Breaking Even (The Sterling Shore Series #5)

by C. M. Owens

  He pulls his helmet off and walks around to my window that I reluctantly roll down. He drops down to where he can see in, and I force a smile.

  “Hey,” he says softly. “You just get into town?”

  “I need to go the drycleaners,” I tell him, keeping my lips sealed about the leggy brunette I just saw him with.

  “I’ll walk you,” he says while opening my door.

  Shit.

  “I can walk myself,” I grumble, but he ignores me.

  Just as we go to cross the street, his date comes riding by in her Mercedes, slowing down as she approaches. I really want back in my car.

  “See you at Tag’s party,” she says with a smile.

  He nods and puts his hand on the small of my back as she drives off, and he guides me across the street. I don’t speak. Nothing would come out very friendly right now.

  “That’s Hillary Barns,” he says, even though I didn’t ask.

  I don’t want to know anything about her.

  “She’s pretty,” I mumble, trying and failing to not sound bitter.

  “Pretty what?” he asks, rousing my curiosity and prompting me to look up just as he looks down. “Pretty annoying? Pretty vain? Pretty odious?”

  I want to laugh, but I’m too confused.

  “She seems like your type.” The words are out of my mouth before I realize it, and I start to apologize, but he shrugs and speaks before I can.

  “Not my type at all. I had to meet with her to finalize the plans for Tag’s party. I’ve had to meet with her three times now, and every time she tries to touch... things.” He shudders and I almost laugh. “It’s exhausting to constantly find polite ways to escape her grasp. I’ll be glad when this damn party is over. You coming?”

  Shit. Shit. Shit.

  She wasn’t his date? Double shit. I told Ash I’d go on a date.

  “Yeah. Ash was going to set me up with someone, but—”

  “That’s good. Probably George Carpenter. Nice guy.”

  He pauses in front of the drycleaners as I choke on my heart that has flown from my feet to my mouth and back down to the pit of my stomach. He wants me to go out on a date with someone else. And he’s not the least bit jealous.

  “Oh,” I say, unable to keep the disappointment out of my tone.

  He looks around and shoves his hands in his pockets. “I have to go, but I’ll see you at Tag’s party.”

  That’s two days away. And he wants me to go with a date. This day sucks.

  ***

  BRIN

  “I could show up for moral support,” Maggie says as I walk toward the back gate of Tag’s enormous home.

  It’s a pool party tonight. They have a heated pool that battles the cold—which is good, since there has been a chill at night. I chose the sexiest bikini I could find, to hell with it all.

  “I may call you if things get bad. Or if I get drunk,” I grumble, and she chuckles lightly.

  I hang up before putting my phone away, and I take a deep, calming breath while heading into the party. Brazenly, I only wore my bikini and a tiny, see-through sarong. Oh, and of course my flip-flops.

  When I walk through the gate, I cringe noticeably. Dresses? Every single girl here is wearing a damn dress—and there are a lot of girls. Really?

  I almost want to stomp my foot right now. I know she said pool party. And she meant it literally—I asked.

  “Damn,” Ethan drawls as he walks over to me, tilting his head as his eyes rake over my very, very exposed body. “This is going to be interesting,” he adds, looking around as though he’s searching for someone.

  I could die.

  He’s wearing his swimming trunks and no shirt, revealing the fact that he has almost as many tattoos as Rye. It seems that only the guys are dressed to swim. All the girls are dressed to kill.

  Ash comes up behind him, and her eyes widen in surprise when she sees me. “Wow. Love that bikini,” she says, eyeing the small red shards of my top that give an eyeful.

  Her eyes trail down to the see-through red sarong that stops mid-thigh, and comes up to my waist on the other side. The black bikini bottoms have red strings that tie the sides together, making it a little skimpier. But with everyone else all dressed up, I don’t look sexy; I look trashy.

  “You said pool party,” I hiss, and she bites back a grin.

  “It is a pool party. I don’t know the rules on swimming while pregnant. Rain doesn’t know how to swim. And the other girls don’t want to get their hair wet since it’s a little chilly. Sorry,” she says, sounding sincere.

  “You need to start sending out a dress code for your parties,” I growl.

  Ethan laughs while walking away, and I huff all the way to the bar, putting my purse on top. I can’t help but scan the place for Rye, but I don’t see him.

  “Where’s my illusive date?” I ask mildly when Ash walks up and takes a virgin daiquiri from the bartender.

  “He’s here somewhere. He was just out here.” Her eyes scan the party, but she smiles over my shoulder just as two familiar arms wrap around my waist. “Ah. There he is.”

  My heart does a few flips as I turn around in the large, toned arms to see Rye smiling down at me. He looks over my bikini, and I try to ignore the sexy tattoos all over his bare skin. His low trunks hang on his hips, exposing that ripple of muscles that form that sexy V.

  “You’re my date?” I ask hopefully, looking back up to meet his golden brown eyes.

  His smile melts all the barriers around my heart as he winks at me. “You didn’t really think I’d let you come to be with someone else, did you?”

  Relief pumps through my veins, and I slide my hand up his chest as he grips my bare sides and fully appraises my attire.

  “Fucking perfect,” he says with a grin that only grows. “I knew you’d show up dressed properly, and I’ve been looking forward to the big reveal.”

  I grin bashfully while leaning into him, and he bends to kiss my forehead. “So you schemed to get a date?” I ask softly, trying not to melt.

  His hair gets ruffled by the fingertips of the wind, and he bends low to press a sweet kiss to my lips.

  “I did. And I have something to show you when we leave here. But for now, let’s just enjoy a date.”

  I really don’t want to read too much into his words, but for tonight, there’s nothing I’d rather do than be his date. To hell with the consequences. I’m ready to take what I can get when I can get it at this point, because I miss him too damn much.

  His arm drops to be around my shoulders, and I can’t wipe away my grin. He worked hard for this date, and it makes it feel as though maybe there really is hope for us. I almost feel like I can breathe again, and for the first time since we ended things, I don’t feel like crying. Which is such a relief.

  “Let’s swim,” he says, even though no one else is in the water.

  “I’ll look like an even bigger idiot than I already do. No other girl is swimming.”

  He smiles as he brings me closer to the pool, and his arm goes around my waist. “You’re the only girl who doesn’t look like an idiot. You came dressed for a pool party.”

  I really love him.

  “I still don’t know if—”

  Before I can finish that sentence, I’m being hurled into the pool by his strong hands, and a squeal falls through my lips before I suck in chlorine-tainted water.

  ***

  RYE

  I’m laughing when she surfaces, and her beautiful, mean little scowl turns into that smile that’s only meant for me—the smile that changed everything.

  I dive in, and swim under the water to her barely covered body. She came to torture me, and I know it. Even though she thought she was meeting someone else, I know this bikini was intended for me. And every intention I originally had for this evening seems to want to be delayed.

  I don’t want to waste tonight with the heavy shit. I want to enjoy this—her smile, her eyes that are glued to mine, and her legs that are wrapp
ing around me.

  “So is this a first date?” she asks.

  She wants to know what’s going on, but she’s still not pushing me. Underneath her smile is uncertainty. She deserves to push me all she wants.

  “I think this is more like our eighteenth date or something,” I say teasingly, and she looks down with her shy grin that I rarely see. I like that smile, too.

  Her arms stay around my neck as she keeps her body flush against mine. It feels perfect and right—so damn right.

  My lips brush hers just barely, but she refuses to let that be all she gets. And I can’t help but smile when she takes control and kisses me hard, pushing her sweet tongue into my mouth and giving me exactly what I’ve dreamt about for so long.

  I kiss her back, but when her sexy little sounds kick in, I have to stop. I’m going to damn burst in the pool if I don’t.

  I break off the kiss to push my forehead to hers, and she loosely hangs on to me as I walk her around the pool. We can both feel the eyes on us, but I don’t care. Right now, it’s just the two of us because nothing and no one else exists.

  “Where did you want to go after this?” she asks when I start walking out of the pool.

  She shivers against the wind, and I walk over to the table where I have two oversized beach towels. But I carry her all the way over there, not really giving a damn if anyone thinks it’s ridiculous.

  When I sit down, she’s still in my lap, and I wrap a towel around her body before hugging her to me. To create some heat through friction, I rub her back with my hands, sliding them against the towel.

  “We can go now if you want to. I know you pretty much just got here, but—”

  “Let’s go,” she says while grinning.

  Her hair is wet, her face is glowing, and her sweet body is all mine for the taking. I wish I could just take her home right now.

  “Let’s go,” I echo, trying not to sound as nervous as I am.

  Ash glares at us when she overhears, considering the party is just starting, and a lot of planning went into the Luau portion of it. But then she shrugs instead of commenting. I suppose she understands.

  After we bid everyone an early goodnight, Brin grabs her purse and we head to my Range Rover. She shivers a little, and I open the door for her to climb in.

  As soon as I reach the driver’s seat, I’m pulling a shirt over my head. It’s dark, so this is probably going to creep her out, but it needs to be done.

  “Where are we going?” she asks excitedly.

  I have a feeling that excitement will be gone soon. Very soon.

  “You’ll never guess,” I say while reaching over and taking her hand as I pull out of the driveway and head down the street.

  When she squeezes my hand, I take an easy breath. There’s that peace. She’s the reason it’s there.

  ***

  BRIN

  When we pull up to the dark, creepy cemetery, I look at him like he’s crazy. This is not a good prank.

  But the tension radiating from his body makes me realize this isn’t a joke. What’s going on?

  “Rye?” I prompt, reaching back over for his hand. “What’s this?”

  He looks over at me, and his lips thin. Finally, he takes a breath and pulls me toward him. I climb over the center piece dividing us, and my towel-wrapped body comes to rest sideways in his lap.

  I take both sides of his face in my hands, and press a soft kiss to his lips, trying to do whatever I can to rid him of the nervousness he has. It has me worried.

  “This,” he says against my lips, “is me giving you the answers you’ve wanted. If you don’t want to go in there right now, I understand. We can wait.”

  I already get creeped out at night, but I’m not about to refuse him. This is apparently some big revelation, and I’m not going to risk him losing his nerve.

  I was hoping we’d be going to a candlelit house with rose petals everywhere. And then I thought he might say he wanted to be in a relationship. I didn’t have unrealistic expectations of him admitting he loves me. However, I was willing to accept whatever he was going to offer, because he’s worth it.

  But a cemetery? I didn’t expect this at all.

  “Do you have a flashlight?” I ask hopefully.

  “I have two of them.”

  He reaches into the back seat and pulls out the first one to hand to me. Then he grabs a jacket and hands it to me. It wasn’t all that cold until I got wet. Now the night wind isn’t nice.

  I take the jacket happily, and he grabs another flashlight. When he opens his door, he helps me down first, and I wait for him to get out before I glue myself to his side.

  Every time there’s a sound, I fight hard not to squeal. This is by far the creepiest thing I’ve ever done, and I have no idea why we’re here.

  “I didn’t think this through,” he says nervously, looking down to the towel still attached to my waist and his jacket that is trying to swallow me whole. “We can do this tomorrow.”

  This isn’t exactly cemetery-after-dark attire, but I have a feeling this has something to do with his mother. There’s no other reason we would be here. He’s never said that she was dead, but I assumed she was either dead or out of the picture. Tria finally explained that she died a long time ago, but she didn’t elaborate because I shut her down. Given our destination, I could have easily assumed it’s the former of the two even without knowing.

  Tria offered to tell me everything she knew about him, but I refused. I was hurting at the time, and there wasn’t anything that I wanted to know from anyone else. I just wanted Rye to tell me. Now... Maybe I should have let her tell me what she knew.

  I have a feeling he’ll never do whatever he wants to if we leave now. So, putting aside my fear of dark cemeteries, I take his hand and point the beam of my flashlight toward the gate.

  “I’m ready when you are,” I say, not looking at him.

  He starts walking, keeping my hand in his, but then he stops abruptly and turns before he crushes his lips to mine, soaking me in as though he’s seeking courage. I think.

  I don’t know what he needs, but I try to give him whatever it is.

  “Come on,” he murmurs against my lips, his body still tense as he rethreads our fingers together and leads the way.

  Dark, scary, and quiet enough to make every unseen rustle of motion sound ominous—it’s like a scene from every horror movie ever made. But I trek on, following close to him as he navigates the way.

  He only gets tenser the deeper we go, and I keep waiting on a wolf to howl at the moon right about now. Fortunately, no such thing happens—mostly because wolves aren’t native to this area.

  When he stops, I stop, too, and he pulls me beside him as he shines his light on a tombstone.

  Marie Jenna Clanton

  Loving Mother and Wife...

  He’s brought me to his mother’s grave. But... why?

  “I don’t know why I felt like I had to explain this here, but for some reason... it just seemed easier to do it this way.” He kneels and moves aside the dried flowers that rest on her grave. For some odd reason, there’s a coffee cup next to the tombstone.

  “They’ve apparently not cleaned up yet,” he mutters to himself, but I don’t question him.

  “This is my mother,” he finally says after a suffocating amount of silence.

  What am I supposed to say? I don’t want to ask what happened. She died several years ago, according to the date on the tombstone and Tria, so condolences would seem contrived. I don’t know what to do. Nothing seems sufficient, so I just stand quietly and wait.

  “It’s no secret that she died. But there are only a few people in Sterling Shore that know all the details, and not just parts of them. Six to be exact. My old therapist, my father’s therapist, my father, Wren, Ethan, and me. Now you’ll be the seventh.”

  He snorts derisively before adding, “Usually the number seven is considered lucky. Sorry I’m about to ruin that for you. And honestly, you’re the only one who
is going to know the entire story besides me—all that I can manage to divulge.”

  He goes quiet again, as though this is actually painful for him to do. I start to tell him we can do this some other time, but he breaks the silence again before I can.

  “She died when I was almost eleven. She was sick—very sick. Since no one knew she was sick until after she died, she was never diagnosed properly. Theories have spawned over the years, but it’s nothing more than conjecture based on her symptoms. You’d be surprised at how many mental illnesses carry different aspects of her symptoms. Everything from severe depression to bipolar disorder to schizophrenia have been mentioned. But no one can say definitively what she suffered from.”

  Now I really don’t know what to say. None of this is making sense, even though I appreciate him opening up to me.

  “I’m sorry,” I say lamely, leaning over to kiss his arm.

  “I was the one who found her,” he says suddenly, ignoring my pathetic attempt to comfort him as his body almost trembles. “She went to the bathroom, climbed into the tub, and she used a knife from the kitchen to open her veins.”

  Oh dear God. My heart, head, and stomach all constrict and roil in unison. He found his mother dead when he was a kid?

  “Rye, I—”

  “I remember falling,” he says, interrupting me again, saying the words in a rush like he’s trying to get it out while he can. So I hold back anything I want to say to comfort him as he continues.

  “I slipped on her blood, and I hit my head on the edge of the tub. It knocked me out, and when I woke up, I was covered in her blood that had kept flowing out on top of me. I was scared, and we were home alone. She always sent them away. Always. Every time he was gone, she’d send the staff away. So I was alone and didn’t know what to do. I just remember her being so cold and pale. Her skin was like ice. And no one heard my screams for help because we were alone.”

  I’m really trying to be strong so that he doesn’t feel the need to comfort me when I should be comforting him, so I hold back the sob that rests on the tip of my tongue. But my tears burn my cheeks as they roll out, refusing to stay dormant.

  “How long were you left with her?” I ask in a hoarse whisper that betrays my attempt to sound strong.