Queen Bee: A Greenbridge Academy Romance

by Knox, Abby

  I try to listen as he talks about some guy I have no clue about, but wind up just staring at his eyes, praying he doesn’t quiz me on any of this geekery later.

  3

  Crosby

  She’s already bored with me.

  Ridley’s shockingly beautiful eyes are already glazing over and I’ve just barely made a mention of my idol since childhood. I know in my head that I don’t have chance with this girl. But really, how could I even consider flirting with someone who doesn’t freak out at the mention of Army of Darkness?

  Still, I like looking at her. But I should figure out a way to pull her back from the edge of Mean Girl boredom for the sake of familial harmony.

  Turns out, I don’t have to.

  The two of us spring two steps apart from one another at the sound of another woman’s voice echoing down the hall, accompanied by the sound of heels on the marble floor and the indulgent chuckling of my father.

  “Oh!” chirps an older, more severe version of the young lady I’ve been speaking to. “You must be Crosby! I see you’ve met my daughter Ridley!”

  Oh shit. This is the spoiled daughter I’ve dreaded meeting? I have to scramble my thoughts and my feelings. Something in her haughty expression is a flat-out lie, and I see something deeper, something vulnerable about her.

  Bianca Rushmore turns to my father and hugs his arm like a teenage girl would hug her boyfriend. If I weren’t so skeptical of this entire relationship, I might think they look cute together. But then I realize no, it’s just because I kind of want someone to snuggle up to me like that.

  Someone like Ridley.

  My father introduces himself to Ridley, and he does that embarrassing thing he always does whenever he meets a new acquaintance. Presses his palms flat together and does the yogi bow.

  “Namaste,” says my father.

  My eyes go from my father to Ridley and I have to bite back a chortle when I see Ridley’s lip curl up. “Mother, I think your boyfriend thinks we’re going to do a yoga class right here in the hallway.”

  Bianca laughs it off, but I can tell she’s seething at her daughter’s sarcasm.

  “Well, maybe if you learned how to stretch properly through yoga you wouldn't have had that injury last year that cost your school the state swim title.”

  I can tell Bianca is a force to be reckoned with, and I’m not prepared. Something inside me wants to protect Ridley, stand up to her mother for her. I’m not ready for a moment like this.

  I spend all day indoors, writing gaming code and avoiding human contact, so even meeting a normal person is awkward for me. I knew I was going to be meeting at least one or more Rushmores—like the Kennedy clan of our town—so I should have come more prepared. But nothing prepared me for meeting Ridley. I don’t know anything about what swim title her mother is talking about. And I don’t care.

  “Mrs. Rushmore, or, is it Ms. Rushmore? I…, um. Thank you for inviting me and my father into your beautiful home. I’m very much looking forward to celebrating the holidays with you and your charming daughter.”

  Ridley, Bianca, and my father all look at me like I’m certifiable. Well, what did I expect? I just started babbling before I knew what to say.

  “Neil,” Bianca says, “your son is very formal. Please tell him to relax; this isn’t the White House.”

  Could have fooled me.

  This gigantic house is decked out from ceiling to floors with enough posh decorations to make a clod like me very nervous, yet none of this grandeur can compare to the beauty that is Ridley Rushmore.

  Bianca claps her hands together noisily to distract us all from this awkward moment that I created. “So, tomorrow at noon is the big photo shoot by the tree. Don’t forget to wear something blue.”

  I look at her and say, “But isn’t Christmas usually red and green?”

  In my peripheral vision, Ridley is shaking her head, as if I should abort this line of questioning immediately.

  Bianca smiles indulgently at me. “This year’s theme is ice blue and metallics. Did you get the memo?”

  In fact, I did get that memo on vellum paper with Rushmore Enterprises letterhead (not affiliated with Rushmore Hospitality Group, as footnoted on the bottom, as if I know what any of that is or give two shits about it.)

  “Oh,” I say. “I thought that was more of a guideline than actual instructions.”

  My dad pipes up. “Ridley, would you be so kind as to show Crosby the grounds of your beautiful home? He needs a break from all the”—Dad gestures with his thumbs like he’s playing a video game but ends up looking like a lunatic—“beep-boops.” His attempt to mimic video game sound effects adds to the overall effect.

  Ridley stares at him vacantly, then looks to her mother. “So, Mother,” she says. “You said you fell in love with Neil the moment he told you he doesn’t own a TV?”

  Bianca beams. I know her daughter is making fun of her but honestly the older woman looks happy. “Yes, Neil was leading us in a mind-blowing meditation that convinced me to get rid of all the TVs and computers in the house. He’s quite the adorable old-fashioned guy. Aren’t you, sweetie?”

  Ridley raises an eyebrow. “That sounds about right. Makes sense, with you being a mommy blogger on the computer, and a person who was on some Real Housewives show that one season. On the television.”

  Bianca shoots her daughter a well-practiced look that is sweet and syrupy with more than a hint of swift admonishment behind it. “I’ve rebranded myself to social media influencer, dear. Remember the big reveal party last year? Oh, that’s right. You and your little Greenbridge pals were getting high around the pool, so you probably blacked out the entire thing, didn’t you?”

  Ridley shakes her head. “Not even remotely how weed works, Mother, but OK.”

  I take this as my cue to step in.

  “Dad, Bianca, I would love for Ridley to show me around the grounds. In fact, I think we should start right now.” Before I think twice, I place my hand on Ridley’s shoulder and say, “Show me the way to the library?”

  She squints and says, “Hmm, I don’t think so. Come on, I’ll introduce you to Sassy.”

  I don’t know who Sassy is, but I’m in. My feet follow her into the kitchen because I will follow this woman anywhere, and not just because of her gorgeous ass that wiggles at me when she walks. It’s also because I just have this overwhelming urge to be near her.

  Once we reach the kitchen, Ridley opens a can of tuna, while I watch, curious. Then she heads straight for the French doors at the back and we step outside. I’m concerned because she doesn’t have on a coat, only a wrap, and it’s freezing outside.

  “Sassy!” she calls out, making kissy noises in the air. At the far end of the wide stone patio is what looks like a dog house with a heat lamp inside. But what comes out of it is not a dog, but an orange cat who looks like she’s about to give birth.

  As Ridley gives her the treat, the cat makes appreciative noises and twirls her tail around Ridley’s leg.

  What I would give to be that cat’s tail right now.

  “Nice tabby,” I say.

  Ridley smiles but keeps her eyes on the orange cat, petting its head. “It’s not really mine. I found her by the side of the road and I took her in. Mother won’t allow animals inside, so I ordered a dog house to keep her warm outside. I would just bring Sassy into my room—not like my mom ever sets foot in there—but that woman can suss out an unwanted odor from miles away. But the vet assured me when I took her to get checked out that she would be fine as long as I gave her a warm place to sleep and have her babies.”

  This is the end for me, and I’ve barely even started. Looking at Ridley is like having your breath stolen away by seeing the Mona Lisa in person for the first time, combined with getting punched in the gut.

  “You’re amazing.” The words spill out before I can stop them. She rights herself and swirls to look at me, aghast at what I’ve just said.

  “Am I?” she says.

  �
�Y-… yes,” I say, my mind debating between retreating under the fierceness of her gaze and grabbing her and kissing her right there.

  With a small mercy, she plays it off like it’s no big deal. “I just love strays, I guess. I think I’m one of those people who like animals better than people.”

  I shrug and give her a million-watt smile and take a step closer. “I don’t know. You’re a pretty charming tour guide so far.”

  She squints at me haughtily but can’t keep her eyes from landing on my mouth. She licks her lips and I feel my cock twitch inside my cargos.

  “You want to kiss me, don’t you?” she says.

  “How old are you?”

  “Nineteen. Why? How old are you?”

  “Twenty-four.”

  “Are you going to kiss me or not?”

  “Yes. Yes, I am.” Geez. Five minutes into the tour and she’s already breaking me down.

  “Well, get on with it, Crosby. You’re hot and I’m freezing.”

  I don’t question anything for another second. I just go for it. The good things in my life have happened to me when I take chances that seem to appear out of nowhere. I’m not about to let this chance get away from me.

  She’s freezing when I wrap my arms around her, closing in on her. First I warm her ears, cheeks and nose with my breath. I expect her to laugh, but she doesn’t. When our lips meet, the kiss has the warming effect of piping hot cocoa, with melted marshmallow sweetness on her lips.

  She shivers in my arms. Abruptly, I pull her closer against me and she emits a small sigh. The sound of it, just knowing I’m capable of provoking a nonverbal noise from her, makes my chest expand.

  I back her into the warmth of the kitchen and shut the door behind us. Sassy follows us inside and I don’t care.

  Ridley’s soft, silky lips tasting me back provokes me to tease her with my tongue. With an excited breath, she opens to me.

  Tasting her mouth heightens all my senses. My skin absorbs the softness of her cashmere wrap. The sounds of our kisses and sighs make my mouth demand more. Her soft feminine scent spikes my arousal.

  When we break the kiss, she whispers, “I wasn’t expecting today to go like this.”

  I suck my lips into my mouth, savoring the taste of her on them. “If I had known such a woman would be assigned the job of keeping me company over her winter break, I would have packed more than just nerd tee-shirts in my suitcase. I would have dressed up a bit more.”

  She smiles at me, but there’s something beautiful and sad about it. I don’t have time to ask about it because her mouth is on me again, this time with more urgency. Something I said sparked something appreciative inside her on a deeper level, but I can’t imagine why. Surely she is worshipped everywhere she goes.

  Her hands rest on my chest and travel up to my neck to stroke my hair. Every new sensation compels me to commit her to memory.

  A pinging sound from her dress pocket brings her back to earth and she pulls her mouth away from mine. My lips miss her right away.

  “That’s my friend Hadley texting me,” she says, out of breath.

  My arms remain locked around her, my hands palming her back. “I’m not done. I haven’t tasted that neck yet.”

  Ridley paints on a look of sternness, but I don’t miss the truth. She can’t hide the flush of excitement as she pushes away from me.

  “Thirsty much?” she asks.

  I smile at her while I touch the wetness that her mouth left on my bottom lip. I rub it in with the pad of my thumb. “Yep. Now run along and tell all your friends about the geek who gave you the best damn kiss of your life.”

  She narrows her eyes at me while I slowly back away, my hands running over my chest and abs. “I’ll let you finish all this later.”

  4

  Ridley

  How dare that huge geek act like such a cocky ass?

  But seriously, though. He earned it.

  I mean…that kiss. It was a kiss that made me forget all other kisses. How could I even compare?

  Being held in those strong arms, his full lips on me, feeling those criminally long eyelashes brush against my cheek, while the faintest of low moans escaping his throat—it was heaven.

  When our faces separated, I nearly let him see how hot that kiss made me. Can’t let that happen. He’s just a guy like all the others. Right?

  But somehow he’s different. I can’t deny it. Just an unexpected combination of geek and cocky that I don’t understand. Hot and awkward. Shy and sexy.

  I put Sassy back outside with sadness in my heart about it.

  But is Crosby really shy or were those just words to catch me off guard? Ugh, why am I spending so much time analyzing this, I think as I stalk back to my room and shut the door.

  I look at my phone and see Hadley’s message. Something about hooking up with some movie star in Vail.

  I hate you so much, I reply.

  Hadley replies back with heart emojis.

  I distractedly text her back about having to play babysitter to my future stepbrother.

  I swear, if Roland had ever kissed me like that, we might still be together. Instead he spent all of our junior prom getting completely drunk before throwing up on my designer dress.

  For the sake of our friend group stability, we didn’t tell anyone over the summer that we’d broken up. We’d agreed we needed to keep it quiet and be celibate for a few months to prevent any unfortunate and ill-advised rebounds. Well, I agreed to it and Roland didn’t have a choice but to go along with my plan. I have ways of making people’s lives miserable if they don’t do what I say.

  Last year, when one of the swim team members swam better than I did in the butterfly and got me bumped from my signature event, I told her to back off. When she didn’t, I made sure everyone in school knew about her secret crush. It wasn’t hard to guess at who it was; I read people quicker than I burn through trashy magazines by the pool.

  And I very nearly blurted out another teammate’s secret this past semester, when she dared question me. It’s so obvious she has a crush on our rude swim coach, and she acted like such a goody two shoes when she judged me for scratching my heat in protest to his arrogance. She’s lucky the coach is still at that school.

  Fortunately, Crosby knows nothing about me or Roland or the swim team…or even that I’m still in high school. And I do not plan on telling him. No reason to. He and I aren’t an item. Nope. Never going to happen.

  5

  Crosby

  Lounging in a leather wingback chair in the library, I leaf through a volume of Proust distractedly. But I’m frustrated for several reasons. One of them being the pages are partially blurred, faded, and barely legible. The other reason is that I can’t get Ridley out of my head. She’s stoked a fire in my veins, hotter than the one that crackles in the fireplace in front of me.

  That kiss, her scent, the feel of her graceful body in my arms—the sensory memories of all of her won’t leave my mind. I love that she takes in stray cats and finds a way to work around her mother’s harshness.

  Everything I had learned about her before I came here today was wrong. No surprise, since everything told to me by my father was hearsay through Bianca. Dad had never even met Ridley until today. Both of them have everything wrong. She’s not a spoiled child at all. She’s shy, chooses her words carefully, carries herself like a queen.

  What some people might call a resting bitch face is simply her studying, thinking, and considering.

  One thing is for certain, I’m not going back to California without laying the groundwork for the two of us as a couple. In just a few hours of getting to know her, I want Ridley. Not just in my bed, but in my DMs, in my top five contacts, in my life.

  Frustrated and wondering when she’s going to be finished texting with her friends, I pace the luxurious rug of the library.

  It’s not long before she finds me.

  I hear her before I see her and I breathe a sigh of relief. The book goes back on the shelf and I turn
to grab her up in my arms again. Something between mischief and reproach glints in her eyes. I get it. She’s mad at herself for liking me, but she wants this as much as I do.

  “Where are the parentals right now?” I say.

  “Don’t know, don’t care,” she replies, her eyelids fluttering open.

  “You should.”

  The way her eyes play on my mouth is so damn sexy, she doesn’t even know. Or maybe she does. She is the quintessential queen bee. She has to know the effect she has on men.

  “Don't tell me what I should and shouldn’t do. You’re the one kissing your stepsister.”

  “Girl, you ain’t my stepsister yet.”

  Her eyes flash and her cheeks turn pink. I slide my hand up her back and down again, relishing the dip between her hips and her waist, the strong muscles of her back. Our mouths connect again in a heated kiss, and I pull her up so her feet leave the ground. She gasps, and then moans into my mouth. Her breasts press against my chest as our tongues explore and tease. Things begin to heat up quickly.

  I pull her into the stacks and back her up against the hardwood shelves, taking her hands and placing them above her head. The move makes her perky breasts lift up even more. I trace kisses down her neck to the neckline of her dress. Ridley presses into me, urging me on. As my mouth closes over one breast through the material of her dress, my hands slide down her arms, down her sides, and come to rest on her hips. My mouth closes over the other breast. Ridley pushes her hips into me.

  Her breathing hitches while my hands skim down her legs to the hem of her dress, hiking it up so I can get two hands full of her tight little ass.

  When I squeeze, she squeaks out, “Crosby!”

  “Yes, baby,” I reply, squeezing again and crushing her pelvis against mine.

  “Kiss me again,” she whispers.

  When I do, my hand travels around to rub her center over the material of her lace panties.