by Jane Anthony
I swing into her driveway and shut off the truck. The sound of laughter peels from kids playing a few yards over. It seems only yesterday that was us. Two kids with nothing to do on a July afternoon. Sketchin’ and skatin’ and causing trouble just for the hell of it. When did everything get so fucking serious? The crazy thing is, I still feel like one of those kids. As if I’m just floating through life with no real purpose.
The front door opens before I’ve even made it to the stoop, and Mischief bolts toward me. I crouch down, scooping the tiny dog into my arms. “What are you doing?” I ask, scratching his ears. “Look who I found.”
I smile as Wren saunters down the cobblestone walk. The flowing skirt of her sundress swishes around her thighs. A half knot crowns her head with tiny tendrils kissing her shoulders. Her skin remains creamy despite the hot sun, save for the patch of darkened freckles dappling her arms and collarbone. Each one teases me, taunts me, and makes me ache to reach out and touch it, taste it.
The summer breeze sends the sweet smell of her skin adrift to my nostrils, and it travels to my dick in an instant. It jumps to attention, my skin prickling as she comes closer.
“Thanks.” She takes Mischief from my arms and cradles him in the crook of hers. “He’s excited about his potential new home. Aren’t you, you fluffy little mama’s boy?” Her voice raises a few octaves as she nuzzles the pooch’s cotton-ball head. “But not today, boy.” She turns on her heel, marches back to the house, and deposits the little dog inside before closing the door. “Thanks for coming with me. Asher was supposed to help vet these places, but something came up.” She sighs, shrugging it off as if it doesn’t bother her, but I can see that it does.
It bothers me something fierce. I have zero doubts that he’s balls deep in someone else at this exact moment while he’s left his girlfriend alone.
We settle into the truck. “So where to?” I ask, backing from her driveway.
“The Glens. Building B.”
I lift both brows as I head off West End and take a hard right onto Park Way. A large sign sits at the entrance surrounded by shining foliage and meticulously planted flowering shrubs. The Glens is one of the upscale complexes in town. We drive by the flowing fountain and weave up the winding roads that lead to building B. Perfect little apartments, side by side, each door painted a sunny shade of orange.
A pristine woman stands beside one, fanning herself with a manila folder. Black hair shines in the sun, pulled into a sleek bun, each almond-shaped eye carved with thick, winged liner. “Hey, Liz,” Wren greets, stepping from the truck. I follow as she shakes hands with the exotic-looking woman. “This is Jesse.”
Liz’s ruby-red lips split into a dazzling smile. “Hi. Is this your boyfriend?” She extends her caramel-colored hand and gives mine a shake.
“No, just moral support,” I admit, but I can’t keep my mind from jumping to Asher. He should be the one here with Wren, not me. Not that I mind—because truly, I don’t. I’d do just about anything she asked me to, but the truth is, he’s the boyfriend. Why am I the one performing all the bullshit boyfriend tasks while he gets to claim the fringe benefits?
“This is actually my brother,” Wren adds with a wry grin, giving my arm a playful push.
“Oh! That’s nice you guys are close.”
“Yeah,” I reply. “We weren’t always because I used to do this.” Taking Wren’s neck in the crook of my arm, I run my knuckles lightly over her head.
She sinks her teeth into my arm, then laughs when I cry out, “I’m tellin’ Mom!”
Liz just offers a horrified grin before tucking the folder under her arm and reaching for the lock box. “This condo just went on the market, and it’s not going to last long. It’s super cute and a great price, considering all the amenities.”
“Amenities?” I ask.
“Yes. There’s a community pool in the center of the complex, a dog run, and a small playground for children. There’s also the added safety feature of a 24/7 guard at the gate, which is perfect for a single woman living alone.”
Wren nods as she follows Liz into the spacious foyer.
“It has two bedrooms, one bath, in-unit washer-dryer . . .”
She listens closely as Liz rattles off all the stats and walks us through the space. Whitewashed cabinets line the open-concept kitchen with an island in the center that leads to a decent-sized living room overlooking a small composite deck through sliding glass doors.
“Do you like it?” Wren whispers after we’ve finished the tour.
“It’s nice.”
“That’s it?”
I shrug. “I like the doorman. Saves me the trouble of having to camp out on your lawn to make sure you’re safe.”
A giggle floats from her chest. “Yeah, because Creek Falls is so dangerous. No, really. What do you think?” she presses the issue, sobering.
“I think it’s expensive.”
Hurt flashes in her eyes for just a moment before being devoured by the constant fire blazing within. That stare is my Kryptonite. I’m powerless against it. But the flush sitting on her cheeks is a flying red flag. “Don’t worry about the money.”
I side-eye her warily, wondering what the hell that cryptic message is supposed to mean, but I don’t have to wait long.
“I’m using the last of my college fund,” she explains.
I grind my teeth, choosing my next words wisely. “Your parents are okay with that?” But the real question that sits on my tongue is whether or not her father is openly willing to let her out of his sight.
Collin Irwin is a good dad, but he’s also a successful man with unrealistic expectations of his daughter, and Wren is the quintessential daddy’s girl. All her life, she’s chased his approval like a junkie jonesing for the perfect high. But no matter how hard she worked, it was never enough. If she got an A, he wondered why it wasn’t an A-plus. The old man must have had a coronary when she told him she was leaving college to become a waitress, and buying the condo is a clear indication she doesn’t intend to return.
“Mom is sad but supportive. Dad . . .” She rolls her eyes. “He’ll get over it.”
“He loves you.”
She purses her lips. “He’s a dictator who loves to tell me how to live my life.”
A curt nod is my only response. Having a dad that cares too much isn’t necessarily a bad thing, but it’s not worth the argument. The grass isn’t always greener, I guess. “It’s perfect for you, Bird. I think you should take it.”
A smile lights up her face. Wren fills out the application, then goes back and forth with Liz about credit reports and proof of income while I quietly stew with hidden concern.
“We should go out and celebrate,” she announces as we walk away from her future home.
“What do you want to do?” I ask, walking ahead to the car.
She joins me inside and buckles her belt. “I dunno . . .”
Suddenly, I’m hit with a memory from out of nowhere. Wren on my handlebars as I pedal across the highway to a strip mall in the next town over. My thighs burned, my lungs angrily sucking wind. Her parents would have killed her if they found out, but the danger of getting caught only made it more fun.
A slow smile crawls across my lips. “Thunder Lanes?”
Her eyes widen, and her lips part in a huge grin. “Yeah!”
A lightning bolt cuts between the words plastered to the front of the mammoth building as we pull into the lot. Techno music pumps through the darkened space, thumping above the sound of crashing pins and rolling thunder.
The girl behind the desk swings her head in our direction as we approach, the neon lights glinting off the silver hoop earrings swaying with the movement. “Can I help you?”
“One game, please.” I throw down a few bills, and a lane magically lights up near the wall. “Wanna grab me a size twelve?” I add as Wren moves down to the shoe rental kiosk.
“Twelve, huh? Big boy,” she responds with a salacious grin.
I slin
k down the line and sidle up behind her, my hands finding her hips. “Wouldn’t you like to know?” She sucks in a small gasp of air. Her body grows rigid against the faint press of my pelvis on her back.
“A men’s twelve and a women’s six.” Her voice strains as she rattles off the sizes to the shoe girl, and I can’t help but smile. Do I affect her the way she affects me? The hard set of her spine and the shallow breath rattling in her chest would say yes.
Grabbing my shoes, I step back and stride toward the lane, my ego soaring with delight.
“Whose idea was it to make these things so hideous?” She kicks off her sneakers and fits her foot inside the ugly red and blue leather, then holds it up. “I mean, seriously?”
“Even the most hideous things still look beautiful on you.”
Her lips disappear between her teeth. Shit . . . did I say that out loud? Smooth, Jess. That was meant to be inner monologue, but it flew out of my mouth before I had the chance to second-guess myself.
“You’re crazy.” A little giggle murmurs in her chest as she shuffles to the ball carousel, ignoring my unintentional compliment. Holding the ball in front of her face, she eyes up the shot before pulling her arm back and swinging it forward. It rolls in a mean curve and lands in the gutter before it even gets to the pins.
“Wow! You suck at this.” I can’t help but chuckle.
She fakes a frown, but the cheerful smile quirks the corner of her mouth and sparkles in her eyes. “Let’s just hope your bowling’s better than your baseball, big man.”
“Pssh . . . lemme show you how it’s done.” I follow her lead, hurling the ball toward the pins. Strike!
“Lucky shot!” she taunts.
I drive home my mad bowling skills with a celebratory dance. “If you feel the need to swoon, let me know. I’ll catch you.”
“You’re a dork.” She spins around with a wink. “And before you say it, I didn’t mean handsome.”
“Ohh, sick burn, gutter girl.”
With a sarcastic laugh, she turns back toward the lane and throws another ball straight into the gutter.
“Maybe we need bumpers,” I joke.
“Ha-ha, very funny.” She crosses her arms over her chest with a pout.
“You need to improve your form. Here . . .” I grab the ball as it returns to the carousel and venture to the lane with her. “You’re twisting your arm as you snap back.”
Leaning behind her, I hold the ball as we bring our arms back together, then float them forward and let it go. Pink swirls catch the light. It rolls end over end and crashes into the pins. Eight of them fall immediately, but one teeters back and forth. She holds her breath, watching it bounce from side to side before falling over, taking out the last pin as it goes.
“Spare!” Leaping up, she turns and hurls her arms around my neck.
The sweet smell of her surrounds me, blocking out the wafts of smoke billowing from the bar and the scent of stale oil hanging in the air. I hold her against me as if she’s mine, closing my eyes, breathing her in, and praying this fleeting moment can last forever.
But it doesn’t.
She pulls away with a sheepish smirk and a faint blush dotting her cheeks. “I have something for you.” She reaches for her bag and pulls out a pamphlet. “You don’t need a diploma. I checked.”
She holds out the folded cardboard for me to take. A happy painter smiles on the glossy cover below the logo for the local learning annex. “Art classes?”
“It’s two nights a week and every other Saturday.”
I run my hand to the back of my head looking down at the page. Insecurity taunts me the longer I stare. “I don’t know, Bird.”
“People work their whole lives to achieve the kind of talent you were born with, Jesse. Don’t waste it.”
Goose bumps break along my skin. “You really believe in me this much?”
“I do.” Her breathy voice slithers down my spine. “Promise you’ll think about it, okay? I’m gonna get a soda.”
“Bird, wait.”
She stops short, her wide-eyed gaze pinning me in her innocent stare. It steals the confession stalling at my lips. I’m crazy about this woman. As much as I want to, I can’t bring myself to say it out loud. Doing so will only ruin what we have. She’s made her choice. She wants him. It wouldn’t be fair to unload my shit on her plate, no matter how much my heart hurts in the process.
Emotion breaks across my vision. I blink it back, but I can’t hide it from her. Wren’s a part of me. She sees inside me the way no one ever has, reads me like one of her books. A sad story she’s never stopped turning the pages on long after everyone else has given up.
“Thank you. This is probably the nicest thing anyone’s ever done for me.”
She reaches out and twines her fingers with mine, the soft touch of the tips gliding over the back of my hand. “I hope that’s not true.”
“It is.” My chest tightens as I drop my gaze to the pamphlet a second time. It’s not the fancy art school I imagined—far from it—but I’m speechless, nonetheless. It doesn’t matter. All I ever wanted to do was create. Since I was a four-year-old, painting with that first set of Crayola acrylics and that nylon brush that lost all its bristles. It’s as much a part of my soul as Wren is.
“So you’ll do it, then?”
The hope glistening in her stare makes my choice for me.
“Yeah. I will.”
CHAPTER 9
Wren
THE HOT SUN blazes down on the stone patio surrounding Asher’s backyard. It heats my skin as I stretch on the lounge chair, one ankle crossed over the other, and a book held close to my face. The scent of chlorine hangs in the summer air. This is my happy place. A warm breeze, a cold drink, and the deliciously dirty words of Dani René slathered across the crisp white pages.
The woman’s a damn genius.
I’m locked between two men as I flip the page. One in the front, the other in the back, each pawing, licking, sucking, growling . . . until a shadow passes across the sultry scene, breaking my concentration.
“What are you doing?” Asher’s baritone floats over the sound of running water near the pool. Just as my book starts getting juicy, here he comes to ruin the fun.
I arch my back, pushing my head into the cushion of my chair to look behind me. “Interpretive dance,” I quip.
He presses his lips together in an unamused scowl. “I assume that’s meant to be a joke.”
“I’m reading, Ash,” I say at the end of a small, silent sigh.
He’s getting on my nerves lately. Just the sight of him these days annoys me. I don’t know what it is. Maybe I’m getting my period or something. I settle back into my chair and lift my book a second time, but Asher doesn’t seem to want to take the hint.
“I’ve invited the gang over for an impromptu pool party. I suggest you get yourself together.”
Slipping my thumb in the crevice of my book, I hold it aside and look down at my purple bikini. “Aren’t I already dressed for a pool party?”
His eyes narrow as his gaze rakes over my naked skin. “You’re practically nude.”
“I’m in a bathing suit.”
“If you want to call that swath of fabric a bathing suit, sure.”
I roll my eyes, kicking my legs over the side of the chair to stand. “What would you prefer I wear?”
He threads his hands together, taking a large inhale through his nose before responding. “I’d rather you didn’t take that tone with me. And I’d prefer if you wore something a little more demure around the men at my firm.”
All I wanted to do was read.
“Okay,” I concede. “I’ll throw on a cover-up. Would that make you happy?”
“Yes, darling. Thank you.” He rests his hand on my shoulder and lets it travel down my spine.
The words in the book still run through my head. I glance up. A clean polo shirt and swim trunks hang on his slender frame, his feet bare and his hair mussed from the light breeze floating ove
r the aqua water. I lean in, running my hands across his wide shoulders. “What time are they coming?” My fingers curl over the trimmed hair buzzed across the nape of his neck as I pull myself closer. “I can take this suit off just as easily as I can cover it up.”
But instead of throwing me on the lounge chair and tearing the suit from my body, he unhooks my arms from around his neck and stands up. “Maybe later.”
Hurt riddles through my chest. I furrow my brow, my face twisting in a grimace. “Are you seriously turning me down for sex again?”
A frustrated grunt shoots to the sky as he tilts his head back. “Are we seriously having this argument again?”
My stomach hardens. I really don’t want to fight with him, but the way he deflects gets under my skin. “Don’t answer my question with a question. We’re not in a courtroom.”
With a heavy sigh, he counters, “You are impossible to please, Wren.”
“Excuse me for wanting to fuck my boyfriend from time to time.” I throw my hands up in a huff and turn away, but his dark gaze catches mine, deep and rich as coffee and just as hot.
He steps toward me and wraps his slender fingers around each arm, pulling me close to his body. “I’m sorry, darling. I know you’re feeling unfulfilled. I suppose I bit off a little more than I can chew with this internship. I’m just exhausted.”
Guilt washes away the feelings of inadequacy burning in my gut. How can I expect him to accept all the things about me if I can’t do the same for him? “I understand. I’m sorry.”
He presses his lips to my forehead. “I hate it when we fight.”
“Me too,” I purr, locking my hands behind his back. I lift my face to his, curling against his sturdy frame. “My shift doesn’t start until ten a.m. tomorrow. I can sleep over.”
He drops his mouth to mine in a chaste kiss. “We’ll see,” he says, breaking our bond and stepping away. “For now, throw something on.”
My phone rings as I swipe the terry cloth dress from the back of my chair and throw it over my head. Jesse’s name rolls across the crystal screen. I flip it open and bring it to my ear. “Hey.”
