Irresistible Bachelors: Books 1-5 by Landish, Lauren (bts books to read TXT) 📕

“Holy shit, you’re killing me, Cass. Maybe we should get those fucking pancakes to go.” With one last smack to my bare cheek, he helps me pull my shorts up and we run all the way to his truck. We head to the diner for two stacks of pancakes . . . to go.Caleb

Sitting on the floor of Cassie’s apartment, we drizzle syrup over our short stacks and settle down on the living room floor. There’s a couch right here, but I don’t think we’ve ever sat on it. The first time I came over, we sat on the floor, and it's just become a thing we do. I don't know why.

It’s not important anyway, I think as I give Cassie a look. She’s still in her running shorts, her leg cocked up, and I can’t help it, my eyes keep being drawn to them, knowing she doesn’t have anything on underneath. My cock is still asking when the fuck it’s gonna get some action and why I didn’t just try and fuck her as soon as I got my hands on a condom. But my stomach and brain are letting me keep calm . . . for now. They’re saying let the anticipation build, let it draw out, and make it even better. “So, what’s the deal with the house?”

Cassie finishes a giant mouthful of pancake and looks up. “What do you mean? It’s a good project to flip. That’s all.”

I sniff the air, pretending, and she understands. I’m pretty good at detecting the smell of bullshit. “That is most definitely not all. I’m no expert, but even I know there’s plenty of better prospects out there. Tell me about the house, about growing up there.”

Cassie laughs a little nervously, shrugging in that way I know means she’s not really comfortable talking about it. “Uh, I grew up there. I was little, and then I was bigger. And then we moved out right at the end of elementary school.”

Nope, she’s not getting away that easily. There’s something about that house that has her by the short hairs, and I have to know why. For some reason, I think it’s been the catalyst for the change in our relationship. “Damn, Cassie, you are tighter than a submarine, and I don’t mean your pussy. Tell me something. Tell me your favorite memory there, at least.”

Cassie goes quiet, and I give her time. She’s not avoiding the question, just gathering herself, I think. She hums, then shakes her head a few times and finally settles on a memory.

“My eighth birthday. I begged and begged for a swing for the big tree out front and a vanilla cake with chocolate frosting. I woke up that morning, praying my begging worked. I woke up, and sure enough, Mama had made me a cake . . . for breakfast. It was awesome, not one of the cheap box cakes but something she’d upped the quality on, all moist and sweet and fluffy and . . . well, it was the best cake I’ve ever eaten. It even had sprinkles on top and a little candle for me to blow out. I unwrapped my presents, some new socks I needed and a little knock-off Barbie doll from the dollar store. She was pretty, and I knew Mama was happy to have gotten her for me, so I yelled thank you and ran around the table to give her a hug. She was squeezing me tightly and whispered in my ear to take the doll out to the front yard. When I opened the screen, I could see it. A tire hanging from a rope, right where I’d dreamed a dozen times that it would be. I really did squeal then and probably jumped a little bit because she told me to try it out. I ran out and started swinging. It was the best birthday ever. I’ve never felt more free than I did that summer, swinging in the tree, leaning back to stare at the sky. I felt like I was flying. I’d watch the sunset every night and then hustle inside right as the streetlights came on. It was the best summer ever,” she finishes wistfully.

The emotion in her voice and the shine in her eyes touches me, and I can’t help but smile back. She’s so beautiful right now. “Vanilla cake with chocolate icing, huh? It’s not red velvet, but I guess it’s all right.”

Cassie laughs and pushes at my shoulder. “Heathen. Red velvet? I’d rather have pistachio than red velvet.”

I laugh, faking a retch before grinning. “The swing sounds awesome, though. Is that why you told Oliver that in your sales pitch? You want it to have a swing for another little girl?”

Cassie flinches a little, but it’s a thought that’s been running through my head for the past few days. A little girl, say one with hair just like Cassie’s, with the same feisty attitude. I could see having a kid like that. Cassie finally nods too, sighing. “Mama always said it was a good family house, and I want it to have the family it always deserved.”

My stomach clenches at the sorrow in her voice, and I quickly change the subject a little to bring her thoughts back to a lighter track. “Why was it the best summer ever? Did you not swing after that?”

Cassie sounds slightly distracted, probably lost in her memories, and her answer is both off-handed and surprisingly honest. “Oh, Ed bought the tire and the rope for Mama. So when he left, he took them with him.”

“What?” I ask, half choking on the bite of sausage I’d started on. “Took the tire and rope with him? That’s some pretty cold shit right there.”

She shrugs. “Mama was a bit of a spitfire. I take after her. After Dad and her broke up, she decided she was gonna live life on her