by Nikki Ash
I ignore the beginnings of her freak-out. “You and me… it’s inevitable. But don’t worry. I’m okay with taking things slow… for now.” I playfully wink. “All I want to do is take you somewhere to buy you a drink and have a conversation. So, what do you say? One drink? Anywhere you want.”
She sighs, and her face dips, her gaze dropping to the ground. She’s thinking, contemplating. I’m wearing her down…
“Please,” I murmur, moving into her space.
Her hair is fanned over her face, so I lightly pinch her chin, forcing her to look up at me, so she can no longer hide behind her curtain of hair. “If you really want me to stop pursuing you, I will, Sierra. But I don’t think you want me to stop. I think you’re scared of what you feel between us, and I get it because I am too. I’ve never felt the instant connection with anyone the way I feel it with you.”
She sucks in a harsh breath, and a wayward strand of hair falls over her eye. I use it as an excuse to touch her by tucking it behind her ear. As my fingers glide down the side of her face, she shivers.
“Kolton,” she breathes, leaning her face into my palm and closing her eyes. “I don’t know what to do.”
“You take a deep breath, you open your eyes, and then you agree to have a drink with me.”
She swallows thickly, then does what I say. “Okay. One drink.” She steps backward slightly, out of my reach, and my hand drops. I want to pull her back so I can touch her some more, but I can tell just agreeing to have a drink with me was hard for her. I need to remember to take shit slow so she doesn’t feel overwhelmed.
“Do you want to walk to someplace close, or do you trust me to drive us somewhere?”
She glances around. “You’ll need to give me a ride home anyway, so I guess we can drive somewhere. Just… if you’re planning to murder me, can you at least leave my body somewhere the police can find it so my sister will know I’m gone?”
I chuckle at her dry sense of humor. “I promise.”
I guide her around back to the parking lot and over to where I parked my bike. I only have one helmet, but we won’t be going far, and technically, they’re not required here.
“Wait, you drive a motorcycle?” she says, coming to an abrupt halt when we arrive at my bike.
“Is that a problem?” I grab my helmet and hand it to her.
“No… I don’t know…” She groans. “It’s just…I dated my fair share of bad boys in high school, and it never ended well. And the past couple of years I’ve tried to become someone better… Someone my sister and nephew can be proud of and—”
“Whoa there. That’s a whole lot of stereotyping and assumptions in one breath. Yes, I have tattoos. Yes, I drive a motorcycle, but I’m also in college getting my master’s, and I’m a mama’s boy through and through. Sometimes riding a bike is just that… the love of riding.”
Her face falls. “Shit, I’m sorry. Are you sure you want to get to know me? I can’t imagine what you know of me so far is all that amazing.”
“So far, the little bit I know about you is enough to make me curious. And I imagine, once you actually let me in, it’s only going to lead to me wanting to know even more.”
Her lashes flutter, and her caramel-colored eyes meet mine. “You sure you’re not a poetry major? Because you definitely know how to spit out some beautiful words.”
I snort out a laugh. “I’m not usually this romantic,” I admit. “Actually, I’m pretty rusty in that department. But you seem to bring it out in me.” I swing my leg over the side of my bike. “Now, how about you throw your purse into the saddlebag, put my helmet on, and we go for a ride, so I can romance you into agreeing to spend your life with me?”
This time, instead of freaking the hell out at my antics, she laughs. After doing as I said, she hops onto the bike behind me and snakes her arms around my waist, pressing her soft breasts into my back.
“All right, Romeo, I’m ready to be romanced.”
“Doesn’t he commit suicide at the end of that play?”
“Yep, they both did. Isn’t that how romance goes, though? You either live happily ever after or you crash and burn.”
I take off out of the parking lot, and Sierra’s grip on me tightens. This bike was my brother Keith’s. He had it custom made and left it to me in his will. At first, after he died, I didn’t want to touch it, but after I got my shit together, I figured what better way to remember him than to ride the one thing he loved. Until now, I’ve never had a woman on the back of the bike, and I can’t help but feel like maybe there was a reason for that. Because the way Sierra’s body fits against mine, it’s as if she was made for riding on the back.
I take us the long way through town, enjoying the cool breeze and her holding me tightly. A couple of times, I glance back and find her eyes bright, glancing around, her brown hair whipping around her face. In all the times I’ve gone into The Orange Sunrise, I’ve never seen her look as carefree as she does on the back of my bike.
When we pull up to a coffee shop my mom loves and frequents, Sierra yells over the engine that she loves this place. I turn off the bike, and she hops off. I watch as she pulls the helmet off and shakes her hair out, and I swear to God no woman has ever looked so goddamn beautiful. With her face flush from the cool air and her hair windblown, she’s a fucking wet dream.
“What?” she asks when she catches me staring. “Is my hair a mess?”
“It’s perfect.” I swing my leg over the side and stalk toward her. “You’re perfect.” I cup her cheek with my palm, needing to touch her yet wishing I could kiss her.
“You barely know me,” she mutters, not realizing that even though she’s tried to put a wall up, I’ve spent the past several days slowly chipping away at it, breaking away every bit I can get my hands on.
“I know you have a sister and a nephew who mean the world to you. You would do anything for them, including working too many hours at a restaurant you don’t love and that doesn’t appreciate you. You have dreams to one day own your own restaurant, but right now, your goal is to help your sister get through college because you feel you owe her that much. Your parents aren’t around, and you don’t like talking about them. You prefer vanilla cake over chocolate, which is crazy since chocolate blows vanilla away… You love Cherry Coke and french fries with cheese. You had a rough go of it in high school, and you’re trying to make up for it in your twenties. Your favorite color is pink and—”
“I never told you my favorite color!”
“No, but it’s obvious. You’ve come to work with your nails painted three different colors, and all of them were shades of pink. The necklace you wear every day has a pink heart on it, and your cell phone case is glittery and pink.”
“Holy shit!” She shakes her head, eyeing me speculatively. “I can’t believe you got all of that out of me. You really are a therapist in training.”
“No,” I say through a laugh. “I’m a man interested in a woman, which means I listen and pay attention.”
Her features soften slightly. “There you go again with all that poetry.”
“C’mon, beautiful.” I take her hand in mine, loving the way my hand engulfs hers. “Let me buy you a cup of coffee and convince you to let me take you out.”
After we order our coffees, I steer us outside and around the back. There’s a park that butts up to the coffee shop, complete with a walking trail, picnic tables, and a pond filled with ducks.
We walk along the perimeter, drinking our coffees in silence until we get to the area with the picnic tables. Sierra hops up on one, and I join her, leaning against the side of it.
Her phone goes off, and she pulls it out. Whoever it is makes her sigh in frustration. She types rapidly for several seconds before she clicks her phone back off and shoves it back into her pocket.
“Everything okay?”
“Yeah.” She sighs. “Work… You were right. I hate my job… Actually, I don’t hate my job. I love it. I love everything about the restaurant busine
ss: the menus, the ambiance, the guests. I just don’t love the owner. When I first started working there, her father owned the place. He was so passionate and dedicated to making sure it was run right. Then he died of a heart attack, and his daughter took it over. She knows nothing about the restaurant or hospitality industry. She makes horrible choices and refuses to listen to me. The place is going under, and it breaks my heart to see it happen. I wouldn’t be surprised if the restaurant closes by the end of this year. And then I’ll be out of a job and looking for somewhere else to work… having to start all over again.”
“What is it you want to do?”
“My dream is to own my own restaurant.”
“Have you thought about buying it from her?”
Sierra laughs humorlessly. “With what money?”
“Take out a loan.”
She takes a sip of her coffee and stares out at the pond. “My sister is hoping to get into a master’s program, and her financial aid will end. She’ll have to take out loans, so I’ll be the only one bringing in any money. Even if I could somehow get approved for a loan, now isn’t the time to be taking risks.”
Her eyes shine with unshed tears, and my heart feels as though it cracks, but I don’t say anything because I know this is hard for her. She most likely didn’t mean to let all that out, and she’s trying to wish away those tears because she thinks they make her appear weak even though she is quite the opposite.
As I suspected, a second later, she blinks several times and takes in a deep breath. “It’s for the best,” she says with false confidence. “Being a restaurant owner is a lot of responsibility, and most fail. I would probably fai—”
I turn to face her, stepping between her legs, and cover her lips with my fingers. “Do not finish that sentence. You would not fail. Maybe now isn’t the right time, but one day it will be, and you will get that loan and buy or open your own restaurant, and it will be a success because I can see your drive when you’re working and hear your passion when you talk about it. You want it, and you will stop at nothing until it’s a success.”
Sierra releases a harsh breath, and the warmth tickles my flesh. She darts her tongue out to lick her lips, and her tongue grazes the pads of my fingers. When she realizes what she’s done, her eyes go wide.
I drop my hand but remain close to her.
“Go out with me.” I cup her face in my palm. “Please.”
Chapter Three
Kolton
“Who are you all dressed up for?” Keegan jibes when I walk out of my room dressed in jeans, a white collared shirt, and a pair of brown leather Sperry boat shoes.
“Sierra agreed to go on a date with me.”
“Nice,” Keegan says, waggling his brows up and down like an immature high schooler. “Want me to make myself scarce tonight so you have the place to yourself?”
“I don’t think that’ll be necessary. She’s making me meet her at the restaurant instead of picking her up. I think it’s her way of taking things slow.” Even though I had driven us to the coffee shop and then driven her home, she insisted she meet me at the restaurant. She said if the date doesn’t go well, she doesn’t want it to be awkward. It was the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard—and I knew she was just saying it because she’s nervous—but I agreed. Honestly, I would agree to almost anything to get her to give me a chance.
My phone dings with a text, and I pull it out to see who it is. The second I see Sierra’s name, my heart drops. Fuck, she’s probably getting cold feet and is going to cancel… It took some serious convincing on my part to get her to go to dinner and even more convincing to get her to give me her number. The woman definitely isn’t making it easy on me, but I’m up for the challenge. What’s that cliché as fuck saying? Nothing worth having comes easy? She’s worth having, so if it takes some hard work, then so be it.
Sierra: Change of plans. Meet me at my place.
“Everything okay?” Keegan asks.
“Yeah, Sierra just texted me to pick her up.”
“You sure you don’t want the place to yourself?”
“Nah. Even if it were possible, I’m not about to rush it with her. She’s skittish about dating as it is. I don’t want her to think I’m just trying to get in her pants.”
When it’s time to pick her up, I drive over to her place. Since both of our apartments are situated right off the university campus, it only takes a couple minutes.
I park and jog up the flights of stairs, knocking when I get to her door.
A second later, the door swings open, and standing there is Sierra dressed in a flowy, low-cut top and skintight jeans. Her pink toes are peeking out of high as hell heels.
“Wow,” Sierra says, “I didn’t see it before because I wasn’t looking for it, but damn, you look just like my nephew.”
Her statement takes me by surprise, and I’m unsure how it’s relevant to our date. “Am I missing something here?”
“Who are you?” Sierra asks, ignoring my question. “Keegan or Kolton?”
My eyes widen, then my lips curl into a grin, wondering how the hell she knows my brother. There’s no way they’ve slept together. He barely has time for women, and he would’ve recognized her name. “I’m Kolton.”
“Why did you lie to me?” someone asks. I turn my attention to the other woman standing by the door. I didn’t notice her because I was completely focused on Sierra. Why does she look so familiar? Maybe it’s because she and Sierra share similar features: brown hair, caramel eyes, pert nose… This is obviously her sister—but I don’t think she’s ever mentioned her name.
“About what? When?” I ask, confused as fuck. I came here to go on a date with Sierra, and suddenly, I’m getting grilled with questions.
“When you slept with my sister!” Sierra bellows. “And don’t try to act like you don’t remember her. You tried to get her attention earlier.” What the hell is going on?
“I didn’t sleep with her,” I say, my gaze locking with Sierra’s. “I don’t even know her.”
“Is this a game to you?” her sister asks, hurt and confusion filled in her tone.
“You think you slept with me?”
“I think I slept with Keegan,” she volleys.
Oh, shit… What has my brother done? “And you think I’m Keegan?”
“Do you have a split personality disorder?” she asks, making me laugh.
“I think I know what the problem is, but it would probably be best if I show you.” I doubt she’ll believe me unless she sees it for herself.
I pull out my phone and call my brother.
“What’s up?”
“I need you to come here.”
“Where?”
“To Sierra’s place. Don’t ask questions. Just come.” I rattle off her address and then hang up.
While we wait for Keegan to arrive, the women step outside, then close the door behind them. Sierra refers to her sister as Blakely, and I damn near choke on my own saliva. Holy shit! There’s no way this is a coincidence. My brother met a woman years ago on spring break named Blakely. He talked about her for months, upset that his phone got fucked up, and he lost her number.
We stand in awkward silence until Keegan rolls up on his skateboard a few minutes later, then runs up the steps. The second he comes into view, Blakely gasps at the same time Keegan’s face splits into a grin.
“Jailbird,” Keegan says. “I knew that was you earlier.”
“Keegan?” she asks, clearly in shock.
“I see you’ve met my brother Kolton.”
“You didn’t tell me you had a twin brother,” she mutters.
Yep, that’s right. Keegan and I are identical twins. Hence, why he thinks I’m so hot. It’s always been an inside joke between us.
Keegan and Blakely chat back and forth, getting caught up, until the door opens and out walks some guy. Blakely makes introductions—Brenton is a friend of hers, who, I have no doubt by the way he’s looking at her, has the hots for her. Even if it see
ms she doesn’t feel the same way.
There’s an awkward lull in the conversation, and then Keegan says, “Was… is that kid yours?” And that’s when I remember her. She was walking across campus with Brenton and a little boy, who must’ve been her son. She tried to talk to me, but I had no idea who she was. She had assumed I was Keegan.
Blakely’s eyes go wide at Keegan’s question, and she immediately looks nervous. “Is Zane okay in his room?” she asks Brenton.
“Yeah,” he replies. “He’s playing with his Legos. I came out here to make sure everything is okay. You’ve been out here for a while.”
“Can you go check on him?” she asks. “I think I should talk to Keegan alone.”
Brenton opens his mouth to argue, but Blakely speaks first. “Please.”
“What about them?” he asks, pointing at Sierra and me.
“Sierra,” Blakely says, turning to her sister.
“We’re actually late for our date,” I mention, glancing at the time on my phone. I have no idea what’s going on, but Keegan will fill me in later. “I can probably get us in for later, though.”
“That’s not happening.” Sierra scoffs, confusing the shit out of me. “We’re practically family.” She cackles, and Blakely smacks her arm.
Practically family? What the hell is she talking about?
“Really?” Blakely glares at her sister.
“Sorry.” Sierra shrugs.
“Can someone explain what the hell’s going on?” Keegan asks, obviously as confused as I am.
“I’ll watch Zane,” Sierra says to Blakely, “and you can go talk to Keegan.”
Shit, there goes our date…
“Do you really think it’s wise to be alone with him?” Brenton asks Blakely.
I can practically feel the sudden tension rolling off my brother. Locking eyes with him, I give a subtle shake of my head. Whatever is going on, he needs to keep his cool.
Blakely and Brenton go back and forth, arguing over whether she should be alone with my brother. I’m about to speak up when Blakely smiles, and says, “You haven’t murdered anyone in the past four years, have you? Gone to jail for anything?”