The XOXO New Adult Collection: 16 Full Length New Adult Stories

by Brina Courtney

  “Hi,” she said, stepping past me, her briefcase in one hand and a bag of something that smelled good in the other.

  “Hi, yourself.” I closed the door behind her.

  “Where's the suit?” she asked, looking around.

  “It's hung up, not wadded up in a corner, if you need to go check.”

  She set her stuff down on the small, square kitchen table. “I'll trust you.”

  “Gee, thanks.”

  She opened the white paper bag and pulled something out. Two somethings. Fat aluminum foil-covered burritos. “I got two. Eggs, cheese and sausage.” She smiled. “Just in case.”

  My stomach jumped just a little. And not because I was hungry.

  “Thanks,” I said. “But I'm alright.”

  I watched as she pulled out one of the chairs and sat down. She looked comfortable, at home and I liked that. Nothing had felt right about living there since Jay had died. No one had visited or stopped by. I wouldn't let anyone. And yet here she was, sitting at my table, looking like she'd done it a million times.

  “Did you even read what I sent you?”

  “Yeah.” Her face looked a little less burned. The pink in her cheeks and on her nose had melded into a rose-tinted bronze. “Why?”

  “You didn't say anything on the phone.”

  She cocked an eyebrow. “Worried?”

  “No,” I lied.

  She unwrapped one of the burritos. “Relax.”

  “Easy for you to say.”

  She took a huge bite of the burrito and shrugged.

  I sat down at the table across from her and waited.

  She finished chewing. “It's pretty good, Kellen.”

  “The burrito?”

  She laughed. “Well, yeah, that too, but I meant what you sent me,” she said.

  “Yeah.”

  She nodded. “We need to clean it up a little, but what you sent me?” She smiled again. “It's not bad at all, considering how much you whined about having to do it.”

  I shifted in my chair, uncomfortable. “I just haven't done much of this kind of...thing.”

  She nodded as she ate. “I understand. But what you gave me is pretty good. You'll be fine.”

  “Unless I start stuttering like an idiot.”

  “You won't,” she said, glancing at me. “You seem to come through in the moment.”

  “What does that mean?”

  She set the burrito down and wiped her hands on a white paper napkin she pulled from the bag. “I watched you in the finals. You had all of this crap swirling around you – me being forced on you, and probably a bunch of other stuff I don't even know about. But you went out there and nailed it.” She stared at me. “You totally came through when it was time to come through.”

  “Yeah, but that's surfing,” I said. “I know how to do that.”

  “It's more than that,” she said, picking up the burrito again. “Usually, if you can do it with one thing, you can do it in others. So I think you'll be fine.”

  I looked away. I didn't know what to tell her. I thought I was damn good at surfing but not good at too many other things, at least not anything that mattered. I could drink most people under the table and I could get chicks out of their clothes pretty damn fast. But other stuff, stuff that mattered? Not so much. I was good at surfing all the time, not just in the finals. It was the one thing I knew I did better than nearly anyone else. In my mind, there was nothing else like it.

  Gina finished the burrito and pulled her computer out of her bag. She opened it and the attachment I'd sent her was already open on the screen.

  “We're doing this now?” I asked.

  She stared at me. “Uh, yeah. That's why I came over. You have something else you want to do?”

  I lost myself a little in her eyes. With the sun streaming through the window, they looked almost translucent, the color of whiskey. Yeah, I could definitely drown in those.

  “Hey,” she said.

  I refocused. “Yeah. I mean, No.”

  “Okay, then,” she said, grinning. “We're doing it now.”

  I nodded and pulled my chair closer to her. I laid my palms flat on the table and took short, shallow breaths so the smell of her wouldn't distract me.

  An hour later, we'd gone through every single line I'd written. Gina had cut a few out, added some of her own and changed seemingly every other one. Finally satisfied, she'd connected her laptop to my wireless printer and printed two copies. She made me read it out loud twice, with her following along, with her making me stand up when I did it. She corrected me several times, telling me to stand up straighter, to look up occasionally, to try and smile.

  I would've preferred stepping on a stingray.

  But I did it because she didn't give me a choice. And because I wanted to prove to her that I could do it. Hell, I wanted to prove to myself that I could do it.

  She made me read it a third time and by the time I finished it, I felt like I'd read it a hundred times. But it wasn't entirely painful.

  “I think you're ready,” she said, leaning back in the chair. “Maybe read it once or twice more before tonight. And then that's it.”

  “Should I memorize it?'

  She shook her head. “No. Worse thing you can do. Because if you forget part of it, you'll get confused. It'll become like quicksand. The speech is just a roadmap. Just be familiar with it.”

  I set the papers on the table. “Alright.”

  She stood and stretched and walked into the living room, looking out the window toward the beach. “And now we need to chat about something else.”

  Her voice was a little flat and I glanced up at her. “That doesn't sound good.”

  She shrugged, standing next to the glass, her eyes on the water. “Just depends.”

  “On?”

  She rolled her shoulders, then pointed at the door. “Can we go outside?”

  I nodded and followed her out to the patio. Maybe she was ready to continue our conversation from the night before – tell me exactly what she'd been pointing to when we'd stood outside, why she'd looked ready to burst into tears.

  The air outside was cool and the breeze had turned the waves into nothing more than mush. I watched the break collapse on to itself, seaweed swirling in a mess of foam. At least I wasn't missing anything out there.

  “How'd you find this place?” Gina asked, walking over to the short wall that ran between the house and the sand.

  “Friend of a friend,” I said, collapsing into one of the chairs. “Guy needed to get rid of it, was upside down on it. My friend knew I was looking for a place down here. That was it.”

  She nodded and stared at the water for awhile. I waited, my right knee bouncing. A couple of times she started to say something, then stopped. Finally, she turned and sat down on the wall.

  “How do you feel about apologies?” she asked, folding her arms across her chest.

  I was confused. “Are you offering me one?”

  She laughed, then shook her head. “No. I'm not.”

  “I don't know what you're talking about.”

  She set her hands on either side of her, bracing herself on the wall. “You're going to apologize to the guy you fought with at the bar.”

  My stomach knotted. “The fuck I am.” She'd caught me completely off guard.

  “The guy's dad is making some noise about a lawsuit,” Gina said. “Against you and the tour.”

  “So?” I said, irritated. “Let him. I didn't do shit. That chick either set me up or was just stupid. But all I did was defend myself. I didn't start it.”

  “No, but you finished it,” she said evenly. “And no one knows his name. But they know yours.”

  “I don't care,” I said. I was pissed. “I didn't do anything wrong.”

  She held up a hand. “I'm not saying you did. I believe you. I really do.”

  I watched her. Her mouth was set in a firm line but her eyes were soft, pleading. I wasn't sure if she was playing me or not, but I thought she
was telling the truth. She did actually believe me.

  “But here's the thing,” she continued. “Like I said, people know your name, not his. Regardless of whose fault it was, it's going to get attached to you. No one's going to care who started it. All they're going to remember is that you were in a fight.”

  I looked away from her. I didn't say anything.

  “If you take the first step,” she said, her voice lowered. “It does two things. One, it makes you look like the bigger guy here. You're taking responsibility and apologizing for something stupid and that's going to reflect well on you. And, two, if the family does file suit or decide to talk to the papers or whatever, we can undercut that by saying you've already apologized and as far as we're concerned, it's over. It'll kill any momentum they're looking for and it'll die.” She paused. “But it has to start with you.”

  My knee vibrated like a jackhammer. “I didn't start it. The chick came on to me. I tried to walk away. He swung first.”

  She nodded. “I'm not disputing any of that. I think it was one of two things. The girl saw you, blew off the guy and tried to hook up. The guy got pissed and he should've gone after her, not you. Or they were all in on it together and tough guy thought he'd take a shot at the most famous person he'll probably ever be in the same room with. None of that is your fault. None of it.”

  My knee kept bouncing. She sounded like she believed what she was saying.

  “But bottom line is you're Kellen Handler,” she said. “You have a reputation. People are going to think it was your fault. Just you doing another stupid thing.”

  I flinched at her words. Had I been living in a fucking cave for the last six months? Had my reputation really gotten that bad? I'd been spiraling so badly from Jay's death that I hadn't cared what I did or who saw me do it.

  “It doesn't matter what the truth is,” she said. The wind tossed her hair and she tucked the wayward strands behind her ears. Diamond studs winked at me, big ones, and I wondered if they were real. And who the hell had given them to her.

  “The truth almost never matters in situations like this,” she continued. “And sucking it up here and making the apology to some asshole is going to do a lot more good for you than making some moral stand and saying you were in the right.”

  I stood up, more to stop my knee from banging up and down than any other reason. I walked over to the wall where she was standing. The waves were still crap but I didn't care about getting out in the water. I had other things on my mind.

  “I've made a pretty big fucking mess of things, haven't I?”

  Gina smiled at me. “A little. But it's nothing we can't fix. I promise.”

  I shoved my hands in my shorts pockets and stared at the patio floor. A butterfly flitted by and Rip made a leap for it. I picked him up and waved the butterfly away and over the wall. “I just have to say I'm sorry?” I asked her. “That's it?”

  “Probably shake his hand,” she said. “And absolutely not punch him in the face.”

  I smiled. “No?”

  “No.”

  I sighed. Rip squirmed and I set him down. “Okay,” I said. “I'll do it.”

  “Good.” She looked relieved.

  “If you answer one question.” She owed me. I was bending over backward to do all the things she wanted me to do. And yeah, I got it. Ultimately, I was doing it for me. But it didn't change the fact that some dark-haired chick who'd somehow managed to get under my skin was calling the shots.

  Her shoulders stiffened. “I'm the one who asks questions, not you. I don't think...”

  “Look, if I have to spend all this time with you, I think I should get to know a little bit about you,” I said. “That only seems fair.”

  “I didn't know it was so painful to spend time with me,” she retorted and for a split second, she sounded hurt.

  “It's not.” I shifted so I was standing closer to her. The breeze lifted the scent of her shampoo and it tickled my nose. “But I want to know who I'm hanging out with. Who's bossing me around. So far, I know two things. Your name and that you used to live in the ocean.”

  “What?” She asked, her voice incredulous.

  “Well, you pointed to the water and said you lived there.” I grinned. “Thought maybe you were a mermaid or something.”

  “Ha. Ha.” Her voice was laced with sarcasm but at least she didn't sound hurt or pissed off anymore.

  “No?” I asked innocently.

  A smile tugged at her lips, a smile she was trying hard to hold back. “Fine. One question. I'll answer and then you agree to the apology. Deal?”

  “Deal.”

  “Ask away then.”

  I hesitated for just a second. There were a dozen questions I wanted to ask her. A hundred. But I stuck to the one front and center in my mind. “My question last night. You never answered it. Did you used to live down here?”

  “Nope,” she said, standing up. “Not ever.”

  “Well, then why did you say that you...”

  “One question,” she reminded me. “I said one question.”

  “Come on.” I cocked my head and smiled and she immediately blushed. Before I could stop myself, I reached out and touched her arm. My fingers grazed her skin and I might have imagined it but I thought she leaned into my touch. “Pretty please.”

  She took a deep breath and shifted away. Not in a get-the-fuck-away-from-me way. But she didn't look at me and she'd tightened her hands into fists. I didn't know if it was because she didn't want to talk or because she was reacting to me.

  “You'll have to earn the next one,” she said, her voice soft. She looked up at me then and I drew a sharp breath. There were no tears, no anger but there was something there, something that made my breath hitch in my throat and my mouth close up as her eyes met mine.

  I could have powered a city with the electricity that surged between us. I didn't think. I just reacted, reaching for her again.

  But she sidestepped me, pushing off the wall and heading toward the sliding door. “I'll be back at five to bring you the shirt and tie.” Her tone was business-like, professional. “Read the speech a couple more times.”

  I shook my head in confusion. Had I just imagined the last few seconds? I'd gone two nights without sex, not two months, but maybe I was already in withdrawal. Maybe I was inventing reactions, hers and mine, because whatever had sparked between us just a minute earlier had completely flamed out.

  “Hey,” I said, my voice sharp.

  She froze but didn't turn around. “What?”

  I wanted to just bring it all out, ask her what the hell was going on. I didn't play games. I'd never needed to. I knew who she was and I knew we should keep things professional. But I rarely did what I was supposed to do.

  “I'm gonna earn another question tonight.”

  FIFTEEN

  Gina

  What the hell was I doing?

  I berated myself over and over as I tore through the racks of ties. I was in some upscale men's shop in Fashion Island, searching for a shirt and tie for Kellen for the banquet. I scanned the silky ties as I thumbed through them, trying not to obsess over what had happened on his patio only an hour earlier. The way he'd looked at me. Smiled at me. Touched me.

  I expelled a deep breath. He was Kellen Handler, the biggest womanizer on the planet. There was no way he could be hot for me. None. And yeah, he was drop-dead gorgeous and his smile turned my knees to jelly but I couldn't let him get to me. I couldn't be attracted to him. Not now. Not ever.

  But I couldn't stop thinking about him. There was something sincere in his voice, in his eyes, something that hinted that there really was more to him than the public persona I'd read about. He was damaged. Like me. He'd been hurt. Like me.

  Stop, I told myself. He's a job. Nothing more.

  I found a tie, a blue paisley one that matched his eyes. Next to it was a gray one, drab with thin black stripes. I debated for a second, knowing the banquet would be filled with girls more than willing to throw t
hemselves at his feet. They'd see him all dressed up and awkward in his coat and dress slacks, but still filled with the confidence he always seemed to carry, that blue tie an extension of those eyes. And I knew what they'd be fantasizing about. Stripping the charcoal suit jacket off his torso. Ripping that tie off of him, pulling it slowly from his neck. Securing it over his eyes, tying it just tight enough. Doing all manner of things to him, things that I couldn't ever remember doing. A soft sigh escaped my mouth as I let the fantasy play out in my mind. But it wasn't some surfer chick blindfolding Kellen. It was me.

  “Can I help you?”

  I dropped the tie and it fell back into place on the rack. A gray-haired man in a suit stood next to me, a smile on his face.

  “Are you looking for something in particular?” he asked, his voice smooth. His cologne was overwhelming.

  Yes, I thought. A way to turn off the images in my head.

  I forced a smile. “I think I'm alright. Thanks.”

  He motioned to the blue tie. “Good colors. Is your husband blue-eyed?”

  I felt my cheeks flush. “I'm not shopping for my husband. And yes, he is.”

  If he noticed that I was both flustered and irritated by his question, he didn't show it. Instead, he turned to a stack of dress shirts, pulling out a dark blue one. He plucked the tie off the rack and held it against the shirt.

  He looked at me and smiled. “Goes nice together, don't you think?”

  It did. And I knew then that I wouldn't dress Kellen in anything but that, even if it meant that every girl at the banquet would be salivating after him. They would be, anyway, I reminded myself. He was that beautiful.

  I paid for the shirt and tie, filing the receipt in my wallet so that I could add it to my expense book. Men's clothing was not cheap.

  Twenty minutes later, I was back in my hotel room. I pulled the clothes I'd just purchased out of the bag and set them down on the bed. The shirt was packaged and I knew it would need to be ironed before Kellen wore it. I was already pretty sure the guy had never used an iron in his life. I peeked into the closet and breathed a sigh of relief when I spotted the iron sitting on the top shelf. I grabbed it and plugged it in and wondered if I could add an additional charge to his bill for ironing his clothes.