by Ashley Kay
Theo looks up again at Preston and wrinkles his brows. “Uncle?”
“Yes, Uncle P. I mentioned him coming a few times, but I’m sure it’s weird to see him in person.”
Preston comes out of his initial state of shock and clears his throat. “You have a son?” The words catch as he runs his hands through his hair and down his pale face. His eyes dart between the two of them rapidly.
Jesus. Preston really didn’t know he had a nephew, and my heart aches for him. Greyson rises to his feet and puts his hands on Theo’s head.
Letting out an exhaustive breath he says, “Yes, I have a son and his name is Theo…” His voice trails off when Preston’s face changes from shock to anger.
Some sort of understanding ricochets between the two. The unspoken language connecting the twins is like a live exposed wire in the room, crackling and ready to burst into flames, burning us all. After a stare down, Preston shakes himself out of it, turns on his heels, and storms toward the locker rooms.
I swivel to Greyson, but he holds up his hand. “Savy, I know you have questions and I have a lot I need to answer to, but please, I can’t do it right now, not in front of Theo.”
“Fine.”
I fluff the wavy dark hair of the sweet boy standing by me. Hair that resembles his father’s. And Preston’s.
His big blue eyes are wide and innocent as he lifts his chin and pouts. “Auntie Savy, do you think Uncle P will like me? He just ran away from me.”
Kneeling down in front of the little boy, I gather him into my arms, rubbing his back. “Yes, honey, he will love you. He was just nervous about meeting you for the first time.”
I hope I’m right. I peer at the locker room where Preston sprinted to before sending a stern look in Greyson’s direction and mouthing the word later to him. He nods and hurries Theo off with Cali, his babysitter.
I think about my own sisters and brother. We’re close. Maisie and Mabel are only nineteen, but not knowing what’s going on in their lives would tear me up. And Micah, twenty-five and thriving as a writer for a magazine in California, inspires me. I frown; it’s been too long since I last saw them in person. Family’s important to me, and my heart rips a little at what’s going on between these two men. Jerk or not, I can’t help but empathize with the newcomer.
Gypsy and Jemmy—the official rock-climbing instructors and the ones who win almost every time—are handing out equipment to all of us. I’m almost suited up before I notice Preston still hasn’t returned.
“Hey, Grey!” I shout across the floor. “Did you get those clothes to your brother? He isn’t out here yet.”
“Yes.” He drags out the word. “If you’re so worried about him, go check on him yourself.” He continues putting on his harness, ignoring my glare.
I sigh, stalling for a minute, before heading to the changing rooms. This should be Grey’s job, not mine. Especially when said brother did weird things to my psyche.
I knock on the room where the sign above the knob reads occupied. “Preston, we’re ready to start soon. Are you ok in there?” My voice trembles just talking through the door to him, praying he won’t bite my head off. What happened in the hallway is still fresh in my mind, so I can only imagine what Preston is thinking about it all. Maybe I should just leave him be and not expect him to do the competition.
“I’m fine. Give me a second,” he growls through the door.
I cross my arms, annoyance thrumming in my veins. Oof, such a touchy man.
Deciding it’s best to go back to the wall and leave him to his own thoughts, I’m almost turned around when the lock tumbles over, and the door swings open. He steps out and we’re inches from each other. His scent rises off his body in waves. Heady and intoxicating. Like thunder and Armani. I take shallow breaths, my chest heaving from the imagined lack of oxygen. He’s wearing Greyson’s athletic wear, but it’s too tight. The size difference wasn’t that discernible until I view him up close. His muscles are completely defined through the dry-fit shirt and the gym shorts leave no room for imagination. Crap. I don’t mean to stare at his crotch, but he’s so tall and I’m so short…
He moves closer to me and I should back up, but I’m chained to the floor with no key in sight. He leans down, his nose within touching distance of mine, and I smell the mint and coffee on his breath. Up close, his eyes are a vibrant blue. While Greyson’s are sky blue, Preston’s eyes remind me of stonewashed denim jeans encased in a ring of cobalt seas—stormy, dangerous, and wounded. There’s a primal urge to crawl into them and experience the raging hurricane. His lips are plump and pink, curving up slightly, hinting at a smile and giving me a glimpse of his sexy dimple.
I wish he’d press those lips against mine…
What is wrong with me? I never think things like this about a man. Especially this man, he’s too volatile. I like easy. That sounds just as bad. I’m so screwed.
He strokes his lips with one finger. Resisting the pull to follow it, I twist my head to stare at anything other than his mouth, face flushing.
“See something you like, Ms. Martin?”
I blink, the lusty fog I find myself in is too thick, and I swallow. “It’s Savy, call me Savy. My mom was Ms. Martin,” I breathe out.
A quizzical expression crosses his face, but I’m already backing up, hitching a thumb toward everyone else. I have to leave the area before I combust from embarrassment … and something else.
“Come on, we gotta get ready. Have you ever done this before?” I ask over my shoulder, my heart still thudding over the exchange.
“Been accosted outside a public restroom? No, but there’s a first time for everything.” He chuckles as he witnesses my mouth falling open. “Better close that mouth, Savy, before something gets caught in it.” His eyes now alight with amusement.
I instantly snap my lips shut, facing him. Where is this flirty Preston coming from? He’s giving me a serious case of whiplash. Hot and cold. No trace of what just transpired in the hallway on his face. I’m no stranger to sometimes hiding what I feel on the inside. I consider myself somewhat of a pro, though I may have just met my match.
“Well, I’ll have you know, I wasn’t accosting anyone, let alone you, Mr. Manhattan.” Squirming under his watchful gaze, I just want to get back to the competition.
“Alright, Montana, whatever you say, show me the way.”
The whole sixty-second walk back, I’m aware of him behind me and I refuse to admit that I put a little swagger in my step. I hope he enjoys the show because that’s all he’s ever going to get from me.
Gypsy waits for us with the list of teams. The first team to make it to the top wins the prize of dinner paid for at Mae’s Diner. I love Mae’s. The mere mention of the name makes my mouth water. I’m so winning this time.
Gypsy rattles off the list. “Savy, you’re with Preston.”
I frown. Of course, I’d get paired with Preston. Depending on how well he can handle this wall, I may or may not be eating Mae’s on someone else’s dime. Sliding an eye toward him, I grimace. The harness is sideways and, given his grouchy attitude, I’m afraid to tell him. So, I don’t. Leaning over, I gently straighten it without saying a word. He’s watching me intently, so I give him a thumbs up before turning my focus to the wall.
My competitive streak comes out in full throttle. Muscles buzzing with anticipation, it’s like I’m stalking prey for a kill. Adrenaline waits for my signal to let it all go.
Locking eyes with Gypsy on my left, I give her the “I’m watching you” signal. She grins, producing a thumbs-up, confidence oozing out of her pores. Gypsy’s a rockstar, pun intended. Long and lean, she adjusts her straps and drops her helmet over her wavy blond hair. Gray eyes sparkle with mischief and excitement about being in her element.
She leans over to me, whispering conspiratorially, “So, Greyson’s brother, huh? What genes run in that family? Damn, he’s gorgeous.”
I snort. “Rude ones. You’re correct, though, he’s a total smoke show. B
ut if he doesn’t pull his weight on this wall, I’ll be changing my opinion.”
She laughs before shifting her attention to Jemmy, silently asking if he’s ready. He nods back to her. I want that kind of friendship with my partner. They’re so in sync with each other they don’t even need words.
Preston’s still fussing with his harness, now looking grumpy as heck. That flirty Preston is long gone, replaced with a moody, broody man again. I close my eyes, sending up a silent prayer that the universe will be kind to me today.
The buzzer blares and I shoot off the ground, pouncing on the first rock jutting out of the wall. I hoist myself up to the next one, my arm muscles warming up and feeling the burn. Neck and neck with Gypsy, the others still lag behind us.
Climbing faster, I know I need to get a lead on her. Another rock up and my hand slips, but I recover quickly. Sweat beads on my forehead, tickling as it slides down the side of my face. I swing myself up and up until I’m clutching the edge of the wall and platform, fingers digging into the cold metal. My head is so warm under my helmet, and my ribcage heaves as I suck in air. Exhaling in a hard whoosh, I’m finally over the edge. The coolness of the platform is a welcome feeling to my scorching body. Spinning around on my knees, I look down and give Preston the signal when his eyes find mine.
Sandy reaches the top along with Gypsy. I jump up and down, watching in anticipation as Preston hauls his muscular body up past the first rocks. It looks effortless as he pulls himself up over another one. Dang, he’s finer than wine, it’s hard to look away.
Quickly though, something is wrong. Loud shouting rises and I move over further to listen. Sweat falls off the tip of my nose and my stomach quakes.
Two grown men are yelling at each other while dangling by ropes. Couldn’t they go one minute without fighting? It’s like freaking tom cats down there, snarling over territories, echoing in the grand expanse of the room.
“Why didn’t you tell me about Theo?” Preston’s voice comes out strangled and pained. I can’t make out what Greyson says in reply, it’s too muffled.
“I don’t care, I deserved to know!”
“I tried to tell you. I tried to contact you for years and you never answered, you never called back. I even tried to visit you! What the fuck else was I supposed to do?” despair leeches from Grey’s voice.
Preston growls out, his tone low and dangerous, “Is he hers?”
Greyson’s voice falters, and his reply is rushed. “No.”
Who’s her? This feud of theirs ran as deep as the murky lakes in the forest outside. I clutch my chest to calm my beating heart. I don’t wait to hear what else they say, it’s intrusive, although, I believe all of Montana heard their altercation.
A loud grunt sounds under my feet, then Preston grapples with the edge, hauling himself over. Stepping back, I take in his beet red complexion and the sweat soaking through his shirt. Murder and destruction blaze through his eyes. He catches my startled gaze for a second before ripping off his equipment, stalking off, and pounding down the stairs next to us. I follow his irate march across the floor below and through the main hallway. The door slams, and the final din reverberates through my entire body.
Greyson finally pops up over the edge and falls to the platform. He’s panting from the exertion and his face twists in pain. I rush over to him even though my thoughts are weirdly on Preston and where he went.
“Are you ok?” I scan over his body, seeing if he’s hurt anywhere.
He waves me away, scowling. “Stop, I’m fine. At least physically.” He rubs his cheeks, squinting up at me. “I’m guessing you heard some of that.”
“I did, and I’m pretty sure all your employees did as well. Is there anything I can do?” I want to smack him for leaving me in the dark about something that’s this much of a big deal, but right now, he needs his friend.
Gypsy tiptoes over to us and hands me an envelope. I guess that means Preston and I won the competition. The wind from my sails deflates, the moment ruined by the brothers’ animosity.
“Congrats. You finally did it. Sorry, your partner isn’t here to celebrate with you.” Her feet shift from one to the other and she avoids looking at me before scampering back to Jemmy.
Fanning myself with the envelope, I crouch down in front of Greyson, one hand on his shoe, picking at an untied lace. “I think you two need some space. Want me to go after him, try to keep the peace? I can be Switzerland, neutral,” I shrug, offering a half-smile. Why I’m inserting myself between the two of them is beyond me. I must have a death wish.
He laughs, and it’s anything but happy. “Hah, yeah, you’re probably right. I’m the last person he wants to see right now. Space is all we’ve had but … could you do that for me? I know I owe some explanations, but—”
“No worries,” I interrupt, “you forget I have three siblings of my own.”
“Thank you, but please do me another favor?” His eyes are serious. “Don’t fall in love with him. He’s very capable of eviscerating your heart. You’re too good for that. He…” trailing off, his eyes glaze over.
Taken back slightly, I scoff. Such a weird thing to say to me. “If I didn’t fall in love with you, I don’t think you have to worry about it happening with your twin.”
“Hey!” He shoves my shoulder, grinning, showcasing that deep dimple that competes with the Grand Canyon and has women fawning over it. Except for this woman, I usually want to dig my finger in it when he’s being obnoxious.
“Alright, I’ll talk to you later. I’m going to go hunt him down.”
“Leave your bow? My mom would have my head if something happened to him.”
Rolling my eyes, I look around before discreetly flipping him the bird.
Fall in love with Preston? Yeah right. I mean the guy has that broody, sexy look down pat and I get an annoyingly heightened sense of awareness when I’m near him, but that’s just attraction, hormones activating … love is different.
Being young and highly emotional, I thought I loved my ex, Brody. The feelings were intense; we consumed each other. Our marriage ended so abruptly when he cheated on me that my heart is still scarred and gnarled from it. Maybe that’s why I’m drawn to Preston. Our hearts are the same shape. Twisted by our pasts and crippled for the future.
Pushing out the doors, I inhale the cold air, trying to purify my lungs. The sun’s out and the warmth on my cheeks is invigorating. My task of finding Preston is daunting. Considering I know next to nothing about him, I fear I jumped into the job too soon. Where would an ill-tempered, spoiled rich boy go after an argument with his archenemy in the middle of nowhere?
Over to my right sits the outdoor track. Bingo. I’m betting he went for a run. There’s no better way to get out that unbridled anger. With a body like his, he must take care of it. Images of his biceps as he climbed the wall float in my brain. Short of smacking my head for those intrusive thoughts, I jog toward the track.
Lucky for him, the outdoor path is heated, the tarmac toasty in this cool weather. Lots of clients like to run outdoors instead of on our inside course. And when Greyson had it installed a few years ago, it became a big hit.
A few people are already out running, their clothes a blur. It’s a half-mile loop and those on the other end are tiny dots moving around. Huffing in gulps of air, I pause at the entrance, hands on my knees. I need to do this more. Running, that is—not chase down disgruntled bosses.
Slowly a figure ambles toward me, stopping to lean down and tie his shoe. I breathe out a small sigh of relief. It’s Preston. He stands up and gives his head a shake, his slick hair whipping off his forehead. Despite him being sweaty, my fingers itch to run through those silky strands, tug on them, feeling its thickness. Jesus, I need you to take the wheel or give me a lobotomy.
He sees me and stops, shielding his eyes from the rising sun, chest heaving, with puffs of air curling out of his mouth. He stares off somewhere behind me, eyes guarded, body tense.
“I told Grey you needed
some space from each other.”
“Seven years was not nearly enough space,” he grinds out, hackles raising like a cornered dog.
“It appears so. I won’t pry, so don’t worry about that.” Even though I’m incredibly nosy, this isn’t the best time to snoop around in his drama.
He narrows his eyes at me before crossing his arms. I appreciate the sight of his biceps, highlighted by his too tight shirt.
“Thanks, but why do you even care? I’m nobody, a stranger to you.”
“Because my parents taught me to be compassionate to every human being. Everyone is fighting a battle. Even me.” I didn’t mean to add that last part, it just slid out. Blowing warm air into my hands to warm them up, I chance another look at him.
He scratches his head, giving me a curious glance before slipping the blank mask back into place. My instincts itch to soothe him like a caged animal in a dogfight. He’s wound up so tight, I fear he’ll snap his sanity in half, given the chance.
“Is Theo yours?”
His question bowls me over. “What? No, he’s not mine.” I’m quick to answer and my heart shrinks. Please don’t ask me anymore questions about kids.
Confusion ripples over his face, and I decide to change the subject to something a little lighter and happier.
Waving the prize envelope in his face I say, “Well, partner, we won the competition thanks to you.” I lift my eyebrows, showcasing a goofy grin to mask how thrown off I am by this man. The corner of his lips twitch, and I so badly want to see his genuine smile.
“A burst of rage-fueled adrenaline will do that to a person.”
“Want to know what we won, Clark Kent?”
