Page 5

5

AMELIA

I watch with heavy lids as Richie tosses his credit card down before I can protest.

“Don’t even think about it, sweetheart,” he says as the waitress takes the check away. “You’ve earned an afternoon off.”

I sigh, wanting to argue, which in and of itself is…strange.

Usually, I try to avoid conflict in any way possible, not wanting to make waves or cause issues. But it’s like something about Richard just baits me. I want to argue. I want to kick and scream and tell him to leave me alone, but I also can’t deny that seeing him tell off Tara this afternoon, and defend me in front of his ex-wife…

Well, a girl could get used to that kind of treatment.

Yeah, a girl who didn’t fuck his brother and have his baby, maybe.

Maybe I should add a glass of wine to my self-love session tonight, because clearly I’m out of my mind.

First Dane, now Richard…yeah, I’m losing it.

Not that the Rose brothers aren’t deliciously appealing, it’s just that they are more than off-limits. Helping me in a pinch is one thing, but I don’t intend to make asking for favors a habit. I need to remember that. I need to work on making myself independent, making a life for myself and my daughter out of the wreckage of what I thought was going to be my happily ever after.

And that happily ever after does not include hockey players, or my ex’s relatives.

“You sure you don’t need anything else?” Richard asks once the waitress has brought his card back.

I shake my head. “No, I really need to get back to the Bugle and grab my car, and?—”

Richard dismisses me with a wave of his large hand. “I get it, don’t worry, Cinderella. I’ll have you back before your carriage turns into a pumpkin.” His smooth, even tone makes me feel like molten lava.

Before I can get up, he does, glaring at me where I sit. His gaze pins me, freezing me to my spot. A slight gasp escapes my throat as I bite my lip.

Shit. No one, not even Dex , has ever looked at me…like that.

“Stay,” he says, his command dripping with authority.

Like a dog, I stay. I don’t move an inch.

What the hell?

Richard slowly saunters over and pulls my chair out for me, his large hands gripping the sides of the seat, knuckles brushing against my thighs. My dress rides up my thighs just a bit and his rough thumb slides along my flesh, making me clench my thighs together. Warmth blooms in between my legs and I am mortified.

Oh my God!

But it’s not his touch that has me bolting out of the chair. It’s his words, the way he says them.

“Good girl,” he purrs, and I think I need to get as far away from this man as possible, because this…

This is not the way I should be responding to my ex’s brother in a restaurant.

Fuck me.

I get up quickly, adjusting the hem of my skirt as he pushes the chair in.

“Now, shall we take the princess back to the ball?” he asks, his tone humorous, but also silky and smooth.

Seductive, even.

I shake my head, trying to disperse the unfamiliar and inappropriate feelings. Not only is Richard my ex’s brother, he’s also fifteen years older than me. But somehow he still plays hockey like he’s damn near Tripp’s age.

I don’t get it, and I don’t want to get it. I have a feeling if I look too deeply into Richard Rose, I might find myself unable to dig my way back out of a hole I don’t want to be in…

He places his palm on the small of my back, and I let him guide me to the car, if only because I know once I get back to my house, once I get back to my daughter…this…whatever this is, is not happening again.

It can’t.

I need to keep my eye on the prize, need to remain focused.

I change the radio in the car until I find a station I can settle on. It’s an eighties station, and I don’t know most of the songs, except for Queen’s “We Will Rock You,” if only because I’ve heard it at all the hockey games. Thankfully, Richard doesn’t try to fill the silent space with talking. Instead, I’m able to just relax, listen to the music, and breathe.

When we get back to the parking lot of the Bugle, he doesn’t turn the car off when he parks.

“Phone,” he says sternly, opening his palm.

“What?” I ask, blinking in confusion.

He huffs out an annoyed sound. “Phone. Now.”

The sternness of his voice is like velvet on my skin, flipping some internal switch inside of me that I didn’t know existed until this moment. I hand him my phone without thinking, wanting to obey if only to avoid getting snapped at like he snapped at Tara.

“Why?” I ask as he taps away at my phone. He doesn’t answer me. “Rich, why?—”

“If you do need something,” he says, letting out a deep breath. I watch as his eyebrows knit together as he contemplates his words. “If you need anything, Mia, I want you to promise me that you’ll call me.”

He hands me back my phone, and I stare at it for a moment.

“I—”

“Don’t tell me you’re busy or you can’t, or whatever bullshit excuse you’re trying to think of right now, Cinderella. You will call me if you need anything. Got it?”

I want to argue with him. I want to tell him to fuck off, because no one tells me what to do, not like this. Not in the way he is, insinuating that if I don’t listen to him I’ll regret it.

Part of me wants to push him to see exactly what would happen if I don’t listen, but the part of me that wants to listen, to obey him…that part wins out. She’s a horny little bitch, and it’s been a long afternoon, and she knows salvation is close.

“O-okay,” I say as I take the phone from his hand.

He doesn’t smile or nod, just grunts as he nods to my passenger door.

“Go,” he says. “We’ll be in touch.”

I settle my hand on the door handle and open it, feeling strangely warm and bothered that we’re saying goodbye. But I thank him for lunch and bid him farewell all the same.

I start my car up, instantly panicking as it muffles a strangled cry. It’s been doing this for weeks, and Dex didn’t want to get it checked out. He said I was holding the key too long, but I know the ignition is probably going. Another reason why I need this job. Replacing my overly used SUV is first on the list.

Thankfully, it kicks over on the third try as usual, and I blow out a breath of relief.

All the way home, I can’t stop thinking about the weirdness that has been this day. Dane and his smooth, sexy voice. Rich and his strange commands that make me feel flush…

The inappropriate thoughts about both of them that I know I should not be having.

When I get back to Little Creek, I shake off the vibes and tell myself to forget about this afternoon. My interview is in the hands of the Bugle now, and the hardest part of the day is over.

I knock on the door quietly, and Dane opens it slowly. I’m greeted by the sight of him—shirtless—with a rag over his shoulder, which does nothing to quell the desire building within my loins.

“Dane…um…” I bite my lip, my eyelashes fluttering as I try to process the sight of my ex’s twin in my doorway, looking…

Hot. He looks hot as hell holding that bottle with that rag, shirtless with that perfect tan.

He blinks, his cheeks heating immediately as he opens the door wider.

“Oh, shit, yeah, sorry…I uh…hope it’s okay I uh, hooked up your washer.”

“My washer…” I say. I hadn’t had a chance to do so, what with everything going on, but…

“Somebody ate her lunch a little too fast and we had an accident, but it’s fine,” he says, running his free hand through his hair. I enter my apartment, noting that everything looks…unpacked.

Organized.

“Did you…unpack…all of my stuff?” I ask in wonder.

Dane shuts the door, skirting past me, drawing my attention to his perfectly corded back muscles. He disappears into the kitchen, and I realize Lyla is in her jump swing, bouncing back and forth.

The house is…clean.

Lyla’s happily bouncing along as if I haven’t even been gone, and Dane…

“Yeah, I figured while she was napping, I could, you know, maybe take some things off your plate?”

I watch as he washes her bottle the right way. Astounded doesn’t even begin to cover how I feel. Because Dane acts like he’s done this before, and that makes me feel a mixture of jealousy and…longing.

Because watching him do all this is like watching what Dex should have done.

You’d think a man with four kids would have known how to wash a bottle, or even change a diaper.

But Dex didn’t want to do any of that. It was like pulling teeth to get him to feed Lyla.

“You didn’t have to do any of that,” I say, emotions swirling inside me, threatening to pour over.

Dane settles the towel down on the counter as I pick up Lyla.

“I know,” he says softly as he walks over to us. He stops next to me, close enough I get a heady whiff of his deodorant. Close enough his warm breath tickles the flesh of my neck as he grabs Lyla’s tiny hand, his dark eyes lighting up with excitement as he peppers her small fist with kisses.

“But I wanted to,” he says, and I can’t help as my gaze falls to his mouth as he pulls away from Lyla. It’s just a split second, but our eyes meet. Just like they did that night, across the room at the bar. Dane bites his lip, closing his eyes as he turns away, and only then do I feel like I can breathe.

“Thank you,” I say as he heads down the hall to the laundry room. I bounce Lyla in my arms.

“Anytime,” he says, his voice faint down the hall. I collapse on the couch with Lyla on my chest, capturing her gaze as I pretend to blow bubbles at her.

When Dane comes back out in his freshly laundered T-shirt, the strangest feeling pools in between my legs. My heart beats a little faster, and I realize I don’t want him to go.

But I know he has to, because he isn’t mine.

He isn’t my ex, and he isn’t a friend, he’s…

Something in between. Something I’m not quite sure how to define yet, so I don’t try to.

“Good luck with your interview,” he says with a smile as he heads for the door, his hand hovering there. Almost as if he wants me to stop him.

As if he wants to stay.

I wish he could, but I know that’s a dangerous road. One I need to steer clear of for both mine and Lyla’s sake.

I smile at him, nodding in response. “Thanks, I’ll let you know what happens,” I say.

Maybe it’s wishful thinking. But as I watch him leave, I can’t help but hope to see him again.

After a quick nap with Lyla, I’m panicked to awaken to the darkness in my apartment. One look at the clock and I note that it’s nearing five p.m. Dinner time.

“Shit,” I say as I pick up my sleeping daughter, change her, and get us both ready for a trip to the store. I had every intention of going to the store earlier, but I suppose a nap was long overdue for us both. Still, I’m surprised that I’m able to get us both ready and in the car in under thirty minutes.

Even though I haven’t been here in awhile, I remember the roads like the back of my hand. Lyla, of course, decides to wake up as I’m placing in her cushioned seat for the cart, and she isn’t thrilled to have been awakened. A couple passes me, shooting me dirty looks, and I push my cart with my head held high, past all the individuals shooting me scathing looks because how dare I bring my adorable daughter to the store.

The horror!

I let out a heavy breath, jiggling her and doing all I can while simultaneously trying to make it through the aisles in one piece. Due to her stubborn nature, she screams and cries, begging for the spotlight.

Just like her daddy.

I settle on grabbing just the basics—milk, bread, eggs, some cereal, some bottles of water and bottled iced coffees since I don’t have a coffee maker…

Despite my fussy baby, I’m able to get all of my items into the cart, along with some impulse buys. Some squeeze tubes of yogurt for Lyla and some chocolate-covered pretzels for me.

“Shhh…” I jiggle the cart, but she isn’t having any of it, and the woman ahead of me shoots us both a glare. A few aisles down, I can see a group of college kids, but I don’t pay attention to them. They’re filming, laughing, and the last thing I want to deal with is a group of twenty-somethings. Especially with my screaming child. I pick up my daughter, bouncing her and hoping she’ll settle long enough that I can put her down and load the belt up before the woman leaves…

“Hey,” someone calls, and just as I think the person behind me is going to curse me out for my disruption, I turn to see a familiar face in a crowd of otherwise unfamiliar faces.

“Tripp?” I ask, startled. Out of all Dex’s siblings, Tripp, number 3 for Roosevelt University’s Rabid Raccoons, is the one I know the least.

For starters, he’s their stepbrother, and is the youngest of the bunch at twenty-four. And secondly, I’ve only met him once.

Still, he’s hard not to notice. Where the Rose brothers all have the same sort of look—same large frames, same jawline and dark eyes—Tripp is a breath of fresh air. He’s leaner, paler, and those bright blue eyes match well with his dark reddish brown hair and his boyish smile. Everything about him screams twenty-four , from his perfect canines to his backward hat and his tight polo.

I swear I would have eaten up a boy like Tripp back in high school. He’s just got that air about him, like Dex, but not…cocky.

“Hey!” he says with a bright smile, reaching to hug me and Lyla.

“Shit, is this my stepniece?” he says, then immediately slaps his hand over his mouth. His friends laugh, their tones warm and deep.

“It’s okay,” I say honestly. “Kinda hard to avoid sometimes.”

Tripp smiles, reaching out to stroke Lyla’s cheek. “She’s so…little,” he says in awe, and I have to wonder if he’s ever even held a baby before.

“She’ll get bigger eventually,” I tease as I prop her on my hip.

“Do you need some help?” he asks, looking from my cart to the baby in my arms, to my one hand trying to place items on the belt.

“Oh, I wouldn’t want to intrude. You’re with your friends, and?—”

Tripp shrugs. “So?” Before I can open my mouth, he turns to his friends. “Catch up with you guys at the rink?”

One of his friends—a tall boy with dark curly hair and equally dark eyes—shrugs, crossing his arms. “Whatever.”

His other friends grunt in response, smacking him on the back as they call out, “See you later, bruh,” like it’s a prayer, but Tripp doesn’t let up from loading the conveyor even as they pat him on the back.

“You really don’t have to—” I say as the cashier starts to ring things up.

“It’s cool, don’t worry about it. I’ll catch up with them later.”

When he’s finished, he reaches for Lyla, startling me.

“Can I?”

“Have you ever held a baby before?” I ask, raising an eyebrow. I don’t miss the momentary hurt in his eyes, but he covers it up quickly.

“Of course,” he says, the hurt in his voice just as evident. I let out a sigh. I shouldn’t have assumed…

I carefully pass her off and watch as his eyes widen along with his mouth. Lyla smiles instantly when she looks at him, all screaming ceasing into loud bouts of giggles.

“I think she likes me,” Tripp says, sticking his tongue out, and for a moment I feel relieved.

“Yeah, looks like she does,” I say with a sigh. My heart skips a beat as I watch Tripp bounce her, making faces. I’m forced to turn away when the cashier tells me my total.

One hundred and nineteen dollars and forty-three cents.

I sigh, the imperativeness of finding a job weighing on me more than ever. I hand the cashier my credit card and she scans it as I turn to smile at Tripp and the bagger starts to bag up my lot.

“I’m sorry, but the card is declined. Do you have another one you would like to try?”

Panic floods me. No, that can’t be right. I…I know I have enough in my account, I just moved five hundred from my savings, I?—

“Try it again, please,” I say with a smile, even though my insides are twisting with anxiety. One look behind me and I can see a line is building. Tripp bounces Lyla on his opposite hip, sliding his hand down his side.

I watch with bated breath as the cashier swipes my card again. The heavy beep burdens me. “Declined.”

“Here—” Tripp balances Lyla, who is still giggling, as he hands me his wallet. “Use mine.”

“No, it’s fine. I—let me see if another one will?—”

Tripp shakes his sleek, black wallet at me. “No, seriously, Mia. Use mine.”

I look from his wallet to the cashier, to the line of angry shoppers who must be cursing me up and down in their minds right now, judging from their expressions.

I take his wallet, opening it and feeling more than just embarrassed.

I feel like an absolute failure. I know I have enough, I just…when I get to the car, I’ll check my account.

I used up most of my savings in the move to Florida, and after Lyla was born. Though Dex was insistent I stay home with Lyla, and his trading deal covered our basics, I still wanted to be able to do things for Lyla myself. Had I known that in a few short months I would need the funds to move again, I would’ve been better about such things.

I pass Tripp’s card to the cashier, and like butter it slides through, no beeps or boops to chastise me. I hand the card and his wallet back to him as he passes Lyla off to me, heading down to pack the bags into the cart alongside the bagger.

“Tripp…”

“Shush,” he says with a lopsided grin. “Don’t worry about it.”

His words should make me feel better, but they don’t. In fact, I feel worse. But when he jumps up on the bar and rides the cart like a skateboard toward the doors, Lyla laughs and I have a hard time not appreciating the change in her behavior, thanks to Tripp.

“Where you at?” he asks, popping the cart like it truly is a skateboard.

“Blue Jeep Cherokee,” I say, nodding to my spot. He rides the cart over as I slide my hand in my back pocket, unlocking the car.

When I get there, he’s already got half of the bags loaded, and I head for the back seat, immediately putting Lyla in her car seat.

“So…what, uh…what else are you two up to today?” he asks as he leans against the side of my car. He watches me intently as I fasten her in. Before I can answer him, he says nonchalantly, “I did this car seat training thing once with Mark when he was doing the firefighter thing.”

“Really?” I say. “Which one’s Mark? The dark-haired one?”

“Nope. He’s the one with the anime shirt,” he says with a shrug.

I can’t help but let out a laugh. My nerves start to settle as I glance up at Tripp. I shut the door, rounding to the driver’s side. “Thank you, by the way. You didn’t have to do any of this.”

Tripp shrugs. “Told you, it’s fine. I’m glad to help.” His blue eyes rove over for me for a moment and he twists his lips.

Just as I think he’s done, and this awkward exchange is coming to an end, he stares me dead in the eyes and says, “Dex is a dick.” Before I can respond, he takes a step forward. “Between you and me, I never liked the guy.”

His gaze softens and soon his stern expression is replaced by a boyish grin.

“Yeah, well, I guess that makes two of us, then.” I tease, but it feels good to say it. It feels good to be honest. Dex is a dick, and I’m pissed.

Tripp licks his lips. “We should, uh…hang out sometime. Catch up,” he says.

Part of me feels like his words are simple, and I’m reading too much into them. Because the way he says them…it’s almost like he’s asking me out or hitting on me. Which would be insane for a number of reasons. He’s my ex’s stepbrother, he’s twenty-four, and we are nowhere close to even being in he same fucking ballpark.

But I also feel the strangest spark of excitement because I’m fairly certain he is asking me out. Which is crazy, right?

Absolutely.

“Maybe,” I say, biting my lip. “Once I get settled.”

He grins, and my insides twist with familiar warmth. “How about tonight?”

“Don’t you have practice with your friends?” I ask. “Besides, kind of hard to find a sitter on short notice.”

Tripp smirks. “I’m pretty sure I know two grandparents who would be tickled pink to spend some time with their granddaughter.”

He moves toward me, tall and looming, but it’s not ominous. It makes my heart beat faster, and the warmth emanating off him makes me feel…alive. I can’t remember the last time I felt like this…

The night I met Dane.

I shove that thought down deep into its crevice.

“And don’t worry about my friends. They can handle one practice without me.” His voice softens. “Whatta ya say, Mamma Mia?”

I flash him a knowing look.

“Or, you could bring the little cutie pie with you.”

I raise an eyebrow. “Really?”

He nods with a smile. “Hell yeah. We can all have fun together. Oh, I know!” He points at me with excitement. “We can go to the zoo!”

“But I need to make dinner, and?—”

“Dinner and the zoo sounds good,” he says, waving me off.

“Tripp…”

“That settles it then. I’ll come grab you guys at…seven thirty?”

I huff in annoyance, because he’s not going to take no for an answer. That’s clear. I open my driver door. “You don’t even know where I live!” I yell as he heads off toward the other side of the lot with my cart.

“No, but Dane does!” he yells, and I huff out an exasperated sigh.

Is nothing in this town a secret anymore?