The Right Garza : A Friends to Lovers Romance (Red Cage Book 1)

by S. Ann Cole

  I power it up and find missed calls and texts from Trent and Maggie.

  Maggie: Staying over at Tripp’s so I won’t be back tonight. xoxo

  Trent: Hey. Gotta fill in at the office. Didn’t have time to make breakfast, but the pantry is stocked. Make yourself at home. Call me if you need anything.

  Maggie: Tripp wants me to spend the day with him. We’re going to the beach, so I probably won’t be back till later tonight. Xoxo

  Huh. I’d forgotten about my phone all day and hadn’t even thought to check in with Maggie. Well, at least she’s enjoying herself.

  After making a quick video call to Mama, I microwaved and ate some of the food Monica brought Trent, then settled on the couch to watch more Lifetime.

  It’s nightfall by the time Trent comes downstairs, dressed to go in jeans and a white tee. He looks delicious. His eyes slide over me as he moves to the kitchen. “Hey. Sorry I overslept.”

  “No worries.” I peel up from the couch and grab my shoes. “I ate some of your food, so we’re even.”

  “You want the rest to take home?” he asks.

  He can be so nice when he wants to. “Oh no, that’s fine. I’d be evil to take all your oxtail.” I mean, he chased his twin with a taser for it, and here he’s offering it all to me.

  While he gets a bottled water from the fridge and downs the whole thing, I zip on my boots.

  After getting my purse and phone, I start out of the house ahead of him. Behind me, he locks the front door, then the jeep, parked out front, chirps to signal being unlocked.

  I don’t realize Trent has followed me to the passenger side until I’ve opened the door, only for it to be slammed shut by a strong hand above my head and I’m forcibly spun around and shoved back against it.

  Before I can register what’s happening, I’m swept up into a hurricane of a kiss. He kisses me with gusto, like a tornado licking up every last pebble from the earth. It’s wild and desperate and determined and intentional. I’ve never been kissed like this in my life.

  His kiss speaks so many languages I do not understand. He sucks my soul right out of me then slowly, breath by breath, spills it back in. I feel like I’m on air. In another time, in another world. It’s the kiss I never knew I longed for, or needed.

  By the time he slows and parts his mouth from mine, I’m dazed, my chest heaving up and down. He nips at my lip, licks his tongue across it, before stepping back from me. “I’ll let that percolate for some time before I ask you if all you still want to do is fuck me.”

  “I don’t thi—”

  He tugs me forward so I collide into his hard chest. “Shh. Not yet.” He reaches behind me and opens the jeep door again, then ushers me inside.

  We don’t talk for most of the drive back.

  Chapter SEVENTEEN

  “I lie sometimes.”

  Lexi

  Trent tunes the radio to a lo-fi station and we don’t talk for most of the drive. I don’t think I could if I wanted to anyway. I’m still reeling from that mind-blowing kiss. Surfing a maelstrom of emotions and indescribable feelings.

  It’s not as if it’s my first kiss, but it might well have been, because I’ve never experienced anything like that before. A kiss that felt like it’d been waiting a lifetime to happen.

  My first kiss was from Maggie. We were in our high school locker room changing into our gear for PE class when she leaned in and pressed her glossed lips to mine. She’d pulled away almost immediately and started giggling. That should have been my first clue that she was into girls but it totally went over my head and I just thought she was messing around.

  My first real kiss, though, was with Torin, when he dragged me into the laundry room of the Garza house then cupped my face and kissed me silly. It’s the only kiss that comes a smidge close to what I just experienced. Yet still not by a long shot.

  Between Torin and now, I’ve only ever kissed two other men. A guy I hooked up with for a week in Paris who barely spoke a lick English, and a sloppy-kissing one-night stand in Pacific City well over a year ago.

  So, it’s entirely possible I’m mind-blown simply because I haven’t kissed enough frogs before Trent.

  Or maybe, just maybe, this man is in a league of own.

  When we reach Pasadena, he lowers the volume on the radio and asks me if I need anything.

  “Uh, yeah,” I say hoarsely then clear my throat. “Can we make a stop at the convenience store? I want to grab some ice cream.”

  And maybe some cake. And cookie dough. I have a lot of feelings to eat tonight.

  “You still a rocky road girl?”

  “I’m forever a rocky road girl,” I say with a smile. “You still a vanilla guy?”

  “Only with my ice cream.”

  Oh dear. I’m not touching that one with a ten-foot pole.

  At the convenience store, a sleek Aston Martin pulls into the parking spot next to us just as I’m getting out of the Jeep. The driver, a handsome blond guy, ogles me as I shut the door then flashes me a come-hither grin.

  Ignoring him, I trek across the parking lot to the convenience store. I’m about to open the door when a hand shoots out ahead of mine and opens it for me.

  I glance over my shoulder and up to see Handsome Aston Martin Guy smiling down at me. He had to have rushed out of the car to catch up with me.

  “Allow me,” he says, smooth and suave.

  “Thanks.”

  I walk in ahead of him and beeline straight for the ice-scream freezer. I grab a medium-sized tub of rocky road along with a tub of chocolate chip cookie dough. When I slide the freezer door shut and turn, I almost collide into Handsome Aston Martin Guy.

  “Sorry if I’m being creepy,” he says. “But you’re just the most beautiful fucking woman I’ve seen all week.”

  “In L.A.? While driving an Aston Martin?” I scoff, making sure he knows I think he’s full of shit. “I highly doubt that.”

  I step around him and head for the cashier. He trails me. He smells crazy good, and I can tell he’s the kind of privileged rich guy who, when he sees something he wants, goes hard after it because he thinks he can have it.

  It’s this damn outfit I’m wearing. It was perfect for the fight last night not, but not for an impromptu ice-cream stop in a convenience store.

  “So, can I take you out to dinner sometime?”

  I snatch up some tamarind balls on the way. “You should ask me if I’m single first.”

  “Are you?”

  “Nope.”

  “It is serious?”

  I set my items down on for the cashier. “Does it matter?”

  He leans against the counter, his lascivious gaze molesting my face. “Of course. It lets me know if I’ve got a chance or not.”

  The cashier voices the total, and as I start to open my purse, I pause. Because I feel him before I hear him. A riot of flutters erupts in my belly and I’m not even looking at him.

  I’m about to turn when I feel the heat of his large hand at the back of my neck. It glides up my nape, massaging the soft, erogenous spots below my ear, then drifts back down and settles possessively. His voice comes next, deep and delicious, sending shivers down my spine. “I’ve got it, Hellcat.”

  Handsome Aston Martin Guy holds his hands up and backs off. “Got it. No chance.”

  And I’d bet the last $1,674.96 left in my bank account that Trent is glaring him down.

  The cashier looks bored with the whole ordeal. Poor girl just wants to be done with her shift and go home.

  Twisting my torso to look up at him, I say, “It’s fine. I can pay.”

  He makes a single shake of his head and gets out his wallet. “This is one of the ‘things’, Lexi,” he says. “If you’re mine, you’ll never pay for anything.”

  Turning fully this time, I place my hand on my hip. “And what if I want to pay, Mr. Sugar Daddy?”

  He shrugs. “You can. But you’ll being doing it knowing you don’t have to.” As he passes cash over my shoulder t
o cashier, he dips his head and says, “Not now, though. I’m trying to make a point. Don’t ruin it.”

  This makes me giggle, bumping my forehead to his chest. He smells divine. “You’re ridiculous.”

  By the time we leave the store, Handsome Aston Martin Guy is gone. Had Trent intimidated him so much that he left without purchasing what he came for?

  “You can’t be acting all jealous like that with me,” I tell him once we’re in the jeep and on the move again. “We aren’t a thing.”

  To that, he says nothing. He controls the stereo from the steering wheel, skipping songs until he finds the one he wants, then ups the volume until Smoke by Bobi Andonov fills the car.

  And…yes, I want to have sex with this man.

  Badly.

  Very badly.

  When we arrive at the guesthouse, the lights are on in the condo. Good, Maggie’s home.

  Trent jerks up the handbrake. “I’ll walk you to the door.”

  “It’s fine,” I’m quick to say, jumping out of the jeep. “Maggie is home.”

  Why I’m so terrified at the prospect of him walking me to door, I have no idea.

  “Don’t worry,” he says with an amused dip in his voice. “I’m not gonna kiss you again.”

  The relief I feel in my chest answers my question. I don’t think I can handle another of his hurricane kisses right now. It’ll only muddle my head, make me feel things that aren’t real, and make me want more.

  I walk ahead of him, quickening my steps so I’ll get to the door faster. But five of my steps equates to one of his, so out-walking him is a futile attempt.

  “This is it,” I say when we finally get to the side door. “You can—”

  He kisses me.

  It’s calm and sinuous. Lavishing. A stark contrast to earlier. I sigh in his mouth, wanting to put my hands around him but can’t because they’re full.

  When he ends it, it’s slow, lazy, reluctant, nipping at my bottom lip before parting with an almost inaudible groan.

  “You…” I lick my lips, savoring the vestiges of him. “You said you weren’t going to kiss me.”

  “I lie sometimes.” Eyes flaming with desire, he drags the pad of his thumb down my lips, and my tongue darts out to get a taste. “We both have a busy week ahead, so I’ll come get you this weekend. But in the meantime, ask Maggie to tell you.”

  I lift a brow at him. “Come get me?” Then, I frown. “Wait, ask Maggie to tell me what?”

  “Just ask her.” He begins backing away, his heated gaze still fixed on my lips. “I’ll see you next weekend.”

  “Wait, what’s—”

  “Goodnight, Hellcat.”

  Confused as all hell, I watch him disappear into the dark, then close my eyes to calm my heart and catch my breath before I turn to let myself inside the house.

  Closing the door behind me, I amble into the kitchen and set the items on the counter. “Maggie?”

  I wash my hands at the sink then grab a small bowl and scoop some of the ice cream in with a side of cookie dough, before stowing the tubs into the refrigerator.

  “Maggie?”

  Scooping a spoonful of delicious rocky road into my mouth, I wander into the living room then up the stairs. Only when I’m on the second-floor landing do I hear the shower running.

  I pad to Maggie’s room and plop down on her bed, trying my hardest to not think about Trent.

  When she finally comes out of the shower, she yelps and presses a palm to her chest. “Jesus, Lexi. You scared the living daylights out of me.”

  “Sheesh. Am I that ugly?”

  She starts to roll her eyes then stops mid-way to look over at me. “Why are you still in last night’s clothes—wait, were you with Trent?!”

  Oh, right. She’d texted me her whereabouts but I hadn’t told her mine. She probably thought I was here all along. “What time did you get back?”

  “About twenty minutes ago,” she answers. “I spent the day with Tripp.”

  Just before me then. “You hooked up?”

  She waggles her brows and rolls her hips. “You’re damn right we did. All day. Who knew little Trippy would grow up to be so…skilled. And hung.”

  I allow a spoonful of ice cream to melt on my tongue before asking, “Did it feel weird? You know, since you dated Trent.”

  Averting her gaze, she turns and walks over to the dresser, drying her hair with a towel. “Why would it feel weird? That was eons ago. I barely understood sex then.”

  “The sex wasn’t good with Trent?”

  She wraps the towel on her head then turns to face me. Maggie is an air-dryer, so she’s all tits and vagina in front of me right now. This girl would be a stalker’s dream. “What’s your issue? You want to fuck Trent but wondering if it would be weird because you used to be with Tor?”

  I shrug with one shoulder. “Me and Tor, you and Trent… It’s feels…messy, I guess.”

  “It’s only messy if you and Tor still have feelings for each other,” she says. “If you’re still harboring feelings for Tor, don’t do it, don’t even go there. But if not, then don’t let the past keep you from enjoying the present. Because trust me, Trent is into you. Big time.”

  Gnawing on my bottom lip, I idly spoon around the melting ice-cream, mixing in the cookie dough. “I would’ve slept with him. But he seems to want more than that.”

  “I imagine he would. Trent has always…” She trails off and comes over to the bed, flopping back with her arms spread.

  I wait for her to finish, but she doesn’t, so I prod, “Trent has always what?”

  “Huh? Oh, nothing,” she says quickly. “Forgive my wandering mind. I’m a little addled from all the sex and rest.”

  It almost feels as if she’s hiding something, but I don’t push. For the same reason I won’t “ask her to tell me” like Trent demanded I do.

  Whatever it is, I have a strong feeling it would only add fuel to my desire for Trent. And I prefer to stack up on reasons why Trent and I shouldn’t be a thing, rather than reasons on why we should.

  Chapter EIGHTEEN

  “I don’t have the kinda control you think I do.”

  Lexi

  This week has been our busiest. Probably because we’re on the verge of completion. By mid-week, the place is buzzing with less than half the workers than the week before. Trent gave me the green light for renaming to Barefoot Runaway B&B, so there’s been a lot of running around on my part getting the new name registered and commissioning new signs.

  Maggie and I work amazingly together, and I don’t know if I would have gotten this far so fast without her. We agree more than disagree on decisions, and when we do disagree, we agree to disagree and work out a compromise.

  It’s tiring work, but the high I get from the output is unmatched.

  Trent texts me at least twice each day but I never respond. I’ve been actively avoiding communicating with him unless it’s regarding something critical to the project.

  That doesn’t stop him from sending me lunch every day, though. Before last Sunday, I assumed the reason he sent me lunch daily was because he knew I was broke. Now I know it’s just his way of taking care of what he wants to be his.

  This knowledge sort of changes things. It makes the lunches special to me, so much that I don’t even want to share with Maggie anymore.

  Like now, as I’m plating some of my lobster scampi pasta for her while she waits impatiently with a fork, I’m doing so begrudgingly. Which is petty and possessive as hell, because it’s not like I’m able to eat it all myself.

  “Jesus, you’re taking forever,” she carps, then pokes a piece of lobster with her fork and stuffs it into her mouth.

  To get it over with, I scoop a big portion from the food container onto her plate then cross the room to sit on the couch.

  “Ohmygod, this is so good,” she says around a mouthful of food.

  It is, though I don’t respond. I love her, but I no longer want to share this sweet gesture from Trent
with her. It means something to me now.

  Maggie’s phone screeches with one of those headache-inducing heavy metal ring tones. Every time her phone rings it’s like a stab to skull.

  “Hey, boo thang,” she answers.

  At that, I narrow my attention to where she’s seated by the kitchen peninsula, because the only person she calls “boo thang” is Trent.

  Why on earth is calling her?

  “Yeah, I’m good. You?” She pauses, listens, then glances over at me. “Uh huh.” … “No, she hasn’t. Why?” … “You did?” … “Okay.” … “Okay.” … “Okay, I will.” … “Yeah, I can. Now is a good time actually.” … “All right, cool. See ya.”

  Setting her phone down, she looks at me with intent. “That was Trent.”

  “Oh? What did he want?”

  I tried for nonchalance, but I don’t think I succeeded.

  She picks up her plate and comes over to where I am, taking a seat in one of the armchairs. “So, you remember when we hooked up a few years ago and I told you that I’d had a huge crush on you in school?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Well…” She forks a piece of lobster in her mouth. “It wasn’t just me.”

  “Okay…?”

  “So, see, Trent was nuts about you, but he knew you didn’t feel the same and he was afraid that if he told you how he felt it would ruin the dynamic. He was aware of how I felt about you as well, so we sort of confided in each other about how we felt.”

  Her pace picks up with each word. “Anyway, when Torin came into the picture and you two got together, neither of us was happy about it. One night he invited me over and he was so angry about everything that he wouldn’t shut up about it. I guess, I dunno, I guess I was tired of his tirade and wanted him to shut up, so I kissed him.

  “And that’s when you and True walked in. You all just assumed we were dating after that and we never bothered to correct you. We went along with it. All that to say: Trent and I were never a thing. And we’ve never had sex. Of any kind. Ever.”