by C. M. Owens
He smiles softly, keeping one hand on the steering wheel. He uses his free hand to pull my hand up to meet his soft lips. I can’t fight my stupid grin when he kisses it, and his smile broadens when he catches sight of me with his peripheral.
“That’s better,” he says in relief.
But then my smile slowly dies. He’s happy Bora is here. He wants her here so badly that he asked her to come on a family trip, and Bora doesn’t give a damn about him.
It makes me hate both of them a little.
I want to ask how many members of his family will be here, but I’m sure Bora already has. I dread this. I really, really dread this. But at the same time, it’s also a little... no. I have to dread it because anything else would be wrong.
He pulls into a gas station, just as he promised, and he parks directly beside the closest pump.
“You want anything? I have to go in to buy the cans.”
I start rifling around in my purse, searching for my cash. I pull out a ten and ask for a water, but he just shakes his head while walking toward the store.
There are vehicles everywhere. I hate this time of year at tourist destinations. It’s already very warm here, everyone is sick of the cold, and everyone travels here to sun and enjoy an early summer—a couple of months early.
Bora would love it—the more people, the better, as far as she’s concerned. I’m the exact opposite. We might look identical, but there’s not much the same if you look under the skin.
After a few minutes, Jaxon emerges with several gas tanks, and he starts filling them up. I can’t believe Bora allowed him to pay for a plane ticket. Apparently it’s common for her to let him pay for things. Why? It’s not like she lacks money.
Though her apartment doesn’t reflect her substantial income, our business is booming, and has been for years. Pretty Posh is the hottest clothing line right now, next to Colton Fashion.
The one thing we both agreed on was keeping our faces out of the limelight, so we allow Shanna—our friend and the daughter of our father’s best friend—to be the face of the company. Unlike us, she loves publicity. Bora likes attention, but not in a very broad and public sort of way.
Our father’s fame ruined us from ever wanting any at all like that. Speaking of which... I wonder if Jaxon knows anything about our father…
“Finally,” Jaxon says as he climbs back into the driver’s seat, sighing as he wipes sweat from his brow. “That sun is brutal.”
I smile weakly, still trying to wrap my mind around this. I don’t have a clue what Bora has or has not revealed, and I don’t know how to act right now. I know nothing about him besides his name and address. Well, I know he has a phenomenal body and a smile that could melt icebergs, but nothing of substance.
I manage to miss him cranking the car and leaving the station. We’re already back on the road, leaving civilization behind. The faint aroma of gasoline taints the car, and he rolls the windows down when he smells it as well.
“Those vapors are apparently not concealed,” he says with a wrinkled nose. “We’ll smell like a truck stop by the time we get there.”
I can’t help but laugh a little, and his beautiful smile rewards me.
“I’ve never heard you laugh like that.” Oh shit. Something I forgot. Bora’s laugh is nothing at all like mine. “I like it,” he adds, picking my hand back up.
I relax as I let him hold my hand, and I study the open road ahead of us that is lined by nothing but palm trees and island homes.
“Have you ever been to Hawaii?”
Crappity crap.
“Yeah,” I say vaguely.
I want to ask if he comes here often, but I don’t know if it’s something he’s already shared with Bora. Why the hell hasn’t she called me yet?
“You look great, by the way. Even though you’re not showing as much skin as you usually do. I assume that’s for my parents’ benefit,” he says with a grin, moving on from the topic.
I glance down at my shorts and tank top. To some, this is a lot of skin, but Bora walks around in the skimpiest clothes ever seen. But, Pretty Posh sells a lot of clothes just like she wears.
“Thanks,” I mutter dryly, feeling inferior to the goddess Bora is.
My phone rings, and I glance down to see Better than Nirvana flash across the screen. I’m going to kill my father if he doesn’t stop screwing with my phone. He constantly changes his name and ring tone.
Wait… No… This is Bora’s phone. I don’t care what he does to it.
“Better than Nirvana?” Jaxon asks, half laughing as he catches sight of it. “And since when do you have Clashers ringtones?”
Shit.
“Yeah. I’ll talk to him later,” I say vaguely.
“Him?” he muses, sounding too casual.
“My father,” I say simply, feeling a need to elaborate even though he doesn’t seem to expect that.
“You’ve never really mentioned him before, other than to say he’s a narcissist.”
I burst out laughing, considering Bora had the audacity to call someone else a narcissist. Jaxon’s eyebrows go up in surprise for my outburst, and I work hard—damn hard—to rein it in.
He really doesn’t know her at all.
Chapter 4
JAX
“Sorry,” she says through the spurts of laughter that are still sneaking out. “I don’t know why that sounded so funny.”
She’s never seemed so… sweet and cute? It’s confusing, actually. Then again, she’s acted differently since she showed up at my apartment a billion years ago. Okay, okay. Not that long ago, but that flight seemed to never fucking end, and she slept the whole way.
I was bored out of my damn mind.
“Where has that laugh been? I love it. I don’t think I’ve ever heard you laugh that hard, and that wasn’t even funny. I’ve been working my ass off to make you laugh like that,” I tell her.
I was starting to think she didn’t even have a sense of humor.
She’s not the typical Bora today—the rude, self-indulged, stare-at-her-nails-bored Bora. Not that I’m complaining. It’ll make the next three weeks more bearable if she keeps acting like this. Maybe I won’t have to fake so much enthusiasm if she remains this pleasant.
Bora is hot, and… Well, that’s all she has going for her, really. Long dark hair that touches the bottom of her bra, a heart-shaped face that most girls would die for, and an ass that has men stopping to admire her. Add in the fact her breasts are exactly the right size—in my opinion—and the fact she has a waist that curves in, feminizing her to the nth degree, and you understand why she’s hard to pass by and not notice.
Besides, it’s not like I’m looking for someone deep and long-term right now.
“You not even going to ask about the house?” I ask after silence descends around us and steals the light moment.
She shifts uncomfortably, something she’s done a lot of today.
“What’s it like?” she asks timidly.
“It belongs to Mick Marsh, the drummer for Clashers,” I tell her, and I’ll be damned if she doesn’t spew her water and soak the dashboard.
Laughter erupts out of me so hard that it hurts, and I swerve the car when I lose my concentration. It takes a second to be able to quit laughing, and my side is killing me. She must really be a closet Clashers fan.
“Had I known you were a fan, I would have mentioned it sooner. Since you have that ring tone...”
She nods, still coughing and cleaning up her face. “Love em’,” she says hoarsely, fanning herself. Her face is hella red right now.
“Do you know him or something?” she asks, sounding more conversational than ever before.
“I wish. No. My dad bid on it at a charity auction. Mick offered it up for a three week interval, and my mom is in love with the band. So, to make her happy, my dad paid a small fortune to win the bid and have the three weeks in his house. She would have preferred to stay in Vince Jaggon’s home here, but he didn’t put it in the a
uction.”
She mutters something like unbelievable and it’s a small world, but I don’t know what she’s talking about.
“We’re here,” I tell her, causing her to look up just as we reach the massive home.
Dayum. It makes a Sterling house seem small.
It’s right on the beach, and it’s slightly elevated, keeping the water from touching it in case of a high tide. The windows extend all around the home, considering Mick Marsh is known to be a bit of an exhibitionist. The man loves attention, and bare windows give him plenty of attention.
Other homes line the beach as well, and I hope no one can see into our bedroom. There’s only one way to endure three weeks with someone as vapid as Bora.
One of these days, I’m going to learn my lesson and hide girls from my mother. Or maybe three weeks with a vixen like Bora will teach my mother her lesson.
Yeah… It’s going to be loud.
My phone buzzes with a text the second we’re parked.
UNKNOWN NUMBER: You cock guzzling jizz whore. You just left me here with the prankster couple from hell? A bone?!
UNKNOWN NUMBER: *ALONE not a bone!
Um… the fuck?
ME: Freakshow… btw I think you spell it gizz. Don’t quote me on that though.
Immediately, there’s another text to come through.
UNKNOWN NUMBER: OMG!!! Sorry! That wasn’t meant for you. It was meant for Rudy.
Who the hell is Rudy?
UNKNOWN NUMBER: RUBY! Ducking phone.
UNKNOWN NUMBER: I give up. Sorry. Somehow my phone synced with hers and now I have all her contacts, and I keep sending messages to the wrong people because my fingers hit the wrong names. She’s programmed as Jizz Whore which is alphabetically after Jax.
Bella. That’s the only explanation for all this randomness. It can only be Bella.
Me: Still think you spelled jizz wrong.
And now I’m inviting more crazy text conversations with the queen of random. Rolling my eyes, I put my phone down and ignore it when it buzzes again. I’m really glad to be away from Sterling Shore for a while.
Chapter 5
BO
I dread being in the bedroom with no curtains. Oh... shit... Bedroom! Oh no! I didn’t think this through. If Bora doesn’t get here, Jaxon is going to expect...
Ah, hell.
“You look pale, babe,” Jaxon says, his eyes studying me intensely.
My lips move as my mouth goes drier than cotton, but no words come out. What can I possibly say?
His eyes soften and he blows out a breath of amusement. “You don’t have to be so nervous. You’ve met my mom before, and I’ve told you about everyone else.”
Shit! They’ll expect me to know their names!
He hops out to start unpacking our luggage. I dial Bora—who has my new, perfectly working phone—once again, praying she answers my damn phone.
“You sure do call yourself a lot,” the familiar voice of a bored diva says.
My eyes widen in stunned surprise that she actually answers, and I hop out of the SUV and start toward the ocean. Jaxon tilts his head in question, and I hold up a finger as I put distance between us, staying out of earshot.
“Bo?” she prompts.
“Where the hell have you been?” I hiss, wishing I could yell at her right now.
It might very well be the first time I ever yelled at anyone if I could yell.
“In the New York meeting I had scheduled all week long. It took several hours, numerous drinks, and one hell of a party night, but I closed the deal. Pretty Posh just got twice the floor space in all the major retail stores.”
I’m torn between jumping up and down and cursing her. I forgot about the damn meeting. How? That’s where Bora shines—charming people into doing whatever she asks. I’m the behind the scenes girl that does all the grunt work, only designing when I have a free second.
“Where are you?” she asks as the ocean grows louder, the waves crashing into each other.
Crap. “Hawaii.”
Silence answers me, letting me know I’ve just shocked the hell out of her.
“Didn’t you get my messages, texts, or emails?” I ask, glancing over my shoulder to make sure I’m still out of earshot.
“Shit, Bo. No. What the hell are you doing in Hawaii? Are you with him?”
I swallow hard, trying to distance myself more. Slipping off my sandals, I step into the wet sand, allowing the water to lap at my ankles from a safe distance.
“Yes. I couldn’t break up with him seconds before you were supposed to go to Hawaii with him and his family. Honestly, Bora. Why didn’t you tell me?”
She swears under her breath, and I can picture her running her hands through her hair in frustration.
“Because I had the New York thing already planned. I tried telling him I couldn’t go, but he wouldn’t take no for an answer. Besides, why would I want to go with him even if I could? We don’t even like each other. Why the hell did you go to Hawaii with him?”
“I just told you,” I hiss. “Did you tell him you had a huge meeting? And why are you breaking up with him? He seems phenomenal.”
She snorts. “Haven’t you noticed? He’s so damn nice. I didn’t tell him about the meeting, because I haven’t told him about my place in Pretty Posh. I don’t share specifics. Our relationship was sex first, questions if there’s time.”
“Well, you’re still in a relationship. Get on a plane and come to Hawaii. I’m not breaking up with a guy you find flawed because he’s nice.”
She laughs, though it’s more of a mocking laugh than one of humor.
“Not my problem. You said you’d break up with him, so do it. I’ve got a date tonight. Break up with him and get home. We need to work on a new campaign to make sure Pretty Posh explodes with its new floor space.”
I yell and call her a selfish cunt. Okay, not for real. But I think it really loudly.
“Bora, I can’t do this. Don’t make me—”
She hangs up on me. She… hangs up… on me! I almost scream at the blank screen. It’d be pointless to call her back, because she’s not going to say anything different. One day I really will call her a selfish cunt—if I ever actually use that word aloud. For now, I’ll stew on what I should have said in the moment. As always. Because I’m awesome like that.
I can’t help but roll my eyes at my own self.
I’m stuck here. For three weeks. I have to stay here until I at least let him save face with his family. I’ll break up with him after we get back.
Grrr.
“Bora,” Jaxon prompts, making me turn around and try to wipe away the guilty expression on my face.
Damn, he’s gorgeous and nice. It’d be a lot easier if he was a gorgeous dick. Then I could walk away without a problem.
“Everything okay?” he asks, sounding genuinely worried.
I frown at my phone, wondering if Bora has even mentioned the fact she has a sister. I know for a fact she hasn’t told him she has an identical twin.
“Work thing,” I lie, instantly hating myself for doing so.
He tilts his head to the side as his brow furrows.
“You work?”
Oh good grief. What do these two do if he knows absolutely nothing about her? Never mind. I really don’t want to know what they do. That’s a stupid question.
“Yes. I work for Pretty Posh.”
He runs his fingers through his inky black hair as he looks around. I’m almost jealous of his fingers.
“And you were able to take off for three weeks for this? You won’t get in trouble?”
My secretive grin spreads unbidden. “My boss is very lenient. No worries.”
He relaxes a little as he starts dragging the luggage over the beach. “This is a bitch,” he groans, cursing the wheels that dig deeper into the sinking sand.
I laugh lightly while going to help him, smiling as I unhook several of the bags from each other. “One at a time. Old school.”
He scoops up two of the heaviest and carries them without letting them touch the sand, and I watch appreciatively, possibly drooling. Three weeks of this.... Can I survive without breaking the rules? I’m already bending them by kissing him as I have, but under the circumstances, it has sort of been necessary.
A short, very lean woman walks out, her dark hair waving in the wind, and she struts onto the front deck wearing nothing but a bikini and a wrap, illuminated only by the moonlight.
Wow. Who the hell is she?
“Mom,” Jaxon says, answering my inner question.
Mom? That’s his mother? Sheesh. Plastic surgery has definitely improved these days.
“Jax,” she purrs, smiling as she reaches him.
Jax? Crap. I wasn’t aware of a nickname.
He pulls her to him and hugs her warmly before turning his attention back to me.
“I’ll get those, Bora. Don’t worry.”
His mother’s eyes cut coldly in my direction, and I swallow hard. I thought she was the one that invited me—I mean Bora. Judging by that look, she really doesn’t want me here.
“I’ve got it,” I murmur, my voice weak and hoarse. I’m so not a social person, and I’m even worse when I can tell I’m not wanted.
Everyone loves Bora, even if she is a selfish, spoiled, somewhat manipulative person most days. People adore her, but his mother seems to be very anti-Bora right now. So why invite her?
Jaxon—Jax seems to be oblivious to his mother’s death glare as he makes his way back down and starts collecting bags. As he grabs the rest, I carry one toward the deck. The faux smile she gives me is more chilling than her ominous glare.
“Bora, so glad you could make it.”
My smile is tight, brittle, and completely unconvincing, but it’s there. Jax slips his arm around my waist and kisses my cheek.
“Let Mom show you to our room while I get Dixon to help me with the gas and rest of the bags.”
His mother breaks her lock on my eyes to turn her attention to him. “Dixon couldn’t come. Work interrupted. Your sister is already irritated about it, so try not to mention it.”
