by Carol Ross
“How do you think I feel? You guys are ogling my brother!”
Janie’s eyes darted onto the court because that meant Bering wasn’t the one with no shirt on.
And that also meant... Aidan was.
She spotted him immediately because indeed he was the only shirtless player. She tried not to gape at the way his muscles tensed and rippled as he dribbled the ball down the court. She knew Aidan was fit, that was obvious no matter what he wore, but this was... He looked...incredible as he faked a pass and took a shot, muscles popping out in all the right places. Three points. Perfect swish. No wonder these women were gathered around like groupies at a rock concert.
Spectacle. That’s what she should be thinking. He obviously wanted a bunch of grown women to admire him. She caught sight of a group of teenage girls giggling on the other side of the court. How—how tacky! He should be embarrassed at such an obvious display. What kind of man did this? Nobody else had their shirt off.
She caught sight of Gareth as Aidan passed him the ball. He executed a fake Janie had never seen him do before and sank a basket—obviously a move Aidan had taught him. She couldn’t help but smile. Gareth was clearly having a blast and looked to be playing well so that dampened her disapproval with Aidan to some degree.
She visited with Shay and Emily and tried not to look at Aidan’s bare, sweat-glazed muscles... But with the sound of his voice and his now-familiar laughter ringing in the air she was aware of him virtually every second—and that made her edgy.
Janie scanned the area for her mom as the game neared its conclusion. Her phone buzzed. She frowned as she read her mom’s text. Gabe wasn’t feeling well so she’d taken the twins home. She didn’t think there was a worse feeling in the world than when one of her kids was sick. She texted her mom a response.
She glanced at the court again in time to see Gareth and Aidan slap a high five. For some irrational reason the fact that Gabe was sick made Aidan’s shirtless display even more off-putting.
The game wrapped up and Gareth ran over to her. “We won, Mom. We’re the tournament champs!”
“Congratulations, honey.”
“Thanks to Aidan—he scored over half our points that last game. I need to grab my math book out of my locker. I’ll be back in a couple minutes, okay?”
“Sure.”
The crowd was dispersing; the guys gravitating toward their partners—Shay with Jonah, Bering with Emily, teenage boys sidling up to the girls... Jacinda and Lucille and a few other single ladies were circling Aidan, who was nodding and smiling with his hands on his hips but seemed distracted. His eyes darted around until they landed on her. A look of intensity flashed across his face and Janie felt her body betray her with a fresh wave of attraction.
He said something that made his fan club giggle. Then he strode in her direction, all eyes on his retreating form.
“Hey,” he said as he stopped in front of her.
“Hi.” Janie tried to look anywhere but at his ripped muscles and lightly bronzed skin that still glistened with sweat. He had a body like one of those ultimate fighters—all wiry and hard with virtually flawless skin stretched over lean muscle. He was gorgeous. There, she admitted it, hoping the silent acknowledgment would take some of its power away. She allowed herself another glance, but her pulse jumped in betrayal of this perfectly logical rationale.
Her eyes took another quick sweep, almost as if she couldn’t stop them. Oh, for the love of... The way his shorts hung on his hips... Tricia was right, he did look like that movie star. She felt a flash of irritation at herself for falling victim to such a blatant display of vanity. He obviously knew how good he looked. Janie thought about her stretch marks and the smattering of cellulite on the backs of her thighs—they were like battle scars...and worth every minute, of course, because she had her precious boys to show for her flaws.
But still—these were also reminders of how different her life was from that of Aidan’s. She could always count on stretch marks and cellulite to straighten out her wayward thoughts.
Aidan shivered lightly. “I still get surprised at how the sun can be so bright here, yet you can still have this chill in the air.”
“Well, it would probably help if you weren’t running around naked,” she blurted.
“Naked?” He let out a surprised chuckle. “What?”
“Half-naked. Whatever. It looks kind of bad, Aidan.”
He chuckled. “It looks bad? That’s not what, um, Lucille said.”
“You know what I mean,” she said and heard the disapproval in her tone. She felt like she was talking to one of the boys. “Like you know how good you look and you’re showing off.”
“I’m sorry if it offends you, but I can assure you I am not trying to show off.”
“Obviously,” she retorted dryly, looking him up and down and trying desperately not to appreciate the sight. “Don’t worry—it had the desired effect. You’ve got Jacinda’s attention and I’m not sure Lucille will ever fully recover, although my friend Ingrid will be grateful because maybe she will no longer pant after her husband, Gary.”
His gray eyes zeroed in on her face and he seemed to be pondering her words. Good. Doubtless he was unused to anyone calling him on this kind of juvenile, exhibitionist behavior.
But when he spoke his voice was low and the tone matter-of-fact. “Desired effect? You think I’m playing basketball shirtless to get attention from women?”
He stepped closer, his body radiating tension. A surge of nerves made her light-headed. She shrugged and tried for a nonchalant sigh, hoping to cover up the fact that it bothered her. If she didn’t know better she would think she was jealous. She wasn’t. But her boys had begun to look up to him and she didn’t appreciate this kind of example.
“I don’t care why you’re doing it, Aidan. I don’t mean to sound like a prude or anything—it’s just I don’t want my boys to think that it’s an acceptable way for them to get attention from women—by taking their shirts off and strutting around.”
He narrowed his eyes at her but this time his lips began twitching like they were flirting with a smile. “Strutting around? This is really what you think? This is what has been going on in that pretty head of yours? You think I’m some kind of egomaniacal exhibitionist hoping to get attention from women?”
She shrugged and reminded herself that “pretty head” was merely an expression.
“For your information—”
“Hey, Aidan,” Bering called as he jogged toward them. He held up a T-shirt. “Emily found one of my shirts in her car.” He tossed it over and Aidan caught the gray cotton bundle. He shot Janie a look as if to say “Are you happy now?” and slipped the shirt on over his head.
Bering studied Janie and his brows shot up. “Didn’t Aidan tell you about Gabe throwing up all over him before the game?”
Gabe had... Her baby had thrown up on him? That’s why he’d removed his shirt? Janie felt herself plummet into the dunk tank of humiliation.
She somehow found enough of her voice to ask, “He...what?”
Bering continued. “Yeah, when Mom dropped Gareth off the twins got all excited when they saw us playing. Gabe ran onto the court and let out this big squeal—you know how much he loves Aidan. The game hadn’t started yet, so I picked up Finn and Aidan picked up Gabe and we were playing some ball with them. Aidan was running up and down the court, spinning and doing his tricks, and Gabe was loving every second—doing that belly laugh of his. But all of a sudden the poor little guy was sick—” Bering paused to wince. “All over Aidan.”
Janie wanted to claw at the ground beneath her feet and bury herself where she clearly belonged—with her fellow earth scum. She forced herself to look at Aidan, expecting to see anger or disgust or even a gloat. She deserved every one of those and more... Instead his face was a mixture of amusement and
concern.
His question made her feel worse. “Have you talked to your mom? Do you know how the little guy is doing?”
Janie knew she should apologize, but in that moment her mortification froze her ability to do the right thing. She swallowed and managed a nod. Her tongue felt thick and heavy in her mouth as she spoke. “Yes, um, Mom said he’s not feeling well. Has a little fever...”
Aidan stared back at her with an amused grin on his face, no doubt thrilled by the fact that she was the one who’d messed up this time.
* * *
IN SPITE OF Aidan’s concern about Gabe and his dismay over the fact that Janie had assumed the worst of him—again—he also felt rather heartened by her reaction. She wasn’t worried about him setting a bad example for Gareth, she was jealous.
He grinned, because that meant she found him appealing. He hadn’t cared about a woman thinking he was attractive since he turned eighteen and started receiving attention from the opposite sex. Then he’d almost immediately learned that as far as women were concerned, a pretty body or a pretty face didn’t necessarily equal a pretty brain, yet he already knew how much he liked Janie’s brain...and the rest of her, too. He just needed to figure out a way to get her to express how much she liked him. So if it took a bit of showing off for her to see that he was more than a brain, then fine.
He should have taken his shirt off weeks ago.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
GARETH WAS GETTING NERVOUS. As much as he enjoyed working with Aidan, something told him that if his mom found out about what they were also doing after work, she might not be too thrilled. His mom didn’t like him and his brother doing “dangerous” stuff. She was even pretty strict about the movies they watched and the video games they were allowed to play.
Reagan wasn’t the best at keeping secrets; he didn’t tell them on purpose, he was just so...honest. If their mom asked the right question, Aidan had told them not to lie and Gareth knew Reagan would spill the beans.
Gareth may not have been so keen to go along with the plan if he didn’t believe that what Aidan was teaching them—especially Reagan—was so awesome. And Tag was helping and seemed completely on board, and that made Gareth feel better, too.
He could only hope that by the time their mom found out, Reagan would have learned enough that it made a difference. He also hoped his mom wouldn’t make them quit their jobs with Aidan.
He watched Reagan attempt to copy what Aidan had just taught him and Gareth hoped Aidan knew as much about this as he did about bees.
“Gareth, buddy?” Aidan’s voice brought him back down to earth. “It’s your turn. Do you want to practice with me or Tag or Reagan?”
* * *
BETWEEN THE BOYS working for Aidan, her research and the interview process, Janie couldn’t help but be intrigued by Aidan’s work. And she had a few questions about it, which was what compelled her to drop by the lab one evening.
Janie knocked but no one answered. She tried the knob and found the door unlocked. She walked in expecting to find her boys hard at work taking samples of bee DNA. She had no idea exactly what that entailed, but she figured she’d find them hunched over microscopes or petri dishes or something equally as sedate. She definitely didn’t expect to hear shouting, or to find her children beating each other up.
Gareth and Reagan were dancing around inside a makeshift boxing ring. The boys both wore basketball shorts, T-shirts, bright red boxing gloves on their hands and some kind of padded headgear. Aidan and Tag stood off to one side shouting instructions while the boys circled each other, throwing punches. Aidan seemed to be doing most of the coaching with an encouraging word or two thrown in from Tag here and there.
“Keep your hands up. Up, up, up—that’s right. Good. You’ll get knocked silly if you don’t keep ’em up.”
“That’s great, now jab. Jab!”
Her boys were bobbing around like they knew exactly what they were doing—too much so. Janie was struck with the notion that the pigpen she’d helped Aidan measure all those weeks ago had been a boxing ring.
“Remember what I showed you. That’s excellent, Gareth. Now punch him, Reagan. Good! Again—”
Anger propelled her forward like a bottle rocket. Her voice came out like a roar. “No! Do not punch your brother. What is going on?”
She went up to Aidan. “What are you...teaching my children?”
“Boxing,” Aidan replied casually.
She was about to reply, but noticed how Reagan’s eyes were wild with excitement. “Aidan’s been giving us lessons. And, Mom, I’m getting good.” He swiped at the air, all the while bobbing and weaving like a miniature prizefighter. She smiled at Reagan.
She turned an inquiring look toward Gareth. His brows dipped down, a deep furrow of concern forming between them. He could read her much better than Reagan and was probably assuming this wasn’t going to end well. Smart boy. But, of course, this wasn’t his fault.
Janie squeezed her eyes shut for a millisecond, opened them and formed a special glare just for Aidan. “Obviously it’s boxing.”
She glanced at her boys and wondered how they’d managed to keep this from her. Reagan, of all people—the kid was virtually incapable of subterfuge. And she knew that’s where she’d get the answers to the questions that were racing through her brain.
She forced a smile in his direction. “What do you mean you’re getting good, honey? Have you been practicing for a while?”
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Gareth grimace and Janie knew the answer. Reagan confirmed it. “Yep. We were going to surprise you.”
“Well done. I’m definitely surprised.”
Reagan happily danced away throwing air punches.
She kept calm and directed her next questions at Aidan. “Can I talk to you for a minute? Outside?”
“Sure. You guys keep practicing.”
Janie could hear Tag offering pointers as Aidan followed her out the door. She stopped and he faced her, folding his arms casually over his chest. She could see the cut of muscle beneath his thin T-shirt. Flashes of his shirtless basketball display flitted across her brain, of the muscles he had apparently honed while boxing, but at this moment she wasn’t impressed at all.
“Pretty cool, huh?”
“Cool? Teaching my boys how to fight is cool? Not even asking me if you could teach them how to fight—that’s cool? This is what you’ve been doing with my children? I thought you were teaching them about bees and plants and...science stuff.”
Aidan’s face contorted with confusion. “I have been teaching them science stuff—you know that very well. This is something extra that we’ve been doing. I never imagined you would have a problem with it.”
“Then why didn’t you tell me?”
He held out a hand. “Maybe I suspected it might be an issue initially, but I felt confident that you would see that it was the right thing to do. Reagan needs—”
She repeated his statement as something dawned on her. “The right thing to do? You are making decisions about what’s right or wrong for my boys now? After I told you I didn’t want your help parenting my children. This was your response? Taking care of things on your own without consulting me at all? And punching each other out is what you came up with?”
“This isn’t some kind of bare-knuckled fight club, Janie, it’s boxing. It’s a sport. Like basketball.”
“Like basketball?” she scoffed. “Aidan, it’s not anything like basketball. It’s fighting, no matter how you choose to dress it up. I don’t want them to think violence is the way to solve problems and I certainly don’t want them getting hurt—especially Reagan. He’s...” She trailed off as she searched for an accurate description.
“He’s turning into a good little fighter is what he’s doing.”
She spit out the words lik
e a bad taste. “A fighter?”
His face formed a wincing kind of grin. “Oops. It’s a boxing term. Fighter, player, boxer, participant... See where I’m going here?”
“Aidan, this is absolutely unacceptable. Once again you have stepped over a line.”
“What? How?”
“You should have talked to me first.”
“About what?”
Was he serious? “About what? About teaching my kids this vicious sport.”
“Vicious?”
“There are sports they can play in school—”
“Reagan isn’t interested in team sports and you know it. And how is boxing any more vicious than football? Or wrestling? Gareth plays football.”
Admittedly, that had been an ineffective argument on her part—and a good counter on his.
“Janie, your boys need something to be proud of—especially Reagan. And Gareth needs to be proud of Reagan and not so focused on—”
“Reagan is a genius,” Janie interrupted. “He can be proud of that. He is proud of that. And Gareth is proud of his brother.”
“Janie, listen, please—I know what I’m talking about here. Being smart comes easy to Reagan. He doesn’t really have to try all that hard and that’s great in a lot of respects. But he needs to learn something. He needs to earn something. He needs to practice and become good at something. Gareth is a great basketball player. I see you encouraging him to play—to practice. Why can’t you see that Reagan needs something like that, too?”
“I... He’s...” She almost argued that she encouraged him to do his homework and to excel at his projects. But she knew he would do these things anyway. “I don’t know. He’s fragile I guess.”
“He’s not. He doesn’t have to be fragile—that’s my point. I know you don’t want to hear this, but kids make fun of him. They bully him. He is easy prey for cruel tyrants like Harmon and Riley. And in spite of what you apparently believe, this will not simply go away.”
Janie felt a fresh surge of frustration “Gareth protects him. Elena watches out for him. It will get better. Kids will grow up and mature and they will start to appreciate Reagan for who he is.”