Dirty Talk

by Megan Erickson

  Alex set her coffee cup on the table beside her and curled her purple-nailed toes over the edge of the cushion where she sat. “How was your date?”

  The interrogation had started. “Fine.”

  “Did he like the sports bar? I thought that was pretty smart of you.”

  It didn’t matter. He didn’t look at anyone but me. “Yeah, he liked it.”

  “Did he chew with his mouth open? Drop barbecue sauce on his shirt? Slap the waitress’s ass?” Alex grinned.

  Ivy laughed. “No, stop. He didn’t do any of those things.”

  “So how was it?”

  “I said fine.”

  “What does fine mean? I tried to stay up but fell asleep.”

  “Yeah, I noticed.”

  “So?”

  Ivy sighed, wishing Alex would just drop it. “I don’t know what you want me to say. We had dinner. He talked about his dog. I talked about my new job. The food was good, and then he dropped me off at home.” After the hottest make-out session I’d ever had.

  “So are you going to see him again?”

  Ivy shrugged. “I don’t know. He’s not the kind of guy you take seriously. It wasn’t a big deal.” But even as she spoke the words, her stomach rolled, her own body knowing it was all a lie.

  She’d seen the serious side of Brent, the one he didn’t let many people know about, but he’d shown her. Ivy knew she wasn’t taking care of it very well, but dammit, she hadn’t asked for it. She didn’t want it. She wasn’t that girl anymore.

  Alex didn’t say anything, but her blue eyes assessed Ivy. Ivy resisted squirming and hoped Alex had dropped the subject. Finally, Alex picked up her coffee, took a sip, and then turned her attention to the TV.

  Ivy blew out a breath. Interrogation was over.

  Despite the cloudless day, the sunny skies, Ivy felt a cloud over her head for the rest of the weekend. Because the glimpses of Brent she’d seen once she dug underneath that jokester grin was everything but a joke.

  She couldn’t wish she met him before Mike, because then she wouldn’t have Violet, but maybe if she’d met him before Robby, or before all those losers she’d dated in between, things could have been different.

  And that’s what she lamented the most. The woman she used to be. The woman she could have been. What she could have had if she’d been willing to take that risk. She couldn’t now, though, not when she lived codependently with Violet and Alex. Not when they relied on each other and protected each other. She couldn’t bring in an outsider to disrupt that balance.

  So she figured she’d just have to get used to the cloud and bask in the glow of her daughter’s smile as she made cookies with Alex.

  THE FALL AIR was creeping in to Tory. The breeze had that little bit of bite to it already. It was like everyone knew this Sunday might be one of the last days they could get away with short sleeves or a light jacket, so the park was packed. Including the dog park, which had reached its max capacity, so Brent tugged on the leash of a reluctant Honeybear and beckoned to Davis. They’d made it a habit to come to the park just about every weekend now. They had a routine down, and Davis refused to deviate. He enjoyed his time at the park, and Brent was thrilled to see he was more comfortable.

  The park had a large trail around the outside that was paved and smooth for Davis’s wheelchair, so they set off on it. Brent gave Honeybear as much lead as he could, and she used it, trotting ahead to sniff the side of the path, barking at squirrels, and generally being the hyper canine that she was.

  “That was really dumb to leave the ball in her court,” Davis said, chair wheels crunching on the leaves that had already begun to fall.

  “Why? I thought women liked . . . independence or whatever.”

  “They like to be chased.”

  “You act like I never get laid. I know women like to be chased, but Ivy . . . ” He thought about her daughter and her admission that she was tired of moving, and then he thought of how she felt under his hands, under his body. And he had to think other thoughts before he got a boner in a public park. He shook his head. “I don’t think she’s that type of woman.”

  “So you think she’ll come to you.”

  “I don’t know. We’ll see how it goes. I’m not saying that she doesn’t want to be shown she’s special, but I think chasing her might be a bad way to go about it.”

  He’d thought about this all Friday night in bed, then all day Saturday, and then more while he slept like shit last night. He thought about what he’d do if Ivy kept away. He didn’t know what he’d do, not yet. But he had made the decision that he wouldn’t let her slip away. No way. They owed it to themselves to see where this went.

  “Look, I’m just saying—” Davis began.

  “Honeybear!” Brent yelled, tugging on her leash as she lunged after a flashy pink jacket. The wearer of said jacket turned around, her dark hair flying, and Brent stopped in his tracks. “Violet?”

  The little girl had crossed the path to get a ball and stood frozen, holding it, staring at Davis. Brent had never believed in fate, but he was starting to wonder about it, based on how many times he’d come across the little girl.

  “Violet?” Brent said again.

  Her eyes darted to him, and then, with a slight hesitation, her grin spread. “Brent!”

  “Hey there, Princess. How are ya?”

  He glanced around for her mom as Violet walked over to an excited Honeybear. “Is this your dog?”

  “Yep, her name’s Honeybear.”

  Violet giggled at that. Brent walked over and patted Honeybear’s head as Violet held out her hand. “Is she friendly?”

  “Very. You can pet her.”

  Honeybear had other ideas, though. She wanted to lick. So lick she did, both of Violet’s hands, her face, her neck, and her ears, until the girl was squealing and wet and falling over.

  “Vi!”

  Brent heard Ivy’s voice and turned to see her jogging down the path. Her steps faltered when she saw Brent but slowed to a walk as she took in the sight of her daughter on her back, with a dog trying to burrow under her jacket.

  “Hi,” Brent said when she stopped in front of them.

  “Hi,” she said. Her cheeks were flushed, her hair pulled up into a long ponytail. She wore a blue jacket, which made her eyes shine even brighter.

  She looked even more beautiful than he remembered, and he had a hard time forcing his voice to work. “Nice to see you.”

  She ducked her head to look at her daughter. “Yeah, same.”

  Brent gestured to Davis, who was watching the whole situation with a bemused expression. Brent wanted to hit him. “Ivy, this is my neighbor, Davis. Davis, this is, uh, Ivy and her daughter, Violet.”

  Davis and Ivy made some small talk about the weather while Brent helped Violet off the ground and brushed leaves off her jacket. Honeybear was still excited, high off her licking spree, and Brent had to reprimand her to calm down.

  When he straightened, Ivy was watching him. He pointed at his dog. “Honeybear.”

  Her lips tipped up. “The infamous Honeybear.”

  “I’m trying to get her to respond to Honey, but it’s not going well.”

  Ivy laughed, the sound light in the fall air. “She seems sweet, so I think the name fits her.”

  Brent nodded, and they lapsed into an awkward silence that Brent wanted to fill with the sounds of them kissing.

  “Does Honeybear like to play fetch?” Violet asked.

  “Of course she does, Princess. It’s her favorite game.”

  “Can I play with her a little? I mean . . . ” She bit her lip and turned to her mom. “Is that okay? Can I play with Brent’s dog a little, if he says it’s okay?”

  Ivy hesitated just a fraction, and Brent’s heart lurched. Actually lurched. What was going on with him that he was aching from any sort of attention or time Ivy would give him?

  Then Ivy smiled, big and bright. “Sure, that’s okay, as long as it’s okay with Brent and his friend.�
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  And Brent’s heart settled. “Of course.”

  THEY FOUND A relatively empty field at the park, and Brent handed Violet a tennis ball he kept in his pocket. Davis said he wanted to enjoy the weather, so he continued on the path alone. Brent watched him as he wheeled away. Usually when they went to the park together, Davis never left Brent’s side. So he either really wanted Brent to spend some alone time with Ivy, or Davis was growing bolder. Brent figured it was a little bit of both.

  As Brent and Ivy watched Violet run and throw the ball to an excited Honeybear, Ivy picked apart a stalk of grass. “Thanks for letting Violet play with your dog.”

  “Of course. She’ll sleep all afternoon now. Gives me a break.”

  Ivy cocked her head. “You live alone?”

  “Yeah, I used to share an apartment with Cal, but he’s all shacked up with Jenna and Asher now. I got a townhouse beside Davis.”

  “Asher . . . I met him, I think. He’s got purple hair? In a Mohawk?”

  Brent laughed. “I think it’s back to black now. But yeah, that’d be Asher. He’s our half-brother. Did Alex tell you about that?”

  Ivy shook her head.

  “So, Cal and I also have a younger brother, Max. He’s a teacher and doesn’t live in Tory. Anyway, last summer, we found out that our mom—who left us when I was five—had a kid with her new husband. A kid we never knew about. Asher showed up on Cal’s doorstep. Shook up all our lives but Cal’s the most. Anyway, we all fell in love with him, and he’s here permanently now.” He was babbling, wasn’t he? Did she really want to know all of this?

  She was listening, though, her entire body turned in his direction, her eyes studying him. “Your mom left your family?”

  “Yep, we were raised by mean ol’ Jack. Well, he’s not so bad. Just gotta get used to him. Anyway, Jill—our mom—left her alcoholic husband, moved back to Tory, and lives in an apartment here now.” He shrugged. “It’s a little late to mend anything, but I don’t have the energy to be angry about the past anymore.”

  Ivy nodded slowly and then let her gaze travel to where Violet was rolling in the grass with Honeybear. “That’s a good attitude,” she said softly. “Really good.”

  Brent shrugged. “I think Cal got angry, and Max got bitter, and I just pretended it didn’t happen. I don’t think any of us were right or wrong, just different.”

  Ivy’s expression was pensive. “Is Cal still angry and is Max still bitter?”

  “Not really so much anymore, no.”

  Ivy turned to him, her brow furrowed. “What changed?”

  “I guess . . . they grew up a little. And they met women who made them want to be happy.”

  Her lips twitched into a small smile. “And are you still waiting for the woman who’ll make you want to be happy?”

  Fuck, her eyes, so goddamn blue; her lips, begging for a kiss. “Maybe I want to be the man who makes you happy.”

  Her eyes widened for a moment, and he replayed his words in his head, realizing belatedly he’d said you.

  He’d told her he wanted to make her happy.

  And right now, she was staring at him like a deer in headlights, and he had no comeback, no witty remark. He stared back.

  And they kept staring at each other until Davis called out to them from a hundred yards away, waved, and began to make his way toward them.

  The moment was broken, and thank fuck for that.

  Ivy shielded her eyes from the sun and watched as Davis approached. “How did he get injured in the fire?”

  “He fell through a floor. Landed wrong, and so his legs are paralyzed.”

  Her eyes were wide. “Wow.”

  “He works for dispatch now. He can be grumpy and he spoils my dog with too much junk, but I like him.”

  “That’s great. We haven’t really . . . met our neighbors. I guess we probably should, huh?”

  Brent shrugged and then called to Davis. “Ready to head back?”

  Davis nodded. “Whenever you are.”

  Ivy called to Violet, who trotted toward them with Honeybear at her heels. “Say good-bye, Vi,” Ivy said. “They need to leave, and so do we.”

  There were too many people, and Brent was dealing with an over-stimulated Honeybear crashing into his shins. But he still made eye contact with Ivy.

  Her face was earnest when she said, “Thanks again for Friday.”

  He wanted to ask her out again; he wanted to know if Friday meant as much to her as it had to him, but all he could do was nod, say, “Nah, thank you,” and then wrangle his dog back to his truck, with Davis following along behind them.

  He wondered if he made her happy. And if he hadn’t yet, if she’d give him another chance.

  Chapter Ten

  ASHER BRUSHED HIS black hair out of his eyes and leaned on the counter of Payton and Sons. “So what do think?”

  Brent stuck his pen behind his ear and looked up from the receipts he was filing. “What do I think about what?”

  “About Julian and me wearing matched tuxes for homecoming.”

  “How in the hell did I get to be the brother you ask for fashion advice?” Brent asked.

  “Cal thinks dressing up is a clean pair of jeans.”

  “Maybe Jenna is the one to ask about this. Or Delilah.” Or Ivy, because he thought she dressed cute as hell, but he kept that to himself.

  “He’s going to go with a black tux. And I’m going to go with white, and we’re both wearing purple ties.”

  “Okay.”

  “Does that sound all right?”

  “Are you dyeing your hair to match?”

  Asher’s eyes widened. “I hadn’t even though of that!” Then he pulled out his phone and began texting furiously, as if Brent wasn’t even there.

  Brent stared at him for a minute and then shook his head and tried to focus on work.

  Which was pretty fucking hard when his mind was on yesterday at the park, picturing Violet playing with Honeybear. Everything about that moment had felt so right. Talking with Ivy was easy. She listened to him, really listened to him, in a way he wasn’t sure many people did. He’d always felt on the outskirts of crowds. The guy everyone wanted around for a joke but that’s all.

  He realized he hadn’t given them a chance to treat him better. But he was now, dammit, with Ivy. Or at least he was trying to.

  Asher had moved to the corner of the office and sat on the couch, feet propped up on the magazine table, talking to Julian. Brent raised his arms over his head, stretching, and then tossed the pen on the counter. He had about two hours of work to do, and he needed something to eat to tide him over until dinner.

  He headed toward the back room, with his head down, picking at a smudge of grease on his hand, when he heard his name. He stopped just outside the door to the back room and listened.

  “She didn’t say much about it. Why?” Alex was saying.

  Then came Jenna’s voice. “I’m just curious. He’s been in a good mood lately. Less of a pain in the ass.”

  “Well, I don’t think it has anything to do with Ivy.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  There was a pause, and Brent pictured Alex shrugging. “She said the date was nothing. That Brent isn’t a guy you take seriously.”

  Brent tried to suck in a breath, but now it was like a band had wrapped around his chest, squeezing and squeezing until he swore his ribs would crack.

  “It’s amazing how Cal and Brent grew up in the same house and are so different. Cal is serious about everything, and Brent is serious about nothing,” Jenna said.

  Ouch.

  Alex laughed. “What’s Max like?”

  “Well, he’s the youngest and has a mix of them both, I’d say,” Jenna said.

  “But he’s taken.”

  “So is Cal!”

  “And Brent?” Alex asked.

  He didn’t stay to hear more. Nope. He walked away, straight out to his truck and leaned against it.

  The date was nothing.

/>   Brent isn’t the guy you take seriously.

  This hurt. Holy fuck, this hurt. Why did this hurt so bad? He would have been perfectly happy if women in the past had said he wasn’t a guy to take seriously. Because sometimes, he liked being the joke. He liked no strings and no complications.

  But with Ivy, he wanted the strings and the complications, and he didn’t know why. He just fucking did.

  The hurt was quickly turning into red-hot anger, licking at his insides and curling his fingers into fists.

  He didn’t really believe that Ivy thought it was nothing. How could she? When she’d laughed with him in the restaurant, when she’d held his hand, when she’d responded to his kiss and his touch instantly?

  So she was either lying to Alex or lying to herself, or he was making up this connection in his head.

  He should let it go. Forget about the date and chalk it up to nothing and move on with his life. There were other women and other dates and other times he could make out with a hot-as-hell woman in his truck.

  But she wouldn’t be Ivy.

  Or he could confront her. He could take a leap and put his heart out there and prove to her he could be taken seriously, that this wasn’t nothing, but, in fact, it was everything.

  This could crash and burn. This could blow up in his face. Tory was so fucking small, and Ivy was too close to his family, so there’d be gossip. Just like there was now.

  But he wanted Ivy. He wanted to spend time with her and her daughter. See Violet roll around the park with Honeybear. Flirt with Ivy, even though she pretended she didn’t.

  So he didn’t really have a choice, did he?

  IVY LIFTED A shirt out of a bin and shook it out. It was a boatneck sweater with navy and white stripes and in good condition. She placed it to the side to tag later and picked up a pair of pants.

  She had told Delilah she’d stay after hours to take care of the backlog of clothing they had in the back room. And it was nice to be by herself to gather her thoughts. Because she was still a little shaken up by her date with Brent and by the Sunday in the park. When he’d opened up about his family and played with her daughter.

  He was so open and didn’t seem to have any secrets, when she felt like she had loads. She didn’t want to have secrets. She wanted to tell them to Brent, to the world, but her bubble of Dawn girls was safe.