by BK Rivers
“This is so good,” he says between bites. “You got any dessert?”
I smile—he’s such a man. “Yes, actually, I do. But we’re going to play a little game before you get to eat any.”
Ethan’s smile falls as he considers my words. “What kind of game? Does it involve removing articles of clothing?” His smile returns while his brown eyes roam my upper body.
“All clothing will remain on,” I answer, swatting my napkin in his direction. “I’m playing for information.”
“That’s not fair. What do I get?” he whines, pushing his plate away.
“Um…dessert?”
I quickly gather up the dishes, making sure to save a plate for Ace and cover it with plastic wrap. Just because he’s avoiding me doesn’t mean I can’t still take care of him. Somehow I feel like he needs someone watching over him.
“All right, I want to see this dessert,” Ethan says, glancing around the kitchen. I point to the fridge and he jumps up like an eager puppy waiting for a treat. His eyes widen in excitement as he pulls out the large pan of brownies. “This smells incredible.”
“Thanks. You ready to play?”
He nods, but grabs a knife from the drawer before returning to the table.
“I’ll make a deal with you,” he says, smiling ear to ear. “For every question of yours I answer, I get to cut a piece of this and eat it.”
“Sure,” I say, shrugging my shoulders. “You’d just better leave some for Ace.” I sit back in my chair, fold my arms across my chest, and decide to start with the easy questions first. “You came in the house wearing scrubs, what do you do for work?”
“You want to know what my job is?” he asks, his brows drawn together. I nod and smile, knowing I’ve surprised him. “I’m an ER nurse. And before you go and start making fun of me, let me say that I actually really love what I do.”
“I wasn’t going to make fun of you.” I’m actually pretty impressed, but I do laugh when Ethan cuts a small square of brownie and then plops it into his mouth. His eyes roll back in his head as he groans some more.
“These are incredible. Are they homemade?”
“Um…yeah. I can’t stand the way boxed brownies taste.”
“Next question,” he says, waggling his eyebrows and scoping out the brownie pan.
“How old are you?”
“Twenty-eight. Next.” He cuts another brownie and gobbles it up quickly.
“How long have you known Ace?”
“I was wondering if this is where your questions would end up.” He smiles like he has me pegged. Maybe he does, because truthfully, I’ll take whatever information he’s willing to share about Ace.
“We went to high school together…so about fourteen years.” Another question, another brownie.
“Why does he live with you and not in his own house?”
Ethan’s back grows rigid and his Adam’s apple bobs in his throat. He lays the knife on the table and sits back in his chair. Did the room just grow cold, or is it just me? When it’s obvious he’s not sure how to answer, or that he won’t answer, I decide to retract the question.
“Never mind. Obviously it’s none of my business. Forget I asked.”
“How much has he told you about himself?” he asks, staring straight at me with haunted eyes.
“Honestly…pretty much nothing. He’s pretty closed off. I don’t think he really likes me.” I must be stupid for thinking this since he kissed me today. Though, I suppose you could kiss someone you don’t like, but I imagine it wouldn’t set my lips on fire and reverberate in my toes if there wasn’t some kind of connection between us.
“Ace is…he’s punishing himself for something he had no control over. He doesn’t talk about it and I suppose he may never. But he was married…to my sister.” Ethan pauses, glances out the kitchen window, and slowly closes his eyes. So he and Ace are more than friends, they’re brothers. Or brothers-in-law, but still.
“What happened? You said was. Did they divorce?”
“Marley passed away five years ago and Ace blames himself. He had nothing to do with it, yet he constantly pushes people away, not willing to grow close because he’s afraid he’ll somehow hurt them.”
“I’m really sorry,” I say, sniffing back the wide range of emotions rolling through me. Not only did Ace lose his wife, but his best friend also lost a sister. “Can I ask how she died?”
Ethan’s cheeks puff out as he releases a long breath. When his gaze returns to me, I can see the pain etched around his eyes and how it still affects him after five years. If he’s still hurting like this, I can’t imagine how Ace must feel. Oh God, what he must be feeling after our kiss this morning.
“Marley wasn’t well. She suffered from depression, we just didn’t know it was as bad as it was.” My hand flies to my mouth, scared of where this story ends. I’m not sure I can handle it. “One day while Ace was at work, she tried to kill herself. Ace found her when he got home and she was pretty much gone.”
“Oh my God,” I whisper against my palm. Tears burn my eyes as I try to hold them back, but it’s no use. They fall and my heart breaks for both Ace and Ethan. I feel horrible for accepting his kiss when it’s obvious he’s not ready to move on. He’s tried to tell me in his own ways, but I’ve ignored the signs. And now we’ve crossed a line and I’m afraid of what it means.
“Hey, don’t cry,” Ethan says softly, moving to stand next to me. “I miss my sister, Ace misses his wife, but time heals all wounds, right? It’s not his fault she’s gone and it’s not your fault Ace can be a jerk. He’s still dealing with the guilt he carries because he thinks he could have saved her. He blames himself for not seeing the signs or getting her the help she needed.”
“He kissed me today,” I whisper as I look up at Ethan. His eyes bug out, most likely from shock, and his hand squeezes my shoulder.
“It’s about damn time someone breaks through the walls he’s built. Don’t give up on him, Stacey. He needs you more than you and he know.” We talk a bit more before Ethan heads off to bed, but not before I have him show me how to work the TV and surround sound. When he closes his door, I finish up the dishes and then change into a pair of shorts and a tank top in Ace’s room. I bring a blanket with me to the couch where I proceed to watch television until I fall asleep.
Chapter 20
Ace
Working a double shift because I’m a fool and angry with myself for kissing Stacey probably isn’t the best idea I’ve ever had. In fact, I’d say it ranks right up there with streaking through my parents’ neighborhood when I was seventeen. I’m so tired I could fall asleep at my desk and probably will if I don’t stand up and walk around.
Standing at the vending machine with my forearm pressed against the glass, all my brain can do is run circles around my lips on hers, her fingers at the nape of my neck, and how if we would have been alone, I would have had her naked beneath me. This fantasy of her and me has got to stop. It’s not fair to either of us to go down this road that will lead to nowhere. The last thing I want to do is hurt her more than I already did today by walking away.
My shift ends at 2 a.m., and since eating an energy bar, I’ve woken up enough to safely ride my motorcycle home. Weaving through the streets of Warner is nice this late at night…or this early in the morning, whichever way you look at it. Traffic is almost nonexistent, making my normal twenty-minute drive only twelve.
Based on the flickering faint blue light reflecting through the front window, I assume Ethan fell asleep watching TV again. Slowly opening the front door so as not to disturb him, I creep toward the couch and stop dead in my tracks. Stacey’s curled up on her side, her red hair spilling over the pillow she’s resting on, and one arm is draped over the cushion, nearly touching the floor. She’s wearing a pair of short shorts and a thin white tank top that seriously should be illegal. It shows off every curve and peak and I’m going to lose my freaking mind. I move around the couch, pull the blanket from around her ankles, and dr
ag it up to her shoulders.
There. At least her…assets are more concealed.
If I were a different man, there would be nothing stopping me from claiming her soft, plump lips again and making her mine. As I stand over her, my fingers twitch with the desire to touch her. Before my brain has time to catch up, I sit on the coffee table facing her and slowly push a thick strand of hair from her cheek. The tips of my fingers tingle at the mere touch and my resolve is crumbling.
Her skin is warm and smooth and, moving on their own, my fingers trail down her neck to her shoulders. Stacey shifts at my touch, rolling from her side to her back, making the blanket slip down past her breasts. Why in the hell is she wearing such a revealing tank top? And why in the hell am I still sitting here with my hand hovering over her pert breasts?
Groaning, I move to stand, but her husky voice, scratchy due to sleep, halts me. “Ace? What are you doing?” Damn. She’s even sexier waking up with her hair askew.
I clear my throat, trying to get the image of her breasts out of my head. “Sorry, I was getting ready to turn the TV off, but covered you with a blanket first. You, uh…looked cold.” Without meaning to, I glance at her tank top, only to be greeted with two firm buds taunting me.
“What time is it?” she asks, sitting upright and pulling the blanket over her long legs. I search the room quickly, wishing for another blanket to cover her top half.
“It’s almost two thirty. I didn’t mean to wake you.” Finally, I find the remote behind me and turn off the television, cloaking the room in darkness. In hindsight, maybe it wasn’t the brightest idea. The conscience often disappears in the dark after midnight. “Why aren’t you in my bed?” I don’t recognize the low register of my own voice, nor the twinge in my throat at how much I want her in my bed. With me.
“It’s your bed, Ace. I’m fine sleeping on the couch while I stay here. Really, I don’t mind.”
There is no freaking way I’m coming home every day to her sleeping on the couch in next to nothing. “I want you in my bed,” I say, and then immediately realize my poor choice of words. “I mean—”
“I know what you mean,” Stacey says, a light blush settling on her cheeks.
Nodding, I move to stand, but decide to stifle any further thoughts of her and I sharing a bed instead.
“I also wanted to apologize for this morning. It was wrong of me to kiss you and I hope you understand it can’t happen again.” By the wide-eyed expression she’s offering me, this is coming as a shock to her and I don’t know why, but it irritates me. She’s looking at me like I’ve pulled the rug out from under her, when, in fact, it is she who has surprised me. I didn’t want someone like her in my life causing me to question the past five years.
“Ace, I’m sorry,” she says, laying her hand on mine.
A shock of heat rushes up my arm, settling in my chest, making me even more certain whatever this is needs to stop. I jerk my hand from hers, and clasp my hands behind my neck.
“I never meant to make you uncomfortable. It’s not my intention to try to replace your wife.”
What the…?
I nearly knock the coffee table over as I jump to my feet and try to scramble away. My confusion turns to red-hot anger and it’s bubbling dangerously close to the surface. A tremor works its way down my arms and to my fingers, and in order to keep from breaking the closest inanimate object, I ball my hands into fists and shove them in my pockets. My blood is boiling, sweat is beading on my brow, and my chest is constricting, making it hard to breathe. How the hell did she find out about Marley? And what the hell am I going to do with her?
My legs carry me back and forth across the living room while Stacey follows my every move. She doesn’t offer any further apologies for bringing up my wife or overstepping her bounds. And at this moment, I don’t know what I’d say to her if she did. I’ve not felt blind rage like this in years and it makes me feel weak and small. Some men feed off anger, I cower at it because anger is an evil thing that pollutes everyone around you.
Stacey stands, the blanket falls completely away, revealing her shapely body, and I turn my back to her. In a flash, her warmth surrounds me and her arms clasp together around my chest. My body quakes under her touch, my heart stutters then slips through the cracks made by her embrace. And in this moment I have to do damage control. Cut off the head before we’re in too deep.
My hands peel her arms off me and I move away, my rage diminishing but not forgotten. “I don’t know why you think it’s okay to talk about my wife, but it’s not. I’m guessing you talked to Ethan, and the fact that you asked about me pisses me off, not to mention the things he must have told you.” I pause to take a breath, knowing I have to prepare the final blow. “Just leave me the hell alone. I don’t need your help, and I don’t want you. And that kiss…forget about it because it’s never happening again.”
Lies. They’re slick little devils that burn as they’re spoken. I turn to face her and what I see crumbles what’s left of my already shattered heart. There are no tears, no trembling lips, no far-off looks of hurt. Instead, her brown eyes cut into me like razor sharp steel. It’s like I can see the barrier she’s built in a hurry around herself and it’s fortified with an anger so thick it fills the room.
“You’re an asshole,” she whispers, quickly moving back to the couch where she gathers the blanket from the floor and then disappears down the hallway. The door to my room opens with a squeal and closes with a snick. I stand in the middle of the room, rebuilding walls of my own, realizing they weren’t as impenetrable as I thought they were. Thicker, higher, and more resilient, that’s what they need to be.
That’s what I need to be.
Chapter 21
Stacey
I will not cry or show weakness in front of him. I will not…cry. Shit. Why is it I always screw everything up? I knew how fragile Ace was, yet my big mouth had to go and say something stupid. Of course I’m not trying to replace his dead wife. I’m not even trying to start a relationship with him—other than a friendship. But no. I had to go and poke the lion and get bitten in the worst kind of way.
Inside his room, I pull my duffle bag down from the top of the closet and start throwing what I can into it. I thought maybe it could work—staying here—but I see now there’s no way. Not with the anger seething off Ace. It’s so thick and heavy, no wonder he can’t move on. I gather my makeup, hair dryer, and curling wand from the bathroom, tossing them into the bag as well, and then sit on the edge of Ace’s bed. A defeated sigh floats from my lips as a tear slips down my cheek. It seems no matter how hard I try to hold them back they’re determined to fall.
And I let them. What’s the use in keeping them inside now? Where one falls, several others follow until I climb across the bed and bury my head in the pillows. Tomorrow, I’ll move my things to a hotel and deal with the exorbitant fees. Losing a bit of money is less painful than staying someplace you’re not wanted.
***
Showered, dressed, and ready for work, I grab my duffle bag, step out of Ace’s room, and walk to the kitchen. He’s still sleeping on the couch, so instead of grabbing myself a bowl of cereal for breakfast, I scour the kitchen for a pad of paper and a pen. The scratchy drawl of the pencil on the paper grates on me as I scribble a note letting him know I’ll stay at a hotel from here on out. It’s what I need to do because the tension between us is growing more and more awkward as the minutes tick by. As much as he’s trying to help me out, it’s only confusing me and hurting what could be a great friendship.
At the door, I glance back to the couch and gulp back a gasp—he’s wearing only a pair of black boxer briefs. He was fully covered five minutes ago with a navy plaid blanket. My eyes peruse his mostly naked form and realize he’s a work of art. Every muscle is defined, thick and corded, even in his sleep. The tattoo on his left arm starts at his shoulder and wraps around his bicep, stopping just below his elbow. As my eyes work their way down his body, it’s quite apparent his circulation i
s working well. My cheeks flame as his hand moves over his boxers briefs to adjust himself.
I am totally busted.
I fumble for the door handle, unable to take my eyes off him. Finally, I connect with the handle, turn, and slowly open the door. His eyes flutter open and he takes in the sight before him, a knowing smile passing over his lips.
“Like what you see?” he asks, his hand resting over his junk. Oh. My. God. Not only are my cheeks glowing, my chest feels like it’s on fire.
“You may want to take care of…you know…” Unable to finish a thought, I glance at his boxers, turning yet another shade darker, and then return my gaze to his face. “I’ve got to go to work.”
I step outside, quickly shut the door, and make a dash to my car. No one should look as good as he does and sleep almost naked where anyone can stumble upon him. It’s a good thing I’m moving to a hotel tonight.
The drive to work consists of stop-and-go traffic and images of a nearly naked Ace invading my thoughts. It’s going to be a long freaking day if I can’t get him out of my head. My cheeks burn once again and my stomach lurches as I recall the status of his boxer briefs and what lurked underneath. I’m not a prude, I’ve had my share of one-night stands and short relationships. But seeing…that has my nerves totally buzzing, reminding me exactly how long it’s been since I’ve had that near me. In any capacity.
The conversation with Ethan also runs through my head, making me wonder how long it’s been for Ace. If he’s unwilling to get close to anyone, does he pick up random women and take them home to satisfy his needs? No. A hotel maybe. I can’t picture him bringing anyone to Ethan’s house. Especially remembering the look he gave Ace when I followed him through the door. Whatever he does, it’s none of my business, and truthfully, I don’t think I really want to know.
