(Set before the epilogue of Pretenders)
Chapter 1
Chris
It turned out I really hecking liked Little Pippin Hollow, Vermont.
Maybe even loved it.
Don’t get me wrong, the place didn’t hold a candle to our home in Copper County. The Sundays’ white clapboard farmhouse here was really pretty and settled, nestled amongst fields of grazing cows and orchards full of heirloom apple varietals that would have made Watt Bartlett lose his flipping mind, but it wasn’t home the way the little caretaker cabin on the wooded shores of shimmering Copper Lake was.
And the Hollowans were lovely—especially the Sundays, especially now that I’d stopped trying to deflect attention and was being my authentic self—and I liked them a lot, but they weren’t friends the same way Watt and Oliver and Bennett and the other Coppertians were.
But I had to admit it was pretty cool seeing this little Vermont town again, now that I was madly in love with Reed Sunday.
Now, Sunday Orchard wasn’t just a pretty piece of land but the grassy acres where Reed had run around barefoot in the summers as a kid.
The school wasn’t just the building where Reed’s brother-in-law taught but the place where the man I loved had learned to add and subtract.
Van wasn’t just Danny’s old army buddy who’d agreed to take me in while Danny worked out his plea deal, but the man who’d “busted” Reed and his fellow teenagers for drinking behind town hall, prompting them to create a new secret teen hangout location they called the Grove, where they’d do… typical teenage things. Gambling, carousing, lovemaking, engaging in duels of honor, and that sort of thing, I imagined.
And knowing that the Grove existed somewhere around the Hollow made even the woods seem exciting to me, as a former shy, rule-following, adventure-avoidant teenage virgin. I asked Reed all the time to tell me about the escapades he and the other hot, muscly, snap-back-hat-wearing jocks got up to back there, and he did… sort of. But because Reed loved me and didn’t want me to feel bad for missing out, he always made things sound duller than they must’ve been. “A bunch of us would just… stand around in the dark drinking beer,” he’d say with a shrug. “No gambling, no duels. I did get my first blowjob there, but I was sixteen, Chris. The whole experience lasted about four minutes. And I never wore a snap-back. My love, I think you’ve been watching too much porn.”
That wasn’t true. Not really. I mean, I did watch a lot of porn, mostly with Reed, sort of making up for the fact that I’d never watched porn in my life before we got together. But the Grove wasn’t fascinating just because I liked to fantasize about Reed in some sexy, locker room–style scenarios. It was fascinating because Reed had been there. Made memories there. Because I wanted to know every story that had formed Reed into the amazing person he was, to scoop up every crumb of information about him and tuck it safely away.
The Hollow was suddenly fascinating because Reed was fascinating.
So when Webb asked me this morning at breakfast if I wanted to spend the second day of our September vacation in Vermont helping him at the family’s orchard gift shop while Reed took a call from some clients who just couldn’t wait, of course I’d said yes… even before Webb promised to tell me stories about how the man I loved ate so much paste as an eight-year-old that his teacher had to put her craft supplies on lockdown.
I mean, count me in. You know?
But after a long day helping Webb set up some display tables in the shop, ringing up orders when they got slammed with a busload of leaf-peeping tourists, and carrying totes of apples from the orchard, I was a little chilly and a little tired… and I really missed my boyfriend.
Which was why it was particularly annoying that no one in the Sunday family seemed to know where he was.
“I think he might’ve mentioned heading over to the Pumpkin House to visit Gage and Knox,” Reed’s uncle Drew told me when Reed hadn’t answered my texts. “Reception’s kinda funny out there. Here, why don’t you take him some of these fresh apple tarts? Oh, and later, can we talk about a themed board for the Halloween party, sweetie? I’m thinking hollowed-out pumpkins—”
Of course I’d agreed and taken the tarts, but I’d barely started down the path that led through the orchard to the Pumpkin House before I found Gage himself walking toward me.
“Hey, Chris! Cute T-shirt. Dark green is your color. Hey, could you take this blanket to Reed?” He tucked a tartan wool blanket atop the container of tarts I carried. “He asked Knox to borrow it, and Knox asked me to give it to him, but I think Knox said Reed was going to check out Stella’s new calf, and…” He shuddered and leaned toward me as if imparting a secret. “I try not to wander past the cows if I can help it. They know I’m onto them.” He tapped the side of his nose.
I blinked. “Uh. Sure. Okay. Can you point me toward the calves?”
But when I got to the calf pen, the only person there was Webb’s husband, Luke, who handed me a bag containing a bottle of hard cider Reed had agreed to taste test and directed me toward the apartment over the barn, where Reed was supposedly hanging out with Porter and Porter’s boyfriend, who were also visiting the Hollow this week.
Since I seemed to be doing an accidental tour of Sundays, it wasn’t entirely a surprise when I met Reed’s youngest brother, Hawk, and Emma, baby of the family, in the driveway outside the barn.
“Chris! Hey. I just stopped by to bring you and Reed some sandwiches from the diner,” Hawk said.
“Oh. That’s so sweet. But, um.” I hefted my many burdens. “I’ve already got a lot of food. I’m actually looking for Reed, and—”
“And you’re chilly,” Emma finished with a bright smile. “No wonder. It’s getting cold now that the sun is setting.”
“I… well, I mean…” I had been chilly when this boyfriend-finding endeavor started, but I was a whole lot warmer after walking around carrying things.
But before I could formulate a protest, Emma unwrapped her Averill Union High sweatshirt from around her waist, dropped it over my head, being careful of my glasses, and helped me juggle my stuff so I could stuff my hands in the arms. Somehow, Hawk’s bag of sandwiches ended up in my arms, too.
“There you go,” she approved, tugging it down around my waist. “You look hot. Very… sweet, shy, adorable freshman who can’t find his locker.”
“Uh. Thanks… I think.” I didn’t personally consider this a compliment, but she seemed to. “Is Porter upstairs?” I asked a little desperately. “I’m looking for Reed, and—”
“He’s not with me.” Porter jogged down the stairs with his college professor boyfriend at his heels, and all I could think was that the guy didn’t look at all like an English professor in his tight sweatpants. “Reed walked over to Luke’s mom’s house to see the renovations she’s been doing,” he explained. “Head right up that little hill, through the trees. It’s like… a mile away. Tops.”
“A quarter of a mile,” his boyfriend corrected, wrapping an arm around Porter’s waist. “And don’t forget the note, babe.”
“Oh, right!” Porter reached into his own sweatshirt pocket and took out a folded piece of notebook paper with the curly edges still intact. My name was scrawled on the outside in Reed’s dark, blocky handwriting.
“A… a note?” I frowned. I had my own cell phone and everything these days, and usually, when Reed needed to tell me something, he texted like a normal person. But I shuffled my bags and blanket and container around so I could take it from Porter. “Thank you.”
“Sure thing,” Porter said. As he and the others headed toward the farmhouse, he called over his shoulder. “Remember, right up that hill. Through the trees.”
“I remember.” I sighed. The sun was already sinking down below the treetops, and I remembered that dusk came on really quickly here. Was I actually going to carry all of this stuff up the hill to find Reed when I could just wait at the house for him to come back?
I opened the note.
COME FIND ME IN THE GROVE, it read. TELL NO ONE. LOVE, REED
I laughed out loud right there in the empty parking area because the love I had for Reed Sunday seriously—no kidding—could not be contained.
Then I headed up the hill.
Chapter 2
Reed
It turned out I really hecking liked Chris Winowski (sometimes Sunday).
Maybe (definitely) even loved him.
Because I could think of no other reason why I had been standing in the woods at the top of the hill for nearly half an hour, wearing a pair of athletic shorts I’d outgrown a hundred years ago and an old practice jersey from my one less-than-stellar season as a high school running back, which I’d cropped to show off my abs.
I looked a little… or a lot… like I’d been cast as Hot, Hung High School Football Stud in a remake of Scoring on the Rookie… not that anyone but Chris Sunday liked the original porn enough to bother remaking it.
But because I loved Chris, I was committed to making sure he had everything he wanted.
Safety.
A home.
Understanding and support.
True love forever and ever.
And, today, the opportunity to live what he seemed to think was a “normal” experience for teenagers who congregated in the woods with their friends, their rampant hormones, their questionable judgment, and whatever booze they could scrounge up: a sexy, backwoods hookup.
Fortunately, before hypothermia became an issue, I saw him cresting the hill wearing Em’s school sweatshirt and carting the moonlight picnic I’d asked my family to arrange for us while I was busy getting in costume.
When he spotted me standing against a tree, a short distance back from the path, his eyes lit with instant happiness. If there was a better feeling in the world, I’d never experienced it.
“Hey!” he called as he approached.
I leaned back, bending my knee and bracing my foot against the tree with my folded arms over my chest. “Hey, there, cutie. You look lost. Can I help you find your locker?”
Chris’s eyes flared wide, and only then did he seem to notice my attire.
“Oh. My. God,” he breathed, setting down the bags and blanket he carried. “Is that a… a snap-back hat? Did you cut that shirt yourself? Oh, Reed.”
“Reed?” I frowned. “You must be confusing me with someone else. My name’s Studly. Studly McJock.”
He covered his mouth with both hands and stared at me for a long second, practically bouncing on his toes, before remembering he had a role to play here, too.
“Right. My bad. I’m so sorry, Mr. Jock—”
“That’s McJock.” I paused a beat. “But you can call me Studly.”
“Oh, wow.” He rubbed his lips together. “I, uh, I can’t believe you noticed me, Studly.”
“A sweet little thing like you? ’Course I did.” I bounced my eyebrows. “You like my special football player hat?” I removed it from my head and displayed it for him. We both pretended it didn’t say Sunday Orchard U-Pick on the front.
Chris nodded enthusiastically. “So much.”
I placed it on his head and tugged the brim into place over his forehead. “Looks hot on you,” I purred.
Chris’s eyes shone in the fading light, and his hands flailed a bit. “D-does it? I’m not very experienced in these things—”
“Don’t worry, baby,” I growled. “I’m plenty experienced.”
He blinked rapidly. “What, um… what do you want from little old me?”
I wrapped one hand around Chris’s hip and drew him unresistingly toward me. With my other hand still behind my head, I arched my back to show off my abs.
“Well, I was thinking, it was real nice of me to let you wear my hat.” I tweaked the brim. “Some people might think that means we’re going steady.”
“You, a big, buff Studly McJock, and me, a lowly freshman virgin?” His lashes fluttered a mile a minute, but behind them, his eyes danced. “Gosh. I… I don’t know what to say.”
I grinned and fixed his glasses in a habitual gesture before remembering my role. “I think you could, you know… show your appreciation.” I winked.
Chris’s delighted smile made my heart race. “I’d love to show my appreciation. Maybe… maybe like this?” He trailed a hand over my bare abs, which made me shiver.
“Yeah, sexy, that’s a real good start.”
“And… I guess I could do… this.” He stepped closer, braced his hands on my shoulders, and lifted up onto his tiptoes, pressing himself against me. He smelled like clean, warm vanilla, a scent I’d come to associate with everything good and seriously fucking sexy in this world.
“Mmm,” I approved. “Now what?”
“Well…” He pressed a kiss to my top lip and then the bottom, then traced his tongue over the seam. “I suppose I could kiss you,” he whispered. “If you wanted.”
“Yeah, I want,” I managed to breathe against his lips before his tongue was in my mouth, and the sweet, familiar taste of him had me clutching the tree against the urge to take over the kiss.
“Like… like that?” Chris asked, sinking back onto his feet. He sounded as breathless as I felt.
“You’re a real good kisser for someone inexperienced,” I croaked out.
“You think?” Chris bit his lip and dragged one small hand down the front of my shorts with intent… and insider knowledge of exactly how much pressure made me lose my mind. Already half-hard from this little display, I couldn’t restrain a groan. “That’s so nice to hear, Studly.”
“You’re, ah…” I cleared my throat. What the fuck was I supposed to be doing? “You’re really hot for me, aren’t you?”
“Oh, yeah,” he breathed. His fingers shaped my erection through the thin material of my shorts. When he traced lightly over the tip, my hips punched forward against my will. “I’ve been thinking about you—fantasizing about you—for months now. And I’m feeling very appreciative.”
He stepped away and picked up the blanket from where he’d dropped it by the path, then brought it back and laid it out on the ground in front of the tree.
I had not expected things to progress quite this quickly, quite this close to the path, and I was very glad I’d warned anyone who could possibly be walking in this direction to… not.
Then Chris turned his—my—hat around and sank to his knees in front of me. Even though it was not the first or even the hundredth time I’d seen him looking up at me with love, and trust, and wanting, and humor in those gorgeous—fucking gorgeous eyes—the sight stole my breath as it always did.
He inhaled sharply, like he was as overcome by the moment as I was, and leaned in to press a gentle kiss to my cock over my shorts. Both of his hands reached for my waistband. He glanced back up at me, parted his perfect lips, and in a hushed voice said, “You’re cool with teeth, right?”
I blinked down at him. “I… what?”
“I mean, I heard rumors in the lunchroom that Studly McJock likes it rough. So I was thinking, you know—”
I dropped my arms and my act and scowled. “Christoforo Winowski Occasionally-Sunday. Don’t even joke—”
I grabbed him under the arms, spun us around, and had him against the tree in under a second. Then I sank to my knees, dragged his jeans down his legs, and sucked the tip of his erection, already shiny-wet with precum, down my throat.
Chris keened, and my cock throbbed in a kind of instinctive call-response that I couldn’t resist after so many months together and didn’t bother trying to. He spread his feet as far as he could with his legs still in his jeans, as if bracing himself against the onslaught of pleasure, and clutched at my hair with shaking fingers.
I ran my own hand down to cup his balls, as if testing the familiar weight of them. Then I pulled off him just enough to get a finger in my mouth and soak it with saliva.
“Reed,” Chris babbled. “Oh, please, Reed. Oh, gosh, please.”
I ran a finger back over his entrance as I sucked him harder, holding him against the tree with one hand as he writhed in frustration—probably at the angle and our lack of lube, if I knew my man—but I didn’t slow down, bobbing my head in the precise rhythm I knew he liked best.
He came seconds later, pouring words of love and praise over me as he emptied himself down my throat.
I cleaned him off lazily while he caught his breath and then pulled up his jeans and tucked him away with one last kiss. He finally lifted his head away from the tree trunk and looked at me blearily.
“You. Blanket. Now,” he instructed.
I grinned. “Someone’s getting bossy. I once heard that was not an attractive quali—oof.”
With no warning whatsoever, I found myself on my back on the blanket, staring up at the twilight sky, while Chris very enthusiastically returned the favor. Since I was more than primed and Chris knew my body better than anyone ever had or would, this took an embarrassingly short time.
“You see?” he croaked, falling into a heap on the blanket beside me. “I knew those teenage days in the woods were way more fun than you let on.”
I laughed and propped myself up on one elbow. Evening was coming on fast. In a minute, I’d have to turn on the camping lantern I’d brought so we could eat our picnic. I could barely make out the contours of his face, the shape of his glasses, in the gathering dark… but that was okay because by now, I knew his every feature by heart.
“Sweetheart, those days were nothing like this. Those days were about… experimenting. Playacting. Pretending we were adults.” I kissed him softly, mingling our tastes. “What I have with you is a hundred times more fulfilling because I love you. Because it’s real. No pretending necessary.”
“I love you, too, Reed. So much.” He huffed out a laugh and ran a hand down my side. “But I meannnn,” he teased, stretching the word out. “Maybe we could still pretend… occasionally.”
Want more Sunday Brothers? Check out Knox and Gage’s book, Pick Me!
Want to see what’s next in Copper County? Get The Rivals of Copper County!