by Marika Ray
I nodded wryly. “Yes, just what every man wants to hear.”
She inhaled sharply. “I just realized Everett rhymes with Hewitt. Was that on purpose?”
If I thought Wilbur was bad, this was even worse of an admission. “Yeah, my mom married my dad after a nasty divorce my dad went through with Hewitt’s mom. There was a lot of tension there and my mom wanted to make sure us boys were united, even though we had different moms. She chose Everett to make us sound like a matched set. Hewitt was already ten when I was born, and he wanted nothing to do with me. Our father doted on my mother. They were crazy in love and that was a hard thing for a little boy to see, I guess.”
Gabby’s eyes still looked wet, whether a leftover from laughing or because of my story, I wasn’t sure.
“Hewitt always changed the subject when his father came up. I thought it was because he mourned his death so much. I didn’t realize there was all of this too.”
I nodded. “Yeah, he pretty much turned his back on my mom and me the minute Dad died. Hew was twenty. I lost my dad and my brother the same day. I was only ten.”
Gabby’s hand slid onto my chest, like she was seeking out the source of the pain and feeling the broken, tender heart of a ten-year-old boy who only wanted a moment of attention from his idolized older brother.
Her touch, the way she sympathized when she barely even knew me, made me like her even more. I wasn’t still a heartbroken little boy, but a hurt like that never really went away. The fracture smoothed over with new growth, but the line was always there, tender when prodded.
The moment hung there between us. It occurred to me that she probably had a story too, one where Hewitt created another crack, this time on her heart. I hoped she’d trust me enough to tell me one day.
She tapped my chest with her finger and then dropped her hand. “I know what you need. Retail therapy.”
I was all too happy to change the subject. “You do realize I’m male, right?”
The color flooded her cheeks again, but she smiled, a real smile, which meant I’d say yes to anything she suggested.
“Let’s take my car. We need to get you a bunch of filthy rich man clothes.” She spun around and grabbed her purse off the kitchen counter. “Let’s go, Willy!”
I raised an eyebrow. “Willy?”
“Do you prefer Wilbur?” The damn woman smirked at me.
“I prefer Rhett.”
She shrugged and moved toward the garage, saying over her shoulder, “And I don’t prefer Snookums, but there it is, on reality TV for everyone to hear. So, I guess that means we go with Willy, don’t you think?”
I grabbed my chest and staggered back even though no one was around to see my antics. “Damn, she’s feisty…”
8
Rhett
“Spare no expense, I want a full wardrobe,” Gabby told the sales lady as she rushed off to find another pile of clothes for me to try on.
“Why does this feel like Pretty Woman, but in reverse?” I muttered over the fitting room door to Gabby where she sat on a chair and tapped out a text on her phone, burgundy thumbnails flying over the screen.
I stripped off my T-shirt and tried on the polo that sat at the top of the stack. It fit well and I had to admit, the material felt silky against my skin. Opening the door, I showed Gabby, who glanced up and then back at her phone before glancing up again. Aha! Got the woman to do a double take of my manly chest. Suddenly all those years of weight training seemed worth it.
“I heard that, by the way.” She looked back at her phone. “That’s a ‘yes’ on that one.”
I went back into the fitting room to try the next one on, like a dutiful puppy. “You know, I actually feel bad for you rich people and your buttery soft materials. You’ve never experienced a scratchy sweater or a clothing tag that chafes your neck. You know, you wouldn’t have to do those fancy spa appointments where they exfoliate your skin if you’d just wear the cheap shit. Cotton polyester will just rub that dead skin right off for you. Genius really.”
I came out with the next shirt, a weird salmon-colored button-down that gripped my biceps like a soccer mom with the last bottle of white wine in the grocery store. Gabby snort-burped, the sound making me laugh, but also worming its way into my chest where it gave me a soft hug.
“How’d you get your fat bank account, anyway?” I struck a pose, which made her giggle and intensified that hug sensation. She gave me a thumbs-down, so I went to try on the next item.
“It’s old family money. My great-grandfather actually started the LA Times.”
I popped my head over the door. “He did?”
She shrugged, a small smile on her face. “Yeah, but my father eventually sold it and reinvested most of it in other ventures. When he died, he left it all to me.”
I came out again with a pair of slacks and a dress shirt I actually really liked. Who knew Calvin Klein made more than underwear? “Okay, so if you have all that money, why do you still work as a columnist for the paper?”
Her gaze drifted up and down my body, checking the outfit, I knew, but it was more than that. Her gaze lingered in certain areas and those areas noticed and wanted to flirt back. Instead, I clenched my jaw and focused on what came out of her mouth.
“I’ve always wanted to be a reporter, but they work really odd, long hours, sometimes in dangerous conditions, and my father was not fond of the idea. Being an advice columnist was sort of a compromise. While his previous ownership may have opened the door for me, I’d like to think that my writing has kept that door open all these years.”
I went back inside the dressing room. “I have to admit something.”
“Uh-oh. More than the fact you’re my ex’s brother?”
I winced. “Well, it’s not as earth-shattering as that. I was just going to say I read your column for a while when you were chronicling the Mom-Com thing. It was freaking hilarious.”
I turned around to see her cheeks flushing.
“Thank you. That was a really fun one. Maybe I’ll come up with another article or series that’ll have you reading my column again.”
I waited until her gaze snagged mine. “I don’t think you have to worry about that.”
“How about some formal wear?” The attendant came back into the room, breaking the moment I thought we were having with a whole rack of suits for me to try on.
We spent another two hours trying on clothing that seemed way overpriced and unnecessary when I had a whole suitcase of rad T-shirts back at the house. I quickly found out that my opinion on the outfit didn’t actually matter, so I let Gabby and the sales lady make their choices. I tried dropping some Pretty Woman lines, but my audience didn’t find me funny.
By the time we left I was exhausted and happy to learn the rich and famous didn’t have to carry home their purchases. Apparently, they’d all be delivered to Gabby’s doorstep tomorrow. Funny enough, I always thought I’d enjoy being someone’s boy toy. I mean, I was a boy and who didn’t love toys? Not this guy! But the reality of it left much to be desired. Yet another dream shattered in a dressing room.
Gabby and I agreed on sushi takeout for dinner, so she called in the order while I drove her Mercedes. Not that I’d ever cheat on my vintage Land Cruiser, but this ride was similar to the fancy clothes. All smooth lines and supple leather, responsive engine and every high tech option you could imagine at your fingertips. It was nice, it was different, it was overkill.
We got home and inhaled our sushi without even speaking a word to each other as we sat around her kitchen table. When I finished, I sat back and laced my hands over my belly.
“Thank you for the clothes. I’m sorry it cost a mortgage payment or two.”
She laughed and sipped her wine. “You should see what women’s clothes cost. At least you don’t have hair coloring, nails, waxing, and spray tans to worry about.”
My whole body shuddered at the thought of waxing. I liked my chest hair, thank you very much. And spray tans in LA? That seemed ridiculous. Just go o
utside. Ta-da! Tan.
“Cameras start following us tomorrow.” I floated that statement out there, not wanting to put a damper on a good day, but we needed to be ready.
Gabby put her wine glass down and sat back in her chair, mirroring my relaxed pose. “We got this. Just act weird and the director will eat it up. I work from home most of the week, so you won’t be left alone with the cameras the whole time. If you ever don’t remember something about our relationship, just act like a pigheaded male who doesn’t remember anniversaries and my favorite flowers.”
Sometimes you just know when you’ve hit on a sensitive subject. That there are talons behind the innocent words. Many men would change the subject, but not Rhett “Danger” O’Donnell. I doubled down.
“Did Hew forget your anniversary or your favorite flower?” I kept my tone light, hoping she’d share.
She smirked and leaned forward for another swig of wine. “Hew forgot everything except for what benefited himself. He was more attentive at the beginning, but then we just fell into this partnership. He took out the trash. I made sure the refrigerator was full of food. He stayed out of the house so I could get my work done, and I went to fancy business dinners with him.”
From what little I knew of my half-brother, that sounded like him. “You co-existed.”
Gabby’s face lit up. “Exactly! There wasn’t some great passion or even liking really. We were just there. A body in the house so neither of us went through life alone. Pretty lame, I know, but I thought it worked.”
A yawn took over and I couldn’t smother it. “Sorry. I’m not yawning at your story. It’s just today has been quite the day and with almost no sleep last night…”
Gabby stood up and grabbed the takeout boxes. “I hear you. I could do with an early night myself.”
Unfolding from the chair, I grabbed her wine glass and went in the kitchen to wash it. When we were done cleaning up our dinner, the silence was back. Unspoken questions hung there between us, begging to be asked, but too scared to be said aloud. Did we go to bed together? Should I let her get in her pajamas and then go in the bedroom? Last night, we’d worked almost the whole night, just crashing for a few hours, fully clothed on top of the bed. Tonight would be the first night we actually shared a bed in the way a real couple would.
Gabby hooked a thumb over her shoulder, not meeting my eyes. “I’m going to just go get in my PJs and then, um, I might read in bed or something.” She spun around and hustled out of the kitchen before I even answered, which was just as well. I had some stupid joke about my habit of sleeping in the nude on the tip of my tongue, which in hindsight, could have been disastrous. A lot of times, what I thought was super hilarious turned out to be annoying or offensive for others. Her cutting me off was a gift for the longevity of our working relationship.
Thinking on my feet, I pulled my phone out of my back pocket and opened the timer app. The seconds, and then minutes, ticked by as I stood in the kitchen, caught between what I should do and what I wanted to do. I really, really wanted to go see her in those PJs, whatever they turned out to be. Hell, I’d bet even flannel would look sexy as hell with those curves of hers. However, I knew being a gentleman was called for here, which meant I was stuck in the kitchen for fifteen minutes on the dot before I dared make my way to the master bedroom.
Acting blasé about the whole sleeping in the same bed thing was my genius game plan. Pretending to still be on my phone, when I was really just watching the numbers turn over on the timer like a psycho, I walked into the bedroom and made a beeline for my side of the massive closet. Which meant I didn’t see a pile of clothes on the floor in my direct path. I stumbled and tried to take a large step forward to catch my balance, but my foot got caught up in the clothes, and down I went. At least I got my hands out in front of me to break my fall.
In the background I heard Gabby gasp and had I not had the snot scared out of me while hurtling toward the floor, I would have groaned over the fact she had a front row seat to my clumsiness. I landed unscathed due to playing beach volleyball on occasion and knowing how to take a dive. My phone, on the other hand, went flying, skidding across the carpet to lie face up next to where she sat on the bed. I looked up from my low perch to see her staring at my phone.
“Are you timing your falls?”
I popped back up to my feet and examined my elbow where I had a rug burn forming. When all else fails, pretend you didn’t hear the other person. Worked every time, in my experience. A pile of Gabby’s clothes—the very ones she’d been wearing today if I wasn’t mistaken—were in a neat little pile behind me, looking all innocent when they’d just taken down a grown man without lifting a finger. Not that her clothes had fingers. That would be weird. Even for an uber rich person.
“I know I just moved in and all, but I vote for getting a clothes hamper.”
She had the graciousness to blush. “I have one, actually. I just don’t use it often. Sorry about that.”
Now that the adrenaline was leaving my body, I was exhausted. No sense getting mad about how she kept her room cluttered when it wasn’t my room. “No harm, no foul. I’ll just grab my pajamas and hit the hay.”
She quickly looked down at her tablet and went back to whatever she’d been doing before I made my epic arrival. I grabbed my pajama pants out of the closet and went to the bathroom, shutting the door for privacy while I changed. I did all the normal things one does before bed, brushed teeth, went to the bathroom, and flexed a few times in the mirror to make sure I still had it.
When I came out, the lights were off and if the dark lump was what I thought it was, Gabby was already under the covers and fast asleep. I felt my way through the unfamiliar room with my hands out in front of me. I ended up kicking the bed with my toe and nearly firing off an expletive at full volume in the quiet space. As it was, I just whimpered and silently begged for the day to be over before I seriously maimed myself.
I finally found my side of the bed, peeling back the covers and climbing in, careful not to reach too far across the invisible line in the middle of the bed. The scent of Gabby, a little lavender and a hint of something sugary sweet, filled my nose as I turned my back to her and lay on my side. I could feel her next to me even though there was at least a foot of space between us in the huge bed. Her breaths came steady and I was soon syncing my own breathing to hers, lulled into sleep before my brain could worry about late night farting or morning wood or any of the other possibilities that could wreck the status quo.
9
Gabby
The weirdest dream had me in its clutches. I knew it, yet I couldn’t wake from it. All around me was deserted island, the swaying palm trees and crashing ocean a gorgeous backdrop. But I could sense I was alone, which had the pit of my stomach in knots. The dream fast-forwarded in the way only dreams can and I’d become one with the island, wearing my own handmade palm frond skirt. The breeze kicked up and I realized I was topless, like some National Geographic episode, island-style. But that wasn’t even the weirdest thing about this dream.
Held in my arms was a cute little baby, suckling on my breast, the feeling both foreign and ticklish. My heart lurched at the sight of him. Yes, him. Instinctively, I knew. The discovery mystified me as I’d never had a baby, nor had I ever dreamed I was pregnant. This was Lily-Marie’s territory with her third mini human on the way. Where did this dream baby come from and why was it attached to my nipple? And what the hell was I doing on this island?
I startled awake finally, my eyes flying open to see my bedroom ceiling in the soft morning light. I’d never been so relieved to see that boring white drywall before. A breath later I became aware of the baby still suckling my breast. I looked down in dawning horror to find Rhett lying diagonally in the bed, his face half on my stomach and half on my right breast, his mouth strategically placed. His eyes were closed, hair artfully rumpled from sleep.
Of course, I should have pushed him off me right away, but to be fair, this had never happened before a
nd I was a bit stunned. An almost stranger had never barnacled themselves to my thin cotton covered breast while sharing my bed. I could only imagine what dream Rhett was having. I discovered rather quickly he had a nice mouth and he knew how to use it.
My toes curled and my stomach clenched in the most delicious way. It had been a lonely year, okay? My trusty vibrator was life giving, but she didn’t provide nipple service. I’d forgotten what it felt like to have a man’s mouth worshipping the rounded peak.
And it felt gooooood.
So yeah, I gave myself a few blissful moments of guilty pleasure before the angel screaming in my ear made me reach down and nudge his shoulder.
“Uh?” Rhett’s eyes blinked open and his mouth quit its magic, disappointing the devil who’d been panting in my other ear. He looked at me and then down at where his head was lying.
I’d never seen someone jump out of bed so quickly, nearly going down again with his legs tangled in the sheets.
“Careful!” I sat up too, trying to keep control of the sheet and keep part of it to cover my breasts, both of whom had nipples standing at attention, hoping the suckling would continue.
Rhett stood up to his full height and I forgot all about the sheet, my nipples even piping down finally. Because the only thing my whole self cared about at that moment was drinking in the sight of a sleepy Rhett, without a shirt on, in a pair of lightweight gray sweatpants with the biggest hard-on I’d ever seen pressing against the front of the material.
“I’m so sorry. I didn’t—well, I mean, I was asleep and didn’t realize,” Rhett stumbled through an apology while he stood there running his hands through his hair, oblivious to the d-print that would be forever imprinted on my brain.
I swallowed, willing myself to focus on speech. “No problem. It’s fine. We should probably just get ready before the camera crew gets here.”
Rhett nodded eagerly. “Yes! Great idea. You get ready and I’ll make us some breakfast?”
