by Mary Calmes
“You’re being—”
“Your father told me and so did Coach—”
“Look at me.”
But I couldn’t.
“Hagen,” he demanded. My name came out as an order.
I turned my head and my gaze flicked to his.
“I’m not going without you, and you will have a boutonniere just like mine, and I will pick you up and take you home, and we will dance, and if you don’t want to say that’s a date—I have no idea what the hell else it could be.”
“Everyone is trying to look out for you—me included—so you just have to go along.”
“Which means what?”
“Which means that we don’t go together.”
“Fuck no,” he said implacably. “You’re going with me, and that’s all there is to it.”
“It’s a mistake.”
He rolled over on top of me, and I shifted under him, spreading my legs and slipping them over his thighs, wanting him closer. “You’re going with me, and we’re taking a picture, and that’s all there is to it. Do you understand me?”
I did, and he picked me up and pinned the same flower he wore to my tuxedo and put me in his Jeep Wrangler and kissed me long and slow and deep until I was squirming in my seat. We danced all night except when he was crowned prom king and had the spotlight dance with Joanna Redding—now Joanna Moran—and that was the photo that went into the yearbook. That was the one all the reporters saw. But it didn’t mean that what Mitch wanted hadn’t happened because the exact opposite was true.
He’d wanted me at the prom with him. I was there. He’d wanted me in the stands at his games, by his side in school and out, and in his bed as often as possible. I was there as well. He demanded, I complied—not because he simply bowled me over, but because I loved him. So much, so completely, and I’d known beyond a shadow of a doubt that he loved me back.
I made him the center of my universe… until he wasn’t. Until he left.
Now, the guy he thought I was wasn’t me anymore, and I needed him to realize that. “I’ve changed,” I assured him, sounding sad even to myself.
“No, you haven’t,” he argued arrogantly.
“You have no idea.”
“Sure I do.”
I shrugged. “Believe what you want.”
“Why’re you fighting with me when I know all you want is to give me another chance?”
“That’s not… true.”
“Uh-huh.”
“Ash and me, we’re changing things.”
“And he’s going to what, commute?”
“Yes.”
“For how long? Forever?”
“I don’t—”
“And when he’s not working? Then what?”
“When he’s not working, we do just fine.”
His dark blond eyebrows rose. “No doubt,” he began before lowering his voice to a strained whisper. “Your ass is so hot, I’m sure he doesn’t even think about anything but fucking you.”
I saw red.
He’d leered when he said it, and that too was from long ago when we used to be a thing. I’d found it sexy at sixteen, seventeen. It was gross at thirty-four.
“My ass isn’t your concern anymore,” I snarled. “And besides, his is mine, not the other way around,” I finished, bumping past him.
I got two steps away before he grabbed my shoulder and spun me around to face him. “The hell are you talking about?”
I leaned in close, pointing at him. “Maybe you don’t know me as well as you think. Things’ve changed.”
His gaze stayed fastened on mine. He didn’t even blink. “The hell you say. I know you, and I know that being under me was one of your favorite things in the world. You loved to be taken and held down, and no one but you has ever trusted me to do whatever I wanted to them because they knew me inside and out.”
He said it without a trace of uncertainty, and the words struck home and resonated within me.
It was true. Every word. And my chest hurt because before the war, it was about simple trust, and after, it was about actual pulse-pounding fear. He’d been the one and only man I’d ever bottomed for.
Yanking my arm free, I charged back toward the kids, but he caught me again, slipping around in front of me, barring my path.
“He’s not for you if you don’t trust him with what you need in bed.”
“You don’t know what I need in bed anymore.”
He stepped forward, close, in my face. “I plan to, and then you’re going to have to be honest and ’fess up to whatever it was that made you change.”
I shook my head.
“It’s not love if you can’t be honest with him.”
“It’s not love, you idiot!” I rasped under my breath.
His hands slipped around my neck, fingers entwining in my hair as he held me there, still, gentle but firm, utterly under his control, the blatant display of ownership not lost on me. “Then I’m really not worried about this guy, because you loved me once, so I know you can do it again.”
“Like that mattered to you one bit.”
Quick bark of laughter, brittle and resolute. “I knew this was coming, so g’head, give it to me with both barrels.”
I took a step back. “It’s not necessary. Why do I want to tear you down, to air past grievances?” I asked under my breath. “You made your choice and it was a good one, as you pointed out, because you have your boys. I’m okay to be friends, but that’s it, no more. Not ever.”
It took a moment, and then he said, “Okay.”
He said it matter-of-fact, tone flat, agreeing too quickly, and even though I knew he was humoring me, still, I calmed. “Okay,” I echoed, exhaling, stepping around him only to have him catch my wrist and hold tight.
“It’s not okay, you idiot,” he said, flashing me the sly, sexy smile of his that had made it onto all the magazine covers. “I’m coming for what I want, and you know you always give in.”
“Not anymore.”
“We’ll see,” he said, his voice a silky rumble that rolled right through me.
I was furious and excited, ready to punch him and kiss him. There was no denying I wanted him, but I also needed to run, to get away from him before my defenses came down. It was stupid to spend even a minute more with him and yet…. I’d volunteered to take care of his kids. It could be argued that I was a masochist and that perhaps I didn’t want to get away from the man at all.
“Hey,” he said into my ear, voice breathy and hot, closer than I thought he was. “I will take good care of it, all right? I’m never gonna leave you again.”
“It?” I asked, turning to look at him.
“Your heart. I will treasure it this time, I promise. I was young before, I’m a man now.”
“Mitch—”
“Daddy, look!” Ryder announced happily. “Ash is here too!”
We both turned and Ash was there, basket in one hand, disarming smile on his face as he gazed at me and my ex.
“I heard that you and the boys could go for some mac n’ cheese,” he said, walking over to Mitch, hand extended. “I’m Ashford Lennox.”
“Mitchell Thayer,” he said, smiling back, taking Ash’s hand firmly in his. “Thank you so much for being there for my kids earlier today.”
He meant it, the sincerity was pouring off him, in the way he clutched Ash’s hand to how he held his gaze. However, he felt about me and Ash had nothing to do with what Ash had been to Ryder in his time of need.
“It was my pleasure,” he said sincerely, really looking at Mitch. “And may I say it’s a thrill to meet you in person. That catch you made in the 2010 Wild Card game against the Eagles—one-handed and then planting both feet before falling out of bounds—” He exhaled sharply. “It was a beauty.”
Mitch smiled, but it was indulgent, for Ash’s benefit, not at all like the one I’d gotten earlier, all languorous heat and sex. “Thank you.”
“I was sorry to hear that you had to retire.”
Mitch shrugged. “What can I tell you, you take a hit like I did three years later, you’re done. Sometimes it’s just that fast. What looks small, insignificant, is life-altering.”
Ash nodded, put his hand on the small of my back. “Well, you certainly did well for yourself after football. My designer in Los Angeles used a lot of your pieces for my home there.”
“That’s nice to hear,” Mitch replied, voice stilted, taking a step closer to me. “How many homes do you have, if I may ask?”
“Why? You plan to sell me more furniture?” Ash teased without a hint of humor in his voice or eyes.
“Not me,” Mitch replied, chuckling, both men being so fake that I was amazed. But one was a semicloseted actor, the other had been a sports figure before coming out—they were both used to pretending. “And besides, it sounds like I’d have to hit up your designer, not you.”
“That’s very true.”
“So, one house? Three?” Mitch pushed for my benefit, his eyes flicking to my face and then off.
“Four, actually,” Ash answered coolly, hand sliding around my hip, easing me a bit closer to him. “One here, one in Malibu, one in Manhattan, and one in Vail.”
“Oh, I used to love skiing, but ever since I tore my ACL, it’s never been the same.”
“You should try a board, I like that better.”
Mitch nodded. “I don’t know that that would be any better, but it’s a thought.”
They fell quiet, eyeing each other, and I was about to announce that we had to be going when Ryder stepped in front of me, his face lifted to mine expectantly.
“Yes?” I prodded, grinning at him. I couldn’t help it, he was so cute.
“Hungry,” he announced.
“Well, I’m sure your dad will—”
“You said you’d get pizza with us.”
“I did not,” I argued.
He bit his bottom lip. “Well, you said you’d make mac n’ cheese.”
“I didn’t say that either, but I promise I’ll make some for you tomorrow night.”
“Tomorrow?” Ash asked sharply.
I looked up at him, away from the kid who was trying to guilt me into making him food. “Yeah, I’m gonna watch the kids while Mitch goes outta town.”
“Oh?”
I glanced at him. “Yeah. Why?”
“No, I just— Whose idea was that?”
“Mine,” I informed him, moving away from both him and Mitch to walk over to Brandon, Ryder following right on my heels. “I should actually grab the stuff for—”
“Hold on,” Ash said at the same time his phone rang.
I waited and he looked at me.
“Answer it,” I insisted, gesturing at him. “It could be important.”
He seemed torn, but when he pulled it from his back pocket, he looked startled before he answered. “Amy?”
I turned away to give him his privacy. “You guys like bacon in your mac?”
Brandon gasped and it was really cute. “You can put bacon in mac n’ cheese?”
I glanced at Mitch. “Really?”
He was smiling, huge. “They’ve had the lobster kind.”
I made a face and so did Ryder.
Mitch’s laugh, a deep, sexy, rumble, did flippy things to my stomach. “Okay, okay. I’m sorry, but no, your mother was the only one I ever knew who put bacon in hers.”
I shot him a look. “That’s just sad, man. I bet you make the bread crumbs mandatory, too, don’t you.”
“Aren’t they?”
“Gross,” I groaned, turning down the aisle. “Come on, men, let’s go.”
“You’re not gonna wait for Ash?” Mitch asked innocently, falling into step beside me as I walked between his two boys, one of my hands on Brandon’s shoulder, the other in Ryder’s.
“He’ll catch up when he’s done talking.”
Grabbing a basket from the front, I gave it to Brandon and we collected the ingredients I needed for my mother’s world-famous bacon mac n’ cheese.
“The secret is the gouda,” I explained to Ryder, who nodded enthusiastically.
I realized as I gathered things that taking it all over to Ash’s and then bringing it back to my house was a waste.
“Can you do me a favor and take this stuff home with you and then bring it with you in the morning?”
“Or,” Mitch said, taking the basket from Brandon because it was getting heavy, “me and the boys could drive you home now and you could make it so I could have it too. You want me to grab some steaks to go with it?”
“No, I—”
“Hage!”
Turning, I found Ash jogging up to me, a pained expression on his face.
“What’s wrong?”
He winced. “They’re replacing Michael Tarr in the new Jack Ryan movie, and they want me to read for it.”
“Holy shit,” I said excitedly, grabbing his hand and squeezing tight. “That’s awesome!”
His sigh and smile at the same time told me he was pleased. “Yeah?”
“Isn’t it?” I teased.
“Yeah, okay, it’s pretty great,” he agreed, smiling.
“Hell yeah, it is,” I assured him, patting his shoulder. “And that’s the one you read for a while back and didn’t get.”
“Yeah, but the director said he liked me.”
“And guess who got who he wanted after all.”
He shrugged. “It’s not a done deal.”
I gestured at him. “I think it is.”
“You’re very good for my ego.”
I lunged and hugged him, really tight, turned my head and kissed the side of his neck before pulling back. “Where ya going to read?”
“Vancouver.”
I nodded. “Okay. Good luck, and gimme a call and tell me how it goes.”
Ash glanced at Mitch and then took gentle hold of my bicep and eased me a few feet away before rounding on me. “I want you to come with me.”
“What?”
“You heard me, just… go home and pack a bag and let’s go.”
“How would that work?” I asked, putting a hand on his cheek, admiring his face before I let it fall away. “You don’t want everyone to see me and ask questions, right?”
He shoved his hands down into his pockets. “I’m thinking I wouldn’t mind that so much.”
I nodded. “Yeah, but why do that now when you’re up for this part, and when you get it, you won’t be able to see me for months anyway.”
His brows furrowed, thinking.
“I mean, you’re gonna have to start right away, so any free time you had is done.”
“If I get it.”
I grinned at him. “You’ll get it.”
He cleared his throat. “Do you hear me when I talk?”
“Why, yes, Ashford, I do.”
He growled low. “Just—fuck—I want to see you, you understand? I’m… everything I’m doing, it’s not really great for me if I don’t have someone to share it with.”
“Okay, well, when you get it, I’ll come see you. How’d that be?”
He was staring at me, searching my face.
“Ash?”
“This is—leaving you here with Mitch Thayer is not smart, but aside from whacking you over the side of the head and kidnapping you—I think I’m out of options.”
“What’re you talking about?”
He put a hand on my chest. “He knows you really well, and just watching him look at you is making me murderous.”
“You’ve got it all wrong.”
“No. I’ve got it right and those two great kids aren’t helping.”
“You’re—”
“Tell me he didn’t say he wanted you back.”
I shrugged. “He did. So?”
“So, I can tell just from looking at him that he wants what I got.”
I squinted at him.
“Oh, God what?”
“What you got? Really? How does us taking a chance—not closing the door on a maybe, but for now
just hanging out—equate to me being something you have?”
“Hagen—”
“We agreed to hang out when you’re in town,” I reiterated. “This is an easy casual thing and we’re both having fun. So don’t worry one bit, I’ll be here when you get back.”
“But—”
“Just worry about getting the part. That’s the only thing that matters.”
“I—”
“And have fun too.”
“I’m going to work, asshole, not fuck around.”
“Whatever happens, happens. That’s the beauty of not being in a committed relationship.”
“You’re driving me nuts.”
I took a breath and put a hand on his shoulder before pinning him with my gaze. “I don’t mean to. I’m not trying to be any sort of distraction, I swear to God.”
“Hagen—”
“All I want is for you to be pumped up so you kill it in your audition.”
“You’re not listening to me.”
“I am, and you need to focus on what’s important,” I said honestly because I knew, more than anything, that he wanted to be a movie star. The worst thing I could think of was for him to be distracted, in any way, by me.
“But I want you here when I get back.”
I grinned. “Where else would I be?”
“I mean, I want you the way you are now, free of entanglements, not in a relationship with somebody else.”
“Don’t worry about—”
“I worry!” he rasped, jaw clenched. “So just do me a favor, all right? Don’t sleep with Mitch Thayer until you talk to me.”
I scoffed.
“No, really. Just give me that. Don’t fall under the spell of ‘first love’ bullshit and thinking you want to help raise those two cute kids until you give me a chance to make my case.”
“First love” bullshit was right. He had no idea how high and thick and fortified the wall around my heart was, far too impenetrable for a man I knew would hurt me if I let him too close. Naïve I had been, but that was a long time ago. I wasn’t a boy anymore, and I knew now what the consequences of falling for empty words and promises were.
“You bet.”
“And pick up the phone when I call you.”
“Yessir.” I grinned.
“If you change your mind about coming, I can send—”
“Knock ’em dead,” I said cheerfully, truly excited for him.
