by Kylie Walker
Brett
By:
KYLIE WALKER
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher.
Copyright © 2016 By: Kylie Walker
This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance of characters to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. Kylie Walker holds exclusive rights to this work. Unauthorized duplication is prohibited.
Table of Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
BONUS BOOK
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
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Chapter 1
ERICA
I was on top of the world.
Wasn’t that what every girl thinks just after finishing high school? Picking the perfect graduation-day dress, taking a million photos where they photo shop you to within an inch of your life and finally, finally receiving your diploma? There’s nothing better in the entire world. I had survived the toughest four years of my life. Puberty, cheerleading and school pep rallies were all behind me and I was ready for the adult world.
How naïve we all are post-high school. Looking back now, I find it absolutely hilarious that I thought I was an adult. My parents were still making payments on my car, and I hadn’t paid a bill of more than forty dollars for a cell phone in my entire life. I’d never had a job, never dealt with anything more stressful than what prom dress to wear, and I was surrounded by friends and family.
From the way I talk, I’m sure there’s an expectation of tragedy here. Some horrible car crash, house fire or accident that will emotionally or physically scar me for life so I’m emotionally unavailable to everyone for life.
Thank God it was nothing so drastic. Trust me, I can be drama queen enough without any real drama. Heaven forbid I be faced with something I actually couldn’t handle.
I was a well-adjusted nineteen year old girl, and despite being fairly pretty, I was also smart! Suck it, stereotypes. I graduated in the top ten percent of my class and got a full ride to more than one of the schools I applied for, which, of course, elated my parents. After four years of balancing chess club and cheerleading, I was ready to move up into the big leagues, and my dream was…guess.
You’ll never fucking guess.
Want me to tell you why? Because people look at a girl like me and they assume I’m into fashion. Something intricately girly like jewelry-making or even modeling – even though God knows I don’t have the height for that. If someone actually holds a conversation with me, they might assume I’m a bartender (I like beer. A lot) or an accountant. I was good at math, even though I hated every moment of it. Surprisingly enough, the career I wanted was the last one anyone would chose for me. Even my parents were surprised when I told them what route I was taking.
Sports medicine.
Before anyone calls me crazy, let me present the facts: I love sports. Love them. In fact, I was a cheerleader in school simply because it meant free tickets to all the sporting events. While other girls were making faces at the football players and speculating about what they looked like with their jockstraps off, I was busy screaming for our teams to make touchdowns. For football players to stop fucking toying with their opponents and send the forwards in to do their jobs, damn it!
I even got competitive about women’s volleyball, which, when you think about it, was slightly awkward. Those girls were twice my size, and they probably should have flattened me for screaming like I did. Of course, my competitive streak wasn’t at all helped by the fact that my older and only brother had been playing professional for about four years. If anything, his transcendence into the world of professional sports had only increased my obsession. Every time he could get me tickets to games, I went unabashedly. Fuck the mall and fuck the movies. Give me a good, live sports event over any of it, and I will be there.
Anyway, I love sports, and I love athletes, thus my choice of career. More than anything, I hated to see those well-honed bodies injured so badly they had to be carried off the field, and I decided that if it was in my power to help them, I would. Never mind the fact that I would have to go through an extra year of school, or that I needed medical certification – my heart was dead set.
And anyone who knows me knows that my picture is exhibit A in the dictionary next to stubbornness.
But of course, as most of my friends thought I had to be out of my mind, the goal was to have as much fun as humanly possible before I was locked into five years of stressful curriculum.
“You’re doing nothing fourth of July weekend. Nothing.”
I winced at the absolute brutality of Adele’s voice deadpanning from the other end of the line. I was spending a perfectly blissful afternoon in my parent’s house with a pitcher of lemonade in the shortest pair of shorts I owned. My parents had zipped off for a romantic weekend, and with my brother in pre-season training, I had the house all to myself. I didn’t think that sounded too bad.
But my sister in every way but actual blood, Adele, wasn’t having it. “No way, Erica. You have to be kidding me. You’ll be the only one inside for miles!”
“And…that’s a bad thing?” As glorious as the sun could be, in my opinion, air conditioning could be just as sublime.
“The worst. You have to come to this party with me.”
And thus it began. The infamous “You have to…” line. Adele had been using this with me ever since we were kids. ‘Erica, you have to see this cool new shirt I bought.’ ‘You have to try this new ice cream place’. ‘You have to see this concert.’ I had long realized that this was Adele’s subtle way of making sure that I maintained a social life. She always teased me about studying too much – and as she was actually my cousin and our parents were always throwing us together, she got away with it.
And she was probably going to get away with it this time.
Call me a sucker – I bit.
And that was how I ended up in Cali two days later with Jenny, one of my best friends, in tow. She had, of course, been thrilled at the prospect of a party. I could hear her throwing stuff into her overnight bag before I had even finished telling her the details. The trip from Vegas to Mission Hills only took about three hours, and with Jenny keeping me company, the time flew by. We spent the whole time in a haze of anticipation – according to Adele, she had a connection with one of the richest families in Mission Hills and their oldest son, Brett, was holding the Fourth of July party to end all Fourth of July Parties.
Sounded to me like a drunken college frat event waiting to happen, but there were bound to be one or two people there I could connect with. Besides, the allure of a good party wasn’t too hard to ignore. I was sure there would be lemonade at Bret
t’s party too –and if we were lucky, his hoity toity family might even have air conditioning.
Well, it turned out they had all that and a hell of a lot more.
The moment we arrived at the address, I felt my eyes bugging out of my head. The manor was a huge house, situated against one of San Diego’s many massive lakes on a tremendous hunk of property. The neighborhood of Mission Hills was likewise dotted with other houses that looked like they could fit three or four of the family bungalow I had grown up in.
Jenny whistled as we slid from the vehicle, taking in the immaculately manicured lawn and the Mercedes in the driveway. “Adele wasn’t kidding, was she?”
“What?” I gazed up at what I was pretty sure was the third floor of the impressive house. “About the party or feeling like we aren’t worthy?”
Laughing, the red-head gazed back at me before straightening the white crop top she wore over her milky, flat, freckled belly. No matter how obsessed Jenny was with getting a tan, they never seemed to stick. That never kept her from trying though, and on that day, we were going to get an amazing opportunity.
Of course an amazing house like this one had an immense pool and, according to Adele, said pool was going to be in full use for the party. Already, we could hear the sounds of splashing and revelry that promised that this was going to be a night to remember. I could only hope that Adele kept her promise and met us at the door. It was going to be hell explaining who we were to a stranger.
On the way to the door, I texted Adele to let her know we’d arrived – and the moment I gave her the ok, Jenny rang the bell. She was bouncing around like a freaking four-year-old, reminding me how much of a difference a year age gap could really make, and I elbowed her gently in the ribs. She managed to stick her tongue out at me before the grandiose French double doors creaked open.
I have to admit that, despite the huge house, immense lawn and expensive cars, the thing that most bowled me over about the place was that a maid opened the door. In a black dress and apron. We aren’t quite talking French here – the woman looked well into her middle ages – but still, there was a goddamn maid.
The dark-haired woman smiled invitingly at us. “Welcome. The party’s in the back yard. If you’ll just follow me-”
“Who is it, Melanie?”
From just off to the right, a shaggy head of mahogany hair popped up behind the maid – Melanie – and she whirled, clutching a hand to her chest. “Brett!” Without hesitating, she smacked the tall figure who had scared her on one brawny shoulder, scowling in mock affront. “Stop that!”
“Is it my fault you’re so easy to scare?” Leaning down from his substantial height, the dark-haired prankster planted a loud kiss on Melanie’s cheek.
And I found myself suddenly, inexplicably, blazingly jealous of her – because Brett was the hottest thing I’d ever laid eyes on.
I was used to hanging around jocks. I was surrounded by them for my entire high school career. As a result, I considered myself pretty immune to their many questionable charms. After losing my virginity to one and discovering that they were all talk, I had adopted a firm ‘look but don’t touch’ policy.
One that I was very…firmly reconsidering at the sight of Brett.
He was obviously an athlete- that much was easy to tell from the broad, muscular shoulders squeezed into an itty bity white t-shirt and the impressive biceps to go along with them. But add to that a shaggy crop of dark-hair framing his face, piercing, deep chocolate eyes, a day’s worth of stubble and a height well over six feet? The guy was panty-wettingly gorgeous – any woman with eyes could see that.
And, of course, seeing as how Jenny had a perfectly stunning set of baby blues herself, she was drooling right alongside me.
Brett – who I quickly remembered was our host – ran a hand through his hair, leaning against the door frame as the maid shuffled off. His lips quirked into a pure, virile smile that made my knees weak and had me thanking God I was wearing a swimsuit instead of actual panties. Panties would be no force against this man. “And who might you ladies be?”
Shit.
Shit.
I was so goddamn enchanted by the man that I forgot that I didn’t actually know him – or anyone else at this party, for that matter, except Adele – and she was obviously nowhere to be found.
Which meant I was completely screwed.
Chapter 2
BRETT
I was so fucked.
Don’t get me wrong. I’m usually confident around girls – overly confident, even. I’ll be the first person to admit that I should probably tone my ego down a notch, and all my siblings would firmly agree. In fact, they would agree with me to the point of taking me down a few notches in front of whatever lovely lady I’m impressing.
Luckily enough, for the moment, both of them were off doing their own things.
Which left me blissfully engaged with the dark-haired, blue-eyed goddess standing on my doorstep.
Of course, she had a friend with her. Women tend to travel in groups, and this was no different – and the friend was pretty too. A pale-skinned red-head with wide blue eyes that set off her freckles. But she wasn’t my type. No, my type was more long-legged, tanned skinned and blue-eyed. More brunette, full lipped and exactly like her friend, who I found, to my chagrin that I didn’t know. Not that that was terribly unusual. We threw this little shindig e very year and there was always, inevitably, someone I didn’t know. Friends invited friends invited friends. But at that particular moment, I wished I knew exactly who the gorgeous vixen standing next to her equally unknown redheaded friend was.
Fortunately for me, I was spared the embarrassment by Adele –who seemed to know every fucking body, no matter how many people we invited.
“Erica, Jenny! I’m so glad you made it!” With a gigantic grin, the blonde pushed past me to envelop first the brunette, and then the redhead in warm embraces. Adele, as always, was flanked by at least five guys standing off to the side, waiting for a chance at her. I shook my head at the poor bastard’s plights as they looked her up and down. The blonde was indeed a sight to behold in her sky-blue bikini, tanned skin gleaming from her dips in the pool. I had to admit that if she weren’t one of my younger sister’s best friends and a pain in my ass, I might have been interested. Adele was cute, but a little to flip for me – and she’d made it perfectly clear that she had no interest whatsoever in my shenanigans.
But she knew the hot brunette – and that meant that she was my in.
“You gonna introduce me to your friends, Adele?”
“Actually,” The blonde turned with a playful smirk, “I’d much prefer to watch you gape like an idiot at all the bare lady flesh.” She winked at me and I suppressed a groan. Adele was a revolving door of verbal delights, and it was clear that I was going to have to wade through them if I wanted my introduction. The blonde made a show of planting a kiss first on the brunette’s cheek, and then the redhead’s, before sliding slender arms around their shoulders to lead them back into the house.
My house, which, luckily for me, Elisa had given her the run of. I was going to kill the little goob – in my opinion, a sixteen year old didn’t have any business with eighteen year old friends anyway.
As Adele led the ladies into the house, I closed the door behind them like the gentleman I was and followed the three from the foyer down the hall towards the backyard. The sounds of the party reached us almost immediately. Splashing, revelry and laughter – everyone was having a good time; from my sister’s friends who, no, were not allowed to drink, to those that were bending the rules and those like me who were actually legal enough for a beer or two. Just five minutes ago, I’d been eager enough to get back to them, but now my eyes were locked on the newcomers - especially the way the brunette’s magnificent behind looked in the denim shorts she wore.
Usually, if I was going to stare so openly at a woman, I’d at least know her name, but I found myself at a loss here. So instead of
merely giving up – which might have been the smart thing to do – I went with the more adventurous path. Grabbing two cans of coke out of a cooler just inside the veranda, I offered them to the girls – the picture of a perfect host. “Sodas, ladies?”
Adele opened the door to the crowded backyard before turning with a low laugh to finally address me. “If you want something Brett, go for it like a man.”
Goddamn her. I was smooth with a certain amount of preparation, but of course Adele would put me on the spot. Granted, I didn’t think I’d been so anxious to talk to a woman since the onset of puberty, and, whatever her intentions, Adele wasn’t going to mess that up for me. “Alright then: Won’t you introduce me to your friends, my fair lady?” I bowed low – low enough to press one of the frigid coke cans I held against the side of Adele’s bare belly so she squeaked. Straightening quickly, she swiped the coke to crack it open and take a long swallow, torturing me.
Or maybe I was torturing myself. I didn’t even know the gorgeous girl before me and already, I was imagining what I might do to her if I got her alone. She had curves that just wouldn’t quit, all that silky, dark brown hair framing her face and those eyes – eyes that looked at me with equal parts intrigue and mischief. I wanted to get into whatever trouble she might be thinking of, no holds barred. Run my hands over all that tanned, smooth skin, let silky hair slide through my fingers and taste her from her mouth to the choicer parts of her…
“Brett,” I snapped from my reverie when Adele spoke again – this time with a very visible smile of triumph, “This is my cousin Erica and her friend Jenny.”
And just like that: there it was. Erica.
Was it shitty of for me to only want her more now that I knew her name? Probably – but who was keeping score?
“Nice to meet you.” I reached out to take Jenny’s hand first, but when I turned to Erica, you can bet your ass my hand lingered just a bit longer on hers. It wasn’t as soft as Jenny’s - a little calloused, even. I wondered if she did sports.