He makes a good argument, but maybe he also has his own agenda. Most men do.
I shrug, and he continues, “What’s the point in fighting it? You’re the one losing.” He flashes me a grin, opening my car door for me. “I hope someday you can enjoy roses again.”
“Me, too,” I whisper.
CHAPTER NINE
EIGHTEEN MONTHS AGO
You are my answered wish.
A. Rose
RHETT
A cat owner who insists his feline is anorexic started my morning, and it’s been non-stop since. People love their pets. Their pets are like their children. I get it. I love Sadie, so I try to keep that in mind with all my patients. But just like you have crazy, over the top parents, you have crazy, over the top pet owners. Those that dress up their animals for the holidays, take them to visit Santa, and love to show you the pictures. Still, I’d much rather that than the alternative. My patients are all loved by their owners. That’s the perk of owning your own clinic. You only deal with people who love their animals; otherwise, they wouldn’t be paying the crazy fees to keep them taken care of. Pet insurance, now that’s a racket I should’ve gotten into.
In vet school, we did a lot of volunteer hours, so I saw the other side—the neglected, the abused. I don’t know how social workers do it. Seeing a dog beaten is bad enough; I can’t imagine seeing a child that way.
Exiting exam room one, I pull out my phone, pulling up Ainsley’s text—a picture of her blowing a kiss. The day seems a lot longer when you’ve got a woman and the promise of sex waiting for you at home.
“Are we working or sexting?” Brody asks, attempting to swipe my phone.
I pull it back just in time. “I can multi-task.”
“Well, multi-task your ass into exam room two,” he says. “Hey, how was Ainsley when you drove her home? Did you see her yesterday at all?”
“Didn’t see her yesterday,” I lie. “She seemed fine to me.”
“Good,” he says. “I asked her to meet me for lunch today. You in?”
“I’ll let you know,” I say.
He walks off, and I pull up Ainsley’s number, texting her the story I just told Brody. Lies only work if everyone tells the same ones.
Then it’s back to work. An angry turtle who refuses to come out of his shell, and a lazy spaniel who hikes his leg off the side of the sofa to pee on the floor instead of going outside—that’s what rounds out my morning. Sometimes this job feels more like therapy than medicine.
Passing by reception, I hear my name. Brenda has worked for me and Brody since we opened the clinic. She’s old enough to be our mother. She’s the lifeblood of the office. Nothing here happens without Brenda. “Ainsley’s outside,” she says. “I’m assuming she’s waiting on her brother.”
I look though the picture window, seeing Ainsley pacing back and forth. Her strawberry blonde hair is pulled up in a ponytail, and she’s dressed in shorts and t-shirt. God, she’s beautiful. I wonder how long she’s been out there.
“He’s finishing up with a patient. I’ll tell her to come wait inside,” I say to Brenda.
Walking through reception, I open the door. Ainsley’s eyes dart to me. She looks like she’s about to vomit all over the sidewalk. I know she’s worried about Brody finding out, probably thinking he’ll kill me.
“This is by far the most selfish thing I’ve ever done,” she whispers. “I’ve been so hellbent and determined not to let Brody run my life, I’ve forgotten I could be destroying his relationship with the most important person in his life besides me and Skye.”
“Come inside,” I say, wanting to take her hand.
“I’m not sure I can act like I haven’t screwed you seven ways to Sunday.”
I can’t help but laugh. I really wish I could read her mind. The things she comes up with.
“Stop laughing,” she says, grinning. “Illicit affairs are not for the faint of heart, I tell you.”
The door opens, and a woman walks out carrying a small white poodle. It’s hard to pay attention to the dog because the woman is dressed like she is going to a nightclub in a tight black spandex dress with killer high heels. Ainsley raises an eyebrow, walking inside. The entire waiting area is women, all dressed very sexy. Some don’t even have pets with them. Some have goldfish. I think I even see one with a hermit crab.
“Ainsley Rose!” a friendly voice says. Brenda comes out from behind the desk to hug Ainsley. It’s a welcome sight among the sea of silicone.
“Hi, Brenda,” Ainsley says, glancing over her shoulder. “What’s with all the cleavage and short skirts?”
She rolls her eyes. “There was an article on Charleston’s most successful men. Rhett and Brody made the list. Ever since then, these harlots have been coming in by the droves. I make them all wait until our ‘real’ patients have been seen. Some of these floozies don’t even have pets. They say they are considering getting this or that and want to discuss breeds.”
“Or breeding?” Ainsley giggles.
Shaking my head, I lead Ainsley back to the office Brody and I share. It’s set up so our desks face each other in the middle of the room with a few file cabinets surrounding them and a plaid dog bed in the corner for Sadie, our not-so-silent partner. Most days, I bring her to work with me. I hate the idea of her cooped up in the condo, and here she gets all kinds of attention from the staff.
Ainsley bends down to pat Sadie. I bend down next to her, my fingers gently grazing hers. “Can you do this?” I ask. “With Brody?”
“I’ll be okay,” she says, but it’s anything but convincing.
I ask softly, “Are you having second thoughts? We can stop this right now.”
Her eyes fall to her feet. Fuck, that sounded like I could just dump her without a second thought. I tilt her chin up. “I don’t want to. I haven’t stopped thinking about you all morning.”
“Hey,” Brody says, and we both pop to our feet. He wraps his arms around her tightly. “You alright?”
“I’m fine. You’re making a big deal out of nothing,” she says.
“Big brother rules say it’s my job to protect you,” Brody says, tapping her nose.
“I think you’re the one who needs protecting,” she says, a twinge of mischief in her voice. “Maybe I should kick the butts of all those bimbos in the waiting room.”
Brody and I both laugh. “I’m engaged, but Rhett might need a little protection. He’s gotten friendly with patients before.”
Her head whips around like she’s in The Exorcist. “Damn, Brody, that was one time,” I say, looking away.
“I’ll never let you live that down,” he says, laughing. “I still can’t use exam room two. Your naked ass is burned into my skull.”
Damn it! Thanks for that visual, Brody! That was a while ago, but it doesn’t matter if it was last year or last week, Ainsley didn’t need to know. I try to catch her eyes, but they’re on the floor again. Not sure what she finds so interesting about dog hair. We really need to sweep in here. Sadie gets up and nuzzles her leg, and I wish it was me who was comforting her.
“You seem busy, so I’ll just go,” Ainsley says quietly.
“Those women can wait. I’m taking my sister to lunch. But let’s be quick. How about the hamburger place across the street?” Brody asks.
“Sure,” she says, trying to sound happy.
“You coming?” Brody asks, turning to me. Without thinking, I look at Ainsley, her eyes willing me to say no.
“Oh, thought it was brother-sister time,” I say.
“Well, you’re her default brother, so come on,” Brody says.
Ouch! I’m not her brother, and I’ve never thought of myself that way. Brody starts for the door, and Ainsley glances at me. I give her a little wink, indicating that everything will be fine, but she doesn’t look like she believes me. As we head out, Brody immediately starts in on her. How’s she feeling? What are her plans? He makes any helicopter parent look like they’re on a pleasure cruise.
The place isn�
�t far, and thank fuck, it’s not crowded. It’s one of those places where you order at the counter, and then they bring the food out to you. Ainsley orders first before going to grab a table. Looking back at her over my shoulder, I see her studying the chairs, trying to decide the best seating arrangement.
I hate seeing her stressed. I hate that I didn’t buy her lunch. I hate that I didn’t pull out her chair, so I’ll be damned if I don’t sit next to her. It’s a four-top, so technically I could leave an empty seat between us. But I don’t, not even when she puts her purse on it, a not-so-subtle hint for me to park my ass elsewhere.
Instead, I pick it up, move it out of the way, and sit down before Brody walks over. “Did you stay in bed all day yesterday?” he asks.
“What?” she cries.
“Since you weren’t feeling well,” he says. “Did you stay in bed and rest?”
“I stayed in bed,” she says, trying to keep from smiling, both of us knowing how little rest we actually got.
We make small talk until the server comes over with the food, and I slip my hand to her thigh, using the tablecloth to hide our contact.
It’s only meant to reassure her, but her cheeks blush just the same. I’d bet her panties are soaked, too. Still, this isn’t a romantic comedy where the leads give one other hand jobs at the dinner table. I’m not willing to risk her feelings or her brother’s with that kind of behavior, no matter how much fun it would be.
Brody said this would be a quick lunch, but he’s suddenly droning on and on about her career plans, picking the right guy, local self-defense courses, and date rape drugs. He seems to have forgotten that we do have a waiting room full of patients, even if they are just looking for dates. Usually, Ainsley would be giving it right back to him, but she seems fascinated by the tiny seeds on her hamburger bun, picking them off one at a time, not having actually taken a bite.
Ladies, forget Paleo, Keto, Whole Thirty! Screw your brother’s best friend if you want to lose weight. This may just be the diet trend of the year. Not that Ainsley needs to lose any weight, of course. Her curves are the stuff men dream of. I give her knee a little squeeze to try to get her attention.
“You have got to stop!” she barks.
Brody’s mouth closes, and my hand flies off her leg, not sure who that outburst was meant for.
“What did I say?” Brody asks, looking at me.
I can only shrug. I stopped paying attention to Brody’s lectures like five years ago. Maybe ten.
“I knew I shouldn’t have agreed to move back here. It’s only been a few weeks, and you are driving me crazy,” she cries.
“Charleston is your home,” Brody says. “You belong here with your family. Me, Skye, and Rhett.”
“Back off, Brody,” she snaps, getting to her feet and throwing down her napkin. “My love life is none of your business. I’m not fifteen anymore.”
She turns on her heel and walks out. Brody looks at me, both confused and mortified. “Love life? What love life?”
Sadie by my side, I open the door to Ainsley’s place, not sure what to expect from her. She could be pissed about a number of things—the women in the waiting room, Brody’s revelation about my adventures in exam room two, or the fact that I had my hand on her thigh at lunch. So I’m relieved when she smiles at me like I’ve just given her the best orgasm of her life.
“Nice outburst today,” I say, running my fingers through her hair. “Was that meant for me or for Brody?”
“Mostly Brody,” she says, leaning up to kiss me gently, and giving Sadie a quick pat. “What did you two talk about after I left?”
“He asked me to keep an eye on you,” I say, the corner of my mouth turning up in a mischievous smile.
“What did you say?”
“That he should give you some space, and I would watch out for you.”
“You lied that easily?”
“I didn’t lie.” I squeeze her ass. “I plan on watching you . . .” I lower my mouth to her neck, my voice low and hungry. “Watching you come while I slide my dick inside you.”
“Rhett,” she says in a needy moan.
“Watching you scream my name while I fuck you with my mouth.” I feel her tremble and chuckle low in my throat. Slipping my hands between her legs, I cup her, rubbing her through her shorts. “You’re soaking wet. Did you get wet for me at lunch?” I ask, increasing the pressure, her hips pushing against my hand. “Tell me.”
“Yes,” she whispers.
I slide to my knees, taking her shorts and panties with me, and bury myself between her legs. Her nails dig into my shoulder as I grip her ass, pulling her tighter.
“Fuck, baby,” I groan, my mouth moving all over her, inside, outside—sucking, licking, nibbling. I can’t get enough. I lift one of her legs to my shoulder, pushing my tongue deeper inside. “That’s it, baby,” I growl, pushing her ass, encouraging her.
Her hands in my hair, she moans my name. Her voice is breathy and needy, and makes my dick twitch. Gripping her hips, I pull her tighter. I’m on my knees, which is fitting because she completely controls me. Everything I want, I crave, begins and ends with her. I want my days to begin buried deep inside her. I want my nights to end with her in my arms. I’ve never considered myself a greedy man, but Ainsley has changed me, and she’s what I long for the most.
Giving her ass a smack, she cries out in pleasure. All I want is to make her feel good. My sole purpose is to give her pleasure. My hands slip to her ass. There’s something about a woman’s hips, the curve of her ass that make a man weak. Women don’t exist for a man’s amusement. They are a luxury. What we desire most. We could live without them, but we don’t want to. I’ve lived without Ainsley, but now I know I never want to do that again.
Enjoying the taste of her, I don’t realize she’s on the verge until her head flies back, and she screams, “Oh my God!”
Her whole body quivers, but I don’t stop. I can’t. I’m too greedy. Sticking my tongue deep inside again, she thrusts against me. I pull her to the sofa and lay down underneath her so she’s straddling my face. But she stops moving. I don’t need to see her face to know she’s embarrassed. Softly, I plant feather light kisses around her folds, feeling her muscles clench.
“You’re so beautiful,” I say, my tongue outlining her. “And you taste fucking amazing.”
“Rhett.”
She tries to move, but I hold her hips firm.
“I know you want this. You’re open so wide.”
“Oh my God!” she cries.
“Please,” I beg, pushing on her ass, encouraging her again. “That’s it, baby.” Her hips start to move faster, and I groan, the vibration causing her to tremble. Her second orgasm rips through her, her legs give way, and she collapses on top of me.
Gently, I kiss her, and she practically jumps, but I catch her by her hips. She looks down at me and says, “I’m sorry, you can’t breathe.” I bust out laughing, and she grins. “I can only imagine telling Brody I killed his best friend by suffocating him with my vagina!”
My dick pulses against her. What can I say? Her crazy mind does it for me. Truthfully, there’s not anything about her that doesn’t get to me. She starts to slide down my body, hopefully to return the favor, but she stops, her head turned to the side.
I see we have an audience. Sadie’s sitting straight up, her tongue hanging out.
“Sadie’s watching us,” she says.
I motion to Sadie to go away, shooing my hand at her, only she comes over to us, resting her head next to us.
“The little cock blocker is jealous,” I say.
“Sorry, Sadie,” she says, kissing her way down my chest and abs. “He needs my attention right now.”
“I really need to finish unpacking these last few boxes,” she says, cuddling into my side on the sofa, making no attempt to get up. I’m sure she would’ve been unpacked days ago, but I’ve had her a little preoccupied.
Planting a kiss on top of her head, I say, “Why don’t
I help you?”
“That doesn’t sound like fun,” she says, raising an eyebrow at me.
“It will be if we do it naked.”
She laughs, and I help her to her feet, pulling her into my chest, her tits pushing against me. I run my fingers through her long strawberry hair, leaning into her neck. “Rhett?” She means to scold me into action, but her voice is too soft and sweet.
“Payment up front,” I tease.
She giggles, planting a sweet kiss on my cheek, then points to a large box in the corner. Usually when someone moves, boxes are labeled—kitchen, bathroom, etc., but this one is full of all kinds of odds and end. I pull out an old photo of the four of us taken on Ainsley’s sixteenth birthday.
“Wow, look at us. We had no idea what we were doing raising you,” I say.
“You didn’t raise me. Brody raised me. You were just the hot friend.”
I start laughing, having no idea she thought of me that way when she was a teenager.
“It’s not funny,” she says. “All my friends drooled over you and Brody. It was terrible.”
Raising my eyebrow, I lean against the sofa. “What about you? Did you drool over me?” I see the heat rise to her cheeks and catch her in my arms. “It’s okay. I drooled over you, too. Not then, of course. But later, when you were in college, I had very, very bad thoughts about you and me.” She slaps my shoulder as I reach down into the box, pulling out an old, ratty sketchpad I bought her long ago. “You kept this?” I ask, flipping it open.
She nods and smiles. I don’t have to read what I inscribed to her. She knows it by heart even after all this time and recites it for me word for word: A. Rose, dream big! Sketch what makes you happy. Your dreams are still alive, find them.
She softly strokes my cheek. “When I found this on my nightstand a few months after my parents died, I thought it was from Brody until I opened the cover. I never could figure out why you bought it for me.”
“You were so sad for so long back then,” I say. “When I would catch you sketching, your eyes would light up. I was cleaning up one day and saw all these sketches on napkins of this one particular wedding dress.”
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