by Kade, Teagan
“Because of me?”
“No, it’s got nothing to do with you.”
“Tell me,” she implores, “I want to know.”
I breathe in before speaking. “This shit’s going down with my family that’s messing me up.”
“Your mom and dad?”
I shake my head. Do I tell her? What’s the harm? “I didn’t know my father. My mom, my grandparents are dead, but I might have a sibling—a brother I never knew about until now.”
Something registers on her face I almost miss at first and definitely can’t place. “Did you know I grew up in foster care?”
“No.”
She looks sideways towards the window, shoulders hunched high and arms straight, hands gripping the sides of the chair. “It was rough, as you would expect, though I guess I wasn’t the easiest kid to look after. But, if I ever had a chance at connecting with my biological family, I would have taken it, no questions asked. I would have run out and grabbed it with both hands, because family is everything. I know that sounds super cheesy, but it’s true. Family is not an important thing. It’s everything.”
A moment of silence follows as I let the words sink in, my head flashing back to my grandparent’s place and the letter, the deep implications it provided.
“I’ll be right back.” Lexi stands and leaves the room. When she returns she’s dressed in jeans and a white top she must have brought herself last night. She’s got her handbag over her shoulder, her hair done up in a bun. She leans over and kisses me on the cheek. “This was fun. Thank you.”
I’m surprised. “You’re leaving?”
She comes upright and winks. “It’s cool. I don’t have any expectations of you. I know how you roll and what this was.”
I can’t help deflating inside at her words, but I remain collected on the exterior. I nod as she walks away, the door opening and closing with a theatrical clack.
I place my hands on my knees and force myself to rise.
Maybe it’s for the best, I think. Take it for what it’s worth and leave it at that.
So why’s every atom of my being trying to hurl me towards the door and beg her to come back?
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
LEXI
I spend the rest of the morning wearing my carpet out by pacing back and forth unsure what to tell Ian. I normally have such clarity of mind in these situations, but last night has undone me completely, because being with Dex was so much more than I expected. All this time I thought he’d be a pump-and-dump kind of guy, as narcissistic during sex as he appears in day-to-day life, but it wasn’t that way at all. The pleasure was shared and mutual, Dex taking the lead to make sure I was the one who left satisfied.
So why don’t they ever come back for a second helping? I ponder.
I decide to text Ian but leave details scarce. He doesn’t have to know the whole story. I tell him I met Dex at the bar last night, that one thing to led to another and I’ve placed myself in a good position (ha!) to get the information he needs. I read through the letter before sending the shots to Ian, but there are no names or details that are going to bring Dex any closer to finding out about the inheritance.
In some respects I feel pity for their mother. Winthrop grabbed Ian. She had no choice. It’s not her fault he had to grow up with an emotionless, control-freak father. Dex was an infant when his parents split. He has no knowledge of the connection. Maggie got married under an alias. That’s why his searches have come to naught. He doesn’t know Winthrop died of liver cancer a year ago, that Ian has taken over the company, or that Winthrop himself tracked Maggie down before he died demanding to know where his second son was. She didn’t know about the cancer, didn’t know he was dying, the shame at abandoning her children getting the better of her. She told Winthrop Dex died of pneumonia when he was a baby to spare Dex any connection to the man she blamed for ruining her life. The guilt got the better of her in the end.
I toss my cell onto the kitchen bench deflated. I feel like I’m cheating on Dex, that I’m betraying all the trust he put into me by opening up about his life and family. Uncharacteristically, I let my façade slip for a moment, but it seemed so natural at the time. I simply went with it.
Somehow, I don’t think Ian is going to see it that way.
My cell dings in response. I swipe it up and read.
Ian’s message is short and curt. Shut it down, he texts. Shut it down right now.
My eyebrows knit in frustration, but I know there’s no way to argue this out. I suspected he wouldn’t be happy about the, uh, change in direction, but I didn’t expect him to pull the pin so soon, not while Dex is still out there hunting around for answers. Maybe he knows something I don’t.
Unlikely.
He’s got the power and means, but he doesn’t have the smarts for it, to read people and really get to the core of what makes them tick. That’s always been my strength—treating people like they’re machines to be tinkered and played with, broken down into their essential components. When I look at life like this, like a series of cogs and wheels, it seems so simple to game the system. It always has.
I’m not even sure how to shut this down. I’ve put in so much work into my cover here that dismantling it is going to leave a lot of curiosity and questions in the town. I can’t have that, but maybe this is the right move, to get out now and start fresh with a new identity and business, get as far away from Ian as possible. I’ve got enough saved to make it work.
Still, the thought of leaving Dex pulls at my chest, tugging away at my heart in a physical plea. Every time I think of his name I’m hit with a flood of fresh emotions, hot chemicals that run a busy highway between my crotch and brain. Last night seemed to go on forever, but it was still too short. I want more of it, of him, of his hard body and cock, his amazing hands eking out every inch of pleasure on offer.
I take a seat and sigh, staring over at the blank screen of my laptop. “What now, Fred? What now?”
*
There are no more texts from Ian as the days pass. I try to keep busy, pulling together what information I do have on Dex and filing it away into folders, organizing everything in a clean, neat package for storage.
The problem is Dex himself. We see each other around town, at Riley’s or Gracie’s, a wave of the hand or nod in my direction. That’s my own doing. I was the one who left it at a simple one-night stand. I was the one who severed it clean. That said, he didn’t try to stop me, did he? He didn’t beg for me to stay or come back, and he hasn’t since, so perhaps my suspicions about his playboy ways weren’t far off base at all.
It’s a penny bright day outside. You can smell the life in the air, smoke from nearby fireplaces and damp leather. As much as I long for the immediate convenience of city life, there are things I’m going to miss about little ol’ Tamanass.
I do up my sneakers on a park bench and stretch. It’s still early, which means I should have the trail more or less to myself.
I begin at the start of the trailhead, a moderately steep descent into the forest. I keep my pace light at first before building up into a steady run where the trail flattens out. This is meditation, the best way I know to clear my head and make sense of the world.
It’s a process. I focus on the feeling of my shoes striking the ground, the weight and play of them, how the pressure registers in my ankles and legs, slowly moving upwards until I’ve surveyed my entire body this way, right down to my bones. It’s a mindfulness technique, one I also use to get myself to sleep when I’m restless. That or an iVibe.
I’m rounding the corner when I see another runner coming towards me.
I stop, huffing. “Dex?”
He pulls up in front of me, the top of his tank wet with sweat, his forehead beaded. “There you are.”
“You’ve been, looking for me?” I ask with caution.
He nods, hunching over himself to catch his breath, his abs drawn in tight. “I think I’ve covered every cursed trail in town these last two days.”
I put my weight on one leg, my hands on my hips. “I do have a cell, you know.”
He stands upright. “And where’s the romance in that?”
“Romance,” I laugh. “Is that what you call the other night?”
He smiles. “I don’t know what to call that other than amazing.”
Damn him. He’s getting to me, and right when I’m supposed to be tying things up. “You,” I hunt for the right way to phrase it, “have been thinking about me?”
It still comes out sounding awkward, like a brace-faced preteen begging the cool boy at school to take her to prom and pop her cherry.
He scratches the back of his head, looking equally awkward. “Ah, yeah. I guess I have.”
“And that’s… unusual?”
“Yes,” comes his reply.
We’re staring at each other, a woodpecker tapping somewhere above us, a warm breeze brushing my bare thighs. Oh, hell.
I’m looking at those arms, the coiled muscle in them, the sharp line of his jaw beneath that beard, those Antarctic eyes that seem to look right through me… This kind of sexual tension can only lead to one thing.
He runs his hand through his hair, breaking the stare-off. “Look, and I know how fucking lame this sounds, but maybe we can just be friends?”
I laugh, because yes, it does sound sort of lame, but yet I concede still locked into work mode, my professional senses getting the better of me even now when the job is officially coming to an end. I can’t let it go. If I can find out the whole story about his family connections and how it all relates, what exactly he knows, maybe Ian will bring me back online. My perfect record will remain untarnished. Put simply, I have to get over this silly infatuation and get on with my damn job.
“I don’t have any tours, tomorrow being Saturday and all. Why don’t you come out kayaking? I was planning to go anyhow, but it’s always good to have company. Good workout, too.”
I lock my knees and clamp my thighs together. I could think of a better one.
“Okay,” I reply, seeing an in. “What time?”
“The Den, say, nine?”
“Okay.”
“Okay,” he replies, giving a strange dip of his head before powering off up the trail.
I stand there for a moment composing myself. I start to run again, twice as fast as before given the sexual frustration to be burned off.
*
It’s meteorological perfection when I arrive at the Den, the sun out and wildlife chirping away in abundance. I had to remind myself I was going kayaking today, not to a three-star restaurant, as I stood in front of the closet this morning. I opted for low-cut denim hiking shorts and a cute magenta tank, my one-piece in place below because, hell, I’m pretty sure I’m going to get wet.
Or wetter, my sex-addled brain butts in.
The popularity of the tours has meant the Den has come in for some much-needed improvements the last few months. There’s a dedicated parking area, new windows, even a Tourin’ with the Devils sign Dex carved out himself that hangs over the door.
I stand in front of it wondering how many girls have been down here for more than a walk through the forest. I wouldn’t be entirely surprised if there’s a scoreboard inside somewhere, a series of cuts on a log to indicate which of the three boys takes the title of ‘Hell’s Sexiest.’
I breathe in and out before knocking on the door. Now I’m here, I’m far more nervous than I anticipated. My heartrate is elevated, my temples are pulsing. We haven’t even hit the water yet and here I am halfway to a cardiac arrest.
“Ready?”
I spin around to find Dex watching me from the parking lot. How he appeared out of thin air I have no idea, but I suppose I am on his turf. Given his slouched stance, something tells me he’s been standing there for a while observing me, or my ass. It sends a curious shiver down my spine.
I walk over to meet him and those eyes don’t drop. He’s not looking at me like I’m a friend; he’s looking at me like I’m a meal.
“Nice place you’ve got here,” I offer.
He laughs. “The Den? Yeah, we air it out once in a while.”
The tank he’s wearing can barely contain the bulk of his body, biker shorts showing a very clear outline of what lies below. He’s dressed for action, holding two paddles over his shoulder, the bright yellow bringing out the sapphire tones in his eyes. A couple of ice cubes and you could drink those puppies dry.
He extends his hand towards the start of the trail leading away from the Den. “Shall we?”
I smile as I pass, extremely conscious of everything—the way I’m rolling my hips when I walk, the sun cutting through the foliage overhead, the small animals scurrying away with each footstep. It’s so beautiful down here. I can understand why the boys take such pride in this place. It shouldn’t be another home for big business, a natural cash machine. No, it’s far too special for that, as are its many inhabitants—animal and man alike.
I’ve built up a slight sweat by the time we reach the Tamanass River and a sandy bank a couple of hundred feet from the soft bustle of rapids.
Dex drags out a kayak from the bushes to the edge of the water. I’m surprised to see it’s a double. “What, you don’t trust me by myself?”
He finishes sliding the kayak into position and stands, hands on his hips. “Not where we’re headed.”
“I’m not Lara Croft, you know.”
His eyes drop to my chest. “Could have fooled me, but don’t worry. This is the intermediate section of the river. There are some rapids, yes, but nothing crazy. I figured you’d want some action. Think of it as a bonding exercise.”
I could think of another, our hands all over each other right here on the bank, the sun beating down on his bare back and buttocks, my hips driving upwards to meet his.
I have to pace in a small semi-circle to get my nerves at bay, because I’m acting like a freakin’ teenager here hopped up on hormones about to explode if I don’t get a sexual fix soon.
Dex reaches into the kayak and tosses me a lifejacket. “Safety first.”
I sling it on and zip it up. “You best lose those shorts,” he says. “Denim doesn’t work so well in the water.”
“And if I’m not wearing any underwear?” I’m surprised how sexual I make this sound.
He smirks. “Well, wouldn’t that be a pity.”
I strip my shorts away and leave them by the side of the bank.
“All aboard,” he says, holding the kayak in position and no doubt getting a nice eyeful of my ass as I struggle to seat myself at the front of the kayak.
He seats himself behind me, the weight shifting. “You’ve done this before?”
I pick up the paddle with two hands. “It’s been a while.”
The kayak starts to shift into the water. “Best to dive right in then.” And try as I might I can’t scrub the image of him diving between my legs, hooking the crotch of my swimsuit aside and going to town.
Jesus, I scold myself, any hornier and you’re going to self-combust before you even get going.
With Dex’s guidance it only takes a few minutes to get back into the motion of kayaking. He reminds me that the kayak will be largely propelled from the back, by him. I grip the paddle with my hands positioned slightly wider than a shoulder width, sweeping it downwards into the water until I’ve become familiar with the rhythm.
Before long we’re completely synchronized, paddles moving one side to the other under Dex’s command, each turn coordinated from the back.
The first section of rapids is short. We power through it and onto a quiet stretch of river, the current doing most of the work dragging us downstream until the only sound is a distant rushing and the quiet dip of the paddle blades into the water.
“I can see why you like it out here,” I call back, taking a moment to rest.
“It’s always felt like home,” he says. “There’s this quote, ‘The clearest way to the universe is through a forest wilderness.’ I think that
sums it up.”
“How very deep.”
“Laugh all you want, but I’m sure you feel it too—the silent rush of satisfaction you get simply by being outdoors surrounded by this kind of beauty.”
“You’re still talking about the wilderness, right?” I ask cheekily.
“And all it encompasses,” he answers cryptically. “This is the only place I feel like I’m really myself, the only place I feel like I belong. Does that make sense? Out there in the world, with people, I’m a character in a play, always trying to act according to society’s expectations. There’s none of that in the wild. It’s an honesty I can appreciate, the world stripped down to its most simple.”
I find his words resonate with me, not because I’m such a lover of great outdoors, but because I can appreciate acting like someone else in the greater world. I mean, damn, I do it professionally. I long for that simplicity he seems to enjoy out here.
“Heads up,” he says.
I bring my focus forwards, the sound of approaching rapids building in volume and intensity. They sound a hell of a lot bigger than the last. “You sure about this?” I call back, goosebumps rising on my arms, my heart starting to da-dump, da-dump along in apprehension.
“You trust me, right?”
“Of course.”
“So, let’s do this thing.” He lets off a wild shout before powering us forwards with new momentum.
Soon the rapids are deafening. Dex has to shout to be heard, calling out, “Hard left! Yes, go, go, go. Right. Yes. Work it, baby!”
The kayak shuttles up and down, giant boulders shooting by at blinding speeds. The adrenaline’s hot in my veins, my senses sharp.
Finally, we power out on onto water again, the roar of the rapids left behind.
I go to turn around. “That was amaz—”
“Wait!” comes Dex’s frantic plea, but it’s too late, the sudden shift in weight causing the kayak to roll over.
Immediately I’m plunged into the water, spinning until I can’t tell up from down, desperately swimming for the surface.
