Somebody's Lover: The Jackson Brothers, Book 1

little brother down the hall.
    Lord. This was crazy. Maybe even a little sick and perverted. She’d had phone sex with her boys sitting in the next room. She was losing it. Out of control. Obsessed.
    And Friday felt three too many days away.

    * * * * *

    He’d lied. Once would never be enough.
    Jace stood under the cold shower. He’d called only wanting to hear her voice. But he’d crumbled when she wanted to “rethink” and lost his mind when she wanted to hear the things he planned to do to her. All these years, he’d maintained his distance, separated thought from action. One kiss in the front seat of his truck had shot that distance to hell, and he’d lost all perspective. The memory of Monday morning in her kitchen pulsed in his blood. He’d been damn near dangerous at work today, his mind in his pants, his cock in her mouth. Not a good thing to be thinking about when you’re thirty feet up a tree with a chain saw in your grip.
    The family had a rule. Work smart and no working alone. He wasn’t alone, but he sure as hell hadn’t been smart up there. His head had been filled with images of Taylor on her knees.
    He needed to get this thing under control. Or he’d end up like Lou.
    Hell, at least this time, the death he caused would be his own, not his brother’s.

Chapter Five

    It was eleven-thirty in the morning, close to ninety on a summer day, and Jace was sweating buckets. He downed a bottle of water, then swiped his arm across his forehead.
    “We’re making good progress,” his dad said, wiping his own brow. “Should be done tomorrow right on schedule.” They had another job in Bentonville on Friday, which would carry through to next week.
    They cut in the mornings and hauled in the afternoons, so the homeowner wasn’t left with loads of crap cluttering the yard. Mitch and David were topping and shaping the last few branches on the oak. It had needed to be trimmed back off the roof for both winter-storm protection and to keep the carpenter ants from infesting the eaves. The two-acre lot around the house would be trimmed to retain the view and give the trees room. Like his dad and brothers, Jace knew every species of tree common to the area and its required maintenance to promote healthy growth. The underbrush needed clearing out, too. Willoughby and the five small surrounding towns nestled in the mountain foothills provided year round work for Jackson and Sons. Primarily, people living in the foothills didn’t maintain their yards with lawns and flowers. The only ones who did were flatlanders, recently moved from suburbia. Most residents let the forest grow around them, chopping it back only when it became a fire hazard.
    “You put your sunscreen on, Dad?”
    “You sound like your mother.”
    Jace grinned. When he’d left the office this morning, Mom had told him to ask every half hour.
    At fifty-nine, his dad still had a few good working years left. He let his sons do the higher climbing, but he hauled his share of the load. At damn near forty years in the tree business, he deserved more time on the ground.
    “If you want, Mitch and I can finish up here tomorrow and you and David can start the Bentonville job.”
    Jace didn’t suggest doing it the other way around. David hadn’t partnered him since Lou died. It was Mitch or Dad. Always.
    His dad removed his cap and scratched his head. “Nope. We’ll stick to the schedule.”
    In other words, he didn’t trust Jace alone with Mitch, even if they’d only be finishing the clearing, hauling and mopping up.
    Together, they watched Mitch and David complete with synchronous teamwork. At one time, Jace had worked that way with Lou, each anticipating the other’s moves. Timing and skill. You counted on each other to be there.
    He hadn’t been there for Lou that day. He’d been sleeping off too much partying the night before, and Lou had started without him.
    Jace glanced at his dad, wondering how often he thought about that day. Hell, most likely every day. Dad had been the one to find Lou before Jace got there. His brother hit the femoral artery with the chain saw, though God only knew exactly how it happened. Alone in the midst of a nine-acre lot, Lou had been gone in a matter of minutes.
    His father never said one bad word to Jace, never accused Jace of breaking his trust, of letting his brother bleed to death all alone. But Dad also never scheduled a job that put Jace alone with one of his brothers.
    Shit. Jace popped another