by K. Bromberg
“Don’t let the press get a hold of that or they’ll have a field day with it.”
“Believe me, I know.” He laughs.
We both turn our heads as Shane’s laughter fills the garage. Beckett has his arm around his shoulder and is laughing with him while Davis is lifting Ricky into the seat of the car to sit for a picture. “Thank you so much, Colton. For making them feel special for a day.” He turns from watching the boys to look back at me. “For everything. I can’t begin to tell you how much it means to the boys.”
A dark look flashes across his face. “It’s not a big deal.” He shrugs it off, picking at the label on the Gatorade bottle. “I understand that need more than most.” He shifts his attention back to the boys who are each getting their chance to sit in the car and get their picture taken. We watch them for a few moments, Colton taking his hat off of his head and running his hands through his hair. I watch him out of the corner of my eye as he looks at his watch and then turns his attention back to the boys.
Tawny’s words ring in my ears. Two months, tops. What if she’s right? Even if whatever we have lasts three or four months, I know it won’t be enough. I don’t think any amount of time will be enough to love someone like Colton. He is one of those guys who consumes every part of you. Makes you whole when you never thought you were incomplete. Gives you strength and makes you weak all at the same time. I know I am capable of loving him like that—like he deserves—but I know I will never get the chance. Tawny may be a catty bitch, but she knows him way better than I do. Between her words, Colton’s own admissions, my research, and my intuition, I know that I will end up being destroyed if I allow myself to fall in love with Colton. And I can’t allow that to happen. The rise might be more than fun, but the devastation after the fall will break me.
Colton breaks through my thoughts. “We have a meeting in ten minutes,” he says, turning to look at me. “Can you stay and then I’ll drive you home when it’s over?”
I twist the ring I’d put back on this morning—a source of comfort to me. I desperately want to say yes. “It’s probably not a good idea, Colton,” I shake my head, avoiding his gaze.
“For who?” he says, turning and taking a step closer to me. His scent envelops me—the outdoorsy, clean scent of his cologne mixed with the scent of a man who has put in a hard day’s work.
I eye him warily, trying to keep him at an emotional distance. “For both of us, Colton. You said so yourself the other night.” He takes a step closer to me and I can feel my pulse surge.
“But maybe I think something different today …”
I sigh deeply, telling myself that nothing’s changed since Saturday night. He is who he is, and he’s not going to change. That a few days away from each other has just made him horny, and he wants some relief. That’s all this is. I push his last comment out of my head and try to carry on like he never said it. “Besides, I have to get the boys home. They’re my responsibility.”
He takes another step toward me, and I put my hands up on his chest to prevent him from getting any closer. I don’t think I’d be able to bear the feeling of his body pressed against mine. My hands pressing against the firm muscles of his chest makes it hard enough for me to resist him as it is.
Colton takes a hand and lifts my chin up. “What’s wrong, Ry?” His eyes search mine, trying to understand my hesitancy. How can he understand why his idea of a relationship is unacceptable to me? How do I explain that him pushing me away one minute and then kissing me senseless the next is making me question what I might concede in order to have him in my life?
“You,” I whisper.
“Me?” he mouths.
“You confuse me at every turn, Colton.” I shake my head softly and despite telling myself that touching him will only make walking away that much harder, I lift my finger and trace the hem of the neckline on his damp shirt. “One minute you tell me you can’t stay away and the next you tell me you have to keep me at arm’s length because you’re going to hurt me. On Saturday you told me whatever is between us will never work unless I agree to your terms and then today you kiss me breathless.” I step back from him and look over at the boys getting a tour of the garage, to avoid meeting his gaze. “I can’t give you what you want and you can’t give me what I need. That’s all I know. All I understand, Colton.”
He steps toward me again and tugs on my ponytail, forcing my head to lift and my eyes to meet his. And despite the chaos around us—the boys laughter, the clang of metal on metal, the sound of an air compressor in the distance—when his eyes hold mine, it all disappears. It’s just he and I. A guy way too irresistible for his own good and a girl in way over her head.
“As much as I keep telling myself that this needs to be—should be—over, Rylee, for both our sakes … I still want you.” He cups the side of my face with his free hand and traces the pad of his thumb over my bottom lip. “Desperately,” he whispers. His words resonate in my heart. “I think about how soft your skin is. The feeling of your body against mine. Of it under mine. How you tighten around me when I’m buried in you …” His words, mixed with the intensity in his eyes, leave me breathless. Has my body vibrating with a deep-seated need for him that I’m not sure will ever be sated. “Christ, Rylee, it … you … are consuming me.” He leans in and brushes a soft, brief kiss on my lips. The innocence and vulnerability behind it beguiles me. “And I intend to have you again.”
I breathe in a sharp, audible gasp. I step back from him, holding his gaze for a second longer, before looking around the garage to check on the boys. I notice more people have joined us since we started talking. I notice a perplexed look pass between Beckett and Quinlan. I see Davis rounding the boys up, and I know our time here is ending.
“I’m sure you’ll feel that way until you find someone else who fits your requirements,” I quip, fearing my words speak the truth. I turn back to Colton, still trying to recover from the impact of his confession and yet needing to show him that I have some self-control when it comes to him. “Why waste your time on me when you can have any other girl willing to give you exactly what you want?”
“But. I. Want. You. Rylee. No. One. Else.” He smirks.
The man is relentless, but I still think he’s after the challenge when it comes to me. I shake my head. “You have a habit of telling me what you want, Ace, without asking me what I want.”
Colton takes the baseball hat in his hands and tugs it down over my head, a Cheshire cat grin spreading across his face and a sinful gleam in his eyes. “Oh, sweetheart...” he emits a low rumbling chuckle as he takes two steps back from me “...I know exactly what you want.” He holds his hand up to motion to Beckett that he’s coming when his name is called. His grin widens into one of the wickedest and most carnal smiles I have ever seen. My core coils and I tense to stifle my desire. “And I have just the right tools to give it to you.” And with those parting words, he turns on his heel and walks over to Beckett, his laughter reverberating in the garage. Beckett eyes him up and down, a bemused look on his face as Colton says goodbye to the boys.
When Colton finishes, he turns back toward me and smirks. “All consuming experience!”
He laughs at my confused expression. “What?”
“What it stands for.” He grins and I finally get it. He’s still guessing what Ace means.
“Nope,” I say, fighting the smile that tugs at the corners of my mouth.
He takes a step backwards, biting his bottom lip in concentration. I can see the minute he thinks of another one as his eyes light up, the corners around them crinkling. “The amazing Colton experience,” he shouts over to me, garnering an eye roll from Beckett.
“Oh geez!” I laugh at his lack of humility and mimic Beckett with an eye roll of my own. “Nope,” I yell back, suppressing a laugh.
Colton takes another step backwards, his face filled with humor, and shakes his head at me. “Later, Ryles.”
“Later, Ace,” I mutter, begrudgingly accepting the fact th
at in so many ways Colton is right. That no matter how intelligent I am or how rational I try to be, his pull on me is just too strong.
I tug his hat down on my head, adjusting my now-wrecked ponytail, and watch him throw a playful arm around Beckett’s shoulder as they walk down the pathway. I shake my head, overwhelmed by the day’s events, and head over to collect my excited but very tired boys for the long ride home.
“CHECK IT OUT!” DANE THROWS a newspaper proof onto my desk as he walks by my office at Corporate Cares. “Your cleavage is going to be in the newspaper and we’re going to get some good press.”
I whip my head up to look at him, confused, before glancing down at the paper. On the lower half of the cover of the sports section is a side-by-side picture of our outing at the track and the accompanying article. The picture on the left is a picture of Colton’s car with all of the boys kneeling in front of it with Colton in the middle. The picture to the right is a close up of Zander, Ricky, and myself. I am in between the two, and unfortunately, the way my arms are positioned, my cleavage is on display in the V of my snug T-shirt. “Lovely! Oh my God, that’s embarrassing!”
“C’mon, Ry, you look hot. And the girls look great!”
I throw my pencil at him, laughing. “When does this go to print? Can we ask him to change the picture?”
“Yeah, right! You know they picked it so that the guys that open up the sports page will read the article and not flip past it.” I roll my eyes, feeling the flush of embarrassment creep into my cheeks. “Just think of it as taking one for the team—”
“What?”
“It’s a really good article that’s going to give us good press.” He laughs out loud. “Hell, if I was into playing for your team, I’d keep the picture for late night fun!”
“Oh, shut up!” I shout at him, unable to keep my laughter from bubbling up.
“C’mon, Ry—read it. You’re gonna like what it says.”
“Really?” I raise an eyebrow as I skim through it, pleased with what I see.
“Seriously. It is,” he tells me, taking a seat in front of my desk. “A lot of good info about The House and about corporate and the new facilities.”
“When’s it running?”
“This Sunday, and the OC Register most likely will run then too, but I haven’t seen their proof yet.”
“Hmmm, not bad.” I set it down on the side of my desk where I can read it more thoroughly later.
“How was your interview?” he asks, referring to the one good candidate I had for the open counselor position. I interviewed her earlier in the day and was quite impressed.
“She was actually really good. Almost too good to be true really, but her references check out, and I think I’m going to make her an offer. I think the boys will really take to her. I’ll need you to help me train her but—” The ringing of my cell phone interrupts me. I glance down to see who is calling. “It’s Teddy,” I tell him.
Dane rises from the chair and mouths he’ll come back later as I answer. “Hey, Teddy!”
“Rylee! Heard we got a good article from the LA Times. Great job!”
“You’re breaking up on me, Teddy.” The phone line crackles.
“I need to talk to you—” The call drops and the line goes dead.
I wait a second for my phone to ring again and when it doesn’t, I go back to looking at the budgetary numbers I was working on before Dane interrupted. After a few minutes, my cell rings again.
“Hello?”
“Rylee Thomas, please,” a monotone male voice says over the phone.
“This is she.”
“Hi, Ms. Thomas, this is Abel Baldwin.”
Oh, crap! What boy is it this time? “Good afternoon, Principal Baldwin. What can I do for you today?”
“Well, it seems to me that Aiden can’t seem to keep his hands to himself lately. He was in yet another fight last period, Ms. Thomas.” Disdain fills his voice at having to deal with this again.
This is Aiden’s third fight in as many months that has been caught by school authorities. I have a feeling that there have actually been a couple more that have gone unnoticed as well. Oh, Aiden. “What happened?”
“Not quite sure. He won’t really talk with me about it.” And I really don’t think you care, either.
“What about the other kid?” A question that I ask every time and always get a less than satisfactory answer to.
“They said it was a simple misunderstanding.”
“They?” There’s more than one? “I hope that they are in your office as well, Mr. Baldwin.”
He clears his throat. “Not exactly. They are in class and—”
“What?” I shout at him, perplexed by his obvious bias.
“And I think it’s better if you come and pick up Aiden—”
“He’s suspended?” I ask through gritted teeth.
“No, he’s not.” I can hear the irritation in his voice at having me question him. “If you’d let me finish Ms. Thomas—”
“He’s not suspended, but you want me to come get him while the other boys get to stay in class?” My rising frustration is more than evident in my voice. “Surely you can understand why I’m upset at what seems to be favoritism here.”
He stays quiet for a moment as I gather up my things as best as possible with one hand so I can go pick him up. “Ms. Thomas, your accusation is unfounded and serves no purpose here. Now I would appreciate if you could come collect Aiden so we can let the two parties simmer down. This in no way indicates that Aiden is at fault in this matter. In addition, Aiden has blood on his clothing and seeing as it’s against school policy for him to walk around with it there, I think it’s in the school’s best interest to send him home for the afternoon.”
I sigh loudly, biting my tongue from telling this less-than-stellar principal exactly what I think of him. “I’ll be right there.”
Aiden is silent all the way home from school. My shift at The House doesn’t start for another three hours, but I think that Aiden and I need to have a little alone time to talk about what happened. I haven’t pushed him to tell me, but I need to know. Is he being bullied? Is he looking for attention that he’s not getting? Is he releasing frustration from his past? I need to know so that I can figure out how to help.
Before we walk into the house, I motion for him to sit down on the front porch step next to me. He rolls his eyes but obeys. He stares at me as I take in the swollen lip with dried blood at the corner, the dark red mark on his right cheek and the start of bruising on the left eye. His cheeks flush deeply under my scrutiny.
“I know you don’t want to talk about it, buddy, but you have to tell me what happened.” I reach out and grab his hand while he lowers his head and watches an ant crawl slowly on the step beneath us. We sit in silence, and I allow it for a bit but finally squeeze his hand, letting him know he needs to talk.
“They were just being jerks,” he grumbles.
“Who started it, Aiden?” When he doesn’t respond, I prompt again. “Aiden? Who threw the first punch?”
“I did.” His voice is so soft, so sad with shame that it breaks my heart. I see a fat tear slide down his swollen cheek, and I know that something is off.
“Talk to me, Aiden. Who was it and what did they do to make you want to hit them?”
He reaches up to dash away the fallen tear with the back of his hand and leaves a smear of dirt in its path. “They called me a liar,” he mumbles, his bottom lip quivering. “Ashton Smitty and Grant Montgomery.”
Little punks! The know-it-all, privileged, popular kids from his grade whose parents never seem to be around. I wrap my arm around his shoulder and pull him to my side, kissing the top of his head. “What did they say you were lying about?”
His voice is barely audible. “They told me I lied about going to the track on Sunday. That I didn’t really meet Colton or know him …”
My heart squeezes. He was so excited to go to school and tell all his friends about his experience. So
excited to be cool for once and have something that the other kids didn’t. I sigh loudly, squeezing him again. I want to tell him that the little punks deserved it and that he did the right thing, but that’s obviously not the most responsible way to react. “Oh, Aiden … I’m sorry, buddy. Sorry they didn’t believe you. Sorry they pushed you … but Aiden, fighting somebody with your fists is not the way to solve things. It only ends up making it worse.”
He reluctantly nods his head. “I know, but—”
“Aiden,” I scold sternly, “there are no buts here … you can’t use your fists to fix problems.”
“I know, but I tried to tell Ms. McAdams when they started pushing and shoving and she wouldn’t listen.”
I can see another tear threaten to fall from his thick lashes. “Well then, I’m going to make an appointment to speak with her and Baldwin about this.” His head whips up and his eyes open widely in fear. “I’m not going to make it worse, Aiden. I’m just going to ask them to keep their eyes open a little more. To make sure that they do not let this happen again. And I’ll make sure that the other kids don’t know.”
He nods his head, releasing a noncommittal grunt. “Am I in trouble?” He looks up at me with fear in eyes.
I wrap both my arms around him and squeeze his little body that’s known so much hurt and abandonment. I hold him to me, trying to reassure him and let him know that it’s okay. That getting in trouble doesn’t mean a severe beating and food withheld for days. “Yeah, bud, you are … but I think that icky feeling you have might just be the worst of it.” I feel his shoulders sag in relief as a plan forms in my head.
“I knew you couldn’t stay away from me for long.” Colton’s voice fills the other end of the telephone line, arrogance redefined. His sexy voice alone makes my pulse race, but I have to put how I feel aside as I put my plan to help restore Aiden’s self-confidence at school into motion.
