Crossing the Line

by Kendall Ryan

  “You don’t have to be a tough guy around me,” she says softly, placing one hand on my chest. “You have to tell me when you hurt so I can help you.”

  “I know,” I say, my voice deep, husky.

  “Let me tape it up for you tomorrow.”

  I nod. “Okay.”

  Bailey gives me a look, a mothering type of expression that says you’re in a lot of trouble. Definitely not one that screams I want you to kiss the hell out of me.

  Noted.

  “Make sure you ice it.” Her voice is stern. “At least twenty minutes.”

  “I will. Good night.” With a deep breath, I shuffle across the hall to my room and fall back onto the bed.

  When I break a cold pack in half and shake it to activate the dry ice, my dick is more than half hard. And even when I shove the ice pack into my underwear, it doesn’t let up.

  Awesome.

  Real fucking awesome.

  Being here with Bailey in such close quarters is messing with my head, more than I thought possible. Watching her interact with Lolli. Defending herself to Amber, and promising that I’m in good hands. Looking after me. Fuck, offering me the bigger of the two desserts.

  I don’t know what’s happening to me, but it’s obvious something is.

  Even though my body’s enthusiastic response has yet to fade, I’m too tired to jerk off, which is saying something, because it’s normally a nightly occurrence. Maybe this concussion is messing with my head more than I thought.

  Sighing, I grab the pill bottle from beside my bed and shake a couple of painkillers into my mouth, then swallow them without water, grimacing at the bitter taste left in my mouth.

  Then I close my eyes and drift off into a restless sleep, wondering what Bailey would have done if I’d leaned over and kissed her.

  6

  * * *

  Geronimo

  Bailey

  After four years of nonstop work and study, I almost forgot what it’s like to just relax. But today, I’m getting plenty of practice.

  Despite my best efforts to help out around the house, everyone has been insistent that taking care of Asher should be my only concern and focus this week. When I volunteered to help Lolli and Tess prep sloppy joes for lunch, they shooed me out of the kitchen, insisting that I should go check on Asher’s leg again, or see how his head is feeling. It’s like they don’t want me to leave his side.

  And for the most part, I haven’t. Asher and I have passed the morning and the better part of the afternoon lounging in the backyard, only getting out of our lawn chairs to move them when we’re no longer in the shade. We’ve done so much sitting around today, that my chair will probably have a divot in the shape of my backside when I finally get up.

  “Do we get to do this all week?” I push my sunglasses down my nose to look Asher in the eye, but he’s busy applying a thin coat of sunblock. I get momentarily distracted, watching his bulky muscles flex as he rubs the cream over his sculpted shoulders.

  “Ty will probably insist on us going surfing at least once. And the girls usually go shopping at some point. But, otherwise, you’re looking at the extent of a Reed family reunion.” He stretches his arms wide, gesturing to the beauty that is our current situation.

  “I don’t know about surfing.” I give him a pointed look.

  He waves me off. “Trust me, it’ll be little more than me paddling around on a board looking like an idiot while my cousins tease me for being lame.”

  I nod, and then look around, enjoying the feel of the sunshine on my skin.

  The pool is packed with little ones, the sky doesn’t have a single cloud, and we’ve got zero obligations. Perfect.

  I’m not sure if I expected his family to treat him any differently because he’s a pro player in an elite sport, or because his talents earned him a multi-million-dollar contract, but that’s the last thing they do. To everyone, Asher is just a member of the family. A brother, a son, a grandson. My heart warms at that realization.

  He’s still expected to clear his plate from the table and take out the garbage when it’s full. There’s no one pulling him aside to ask for money, and no one requests an autograph on a T-shirt for their friend’s coworker’s son. I’m pleasantly surprised by this. To be made a celebrity in your own family would certainly be exhausting. Asher came here for some downtime and to heal, and I’m happy to see that is exactly what he’s getting.

  To that end, they also don’t seem overly concerned with his injuries. His mother asked me about them in the bedroom when we first arrived, but it was with the nonchalance of someone inquiring if the peaches were ripe at the farmers’ market. I’m guessing it’s because she’s seen her son injured many times over the years, and worse than this at some point. It’s kind of refreshing being here—where everyone behaves like adults, and there’s no gossiping or judgment. I can’t say the same would be true in my own family.

  I could spend the entire week planted in this chair and not regret a single moment of it.

  Oh, relaxation. How I have missed you.

  “Mind if we join you?” a voice asks over my shoulder.

  I turn to find Asher’s sisters pulling up lawn chairs. “The more, the merrier, Courtney and Amber.” I’ve been making a point to use people’s names as much as possible to commit them to memory.

  Thank you, med school, for making me a pro at memorizing things quickly.

  I’ve been silently quizzing myself all day, saying people’s names in my head every time they walk past me to take a dip in the pool or run inside for a snack. Tyson is the one with the scruff, whereas Mack is clean shaven. S for silent is also S for Steve, Tess’s incredibly quiet hubby.

  I wrap up yet another round of the “Name That Person” exam as Courtney and Amber set up their chairs, but when I look over to the steps of the porch, an unfamiliar face is heading our way. This must be my extra-credit question. Whoever she is, she’s wearing a sunny yellow dress that hugs the roundness of her baby bump, the size of which, by my estimate, should put her well into her third trimester.

  Not that I’ll be the first to bring that up.

  I live by the rule of never mentioning a woman’s pregnancy until she or someone else brings it up first. It’s the best way to avoid accidentally asking someone when her due date is, just to find out she’s bloated from eating one too many snickerdoodle bars. Trust me, I’ve heard the horror stories.

  When Asher spots our new guest, his face lights up and he springs out of his chair, running toward her with the enthusiasm of a golden retriever chasing after a ball. I have to admit, it’s pretty freaking adorable.

  “Holy sh—shiitake mushrooms.” He barely catches himself, mindful of the audience of young ears nearby as he pulls our newest guest into a massive hug. “I didn’t think you were coming, Nora!”

  I mentally place the name. Nora. This must be Asher’s oldest—and very pregnant, due any day—sister.

  “Watch the bump, watch the bump!” She wiggles her way out of the hug, one hand protectively on her round belly. “The more you squish the little devil, the more he or she kicks like a soccer player with something to prove, and he or she is running out of real estate in there as it is.”

  Bingo. That’s a green light on the baby talk.

  “And that’s exactly why I didn’t think you’d be here,” Asher says, giving her baby bump a gentle apology tap. “It can’t be easy to travel when you look like a balloon about to pop.”

  Nora rolls her eyes. “Gee, thanks. That makes me feel great about how I look.”

  “You know what I mean.”

  “And you know that I wouldn’t miss a chance to see you for anything in the world, ready to pop or not. So, here I am. Todd is inside unpacking, if you want to go say hi.”

  Asher’s smile creeps up to his eyes. “Heck yeah. I need to throw my swimsuit on anyway. Do you want anything while I’m inside, Nor?”

  “What I want is a beer,” she says with a laugh. “But what I need is something to
eat. Could you grab me whatever leftovers are in the fridge? The snack I ate on the drive isn’t cutting it.”

  As Asher bounds up the wooden steps and into the house, Amber hops out of her lawn chair so her pregnant sister can sit.

  “So, how are you feeling, Nor?” she asks.

  Nora responds with an enormous yawn. “Tired, obviously. And hot. Being pregnant in the summer is tough.”

  “But how is it being pregnant? Is it magical? Tell us the truth,” Courtney says with a wistful sigh and stars in her eyes. I can tell she’s the romantic of the group.

  Nora heaves out a long sigh. I have little doubt that she’s about to drop a truth bomb on us, and I kind of already love her. “I can’t get comfortable enough to sleep for longer than ten minutes at a time. I have terrible heartburn. I always have to pee. All. The. Time.”

  “Hang in there, sis. It’ll all be worth it,” Amber says, the more practical of the two.

  Nora rolls her eyes dramatically. “That’s what they keep telling me.”

  I decide against adding my own commentary. I highly doubt Nora would appreciate knowing about hemorrhoids or preeclampsia or any of the other horrible things that can happen to pregnant women.

  “Anyone know how to make this kid come sooner?” Nora asks after a moment of silence.

  “Ask Bailey,” Courtney says. “She’s a doctor.” She wiggles her eyebrows in a way that I know I’ll read into later.

  Nora looks confused for a moment before a flicker of recognition sparks in her eyes. “Right, you must be the medical supervision the team required for Asher. Mom mentioned that.” The lawn chair squeaks as she leans forward to shake my hand. “Good to meet you, Dr. Bailey.”

  “I’m not quite Dr. Bailey yet,” I admit. “I still have my residency left before I’m done with medical school.”

  “She’s going to be an intern,” Courtney says.

  “An internist,” Amber says, correcting her.

  “Whatever. Same difference.”

  A collective laugh bubbles out of all of us, and for a second, I feel like I know what it’s like to have sisters.

  “So, what’s your story, Bailey?” Nora asks.

  “I just accepted a position in Seattle, but it doesn’t start for a couple of weeks. I’ve been friends with your brother for a while now, and so when he needed the help, I wasn’t about to pass up a free trip to the beach.”

  She nods. “That’s cool. I know my mom and Lolli are over the moon that Asher was able to come.”

  “It’s been a blast so far. I’m an only child, so being around a big family is a treat.” I watch another kiddo jump into the pool.

  “Hopefully you’re able to relax a little too. I can’t imagine your schedule allows for a lot of that,” Nora says.

  “Hear, hear.” I lift my bottle of water in a toast.

  Grinning, I look out at the kids splashing in the pool. Fable, the spunky little blonde who was running all of her best theories past Asher yesterday, has appointed herself the only judge of a cannonball contest. She’s sitting poolside with her tiny toes in the water, shouting out scores as the other kids take turns jumping off the diving board. Dressed in denim shorts and a slouchy white V-neck, I’ve been careful to stay out of their splash zone.

  “There’s always room for one more in the family, you know,” Courtney says, abandoning all attempts at subtlety. “So, have you and Asher been strictly friends all this time?”

  “Did I just hear my name?”

  Asher reappears with a pile of potato chips and a sloppy joe on a paper plate, which he passes off to Nora. His mom and cousins are following close behind him, but I hardly notice. I’m a little too focused on the shirtless Greek god of a man standing in front of me, his black swim trunks hanging temptingly low on his trim waist.

  It’s said that humans only use a tiny portion of their brains. If that’s true, 99 percent of mine is focused on Asher’s deliciously sinful body. Six-pack abs. Broad shoulders. Trim waist. Perfectly disheveled hair. A playful smile that suggests he’s always down for some mischief.

  God, why does he have to be so freaking attractive? And why did I elect to come on this trip when I’m so sex-deprived? For a smart chick, I can be pretty freaking stupid sometimes.

  It’s not like I haven’t seen Asher shirtless before. Last summer, when our friend group went camping off the coast, I think we spent at least half the trip in swimsuits. Not to mention our awkward moment at the Ice Hawks’ charity calendar shoot. Even though I have nothing but fond memories of that day. Rubbing oil on his sculpted chest wasn’t exactly a hardship.

  Looking at him now, where I’m close enough to count each muscle in his six-pack, I can honestly say he looks more rugged and muscular than any male model I’ve seen in a magazine ad. And those pictures are photoshopped. Asher is the real deal.

  “Well, if you’re going to talk about me while I’m gone, you’d better at least tell me what you were saying.” He reaches to snag a chip off of Nora’s plate, but she slaps his wrist away.

  “We were just telling Bailey about your famous cannonball,” Amber says, obviously improvising. “How you used to be able to splash Mom through the kitchen window if she left it open. Remember that?”

  “I certainly remember,” Tess says, rolling her eyes at her son.

  He responds with a cocky grin and pretends to brush the dust off his shoulders. “Not my fault I have the best cannonball in the game.”

  Seconds later, Fable, who must have the hearing of a bat to have picked up on our conversation, is scampering over to us, leaving tiny wet footprints along the concrete behind her.

  “Uncle Asher, Uncle Asher! You gotta be in the cannonball contest!”

  She’s flailing her arms in excitement, but Asher doesn’t meet her level of enthusiasm. In fact, his cocky stance melts into a more sheepish one as he rakes his fingers through his hair, looking apologetically down at little Fable.

  “Not this year, princess.”

  She stamps one foot. “Why not?”

  “Because I don’t want to. Plus, I bet Dr. Bailey wouldn’t want me to do that with my bad leg, right, Bailey?”

  When he glances my way with pleading eyes, looking for backup, I just shrug. “One jump in the pool isn’t going to make or break your recovery.”

  “Seeee? Please, Uncle Asher?” Fable pushes out her lower lip and bats her big blue eyes. “Just one time? For me?”

  Asher gives me a thanks for nothing look.

  Nice try. I’m on Fable’s side with this one.

  “What? Are you all talk and no walk?” I say, taunting him. “I thought you said you had the best cannonball in the game.”

  Not one to back down from a challenge, he removes his watch and places it on the table, then looks at me with a devilish glint in his eyes. “Do you have your phone on you?”

  I pat my empty pockets. “It’s in my room. Why?”

  He doesn’t answer. He just prowls toward me.

  When it finally dawns on me what’s about to happen, Asher’s hands are already gripping my waist, scooping me up out of my lawn chair and tossing me over his shoulder, fireman style.

  “No-no-no-no-no!” I half laugh, half squeal, kicking my feet in protest.

  But it’s too late. We’re already barreling toward the pool, and a second later, he yells out “GERONIMO!” and makes the plunge.

  Everything is a blur of blue—first the sky, then the water as we break through the surface, creating a splash big enough to make a tidal wave feel insufficient. And when we emerge, laughing and gasping for air, I’m instantly swimming in the cobalt of Asher’s eyes. He shoots me the proudest smile, not for a second loosening the grip he has on my hips.

  “Gotcha.”

  His voice is so husky and sweet, it sends a tremor right through me. Maybe it’s just the shock of the cold water to my system, but all my nerves are suddenly hyperalert to every flex and shift of his muscles beneath my fingertips.

  For a perfect moment, it’
s just him and me, bobbing with the give and take of the water, laughing and holding each other tightly with no intention of letting go. His gaze moves to my mouth, and my heart pounds hard and fast. There’s an instinct, a stirring in the pit of my stomach, telling me I should lean in and kiss that cocky grin right off his mouth.

  But then the universe reminds me why I can’t.

  A sweet, squeaky little voice calls out our score, a made-up number somewhere in the zillion-billion-trillion range, and pulls me back into reality. And here in reality, cannonball contests are a spectator sport, and Asher’s entire family is watching as his volunteer nurse has her hands all over his half-naked body.

  “I, um, need to dry off.” I reluctantly let go of the world’s hottest flotation device and kick furiously toward the ladder. There are too many eyes on us, and I need to remove myself from this situation before everyone sees me blush.

  Thankfully, Tess passes me a towel the instant I’m out of the pool, which I wrap around my torso. I’m not trying to be the sole participant in a wet T-shirt contest, and no one needs any more reasons to stare right now.

  Dodging the looks from Asher’s family, I excuse myself and head inside to go change into something dry. Once I’ve wrangled my wet hair into a messy bun and swapped my wet clothes for dry ones, I head down to the kitchen to find a glass of water. What I find instead is Lolli, mixing a pitcher of some yellowish concoction with a long wooden spoon.

  “Quite the splash you made there.” She gives me a knowing smile over her shoulder as she pulls two glasses down from the cabinet, filling both to the brim with whatever she’s been mixing. “You look like you could use a drink of Lolli’s special juice.”

  She nudges one glass toward me. Although I usually prefer beer to mixed drinks, I raise it to my lips.

  Holy cow, a little goes a long way with this stuff. This has to be one part pineapple juice to three parts vodka, with Lord knows what else thrown in. I must not have much of a poker face, because Lolli gets a kick out of my reaction to her cocktail.