by Brynne Asher
I pull my lip between my teeth as a group of middle schoolers race past us like it’s the Indy 500 of corn mazes. “The first. My prepaid ran out of money and my mom, well…” I don’t look at him. Tony knows better than most. I’m sure he knows a million times more about me than I want him to because of Gabby, but that doesn’t mean I want to talk about it. Talk about my mom or home or how there isn’t money for electricity some months, let alone anything left to fund my cell. Yet somehow my mother always has cigarettes and beer. I kick a woodchip to the side and focus on my breath visibly cutting through the cold air. “Meredith and Luka insisted on putting me on their plan. I tried to argue but they wouldn’t have it. I’m going to do everything I can to pay them back.”
He bumps his shoulder into mine. “You don’t need to pay them back, Leigh.”
I shrug and stare at the path in front of me. He’s right but I say nothing.
“How’s your senior year? Sick of it yet? Since I’m gone, I can confirm what we all know. High school sucks.”
“Right? So much.” My lips tip up for the first time since I laid eyes on him. “You’re lucky you’re out.”
“Even though the last year is miserable, it still goes fast. Have you thought about next year yet?”
“In fact—”
He stops and yanks at my coat, turning me to him. Standing in the middle of the corn maze, we’re so close our breaths tangle, mingling like some dance that chaperones break up at homecoming. The thought of it speeds my heart and all of a sudden I don’t feel like I’m hiking in the Arctic tundra. I’m warm and nervous and my mouth is as dry as the Sahara.
“You should visit me.” His words cut through the small distance and it takes a second for me to process them.
“What? Where?”
“School. Washburn.” He threads his arm through mine and pulls me to him, our bulky coats and layers are the only things keeping me from feeling all that is Tony Carpino pressed against my body. In all the years I’ve known him, he’s never done this. He’s always treated me the same way he treats Gabby.
My eyes flare the moment his words penetrate my brain. “Why?”
“So you can see the school. And me. I’m sure Gabby would come with you. It’s only a three-hour drive.”
“Tony—” I interrupt because I have to tell him that regardless of how much I might want to visit him, it doesn’t matter.
“You still thinking about being a nurse?”
“Yes, but—”
“They have a good program. A great program. And it’s a smaller school—that means smaller classes.”
I know all of this. It’s what I want and what I’ve tried to make happen, especially with Meredith and Luka’s help. And I’ve researched Washburn for far more than their nursing program. One reason in particular…
I need to explain but he won’t stop torturing me. “I can show you around. I’ve even met some people in the program and can introduce you.”
“Tony, stop.” His dark eyes are black as they penetrate mine. Despite kids running past us at the speed of pumpkins launching into a lonely field, I’m lost in the world of Tony Carpino, something I’ve daydreamed about more times than I care to admit. I’m not proud of it and have even tried to stop. And this moment isn’t going to help me kick the habit, either. “You don’t have to sell me on Washburn. I was already accepted. I got the letter last month.”
A slow smile creeps over his dark features and his hand circles to the small of my back. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
I shake my head. “Because it doesn’t matter.”
His face falls but he doesn’t move, which is what I really need him to do right now. “Why? You don’t want to go? Like I said, visit. I think you’ll like it. I’ll do everything I can to make you like it—”
“Stop!” I squeeze my eyes and pull in a deep breath before looking to him. “Yes, I was accepted but was turned down for the scholarship I need. And, Tony, I need a scholarship. There’s no way I can go to college without one.” I lower my voice. “You know how it is. I don’t have what you and Gabby have. I’ll be on my own.”
I didn’t know it would be possible, but the disappointment on his face looks more painful than mine was when I got that letter. His hold on me goes slack and all of a sudden the cold seeps into my bones and the space between us might as well be miles. “I didn’t know. Shit, Leigh. I’m sorry. I never would have asked had I known.”
“I got into Montana.”
His frown is deep and touches me in a place I’m not familiar with. “Montana?”
“Yes.” I realize my voice is clipped as I give him the news I was ecstatic about just hours ago … and still would be had this not just happened. Now I’ll have the horrid reminder of what could have been. I shrug and plaster a smile on my face, as fake as Chase’s, and the thought of that turns my stomach. “Full ride. Exactly what I need. It’s not close but I could use some distance from my mom anyway, right?”
He nods and fakes a smile much smaller than mine. “Congratulations. That’s huge.”
I put more space between us and a boy runs into me. Tony reaches out but I wave him off. “Yes, it is huge. It’s exactly what I need.” Pausing, I look around before shaking my head. “I just need to get away. Away from my mom. Start somewhere new where people don’t know how badly I need a scholarship. How badly I need a change.”
He nods and stuffs his hands in his pockets, weirdly mirroring my stance, putting us at an odd standoff. “Montana is a long way from Kansas.”
I exhale. “No. Kansas is a long way from Montana.”
“Fuck,” he hisses through the cold air before his long legs eat up the space I put between us. He doesn’t stop until my back is pressed against the wall of corn. He yanks my hand out of my pocket, and for the first time, Tony Carpino threads his fingers through mine. His hand is big and warm and I’ve never felt anything so perfect. “This isn’t how I wanted this to go.”
He leans in but I put my hand to his chest. “Please don’t.”
His mouth is so close, his breath warms my lips. “Don’t what, Leigh?”
“Don’t kiss me. It’s bad enough I didn’t get the scholarship to Washburn. If you kiss me and I realize what I’m missing out on, I’m not sure I can handle it.”
His tongue reaches out to wet his lips and now I wish I could get lost forever in this stupid maze. “Kansas isn’t that far from Montana.”
“It is.” I try to be the voice of reason. I need to convince him to go back to school and do everything college guys do. But I don’t get that chance.
“Leigh?”
Gabby’s voice butts into one of the most precious moments I’ve ever had. Or, maybe she saves me. Either way, it’s over.
Tony steps away and the night air seeps in, slithers its way into my heart, and squeezes until it’s so painful, I have to work to stay on my feet.
Gabby hurries over to us. “You okay?”
I close my eyes and pinch the bridge of my nose. If I look at Gabby, there’s no way I’ll be able to lie. She’d know in a heartbeat. “I have a headache. I think it’s the cold. Do you mind if we go?”
“I can take you home,” Tony offers.
My eyes shoot to Gabby and I allow them to beg.
She’s my best friend and has been for ten years. She knows. She gets me.
“It’s okay. I can take her.” She looks to her cousin who now looks like he wants to bulldoze this cornfield. “I’ll see you before you go back?”
Tony doesn’t take his eyes off me but answers Gabby. “Yeah. I’ll see you tomorrow at dinner.”
That was it.
I didn’t see Tony again that weekend.
I missed Sophia and Lanny’s wedding because karma is a bitch and I actually came down with the real, legit flu.
Somehow, I even managed to avoid him all summer before I left for Montana.
And I regretted every bit of it.
About the Author
Brynne Asher grew up
in the Midwest and now lives in Northern Virginia with her husband, three children and her perfect dog. When she isn’t creating pretend people and relationships in her head, she’s running her kids around and doing laundry. She enjoys cooking, decorating, shopping at outlet malls and online, always seeking the best deal. A perfect day in “Brynne World” ends in front of an outdoor fire with family, friends, s’mores and a delicious cocktail.
Athica Lane
The Carpino Series, Book 3
Athica Lane
Athica Lane
Brynne Asher
Published by Brynne Asher
[email protected]
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Brynne Asher’s Beauties
Edited by edit LLC
Text Copyright
© 2015 Brynne Asher
All Rights Reserved
No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission from the author. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of author’s rights. Only purchase authorized editions.
Any resemblance to actual persons, things, locations, or events is accidental.
This book is a work of fiction.
Dedication
Of course, to Elle, my BFF
It seems as if Cam and Paige have been in the works forever. You wanted a football player, I wanted a single dad, his son is named after one of your favorites and you got to pick his number. I won’t even go into Rosa, she’s practically your Nana. I cherish the moments we tuck away while creating the characters I hold so dear. You wish. I write. I’m anxious to do it again.
To Rae Larand
Your help in getting this book where it is today is a gift. But really, I hold dear the friendship created through our love for writing. Who knew two authors living just down the road would meet on the cyber stage. I look forward to navigating this business together.
Finally, to Stacey, Laurie, Kristan and Penny
You’re the EDGiest gals I know. When this little author needed help, you all extended your lovely manicured cyber hands offering your wisdom, your time and your effort. Athica Lane wouldn’t be what it is without you.
A Note from the Author
When I started writing, I made the decision to write about what I love in life. My goal was to create “real people” characters in less than real situations. I hope I’ve done a little bit of that while providing an escape for those who want a Happily Ever After.
I love family. I enjoy decorating, or re-decorating. I follow lots of blogs. I’m from the Midwest, I love Colorado and I have a deep affection for Texas. And if you’ve read my books, you can tell I really love babies.
After reading Athica Lane, you’ll learn I also enjoy cooking.
There are many recipes mentioned in this book. I’ve made them all, minus the Baileys Irish Cream Cheesecake (it was one of our wedding cakes and I added it for sentimental reasons). Like all tried and true recipes, I’ve collected them over time. They’ve come from friends, cookbooks, television shows, magazines and cookie exchanges. This is my disclaimer: I only claim a few as my own creations. Should you want a recipe mentioned in this book—other than the cheesecake—please give me a shout at [email protected]. Eventually, I hope to have a website up and going with a special corner for recipes.
I’ve been planning Paige and Cam since I started writing Overflow. They make me happy and I hope you love them as much as I do.
Chapter One
Wet T-Shirt Contest
Paige
“Would you stop worrying, Soph,” I reiterate to my sister, again, as I roll my eyes at the teenage boy who won’t take his off my boobs while handing me my diet limeade. “Hey,” I bark with the phone still to my ear, “eyes up here.”
“Oh, sorry.” He’s sheepish and his face turning red when he has the nerve to add, “Come back soon.”
“What was that?” Sophia asks.
“Nothing.” I make my way through my favorite crowded burger joint. Stopping to grab a straw, I go on. “I’ll be there Monday to pick the boys up from camp at two o’clock. And yes, I remember I’m picking up your neighbor’s kids every day and keeping them for a couple hours, too. They go to camp every day, you’ll be home next Sunday afternoon. I know how to feed them, clean them, and protect them from peril. I promise they’ll be alive when you get home. Mom’s keeping Isabella—the boys are easy. Just go. Celebrate your ten years and get your freak on with your husband. We’ll be fine.”
“Thanks for keeping our neighbor’s kids. I promise it’s just a couple of hours until their dad gets home every day. I said I’d help out this summer and I hate to leave him in a lurch right at the beginning because we’re going away for a week. They’re well behaved and polite, they shouldn’t be a problem,” she explains. “I just hate being away from the kids. I don’t want them to be sad because they miss us. We really should’ve planned a weekend trip. An entire week in Hawaii is too long and far away. What were we thinking?”
“It’s not a big deal. They’ll be too busy to miss you.”
My oldest sister sighs through the phone. She can be a crazed mom when she doesn’t have control over her kids. She and her husband, Lanny, are headed to Hawaii for their ten year anniversary. I’m staying with Noah and Cayden, who are six and four, and my mom is keeping nine-month-old Isabella. She put the kids in day camp all week with her neighbor’s kids so I can get some work done. They’re dropping the boys off at camp on their way to the airport and I’m on duty for a week starting Monday afternoon.
“Cayden’s been needy lately, I don’t know if it’s us leaving town or what. He might get up in the middle of the night to climb in bed with you,” she continues being a crazed mom.
I turn and stop, dropping my head as I try to keep my patience with my oldest sister. “Well, it’s a good thing their favorite aunt is staying with them. They love me. I’m sure they won’t even miss you. In fact, I plan on kicking this week’s ass so much they’ll be begging you to leave again so they can have me back. Listen, I’ve got to go. I’m on my way to Gabby’s to use her kitchen for a shoot to post on the blog. My groceries are getting hot in the car.”
She takes her crazy to a new level. “Fine. I’ll call you tomorrow and run through the schedule one more time.”
“I’ll be waiting by the phone with bated breath.”
“Paige!” she admonishes.
I turn on my heel and hang up on my sister. “Gotta go, love you.”
The instant I turn, I slam into a brick wall and am covered in cold, wet liquid. And that liquid is soaking through what little clothing I have on since the heat has set in, even though we’re barely into summer. I look down and I’m wet to the bone, covered in ice-cold fountain drink.
“What the—” I sort of scream.
But I’m promptly interrupted by the brick wall. “Dammit. Watch where you’re goin’.”
I look down at my white tank that is now plastered to my body with a dark cola that’s freaking cold and sticky. It’s dripping down to my khaki short-shorts with the frayed hem and has probably ruined my chunky leather belt. My hands are still full—holding my phone, bag of food, and limeade. I can do nothing but gaze down at my chest that would at least get me into the finals of a wet t-shirt contest on spring break in college, if I was in college, which I’m not. Every detail of my lace demi cup bra is now on display and hell if I’m not already nipping out from the ice-cold drink.
Yep, I would totally make it to the finals, if not place in the top three.
My only option with no hands is to fold my arms to cover myself and repeat what I tried to say a second ago, “What the hell?”
“What the hell, what? You walked into me. Watch where you’re goin’,” I hear an angry, guttural voice come from
the brick wall, forcing my eyes up.
What I see is a guy. No, not a guy. A man, and a big one. I mean, I know I’m small—even though I prefer the word petite—most adults are bigger than me. But he’s big in a way it’s worth mentioning twice. He’s probably around six-feet tall, he has at least nine inches on me, and he’s broad and thick. He looks as hard as a rock. Even though I’m covered in dark sticky fountain drink while trying to cover up my wet-t-shirt-contest-worthy-boobs with my hands full, I secretly have the burning desire to poke his pec with my index finger to see if it’s as rock hard as it appears.
“Um, here.” A small voice comes at me from the side and I look over to see the teenage boy who was ogling me at the cash register. He looks as if he’s in heaven staring at my boobs, but wet this time, holding a wad of paper napkins. He never looks up as he continues with bug eyes. “Can I help you dry off?”
Are you kidding me?
“Hey,” I snap to get his attention off my chest. He jerks himself out of his wet t-shirt contest trance and looks up. I go on while shoving my food and drink out for him. “Hold this.”
Grabbing the paper napkins that will surely be of no help in this situation, I yank my top away from my body. Trying to blot it with the wad of useless napkins, I start to rant. “Everyone’s always in a rush. I mean, is it that hard to look where you’re going? Like no one else has a busy day, somewhere to be, or a deadline to meet. Not even a ‘sorry,’ or an ‘excuse me,’ or a ‘my fault I spilled my whatever-this-is all over you’. Nope, I get a ‘you walked into me.’”
“Darlin’, you did walk into me,” he repeats.
