Sink or Swim

by Bailey, Tessa

  Flying lessons.

  When everything seemed confusing, the future uncertain, she remembered her parents had surprised her with flying lessons. At least, she thought it was her parents. The envelope had mysteriously appeared in a batch of their mail and they refused to fess up to being the gift givers. But they’d known about her obsession with flying for decades—and she had an inkling they wanted to soften the blow of their sudden scheduling of dates with suitors on Jiya’s behalf.

  Throat tight, she picked up the envelope and turned it over in her hands.

  As far back as childhood, she’d been fascinated by the small Cessnas that droned like metal bees over the shores of Long Beach. What would it be like to pilot one? To see all that blue stretched out in front of her and decide the destination? She had to press a hand to her stomach to still the butterflies.

  Thursday was her first lesson. First of five.

  What would happen beyond that? She didn’t know. There were so many uncertainties in her life right now, but the changes and possibilities were preferable to staying in the same routine she’d been locked into for years. Shaking the puzzle pieces and letting them fall into a new pattern came at the cost of her dreams of being with Andrew. But what choice did she have if the object was to move forward?

  There was a gentle knock on Jiya’s door and she winced, hoping it was her father. He wouldn’t be thrilled about her abbreviated attire, either, but he’d just act uncomfortable and refrain from commenting. Whereas her mother—

  “Jiya?” Her mother entered with her arms already crossed, making Jiya wonder if she’d opened the door with some kind of spell or incantation. It didn’t seem that far-fetched, considering the woman moved as if levitated. “Oh.” She arched a dark eyebrow. “Well. Cha cha cha.”

  Twisting her lips to hide a smile, Jiya waved the envelope at her mother. “When are you going to admit you booked these lessons for me? Don’t you want credit?”

  “Credit for what? A hobby that will add no value to your future? My only child plummeting out of the sky into the Atlantic?” She sniffed. “No thank you.”

  “The lady doth protest too much,” I murmur knowingly, putting the envelope back in place. “Tonight is Jamie’s bachelor party.”

  “So I gathered, based on the amount of bottled beer being transported from their cars to the house.”

  “Nothing wrong with a little fun during a special occasion. They’re responsible the rest of the time.”

  “Don’t worry. I would never speak a bad word against your men.”

  Jiya’s heart skipped a little over that. God knew she loved the Prince men more than life itself. The taciturn crack of lightning that was Rory. Deep thinker Jamie.

  Tribe leader and unshakeable decision maker Andrew. The glue. The boss.

  Her best friend—and yet, somehow, the one who remained the biggest mystery.

  “Are you coming to the wedding tomorrow?”

  “Yes.” Her mother inclined her head. “Your father and I will be there.”

  Jiya passed her mother a grateful smile. Her parents were traditional, but their own love story was complicated, having come from two different backgrounds. As the daughter of a lieutenant in the Indian Army, her mother had been born into influence, while her father had been the son of a food shopkeeper. They’d come to America where no one knew them or the families who’d turned their backs on a relationship that wasn’t considered suitable.

  That bittersweet experience had not only made Jiya’s parents open minded and accepting about love, but had contented them with her finding love in her own time, on her own terms. They’d taken a backseat—which wasn’t to say her mother didn’t prod her frequently about getting out there—hoping she’d meet someone, ideally someone who shared the values of their culture. But as Jiya approached thirty, she’d agreed to let her parents take a more active role. They wanted to see her settled down. They wanted grandchildren someday and loud, boisterous holidays. Since she wanted that, too, she didn’t see the harm in letting them plan some dates. Who had better intentions for Jiya than her parents?

  “Next Saturday, we are having some friends over,” her mother said haltingly. “We know them from temple and they’re bringing their son. Please make sure you’re here.”

  Jiya swallowed hard and nodded, knowing full well it would be a chaperoned date. “I will.”

  Something troubled passed through her mother’s eyes, but it was hidden by an abrupt smile. “Be sensible tonight, Jiya.”

  She thought of how she’d removed her shirt last night, knowing Andrew was watching and felt a flush creep up her neck. “I always am.”

  Jiya’s bedroom door closed with a click, rousing her, and she rolled her eyes at being three minutes late, after all that time killing. With a flurry of nerves, she slipped on her heels, retrieved her purse and went to join the Prince brothers.

  Ten seconds after she closed her front door, she arrived in front of theirs. Inside, she could hear the low pulse of Billie Eilish whisper-talking through their stereo. The crack of a beer bottle opening. Male laughter. She was a lucky woman to have these three men to care for. To have them care about her in return. Two of them—Rory and Jamie—had found the loves of their life this wild summer. A summer where change hung heavy in the salt-tinged air. Even now, the unknown pulsed in the fingertips she curled into a fist, preparing to knock. The night ahead was exciting, in a slightly scary way that she couldn’t explain.

  All this change happening.

  All this change coming.

  Pushing her hair back over one shoulder, Jiya knocked and heard immediate footsteps. Andrew. He walked with more purpose than Rory, but less arrogance than Jamie.

  There was a tiny question lingering in her mind. Had Andrew watched her take off her shirt last night? Maybe he’d already lowered his blinds by that time? When he opened the door and she saw his face, Jiya had her answer. Oh, he’d seen, all right.

  Their eyes met first, his betraying everything. His shock at what she done and maybe even the smallest—oh God, sexiest—chastisement. And then his green gaze ventured lower, flickering with something dark. A muscle popped in his cheek.

  “Sorry, I’m late.”

  “Nah, Jiya,” he rasped, clearing his throat hard and flashing a smile that never reached his eyes. “You don’t have to apologize for being late when you show up looking that beautiful.”

  Velvet fingertips stroked her in unmentionable places. Briefly, oh so briefly, she let her attention roam over the navy button-down he’d tucked into gray slacks, how the material of both garments rode his rounded muscles like a lover’s palms. His finger-combed hair, fresh from the shower, made it all look effortless. “You look nice, too.”

  He licked the corner of his mouth. “I didn’t say you looked nice. I said beautiful.”

  “I heard you.”

  “Just making sure.”

  Electricity raced up her spine when she stepped closer and he made no move to let her into the house, his big body filling the frame. Whoa. Had her impulsive strip tease last night changed something between them? She guessed that shouldn’t come as a shock, but she’d fully expected Andrew to ignore what happened during their goodnight ritual and redraw the lines around their friend zone.

  Did she want things to have changed? For Andrew to be more aware of her as a woman?

  The flutter in her chest—and lower—said yes. Unequivocally.

  Her head said no. A staunch no. Stay strong, Jiya. If Andrew wanted to explore something outside of friendship, he needed to tell her long before now. Her life had started moving in a new direction when she went on The Date—and more specifically, when he’d seen her on that date and still failed to make a move. Now? His efforts…they were coming too late.

  That didn’t mean they weren’t still friends. That they wouldn’t always be friends.

  “Does, um…” She coughed a little, trying to shoo away the veil of sadness. “Does Jamie know about the stripper yet?”

&nb
sp; “No. He doesn’t know about the phallus-shaped hat we’re going to put on him later, either.” Andrew winked. “It’s going to be stiff competition to see what annoys him more.”

  A laugh bounded up her throat. “One dick joke down, two to go. I’m impressed. And you’re not even drunk yet.”

  He shook his head slowly. “I don’t get drunk, Jiya.”

  “I know. You have to put everyone in a cab, clean up the mess and keep the world spinning. Such is the life of Andrew Prince.”

  “I like being the last one awake. I like knowing everyone I love is safe in bed.”

  Her heart whimpered and she lost some of her grip on being miffed. “Let me worry about everyone’s well-being tonight.” She ran her fingers down his arm. “You should be able to cut loose at your brother’s bachelor party.”

  “What about all the men who I’ll be beating off you with a stick tonight?” He had the nerve to look annoyed. “I’m going to need my head on straight for that.”

  Ignoring the shiver in her belly at his protectiveness, she arched a brow. “Who says I want you to keep the men away?”

  Twin flames danced in his eyes, but she ignored them and strutted into the house. Let it be known, her walk proclaimed, the lady isn’t here for bullshit.

  She pulled a bottle of champagne out of her purse, holding it up while entering the living room, finding Rory, Jamie and Olive spread out on the floor, nursing beers. They cheered her arrival and a second later, Andrew took the champagne from her hand and popped it to the tune of more cheers. With a stoic expression, he poured Jiya some bubbly into a glass he’d seemingly produced out of thin air. Their fingers brushed when he handed her the drink and glowing embers of awareness shot up her arm.

  “So…” Jiya blew out an uneven breath and held up her glass. “To Jamie getting married tomorrow.”

  The man in question was polishing his glasses with the end of his pristine, white polo shirt. “Thank you.” He replaced his glasses and leaned over to kiss her cheek. “For the love of God, don’t let my brothers put me in any penis paraphernalia.”

  “I can hear you,” Rory drawled, pointing the neck of his beer bottle in Jamie’s direction. “And you’re not making the rules tonight.”

  “Be nice,” Olive murmured, snuggling into Rory’s side. “What is Marcus doing for his last night of singlehood?”

  Jamie’s eyes softened at the mention of his fiancé. “His brother wouldn’t tell him the plans. Probably poker night or a baseball game.”

  Jiya bit her lip. “How many times has he texted you already?”

  “Twenty-six,” Jamie answered without missing a beat. “So what are our plans?” He speared all of them with a look. “Should I have a bail bondsman on speed dial?”

  “Nah, you’ll be fine,” Andrew said, sitting down on the couch closest to Jiya, a beer cradled between his legs. “At worst, we’ll be released with a citation in the morning and you’ll still make the wedding on time.” He took a long sip of his beer and lowered it. “Probably.”

  Jamie made a move to escape the room, but Rory and Andrew were faster. In one fell swoop, they set down their beers, each hooking an arm through Jamie’s and parading him toward the front door. “Come on, girls,” Rory called over his shoulder. “Let’s go start some trouble.”

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Andrew couldn’t take his fucking eyes off Jiya.

  In his distracted state, he might have drunk slightly more than intended.

  As soon as she’d arrived at his door dressed to make men stupid, he should have known his focus would be shot for the entire evening. Was the dress getting tighter as the hours wore on? Were the slopes of her tits getting smoother and more touchable? At dinner, he’d found a way to subtly position Jiya in a seat between him and the wall, but that had only made it more obvious every time Andrew snuck a look. Which, based on Rory’s repeated kicks under the table, had been a frequent occurrence.

  They’d eaten Thai because it was Jamie’s favorite and now they were back at the Castle Gate. It was Friday night and the place was packed. Andrew was restraining himself from hopping behind the bar to assist the fill-in bartenders, but every time he prepared to do it, Jiya shook her head at him. “Don’t even think about it,” she mouthed.

  If he was free to respond exactly how he wanted, he would have crooked a finger at her and said, “Come over here and order me around some more, sweetheart.”

  Andrew had always enjoyed doing things for Jiya. Picking up prescriptions from the pharmacy or holding the door, no task was too big or too small. It was one afternoon in tenth grade when she’d playfully ordered him to apply sunscreen to her back that a sense of purpose had stolen over him, the feeling far less innocent than before. The way she’d gathered her hair to one side while his palms smoothed cream onto her skin, leaving a sheen behind, was a memory that would never fade. Nor would being forced to watch everyone else swim, because he didn’t want to be caught with an erection in his swim trunks.

  Being directed by Jiya in ways to make her happy was his drug of choice. In his fantasies, she lay on her back like a fucking queen, watching while he fixed her dinner or sanded cabinets. Anything she asked. And when he’d completed the jobs, when it was over, only then would she let him eat her pussy.

  Yeah, he would have given a limb for the freedom to whisper in Jiya’s ear, to ask what he could do to please her. But he was wearing an invisible set of handcuffs, so he kept his damn mouth shut.

  Would things be different if he’d made Jiya his girlfriend back in high school?

  Undoubtedly, yes. When a girl like Jiya was devoted to a man, he would make better decisions, afraid to screw up the best thing in his life. Maybe if he’d been less worried about losing her as a friend when they were teenagers and simply asked her out, he wouldn’t have made the horrific mistake with his father that prevented him from having her now.

  But he’d let her leave for college upstate without asking for a commitment and when she’d come back…he’d felt like unworthy scum. Because without her around…he’d lost it a little.

  More like, he’d gone completely out of his mind.

  One too many times, Jiya’s mother had hinted to Andrew that Jiya was living it up on the dating scene at college and Andrew had reacted like a typical, jealous idiot, sleeping with anyone who smiled at him. To this day, he couldn’t remember a single name or face of the myriad women he’d been with during those months, but he could remember the hollow misery that followed every time. Not to mention the avalanche of shame when Jiya came home from her first visit from college and he’d felt too filthy to give her so much as a hug.

  Andrew had been celibate since then, for just over a decade. Was it hard? Yes and no. Yes, because he was a man in his prime and he wanted sex. Wanted the relief and precious seconds of oblivion it provided. But those fleeting moments weren’t worth the emptiness. A secret part of him even got off a little now on depriving himself of anything and anyone but fantasies of Jiya. Like his own secret punishment, inflicted by the object of his obsession. He didn’t care that she’d likely been with men in college—he was loyal to her, whether he could have her in reality or not.

  Now, Andrew let his gaze slide toward the woman in question. It wasn’t lost on him that Jiya had only partaken in two drinks, in an attempt to give him the night off from being everyone’s conscience. Giving her what she wanted was second nature, so while he had no intention of getting shit faced and letting the night go sideways, he’d had a few drinks to indulge her. His buzz made him more inebriated than he’d been in a while, though, and he was done. Any further intoxication would be a bad idea, because he was already devising ways to get Jiya alone in the back office. Just to talk.

  Right. It would be a miracle if he made it through tomorrow without doing something irreversible. He’d flirted with her last night and again when she arrived at the door in her pinkish-red dress and heels. That made him a bastard. It was just so hard to watch her slip through his fingers and it w
as happening. The wheels were already in motion.

  As if sending his thoughts, Jiya looked over at Andrew and gave a half smile.

  When he couldn’t bring himself to smile back, he averted his eyes.

  They landed on the cop standing just inside the Castle Gate door.

  Andrew’s stomach hit the floorboards. Not tonight. Please not tonight.

  The man had been following him for weeks. Every time Andrew saw the officer watching him from the boardwalk or passing the house in his cruiser, the noose tightened a little more around his neck. As of now, Andrew’s goal was to keep the latest appearance from his personal harbinger of doom from ruining Jamie’s bachelor party.

  With a heavy swallow, Andrew turned to observe the group’s current antics, which included a mildly wasted—against his will—Jamie getting into the spirit of things by pulling his socks up over his pant legs and jamming on an air guitar to AC/DC. Rory sat back in a booth cracking up, an arm around Olive, filming the entire thing on his phone for blackmail.

  Jiya was watching Andrew.

  Her eyes ticked between him and the cop.

  Andrew waved her off, despite wanting to bury his face in her hair and tell her everything. Everything. And after playing cat and mouse with the officer for half the summer, Andrew got up to go confront the officer.

  He knows.

  He knows everything.

  The closer Andrew got to the man, the more obvious that became.

  There was a knowing look in the stranger’s eye that he’d failed to see at a distance. But up close, the actions of Andrew’s past lay between them like a thick fog.

  Still, Andrew kept his features schooled, a skill he’d mastered dealing with barroom bullshit for years, and he stopped just within earshot of the cop.

  “Help you?”

  The fucker smirked. “We’ll see,” he drawled. “Nice to finally meet you face to face, son. You can call me Handler.”

  “Who says I want to call you anything?”

  With a humorless chuckle, he looked past Andrew. “Pretty girl you’ve got there.”