BetweenTwoBillionairesCompleteStripped

by Sky Corgan

  “Yes.” He glances at the row of tables lining the side of the building. “Here will be just fine.” He places a hand on the small of my back, herding me towards one of the tables. It feels odd being touched by him, and it definitely gets me moving. There's no electricity like there is with Tristan's touch. More like a coldness that resonates through Shawn's entire being.

  We sit, and the tension builds inside of me. This feels so awkward. It reminds me of a job interview or going to the gynecologist. Being somewhere you don't want to be but know you can't avoid.

  “Do you like my brother?” It's a very straightforward question.

  “Yes. I like him very much. Why?” the answer flows from me with ease.

  “Tristan likes you too.” He looks away. Maybe I'm not the only one who was dreading this conversation. Beneath Shawn's cool exterior, I can tell he's every bit as uncomfortable as I am. He's doing a poor job of hiding it.

  “So what's the problem?” I stare at him, slowly feeling better now that I know this isn't really fun for either one of us.

  “Tristan isn't the guy you think he is.”

  Oh great. The bomb drops. Now I'm probably going to learn that Tristan is a compulsive liar or something of the sort. I knew he was too good to be true.

  “Clarify.” I wring my hands together under the table, expecting the worst.

  Shawn readjusts, gazing through the grating on the table. “Tristan has been through a lot in his short lifetime. We both have. He told you about what happened to our parents and our aunt.”

  I nod.

  “He suffered misfortune even before that,” Shawn continues. “And then Kelly died.” He pauses, looking lost in thought. “Tristan doesn't typically let people get close to him because of all the loss he's suffered. That's why I was really surprised when he told me about you.” His eyes finally rise to meet mine.

  I can feel my cheeks growing warm. If what he's saying is true, then Tristan really must have feelings for me. A sheepish grin crosses my face. “Oh?”

  “Tristan likes you a lot.” Shawn confirms my thoughts. “But that has me a bit concerned, not just for him.”

  “Why?” The grin drops from my lips, and I knit my brow.

  “He's very sensitive about things.” He glances up towards the branches of the tree overlooking the building as if it will help him find the words he's trying to say.

  “Sensitive about what?” I shake my head, wishing he'd just get to the point already.

  “A lot of things. What you saw of him was probably him putting his best foot forward.”

  “Doesn't everyone do that when they first meet?” I laugh.

  “I suppose they do.” He smiles, loosening up a little. In the dim light of the moon playing through the trees, he looks every bit as charming as Tristan. I'd like to see him smile more. Maybe I'll get to if I end up dating his brother. “But the point is that Tristan is super sensitive about a lot of things. He's prone to outbursts of emotion, sometimes angry,” his tone darkens, bringing me back to the reality of what he's trying to tell me.

  “Are you saying he gets abusive?” I search his face for the truth.

  “Not physically, but he can say things that are rather hurtful. Things that might drive you away. You need to know before you commit to him that if he does have one of his outbursts, he doesn't mean the things he says. And I have to know you're strong enough to take it, because he can't handle anymore loss.” Concern for Tristan shines through on Shawn's features. It's the first time I've realized how damaged Tristan actually is and how much Shawn cares about him. I wish Ethel and I had a similar relationship, though neither of us are really damaged. There's love between Shawn and Tristan; I can see it clearly. There's just tolerance between Ethel and I.

  “You said he suffered loss before your parents died. Who else died?” I ask.

  “Well, aside from the family dog,” his eyes widen in mock sympathy, “no one else of importance. He's been through other things though that are hard on people. Things it's not really my place to discuss with you.”

  I nod, understanding. Most people have private things about themselves they'd rather disclose on their own. “So, if you've both suffered almost an equal amount of loss, then how come you're not all messed up?”

  Shawn laughs, “Who says I'm not messed up?”

  I straighten myself, embarrassed, though I'm not sure why. “Well, you just made it sound like—”

  “I know.” He rolls his eyes playfully. “If you haven't noticed yet, Tristan and I don't exactly have a whole lot in common physically. Our personalities are rather different as well. While he let his experiences break him down emotionally, mine have hardened me. I've always been the more levelheaded one between us. I think Mom babied him too much, since he was the youngest. It made him all weak and sweet and sentimental.”

  “There's nothing wrong with that.” I brush a strand of hair behind my ear, thinking about how those were the qualities that drew me to Tristan in the first place.

  “There's nothing wrong with it in appropriate quantities,” Shawn corrects me. “Do you want to have children someday, Sarah?”

  The question is so out of left field that my mouth falls agape for a second. “I guess? That's kind of an odd thing to ask.”

  “Is it? It's important to know what you want in a relationship.”

  “In a marriage, not a relationship.” I shake my head. “I don't want to have kids until after I'm married. Until after I finish college. There's a progression I'd like to follow with my life, if at all possible.”

  He smirks, leaning back in his chair, though I don't see what's so funny. “Everything doesn't always go as we plan.”

  Don't I know that one. He's being so cryptic that it's a bit worrisome. I open my mouth to ask what hasn't gone as planned for him, but he stands abruptly, gazing down on me.

  “It's late. You should get home, and me as well.” Shawn looks toward his car.

  “I suppose it is.” I pull myself up, following his lead.

  “Tristan will probably call you soon. Remember what I've said when you're with him.” He walks away from me, waving nonchalantly over his shoulder. The iciness returns as he leaves me there, not even bothering to make sure I get to my vehicle okay. Shawn is such a strange guy. There's something so mysterious and dark about him . . . and sexy. I silently chastise myself for being attracted to him. He's Tristan's brother, and I'm all about Tristan, especially now that I know he's all about me.

  It's weird that Shawn came to warn me about him, but I'm kind of glad he did. While I'm not really afraid of Tristan's mood swings, at least I know to expect them. I just hope I can deal with them when the time comes.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Shawn was right on the mark about Tristan trying to contact me, though it came in the form of a text message instead of a phone call. The very next day, Tristan asks me out on a date for the weekend. My heart pounds happily in my chest as I respond with a resounding yes. Yes, I want to see him again. Yes, I want to see where this is going to go between us. The thought of being in a relationship with a sweet, caring, handsome billionaire is more than I could have ever dreamed. Maybe Ethel's plan to crash his party wasn't so stupid after all.

  I count down the days and hours until Tristan and I see each other again. This time, he offered to pick me up, though he wouldn't tell me where we're going. “It's a surprise,” he said. That just makes it all the more romantic.

  Friday passes in a flurry of smiles and anticipation. I text Tristan my address on Friday night, and then I stay up late, tossing and turning, my mind going wild with the possibilities of what he could have planned for us.

  I'm unable to sleep until almost 4AM. It makes for a rough morning. Tristan is supposed to be here at 11AM, and it takes more than one layer of concealer to hide the bags beneath my eyes. I'm running on five hours of sleep, but the adrenaline pumping through me at the thought of seeing Tristan again helps to keep me from being cranky.

  Thankfully, Ethel
hasn't barged into my room to bother me. I'm not even certain if she's home right now, but I don't think I could handle the stress of dealing with her while I'm getting ready. Plus, I'm pretty sure she'd nag me about introducing her to Shawn if I told her that Tristan was coming over, and I don't really need that right now.

  At 10:50AM, I'm waiting on the front porch, hoping I don't look too eager to see him. I am eager though. So eager that I woke up two hours early and skipped breakfast, so I could spend the entire time fretting over my dress and hair and makeup. I'm wearing a white sundress with yellow daisies on it, and I spent the good part of an hour curling my long brown hair and clipping it back with bobby pins until it was just right. I even went out on a limb by wearing some of Ethel's bright-red lipstick. Hopefully, she won't kill me for it. It's not like I went into her bedroom to retrieve it. We share a bathroom, and that's where she keeps all of her makeup.

  Overall, I think the outfit looks cute. Wholesome, but not too much. And I even ditched the granny panties. Ethel would be so proud.

  I sit on the curb, wrap my dress around my ankles so it won't get dirty, and wait as patiently as I can. My stomach feels like it's up in my throat though, so eventually I stop staring down the street like a lunatic and grab a nearby stick to poke at some ants instead. It's not very ladylike, but it's better than looking like some lovesick fool, which is exactly what I am.

  A few minutes later, I hear an engine rev, and I look up to see a motorcycle heading my way. The hopeful look in my eyes fades as I realize it's not Tristan, so I promptly return my attention to the ants who are desperately trying to avoid me poking at them. When I first started, they were in a line moving from the yard to a crack in the sidewalk. Now they're all dispersed, trying to get away from me yet still reach their destination at the same time.

  The motorcycle gets louder as it approaches, and I bite back my annoyance. They're always so loud, and this one seems louder than most. It's like it's moving at a snail's pace. And then I realize that's because it's slowing down in front of my house. I stand to watch the bike coast into my driveway.

  Holy crap. You've got to be kidding me.

  The rider kills the engine and pulls off his helmet. Blonde hair and blue eyes greet me. It's Tristan.

  “Is this the surprise?” I gesture toward his bike, trying to seem excited, when in truth, I'm terrified. I've never ridden a motorcycle before.

  “No,” he laughs, dismounting and walking up to me.

  He picks me up in his arms and twirls me around. Then he leans in to kiss me. Right in the driveway.

  While I appreciate the affection, I can't help but continually glance at the front door. Both of my parents have the day off, and my mom was showing a bit too much interest in the fact that I have a date today. I wouldn't put it past her to spy on us, and this is definitely not something she'd want to see.

  “Am I going to get to meet your parents?” Tristan asks almost on queue with my nervous thoughts.

  “Not today.” I place my hands on his chest, hoping I don't seem rude. I'd rather wait to introduce him until we've gone out a few more times. As it is, I still barely know him.

  Thankfully, he doesn't seem offended. He glances at the house, then back at me. “Are you ready to go?”

  “You should have told me you were bringing a motorcycle. I would have worn pants.” I frown.

  “Hm.” He looks at me thoughtfully. “You should have told me you were going to look so gorgeous, and I would have brought a car.”

  “I should go change.” I force myself away from him to head back inside, a bit disappointed that all of my fretting over my outfit was for nothing.

  He grabs my hand as I try to walk away, pulling me back to him. “Or you could just tuck the skirt between your legs. It's long enough.”

  “That's awkward. I'd rather change.” I blink at him.

  “It will be fine.” He retreats back to the motorcycle, leaving me no choice but to follow him.

  I give a lingering glance toward the windows. Mother would be so proud if she saw me doing this. With a sigh, I relent, swinging my leg over the bike behind him and doing my best to tuck the skirt up so that it will both cover me and not get caught up in the bike.

  “This is dangerous,” I grumble.

  “Live a little, Sarah.” Tristan casts a charming smile at me as he pushes his helmet down over my head. It's big, but it still messes up my hair.

  “What about you?” I ask him, my voice filled with concern.

  “I'll be fine. Keeping you safe is what's important.” He presses a button to start the engine.

  “I've never done this before,” I yell over the sound of the engine.

  “Just hold on, lean with me when I lean, keep your feet on the foot-pegs, and we should be fine.” He backs out of the driveway before I even have a chance to respond, and all I can do is cling to him, my heart beating to the point that I worry it might explode.

  The wind whips past us as he pulls out of the neighborhood and picks up speed on the highway. I'm terrified the entire time. This isn't exactly what I would call fun. Even though my dress is hiked up and tucked, I can feel it beating against my legs, and there's a constant fear that it will come undone, get caught in the bike, and we'll both be dead. I'm never happier when he finally slows down and pulls into the state park. My grip relaxes on his waist, and I allow myself to look around, wondering what he has planned.

  He drives for a while until we get to a nice spot next to a pond. Then he rolls to a stop and kills the engine. My arms ache from holding onto him so tightly, and my thighs are a bit sore from squeezing the bike, but all of that goes away when I see him open up the storage compartment and pull out a red and white checkered blanket.

  “Are we going to have a picnic?” I ask, pulling the helmet off of my head and placing it on the bike.

  “It looks like a good day for it.” Tristan gazes up at the sun through the trees for a moment before he returns his attention to extracting Tupperware filled with food from the storage compartment.

  He hands me two bottles of water and several containers, and then he closes the storage compartment and begins walking towards the pond. I follow him, biting my bottom lip as I stare at his ass in tight jeans. Good lord, he's hot. He's hot and romantic and perfect, and he wants me. That's the most important part. He wants me.

  I watch him spread the blanket on the ground, and then we sit together to go through the Tupperware. He brought turkey sandwiches, deviled eggs, grapes, and a container with extra pieces of bread.

  “What are these for?” I ask, looking at the one container full of bread.

  “To feed the ducks.” He nods at the pond, where there are several ducks already heading towards us in anticipation.

  “You're so thoughtful.” I grin at him, brushing a strand of hair behind my ear and thinking about what a mess I probably look like.

  “And you're so beautiful.” He stares across at me, scooting closer and reaching up to caress my face. The electricity is there, and I find myself closing my eyes as he leans in to kiss me. His lips feel like heaven on top of mine. So gentle, so earnest.

  Warmth fills my chest. Love. How can I love someone I don't even really know? That doesn't seem to matter right now though. We'll get to know each other. It will just take some time.

  “You're insanely perfect. You know that right?” I tell him when he finally pulls away. “Sometimes, I think you're not even real.”

  He smiles broadly at me, looking bashful. “I'm not perfect, Sarah. No one is.”

  “Well, you sure have me fooled.” I look out at the pond. The entire setting is completely romantic. The small grassy hill we're on. The rippling water. The picnic. It's as if he knows everything about me, everything I like.

  “I hope you like turkey.” He lifts up the container that has our sandwiches.

  “I'm going to get fat dating you,” I tease, but then immediately feel insecure about bringing up the dating word. Is it too early to say it?

&nbs
p; “You could stand to gain a pound or two.” He hands one of the sandwiches over to me.

  We eat in near silence, taking in the ambiance. I keep finding myself staring at him, swooning, feeling like this is just a dream I'll wake up from. I can't imagine Shawn's words being true. Tristan seems so stable. It's hard to picture him being unsettled, or even unhappy, for that matter. I hope I never have to see him unhappy. I hope it's always like this with us. Just like this.

  “Sorry I didn't bring any wine,” he comments as he twists the top off of his bottle of water.

  “No. Don't apologize.” I shake my head. “Drinking and driving and all. And on a motorcycle, no less.”

  “Yeah. That was my thought too. I should have really brought the car instead.” He narrows his eyes at the motorcycle as if it suddenly became his enemy.

  “It's fine. It was . . . different.” The bike is definitely my enemy.

  “You seemed scared to death. I was more worried about you crushing my ribs than I was about crashing.” He breaks into a toothy grin.

  “I'm sorry.” I cower a bit. “That was my first time, and it was a bit unnerving.”

  “You don't like it, do you?” He scrunches up his face at me.

  “If we're being honest, not really.” I feel kind of bad for disappointing him. It's obvious he really enjoys riding his motorcycle. I don't think it's very safe though or practical.

  “Well, you can't know unless you try it.” His eyes darken a bit. He's fixed on my face, looking intense. I almost forgot he can be this way. It's like the wheels inside his head are turning on some secret. Or maybe I'm just reading him wrong. Either way, it makes me feel uncomfortable.

  “No, you can't,” I say finally, looking away from him and popping a grape into my mouth. “The ducks are getting brave.”

  “They are.” He glances over at a brace of ducks beginning to surround us like they're about to hold us hostage for our bread. He takes a piece from the container, breaks it up, and tosses it out to them. They flock in the direction of the food, giving us a bit more space.