Blindsided

by Shey Stahl

  The kids wander off with Cat to pick their rooms and it’s a good thing the house is already vacant because they’re not at all quiet or careful about any of it. It’s like they’re a cross between raging bulls and playing Marco Polo across the house from one another.

  Landon grabs my hand and leads me to the private master suite on the third floor. Opening the double doors leading into the suite, he smiles back at me. “I like that it has its own wing for the master bedroom.”

  “It provides nice privacy.”

  Smirking, he winks and steps inside the room. At least his playful mood from last night’s returning. I was beginning to worry about him.

  “Where’s the guest house?” he asks, glancing out the large floor-to-ceiling picture windows overlooking the back terrace and swimming pool.

  Stepping toward him, I peek out the window myself and see the pool house. I stare down at the property sheet in my hand that lays out the house. “It says here, it’s next to the pool house.”

  “Oh, right.” He points out the window to the left of the pool. “It’s right there.” With our shoulders touching, our bodies side by side, we stare out the window together. My breathing increases, like it always does when I’m near him, but this time it’s Landon’s breathing I notice over mine. It hitches when he dips his head forward. “Make this move with me.”

  It’s not a question. It never is with him. “Do you really think that’s a good idea? What will Alessa think?”

  “Well, we’re not technically together anymore and two, it doesn’t fucking matter what she thinks. I care what you think.”

  Why am I caving so easily? His eyes penetrate mine and all I can think about is him penetrating me, so naturally my answer is, “Okay.” And it’s just as breathy as you might think.

  Our eyes lock on each other and Landon leans in like he’s gonna kiss me. I swallow, my eyes darting over his face, his lips, the way his body moves closer. He doesn’t blink, and neither do I.

  He doesn’t move.

  I don’t either.

  I clear my throat, trying to draw the two of us out of the trance we’re in. He leans in closer, a low growl rumbling in his throat as his lips move toward mine. I don’t stop him. My heart races, blood pumping through my veins. There’s no smile on his face, and his eyes, they’re hard and assessing, and they say he loves me. No, I’m kidding. They say he wants to fuck me. It’s the only thing he wants from me besides my friendship. I learned quickly not to take everything to heart Landon says or does, and I’m comfortable enough around him that I could just kiss him and not have it mean anything to me. Or can I? Maybe I can kiss him just to see if I want more?

  Fuck that shit. Girl, you know you want more!

  I’m right. This is a bad idea and it’s only going to complicate things even more.

  Before either of us can react, Adler barrels through the door. “What the heck? Why do you get a floor to yourself and we just get rooms?”

  Jumping at the sound of the door, I step back away from Landon, trying not to act like I was going to let him kiss me.

  Get your shit together, Ember.

  Landon laughs. His eyes return to me, and a knot of tension in my throat rises. He turns to face Adler. “Because I’m paying the bills and you’re not.”

  Adler rolls his eyes. “Just for now, old man. Just for now.” And walks away, out of the bedroom.

  Landon turns to face me. “Why does he call me an old man? I’m only, what… twenty years older than him? That’s hardly old.”

  “Clearly you had someone doing your homework in college because he’s nine and you’re twenty-six.”

  He blinks… doing the math in his head, or trying to. Then he breaks out his fingers. “Seventeen? Is that right?”

  “Yeah.” I fight back a laugh, trying to busy myself with looking at the bedroom, unsteady from his beautiful, adorable, kissable face I want to smoosh between my hands and lay on my tits. Then I want to run my hands through his hair and gently push his head south and have him go down on me. Let’s face it, he’d look better with his head between my legs and then his cock. Fuck, knock it off. Ugh. I’m worse than him! #fuckedAF

  Landon steps closer, eyeing the thick cream craftsman-style crown molding and window frames and then running his hand suggestively over the bold window casings. “Twenty is close enough.”

  “And not accurate.” Averting my stare, I move to the bathroom to check out the master bathroom I saw pictures of, but hadn’t seen in person yet. Our kitchen in the condo would fit in his bathroom.

  “Whatever.” With determination, he follows me into the bathroom, his chest purposely pressing into my back. “What I mean is I’m not an old man.”

  “You’re older than me,” I whisper over my shoulder. He’s so close again I can feel his breath on my neck.

  “By three fuckin’ days,” he whispers in my ear, then steps inside the shower to examine the bench. Suggestively, he points at his crotch and then makes a humping motion with his hips. You’d think looking at him, here’s a star football player with a million-dollar arm. Not only does he have endorsements coming out his ass and hundreds of products thrown his way every day in hopes he’ll represent them, but he also leads the Seattle Seahawks on the field every week from September to the end of December. He’s a well-manicured professional athlete and you’re under the impression he’s mature, right? Nope. Not at all. Case in point, he’s humping the shower wall while telling me over his shoulder, “The bench provides a nice leverage point.”

  “You’re unbelievable, and still older than me.” Turning the light off, I begin to walk out of the bathroom only to have him follow and grab me from behind to tackle me to the barn wood tile floors. It’s a nice floor, but what’s nice is the feeling of Landon on top of me.

  He holds me down, pinning my wrists to the floor. “What were we talking about?”

  I snort, giving him the bitch brow. “Lunch?”

  “Nice try.” Landon’s eyes drift intently across my face, his voice jagged when he whispers, “You’re moving in with me.”

  “No, into the guest house.” Uncomfortable, I shift, but in the process, my girly bits make direct contact with his junk.

  He swallows roughly, his jaw clenching before he clears his throat. “Same difference.”

  The windows facing the back terrace are open and all of a sudden, we hear screaming followed by splashing and more screaming. “I can’t believe you just did that!” Marley screams.

  Scrambling to our feet, Landon and I peek out the window to see Marley in the pool, Braylee smiling, and a laughing Cat holding Nalani.

  Landon lets out a relieved breath. “Jesus Christ.”

  Smiling, I pat his shoulder and walk out of the room only to have him catch my hand and whirl me to face him.

  “Is that a yes?”

  Sighing, I shake my head. “I’m probably going to regret it, but it’s a yes.”

  #letthemadnessbegin

  Out Pattern – The course a wide receiver runs where he starts running straight downfield and then turns and runs toward the sideline in an attempt to get open.

  When I moved to Seattle five years ago, I lived with Kumonde for the first year having not known the city. Then, after my first season with the Seahawks, I bought my condo and rented the one next door in an attempt to keep Ember close. I couldn’t have her across town and be my assistant. And after Cat’s accident, I wanted them both close. So she moved in next door and the last three years have gone pretty smooth. And now my life is a clusterfuck of shit every day while I’m wading through two practices a day and nearing our first preseason game in a week. Now to top it off, I’m packing. Not exactly what I want to do on a day off, but it beats shopping for clothes like I had to do yesterday because Marley had nothing to wear. Which, I’d like to point out is complete bullshit. She just didn’t want to wear anything in the fifteen fucking boxes of clothes she has stored in the corner of my living room.

  “You have entirely too many
shoes!” Ember yells, tossing another pair at my head. She’s in the depths of my closet that she’s helping me pack. I want to point out she’s wrong because clearly, she hasn’t seen Marley’s collection of chucks. She has a pair in every goddamn color. I’m not even joking.

  Every.

  Single.

  Color.

  They.

  Make.

  And one uniquely altered with duct tape and Sharpie marker. I bet if I turned them over they’d say, “I hate Landon!” on the soles.

  I stare at the shoe Ember threw at me. “Hey, that one is a limited edition.” I hired someone to pack up my condo, but I’m particular about my shoes and everything else in my closet. Some would say I have a problem. I wouldn’t, but some would. Like Ember.

  “I don’t give a shit if they’re from fucking space.” She throws another one at me. This one hits me in the shoulder. “You have too many.”

  I pick it up and pretend to wipe off the dirt. There’s no dirt. You’ve seen my apartment. I keep it super clean. Actually, Pita keeps it super clean, but that’s beside the point. Braylee walks into my room and hands me her Gameboy.

  I take it and look down at her. She usually does this because she wants me to pass another level for her but the look on her face tells me this might be something bigger. “What? Why are you giving me a look like you want to kill me?”

  “The battery died.”

  “So put some more in it?”

  “It doesn’t take batteries. Marley stole my charger.”

  “Why?”

  “Because her phone needed to be charged. Now she’s locked herself in the bathroom.”

  “Why?” I feel like a broken record at this point, but you know, that happens a lot with kids, as I’m finding out.

  Braylee rolls her eyes and I’m fucking impressed by it because she gives me a run for my money on being the king of eye rolls. “Why does she do anything she does?”

  “Fuck. Why is she always in the goddamn bathroom?”

  Braylee lets out a laugh, but her expression is not amused. “Do something?”

  Do you notice my expression? In case it’s not obvious, I’m confused. I look at Ember. “Get her out of the bathroom.”

  And the look I get from Ember, as you can imagine, isn’t a good one. “Try that again in a non-douche way.” In case you can’t tell, she wants to fucking murder me, as usual.

  Braylee snaps her eyes to Ember. “What’s a douche?”

  “Nothing,” Ember mumbles, walking out of the room and pounding on the bathroom door. “Marley, get out of the bathroom!”

  “I’m taking a shower!” she yells back, her voice muffled behind the locked door. I knew putting a lock on the other day would backfire on me.

  Braylee turns back to me, her hands on her hips. “Her skin is going to fall off soon if she takes another shower today.”

  “How many has she taken?”

  “Like two!” And yeah, she shouts this at me and rips her Gameboy back from me. “Do you have another charger?”

  I give her a look like she’s lost her mind. “No. Why would you think I have Gameboy chargers lying around?”

  Braylee sighs, turns, and stomps out of my bedroom. Do you hear how fucking loud her steps are for someone who’s not even five feet tall yet? It’s not just “I’m irritated” stomps either. These are like the Hulk is pissed off and I’ve ruined her life. Which, if we’re being honest, I’m well on the way to that particular feat as far as she’s concerned. I don’t think I’d disagree either.

  “Gimme your charger!” she yells to Adler in a voice that’s similar to a dragon.

  As you can imagine, that’s followed with a loud, “No!” and trailed by screaming. Little boy screaming. I’m embarrassed for him and impressed he can reach that pitch.

  I’m not going to deal with it. Kids fight and, in my opinion, what better way to teach them about life and choices but to let them settle their arguments themselves. I don’t need to get involved in everything, right?

  I see it this way, but by the way Ember is staring at me, I’m guessing I’m wrong here. I’m pretty good at ignoring people so I go ahead and ignore her too, for good measure. Bending down, I carefully place my elaborate shoe collection into the boxes with bubble wrap around each pair. I’m kidding, I don’t bubble wrap them, but you better believe they all have their own individual shoe boxes.

  Sadly, Ember doesn’t leave. Sighing, a growl slips past my lips when I glance up at her. I’m not a genius, but judging by the expression on her face, she’s going to make me deal with the twin drama in the living room.

  “What? Why are you looking at me like that?”

  Her hand flies to her hip. “Aren’t you gonna deal with that?”

  I take a moment to stare at her. Isn’t she beautiful when she’s pissed off? I think so. Her cheeks get the slightest flush to them and her lips purse. Honestly, I forget that she’s even talking. All I can think about is what her mouth would look like with my cock in it. Reaching inside my shorts, I adjust myself—in front of her—and shake my head.

  “Are you even listening to me?”

  “No.”

  “Landon.” She shoves my shoulder. “Do something.”

  “No. They can figure it out themselves. I’ve got too much shit to deal with as it is to worry about a fucking Gameboy charger.” And I’m not going to do anything. Until… Adler screams like someone has ripped his nut sac off and a loud thump follows the yelp.

  Ember gives me a mocking half grin. “Now are you going to do something?”

  “Jesus Christ.” I rush down the hall, Ember following closely.

  In the living room, Adler’s on the floor cupping his balls and Braylee is sitting on the floor next to the power outlet plugging in her Gameboy. I’m not entirely sure, but I’m beginning to think she’s the tougher twin. She’s constantly beating him up. Do you notice the purple under Adler’s eye? Braylee punched him yesterday over the last cookie in the pantry. Literally punched her brother and stole the cookie out of his hand and ate it.

  I kneel next to Adler. “What happened to you?”

  All I get out of him between his rolling back and forth like he’s a pinball is that his “Balls are broken!”

  Haisley steps over Adler and sits on my leg like I’m a seat for her, giving me the play-by-play of the last five minutes. “Braylee wanted the charger and Adler didn’t want her to have it. He jumped on the couch and was holding it over her head so she couldn’t get it so she punched him in the privates so he would drop it.”

  Expecting an answer, I look to Braylee.

  Naturally, she rolls her eyes. “What? That’s what he gets for teasing me.” And then she plops down on the couch like it’s no big deal. “He deserved it.”

  Adler sits up with horror—and tears—in his eyes. “I did not! You can’t hit a man in the nut sac, you asshole!”

  Did he just say that to her? You’re thinking it, aren’t you? And you’re probably wondering what I’m going to do about it too? Well, at first, I do nothing but grin because seeing a nine-year-old boy scream “asshole” at his twin sister is somewhat amusing to me. To be fair, she deserved to be called an asshole. She fuckin’ punched his balls. I’d call her an asshole if I were him.

  Just as I’m about to say something, Cat walks into the condo and eyes the boxes. “Are you moving?”

  Everyone stares at her, but it’s Ember who reacts. “Yes, hon. He’s moving, remember? We went and looked at the house the other day?”

  Cat blinks slowly before saying, “Oh, right.” By the expression on her face, she doesn’t remember, but she also doesn’t want to let on otherwise.

  “Can you keep an eye on the kids?” Ember asks her. “I’m trying to get the last of Landon’s closet packed before the movers arrive at three.”

  Cat smiles at the kids. “Yeah, I got this.” She notices Adler on the floor. “What’s wrong, buddy?”

  I think he has a thing for Cat, or at least wants to act
like a man in front of her because he jumps up like nothing happened and straightens his posture. “Nothing.” He attempts to go into the bathroom but as you can imagine, Marley’s still in there.

  “Get out of the bathroom, Mar!” Adler yells, pounding on the door.

  She shouts something back at him, but I don’t stick around to hear it. Ember’s dragging me back down the hall to deal with my closet.

  “Do you think she’s like… masturbating or something? Do teenage girls do that?”

  Ember stops suddenly right before we enter the bedroom and turns to glare at me. “That’s disgusting. Stop it.”

  I laugh and follow her inside the room. “What? She’s a teenager. When I was thirteen, I used to jerk off in the attic. And the shower. Really anywhere I was alone.” I’m staring at the boxes lining my bedroom, but I can see from my peripheral that Ember’s expression has changed along with her breathing.

  And if I had to guess, she’s imagining me jerking off. I kick the door shut behind me and step toward her. “Ah, you’re imagining me now, aren’t you?”

  She shoves me back against a stack of boxes. “No, I’m not.”

  “Yes, you are.”

  A glisten of perspiration forms on her nose from stacking boxes. It’s also hot as fuck outside and the windows are open, so I imagine someone who isn’t used to sweating their balls off in this heat at three-hour long practices would think today is hot. Seeing her sweaty causes my cock to spring to life again because damn, I’d love to see her covered in sweat, my hands on her ass. Fuck yeah, I’d like to see that. God, I need to get laid soon.

  Ember’s small hands curl into fists. She looks like she’s on the brink of punching me. Again. This is a daily occurrence. “Knock it off.”

  Christ, look at her face. Determined set brow, thinned lips, those adorable freckles dusting her scrunched-up nose. I love pissing her off. It’s the most beautiful sight in the world.

  I wink. “How about you get me off?”

  Again, she doesn’t like that either. “Will you act mature for one day?”