by Grey, R. S.
I smirk. “Basically.”
He laughs then. “Idiot.”
I shrug. “I love her. What would you do if you were me?”
His laughter dies suddenly and, much the way his dad looked at me outside her apartment, Colten assesses me like he doesn’t quite recognize me.
Then he nods, a look of resigned understanding on his face. “Yeah. I guess I’d have done the same thing.”
His partner calls out to him, asking how long he’ll be. Colten holds up his hand before turning back to me.
“Listen, about the other day at your office…the stuff I said to you…”
I shake my head. “Don’t worry about it.”
I know all the wrongs haven’t been rewritten for us. We still have a long way to go, but I don’t need him to apologize for looking out for Madison. If I had a sister, I know I’d act the same way.
I hold out my hand and he shakes it. Before he walks away, I continue, “Hey, I’m not sure what time your shift ends, but Andy’s birthday is tonight. He’s having a few people over to his house for a party.”
Meanwhile, said birthday boy is still sitting in my car, safe and sound with the doors locked. When we look over, he waves excitedly.
Colten nods, a ghost of a smile on his lips. “Yeah, okay. I’ll see. This’ll take a while.”
* * *
“Do you want me to tell everyone you beat the guy up and then the police had to pull you off him?”
“No.”
“Okay. I’ll just say you had a knife and you were waving it around like a wild man.”
“Andy.”
“You’re right—no weapons. Instead, you unlaced your shoes and tied his hands behind his back with the laces. The police commended you for your hard work. Hometown hero, they called you. On Monday, you’re being presented with a medal.”
We’re in my car, at DQ, drinking milkshakes. Andy’s party has already started, but he said he was so “shaken up” from the events of the last hour that he needed to cool off. I remind him that we didn’t actually do anything.
“We were close to doing something, and that fear was real, my friend. I was worried I was going to have a little accident and ruin your nice leather seat here. You going to finish that?” he asks, grabbing for my half-finished milkshake.
“No.”
“Cool.”
“Happy birthday,” I say with a smile.
“Thanks. If it’s okay with you, I’m going to tell Arianna I helped the police detain him. She beat me at foosball the other day and I’m still trying to regain some ground in the manly man department.”
I smirk, leaning back against the headrest. “Andy, have you ever thought that maybe you’re not a manly man? You’re wearing a pink gingham shirt.”
He looks down and runs his hand across the button-down. “Arianna says it brings out my eyes.”
His eyes are brown. I don’t tell him she’s full of it.
“Ready to go to your party?”
“Give me another ten,” he says, sucking down the frozen chocolate treat. “I want to make an entrance. Think word will have spread about our good deed yet? I really want people to clap when I walk in.”
I don’t have the heart to burst his bubble.
If pressed, I’ll lie and tell Arianna he saved the day. It is his birthday after all.
21
Madison
Ben lied.
First, when he wouldn’t tell me where he was going. Second, when he told me he’d be on time for this party.
I’ve been at Andy’s house for half an hour now and Ben still hasn’t showed. Andy isn’t here either.
“Bet they went to a strip club,” someone jokes. A group of people snicker near the drink table and I pour myself an extra inch of wine before heading right back to where Kevin and Eli are sitting with Arianna.
She’s madder than I am. Apparently, Andy just disappeared too. We have no idea where they ran off to.
“I planned this whole freaking party for him and then he bails? I’m about to pop all these balloons and kick everyone out.”
I hand her the extra glass of wine I poured. Honestly, I was going to double-fist it, but she needs it more than I do.
“If it helps, you look really pretty.”
She’s wearing a leather miniskirt. Combined with her short blonde hair, she looks like a kickass Tinkerbell.
She offers a small smile as she accepts the wine. “Thanks.”
There are a ton of people here, cool kids, people I recognize from around town, and people who would have paid me absolutely no attention before I started dating Ben. It’s not like we’ve announced our relationship on a billboard or anything, but we didn’t have to. Ben is…Ben. Everything he does is newsworthy in this town, and I suppose I’m just as intriguing now too.
“…what designer is she wearing…”
Ah, yes, the illustrious TJ Maxx.
“…do you think she got those shoes in Paris…”
I’ve had them for three years. I honestly think they just appeared in the back of my closet one day.
“…she really is pretty, but maybe it’s just the makeup? Do you think she’s had some work done…”
Do people not realize their voices carry?!
I get it, though. They’re all curious about how the dopey librarian won over the unattainable king of Clifton Cove.
When I find out, I’ll be sure to let them know.
I take another hefty sip of wine as a cute guy cuts through the crowd and makes his way over to us. His shaggy blond hair makes him boyishly handsome. I don’t recognize him immediately, which is rare for Clifton Cove.
“Hey sis, is the beer in the fridge free game or—”
His question is cut off by the tell-tale sound of glass shattering somewhere in the house.
Arianna groans and jumps to her feet, running toward the noise. I hear her murmuring obscenities under her breath as she goes. Andy better get here soon or she’s going to lose it.
I meet her brother’s gaze and shrug, holding back a laugh. This whole night is truly a bust. Where the hell are those guys?
“Guess that’s a no on the beer,” her brother says, scratching the back of his head.
I stand up, taking pity on the guy. “C’mon, there are some coolers out back—I’m pretty sure that’s where the beer is.”
He holds open the door to the patio and I point him in the right direction. I’m about to go back inside when his hand juts out in greeting. “I’m Pete, by the way.”
I smile. “Madison.”
He nods and reaches for a beer. “Want one? I saw you double-fisting earlier.”
“Oh, yeah, about that…”
I could have sworn no one was watching me.
He laughs and breaks the awkward moment. “I’m kidding.”
Now that he has his beer, he should leave me alone, but he doesn’t. I’m wearing the jeans from my “bad girl” day at the bowling alley. They hug my butt. I had a cardigan on over my silky white tank top, but with all the people crammed inside, I got hot. Now, I feel like I should probably run back and get it.
I’m beginning to realize that the superhero mantra “With great power comes great responsibility” might apply to sex appeal too. We’ve hit the crucial point in our conversation where I either need to turn and head back to Eli and Kevin or somehow work in that I have a boyfriend. It feels very much like Pete is hitting on me, and when he not so subtly checks me out, that point is made even more clear.
No. Don’t be silly.
Not every man wants you. Just Ben. Just Ben who is now lying to you and disappearing into the night…
With that thought, I turn back to Pete and smile.
“So, do you live around here?”
Apparently, he’s Arianna’s younger brother and he’s visiting from Dallas. He’s just down for the weekend, and we talk about the places he should visit while he’s in town.
“You’ve been to the beach already, right?”
He laughs. “Yeah, you know, Clifton Cove being a beach town and all…”
I wave away his sarcasm. “Right, okay. Ignore that suggestion. There’s a cool farmers market on Saturday mornings. This time of year, I bet they have some good produce.”
He looks at me like he doesn’t quite understand what I’m saying.
“How old are you?” I ask.
He grins. “22.”
I nod. “Right. Okay, so no farmers market. Probably forget about the train museum too. Unless—wait, are you into that kind of thing?”
His eyes narrow playfully. “Y’know, not really. It’s weird, but I’m not a big train guy.”
I chuckle. “Right, well, probably just stick to the beach then. Women in bikinis, sun, waves—you can’t go wrong.”
“Do you like going to the beach?” he asks, taking a step closer.
WHOA.
This dude wants to see me in a bikini!
I’ve officially crossed into the red zone. I feel bad now. Am I cheating?! Is this cheating!?
I open my mouth to quickly blurt out an apology followed by I have a boyfriend whom I very much love please stop looking at me like you want to kiss me because I will throw my drink in your face, but I never get the chance.
There’s a commotion near the front door. People are yelling, “Surprise!”, which is odd, because this is definitely not a surprise party. I think people got confused when they arrived and Andy wasn’t here.
Through the large back window, I watch as Andy steps into the living room and laps up the attention, more than happy to have everyone focused on him.
“No way! Guys, I’m totally shocked!” he shouts, accepting hugs and felicitations.
Apparently, he’s also forgotten this isn’t a surprise party.
I stand rooted to my spot as Ben walks through the door behind him. If everyone rushed in to greet Andy, they do the opposite for Ben. The crowd parts and stares. The special guest has arrived.
It’s like he’s stealing the spotlight without even trying. It’s his own damn fault, really. He shouldn’t wear that black shirt. With his brown hair and tan skin, it’s just too much. Jesus, wear pink or purple or just go without clothes altogether. At least then we’d all pass out and be put out of our misery.
Ben nods to a few friends but brushes past the people who step into his path, trying to stop him for conversations. His eyes are sweeping the room, looking, searching. My heart thunders in my chest and I nearly use Pete to block myself from his view, but it wouldn’t do any good. This is my life. Ben is my boyfriend. I’ll just have to get used to the overwhelming emotional grenade he sets off inside me by simply walking into a room.
When it’s clear that I’m not in the living room, he turns for the kitchen then pauses and glances out the window. The invisible rope tied between us pulls taut when he glances my way. We’re half a back yard apart and it feels like he just ran a finger down my spine.
“Do you know him?” Pete asks, turning to look between Ben and me.
I forget to answer him as Ben winds his way through the party and steps outside.
I forget to blink. I don’t think I’ve taken a breath since he walked in the front door.
He walks straight to me, confidently, boldly, and bends low, kissing my cheek, whispering next to my ear. “Sorry I’m late.”
I squeeze my eyes closed and nod.
When he steps back, it’s only far enough for him to loop his arm around my waist and tug me close.
“I’m mad,” I say quietly.
He glances at me. “Yeah?”
I have a frog in my throat that prevents me from continuing, so I nod. Yes, mad. Why again…? Ben’s shirt is so black and his arm is so strong.
“Because I lied to you?” he offers.
YES.
I jerk my gaze to his amber eyes and he can’t hide his smile. He’s not even pretending to look worried about my supposed anger.
“I’ll tell you all about it.”
Then his gaze flicks to my mouth and I think he wants to kiss me, but Pete’s still standing there, staring at us. “So, I take it you’re not single?” he asks, laughing good-naturedly.
Ben arcs an eyebrow at me as if to ask, Well?
“No,” I say, keeping my attention on him. “I’m not.”
Pete shrugs. “Figures.”
When he walks away, Ben turns and steps in front of me, pushing me back. The garage is behind us. The door is closed, but Ben clearly isn’t going to let that stop him. People are definitely watching us. If I looked up, I’d find faces pressed to the windowpanes in curiosity, noses flattened like pigs.
“Where are we going?” I ask nervously.
He reaches behind me to open the door and then he pushes me backward. “Step up. There’s a stair.”
He mostly lifts me up and into the cold, dark space.
A light flickers on and the door closes behind him. There’s a car parked inside and a bike leaning against the wall beside some tools.
Our footsteps echo against the concrete floor as he pushes me deeper inside.
“I’d like to apologize for my absence,” he says, his finger looping through my jeans so he can pull me close.
“Where’d you go?” I ask, arms crossing over my chest.
The skin around his eyes crinkles, but he doesn’t smile. “I’ll tell you after you say you forgive me.”
I shake my head and lift my chin. “No.”
He hums and reaches for my silky tank top, twisting the material in his hand. “It appears we’re at a stalemate.”
“Guess so. Maybe I should go back out there and chat with Arianna’s brother.”
I don’t mean the threat. There’s not enough heat behind it. He glances down to the floor, smiles, and then his eyes meet mine again. He’s not jealous. He’s amused. He thinks I’m cute. He wants to bop me on the tip of my nose.
“That’s it, huh? Now that I’ve turned you into the real Madison—the bad Madison—you’re just going to up and leave me?”
I have to bite down on my smile. I shrug and look away. I even manage to look at my nails as if I’m bored. It’s only half convincing at best.
I arch a brow. “Maybe so. I’m a hot commodity now, Ben. That guy wanted to take me to the beach. I think he was picturing me in a bikini.”
He steps forward and grips my waist, brushing his hands up under my tank top. His thumb drags across my bare navel. My stomach dips in anticipation and there’s no fooling him now. He just revved my engine and he knows it.
“Are you going to tell him about all the bad things you like to do?” he asks, dipping low and whispering the next words against the shell of my ear. “Taking your panties off at parties? Leaving them behind for anyone to find…”
If I were standing in front of glass, my breath would fog it twice over.
He pops me up onto the workbench behind me. I’m blinking over and over, trying to keep up. How does he do it? Seduce me? Slay me? There’s no point in even trying to fight it.
“Speaking of bad things,” I say, wrapping my arms around his neck as he slowly pushes his hands higher. Big, rough palms glide across my skin. When he grazes the edge of my bra, I shudder and lose my train of thought.
“Madison,” he says, urging me to continue.
Huh? What day is it?
He kisses the edge of my mouth and then pulls back, waiting for me to continue.
“Right, yes. I was just going to say that I haven’t done anything bad in weeks, really, not since the skinny dipping…”
“So you want to make up for it?”
He gets me. We’re soul mates.
I reach down for his jeans as I ask, “How long do you think we have before Andy realizes we’re gone?”
“Did you see him when we walked in? He’s in heaven. Everyone wants to talk to him. He’ll be busy all night.”
So this is happening then—dirty garage sex. I imagine what I’ll look like after: oil-smudged face, hair covered in sawdust. Mayb
e we’ll get crafty and use the bicycle seat. I’m imagining that exact scenario just as Ben finds the zipper on my jeans. We can’t strip down all the way. There’s no time. We’re rushing. His hand brushes past the hem of my panties and my stomach dips. I unbutton his jeans and stroke his length inside his briefs. He’s silky smooth and rock hard.
Then his finger slides into me and it’s my undoing. I cry out and his mouth comes down hard on mine in a passionate kiss. It’s hot, mesmerizing, sensual. He’s so good, so giving. And when he tugs me to the edge of the workbench and thrusts into me moments later, his skill is only further demonstrated. Each hard thrust in and each slow drag out brings me closer…and closer. His finger circles around and around and my nails leave half-moons on his shoulders. We’re in a frenzy. My moans and gasps would be heard through the entire party if his mouth wasn’t silencing me.
We’re getting so close to falling apart—together. Pleasure builds inside me just as he buries himself to the hilt, rolling his hips and when he moans deep against my lips, I moan too, coming with him. Completely lost.
The last wave of pleasure is still wracking through me right before a hand starts pounding against the garage door.
“Is someone in here?” a voice calls out.
Ben and I freeze. It’s Arianna.
Shit!
She turns the door handle and I shove Ben away from me. We fly apart. By the time she walks in, my pants are zipped up and I’m holding a power tool up in the air while striking a pose that says I definitely know what I’m doing: hand on hip, hip thrust to the side, legs spread apart.
“Yup, so that’s how you change a tire,” I say coolly, pressing the trigger for emphasis.
The drill whirs to life and I yelp and drop it.
“What the hell are you two doing in here?”
She’s laughing, but she shouldn’t be.
“Tire stuff.”
We should have hung a sock on the door or something. Ben would still be inside me at this very moment if only we’d planned ahead.
“The real question is, what are you doing here?” I ask, turning to her and giving her my most accusatory glare. I point a finger too, for emphasis.
