Teague by Juliana Stone

end, she shut off all the lights, grabbed the rest of the bottle of open wine and wandered out to the deck, falling into the chaise lounge. There was a slight breeze off the water, but it felt good against her skin because, holy hell she was hot.
    Hot and restless.
    She tipped her glass back and drained the wine, sitting up a bit when she heard a truck in the neighboring driveway. It had to be pushing eleven. Was it creepy to watch Teague from her safe and dark spot? If it was, she didn’t care. She cranked her neck so that she could see and held her breath, eyes barely adjusted to the gloom, but enough to make out a tall shape.
    He strode from the truck and disappeared into the cottage.
Alone.
Huh. She poured herself another glass of wine. What happened to Candace?
    No lights went on inside the cottage and after a few moments, Sabrina took a sip of the Malbec she’d taken a shine to.
    The night was heavy, the air thick with heat and her hair stuck to the side of her neck. She moved it away, and hissed at the friction from her nipples rubbing against her top. A glance down told her that they were puckered.
    She stared at her chest, fascinated by the distinct hardness as her breaths came faster. Her hand trailed down from her neck and after a slight hesitation—and a glance to either side of her—she rubbed her nipples through the cotton, stifling a soft groan because it felt that good.
    How long had it been since she’d been touched?
    The scent of tobacco drifted over to her and she glanced at the Simon cottage. There were no stars out tonight, nothing to light the dark in this part of the world, but she knew Teague was outside. The cigar gave him away.
    She wondered what he’d done in town. Had he met up with Candace?
    An image flashed in her mind, an image of Teague, naked, entwined with the redhead, and she shook her head.
    “Dammit Bree, get a grip.”
    It took some effort but eventually Sabrina relaxed. She finished her glass of wine and decided against pouring another. It was obviously making her crazy. Instead she gazed up into the dark sky, inhaling the sweet scent of Teague’s cigar, and she tried to ignore the heaviness that settled over her again.
    It was hard though. Loneliness was the heaviest kind of weight that there was and these days it seemed as if it was the only friend she had.
    “It has to get better,” she said softly, voice catching as her eyes slammed shut.
    Of course there was no answer. No one to tell her that yes, it would get better. There was none of that.
    On account of her being alone.

 
    Chapter Seven
     
    Teague should have known that his brother wouldn’t do the right thing and sit this vacation weekend out. He couldn’t have been more frank when he’d last spoken with Tucker. What part of, ‘stay the hell away’ didn’t his twin understand?
    “Apparently none of it,” he muttered. His brother’s head was as hard as a two-by-four and twice as thick. It was a trait all the Simon men shared, so Teague should have known better, especially considering his own constitution was equally stubborn. But still…
    He’d been hoping for relative quiet.
    It was Friday morning and the sun had been up for a few hours. Just back from an early morning run, Teague had planned on a solitary breakfast and a day out on the lake.
Alone.
Good God, it had been hard enough escaping the kids and the dog from next door—Harry and Morgan were the most inquisitive children on the planet and Bingo thought he belonged to Teague.
    And then there was the grandmother.
    Louise, Brent Campbell’s mother, had shown up two days earlier, and it wasn’t a compliment to say that Sabrina had been right about the woman. She liked to poke her nose into places it didn’t belong and she did so with a smile and a gentle voice that was hard to argue with. Hell, he’d barely been able to finish working on the gazebo and decking because Louise had taken a shine to him and wouldn’t leave him alone.
    She was