K. Bromberg - Bend

Her worth was mine.

~the end~

Thank you to my Facebook Street Team - each and every one of you for your continued support and reminders that yes, I could write this story, because time and time again, I had my doubts!

To Ashlee Porte, who I can always count on to tell me like it is - love you!

To my comrades in The Erotica Consortium: C.D. Reiss, Shay Savage, K. Bromberg, JA Huss, KI Lynn, Ella James, and Alessandra Torre - you ladies are awesome and I totally love what you write! It was an honor and a pleasure to have my novella introduced as part of "Bend."

And a special shout-out to Author Kennedy Kelly, Janett Gomez, Nicole Duke and Kandace Milostan for beta feed-back! You ladies rock!

Cover Design: Louisa Maggio @ L.M. Creations

Editing: Janell Parque

Formatting: Tami Norman

"Sexual Thing" - Poison

"My Prerogative" - Bobby Brown

"I Want Your Sex" - George Michaels

"Money for Nothing" - Dire Straits

"Losing My Religion" - R.E.M.

"Waiting on the World to Change" - John Mayer

"Something To Talk About" - Bonnie Raitt

"Who Says You Can't Go Home" - Bon Jovi

"Dreams" - The Cranberries

"We Belong" - Pat Benatar

"I'll Stand By You" - The Pretenders

I'd been on the road for three days and, to be honest, I was tired of seeing green and white signs along the side of the road, charting my progress, or lack thereof, as the case might be, and staying in flea bag motels because of my strained budget. Traveling across the country sounded awesome until around the end of day two. Now, it was simply a matter of my being impatient to reach my destination.

Here I was, Paige Elizabeth Matthews, 22 years-old, leaving my parents' home in Napa, California to carve out a career and an appropriate life for myself—that was how my father had put it to me. In other words, I was being shoved from the nest for my own good.

It wasn't as if I hadn't been raised or educated properly, because I had. I'd graduated in January from Cal State with a degree that was of little use to me in Napa, but which would serve me well with some government agency such as say, the FBI? Yep, according to my father, that would be a perfect fit for me and my degree.

Yeah, I knew he'd been on the phone several times with my older brother, Trace, who was moving his way up the bureau ladder in D.C. I had relented and filled out the application for an administrative internship at my parents' urging. I assumed my brother had pulled the appropriate strings to get me selected for the program.

Sweet.

I was okay with it; I mean there was nothing to keep me in Napa. No love connections, no attachments with close friends. I'd never been much of the girly-girl who had a flock of BFFs that I shared everything with while we shopped or had our nails done.

In that respect, I was kind of a loner. Truth be told, I related much better with the male species than the female. It was probably because I'd been raised around vineyards, and the fact that vineyards employed a lot of guys made it just that much more convenient. And, to be honest? I enjoyed the attention of men. Actually, craved the attention of men might be more accurate.

Maybe too much.

I knew that was yet another reason my parents were kind of eager to send me off. They weren't always comfortable with my "appreciation" of the opposite sex. The fact that I had been dating several different guys simultaneously had seemed to cause them a fair amount of angst over the last several months, especially when they had gotten their names mixed up time and time again.

They would go on and on about how proud they were that my oldest brother, Easton - who I barely knew - had settled down in the U.S. with his new wife, Darcy, and their baby boy, Weston.

From there, the conversation moved onto Trace, and about how he too, had settled down…and how much they loved his wife, Lindsey, and how proud they were of their beautiful grand-babies Harper and Jackson.

They wanted the same for me—that was obvious. I just wasn't really sure if I wanted that; I couldn’t picture myself living that kind of a life—at least not for a very long time. I hadn't really had any serious relationships and my instinct told me that was because I hadn't found my demographic yet—if that makes any sense at all.

I pulled off at the next exit to fill my gas tank and give Trace a quick call on my cell, to let him know that I'd be reaching their place in another few hours.

I pulled my jacket tighter around me as I fumbled with the gas cap and got the pump going. It was damp and chilly; the remnants of winter were still in the air for the first of March in eastern Pennsylvania.

He answered his cell, recognizing my number. "Where are you?" he asked, as if he were worried.

"Somewhere in Pennsylvania," I answered, chewing on a nail. "I should be at your place before dark."

"Okay, Paige, we'll be here. Drive carefully, you hear?"

"Yes, Trace," I sighed, rolling my eyes. He could be caring I suppose, but I also knew he was doing this more for Mom and Dad than for me. We just were too far apart in age to be that close.

"We're looking forward to having you stay with us," he lied, "Lindsey's got your room waiting for you. I think you're really going to like the internship, Paige. I think it just might be what you need."

I sighed. "Thanks for letting me stay with you guys. I'll try to stay out of your way, I promise."

Silence.

"See you soon," he said.

I fumbled with the lock on the front door, trying to shift the bags of groceries I had in my arms to one side in order to turn the knob. I was kind of worn out and it was just past noon.

My lovely sister-in-law, Lindsey, had left me with a full shopping/errand list this morning, rousing my ass out of bed at seven-thirty. On a Saturday no less.

I'd been up fairly late, getting a lecture from big brother Trace, right before he left on some covert FBI mission. His lecture was all about earning my keep around here, acting responsibly, setting a better example for the babies. He felt that I could be a bigger help to Lindsey, when she had clients to visit with the little decorating business she and her mother Samantha had going, yadda, yadda, yadda.

"Paige," Trace had said, his voice carrying that serious, authoritative and slightly- tyrannical tone that he almost never used with Lindsey. "Lindsey and I talked about you doing a little more pitching in around here. It's not like you pay rent or anything, so how's about taking on some responsibilities and maybe curtailing some of the partying?"

"I don't mind helping out," I shrugged, "but what's the deal with my partying?" I questioned, eying my older brother warily.

"Hey, what you do and who you do it with is your business—don't get me wrong. I know you're only twenty-two and just now getting out from under Mom and Dad's roof, but we've got kids here—babies, and well…"

He was obviously uncomfortable with the subject matter, so I took the opportunity to interrupt. "Look, Trace, if it's a problem that I brought a couple of guys here for the night, I just won't do it anymore. But Christ, it's not like Harper and Jackson are old enough to know what's going on. I mean, seriously ?"

"It's not just the fact that you brought a couple of random dudes home over the past few weeks, it's that you've shown a total disregard for the rest of us, you know?"