That’s only part of my motivation.
“Good idea. Maybe you’ll learn a few tricks, too.” He straightens his back and rolls his shoulders. “Let’s do this. Time to disintegrate some panties.”
I groan. “Don’t repeat that sentence in front of her. In fact, don’t mention her clothing unless you’re paying a compliment.”
“Gotcha.”
I duck away from his third shoulder smack. “Stop hitting me. You don’t need to emphasize everything with bodily contact. Words are enough.”
“You’re so grumpy. How do you ever pull any women? Why am I taking your advice?”
“Fuck off. I’m helping you because you’re a fucking disaster. We need a secret code if you go off the rails. If I clear my throat, stop talking. I’ll step in and get you back on safer ground. Got it?”
“You have so little faith in me.”
I spot Mae through a gap in the crowd. She’s standing with a group of women, talking, and laughing.
“Do you know those women?” I ask Landon as we approach.
“I know all of them.” He lowers his voice. “The pixie blonde is an ex. Next to her is my teammate, Lee. I went to dinner with the curly-haired blonde once. She started making out with Jesse Hayes in the middle of the meal at La Belle Femme. The fourth is Zoe and the guy standing next to her is Justin Garrison from the Easy Z Ranch.”
“So, you’ve already pissed in Mae’s pool of friends?” This new information makes my challenge ten times more difficult. There’s no way her friends haven’t shared stories about Landon.
“Not into water sports. That’s gross.” He misses my metaphor.
I don’t bother explaining it to him because we’ve reached Mae and her group. Standing behind Landon, I let him lead while I observe.
Mae’s eyes flick to mine as Landon greets the group. We both share a small smile. I’m not sure if she recognizes or remembers me.
“Your body looks fucking hot in that dress,” Landon tells her.
Mae’s lips pull down into a frown and a line appears between her eyebrows before she recovers. “Uh, thanks.”
Lee, who’s clearly a rugby player from his height and thick arms, mutters under his breath, “Dude.”
Inwardly, I cringe. Clearing my throat, I interrupt Landon before he can continue speaking. I decide to play coy and see if she remembers me. “I don’t believe we’ve been introduced. I’m Aiden, Landon’s older brother.”
“I remember you,” Mae says with a grin. “Landon mentioned you were back in town.”
“Hi, Mae.” My lips curl into a smile at her happy expression. “Good to see you again.”
As we look at each other, the rest of the group fades away. I’m not sure if it’s a second or two, or longer, that we lose ourselves in our bubble.
Landon clears his throat and nudges his elbow into my side. “Aiden’s couch surfing at my place right now.”
Ah, putting me in my place to make himself appear better. Classic attempt to establish himself as top dog. From Lee’s straight back and wide stance, I can tell he’s the group alpha. The other guy, Justin, has his own quiet confidence that doesn’t demand he be the center of attention. Both men make Landon look like a yappy lap dog trying to take on a pack of wolves.
“My brother generously offered me a temporary housing option that saved me from moving home with our parents,” I explain, keeping my focus on Mae.
“We ran into your mother at Twyla’s shower. She seems to be doing well.” Mae leaves off the part about the wedding date. “Although she didn’t mention you were back in the valley.”
“Probably because she was too focused on finagling a date for your brother,” Sage speaks up.
“She mentioned that.” I nod.
We stand in silence for a moment as I wait for Landon to comment about the date. Sage opened the door for him to say something about looking forward to it or something to break the awkward tension.
Instead, he turns to Lee and starts talking about rugby. “You going to play the last two matches so you can qualify for the Rugby Fest tournament? Or are you taking the entire season off?”
“I’m planning to play, although I’m still thinking of retiring.” When he speaks, I detect an accent that’s definitely not American.
“Man, you’re the same age I am. Not some old guy who has to crawl out of bed every morning. Hell, Aiden’s older than you,” Landon rambles, managing to insult both Lee and me.
I clear my throat again. Mae and Sage exchange a loaded look.
“I need more food. Shall we go stalk the cater waiters?” Justin asks Zoe, lacing their fingers together.
“I’ll join you,” Mara says. “I spotted a cupcake table earlier.”
At the mention of cake, Zoe’s eyes widen. “Let’s go before they run out.”
“Us too.” Sage and Lee tell me it was nice to meet me before they wander away.
Then there were three. A bicycle with an extra training wheel.
“Seriously, your tits look incredible in that dress,” Landon tells Mae in a loud whisper.
Not anticipating he’d go there as soon as they’re semi-alone, I choke and cough on my mouthful of beer.
“Are you okay?” Mae asks as I attempt to inhale.
Once I’m able to breathe, I mumble, “Unacceptable, dear brother.”
Landon slaps my back harder than necessary to clear my airway. “He’s fine. Can I get you a drink or track down a waiter with a tray of taquitos for you? Those things are sick.”
Mae touches my wrist. “Aiden, do you need some water or something?”
Landon notices the contact and frowns.
Ignoring him, I focus on her. “I’m fine. Thanks.”
“Told you. Let’s find some tiny rolled tacos.” Landon couldn’t care less if I can breathe or not.
“Go on, you two. I’m going to check out the silent auction items.” I clear my throat in warning to Landon to behave. He doesn’t acknowledge me. “Nice to see you again, Mae.”
“I’m technically working, so I should probably check in with my director. She’s supposed to give a speech at some point. Don’t feel any pressure to bid. Enjoy the music and the free food.” Mae’s dark eyes flick from me to Landon a couple of times before she walks away.
A row of tables in the rooftop lobby holds various items up for bid. I pretend to read the descriptions of time-share condos and collectibles, instead of chaperoning Landon. He’s a grown man and should be able to behave on his. Keyword: should.
“So you’re the brother?” Picking up a pen, Sage scribbles an amount on the bid sheet for private yoga sessions.
“You’re the ex-girlfriend?” I ask, glancing at her four-figure bid. “Those must be some fancy yoga classes.”
“It’s my donation. I want to make sure some cheapskate doesn’t win.”
“You bid over a grand on your own item?” I can’t decide if she’s brilliant or a fool.
She nods, happily. “Whips the competition into a frenzy if they think something’s a hot ticket. Trust me. I’m a pro at these things.”
“Professional bid rigger at charity events?” I like her. She has spirit.
“If I’m the top bidder, I’ll pay. Everyone wins. Except for the people who were too cheap to outbid me. They’re still losers. Gotta be all in if you want to finish first.” She pins me with her gray eyes.
Changing my mind, I decide she scares me a little. “You dated my brother? Have to say I don’t really see it.”
“I was going through a phase. We all make decisions we regret.” She shrugs off the memory. “He isn’t all bad. As you probably know.”
“Somedays I’m not sure.” I laugh it off.
“Then why are you helping him impress Mae?” She focuses on the bid sheet for a time-share in the Bahamas.
“Who said I was?” Deny, deny, deny.
Her eyes meet mine again and she studies me.
Uncomfortable under her scrutiny, I give her a vague answer. “Th
ink of it as doing something for the greater good. Landon being less of an asshat benefits all of us.”
Slowly, she nods, not breaking eye contact. “True. You think it’s possible? Others have given him the benefit of the doubt before and had it blow up in their faces.”
She points at herself.
“Better to try and fail than never get into the game, right?” I tap the bid sheet.
“I’m curious about your end game,” she whispers.
“Me too,” I tell her in a low voice. “The outcome is still unclear.”
Chapter 7
Mae
The morning after the fundraiser is clear and warm, so I decide to walk to the Coalition office on the other side of town. Settled into a wooded area near the Roaring Fork River, the building overlooks the rambling gardens and boulders of the John Denver memorial garden. I’ve never been a huge fan of his music, but I’ll happily sit in the park named after him.
Waiting at a traffic light, I pull out my phone and check text messages. I have two from Sage, one asking if I want to meet for lunch at the vegan place she loves. And one that is only a pic of the tops of boobs in her yoga tank. Something tells me the second text isn’t intended for me. I hit reply and snap a pic of my own cleavage to return the favor.
Immediately, she responds with the horrified emoji scream face and then two apples and heart eyes. Laughing at her message, I add a bikini and flames to my response. We could communicate only in emojis all day, every day, and never stop being amused.
Crossing the street, I wonder if there will be a return to hieroglyphics instead of bothering to type words.
My phone pings with a new text. It’s Landon.
Yes, I saved him into my contacts and that’s as far as our commitment is going.
I open his text and read it.
*Great to see you last night. You looked beautiful.*
His words catch me off guard and I trip, but stop myself before I face-plant.
His words are polite, respectable, and flattering in an appropriate way.
Bouncing dots appear on the left side of the screen, indicating he’s still typing. I wait for a comment about my boobs or ass. This is Landon, after all.
*I apologize if any of my comments came off as rude. Working on my brain to mouth filter.*
A compliment and an apology is a whole new level of weird coming from the king of inappropriate.
*Thanks.* I use the whole word to be more formal. I’m about to type “new phone, who dis” when another text appears.
*It’s Landon, btw. In case you didn’t save my number. You should do that to avoid confusion.*
Now he’s a mind reader, too?
Someone jostles my shoulder and I realize I’m frozen in the middle of the sidewalk, staring down at my phone.
“Sorry,” I apologize to no one. Glancing up, I get my bearings, suddenly feeling like I’ve stepped through a wormhole into another dimension. The Hotel Jerome’s brick façade anchors the block ahead of me. Is nine-thirty too early for an adult beverage when not on vacation? Asking for a friend.
Probably not my best idea to show up to my volunteer job with mimosa or Bloody Mary breath. Not if I want to eventually get a paid position at a local non-profit if I stay in the area.
*I know it’s you.* Afraid he’ll read too much into it, I hate admitting I’ve already saved his number.
*What are you doing up so early?*
What does he think I do when I’m not working? Loaf around? Work on my tan at the pool? Sleep ’til noon?
*On my way to work.*
*At the La Belle Femme?*
*At Coalition. Are you surprised I’m one of those good doers and not just a pretty face?*
He responds instantly. *Never thought you were just one thing. Doesn’t surprise me you’re both beautiful and passionate.*
I wait for the sex joke. When it doesn’t come, I try to think of something snarky to bite back with, but I’m thrown off by his nice compliments. Could it be possible I saved the wrong number as Landon?
*I wish we had more time to talk last night. What are you doing this weekend?*
*Bridezilla festivities.*
*All weekend?* He adds a sad face to his message.
*Pretty much.*
*Too bad.*
*Why?*
*I want to catch up with you. Hear more about your work.*
Never once has Landon asked me about anything of substance. He said he’d try, and maybe this is him putting in effort not to be a human crotch rocket—fast and flashy.
I side-eye my screen. *Why are you being so nice?*
*Do I need a reason? Fine. It’s Monday. The sun’s out. I’m only pointing out the truth.*
*Prove you’re Landon. Show me proof.* He might be charming, but I’m not going to let my guard down around him.
Wait, that didn’t come out right. He isn’t going to send me a dick pic, is he?
I quickly close the text window out of fear. Another notification appears on my home screen and I peer at it with one eye closed in case it contains a tiny thumbnail of Landon’s dick. Relief floods my chest when I only see emojis.
Opening Sage’s response, I laugh at her invitation to tacos and margaritas with a thumb’s down on eggplant, aka penises. Tomorrow is Taco Tuesday and she’s crazy if she thinks I’m going to miss our weekly girls’ night. With everyone mated off, taco night is sacred friendship time. This week we seriously need to debrief about the charity event, Aiden’s reappearance, and what I’m going to do about my crazy family wedding.
Landon sends another text and I swipe up to ignore the notification.
Scrolling through emojis, I click on the taco, thumb’s up, lipstick, the eggplant, and the see no evil monkey before hitting send.
Texting while walking is distracting, and before I know, I’m standing outside of the Coalition’s office space. I tuck my phone into my bag and smooth a hand over my braided bun. If I’m going to stay in Aspen, I need to make a good impression in order to network my way into a job that doesn’t involve Nutella and grabby handed male customers.
Wow, I sound like a stripper. Not that there’s anything wrong with dancing for money. I’d earn more in tips if I were topless. Imagining how appalled my mother would be at me, I giggle. I guess I still have some of my rebellious streak.
Inside of the office, I greet Carmen who is both office manager and mother figure in the office for the tiny five-person staff, six including me. With her short salt and pepper hair, she’s no nonsense and not afraid to use her mom voice if needed, even when dealing with people older than she is.
“Who was that handsome man you were talking to last night?” she asks while I get settled at my small desk near the window.
I sling my bag over a hook next to my workstation, remove my phone from inside of it, and then pull out my chair. “Which one? I’m friends with a bunch of the rugby guys, but not all of them are good looking. What color hair?”
“Light brown, dark blond hair. So rugged and handsome,” she purrs. “I could probably be his mother, but I’m not blind. Please tell me you’re sleeping with him and he’s as gorgeous naked as he is clothed.”
Sweet lord. I should’ve had the morning cocktail. My iced latte is not going to get me through this morning if Carmen transforms into a rugby fangirl.
“Landon Roberts. Big guy? He’s one of the rugby players. Do you ever go to the matches at Wagner Park? You should. If you like watching men in shorts running and tackling and going all full contact on each other while grunting and sweating.” I think I’ve also described gay porn and hope she doesn’t come to the same conclusion.
“No, no. I know the players. I haven’t missed a Rugby Fest in twenty-five years. The whole weekend is blocked off on my calendar. I can’t wait.” She points at the wall calendar behind her, and sure enough, two weeks from now has a big red circle drawn around the weekend. “The man I’m talking about had a beard. Ring a bell? I’m hoping he’s a late-season recruit for the c
lub. Do you have the scoop on him?”
Underneath her neatly trimmed hair, organic cotton clothes, and shoes made from recycled plastic bottles lies a woman who could probably make Landon and Easley blush.
“Bearded rugby player?” I’m stumped.
“White shirt. Jeans that hugged his ass like a lover’s hands.” She makes a cupping and squeezing motion with her own hands.
I feel my eyes bug out. “Aiden? Looks like he might have a squirrel’s nest hidden in his facial hair?”
“Nice name. I like my men a little bit feral. Keeps things interesting.” Her purr is back and she has a glimmer in her eyes.
I’m seeing a whole new side to Carmen this morning. Part of me wants to give her a high-five, but the bigger part wants to never speak of her lust for Aiden Roberts again.
She can have Landon. I’ll happily make the introductions.
“Sorry to pop your bubble, but Aiden’s not a player.” At least not on the rugby pitch. “More of fixer-upper, complete rehab project.”
Her face falls into a frown. “I didn’t get that vibe from him at all.”
“Oh, don’t get me wrong, he’s a good guy. Having a little rough patch. Hopefully, he’ll figure things out and get back on his feet soon.”
I don’t want to gossip about him to Carmen. That’s how rumors are started. I tell her, she tells a friend, they tell two friends … and with each new person the story will change and grow. Not fair to Aiden.
“Interesting. Avery and I were going over the winning bids from the auction, and someone with the last name Roberts made a sizable donation by being the top bidder on three of the donated items.” She opens a folder. “At least I think the name was Aiden. Now I’m wondering if it was Landon.”
“I seriously doubt it was Aiden. You didn’t take a check from him, did you? It might bounce.” I cover my mouth with my hand. Seeing Carmen’s horrified expression, I add, “Haha. I’m joking.”
“Defrauding a charity isn’t a laughing matter.” Shuffling through the stack of bid sheets, she pulls out a group paper-clipped together. “Aha! I knew I remembered the name. Aiden Roberts.”
Up to You Page 6
