by Brisa Starr
My phone vibrates. I pick it up and see that Aspen has texted me. Despite my confusion moments ago, my heart jumps. This is the first time she’s started a text conversation with me!
Aspen: Hi, Ryker. I never thanked you for helping move the inspection date. You still haven’t told me how you did it. Or what I owe you for it, which still makes me angry. Nonetheless, I have exciting news. The inspection passed. So, thank you. What do I owe you?
My grin strains my cheeks. I helped her, and she’s finally handling it well. More or less. Maybe this bodes well for the other way I helped that she doesn’t know about yet.
Ryker: I’m glad I could help. Can I flirt and say I can think of a few ways you can thank me, or would that make you mad? I’m guessing that’d be too crass and my teasing would piss you off. So, I won’t say that.
Aspen: That’s a clever way to not say what you’re saying. And yes, it would piss me off.
Ryker: Sometimes I like when you get pissy though. You’re cute when you do.
Aspen: Don’t even go there.
Ryker: I want to go there. Aspen, I can’t stop thinking about our kiss.
Aspen: What kiss?
Ryker: Ha ha.
Aspen: What? ;)
Ryker: I’m looking forward to seeing you in your black dress at the silent auction Wednesday. Can I at least offer you a ride to the event?
Aspen: Sorry, no. I’m going with my mom. OK, I have to go, a customer is waiting. Oh, and thanks for your standing order for the next few weeks of quiche and pies delivered to your office.
Ryker: Like I said before, I like eating your pie.
Aspen: Stop it.
Ryker: What? Whose mind is in the gutter now?
When she doesn’t respond, I close the messaging app and set my phone on my desk. I glance around the office, and my mind goes back to the conversation I overheard in the kitchen between Maria and Ronald, and I clench my fists.
19
Aspen
Tonight is the big night.
I went to the spa for a pedicure—something I never do because of the cost and the time involved—and now I’m running late getting ready. Actually, I had to transfer the final down payment and sign papers at the closing on the hotel, and then I had to get my pedicure for gorgeous red tootsies for tonight’s extravaganza.
What a day!
I bolt up the stairs in my condo and run to my closet, where my new dress is hanging on the door. I’m bubbling with energy about tonight’s Chamber of Commerce annual silent auction. It’s one of the biggest events of the year in our little town. The Who’s Who of Genesee County will be there, including all the business owners, mingling and networking.
Mom and I are eager to spread the news that we’re officially the proud new owners of the historic Rose Hotel. And for those who haven’t heard yet, it’ll be a perfect opportunity to share our plans to transform the historic hotel into The Rose Bed-and-Breakfast. I grab a towel and hang it on the door as I hop into the shower to scrub up, paying extra attention to shaving my legs. It’s rare I wear a dress. As in, never.
Although I’ve been excited about this event for over a month, for the opportunity to promote our new venture—I must admit—I have another reason that’s tickling me about going.
Ryker will be there.
I’d be lying to myself if I didn’t admit that I’m spending extra time on my hair and makeup. Ahem, for business, of course.
I’m not pursuing him, but I’ve enjoyed the flirting, and so it’s going to make for a playful night. I can’t wait to see what he wears tonight, too. God knows, I expect he’ll make my spine shiver with just one look at him in a suit.
I’m hesitant to admit it, but Ryker pops into my head at the oddest of times throughout the day. It’s a little unnerving, given how loudly I insist I’m not interested. Not to mention, the subtle aching he’s put between by legs.
We’ve exchanged a few brief text messages, but thankfully, he’s been missing-in-action the past couple of days, busy working with his dad. So the distractions have been minimal.
I’m still confused by my feelings, but I’m getting used to the tug-of-war between my heart and brain. For tonight though, I’m ignoring all of that. I just want to see him. Besides, life is about to get extraordinarily busy next week, and my “Ryker problem” won’t be an issue.
After I get out of the shower, I blow-dry my long, blond hair and use a flat iron to straighten it, making it even longer down my back. I turn on some David Bowie music while I put on my makeup. I add extra dark eyeliner, mascara, and a little smoky eyeshadow. Next is blush, then shimmer powder on my cheekbones, and—last but not least—my favorite cherry-red lipstick. I definitely look like I’m going out for a night on the town.
I step into my new dress and pull it up on me. I reach behind me and pull up the zipper, shimmying my chest so the dress settles perfectly over my girls. I put on my three-inch, gold dangling earrings. I grab my favorite Stuart Weitzman high-heel sandals with giant rhinestones, which I nabbed on clearance at Saks Fifth Avenue. My red toenails look perfect in them.
I smile at my reflection in the mirror. I’m ready.
It’s time for a much-deserved night of fun, relaxation, and partying. I haven’t been out in over a year. In fact, the last time I went out for a night on the town was this same event last year. Though, tonight will be more interesting with Ryker there. My erratic heartbeat concurs. And hey, I’m killing two birds with one stone: a date (sorta?) and a business event.
I walk down the stairs and call over to Dagny as I walk toward her cage, “How do I look?” I twirl around, and she twitches her tiny nose at top speed like she’s trying to smell the dress, and then she goes back to eating her cilantro. “Thanks, darlin’.”
Honk! Honk! I hear mom beeping her horn from my driveway. I grab my small, sequined, leopard-print clutch. The perfect pizzazz for my dress.
I head outside, and the evening is balmy. The sun is setting, with only a few clouds in the sky, brushing it with tones of purples and pinks. It’s romantic. And for a second, that realization makes my heart heavy. Sunsets are romantic. And when do I have time for romance? Never. And when will I have time for romance over the next couple years? Never.
I sigh heavily, knowing I chose this path and knowing, deep down, this is the right way. Otherwise, I’ll end up like Mom. I get into her car, and she senses my weighty thoughts. “What’s going on, honey?”
I don’t want to talk about it right now, so I smile and say, “Nothing. I’m looking forward to tonight. You?”
“Absolutely!” she says as she pulls onto the main street leading into town. “And we should make a plan, to figure out who will talk to who at the party.”
I turn down the music in the car. “That’s a good idea. Let’s think of the top ten people we want to make sure we get excited about The Rose. You go after five of them, and I’ll go after the other five.”
After we brainstorm the names, we divvy up the list.
“Did you settle with the Chamber of Commerce about your donation?” she asks.
“Yes, I told them we’d donate twenty pies to the highest bidder.”
Once we’ve strategized about the evening, I pick at the sequins on my clutch, lost in thought about Ryker. I’m excited to see him, but now I’m kind of wishing that he wasn’t going to be there. It’s the same reason I never gamble at the casinos… I’m afraid I’ll become addicted. And after that kiss with him…
I could be in big trouble.
We’re stopped at a red light, and I didn’t realize Mom has been staring at me. “So, are you going to tell me what’s going on between you and Ryker Miles?”
I’m caught off guard, but I recover quickly, with the same answer I’ve been telling myself. “There isn’t anything to say. You know my policy. I’m not getting involved with anybody. Not until I make it on my own.”
“Aspen, you know, not every situation is like mine was. I regret some of my choices, but you’re different
from me. I don’t know if Ryker is the right guy for you, but you can’t assume he’s like all the men I married.”
“I don’t even have time to date. Please tell me where I can squeeze a man into my schedule?”
“I know, I know, Aspen, but don’t live your life in a way you’ll look back at later with regret. Take some time to stop and smell the roses. He sure seems interested in you. And how sweet is it that he placed a standing food order for the summer for his whole law office? Seriously, Aspen, that’s cute. And he’s a billionaire! I still can’t believe it…” her voice trails off as she shakes her head, and the light turns green.
There it is. She had to mention the billionaire part.
“Mom, his money means nothing to me. If anything, it makes him less desirable to me. He thinks he can just throw around his money and solve my problems with it, but that just makes more problems.”
“I think that’s where you’re wrong,” she says. “It’s true, money can’t solve every problem. But believe me, not having money causes far more problems. Anyway, honey, I just want you to be happy. And I want to make sure you’re taken care of.”
“That’s exactly what I’m doing.”
Mom and I walk into the event, which is being hosted at a local art gallery. It’s a great way to feature the gallery’s artists with so many business leaders that’ll be here tonight. I see several people perusing the walls, talking about the colorful paintings. Off to the side, there’s a simple bar set up with wine, beer, and sparkling water, plus a table of hors d’oeuvres. That’s where I see Cheryl, the woman in charge of organizing this event.
I head over to say hello, while Mom heads in another direction to start working on her list of folks to rub elbows with. On my way to the bar, I glance around to see if Ryker is here, and I’m disappointed that he’s the first thing I think about, and that I don’t see him. I hope he still plans on coming tonight. Maybe he’s just running late.
I’m waiting for my turn to chat with Cheryl, when Charlie from the real estate office comes up to me with a grin as wide as the Mississippi River. “I have something for you, Aspen.”
I’m confused, since all the paperwork has been han… and then it hits me, just as he pulls the keys out of his jacket pocket.
“The keys!” I hold my hand out to him, shaking, and he drops them into it. I close my fingers around the keys and blink my eyes to hold back my tears, so they don’t ruin my makeup. Charlie waits patiently while I collect myself—he knows what this moment means for me—and I open my eyes. “Congratulations, Aspen,” he whispers. “The whole town is excited to see what you do with it.”
“Thanks, Charlie,” I croak, the words snagging in my throat.
“It’s been a pleasure working with you. I gotta run and meet with some other clients here, but I’ll see you around. Oh, and I saw you have your pies up for a donation. I’ve already put in my bid for that!”
I let out a slight giggle, which grows into a hearty laugh as my mind embraces what I’ve just accomplished. “OK, see you later, Charlie, and I hope you win!”
After Charlie leaves, I stare at the keys in my hand.
The keys to my future.
20
Ryker
Shit. I’m late. I can’t stand being late, but I lost track of time working on the Blackstar case. My dad was right, it is fascinating. Maybe even world-changing. But, dammit, I didn’t want to be late for the event. Aspen’s going to be there!
I pull into the gallery parking lot and turn off the engine. It’s been too many days since I’ve seen her, and my eyes are hungry. I wonder if I should tell her tonight about her Popster and me. Just get it over with. We’ll be in a crowded place, she’s happy her inspection has gone through, and everything is happening the way she wants.
I pull out my phone and find Emerson’s number, Aspen’s Popster. I find our former thread of text messages from when we finalized details when I bought his house.
Me: Hey Emerson, I’m thinking I should tell Aspen tonight. I have to tell her eventually, right?
Emerson: NO! Absolutely not! Not if you want to keep your balls. And definitely not if you have any hope of winning her heart, which is the point of this, right?
Shit.
Me: But I can’t lie to her.
Emerson: I agree. But let’s give it time and figure out a better way to tell her.
Me: OK. But soon.
I slide my phone into the jacket pocket of my black Brioni suit, and I check my Lange & Söhne watch for the time. I’m thirty minutes late. I get out of the car and lock the doors with the remote. I walk into the event and scan the room for her blond hair and black dress. It’s barely two seconds before my eyes land on her hair, bright as sunshine, and falling halfway down her back.
But she’s not wearing the black dress.
She’s wearing the red dress.
The one I wanted her to wear.
I’m stunned, and my feet won’t move. I stare at her backside, admiring the way her dress hugs her glorious ass. I lean my head to the side to crack my neck. My dick is getting thick. I discreetly shift my stance because my pants are getting too tight.
I swallow hard and then take a deep breath to cool my flaming balls. I’m ready to approach her. As my feet move in her direction, she shifts to the side, and I see she’s talking with some young, too handsome, jerkoff. Who the fuck is he?
He’s laughing with her, and he reaches out and touches the back of her arm. My chest fills with rage as I watch the two of them. I’ve been working too hard on making my way into her life to compete with anyone now.
She didn’t say anything about having a date, and she wouldn’t have one, right? For all her talk about not having time for a man?
And she’s wearing the red dress!
For me!
Right?!
He reaches into his jacket pocket and pulls out a business card. He hands it to her, and she sticks it in her purse. If my eyes could shoot death rays, he’d be a pile of ashes right now. She belongs to me, asshole.
I’m about to break up their Kumbaya fest, when someone grabs my arm, preventing me from taking what’s mine. I spin around, ready to bite the head off the person, when I see it’s Dad and his wife, Nancy. “Ryker, how are you, son?”
“Hey, Dad. Hi, Nancy. How are you?” I say, shaking his hand and giving her a quick hug, clenching my teeth at the untimely interruption.
“I’m doing well,” Nancy replies. “It’s so good to see you. We were just talking about your first week at the office. Your Dad says you’re enjoying it. Is that true?”
“It’s going great,” I say, eager to get this conversation done with, while trying not to look like it. And I’d be doing better if I could punch that guy’s lights out who’s standing next to Aspen, having too good of a time with her.
“That’s good. But don’t let your dad work you too hard,” Nancy says with a smile.
I sigh and give them my attention so I’m not rude. “If you’d told me a month ago what I’d be doing, I would’ve banged my head against the wall, but the timing worked out. I needed something to do, and the case is interesting. I’m learning a ton.”
Dad smiles and puts his arm around Nancy, and she looks up at him with a gaze of adoration. And for a moment, I take in the scene before me. A loving relationship. He’s right. He is crazy about her, and she’s crazy about him.
Which brings my attention back to Aspen. I look over at her, and my eyes narrow. My dad turns his head to follow my gaze, and he lets out a small chuckle. “Looks like we’ll see you later, son.”
“Yeah. Catch you later. Bye, Nancy, good to see you.”
Three seconds later, I’m standing next to Aspen, looking down on the twerp in front of her. I’m at least two inches taller than him, but I feel ten inches taller. I clear my throat. She turns to me, and her breath catches in her throat as her eyes take me in.
She composes herself. “Ryker! You’re here.”
“I am.”
&
nbsp; She’s beautiful, and she smells incredible. She hasn’t even been baking pies, and she still smells just as sweet. It pains me. I want her to be mine. All mine. That red dress—the one I love—skims her body, and my eyes travel the length of her. I see her sexy toes painted red, and I smile.
She suddenly remembers she was talking to the idiot next to us, and she introduces me to him. I don’t remember his name or what he does, but he takes the hint, saying, “I look forward to the bed-and-breakfast, Aspen. Again, congratulations.” He turns to walk away.
“Who the fuck was that?”
“Down boy,” she commands. “He’s a potential customer for The Rose.” Her face lights up, and she continues. “He owns an engineering firm here, and he has a lot of customers come in from out of town. He promised to send them my way.”
But my neck tightens. “So, you’ll accept his help, but you won’t accept mine?”
She blinks hard, and her face darkens. “Um…” she starts, and I see she’s about to pick up steam. Shit.
“It’s one thing to send me some customers, and something else entirely to loan me $300,000. Especially only a few days after you rant like a lunatic about hating me so much. What is your problem anyway?”
“I said I was sorry for that,” I whisper, my nostrils flaring. She takes a step back and looks disturbed, which wasn’t my intention. I’d better get my shit under control, or I’ll lose all the progress I’ve made. “And I didn’t like how that asshole was looking at you.” Whoops, I don’t think that will help my case.
