Call You Mine

by Claudia Burgoa

  I wasn’t thinking.

  It’s just our nature.

  We are each other’s person.

  He can call me at any time with any request, and I’m there for him. That goes both ways.

  The bigger question is, what was he thinking when he agreed to go along with my request? Or when he kissed me? Or when we almost…I swear that felt as if he was about to claim me. There are nights when I wish he had done just that. Other times, I hear a little voice saying, “This is a bad idea. You’re going to lose him.”

  Still, I can’t help but think about the what ifs. I even imagined what he will do to me as things progress between us. We had sex twice when we were young. Both times were sweet. He was so careful. I don’t have any complaints about it. But now, I don’t think I want that gentle, delicate love making guy. I want things to feel real.

  Is it because of my reading material?

  I’ve been reading some erotica as part of accomplishing my list. When I was reading Never Kissed by a Duke—my first erotic literature—I couldn’t help but imagine Beacon as the Duke. During that scene when Antoine was taking Lady Beth in his arms and fusing his lips with hers, the emotions I felt when he kissed me came back in full force, crashing against my chest. They made my pulse accelerate. My core ached with need, just like the narrator described.

  I was agonizing, wanting for Beacon to be close. Oh, how I wished he was sucking on my ample bosom just like the book described. Confession time. I touched myself and came really hard while reading how Antoine drove his hardness inside Lady Beth’s sweet heaven.

  It’s funny how they refer to the privates, but the scenes are so intense I don’t have time to fixate on that. All I want is to reach a high and release some of the pent-up frustration I’ve accumulated since the last time I saw Beacon.

  Now, that’s when a nagging voice comes to play. The one that says, “But Beacon is your best friend. He’s like your brother.”

  But is he really?

  I say it because he is as obnoxious as my brothers. Though my brothers aren’t as caring as he is. Beacon always watches over me, even when I can take care of myself.

  We’ve never lived in the same household as brother and sister. We did as roommates during college. One of Dad’s friends leased us a brownstone in Brooklyn. We treated each other the same way we treated the rest of the guys. That’s not being sibling like, right?

  Am I just finding excuses to justify the lust and forget that we grew up together?

  He nags me like a big brother, but he’s never confirmed my statement that we’re like brother and sister. I should discuss that with him. I would never in a gazillion years flirt with a family member. I flinch in horror.

  I text him. He needs to clarify our non-familial status.

  Grace: Do you ever think of me as your sister?

  Beacon: Never. Why would I do that?

  Grace: I always say you’re like the big brother I never wanted.

  Beacon: And I always have to remind you that I am not related to you.

  I read his text twice. He is right. He always remarks that we’re in no way related. If anyone asks about me, he gives a vague explanation of why I’m with the band. I am a lot of things. His best friend. A family friend. I’m related to his agent. I’m his college roommate.

  I’m the one saying that nonsense since he said, “We’re better as friends.”

  Beacon: I always make that clear. You and I don’t have any familial ties. There’s a huge difference between growing up close and being siblings.

  Grace: Yes, I remember you always denied my statement. Why?

  Beacon: If I had a sister, I would never imagine her naked as I do with you.

  I gasp, staring at the phone. Well, at least I’m not alone in the wanting to do a lot more than kissing department. Again, why did he call it off?

  Grace: You imagine me naked?

  Beacon: Often, and the things I do to you are sinful and hot. I could demonstrate—when we’re ready.

  Grace: Maybe that’s a bad idea.

  Beacon: Hey, I’ll call you later tonight. I’m in the middle of a boring meeting with the fam. Apparently, we’re about to launch a new line of chocolate, and I am the spokesperson.

  Grace: You shouldn’t be texting.

  Beacon: :eye roll emoji: You contacted me.

  Grace: Since when do you answer my texts right away?

  Beacon: Always, unless I’m too busy. Miss you, G.

  I stare at the phone and try to remember the times he ignored my messages. I scroll up and there are barely any unanswered texts.

  Chapter Twenty

  Grace

  The rest of the day goes by quickly. I spend all my afternoon practicing cello. At five, I drive to my parents. Mom invited me to dinner since I’m leaving soon. I’ve yet to tell Dad about my plans. I can see him wanting to move in with me. That’d be the worst idea in the history of the world because he’d be cockblocking me, the same way that Beacon does with almost any guy I date.

  Ugh, the men in my life are infuriating.

  Around eight, I arrive home. I’m about to go to the music room when Leyla, Pierce’s wife, calls.

  “Hey,” I answer. “Are you calling because baby Carter needs to listen to my voice?”

  Her son is the most loving little boy in the world. He’s only eight weeks old, but I would do anything for him. I can spend hours rocking him and singing lullabies.

  She laughs. “He’s too concerned about naps and his formula to think about you. I’m actually calling because Beacon mentioned you’re moving in with us.”

  “Ha, he wishes,” I say, wondering what he told them. “I’m renting a house nearby. Moving is such a broad term, but yes, I’ll be living in Baker’s Creek for a few months.”

  Beacon and I didn’t discuss the length, but I can’t see myself leaving home for an entire year.

  “We are in desperate need of someone to help us with Arden and Carter,” she says. “I was wondering if you could do it for us. In case you’re wondering, Pierce already checked with Jerome Parrish, and he said that family friends are acceptable.”

  “As long as he knows that I am just a family friend.”

  “Afraid to be stuck in Baker’s Creek because you’re the heartthrob’s significant other?”

  “Not again,” I complain, because she, Blaire, and Sophia insist that something is going on between Beacon and me, but we’re in denial. “We’re just friends.”

  Friends who are about to start dating. Friends who kissed with the passion of a thousand suns. Friends who got naked and almost fucked. Should I tell her?

  “That’s not what we heard,” she states.

  I groan. “What do you mean?”

  “Beacon mentioned something about you two finally dating.”

  “Ugh.” I deflate and plop myself on the couch.

  Mozzy leaps onto my lap and rubs his head against my hand so I’ll pet him.

  “He’s helping me with my disastrous dating life,” I clarify.

  She laughs. “Sure, let’s call it that. I’ve never heard about your so-called dating life. Is that even a thing? You two are always together. If not, you’re on the phone texting each other or on a video call.”

  Clearing her throat, she says, “You know, like couples do.”

  The way she says it sounds weird. She’s wrong. We’re not.

  “I thought you wanted me to help you with your baby?”

  Leyla clears her throat. “Yes, I do. Fine. If you want me to lie and pretend that I don’t find that plan ridiculous, I will. You two refuse to face the facts.”

  “There aren’t any facts to analyze,” I argue, but my voice doesn’t come out as strong as usual.

  Should I look more into my friendship with Beac?

  “Ah, to be young and in denial.”

  “No comment.” I huff.

  “I want to believe you. Tell me what you are going to accomplish with this nonsense?”

  I ignore the word non
sense and I tell her all about my brilliant plan. At least it was great when I thought about it. But now it seems like maybe the second worst idea I’ve come up with. The first is asking Beacon to help me.

  “I know a place close to Portland where we can find your toys,” she says. “When are you moving in?”

  “This Friday.”

  “We can go out on Saturday.”

  “But it’ll be in the middle of the crochet festival?” I gasp. “What will the town say if one of you is missing?”

  Baker’s Creek is famous for its ridiculous and outrageous festivals that happen almost every weekend. Don’t get me wrong, I enjoy them. Before Beacon’s dad died, we used to visit the town often just to go around to the vendors. The things they sell are amazing.

  “Well, I need a break after the Yodeling Festival. You should’ve been here to control Beacon. He was singing and trying the instruments in every booth. I don’t think Henry has been that embarrassed in his entire life.”

  I can’t control the laughter as I imagine Beacon being, well, Beacon. He likes to have fun. Sometimes, he seeks attention. Others, it’s just for the laughter. A couple of years ago, we were in Germany during Oktoberfest. It was entertaining to see the man singing, playing, and just becoming part of the festival. However, his brothers don’t understand him. It actually makes them uncomfortable, and that’s something Beacon likes to exploit.

  “Not even after the anal beads incident?”

  Last year, during the Beads and Handmade Jewelry Festival, he made an entire production about using them without lube. Beacon said it was hilarious to see his brothers flustered. The best part was the murderous glares because he was discussing their sex lives in front of the entire town.

  She laughs. “No. It was worse because Beacon carried a microphone and a small portable speaker with him. He made Henry sing.”

  “Please tell me you guys recorded it.”

  “Of course, we did. You know we always find the time to record Henry’s best and most embarrassing moments.”

  “I can’t wait to be there. I feel like I’m missing half of the fun.”

  Sophia keeps telling me that this is better than a reality show. She’s right. I’m tempted to tell Uncle Matt about everything that happens. I bet he’ll be interested in writing and producing a show based on the Aldridge brothers.

  “So, is that a yes, you’ll help us with the kids, and we’re going to an adult store on Saturday?”

  “Yes, to both.”

  “Just don’t bring Beacon along because even though I love that kid, he can be pretty embarrassing.”

  “It’s just when his brothers are around,”—or my father—“But yes, let’s make this a girl’s trip.”

  “And just a piece of unsolicited advice, go and kiss a few more toads before you come to Baker’s Creek,” she suggests. “Or at least go and get yourself a couple of hunk guys to buy your next cup of tea.”

  “I’ll try,” I answer, without disclosing why I wouldn’t do it.

  Leyla is fun. I like her a lot, but we’re not at the point of telling each other our most embarrassing moments. Telling her my plan is more than enough. Heading out to a coffee shop, a bar, or any place where I can meet a guy will bring the same results. A couple of bad dates and one of those men will be saying, “I’m just not that into you.”

  I’m done with the humiliation.

  “Text me when you’re on your way to Baker’s Creek. Sophia and Blaire are excited about this.”

  “I hope you don’t regret it,” I say in a singsong voice. “Say hi to Carter and Arden.”

  After hanging up, I notice Beacon sent me a text.

  Beac: I can’t wait until Friday. I’ll call you before bedtime. Thinking of you.

  We always text, but he’s never told me he’s thinking of me. My heart can’t help but flutter at his words.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Grace

  “I don’t understand why you’re moving to Baker’s Creek,” Dad says, staring at the boxes sitting in the trunk. I’m quite sure he’s thinking about driving my SUV to his house.

  “It’s temporary, Dad,” I remind him.

  I’m outside of the house, packing my car and listening to my father’s latest lecture. He’s not happy with my relocation. Dad’s very protective, but he’s gone from “I’m looking after my child” to “I should build a crystal case and keep her there forever.”

  My grandfathers—Mom’s dads—say it’s karma, and they’re enjoying the show.

  “You need your family with you,” he insists.

  Mom presses her lips together and shakes her head. She’s about to burst into laughter at Dad’s show. This is worse than when I went to college—at sixteen. The only reason he let me go without a bodyguard is because Beacon was going to be there too. Back then, Beac and the guys weren’t famous at all, and they had trained with Dad for a few years.

  “It’s going to be okay, Dad,” I assure him.

  I should remind him that I live on my own. I have traveled around the world without the need of anyone watching over me. Most importantly, I can fend for myself. He’s been teaching me martial arts since I was four.

  “What I don’t understand is why you are doing this.” He looks at the pet carrier Mom’s carrying. “Mozart is not going to like it.”

  Is he for real? He’s using my cat as an excuse. Dad wouldn’t like my answer to his questions. He won’t love it if I say, “Beacon is teaching me to date, and I might even get a few pointers on my sex life.”

  To avoid giving him a stroke, I say, “Mozart travels with me, always. If he had a passport, it’d be filled with stamps from all over the world. Since I don’t have anything to do at least until August, I will help the Aldridges. The stipulations in the will prevent them from hiring a nanny. As a family friend, I can help them with Arden and Carter.”

  “You know, I never liked William Aldridge, but now…” Dad pauses. “So, it’s the kids, and it has nothing to do with Beacon taking a sabbatical effective last week.”

  I arch an eyebrow. “Beac requested a sabbatical?”

  He gives me a sharp nod. “You didn’t know about it?”

  “No. He mentioned taking a break,” I mumble, trying to recall exactly what he said he planned on doing this year. He definitely said he would do whatever he wanted. What he said included a lot of cussing and nonsense that I ignored. “A sabbatical is—he doesn’t plan on doing anything for The Organization?”

  “Exactly, which is why I think it’d be best if you stay with us.”

  “If he wasn’t taking a sabbatical, you’d be okay with this?”

  His lips press together in a slight grimace as he stares at me for several seconds before exhaling harshly and saying, “You need medical attention.”

  My mouth opens, agape. Is he freaking kidding me? I don’t have an argument because he’s absurd. I glance at Mom, who shrugs. Clearly, she’s having too much fun watching her husband be ridiculous. She doesn’t plan to intervene because that will cut the entertainment too soon.

  “Seriously, Dad?”

  “I don’t like this.”

  “It’s just until I find something to do.”

  “I have plenty of stuff in the office,” he offers.

  “If it’s not in the field, I don’t want anything, thank you,” I retort. “You don’t let me work without my team.” I toss my hands up in the air, exasperated. “You are impossible, Father.”

  “Where are you staying?”

  I pull out my phone and show him the house I leased a couple of weeks ago. “It’s close to Tucker’s home and the Aldridge place,” I explain.

  “What happens if you need to go to the hospital.”

  “Just a reminder that Beacon’s brother and sister-in-law are doctors,” I continue and touch my pump. “This gadget is working perfectly fine. If not, you’d receive a message.”

  “Ainse, reason with your daughter,” he says, exasperated.

  I look at Mom and s
ay, “Control your husband, please.”

  “We support you, but why do you have to do this?” Mom’s question is somehow more reasonable than the third degree I’ve been enduring for the past couple of hours.

  I sigh and look over my shoulder because a truck just parked in the driveway. Beacon steps out of it and smiles at me. “Mr. and Mrs. Bradley.”

  Why is he here?

  Well, it doesn’t matter. Since he’s here and he doesn’t care about taking heat from Dad, I throw him under the bus. “I’m also going to live there because Beac is teaching me how to date.”

  My parents look at each other, and their eyes open wide. I’m not sure if it’s because they don’t like the idea or if there’s something more. Mom bursts into laughter.

  “That’s not going to work,” Dad barks. “I forbid it.”

  Beacon snorts. “I’m not sure what’s funnier, your face or Grace’s line, ‘He’s going to teach me how to date.’”

  Dad sighs, relieved because, apparently, I’m wrong. I won’t be getting any dating lessons.

  “You promised to teach me how to date.”

  “No, you wanted me to teach you, and I said, ‘We’re dating.’” He turns to look at my father and says, “By the way, I am dating Grace.”

  “No, you’re not,” Dad growls.

  Beacon grins. “Sure, I am.”

  “We have rules,” Dad argues, and I want to ask what rules he’s talking about because now I’m so confused.

  “I’m not working for you, so they don’t apply to me.”

  I frown. Do we have a no fraternizing policy in place, or is there an unspoken rule within The Organization that says we can’t date?

  Maybe there is one that says, “Grace is off-limits.”

  “I can dismantle your team, then.” Dad is provoking him, and I don’t know why.

  “Sure.” Beacon calls his bluff. “Let me know how that works since my team is taking a sabbatical with me.”

  Dad’s jaw tenses. “You know what that means.”

  “That you can’t boss me around for a year.” Beacon smiles at me, gives me a peck on the lips, and says, “Hi, stranger. I missed you.”