Head spinning, I watched him for a minute, trying to focus on his words, on what I wanted. What I needed. “Is that another line?” I asked him.
He shook his head. “Lines don’t work with you. I figured that out yesterday.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Where do you expect this to go?”
“Wherever you want it to.” Trent grinned. The confidence and cocky assurance from the first night at the bar was back, and they made me want to slap him almost as much as they made me want to press myself up against him again.
Just go with it.
I usually went for guys who were less ostentatiously hot. The reserved, smart guys. Trent was like sex poured into a pair of jeans, and he was looking at me like I was his next meal. I couldn’t help that I liked it. Maybe just because it was different. “Right now, I have no idea.”
“I guess we’ll have to find out,” he said.
“I guess so,” I agreed.
I don’t have time for anything serious, but wherever this is going, I sincerely hope there’s a bed.
…
“So you’re all hot and bothered, is what you’re telling me?” Amber said, sitting at the desk in her office the next day as I sat across from her, eating lunch and trying to explain what had gone on between Trent and me.
“Yeah, I mean—”
“You want him,” Amber said simply.
“Well, yes, but…” How can I explain all the things making me second-guess seeing Trent again? He isn’t good for me. He made it clear he doesn’t want any responsibilities. “Between telling me how he’s basically trying to avoid taking on an executive role at his dad’s company and assuring me that he’s not looking for a relationship—”
“He’s the anti-Amy.” Amber chuckled.
I put my sandwich down on the paper and thought for a minute. “Right. Exactly. I’m at a place in my life where I need to really get serious and focus—”
“Just for fun,” Amber interrupted, “tell me about a time when you were at a place in your life where you did not need to get serious and focus. Tell me about a time when you were all about the fun.”
I stared at her. “It’s rude to interrupt.”
“Answer the question.”
Irritation unspooled inside me as I searched for a good example of Fun Amy to throw out there for her. “I can be fun.”
She nodded. “For example, that time when you…” She waved her hand for me to continue.
“I don’t need to prove anything here. I thought you were supposed to be my mentor. Guide me, tell me to focus on getting prepared for school.”
“Get prepared by having a wild fling with a ridiculously hot fireman.”
I sighed. “This isn’t helping.”
“Humor me.” She leaned forward with gleaming eyes. “When have you ever had a purely sexual relationship? When have you been in it only for what you could get out of it?”
“Never.”
“Never. That’s my point. Sow some oats. Get your giggles. Insert other ridiculous metaphors that allude to sex here.” She grinned and picked up the pickle that had come with her sandwich, eyeing it speculatively. “Tickle some pickle, Aims.” She wrapped her lips around the pickle and wiggled her eyebrows at me.
“Amber, I…” Dr. Sweeney—Amber’s father, the other doctor in her practice—walked in and stopped in the doorway. He eyed his daughter sucking suggestively on a dill pickle and blushed furiously. “Ah, I see you’re busy.” He turned on his heel and headed back out.
“Aw, crap,” she said, standing and dropping the offending pickle.
“Classy.” I wrapped up my sandwich and stuffed it in my bag.
“Go get some pickle. Tickle the pickle until August and then blow it off. Buckle down when school starts. Live it up this summer and take notes for me.”
“You’re like a thesaurus of sexual clichés.”
“I can’t help it. I have a four-year-old. I talk in euphemism and rhyme, like a sad combination of Dr. Ruth and Dr. Seuss.”
“See you later.” I laughed and headed for the door.
Chapter Five
Trent
I’d been into girls before. But it hadn’t been like this. Amy was different. This wasn’t infatuation. She was a whole other breed of girl. She was serious and focused, driven, and even a little bit dark. There was something inside her that set her apart from all those other women, something compelling. And the more I thought about her, the more I wanted to find out what it was.
It was interesting. And confusing.
But none of that could push away my hesitation as I drove up the long, curving drive to my parents’ house to meet with my dad—and to see Mom and Elyse. I hadn’t talked to Elyse as often as I’d have liked in the past couple weeks, despite my resolution to see her more often. But I would try to change that tonight. If I survived Dad’s inquisition.
“Mr. McNeil.” Nadia, my family’s housekeeper, stepped back to wave me inside the high arched front door. “It’s good to see you.”
I bent down and gave the little old woman a big hug and a kiss on the cheek. She’d been with my family for years now, and I’d grown to like her very much. If anyone here was looking out for my little sister, it was probably Nadia, even if Elyse resented it.
“Your father is in his study, waiting for you.” She laid a small hand on my arm. “Very serious,” she added, nodding and making a stern face.
“Thanks.” I smiled at her even as my guts churned. I’m getting all-business Dad tonight. Fantastic.
I walked through the sitting room and past what my mother called the “music room.” This house still had me shaking my head. They were three people, so I didn’t understand why they needed so much space, unless the whole point was to escape having to actually communicate with or see one another. Dad’s office was at the end of what they called the east wing. The place was like the fucking White House, with wings and their silly music room. No one in our family even played an instrument. It made no sense.
“Hey, Dad.”
“Son.” Dad looked up from his computer screen to greet me and waved a hand toward the cart. “Get a drink.”
I shook my head and took a chair across from him, trying not to feel ridiculous having such a formal meeting with my own father.
But that’s how it was. My family was about appearances and propriety. We behaved as if we were on some stodgy show about rich people.
The notebook the bar manager had given me to bring along sat on my lap, and I was proud of the work we’d done together since Dad’s call. There had been a problem—and we’d gotten to the bottom of it.
“Tell me what you’re doing to fix the issues downtown,” he said. “My guy says the discrepancy is nearly twelve grand. Either you’ve got a hell of a clever skimmer or you’re just a lousy manager.” Dad took a gulp from his glass, his eyes never leaving mine.
Nice. One point for Dad.
This was his style—to call me to the mat and make accusations. He’d done it when I’d worked at his firm that summer, and it had made me both respect him and hate him a little.
I swallowed hard and put the notebook on his desk, opening it to the record of deliveries and dates. “Andrea and I did figure it out.”
“I’ll stop you there.” He dropped his glass to the desktop with a thud. “Did your manager figure it out, or did you?”
“We worked together,” I told him.
“It’s your club. You’re in charge.” His salt-and-pepper hair caught the light reflected from the dual lamps behind his desk. “If this thing turns out to be a big deal, is it your problem or hers?”
“Mine.”
“And who do you want to take the heat for it? You want her fired?”
“Wouldn’t that ultimately be up to me?”
“Just a lesson, son.” His voice softened. “Unless you’re going to blame your employees—and you’d better have solid proof if you are—then you leave them out of the big stuff.”
I nodded. “One of the distribu
tors dropped a delivery. With all the weather in Texas, one of the trucks was three days late. That same truck ended up out of commission in an accident, and in the confusion, they marked all the scheduled deliveries preceding the date of the accident as having been made.”
“Didn’t they notice that the truck was still full to the gills with booze?” Dad rubbed a hand across the back of his neck. Other people’s stupidity drove him nuts.
“Guess not,” I said. “Or if the accident opened the truck, maybe it was empty by the time anyone took stock.”
He shook his head.
“At any rate, the delivery went into our inventory system, but we didn’t actually get it.”
“But you have it now—they’re not making us pay for this stupidity, right?”
“Of course.” The delivery had been accelerated when we’d called about the error, and the liquor had been delivered the next day. “All set now.”
Dad sat up straight. “Was that so hard?” he asked, a smile finally spreading over his face. All-business Dad seemed to be knocking off for the night. “You figured it out. I’m proud of you, Trent.” He stood and came around the desk and clapped me on the back.
My monthly quota of fatherly affection.
“Now let’s go see your mother.” We walked back through the house to the open kitchen where a chef was busily bustling around the shining white space. I waved at her and followed my father to the wall of windows facing the back patio and pool. Mom sat at the glass-topped table, her sunglasses on and a tablet held up before her. Elyse sprawled on a lounge chair in a minuscule bikini, soaking up the very last rays of light.
“Hey, Mom. What’s up, Sis?” I called as we walked out to the patio.
“Trent,” Mom trilled, lifting one cheek up for me to kiss and dropping the tablet to the table.
Elyse lifted one hand in acknowledgment, too absorbed in her phone to actually greet me. I walked straight to her chair and dropped my fingers to her armpits to tickle ferociously.
She shrieked, “Trent! Stop it. I’m not a little kid.” Her hands shot to cover her breasts as her voice ascended into a whine, and her black-lined eyes rolled as she sat up.
“Then you should greet me like an adult when I arrive.”
“Fine,” she said, annoyance making her painted lips thin. “Trent, so lovely to see you. How are you doing?” She affected a fake British accent and overemphasized the word “are,” batting her eyes.
“Nice,” I told her, turning back to the table where Mom and Dad were sitting.
“Your father tells me you’re doing well at work, Trent.” Mom took off her sunglasses and eyed me over the top of her champagne glass.
I accepted the scotch my dad poured for me and forced a smile. By work, Dad definitely meant the club. They both ignored the fact that I did anything else. “Things at the station are going well. I’ve been on a lot of shifts lately, and we’ve been busy. People get stupid with barbecues in the summertime.”
Dad sighed, and Mom forced a pained smile. “That’s nice. But your father says you may be ready to take on more work for McNeil soon,” Mom continued doggedly. Typical. She ignores everything I say that doesn’t serve her purposes and just keeps steering ahead. Elyse had told me she’d huffed to one of her friends that I was too old to be riding around on fire trucks like an overgrown toddler and “playing with hoses.” That one was my personal favorite. The guys at work had gotten a laugh out of it, though it had hurt a bit, too.
“I don’t really have time for more now.” Ignoring the flush of red creeping up my father’s cheeks.
Here it comes.
“You’re twenty-six, son. When are you going to get serious about building a future? A life?”
Mom placed her hand over his as if to calm him and tried a different tack. “You know, I’ve seen Rebecca Stone a couple times at your father’s office lately. She is such a lovely girl. Have you thought about calling her?”
“Why would I call my high school girlfriend?” I asked, being purposely difficult. This is why I don’t come home. “I’m actually seeing someone,” I threw in for good measure.
Elyse’s head popped up over the top of her lounge chair. “Is this the girl with the tongue piercing?”
“Ignore her,” I suggested, giving Elyse a look I hoped would translate to “shut it.”
“Really?” Mom looked suspicious. “Why haven’t we met her? Do we know her parents?”
I shook my head. “It’s new. I’m not ready to bring her around, and, no, you don’t know her parents.” I took a long swig of my drink, focusing on the burn of the liquor instead of my mother’s fiery gaze.
Mom had tried to set me up more times than I cared to admit, and each girl had been more plastic perfect than the last. I didn’t know what I wanted, but she’d given me a good view of what I didn’t want.
At the moment, I was pretty sure I wanted Amy Hodge. She wasn’t just pretty—she was smart and motivated. She was more than sparkle and shine—she was the unmarred diamond underneath. I just wasn’t sure what to do with a girl like Amy…but we could have fun figuring it out.
“Hmm.” Mom seemed to have lost interest, and she turned to my father. “I’m feeling a bit tired. I might go lie down for a bit before dinner.”
“You need to take it easy after your surgery,” he said, patting her hand.
I sat up straighter. “Surgery?” My gaze shot to my mother’s face, suddenly looking at her differently, gauging her color, looking for signs of fatigue or illness. I was so used to taking for granted my parents’ strength and irritating unified force that I tended to forget that they were even human. “Are you okay, Mom? Why didn’t anyone tell me?”
Mom patted my shoulder and sniffed lightly. “That’s sweet, Trent. We didn’t want to worry you.”
Elyse let out a bark of laughter from where she still lay on the lounger, even though the sun had long since set. “They didn’t tell you because it was cosmetic.”
“Oh.” I looked up at Mom, whose chin rose slightly higher as she turned and walked toward the house.
“Your mother had a little work done,” Dad said good-naturedly. “Just a bit of a tuck and lift.”
All the concern that had sparked to life fizzled into a buzz of annoyance, and I sat back in my chair and downed the remainder of my drink.
If I survived dinner tonight, I’d call Amy later.
Chapter Six
Amy
I didn’t give much thought to Amber’s rhyming euphemism about my dating life until later that evening when Trent texted.
What are you doing, gorgeous?
I ignored the phone, turning my attention back to my overlarge glass of Cabernet and the episode of the Vampire Diaries I was watching. I knew I wanted Trent, but I wasn’t the kind of girl who acted on whims. Especially sexual whims. And maybe a sexual fling wasn’t the best plan just before I started med school
But I was tempted. I glanced at my phone when it dinged again.
Trying to resist my charm?
God, he was full of himself. Why did I like it?
I’d love to see you again…
I stared at the phone after that last one. It felt sincere. It almost swayed me to give in. But I waited. When nothing else arrived, I was surprised I was disappointed. But that was what I’d wanted, right? He was probably texting some other girl after waiting five minutes and getting nothing from me. Let her have him. He couldn’t text me at nine o’clock and expect me to jump. He wasn’t what I needed right now, anyway, I assured myself.
Ten minutes later, I had my phone in my hand and was rereading the texts.
Why am I holding out? Amber’s right. I should see Trent because I want to, and because being with him felt good. And when school starts, I can walk away. There’s no danger of getting in too deep with a guy like Trent.
I swallowed hard, picked up my phone, and texted. What’s up, FT?
I stared at the phone for the next five minutes and was about to give up and put it
down when it rang. Trent’s name flashed on the screen, startling me.
“Hello?”
“Hey, you.” I’d almost forgotten how sexy he sounded.
“What are you up to?” I asked. “Breaking hearts at the bar tonight?”
He chuckled, and my stomach tightened, heat pooling low inside me. “I’m not a heartbreaker. I’m just a guy, calling a girl, asking for another date.”
“I think that line has been used.”
“Good lines never go out of style. When can I take you out? A real date this time. Dinner and everything.”
“Um…” I hesitated. What was it they said, make him wait until after the next weekend? Or was it four days? I shook my head, fumbling the phone as I sat up straight on the couch. I wasn’t good at games, because I’d never played.
“Tomorrow?” he suggested, obviously taking my silence as encouragement.
“That works,” I agreed.
“If you weren’t so busy playing hard to get, I’d take you out tonight.” His voice lowered, and something dark and seductive laced the edges of it.
I glanced at the clock. It was nine thirty. “It’s a little late for dinner.”
“Drinks?”
My tank top and sweats combo said no, but the building anticipation inside me said yes please. “I could do that,” I said, remembering the way his lips had felt against mine, his warm hands guiding my waist as he’d pulled me closer.
“I’ll pick you up?”
I gave him my address and hung up, swallowing what was left in my wineglass before I jumped up to change and put on some makeup. I texted Amber and my sister as I waited for Trent to arrive.
Grabbing late drinks with FT. Wanted to let you know my plans in case he kills me or something.
Amber: Always the optimist.
Dani: Go, girl! Have a good time!
You should be proud, Amber. This is me being spontaneous. Having fun.
Amber: I am proud. It’s hard because I’m so jealous.
Dani: Do be careful though, right?
He lives with Rob… You’ll know if he kidnaps me and takes me home to tie me up. BTW, are you staying over there tonight?
I could just imagine running into Dani in the kitchen at Trent and Rob’s place if things went well. Awkward.
Without Promises (Under the Pier) Page 3