I was her legal guardian. Or maybe she was just too exhausted to deal with the whining of a ten-year-old.

  Jacob was just coming in from outside when I trotted down the steps and into the kitchen.

  “Going somewhere?” he asked.

  “Yeah. I got called into work. I’ll be back tomorrow, though.”

  “You have a job?” He sounded a little too surprised.

  “Yes.”

  “Doing what?” He went to the sink to wash his hands.

  “I’m a bartender. It’s a little bit of a drive so I have to leave now.”

  “Are you coming back?” He leaned his backside against the sink and towel dried his hands, seeming a little disappointed to see me go.

  “Yes,” I said, heading toward the door. “I’ll see you tomorrow.

  Two Red Bulls, and two hot dogs later, and I was at my apartment. It was small, but it was all mine. And I worked hard to keep it that way. I scurried inside and rummaged through the last drawer of the dresser. It was where I kept all my work clothes. They didn’t take up much room, so I only needed one drawer. I tossed the outfit into my bag, grabbed a pair of shoes and my makeup bag, and headed to the club.

  The building was so lit up you could probably see it from space. The neon sign sizzled, promising naked women draped in pink boas.

  Sal was sitting at the bar, his usually glass of Patron within reach. The stool could barely hold all his weight. He looked up from the receipts he was reviewing when I crossed the purple, patterned carpet toward the back room to change.

  “It’s about time, kid,” he said. A fat cigar was wedged between his teeth.

  I hated when he called me that. He only used the term for his few favorite girls. It made me think of him as some creepy father figure I didn’t want. I already had a creep of a father.

  “It’s nice to see you, too.” I continued toward the dressing room.

  How Sal turned this run-down strip club into the most popular gentlemen’s club and steakhouse around was a miracle. It was a winning combination—beef, tits, and ass. Guys could eat a full course meal downstairs and then head straight upstairs to see the girls dance.

  Gentlemen’s Club. The thought made me snort. He must have dumped a shit load of money to renovate because it looked nothing like it used to. Not that I was ever a frequenter of strip clubs. Some loser I used to hang out with dragged me out here once a while ago. I never imagined the one time I came back it would be to find a job.

  “Hurry it up in the dressing room. Got a Happy Divorce group coming in, and I need you on that stage.”

  Some of the girls were already in the back, getting dressed, applying their thick eyeliner and fake lashes. I usually kept to myself. I hated how it smelled in here. Like stale sex and cheap perfume.

  “Hey, Maeve.” Rita hiked up her fish net stockings and smoothed down the blonde wig on her head. She’d been here the longest, and it was starting to show. “I didn’t know you were working tonight, honey.”

  “Filling in.” I took off my shirt and unclasped my bra to slip on my bikini top. My modesty went out the window the second I started this job.

  She puckered in front of the mirror and ran her tongue over her teeth. “Hopefully, we make some good money tonight.” She grabbed the lipstick out of her bag and applied another layer.

  I slipped on my G-string and see-through shorts. Two pink fishnet thigh-highs later, and I secured my clothes in the locker. It took me twenty minutes to cake on the make-up. I did a quick turn in the mirror to check my outfit, slipped on my stilettos, and headed out to the floor.

  * * * *

  He whispered in my ear about a private dance. I took his hand and led him to one of the couch rooms. He was here with the divorce party—his broken marriage still written on his face. After a few drinks, he’d stopped mentioning his ex-wife. I was no fucking therapist, but that didn’t stop men from telling me how shitty their marriages were or how they hated their jobs. I listened. Smiled. Sometimes, I felt bad, only pretending to care. But I had problems, too.

  I passed by the bouncer and sat the stumbling John Doe down on the couch. His glassy eyes greedily soaked me in. It would be a lie if I said I didn’t like the attention.

  “A stripper touched my dick once…when I was still married.”

  “Well, you’re not married anymore.”

  And that probably had something to do with it.

  I changed the music. “And I’m not touching your dick.”

  When the song played, I started to sway and roll my hips. The smell of tobacco and whiskey clung to his shirt as I sat on his lap and rolled my hips against his body. His rough, hungry hands kept going a little too far.

  “No touching,” I gently reminded him.

  “Can I see your tits?”

  My bikini top was barely covering my nipples, so there wasn’t much more to see. “I’m getting there. Be patient.”

  He groaned as I continued. His hands grabbed a handful of my boob.

  “No touching,” I gently reminded him again.

  It wasn’t long before he grabbed me for the third time.

  Three strikes, you’re out.

  “Hey,” I yelled. “Hands off.”

  The bouncer looked our way.

  “Relax, baby. I’m just trying to get what I paid for.”

  “That’s not what you paid for.”

  He scrunched his face and sat straight up. “I paid for you to strip, stripper.”

  “It doesn’t mean you can grope me, douche bag.”

  I made eye contact with the bouncer and subtly nodded him over, knowing this could get ugly, quick.

  “Well, I’m not moving until I see some nipple.”

  I stepped out of the way as Donny yoked the guy up by his shirt collar. “Fun’s over, asshole.” He carried him out of the room as I said goodbye to my tip.

  Chapter Five

  “Hold still.”

  Jack wiggled in my arms, trying to escape each time the cold water hit him. He just spent the last hour rolling in the cow pasture. The smell emanating from him wasn’t pretty. I just needed to rinse the last of the soap from his hair. He wriggled free and trotted away, leaving me just as sopping wet. He shook the excess water off and then headed toward his doghouse.

  I stood up and threw the hose down on the ground in defeat. I swatted away the mosquitos, a few lightening bugs glowing in the twilight.

  Kasey stro
lled toward the barn, drudging up a cloud of dust under her feet.

  “Don’t do that,” I said. “You know the dust aggravates your asthma.”

  She waved her hand around to clear the air around her face.

  “Where’ve you been?” I asked.

  “Watching Jacob,” she said, in true annoying little sister fashion. A lollipop rested in her cheek.

  “How about helping me for a change?”

  “Why?” She pulled the candy out of her mouth and scrunched her face.

  “Because I’m your sister?”

  “Yeah, but he’s way cuter to look at.”

  I shook my head and started back to the house.

  “Don’t you think?” she asked.

  “Don’t I think what?”

  “That he’s cute.”

  My gaze flitted up at Jacob who was across the way near the trail to the lake. He had just finished mowing the grass and was dumping the clippings into the compost pile. His bare arms and back even more sun-kissed than before.

  “What do you want for dinner?” I asked.

  “Actually, I was going to ask if I could go back to Riley’s tonight.”

  I was half relieved she didn’t push the subject with Jacob. If I ever did admit my attraction to him, she’d never let me forget it. Or him for that matter.

  “Again?” I said. “Aren’t her parents getting tired of seeing you?”

  “No,” she said, appalled at the thought. “They love when I’m there. They think I’m an orphan or something.”

  “But you’re not an orphan.” I had made damn sure of that.

  “Not really, I know. But it’s so boring here. Please, Maeve?”

  We walked a few more steps as I decided. “Did you ask Aunt Meg?”

  “She said it’s up to you.” Kasey pouted her lower lip.

  I took one more quick look at Jacob. Having another night alone with him was a tempting thought. Riley was her only friend, only one she talked about, anyway. Kasey had never been interested in sports; her asthma made sure of that. I tried to sign her up for ballet, but she had promised she wouldn’t enjoy a second of it. You couldn’t have pried me away from ballet class at her age.

  “Okay,” I said.

  She latched an arm around me for an appreciative hug and then trotted toward the house. It was like she couldn’t get away from this place fast enough, which was ironic since I was always trying to run to the farm.