The Everest Brothers: Ethan - Hutton - Bennett

by Scott, S. L.

“You can be very charming when you want to be. Is that what you’re doing? Charming me?” He doesn’t realize I’m already under his spell.

  “I’m spending the day with a woman who intrigues me as much as she attracts me. It’s like a two-for-one.”

  “Two women for the price of one. Not so charming.”

  “No, that’s not what I mean at all.” We shift to our right to see more of the painting as a new crop of people walk into the oval room.

  “Then what did you mean?”

  “That I’m not attracted to one-dimensional women. They should have lives, goals, and dreams of their own instead of focusing on mine alone. Believe it or not,” he says, “my ego is in check most of the time. I can handle a successful, confident woman who knows what she wants and likes. If I can satisfy her needs, there’s no bigger boost.”

  “If. You said if when it comes to satisfying a woman? If isn’t a part of the average guy’s vocabulary. Doesn’t matter how big or small, they all think they’re God’s gift. What makes you different?”

  “There’s nothing to prove when you can back up your words with skill.”

  The museum must have turned the heat on, so I slip my jacket down my arms. Fanning myself, I ask, “I didn’t realize we were talking about sex.”

  “We’re talking about life and fulfilling your partner’s desires, but the same things apply to sex.”

  I like how he says sex more than I should—natural as if there’s nothing to be ashamed of or nothing to hide in dark rooms, like I’m not the slut I’ve been called.

  “You’re not intimidated by a strong woman.” I don’t ask a question, and I don’t expect an answer. He doesn’t need to justify anything, so I say, “I guess I should have asked long before showing up at your hotel, but better late than never. Are you single, or have you been hiding a wedding ring somewhere in that wallet of yours?”

  Pulling his wallet out, he holds it open. “Nope, no ring hidden in here.” Waggling his left hand, he adds, “No tan line, no indentation, and no ring here either. I’ve been flying solo for quite some time now.”

  “Were you previously married?”

  “No. I’ve had a few girlfriends, but no fiancées or wives in my past.”

  I don’t have a right to feel this good about that, but I do. “Now that we got the first date questions out of the way, what do you think about the art?”

  “So this is a date? Well, if that’s the case . . .” He takes my hand and holds it like we do this every day as we walk into the next room together. Being goofy, he swings it between us, playing it up. I’m not sure if he’s doing it for him, onlookers, or me, but I’m good with it.

  My hand feels small in his and held with care just as he’s treated me since we met. When we’re standing alone, away from the crowd, he says, “I figured I’d make it official.”

  “Official, huh? And here I thought you were going to say a production since this seems to be for everyone else.”

  “Trust me, sweetheart. This is just for you and me.”

  I hate that I love when he calls me sweetheart. There’s an edge to his normal tone that makes me think he takes no prisoners in bed.

  “It’s easier if we just call a duck a duck and a date a date,” he says with a shrug.

  “I want to trust you. Guessing games are never as entertaining as they sound.”

  “How about instead of guessing, we just ask what we want to know?”

  “And answer anything?” I ask, starting to stress.

  “Yes, just that easy. We can even take turns.”

  “What if we don’t want to answer, or what if we can’t?”

  Facing me, he slips his hands around to the small of my back and pulls me close. If anyone saw us, we’d fool them into thinking we’re a couple, just as I’m temporarily fooling myself. “Let’s not overthink this. If you don’t want to answer, then you don’t have to. But know that I’m interested in you, Winter. And I want to know more.”

  My instinct tells me no, don’t even try this. But when I look at him, I want to know more about him—everything the internet didn’t tell me. I want to know the real him. And I want him to know the real me because when I finish paying my debt to the monster pulling the strings, there isn’t any remaining doubt that Bennett is someone I would like to see again. “All right, I’ll play along.”

  Rubbing his hands together, I see the devious glint in his eyes and start to get nervous. But what I’ve learned about Bennett so far is that the last thing he seems to want is to see me squirm. I wonder if that holds true in the bedroom. I hope not. “Bah!”

  “Something funny you want to share?”

  “No. Not at all. Sorry. If I let you inside my brain, you’ll run out of here, and I’m enjoying your company too much to ruin the date this early on.” I laugh to myself, and then he tickles my side. When I get louder and push off, he doesn’t let me go and pulls me right back in as if I was made to fit against him.

  I’m starting to think I might have been.

  We’re shushed by a lady with a name badge. Our laughter subsides, and I say, “You’re going to get us kicked out if you keep that up.”

  “Let’s live on the edge. It’s not every day you can say you were kicked out of a museum.”

  Before he can tickle me again, I slip out of his reach. Stepping up to the painting, I let my gaze slip into the paint strokes. Keeping his words between us, he asks, “What do you do for a living?”

  He comes out hitting hard, confirming my dread from earlier. What am I supposed to say? I’ve told him what I felt I could without giving the dirty details away. The more personal he gets, the more I’ll have to pull away. Some secrets should stay buried. It will only get ugly from here, the details too bad to pretend I don’t know better.

  I like the way he sees me now. I like who I am when I’m with him, so I skirt around the issues. “I earned a business degree.” It’s one of the few things that never caused me shame, so I go with the truth. “I used to work with an acquisitions firm specializing in shipping, cargo holds, and docking rights.”

  “Really?”

  Moving to his side, I watch as his eyes follow the lines of the large canvas hanging on the wall. But he turns, and by how his brows are cinching together in the middle, I can see more questions forming.

  “I used to get that look a lot actually. I don’t think most people associate a woman in that area of industry. I worked in an office most of the time. It’s not like I was loading the ships at port, though I did once just for the experience. Prada are more flattering than work boots, especially since I’m on the shorter side.”

  “Everest Enterprises owns rights down in East Bay.”

  “Ah. That’s where I know the name.” Wiggling a foot in front of me, I’m quick to add, “My turn.”

  “I had no doubt that you’re a badass who can do whatever you set your mind to and do it in style.” His smile, like the one he’s wearing now, has become one of my favorite parts of the day. There’s just something so genuine in the grins he shares with me.

  “Stop being so good all the time. You’re spoiling me.”

  “You should be spoiled sometimes. We all should.”

  “I bet women love to spoil you.”

  “I’m as rotten as they come.”

  “I suspected as much,” I tease. But I know it’s true. Bennett Everest doesn’t lack for attention. Women notice him, eye him, smile and flirt with him everywhere we’ve been, including a woman who just purposely bumped into him.

  The funny thing is, he apologized to her but didn’t look twice. You know who he did see, though? Me. He makes me feel like I matter, as if I’m not invisible. Not a toy for someone to manipulate. He makes me believe in destiny as if I have a future ahead of me.

  I don’t know if I do or not, but Bennett sure makes me hope for more.

  9

  Winter

  I can ask him anything, but whether he’ll answer is a whole other story. Nevertheless, I’m greedy with
this little taste of power, so I’m savoring every second.

  Tapping my chin, I continue strolling down the length of the room until I reach the end. His eyes remain on me, studying me, trying to read my mind or body language. I notice. I see him.

  So I drag this out in an attempt to unnerve him even though I should already know better. He’s not a man easily intimidated. At least not so far. “Let me think.” When I walk back and reach his side again, I ask, “Where did you grow up?”

  He chuckles. Bennett sees right through me. I hate that I’m that obvious, but I gave him a softball question in hopes of getting one in return.

  “I grew up in Houston, as you probably already know, but I’ll do you one better. I went to the University of Texas in Austin—worked hard, played harder, and also earned a business degree. After a short stint in California, I returned to Houston to work for my dad. I built a small sales team. The job was easy to come by, but the boss was on my ass day in and day out.” He laughs. “My dad was actually easy to work for, and the pay was decent for a recent graduate. My oldest brother was doing the accounting, so it was a family affair for the most part. My other brother, Ethan, was already in New York and brought me onboard.”

  His brother hired him because he was good at his job, but also because he was his brother. That’s how families are supposed to work. Not like mine. I already have so many other questions I want to ask him, but since I’m willing to play by the unspoken rules. “You’re up.” Speaking of up, I crane my neck to catch his eyes. “How tall are you anyway? You’re like a giant.”

  “Everything’s bigger in Texas. I’ll let you guess my height since it’s my turn.”

  “You’re a real comedian, Everest. So if it’s not your charm, it’s your humor. I swear I’m determined to find your Achilles’ heel.”

  “Here’s a secret,” he whispers, the back of his hand straddling the side of his mouth. “I don’t have one.”

  I believe him. But something has to make him putty in my hands. Food or drink? Fast cars or cigars? Kinky sex? What will make a man like Bennett Everest cave to a woman like me?

  I stop and stare down at the white floor—my red shoes standing in stark contrast—as my throat tightens and my breath exhales with a sharp edge. “What am I doing?”

  “Ummm . . . looking at art?”

  Shaking my head, I close my eyes, squeezing them tight. “Not this museum. You?”

  “Me? What about me?”

  Spinning around to face him, I reply, “I’m trying to figure you out.”

  His hands move back and forth between us. “As I am you. That’s why we’re asking questions, exchanging answers, getting to know each other.”

  “No, it’s not the same. I let my past in and started treating you like a game.”

  “I don’t understand. Spell it out for me.”

  With a tight chest matching my throat, I do what I’ve never done before—lay my soul bare and expose what I hide from the world. “I started working an angle, but I caught myself. I stopped my thoughts from digging deeper because I do want to get to know you.” I pause, unsure if I should say more, but I’m in too deep to stop. “I like you, Bennett.”

  “Good, because I like you, too.” A smile starts to grow on his handsome face and holds steady before it spreads any farther. “But I’m still confused what this is between us. Pretending nothing is developing doesn’t make it true. I don’t date women who are in relationships.”

  “What happened to a duck is a duck and a date a date?”

  “You’re not seeing someone seriously. So when you say you’re unavailable, you mean emotionally, correct?”

  When all I want is to keep my secrets from him and enjoy the few days we have together, I sure know how to put myself right in the middle of the spotlight. My shoulders drop just like the pretenses I’ve been holding onto. “Save yourself the trouble and get out now.”

  He drags his teeth over his kissable bottom lip but then frees it. “You’re just the kind of trouble worth getting into, Winter.”

  “I’m a mess. Can’t you see?” I hate being this raw. This open. This . . . timid. I want Bennett to like me, to want me. Even though I know I can’t have anything with him, he gives me hope.

  “What I see is someone scared of the possibility of more—”

  “I’m not scared of more, Bennett. I’m scared of . . .” I catch myself. “I’m telling you I’m screwed up.”

  “And I’m still here. And quite honestly, I have nothing to burn but daylight, so I might as well burn it with someone I find utterly fascinating.”

  “Fascinating?” I scoff. “I’m not that interesting. You just have vacation brain.”

  “And what’s vacation brain?”

  “With your day-to-day safely tucked in the States, you get to live another life while you’re away.”

  “I don’t take vacations. I like my job, going to work, and my life in general. So if I’m here, taking days off, it’s because I want to be here.” He pauses for a moment as if he’s wrestling with something as well. How I wish we were simply strangers who met on a vacation, free to see where this leads. “Winter, what do you want me to do? Can I help you in some way? Fix something? Throw my hands up and be done with you?”

  I lower my gaze to his chest, feeling ridiculous for starting this conversation in the first place. “No. You can’t fix it or me, but I don’t want you to leave.”

  Taking my hands, he holds them between us, gently rubbing his thumb over my knuckles. It’s filled with the possibility that he’s sticking around and we can get to know each other better. “Although I appreciate the heads-up, the warning doesn’t scare me. Messed up, screwed up, emotional. These things come with life. We’re all screwed up. Just some of us are better at hiding it. Life is full of surprises. Some good. Some bad. It’s how we handle them that makes the difference.”

  He’s so good. His heart is pure. He has an uncanny way of restoring hope where I thought there was none.

  Wrapping an arm around my neck, he holds me to his side, and I’ve never felt safer in my life. I just want to burrow inside this comfort and not come out until all the bad is out of the way and I can move on with my life and possibly Bennett.

  When I wrap my arm around his, he dips his head to the side on top of mine, and whispers, “You’re a lovely package, but it’s who you are on the inside that I like the most.”

  “Stop being all—”

  “I know. I know. Charming.” Hearing his carefree laughter puts my unsettled soul at ease. Our bodies break from each other, and he looks me in the eyes as if he’ll make a stronger point that way. “You think I’m using lines or working you over, but I’m not. You just bring out the best in me.” The added smirk at the end is a nice touch.

  “Well, the best of you is downright romantic. That’s all I’m saying.”

  Quirking his lips to the side, he narrows his eyes but then relaxes. “I don’t know what to say to that, but as for the rest, I’m not going to read more into this conversation than it is. I like that you’re being upfront.” I notice his gaze darts to the far side of the room. I check over my shoulder, just in case. “I think the takeaway is that you like me. Guess what, ma chérie? I like you too, even more because you gave me something real.”

  From any other guy, I’d be on the fence about the pet name, but that a guy who loves sports and all those guy things says it wins me over every time.

  We start walking toward the exit. “We’ve all made bad choices in our lives. All we can do is our best to fix them.”

  “There’s a saying about bad choices make great stories. Let me tell you, I could write a series from all the bad I’ve done.”

  “Do you know how sexy it is that you know yourself well enough to acknowledge faults and want to do better?”

  “Don’t we all?”

  “No,” he replies, chuckling. “I’ve dated a lot of models and a few actresses—”

  “Of course, you have.” I sigh sarcastically.<
br />
  “My point being that they rarely see their flaws because they’re surrounded by yes people calling them perfect every day.”

  “I didn’t have that luxury.”

  “Good. Neither did I, and I think we turned out pretty okay.”

  “Pretty okay?” I can’t help but laugh now. “That’s what we’re striving for? Pretty okay?”

  Taking my hand, he warms me from my fingertips to my toes. “Guess so.” He stops, and says, “As much as I can appreciate the work that it took to create these masterpieces, I can only stare at them for so long. Are you ready to leave?”

  I don’t know why I find that funny, but I do, and I can appreciate his honesty like he respected mine.

  In the middle of Paris, we start meandering as if we have no destination in mind. But I have plans for this man, things I want to show him that I’ve never done with anyone else. Maybe I was just waiting for the right person to experience them with.

  I’m tempted to tell him everything—why I’m here, how I got here, the scheme I’m a part of, the devious debts that are due. Bennett Everest makes me want to confess my sins and then beg for forgiveness. Unfortunately, I think it’s too late to cleanse my soul. Even by him.

  The only thing that matters is what’s happening right here, right now in the present. So before the goodness of the day disappears, I ask another question. “Have you ever eaten escargot?”

  * * *

  Not two hours later, the sun has set. As the lights dim, a familiar French tune wafts through the busy evening crowd. I’ve started to relax because the man I’m with has provided so much warmth and easy conversation, something I’d forgotten but had missed. He’s a nice distraction to the mundane life I’ve been living, making me laugh before I forgot how.

  “I’m starting to think that all people do in Paris is eat well and drink coffee all day and wine all night while watching the world go by,” he says.

  Having just taken a sip of my Pinot Noir, I choke. I cover my mouth with a napkin and try not to spit out the wine. That would not be pretty, and the last thing I want is to have red wine running down my chin. He tends to catch me off guard more than I’m used to. I think Paris has made me softer in more ways than my midsection. “Is there something wrong with that? Sounds like the good life to me.”