by Nikki Chase
“Is Sally still coming here?” Ollie asks.
“Yeah.” I check my phone. “She’ll be here tomorrow with Noah and Nathan.”
Even though we’re in Ashbourne, that doesn’t mean business stops.
It’s almost the holiday season. We have clients clamoring to get their medical treatments done before their big family gatherings. They want their teeth straightened and whitened; they want to get their surgeries over and done with; they want their waistlines reduced—and they want it all done now.
That’s why we’re still working and why our assistant is coming into town to help coordinate things with our main office in San Francisco.
“Cool.” Ollie places the bottle on the check-out counter and pulls out his black Tom Ford wallet.
The girl behind the counter had a bad case of the resting bitch face the whole time she was serving the previous customer. Now, she practically beams at Ollie, giving him a flirty smile as she greets him.
But Ollie doesn’t seem to notice. He just pulls out his platinum credit card and makes the payment, flashing her his ID when requested.
“Thanks,” Ollie says nonchalantly to the girl—who, by the way, is pretty attractive.
I catch a glimpse of her face falling as we step out of the liquor store.
“Seriously, guys, it’s nothing. Stop being weird,” Ollie says.
I actually don’t think it’s a huge deal. I mean, Ollie’s not exactly acting like normal, but maybe he’s just growing up. At twenty-six, he’s the baby of the family, after all.
But before I can say anything, Ollie stops in his tracks.
“Who’s that?” Ollie asks as Mason and I almost walk right into him.
Ava
“Have you heard about the Hunter boys being back in town?” my mom asks, obviously scandalized by their mere presence in Ashbourne.
She's wearing a black sheath dress tonight. She's in her forties but she looks about ten years younger, thanks to the sunscreen and face creams she wears religiously.
“The Hunters . . . Are they the ones who used to live next door?” I ask as I take the wine glass a waiter has just placed on our table. I need this to get through dinner.
“Yes.” Mom scrunches up her face, making lines appear on her nose and cheeks.
In reality, of course, I know who they are. The whole town knows who they are.
Liam, Mason, and Ollie. And, of course, the twins: Noah and Nathan.
I used to surreptitiously peek out of my window, hoping I’d catch a glimpse of my hot neighbors.
Even now, I know how long they’ve been gone.
Ollie, the youngest, left Ashbourne for college like his brothers had, and that was . . . let’s see . . . about eight years ago.
Wow, I can’t believe it’s been that long. That means I was just thirteen, at the most, when I started to notice them.
I wonder how they’re doing.
I mean, not that we were ever friends or anything. I was way too young to hang out with them, and my parents weren’t going to allow that anyway. They were suspicious of everyone, especially our next-door neighbors.
Now that they’re home from the big city, my parents probably dislike them even more. It’s as if they think the smog in San Francisco could stick to people’s skin and seep into their flesh, thoroughly polluting them.
“Apparently, they’re home for Thanksgiving. But that doesn’t make sense,” Mom says in a hushed voice.
“It’s only early October,” Dad adds. His blue eyes, which match the color of his tie, flash with alarm.
“Exactly.” Mom nods her head up and down in agreement as she literally clutches the pearls around her neck. “Why are they here so early? Are they unemployed? All five of them?”
“Mom, it's probably best not to speculate. Like, can't you just ask Mrs. Hunter, instead of . . .” I want to say “spreading gossip,” but I zip my lips when I see the way my parents are staring at me like I’ve just sprouted a second head. “I mean, it's probably best to go straight to the source.”
I take a big gulp of the wine. It's probably best if I keep my mouth shut.
“I just have questions. That's natural.” Mom’s neatly-shaped eyebrows furrow defensively.
“Yes. We need to know what kind of people live next door,” Dad says.
“That's very true. Otherwise we could end up like those people on the news, who get interviewed about their serial-killer neighbor. They never know what's going on right under their noses.”
I suppress the urge to point out that those neighbors on TV always say the killer’s a nice, polite, perfectly average man. My parents will likely just say that's precisely why we need to be cautious because anyone could be the killer.
In my opinion, though, a real killer wouldn't want to draw attention to himself, so he’d make more effort to blend in, which means the “weirdos” like the Hunters are probably good, upstanding citizens.
But there's no convincing my parents when they're in this strange Tweedledee-and-Tweedledum mode, where they keep agreeing with each other and egging each other on, so I just nod along to their chatter while I eat my steak and drink my wine.
This is a nice dinner. I should try to enjoy it.
My parents work for the government, my mom at the DMV and my dad at the city planning department. All their lives, they've played by the rules, and it's worked out well for them. They managed to pay my tuition and still have a cushy nest to retire on.
They may be boring and judgmental, but what they've been doing obviously pays off.
Later, outside the restaurant, we say our goodbyes. But just as I hug my dad, I hear a deep, baritone voice greet my mom.
“Mrs. G, how have you been? Remember us?” the masculine voice asks.
“Of course I do,” comes my mom’s saccharine reply. “I’m doing great, thank you for asking. How are you?”
She tends to act extra polite to people she's gossiped about, probably so those same people won't suspect her of being the source of drama. Sometimes, I think if my mom and I were the same age and not related, she’d be one of the catty girls in school who’d be mean to me.
So because of the way she’s talking, before I even turn around to see who she's talking to, my heart races with possibilities.
I mean, the voice sounds vaguely familiar. And the only reason why someone would ask my mom if she remembered him is if they haven’t seen each other in a long time.
This guy could be one of the Hunter brothers.
As I let go of my dad, I quickly take stock of my appearance.
Luckily, my parents always insist on formal wear for our weekly dinners out, so I’m wearing a black lace dress that fits my curves snugly, while hiding the extra few pounds I’ve put on around my mid-section.
I had some time after school and before dinner, so I washed and curled my hair, too. It’s lustrous and voluminous with loose waves tumbling down my back.
I slide my bag over my front to cover whatever bulge may be showing.
I should’ve worn my Spanx. It’s tight and uncomfortable, especially when I have to sit through a filling dinner, but now I’m potentially meeting a Hunter for the first time after eight years, and I’m feeling fat.
Not good.
But a girl’s got to work with what she has.
I twist around and find not one, but three of the Hunter boys—well, they’re not boys now, actually, but that’s what I used to call them in my head.
The Hunter boys have dark hair and green eyes—apparently, Mrs. Hunter’s genes are more dominant than Mr. Hunter’s, because none of their kids have his red hair and freckled skin.
Liam, the oldest, has neat, trimmed stubble all over his chiseled jawline. Judging from his serious facial expression, he hasn’t changed much although he must be pushing thirty now, and the last time I saw him was when he was eighteen. There’s an air of quiet dignity around him that makes him seem far away and untouchable.
Mason stands between his brothers. He’
s about an inch shorter than his brothers—in other words, still really tall by normal standards—but he has the biggest presence. Mason’s loud, outgoing, and assertive. He’s the life of the party, always grinning and taking things lightly. He’s flashing his straight rows of white teeth now.
Ollie, the youngest Hunter, was the one who greeted my mom. He’s always been the sweet, respectful one, who’d smile and make small talk with the neighbors. People our parents’ age love him—or, at least they did before Mr. and Mrs. Hunter got divorced. Ollie’s dark hair is curly and unruly, which matches his laid-back persona perfectly.
“Hi, Mr. G,” Ollie says to my dad, who just nods back at him. When he turns to me, his smile seems to stretch a little wider—although that’s probably just my imagination. With his dazzling green eyes fixated on me, he says, “You must be Ava.”
Ollie Hunter remembers me?
Oh my god, Ollie Hunter remembers me!
Heat floods my cheeks, making me grateful the Ashbourne City Council is filled with slowpokes who haven’t fixed the street light right above us, even though it’s been broken for weeks.
It’s dark in our corner of the main street, except for the warm glow that escapes from the restaurant where my parents and I just had dinner.
I hope he doesn’t notice me blushing.
“Ye—” My voice comes out small and squeaky, giving away my nerves. I clear my throat and try again. “Yes. You’re the Hunters, right? You used to live next door.”
“That’s right,” Ollie says, shooting me a smile that makes my heart go pitter-patter. “You’ve grown up. Last time I saw you, you were this tall.” Ollie holds his hand out flat, palm down, at his chest.
I can feel all three pairs of green eyes on me, and they make me want to hide myself behind a curtain. I don’t feel ready at all to have these tall, dark, gorgeous Adonises see me. They wouldn’t look out of place on the cover of a glossy magazine, and I’m just another ordinary, small-town girl with a boring life.
I smile nervously. “Yeah. It’s been a while. I hear you live in the city now.”
“Yeah. San Francisco,” Mason speaks up for the first time. He smirks. “Get in touch if you ever visit. We’ll show you around.”
The Hunters are offering to give me a tour of the city? Oh god, that would be a dream come true.
Again, I’m glad it’s dark because otherwise, my parents would see me losing my cool. I don’t want them to know that the sight of these brothers have started a hurricane raging inside me right now.
“Thank you,” I say, even as doubt fills my chest. I suspect they’re just being polite. “Maybe I’ll take you up on that offer some time.”
In my periphery, I notice my mom turning to look at me, no doubt with a disapproving expression on her face.
“For you? Any time,” Mason says.
Is he . . . flirting with me?
“Are you here for the holidays?” Mom asks.
“Yes, Mrs. G,” Ollie says.
“Seems a bit early, doesn’t it?”
“It’s been a while since we spent time with our parents here in town. And since we can run the business from here, at least temporarily, we decided to stay a little longer.”
“So you’ll be here until . . . the beginning of January?” my dad asks.
“No, just until Thanksgiving. Then we’ll go back to the city for a few weeks before coming back here for Christmas,” Ollie says.
“Nothing’s set in stone yet, though,” Liam adds.
“What kind of a business do you run that you can afford to leave it for months at a time?”
Leave it to my mom to throw a subtle insult and word it as a question. She’s basically questioning whether they actually have a viable business.
“Medical tourism. It’s actually a booming industry. Google it,” Mason says, clearly irritated, although he still manages to keep that dazzling smile on his face.
“We’re not leaving the business, Mrs. Green,” Liam says calmly, although judging from the way his jaw’s clenched, he probably didn’t miss my mom’s passive-aggressive attack. “A lot of things can be done over the Internet now and we have staff at the office that’s more than capable of running the operations smoothly. At least that’s what we’re hoping for, anyway. This will be a test to see how well they work without our direct supervision.”
Liam’s usually quiet, but he’s eloquent and diplomatic when he speaks up. Mrs. Hunter once told me that he was going to law school, and I thought that was fitting for him. I wonder if he’s a lawyer now.
“I see.” My mom seems disappointed by the lack of any emotional reaction from the Hunters. No doubt she was hoping they’d slip up and tell her something gossip-worthy so she could share it with the entire town.
“It’s good that you’re setting aside time some family time, even though you’re busy,” I say, in an attempt to dispel the awkwardness and smooth things over. “Your parents must be excited about having you home again.”
“They are.” Ollie smiles like he never noticed my mom’s rudeness.
Honestly, they need to find a way to can that smile and open it during tense situations. It would melt any unease floating in the air. It’d help even Taylor Swift and Katy Perry get along. There’d be world peace.
“If you don’t mind,” my dad says, “it’s late, and we should get home now.”
I glance at my watch. It’s barely 8:30.
“Oh, that’s too bad,” Ollie says.
“We’re going home to have dinner with our parents now.” Mason fixes his intense gaze on me. “But if you want to, we’re planning to go out again tonight. It’s been a while since we’ve been home, so it would be great to have a local show us the lay of the land.”
Anxiety fills my throat. What do I say?
I want to spend time with these three gorgeous brothers, but my parents wouldn’t be happy about that. They’re not fond of the Hunters.
But if I decline . . . I could be letting go of a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.
“We must go home. It’s late,” my mom speaks up before I can say anything. She’s wearing a thin smile, and the tone of her voice is friendly, but I can tell she’s just putting on an act.
“Of course,” Ollie says politely. “Sorry for keeping you here. I’m glad we got a chance to catch up. Hopefully we’ll see you around.”
After a terse goodbye, the Hunter brothers walk away. I watch with longing as their broad backs get smaller and further away from me.
Can I slip away and join them after my parents leave?
Yeah, probably not. I don’t know where they’re going now, and we haven’t exchanged numbers or anything. There’s no way for me to find them without doing any creepy stalking.
“The nerve of those boys,” Mom says. I can already tell this is going to be another one of her long tirades. “I can’t believe they dared to ask a respectable young lady out this late.”
“Mom, it’s not that late. And it’s perfectly normal for girls my age to stay out late. It’s the weekend,” I say.
“Not with those boys. I don’t trust them.”
“Your mother’s right. They don’t have the right values.”
I almost roll my eyes, but I stop myself. I don’t want to start an argument on a sidewalk downtown.
“They don’t have any respect for tradition,” Mom says.
Actually, I think it’s nice that their family is so close that the Hunter brothers have no problem putting it before their business.
And just the fact that they run a business together . . . That’s pretty cool, right? Sometimes I wish I had siblings. Maybe that would take my parents’ focus off me once in a while.
“I saw the way they were looking at you,” Dad says. “You need to be careful around them.”
So it wasn’t just my imagination. The Hunter brothers were checking me out.
Hold your horses, I remind myself. Mom and Dad have a tendency to exaggerate and over-react. They were probably just being
friendly. Most likely, they have girlfriends back in the city. Probably models.
“That’s right. None of those boys are marriage material. Not like Joseph.” Mom smiles, as though the mere thought of my ex is enough to save the whole night in her eyes. “When are you going to take him back, Ava? That man is a catch.”
I force a smile, although inwardly I sigh. Not this again.
If you like him that much, why don’t you date him? I want to ask my mom that question, but I stop myself before it’s too late.
“We’re not getting back together, Mom.”
She shakes her head. “You don’t know a good thing when you have it.”
Ollie
“Fuck, those geezers have got me all worked up. I want to punch something,” Mason says as he drives his red Porsche like a maniac through the quiet streets of Ashbourne.
“I can’t believe you told them to ‘Google it.’” Liam, who’s sitting in the passenger seat, shakes his head. “Slow down.”
Mason cackles without remorse. He keeps his foot firmly on the gas, maintaining our speed.
As the oldest brother, Liam’s the responsible one who keeps us out of trouble. He’s an excellent lawyer now, and Mason often says he should thank us for training him to spot risks and mitigate them.
Mason’s a little more hot-headed than Liam and me, but I get it. We’re all angry after that encounter.
But I prefer to focus on the positives.
“That Ava, though . . .” I let my voice trail off.
I noticed the way my brothers were staring at her. I could tell they liked what they saw. They know what I’m talking about. I don’t have to explain anything.
“Yeah. Seriously,” Liam says. He doesn’t say much normally, especially when it concerns girls, so just these two words are a lot, coming from him.
“I admit she was worth the trouble of talking to her parents,” Mason says. “I couldn’t not take a closer look at that hotness. I mean, those tits, just peeking out under that lace? And did you get to see that ass?”
“God, yes,” I say.
This is weird, right?