by Layla Hagen
“I can’t believe you actually believe what you say doesn’t matter to Daniel.”
My big brother actually looks disconcerted. I don’t think I’ve ever seen this look on him.
“We have nearly thirty years of proof that whatever I say goes in one ear and right out the other.”
I shake my head, searching for the best words to explain this to him. “Not true at all. He and Blake look up to you. They always have. I know it’s hard to believe because they crack a joke whenever you say something, even when you’re serious.”
“Especially when I’m serious.”
“Yeah, but look, when Daniel and Blake turned sixteen, I asked them what their aspirations were—basically what they wanted to be when they grew up. They both said they wanted to be like you.”
Logan looks stunned for a brief second. “Were they drunk?”
“Duh! They turned sixteen and smuggled in tequila, and I covered for them.”
“Of course you did.”
“Hey! They were covering my ass every time I asked, so I owed them. We had our survival methods. But that’s not the point. Besides, haven’t you heard the saying that drunk people and kids always tell the truth?”
“Yeah. They actually said they want to be like me?”
“They worshipped you as kids, even more than Sebastian.”
“But they brush me off every time I give them advice.”
“It’s a pride thing. Ego. You should understand, you have enough of it for the entire family. They want to prove they can succeed on their own.”
Logan opens his mouth but I hold up a hand to stop him. I need him to hear me out first.
“I know what you’re gonna say, that they spent a lot of time living the big life, just spending what they got off the dividends, but put yourself in their shoes for a second. All throughout their teen years and college, they saw Bennett Enterprises become one of the most successful companies in this country. The press practically idolized you and Sebastian. Everyone from friends to teachers were expecting the rest of us to do something extraordinary too. The weight of all those expectations can be so paralyzing that you choose to put off the moment when you try something just because you know you can’t match your siblings’ success. And you don’t want to disappoint anyone.”
A moment of silence follows as I draw my breath because, sweet Jesus, that felt like giving an entire speech.
“Alice, are you talking just about Blake and Daniel, or also about you?”
I cringe, but I should have seen this coming. Of course Logan would read between the lines. “About me too, but that’s not the point.”
“It is, because it’s obviously important to you. I never—Jesus, neither Sebastian nor I ever wanted to put pressure on you.”
“You didn’t,” I reassure him. “We put it on ourselves, but I guess we couldn’t help it.”
“When we set up Bennett Enterprises, we worked a lot, but we also had luck on our side. Anyone who thinks success only takes hard work is deluding themselves. I hate all those articles painting Sebastian and me like some kind of….” He frowns, obviously searching for the right word.
“Superhumans?” I offer helpfully with a grin. “Geniuses? Don’t sell yourself short—you are.”
“The point is, if hard work was all it took for success, there wouldn’t be so many hardworking people struggling.”
“I know.” I always appreciated that my oldest brothers never turned snobbish, believing they’re above others because they built a bona fide empire.
“Whatever any of you chose to do, you’d never disappoint us. I was just riding Blake’s and Daniel’s asses for so many years because I didn’t want them to waste their entire life going from party to party.”
I grab my brother’s hands over the table, needing to make him understand. The last thing I want is for him to feel guilty over this.
“I know, and Blake and Daniel do too. As I said, the pressure comes from the inside. I think some part of Daniel wants to change gears with his business, but the other part thinks he’ll disappoint everyone if he doesn’t pull through.”
“Nonsense,” Logan affirms, then in a softer voice adds, “Really?”
“Yeah. Just talk to him about this, see where it gets you. Maybe I’m wrong, but I don’t think so. I get heartburn just remembering the accident.”
“Me too. I’ll talk to him. And Alice, just so you don’t have any doubts, I’m proud of you.”
“Thank you.” My voice is uncharacteristically emotional, but Logan is kind enough not to point it out.
“You don’t have to prove anything to anyone,” he adds sternly.
“I know that now,” I assure him with a smile. “I struggled before, but turning thirty-one had its perks. I gained some wisdom in addition to a few pounds and developing a case of acute sweet tooth—although it was chronic before anyway.”
Logan chuckles, stretching his hand out to grab my plate. I slap it playfully.
“Hey! Doesn’t mean you can have my tiramisu.”
Logan lifts his hands in mock defense. “Was just trying to be of assistance. I personally believe you’re in perfect shape, but if you fear the sweet tooth, I can help. I’m a practical man.”
“You’re an opportunist.” Quickly I gulp down the last bite of tiramisu, unwilling to risk tempting Logan too much. “Besides, I’m the one who steals everyone’s food. It’s a documented fact.”
“True. By the way, I’ve heard a rumor that things escalated between you and Nate during the trip.”
“No rumor. It’s true, and you’re not getting any details.”
“How about I just ask him for details?”
“Don’t meddle.”
“It’s the family hobby.” His expression grows more serious. “I just want to look out for you.”
“How about this? If you ever need to punch him, I’ll tell you.”
“Deal.”
“Not that it matters, but who chirped?”
“Summer.”
“Little traitor.” Out of the sisters, Summer is the one who most fiercely guards the boys’ secrets. Apparently, she doesn’t extend the courtesy to me. At least Blake and Daniel are on my side.
The corners of my mouth lift of their own volition in a smile as I think about this past week. I can’t wait to see Nate again. It’s a little nutty to miss him already, but when it comes to him, I’m greedy.
“So Blake’s and Daniel’s sixteen-year-old birthday wishes were to be like me, huh?” Logan asks, jolting me out of my thoughts.
“Shouldn’t have told you. Would you like an extra chair for your ego?”
Logan flashes a grin. “Make that a couch.”
Chapter Eighteen
Nate
I’m one of those people who’s always proudly claimed I went into my line of work because I loved it, not because of the paycheck. I chose to work in television because I always liked good stories. As executive producer, my job often revolves around things like financing and operations—anything but the story—but I don’t mind. Usually. But over the next two weeks, I become increasingly frustrated that ninety percent of my time is spent reining in the financial and operative chaos. Turns out old man Teller was excellent on the creative part, but not much else. The workdays are even longer than I’m used to. When Friday rolls around, it’s dark outside when I finally leave work.
My go-to activities to put a trying day behind me are going for a long run or hitting the gym. Usually I choose the run, as I prefer to be alone when I recharge. I could also throw myself into more work, this time doing something I actually enjoy. The London studio keeps asking me for help, clearly barely keeping afloat under Abbott’s rule. But right now, I’m not in the mood for any of that. Instead, I want to check on a certain brunette who’s taken over my life recently, hear her voice, ask how her day has been.
On the way to my car, I take out my phone, intending to call Alice, when I notice she sent me a text message a few hours ago, right af
ter I messaged her telling her all about what a joy my day was. Didn’t have time to check my phone afterward.
Alice: Oh no, I was hoping you were having a better evening than me. A customer just sent their order back to the kitchen for the third time.
She sent me the next message ten minutes later.
Alice: God, she sent it back a fourth time!!! I know the customer is king, but I really want to kick her out.
And yet another one almost an hour later.
Alice: Last message, I promise…. I couldn’t help it, I snapped at her. This day can’t be over soon enough. The only good thing was my trip to the senior center to bring them treats. Ms. Williams was asking about you. Wish I could see you today.
The second I finish reading, I decide to change my plans. We’d originally decided to meet tomorrow, but her wish is my command. Putting my own trying day on the back burner, I focus on what could light her up, turn this around for her. True, my mad seduction skills would take her mind off everything, but tonight I want to go the extra mile.
When I finally get to my car, an idea strikes me. Gunning the engine, I call her. She answers immediately.
“Hey,” she greets, and the background noise blares so loudly that my ear is ringing.
“You’re still at the restaurant?”
“Guilty. Since the day was such shit, I thought I’d stay here until closing time.”
“I’m kidnapping you,” I announce, hitting the gas pedal.
“What?” She laughs softly. Damn, that laughter could bring me to my knees.
That’s precisely when I realize I’d do absolutely anything to make this woman laugh, to make sure she’s safe and happy.
“I’m kidnapping you,” I repeat. “I’ll be there in fifteen minutes. You need to be whisked away.”
“Do I now? On a white horse? Will you be my knight?”
“Do I qualify as a knight if I drive a car?”
“I don’t know, I have pretty specific requirements for a knight.”
“Will spoiling you do? Followed by burying myself inside you? To the hilt?”
At that thought, I increase my speed, visions of Alice under me filling my mind.
“You’re counting your chickens before they hatch, Becker.”
She’s trying to tease me, but I hear the longing in every syllable.
“I haven’t even agreed to be kidnapped,” she adds. Now she’s just digging herself a hole.
“You don’t have to. If you don’t come with me willingly, I’ll throw you over my shoulder and carry you out through the front door for anyone to see.”
“Caveman.”
“Absolutely.”
“You can’t carry me on your shoulder. The skirt I’m wearing is short enough that everyone is going to see my panties. They're red, and the fabric is see-through.”
I nearly crash into the car in front of me. “Keep talking like that and I’ll remove those panties in no time.”
“Threat or promise?”
“Both.”
When I pull up in front of the restaurant, Alice is already waiting for me outside, holding a take-out box in her hand. And she’s wearing a shirt and black pants.
Climbing out, I round the car and open the door for her.
“What a gentleman!”
“Where’s that short dress you mentioned?”
She hovers in front of the open door. “Thought you needed an incentive to drive faster.”
“Someone missed me.”
“Just your kissing skills.”
“I see. You have no shame using me, do you?”
“None,” Alice exclaims decisively.
Taking the box out of her hands, I place it on her seat, then concentrate on her.
“So, are you going to kiss me or what?”
Part of me is tempted to tease her some more, but my need for her overpowers it. I swipe my tongue once over her plump and pink lower lip before crushing my mouth against hers.
I’m addicted to this woman, to the way her body responds to mine. She pushes herself against me, and when I feel her soft, full breasts against my chest, I lower one hand down her back. Only the knowledge that we’re not ten feet away from her restaurant keeps me from palming her fine ass.
When I pull away, we both breathe raggedly.
“I’ve daydreamed all day about you kissing me like that,” she says in a low, throaty voice. She fists the hem of my shirt with both hands, licking her lips and clearly wanting a repeat. I kiss her forehead instead and she pouts. I love her playful side.
“You deserve to be teased for misleading me.”
“I only partly misled you.” Kissing the hollow of my neck, she whispers, “My panties are red and see-through.”
Then the little vixen winks and climbs in the passenger seat, keeping the take-out box in her lap. I fight the vision of her underwear while I walk to the driver seat, but once inside, with her scent filling the space, the vision changes into me lowering those panties with my teeth and burying myself between her legs.
Needing a distraction, I focus on her take-out box while gunning the engine and driving away.
“What’s in there?” I ask.
“I made you lemon tarts. Started them when you messaged me. Thought I’d surprise you by showing up at your place tonight.”
Hell, this woman is downright perfect. I love lemon tarts.
“Thanks.”
“I like taking care of you,” she says softly. In fact, she sounds almost shy, which is very unlike Alice. Glancing at her, I notice she’s fidgeting in her seat, casting her eyes downward as if she just shared a secret.
It strikes me that I’m not the only one who isn’t used to this kind of intimacy, to sharing my daily life with someone else. Alice has always been close to her family, but not to people outside of it. Still, she just went out on a limb with her confession, and even though I’ve no clue how to do this, going out on a limb with her feels natural.
“And I like taking care of you.” Taking her hand, I turn it palm up and kiss it. I swear she exhales so sharply, I wonder if she was holding her breath, waiting for my answer. “Hence the kidnapping.”
“Where are you taking me?”
“You’ll see. Now open the box so I can eat those tarts.”
***
A little while later, we arrive at our destination. It’s a mom-and-pop shop with the best ice cream in San Francisco. I remembered Alice telling me a while ago how she hasn’t found ice cream as good as in Rome.
“Oh my God, this is delicious,” she exclaims after taking her first mouthful of the creamy treat. “Why didn’t I know about this place? It’s my duty to know who’s making the best treats. I’m going to tell Summer that Americans do it just as good as the Italians.”
She licks her overfilled cone with gusto and speed. She requested five scoops, and the server warned her four would be better or she’d have to eat quickly to keep it from melting. Alice assured him she was up to the task. This is Alice. She doesn’t do anything in halves. Since I’m already full of lemon tarts, I just bought one scoop, in a cup not a cone.
“Hate to break it to you, but the guy who owns the shop is Italian.”
“Damn. It’s on my list to hire an Italian chef anyway. Our dessert selection needs to step up the game. I’ll ask Summer to approve him. She’s constantly sending me pictures of the desserts she’s eating in Rome.”
We walk to the small park opposite the ice cream shop and sit on a bench. Even at this time of night, the park is buzzing with people: teenagers with skateboards, couples, street artists.
We’re silent for a few long minutes while we eat, and there’s something very relaxing about not needing to fill the silence, just being with each other. Predictably, I finish my one scoop before Alice has eaten even half of her top scoop.
I toss away my empty cup and then focus one hundred percent on her. A gust of wind blows and Alice snuggles against me on the bench, which was exactly what I was aiming for. It might be
the end of July, but you can always count on wind or fog in San Francisco, even in summer. Thank you, Mother Nature, for siding with me.
She smells like a sinful dream, her sweet and seductive perfume enticing me to kiss her neck and shoulders and other parts of her. I want to savor her.
Pushing her hair to one side, I lazily run my thumb up and down her neck, watching with satisfaction as she trembles slightly. It surprises me every time that she’s so responsive to me.
The temptation to pull her to me and kiss her, lose myself in her like I’ve wanted to all day, is strong. It would be only too easy to distract her. But like the good guy I am, I let her enjoy her dessert first.
“How is Summer? Didn’t get to talk to her much at Joshua Tree.”
“She loves Rome. I mean, you can hardly not love that city. I visited her there a couple of times. It’s breathtaking. It’s like living history. For an art lover and an artist like her, it’s the perfect place. She’s very happy there.”
“But?” Judging by the wistful note in her tone, there must be a big downside.
Alice gasps, looking at me. “How did you pick up on the ‘but’?”
“Something in your voice tipped me off.” I move my thumb from her neck to her jaw, tracing the contour. Alice and I have always been in sync in some ways, but I wasn’t able to pick up stuff so quickly before. Or maybe now I’m paying more attention than before. After all, for years, whenever I thought about her, my brain supplied the warning that I should keep my distance.
“I’m afraid she’ll like it so much she’ll stay there. I’m terribly selfish, but I can’t help it.”
“You’re not selfish.” Kissing the side of her head, I add, “You really miss Summer, don’t you?”
She nods with a sigh. “I do. She’s the baby, and I got so used to hovering over her that I feel like a limb is missing now. And yes, I’m aware of how dramatic I sound.” She attacks her cone with renewed focus while I wonder how many ways this woman will surprise me.
Yes, I’ve always known the siblings are very close, but Alice never showed this soft side of herself to me before. I like discovering this new trait, learning her. The realization that I’ve earned more of her trust hits me, along with the reminder that I’d better not mess this up.