by A. J. Sand
“Dude, why are you on that?” Wes sneered at his brother. He loved the guy, but he knew if Abel ever turned up missing, he’d gladly admit to being behind it.
“Doc said to take it easy, remember?” Abel replied with a smirk as he abandoned the scooter with a line of shopping carts. He surfed too, but he wasn’t back at full strength yet following the surgery he’d had for a torn rotator cuff not too long ago, and that was why he hadn’t participated in the commercial filming, since he was still doing physical therapy.
“Of course. You need to ride a scooter ‘cause you hurt your shoulder. Seems legit.” Wes shoved some of the lighter plastic bags into his brother’s hands, and they started for the crowded parking lot toward Wes’ Land Rover just as a red motorcycle pulled up to the crosswalk. The helmeted rider signaled for them to keep going, and Wes twisted his head to watch the bike glide off behind them. Tight leather pants, nice ass, tiny frame. Definitely a chick. And he liked any who preferred to ride things.
“You think Jamie’ll want to come over and play nurse?” Abel asked, referring to his former friend-with-benefits who was also part of their main circle of friends.
“No way, dude. She freakin’ hates you, and she’s happy now. You know you blew it a long time ago.”
“She’ll be back,” Abel countered with a tone of defiance and puffed up arrogance. Wes swung a skeptical look in his direction, but he let his expression soften into something more supportive because he knew his brother was hurting. And they had partied like crazy earlier in the year as a result. Abel was actively pursuing Jamie now, even though she was in a relationship, and one that had gotten pretty serious over the last year. Wes actually liked that guy—everyone did—so Abel was sleeping his way through Los Angeles and literally burying his feelings in everyone else.
But it was impossible to fuck someone out of your system. Wes had tried to tell him that but Abel seemed determined to prove him wrong.
Wes felt bad for him, pitied him even, and that was why he didn’t really bother with deep romantic attachment. Sure, he saw himself at forty maybe—a very weak maybe—with kids, and maybe on his second wife, but the thought of getting serious with anyone right now was not only frightening but also a waste of his most virile years. His friends, Ribsy, Kai and Bryson, were all romantically involved with great women—Kai’s girlfriend was actually one of his best friends now—but, to him, it seemed like he had been the only one who meant it during all those drunken pledges to “stay single and screw” until thirty.
He’d had an amazing time with Madison and Natalie, and he always liked the women he slept with, of course, but he also always made sure that they were of like minds. They could hang out and spend as much time together as they both wanted, as long as the woman never tried to turn it into anything else. Then they could always part ways without any scorn and even rekindle things later. It wasn’t that Wes didn’t believe in genuine love, because he knew parents loved their children, for instance, but he took a more cynical view of any other kind. He just thought romantic love was far more complicated and painful than anyone was willing to admit.
“We could hit up Nathan’s and be back in time to take care of the house, right?” He lifted the rear door of the Land Rover so they could put the bags in.
“Yeah. Let’s do it, dude. Fuck my shoulder.” Abel’s expression brightened, and Wes was glad to see him cheer up a bit.
“Uh…I wouldn’t go that far, buddy. I need you out there really killin’ it with me soon, so if we go, you can’t overdo it.”
“So…I already have a mom, dude, and by the way, she said Char ended up changing her mind; she’s spending the summer in L.A. instead of New York. Her flight gets in around the same time as theirs, so they’re bringing her, too,” he added as he climbed into the car and Wes cranked the engine.
Charlotte was their twenty-year-old cousin, and she was the closest to a little sister they had, so they were both really protective of her. She had lived with them during the school year two years ago. Wes eased backward out of the parking space, twisting to look behind him. “Oh, boy. Didn’t she just leave here for the sum—” The slow moving Land Rover suddenly tapped an object. “Fuck!”
“Shit! Person or car?” Abel asked in worried excitement.
Wes stuck his head out the window and was surprised to spot the back half of a red motorcycle. He recognized it as the one from earlier, and his pulse rate flew. Tight leather pants. Nice ass. He drove the car forward, turned the engine off and hopped out. His eyes widened and his mouth went dry when he spotted the face once hidden beneath the helmet. .Long, dark brown hair, full lips, pale skin. Dimple, just one, in the right cheek. He found her incredibly beautiful, like the making him slightly nervous kind. Gorgeous women weren’t universally mean, but they all knew they could be if they wanted, because the world allowed it. So sometimes, even he, Wes Elliott, was nervous.
He liked where she was curvy, too. Breasts. Ass. And Wes was an ass guy, so he was ecstatic when the leather accentuated the rounded shape of hers as she leaned forward to inspect her bike. “You okay?” he asked, victorious in the challenge of bringing his eyes back up to her face.
She cleared her throat after she nodded. “Sorry. I thought I could get by you faster.”
“You hit us?” Abel asked, looking panicked when he got to the back of the car, but his face soon reflected the same look Wes’ had just a few seconds before, as he appraised her. Wes shot his brother a disapproving smirk. I saw her first.
“Damn,” she said with a soft smile as her gaze flitted between him and Abel. “Twins? This is, like, how every porno starts…at least in my mind, anyway.”
They’d barely been speaking for a few minutes and she had no qualms referring to sex to complete strangers. Wes grinned; he liked her already. “Doesn’t look like any major damage happened,” he assured her. He scanned the shape of her legs, disappointed that they were currently covered, before his gaze found the moderate showing of cleavage popping up from the neckline of her lace tank top as she shimmied out of her jacket.
Abel smacked Wes on the shoulder and chuckled. “You’re not even looking at the car, dipshit.” He sighed. “I guess I’ll do that.”
He didn’t care about his car for the moment; he wanted to know more about her, so he stuck his hand out between them. “Wes.”
“Lana,” she said, slipping her small hand into his. It was incredibly soft, and he wasn’t sure why that surprised him. Maybe because she rode a motorcycle. At first glance, just based on looks alone, she read as dainty, like she’d steer clear of guys on bikes, not ride one herself. But there it was, and not less than a few minutes ago, her thighs had been gripping it. Her thighs. Wes’ gaze dropped to scan her long legs again, all the way down to where they were crossed at the ankles.
“You’re stunning,” he said, eyes popping back up. He zeroed in on her lips, and thought about all the things he wanted to see them do and all the places he wished they’d end up. He was suddenly aware of how hard his dick was pressing against the inside of his jeans.
“I bet you say that to all the girls who hit you.”
“You know, no one at your insurance company has to know about you hitting me…as long as you take me out sometime,” he said with a half-smile and a laugh. It was a pretty lame line, even for a joke, but all the activity from the brain synapses necessary to recall his witty one-liners were being diverted straight to his crotch. Not a bad place for them to end up, though.
“This is by far the most romantic way I’ve ever been extorted in my entire life,” she said with sarcasm, rolling her eyes. “They don’t have to know because there’s no damage but, fine, I’ll take you out. You’ve been on a bike before?”
“I’ve ridden my brother’s once or twice. Alone.” Wes smirked. “No fucking way I’m riding sitting behind you.”
Lana laughed, and it was such a delightful sound that the minute he heard it, he wanted to make it his duty to ensure that it happened again. She tossed
her head back and he got a better look at her elongated neck at the new angle. He loved kissing the hollow at the collarbone just below the neck and above the chest. Tits and ass were great, but there was something about a woman’s exposed neck that just made him insane. He imagined his tongue sliding up hers, feeling the vibration on his lips from her laughter. And then his mind leaped to what she might look like when she let go. Really let go. Her “O” face. His erection pulsated.
Shit, cool it, Wesley.
She kept a tiny smile on her face as her gaze wandered over the length of his frame, but she paused on specific areas: his eyes, his chest and his mid-section. Wes loved that she was checking him out, and doing it so openly. No doubt, it excited him and he gladly let her indulge; he had nothing to be insecure about. The cordial sibling rivalry between him and Abel kept him in a gym or pool at least four days a week, women seemed to dig his single tattoo sleeve (Abel had covered both arms), and his looking like the stereotypical tall, blue-eyed, dirty-blond surfer didn’t hurt, either. He let Abel have the longer hair though, opting to keep his short but enough to still let women run their fingers through, and a constant shade of five o’clock shadow.
“What are you doing tonight?” she asked.
Wes grinned. He really liked how forward she was. “We are going up to Malibu in a few hours actually. Waves are better than usual.”
“You surf?” Lana reached down to fiddle with something on her bike, and the leather material stretched and moved over her butt, so Wes tilted his head to stare at it again. “I was up in Santa Cruz last weekend and it was five-to-six feet on Saturday…”
“That’s not the back you’re supposed to be looking at,” Abel whispered, and Wes gave him the finger. Lana had her phone in her hands once she was upright again, so he pulled his out. She recited her number and he called it so that she could have his, too.
“Oh, wow, really? Water’s too cold for me up there. Anyway, yeah, we both surf. Professionally.”
Lana dropped her hand to her hip. “Of course, sexy, tattooed blondie surfs.”
“You think I’m sexy?” Wes cocked a half-grin. He was but he liked hearing her say it. He leaned against his SUV and crossed his arms over his chest.
“I think you think you’re sexy!”
“You’re thinking it, too, though,” he declared.
She laughed, showing off that neck of hers again. “Something tells me, someday, I’m gonna be really glad I hit you, Wes.”
“Damn,” he whispered as she swung her leg over to the other side of the bike. He wanted to be in between her legs now, too. Tonight. On that very bike if she wanted. But his cockblocking parents were on their way. “What time am I picking you up on Tuesday? ‘Cause I’m serious about not getting on that bike with you.” At least not while it’s moving.
“You can meet me,” she corrected. “You know Vices in Venice?”
“Yeah.” He nodded. It was his and Abel’s favorite sports bar. Damn, this woman was so fucking perfect. He thought he would lose it when she leaned forward on the bike, her back arching slightly.
“Well, it’s a date then. Nine o’clock.” In a fluid motion, she hit the KILL switch, squeezed the clutch, put the bike in neutral, started it, and it was the hottest fucking thing he’d ever seen. If not for his jeans, he would’ve been fully erect right now, saluting her for the entire world to witness.
Yes, it was a date. Kinda.
But hopefully a whole lot more as well.
*
Lana: Nice meeting you yesterday. I don’t know if I should be admitting this, but I’m looking forward to Tuesday =)
Wes: Me too.
He smiled as he finished wiping down the kitchen counters. This was one of his favorite parts of the mating game, the thrill of anticipation during the early stages of getting to know a woman. She was gorgeous and she seemed to have a sense of humor and a sharp attitude, which he liked. What sort of things did they have in common? What did she like to do in her spare time? What kind of stuff was she into? And was she a screamer? A biter? A scratcher? His thoughts descended pretty quickly into the sexual realm, and warmth from an increase in blood flow soon spread across his groin. He needed to stop this. For now. Or the next few days with his parents would be torturous.
But his intrigue about her had exploded exponentially overnight, rooted in his fascination of how contradictory she seemed. Lace and leather. Soft hands and a hard bike. Wes wanted to know so much more about her.
Just as he turned on the dishwasher and started to slip into a daydream about what Lana’s legs looked like out of those leather pants and curved over his waist, two agitated voices flowed into an open window from outside. Mom and Dad. His stress level immediately heightened, pushing away the fantasies, and he blew out a breath. Nothing ruined a parents’ visit quite like parents visiting. He enjoyed being excited for them to get there more than when they were actually there.
“Beau, you only took that spot because I suggested the other one. It’s just what you do when it comes to things I say,” their mother said, her sharp tone stinging Wes’ ears.
“I saw that one first. Every choice I make isn’t about you, Sylvia.” There was frustration in his father’s response, but he had saved the most acidity for his wife’s name, dumping all the vitriol at the end of the sentence.
“Every? Every, Beau? Try none of.”
“Yeah, well, at least none of my choices involve drinking entire bottles of wine in one sitting. I had just bought that Chardonnay, you know. And it wasn’t for you.”
“I know. You’d never buy anything for me, and that’s why I helped myself to it. And if I didn’t drink, how else would you be tolerable?”
“Maybe Dr. Brown should up your meds.”
“If he upped them any higher, you’d be getting a life insurance payout, and I suspect that’s something you’d enjoy.”
Wes inferred they had probably argued the entire trip to California from Oahu; he wasn’t even sure they knew how to interact any other way. It was only a few days with them, he reminded himself. He missed Oahu a lot, but refereeing his parents was draining, and it messed with his psyche too much, so it was better to live in L.A. where they only visited him and Abel sparingly. Long distance ignorance was the best kind of bliss.
The brothers exchanged serious, familiar glances. When they were kids, they would usually run into one of their bedrooms (Wes refused to live with Abel’s snoring) and talk to each other really loudly about comic books. And all these years later, Abel had seemed to reach some level of desensitization that was probably far worse than a childhood fear of arguing parents, but Wes found himself still internalizing all of it.
“Sylvia and Beau are here,” Abel mumbled in a lilt as he walked by him. “Time to earn some therapy sessions, baby bro.” Abel always called him that, even though they were barely born three minutes apart.
“Yeah, no shit,” Wes said with a humorless laugh, but being around his parents brought him far more anxiety than he usually displayed. He grabbed three glasses from the cupboard as Abel greeted their parents and cousin at the door. He chuckled when his mother made a comment about how long Abel’s hair was getting.
“You look like one of the hobos on the Venice boardwalk making bracelets.”
“I don’t really have a legit career, so be careful what you wish for, Ma.”
She’d be on the tattoos next. Their parents had traded their conservative New Hampshire lifestyle for Oahu long before the two of them were born, but they still held on to a lot of beliefs from their upbringing, especially the part about marriage being forever. Wes had never understood it. His parents clearly didn’t like each other, so much so that he didn’t have a single memory, not even a hint of a feeling, of them ever being happy together. Abel had always tried convincing him that none of that mattered because they had been good parents by staying together for them. Wes thought the opposite. Good parents would’ve split up for their sake; their parents had stayed together because they were
selfish.
“Wes!” Charlotte poked him on either side from behind before hopping up to sit on the countertop. They really could’ve been siblings. Her eyes bore the exact same shade of blue as his and Abel’s, and their identical blond hair was laced in a long braid down her back.
“Goddammit, Char!” Wes caught one of the glasses before it tumbled over.
“Wesley, please watch your mouth.” His mother pressed her lips against his cheek. “How are you, baby?” After they hugged, she gripped his tattoo-covered arm. “Have you ever thought about what this will look like when you’re forty? Or eighty?”
“Yup. That’s why I keep getting them.” He hugged her again and offered her a glass of water once they pulled away.
“Hey, Dad.” His mother ducked under his arm as soon as his father was within glaring distance. And she had glared. No, seriously, you two should stop showing us just how in love you are, he cruelly joked to himself, but Wes’ heart nosedived into the pit of his stomach as he watched her move to the living room. It was a weary stride, with her shoulders slumped forward and her head down. She was miserable and it was heartbreaking; she always looked like she was on the verge of a scream when his father was around. Or murderous rage. Probably that.
“How’s my favorite boy?” his dad asked, and Wes struggled to prop a smile on his face.
“He said that to me, like, ten minutes ago. Don’t buy it! He meant it for me though, since I’m the one who brought the luggage in!” Abel yelled out before he joined them in the kitchen. Wes hugged his dad, and Beau Elliott attempted to pick him up. He always did that, and they were all waiting for the day, rather gruesomely, for his back to give out.
“How long are you here for, kiddo?” Abel asked Charlotte.
She frowned after picking up one of the glasses. “Kiddo? I’m only four years younger than you guys. Anyway, I’m here until you kick me out before school starts…” Her lashes fanned furiously as she pressed out an exaggeratedly innocent smile. “…Which Uncle Beau and Aunt Sylvie say you won’t do.” She sashayed past them and headed into the living room where her aunt was. As he watched her go, Wes frowned in annoyance because her shorts were way too short right now; the bottoms of her pockets were visible beneath the frayed edges of denim. He definitely wasn’t interested in babysitting Charlotte this summer. He had to focus on training for upcoming surfing contests.