Love of Steele

by Ivy Raine

  “I have super-human willpower. You can’t tempt me. Unless you’re talking chocolate,” she added. “If you have chocolate I’ll follow you around all day.”

  Busy working the tomato paste into Stash’s upper chest, Marta didn’t notice the water getting shallow until it was too late. That’s when Stash’s manly glory erupted from the sea of bubbles and looked Marta straight in the eye.

  “Oh, my god, Stash! What are you doing?” She grabbed a towel and tossed it over him.

  “Fresh water,” he said, never even batting an eye. “You don’t expect me to sit in skunk piss, do you?”

  Marta flushed bright red. “I suppose not, but you could have at least warned me.”

  Stash gave her the look. “Too bad you didn’t get skunked, too. You could be in here with me right now.” He closed his eyes and shook his head. “Gotta stop before something bad happens.” He adjusted the towel over himself and pointed upward. “Grab the sprayer, beautiful, and turn on the cold water.”

  Marta fumbled with the sprayer, dropping it on Stash’s head.

  “Ouch!” He clutched his crown. “I guess I deserved that.”

  “Sorry!” She knelt down and rubbed the top of his head. “It slipped.”

  He grabbed her wrist and yanked her toward him, nearly pulling her into the tub. The kiss he splayed across her mouth was one for the record books. She’d never been kissed quite like that before. It was adult and erotic. She allowed his tongue to glide along the inside of her mouth, and though she tried to control herself, her tongue had a mind of its own and quickly joined his. Marta was nearly oxygen deprived when she pulled away, leaving Stash with issues of his own.

  “If you don’t mind,” he said, sending the jets of cold water toward the towel still draped over his nether regions, “I think I’m gonna finish up here. Maybe you can run down to the kitchen and pull out something for us to eat.”

  Happy to get out of there, Marta jumped up, washed her hands off in the sink, and threw herself into the vast belly of the house. She tried to time her breaths to every fourth step. If she didn’t get control of herself, she’d end up hyperventilating into a dizzy spell. She’d just about gotten her heart back in rhythm when she caught movement in the hall, and in the two seconds it took for her to realize it was a mirror, she nearly had a heart attack.

  “Marta, you idiot!” A splash of red on her cheek caught her attention. “Tomato paste,” she grumbled, rubbing the back of her hand across her face. Though she really didn’t want to do it, she let her eyes roam down the length of the glass. Sometimes a good look in the mirror is necessary. That’s when she noticed a marked reduction in the size of her hips. “What the hell,” she said under her breath. There was no way she’d lost that much weight without realizing it. “Ha!” she said aloud. “Rich, fancy-pants vanity mirror.” She raised a brow and gave herself one last scathing look before heading back to the kitchen.

  Stash wasn’t far behind, and before Marta had figured out what to feed them, he’d sauntered in, all decked out in an expensive, embroidered robe.

  “What’s for dinner, woman?”

  Still reeling from his kiss, Marta managed to compose herself and slap on her ‘I don’t care’ face. She turned around and gave him the stink eye. “Ketchup bread if you don’t watch yourself.”

  Stash frowned. “What in the hell kind of concoction is that?”

  “Poor man’s delight. You should be well acquainted with it, my friend, and if you’re not, I’d like to introduce you.”

  Shaking his head, Stash opened the freezer. “I’ve had enough processed tomatoes to last me a lifetime.” He leaned in and reached for something at the back of the shelf. “Ah ha!”

  Marta tried to poke her head around for a look, but Stash shielded whatever he had in his hand. “No peeking.” He pointed an elbow toward the kitchen door. “Run up and get a quick shower while I fix us up something to eat.”

  “I don’t know about that.” Marta was in no hurry to strip down in a strange place. “How do I know there aren’t cameras hidden in there?”

  “You don’t.”

  “Well, I don’t have anything to wear. This wasn’t supposed to be an extended stay, you know.”

  “Your birthday suit’s fine by me.” Stash gave her a half-teasing smile, but it was the half that wasn’t teasing that worried her. “I’ll be happy to get out mine, too. It’s washed and dried and ready to go.”

  Marta found her eyes wandering down low on Stash, and she wondered if he’d gone sans boxers. To put herself in the same position would be foolish. Exciting, but still foolish. “Let’s not be stupid. I think you already know the answer to that.”

  The huge sigh Stash heaved was put on for effect, but she knew he was doing everything in his power to get what he wanted. “I figured that would be the case, so I hung something over the towel rack for you.”

  Marta cocked her head and crossed her arms. “Oh, really.”

  “Yes, really,” he mocked. “Now get up there and take a bath so I can make you a surprise.”

  When she spun around and clomped out of the kitchen, her fate was sealed. All the way up the steps, she tried to talk herself out of shedding even one scrap of clothing. A quick sniff, however, told her otherwise. A light hint of skunk clung to her skin. Whether from Stash or overspray, it didn’t matter. The stink had to come off before she even dared to sit on any of the expensive furniture.

  She ducked into the bathroom and quickly shut and locked the door.

  “That should hold him,” she said aloud.

  A quick glance around the room did nothing to squash Marta’s fears. There were a million and one places to stash a camera. Taking a peek in the mirror, she pinched her lips tight. She didn’t look all that bad when naked despite the extra twenty pounds, so if someone saw her in her natural state, they’d just have to endure it.

  Marta managed to slip out of her clothes and jump in the shower all by the count of ten. If she was going to end up on the internet, they’d have to be happy with a quick shot of her ass.

  The water, hot and laced with vanilla body wash, ran down over Marta and disappeared down the drain, taking with it any hint of skunk.

  With water dripping in her eyes, Marta shut off the shower and reached around the corner for a towel. What she pulled off the rack startled her and touched her in a spot sewn up tight and reserved only for those closest to her. Flannels. Marta felt again for the towel and quickly dried off before slipping into the warm, red-checkered pajamas. Now she was going to have to re-think her ever-evolving perception of Stash. He seemed to peel off another layer of himself every day, and Marta wondered just what she’d find when he exposed his core to her.

  The smell wafting up the steps drew her down to the kitchen, and when she pushed on the swinging door and peeked in, Stash was busy stirring something on the stove.

  “Thank you,” she said, interrupting the little jig he was doing as he twirled the spatula around the bottom of the frying pan.

  Stash looked up and smiled. “I thought you’d like those,” he said, still smiling. “It’s supposed to be chilly tonight.”

  “I was kind of surprised,” she admitted. “I thought-”

  “The worst of me,” Stash finished. “It’s okay. I usually give the worst of me, so I can understand why you’d expect it.”

  Marta peeked into the pan. “Is that shrimp?”

  “You weren’t supposed to look,” Stash teased, “and yes, it is. You like shrimp, don’t you?” The sudden afterthought sent a ripple of worry across his brow.

  “Love it! I just don’t get it that often. It’s expensive for the good stuff.” Closing her eyes, Marta leaned in and let the wonderful aroma rise up around her. “And that’s the good stuff,” she said. “Are you sure your brother won’t mind us chowing down on his grub? We’ve already used his soaps, towels, clothes,” she said, clutching at the front of the button down pajama top. “Now we’re raiding his refrigerator.”

  “Don�
��t worry about him. There’s plenty more where this came from. Besides,” he said, stirring the shrimp faster, “he owes me.”

  A flutter of anxiety pummeled her from the inside out. “Devon?” Though she really wanted to see what this Devon looked like, a part of her feared that more than anything in the world. Marta chastised herself for letting something like that bother her. After all, she told herself, this thing with Stash – whatever it could be classified as – was nothing more than a really weird friendship.

  Stash grunted. “Devon’s just the latest in a string of things he’s taken from me. But, I can’t really blame her,” he said, pulling the shrimp from the burner. “My brother’s a walking wallet and girls like that.”

  Marta bristled. “Not all girls.” The know-it-all look on Stash’s face really irked her. “Way to stereotype all women into your neat, little box.”

  “They’re definitely not neat,” said Stash. “As a matter of fact, there are so many different boxes, I’ve lost count. But, the one box they all seem to fit into is the money box, and that’s where they all gravitate to when they meet my brother.”

  Marta grabbed two plates from the cupboard. “I just don’t understand. So, what you’re telling me is that they like you well enough, but when they meet your brother, it’s curtains for you?”

  “Layer of pasta, first,” said Stash, directing her to the pot on the back burner. “And to answer your question, yes. They meet my brother’s money and it’s love at first sight.”

  “That’s it?” she said, dishing up the fettuccini. “There has to be more to it than that. No one’s that shallow.”

  Stash slid the shrimp out of the pan and dumped a helping of alfredo sauce over the top. “Yes, my dear, they are. Unfortunately.”

  “Hmm. Well, I’ve never met a man that could turn my head with a wad of green, so I’ll have to take your word for it.”

  Grabbing up the plates, Stash led her out and into the family room. “Just out of curiosity, has any man ever turned your head?”

  Marta’s initial reaction was to object to the question, but she checked herself. Was there anyone who really, truly stopped her in her tracks? She watched Stash as he walked ahead of her. Yeah. Just one.

  “Why does that matter?” she said, throwing out the disgruntled tone. “I know who I am, and if I say money doesn’t matter, then why isn’t that good enough?”

  Stash pulled out the coffee table and sat the plates down. “It is. But, you’d be lying if you said money wasn’t at least a little bit attractive. Hell, I’m a guy, and if a woman has a little money and it keeps me from living under a bridge, then she’s gorgeous.”

  “Hmm.” Marta flipped her wet hair. “Then you’re the gold digger. Maybe I should take my six hundred a week and find another roommate – one with lots of money. At least then I’d know they really, truly liked me.”

  “Bingo! When you see someone take off after the money trail, you know for certain what they’re after. Sometimes it really pays to be poor. Parses out the real from the fake.” He gazed at Marta. “I know one thing for certain. There’s not an ounce of fake on you.”

  Marta found herself feeling naked again. “Where did you learn to cook?” she said, changing the subject as fast as her lush lips would allow. “Your mother?”

  Her words slapped the smile from his mouth. “No. Not my mother,” he said, wrapping a healthy dose of noodles around his fork. “My mother died when I was eight.”

  Marta really wished she had psychic powers sometimes. “Sorry.”

  Stash stuffed the wad of fettuccini in his mouth. “She did it to herself,” he mumbled through the pasta. “She drank herself to death. Her liver just shut down one night after my brother and I went to bed, and when we woke up…well, she was gone.”

  “Eight.” Marta’s eyes glazed over. She remembered vividly what life was like at eight and she couldn’t imagine it without her mother. “That had to be really hard.”

  Stash poured her a glass of white wine. “That’s why you’ll never see me do more than a little of this once in a while. It’s not worth it.”

  Marta picked up the glass and swished the wine around in a circle. “I haven’t had anything to drink for a long time – years, actually.”

  Six to be exact. Marta drew the glass to her mouth and breathed in the sweet scent of the wine. Kyle hated wine. His choice was beer, and even though they were underage, it seemed the summer supply was endless.

  “Do you like wine? I can get you something else,” he said, standing up.

  “No!” Marta grabbed his hand and pulled him back down to the sofa. “Wine’s fine.”

  He looked at her plate. “You haven’t tried your shrimp yet.”

  “What’s your brother’s name?” She felt that at least she should know the name of the man to whom she owed her dinner.

  “Andrew. Andrew Blake Steele.”

  “Wow. Sounds fancy.”

  Stash laughed. “It is, sort of. That was my mother’s plan. She wanted sons with executive sounding names.”

  Marta raised a brow. “And yours would be?”

  “Stash.”

  Using the tines of her fork, Marta poked at Stash’s arm. “No, dummy, your full name.”

  He took a deep breath and looked directly into her eyes. “Aaron Herman Steele.”

  Marta nearly spit her shrimp across the room. “Herman? Are you serious?”

  Stash grimaced. “You asked.”

  “I’m sorry,” she said, trying not to laugh. “It’s just so…not you.”

  “Yeah. I know. That’s why I go by Stash. Fits me better.”

  Clearing her throat and forcing back a smile, Marta tried to focus on her shrimp. “Something’s bugging me about your name,” she blurted, unable to stop herself. “Why Herman? How’s that executive?”

  “Inquiring minds,” teased Stash. “Well,” he said, leaning back and plopping his bare feet on the coffee table, “I was first born so I got stuck with my grandfather’s first name.” He grunted. “What a burden to carry for the sake of three, little minutes.”

  Marta halted her fork in midair. “Three minutes? Does that mean you’re twins?”

  “Unfortunately. I think I would have liked him a lot more if we weren’t twins. When we’re together I always feel like he’s trying to one-up me. He comes on strong and doesn’t give up until he gets what he wants. And this,” he said, waving his arms through the air. “Everything comes easy and he plows right over everyone in his path to achieve his goals.”

  “Including you?” Marta knew she struck a nerve with that one.

  “On occasion.” Stash took a gulp of wine. “Funny thing is,” he said, “I’d give him my last drop of blood if he needed it.” He looked at Marta and smiled. “It sounds like I’m a jealous bastard, doesn’t it?”

  Marta shrugged. “Maybe a little.”

  “Well, maybe I am – a little. But not because he has money. It’s more because of what his money has taken away from me. He uses his cash to get the upper hand because he knows I won’t. I believe in a level playing field, and it always struck me as disingenuous to use money where smarts and skill should come into play. I like a challenge, but I’ve learned that most people prefer the easy way out.”

  The warm, sweet wine slipped down Marta’s throat and warmed her from the inside out. “Did you ever talk to him about it?” She sat her empty glass next to Stash’s feet, and he quickly filled it back up and handed it to her again.

  “Oh, it’s nothing anyone other than myself would even blink twice at. As far as he’s concerned, we’re best buds. It was just a few girlfriends, a car, a little money here and there. Stuff like that. Not that the girlfriends were worth a damn, but the car. It was a classic, fully loaded and ran like it just came off the line. Lost that in a bet.” He looked at Marta. “You probably think I’m crazy.”

  She shook her head. “Only half crazy. But I think I understand what you’re saying. I have several people in my life like that, too. Ironic
ally, they happen to be twins. They’ve been watching me, just waiting for me to slip up so they can pull out the ‘poor Marta’ shit. Well, I won’t let that happen. That’s why I can’t go back home without that job in the city.”

  Stash picked up his glass of wine and raised it. “It looks like we’re a couple of misfits, beautiful. Here’s to us.”

  Marta took one last sip of wine and sat her glass down next to his empty plate. “No more for me. I can’t afford to get intoxicated. I have to work tomorrow.”

  “Yeah. I’m pretty tired, myself.” He motioned to the stairs. “There’s a million and one bedrooms upstairs. You get first pick.”

  She pushed down on the sofa. “This feels pretty comfy. I think I’ll just sleep here.”

  Stash shrugged. “Well, if you’re sleeping down here, then so am I. I call the loveseat.”

  The loveseat looked a little short for Stash’s long, lean body.

  “Are you sure?” Marta winced a bit when Stash propped his head against the arm of the loveseat. “You’re gonna wake up with a seriously stiff neck.”

  “I’ll be fine.” He stuck his feet out and over the other arm. “It’s only for one night.”

  “That’s all it’ll take to misalign your spine for the rest of your life, Stash.” He wiggled some more, contorting the remainder of his body down into the shape of the loveseat. “I’m serious! Do you have a fetish for chiropractors?”

  Stash grinned and closed his eyes. “Only if they’re female.”

  Marta tossed him an extra throw pillow. “At least tuck this under your neck.”

  Grabbing the pillow and clutching it to his chest, Stash looked over at Marta. “I knew you loved me.”

  The only thing she could do to hide the truth was to turn and face the back of the sofa. “Oh, go to sleep, Herman.”