First Frost

by A Lyrical Press Anthology

  “Gotta get my mo’cycle,” RJ said, tearing over to the coffee table for his favorite toy. He grabbed his toy tool set too, and smiled up. His little dimples were showing, but his blue eyes squeezed halfway shut.

  “Oh. You’re waiting to have your face wiped, huh? Good boy.” Ridley tugged a wipe from the box on the counter and gave the kid a good scrub-down. “There ya go.” Lucky boy. At least he didn’t have to pose for pictures. “Time to bite the bullet.” And the grand maestra.

  “Bite the bully,” RJ repeated as they made their way downstairs.

  “Bullet,” Ridley corrected. “Like what goes in a gun. Bullet.”

  RJ stopped walking, two stairs from the bottom. “Bully haves a gun?”

  With a light knock, the door opened behind him. “Ridley?”

  Ah, Ivy. He turned to face her.

  “We started the shop guys’ headshots but we need to get you prepped.”

  Damn, had he dinked around upstairs for that long?

  “Is she the bully, Daddy?” RJ asked.

  Uhhh.

  “Bully?” Ivy tilted her head to the side. “Seriously.”

  “No, no.” He grabbed her arm before she could stride away on those killer heels she had on. “Ivy, this is my boy. RJ. RJ, meet Ivy. She’s not a bully. She’s okay.” Scary as hell at times, but okay. He hoped.

  “Hi.” RJ stuffed his motorcycle under his left arm and held out his right hand.

  Ivy’s hardass deathglare pretty much melted. Everything went soft on her face. She bent down and shook his hand. “Hi, RJ. It’s nice to meet you.”

  “Daddy!” RJ whispered loudly.

  Ridley bent down to hear what he had to tell him.

  “Bully is pretty. And her hands are soft.” Didn’t he know it. Of course Ivy could hear everything the boy said, so she tried to keep back a smile. “Don’t bite bully.”

  He probably wouldn’t. Not that he’d mind nipping her neck, or very low on her belly. Or an ass cheek. Ahh, flashback shots of Saturday night…

  Ivy got all serious again. “I’ll meet you out front, Ridley. RJ, I’ll see you later.” She turned on her heel and took off, her slippery pantsuit swaying with her ass as she went.

  Damn. Whole lot there to bite. But he wasn’t taking the bait. This time, Ivy League would come to him.

  Chapter 5

  Ivy looked around the parking lot, sweeping her gaze into the shop for a quick peek at little RJ playing. Pretty good kid, playing in his area so contentedly with his mini-tools and toy motorcycles. Long attention span too. Maybe he never felt alone because somebody was always nearby if he needed anything or wanted to show them what he’d done.

  Everything was ready to go. She had a few chairs set up in a shady corner out here, and Phil the photographer was bullying Ridley into the wardrobe she’d requested.

  Ah, and her backups were pulling up. Kiersten got out of a big truck, along with two blondes. As they passed the photo-shoot area, Ridley’s mouth dropped open and he lifted an empty hand in a what the hell? gesture, but the photog straightened the collar of his leather jacket and tugged his attention back.

  “Hi, ladies. Welcome,” she said.

  “Hey.” Kiersten hugged her and then fanned herself, lifting her thick red, wavy hair off her neck. “Good hell, I’m hot! Ivy, you remember Mandy, used to be House? And this is her sister-in-law, Kenna.”

  Kenna gave her a wide, warm smile and said, “Hah, naass to meet you.” Southern belle, through and through. Even her jeans looked classy with her ruffly red top and jewelry that all matched.

  “Hi.” Mandy lifter her right hand in a little wave and glanced over to where Ridley and Miguel were positioning two motorcycles as directed. She hitched up her khaki cargoes and climbed onto a stool, straightening her black dressy tee.

  “So, when’s the show start?” Kiersten settled herself with a groan into a cushy leather desk chair and stretched her back. “I brought a wad of singles. Will I get to use ’em?”

  “Oh God.” Ivy pressed the back of her hand to her mouth. Leave it to Kiersten. “Doubtful. But I hope you can still whistle like you used to.”

  “Kenna can whistle really loud,” Mandy said. “Sometimes it’s the only way she can get attention with all the havoc my ape of a brother raises in their house.”

  Kenna turned an elegant shade of pink and smiled. “Learned it in cheer camp in junior hah.”

  Music drifted over from the photo shoot. AC/DC. Well, perfect. That should be about Ridley’s speed. The photo assistant poked and prodded at the guys, who were sitting side-by-side facing the camera. Not many smiles happening. Photog Phil must’ve decided to go for some studly shots, because the guys crossed their arms over their chests and gave him tough looks.

  “Yeah baby, show us what you got!” Kiersten yelled. “What kinda guns you packin’?”

  Good old Kiersten, kicking things off in a big way. Mandy and Kenna giggled.

  Ivy waited.

  Ridley looked their way, his eyes narrowed in a shaking my head look. Miguel lost some of his usual self-assuredness.

  “Maybe they should arm-wrestle,” Mandy said, just loud enough for the guys to hear.

  The photo assistant seemed to like the idea, and hurried to set up a table and chairs.

  “Lose the jackets!” Ivy called.

  “Lose the shirts!” Kiersten demanded.

  Miguel’s and Ridley’s mouths dropped open. When they’d lost the leather, they sat across from each other and had their little arm-wrestling match.

  “Woo! Yeah baby.” Ivy wasn’t very good at this. Even after researching cheesy pickup lines on the net last night. “Are you a parking ticket? Cause you’ve got fine written all over you!” Men were just inherently better at this. Especially the ones they were trying to embarrass now.

  The guys’ hands slammed to the table, Miguel’s on top. He grinned across at Ridley and stood.

  “Oh, yeah,” Kiersten called. “Let’s call that one coffee. Just the way we like it—tall, dark, and strong.”

  Kenna whistled while they giggled.

  Ridley took his time standing, and stared over at them. What was going through his head? Was he mad?

  Might as well go with it. She strode over to the guys and lowered her voice to what she hoped was her sultry setting. “Hey baby, that’s a nice shirt. Can I talk you out of it?”

  Ridley put his fists on his hips. “What gives?”

  She just smiled back. “No, seriously. Time to lose the tee. Then put the leather back on and shrug it down around your shoulders. I think we’ve got what we need from Miguel. Ridley, the rest is just you.” She nudged Miguel aside. “Can you please check on RJ? Bring him out in like five minutes?”

  Now Miguel was doing the fish-mouth thing.

  “Go ahead, man,” Ridley said. “Just go with it.” When Miguel had gone, he squinted down at her. “What the fuck? What’re you up to?”

  “You don’t follow instructions well.” She grabbed his t-shirt just above his jeans, tugged it up and over his head. Damn, the guy was ripped. Which she knew from yesterday morning, but she’d been trying to forget.

  “Yow, baby. Just hit a washboard. Hope my shocks hold up,” Kiersten called. And she was right about the washboard—a woman could definitely scrub some clothes across those abs.

  “Hey stud, is it hot out here or is it just you?” Mandy asked.

  Ivy tried not to grin, hard to do when Ridley suddenly got shy and cuddled his arms around his chest. “Seriously, Ivy. This is—”

  “Gonna give the viewers the screaming thigh sweats. Trust me.” She made and held eye contact. Would he trust her, after this? That look in his eyes just about melted her. She helped settle the black leather jacket on him again and motioned for him to straddle the bike. “He’s all yours,” she told the assistant. The photographer changed the music to LMFAO’s Sexy and I Know It.

  The ladies erupted in catcalls, whoops and, “Did you just come outta the oven? Cause you are sooo hot!
”

  Ridley slumped and let his head hang.

  Ivy stepped back.

  When he finally lifted his head, he’d been laughing, but met her gaze as he pushed back his hair. It stood up just right. Damn. A dimple, and that looking-to-cause-trouble smirk. She’d bet her smartphone these photos would be smokin’.

  Ridley seemed to let go, throwing himself into being the hottie the assistant kept telling him to be.

  Quite a few smoldering shots later, little RJ nudged her leg. “Hey. Why Daddy take off his shirt?”

  She reached down to hold his hand, but he put both arms up, so she lifted him with an “Oomph!” Daddy had eventually shed the jacket too, now awesomely bare above the waist. “Um. He’s taking some pictures. You wanta be in a picture with Daddy?”

  “Can I take off my shirt?”

  “I think that’d be just right.” She set him down and helped him pull his Iron Man t-shirt over his head, leaving him in tiny Levi’s and those adorable little Docs. Just like Daddy. She led RJ over to the photo area. Oh, dear. Ridley had a tattoo of Ridley Junior’s name and birthday on his bicep. Just what she needed—something else endearing.

  Ridley stopped posing and shook his head. “No. Uh-uh. He’s not going on TV.”

  “Daddy? Take picture of me too.” RJ held his hands up. “I wanta ride.”

  “Humor me,” she murmured. “This one won’t be used anyplace you don’t authorize. I promise.”

  He chewed his lip. “’Kay. But only because I trust you wouldn’t do anything to harm a little kid.”

  Thank God for small mercies.

  He lifted RJ up, sniffed his hair and settled him on his lap the way the photographer instructed and soon they were hamming for the camera.

  “Holy hell.” Kiersten moved up close behind her. “That’s…wow. That’s hot. Right?”

  “Yeah. I’m thinking sepia.” Their matching outfits, the dimple on the left cheek, Ridley’s super-awesome pecs and shoulders. And arms. Best dad-n-son pics ever.

  “So. You going through with the bet, or what?” Kiersten nudged her shoulder.

  “You think…tonight?” Butterflies churned in her stomach. “Maybe I should wait ’til tomorrow, after they’ve got the first day of shooting out of the way?” She knew Ridley would be stressed, just like he’d been this morning.

  “Guess that’s your call,” Kiersten answered. “But if it was me, I’d be looking for a way to burn off some of this…this.” She fanned herself, then pointed back and forth between Ivy and Ridley. “And soon. The ladies and I are jetting. I’ll text ya later, okay?”

  “’Bye, thanks,” she told the trio. They each patted her on the back and snuck a couple of looks at the motorcycle scene on their way to the truck.

  Ridley’s hotness had been captured in digital images. His show would smoke the competition. Heck, maybe they’d even market trading cards of the RTC crew. She’d query that angle with corporate later. If things went well tonight, she’d need to send them a follow-up email canceling her last message, anyway.

  Chapter 6

  Ridley kissed RJ’s forehead and tucked his blanket under his chin. “’Night, buddy. Sleep good. Love you.”

  “’Night Daddy. Love you.”

  He got that warm catch-in-the-throat feeling like he always did when RJ said it. The bed creaked when he stood. By the time he made it to the doorway to flip the light switch, the kid’s eyes were already drifting closed.

  Life wasn’t bad. Especially standing there looking at the sweet baby look on his boy’s face. Tomorrow might end up hellish. Bunch of strangers would be all up in his business, literally, shoving cameras all kinds of places he’d bargained for but now wished he hadn’t. And hard to tell what Ivy might get up to. He sure hadn’t expected her to turn his publicity shoot into a Chippendales exhibition. But she had. And he’d like to blame Kiersten Howell for part of that, but hell… Ivy was a big girl and she’d always done things her way.

  She’d done plenty her way Saturday night, whether she remembered it or not. Ms. Ivy Leeds knew some tricks. Everything in the South Forty contracted when he thought about it. Best not to go there again. Ivy sure wasn’t going to, at least not for a while. If only he could think of a way to show her he wasn’t a player anymore. He’d really like a shot at a normal, grown-up thing with her.

  Hell, who was he kidding? He couldn’t even say “relationship” to himself. He called it a thing. Shit. Closest he’d come to a relationship was when he’d been civil to Lana during her pregnancy, mostly to make sure she was taking care of herself and the baby.

  So what would a lady like Ivy want with some redneck wannabe like him, trying to show the world he’d made it and turned his life around by making a damn TV show, of all things? Class acts like Ivy didn’t have to prove themselves. They just. Were. Amazing. They had friends like the rich-as-hell-Howells and Krafts, and that Kenna House, who’d always be out of his league. For that matter, Ivy always had been too.

  Still, he’d miss her like hell when she left at the end of the week.

  He sank onto the couch, flopped his head back and laid the remote down without even turning on the tube. No point. Not like he’d be paying attention to the thing anyway, when he couldn’t get Ivy out of his head.

  * * * *

  Ivy closed the shop door with a quiet click and pocketed the key she’d finagled out of Miguel. She owed him one. Well, maybe not. He’d sort of leered at her and made some comment about if things didn’t work out between her and Ridley, he’d pretend she had a job at UPS and let her handle his package.

  That boy needed a good whipping. Not that she was the girl to administer it.

  She tiptoed up the stairs to Ridley’s place.

  Please let this go okay. Please don’t let me make a fool of myself.

  At the top, she paused, sucking in some deep breaths until her heart slowed. Please, please.

  Ugh. This whole seduction thing was nerve-wracking. Guys had it lots harder than she’d imagined.

  Suck it up.

  She knocked. Waited.

  In a few seconds, the doorknob turned and Ridley eased the door open to peek out. “Uh. Hey.” He opened the door all the way.

  “Hey. I should tell you up front, I’m here on a dare. Well, sort of a bet.”

  He raised one brow and gave her a cockeyed grin. “Yeah? Is that what today was about too?”

  Deep breath. “Mostly. So, um…did you get a chance to look at the proofs the photographer emailed?”

  His ears turned pink. “Yeahhh.”

  Her heart raced faster. “Can I get a copy of the one with you and RJ? Cause I’d like to show it to Santa soheknowswhatIwantforChristmas.” There. The cheesy pickup line she and Kiersten had come up with.

  Ridley chewed his lip, smirked when he must have finally sorted out what she’d said. “Good one. Uh, if it’s okay with you, maybe we’ll just sit out here on the steps?” Great, he didn’t want her inside with RJ. Did she seem like a big ole slut now? He closed the door but didn’t latch it, sat down and patted the top step next to him. “Lil man just went to sleep. But if he wakes up, he’ll never leave you alone. He didn’t quit talking about you all night.”

  The butterflies in her stomach went to her heart. “Me? Does he, did he…like me?” She settled next to him. Oh, nice. He was all warm and soft and good-smelling.

  He looked into her eyes. “What’s not to like?”

  Melt, melt. Now how to untie her tongue?

  “Besides, you pay more attention to him than his mom does. She only started wanting to see him when she found out I got the deal for the show.”

  “Oh. So you and Lana aren’t a thing?”

  He chuckled and looked at his feet. “A thing. We were pretty much only a one-night thing.”

  “From what I hear, she has lots of one-nighters.” Was this her business to tell him? Surely he knew, but... “Mandy told Kiersten her ex was fooling with Lana around the same time she got pregnant with RJ.”

 
; “If I had a buck for every time somebody told me that...”

  “I’m sorry.” Definitely not her business.

  He brushed his knuckles along her jaw, all eye contact again. “Lana was a mistake. RJ is a gift. When she told me she was pregnant, she said she’d get an abortion again, unless I signed papers taking financial responsibility and full custody at time of birth.” He swallowed hard and focused somewhere above her head. “How could I let some baby die because I wasn’t sure who its father was? But you know what?” He looked back into her eyes. “As soon as I looked at him, I knew he was mine.”

  A little blond white boy…could be Mike Lawson’s too. “That one look and we bonded thing?”

  “No. He has the Tucker birthmark.”

  Birthmark…oh dear. A flashback of a raspberry T just below his right hipbone. “Gosh, I can’t recall much from Saturday night, but I do remember that.” Was it hot up here?

  “I remember a lot about that night. The feel of your hair.” He slid his fingers behind her ear. “The smell of your perfume. How you taste.”

  She licked her lips, but he directed his gaze down. “Oh.” That taste. Holy heat, Batman.

  “As seduction missions go, Ivy, I’d label yours a success.”

  The scent of his cologne had increased, and his pulse beat below his ear. One glance down at his crotch and…yep. Success.

  Just do it.

  She leaned closer and caught his lips with hers. Salty, warm, a little beery. Firm, firmer, hungry. Greedy. God, she could just eat him up, right here, forever.

  He pulled back, but kept his hand in her hair so they were a breath apart. “Tell me one thing. If I had asked you that week after prom, would you have gone out with me?”

  She shuddered. God, that was top Shit Week in the history of Shit Weeks. She’d been so, so hurt. And she didn’t want it to keep hurting. “Honestly, at first I probably would have thought it was another bet. But maybe, with enough convincing on your part…”

  “What if I told you I never collected on my bet? Never got the fifty off Mark?”