by Aly Stiles
I parallel park between Jack’s ratty pickup that was made before I was born and Kurt’s beat-up sedan. Seriously, how did that car even make it up the winding stretch of road?
“Nice shack, huh?” Kurt says, smacking my chest as I approach the gate.
“How is this necessary for one family?” I ask, squinting through some old growth trees at the enormous monument to opulence. I can’t even see the entrance from here. We’d have to walk at least another two hundred yards up a paver stone drive to get close enough to see anything.
“Lane told us to wait by the gate. Doesn’t want us screwing this up for him, I guess. Extra rules this time.”
I shrug, not surprised. If I had scored a client like this, I wouldn’t mess around either.
“Where’s Jack? Saw his truck,” I say.
“Lane took him to scout the site and talk to his contact.”
I stretch and squint up into the clear sky. Seven in the morning and it’s already a sauna.
“Today is going to suck,” I mutter, fanning my shirt.
Kurt huffs a dry laugh. “Maybe they’ll let us use whatever resort pool they’ve got back there.”
I smirk and tuck my hands in the back pockets of my shorts. “Yeah. Pretty sure Lane wouldn’t be on board with that even if hell froze over and they offered.”
Kurt grunts and stares back through gate. “Damn, I hope they let us bring the truck up and we don’t have to carry everything from the road.”
Shit, that’s a good point.
I follow his concerned gaze to the uphill path that seemed long before. It looks damn near impossible at the thought of lugging rocks and materials up and down all day.
“Like I said, today is going to suck,” I draw out, earning a corroborative nod from Kurt.
Lane approaches with Jack in tow, and we straighten to meet the boss.
“’Sup, guys,” he says.
He doesn’t wait for a response before launching into the plan for the day. Of all the information he shares, my favorite part is when he tells Jack to have the delivery dropped at the top of the massive driveway. Thank the heavens above. We also bring our Lane’s Landscaping trailer up from the street to park as close to the site as possible. Not all clients let us do this, and I’ll be honest, most of the ones who insist we keep our dirty vehicles and supplies at a distance live in homes like this one. At least these people aren’t monsters.
Two hours into the day, I’m already sweating small streams. The only reason I haven’t drained my water cooler is because we won’t have access to a toilet until lunch when we find some restaurant or convenience store to take refuge in for a few minutes. God knows I could finish it all in one slug, though. Man, I’m thirsty. My entire mouth is dry, and I feel the sun’s rays driving into my skin as it fights its way into the sky. I’m tan enough at this point in the summer that I’m not worried about sunburn, but still, it’s like shoveling rocks in a convection oven.
I straighten after a brutal hour of filling the bed I was assigned and wipe the sweat from my face with the edge of my shirt. Not that it does much good when your shirt is just as soaked. I even allow myself a few swallows of water as a reward.
“Yo, Morgan.”
I glance toward Lane who wears a confused, maybe nervous, look.
“’Sup, boss?” I say, crossing over to him.
“You tell me,” he says, eyes narrowing.
I have no idea what he’s talking about and stare back. He widens his eyes in an irritated encouragement to fess up. I still have no clue what’s happening.
“I’m sorry. I don’t understand. Am I doing the fill wrong? You said to start with river rocks at the foundation and—”
“Not the rocks,” he clips out. He glances back at the house before leaning in. “Want to explain why one of the residents is asking about you?”
I let out a laugh. Ah, he’s messing with me.
“Right,” I say, turning to head back to work.
He grabs my arm and pulls me around.
“I’m serious. One of the daughters wants to know, and I quote, ‘if that cute guy with the light brown hair is named Ashton.’ She definitely ain’t talking about Jack or Kurt.”
“What?” I ask, confused.
He shrugs in an exaggerated gesture. “How the hell are you on the radar of the fucking Alexanders?”
“The who?”
He waves an exasperated hand behind him. “The hedge fund royalty who own this castle!”
I shake my head, numb. “I swear, Lane, I have no idea. I don’t…” What exactly is he telling me to do?
“Are you going to just stand there?” he barks.
“What… right. Yeah, sorry.” I turn and start back toward the rocks.
“Not the rocks, Morgan.” He nods to the house. “Go find out what the client wants with you.”
I stare at him in disbelief, now certain he’s joking. Maybe this whole thing is an elaborate game. I scan the others but they look as dumbstruck as I am.
“Well? Why are you still standing here?”
“I can’t just…” I glance down at my dusty, sweat-soaked clothing. Forget my boots that are completely caked in mud and who knows what else.
Lane follows my gaze and blows out a breath. “Shit. Yeah. Hang on.” He starts toward the house, then turns back to point at me. “You better not fuck this up for me.”
I hold up my hands in surrender, and he smiles before kicking off his boots and continuing through the back entrance of the house.
I don’t move the entire time he’s gone. The other guys stare at me like I’m a museum exhibit, and I can’t blame them. I don’t feel like myself as I watch the door, wondering what the hell is going on in there.
Alexander. The name doesn’t ring a bell, not surprising since my insane schedule doesn’t allow me to get out much. If I’m not working, I’m sleeping, watching Bray, or sorting through the travesty that is our finances. I was a semester away from an engineering degree and I still can’t seem to solve the financial puzzle my mom buried us in.
Lane emerges through the glass door looking even more confused. He waves me over as he slides his feet back into his boots.
“Got me, kid,” he says, looking up from his crouched position. He finishes tying his shoes and straightens. “It’s confirmed. When I said you’re Ashton, she wanted to talk to you.”
“Who? Who wants to talk to me? And why?”
He shrugs. “The daughter, I don’t know. I don’t get a family tree when I book these jobs. I know Spencer, the household manager. That’s it.”
“So I’m just supposed to walk in there, like this?” I ask in exasperation.
“I mean, take your boots off first,” he says with an unhelpful shrug.
“I’m so fucking confused right now, Lane.”
“You and me both. Just don’t be stupid, okay?”
I sigh and slide my boots off in the same spot he just did.
“I swear, Lane, I have no clue what this is about,” I say, looking back at him.
He waves me toward the door. “Just go so you can get your ass back out here.”
With a heavy inhale, I pull open the door.
Cold air blasts me the second I step into an oasis of marble and vegetation. It’s like being in some ancient Roman garden with all the sculptures and statues judging me from various corners of the bright open space. I have no idea where I’m supposed to go next and stand paralyzed just inside the door.
At the very least, the air conditioning is a welcome reprieve from the scorching heat. Maybe I can just hover here for the rest of the day.
“Oh my gosh, I can’t believe it. It is you!”
I turn toward the voice and step back in shock. Blue eyes flash a blistering mix of excitement and curiosity. Brunette hair twisted up last night, now falls in long waves over her shoulders and down her chest. Then I catch the smile I imagined several times since opening her note.
“Iris?”
She grins and closes the gap between us.
“Ashton, right? This is wild.”
I nod, still confused by it all.
“So you’re not just a server,” she says, running her gaze over my messy appearance.
“Nope. I also shovel rocks and shit—crap, I mean. Sorry.”
“Hopefully, you don’t have to shovel too much shit. Gross.” She scrunches her nose, and I can’t stop the smile creeping onto my face.
Shaking my head, I look away, not sure what else to say. I still don’t know why I’m here.
“This is, uh… a nice place,” I say, scanning the room.
Hints of an immaculate kitchen loom in the distance. To the right I see an arched entrance into a giant living room that must overlook the pool area where we’re working. Is that a grand piano? I wonder if she plays. Weird thought, Ashton.
“You didn’t text me.”
My gaze snaps back to her in surprise. “Pardon?”
“My number. I left it but you didn’t message me.”
I swallow, staring at her in stunned silence. Her pretty eyes slant in appraisal as she waits for my response.
Wait, she’s serious?
“Oh. Um… I mean, I didn’t get off work until after eleven. Then I was up at the crack of dawn today to… come here… obviously.”
“Are you ever not working?”
“Not really,” I say with a half-smile.
“You should have texted me, Ashton.”
I glance at her sharply, letting out a breath when she smiles. Okay, she’s joking and not actually upset. “Yeah? Why’s that?”
“Because I didn’t sleep at all last night.”
“No?”
My pulse picks up when she locks her gaze on mine. There’s another message there. She loves doing that, doesn’t she? Speaking without words. Searching for the same secrets in others.
Or is it just my secrets that interest her?
“No, I didn’t. I couldn’t stop thinking about what happened. I wanted to tell you how sorry I was.”
“You did. I got your note.” And your money. I wish I didn’t need it so damn much or I’d give it back.
“You deserved way more than a note. A text would have been much better.”
“What would a text have added?” I ask, amused.
“I don’t know.” Her right eye squints as she thinks. “An emoji?”
I laugh and settle back on my feet. “Right. Well, thanks for what you said—and the money—but you didn’t have to do that. It’s part of the job.”
“That doesn’t make it right.”
I shrug and study the tile floor, suddenly very aware of how much I don’t belong here. In this place. In this moment.
With this person from a completely different universe.
“I… should probably get back,” I say, jutting my thumb behind me toward the door.
She actually looks disappointed before she replaces it with curiosity. “Hey, can I ask you something before we part ways forever, Ashton The Server and Shoveler of Shit?”
Her grin breaks when mine does.
“Sure,” I say through a chuckle. “Although, this is probably a two-to-three-week job so I’ll be back Monday. Sorry if that ruins the drama.”
After another quick smile, she averts her gaze and shifts her weight. “If you hadn’t found out I’m… me… would you have texted at some point?”
I study her as she bites her thumbnail, waiting like she’s the vulnerable one in this situation. What is happening right now?
“Can I ask you something?” I tilt my head.
“Sure,” she says quietly.
“Why the hell would you want someone like me to text you?”
She flinches, and there’s that look I hated so much from last night. The pity.
I let out a breath and take a step toward the door. “I should probably just…”
She nods. “Yeah.”
I reach for the handle, my insides a twisted mess as I go to pull it open. My life is hard enough without adding more confusion to it.
“Hey, Ashton?”
I stop but don’t turn around.
“Because I couldn’t imagine walking away from a possible connection with you if there was a chance you felt it too. That’s why I left my number.”
My jaw tightens as I close my eyes and force open the door.
Chapter Two
IRIS
Can you be a stalker in your own house? Ashton doesn’t know I’m still watching him, but as the day drags on, I keep finding excuses to hover in the great room where the windows just happen to open to a view that’s way more interesting than it was a few hours ago.
It doesn’t seem to matter how heavy the load or how hot the sun, he moves in a way someone more artistic than I am might call “poetic.” It’s breathtaking really, how his body works in fluid contrast to his set jaw and determined expression. He was laughing and joking around with the other guys when I first spotted him this morning. Now he keeps to himself, head down, eyes lasered in on his task, even though his mind is clearly elsewhere.
That, I’m sure, is my fault.
Our short exchange nags me more than last night’s dinner disaster. Did I actually make things worse? Nothing I said was insincere. He must have seen that. Then again, I can’t blame him for keeping his distance. How is he supposed to separate me from the atrocious behavior of my companions? We all probably come from the same mold in his eyes.
The thing is, I could tell by the way he carried himself and handled that impossible situation that he doesn’t come from any mold I’m accustomed to. By the end of the evening, my desire to know more about him was so strong I did something I’d never done before: left my number for a stranger.
Of course, my heart has also never pounded so hard from one saturated look—the same way it thumped during today’s unexpected reunion.
“Whatcha looking at?”
Crap.
I straighten abruptly and shoot my gaze to the book in my hand. Ivy snickers knowingly as she breezes into the room.
Double crap that she’s wearing a bikini. Is she for real?
“What are you doing?” I ask, gripping the book.
“Going for a swim?”
My older sister adjusts cleavage barely hidden by skimpy fabric triangles that probably cost more than my entire shoe collection. Clothes are way more her thing than mine.
“I see that. Now’s not a great time, Ivy. If you haven’t noticed, the landscapers are working on the patio around the pool.”
She grins and continues preening in front of a decorative mirror. “Um, exactly. You want to come with?”
I grunt, my irritation transforming into panic at the thought that she might recognize Ashton as well.
She was the worst of them last night, flat-out tormenting him with Vi and Harmony egging her on. I was mortified and couldn’t eat for the queasy feeling in my stomach. I should have called her out—all of them—but as usual was too afraid to stir the pot.
Most days I don’t understand how we can possibly share genes. We’d never even share jeans.
Satisfied with her adjustments, Ivy struts over to the window and rips open the curtain I’d been so discreetly peeking through all day. Ashton glances up at the movement just on the other side of the glass, clearly startled.
“Oh hello. See, that’s what I’m talking about.”
Shit!
“Ivy, they’re working.”
“Oh yeah? Is that why you’ve been staking out this window all day?”
“I’m reading!”
“Standing up? Also, your book is upside down, sweetie.”
I glance at it and cringe. Man, I’m bad at this. Like clothes, obsessing over boys is also more her thing than mine.
“Hey, wait. Is that…” I look over in alarm as she leans further into the glass. “No… can’t be…” she breathes out. “Oh my god, it is!”
“What are you talking about?” I’m trying for annoyed, but I sound more scared than anything.
“That�
�s the guy from Shelton’s! Our server! Remember him?”
“What? No way. That’s not possible,” I lie.
“Yes! I’m sure it is. Day-um. So hot. Come on! Let’s go say hi.”
“Ivy, stop! There’s no way that’s him. Can we just—”
But she’s already skipping past me to the door in her tiny bikini. Now I really wish Ashton had texted me, so I could warn him.
For several seconds I hover in uncertainty about what to do. Ivy was always the outgoing, attention-seeking sister, while I’m the quiet one who avoids drama at all costs. It’s like I got all of Dad’s compassionate, intuitive side, and she got all of his competitive, confident side. I don’t understand how two people with the same past could turn out so differently, but my sister and I are pretty much the poster children for the nature versus nurture debate.
For today’s debate, however, the second I see the guys straighten in surprise when my sister sashays through them toward Ashton, I have my answer. No way I’m not getting involved.
I rush to the door and pull it open just in time to watch Ashton’s face pale in shock and then flush with something darker at whatever my horrible sister is saying to him. His jaw tightens like it did last night, his grip clenching around the shovel. They’re too far away to hear clearly, and I notice the others watching the scene play out in awkward silence along with me. Ashton keeps glancing at his boss, a concerned look on his face, and yet, Ivy jabbers on, completely oblivious to his state.
“Wow, this is looking so good!” I practically shout to reach whatever is going on at the other end of the patio.
Ashton’s gorgeous hazel eyes collide with mine, just as my sister’s icy blues narrow in warning. I swallow, searching for the courage to continue.
“Thanks,” the foreman says. Lane, I think? I don’t remember. Dad mentioned something about Lane’s Landscaping coming to the house today before he left for the office. I didn’t pay much attention. I didn’t know I would need to until Ashton showed up on my property.
“It’s not very safe out here at the moment, though,” he calls to Ivy. At least I’m wearing clothing to help protect me, I guess. “There are lots of sharp materials and uneven—”
“Oh it’s fine!” Ivy says, starting back to us. “I was just gonna jump in the pool quick. I’ll stay out of your way.”
