by C. M. Owens
She sighs while taking a napkin and wiping her lips, trying to get rid of that terrible shit I’ve hated all night.
“Dear God. We’re not together,” she growls, walking away from all of us.
“What the hell was that about?” Wren asks, glaring at me like it’s my fault.
Drama. Drama. Drama.
“Hell if I know.”
“This is the part where you go find out,” he prompts, giving me a shove in the direction that Brin went.
“You heard her. We’re not together. That’s boyfriend shit.”
He continues to glare at me like I’m an idiot, but I return the glower. “You’re making her feel like she’s not good enough,” Ash says, interrupting the stare down.
Fuck. “All I did was invite her here with me. She said yes. I’ve done nothing but—”
“Exactly,” she interrupts, looking so damn smug. “You’ve done nothing. You probably haven’t even told her what you expect from all of this. If you fuck someone you’re friends with, you have to talk to them. That’s how it works. Now go talk to her.”
***
BRIN
I would cry if it wouldn’t give me away. Why do I want to cry? I never cry—unless big, stupid, confusing idiots fix my car. Why won’t everyone just butt out of our business?
I contemplate calling a cab, and I even pull out my phone as I stare out at the ocean. My face is mostly clean now. I just spent ten minutes trying to scrub off the pounds of makeup I put on.
What was I thinking?
I know exactly what I was thinking. I tried to convince myself that I could get the Sterling sparkle through makeup, hair, and clothes. It doesn’t work that way. I looked exactly the same, only I looked like the girl playing dress-up, and Leah called me out on it.
I still can’t believe I slapped her. But when she chased me, yelling over the music that Rye had no standards, that he was a horny dumbass with no brains, I couldn’t help myself. I could deal with her slamming me, but my temper exploded when she started badmouthing him. I deserved what she said about me, because I stopped being me tonight.
I’m trying to convince the world that it’s okay for Rye—a guy who couldn’t be sexier if he tried—to want me. Why am I doing this to myself? What am I doing with him? This isn’t me.
“You going to keep hiding? If so, can I hide, too?” Rye asks from behind me, and I laugh humorlessly while dropping to the sand. I waited too long to call a cab. Just my luck.
“It’s a public beach,” I say through a sigh. “It’s hard to hide out here.”
He smiles tightly while coming to drop down beside me. “The new will wear off and they’ll start talking about something other than us. They’re just excited right now.”
This isn’t the conversation I expected. It’s actually completely different, and I almost kiss him to thank him. But then he opens his mouth again.
“Brin, I want to be honest.” Bubble is popping, reality is coming, and humiliation is waiting to pounce. “I don’t want a relationship. I really like this thing between us and how great yesterday was, but I keep things simple. I don’t think you want something simple. You deserve a hell of a lot more than that.”
Oh. That’s the conversation I was expecting. And it sucks a lot worse than I thought it would. But I prefer the hard, cold, brutal truth, no matter how ugly it is.
“It’s fine, Rye. You can be honest. Don’t start trying to spare me by building me up and putting yourself down. I hate that speech. You keep acting as though I’m going to break every time someone makes me feel small, but I won’t. Never have. Never will. So stop.”
He smiles at me, and then he leans over and kisses me. He’s so damn confusing. His lips work against mine for a moment before his tongue slips in, and then he starts pulling me onto his lap.
“You think I’m lying?” he asks, slowly sliding the bottom of my dress up enough to put his hands on my ass.
Since I’m wearing the thongs, his hands find my skin, and I almost moan.
“I think you’re trying to keep me from getting my feelings hurt. Just like you always do. It’s sweet, but unnecessary.”
His tongue slips between my lips again, and he pulls me tighter to his body. “I’m not lying,” he says, barely parting his lips from mine. “I’m not sparing you. I’m telling you the truth. I’ve never done the relationship thing, and to be honest, I never cared. But you... I wish I could be that guy. I’ve been struggling with what to do all day.”
He takes a deep breath as his hand go to my hair, his fingers tangling in the threads, and his eyes study mine. Then he continues.
“But I’ll fuck up. I know I will. And then I’ll lose you. And I really, really like having you around. So I don’t want to make promises I can’t keep and have you hate me when I fuck up. I’m simple. You’re the girl who wants it all, and you sure as hell deserve it, Brin. I’m just not that kind of guy.”
He starts kissing my neck, contradicting his words. I can’t tell if he’s dumping me or begging me to tell him what he wants to hear. And he frigging claims to be simple.
So I do the only thing I know to do. I lie my ass off.
“I never had the chance to have fun, Rye. That’s all I want to do. I’ve only been divorced for a year, and I got married young. I’m not looking for a serious relationship. Have I said anything like that to you?”
He pulls back and stares me in the eyes again as he studies me under the moonlight.
“Are you being serious?” he asks after an eternity of silence.
“Very,” I lie again.
His lips almost bruise mine with the next hungry kiss, and my hands go to his hair. I’ve just thrown my heart into a blender. It won’t be long until the button is pressed and my heart is pureed. But I can’t just stop. Not when I’ve never felt like this with someone.
I don’t feel used. I don’t feel like a disappointment when he’s with me. And I don’t feel like the girl someone is passing the time with.
Even if it’s just an illusion, it feels like he wants to be with me as much as I want to be with him. And it’s hard to let go of something that I’ve always wanted to feel.
“Can we get out of here?” he asks, breaking the kiss and breathing just as heavily as I am.
“Please.”
He starts to stand, but stops, pulling me back down as he tugs at my dress. “And, Brin, don’t do this again.”
I have no idea what he’s talking about. “Don’t do what?”
“This. The hair, the lipstick, the dress you don’t really want to be wearing. I prefer the real Brin.”
That’s a relief, because I’m not overly fond of the fake Brin. I notice he doesn’t say anything about not wearing the slinky panties again, but I can give him that. Especially since I actually enjoy feeling his hands against my skin.
“I prefer being the real Brin. I just knew everyone else would be questioning why you were here with me. Just like Leah did.”
He runs his fingers over my arms, dragging them up and down in practiced motions.
“That’s bullshit. You’re beautiful when you’re just you.”
Okay. So that just makes it all worth it. I really don’t think anyone has ever called me beautiful, and I know I look like a dork grinning right now.
He smiles as he stands up and pulls me to my feet, but as we walk away, my lie sinks in. I just told him I didn’t want anything but fun. Then again, life is nothing but a series of settlements.
I can settle for being his no matter how brief it is. As long as it’s just me.
“I only have one rule,” I say as we make our way toward his car.
“A rule?” he muses, threading our fingers together.
“If we’re having sex without condoms, you can’t be having sex with someone else.”
He looks at me as though I’ve lost my mind, but I’m not backing down from this.
“I’m not going to have sex with anyone else. And neither are you.”
Relief washes over me, and
I’m able to breathe once again. That’s good enough. It’s almost like he’s really mine. Almost.
Chapter 11
RYE
“Is that cake?” Wren asks as he comes into my office.
“Yep,” I grumble, looking at the delicious morsel that is more than likely full of blood and worms, considering that’s the only reason she had those gross things in her fridge. She never did anything else with them. At least I don’t think she did.
I’m going to be sick.
With a regretful sigh, I slide the cake off my desk and into the trash. It had better be a gross cake. I’ll be pissed if that tempting thing didn’t have anything wrong with it.
“Oh,” Wren says through a snicker. “Prank cake?”
It showed up an hour ago. It was just sitting on my desk with nothing attached to it. It had to be from her.
“Can’t be too careful.” I pout, still staring at the chocolate-frosted wonder that has teased and tortured me. I’ll make her fix me a real cake to make up for it, and I’ll stare over her shoulder the whole time to ensure it’s not tampered with.
“I guess the two of you are still on good terms,” he says as he sits down.
Jessica walks in, halting my response, and her eyes go straight to the cake sticking out of my small trashcan. She looks... sad?
“You didn’t like my cake?” she asks pitifully.
Ah, hell. “You made that?” I ask in disbelief.
She frowns as she nods. “It was an apology cake.”
I just threw away good chocolate for no good reason.
“Sorry. I thought it was from—Brin. You’re here,” I say in surprise as my tiger walks in, her eyes narrowed on me.
Are we about to fight over Jessica? I really hope not. We agreed to be exclusive but noncommittal. If that makes any sense. It does in my head, so I’m going with it.
She eyes the trashcan for a moment, but then her pretty blues come back up to meet my gaze.
“Give me the password, Rye,” she growls, and my grin slowly grows.
“Getting tired of maracas and words you don’t understand?” I tease, proud of the fact I rigged her stereo. “Should have taken Spanish class.”
“Now,” she demands, looking hot as hell with that fiery temper of hers taking root.
“Nope.” I sigh long and loud, acting so weary, as though this is exhausting, and Jessica slowly creeps out.
I start to apologize about the cake, but I decide against it. That will give Brin doubts, and I don’t want that.
“Fine. Then that means I owe you,” she says threateningly.
Wren grins as he watches with intrigue, and I sit back while crossing my arms over my chest.
“Or you could consider us even, tiger.”
She rolls her eyes as though that’s preposterous. “Not even, Mr. Ass. Now I need to go google my next plan of attack.”
Google? “That’s cheating,” I say with an accusatory tone.
Only I’m allowed to cheat.
“It’s not cheating; it’s plotting. And I have plenty of time to plot. When do you get off?”
Too easy. I shouldn’t. But I can’t resist watching her cheeks flame in front of Wren. “Usually right after you do—the second time.”
I’m rewarded when her eyes pop open to be much wider. Wren coughs in surprise, and then Brin blushes fiercely while glaring at me.
Worth it.
“Wow,” Wren says through a laugh, shaking his head while Brin looks for... something. Probably something to throw at me.
“Not what I meant,” she mumbles, avoiding looking in Wren’s direction.
“I’ll leave right now if you want me to get off,” I taunt, only adding to her mortification as Wren laughs loudly.
She bites back a grin while coming toward me, and I swivel my chair over to pull her onto my lap. She doesn’t fight me, even though she probably has something sick and twisted planned for me later.
I really like this thing between us.
“You’re an ass.”
“You’re here to see me, so that must mean you like asses,” I point out, and she grins.
“You’re seriously not giving me the password?”
“Will you call us even if I do?” I ask, leaning over to press a sweet, soft, and very quick kiss to her lips.
“Sure,” she lies.
“Then no. I have work to do, so I need you to go and stop distracting me so I don’t have to stay later than necessary.”
“Fine. I’ll go. If you tell me why you have an entire cake in your trashcan.”
I glance over, and curse the delicious looking thing. Damn war.
“I thought it was from you. Jessica brought it to me to apologize for the shit she pulled in front of you. I think she’s worried about getting fired. But I tossed it out because I just knew you had something gross as the gooey center. Something like worms and blood.”
Wren wrinkles his nose in disgust while Brin laughs and stands.
“Glad I’ve made you paranoid. I’m going home now to think of something much better than worm and blood cake. My worms died, and the blood did something weird. So I had to scratch that plan.”
Most people would probably find this conversation... disturbing, but it’s as natural as talking about the weather between the two of us.
“So I’ll see you after you get done plotting my demise?” I ask, smiling like a fool as she bends and presses her lips to mine once more.
“Yes,” she says sweetly, too sweetly. She’s already plotting. Damn.
I watch her ass with appreciation as she leaves. How in the hell did I find a girl as cool as her? I just wish it could be more than it is.
The second the door shuts, Wren leans up on the desk.
“You really like her,” he observes, his eyes on me very intently.
I don’t want to talk about this, so I shrug. Before I can ask him anything about his kid, he continues. “But you don’t plan on getting serious with her.”
It’s not a question, because he knows me well.
“We’re having fun. That’s enough for me and her. For now. Eventually she’ll want more, and the fun will end. But until that time comes, I’m going to enjoy it while it lasts. I’ve never had this before.”
I hate the pity in his eyes. “But you could enjoy it for longer. There’s nothing stopping you from trying.”
I’d love nothing more than to punch him. Brin left me in a great mood, and Wren is destroying it. If she’s not pushing, then why the hell is everyone else?
“You know exactly what’s stopping me. Don’t pretend as though I’m some normal guy capable of being what Brin needs. Just... don’t. Things are fine, better than fine, and until they’re not fine... Well, I’ll deal with it when the time comes.”
He frowns but nods slowly. He knows I’m right.
Jessica walks back in, her usual smile gone as she carries another cake toward my desk. This one looks... store bought, though. That sucks. Homemade cake is always better.
“What’s this?” I ask, looking up at her as she turns to walk out.
“A cake,” she mutters, sulking as she exits.
“Sounds like you’ve pissed her off,” Wren says, amused.
Damn drama.
“Eat cake and shut the hell up.”
He rolls his eyes as I grab two plastic forks from my desk stash, and I open the lid to the chocolate beauty that pales in comparison to the last one. She could have at least taken it out of the store box.
“Is the icing moving?” Wren asks just as I pull a bite to my lips.
I pull it back and stare at it. Sure enough, the fucking icing is wiggling, and I turn a little pale when I see a slender, disgusting, slithering thing squirming around just under the icing.
She didn’t. She couldn’t have.
I drop the fork full of cake, and Wren gags as he steps away. I glare out at the pet store that is two shops down from the bakery. She did. She’s out there beside her car, and she’s fucking wavi
ng. That conniving little—
“She’s quick,” Wren says, half gagging, half laughing, as he draws my attention back to him.
For some reason, that makes me smile. “She’s pretty damn awesome.”
I drop the cake to the second trashcan in my office, and I shake my head. She’s definitely baking me a good cake now.
“The two of you are pretty damn perfect for each other, if you ask me,” he says, and my smile vanishes.
Too perfect. This almost seems like a cruel joke. Fate has a sadistic sense of humor if that’s the case.
***
BRIN
I squeal and dive into my room, locking the door behind me, but he’s at the window instead of the door, and the damn thing isn’t locked. It’s too dark to be running around the frigging house!
“Stop! I said I’m sorry,” I say through a laugh, but he just keeps coming.
“Your ass is mine!”
I giggle while darting out the door, and I run into Maggie’s room, barely getting the door slammed in time. Like a child scared of a closet monster, I dive onto Maggie’s bed and pull the covers over me.
“Maggie? Why are you already in bed?” I whisper, but the pounding on the door makes me scream, and I hear another scream that seems to echo.
When I jump back, trying to get closer to Maggie, my hand hits the smooth skin of her side and I grimace.
“Let me have her, Maggie!” Rye roars, and at the same time, I ask, “Are you naked?”
A throat clearing emerges from beside me, and a giggling sound comes from the other side of it. I give her side a light squeeze, prompting her to speak.
“This is a little awkward,” Carmen says, and I squeal, because it’s her naked side I’m holding—not Maggie’s.
Maggie’s laughter rolls out, and Rye goes silent at the door.
“I’m so, so, so, so, so, sorry,” I groan, ripping my hand off Carmen like it’s on fire.
“It’s fine,” Carmen says, a small bit of her own laughter in her voice.
“Carmen is in there?” Rye asks with a lilt to his voice. “And they’re naked?”
Oh good grief.
Carmen and Maggie both groan in unison, because they hear this sort of thing from men all the time. As though their relationship is meant to turn guys on. Idiots. But that’s not what Rye is doing. He’s just being a playful jerk, because he’s heard Maggie rant about it this past week.