“That was the plan, then shit got fucked up.” Or I fucked shit up, I think, watching as he twists the top off a beer before handing it to me.
“Fucked up how?” He leans against the bar, crossing his arms over his chest and studying me.
“Do you remember Aria Spencer?”
“From high school?” He frowns.
“Yeah.” I take a pull from my beer. “She just moved back. I’ve been doing some work at her place.”
His head tips to the side as his brows drag together. “I thought she was living in San Francisco with her husband, or at least that’s what her dad said the last time he sat right where you are now.”
“She got divorced and bought a place not far from you.”
“I guess that makes sense. Her parents are here in town.” He shrugs, then looks down the bar when someone calls his name. “Give me a minute.” He walks off to fill a drink order, and I pull my cell out of my pocket when it buzzes. When I see a message from my ex, I sigh and open it up. Not surprising, she’s asking for money, claiming that our daughter Olivia needs new shoes and clothes, which she actually doesn’t, since the last time I had her for a week I loaded her up. I’m sure she needs cash to get her hair or nails done, or some other bullshit.
Not wanting to start a fight, I send her a message back, letting her know I’ll get whatever Olivia needs but I’m not giving her cash. Two seconds after I press Send, a bubble appears on the screen, and a second after that, ASSHOLE appears in all caps.
“I’m guessing from your expression you’re talking to Anna,” Colton states, and I flip my cell face-down on the bar.
“She wants money to get Olivia some clothes and shit.”
“Didn’t you just take her shopping last weekend?”
“I did, which is why I told her I wouldn’t send her money but would get Olivia whatever else she needs.”
He smirks. “I’m sure she was happy to hear that.”
“You know I’m an ‘asshole’ when I’m not giving her what she wants.”
“Or you’re just always an asshole.”
“True.” I lift my beer toward him, then take another swig before asking, “How are Gia and Gino?”
At the mention of his wife and son, his expressions softened and he leans against the bar. “They’re good. Mom is at the house with Gia and hopefully forcing her to take a nap.”
“She still having a hard time sleeping?”
“She doesn’t want to miss anything with Gino, and I get it, but she’s exhausted.”
“She’s a good mom.”
“The best mom and wife,” he counters with a shake of his head. “She gives everything she has to me and our son.”
“There are worse problems to have.”
“You’re not wrong, but it’s also my job to take care of her, even if it’s having Mom at the house taking over and forcing her to rest.”
“You really think she’s doing that?” I ask doubtfully, knowing Gia and how stubborn she is.
“Probably not, but if nothing else, Mom will clean up and do laundry and shit so Gia won’t be worried about it,” he says. “Now tell me what’s up with Aria.”
“Nothing’s up. I’m just doing some work on her house.” I take a drink from my beer.
“You’re lying,” he states evenly, and given the fact that we’ve known each other and been best friends since we were kids, I’m not surprised he’s calling me out on it.
“We had a fight.” I set down my beer, then shake my head.
“A fight?” Worry etches his tone, and I know he’s thinking about all the fights Anna and I have had over the years, fights where she usually ends up throwing shit and calling the cops.
“Not a fight like I’d have with Anna, but her parents showed up, and she told me I should leave and I got pissed—”
“Why’d she ask you to leave if you’re working for her?” he cuts me off, sounding far too curious.
“We left to get food. When we got back to her place, they were there waiting for her.”
“You left to get food with her?” His frown deepens, and I pick my beer back up, as he asks, “Like a date?”
“No, she hadn’t eaten yet, and I hadn’t either, so I called in an order for Chinese.”
“You like her.” It’s a statement not a question, and I shake my head.
“Not like that,” I tell him, knowing I’m lying to him—and myself—because fuck if she’s not the first woman in years to pique my interest. She’s beautiful, and cute as fuck when she lets go and relaxes around me, and I wouldn’t mind exploring her body with my hands and mouth. I just know I’m not in the right headspace to even think about exploring things with her, and after listening to her talk about her ex-husband, I don’t think she is either. Or maybe that’s the thing holding me back—I don’t want to come on to her and have her reject me because she’s still fucked up over her ex.
“Keep telling yourself that.” His comment pulls me from my thoughts, and I look up to find a smirk on his face. “When can Gia and I meet her?”
At his question, a plan starts to form in my mind. “What are you guys doing Saturday afternoon?”
“Nothing.”
“All Aria’s shit just got delivered today and is still in boxes, and I told her I’d help her unpack this weekend.”
“Let me get this straight. You offered the woman you’re working for to help her unpack boxes on your day off… and you don’t like her?”
“Never mind. Forget I said anything.” I sigh.
He grins, crossing his arms over his chest. “Gia and I will be there.”
“Now I’m thinking I don’t want you two to come.”
“Oh, we’re coming.” He smiles.
Fuck me, why did I say anything? “This isn’t an invitation for you or Gia to ask her a hundred and one questions.”
“You know I have zero control over what my wife does or says, so I’m not gonna make any promises, but I can tell you I’ll be cool.”
Knowing Gia, I have no doubt she’ll be cool too, but I also know she tends to protect the people she cares about, so I don’t know what might happen. I still need to find a way to smooth things over with Aria before Saturday, and I’m not sure how that will go.
“I’ll talk to Gia tonight when I get home,” he says as my cell starts to ring.
When I flip it over, I see Anna is calling. I don’t want to answer, but knowing Olivia is with her, I pick it up and put it to my ear. Two minutes later, I regret that I did as I listen to Anna tell me what a shit dad and man I am, before I end up hanging up on her, finishing my beer, then going home alone.
________________
WITH WHAT I hope is a peace offering in hand, I press my elbow into the doorbell, then stand back and wait, listening to the sound of feet hitting the wood floors. When the door is pulled open, I bite back a groan. Not many women look good minutes after they are woken up, but Aria—with her face still soft with sleep, her hair a wild mass around her face and shoulders, and her outfit of a thin tank, short shorts, and a thin cotton robe—is a sight I wouldn’t mind waking up to every morning for the rest of my life.
“Tide.” She blinks, looking adorably confused. “What are you doing here?”
“I fucked up.” I push a cup of coffee out toward her, and she takes hold of it and steps back as I step into the house.
“You…” She glances around, looking adorably confused, then meets my gaze once more. “What?”
“Last night, I shouldn’t have reacted the way I did when you asked me to leave.” I walk around the couch still in the middle of the kitchen and set the paper bag I’m holding on the counter.
“You shouldn’t have?”
I turn to look at her, catching her as she tucks a piece of her hair behind her ear, looking surprised by my admission.
“I shouldn’t have,” I repeat as I begin to unpack the bagels and cream cheese from the bag.
“Are those from Leo’s?” she asks as I feel her take a s
tep closer to me.
“They are. Do you have a toaster?” I feel her breast press against my bicep, and the scent of lavender fills my nostrils as she reaches past me to set her cup on the counter. The innocent contact shouldn’t affect me, but my cock jerks, and I fight myself from wrapping my arm around her waist and turning her in my arms to press my mouth against hers.
“I do.” She moves away, oblivious to my thoughts, and I turn to find her behind me, tearing off the tape from one of the boxes. “It’s in one of these boxes… or it should be,” she says as she pulls it open and looks inside, dragging out what looks like a ball of Halloween garland that probably should have been tossed out. “I might not have been the best at organizing when the movers came.” She blows a thick strand of hair out of her face as she drops the ball to the floor, then she digs deeper into the box before closing the lid and opening another one. When she starts to move that box to the floor, I stop her by placing my hand on top of it.
“We can just use the oven. For all you know, the toaster is in your bedroom.”
“You might be right.” She smiles, and that piece of hair she’s been fighting with falls in her face. Without thinking, I reach out and touch her cheek, then slide the hair back behind her ear, hearing her inhale a sharp breath. My eyes drop to her very tempting mouth, and she steps back quickly, not realizing the arm of the couch is behind her.
“Shit.” I reach out to catch her before she can tumble over it, but I’m too late. I don’t know what I expect to happen, but I don’t expect to hear her start to laugh. Chuckling, I move to the side of the couch and look down at her smiling face. “You okay?”
“I’m okay, but I really do need to get the couch out of the kitchen.” She takes my hand when I hold it out to her to help her up, and she ducks her head as she adjusts her tank and shorts. “Thanks.”
“No problem.” She looks up at me, and I watch in amazement as her cheeks turn pink. I don’t know that I’ve seen a woman blush since I was a kid, and there is something enduring and seriously attractive about the innocent reaction. Not wanting her uncomfortable, I take a step back, turn toward the stove, flip it on, then ask, “How did it go with your parents last night?”
“My dad was drunk, and my mom was her normal, judgmental self, so it went about as good as you’d think it would,” she says, and I raise a brow as I look over my shoulder at her. “You’ve lived here a long time. I’m sure you’ve had the unpleasant experience of coming into contact with my parents before.” She chews her bottom lip as I start to cut one of the bagels in half. “That’s the only reason I didn’t ask you to come in last night.” She spits out the words so quickly they spin together.
“I figured that much out once I had time to think about it.”
“You did? But….”
“My reaction was shit, and you’re right. I know your parents, so even though it shouldn’t matter—”
“You thought I was embarrassed of you,” she cuts me off, and I jerk up my chin in an affirmative. “I was actually saving you.” She sighs while picking up her cup of coffee. “I don’t even want to spend time with my parents, so I wouldn’t want to subject anyone else to them.”
“You don’t get along?”
“I’m indifferent to them. I wish I wasn’t, but the reality is they are not people I would choose to have a relationship with, but DNA didn’t leave that option up to me.”
“That sucks, babe.” It’s an understatement and something I can’t even relate to. I’m close with my family. My dad and I are tight, and my mom is still as doting as she’s always been. Then there’s my sister, who is one of my best friends even as she lives on the other side of the country.
“It is what it is.”
“Why’d you move back here then, if you guys aren’t close?”
“This was the only place that felt right when I started looking for places to move to after I decided to leave San Francisco.” She turns her back to the counter, then hops up to sit on it. “I mean, I knew I would have to see my parents at least every three months after running out of excuses to keep avoiding them, but that’s about how often I saw them when I was in California, and I survived those visits,” she says, making me chuckle. “Honestly, I probably shot myself in the foot. I’m sure, now that I’m home, they’re going to expect me to show up for their parties and whatnot, but I promised myself that I would only do things I want to do from here on out, and I refuse to break a promise to myself.”
“Good for you,” I tell her quietly.
“Thanks,” she whispers back as I grab a pan from the dish drainer next to the sink, put the bagels on it, then place it in the oven under the broiler.
“So what’s your plan for the day?”
“Umm…” She looks around. “I need to start unpacking, then I have a call with my agent this afternoon.”
“Agent?”
“For my books.” She shrugs. “She’s having a meltdown, because I haven’t given her another series idea, and my last publisher is anxious for her to pitch something new to them after my last series.”
“What kind of books do you write?”
“Science fiction.”
“Science fiction,” I repeat, unable to hide my surprise, and she raises a brow. “Sorry, I thought you’d say romance. I didn’t know you were into science fiction.”
“Well, sir, we don’t know each other, and I actually do kind of write romance. Each of my series are centered around main characters who find themselves tossed together to fight evil. Over the course of each book, they fall in love, which most of the time makes them stronger and impossible to defeat.”
“Got it.” I lean my hip against the counter. “So what are you working on now?” I ask, and my interest piques as her cheeks darken.
“I’m not really working on anything. I… I’ve just been trying to come up with an outline for my agent to pitch.”
“Have you come up with anything?” I turn to the oven and open it to check the bagels. Seeing they are a golden-brown, I grab a towel and use it to take the pan out.
“Not really,” she says, then sounds put out as she continues. “Why didn’t I ever think of using the oven to toast my bagels?”
“Probably because you’ve always used a toaster.” I grin, then mutter, “I’m also single and don’t have a toaster.”
“You don’t have a toaster?”
“Don’t say it like I’m some kind of monster. I had one when I was living with my ex, but she took it when she left, and I didn’t bother buying a new one after I realized I could just use the oven.”
“That seems very logical in guy thinking.”
“I’m just gonna pretend that’s a compliment.” I open the cream cheese, then ask, “Smoked salmon, or honey pecan?”
“Smoked salmon, please.”
As I start to slather her bagel with cream cheese, I meet her gaze. “So how do you normally come up with a new series?”
“Until now, it’s always just kind of happened.”
“I’m sure getting settled here will help.”
“Maybe,” she agrees, taking the plate I hand to her, then I watch her place the two pieces of her bagel together like a sandwich and set the plate down. After making my own bagel, I do the same, then take a bite.
“Leo still makes the best bagels.”
“His grandson actually makes them now.”
“His grandson?”
“Babe, when we were in school, Leo was pushing seventy. He retired about seven years ago. Everyone was worried his shop was going to close, but his grandson, who used to spend summers helping him in the shop, decided to move here and take over.”
“That’s cool.”
“Yeah,” I agree, finishing off my bagel then rinsing my plate. “Since I didn’t get anything done last night, I’m gonna paint today. Then tomorrow evening, I’ll lay the carpet.”
“You don’t have to do that. I know you have other jobs that need your time.”
“Yeah, but this job
needs my time right now.” I pick up my coffee, walk around the stack of boxes, and head toward the living room. “Shout if you need me to lift anything.”
“You know, I could help you paint if you want.”
At that statement, I turn to look at her. “All right, but you’re gonna have to put something on that you don’t care about.”
“I can do that,” she says excitedly as she hops off the counter. “I’ll be back in a minute.”
I watch her ass as she heads for the stairs and know I just fucked myself, because the more I’m around her, the more I want to kiss her. And I don’t think I have the kind of willpower that will prevent me from doing just that.
Chapter 6
Aria
HIS LIPS HOVERED over hers as his hand roamed down her side and her eyes slid closed. As their breath mingled, she knew she would never be the same if he kissed her…
Sitting at my desk my fingers hover over the keyboard before I groan and press Delete, watching the last two sentences I wrote disappear. When I first thought about writing a romance novel, I figured it would be easy, then Tide showed up and screwed everything up. Now, instead of picturing my characters kissing, I’m imagining what it would be like for Tide to kiss me, realizing I never felt true attraction until he came around. Every time I’m near him, my stomach dances and my heart pounds. The worst part is that he has no idea the effect he has on me, and I’m scared to death that one day when he does something as simple as push some hair out of my face, I’m going to throw myself at him like a crazy woman.
Using the tips of my toes, I spin myself in a circle, first watching the window pass, then my bookshelves, followed by my office door. Maybe if I spin fast enough I’ll somehow be able to come up with a new series idea for my agent so I can stop trying to pretend I know how to write romance.
“Oh my God!” I scream, almost falling out of my chair when I spot Tide standing in the doorway of my office.
“Sorry.” He laughs as he steps into the room. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”
“I forgot you were here.”
One More Time Page 4