I sank my head into my hands.
“Is he crying?” Eloise whispered.
My head lifted just so I could glare at her. My mom laughed.
“I liked it better when you were too young to be involved in these conversations.”
“Wellllll, you can thank Mom and Dad for that. Not like I chose to be fourteen years younger than you.”
Mom held up a hand. “Don’t look at me. It’s your father’s fault. He couldn’t keep his hands out of my pants when we were in high school. Being a teen mom was never in the plan.” She leaned over and ruffled Eloise’s hair. “But it all worked out. We made all our mistakes parenting Aiden, so by the time the rest of you came along, we knew how not to screw you up too badly.”
Pressing the palms of my hands into my eye sockets, I took a few deep breaths.
My mom laid her hand on my back. “What happened, Aiden?”
I paused. “Nothing.”
It was the truth. But it wasn’t.
I’d made peace with the loss of Beth, and what it might mean for my future. Grieving my wife, grieving the absence of her sweet, funny nature, the knowledge that Anya may not remember her when she grew up. Not once in the past two years had I met a woman who stirred up any sort of reaction.
So, while nothing had happened with Isabel, inside me, it didn’t feel like nothing.
It felt an awful lot like someone had flipped a switch whose location had been kept a secret, even from me. It wasn’t like I’d been fumbling around in the dark, trying to force attraction to someone. There was no empty gap in my life that I was looking to fill.
But now, all I could think about was how she would’ve responded if I’d slid my hand behind her neck and took her mouth with mine. How well she’d fit me, how well we’d move together because she already proved she could match me step for step. If I allowed the images to progress with Isabel, I’d never have to worry about breaking her, because the likely truth was that she’d probably have me on my back and at her mercy before we ever got to that point.
“Fuck,” I whispered.
Mom tsked. “Language. I raised you better than to curse in front of me.”
Eloise cackled with glee. “Ohhhh, this is good. Come on, give us the scoop.”
“Is she pretty?” my mom asked.
Eloise sighed. “Mom, we do not reduce a woman’s worth to their physical features anymore. She can be pretty and a raging bitch monster with the IQ of a salad, and then it’s all wasted.”
“She’s not,” I heard myself say. At their stunned silence, I wanted to yank the words back in.
“A bitch monster?” Eloise asked.
“No. I mean, she’s not that either.” I kept my gaze down at the counter because, at the age of thirty-five, I’d never had a conversation with my mom and my baby sister about women. “Pretty. Or … it’s not the right word, at least.”
For some reason, the path of my brain caused a tremor of panic down my spine. Trying to define what Isabel was or wasn’t, in this context, made my chest feel heavy and tight, and my hands held a slight tingle.
No, Isabel was not someone that I’d ever describe as pretty. It was such a weak word.
Even beautiful felt wrong.
I remember taking Anya to the zoo, maybe a year earlier, and we watched the panther exhibit for a solid hour. Something about that animal—sleek and powerful, as it paced and prowled—mesmerized both of us as we sat on a hard wooden bench. Sometimes it would disappear behind some lush greenery, but when it came back out, a flick of its tail or a stretch of its sleek, extraordinary body, and my breath would catch in my lungs.
That was the closest I could come to what Isabel looked like.
Yes, she was fierce and strong, but she wasn’t only those things either. As my heart hammered, I remembered the curve of her lips when she stared up at me. They were full. Perfectly formed. The softest looking thing about her when I tried to separate Isabel into individual attributes.
“What is the right word?” my mom asked gently.
“Just say the first thing that comes to your head,” Eloise nudged.
My voice came out as a hushed whisper. “I can’t.”
No one said anything. Neither of them moved. I wasn’t even sure they were breathing. When I lifted my head, they were both gaping at me. The admission still hung there, and I couldn’t take it back. I wasn’t even sure I wanted to. More than anything I could’ve admitted to them, it was the most telling.
I’d lost the woman I loved and I still couldn’t think about her without feeling that bruise, and I didn’t know how to wrap my mind around the idea that anyone else could step into her place already.
“Oh, Aiden,” my mom said, her eyes going all watery.
Her reaction set off a small flare of panic, rocking the foundation of this carefully cultivated plan in my head. “All I want is something peaceful, Mom. I came here to make a home for me and Anya, something good and solid that we can settle into. I didn’t uproot our life for anything like this. I’m her boss.”
Eloise nodded, eyes wide. “Abuse of power is no joke. You gotta know she wants it.”
“Eloise,” my mom chided.
“What? I don’t want my brother to be one of those douches who thinks because he looks like he looks he can get away with whatever he wants.” She pointed her finger at me. “You can’t. Be respectful.”
I gave her a look.
“Sorry,” she muttered. “I’m done now.”
“This is why I don’t particularly feel like talking about it.” I stood with a sigh. “Nothing happened. Whatever I might have thought or imagined or whatever doesn’t matter because nothing happened and nothing will. Moving here was about doing what was best for Anya, not so I can start something with my manager who’s a decade younger than me.”
“Oooh,” Eloise breathed, “Age gap. There are so many layers to this.”
“Can you muzzle her?” I asked Mom.
She laughed. “I have twenty-one years of unsuccessful attempts that would say no.”
Eloise ignored us, sighing happily. “I can’t even handle how great of a setup this is. It’s like forbidden looks and accidental touches at work, and you’re looking for a second chance at love even though you’re way too old for her, so she’s all young and hot—” My mom slapped a hand over Eloise’s mouth.
Which I appreciated because my brain went somewhere it hadn’t before.
Beth’s tired voice teasing me that she’d haunt me if I fell for the first hot, tight body I met.
My gut churned uncomfortably at the realization.
“Thank you,” I told my mom. “I’m going to pick up Anya. Can you bring her backpack out to my truck for me?”
Mom nodded. “Yes.”
When she went to grab the backpack, Eloise gave me an embarrassed grin. “Sorry, I’m reading some books right now, and I might’ve gotten a little carried away.”
“Might’ve?”
She sighed dejectedly. My little sister was my opposite in just about every way. She spoke without thinking and felt everything so big and loud, and in moments like this, it was hard to extend grace when the last thing I needed was her talking about abuse of power, and Isabel’s young, hot body, and how I was way too old for her.
“It’s fine, El.” I hooked my arm around her shoulder for a hug, dropping a kiss on the top of her head when she gave me a squeeze. “But trust me, I don’t need anyone reminding me of all the reasons nothing can happen between Isabel and me.”
“Nothing?”
I gave her a gentle nudge. “Nothing. I’ll go back to work with my head on straight because that’s the best for everyone.”
“So boring,” she whispered.
I didn’t respond, but it did make me smile. It wasn’t until I was walking out of the kitchen that she stopped me in my tracks.
“Beth would want you to be happy, you know.”
Slowly, I turned. “I am happy.”
She shook her head. “You�
��re settled. There’s a difference, big brother. And I hope you don’t ignore the possibility for one because you’re so fixed on the other.”
Her words echoed in my head as I moved a drowsy Anya into the truck and drove us home. I got her into her bed and then sank onto the family room couch with a sigh. The words continued to ring, over and over, like a bell I couldn’t shut off.
Even if she was right, it didn’t matter.
Whether I imagined kissing Isabel or not, whether my hands itched to slip over her skin, or how at that moment, my mouth watered at the thought of burying myself to the hilt until we both lost our minds, it wasn’t the point.
No matter what my sister said, this phase of my life was about finding an even, steady foundation. It wasn’t about heat and hormones, about attraction that hid behind the guise of interest.
I’d already married the woman I loved.
Already buried her.
Nothing short of a miracle would make me want to do that again.
Chapter Thirteen
Isabel
Aiden: Anya is sick, so I’ll be home today, possibly tomorrow. Could you shoot me the numbers of the two clients I had on my schedule today? Thanks, Ward.
The sigh that escaped my mouth as I read his text came without permission. So much for turning a new leave and extending a long-overdue olive branch. The large black coffee sat on the edge of the front desk, his name scrawled on the side. I took a sip of my own and stared at the cup. The order was a guess because I’d never actually seen him drink coffee.
Before I responded to his text, I picked up the cup, walked over to the drinking fountain, and slowly poured it out. The dark liquid swirling around the drain had me smiling a little at the irony that I now found myself dumping coffee that I’d meant for him.
I tossed the empty cup into the small trash can against the wall and went back to the front desk. I picked up my phone and tapped out the phone numbers for his clients because even though I could call them and offer to cover, I’d quickly learned that the people who wanted to train with Aiden only wanted to train with Aiden.
Not that I could blame them.
Me: Here you go. You don’t have anyone on the schedule tomorrow, so take whatever time you need.
* * *
Aiden: I appreciate it. If you don’t mind, there’s a piece of paper on my desk next to the computer. I forgot to add that client onto the calendar for the end of this week.
* * *
Me: No problem.
The three dots on the screen bounced, then disappeared. One day at a time. No matter how impatient I could be, no solid relationship—regardless of the type—was built out of thin air.
Me: We’ll take care of everything here. Tell Anya I hope she feels better.
* * *
Aiden: I will.
* * *
Aiden: Thank you again.
* * *
Me: Just doing my job.
* * *
Aiden: Glad to hear it, Ward. Even if my back still hurts.
I was still smiling when I let myself into his office a couple of hours later. The piece of paper was easy to find, and my eyes widened when I saw the name of his new client. The gym already boasted a number of former athlete clients, simply because of my connection to the Wolves and Amy’s reputation.
Current elite athletes—including the one I’d watched play US Women’s soccer for the past few years—was new.
The connection clearly came from Aiden, and it sent my wheels spinning about what his plans might be for the gym. The day went by in a blink. As did the next.
It wasn’t easier without him there because I felt a strange urgency to see if I could act normal around him now. Or as normal as I was capable of after our sexually charged sparring match.
On day three, I came in to work with another drink holder in my hands. One for me, one for Emily, and another black coffee for Aiden.
When his typical arrival time came and went without a sign of him, I set the coffee on the corner of my desk as I got to work. Emily popped her head through the door.
“Call for you,” she said. “And the delivery guy is here with a huge delivery. Where should they go?”
“How many boxes?”
“Probably twelve or so.”
I glanced at my office. “Stick them right outside my door. I don’t want to crowd the front. I’ll see what they are.”
She left with a nod, and I tapped the button on my desk phone to pick up the call.
“This is Isabel.”
“Ward.”
My eyes closed briefly at the sound of his voice. So maybe I wasn’t doing so hot keeping that reaction in check. “Hey, boss. How’s Anya?”
He sighed. “A bit better, still not back to normal. though. Her fever’s gone but …”
Leaning back in my chair, I tucked the phone between my ear and shoulder. “We can hold down the fort here if you’re worried about that.”
“I’m not. I trust you.” He paused. “The new merchandise should arrive today or tomorrow.”
“So that’s what’s getting stacked outside my door right now,” I said.
“It came?”
“Just now.”
“Good.” But he sounded disappointed. I probably would’ve been too, if I’d bought the gym and was putting my name on everything.
“Want me to leave them for you to open?” I asked carefully. “It’s a big deal.”
He was quiet. “Would you mind?”
“Not at all.”
“Thank you, Ward.” Aiden sighed. “I wish I could sneak out and do it today, but I can’t leave.”
My eyebrows lowered. “She’s still that sick?”
He hesitated before answering. “Anya hasn’t really been sick like this since … since Beth. She doesn’t really want anyone but me right now.”
There was a strange fist closing around my heart at how carefully he said it. Like he didn’t want to divulge too much. Like it gave something away.
I licked my lips. “My brother used to buy us these special sticker books when we got sick. He’d put them on a tray with a big glass of 7 Up with a fancy straw and a little bowl of saltine crackers.” My skin felt hot sharing the story, and I rubbed absently at the side of my neck. “I didn’t even like stickers that much, but we never got them because my twin sisters once put hundreds of them all over his bed frame, and he couldn’t get them off.”
Aiden made a sound that could’ve been a laugh, but I wasn’t quite sure. “How old were you?”
“Twelve.” I shook my head. “Maybe it won’t work for Anya. But I know, for us, it was just enough of a distraction.”
“From what?” he asked quietly.
“Everything.”
Aiden was quiet, and in that quiet, I felt naked.
“I’ll see if my mom can find one,” he said after a moment. “Thank you.”
“Do you drink coffee?” I asked suddenly. My eyes pinched shut in mortification.
“I don’t,” he answered, and I heard the confusion clear in his voice.
My hand found the bottom of the cup, still sitting on my desk. “I was … I got you coffee on my way in this morning.”
Again, Aiden was silent. Oh, silence was bad for me when I wasn’t sure how to proceed. It made for all sorts of awkward babbling impulses.
“I mean, I got some for me and Emily too,” I said. “I just … I wanted to repay the favor. Because I shouldn’t have dumped the one you got me. That was rude.”
He hummed, low in his throat. I found that I liked the sound. A lot.
“Forgiven,” he replied. There was a smile in his voice, and I wished I could see it.
But that was it. Nothing further. It wasn’t the first time that Aiden didn’t react the way that I expected him to. Maybe, like Paige said, he was just as much of a mystery to me as I was to him.
I exhaled lightly. “Good luck with the stickers.”
He said my name by way of a goodbye, and even if it wasn’t much
of an olive branch … it was something.
The next morning, I had an iced tea sitting on the edge of the front desk when his truck pulled in. There was no way I was capable of breathing normally when he approached.
Maybe it was because I’d only known him—the real him—for such a short amount of time, but the four days without seeing him seemed like a month. In his absence, the old gym signage had been removed from the building, and watching him pause to stare up at the blank space with an inscrutable expression on his face, I desperately wished to know what was going on in his head.
With one last look at the area where the new lighted sign would go, he pulled open the door.
“Ward,” he said in greeting. But he was slower to speak, his voice lower in pitch, and his eye contact was … a vibe all of its own. The phone call had been such meager practice. This was the real test after our sparring match.
His eyes landed on the cup, and one side of his lips quirked up.
Slowly, Aiden picked it up, studying the contents before he took a sip.
“Still not it,” he said. “Good guess, though.”
Not a single word came out of my mouth when he finally severed that eye contact and walked back to his office.
Not coffee. Not iced tea.
I caught myself watching him throughout the day. Sometimes his gaze tangled with mine, and sometimes it seemed like he was oblivious to my attention.
Like when he opened the first box of new merch and he held up one of the T-shirts for a long minute and just stared at it.
My head tilted from where I absently wiped down some bags with Kelly after her class.
“He really likes that shirt,” she whispered.
I smiled. “Seems so.”
“You know,” she said, “for as much crap as I gave him at the beginning, he’s an awesome boss. I figured he’d be … I don’t know … one of those asshole prima donna fighters.”
Forbidden: A Ward Sisters Sisters Novel Page 12
