She could picture Tara’s grin on the other end.
“I need to stop telling you every innermost thought, don’t I?”
Tara grunted. “You aren’t the first girl to admit a weakness for cruel eyes, Ashley.”
He was handsome, there was no denying it. But his attractiveness was more than the sum of its parts. A strong jaw, clean shaven, prominent brows. All the attributes from Stud Central Casting.
But his eyes overshadowed it all, and yet emphasized it all.
Dammit.
“So, does he?” The mirth was plain in Tara’s voice.
“What? Fine — yes. I just met him once though. We talked for a minute at the house before he gave me the keys.”
“Gave you the keys? What’d you do, Ashley? Bat the eyelashes and show off the girls?”
“Shut up, it wasn’t like that.”
“It should be,” Tara muttered.
“What was that?”
“Oh nothing, dear. Sunshine and rainbows!”
“What’s gotten into you, Tara? You seem like you want me to just hook up with the first random dick that comes along!”
“Not just the first one, Ash. Several. You need this. Purge yourself of the memory of that asshole. The piece of shit.”
So, apparently Tara was just hiding the tension. It was coming through loud and clear now.
“I know. I wish it were that easy.”
“Nobody said it was going to be easy, but it’s not happening if you don’t take the first step. Ass is not going to just fall into your lap. Especially out there in the sticks.”
Ashley rubbed her temple with the tips of her fingers, her head beginning to pound.
“This is the first step, Tara. You think it was easy to just drop everything and run?”
“You think it was easy not to know where my best friend was for almost a week?” She could hear the strain now, the emotion behind the words.
“I deserved that, Tara. I’m sorry. I had no choice.”
“I know you didn’t. But don’t forget that there are others suffering here right along with you.”
She wished she could hug her friend. God, she was lucky to have Tara, despite how much of a pain in the ass she was.
“Enough of this sappy shit,” Tara said, but Ashley could pick up the hitch in her voice. She really had been worried about her. “You need to just run through a few of them. Get a number, bam. On to the next stud. Before you know it, Terry will be just an unpleasant memory. Yeah, so maybe you end up with a sore kitty, but it’d be worth it to forget that asshole.”
“Tara, please—”
“What’s with this ‘please’ shit?. I’ve seen you do it.”
“That was college. I’m thirty two years old.”
“That’s the new twenty two! You still have it — if you’d hit Mickey Dees more often and fill those jeans out again.”
“Okay, Tara—”
“My new nickname for you: Bag o bones.”
“Shut up, I’m not that bad.”
“Skeletor.”
Ashley smiled, shaking her head. Thank god she could still do it. Still find joy in something — even in just a friendly verbal beat down from her best friend.
“Okay, okay. I’ll stuff my face in your honor, Tara. Happy now?”
“That’s better. Now when you’re done ‘stuffing your face’ as you call it, you need to get something to eat too.”
“Jesus. Perv.”
***
“Uh, Park are you gonna tell me who that chick was, or are you just gonna walk around with that stupid grin on your face?” Erik sat down on the couch, handing a beer to Parker.
“Now, Erik. I would never hold out on you guys.” Parker popped open the beer, shaking the foam off his hand before taking a long drink. “Damn, that’s good.”
“So give it up, dude. Who is she? You get digits?”
“Down, boy,” Parker said, laughing and shoving Erik with an elbow. “I just met her. She wants to rent the guest house.”
Erik clapped his hands. “Fucking suh-weet!”
Parker couldn’t blame him. He felt the same way, the same near giddiness his younger friend obviously felt. He didn’t know what it was about the woman, but she was certainly … interesting. Maybe it had just been too long since he’d been with anyone?
“Next time, you need to bring her over and introduce us, bro! Drake and I were standing there forever.”
“You were subtle as always, Erik. She looked over at you guys a couple times while we were talking about the house.”
“And?”
“My guess is she thought you and Drake were gay.”
“Asshole.” Erik got up and walked into the kitchen.
“What are we having, honey?” Parker said, craning his head over a shoulder. Something was smelling damned good.
“I am having spaghetti,” Erik yelled from the kitchen, over the clang of a metal lid. “I don’t know what you’re having.”
“The only reason we let you visit once in awhile is because you can kind of cook, Erik.”
“Whatever. My cooking is the shiznit.” Erik came back into the living room and dropped into the easy chair, kicking off his shoes with a thud on the carpet.
The fact was that having the kid around once in a while was good for him — and it was certainly good for Drake, Erik’s “brotha from another motha” as he was fond of saying. Erik and Drake had grown up together in Seattle, and Drake, being older, had become almost an adopted big brother over the years — especially as Erik’s family life had started to deteriorate.
When it was just Parker and Drake though, the house was a tad too … serious after awhile. The infectious enthusiasm of a hormonally challenged college kid — while trying at times in itself — was refreshing.
“Where the hell is Drake? He never misses dinner.”
Erik’s eyes darted to the window. “Uh, think he’s talking to Kimber.”
Parker shook his head, his lips curled in distaste. “Shit, Erik. Why?”
“I know. I told him to give it up. It’ll just end in a fight.”
Parker sat forward, turning the volume down on the evening news. Yet another Middle Eastern country was melting down in revolution. Drake couldn’t even watch the news anymore, too disgusted with all of it. Considering what Drake had been through — what they’d both been through — while stationed in that part of the world, Parker couldn’t blame him. Not one bit.
“Kimber’s not the right girl for him.” Parker dropped the remote down on the coffee table. “She proves it every time she bitches him out.”
“I think he’s just trying to be a nice guy and explain it.” Erik put one foot up onto the cushion, leaning back in the recliner. His long leg extended, a white clad foot stretching.
“Well, he needs to wise the fuck up. No amount of ‘explaining’ to her will make her understand. Sometimes people just aren’t right for each other. Besides —” Parker stood, walking to the big bay window that opened to the front yard. “—Drake is not a ‘nice’ guy.”
Parker knew the story — at least what Drake had decided to share, which admittedly wasn’t much. He’d told her what he’d really wanted from her, what he really expected from his woman.
Expect. His woman. Just those words had set her off apparently, and as soon as Parker heard Drake tell the story, he knew the couple were fucked. Done.
But big, scary Drake had a soft side, despite what he’d been through in the service. He tried to hide it from Parker and Erik, but when you’re friends with someone long enough you can piece things together. Little hints at what’s deeper.
It was all they had to go on because none of them were exactly into talking about ‘feelings’.
Tits, beer, cars and football. Preferably in that order. Much easier to talk about those things.
Drake’s truck pulled into the driveway, Parker watching through the window as Drake slammed the driver’s side door, the big man’s boots crunching in the gravel d
riveway.
“He looks pissed,” Parker said, shaking his head.
“Fuck, this is gonna be bad.” Erik launched himself out of the recliner to walk back into the kitchen.
Drake walked in, dumping his jacket on the bench by the front door, and moving straight down the hall. “I don’t want to hear it,” he growled.
“Not saying anything,” Parker said, holding up his hands.
Drake slammed his bedroom door, the pictures on the living room wall shaking.
Erik craned his head out of the kitchen. “That apparently went well.”
Chapter Three
Ashley was early. Parker had told her he’d be there at four to let her in to look at the house. It was 3:40.
She’d had only one showing so far. A massive faux log cabin quite a ways up the Methow valley. She’d told the couple that a famous Hollywood acting couple used to have a place in the Methow. The husband, whom she thought was probably a doctor, seemed to think she was bullshitting them. Just another realtor, weaving tales. Desperate.
If he thought that, he wouldn’t be far off the mark. The Hollywood part was true though! If she got a callback from the good doctor and his trophy wife it’d be a fucking miracle.
So, she had time to kill. She drove around Chelan for a while, picked up a bite to eat and people watched at the beautiful park along the north shore. Kids were actually still trying to swim — in September! After watching some exasperated parents ushering their now chastened, shivering kids out of the icy water, she decided to pack it in and head up to the house.
The winding road that led to the her new place snaked up to the top of one of the ridges overlooking the lake. It was fun to drive, but she was pretty sure she’d feel a lot differently once the bitterness of winter set in. They didn’t use salt on the roads in Washington state. Not even there in the foothills of the Cascades.
She pulled the Honda into the long gravel driveway that led to both the guest house and Parker’s sprawling home. With a grinding slam, the car bottomed out again on one of the many potholes, and she cursed under her breath. That was going to get old fast, especially when she had zero money to fix a car beaten to death by the damned potholes.
There was someone in Parker’s driveway.
She kept driving, slowing a bit to get a look at who it might be. The blond hair told her right away it wasn’t Parker. Maybe that kid she’d seen standing on the porch with Mr. Dark? That nickname had just popped into her head the first time she’d laid eyes on Drake.
Was the kid’s name Erik? She was pretty sure it was, but then she was so distracted by Parker, he might have told her the name was Habib.
“Damn,” she muttered as her car pulled past Parker’s driveway. It was Erik all right, and Ashley had to kick herself for jumping to conclusions. Sure the guy looked like he wasn’t a day over twenty …but god damn. Young? Yes. Gorgeous? Hell yes.
As tall, maybe taller than Parker, he was leaning over the hood of a jacked up 4 x 4, struggling, even at his height, to reach the windshield with a sudsy sponge. He was shirtless, the afternoon sun, emphasizing the lean, tanned back, the ropes of muscle of the arms and shoulders. And his ass …
Dear Lord, those jeans should be illegal.
He turned his head at the sound of her car, and grinned, waving his non-soapy hand at her as she passed. She could see in the rear view mirror that he watched her as she drove away.
Ashley giggled, shaking her head. “How can life imitate cliché? You just saw it, Ash.”
Still, if this place was going to imitate clichés, there were a few more she could think of that she wouldn’t mind suffering through.
The image of her helping Erik wash that big truck of his, flashed through her mind. Him spraying her with the icy cold water, the sunshine rendering the water droplets iridescent. Her nipples pebbling into dark stones under the soaked fabric of her shirt. Erik’s fingers finding them, as his mouth found hers.
She jerked the wheel suddenly, the car about to drift into the drainage ditch along the driveway.
Keep it together, you dumb ass.
She shifted in her seat, her panties feeling a little … moist. It really had been too long if the mere sight of a shirtless guy — okay, gorgeous, shirtless guy — got her hot.
Distraction.
She parked the Honda in front of the guest house, getting out to look back down the driveway at Parker’s home. It was downhill somewhat, maybe 200 – 300 feet away. The property really was beautiful, the land gently rolling up from the roadway below, the driveway surrounded on both sides by waving grasses, still brown from the summer’s heat, dark, almost skeletal lodge pole pine in stands here and there, impenetrable, soaring fir stands marking the western edge of the property. Parker’s house dominated the center of the expanse, looking every bit like a rambling frontier home in the midst of a sun-splashed mountain meadow.
Erik was still at work on his baby, though regretfully even Ashley’s keen vision couldn’t make out much detail at that distance. Her imagination was quite up to the task of filling in the blanks, though.
She heard a door open, and turned her head toward the sound. It was him.
Him? His name is Parker.
He walked down the steps of the front porch, his boots clacking on the wood. His rugged looks and neutral expression made it difficult for her to tell if he was surprised or irritated. Going with ‘surprised’, she walked toward him with her hand outstretched, the realtor’s warmth deployed.
“Oh, hi Parker! I’m sorry I’m so early. I had some extra time, and just thought I’d drive up to enjoy the view.”
He walked right up to her, looking at her hand. His gaze flicked down then up pointedly, for a moment longer than was polite. She gulped, feeling a flush rise.
Then he smiled, wrapping her hand in his. “No problem, Ashley. I was just checking to make sure there weren’t any toys laying around in there.”
“Toys?” She tried to pull her hand away, and he held it a second longer, his thumb tracing hers.
“Oh, the guys store some of their things here when it’s not being rented.”
“Which guys? Do you live here with someone else?”
“Drake — and our vagabond drops by too, now and again when he feels like it.” He nodded a head in Erik’s direction, his gaze locked on her.
Were they gay? The young boy toy for the two older guys? Her heart sank.
Get hold of yourself, dammit. Who cares?
“Oh.” She glanced down toward Erik again. “Are you — roommates?”
“Yep, Drake and I.” He ran a hand along his square jaw. “I’d say Erik there is more like a transient squatter. He seems to roll in whenever the urge strikes. College kids, ya know?”
She beamed back at Parker, her exaggerated expression betraying her inner elation.
Not gay. Thank you God.
“Drake should be home from the grindstone anytime. His day to ‘cook’.” Parker’s fingers formed air quotes as he said it. “My money’s on pizza. You want to join us?”
“Oh, no that’s okay … “
The idea of eating dinner with three men she barely knew made her a little uneasy, despite the fact she was apparently thinking with her clit today.
“Want me to show you around? Pretty basic, but I can give you the grand tour. You know how to use a wood stove?”
She shook her head. “I know how to turn a dial on a thermostat.
“Well, then this will be your first lesson, my dear.”
He winked at her with those devastating eyes.
Oh no, Ash …
***
Jesus, she was something.
“Interesting”, he’d thought when he’d first met her. It was a serious understatement.
She was wearing her “realtor’s uniform”. He’d seen it on others, but few could pull it off the way she could. Her dark hair pulled up tastefully, the streaked highlights (her only style points not typical of a realtor) were burnished golden by the fading
sun. Then there was the dark conservative suit coat with the matching mid-length skirt just tight enough to emphasize the devastating curves of her hips.
If it were up to him, that skirt would most definitely stay, but that coat frustratingly prevented an accurate assessment of her tits. Hers were big enough that the coat couldn’t completely hide them, but conservative it was nonetheless.
Should be against the law. Would be against the law — if she were mine.
“So, here’s the stove.” He slapped a hand down on the cold, black cast iron. It was a squat, utilitarian stove, nothing ornate about it. But it did the job.
She flashed him a smirk, as if to say “thanks genius”.
“Now, come on over here and get a closer look. You’ll want to learn this, because if I have to trudge over here on a frigid night to get this going for you, it’s gonna cost you.”
There was that becoming flush again as she nodded, stepping closer to the stove.
“You see that knob in the back? That’s the damper — forces the smoke through the catalytic converter.”
“The … what? Stoves aren’t supposed to have words like that. Fire, wood. Burn. You know — simple.” Her eyebrows cocked ever so slightly as she said it, and it made him want to kiss them.
Whoa tiger. Calm down.
So she was hot, and apparently single — and didn’t know a soul in town. It didn’t mean she would be ready to hop in the sack with him. Still, he couldn’t help himself.
“The catalytic converter just helps to clean the smoke. Think of it like a filter.”
She shrugged, her arms clasped across her chest. Obviously not in her element here.
“Okay, now reach back and turn the knob. You’ll have to do this when the stove is hot sometimes too, so you’ll need to watch it.”
He was doing just that as she gamely followed his instructions. He rather liked the fact that she didn’t protest or whine. She just did as she was told.
Parker also very much appreciated the way that skirt perfectly outlined the heart shaped ass as she bent over. Her ass looked bigger than it did when he’d first seen her. Perhaps the dark skirt fooled the eyes?
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