by B. Celeste
After we finish the course, we walk back to the cabin-like building where the owner is waiting for us behind the counter. He doesn’t seem to care that he’s here on a Saturday in the off season, but then again his eyes lit up when Garrick passed him the cash, so I guess he wouldn’t mind at all.
“Ice cream?” Garrick prompts, pointing at the sign attached the side of the building. “I asked earlier if he had any left and he says they have a few options before they clear out for the year.”
Rubbing my arms down the front of my jeans for friction, I’m about to say ‘no’ when he guides me inside and calls out, “Do you have any gloves by any chance? My girl is cold.”
My eyes widen momentarily at the label, but I don’t meet his eyes because I know he’ll see the flush on my cheeks. “You don’t have to—”
“I know. Stop saying that or I’ll have to remind you of that little promise I made.”
I shut up quickly, though a part of me really wants to finish the sentence.
The owner collects our clubs and balls and sounds genuinely apologetic when he tells us he only has golfing gloves.
Garrick turns to me. “We can go.”
“You wanted ice cream.”
“Only if you do.”
I roll my eyes knowing he’s excited over the dairy treat, so I give him my shoulder and face the owner. “What do you have?”
Since Garrick is insistent that I have $100 to spend, I tell him I’ll cover the food. He doesn’t fight it, simply hands over the money once he gets the total and tells me to sit at one of the booths across the room. I hear the heat kick on before I feel it but sink into the seat once the warm air blows on me.
It doesn’t take long before Garrick slides in beside me instead of the spot across the table, making me side eye him as he places a cup in front of me that is not ice cream.
“Is this…?” I breathe in the salty scent.
“Soup. Chicken noodle.” I’m about to comment when he points at the steaming cup. “I gave him ten bucks to pick out the carrots since you hate those.”
“How do you know—”
“You always pick out the carrots and peas from the soup you heat up. Haven’t you noticed the stuff I’ve made you doesn’t have any in it?”
Well…yes. But I just assumed he didn’t like vegetables either. Which is sort of stupid because I’ve seen him eat them in other things. I even noted how much spinach he consumes and called him Popeye once, but Chase told me not to because it’d go to his brother’s head.
He chuckles, licking the vanilla and chocolate twist cone in his hand. “I’ve always loved veggies, even as a kid. Chase on the other hand, he used to try hiding them under the rim of the plate like nobody would notice. When Mum would clear the table, there’d be a perfect circle of peas surrounding it. Little fucker would blame me for it.”
I can’t help but laugh. “That’s classic. I remember blaming my cousin once for the drawing I put on the wall. My parents didn’t buy it. Mostly because my cousin wasn’t even in town that day.”
He shakes his head, amusement on his face. “Those were the days, huh?”
Dipping the spoon into the soup, I swirl it around and blush when my stomach rumbles. “Sometimes I miss it. Do you?”
It takes him a moment to answer. He looks off to the distance like he’s giving it proper thought, before taking another lick of his ice cream and then lowering it. “Yes and no. I miss being able to go out without people harassing me. I miss not being used whenever I get close to people. But I don’t miss the way my family struggled. Having to see my mother make ends meet was tough. I even tried getting a job at a local restaurant once, but when she found out she grounded me.”
My brows raise. “For wanting a job?”
“We’d made a deal,” he explains, “that I would focus on school. Get good grades. Do whatever extracurricular I wanted. Have fun. She didn’t want me to waste my youth worrying about her and Chase. Her job paid well enough, but obviously Cali isn’t a cheap place to live and being a single mother of two growing boys had its downfalls. But she always made it work.”
I scoop up a piece of chicken and study it absentmindedly. His relationship with his mother is heartwarming, and I love that she wanted him to enjoy being a kid. Some families have no other option. Still, I can’t help but wonder, “Do you think you would have helped me if you didn’t grow up in that situation?”
This time, he doesn’t pause. “I don’t know. Maybe? I try not to focus on what could have been because there’s no reason to get lost in theoretics. Now, eat up before it gets cold. I know how you are about cold food.”
I smile to myself but hide it with the spoon. We eat in peaceful silence for a few minutes, both staring at nothing and soaking up the warm air cascading around us. I don’t know where the owner is, probably in the back, but I know Garrick slipped him extra cash to keep quiet about us being here.
I don’t think the older guy even knew who Garrick was, but I didn’t say that to him.
I’m almost done eating when I turn and ask, “Why aren’t you sitting on the bench across from me?”
“Because.”
“Because why?”
“Because I wanted to sit by you.”
I’m quiet.
He smirks. “How’s the soup?”
“Warm. Salty. Not as good as yours.”
He beams. “You should tell that to my mother, she thinks hers is better. Chase won’t be a tie breaker because he’s afraid of us.”
I blurt, “I’d be more afraid of your mom.”
Garrick laughs, bumping my shoulder. “I probably would be too. My brother has never liked picking sides. When he was little, he used to say he loved everything equally, even if it was obvious there was something he liked more.”
“Like your soup?”
He only grins.
“You talk about your brother a lot, but I want to hear more about young Garrick. What are some funny and embarrassing things you did when you were little?”
“You first.”
“I told you about the wall drawing.”
He presses his lips together. “Not good enough. All kids do that.”
I pout. “That’s not fair.”
He winks. “Fine. When I was about six I pissed my pants and blamed it on the dog.”
“You had a dog?”
His eyes light up. “No.”
Slowly, I shake my head. “What is with you and fictional dogs?”
“I’ve always wanted one.”
I eye him skeptically. “So get one. You’re Garrick Matthews, you can get anything you want.”
There’s something in his eyes I can’t figure out as he looks over at one of my eyes, then the other, and trails down to my lips. It’s a moment or two before the heat simmers in his blue gaze and he murmurs, “Not everything.”
I feel it in my fingers.
The tingles.
Then the butterflies in my stomach.
The back of my neck prickles with heat.
But I don’t say a word or acknowledge what’s left unsaid in between the lines. So, to shift the mood, I dart toward his ice cream to steal some since he never did get me the chocolate cone I ordered before replacing it with soup.
He greedily jerks his food away, making me laugh at my weak attempt.
I jab his side. “Hey, don’t be greedy. What’s that saying? ‘If I lick it, it’s mine.’”
Instantly, I know it’s the wrong thing to say when his eyes flash molten. “You can lick whatever you want of mine, Rylee.”
My eyes narrow, trying to play off his innuendo. “Except your ice cream?”
He grins again.
And I know that grin is trouble.
I lock up when a cold tongue drags across my cheek until a hot breath caresses my ear and one single sultry word is whispered in it. “Mine.”
24
Garrick
The carpeted floor is uncomfortable, but I don’t complain as I prop a pillow un
der my head and cover myself with the knit blanket Rylee gave me before she hurtled under the comforter on the bed like she was afraid I’d see the shorts she was wearing. Too late. The second she walked out of the bathroom down the hall and back into her bedroom, my eyes went straight to her legs.
She’s been restless since the lights went out, nothing but the occasional car driving by outside to fill the quiet between us. I know she’s not sleeping because she’ll shift every few minutes. I debate on what to say to calm her but come up blank.
Pretty words are a specialty of mine.
Sincere ones come naturally.
But I’m not sure if Rylee wants to hear either from me.
Something has been building between us for a while now, far beyond the shameless flirting that I do to make her blush. And last night was the first time she’s opened herself up to the possibility of more, and I don’t want to let that go because she’s second guessing her decision.
Instead of letting it nip at me, I break the thick silence. “What is your favorite childhood memory?”
Rylee stops fidgeting. “What?”
I repeat the question, divulging my own first. “My mum took Chase and I to see Bon Jovi in concert. It was the first concert I’d ever been to. Left a mark, I guess. He’s her favorite singer, but we all used to sing along whenever she’d play his music. That concert was…” I smile, staring up at the ceiling. “It was by far my favorite memory. I always try channeling the energy of that show at the ones Violet Wonders put on because I remember how much everybody in the audience loved it.”
I think she breathes out a soft “wow” but it’s too quiet to be sure. I give her time to think, listening to the solitude of small-town life and wondering if it ever bothered Rylee growing up. I prefer the noise, the chance to drown out my thoughts with whatever surrounds me. Here the silence offers too much opportunity to get lost in your head, and that’d be dangerous for me.
I’d think too much. Regret past choices. Relive pieces I’d rather not. It’s a trigger, one I don’t want to touch because I don’t know what I’d do if I felt like I couldn’t escape.
Instead of indulging me, she asks, “Did you ever meet him? Jon Bon Jovi?”
Settling into the pillow, I chuckle to myself over the thought of meeting one of my many idols. When the opportunity arose, I’d asked Mum if she wanted to come with me since she’s the reason I became a fan, and the second Jon stepped into the room, she nearly fainted.
“Yeah,” I tell her. “Mum and I met him. Chase wasn’t that interested, which was his loss. He missed our mother fangirling like a teenager. I’ll never forget it.”
“Have you ever fangirled someone?”
Snorting, I shake my head. “Nah. Got the jitters? Sure. But I know what it’s like to be on the receiving end, so I try to play it cool.”
“Who gave you the jitters?”
“Tit for tat,” I bargain, sitting up on one of my elbows to see her. She’s facing me, resting on her side with her hands propped under her head as a pillow. “You tell me something, and I’ll do the same in return.”
I wait for her to tell me no, to say she’s tired suddenly, but she doesn’t. “I have too many, honestly. I lived a good life, even with the obstacles I’ve faced. Made good memories with people. I guess one of my favorite childhood memories is when Grandma Birdie taught me how to make her top-secret chili recipe. It’s my mom’s favorite, and I wanted to make her something special for Mother’s Day, so Birdie told me she’d let me in on how to make it exactly like she did growing up so Mom couldn’t tell the difference. My mom still begs me to tell her what the ingredients are, but I promised Birdie I wouldn’t. I still won’t give it up even though my grandma is gone.”
“That must drive her crazy.”
There’s amusement in her tone. “It does. But it was something me and Birdie shared just the two of us, you know? I hold onto that.”
Shifting to my side, I prop my head up onto my palm so I can see her better. “Olivia Newton-John. That’s who gave me the jitters. I was nervous when I found out I’d be at the same event as her. They placed us at the same table like some cruel joke to see what I’d do.”
“What happened?”
“Nearly sweat through my suit. My mother had to tell me to calm down and the guys all teased me mercilessly once they realized why I was getting clammy.” I think back to that day and roll my eyes to myself. Zayne and Jax started singing You’re the One that I Want until I threatened to kick them out of the band.
They’d all laughed. Including Mum.
We both fall to silence for a few heartbeats before she settles on her back. “Since we’ll see Moffie before we go, you should probably know that I have a thing for The Wild.”
I sit up quickly and eye her, the knit blanket falling off me in the process. “The Wild?” I repeat, scoffing at the name of my competition in the industry. “How long have you been sitting on that one?”
I swear she’s smiling. “For a while. I’ve always liked them. Loved them, actually. If you go through my top dresser drawer, you’ll see all of their albums.”
Before she even finishes, I’m up and walking over to the dresser in question. She laughs as I start opening all the top drawers until I find the one she’s referring to, looking at the stash she’s been hiding from me.
“Garrick!” She’s beside me in a heartbeat, laughing as I thumb through every single CD. Is this how Kyler and his old band felt?
“The Wild,” I grumble, picking one up and studying the group of men on the front before holding it next to my face. “Do you think they’re better looking than me?”
The mirror attached to the back of the dresser gives me a chance to see her shrug casually. “Maybe Cannon.”
I turn and look around the room again, wondering if I missed any posters. “I suppose you used to have pictures of them up too? Are those hidden in your closet?”
She swats my arm. “Don’t be ridiculous. I haven’t had pictures of them up since high school. And it was only one. It was a shirtless one of—”
“Cannon,” we say simultaneously, me with grit in my tone and nonchalance in hers.
She peels the CD out of my hand and sets it back down in the drawer before tugging me away from it and toward the bed. We stop at the side, her eyes going between the mattress and the blanket and pillow for me on the floor.
Rylee fidgets with the comforter. “I feel bad that you’re on the floor. It…” She steals a look, her tongue dipping out the side of her mouth before running along the seams. “It’d be okay if we shared for the night. I guess.”
“You don’t sound so sure.”
Her shoulders drop a fraction. “It’s only for a few hours, and it’s not like we haven’t already done it before.”
I lift my hands. “I’ll keep my hands to myself. Unless—”
“Don’t say it,” she grumbles.
I refrain from smiling as she crawls in, moving to one side and leaving plenty of room for me on the other. I grab my things from the floor and put them back on the bed before laying down on top of the comforter and draping the knit blanket over me.
She doesn’t say a word.
So I don’t either.
With inches between us, it doesn’t take either of us long to fall asleep.
My fingers dance along smooth skin as I bite back my groan from the clothed ass grinding against my hard dick. Rylee’s breathing tells me she’s sleeping, but her hips moving for friction says otherwise.
One of my palms flattens against the bottom of her exposed stomach from her shirt raising at some point during the night, while the other stays by my side. Involuntarily, my hips meet her ass as she moves backward and the sharp breath escaping her only intensifies the relief I need from the erection trapped in the sweatpants I fell asleep in.
I don’t know when I moved under the comforter, but it’s the last thing on my mind when a much smaller, softer hand covers mine and guides it down to the center of her parted
thighs. I don’t ask if she’s sure because she cups our hands over her until I feel the damp heat pooling there.
I brush hair away from her neck and press a single, tender kiss on the back of it as my hand begins stroking between her thighs. She parts her legs further, giving me more access as she grinds against me the same way I’d done on Halloween. Using my free hand, I press her ass against me harder and begin rocking to relieve the ache in my groin, eyes rolling into the back of my head when she swivels her hips and presses against me with the need to get me off as badly as I want to.
Her breathing is choppy, needy, and the sound drives me as fucking crazy as it did before as I use a thumb to apply pressure over the bundle of nerves that I know will set her off. A gargled noise rises from her throat that makes me bury my face into the crook of her neck and pepper kisses along her heated skin as I listen to every soft, pleading sound she makes with each swipe of my hand.
I don’t know how early it is, but the sun is barely up, and I have no idea when her parents normally wake up and move around. I move my hand away and lightly chuckle at the sound of protest she makes until I squeeze her thigh.
“Do you trust me?” I whisper, hovering over her. Her face is shy, vulnerable with an innocence that heightens her sexiness and leaves me ten times harder. It’s only after she gives me a timid nod that I readjust us so she’s on her knees, her back arched and face buried in a pillow, with me kneeling behind her that I slowly grip the waistband of her shorts and roll them down until she’s bared to me.
She freezes, her head darting to me in silent question. I give her a reassuring smile and say, “I’ll make you feel good, love. But you need to be quiet. Okay?”
A sharp breath escapes her as she nods again, her bottom lip sucked in by her top teeth as I glide my palms over her bare hips until I find where she’s already wet for me. Bending forward, I press a kiss to her ass, first to one cheek, then the other, before my tongue finds the seam that it’s been dying to taste ever since I first met the woman bent in front of me.
