"Where's Denise?" I ask.
"She and Ed had to drive over to Gunnison for an OB appointment. They're all nervous because this is their first baby. Wanted to get some fancy OB doctor over there instead of Dr. Allen, even though Dr. Allen's been delivering babies for the last thirty years. Delivered both of you and you turned out just fine." She shakes her head and makes a tsk-tsk sound before she gets distracted by the image of the President and First Lady on the television in the living room.
"You know, he came through Denver last week," Bess says, nodding toward the television where a video clip plays of the First Couple waving to a crowd at some kind of political event. "I'm voting for the other guy. I've never much cared for either of them. I've always thought he was just kind of smug. I know people say she's so fashionable and all, but she's always seemed off to me. Cold."
Noah grunts. "Exactly."
"Noah met him," I tell her.
"The President?? Noah Ashby, you're lying here on the sofa like nothing's going on, when you met the President of the United States?"
"I thought you didn't care for him," Noah says.
"That doesn't mean I don't want to hear about it!” Bess exclaims. "I swear, the two of you with your celebrity lives, do you think us mere mortals don't want to know who you're hobnobbing with?"
"It's not a big deal," Noah grumbles.
"We're working with his daughter on a charity thing," I say, unable to resist riling Noah up since he's had such an attitude problem when it comes to this. I guess I'm not all pissed off - because I'm confident in my ability to land Grace myself. "Noah donated his ranch."
"Yeah, and Aiden decided he was suddenly all about charity," Noah adds.
"I've always been about charity. What do you think hanging around your sullen ass is, if it's not charity?"
"Maybe you should take your charitable ass and get it out of my house," Noah suggests, his tone biting. "Leave my neighbors alone."
"I think your neighbor is fine with my not leaving her alone."
"Enough," Bess interrupts. "Are you both arguing over some girl?"
"Not just some girl," I say.
Paul walks into the room. "The two of you can work out your crap somewhere else," he booms. "We got more important things to talk about here – like what smells so good in the kitchen, Bess?"
16
Noah
This place is crazy.
What were they thinking, giving these kids ice cream? I don’t know jack shit about kids, but even I know that giving sugar to twenty kids and turning them loose to set up campsites is a recipe for disaster. There are four camp counselors trying to establish order in a field a few hundred yards away from my house – the area I designated for the campsite.
Aiden and I spent most of lunch – hotdogs and burgers – fielding questions from a bunch of kids, some of whom were super excited we were here and some who didn’t know who the hell we were. I preferred the kids who didn’t know who the hell we were. The camp only started today, but already I think I’ve answered more questions than I did from reporters all last season.
I glance back at the house, wondering if anyone would notice if I ditched the tiny terrors out here and caught a workout in the gym. Or shit, just enjoyed ten minutes of silence.
Grace Sullivan has been all business since she got here. Professional doesn’t even begin to describe her attitude. She’s been cool as a cucumber ever since Aiden and I met with her in her office. There were a few times the past few days when she called me personally to ask questions about the ranch, questions that I could swear an assistant could have asked. I thought she was calling because there was something between us, but even during those calls she was all business. When she introduced Aiden and I at the beginning of the camp, it was like we were any other celebrities.
There was one moment after she finished the introductions, however, when she met my gaze and something passed between us. It was enough to make her cheeks flush, but that was the only hint I was given that she might be attracted to me.
Fortunately, I’m not the only one who’s been kept at arm’s length. Aiden hasn’t gotten any alone time with her, and that’s how it’s going to stay if I have anything to say about it. The camp counselors are all required to camp outside with the kids, but I “generously” opened the main house to Grace and the field house to the support staff who needed space during the week but wouldn’t be staying overnight. Grace started to protest that it wasn’t necessary and that she usually stays with the support staff, but her security detail stepped in and said that it was a better setup from a security point of view.
Score one for the Secret Service agents.
A boy darts past me with a bunch of tent spikes in his hand, and I grab him by the back of the shirt. He looks up at me. “Dude.”
“Dude,” I repeat, letting go of him. “Anyone ever tell you not to run with scissors?”
“Uh, these aren’t scissors.”
“Yeah, they’re spikes, Louis,” I correct, reading the name tag on his shirt. “And I’m pretty sure that’s worse.”
“Why?”
“You want to trip and fall and get a spike through the eye?”
“That would be gnarly.”
I roll my eyes. “Where’s your tent?”
He shrugs. “I don’t know.”
“You’re just running around with a bunch of tent spikes for no reason?”
“That kid has it. I paired up with him.” He points to a nerdy blond kid with glasses twenty yards away who’s holding a tent and looking like a stiff wind could knock him over.
I exhale heavily. “Have you ever been camping?”
“No.”
“Where are your counselors?”
He shrugs and points to a counselor helping a pair of kids with a tent. Then he turns back to me and asks, “Do you know how to set up a tent?”
At the same time, I catch a glimpse of Aiden on the other side of the field, walking toward Grace. She’s squatting down in her jeans and cowgirl boots – the most inauthentic bright red boots ever, but the second I saw her in them, I couldn’t help but think of her in nothing but those boots. She smiles as she talks to a kid. When Aiden reaches her, she tucks a lock of hair behind her ear and directs that smile toward him.
Walk over and take Grace out of Aiden’s hands or help a couple of kids set up a tent? It isn’t even a question.
Inwardly I groan; outwardly, I sigh. “Ah, shit. Yeah, I know how to set up a tent.”
“Don’t sound so happy,” Louis says. “Are you a camp counselor? You’re not supposed to cuss.”
“How old are you?” I ask.
“Ten.”
“I’m pretty sure your ears aren’t going to fall off if you hear the word ‘shit’.”
“You’re kind of an ass,” he notes as we walk. All right, these kids might not be so bad after all.
"Did you just call me an ass?"
“That's what my mom calls people sometimes when they cut in front of her in traffic. Who are you, anyway?”
“I’m a football player.”
He looks at me with his nose wrinkled. “You don’t look like a football player.”
“What’s that supposed to mean? What the hell do you think a football player looks like?”
“Rich,” he says, matter-of-fact, as we get to the campsite. The twiggy little blond kid is standing beside a pile of tarp and various supplies, looking helpless.
“And I don’t look rich?”
Louis shrugs.
“Whoa,” the blond kid breathes, looking at me with wide eyes. “I know who you are.”
I look at Louis. “See? Told you. I’m famous.”
The blond kid, Spencer, as I note from his nametag, nods. “You’re on that TV show.”
“You’re on a TV show?” Louis blurts. “Well, why didn’t you say that?”
“Because I’m not on a TV show,” I grumble. How’d I wind up paired with the only two kids here who don’t know who I am? “Were
n’t you paying attention when they introduced us earlier?”
Louis shrugs for the fifteenth time. “Not really. I get bored a lot.”
Spencer interrupts. “Yeah, I remember that other guy over there. He’s a football player,” he says, pointing to Aiden.
“We’re both football players. Famous ones,” I say, exhaling heavily in exasperation. I glance at Aiden on the other side of the field, who’s standing way too close to Grace to be appropriate.
“Do you know that’s President Sullivan’s daughter?” Spencer asks, oblivious to my frustration. “President Sullivan has been in office for eight hundred and eighty-two days. He’s married to Katherine Sullivan, and they have a dog named Ruffles.”
“What, are you an encyclopedia?” I ask.
“I had to do a report last week,” Spencer replies. “What’s an encyclopedia?”
“It’s a reference book. People look stuff up in encyclopedias when they want to learn about things.”
“You mean like asking Siri?” Spencer looks at me blankly.
I exhale heavily. “Yeah. Exactly like that.”
Louis looks at me, his nose wrinkled again. “You see those other counselors? They seem nicer than you.”
“They’re smiling more,” agrees Spencer.
“Are you here because you’re doing community service or something?” asks Louis as he bends over and begins to pull out a tent. “My mom’s ex-boyfriend had to do community service once. But he picked up trash at a park.”
“This is my ranch, smartass.” I grab the tent from the mouthy kid’s hands. “You guys are my guests.”
Louis looks doubtful. “Are you sure?”
“You’re asking if I’m sure it’s my ranch or if I’m sure about having you kids here? Because I’m starting to regret the latter.”
Louis and Spencer stare at me blankly.
I exhale heavily. This is going to be a long damn two weeks, although if I’m being honest, I’ll admit that Louis and Spencer aren’t so bad. They’re even kind of funny - for kids. “How about less talking and more setting up the tents?”
17
Grace
“You’re good with the kids,” I note, trying to sound casual as I wipe my palms on my jeans not just because they’re dirty but because I’m slightly nervous being around Aiden now that we’ve finished setting up the tent. Aiden took over, teaching the two kids how to pitch the tent while cracking jokes that made all of us laugh. The second they were finished, Niall and Drew ran off to tell their camp counselors they were done, leaving Aiden and I standing here alone.
Well, as alone as you can be in a field with twenty kids running around and a bunch of camp counselors. I’m definitely aware of that fact when I take a step back from Aiden, putting a respectable amount of distance between me and the too-handsome athlete, who’s the epitome of small-town sexy in his blue t-shirt and faded jeans. He and Noah both look at home here on the ranch, not at all like you'd think a couple of football players – or celebrities – would look plunked down in the middle of Nowhere, Colorado, although I guess that's not surprising, since this is Noah's ranch, after all.
“I have a pain-in-the-ass younger sister,” Aiden says. He runs his hand through his hair and shrugs.
I laugh. “I can definitely see you as a pain-in-the-ass older brother,” I say. “How old is she?”
“Twenty-one. She’ll be a senior next year in college.”
“You and Noah grew up in Colorado, right?”
“Did you read up on us?” Aiden asks, a wide grin spreading across his face.
“Actually, I didn’t,” I admit. “I remain blissfully ignorant about both of you.”
“Because you’re not interested, or because you’d rather get to know us personally?” Aiden asks.
The way he asks the question is unmistakably sexual, and the “us” part of the question doesn’t escape my attention. Reflexively, I glance to the other side of the field where Noah is helping a couple of kids with their campsite.
You’d like to get to know Aiden and Noah very personally.
I clear my throat. “I have this thing about not getting intel on people I meet in real life.”
“Intel from your security?”
“That too. But I meant internet-searching people I meet in real life."
"Your whole life is public knowledge," Aiden comments.
"Yeah, exactly. That's why I don't like looking up other people. People make lots of assumptions about me because they can find articles about my life, going back to when I was in grade school. They think they know who I am before getting to know me."
"Being a player isn't too different from that," Aiden admits. "It's all PR. Just like with me and Noah. People like the whole 'Colorado golden boys' story."
"You both grew up out here by the ranch?”
"You literally don't know anything about us?" Aiden seems stunned by that revelation, and I'm not sure if he's offended or amazed.
"You're not that famous," I tease.
Aiden lets out a warm laugh. "Whatever, we're famous as hell. But… you really don't follow sports at all?"
I shake my head. "Don't tell anyone," I whisper, putting a finger to my lips. "On paper, I'm a Colorado football fan, through and through. But um… not really. My dad actually is a die-hard Colorado fan, though."
"We didn't grow up here," Aiden tells me. "Not on this ranch, I mean. Noah bought this place a couple years ago. It's his place, really. He doesn't let people out here ever, either. After the season ends, he usually disappears for a month or so, doesn't talk to anyone, just holes up here like a hermit."
I glance over to Noah, who's still working with his kids on setting up their campsite. "He doesn't look like a hermit."
Aiden laughs. "Noah and people don't go together. Trust me."
Noah leans over to pick up something from the ground, and I find my gaze lingering on his ass for just a moment too long. I clear my throat, mentally chastising myself for ogling another man when I have a ridiculously attractive man right here in front of me. What's wrong with me?
I intend to change the subject. I don't want to talk about Noah with Aiden – and I definitely don't want to think about how attracted to both of them I am right now. "You and Noah grew up together?"
Way to change the subject away from Noah, Grace.
"In the smallest town imaginable," Aiden says. "West Bend, Colorado."
"The smallest town imaginable, huh? I'm picturing a little Main Street with a bunch of shops, looking like something right out of the 1950s?"
"Ah, so you've been there?" Aiden teases.
"I've been to places like it, for sure," I say. "Actually, I probably have been there with my father during one of his campaign seasons. His campaign managers love to pick those small towns for town hall sessions or photo ops in a local diner."
"During one of his campaign seasons?" Aiden asks. "This is only his second time running for President."
I laugh. "My father has been in politics since before I was born. I was in campaign photos before I could walk. Councilman, state senator, United States congressman, Governor of Colorado… You name it, my father’s done it. Political royalty – that’s what they call my family."
Aiden grunts. "I don't really follow politics."
"Well, I gathered that much when you didn't know who I was when you met me," I tease.
Aiden looks down at the ground, digging the toe of his shoe into the dirt. "Yeah."
Is he embarrassed, and why do I find that so endearing?
"It's okay, you know."
"Noah stays on top of political stuff. It's never really been my thing."
"Most of the people I meet are way too into politics," I admit. "They want to talk to me about my dad, or about the foundation, or want an edge somehow with their political career, or their causes."
"Yeah?" Aiden asks. "I guess it's the same with football. The only people I meet are fans."
"So I know nothing about football and you
know nothing about politics. What are we going to talk about for two weeks?"
Aiden turns toward me, the proximity too close to be simply friendly. My heart races as I look at him, and I tell myself to step back away from him before someone out here sees us and gets the wrong impression… or the right one. But for some reason, I can't make myself back away. "Talking wasn't on my list of priorities."
The look he gives me is sheer lust – animalistic, primal, I'm-going-to-devour-you lust. Even as warmth rushes through my body in response to his words, I try to muster the wherewithal to rebuff him. I clear my throat. "I hope you didn't come here with the intent to do anything but talk, Mr. Jackson," I say. My words sound false even to me.
Aiden chuckles. "I'll talk.” He steps forward, his lips near my ear. "In fact, I'll tell you exactly what I want to do to you.”
I step back from him, my heart racing. There's a damn good chance my face is as red as the shade of the boots I'm wearing. "I thought I made myself clear when you and Noah signed up to join me at the ranch," I state primly. "Nothing's going to happen that's unprofessional or inappropriate."
Aiden grins. "I think you're the first woman to play hard-to-get with me ever."
I bristle at his arrogance, despite my body's obvious attraction to him. "First of all, I'm not playing hard-to-get, because this isn't a game."
Aiden doesn't seem put off at all by my statement. "It's definitely a competition."
"Second of all," I continue. "I find it hard to believe that all women throw themselves at you. Wait – what do you mean, it's a competition?"
"You find it hard to believe that women throw themselves at me? With all this I have going on?" he asks, gesturing to himself.
I roll my eyes. "Your humility is admirable."
Double Team: A Menage Romance Page 12