by Kendall Ryan
My cheeks start to warm, and I don’t think it’s from the sun beating in through the huge picture windows. California air or no California air, with the way Asher is squinting those sultry blue eyes at me, I’m not so worried about saying something crazy as doing something crazy.
There’s just one little thing stopping me. And by one little thing, I mean eight little things . . . in the form of Asher’s family members who are probably watching us through the sliding glass door right now.
Heaven help me. This is going to be a long week.
5
* * *
Unicorns, Dad Jokes, and Inappropriate Public Erections
Asher
Balancing a plate of pizza on my knees, I grab a napkin from my aunt Darby as she passes by in a flourish. Dinnertime is a casual affair tonight, and complete chaos, of course. Kids are running through the house playing tag, pizza boxes litter the kitchen island, and the TV is set on a volume only Lolli would appreciate.
“I don’t know. Go ask your uncle Asher,” I hear my cousin Tad say in the other room. It’s a common phrase when I’m in the house.
If I didn’t have such a massive headache right now, I’d be happy to entertain the kids. But the truth is I’m not feeling so hot, and I’m craving peace and quiet. Something I have no chance of getting tonight, by the looks of things.
But mere seconds later, my cousin’s daughter Fable bounds into the room, and all three-and-a-half feet of her is practically vibrating with excitement.
She stops before me with an inquisitive look painted on her delicate features. “Uncle Asher, is the road just a really big sidewalk for cars?”
I shift in my seat, shoving one hand through my hair as I consider her question. “Uh, I guess so.”
She nods, seeming pleased with herself. “I think there was a unicorn in my room last night. I saw sprinkles.”
“That sounds . . . fascinating.” I smile at her, and from the corner of my eye, I can see Bailey watching us from across the room. Her mouth is soft and relaxed, and there’s a warm look in her eyes as she watches me interact with the precocious six-year-old.
“I think my mom was abducted by aliens,” Fable says next, capturing my attention again.
“Why do you think that?” I ask, studying her with a serious expression.
Her blond hair is a wild mess of waves and tangles, and her eyes are bright and curious. “Because. Normally she smells like cheese, and today she smelled like plastic.” Her eyes widen dramatically as they latch onto mine. “It’s weird, don’t you think?”
“Hmm . . .” Before I can even contemplate more of a response than that, she twirls around, spinning quickly, and stops dramatically with her hands on her hips.
“Do you know how I did that? Magic,” she announces proudly. “I’m magical!”
I nod, giving her a big smile. “You are, and you’re also very clever. What other moves have you got?”
Fable thinks it over as her younger sister, Brooke, toddles over to where I’m sitting. She’s two and is as cute as a button, but when she gets close, a terrible smell descends upon us.
“Hey, princess,” I say, patting her head.
She shoves one sticky finger in her mouth, watching me with huge bright blue eyes.
“Hey, Tad,” I call toward the other room. “I think the little one needs a diaper change.”
I hear a muttered phrase I can’t make out, which may very well be one of the made-up curse words Tad’s created to say around the girls, and then he appears, rounding the corner.
“Fable’s got some interesting theories,” I say to him as he scoops up Brooke in his arms.
His nose scrunches as he gets a whiff of what she’s been cooking up. “Yeah. She keeps us on our toes.” Then he lifts Brooke up in the air and grins at her. “Just give this one a few years to master her bowels, and then she’ll be taking over the world too.”
I chuckle and look down to meet Fable’s eyes. “Okay, smart girl. As much as I love listening to your amazing stories, I’m going to spend some time with my friend Bailey, okay?”
Fable nods once and then dashes away. “I’ll save ya a snickerdoodle!” she calls over one slim shoulder without slowing down. She really is a sweet kid.
Bailey grins as I approach, folding her napkin. “You’re good with them.”
I nod. “They’re fun—for the most part. But I draw the line at diaper changes.”
She scoffs, pushing a half-eaten slice of pizza across her plate. “Don’t tell me you’re going to be one of those dads.”
I quickly shake my head. “My own kids? No problem. Dirty diapers don’t scare me. But, hey, I didn’t exactly hear you volunteering to change her.”
Bailey laughs, shaking her head. “Fair enough.”
“How are you holding up?” I ask, meeting her eyes.
Her mouth presses into a line. “I’m fine. I’m more worried about you. All this noise and chatter can’t be easy on you, and I’ve seen you rub your temples a couple of times.”
I give my head a small shake, feeling warmth spread through my chest at the thought of her paying such close attention to how I’ve been feeling. “I’ve been better. You okay with eating outside?”
She nods. “But I don’t think it’s any quieter out on the deck.”
She’s right, of course. The two outside tables are filled with my relatives, eating slices of pizza off paper plates, telling stories and laughing.
“Let’s take our plates and go down to the beach,” I suggest instead.
Bailey leads the way through the house and out the screen door. I grab a beach towel from the basket on the back deck and then follow her down the stairs and onto the sand that feels cool beneath my bare feet. The sun is sinking slowly on the horizon, a lazy orange blob hovering in the distance over the water. Balancing my plate with one hand, I spread out the towel with the other.
“Oh, this is a good idea,” she says, watching me closely before reaching out and taking my plate from me so I don’t drop it on the sand.
I straighten out the towel and grab my plate back from her. “Take a seat.”
“Thanks.” She lowers herself to the colorful towel, folding her legs beneath her.
I join her and take a bite of my pizza. The sound of the waves crashing in the distance drowns out the cacophony of my family’s voices. Ah. Much better.
But our silent reprieve doesn’t last long because two familiar voices approach from the direction of the house.
I turn, and when I spot my sisters, Courtney and Amber, heading our way, I rise to my feet. They squeal when they see me, jogging the last few steps.
“Hey, stranger!” Amber says, throwing her arms around my waist in a hug. Only seventeen months apart, we’ve always been close, but it’s been a while since I’ve seen her. She’s a high-profile marketing executive and lives in New York City where her career is her life.
“Did you guys just get in?” I ask, pulling Courtney in for a hug next.
“Yup,” they confirm in unison.
My youngest sister Courtney is a special education teacher. Since she gets the summers off, she’s usually able to come visit me in Seattle and stay for a week every summer.
The moment their attention swings to Bailey, who has now risen to her feet too, a wide smile takes over Courtney’s face, and Amber looks downright shocked.
I knew my mom told them that I’d be bringing a nurse with me at the team’s insistence. But Bailey, in her cut-off denim shorts and purple halter top that barely conceals her curves, doesn’t look like any nurse I’ve ever seen. The open bottle of beer suspended in midair halfway to her lips might have something to do with it too.
“This is my friend Bailey,” I say, gesturing toward her. “She’s my medical chaperone this week.”
Amber offers her a polite smile, and Courtney pulls her in for a hug.
“It’s so nice to meet you,” Courtney says excitedly.
Bailey’s face lights up with a smile as she returns my youngest s
ister’s hug. “You must be Ashe’s sisters.”
“Yup,” Courtney says, and introduces herself. “I’m the baby of the family at twenty-four.”
“And I’m Amber. Second oldest of the bunch.” She opts to leave out her age, something I’ve found that people over twenty-nine tend to do. “So, you’re a nurse?”
“A doctor, actually. But I’m really here as Asher’s friend. The team is just being overly cautious.”
“So you’re okay?” Courtney asks me, her blue eyes meeting mine with a hint of worry.
“I will be. Trust me, I’ve dealt with much worse.”
The hardest part of my injury, in all honesty, is feeling that I’ve let my team down. They have a game tomorrow, and I’m not sure I can bring myself to watch it without punching something or throwing up from nerves. I hate that I won’t be out on the ice to help them. In a playoff game, no less.
Of course, even if I were still in Seattle, it’s not like Coach would have allowed me at the arena to cheer them on from the bench. Apparently, a loud and noisy stadium with its bright flashing lights isn’t the best place to recover from a concussion. So instead, here I am, on a beach for some rest and relaxation—at least, that’s what it’s supposed to be. Coach doesn’t need to know that, on occasion, my family is even louder and more enthusiastic than a stadium full of rowdy hockey fans.
The four of us settle onto the sand, and I listen as my sisters—well, mostly Courtney—fire off questions at Bailey, which she fields like a pro.
“What’s your specialty?” Courtney asks.
Bailey smiles. “Internal medicine.”
“So, you didn’t actually study sports medicine?” Amber’s eyes narrow the slightest bit.
Retract the claws, Amber. I’m fine. Thankfully, I resist the urge to roll my eyes and maintain my composure. I’m sure Bailey can handle herself around my sisters, no matter how much I want to jump in and come to her rescue.
“No, I didn’t.” Bailey glances at me. “But your brother’s injuries are conditions I’m familiar with. I know all the warning signs to look for, and the complications that can arise. I promise, he’s in good hands.”
Courtney smiles happily at her, and even Amber seems somewhat mollified, leaning back on the sand.
When my baby sister’s line of questioning moves to whether Bailey is single, I decide it’s time to call it a night, and I push to my feet. “I think I’m ready to turn in. We had a long day of travel.”
Bailey stands and dusts the sand from the back of her denim shorts. “It was nice meeting both of you. See you in the morning?”
“We’ll be here,” Courtney says enthusiastically.
Once inside, Bailey thanks Lolli for welcoming her here, and then starts up the stairs.
I grab a bottle of water for myself and another for Bailey, and then say good night to a few of my relatives in the kitchen. Lolli kisses my cheek and shoves two snickerdoodle bars wrapped in paper towels into my hand.
“Bailey is lovely,” Lolli whispers with a wink when I pull back. “She’ll make some lucky guy very happy someday.”
“Uh . . .” I stammer, instantly feeling my pulse thrumming in my throat. “Yeah, she’s cool.”
Lolli’s mouth curves into a smile as she watches me for a second longer while lifting one brow.
NOTE TO SELF: Do not bring a single female friend to a family function ever again, because apparently my relatives have zero chill when it comes to picturing me in a relationship. It doesn’t exactly help my cause that Bailey is stunning and has a personality to match. She possesses a smile that can render anyone speechless, and she just happens to be a freaking doctor.
“’Night, Mom,” I call into the living room where she’s sitting with Steve and my aunt Darby, gossiping about something.
“’Night, honey. I’m so glad you’re here. Make sure you tell Bailey thanks for me.”
“Will do,” I call back.
Climbing the stairs isn’t the easiest thing I’ve ever done. In a graceless uneven hobble, I eventually make it to the top. I head to the end of the hall and consider knocking on Bailey’s door, which has been left open a crack.
With a deep breath, I decide against it. I really do need a shower. Maybe I’ll see if she’s still up when I’m done.
When I finish in the shower, I dress quickly in a clean pair of cotton shorts and a white T-shirt, and then grab the dessert and water bottles I snagged from the kitchen earlier, before padding barefoot across the hall.
After tapping on Bailey’s door, I take a step back and wait.
“Come in,” she calls.
When I enter, her back is turned, and she’s wrestling with the zipper on her suitcase in the corner. My gaze drops to her curvy ass in those denim shorts, and my body reacts to the view, my chest tightening and everything south of my waistband growing heavy.
Bailey turns and pushes a strand of hair from her face. “Hey.”
“Let me.” I place our dessert on the dresser and get to work on freeing the stuck zipper.
“Thanks.”
Once the suitcase is open, I place it on her bed. “No problem. I brought you something.” I tip my head toward the dresser.
“Yum. Thank you. And I should probably ice you before you go to bed too.”
I shift my weight and then sit down on the edge of her bed. “I can do it myself.”
She nods. “Whatever you want. Just want to make sure I’m earning my keep.”
And I want to make sure I don’t have a repeat of this afternoon’s episode, where I almost got a hard-on while she was busy wedging a bag of frozen peas under the edge of my boxer briefs. It wasn’t my finest moment. Thankfully, the chill successfully zapped any misplaced lust I was feeling. Bailey’s here this week to tend to my injuries, not my sorely neglected dick.
“Oh, you showered.” Her gaze roams up to my towel-dried hair. “That sounds heavenly right now.”
“I don’t know what it is about traveling that makes you feel so disgusting.”
With a nod of agreement, Bailey crosses over to her suitcase and begins removing bright articles of clothing—a pink bikini, stacks of T-shirts, and shorts—and places them inside the empty dresser drawers. She sets a tank top and a pair of silky pajama shorts on top of the dresser, making a happy noise as she works.
There’s something I like about watching her make herself at home here. Like she’s breathing life into this room that normally sits empty.
She quickly grabs a handful of underthings—lacy bras and satin panties—and shoves them into the top drawer before sliding it shut. It’s then I realize that maybe I’m intruding. Maybe she doesn’t want me in here, lounging across her bed while she unpacks her underwear.
We’ve traveled together before, and one time in particular comes to mind, last summer when our entire group of friends camped in the San Juan islands. The vivid mental image of her excitedly jumping up and down and grabbing my bicep when we spotted an orca in the bay comes to mind. This is definitely different from camping with a dozen other people, though.
“Maybe I should go,” I say, clearing my throat.
She shakes her head. “Let’s have our dessert first. Then I can shower.”
Bailey retrieves the water bottles from the dresser and tosses me one. It lands on the bed beside me with a soft bounce. Then she brings both snickerdoodle bars over, and after unwrapping the paper towels, sort of measures the bars against each other.
Fuck, she’s adorable.
“Here. You can take the bigger one. You’re practically twice my size.”
I chuckle. “I already had three downstairs. Take whichever one you want.”
Bailey smiles, then helps herself to the larger of the two, which in turn makes me smile. Then we both take a bite as she settles on the bed beside me.
“Oh, these are going to be dangerous.” She moans, closing her eyes.
I lick my lips as I watch her chew, the delicate column of her throat working as she swallows her firs
t bite. I’ll bet her mouth would taste like cinnamon and sugar if I kissed her right now.
Why the hell am I thinking about kissing her? Way to cross the line, dickhead.
It’s day one, and my thoughts are already in the gutter. Owen’s stern warning about behaving myself around Bailey replays in my head, and his fears suddenly don’t seem so far-fetched.
With another small noise of pleasure, Bailey licks a crystal of sugar from her lower lip. I shove the rest of my dessert into my mouth, chew, and swallow it without tasting a thing. I could’ve just eaten a piece of a roof shingle and I wouldn’t have known the difference.
Dragging my gaze away from her mouth, I focus on the abstract painting hanging on the wall across from the bed, bold yellow slashes of paint on a white canvas. I hope Lolli didn’t pay much for that thing. I could recreate it in about three minutes.
Still needing to get my head out of the gutter, I decide to bring up my mother. “My mom said to tell you thanks for being here.”
Bailey finishes her dessert and takes a sip of water. “That’s very sweet of her. Your mom seems really great. Steve too.”
I shrug. “I’ve heard Steve say about six words in as many years, but yeah, he’s nice. He makes my mom happy, and that’s what matters.”
We’re quiet for a moment, and I shift so I’m facing her. “You have everything you need?”
Bailey nods, her wide eyes watching me as I lounge casually beside her.
There’s a moment of hesitation, a moment where I know I should get up from her bed and leave, but I don’t. Or rather I can’t, because Bailey is leaning back on her elbows like I am, mirroring me, and only a foot of space separates her lips from mine. Her gaze drops to my mouth, and my heart rate triples.
My brain is screaming at me, Abort! Abort! So before I do something stupid—like kiss her—I hop to my feet quicker than I should. Wincing at the flash of pain in my groin, I half walk, half limp toward the door.
Bailey gets to her feet and joins me in the doorway. “Sore?” she asks, concern in her voice and in her kind eyes that stare back at me.
Nodding, I lean one hip against the door frame. “I think I’m just tired.”