Yolo (Carter Brothers #7)

Chapter 1

Day 98 without sex. I slammed on my brakes just so I could feel my seat belt choke me.

— Bindi to her mother

BINDI

1 ⒈／⒉ years ago

“ Come on, babe.” My fiancé rolled his eyes at me. “ Just come. It’ll be fun.”

I wasn’t sure how it could be fun, considering he knew I hated hiking.

Well , let me rephrase. I didn’t hate hiking. I hated hiking with his family.

Why did I hate hiking with his family?

Because they were all douchebags.

I’d never been a hiker before I met them.

Coming from a blue-collar family, we didn’t have the money to just up and go to the mountains anytime we damn well pleased.

Plus , my mom was a beach person.

If we did have the money to go on a vacation, her choice was always the beach.

Mom was a lounger.

She loved sitting on the beach, drinking a beer, and enjoying the sun and water.

Dad loved my mom and gave her what she wanted.

Truthfully , I loved the beach also.

I sure as shit liked it more than the mountains, but I had a feeling that was only because of how shitty Joseph’s family was.

They were avid hikers.

They’d been hiking trails since they were old enough to walk on their own.

Plus , they had a mountain house in Colorado that they went to a couple of times a month via jet or helicopter.

Hiking during the summer, and skiing—definitely not snowboarding because that was a heathen sport—during the winter.

Honestly , I wanted none of it.

If I could never see another mountain with them in my life, I’d be happy.

“ I’m not sure,” I hedged.

“ Please ,” he begged.

I sighed.

I knew this was going to happen.

He was going to talk me into it, and I was going to give in because I had no backbone.

“ I need an hour, Joseph ,” I gave in. “ I have continuing education that I have to get done today. No matter what. You know that. When I’m done, I’ll eat, and then we can go.”

“ You know my parents like to get out on the trail early, before all the douchebags that go to take photos,” he grumbled. “ But I can probably convince them to wait until this evening after they’ve all left.”

I nearly rolled my eyes, but I knew it wouldn’t go over well with him.

He hated when I rolled my eyes.

Honestly , I was beginning to hate him, so it was okay.

“ I just cooked. Eat , then go get your workout in. When I’m done, I’ll eat really fast, and then we can go. I’ll be done by seven at the latest,” I grumbled.

In order to be done by seven, I’d had to get up at four to get started on the laundry. All of my uniforms were dirty from the week I’d had, and he wanted to spend my two days off driving to freakin’ Colorado where his parents lived, hiking for the day, and then coming home.

In order to do that, I had to get this done first. So after I’d done my laundry, I went ahead and started breakfast so we wouldn’t have to do that, either. While I was doing that, I’d also started my continuing education.

Being a paramedic, you had to have sixty hours of continuing education.

Normally , I would’ve had it done well before now.

But that was before I’d met Joseph Adolph Harris , first born son of Arnold and Margaret Harris .

Joseph didn’t understand my desire to keep working in such a “common” field.

He thought that as a language expert, I should find a more prestigious job, one that made him look better when he was introducing me to prospective clients.

Joseph worked for his parents’ company, Black Harris . It was an investment firm that specialized in high-end clients who were more on the sketchy side.

Arnold and Margaret hated me upon first meeting.

Hell , at this point, I knew they still hated me.

I was not who they expected their son to want to live the rest of his life with.

I was the daughter of a blue-collar working man— Dad was a welder—and a mom who stayed at home with me.

There were times that we barely had enough money to make ends meet. At the age of fourteen and a half, I was already working almost full time to help pay for my own expenses.

Arnold and Margaret had expected their son to want a purebred girl that was a society princess. One who lived off her inheritance and had enough free time to do the duties expected of her.

I wasn’t that, and they hated it.

“ Fine ,” Joseph grumbled. “ Hurry up, though, Jesus .”

I did, doing the work as fast as possible. But when it was a timed unit, it was what it was.

By the time I was finished, I hurried to the kitchen to eat my breakfast.

I didn’t like eating early.

In fact, I despised it.

A lot of the time, I wasn’t hungry when I first woke up, so saving my breakfast was something that I did often.

Hence , why I sectioned out my portion and hid it in the back of the fridge in a box labeled “ Tofu .”

When I pulled it out and started reheating it, the noise practically called Joseph out of the gym.

“ Mmm .” He smiled, his eyes lighting up.

And since I knew his game, I said, “ Hey .”

Joseph was addicted to food.

There was no other word for it.

He wasn’t overweight or anything—in fact, he was a gym rat who was overly focused on how he looked—but he had an obsession with food.

The man could eat anything and everything and not gain a single ounce of weight.

He worked out, ate what he wanted, and tried to get all strong looking, but that just wasn’t what was in store for Joseph . He was destined to be tall and skinny like his father and mother.

He hated that he couldn’t put on muscle, and in response, he tried to eat as much as he could.

Even if it was my food.

“ What are you eating?” he asked as he watched me pull my food out of the microwave.

“ Breakfast . You’ve already had yours,” I pointed out.

He watched me take a bite of the egg/cheese/sausage mixture and his eyes gleamed.

I sat down at the table and went back for a cup of water.

“ Can I have some?” he asked.

I shook my head and said, “ No . You’ve already had yours. This is mine.”

“ But I want some,” he said.

“ No , Joseph .” I shook my head. “ I’m starving now, and if you want me to sit in a car until we make it to that eatery you want to go to in Amarillo , then you’re going to have to let me eat.”

Joseph didn’t stop for snacks unless he wanted to, and since he was on a health kick lately, we wouldn’t be able to stop at a gas station and get food. He’d throw a fit if I ate it in his new car, too.

It was easier to just let him have his way.

But I had to eat to do that.

“ Just a small bite.” He reached for my fork.

“ I said no!” I pulled it away from him.

That’s when he got mad.

Joseph did that a lot.

“ You’re such a fuckin’ bitch. It’s just a bite!” he snarled.

“ I already gave you a much bigger portion than mine. I want all of my food.” I started to take a bite, which he took offense to.

In a blinding fast movement, he bent down and spit in my food.

I looked at the huge wad of spit—which he fucking knew that I couldn’t stand—and nearly threw up.

I had a thing about spit/phlegm/mouth germs.

I had it since I was young.

Nothing overtly stood out to me as to what had caused me to not like it—even kissing grossed me out—but it was a known issue that he laughed about.

A lot.

But he always used it to his advantage.

Like now.

He spit in it, knowing I wouldn’t want to eat it now.

I stood up stiffly, took my food to the sink, and dumped it down the disposal.

“ Fuckin ’ bitch, Bindi !” he cried out. “ What the fuck was that for?”

“ What do you mean, what was that for?” I asked him with narrowed eyes as I turned the disposal on. “ You fucking spit in my food. You knew I wouldn’t eat it after that.”

“ Yeah ,” he told me like I was dumb. “ But I expected you to give it to me!”

I shut the water off and turned, crossing my arms over my chest. “ Fuck you, Joseph . Fuck you.”

The ride to Colorado was terrible.

By the time we got to the trailhead later that afternoon, I was tired, hungry, and didn’t want to go freakin’ anywhere.

Yet , there I was, ready to hike with his asshole family, despite my mood.

“ Hello , Lea .”

I looked at Margaret .

I hated that she called me Lea .

She hated my first name— Bindi .

Needless to say, when she started calling me Lea , my middle name, at first I’d chosen not to respond. But over time, I realized that I either dealt with her disgusting attitude or I left Joseph . And despite his actions that morning, I loved him for some stupid reason.

Though , I was beginning to realize after this morning that the line between love and hate was very fine, and I was starting to lean more toward the hate side.

I’d spent the entire trip to Colorado going over my life.

If I broke up with him, he’d have to find a new apartment. That apartment was in my name, and I’d lucked out with the landlord I had, giving me a great deal on it.

Being in the middle of downtown Albuquerque , it really should be about ten times the rent. But my landlord’s mother, who’d lived in it before me, had passed away. And since he hadn’t wanted to deal with the apartment, he’d let the first person to ask move into it for a song.

It was even stuck-up Harris approved, which was why Joseph was living with me, and not the other way around.

If I left him, he’d have to move out, and he’d try to fight me on it—the location was prime. Near his job, near nightlife, and prestigious enough that people knew he had money when he told them where he lived.

I’d also have to find a way to pay for everything again.

He made way more than me, but it was me who paid the rent and utilities. He was the one who usually paid the extras, like groceries, going out to eat, and the fun stuff. I’d have to go back to paying for that myself.

Luckily I’d just paid my car off, so the only “extra” I’d have was entertainment funds.

And I didn’t have to go out to have fun.

As long as I had Netflix , I’d be happy.

“ Are you ready?” Leland , Joseph’s brother, grumbled. “ We’ve been waiting forever.”

They’d been waiting ten minutes.

But apparently, that was “forever,” according to them.

They weren’t used to waiting on anyone.

And the only reason they had to wait was because I’d had to use the restroom.

Imagine that.

Being cooped up in a car with your boyfriend who refused to stop for six hours and needing to use the restroom was not my idea of fun. The nerve.

“ Let’s go,” I said, trying to sound cheerful and not managing it.

They all looked at me like I was the problem.

I kept my mouth shut and fell into step with them.

Then listened to them all complain when I was being slow.

I was slow.

I wasn’t out of shape.

In fact, I was in great shape. My job as a paramedic for the Albuquerque Fire Department demanded it.

I worked out a lot.

I just sucked at hiking because I had short legs.

Excuse the fuck out of me.

It was about halfway up to the top when it happened.

“ Rock ,” someone called up farther ahead than us.

We all stopped, but since his sister Constance was an asshole and liked to play her music for all to hear— I hated her music, and so did most hikers that we passed— I didn’t hear where the rock was coming from until it hit me.