The Right Stud: a sexy romantic comedy

by Ilsa Madden-Mills

  Mrs. C is beside him, holding him in a grumpy glare. Jax is beside me, his fist clenched at his side, and even Rufus is overhead, looking ready to swoop down and do some damage. It bolsters my courage.

  “Maybe I don’t want to talk to you.”

  “For the love of…” Kyle pinches the bridge of his nose, condescending as always. “We were together for three years. You owe me at least a word, Ashton.”

  “I don’t owe you anything. I trusted you.” My voice trembles, and as God is my witness, I will not start crying. Swallowing the painful lump, I continue, “I gave you my trust, and you treated it like garbage.”

  Lowering his hand, he has the decency to appear pained. “It’s true. I didn’t value your trust the way I should have. Will you please give me just a few minutes of your time to talk about it?”

  “Sounds like she already gave you your answer.” Jax’s voice is sharp as a knife as it cuts through the tension, powerful and threatening. “Time to go, buddy.”

  Kyle flashes steely eyes at him. “I don’t know who the fuck you are, but you’d be smart to keep your nose out of places it doesn’t belong.”

  The skillet slams against the range as Jax shoves it off the burner and steps to Kyle. “I’ll put my nose wherever I damn well please.”

  “Oh, yeah?” Kyle steps forward as well, and I find myself sandwiched between what feels like two raging bulls ready to clash.

  Jesus, take the wheel. If you’re up there…anywhere…please help me…

  Jax’s face reddens as he glares at Kyle. A muscle pops in his cheek. “I suggest you get the hell out of this house—”

  “This isn’t your house, asshole!” is Kyle’s growling reply.

  “Okay, okay! I’ll talk to you!” I cry, putting my palms flat on both their chests to push them back. Good lord, I can’t afford the repairs if they really do start fighting in here.

  “Why did you have to stop it?” Mrs. C huffs from the doorway. “Just when it was getting good.”

  Jax’s blue eyes are blazing as I lead Kyle to the side door. He’s annoyed I’m going with Kyle, but really it’s none of his business. Sure, his defense of me is a bit thrilling, but he’s a guy too, and I don’t trust any of them anymore.

  With Kyle following me, I steer him out to the back porch and down the steps until we’re standing several feet out of earshot. Still, I can see Jax and Mrs. C and Rufus are at the kitchen window watching us. Perfect.

  Crossing my arms, I glance up at Kyle again, taking in the clean-cut jawline I used to love to press my lips against. My heart hitches, and I’m not sure I’m emotionally prepared to have a conversation with him.

  We haven’t really talked since I caught him with his dental assistant. He texted me a few times and even showed up at the door trying to explain, but I didn’t let him in. There’s a reason I don’t want to see him: it still hurts.

  He stares down at me, a flash of contrition on his face. “Look, I’m sorry about showing up unannounced but it’s been so long. I thought we might finally talk—”

  My scowl deepens. “It hasn’t been long enough. Say whatever it is you came here to say and go.”

  He rubs his jaw and exhales deeply. “I have to confess, I didn’t expect to see you this way.”

  I cock my head, wishing my eyes could spit literal fire at his crotch. “What way? Over you?”

  “No.” He shakes his head and looks down. “So pretty… moving on, not caring about me anymore. Who is that guy?” His eyes dart to the window, and Mrs. C flips him off.

  I’m furious that he thinks he has the right to even question any man in my life. “Are you brain damaged? I was ready to marry you, Kyle. You threw our love away.”

  He bites his lip. “Babe. I got nervous. Or cold feet… I don’t know.”

  “I can tell you what didn’t get cold.” My voice is sharp. “Your dick.”

  He winces. “I deserve that.” He walks back and forth on the sandy path behind the house. I don’t move. “I think I made a mistake. Monica and me, well, she isn’t like you and me. When I did that with her, it felt like…” His voice trails off.

  “It felt like a hummer?” My voice drips with sarcasm. I can’t believe he’d take my memory back to that heart-crushing day. “I’m not listening to this. Not another word.”

  I start for the house when Kyle calls after me. “She doesn’t look at me the way you did. She doesn’t make me breakfast. She’s not my forever girl, Ashton.”

  I stop walking and look back at him. “That’s too bad, because you ruined everything we had for a temp.”

  He’s moving quickly toward me, closing the space between us. “I don’t believe that. Let me make it up to you. Ashy, I want you back.”

  OMG. I want to die at the sound of his nickname for me.

  “No.”

  “Just give me a chance.” His voice is pleading. “You were so distant last year, and it made things weird. I felt so apart from you.”

  “My grandmother died!” Tears heat my eyes. “Can’t you understand that?”

  “Of course, I can, and I’m not blaming you. That came out wrong.” He reaches for me, but I dodge his touch.

  But part of me, a small part, wishes I could let him take me in his arms. I’d tell him about all my problems, about the business with Ben and how much it hurts. Instead, I push him away from me.

  “I want to make it up to you,” he pleads. “I was a complete and utter asshole. Will you let me make it up to you?”

  My brow is furrowed, and I glare at him. How dare he plead his case this way, when I’m still vulnerable?

  “Just think about it,” he says softer, coming closer. “After everything we shared. Can’t you give me a second chance?”

  “I don’t know.” Shaking my head, I take another step away from him. “I mean no. I’m sorry for you, but I don’t think I can do that.”

  “But maybe you can?”

  I look up, meeting his eyes, and a headache is brewing behind mine.

  “Remember the Christmas we spent here at this house with your Granny?” His voice is gentle, nostalgic. “Remember how much she liked me? We can have that again. I’ll go to couple’s therapy—”

  “Stop. I-I can’t do this, Kyle. You broke my heart, and now I’m alone. I have The Conch Shell, and I’m going to make it without you.”

  He lets out a deep exhale. “I refuse to accept that. You just need some time—”

  “Ashton?” Jax appears on the path behind me, walking closer. “Breakfast is getting cold. We need to get going if we’re going to conquer our list for today.”

  “We’re still talking.” Kyle’s voice is stern, and the two men glare at each other, their rage barely contained.

  “I need to go.” My voice is quiet, and I turn toward Jax, ready to end this painful exchange.

  “But you’ll think about what I said?” Kyle says, trying one more time.

  Without answering him, I pass Jax on the path and run up the steps into the house. I don’t stop or even go to the kitchen. I continue up the stairs to the second floor, until I’m in my bedroom.

  The first tear falls as I crawl into the large, walk-in closet where my grandmother’s extra clothes used to hang. I remember weeping as I took them off the hangers and packed them up to give to Goodwill. They still smelled like her antique lavender perfume. This small space still has that faint, lingering odor of her warmth and comfort. So much love…

  I sit with my back against the wall on the floor of the closet, resting my head in the corner. In front of me, hidden on the wall, is a large mural she painted of The Little Mermaid. It’s the scene where Ariel is looking into a chest of forks, corkscrews, and assorted human paraphernalia. Closing my eyes, I brokenly hum… Wouldn’t you think I’m the girl who has everything?

  The door opens slowly, and I blink up to see tousled blond hair, warm blue eyes. Jax holds the door and looks down at me.

  “Hey.” His voice is soft.

  Swallowing the thickness
in my throat, I shove the backs of my hands roughly across my cheeks. “Hey.”

  He steps inside and drops to one knee before sitting with his back against the wall beside me, knees bent. A foot of space is between us, and he leans his head against the wall, looking up at Ariel.

  “What’s this?”

  “My grandmother did it. For me. She was taking a painting class at the senior center. It’s where she met Mrs. C.”

  He grins, his voice as quiet as mine. “Is that so?”

  Nodding, I look at the mural. “I must’ve watched that movie a hundred times.”

  “She sounds like a really special lady.”

  My chest is tight, and I inhale, exhale, doing my best to breathe the pain away. “I was at this point in my life where I thought I had everything together. I thought nothing could ever go wrong. Then it all just started to fall apart. Like a sand castle when the waves come swirling in around it. It kept falling and falling. I tried to stop it, but it only fell faster, slipping through my fingers.”

  Jax is quiet, looking up at Ariel, his expression unreadable.

  “God,” I laugh, shoving my hands across my damp cheeks again. “You must be wondering what the hell you’ve gotten yourself into coming here.”

  “I’m not,” he says, turning his head so our eyes can meet. The warmth in his smile soothes my aching chest.

  “This place is all I have left. I can’t lose it, too.”

  His expression is kind. “I’ll do what I can to help you rebuild it.”

  “Thanks,” I manage to say.

  His warm hand covers mine, and he gives it a squeeze before lifting it to his lips. “I’ve been wanting to kiss you again since I saw you in the kitchen yesterday.”

  I snort a laugh, then cover my face with my free hand. “You’re a true glutton for punishment… or you have a high tolerance for crazy.”

  “It’s most likely the latter.” When he looks at me again, a naughty gleam is in his eye. “Can I kiss you now?”

  “You really want to?”

  “More than you know.” Leaning forward, he releases my hand and cups my cheek, but instead of mauling my mouth, he kisses my lips gently, softly. “I’m going to help you.”

  A genuine smile lifts my cheeks, and I believe him so much. Still… “Don’t ever lie to me. Okay?”

  His brows pull together and something flickers in his eyes. “I won’t. I promise.”

  Twelve

  Jax

  Not telling Ashton I met her brother is not a lie.

  I just want that on the record.

  I had no idea the client I was going to meet was her brother, and I had no fucking clue he was going to ask me to give him an estimate on this house. The minute I realized, my brain went into problem-solving mode, trying to find a way to meet these two in the middle.

  Yes, I could use the commission on a sale like this, but would I do it at the risk of hurting Ashton?

  All these thoughts are going through my head as I hold the camera on her while she rips a rotten plank out of the porch floor. It’s past four in the afternoon, and we’ve been working steadily on removing planks for several hours.

  I keep the portable camera rolling as Ashton whips off her safety goggles and shakes out her long brown hair. She grins up at me, and I swallow. From her tan steel-toed boots that I insisted she wear to the smudge of dirt on her cheek, she looks like a construction guy’s wet dream. “And that’s how you tear out a board.” She holds it above her head like it’s some kind of championship wrestling belt, and I bite back a laugh. I don’t know why everything she does is cute as hell, but it is.

  I follow her as she stands up and tosses the plank into the dumpster I had delivered earlier. She turns back to me and puts her hands on her hips. “Shouldn’t you be using a cameraman? Is he arriving later?”

  Lowering the small digital camera, I look at it, thinking about my budget and the great shots I’ve gotten of Ashton working, of how necessity has been called the mother of invention.

  “When I work alone, I use a cameraman, but in this case…” My eyes travel around the airy porch with its gorgeous view and even more gorgeous proprietor. “I wanted to try something a little more intimate and personal. I hope it yields something unique in the home-improvement market.”

  Her dimples pop as she smiles at me. “Well, hand it over. I want to film you. The show is called The Right Stud, after all.”

  She gives me a little eyebrow waggle, and I laugh as I hit the off button and let the camera rest at my side. I did spend most of the morning on her walking around the project and telling the viewers about the history of the house and how she inherited it.

  She’s in good spirits and part of me wonders if she’s just pretending—but I hope she’s pushed away thoughts of Kyle showing up earlier today. Asshole.

  It was all I could do to keep my hands to myself when he demanded to know who I was and then dragged Ashton outside so they could “talk.” If he ever comes back here…

  I won’t do anything, I remind myself.

  She isn’t my girlfriend.

  Ashton isn’t a girl I need to be messing around with. She’s obviously still fragile from what asshole Kyle did and the loss of her Granny. I could hurt a girl like that. I’m not a commitment kind of guy, and I’d hate to lead her on.

  She’s come down from the porch and is walking to where I stand in the yard. Her fingers brush mine as she reaches for the camera, and an electric current zips through my hand.

  I push that feeling aside as I explain the camera to her, the on and off button and the zoom. She gets it right away as we stand there. She smells like summer with hints of fruit, and it’s so hard to move away from…

  “Hello?” she laughs. “Are you even listening to me?”

  I blink and step toward the porch. “What?”

  “I asked what scene you want to film and you just stared at me.”

  “Oh, right.” I nod. “Let’s do one of me explaining how to nail in the new planks. Ready?”

  She nods, looking eager. “I’m actually excited about doing it. I mean, I took drama classes back in college and loved the stage, but I never imagined I’d be behind the camera. Any tips?”

  I smile at her enthusiasm. “Just hold her steady and be natural. Comment on the work or whatever if you want. Have fun with it.”

  She nods and picks the camera up and focuses in on me as I get in position. “And rolling,” she calls out and gives me a thumbs-up.

  I adjust my Dallas Cowboys cap on my head and smile. “Hello, party people. The Right Stud is here with you on a hot summer day outside of Charleston, South Carolina, home to sweet tea and bless your heart.” I toss out a cocky grin and give the audience a wave. “And don’t forget those sassy southern girls. They are everywhere.” I put a hand on my chest.

  She drops the camera and laughs.

  I stop. “What?”

  She shakes her head. “Sweet tea? Bless your heart? You’re one slick salesman.”

  I grin. “True that. I can sell anything. And trust me, the audience that watches my show is ninety-nine percent female.” I strike a pose in my navy polo and show her my tightly roped bicep. “They love the way I talk, but most of all, they love to see me in action using these muscles.”

  She laughs, rolling her eyes. “You’re so full of yourself.”

  I shrug. “If you’re hot and you know it, why not use it? Now, let’s get some footage.”

  Later, I’ll go through it all and edit and splice it together. She gives me the thumbs-up again and the camera is rolling.

  I tap my watch. “We’re on hour three here at The Conch Shell and our hostess, the lovely Ashton Hall, is still at it. Let’s hope this house can handle the both of us.” I gesture to the porch and the pulled up planks. “We’ve been sweating hard and have gotten most of the wood pulled up today. Tomorrow will be all about installation.”

  I briefly go over the work we completed earlier in the day then turn back to face the came
ra. I’m about to point out the rotting crown molding on the ceiling when Ashton speaks.

  “Tell us about yourself, Jax. How did you get into renovation?” Her voice is loud and clear from behind the camera.

  She’s still filming, but I play along. “Well, as most of you know, I’m originally from Charleston. My dad ran a construction company here called Roland Homes before he passed away. He started with nearly nothing and built a booming business. When I was little, he took me with him to work and let me hammer and play with drills. In fact, I still have the first tool set he ever gave me. He loved to work with his hands and…” Talking about him is never easy, and I’m not sure what to add next as a wave of memories washes over me. I change the subject. “And so do I. That’s why I do this show. It’s my mission to search out houses to restore.” I wave my hand. “But you guys don’t want to hear about me. Let’s talk about this old house.”

  “I do,” Ashton says. “Tell me about growing up in Charleston. What made you leave? I love this place.”

  I feel on the spot with emotion still pulling at me and I swallow, my brow wrinkling. Maybe it’s the afternoon heat or maybe it’s because I’ve been spending time with Bernice and the girls, but I feel a wave of homesickness like I never have before.

  The camera light goes off and Ashton lowers it to her legs. “Jax? You okay?”

  I rub the back of my neck. I don’t know.

  “Did I say something wrong?” She comes over to me, and I shake my head.

  “No. I just… I don’t know. Coming here. It’s been a while since I’ve stayed so long. Usually I just drop in for a holiday gathering and check it off my list, but now, I’m actually staying here, talking about Dad… It brings a lot of stuff back.”

  Her eyes soften as she leads me over to a small table she and Mrs. C set up earlier with a water cooler and glasses. She pours me a cup and hands it over, gentleness in her gaze.

  “What?” I ask.

  She shrugs, the shift in her shoulder barely perceptible. “I know grief when I see it, Jax. I’ve been there. How long since you lost your dad?”

  I stare at the ground before meeting her eyes. “I was fifteen when he was killed in a car wreck on his way to watch me play football. Changed my whole life.”