Three Little Words (#dirtysexygeeks Book 4) Page 4

  Her little fist broke through the blanket's fold to rest on his chest. He offered his pinky, the finger with the least amount of car crud. She squeezed. His gut continued to churn.

  Iris.

  Fucking Iris.

  He turned his rock to a gentle bounce to keep her soothed and quiet. Fucking fitting. Porter was the one to soothe any hurts when Ashley skinned her knees or hurt herself when being fearless. Porter was the one who guided her, sometimes with an overprotective hand through life. Those two years between them was a lifetime because he'd taken care of her when it mattered.

  He wasn't father, but big brother meant something to him.

  Literally placing his sister's hand in his best friend's hand, entrusting Victor with his very heart—Ashley…

  He shouldn’t have gone to the wedding. Not because he didn’t want to be there for his sister or Victor when they tied the knot, but because his fucking head had been screwed on wrong. So, yeah, he might have acted a little irrationally after Ashley and Victor said ‘I do’. Death do us part. Kiss the fucking bride.

  He’d seen Iris and his brain had settled in his dick. He’d talked to Iris and he’d been charmed. He’d danced with her and had wanted her naked and beneath him.

  Porter had wanted, and maybe for the first time in his life, he’d ignored reason and taken. And taken again and again until he fell asleep beside a naked Iris, spent from coming half the night.

  He’d fucked his sister’s best friend. To think he had a rule against that very thing once. What was that saying? Chickens coming home to roost?

  We need to talk.

  In person.

  It's Iris.

  Bucky + Steve

  Iris settled into the coffee shop’s chair, wanting to puke as Ashley grinned at her. Her best friend always had a glow about her, but ever since she'd gotten married, Ashley seemed to beam from the inside out.

  Iris twisted her cup in a circle, leaving a brown ring on the white table. She kind of wanted the world to split open and eat her. Just one big swallow, never to be heard or seen from again.

  She wanted that more than to have the conversation she needed to have with her best friend.

  “Why are you so nervous?” Ashley asked, a laugh in the question.

  Iris laughed too, and maybe only she could hear the hysteria in it. “Because I need to tell you something, and I need you to be my friend first.”

  Ashley's glow seemed to dim as the words settled on her. “Okay.” A frown stole away whatever was left of the light. “You look really serious. I've never seen you like this.”

  Iris placed her hands on the table, flattened her palms then sucked in a deep breath. Up until a few months ago her life hadn’t been serious. She lived carefree without realizing it. She could do as she pleased, when she pleased, without committee.

  “I've contacted the other party.” She let out a whoosh of air. “Haven't heard back from them and it's been hours.”

  And I don't know if he ever will call me back. The panic and uncertainty tried to crawl up from her stomach and seize her thoughts. She should have been used to the sensation by now. “I...”

  Ashley's brows inched up. “I'm so confused.”

  She was waffling. Iris knew that, yet, she couldn’t run head long into the confession. “I've done my due diligence by contacting...the other party.”

  “Other party?”

  Iris took a sip of her coffee to stall. “Just nod your head until it all makes sense.”

  Ashley’s gaze roved over her face then finally she nodded.

  Iris went on, “So remember you got married three months ago, right?”

  “Please don't tell me I'm supposed to have a straight face during this, too?”

  The pukey sensation refused to relent, but Iris laughed. “I expect your face to show every emotion. You're fine.”

  “Good.”

  “So I was feeling...” Weird wasn’t quite the right word. Then again how Iris felt didn’t matter in retrospect. Not anymore. Only the outcome mattered.

  “Snappish? Edgy?” her friend said in a slow, deliberate way. “You were great and supportive with me, but everyone else...got Iris on a warpath.”

  Her mouth had often gotten her into trouble, and she hadn’t put much of a filter on it. “Yeah.” Iris winced, thinking of the shit she’d given Porter, and how that all ended.

  “Iris, you can tell me anything.”

  Her cheek twitched as though Ashley had slapped her. “Don't be blindly supportive. Makes me feel worse.”

  Her friend pursed her lips but didn’t add any commentary. Exactly what Iris needed from her friend. It’s probably what she didn’t deserve. Iris hadn’t kicked any puppies or betrayed her friend in any way, but she’d kept a secret. The kind of secret that could make Ashley wonder about the bedrock of their relationship.

  Iris scraped her cup through the ring to break it. “This build-up isn't going to make what I have to say land better.” The realization weighed her shoulders down.

  Iris closed her eyes.

  What was she so scared of?

  Right. If Iris said the next three words, it’d make her situation real and inescapable. Her secret wouldn’t just be a fact, but complications she hadn’t quite grasped physically or emotionally. But she’d reached the point of no return. Soon her body would tell anyone with good eyesight the truth.

  Iris opened her eyes and pushed her shoulders back. Her situation was real, whether or not she talked about it or told her friend. Her mental state would be better if she told someone—if she shared the secret with her best friend. “I am pregnant.”

  Ashley slammed her hands so hard on the table everything on it rattled. “You're what?”

  “I'm pregnant.”

  “Who did you sleep with at my wedding?” Ashley's voice bordered on a screech and tell-me-all-the-gossip gasp.

  For a month—thirty one days to be exact—Iris had rolled this confession over in her mind. Who to tell first, and when she should tell it? There were dark moments when she had to consider if she should keep the baby. Had her financial situation been different or had her want for children been apathetic...

  In the end, she'd decided to have a baby in seven months. The rest could be worked out, though it had taken her those thirty-one days to build up the courage to talk to anyone else but her doctor about the pregnancy.

  Also, she’d wanted to get used to the truth before she told anyone else.

  She hadn’t, and time wouldn’t make facts settle in any better. All she’d been was alone and scared and confused. Tears rose to her eyes and she forced herself to swallow them down. Crying wouldn’t make the truly hard part of this conversation any easier.

  Ashley asked, “That makes you about three months, right?”

  “A little over, because they go by your last period, but I’m one-hundred percent sure the baby was conceived the day of your wedding.” Another deep breath, another to swallow the bile. She spit out the hard part. “Porter.”

  The joy froze on her friend’s face and that—Iris had nightmares about this. She said again, “I slept with Porter.”

  Ashley tilted her head, squinting as though she didn’t understand what Iris had said. “Who?”

  “Your brother, Porter Hicks is the father.”

  Ashley leaned back in the chair, her arms crossed over her middle and every bit of her attention focused on the ceiling. “I hate to say it, but I kind of know how he felt when he found out about me and Victor.”

  Iris heart twisted. “I'm so sorry. I didn't—”

  “No! No. Not you. I wouldn't wish him on anyone.” Ashley glanced out the window. “He's going to be such a dick about this. I'm going to have to kill him on your behalf.”

  “Ashley—”

  “I swear to God. Tell me if he even looks like he's going to ask for a paternity test.” Her hands got into the rant. “All those years where he told me to stay away from his friends and he goes...” She gestured to Iris's middle. “T
hat fucker. Did he even use a condom? No. Don't tell me.” Ashley gagged. “Now I'm thinking about sex and my brother in the same thought. Oh, oh, God.” Ashley gagged again. “No. No. Don't ever even allude to it. That's so gross.”

  Iris couldn’t help but laugh. She laughed so hard she slid down in her chair to hold it in. “Ash...ley,” Iris gasped out. “I'm trying to be serious.”

  “Now it’s like a twisted loop in my head. Give me five minutes to shake it.”

  The laughter so easily turned into tears and Iris rested her head on the table. She wrapped her arm around her stomach. Logically she knew the baby wasn’t there, but for a month she fought through nausea, exhaustion and a roller coaster of emotions by herself. She'd made the hardest decision of her life. She was unmarried and pregnant, everything her mother had worked so hard—Iris was going to be someone's mother. She was going to have to deal with a man who reminded her so much of her own father.

  A sob grew in her chest and robbed her of air.

  The father was a one-night stand who couldn't, wouldn't return a text message. Her best friend's brother. Her life was a fucking mess.

  “Shit,” Ashley murmured. “I'm sorry. I'm being insensitive. Come here.” But Ashley was up and bringing her arms around Iris. “You're going to be a mom, and I'm going to be an aunt. I'm so sorry for all the novelty onesies I'm going to buy. You know I should apologize in advance and all.”

  The embrace was awkward but Iris was warmed, comforted by it. “I don't want to put you in the middle, but you're my best friend. You needed to know, and I had no one else.”

  Ashley tutted at that. “Have you told him?”

  “Not yet, but not for a lack of trying.”

  Ashley pulled an inch away, her face serious. “Do you want me to?”

  Iris broke the embrace. “I'll do it. I just...I needed my friend to know. Plus, this isn’t the kind of news you send through a messenger.”

  Ashley pursed her lips. “Let me know when you need to me to be a friend, and when you need me to be Porter's little sister.”

  “You know there's no difference, right? You drive him crazy either way.”

  The lip purse transformed into a smile. “You got me there.” Ashley didn’t move back to her seat with that. Iris braced herself, but Ashley only asked, “You okay?”

  If anyone knew how she felt about commitment, it would be her friend. There was no escaping this one. She’d just have to brace herself for...Porter. “I will be.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Ashley, I’m three months pregnant by a guy I barely know. How okay will I ever be?”

  Ashley went back to her seat and tilted her head. “I’m drowning in happy auntie feelings, so take what I say with a grain of salt.”

  “Happy auntie feelings?”

  “Blame Eva. She started this being all cute and grumpy with Izzie, and making Grady stupid with happiness. I kind of had my money on Wade being a dad next. He’s so great with children.”

  She thought about Wade and shook her head. “You think so?”

  “I know so, but it’s Porter.” Ashley beamed. “I’m going to be an aunt again!”

  “Ashley.”

  “Okay. Sorry.” Ashley’s smile didn’t dim. “But let’s be honest, I have at least three more minutes of being grossed out that my brother had sex. Can I get back to it?”

  Iris could find the laughter in the moment. “One minute, and if you play your cards right, I'll give you more. There's...there's a lifetime of it left. Shit, I'm going to have a baby.”

  “Porter's baby. I need to know how the hell this happened. Without the sexy details.”

  Iris pushed the coffee away since it continued to churn in her stomach. “I'll tell you, but first I have to let Porter know he's going to be a dad. Deal?”

  Ashley held up her hands in surrender. “If he's not answering his phone, and he’s in town, he's probably at Grady's. You should know that’s always the case.”

  Iris knew where Grady lived. She’d gone to his house numerous times, being friends with Eva now. Funny, really, she still hadn’t seen most of Porter’s friends outside of Grady. That was the power of Porter’s demand, the single one he had for years. His sister and his friends did not and could not mix. The men of the Goon Squad still didn’t feel comfortable palling around with the women. She could understand why he asked, given what happened with his parents. Understanding, however, was not agreeing to his heavy-handed demand.

  Her shoulders rose, tension tightening them. Her life was now tied to a man like that.

  So she said simply, “I don't want to make a scene.”

  “I really want to say something to that, but I’m promising from here on out I won’t be in the middle. This is me staying out of it.”

  Iris didn't like the sound of that. Ashley meddled. Not only did she know everyone’s business, but she would stick her nose in it.

  “Ashley?”

  “I can give you his home address. He rarely stays the night at Grady’s. I can wait with you there, if you need support.”

  “Give me the address. I’ll do it by myself. I don’t want you in the middle. Porter is sometimes a dick to you. I’d hate to have to hurt him on your behalf.”

  Ashley laughed. “I love you.”

  “Ditto.”

  “All right. I need my three minutes. Sex. My brother. Ugh.”

  For the first time in a month, Iris felt like her life wasn’t a mess.

  Snape + Lily

  Porter climbed out his car and sighed at the sight of the Mazda parked outside his home.

  For four hours he’d avoided the ‘we need to talk’ hanging over his head. He concentrated on Izzie until Eva woke up, and she was a little horrified and amused that he’d played babysitter while covered in car oil. She’d looked content and rested as he’d finished putting her car back together. She’d kept him company. The important point, she hadn’t asked any questions about Iris.

  Three months, and no one had said a peep to him about disappearing during the reception or his flirting with Iris, not even Oliver. That was sure as shit about to change.

  He leaned against the door and waited for Iris to climb out. His breath seized in his lungs as she rounded the car. Her dress fit like a second skin, and as far as he could tell nothing had changed. She wore black stilettos that made her legs go on forever. Her hair fell over her shoulders in thick long waves. She’d added honey-colored highlights to the chestnut brown strands.

  The only startling change was that she wore red-rimmed glasses. He’d forgotten she did. He’d seen her in them the few times they’d acknowledged each other’s existence in passing. She hadn’t worn them for the wedding, and he could only guess she’d worn contacts for the photos.

  It was her mouth, though, that made his stomach tighten. He had good, vivid memories of it.

  He breathed in deeply and then pushed off the door. Nothing needed to be said, at least not for him. He unlocked the door, leaving it open for her to follow. Porter headed straight for the kitchen, poured himself a drink and faced her.

  Then like a punch to his gut he realized Iris stood in his home, his kitchen. Up until a few minutes ago she hadn’t known he had granite counter tops. That he’d had the same black and white oven mitts for the past year. He had a glass kitchen table. His pots were lined up above the island for ease.

  It was a practical intimacy. Yet he knew, now, from the way she refused to meet his gaze they shared something much more intimate.

  She frowned at the Rubik’s cube on his counter. It was scattered in pieces along the surface. “You broke it?”

  Her voice was as cool and smooth as the whiskey he drained from his glass. “It’s not broken. It needs to be oiled.”

  She gave his clothes a wary eye. “Did I catch you after work?”

  He’d only washed his hands at Grady’s, and that meant he still wore battered jeans and a shirt covered with grease stains. “No.”

  “I—”

  �
��Iris,” he said, his jaw clenching. “Just say it.”

  She bit the corner of her mouth, wariness darkening her brown eyes. “That's it?”

  He didn’t want a long speech or explanation. A cushion of softly spoken words wouldn’t change how the blow would hit him. “Yup. Spit it out. Rip off the Band-Aid. Insert other clichés that mean get to the point.”

  She nodded. “I’m pregnant.”

  He'd braced himself for the words and still his knees threatened to give. He pressed his palms against the wooden cabinets to stay upright. Iris was pregnant. Their fail-safes didn’t work. Here the fuck he was a father to a woman he didn’t even know. He shook his head to stop the cascade of thoughts that wanted to fill his head. Neither panic or despair would change their circumstances. He needed to think of the next steps in a logical, unemotional manner.

  He grabbed hold to the first thought that flew by. “When are you due?”

  “Just before Thanksgiving.”

  Fucking irony. “Do you need anything?”

  She blinked. “That's it?”

  What more did she fucking want? He was trying to make this conversation as painless as possible, and she sounded disappointed he wasn’t giving her drama. “When a woman you've had sex with a few months ago texts you and asks to talk, it's either because she's pregnant or has a sexually transmitted disease. Since I was working on Eva’s car, I figured knowing for sure could wait.”

  She tilted her head as though she accepted his explanation, but her gaze narrowed. “It's just that...you're so calm.”

  Porter gripped the glass and his knuckles ached at the punishing hold. “What was I supposed to be?”

  “I don't know. Angry, excited, swimming in a sea of denial...something that's a reasonable human emotion when you find out you're going to be a parent.”

  His knees still didn’t feel steady, but he was a problem solver. His work as a mechanical and electrical engineer trained him to isolate complications, think his way out of them in a methodical manner. It kept him from losing his shit, often.