by Emery Rose
Cal’s story sounded so similar to my story with Sienna. While he talked, I watched Scarlett in my periphery. She was laughing with Shaggy Doo, and I wondered what the hell could be so entertaining.
“So, she left you because you were poor,” I summarized.
“No. She left me because she didn’t believe in me. There’s a difference. One you can overlook. Forgive. Move past. The other one you never get over.”
Preaching to the choir. I’d lived it. Not once in my eight-year on-again, off-again relationship with Sienna had she ever believed in me or fought for me or stood up for me. “How’d you make your money?”
“Invested in oil. Texas gold. It wasn’t long after she left that the money started rolling in.”
“Did she want you back?” None of these questions were getting me any closer to my goal of buying that hotel but I was interested in hearing the answer.
“Maybe. Maybe not. Didn’t matter. She’d already married someone else with a shitload of money and everyone lived happily ever after.”
“How about you? Did you live happily ever after?” I didn’t really believe in shit like that. Happily ever afters only happened in Disney movies.
“Time will tell. My story ain’t over yet.” He stroked his mustache, his eyes on me, and I could tell he was about to throw me a bone. “How about we go over and check out that hotel you’re looking to buy?”
“You planning to sell it to me?”
“Haven’t made up my mind yet.”
I had a feeling he was going to sell it to me. But I kept my excitement contained, something I’d mastered at a young age.
I slid out of the booth and left a ten-dollar tip for a cup of coffee I’d left untouched. Scarlett was studiously avoiding me, attacking the food in front of her like it was her last meal. I swear I heard her moan. That’s how she ate though. That’s how she did everything. Her plate was piled high with a stack of pancakes, chocolate chip by the looks of it, and a side of bacon.
I stopped next to her booth, and she raised her eyes to mine. She still had a spray of freckles on her nose. So fucking adorable. And So. Fucking. Off. Limits.
The chocolate in the corner of her mouth beckoned me to lean in closer. Scarlett Woods… she was the sweetest temptation. I slowly dragged my thumb across her plump bottom lip and wiped off the chocolate. Her breath hitched, and her eyes followed my thumb to my mouth. Eyes locked on hers, I wrapped my lips around my thumb and sucked the chocolate off it. “So fucking sweet.”
Her eyes flared. “What are you doing?” she hissed.
Moving my mouth close to the shell of her ear, I whispered, “You deserve better.”
Without waiting for a response, I strode away. Even by my low standards, it was wrong to mess with my ex-girlfriend’s little sister.
But when had I ever done the right thing?
5
Scarlett
“You can’t be fucking serious.” Ollie stared at me like he couldn’t believe what he’d just witnessed. That made two of us. Why had Dylan done that? My tongue traced my lower lip where Dylan’s thumb had just been.
“Nothing is going on.” I picked up a strip of crispy bacon and took a bite.
Ollie laughed harshly. “Oh right. You’ve only been in love with him for ten years.”
“I’m not in love with him.” I tossed the bacon onto my plate and took a sip of orange juice. I hadn’t even mentioned Dylan to Ollie since junior high. “I’ve barely spoken to him in five years.”
“He drove you home last night. Didn’t he? That was him in the car?”
“Ollie,” I said softly. “This… us…” I motioned between us with my hand. “It has nothing to do with him. I miss my best friend.”
His eyes grew softer. “I know. Me too.”
“We can’t let what happened ruin fourteen years of friendship.” More than anything, I wanted to go back to the way things were before sex ruined everything. But I knew life didn’t work that way.
He exhaled loudly. “She didn’t mean anything to me.”
“I know that. I do. But you still did it. You were trying to hurt me.” It was hurtful what he did, I wasn’t going to pretend it wasn’t, but finding out he had a one-night stand with another girl didn’t devastate me the way it should have. The way it would have if I’d loved him the way he claimed to love me. God, why did love… why did relationships… have to be so complicated?
“What did you expect to achieve by cheating on me?”
His jaw clenched. “I don’t know. Maybe I was doing you a favor. Giving you the excuse you needed to end things. I didn’t have sex with her. I couldn’t do it. Just like I couldn’t leave you.”
I shook my head and slumped in my seat. God, we were idiots. He hadn’t even slept with that girl, but he’d let me believe that he had. “I don’t want to play the blame game. I’ve had a couple months to think about this. To put it in perspective. And what I came up with was that we were never meant to be anything more than just friends, Ollie.”
He looked out the window, his throat bobbing as he swallowed, trying to rein in his emotions. “What happens when someone falls in love with their best friend, but their best friend doesn’t feel the same way?” He turned his head to look at me, his green eyes wounded. “What happens then, Scarlett?”
Oh God. His voice… the sorrow on his face as if he was mourning the loss of someone he once loved… it was killing me. I reached across the table for his hand and we interlaced our fingers. Holding hands with Ollie was like holding your best friend’s hand. It was warm. It was nice. Comforting without setting my body on fire. It felt safe. And maybe that should have been enough, but it hadn’t been. “I do love you. I love you so much. You know that.”
He nodded and looked down at our linked hands. “Yeah, I know you love me. But you were never in love with me.”
I opened my mouth to deny it, but I couldn’t. It was true. And I hated that it was true. Why couldn’t I have felt the same way he did? I hated that we’d hurt each other like this. I’d failed to love him the way I wished I could. But no matter how much you tried, you couldn’t force yourself to fall in love. All along, Ollie had known the truth. He knew me the same way I knew him.
We’d been best friends since he moved into our gatehouse when I was seven and he was eight. His mother had been our housekeeper and when we were young, we never noticed the inequity. But as Ollie got older, he grew more resentful of the way my parents treated him and his mom. Like second-class citizens. They moved out of the gatehouse when Ollie was thirteen, but we remained friends. I was too stupid to notice that he’d been in love with me. All through high school, he hooked up with girls, and Nicola told me it was a ploy to make me jealous, but I’d always laughed it off and told her that was ridiculous.
“I’m sorry, Ollie.”
He released my hand. “Don’t. Don’t do that. I don’t want your pity.”
“I don’t pity you.” I guess it would be in bad form to tell him there were a ton of girls out there and one day he’d find the right one. “Can we still be friends?”
He laughed a little. “From anyone else that would sound like a cheesy line.”
I smiled. “The difference is that I really mean it.”
“I know you do.” He rubbed the back of his neck, his eyes not meeting mine. “I need some time. And I’m not sure how long we’ll be here. Seattle has a better music scene. We just came home to regroup. Save some money before we hit the road again.”
“Solid plan. And yeah, take some time… whatever you need.”
Everything used to be so easy with us, but I didn’t know if we’d ever get back to what we used to be before. We were a cautionary tale of why you should never cross the lines of friendship.
I was sitting cross-legged on the floor, painting an electric blue jellyfish on a board when Dylan walked in the front door of Firefly Surfboards. I didn’t even have to look up, I knew it was him. It was his scent and the way the air changed whenever he was in
my space. Like I’d touched a livewire and my whole body zinged from the current. My Posca paint marker kept moving, filling in one of the giant tentacles that extended to the bottom third of the rail, but I was hyperaware of his every footstep as he closed the distance between the front door and me.
Black combat boots stopped in front of me. They were a newer, nicer version of the boots he used to wear as a teen, the leather not cracked and worn, the laces tied, and the hems of his black jeans not frayed. His clothes were designer now, but his style hadn’t changed much over the years. “Why are you sitting on the floor?”
“This is how I like to work. Why are you such an asshole?”
“Comes naturally.”
He had known what he was doing that morning in the diner, but he’d done it anyway.
I side-eyed him as he moved to the side of the shop and stopped in front of the shelves stocked with the new T-shirts and hoodies that had arrived this morning. He took each one off the shelf, checked out the design, then stuffed it back on the shelf haphazardly. Creating chaos after Remy and I had so carefully folded them only a few hours ago. “Why are you messing up the T-shirt display?”
“These are your designs?” His back was to me, and I took a second to appreciate his broad shoulders and the way his biceps flexed under his black Henley as he reached for the T-shirts on the top shelf.
“Yes.”
He moved on to the surfboards in the rack and studied the design on each one. “Did you design that denim jacket in the shop on Main Street?”
“Lillidiva? Yeah, why?” I capped my marker and looked over at him. It had been four days since I saw him at the diner. Four days since he wiped the chocolate off my lip. Four days since I told Ollie we were better as friends.
“Where else do you sell your designs?”
“Why are you suddenly so interested in fashion and design?”
“I don’t give a shit about fashion or design. I’m asking you where else you sell your shit.”
“My shit is only sold here…. the surfboards, T-shirts and hoodies. And I have a few pieces at Lillidiva.”
“Starlet Woods.” Heat crept up my neck and stained my cheeks. Yes, I’d used his nickname for me, but I’d never expected him to notice or seek out my designs.
I stood up and walked over to the shelves and I refolded the T-shirts and hoodies he’d rifled through.
“Is that what you want? To have your own shop?”
“Someday, I guess. Not a fancy clothing boutique though. More like a design studio. Surfboards, skateboards, denim jackets, T-shirts… home accessories…” I swept my hand in the air to indicate that I wanted all that and more.
“You don’t want to limit yourself.”
“Right.”
“I could help you set up your own shop.”
“I’m a long way off from that.”
“I’m talking about an online shop.”
“Why would you do that for me?”
“I’m all about helping to make dreams come true.”
I snorted. “Since when?”
“Since today.” I smoothed my palm over a coral T-shirt on top of the stack then turned around and smacked into Dylan’s chest. His hands wrapped around my upper arms to steady me. It had the opposite effect. My heart was beating so hard I wouldn’t be surprised if he could hear it.
I couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think. Couldn’t calm my racing thoughts.
The top of my head fit perfectly under his chin. What I wouldn’t give to just lay my head on his chest and wrap my arms around him. I shook my head, trying to shake off those thoughts and side-stepped around him since he didn’t seem inclined to move out of my way. Why was he all up in my space today?
“Where’s Rem?” he asked.
“She went to get some food. She was craving fish tacos.”
“That kid’s gonna come out looking like a fish taco.”
I returned to the surfboard I was painting and tried to concentrate on the design. “Could be worse. The baby could look like this jellyfish.”
“That would be scary as fuck.”
We both laughed.
He crouched in front of me and I lifted my head, my eyes locking onto his blue-grays. Up close, with only a surfboard between us, this felt far too intimate. My gaze lowered from his firm, square jaw to the veiny tattooed forearms resting on his black jean-clad thighs. The view did nothing to calm my racing pulse. “Did you dump the ex, Starlet?”
“He’s my best friend. It’s complicated. Why do you even care?”
“I’ve always cared,” he said quietly.
What the hell? What game was he playing?
His gaze lowered to my mouth and he bit his bottom lip. The air was taut with tension, and it felt like I’d stopped breathing. No. No. I didn’t want old feelings to resurface. I’d gotten over my infatuation with Dylan St. Clair years ago.
“Go away,” I muttered. I shooed him away with my hand which only made him laugh.
Dylan stood up as Shane emerged from one of the shaping bays in the back. A dusty blue bandana worn pirate-style covered his longish dirty-blond hair.
I smiled at Shane then tuned them out and concentrated on my design and the good things in my life, instead of my mixed-up emotions. This shop was one of my happy places. Remy’s surfing and ocean photography covered the driftwood walls and it smelled like surfboard wax and the sea salt-scented candles Remy always burned. Angus & Julia Stone piped from the speakers, the afternoon sunlight streamed through the windows, and Dylan wasn’t allowed to cloud my thoughts.
I wasn’t that same stupid infatuated girl who once believed she could fix the broken bad boy.
He was never yours to fix.
“What happened?” Sienna prompted.
“Nothing happened. He just asked for my car keys, so I gave them to him. It’s no big deal.” I put her on speakerphone and set my phone on the kitchen counter while I rummaged through the cupboards in search of something to cook for dinner. My roommate was a foodie and a culinary genius. Not always a good thing. Why would anyone need so many capers and anchovies? I grabbed the loaf of bread, butter, and a wax paper-wrapped block of cheddar from the fridge. Nic was like the food Nazi. She refused to allow the plastic-wrapped singles into our apartment.
“That doesn’t make sense,” Sienna said, still puzzling over our dad’s actions as if she hadn’t known him for the entire twenty-seven years of her life. “You didn’t say or do anything to provoke him?”
“Well… I might have mentioned his mistress.” I winced as I spread butter on two slices of artisan sourdough bread. I made a mental note to buy some plain sliced white.
“Oh my God, Scar.” She burst out laughing. “You’re such an idiot. You never learn, do you?”
“Guess not.” Unlike me, Sienna was the perfect daughter. She graduated from USC with a 3.5 GPA and a degree in Finance and Marketing, did her summer internships at our father’s financial holdings company, and was now working as a Business Development Manager at a consulting firm in LA. She was smart, rich, and successful. More importantly, she knew how to play the game.
“I’d rather live on my own terms than have every move dictated by him. His money comes with too many strings attached. If I have to bum rides everywhere until I save enough for a car, it’s a small price to pay for my freedom.”
Brave words. Truth was that it sucked not having a car, but I’d made my bed, so I wasn’t going to whine about it.
My grilled cheese sandwich sizzled in the pan as I flattened it with my spatula.
“How does it feel?” Sienna asked.
“How does what feel?” I flipped my grilled cheese, my mouth watering at the golden cheesy goodness.
“Standing up to Dad like that. Telling him to go fuck himself.”
“I never said those words.”
“You didn’t have to. The intention was clear.”
“It’s kind of scary,” I admitted, “but it’s liberating. You should try it sometime.” I h
adn’t meant for the words to sound like a dig, not really, but I guess that’s how it came across.
“You’re such a brat.”
“So you’ve told me about a million times.” Pulling up a stool at the island, I bit into my grilled cheese and cursed under my breath when I burned my tongue. Every. Single. Time. I reached for my bottle of water and guzzled it to soothe the burn.
“Because it’s true. But I love you anyway.”
I loved her too, and needed to remember that whenever Dylan showed up, looking fifty shades of hot and messing with my head.
Over the years, my relationship with Sienna had gone through a lot of ups and downs. When I was really young, I remember her being the best big sister ever. But by the time she was in junior high, she treated me like I was a pest and she didn’t want me around. That carried through her high school years. It was only when I got into my late teens that we started getting close, but not so close that we confided our secrets or bared our souls.
“Are you okay for money? I can help you out.”
“I’m good. But thanks. It wouldn’t feel right taking money from you. It would feel like cheating.”
“I’m your sister. And I’m loaded with money. Don’t be so stubborn. If you need it, just ask, okay?”
“Yeah, sure,” I said, although we both knew that I never would.
“How’s Remy?”
“She’s great. She—”
Banging on the front door stopped me mid-sentence.
I took my sister off speakerphone and held the phone to my ear, filling her in on Remy’s life as I crossed the living room to the front door. Remy used to be Sienna’s best friend. But after her break-up with Dylan, they’d drifted apart. “Anyway, she’s really good and everyone is so excited about this baby.”