by Ryan, Lexi
“Would she really want to live there?” I ask. “It’s five hundred square feet, and one whole wall is windows. Hope and I spend so much time in the backyard that she’d never have guaranteed privacy, and the bedroom . . . it isn’t even a bedroom. It’s just a loft big enough for a bed and a dresser.”
“Stell doesn’t need much. Hell, technically it’s more privacy than she has at Mom’s.” He presses his palms together. “Please, Kace? This would take a whole load of stress off my shoulders.”
“We don’t know for sure that Stella’s on board. Maybe we should float the possibility by her before we—”
“Stella!” Dean shouts, waving a hand in the air. “Come over here a minute.”
I flinch. I didn’t mean right this second. But when I turn, Stella’s walking toward us, a fresh can of White Claw in her hand. She’s put a cover-up over her bikini, for which I’m both grateful and disappointed. I lean into the grateful. Dean doesn’t need to see me staring at his sister’s tits . . . or see any marks my beard might’ve left on her cleavage.
“What’s up?” she asks, standing between us. “You two look like you’re trying to make a plan to eliminate the national debt.”
I duck my head to hide my smile. I was nervous as fuck when I thought Dean might know what we’d been doing, but Stella’s all casual. Her refusal to take anything too seriously is what I find most maddening and endearing about her. I’m self-aware enough to know I’m more like Dean and could use a pinch of carefree in my life.
“Kace was just saying there’s no reason you can’t live in his pool house.”
My head snaps up, because that’s not what I was saying. There are lots of reasons. I’m just not sure any of them are good enough for Dean to pass up a chance to get his mom out of that old house.
Stella coughs on her White Claw. “That’s . . .” She pats her chest. “That’s definitely unexpected.”
“It’s not the perfect situation,” I say, cutting a look to Stella. “But what Dean’s not saying is that he has a chance to get your mom into one of the Lakeview Acres condos, and he wants to make sure you’ll have a place to stay.”
Stella’s jaw drops and she shakes her head. “You do?”
“I know you’ve had crap luck with rentals and awful landlords,” Dean says, “and I didn’t want to say anything until I’d found a safe place for you to live.”
“So you asked Kace?” She turns to me, eyes wide. “I’m so sorry. Don’t feel obligated.”
“That’s not why I’m offering,” I blurt, even though a minute ago I’m not sure I was offering at all. I’d forgotten about her old, creepy landlord. Shit. I’m not going to be the reason Stella finds herself in a situation like that again. “Just take the pool house. It’s fine.”
Fine.
But when Stella’s eyes linger on mine as she drags her bottom lip between her teeth, my gut clenches.
I’m screwed.
The woman I’m lusting after is moving in with me.
There’s nothing fine about this.
Chapter Five
Stella
For twenty-seven years, I’ve been the mess that needs cleaning up, the problem child.
When I was eighteen, and Dean was off to college and Mom had the opportunity to travel to Europe for two weeks with her boyfriend, I was the reason she had to pass on the trip—can’t trust Stella not to throw a party.
When I was in college, I flew to Naples for a week at a luxury beachfront resort, only to find the resort didn’t exist and the Craigslist ad I’d bought it from was a scam. Dean was out of town, and it was Kace who had to drive down to rescue me.
When I was twenty-two and starting my first real job, I ended up with a landlord who used his key once (that I know of) to sneak in and watch me sleep while he . . . But I try not to think about that. That was a nightmare. The guy claimed I was lying and it never happened. Since he was a police officer, I was too afraid to report him. Then the ass refused to let me out of my twelve-month lease, and I had to mooch off my brother while I handed over most of my paycheck for rent on an apartment I wasn’t using.
After all this time, you’d think I’d be used to my role as the damsel in distress—or rather, the hot mess in a disaster of her own making—but I’m not. It’s a really shitty feeling, and I hope I never get used to it. Knowing I’m in the way of Mom making the move she’s been dreaming of leaves me feeling small. “Dean, why didn’t you tell me?”
My brother grimaces and shrugs. “I thought it’d be easier to work it out before I came to you.”
So he asked Kace. Kace, who’s looking at me like I’m a pair of unidentified dirty underwear he’s being forced to deal with. I want to hang my head. To disappear. But I’m sick of letting guys treat me like I have a tiny brain and even less backbone, so I lift my chin. “I’m sure Kace is just being nice. He doesn’t want me moving in with him.”
“That’s why this is such a perfect arrangement,” Dean says. “You wouldn’t be moving in with him. You’d be moving into the pool house.”
I bite back my frown—because I don’t want to seem like an ungrateful asshole—but I’ve just been inside the pool house. Aside from being crammed full of junk left behind by the previous owner, it’s in rough shape. Kace literally has the path from the door to the bathroom roped off so people don’t stray and hurt their bare feet on the cracked and chipped tiles of the main room. There are holes in the drywall, and don’t even get me started on the cobwebs and creepy-crawlies.
“We’ll fix it up,” Kace says. “Dean and I will take the next couple of weeks to make it . . . livable.”
I turn and stare at the tiny structure on the opposite side of the pool. From the outside, it looks fine. It has the same sunny-yellow siding as the main house, and the side that faces the pool is wall-to-wall windows. It was probably a gorgeous guest house once, and I have no doubt that Dean and Kace can make it gorgeous again. The guys specialize in taking the worst houses and turning them into the best.
I don’t doubt their abilities, but I’m not buying into Kace’s willingness. “I really don’t want to impose. I’ll find somewhere else.”
Kace looks at Dean before turning back to me. “It wouldn’t be an imposition, Stella. It’s fine. You’ll be safe here.”
“Please, Stella?” Dean says. “Move into the pool house. At least while you finish school.”
And have Kace look at me like I’m a charity case every time we cross paths? I’ll take what’s behind door number two instead, please. “Give me the week to find a place. If I come up empty-handed, I’ll move into Kace’s pool house until I can find something else.”
Dean beams. He thinks this conversation is over and is probably ready to move me in at seven a.m. next Saturday, but it’s not happening. I’m sure I can find another option somehow.
I excuse myself and find Brinley on the opposite side of the yard, playing cornhole with her husband, Marston.
“Stella, baby!” Brinley says, wrapping her arms around me and hanging on just enough to tell me she’s not quite sober.
“Somebody’s been drinking,” I say, laughing. “What happened to the no-booze-until-the-vow-renewal diet?”
“I nixed that idea,” Marston says, tossing a beanbag at the target. “She doesn’t need to fit in a smaller dress. She’s perfect the way she is.”
“He thinks I’m perfect,” Brinley stage-whispers, then gives a dreamy sigh.
Marston winks at her. “I know it.”
My heart tugs. They’re so freaking good together. Marston pulls her away from me and into his arms. He smiles down at her, and he sees her. It’s always been that way with them—since they met as teenagers. Marston didn’t see the spoiled little rich girl so many others saw in Brinley. He saw a girl who had her own heartaches and struggles, the girl he loved from that first moment and never stopped loving.
Someday I’m going to find that. But for now, I feel lucky to get one hot night with Kace.
The next three ho
urs drag while I wait for everyone to leave. Normally, I’m the one trying to convince our friends to stay later. I’m the one who doesn’t want to go home and never wants the night to end.
But normally, a naked Kace isn’t waiting for me once all our friends find their way home.
Sure, the potential of me moving into his backyard could make this awkward—but that likely won’t happen. And even if it does, it’d be for a month, maybe two. Surely one night together won’t make that weird.
By eleven, Dean has said his goodbyes, along with Marston, Brinley, Smithy, and Savannah. It’s just Kace, Abbi, and me sitting around the fire. Judging by the awkward glances Kace keeps sending my way when Abbi’s distracted, my chances of getting him naked are falling lower and lower. I blame Dean and his terrible pool house idea.
Cockblocker.
Finally, Abbi stretches her arms over her head and yawns. “I should get going.”
Kace practically jumps out of his chair, ever the smooth criminal. “Sure. Thanks for coming.” He wraps her in a hug and kisses the top of her head. “Call me if you need help with the car tomorrow.”
I frown. “What’s wrong with your car?”
Abbi makes a face. “Nothing. Kace just wants me to get new tires.”
“Your tread’s nonexistent. It literally makes me lose sleep.”
She grins at him. “How do you know I don’t do this intentionally to make up for how much you tormented me growing up?”
“I wouldn’t put it past you,” he says, hands on his hips. “But seriously. You take it in, or I will.”
She rolls her eyes. “I have an appointment.”
“Good.”
Abbi shoots me a look. “You wanna head out with me, Stella?”
No. I want to jump your brother. I hold up my nearly empty White Claw. “I’m going to stick around and finish this.”
She turns to Kace. “You’ll drive her if she drinks another one?”
I bow my head to hide my flinch. Even my friends don’t trust me to make responsible decisions.
“Of course,” he says, nodding. “Want me to walk you to your car?”
She waves him off. “Nah. I’m fine. See you at Mom’s tomorrow night.”
“Love you,” he calls after her.
“Love you back.” She pushes through the gate, and a few moments later, I hear her car heading down the street.
Kace settles back into his chair and rests his elbows on his knees. When he looks up at me, I already know I should’ve left with Abbi and saved myself the awkward rejection. “About what happened earlier . . .” He searches my face in the light from the fire. “I think maybe it’s good we were interrupted.”
I sigh dramatically. “I wait for twelve years, and all I get is one half-assed make-out session? Figures.” I wink at him, but maintaining my smile is too hard, so I hide it behind my can.
He arches a brow. “Hey now, I wouldn’t call it half-assed.”
“Too short to call it anything else. Unless that’s your . . . style?” I cock my head to the side.
“We already established how much I’d like to take my time with you, Freckles.” He growls and mutters something that sounds like “Fucking Dean.”
I concur but drain my drink and push out of my chair. “Don’t stress, Kace. It would’ve been fun, but I get it. I’m Dean’s little sister, and you’re—”
“It’s not that.” He stands, reaches for me, then drops his hands awkwardly to his sides. “It would be fun. I really would’ve . . .” His smile’s a little crooked and his eyes a little mischievous and ohmygod do I want him. “I think we’d have a good time.”
I blink. “Wow. Didn’t expect that.”
He shrugs. “After earlier, I don’t see the point in pretending otherwise. You know I’m attracted to you. You know what I want to do to you, with you.” He pauses for a beat, and the way he swallows makes me think I’m not the only one imagining those things. “But I’m thinking past tonight—about the consequences of one night of fun if you end up needing a place to live.”
“I’ll find somewhere,” I say with way more confidence than I feel. In preparation for hopefully starting nursing school in the fall, I’ve been training my replacement at The Orchid. My modest full-time salary will become a modest part-time salary beginning Monday. Even living at Mom’s, the pay cut was a little scary, but if I have to pay rent, I don’t know how I’m going to manage it. I’m not at all surprised that Mom refused to move. She’s the one who encouraged me to go back to school and get a more career-focused degree. But I won’t be the reason she doesn’t get to sell that money pit and move into a lower-maintenance place.
“Dean’s right, you know. The pool house could be the perfect solution for you. Let’s not take it off the table just because your bikini made me . . . thirsty.” He smiles and drags his gaze slowly over me. I’m not in my bikini anymore, but I feel naked. And so thirsty.
“Can I blame the bikini for my lustful thoughts too? Maybe we should send it to confession. We’re both off the hook.”
He laughs softly, eyes crinkling in the corners. “I’m trying to say that crossing that line tonight might set a bad precedent for us. I can’t very well have a booty call in the backyard of the house where I’m raising my child.”
Wouldn’t stop your wife. I tamp down the bitter thought. “You don’t need to explain yourself. We had a moment. It might’ve been something more if we hadn’t been interrupted, but we were.” I shrug with all the carelessness I don’t feel. “Let’s not make this a thing. I’ll go back to fantasizing about you, and you can go back to seeing me as Dean’s annoying little sister. We’ll pretend our bathroom interlude never happened.”
He drags a hand through his hair and stares up at the clear sky. It’s a beautiful night. If things had gone differently, we could’ve stayed out here for hours under the stars. It would’ve been . . . Well, it didn’t happen. Who’s to say something else wouldn’t have scared Kace off?
“I am sorry,” Kace whispers, looking at me again.
I wag a finger at him. “If you’re going to start using the tools of the modern hookup world, you need to learn the first rule: never apologize for changing your mind. You don’t owe anyone anything and have every right to back out at any moment. Your body, your choice, et cetera, et cetera.”
He blows out a breath. “That’s good advice.”
I shrug. “What can I say? I’m a font of wisdom.”
He steps forward and slowly brushes his knuckles down my arm. “For the record, I’m apologizing to myself more than you. You’re fucking beautiful, Stella, and last night wasn’t the first time I noticed. And tonight wasn’t the first time I wanted to act on this attraction.”
I try to breathe, but air refuses to enter my lungs. “Yeah?”
He gives me a sad smile. “Come on. I’ll walk you to your car.”
I wince. “Could you not? I just . . .” I blow out a breath. “I’ve had my fill of awkward for the night.”
He glances over his shoulder toward the gate. “Right. Good night, then.”
I chew on the inside of my cheek, wishing I could say something to turn us back to the fun and flirty, if dysfunctional, dynamic we’ve settled into lately.
This is for the best.
Some part of my brain knows it’s true. The same part knows that a quickie in the bathroom with Kace wasn’t going to help me get over him or make him fall for me, but that reasonable thought is barely a whisper against my disappointment.
* * *
Kace
Stella’s wet bikini top sticks to her skin as I peel it away to reveal a perfect puckered nipple. She hooks a leg around my waist and rocks into me. “Please.”
I want to give her everything she’s asking for. I want to slide my hand into those skimpy bikini bottoms and feel the slick warmth I know is waiting for me.
I pinch her nipple, and she gasps. I need it in my mouth, to feel it go harder against my tongue while she shivers beneath me. I’m going
to taste every inch of her.
“Are you seriously using my sister for sex?”
I spin around at the sound of Dean’s voice. “What are you doing here?”
He scowls from the entrance to the pool house. “I thought I could trust you.”
Suddenly, Amy’s standing next to him, and she elbows him in the side. “Would you shut up? Kace needs this.” She waves her hand toward Stella. “Go on. Fuck her. I’m so proud of you, Kace. Don’t stop now.”
Where the hell did they come from? I turn back to Stella, but she’s sitting in the corner now, curled into a ball, arms wrapped around her knees. “I feel sick. I see it every time I close my eyes.”
My eyes fly open, and my heart races.
A dream. It was just a dream.
A twisted, screwed-up dream that would better qualify as a nightmare.
Where the fuck did that even come from? Okay, I get the weirdness about Dream Dean thinking I was using his sister for sex. Part of me feels shitty about a just-for-sex hookup with anyone, but Stella? Fuck. There’s a much larger part of my brain that knows that’s uncool.
But what she said at the end about seeing it every time she closed her eyes—those were her words when we got her out of that apartment and away from her creep landlord. So am I the creep in this situation? Apparently my subconscious doesn’t do subtle.
Yawning, I climb out of bed and head toward the bathroom to take a piss. The maneuvers I have to do to hit the toilet with this hard-on could land me a spot on America’s Got Talent, but since I haven’t had sex in going on two years, I’m getting used to the morning wood acrobatics.
After washing my hands, I stare at myself in the mirror and run a hand over my beard. It’s gotten scruffy, and my hair’s getting a little long. My sister calls this my lumberjack look. I’m tempted to shave the beard and start over, but any time I seriously consider it, Stella will make some comment about how hot she thinks it is, and I can’t bring myself to do it.