by C. M. Owens
It doesn’t take long before I’m arriving at his beast of a home. I don’t know how his son doesn’t get lost in this damn thing.
I hurry around the side of the house, because there’s no doubt everyone is out by the pool, judging by the splashing.
When I reach the party, Dane Sterling is the first I run into. He’s all smiles with a little girl in his arms, and I feel like shit because I’m struggling to remember her name. Dane is married to my cousin, our families are close, yet I can’t remember his adopted daughter’s name.
That’s how my life has been—a lot of important things forgotten because my world has revolved around business, leaving room for little else.
“Carrie, you remember Ethan, right?”
Carrie. Of course. How could I forget that?
She nods shyly, and looks away. Unlike the bouncing bundle of blonde curls who is tugging on my jeans. I look down just as the little girl tugging at me peers up, studying me with intense eyes.
“Daddy is looking for you,” she tells me, and I internally curse myself.
Wren’s little girl… I remember her now. Shit. How am I forgetting all of this? And her name is… Ah hell. This is pathetic.
I feel like I turned my head and everyone suddenly has kids in school.
My eyes come up just in time to see Wren waving me over, and I head toward his table, catching the tail end of Britt Sterling’s conversation about her college courses. Sadly, I don’t remember the name she had before she took her brother’s last name.
Maybe everyone needs to stop confusing me and just stay the same.
“I would have waited until the fall to start college. At least take the summer off,” Allie—Wren’s fiancée—tells her.
“The courses I’m taking are only summer courses,” Britt replies, actually smiling.
Yeah, I missed out on the college experience, so I don’t blame her for smiling and enjoying it while she can.
“So you’re finally home,” Wren says, grinning widely while he sits in his chair, relaxed with his arm around Allie.
“Finally,” I echo, sitting down on his other side and stretching out.
It feels like I weigh a thousand pounds less, now that the weight of my father’s company is off my shoulders.
Allie frowns, looking around, but her little girl is rounding the corner again, climbing right up in Wren’s lap. Looking at the six or seven year old girl resting easily against him, you wouldn’t think Wren had only been in her life for less than a year.
Shit, our group is all kinds of fucked up.
“What’s on the agenda?” Wren asks me, reclining back as his daughter tells her mother about something random.
My eyes move from him to his daughter, and a slow, daring smile quirks the corner of my mouth. “Sure you want me to announce my agenda for all ears to hear, Daddy?”
He glares at me before rolling his eyes.
“Give me the PG version.”
Chuckling, I shrug. “No plans. That’s my agenda. My life has been nothing but consistent planning, down to the shi—I mean, the bathroom breaks I could take. All I want to do is kick back and live for a while.”
“Live like last weekend? Keg parties and psycho women?”
I cock an eyebrow at him. “Obviously that last part wasn’t on the agenda. But the parties, yeah. Why not? Unlike the rest of you, I had to miss that entire section of life when I had to take over the company. There wasn’t much wiggle room for fun, other than the few spare moments I could steal away a quick trip back home. Even then I had to temper my behavior because of the possible backlash it could have if any of that got back to the board, who have been chomping at the bit to take the business away for over a decade.”
“Why not just let them have it?” Britt’s voice has me turning to face her, realizing she’s brazenly admitting her eavesdropping. She doesn’t even falter, just stares me directly in the eyes as she awaits an answer. Hard to believe she’s just a college kid.
When I don’t answer, she goes on. “Obviously you didn’t want to run it, and now you’ve sold it. So why did you work so hard to keep the board from having it?”
She speaks like she knows exactly what I’m talking about, which hell, she may.
“Had my reasons,” I say with a shrug.
She seems disgruntled with my vague answer, but Dane calls to her, motioning her over with his head before she can press for more. When my eyes move back toward Wren, they linger over Allie, because she’s giggling at her phone.
“What’s so funny?” Wren asks as Angel climbs down from his lap and races after Carrie, who is waving dramatically at her to follow.
“Just Bella’s unfortunate autocorrect hell continuing. She really needs to get a new phone. She keeps turning off the autocorrect option, but it’s like her phone is haunted and turns it back on itself.”
It takes a second for that to register, but when it does, it’s like a slap to the face. How the ever-fucking-hell can that be? Surely there are not two Bellas? No. Too coincidental with the autocorrect thing.
I’d remember if Wren had mentioned her… Ah fuck that. I forgot Carrie’s damn name, and struggled to remember Wren’s daughter’s name.
“Bella?” I ask, unable to help myself.
Wren is laughing as he finishes looking at the phone, and I try not to act annoyed that I can’t see what is so amusing to them.
“Yeah,” he drawls. “Allie’s best friend. I told you about her.”
As if that matters. He, like all the others, assumed I was running a business the Sterling way or his way. No such luck. I was involved in all the decision making, all the details, and all the meetings. I was usually doing fifteen other things when they called to talk, so retaining any other information was a hassle.
“Remind me,” I say casually, acting as though I’m only mildly interested instead of a little overly obsessed.
I still have no clue why I can’t let this thing go.
“She moved here just before Allie, and she works at the hospital. Why?” he eyes me suspiciously, and I shrug.
Definitely the same Bella, considering the hospital remark. Judging by his gaze, he doesn’t like me asking about her. He certainly wouldn’t want me fucking with her head the way I am if she’s Allie’s friend.
“Just curious. Everything in the group is changing, so I’m just trying to keep up. Corbin is engaged, Dane and Rain are married, Rye and Brin are playing house, and Kade is also getting married. Lots of new names and new shit going on. Oh, and Kode and Tria? Seriously? How does something like that happen? Tag has a kid and another one on the way. You have a kid in school that you didn’t have a year ago. Maverick and Dale are all I have left.”
I sigh dramatically, and he grunts while shaking his head as Allie walks over to talk to Ash—Tag’s wife.
I feel like an outsider looking in, as though I was never really a part of this group.
“Shit changes, man. But you’re here now, so you can finally keep up with the rest of us.”
He claps me on the shoulder, and I lean back, deciding to focus on something that isn’t annoying me.
“So this Bella chick—”
“Don’t even think about going there,” he interrupts, giving me a pointed stare.
I hold my hands up in surrender, palms out like I’m innocent. “Just asking, dude. Not like that,” I tell him, only partially lying. I honestly have no idea what I’ll do with her if she lets me catch her, but I have to know if it was a fluke. Getting her to touch me again is on the top of list of things to do. “I was just asking what she is to the group,” I go on.
He relaxes as he rolls his eyes.
“Sorry. I’m on edge. Until I get a wedding ring on Allie’s finger, I’m a little paranoid that anything could go wrong. And you pissing off her best friend wouldn’t be in my best interest.”
“Allie would never leave you for something like that,” I say, sitting back.
“Logically I know that. But I’m just il
logical enough not to risk it.”
“No worries,” I tell him honestly. I’ll just leave Bella alone if it’s this important to him, even though it’s completely unrealistic that it could somehow influence Allie’s opinion of Wren.
“I don’t know why I’m worried. You’re not her type, and she’s pretty adamant about staying away from guys like you.”
“Guys like me?” I ask, trying not to let his insult take root. Wren’s one of my best friends, so knowing he thinks so fucking little—
“Tattoos, piercings, cocky… That sort of thing,” he says with a shrug, and I calm down immediately. Apparently I’m not myself if my feathers got ruffled over that stupid shit.
“She’s actually on a date with some lawyer right now,” he adds. “The guy picked her up from here and stayed on his phone the entire time when she was trying to make quick introductions.”
It doesn’t bother me that she’s on another date. Not at all. Nope. That would be insane if it did.
“Is that so?” I ask with forced disinterest, while secretly hoping he elaborates. Unfortunately, he gets called away by Allie, and I’m stuck trying not to obsess. Once again.
After years of having all of my attention wrapped up, I’m starting to find myself bored outside of work. At least that’s what I’m blaming this slightly disturbing fixation I have for a girl I barely met.
My phone chimes with a text, and I turn it over to cock an eyebrow in disbelief, wondering if her ears were burning or something.
BELLA: It’s another vibrator night. I’d rather wade through an ocean of spiders than ever let this guy put his dick inside me.
Why I’m smiling, I don’t fucking know. Maybe it’s because she just surprised the hell out of me.
ME: I’m better than any vibrator you own, and I have a spider tattoo if you’re into that.
BELLA: wtf?!!! That was not meant to go to you! Forget you saw it.
My smile only grows.
ME: Face it, on some subconscious level you wanted to message me, Bella. And I was being serious.
BELLA: Sorry, but my vagina is on lockdown against you.
ME: Just me? Why is that?
BELLA: Because you’re sexual. That’s why.
Yeah, my cock stirs when I read that, even though it’s an odd sensation. I can actually feel my boxers brushing against the head of my dick right now. Haven’t felt that since I was a kid.
BELLA: SPECIAL! Fucking eh. Not sexual!
ME: I’m especially sexual, so thank you for noticing. As for your vibrator situation… I’m here whenever you want to quit faking you’re a good girl.
BELLA: I’m not a good girl, and I’m not trying to be one. You’re riding my ass for no reason.
ME: Hmm… Now there’s a visual.
BELLA: ..l.. That’s me flipping you off. Just so you know.
ME: Just admit you want me, and we can stop playing this game. It’ll be fun to let me catch you.
BELLA: I don’t want you or your bedazzled dick.
ME: What the hell does bedazzled mean?
BELLA: Look it up, metal dick.
Laughing, I put my phone away, ending the sparring match. I’m not sure if I believe her or not about not meaning to send that to me. Seems a little too coincidental, but I’m game if she is.
Wren can forgive me.
Chapter 6
BELLA
As I wait on my late date to arrive, I trim my weird little plant that is supposed to relax me, according to the books I read. I’m tense and not relaxed. At all.
My phone buzzes on the counter, and I smile when I see it’s Allie.
ALLIE: What cha’ doing? On your date with the phone lover who picked you up yesterday here?
ME: I’m currently trimming my bush.
I laugh like I’m a fourteen-year-old boy at my text. Weirdly, my plant looks like the head of a penis. Am I that sex starved?
My phone buzzes again, and I groan when I see the name I gave Ethan on my screen. Against my better judgment, I read the text.
ASSHOLE: Funny. I pictured you as more of a “bare” girl than a trimmer.
I read that three times before I go from a fourteen-year-old boy to a twelve-year-old, mortified girl, and squeal while covering my face like that somehow shields me from my stupidity.
Did I really freaking send that to Ethan? Again? Why me?!
ME: That was NOT supposed to go to you, and I meant a literal bush. NOT my girl parts!
The next second, I get another text.
ALLIE: Huh? wth? Girl parts? Seriously? When did you turn five?
And I sent that to Allie instead of Ethan.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” I groan to myself. Then I glare at my phone and add, “You’re an evil son of a bitch.”
The phone doesn’t defend itself. Obviously it knows I’m right.
I copy and paste the text, and check twice to make sure I’m sending it to Ethan, then resend the damn thing.
ASSHOLE: If you say so. Feel free to show me, since I don’t really believe you.
Just to prove I’m not some lunatic discussing my vagina-grooming, I snap a picture of the bush, and I send it to him. He messages back promptly.
ASSHOLE: Your bush looks like a dick. I have some extra jewelry if you want to pierce it. I can send you a visual if you’ve forgotten what it looks like.
I reply back, rolling my eyes as I tell him he’s a douche bag. Too late do I see autocorrect has once again fucked me over, and the word isn’t even a real word. Why does it create words?
ME: You’re a doodoo bag.
He’s texting before I can fix it.
ASSHOLE: Dafuq?
ME: I meant douchebag!!
ASSHOLE: Yeah, cause that’s better. The 1990’s said to high five you for that.
ME: I hate you.
ASSHOLE: Only because you want me, Bella. Only because you want me.
I don’t know whether to be impressed with his confidence or annoyed by his arrogance. Fortunately, I don’t have to think about it much longer, because Jeremy is knocking on my door.
I really hope he was just nervous last night and that tonight will be better, because I almost didn’t agree to a second date.
Opening the door, I force a smile. He glances at me from head-to-toe while staying on his phone—again.
“Yeah, just get the contracts sent over,” he tells whoever it is he’s talking to before waving his hand impatiently at me to hurry up.
He walks on out to his car, while I mutter a few curses and shut the door and lock it. When I reach the car, he barely lets me get in before he’s gassing it out of my driveway.
“We’re going to be late for our reservation,” he tells me like it’s somehow my fault he’s thirty minutes late.
I open my mouth to tell him to shove it up his ass, when he starts talking to whoever is on the phone again.
“Yeah. Yeah. That sounds good. Keep me briefed on that. What about the Mullens contract?”
And that’s how our five minute car ride proceeds—him talking to someone else while I contemplate kneeing his balls.
He whirls into a parking spot, and gets out of the car, calling over his shoulder, “Hurry. We’re already five minutes late.”
“Not my fault!” I snap, struggling with the awkward door handle on his fancy car.
Jeremy walks in front of me, keeping a pace that I can’t match in my heels, and I glare at the back of his head. Asshole.
You know what? Fuck this.
As he weaves and ducks through the people on the sidewalk, I flip him off and turn around. Not that he notices.
Last night’s date sucked elephant turds, so I’m not sure why I agreed to another date. The highlight of the evening was sending a text to Allie, only to find out it actually went to Ethan. Yeah… That’s how bad the date was.
On paper, Jeremy seemed perfect. Law degree, wants a family, interested in a committed relationship, and a wonderful, happy past. In person? He’s a fucking cunt stain. Yes. Cu
nt stain. Think that makes you cringe? Speak to him and you’ll know the true meaning of cringing.
He loves to talk about himself and little else. Oh, and he has a third ball. Yep. Glad he got that out there, since that’s totally first date information.
And he walks way ahead of me, doesn’t even act like he wants me around, yet actually asked me what my vagina smelled like while I was putting a piece of fish in my mouth. Coincidence? I think not. And no, it does not smell like fish, for the record.
I hate dating.
I’m starting to miss the days of reckless, no-strings-attached sex.
The funny thing is, the sane ones only seem to want me in a bed. All the ones who want to date me are out of their freaking minds. What does that really say about me?
Deciding not to worry about where my vagina sniffing date disappeared to, I start perusing the streets of Sterling Shore. It’s my day off, so I might as well enjoy it. I’ve never bailed on a date so soon before, but there’s a first time for everything.
When I cross in front of Jax Marshall’s gym, I glance in out of habit. I’m not exactly dressed for the gym, considering I wore my sexy jeans and heels, but there’s a familiar person inside that has my feet cementing themselves to the sidewalk. I almost find myself groaning when I see the lines of muscle flexing, because I recognize the man even from the back.
Ethan.
I might not know his last name, but I know his body. This is just so embarrassingly shallow—which is what I was supposed to be getting past.