by Cora Brent
Thinking about Gretchen Aaronson has become a problem. That girl just fires up my blood in an inexplicable way. Sure, she’s sexy as hell, but so what? The world has no shortage of hot women.
No, there’s something else about her that gets me going, that makes me forget she’s Danny’s little sister and should be off limits by all reasonable standards.
Maybe because she knew me long before I was banished or maybe because she’s never been on a mission to impress me.
She still isn’t.
We shared a moment when she was being completely sincere and honest. In that moment a hidden piece of me woke right the fuck up and screamed YES!
I claimed her mouth. I put my hands on her. And she was into it. Really into it. She might have given me everything right there in the cold by the light of the moon.
I’m the one who stopped.
I left her standing there and wouldn’t look back when she called my name. I knew if I turned around then nothing would keep me from carrying her into the house and taking her in filthy ways that would blow her mind.
Honestly, I don’t know what Gretchen’s been up to all these years, if she’s had no lovers or twenty. And I don’t care. I could easily get consumed with the idea of corrupting her until she can’t catch her breath.
Which is exactly why I find myself sitting out here at the edge of an abandoned amphitheater with a hard dick.
The sound of a crash coming from the nearest cabin puts me on alert. The noise could be from an animal or it could be squatters. I’m not looking for a confrontation either way, so I stand up and hike back to my truck with my eyes wide open.
My schedule is clear for the rest of the day.
I know exactly where I’m going next. And Danny isn’t the only member of the Aaronson family I’m hoping to see when I get there.
5
Gretchen
“What are you writing?” Mara asks as she climbs into my lap.
“Just a letter.” I set my pen down on the kitchen table and wrap my arms around her squirmy little body.
Even without different hairstyles, I’ve never had any difficulty telling the twins apart. They always possessed very distinct personalities and mannerisms from the time they were tiny.
“To who?” she asks and then giggles when I tickle her.
“A very nice lady named Abigail Fisher. Your mommy used to write to her too.”
When I sat down, I just meant to dash off a quick note, thanking Abigail for the flowers and for the college fund she has set up for the girls. But once I started writing I just kept going. I’ve filled three sheets, front and back, of loose-leaf paper. I’ve written about growing up with Jules. I’ve written about what a wonderful mother she was. I’ve admitted that I can’t get used to the reality of a world without my big sister.
After all that writing my hand is cramped but releasing the words has also made me feel lighter. Letter writing is too cathartic to be a lost art. I hope there is someone willing to read the letter to Abigail if her eyes are not up to the task. She’s always been good to us and I think she’ll like hearing about Jules.
“Can we go to the castle?” Caitlin asks. She has appeared with a small bag full of tiny baby dolls. I know she’s referring to the tent in the carriage house.
“Your Uncle Danny is staying out there,” I remind her.
“Is he home right now?”
“I don’t know,” I admit.
Danny found a gym in town that he likes and when he’s not running miles up and down the boardwalk he’s there sweating through hard core weight training.
He hasn’t said much but I know his mind is on the upcoming spring training season. This year might be his best shot. I can’t tell him not to take it. Jules wouldn’t want that either.
Mara abruptly hops off my lap. She runs to the back door and points excitedly at the glass. “It’s Trentcassini!”
Every muscle in my body tenses. “Where?”
“Outside. He’s talking to Uncle Danny.” She pulls on the doorknob but there’s a safety lock high beyond her reach.
“Hold on.” I walk over and flip the lock for her. Caitlin is now also in a hurry to get outside and they both jostle against me with impatience.
“Jackets first,” I caution before I’ll allow them to pass.
Caitlin sticks out her lower lip. “It’s not cold out. I bet it’s warm enough to swim in the lake.”
“Sweetie, it’s definitely not warm enough to swim in the lake.”
“But it’s still not cold out,” she argues.
She’s not exactly wrong. The weather turned yesterday and we’re in the middle of a short-lived spell of pleasant temperatures. The ice has all melted and there is a promising taste of spring in the air. Even if it won’t last for long, it’s a much needed break from the heaviness of winter.
I give in and out they go.
Caitlin is hampered by her bag of dolls so Mara beats her across the yard. Danny laughs and holds his arms out, swinging her up high in a way that causes my stomach to drop. Mara shrieks with delight.
“I want to be thrown too,” Caitlin declares. She pitches her dolls down on the dead grass and tugs on her uncle’s shirt.
“Careful, Danny,” I warn.
He tosses Caitlin up in the air and catches her neatly. Mara begs for another turn and I have to smile over their excitement. The twins do love their uncle, even if they view him as more of a playmate than an authority figure.
Meanwhile, Trent has knelt down to pick up the fallen dolls. He’s not as polished today. Instead of being neatly combed in a pricey button down shirt, he’s wearing a black hooded sweatshirt with faded jeans and looks as hearty as if he just finished running down a mountain.
I can grudgingly confess that Trent looks excellent no matter his style but I like him better like this. He straightens up and stares right at me. A shiver crawls up my spine.
Every day since the funeral I’ve seen Trent around but aside from exchanging a few polite nods we haven’t really talked. I’m not often at a loss for words nor am I timid about confronting any guy, hot or not, but I don’t know what to say to the man who used to be the boy down the street now that I’ve wrapped my legs around his waist and tried to devour his tongue.
Something in my face must have given away my thoughts because Trent’s mouth pulls into a smirk.
“You hungry?” Danny calls to me. “Trent bought over a ton of stuff from the butcher shop over on Mill. The grill still works and the gas is connected. I tested it yesterday.”
I tear my eyes away from Danny’s best friend. “You really want to grill? It’s February.”
“So? It’s good weather.”
I lift my shoulders in a shrug. “Sure.” I haven’t made a meal plan for today anyway.
Caitlin snatches her dolls back from Trent. “Did you bring hamburgers?” she asks him.
He nods. “Angus beef quarter pounders.”
She appears to be satisfied. “Do you want to play with us in the castle?”
“Maybe later,” he says and pretends to capture her nose.
Caitlin laughs.
Mara begs ‘Trentcassini’ to take her nose as well.
The girls have unofficially adopted Trent as a long lost member of the family. The memory of how Caitlin asked Trent if he might be her father still makes me wince. I’ve already asked the lawyer who drew up Jules’s will if we should worry about a surprise custody challenge from parties unknown. The lawyer, who had also been our father’s estate attorney, said he couldn’t guarantee anything, but Jules left no mention of the twins’ biological father and no reason to believe any custody challenges would be forthcoming.
That was both a relief and a sadness.
A relief because I’d fight the devil himself for my little nieces. And a sadness because I’ll never have the answer to a question that will undoubtedly haunt them in the years to come.
Danny opens the door to the carriage house so the twins can access their
castle. He shouts a question about the possible whereabouts of grilling utensils. Though I have no clue if Jules even owned any, I’m ready to escape the scrutiny of Trent’s piercing gaze for a moment.
“I’ll go look,” I offer.
Trent doesn’t miss a beat. “And I’ll help.” He ignores the rather flustered glance I send him before marching into the house after me.
I’m still not clear on what he’s doing in Lake Stuart. My understanding is that he’s able to run his Florida-based real estate company remotely but I don’t know much else because I get my information from Danny and Danny tends to be unconcerned with details like regular jobs.
Trent’s heavy footsteps plod right behind me and I try to dismiss the suspicion he’s staring at my ass.
“You can search the kitchen,” I toss over my shoulder and break for the dining room.
A china cabinet that used to display antiques but now primarily exhibits the twins’ artwork seems an unlikely place to discover grilling tools. However, I start opening drawers because I’m sure not going back to the kitchen while he is in there. The kitchen is too small a space to share with Trent Cassini when I’m in the middle of a flashback.
I moaned into his mouth. I tried to ride his hand.
Fuck.
A random linen table napkin gets picked up and squeezed into a ball, a futile attempt to crush the intense physical attraction I can’t escape from.
“No luck.”
It’s a mystery how he crept up behind me in those hiking boots. The sound of his voice shouldn’t be a lust trigger but it is and I feel my thigh muscles tighten even before I turn around.
Easily six foot two, Trent fills the doorway and leans one thick arm against the frame, as if he’s demonstrating that he could keep me boxed in at his discretion. His sweatshirt does little to hide the fact that he’s stacked with more muscle than any ordinary businessman has a right to be and again I wonder about him.
Who he is now.
What he likes.
How he fucks.
STOP!!!
Trent waits for my inner monologue to quit running.
“Thanks for checking,” I tell him, dropping the napkin and proceeding to open random drawers in order to hide the blush that surely gives me away.
He doesn’t budge. “I can keep on looking.”
“All right.” I open a drawer and find candles. I open another one and find…more candles. “You can look in the living room if you want.”
“Where do you sleep?” he asks.
Trent is still posed in the doorway. I search his face in an effort to figure out what he’s really asking. He stares back at me, waiting for an answer.
“In the master suite on the first floor. But I’m sure there are no grilling tools in there.”
“Didn’t think there would be. I just wanted to know where you sleep.”
I open another drawer filled with candles. They seem to be multiplying of their own free will. Slowly, I shut the drawer and give him my full attention.
“I thought you said you don’t flirt, Trent.”
“I’m not flirting. I’m making conversation.”
I cross my arms, a classic defensive pose. “I suppose sooner or later we will have to address what happened between us.”
“Sure, we can do that.”
His expression is maddeningly unreadable. He hasn’t shaved today. This only adds to his gruff and sexy vibe.
I start to chew my lip, an old habit, and stop myself. “I was having a lot of emotions that night. I apologize if I made you feel uncomfortable.”
He rolls his eyes. “Shit, I like you better when you’re not so clenched and nervous.”
“You don’t make me nervous.”
“Liar.”
I hiss out an annoyed breath and loosen my arms. “You don’t make me nervous,” I insist again. “And you’re hardly the first man who’s touched me so don’t go flattering yourself that I’m about to swoon after a thirty second make out session.”
He studies me. “Is that your clumsy way of saying you’re no virgin?”
“That’s one way of putting it.”
“Bummer.” He shrugs. “I mean, I only stopped by today in the hopes of busting your cherry before lunch.”
“Very funny. But there’s the Trent Cassini I remember. Crude as ever.”
“That’s bullshit. I was never crude to you.”
“You’re right. You never had much to do with me at all.”
He thinks that’s funny. “Well, it hadn’t occurred to me that you’ve been nursing a huge crush for all these years.”
I throw him a withering look. “Please. You know damn well I never had a crush on you. And you certainly didn’t show much interest in me.”
“That’s true. I didn’t find you very interesting.”
“Why did you kiss me the other night, Trent?”
His shoulders lift in a careless shrug. “You wanted to be kissed and so I kissed you.”
“That simple, huh?”
“Why not?”
“You’re still…”
He lifts an eyebrow, waits for me to search for the word.
“Impenetrable,” I finish.
Trent’s eyes flicker. “Are you penetrable, Gretch?”
There he goes, baiting me again. I tighten my jaw and refuse to get ruffled.
Trent chuckles anyway, which is tremendously annoying.
“You’re trying too hard to be a mystery,” I inform him.
He shakes his head. “I’m not trying at all.”
“All you do is make vulgar comments instead of saying something significant. It’s boring.”
“If there’s something particular you want to know then ask.”
“All right.” I cross the room and try to glare but the effect is diminished by the fact that I need to look up at him. “What are you thinking about right now?”
Trent doesn’t need to mull over the question. “I’m thinking that you’d probably lighten up in a hurry if you sat on my face and let me lick your pussy for a while.”
I’ve been catcalled plenty of times on the streets of New York. I’ve been propositioned using the filthiest language imaginable and always laughed it off. Hearing those words roll from Trent in such a matter-of-fact way is something else entirely. I can’t even draw a breath. I’m equal parts stunned and aroused.
The dining room table is necessary to my dignity right now. I lean against it for support.
Trent watches my response with what appears to be only a vague level of amusement.
“I need to go back outside,” I tell him but he doesn’t move from the doorway.
“You didn’t interest me back then,” he says.
“No need to repeat yourself,” I grumble.
But Trent’s not finished with his thought.
“You interest me now, Gretchen. More than I’d like.”
After dropping that little bombshell he disappears from the doorway. Seconds later I hear the hinges of the back door shriek as he returns to the backyard.
Trent’s motives are difficult to guess. Perhaps he’s just trying to provoke me for fun, although I don’t know what he’d get out of that. But I’m positive I’m not imagining the charged attraction between us. We both feel it, whether we should or shouldn’t.
And I know I shouldn’t.
I have responsibilities. I have the girls and they come first. I’ve never put much effort into relationships anyway. The emotional investment is a drain on my time and my time has always seemed better spent in pursuit of more tangible goals. From college on, sex is something to be enjoyed and not treated with seriousness.
Still, the days of hot flings and wild sex are over. Even if they weren’t, I shouldn’t be having hot flings and wild sex with my brother’s oldest friend.
Before I leave the room I check the shallow bottom drawer of the china cabinet, half expecting to find more candles. Instead, there’s a row of long stainless steel utensils that are clearly mea
nt to be used for grilling. I scoop them up and shut the drawer.
Out on the patio, Danny has already rolled off the cover of the grill and is lighting the burners while ranting about team lineups and designated hitters and other baseball matters. Trent listens as he stands back, propped up against one of the pergola posts. He was once as much of an athlete as Danny. I suppose he lost the opportunity to play when he was sent away to that reform school and never found a way to get back to the game.
Danny brightens when he sees me. “Good, you found them.”
The silver forks and spatulas are clutched in my right hand like weapons. Carefully, I set them down on the iron picnic table that’s been here forever and now shows spots of rust.
“The girls are playing in the carriage house?” I ask my brother.
“Yup.” Danny plucks the nearest fork and spears it into a pile of raw meat. “Someone will eat these brats, right?”
Trent steps over to watch the food land on the grill. “Damn, I didn’t realize what a mouthful those things are. Think you can handle one that size, Gretchen?”
He winks at me, the insinuation clear. Trent has decided to see how hard he can push my buttons before I erupt.
Joke’s on him. I won’t be erupting.
The meat sizzles. Danny throws burger patties on haphazardly. “Last I checked, Gretchen takes pride in her vegetarian status.”
I smile, not at my brother, but at Trent. “Actually, I eat meat all the time.”
“No kidding.” Trent tilts his head. “All the time, huh?”
“Every chance I get.” I strut in front of him, aware that my v-neck black sweater and tight jeans do good work showing off my figure. “I’m a big fan. And I’m not even slightly shy about getting my fill.”
Trent’s expression flickers and he shifts his weight. He clears his throat and can’t come up with a snappy response. I roll my tongue over my upper lip for emphasis. He blows out a thick breath and has to look away.
There.
Victory is mine.
Danny remains oblivious. He flings a metal spatula to Trent. “Hey, watch these, would you? Thought I saw a bottle of barbecue sauce in the pantry so I’m gonna grab it.”
