The Right Stud

by Ilsa Madden-Mills

  Staring into my empty tumbler, I insist in my head she’s wrong. I haven’t fallen for Ashton. I only feel this way because it was a nice place. Mrs. C was a character, and the sex was good.

  Okay, the sex was better than good. The sex was fucking amazing, and Ashton was… is a big part of the reason.

  Still, I haven’t changed. I’m the same guy I always was. I don’t do relationships. I don’t get hung up on women. I’m the live and let live guy. Free and easy. No strings.

  If I’d made it to the end of the week, finished what I’d started, I wouldn’t feel this way. It’s the abrupt ending, the shock that has me second-guessing myself. “I need a glass of water.”

  “Help yourself.”

  Pushing against my knees, I stand and go to the kitchen. I place the tumbler on the counter and rub my fingers against my eyes.

  It’s more than that.

  Ashton trusted me, and knowing I did this to her hurts more than I could have imagined.

  “Hey.” Bernice touches my shoulder, and I straighten, lowering my hand. “You okay? I confess, I’m a little worried. I’ve never seen you this way.”

  Clearing my throat, I relent. “It was more than the house.” My confession is quiet.

  Bernice, by contrast, is optimistic. “So what are you going to do about it?”

  Glancing at her, I don’t miss the light in her eyes. She thinks I have a chance. She has no idea.

  “I need to apologize, but I know she won’t see me.”

  “Only one way to find out.” My sister is practically bouncing on the balls of her feet, and I know seeing me this way, actually caring deeply about a woman, is a dream come true for her.

  “She threw me out, Bea. As in, she literally threw my stuff out the window of my upstairs room. Then she sent her attack parrot after us.”

  A snort bursts from my sister. “She has an attack parrot?”

  I wince at the memory. “Technically, no. But the bird knew what was going on. I should be smarter than a dumb bird.”

  Although, that’s not entirely fair. Rufus is weirdly smart, now that I think about it.

  “Listen to me.” Bernice puts both hands on my shoulders, facing me as if I’m headed off to war. “If I were a girl, and you showed up on my doorstep with that face and that ass begging me for forgiveness, trust me, I’d forgive you.”

  “She’s not you, and you haven’t been through the shit storm life has dealt her this year. Ashton is not interested in my apologies.”

  She tilts her head to the side. “You never know until you try. What’s the worst that could happen?”

  “I don’t know.” After this morning, it could be anything.

  At the same time, this pain in my stomach is driving me to her. I need to tell her I never wanted to displace her or Mrs. C. I never wanted to crush her dreams. I really did want to save her house. I really was happy here… if only she’d believe me.

  Bernice gives my shoulder a gentle shake. “Just try.”

  Twenty-Four

  Ashton

  Tape still guards the freshly painted boards on the porch, and I stand for a moment gazing at how pretty these small repairs have made the place.

  I spent the last hour sitting on the floor in my closet. My head was either on my knees or pressed against the wall as I turned this sudden change of events over and over in my mind.

  Now my stomach is a tight knot of anger, pain, anxiety… and determination. This time I’ve been pushed too far. This time I’m not walking away without a fight. What other choice do I have?

  Walking around the curved, wooden porch, I pull down the tape, balling it in my hands. A cool, salty breeze blows through the open space, and my breath catches in my throat as memories bubble to the surface—the joy I felt pulling out the rotten boards, the optimism at seeing the fresh, new wood just waiting to be coated in paint.

  We got about halfway through the exterior repairs, and it already looks so good. I can still imagine how it will look with everything finished, the doors open wide to new guests, couples strolling through the breezeway hand in hand or sitting in one of those rocking chairs sipping coffee or cool rosé, depending on the hour. It’s my dream, and I’ll be damned if I give up on it.

  The floor creaks behind me, and I glance up to see Mrs. C making her way to where I stand. She’s still in her pajamaralls, that turban on her head, and she stops beside me, looking out at the ocean, those deep blue waves that never stop rolling no matter how bad things get up here on dry land.

  “Your grandmother loved this big ole porch.” A smile curls her lips and crinkles her eyes. “She wanted to do everything out here, eat, paint, sit. I think she’d have slept out here if she’d had a hammock.”

  Stepping up to the rail beside her, I look out at the water. “When I was little, she’d set up a card table, and we’d play canasta and hearts.”

  “She was a whiz at gin rummy, beat me every time. Of course, I accused her of cheating.” The old lady beside me chuckles then shakes her head. “She’d be real proud of what you’re doing with the place.”

  My throat hurts, and the sadness in my chest threatens to spill out of my eyes again. I blink it away. “I never thought I’d be glad to see Rufus swooping in like he did this morning.”

  “Oh,” she laughs more. “He knows some key phrases. Get out is one of them. He’s a damn nuisance half the time, but I like to think he’s there when I need him.”

  “Apparently male animals are the only males worth anything.” The bitterness in my voice is unmistakable.

  Mrs. C pats my arm. “The human variety aren’t so bad. They just take a lot more patience.”

  “I’m all out of patience.”

  The sound of a car pulling into the gravel drive causes our eyes to meet. I’m frowning, but Mrs. C doesn’t seem surprised. A door closes, and whoever it is jogs up the steps to the front door.

  “That had better not be my brother,” I growl, marching past my one guest to where whoever is about to start knocking. My stomach plunges, and I shuffle to a stop when I see Jax standing there.

  His fist is raised to knock, and when he sees me, it lowers slowly. He turns to face me, not moving forward but not retreating either.

  “Why are you back?” Anger burns in my chest, and I don’t care how good he looks with his chin down, lifting those blue eyes to mine.

  “Ashton.” His deep voice is contrite, but I refuse to let it affect me.

  “I told you to leave.”

  “I know.” He glances at my bare feet, and I cross my arms over the pain in my chest. “I’ll leave. I just—I need you to let me explain first.”

  “If I’ve got the timeline right, you had days to explain.”

  He nods. “I should have told you sooner—”

  “You should have told me immediately.”

  He takes a step toward me, and I take a step back. He stops. “You’re right, and when I didn’t, I never could find the right time.”

  “I can think of several times you could have told me.”

  “Telling you the truth about this place was never going to be easy.”

  “So you lied to me—”

  “I never lied.”

  “Not telling me something as important as what you were really doing here is the same as lying.”

  “I was trying to figure out a way to change things.” His voice rises, and I resist the flash of emotion it sends through my body. “When I said I wanted to help you, I meant it. I still want to help you, Ashton.”

  “No thank you.” My chin lifts, and defiance shines in my eyes. “I’ll take care of this myself. I don’t need help from men who lie.”

  His fists clench at his sides, and he exhales a growl. “Stop saying that. Things were going really well. We were having fun, and I didn’t want to spoil it.”

  Pain twists in my chest, but my broken heart fights back. “My home and I are not a game. You might have been having fun here, getting footage for your show, doing… whatever, but th
is is serious to me.”

  “You think I didn’t take you seriously?”

  He holds out his hands, and his expression, his eyes, all of it is killing me inside. “I have no idea what you take seriously. I thought you were one thing, and I was wrong. Now I want you to leave.”

  “Ashton—”

  “No!” My voice rises. “This is a family matter, and you’ve interfered enough. This discussion is over. Go away, Jax.”

  If he were one of Lulu’s dogs, his tail would be between his legs, but I can’t worry about that. I also can’t argue with him anymore. It hurts too much, and I have to take care of me now. Turning on my heel, I walk away, leaving him at the front door.

  I’m not looking back. I have to regroup and figure out how I’m going to salvage my plan to save this house. I’ll sort out my broken heart later.

  Twenty-Five

  Ashton

  Three Days Later

  “Wear the red dress,” Lulu says as she watches me rifle through my walk-in closet.

  Clothes litter the room, shoes are piled up on my ottoman at the foot of my bed, and makeup is scattered across my vanity. After wallowing for three days, living in my pajamas, eating pints of Ben & Jerry’s “Cake My Day,” and watching Dirty Dancing (Yes, I’m a glutton for punishment, so sue me.), my best friend demanded I leave the house. This time, she’s taking charge of my girl’s night rebound.

  My lips compress. “Not that red one. It’s the one I wore when I met He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named.” I sigh. “He’s a Slytherin. I should have known he was bad news.”

  Lulu toys with a strand of her hair. Wavy and long, she’s ironed it smooth as red silk draping over her shoulders. “You referenced The Stud. That means you have to drink!”

  I chuckle as she heads over to the nightstand and pours me another glass of prosecco from the bottle she’d brought up to my room from the kitchen. “They say bubbles get you drunker faster. Proven scientific fact.”

  “Let’s hope.” I take a swig and crank up the speaker that’s connected to my cell. Beyoncé’s “Irreplaceable” blasts through the room and Lulu starts singing and dancing, her movements theatrical. She’s doing her best to cheer me up.

  I nod. Hell yeah. Screw Jax Roland and his lying heart. I don’t need him. We’re having a killer girls’ night, and I’m determined to look amazing as hell. My bruised and battered ego demands it.

  Beyoncé belts out the best girl-power, breakup song ever, and I’m getting pumped as I yank the most expensive dress I own off the rack—a shimmery blue mini dress with spaghetti straps and iridescent rhinestones on the bodice. The fabric is delicate with a lace overlay, and it shows most of my legs, making me look tall and willowy, even more so when I slip on a pair of four-inch silver stilettos.

  Purchased with Kyle, this dress was meant for our honeymoon. I’m mildly surprised when that bit of information doesn’t even make my heart twinge as I snip off the price tag. I twist and turn as I take in my image in the mirror. With my dark hair falling in loose waves down my back, I’m a mermaid.

  Lulu grins her approval as she does a pirouette and jazz hands to the music. I snort a laugh, bracing against my dresser. The girl has skills, but I’m pretty sure Beyoncé never did jazz hands.

  I think back to when Lulu showed up at my door, determined to talk me into going to the Smoky Siren. It pains me to think of going there again and not seeing Jax, but I’m sick of being in a funk over his betrayal. I have to move on. Plus, Lulu says she might have a new boarder for me, one of the servers at the bar.

  It seems fruitless to even consider taking on someone else besides Mrs. C, especially since Ben is bearing down hard, but part of me, that piece of my soul that’s always been a fighter, refuses to give up on my dream.

  My brother has been calling and texting me, wanting to discuss the particulars of selling, but I refuse to respond. I’m pretending I can still make my plan work, even though I’m flat broke, way over my head in debt. Basically, I’m an ostrich, sticking my head in the sand or Jean Claude van Ram playing dead in the ocean.

  And dammit if that doesn’t bring to mind Jax diving into the ocean to save him. I recall how the water had dripped down his chiseled chest and to the deep V in his obliques…

  Stop, Ashton!

  Tears prick at my eyes and I blink them away. It’s been so long since I’ve seen him, and nothing has been the same since.

  Don’t think about him.

  I suck in a fortifying breath, gathering myself and digging deep for a mental pep talk.

  You’ve got this, Ashton.

  You WILL forget about him.

  But…will I?

  A pang strikes my chest, and I clutch the dresser, needing to feel grounded because every time his name flashes in my head, hurt slices through me.

  How much longer until this horrible feeling of missing him disappears? What if it never does?

  He hurt you, I remind myself. He betrayed you. He’s not worthy your love…

  Love?

  God. I straighten up and push the thought away. Where did that come from? I can’t even go there. I. Just. Can’t.

  At least for tonight, I’m going to pretend I never even met him.

  “Your dress is slut-tastic,” Lulu says with an eyebrow waggle.

  I grimace. “It’s the dress I bought for our fancy dinner in Oahu.”

  “Oh. I forgot about your honeymoon. You looked forward to that trip for a year. Are you okay?”

  I wave her off. “Kyle is a distant memory. Douchebag Stud replaced him.” My voice is bitter.

  She puts her hands on her hips and sends an angry glare out the window, as if that’s where He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is, when in fact, I have no clue where Jax went after I threw him out. I hope he’s holed up in a Motel 6 with rubber eggs and day-old bagels. No bacon or blueberry muffins or flaky biscuits or fancy quiches for him!

  With a sigh, I acknowledge he’s probably staying with Bernice and those three little cuties. Saving a kitten… Or back in Manhattan, living the life.

  That concrete block is in my chest again, and my bestie refills my glass as her phone pings with a text. I watch her pick it up from the bed and read it, her face brightening.

  Her eyes dart up to me then back to her phone. Chewing on her lip, she types out a reply and then returns to me.

  My brow lowers as I study the flowy lilac dress she’s wearing that perfectly complements her bright red hair. Smoky eye shadow is on her lids, and if I’m not mistaken, it appears she’s gone the extra mile to get ready—definitely more than she usually does for girls’ night.

  “What’s going on with you?” I ask. “Are those eyelash extensions you’re wearing?”

  She flutters the black wing-like things at me. “I’m stoked that you noticed.”

  “You don’t usually go to such lengths when we go out.” Heck most of the time, she just does a swipe or two of gloss and mascara. “Anyone special you think you might be seeing?”

  A slow blush starts at her neck and works up to her carefully made-up face. “Uh, no… Well…” Her voice drifts off, a hesitant expression on her face as she looks at her phone.

  I cock my head. “Lulu? What aren’t you telling me?”

  She bites her bottom lip, obviously in distress, and then blurts out the words in a rush. “Ben texted me just now and said he’s staying in to watch a movie and if I wasn’t busy tonight I could come over. Of course, I told him I’d stop by after—”

  “Ben!” I mean, I know she has a thing for him, but this is the first I’ve heard of him inviting her over to watch a movie. My hands flutter as I suck in a breath. “He asked you over? Are you dating him?”

  Her face goes from blushing to pale. “We’ve messed around.”

  My mouth drops open, and I struggle for words. “You mean… you did the dirty?”

  Her hands twist in front of her. “A little.”

  “Since when?” How long has everyone I know been hiding shit from me?

  Lulu
paces around the room. “It was a spur-of-the-moment thing in his office last week, and I swear it was that nurse’s outfit; you know the one—”

  “I know the one!” Emotion churns in my gut, and I rub my temples.

  I’ve gone from being pumped to pissed in a matter of seconds, and my short fuse has everything to do with people letting me down.

  “Don’t be mad, Ashton. Please.” A tiny wrinkle lines her forehead, and she drops her chin, picking at her fingernail. “I really like him. You know I’ve always had a crush on him, even though it’s a big no-no to fall for your best friend’s brother. He’s just so…” She shoots me a look under her lashes. “Hot.”

  My bestie has crossed to the enemy’s side.

  “Et tu, Brute?” I say. “Just let me get this knife out of my back here, and we’ll go to the bar—or not—and you can rush over to Ben’s.”

  She strides over to me, a torn expression on her face. “No, no. I want to go out. I can see Ben afterwards. I just want to be upfront about everything that’s going on between us since you’re upset with him.”

  Upset? I’m furious with him. He wants to take my home away from me—our grandmother’s home. Fighting frustration, I look in the mirror that’s over my dresser and brush my long hair, arranging the beach waves.

  Lulu watches me anxiously. “Are you terribly mad at me?”

  I study her, my best friend since kindergarten at Palmetto Elementary School. She’s been right here with me through everything—my parents moving to Boca, Granny’s passing, and the whole Kyle debacle.

  “I guess that depends on what you’re saying to Ben about me.” Anger flies over me again at the thought, and I clench my fists. “How can you be doing the dirty with my brother when he’s taking my home away from me?”

  She puts her hands on my shoulders. “Maybe, just maybe, I can talk some sense into him—or screw some into him. I think this dress is pretty hot, right?”

  She laughs and steps back to gesture to her slinky dress with its deep V-neck. Her favorite “fuck-me” heels are on—a pair of black Jimmy Choos we bought together on a girls’ trip to Savannah. Her concerned gaze gauges my reactions.