by C. M. Owens
Oh no…
“Ms. Brendon,” she says with a wink, smiling at me. Damn it. She must want a front row seat to the show.
“Oh, sorry, Helen, is it?” Jax says, tugging at my glass. “Bora prefers whiskey sours.”
No!
Helen stifles a grin when she sees my eyes widen. “Sorry, I had margaritas on hand. I can have you a whiskey sour in a moment.”
Her eyes sparkle with amusement, because she knows how much I hate that drink.
“No,” I quickly interject, shaking my head. “I’ll stick to the margaritas, since you have them on hand.”
I smile appreciatively as she walks off, and Mrs. Marshall eyes her drink speculatively.
“That’s odd. I’m having a sangria and so is Vivian. I wonder why she had margaritas.”
Thank you, Helen. I hate sangrias even more than whiskey sours.
“I don’t know, but a margarita sounds good. I think I’ll go trade my drink in,” Jax says, acting as though he’s going to stand and leave me alone with the trolls.
“I’ll do it,” I quickly interject, hoping to have a word with Helen.
His eyebrows shoot up in confusion. “You’re going to get me a drink?”
Yes, because I’m not a selfish brat like Bora. And I don’t want to be alone with your family.
“Sure. I’ll be back.”
I hop up and leave him confused as I make my way toward the kitchen. Helen is propped against the counter with a knowing grin when I walk in.
“That girl is exactly the same. Still has you doing all her dirty work. And those women are rather vicious, you gold digger.”
I start laughing, but I smother it quickly with my hand to keep them from overhearing. She snickers lightly while turning and pouring another margarita.
“How’d you know? And why are you here?” I whisper.
“Shanna called me. Said you were in her daddy’s house with a bunch of strangers, and then she filled me in on the details. I came down yesterday to make sure Mick didn’t have anything of irreplaceable value, just in case someone had sticky fingers, so I was still in my room. Thought you could use a hand, so I gave Sadie the time off and let your Uncle Mick know what was going on just before bringing you a drink.”
She chuckles lightly while handing me the new glass of margarita.
“Dad called Bora’s phone yesterday... Think he’s figured it out?”
“Probably. Go do what you will. I won’t judge. I’ll be here if you need me. I almost have the steaks ready.”
Helen practically raised Shanna, since her mother took off when she was little. Uncle Mick has kept Shanna as far away from cameras as possible, but he’s not the one everyone can’t get enough of, so it’s easier. Now Helen’s saving my ass the way she always has Shanna’s.
“Thanks, Helen. I really, really appreciate this.”
I give her a quick hug and feel peace when she returns the embrace. Having someone on my side will be helpful.
“Just some words of advice, kiddo. If you’re stuck with these people for three weeks, at least be you. It’d be exhausting to spend three weeks as Bora.”
I smirk when I hear Shanna’s words replaying. Nurture versus nature. Shanna isn’t her blood, but she learned a lot from her.
“I will.”
I walk back out, feeling a tad bit more confident. That is… until my eyes lock with the smoky blues. He’s good at making me feel off-step.
“We were wondering if you’d gotten lost,” Viv chirps, looking at me like she wants to say so much more.
“I was just speaking with Helen about the house. She told me there’s an excellent rooftop balcony that is great to be on at night,” I lie, well sort of. There really is a rooftop balcony.
“Oh?” Jax asks with a grin. “Is that a hint?”
I blush like an idiot as my girly grin spreads, and I hear the uncomfortable shifting of his sister and mother. Jax’s eyes narrow as he tilts his head, his smile turning wary. Uh-oh. Is he figuring it out?
No. No. He can’t be figuring it out. I’m just being paranoid.
Unless he knows Bora has a twin—which he doesn’t—it’d be impossible to figure out.
“Well, my calls are made,” Mr. Marshall says as he walks in, looking at everyone who is looking at me. “Did I miss something?”
Jax stands and walks over to me, cupping my chin and tilting my head up so that my eyes are forced to meet his. “You’re being... different. Shy? Bashful?” he whispers, keeping our conversation private as his mother and father speak about the balcony revelation.
“Sorry,” I mutter.
He leans down to press a soft, sweet, quick kiss on my lips, and then pulls me to him as he leans back up.
“I like it, so don’t apologize. It’s nice to see you act as though you’re human instead of made of stone.”
I wince a little, feeling as though I’m betraying Bora by letting him approve of me.
“Dinner is served,” Helen announces, giving me the reprieve I need.
Jax tugs my hand, and we sit down to the meal Sarah probably had to cook the majority of. Helen gives me a wink when she sets my plate down in front of me. I know without a doubt my steak is cooked exactly the way I want it.
“Do you eat red meat, Bora?” Mrs. Frigid… I mean, Mrs. Marshall asks, sounding like the asshole Barbie she is. “I didn’t even think to ask.”
Jax squirms beside me. Bora never hardly eats red meat, unless she’s starving and has no options. I’m sure they knew that, and that’s probably why we’re having steak instead of some chicken course. They want me to act out. But I’m not Bora.
“Yes, I do. In fact, I love it.”
I cut the steak, ignoring their surprise, and chew a piece that is way too big for one mouthful. It’d suck to choke right now when I’m trying to be smug.
“I thought you hated red meat,” Jax whispers close to my ear.
I painfully swallow the chunk of meat that needed to be cut a few more times.
“People’s taste changes,” I say with a shrug, making it seem as though it’s no big deal.
His smile is butterfly-worthy, but I try to stay as nonchalant as possible.
“You’re full of surprises lately,” Jax murmurs softly as his parents start discussing the amazing house we’re in.
“Am I?” I ask innocently before pushing a smaller, much easier to chew piece into my mouth.
His eyes flick to my lips, and my heart does that hammering thing.
“Very much so.” He puts his mouth closer to my ear. “I’ll show you how much I like it later.”
So much for not choking. The smaller piece of meat gets sucked to the back of my throat, sucker punching my esophagus like a shady jerk. I cough and sputter like someone who just inhaled a bug. Jax gently pounds my back until the meat shoots out across the table and… lands in Viv’s glass.
“Gross,” she hisses, gagging while pushing the glass away from her. I try not to die from embarrassment while Jax laughs into his napkin, his entire body shaking from the effort it takes not to just lose it.
Mr. Marshall has turned away, but his shoulders are shaking with his silent laughter. Mrs. Marshall doesn’t look impressed with me at all. Not that she has prior to my meat-shooting moment. Helen is standing off to the side with horrified amusement in her eyes while covering her mouth. At least she’s trying not to laugh at me.
Great. Way to be awesome, Bo.
Jax goes back to trying to eat, while Mr. Marshall shows me mercy by starting a conversation about the house again. It seems to work, because Viv stops snarling at me, and Mrs. Marshall goes back to pretending I don’t exist.
Mr. Marshall is my hero.
“It’s hard to believe Clashers has been together for so long, and they’re all still part of the original band,” Jax’s mother says randomly, seeming a little giggly.
Helen winks at me when she comes to refill our wine glasses.
“I might have put a little extra alcohol in
the two sangrias she had. You’re welcome,” she whispers close to my ear while pouring my wine.
I stifle my grin as she moves on to Jax’s glass, and I decide to chime in on this subject. Maybe this will help me recover from spitting meat across the dinner table.
“It’s because everything is equal. It’s a democracy between them and the decisions are made together. They even vote to decide if they’re going to do something. They’re more like family, as opposed to bandmates. Considering they’ve been friends since they were kids, they’re really very close.”
Jax chews slowly as he watches me with an amused expression. “Learning a lot about you, Bora.”
I turn to face him, making an in-the-moment decision. “Call me Bo, please. Since I’m calling you Jax.”
His grin only widens. “Bo. I actually like that. Done.”
My name on his lips is… a bad idea.
The table grows more animated by the second, everyone excitedly chattering on. Helen really came through with her extra doses of alcohol. By the time we’re finished, Jax has my hand in his and he’s pulling me away.
Panic sets in. “I should help Helen with the dishes.”
“It’s her job, Bora—I mean, um, Bo.”
My name. Again. I should have let him keep calling me Bora.
“But I like helping,” I add, picking up a plate from the table.
He sighs as he runs his hand through his hair, and then he shrugs.
“Fine. I’ll see you upstairs. Don’t make me wait long,” he says while pressing up against me—his front to my back.
He grabs and squeezes my ass, and my breath hitches. His lips trail up my neck to my jaw, and I tremble.
“Christ, baby, you act like I’ve never touched you before, and it’s driving me crazy in a damn good way. Come upstairs. Please.”
Shit. Shit. Shit.
“No,” I breathlessly say, but I do it with a smile, trying to laugh it off. “I really want to help. I’ll see you soon.”
He breathes out harshly as he relents, and he disappears. I have maybe ten minutes to figure out what to do next.
Chapter 8
Jax
“How’s the girl of the week doing with the family?” Cody asks as I toss on some different, looser shorts.
Bora—damn it, I mean Bo, has been driving me wild all day. Shy glances, sweet and innocent looks, and shivering against my touch. It’s as though she’s a different person.
And I don’t even like the shy shit normally, so I’m confused as to why my dick wants to spring to attention with every shy glance.
“Too soon to tell. My family got exceptionally drunk early on in the evening. Which is odd. My mother never drinks very much. Apparently those sangrias were a little too strong.”
“You know it’s crazy to bring her out on a trip like that, right?”
“Crazy is my style,” I remind him. “Besides, I like pissing off my mother. It’s my favorite hobby.”
Cody laughs as I stare at the door, wondering what’s taking Bo so long.
“True. But Bora is a flake. Though you know that. I told you that the first night you met her.”
“How do you know Bora? Since you brought it up. And has she ever asked you to call her Bo?”
“She’s relatively new to the area, so I don’t know her well. As for Bo? No, even though I did hear a guy come running up on the street and call her Bo while she was talking to Billy—she interrupted our conversation to talk to him, by the way. I called her it once, and she shook her head and reminded me her name was Bora. Apparently that name is reserved for the close circle. That’s how I met her—through Billy Prize. They dated briefly when he was staying in New York. He only made it two weeks before she cut the strings, but he’s a business friend now. Don’t know what business that is. You dumping her soon?”
I stare at the strings of bikinis in the closet, and I shrug. “I planned on doing it before we came out here, but my mother had already invited her. Bo acted like she was going to back out before we came, but I didn’t want to deal with my mother’s lectures for three straight weeks about me and the girls I date. So I essentially begged until she came. I suppose we have three weeks left.”
That would be easier to believe if she hadn’t acted so differently today. So... real. Confusing.
And now she asks me to call her Bo? But Bora is about as deep as a saucer bowl. Today doesn’t change that, and I grow bored quickly with girls like that. They’re only fun until they’re not fun.
“Well, I’ll be there with Dustin soon.”
“Sounds good. I’m about to hit the bed,” I lie. There’s one thing Bora expects from me, and since she’s stuck here with my family, I’m certainly going to deliver.
The door creaks open just as I put my phone down, and Bora tentatively pokes her head in.
“Hey,” she says with that damned sweet grin. Where has that grin been for two weeks?
“Hey,” I say softly, making my way toward her. She sidesteps me quickly to move toward the closet.
“I should change.”
Ah. A striptease game? This could work.
I drop to the bed with my hands clasped behind my head, and I watch and wait. At least these three weeks will be fun.
“I thought we might go to the upper balcony and talk for a while, if you want to,” she says absently, catching me completely off guard.
Is she serious?
I sit up, feeling even more confused by her. “Talk? You?” I say through a laugh.
Maybe some dirty talk?
She frowns as she turns back around, and then she looks around warily at the room. I chose the smallest since I’m the lowest maintenance, and Bora lives in a small apartment, so it’s not like she minds. At least, I don’t think she does.
“Something wrong with the room?” I muse, watching her look nervous.
Since when does she get nervous? Bold, brazen, take-no-prisoners Bora Brendon.
“Um... I just wish this room had a bathroom. Could you turn around?”
I know my look has to be incredulous. “Suddenly shy?”
I can’t keep the sarcasm out of my voice, because there’s no way she’s gotten shy on me. Shy glances is one thing; actually being shy is an entirely different ballpark.
Her cheeks darken with a shade of red I haven’t seen on her before today. Her inhuman ability to never get bashful or embarrassed seems to have fled big time.
“Okay,” I mutter uncertainly, wondering what she’s up to.
I half expect her to jump on me once my back is turned, or to walk up and shove her hand down my pants. After waiting for a few minutes, she says, “Done.”
That surprises me more than anything else she could have said or done. I turn around to see her in a T-shirt—mine—and nothing else. Thank God I haven’t lost my mind. She’s still trying to seduce me.
“That’s a hot look, Bo,” I tell her appreciatively, moving toward her, and her eyes widen.
“It’s your shirt. I didn’t want to wander around in my pajamas because they’re so... slinky. And we have to go through the hallway to reach the upstairs. Come on.”
What? Did she really just say that?
Body snatchers. She’s apparently been hijacked by an alien lifeform. There’s no other explanation.
“Bo, you okay? You’re acting all kinds of weird.”
She frowns, and for a second, she looks so unsure of herself. “I am weird,” she says with an awkwardly executed shrug. “I suppose I felt like it’d be more fun to talk tonight since these walls are so thin.”
Her voice is small, uncertain, and fragile. It has me worried.
“If you want to talk, then let’s go talk. It’s just... One of your rules is very little conversation.”
She shrugs, her eyes still on the floor. “Things change.”
I can’t help but smile. Is Bora The Impossible seriously wanting to talk to me? I can play this game. In fact, I welcome it. I feel like a creep every time I sleep with h
er, especially knowing I’m breaking it off with her as soon as we get back.
Yes, I’m an asshole, but at least I’m nice before being an asshole. Usually.
“Let’s go talk.”
The smile I get when her eyes come up is definitely giving me pause, and my chest tightens in response. There’s another smile I haven’t seen before. Damn.
I follow her through the hallway to a string that hangs down from the ceiling. She points up, and then she grins again.
“I’m too short. You’ll have to pull it.”
I reach up, grab the string, and the door flops down, bringing a ladder with it that I’m not expecting.
“Shit,” I screech, jumping out of the way. I never hear it clank when I thud to the ground, and I look behind me to see Bo watching me with one eyebrow raised as she holds the ladder in the air.
“All you have to do is catch it,” she says with a teasing grin.
“I just lost man points, didn’t I?” I grumble, trying to laugh at myself, even though I’d rather curse the damn ladder.
“A few. Come on,” she says, motioning me onward with her head as she puts the ladder in place with practiced ease.
After offering one last glower to the ladder that can’t respond, I follow her up, expecting to get a nice view.
What the… Shorts? She has shorts on under my shirt? Body snatchers are definitely involved.
She pushes open another door that swings back, and she surfaces. Just as I catch a taste of the fresh waft of ocean air, she flops down on a patio couch that is just a few feet away in a squared off section of the roof.
“So much better,” she says with a sigh.
I go to join her, making sure to wrap my arm around her shoulders. Damn, it’s perfect out here.
The sun has set, the waves are gently crashing, and the air is crisp. I needed this getaway.
“When I was little, my dad always told me the moon had a silly twin that danced on the water,” she says, grinning as she points to the reflection of the moon on the rippling water. The waves move the image to make it look as though it actually is dancing, and I smile.
“What’s your Dad’s name? I hate to ask that, but you’ve met my entire family—with the exception of Dixon—and I don’t know anything about yours.”