WE ARE ONE: Volume Two

by Jewel, Bella

  But it was still a kiss.

  He liked me.

  He told me himself.

  And, as I lay in bed, stuffed up, achy, feverish, cursing my nose and head, I smiled.

  Because for the first time in forever.

  I liked a boy.

  I wanted a boy.

  And he wanted me.

  Chapter Ten

  Ryder

  THE NEXT MORNING, I WOKE worried and happy.

  Worried that I might come down with what Vesper had and bloody ecstatic that I’d been able to spend the evening with her regardless of germs.

  However, my immune system didn’t believe in playing sick. I had no itchy throat or early symptoms, leaving me to focus entirely on Vesper Fairfax and just how intoxicated she made me.

  Corn and Chip had returned home with me, and found company in the luxury kennel I’d built with their own beds, lots of food, and space to run while I started the process of tracking down a forever home.

  I still had to bring them back for a more in-depth check-up once Vesper was feeling better. But for now, the puppies were safe, Vesper was healing, and I had a crap load of work to do such as helping my building team tackle a few more areas of my dilapidated home.

  The morning trickled into afternoon and by two p.m., I couldn’t stop myself reaching for my phone and dealing Tales of Tails. I needed to hear her—just for a second. Perhaps then my attention span could focus on plastering rather than a half-naked Vesper in a towel.

  “Hello, Tales of Tails. Amanda speaking.”

  Shit, I forgot about her.

  “Hi. Is Ms. Fairfax in?”

  “Oh, I’m sorry. Not today. She’s sick. However, Ms. Dartford is the vet in charge and can assist you. What seems to be the problem?”

  I pinched the brow of my nose. “You know what, don’t disturb Ms. Dartford. I’m a friend of Ms. Fairfax’s and just need a quick word. You don’t have her cell phone number, do you?”

  “I’m not really supposed to give out—”

  “I know it’s a little unorthodox but—”

  Amanda cleared her throat. “Let me transfer you to Polly.”

  “No, wait it’s oka—”

  Hold music.

  Great.

  “Hello, Polly speaking. Do you have an animal emergency?”

  I groaned. “No, sorry to disturb you. It’s Ryder Carson calling. I just wanted to find out how Vesper is doing.”

  “Vesper, huh?” Polly chuckled. “On a first hand basis now, are you?”

  I tensed. “Look, forget it. Can you just tell her I called? Be nice if she let me know if she’s feeling any better and needs any more soup.” Deciding to push my luck, I added, “Or another bath.”

  A sharp intake of breath. “You took her home last night.”

  I stayed silent, grinning.

  Polly whistled. “Whoa, that’s impressive.”

  What was I supposed to say to that? “Um, thank you?”

  “Okay, here’s the deal.” Polly’s voice slipped to a more friendly tone. “Answer me three questions, and I’ll give you her phone number and you can ask her yourself.”

  I rubbed the back of my neck. “What three questions?”

  “Number one, do you have pure or impure thoughts about my bestie? Number two, are you a sleaze bag cheater who will just break her heart? And three, are you a serial killer or any other skeletons in your creepy closet?”

  I laughed. “Is this like an interview to date your best friend?”

  “Oh wow, you want to date her?” She whistled again. “This is serious. Now I really need the answers to those questions.”

  I sighed. “And how will I know if I pass or not?”

  “You pass, you get her digits. You don’t, and I have a Rottweiler here waking up from surgery and know just where to send him if he feels like tearing someone a new asshole.”

  I laughed again. “Okay, okay. You win. Three questions, huh?” I frowned. “Number one, I have both pure and impure—I’m talking angel to downright filthy thoughts about Vesper. Two, I’ve never cheated on anyone and have no intentions of starting. Three, I’m not a murderer. Yet. I can’t promise I never will be, but I’d only kill the bastards who hurt defenceless animals.”

  The line went quiet.

  “Did I pass?”

  “Her number is 657-8890.” Polly giggled. “That friend of mine needs some filthy thoughts. Make sure you give them to her.”

  She hung up before I could thank her.

  Quickly typing Vesper’s number into my phone before I could forget, I pulled up a fresh message and typed: How’s my patient?

  Instantly, I regretted it.

  Did it come across as arrogant? Did I have the right to ask how she was? She wasn’t my patient. She wasn’t mine, period.

  Not yet, anyway.

  Would she mind the hint to such a thing in the future?

  Fuck!

  Raking my hands through my hair, I pocketed my phone and returned to work. Collecting my trowel, I did my best to forget and mix another batch of plaster to work on the dining room ceiling.

  However, my phone buzzed, putting me out of my misery.

  Vesper: Shouldn’t I be asking that about Corn and Chip? How are my patients doing?

  Me: They’re behaving and enjoying their new bunk buddies. The eye drops seem to be working. But less about them and more about you. How are you feeling?

  Vesper: Like road kill but alive.

  Me: Thanks to me?

  Vesper: I’m alive thanks to you? I thought it was something about the birds and the bees and my parent’s naughty time.

  I chuckled at her snark.

  And waited.

  She didn’t disappoint.

  Vesper: Yes, alive thanks to you. Also, I kind of hate you for it, but thank you for stocking my fridge full of easy to eat meals.

  Me: You’re welcome.

  Vesper: You have the frustrating way of pissing me off and making me melt at the same time.

  Me: If I knew groceries made you melt, I would’ve bought the entire store.

  She took a few minutes to reply.

  Vesper: Why did I just get a text from Polly saying you’re going to do filthy things to me?

  Oh, shit.

  I laughed out loud, my fingers flying over the touchscreen.

  Me: Want a truth or a lie?

  Vesper: What sort of question is that?

  Me: A question judging how prepared you are to do this with me.

  Vesper: Do what with you?

  Me: Date me, of course.

  Vesper: We’re dating now?

  Me: If you want to make it official. Yep.

  Vesper: We’ve spent a total of a few hours together outside work. Don’t you think dinner and a movie with a kiss goodnight is required before we label this?

  Me: We can still do those things. However, I want to lock you in before anyone else can steal you.

  Vesper: Can you hear me laughing from where you are?

  Me: No, but I can come over. Wink wink.

  Vesper: You’re not coming anywhere near me. I’m sick. I want to feel sorry for myself and sulk in my pyjamas with no worry about trying to be pretty for you.

  Me: You don’t need to try. You are pretty. Question…are you still wearing that beaver t-shirt?

  Another pause.

  Vesper: Ugh, is this going to be a question about the bed time is sleepy time not sexy time thing?

  Me: Just out of curiosity, how do you feel about sex? Lots of sex?

  A longer pause.

  Vesper: I wouldn’t say no.

  My cock hardened like a balloon. One second minding its own business, the next inflated and ready for action.

  Me: I can give you the truth then and not a lie. You ready?

  Vesper: I’m afraid.

  Me: You don’t have to be afraid with me. You can be wet, and turned on, and wild, but never afraid. Polly was right. I do want to do bad things to you. So many dirty, bad things. I want you o
n your knees. I want you on my tongue. I want to play with you—both in the bedroom and out. I’m into freedom when it comes to fucking and if that means outdoors, role-play, kink—I’m down. I just hope you are too because fuck I’m hard just thinking about sinking inside you.

  She didn’t reply.

  Two minutes.

  Four.

  Five.

  Shit, I came on too hard.

  I’d never told any prospective girlfriend just how much I loved to play. It came back to needing to have fun when my life was so serious. I wasn’t into violent things but dressing up—indulging in naughty nuns, bad teachers, and horny stranger games—hell, yes.

  Finally, she replied.

  Vesper: Truth or lie?

  Me: Truth.

  Vesper: I think all this time, I’ve been lying to myself. I’m so uptight in my life. I worry about things constantly. I follow agendas and schedules and time tables. I’m driven to the point of needing success over everything else. But you make me remember how to let loose. You want to play with me, Ryder Carson? I can play. I want to play. I’m wet just thinking about it.

  Me: Why did you have to get sick? I want to play this very fucking second.

  Vesper: Patience is a virtue.

  Me: I have no virtues.

  Vesper: You have plenty. Now, let me rest. The sooner I’m better, the sooner we can…

  Me: Do dirty bad things?

  Vesper: Exactly.

  My cheeks ached from smiling so much. My cock also ached but a slight rearrangement and a forced image of a hairy hippy prevented blue balls.

  Vesper Fairfax might be the woman I needed over all others. But she might also be the one woman to kill me.

  Tucking my phone away, I put my mind on other matters so I didn’t become completely obsessed with the sexy sick vet I couldn’t stop thinking about.

  * * *

  Later that afternoon, I’d finished plastering the ceiling before doing my usual rounds of doggy upkeep. I currently had seventeen of the four-legged variety living in an upmarket holding hotel. Some needed constant care with antibiotics, broken-limb cast monitoring, and intensive feeding. That’s where the help of a local stay-at-home mum and her two young kids came in.

  Fiona, Mack, and Sam were my go to caregivers while I juggled the building site.

  I smiled as I strolled into the warm kennel where the heating was kept at a perfect temperature and the sounds of happy snuffling and contented dogs made me so damn grateful I was able to do this.

  Fiona looked up. Her mouse brown hair tied up in a bandana as she carefully splashed eye drops into Chip’s eye. “Hi, Ry.”

  “Hi. How are the rascals?” Squatting on my haunches, a cloud of canines rushed me—all waggling butts and lolling tongues. I let them push me over, knowing the floor was disinfected and clean and played with the happy critters. “Hey, guys. You had a good day?”

  “They’re doing fine.” Mack grinned, stroking a fat elderly Pug. The ten-year-old already had huge empathy dealing with sick and reliant beasts. I couldn’t see Sam—an unruly fourteen-year-old—but it didn’t mean he wasn’t in one of the kennels feeding.

  A Bospin barked, running around in his chocolate fur glory.

  “How about you? Are you okay?” Fiona turned green eyes on me.

  My phone buzzed; I had a suspicion of who it would be. “I’m good, thanks.” Yanking the device from my pocket, I checked the message.

  I was right.

  It was her.

  Vesper: My pussy found the stash of catnip balls you hid under the couch. She’s now in a whacked-out drug fugue.

  I laughed out loud. Not caring Fiona watched me with a twitched eyebrow.

  Me: Your pussy loves catnip? Oh, so that’s why you have expired lube in your bathroom. Never heard of that fetish before, but I’m down.

  Vesper: Ugh, you know what I mean.

  Me: Wait…so we’re not talking about your pussy?

  Vesper: We are. But the orange furry kind, not the…

  Me: Wait, don’t ruin the fantasy. I’m picturing you naked and spread eagled with a bright orange bush. I guess the carpet doesn’t match the drapes in your case.

  Vesper: If you were here, I’d hit you.

  Me: If I was there, I’d kiss you.

  “Who the hell are you texting?” Fiona craned her neck, trying to see my screen. “You look as if you’re about to pass out from smiling.”

  I angled it away. “Not for your innocent eyes, Fi.”

  “Ahh, I get it. You’re not texting. You’re sexting.”

  “Don’t tell me you don’t talk dirty to Markus.”

  She sighed. “Used to before children stole our fun time.”

  I gave her a pitying look before reading Vesper’s new message.

  Vesper: You have to pass my rigorous exam before you get to kiss me.

  Me: What is it with you and tests? Polly made me do one before giving me your phone number.

  Vesper: She did, did she?

  Me: So…back to the pussy. We aren’t talking about the part of you I want to lick. That upsets me.

  Vesper: You, Mr. Carson, are impossible.

  Me: Using the last name card, huh? I must’ve affected you with all the pussy and licking talk.

  Vesper: Look, enough. I’ve already dealt with my previous results of texting you. I don’t have the energy to do it again. Don’t give my pussy catnip. I can’t handle her in this crazy mood.

  I dropped my phone.

  Did she just—?

  Yes, I think she did.

  Scooping the device up and pushing away an eager Bogle with his wriggling butt, I typed: Did you or did you not just admit to one on one pleasuring? P.S., I love it when you use the word pussy.

  Vesper: Holy shit, how did I type that? Forget it. I blame it on the cold and flu medicine you’re making me take. P.S., I just groaned loudly at your high-school level of maturity.

  Me: Now I’m hard and in desperate need of some self-pleasuring of my own. By the way, I bet I could make you groan in other ways.

  Vesper: I doubt it.

  Me: Is that a challenge?

  Fiona interrupted my volley of texts, growing increasingly erotic by the second. “You must really like her.”

  My attention snapped up. “What?”

  “You’re beaming.” She leaned forward, putting the cap on the eye drops. “Who is it? Do I know her? This is amazing. I didn’t think you’d give anyone in this town a chance. You’re so busy all the time and never pay attention to the women throwing themselves at you.”

  “Hold up. Women throw themselves at me?” I looked around conspiratorially, wrapping a hand over my head as if I was in recon. “Where? How come this hasn’t happened and how do I make it so?”

  She giggled. “You know what I mean.”

  “Lucky for you, I don’t. Because if I did—that would mean I was a pompous asshole.”

  She smirked. “Well if the hat fits.”

  My phone buzzed.

  Vesper: Not a challenge. An absurdity.

  Ignoring Fiona, I messaged back.

  Me: An absurdity? Who the hell uses that word? Is it even a word? I might have to come over there and give you a grammar lesson.

  Vesper: I have germs. Stay away.

  Me: I was around your germs last night. I’m immune.

  Vesper: Still…stay away.

  Me: Can I ask you a question?

  Vesper: Another one? I’m going to have to start charging.

  Me: Yep.

  Vesper: Depends.

  Me: On what?

  Vesper: On if this is another one of those truths that will lead me to doing bad things to myself.

  I groaned.

  Holy shit, this woman.

  My mind exploded with images of her fingering herself and the sexy moans falling from her mouth.

  Swallowing hard, I typed: It’s to do with germs and liking.

  Vesper: Okay…

  Me: We’ve already deduced that your ge
rms don’t like me.

  Vesper: And you had a go at me for using the word absurdity. Deduced? Did you just open a thesaurus?

  Me: I’ll get you back for that smartass comment. Let me finish.

  Vesper: Oh, by all means, continue.

  Me: Do you like me? Germs I can deal with but you…I want you to like me. Like truly like me. Because I literally can’t stop thinking about you.

  The phone didn’t vibrate.

  I sighed heavily as a Dalhuahua licked my hand in sympathy.

  Once again, I came on too fucking strong.

  You’re a moron, Ryder.

  Fiona had stood up and brushed dog hair off her black slacks. I hadn’t even noticed—too preoccupied with texting a woman I desperately wanted.

  “You know, whoever she is, she’s a lucky lady. You can tell her I said that.” She waved, heading out of the kennel. “Everyone is cared for. Good night, Ry. See you tomorrow.”

  “Night, Fi.”

  After she’d gone, and my phone didn’t buzz, my temper heated along with embarrassment. I’d stupidly let our bantering take away common sense.

  It was my fault I’d screwed it up.

  I sent one last text.

  Me: Fiona said you should. Like me, I mean.

  I didn’t get a reply all night.

  I really shouldn't have sent that last text.

  Chapter Eleven

  Vesper

  WHO THE HELL IS FIONA?

  And why the hell should I care who Fiona is?

  I don’t.

  I don’t care.

  Liar, liar pants on fire.

  Ugh, I hated it when my brain fixated on something and didn’t give me any peace.

  For two days, I’d wallowed in bed unable to do much but give my body time to heal. In those forty-eight hours, Ryder texted me often. I replied, but with each one, I wanted to blurt out and ask who the hell Fiona was.

  Damn man.

  If I wasn’t so grateful to him for stocking my fridge full of nutritious soups and chunky delicious readymade pastas, I would’ve ignored him completely.

  Liar, liar pants in total ruin now.

  Dangnamit.

  I couldn’t deny I was indebted to him in a way I didn’t like. He’d been there for me when I hadn’t asked him to be. He’d been there even when mutual dislike had ignited and turned into the hottest combustible chemistry I’d felt.