by Aly Stiles
His pretty hazel eyes blink at me from behind stray locks of light brown hair. Gosh, he’d be breathtaking in a bathing suit with a surfboard tucked under his arm. When he adds the smile, it almost hurts to look at him. But the joy fades quickly when I realize it’s not the smile I want.
“Thanks, but we couldn’t.”
“Why? Braydon doesn’t like to swim?”
“Of course he does. It’s just that…” His gaze lifts to the curtained wall again, scans the cavernous room.
“It’s just that you can’t accept more charity from me,” I finish for him, resentment in my voice.
His eyes shift to mine sharply. “I didn’t say that.”
“You didn’t have to.”
He averts his stare, and I want to scream in frustration.
“You know what, Ashton?”
I push to my feet, and he looks up, surprised by my venom.
“Did it ever occur to you that I invite you over because I want you here? That I’m being selfish by asking you over so I can spend the little time you have with you?”
I step toward him, glaring hotly. “That I’m giving you a massage because...”
The words stall on my tongue at the confusion and guilt on his face. The pull of his endless eyes.
“Because I just really, really like touching you,” I whisper.
“Iris…” he says quietly. It’s an apology, a plea to understand none of that is enough to balance the insurmountable scale.
“Ashton…” I mimic, reaching for his hand.
I run my fingers over the back of his hand before lightly gripping his fingers.
“Please?” It’s my own plea. If he’s going to beg so will I.
He studies me for a long time, scanning my face, searching my eyes. Wars are being fought inside that complex head. I watch them battle for a piece of his soul.
The piece I want.
“Please?” I repeat, stepping closer until I feel the warmth of his chest on mine, our faces inches apart. In my fantasy, I’m slipping my arms around his neck and pulling his head down. My lips brush his gently before I melt into the blaze of a furious kiss.
After another few seconds, he drops his shoulders.
“Fine,” he says through a ragged breath.
I grin and bounce on my toes. “Good. What’s Braydon’s favorite food?”
Chapter Eleven
ASHTON
Braydon has an endless string of information to report after I pick him up from Marla. I mouth a thank you through his monologue while she returns a warm look.
“Oh! And Cassie has this thing called a Master Blader that looks like it should go in a circle, but it actually goes more like this.”
He demonstrates as we climb the stairs to our floor, and I force a serious expression. A Master Blader? No way that’s a thing.
“Huh. Interesting.”
“So that’s what I want for my birthday.”
“A Master Blader?”
He nods enthusiastically. “A silver one.”
“Okay. Maybe you should check with Cassie, though, and make sure you’ve got the name of it right.”
“No, it’s right. That’s what it is. There’s all different kinds and they fight each other. But not real fights. Just like…”
Another demonstration, this one with sound effects. “What? It is, Ash!”
I bite my lip and force a nod. “Okay. I believe you.”
I don’t.
I’ll look it up later (a revised version because I’m not eager to find out what the internet thinks about the term “masterblader”) and see if I can figure out what he’s talking about. His birthday is still six months away so I’ve got time.
“Hey, little man. How would you feel about going swimming at my friend’s house tonight?”
Bray’s eyes widen, all thoughts of “master bladers” abandoned.
“Really? Like in a real pool?” Then they narrow. “Or one of those ones for babies that goes up to here?” He swipes his hand across his knees.
“A real one. Probably one of the biggest you’ve ever been in. It has slides and a hot tub too.”
His mouth hangs open, then spreads into a gaping grin.
Okay, yeah. That alone was worth it.
I ruffle his hair, and he’s so floored by the pool proposal, he doesn’t even yell at me. We push into the apartment, and my joy immediately dissolves.
Mom sits on the couch, a remote in one hand, a large plastic cup in the other. I keep Bray behind me until I verify she’s alone.
“He’s gone,” Mom says quietly. “You’re home early.”
She places her cup on the coffee table, and I eye it suspiciously.
“Yeah, Lane let us off,” I lie. “I thought you were working tonight.”
“I am, baby.” She pushes up to move toward me, but I continue glaring at the cup. “It’s just juice. I swear.”
She redirects and grabs it from the table, shoving it in my face. I relax slightly at what appears to be orange juice. If there’s booze in it, it’s not enough to be detectible by smell.
She puts the cup back on the table and starts forward again. “Sweetie, about last night—”
I cut her off with a warning look. Bending down, I look Braydon in the eye. “Hey, buddy. Why don’t you go get ready? We’ll take off in a little bit.”
Braydon nods, excitement still lighting up his face.
Shit. Maybe I do owe Iris for this.
I hold my smile until I’m sure Bray is out of range, then straighten to confront my mother.
“Baby, I’m sorry,” she rushes out, throwing her arms around my neck. I stiffen and unlock them, ducking away.
“Don’t,” I warn, moving toward the kitchen. She ignores me and follows.
I empty the contents of my lunch I didn’t eat back into the fridge for tomorrow, slamming the items on the shelf. When I close the door and straighten, she’s back in my face.
“Baby, you know I didn’t mean it. I was scared. You two were fighting, and I didn’t want you to get hurt—”
I hold up my hand and step back. “Just… stop, okay? I’m not interested.” I move to the cabinet to get a cup and flinch when she grabs my arm.
“Ash. Baby. Don’t do this. I’m sorry. I said I was sorry.”
She reaches for my face, and I jerk back.
“Don’t touch me,” I hiss.
She shrinks, hurt, but I can’t let myself feel guilty. Not this time.
“Sweetie,” she whispers in a tortured voice.
I clench my eyes shut and shake my head. No!
I slam the cup on the counter and stalk back to the living room. Why is she following me?!
“Sweetie, baby, look at me. Please, Ash. Just, let me explain—”
I turn on her, fire shooting from my eyes. “You let him assault me, Mother,” I seethe out. “Then you threw me out of the house. I don’t need a fucking explanation.”
“I know, but you don’t understand. I did it for us! Ronny is a photographer. He’s going to help me get my headshots finally so—”
“Oh my god!” I throw my hands up and lock them on my hair. “Will you listen to yourself?! You’re almost forty years old! You have two children! It may not be the life you want, but it’s the life you made, so fucking deal with it, Mom. Deal with it!”
I shrug her off when she tries to touch me again and storm down the hall to get Bray. We’re leaving this nightmare as quickly as possible tonight.
“Ash!” she calls after me, but I don’t hear the rest as I plaster a calm expression on my face and join my brother in his room.
I must have done an okay job masking my true state, because Braydon’s excitement never wanes the entire drive to Iris’ house. Talk of “master bladers” has transitioned into detailed recall of every time he’s been in a pool ever, which must be less than he clearly wants to be. Now I really owe Iris.
We pull up to her house, and I send a text to let her know we’re here. Just the gate of the Al
exanders’ estate knocks the words from my chatty little brother. We climb out of the truck, and I lead him to it to wait for Iris.
He looks up at me with wide-eyed confusion. “This. Is. Your. Friend’s house?” There’s his mouth, sagging open again.
“Dude, you’re gonna catch bugs in there.” I tap my own chin to encourage him to close his. Inside, though, I’m kind of loving it.
“Is your friend the queen of America or something?”
I smirk. “Something like that. Here she comes. Remember what I said, pleases and thank yous, got it? It’s very nice of her to invite us over so we’re going to be polite and grateful, right?”
And no mention of master bladers.
He nods. “Is that her?”
I follow his reverent stare, my heart rate picking up at the sight of Iris in a short sundress, sunglasses, and her dark hair swinging over her shoulders. Swimsuit straps jut from the lowcut top of her strapless dress, and I didn’t realize how badly I wanted to see Iris Alexander in a bathing suit until this moment. Funny, I’m more turned on by the thought of Iris in a suit than when her sister paraded around in next to nothing the other day. By the time she actually lets us through the gate, I know I’m in deep shit. I don’t even want to think about what will happen next time I’m in the mood for some masterblading.
“Hey, guys!” she says brightly. “I’m so glad you could make it. You must be Braydon.”
She holds out her hand, and he shakes it with a dumbstruck look on his face. I feel you, buddy.
“Ash said you have a ginormous pool,” is my little brother’s greeting.
I cringe as she laughs.
“It’s pretty big. Do you like swimming?”
“Love it! Ash also said you’re the queen of America.”
I choke on that one and vehemently shake my head when her skeptical gaze slides to me. “No. You asked that, and I said—”
“Something like that,” Bray mocks. Kid needs to stop shitting where he eats.
Iris crosses her arms and raises her brows at me. “Did he now?”
Braydon shrugs, and I squint an apology.
She rolls her eyes, but I see the smile before she turns on her heels. “Well, you coming or what?”
“Yeah!” Braydon shouts, running up the drive ahead of us.
“Bray!” I call out, but Iris rests her hand on my arm to stop me.
“It’s fine,” she says with a smile. “No one has been that excited about the pool in years.”
I ease up a bit, but I’m starting to get nervous about the whole thing again. Maybe this wasn’t a good idea. Bray has no filter so who knows what secrets will be exposed by the end of the day.
Then I realize Iris’ hand is still on my arm. I look down at her fingers that tighten around my bicep instead of pull away. Soon they slide down my skin and brush my hand in an invitation I feel deep in my chest. My pulse races as I open my hand to allow hers to slip in. She locks our fingers and squeezes.
After a few more steps, she sighs, and I glance at her.
“Everything okay?”
I relax when I see her serene expression.
“I’ve been wanting to do this since the first time I saw you,” she says softly.
“What? Swim with my kid brother?”
She bumps me with her shoulder, and I grin.
“No, smartass. This.”
She lifts our joined hands, and I’m surprised at how good they look together. I figured my large calloused hand would look comical with her small soft one, but the balance sends a strange surge through me. Not lust. Not fear. I don’t know what this sensation is, but I don’t have a chance to find out.
“Oh my gosh! This is the biggest house in the entire world!” Braydon yells from the top of the driveway. “Ash, did you ever see their house?!”
“Crap,” I mutter as Iris laughs.
“I mean, maybe not the entire world,” she says to me.
I groan and shake my head. This is going to be an interesting night.
It turns out Braydon’s reaction to the house is nothing compared to his reaction to the pool. We might as well have rented an entire amusement park for the unbridled exhilaration unleashed on the Alexanders’ outdoor space. It’s everything I can do to keep my brother from diving in the second we step onto the patio—which is looking pretty damn good, if I do say so myself.
“Let him go,” Iris says through a chuckle as I literally hold Bray by the collar of his swim shirt. He insisted on wearing his swim gear out of the house.
“I still have to change.” I hold up the small duffle bag I brought with my stuff and a couple towels.
“Oh sure. No problem. You can use the pool house.”
She waves toward our haunted lunch spot that now looks even more off-limits for some reason. Another reminder that I really shouldn’t be here right now.
“Um... You know what, don’t worry about it. I’ll just go in later.”
“Yay!” Bray cries, lunging for the water when I release him.
Have to admit it feels pretty good to see him so happy for once. Kid could use a ray of sunshine.
“Yeah, that’s not going to work for me,” Iris says, pulling her sundress over her head.
Holy…
My mouth goes dry as she saunters to one of the lounge chairs and tosses it on the cushion. She shakes out her hair, twisting in the most enticing angles to display every curve of her body. Her tasteful bikini might as well be non-existent for how she suddenly appears in my head.
That. Is perfection.
I blink at her, wondering how the hell I’m supposed to get through this evening with her looking like that.
With her prey successfully trapped and tortured, she returns wearing a sly look that threatens the little restraint I have left.
“See, here’s the thing,” she says, running a finger down my chest. “I kind of lied when I gave you all those reasons why I invited you here. There really was only one.”
I swallow when her hand slips under my shirt. She sighs at the contact, like it’s pure relief to touch me. Her fingers run over my stomach and up my chest, her breathing accelerating with every new inch of explored skin. I see how each hurried rise and fall of her chest matches mine.
Is her heart racing too? She would know the answer to that with her palm pressed against my ribs. Everything in me wants to put my hand on hers as well, but I don’t dare.
Her teeth sink into her lower lip as she lifts her gaze to my face.
“Thing is, I really, really want to see you in a bathing suit, Ashton.” Her voice is hushed, conspiratorial and sultry. Her smile, usually so sweet turns downright lethal as her fingertips sink into my chest. “It’s kind of been this fantasy of mine, and you kind of owe me, so here’s what I’m thinking.”
She clears her throat and abruptly pulls away. “I’m going to watch Braydon for two minutes, while you go into the pool house to change. And for once in your stubborn-ass life, you’re not going to argue with me. Do you think you can handle that?”
Ten minutes ago I could have. Now? Fuck. I’m not sure I can even walk to the pool house.
She arches a brow and nods toward the building.
“Bye now,” she quips before moving to the edge of the water to focus on Braydon.
Have I mentioned I’m in deep shit?
Damn.
Have to say, I never saw this side of Iris Alexander coming. Also, I like it. A lot.
I take my time changing, mostly because I need to regroup and lock down some cool before I turn into a bumbling idiot in front of her.
You’ve dealt with plenty of attractive women, Ashton.
Yeah, but none like her. Probably because there is no one like her. This is a once-in-a-lifetime girl I’m dealing with. And not even my lifetime. This is the kind of girl who ends up on the arm of a shipping heir or Hollywood A-lister. Not playing footsies with some nobody who serves her half-priced apps after nine. It was one thing to take my lunch break with her a few tim
es. This is a whole other level of line-crossing.
Shit, what am I doing?
I stare at myself in the floor-length mirror, trying to see what the hell she sees. All I find is some decent-looking dude who was almost on his way to something respectable but ended up with a one-way ticket to nowhere. I’m a solid nine in the looks department, maybe an eight in the charm department, but pushing a four when it comes to the life choice department. As in, you’d have to be delusional to think someone like me is the path to a decent future. What? Are we gonna go on dates dragging my child-mom and baby brother in tow? Maybe split time between cuddling on my shitty couch and her private jet?
“What are you doing?” I mutter out-loud to my reflection, wiping a hand over my face.
I groan and lock my fingers on my head, wondering how the hell I’m supposed to navigate this impossible situation. Because the biggest, most dangerous problem of all? I like her. I really like her, which is why all I see when I look at Iris Alexander is the next heartbreak in my life. The next good thing that will get ripped away like everything else. Her world will break me before I even step through the gate. Except, I’ve already stepped through the gate.
I flinch when the door opens and turn my head to find the most beautiful woman in the world framed in sunlight. The vixen is gone from her posture, replaced with concern and curiosity I’m much more accustomed to—and seem to love just as much.
Seriously, is there anything about this girl I don’t like?
“You okay?” she asks, moving inside. “You’ve been gone a while.” She closes the door, and I open my mouth to protest when she waves her hand. “It’s fine. Dad is watching Braydon.”
“Your dad is here now too? Shit.” I run a hand through my hair as I turn to face her.
Her response stalls on her lips, her eyes widening as they run over me. Previous insecurities melt away with every second spent in her orbit. I let her look. I like her looking. Damn, I feel her stare in my bloodstream. It passes from one part to the next, lodging painfully in my groin.
“Geez, Ashton,” she breaths out, approaching me.
Her gaze is still glued to my body, and I shudder through a jolt of awareness. “It’s not even fair how perfect you are.” Her voice is so quiet I’m not sure I was supposed to hear it. I’d snort a laugh at that ridiculous statement if I was sure it was for me.