by Lyssa Layne
I make one last stop at my dresser to retrieve a pair of sunglasses big enough to cover half my face, including the small collection of flowers I have permanently painted in the corner of my eye, then head for the door. It’s just one little barbecue, and while it’s a far cry from my usual crowd, I can definitely survive a couple of hours hanging with Rob and Pru’s people. If I’m completely honest, they actually have nothing to do with the cluster of nerves festering at the pit of my stomach.
By the time we arrive at the McNealys’ house, what started as a small cluster has grown into a massive tidal wave threatening to drown me from the inside out. I feel ridiculous.
“What’s wrong with you?” Madi hisses as we walk around the house to the backyard.
“I’m hot,” I lie. It’s completely plausible though, since my body is giving every indication I’m suffering from heatstroke. I can feel my cheeks flush and beads of sweat form on my forehead. Not to mention the nausea. Hey, maybe I am having heatstroke.
Meanwhile, Madi just scrunches her nose in the ‘know it all’ way only a seventeen-year-old can muster. “I told you that outfit was stupid.”
“You did.” I concede without a fight, because, frankly, I don’t have it in me right now. “I should have listened to you.”
She’s barely even paying attention to me anymore. Instead, she’s dashing off to meet Ash beside the pool, leaving me to fend for myself.
Normally, this suits me just fine. Unfortunately, I spend enough time in this house to be more than comfortable and I certainly know my way around. Parties like these, however, give me the willies. Something about seeing the stark contrast in social standing between me and the other side of Madi’s family just never sits all that well with me. It shouldn’t bother me, even if I know it bothers Pru. Maybe that’s why it gets to me, because I know how much Madi has benefitted from being welcomed into this family, and because I’m the reason she doesn’t have this life full-time. Because I insisted on coming home to raise her myself after my father passed away. But then things haven’t been completely one-sided. Once school starts up again, the girls will be at my place full time. Even Hailey. I don’t even know what the draw is, other than my lax rules, reliance on their independence and insistence on their swearing with big girl curse words. I suppose it’s not all bad from a teenager’s perspective. During the summer the pool and neighbor’s grandson have me beat though. They’ll come around on rainy days, but that’s about it.
“You look like you’re about to start rocking back and forth. Want me to find you a nice corner to do it in?” Pru whispers. I didn’t even notice her sneaking up on me until she was standing right here.
“I’ve got my eye on the one next to the storage closet you keep all your pool stuff in, so I’m good thanks.” I’m joking of course. Sort of.
“I told you to come early. Give you a chance to settle in before all the people show up.” She holds a fruit tray in my direction and I don’t hesitate to scarf down three big chunks of watermelon. Maybe a little food in the empty pit will mellow the angry wave swooshing back and forth.
“I considered making a pre-party appearance.” It’s what I usually do. I’m not one for making an entrance. I’d rather just blend in with the background when everyone else gets there. Some might consider this ironic. Depending on the environment, blending in isn’t always at the top of my list of skills. Standing out, that I’m annoyingly good at. “But then I remembered how much work you made me do at Easter and I changed my mind.”
Pru tries her best at outrage but winds up laughing in the end. “You’re a brat, you know that? Some days I wonder how we’re even friends.”
“Because I’m the only woman you know who doesn’t walk funny from having a stick shoved up her ass, and you need that. A stick free woman friend.”
She giggles and hurries to cover her mouth. “You’re horrible, and I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
I cock my brow and tip my head to the left, glancing in the general direction of a certain someone I usually refer to as Fancy Nancy, but whose actual name is Gwendolyn. No words are needed to make my point.
“Fine. Some of the women are wound tight enough to start a twister should they ever be cut loose. Speaking of, I need to make sure the bar is all stocked. Lucas was supposed to grab the last of the ice from the freezer in the garage. I’m starting to think maybe he got lost somewhere along the way.”
“Understandable. It’s a really big house.” I don’t know why I find my dry sense of humor so hilarious, but I do. And I’m trying really hard not to laugh at my own funniness right now. “Meanwhile, I can stock the ice for you.”
“You sure?” I can tell from the way she’s already moving away that she’s only asking out of courtesy. She’s definitely taking me up on my offer.
“Positive. In fact, I’d love any chores you’d like to send my way. Anything to keep me from having to mingle.”
She smirks. “I thought you said you didn’t like when I put you to work.”
“That’s before the party. When I can comfortably lounge around on your couch in private like a total bum, then yes, I prefer not to get any jobs from you that involve vacuuming or running the bug net through the pool one last time.” I don’t really mind doing it then either, I’m just giving her shit. However, I’m especially grateful for a task right now, even if I am taking it away from one of the many paid individuals running around here like chickens with their heads cut off because they can’t find anything to do. Pru’s funny that way. She’ll hire the caterer, wait staff and party planners and then she’ll still run ahead of everyone, doing everything herself.
In a hurry to avoid any unnecessary run-ins with people I don’t know and who would probably never cross my path intentionally under any other circumstances, I break into a mini-jog just to get inside. I could have just walked back the same way I came to get to the garage, but going through the house means I have access to air conditioning. I may be into self-torture a great deal of the time, but even I don’t enjoy the feeling of sweat pooling down the crease of my back.
“Hey, Liv.” Hayes doesn’t even look up from her book as she passes me on her way to the pool. I’m not sure which I’m more impressed by, the way she maneuvered around me and avoided a head on collision or the fact she knew it was me without even lifting her gaze from the page.
“New book boyfriend?”
She actually stops and turns around. Then, lo and behold, she even makes eye contact. “You’d like this one. He’s a psychiatrist who moonlights as a tattoo artist. Specializes in covering scars on victims of domestic abuse, then gives them free counseling sessions while they’re getting inked. Naturally, the woman he falls for is still trapped by the asshole beating her and now Dex has to save the day.” She’s positively swooning.
“Dex, huh? The therapist slash tattoo artist. Interesting combo. I suddenly feel very inadequate.” Considering I barely have a high school diploma, I probably won’t be adding Dr. anything to my title anytime soon though.
“Well, you’re not the hero of the story, so you don’t have to be that impressive.” Her tone and expression suggest she’s not trying to be insulting, and yet, I feel like I just got backhanded across my face.
“Come again?”
“In romance novels, a lot of the time, the heroine is some sweet and naïve virgin just bumbling along, completely unaware of her awesomeness until the ‘bad boy with a heart’ hero comes along and shakes all of her tightly wound parts loose, setting her free and saving her in the process,” she explains, an air of whimsy about her as she dreamily stares off into nothingness.
I can feel myself scowl. “Does your mom know you read this shit?”
Highly affronted, Hailey clasps the book to her chest. “It’s not…” Then she whispers, “shit.”
“It is. It’s total shit,” I don’t whisper, “and here’s why: Every chick should be the hero of her own story. I’m not saying she can’t have a man by her side when she s
aves the day. I’m not even saying the guy can’t save it. I’m just saying he doesn’t save her. Nobody can save anybody except themselves. Trust me on this, Hayes. There’s no perk to being the dimwitted virgin. You get treated like an idiot and you never get laid.”
“Yeah, what she said,” the deep, silky rumble of his voice travels up from behind me, “except the part about not being the virgin. You go right ahead and be one of those for as long as you like.”
I force myself to keep my gaze on Hailey, who hasn’t been a virgin for four years and just rolls her eyes at the both of us and then turns to go without engaging any further, leaving me to fend for myself. It was bad enough when I could look at him and see all the hotness with my eyes. Not seeing him is almost worse. Just hearing him and his dark, rich voice leaves me completely devoid of any proof that he’s too young for me. Too young and too Pru’s son. Too Lucas. And too fucking weird.
Then, not turning around to face him totally bites me in the ass when he moves past me, brushing against my back and shoulder, making just enough contact so that I now know without a doubt that he really is one solid mass of carved muscle who just happens to reek of ‘do me’ aftershave. I want nothing more than to close my eyes and block out this entire experience, but I get the unnerving feeling he’s not passing to keep going, he’s passing to turn and talk to me some more. Closing my eyes is out. Facing forward with unwavering aloofness oozing out of me is in.
“You weren’t standing back there trying to smell me again, were you?” Okay, so aloofness is out as well.
He grins. I officially hate him. “Nope. Only sniffing twenty year olds now, just like you told to me to.”
“Good.” I nod to remind myself that it’s the right thing for him to be doing.
“But just out of curiosity, how old do I have to get before I’m allowed to start sniffing you again?”
Holy shit.
Lucas
Her eyes have a brazen look about them and for a moment I think she might slap me. Then, a rosy sweetness flushes her cheeks and I see a soft side of Olivia I didn’t think could possibly exist in that edgy exterior. Without thinking, my hand rises up to meet her face, and my thumb traces the skin below her cheekbone down to her jaw. It clenches under my touch and when I glance back up, her brown eyes are almost pitch black. Forget slapping me, this girl is about to throw a punch.
“Sorry.” My hand drops to my side and I take a step back. And another. The chill coming off of her now may actually cause frostbite on various parts of my body and I feel an undeniable urge to cover my junk. I don’t, because that would be weird and inappropriate and I’m already on a roll there, but I’d like to.
“Look, Lucas.” She sighs, but it’s strained. “I get that young guys going out with the slightly older, more experienced woman is all the rage right now, but whatever sex lessons you think you need to catch up on after spending your early twenties stranded in the desert, you’re not going to get them from me.” Her fists come up to rest on her tiny waist and as pissed as she looks right now, she’s also about the hottest fucking thing I’ve ever laid eyes on. Freeze rays and all.
“Not that it’s relevant, but I’m not nearly as out of practice as you seem to think, and no, I’m not trying to make some sleazy move here. I get that you think it’s inappropriate, but I can’t help it. I like you.” I grin like an idiot. She makes me act like an idiot.
“Well, stop it!” she snaps and brushes past me in a huff.
If only it were that easy. “Why?”
She freezes and hurries back in an instant, anxiously glancing around as if she’s scared someone might have heard me. “Oh, I don’t know. Maybe because I’m nearly a decade older than you? Or, maybe because your mother and I are finally friends? Or, hey, how about the fact that I am raising a child who’s nearly your age? And let’s not forget the difference in social standing. You’ve seen where I live. My entire place could fit into your mother’s kitchen!”
I nod, taking a step toward her. I can see her suck in a breath as I do. “Those are really stupid reasons.”
Her cheeks flare red, but this time it’s not because she’s embarrassed. “You thinking that just proves my point. You’re still a kid, Lucas. Whatever it is you’re looking for here, I already found it ten years ago, and I can tell you, the shit wasn’t worth it.”
She’s basically tied my hands now. Anything I say to contradict her will only make me sound like a petulant child, which is precisely what she wants. But I’m not going to give it to her. Not this time. I plan to give her what she wants plenty in the future, just as soon as she figures out that I’m able to. “You’re right.”
She almost falls back, she’s so stunned. “What?”
“I said, you’re right. I am younger than you, and all the other stuff you mentioned… also very solid reasons to drop this…whatever this is.”
Her arms cross over her chest, tugging down her shirt just enough for me to notice a flash of color inked into her skin, and I instantly want to see more, want to know what she deemed beautiful enough to wear permanently on her already perfect body.
“Why do I feel like there’s a ‘but’ looming, Lucas?”
I smirk. “I was getting to that.”
I lean in close until my mouth is lingering right beside her ear. I wait to see if she backs away again, but she doesn’t. “Your reasons are your reasons, and they obviously mean a lot to you, but if you really wanted me to back off, all you would have had to say is you’re not interested.” I straighten out just enough to look her in the eyes. They’re staring up at me with a slew of emotions dancing in them, and right at the forefront of them all is fear. Undeniable fear. It makes my breath catch in my throat.
I watch her swallow hard before she whispers, “I’m not interested, Lucas.”
CHAPTER FOUR
Heartbreaker
Hiding in the garage with half of my body hanging in the freezer, desperate for some relief, I call the only person I know capable of talking me out of this crisis.
“I need help, but if you start talking about avocados and guacamole cravings again, I swear to God, I will leave this barbecue, pull you out of whatever family gathering your mother dragged you to this year, and punch you.”
I can hear Sketch laugh on the other end, then several muffled words as she excuses herself from said family gathering to deal with me.
“I take it you couldn’t get out of going to Pru’s for the fourth?”
I whimper. “I really tried but Madi didn’t like the idea of frying up veggie burgers in the kitchen and having a picnic in the living room while we watch a Back to the Future marathon. I don’t know why. She used to love that.”
“Yeah. When she was twelve. Doesn’t really sound to me like you tried all that hard to avoid going. Maybe you wanted to go spend the day with Pru’s hunky son after all.” Sketch chuckles. Her voice is so dark and deep, she sounds like a dude sometimes. When we were younger I used to make her pretend to be my jealous boyfriend when guys called that I no longer had any use for. I was horrible. I know.
“Sketch, I spent five minutes talking to him in the hall, and I am literally standing in the freezer right now trying to solidify all the parts of me he turned into molten lava just by breathing near me. This shit just isn’t normal.”
The panic in my voice is undeniable.
“You need to calm the fuck down. And probably get laid.” Then she adds hastily, “But not today!” As if I need that clarified.
“I wasn’t planning on it. Why do you think I’m calling you?” I pull a packet of frozen peas out and hold it to my chest. There. That definitely helps.
“You’re totally serious right now. This kid is really getting to you.” It’s almost like she can’t wrap her brain around the concept. To be fair, I’m struggling with it too, and not just because he’s a toddler but because men don’t have this effect on me. Ever. Because I choose not to let them. And usually, this works for me. Why in the hell Lucas has powers that
can override my strong-willed desire not to succumb to lust and sexual cravings, I don’t know, and I sure as hell don’t like it.
“Can we not call him a kid? For like five minutes while I find a way to keep my body from actively seeking contact with his dick?”
Her laughter fills my ear again. It’s really starting to piss me off. “I would think reminding you of his tender age would help.”
“Well it doesn’t,” I grumble, eyeing the bag of peas on my boobs which I’m pretty sure are melted now. “It only makes me feel like a creepy pervert, and I’d really rather not.”
“You’re not a creepy pervert. He’s twenty-fucking-five years old. He’s been a grown ass man for seven years already. If he were anyone else, you’d be busy undressing him with your eyes and saying some really dirty shit about him right about now, not freaking out about the way he soaks your panties and melts your insides with his swoon worthy breathing skills. Can we talk about that while we’re at it? How did his basic need for oxygen cause you to come this undone?”
I cringe, remembering how close he was standing, and how good he smelled. Maybe it was my basic need for oxygen that really fucked me up. Next time, I’m not inhaling.
“He was just standing way too damn close. There were muscles all up in my face. He smelled like the best possible thing you could ever wish to breathe in and his goddamned mouth got so close to my face, his scruff tickled my cheek. And…he said some stuff too. Stuff that I’m going to end up replaying in my head a million times over because I’m lonely and sex deprived and the only men who ever hit on me are usually twenty years older, with full beards and guts the size of three watermelons.”
“Until now.”
“Fuck me.”
“Did Lucas just walk in?” Her smugness is practically ear shattering.