by Brynne Asher
We’re face-to-face and she reaches up to toy with my hair while nibbling at her lip. “That has nothing to do with my Harry Potter bobble head collection and my lack of adultness.”
“Hey, look at me,” I call for her. When her eyes hit mine, they’re guarded. I thought we got past all this last night. “Do you know why I want you?”
Her chest rises against mine where I’m holding her tight. “For the life of me, no. We couldn’t be more different.”
“Because of the way you give to everyone around you. You don’t see it but they do and that’s why they’re drawn to you. That’s why I can’t get enough of you. I’m going to bust my ass to give you just a little bit of what you do for everyone else and start by looking into that attorney. If I find out he’s on the up-and-up and has nothing to do with your father, you need to find out what he wants.”
She ignores all the stuff about the attorney. “You can’t get enough of me?”
“You’ve done a bang-up job ignoring me. Finally had to make a move ‘cause I was tired of you always giving me the cold shoulder.”
Her eyes well again and it hits me in a spot I’ve never experienced before. A place I didn’t even know I had.
“This is happening?” she whispers.
It’s not just a question, but a doubt—a disbelief.
I lean in to put my lips on hers. “Last night was not for nothing. If I have to tell you every day, I will. Yes.”
She literally climbs my body and the next thing I know, her small frame is wrapped around me. I couldn’t pry her off if I wanted to, which I don’t. At this point, I think I’d be content if we could stay here forever.
But we can’t live in the guest house.
I mean, we could but then my mother would be all up in our business. She’s going to be obsessed with Mary as it is. As much as my dad was always on my ass to work for the family business, my mother only wants me to settle down. She’s bored and enjoys a distraction. It’s harmless now, but it comes from her addictive personality. I need to prepare Mary for that.
But not today.
One step at a time. I don’t need my mother scaring Mary away with talk of weddings and grandbabies. I need to do everything I can to hook Mary deep before my mother has a chance to frighten her off, especially when she finds out Mary’s never had a mom—not a real one anyway. Hell, I didn’t either until I was seven but mine has made up for it since then.
“I have to go to work,” Mary mumbles into my neck where her face is pressed. “But I don’t want to. I want to stay here with you and your horses and pretend my dad isn’t on his way to Virginia for who knows what and that I don’t have strange lawyers trying to get hold of me.”
I give her a squeeze. “I’m going to call my dad’s attorney. He’s a family friend so he should at least look into it for me. If that guy’s legit, you can call him back. Then we’ll figure out what your father wants and kick him the hell out of town. If he lives up to his reputation and stresses you out like this, he’s not sticking around if I can help it. When was the last time you saw him?”
She leans back and sighs. “I ran into him in Nashville right after I graduated from high school. At a gas station of all places. He barely recognized me at first but I didn’t escape that easily. He kept trying to contact me after that—I was eighteen, not a ward of the state any longer, and he’d just gotten out of prison. I was already thinking about leaving Tennessee and that was the last straw. I moved here and you know the rest.”
I look at the clock on the bedside table. “I need to get you home so we can get to work. I’ll try to get off early but you’ll be around people all day. You’ll be fine. I’ll let you know what I find out from my dad’s attorney and we’ll go from there. Check one thing off the list.”
She leans into me and puts her lips on my jaw and I regret the fact I can’t lie back and let her lips do other things to me so I can return the favor. She finally relents. “Fine.”
I tuck my hand up her shirt and splay my fingers across her tattoo I’ve become fixated on. “It’s going to be more than fine. I promise.”
When she gives me her eyes again, they’re resigned and she lifts her slim shoulder. “There’s no need to make me promises, Evan. My expectations in life are low. I’ll deal with whatever happens, I just don’t want you getting caught up in the drama that is my life.”
I stand up with her in my arms and flip her to her back on the bed. Leaning over her, I crush my lips to hers, taking her mouth in a surprising yet bruising kiss. She hangs onto my neck and I let her up for air. “It’s time to up your expectations, baby. And I swear to you, I’ll meet every last one of them.”
11
EGO
Mary
“MARY, DO YOU have time for a walk-in?”
I pull the curling wand from the last section of my client’s hair and reach for my volume boosting spray. I shake my head and speak without looking away from my art. “Sorry. This is it for the day. Can they make an appointment?”
“I’m not making an appointment because you always cancel on me.”
I turn at the sound of his voice and there he is, leaning on the door frame that leads to the waiting area. He’s wearing all black—a leather jacket, T-shirt, and jeans with two helmets dangling from his hand.
I try to bite back my smile as I take in his hair, a rumpled, delicious mess—no doubt from the helmet—and it looks even better on him because he doesn’t give a shit.
The receptionist smirks. “I’ll let you work it out with him while I take care of your client at the register, but then I’ve gotta run. My kids have a million things going on tonight and we’ll be eating dinner in the car as it is.”
I turn back to my client who deserves all my attention, even if it is for just another minute. I shake out her loose curls with my fingers. “You happy?”
She beams at me through the mirror. This never gets old. “Two inches off and fresh color does a wonder for your soul. I love it. Thank you, Mary.”
I unsnap her cape. “Your hubs will love it. Happy anniversary and have fun tonight.”
She grabs her stuff and hurries past Evan and toward reception throwing me a grin over her shoulder. Flipping her loose waves around—she glows. “Don’t worry, I’m going to have fun!”
My eyes, like magnets, wander to the man whose private parts I’m now familiar with. I’ve even memorized the hairline right above his beautiful cock. His whiskey eyes are hot and he looks like he’d eat me up right here if he could.
“You look at me like that much longer, you’re gonna make me sorry I brought my Triumph instead of my car.”
I roll my eyes before walking to the corner to grab a broom, for no other reason than I need something else to focus on besides the man who makes me forget about everything. The thought of being wrapped around Evan on a motorcycle is enough to make me fidget. This is new and, honestly, unexpected. Just a week ago, every time I saw Evan, he was either annoying me or giving me secret looks that I now know the meaning behind because they’re no longer secret. He’s gone from my frenemy to my lover. I know first-hand that his heated gaze packs some power—I’ve been the beneficiary of them over the last two days, after all.
When I turn back around to clean my station, Evan is dropping the helmets on a table and falls into my chair.
I lean on my broom and tip my head. “What are you doing?”
He puts his big biker boot to the floor and swivels the chair back and forth. “I’ve been secretly watching you forever and now I don’t have to hide it. Do your thing. I’m just going to sit here and enjoy it.”
“About that.” I start to sweep the floor so I don’t have to make eye contact with him. “How long?”
He stops moving and runs his boot up the back of my calf. “How long what?”
I swat his boot with the broom. “How long have you wanted me?”
“For as long as you’ve been avoiding me.”
I stop and turn to him. “I’m serious.”<
br />
“So am I. You made me work for every damn reaction I could get out of you. I was hungry for anything you’d give me. Felt like a desperate kid on the playground—thought I was going to have to pull your mermaid ponytail just to get your attention.”
I cock a brow before sweeping the mess aside. “That would’ve pissed me off.”
He’s not apologetic at all when he shrugs. “I would’ve loved it and done it more. I can still pull your hair if you think you might be into that sort of thing.”
This time I can’t hide my smile and lean my thigh into the side of his where his long legs are propped on my chair. “Is that all you think about?”
“It’s a lot of what I think about. What else was I supposed to do all this time you kept turning me down?”
My eyes drop to my fingers drawing patterns on his thick thigh. “You were supposed to give up. I thought you would eventually.”
He grabs my hand and twists me, pulling me into his lap. When he has my hip fit snug against his cock, he gets my full attention when he puts a hand to my chin and I have no choice but to look him in the eyes. “How many times did you turn me down when I asked you out?”
I shake my head. “Not enough apparently. You wore me down and I gave in. I already told you why I held out for so long.”
“Twenty-three,” he states, as serious as a stalker in any teen horror flick. And just to rub it in, he keeps on, “You turned me down twenty-three damn times. I remember every single one of them.”
I glare at him. “Okay, but in my defense, I didn’t think you were serious most of the time.”
His hand snakes up my back and starts to play with the ends of my hair. “I’m always serious when it comes to you. You bruised my ego.”
This almost makes me laugh and, given the week I’ve had, that’s saying something. “I don’t think there’s one thing wrong with your ego. You’re not lacking in that department.”
He has the nerve to press me down into his lap. “You’re right. I’m not lacking in any department.”
I shake my head even though he’s right.
Without warning, he changes the subject. “I talked to my dad’s attorney today. The guy who’s been calling you? He’s on the up-and-up and has been practicing for thirty-seven years. You should call him back and see what he wants.”
I shake my head. “What if it isn’t good?”
He frowns. “Why do you assume it will be bad?”
My eyes widen and I roll them. “It’s basically the theme of my life.”
He pulls me to him and I’m forced to grab on to his wide shoulders when he puts his lips to my jaw. “Not anymore. I swear it.”
I close my eyes and sink into him. “You seem really sure about everything.”
He pushes me away far enough to look me in the eyes. “I am. And now that I’ve got you, I’m not letting anything come between us. Now, are you ready to go? I’ll take you to dinner. We can stay at my place.”
I look at Mr. Presumptuous but I can’t make myself give him shit about anything. Not anymore. Instead, I admit what I’ve wanted to do now for longer than I can remember as I reach up and finger the longish hair on top of his head. “I want to cut your hair.”
He tips his head. “Short?”
“No way. I’ll trim it but, really, I’ve been itching to play with it.”
A sexy smile takes over his face. “I knew you were into me.”
I don’t tell him how right he is. He knows. Instead, I lean in and kiss Evan Charles Hargrove III, my all-American man who I never in a million years dreamed I’d fit with, yet, here I am.
Happy.
12
IMPLODE
Evan
“GRANDPARENTS?”
Mary is sitting cross-legged next to me in my bed that’s a mess from both last night and this morning’s activities. She doesn’t have clients until later today and, after I told Addy what was going on with Mary, she said she’d cover for me in the tasting room until we figured out this thing with Mary’s dad. She did this while smiling big and told me the more time I spent with Mary, the better, and to consider it paid time off. When I asked her how much time she was spending with her new neighbor, Crew Vega, her smile turned into a glare and she told me to go home.
I told Mary to call the persistent attorney. She tried to distract me by crawling up my body, but I told her we needed to get it done and then she could use and abuse me any way she wanted.
But when she utters the word grandparents, her eyes go glassy and I sit up and take her Diet Coke out of her hand so she doesn’t spill it.
“I didn’t know I had grandparents.” She chokes on her words, her voice hoarse as she speaks into the phone. “I mean, obviously, I knew I had to have grandparents. I just figured they’d be as worthless as my mother or long dead.”
I slide my hand up the outside of her bare thigh and give her a squeeze. It kills me when she looks up and a tear falls down her pale cheek.
She swallows hard and asks, “If they didn’t know I existed, how did you find out about me?”
Nodding, she never takes her eyes off mine as she learns about the family she didn’t know she had. After all she’s told me in the last few days about her childhood, I can’t imagine how she’s feeling.
She rattles off her address and email, explaining that she’ll get back with him, says goodbye, and drops the phone to her lap.
“You have grandparents?” I ask, hoping she’s happy about the fact she has family she didn’t know about.
But Mary surprises me and shakes her head. “No.”
I frown and my grip on her leg tightens. “No? But I thought you said—”
She shakes her head and another tear streaks her face. “They’re dead.”
“Dead? Mary, tell me. What did he say?”
She swallows hard and fists my T-shirt she’s wearing that’s covering nothing but her bare, beautiful body. “He said they were estranged from their daughter—my mother. That she had drug problems since she was a teen and did everything they could to help her get clean, but she disappeared from their lives when she was just nineteen. They didn’t know about me, at least that’s what the attorney said. He had to dig to find their closest living relative and that’s when he found my birth certificate. He said it wasn’t easy, but he traced me from there.”
“But, they’re dead?”
She tries to control her emotions and shrugs. “I guess my mom’s mom died years ago and the man who was my grandfather died of cancer a few weeks ago. They lived in a small town outside of Lexington.”
I set my coffee down next to her Diet so I can pull her into my arms. “Baby, I’m sorry.”
Her words don’t match her tone—choked and shallow. “It doesn’t matter. I didn’t know them.”
I turn my face into the side of her hair. “It does matter.”
She wraps herself around me tighter. “No, it doesn’t.”
My neck turns wet from her tears, proof it matters a whole fucking lot.
It cuts me deep. And now I realize, feeling her cry in my arms, that from here on out, I’ll do everything I can to protect her from heartache. “Tell me what else he said.”
She hiccups her words. “He said he has paperwork I need to fill out. He’s settling their estate and I’m their closest living relative. Because the last time they updated their wills, everything was to go to my mom and since she’s dead, I guess it’s mine.”
“Okay, baby. I’ll help you through it.”
“I don’t care about any of it,” she keeps on through her tears and I hold her tight. “All those years … I had grandparents. He said they were good people—heartbroken and never the same after losing their only daughter. How could they have not known about me? How could the state not have looked harder and found them instead of putting me in foster care?”
I stroke her hair and back but don’t say anything because there’s nothing I can say that will make her feel better. Not after all I’ve learned. Nothing
will take away the years she had to survive in the system. It’s not lost on me that my mom got clean when I was around the same age she was when her horrors started.
I scoot down the bed and settle us on our sides, her front pressed to mine. “It’s over. I’ll make sure whatever you have to do is as painless as possible and we’ll move on. You’re not alone—not anymore and never again.”
She stops talking and, even though we slept most of the night, her normal vibrant energy is zapped right out of her.
We lie like this for another hour until we’re forced to get up and face the world.
Little did we know, it was about to implode.
13
ROT IN HELL
Mary
HOW MANY WAYS can another soul rock your world?
The feeling is nothing short of bizarre and I’m not sure I’ll ever get used to it. I hope I don’t. For as long as this lasts, I hope it feels like this each and every time he looks at me, touches me, makes me feel like I’m the only person in the universe and there’s nothing on earth he’d rather be doing than focusing on me.
Me.
He spent the whole day with me at work even though I told him there was no need. He watched me and talked with my clients like they weren’t just my friends, but his too. He wooed Mrs. Reichenberg, an elderly client who was in for her weekly wash and set. She was as serious as a hip-break when she told him he needed “a good, old fashioned haircut” and proceeded to boss me on what that should be. But, I swear, Evan made her blush when he explained to her that, as beautiful as she is, he’s not on the market and she needed to quit hitting on him because he didn’t want me to get jealous. He then gave me a heated look and told me he’ll gladly surrender his beautiful locks to me to do with what I want.
Wetness instantly pooled between my legs at the thought of scheduling Evan for a private appointment.
