by Lexi Ryan
I shake my head. “Something’s wrong. I don’t know how to explain it, I just know. I can tell he’s keeping something from me.”
“Have you asked him?”
I slide him a look. “Seriously? Hey, Dad, you dealing again? Why, yes, son. In fact, I am.” I sigh. “If he is, he’ll lie about it—if only to protect me. And if he’s not… He’d be really fucking hurt to know that I even suspect anything.”
“I guess you just have to decide if you can trust him.”
But what if I can’t?
* * *
Martina’s Journal
I’m grounded. And it’s stupid, too.
So what? I dropped out of cheer squad. Who wants to be a fucking cheerleader anyway?
Mom said I’m not grounded for leaving cheer. I’m grounded because I need to think about my priorities. Then she proceeded to give me this long speech about how my choices now were going to affect the rest of my life, blah, blah, blah. I didn’t point out that she’s the one stuck at home without a life of her own after raising six kids.
Anyway, guess what I found out? Sweet little Alex has a boyfriend. Apparently she decided to listen to me for once, because she hasn’t talked much about her crush on Sebastian since he dropped off her homework that day and I warned her he wasn’t any good.
A boy from her academic honors society asked her out, and she said yes. (Side note: I should get bonus points for not laughing hysterically at the academic honors society meetup part of this story. But totally. It’s like Tinder for nerds.) Fast forward a few weeks, and they’ve gone on a bunch of dates, “studied” in the basement together, and officially gotten to the point where he gets evil death glares from my brothers. I love it. And she seems happy. She’s never been very interested in finding a boyfriend, despite my nudging, and she’s really giving it a chance.
This all makes me feel a little less bad for what I did with Sebastian last weekend. I ran into him at a party. I mean, it was a legitimate coincidence. I wasn’t even trying to track him down this time. He was definitely high and his eyes had that glazed, faraway look that makes me want to demand he share the good shit. Alex can think whatever she wants about football players and drug testing, but Sebastian’s getting around it somehow, because he doesn’t let his position on the team slow him down.
“Where’s your sister?” he asked.
I thought it was the most hilarious question, since Alex never goes to parties, but I just shrugged. “Probably fucking her boyfriend. Why do you care?”
He flinched, then set his jaw. “I just want to make sure she’s not hanging around her evil twin.”
“Evil, huh?” I grabbed his shirt and dragged him into the nearest bedroom. He spun me around, pressed me against the wall, and kissed me hard. It didn’t take much coaxing before his hands were sliding up my skirt and exploring everything underneath.
I’ll die before I admit it to anyone, but there’s a small part of me that felt like maybe he was…God, I don’t know…getting back at Alex for being with her boyfriend? That doesn’t even make sense, since she wasn’t there and doesn’t know about us, but he just felt weirdly detached. Like he was going through the motions and was maybe more irritated than turned on.
After I got off on his hand, he stepped back and said, “Is that what you were after?” Then he turned on his heel and left the room, like he was mad at himself for what he’d just done.
I don’t understand this guy.
Chapter Twenty-One
Alexandra
I think my ovaries just exploded. Sebastian Crowe is bare-chested and holding a baby in the crook of his arm as if he’s done it a thousand times. He grins down at her, swaying gently as he talks to Arrow.
“Psst,” Bailey says beside me. “You’ve got a little drool—” She points to my open mouth, and I snap it closed before I realize she’s teasing.
“Bitch,” I mutter with a smile.
“It’s a pretty picture,” she says, nodding toward Sebastian and the baby.
“Is that Arrow’s baby sister?” I ask.
“Yep. She’s an adorable little thing, too. Come on, let’s put this wine in the fridge.”
I follow her into Arrow’s house. Arrow invited everyone over for a Friday night cookout and an end-of-the-season swim. I got a ride with Bailey and intentionally left my suit at home. I might be leaving my beloved scarves behind now, but I’m not ready to model a swimsuit.
Before we make it back out to the patio, Mia comes in the French door with the baby in her arms. “It’s Katie’s bedtime,” she says, snuggling the little one close. “Say good night.”
“Good night, Katie,” Bailey and I say in unison.
Bailey grabs a few wine glasses from the cabinet and fills two.
“How’s the new roommate situation?” I ask as she hands me mine.
“Fine, I guess. He’s never there. Between school, work, and football, he’s always busy with something, so it’s kind of like free money.”
“I’m glad it worked out for you.” I shift my gaze outside. “I don’t get the impression that he and his dad get along really well, so I’m sure he’s grateful that he didn’t have to move home.”
“What gives you that idea?” she asks as we head back outside and find seats around the fire.
“I don’t know. They don’t talk much, and when he and his dad are at the shop at the same time, it’s always really tense, you know what I mean?”
She shrugs. “I don’t get along with my old man, either. I think it’s normal. Can I ask you something?” she asks, biting back a grin.
“Okay?”
“Do you think Mr. Crowe is kind of a hottie? I mean, for an old guy, he’s still got it, am I right? And those eyes.”
I shake my head at her. “I can honestly say the thought never crossed my mind.”
“You’re kidding! Why not?”
I enunciate carefully: “Because he’s Sebastian’s dad.”
“Spoilsport,” she says. “DILFs are a thing.”
We dissolve into giggles, making all the guys turn to stare at us, and a couple of minutes later, Mia joins us. “What are you two up to?”
“The usual shenanigans,” Bailey says, filling the third wine glass for Mia. “Bringing around the downfall of all good men.”
“Of course,” Mia mutters.
“The pool is heated if you want to swim,” Arrow says, walking over to stand by Mia.
“No thanks,” I say.
Bailey lifts her wine glass. “Priorities.”
“Suit yourself,” Arrow says. He stands behind Mia and rubs her shoulders.
Bailey scowls at him. “The girls need to catch up.” She makes a shooing motion with her hand. “You get her all the time. Go be with your boys.”
He grunts. “Yes, ma’am.” He dips down and presses a kiss to the top of Mia’s head before walking away.
My phone buzzes with a text, and I pull it out of my pocket to look at it.
Logan: I have dinner reservations at Oceanaire in Indianapolis tomorrow night. Any chance you want to keep me company?
“Oceanaire?” Bailey asks, staring at my screen. She looks at Mia. “Logan just invited her to dinner at Oceanaire.”
Mia’s eyes go wide. “Wow. That’s such a nice restaurant. I take it this means your date last weekend went well? I want to hear all about it.”
I shrug. “It was okay, I guess. He’s really nice.” But I left the date more excited about his new bar than I am about the prospect of seeing him again. I frown at the text. I thought I made it clear that I wasn’t ready for this. “I told him I wasn’t sure I was up for dating right now, though.”
Bailey studies me. “I don’t get it. Handsome man likes you, treats you right, and you seem to like him, so what’s the problem? Is it the drug thing?”
I frown. “What drug thing?”
Bailey winces. “Shit. Sorry. It was a long time ago.”
“Well, I didn’t know, so obviously it’s not that.” But that
information unsettles me more deeply than I admit. When someone you love loses their life to drugs—first metaphorically and then literally—the knee-jerk reaction is to despise them and anyone involved with them.
“What’s the hold-up, then?” Bailey asks.
Mia rolls her eyes. “Don’t mind her. She’s totally aware of her hypocrisy as she asks this.”
Bailey nods. “Oh, absolutely I am.” She studies me while I type my reply to Logan, what I hope is a polite thanks-but-no-thanks. “So what is it?” she asks.
I pull my bottom lip between my teeth and look over my shoulder to make sure the guys are still otherwise occupied. “Sebastian.”
“Sebastian?” Mia asks. Then her eyes light up and she bounces in her seat and smacks the back of Bailey’s arm. “She said Sebastian!”
Bailey smirks. “Oh, I heard her.”
I wave a hand, dismissing Mia’s excitement. “He doesn’t feel the same, so simmer down.”
“The fuck he doesn’t,” Bailey says. “He can’t keep his eyes off you.”
My stomach flip-flops and my gaze settles on the man in question. Sebastian must have been in the pool before I got here, because his hair’s wet and he has a towel slung around his shoulders.
A couple of years ago I would have laughed in her face, but things are different now. Not only did Sebastian kiss me at the party, I’ve caught him watching me. Sometimes he tries to hide it, but more and more, when I catch him, he just grins, unashamed. Like in women’s studies, when he scribbled the note that said I looked amazing. “I don’t understand what he wants,” I admit. “One second, he’s kissing me and tilting my whole world off balance, and the next he’s backing away and telling me what a mistake it was to cross that line.”
“Wanna sleep over and sneak into his room?” Bailey asks. “I think he just needs a solid shove across the line, and then he’ll see it’s not so bad.”
That would be tempting if I weren’t so mortified at the idea of him panicking after touching me. “He screws with my head. I think I’ve made peace with being his friend, and then he tells me how pretty I look with my hair down.”
“You’re his best friend’s sister,” Mia says. “He seems to think there are rules.”
“That’s what I told her,” Bailey says.
I don’t like that explanation. I’ve always believed that if you want someone badly enough, the rules don’t matter. I’m not just some random girl who caught his eye. Sebastian knows me. “I’d just like to know how he really feels.”
“You could ask him,” Mia says.
Bailey rolls her eyes. “That would be a rookie mistake. Clearly this guy has spent five years trying to convince himself he shouldn’t be with you, and yet he wants you enough that he kissed you anyway. Don’t ask him, seduce him.”
I gape at Bailey. “Yeah, right.”
She chuckles and rubs her hands together. “I see whose idea catches your attention more.”
“Because yours is ridiculous,” I say.
“Why do you say that?” Mia asks. She cocks her head to the side. “Are you afraid he’d reject you or afraid it would change things between you?”
“Both.”
“Who cares what you’re afraid of?” Bailey says. “Do you want to hear my plan or not?”
My stomach is in knots, and I scowl at her. “Of course I want to hear it.”
* * *
I should never ask Bailey for advice. She left the party early and without me so I’d have to get a ride home from Sebastian, and by the time he pulls his old truck into Mr. Patterson’s driveway, the buzz of the wine has worn off enough that I’m not sure I can follow through with the plan.
“This is where you’re living?” he asks as he throws the truck in park.
“Yep. It’s ridiculous, isn’t it?”
He lets out a low whistle and shakes his head. “Damn, Alex.”
I grin. “Come in with me.” Before he can answer, I pull my keys from my purse and climb out of the truck. I head to the front door, and when I turn back, Sebastian is standing by his truck, looking at me like he’s trying to decide if following me is good idea. I’m not sure even I know the answer to that question, but I cling to the spontaneity that got me here, turn the key in the lock, and push into the house.
When I’m done disarming the alarm, Sebastian steps into the foyer. The empty house doesn’t feel empty at all anymore. Everything about him makes me feel small. The breadth of his shoulders, the size of his hands. Even his voice seems big with the way it fills a room.
Sebastian scans the foyer, taking in the grand staircase, the marble floors, and the mounted deer heads before landing on me. “Jesus. I think this is what the other ninety-eight percent are pissed about.”
Laughing, I grab his hand. “I want to show you something.” With his warm hand in mine, I lead him through the house. “Come on.”
We cut through the butler’s pantry and into the sunporch that overlooks the pool area. Normally I take my time when walking through Mr. Patterson’s house. It’s beautiful. The kind of home I used to dream about buying for myself someday, and while Mr. P’s choice of decor isn’t necessarily my style (taxidermy much?), it’s fun to daydream about having enough money to have and decorate a house this massive.
It’s dark outside, but there’s just enough light from the house and the moon that the pool is visible. I point to it as I spin around to him. “Are you up for it?”
“You want to swim?” Sebastian asks. He’s standing just outside of the sunroom, hands tucked into his pockets.
“Yep.”
“You hate swimming.” He’s confused, and it’s cute.
“No, Bash. I hate people looking at me in a swimsuit. I actually love swimming.”
His tongue darts out to wet his bottom lip and his chest rises with a deep breath. “Do you have a suit with you?”
I find the panel by the back door that controls the lights for the pool area. I click on the lights inside the pool but leave the others off. “Do I need one?”
Chapter Twenty-Two
Sebastian
Alex toes off her shoes then opens the door and steps out onto the dark patio. My gaze drops to the swing of her hips, the curve of her ass in those jeans, and my chest feels tight with everything I want but told myself I can’t have. She stops in front of the pool, and all I can see is her silhouette in the moonlight. I’m hypnotized as she unbuttons her flannel shirt and lets it fall off her arms. She unbuttons her jeans and shimmies them off her hips before stepping free of them. She rises onto her toes and stretches her arms above her head, and I can’t take my eyes off her.
When she turns to face me, I have to tamp down the impulse to reach over and hit all these switches until I find the one that turns on the patio lights. She’s in a thin tank top and panties. I think the tank is white, but it’s hard to tell. I want to see it all—the hard pebble of her nipples in the cool air, the hollow of her hipbones, the line of sensitive flesh just above her panties and below the hem of her tank. My heart races as if I’ve run the length of the field, and I’m just standing here, watching her, itching to touch, to take, to claim what I can’t have. I want to follow the scar down her neck and over her breast and examine the juncture of smooth, unmarred ivory skin and textured scar. I want to brush my fingers over that space where demons I know too well reached beyond their boundaries and caught an innocent.
“Are you coming or not?” She turns away from me, and in one swift, graceful motion, she arches her back and dives into the pool.
I rush outside without letting myself think about what I’m doing. I can’t be expected to be an arm’s reach from Alexandra DeLuca in her panties and keep my hands to myself, but I’m not going to sit back and let her swim alone in the dark. I don’t care if she’s a good swimmer and I don’t care if she sobered up on the drive here. She’s buzzed enough to strip in front of me, so she’s too buzzed to swim alone.
I stand at the edge of the pool, staring down into the glow
ing water and turned on as fuck. Because she’s so beautiful it hurts. Literally, it hurts—a knee in the junk and a fist around my heart all at the same time. Every minute I spend with her is only confirmation of what I already knew—that hers is a beauty that starts at her very core.
When she surfaces, she props her elbows at my feet and smiles up at me. She slicks her hair back and pulls it over her shoulder, making rivulets of water stream down her chest and into her cleavage. The tank is white and low cut, and her bra beneath it is black and lace.
Fuck me.
“Are you getting in?” She grabs my jeans and tugs. “Come on, Bash. Strip.”
I swallow hard. “I can’t go skinny-dipping with you, beautiful.”
“But I’m not naked. It’s only skinny-dipping if you’re naked. Isn’t this the same as wearing a swimsuit? I have a shirt on. And underwear.”
You wouldn’t for long if I got in there with you. I step back, out of her grasp, and her hand settles on her chest and her smile falters. I’m trying real hard to be a saint here, and instead I’m hurting her feelings.
“Fuck.” I yank my shirt over my head and unbutton my jeans, letting them fall to the ground before stepping out of them.
I can’t tell for sure, but I think she’s looking at my boxer briefs. I doubt the moonlight allows her to see how much blood my brain is directing to regions south of my waistband, but the idea of her looking doesn’t do much to relieve my discomfort. I’ve had fantasies that start like that, and there’s no reason to give my brain any ideas.
Tonight is no different than every other day with Alex. Two friends hanging out.
In their underwear.
She follows my every move as I lower myself into the pool. The water is warm, and sinking into it releases tension I didn’t realize I was holding.
“Crazy things Alex DeLuca makes me do,” she says, her voice low in an attempt to imitate me. “Swim in my underwear after dark.”
