The Right Stud Page 9

  Dismay crosses her face. “How terrible for you.”

  I inhale a deep breath. “He was my rock and came to every Friday night game no matter how hard he’d worked that week or how early his day started. He’d been working out of town on this big subdivision he was designing, and he was rushing home to see me play.” I pause. “He was hit by a semi that crossed into his lane.”

  “I’m sorry.” Her eyes drift over my face. “You were so young. Did you still have your mom?”

  I huff out a laugh. “My mom is not an emotionally helpful person. I barely talk to her anymore. Apparently, I’m a disappointment to her.”

  She frowns. “How could that even be possible? Look at you!”

  “She’d much prefer if I were a doctor or a lawyer, trust me.” My mind drifts to the past. “After my dad died, I guess I acted out. I got kicked off the football team for fighting and ditching class. I came in drunk once and she flipped her lid.” I chew on my lip. “She got remarried six months after he died, and I guess I went a little crazy and fell in with the wrong crowd. She shipped me off to a fancy boarding school.”

  Her lips part. “Oh my God. That’s just normal teenager stuff.”

  I nod. “And all I wanted was to be home, but that feeling finally went away. I had to toughen up if I wanted to fit in.”

  Her frown deepens. “I’m angry for you.”

  I shrug, even though her outrage makes me feel better. “Don’t be. I learned a long time ago that my mom is the kind of person who only gives you one chance. She’s moved on and so have I.” I feel uncomfortable, as if I’ve said too much, but I keep going. “She just doesn’t care. It’s not in her DNA or whatever. Some women aren’t motherly.” Mine certainly wasn’t.

  She shakes her head, clearly worried. “I’d never do that to a child.” She stares up at the house. “Sorry, this is clearly none of my business, but I’m upset for you. I can’t imagine not being able to come home.”

  I watch as she gazes at her home, and something in my chest aches. God, I want that. I want to look at a place and feel that kind of attachment.

  I take my hat off and tap it against my leg, clearing my throat. “Sorry. I’m sure you don’t want to hear all this personal family stuff.”

  She puts her hand on my arm, taking the cap from me, and puts it on her own head. “I want to hear everything about you, Studly.”

  It’s the humor I need and my heart jumps at the soft smile she gives me. “Yeah?”

  She nods.

  “Everything?” I ask.

  “Yep.”

  “Well, that hat you’re wearing was my dad’s. He was a huge Dallas Cowboys fan, and his dream was for me to play quarterback there some day.” I grin. “A dad can dream, right?”

  She takes off the cap. “Oh, I wouldn’t have put it on if I had known…”

  “No,” I say, putting it back on her. “I like it on you. It looks better on you than me anyway.”

  “Tell me more about the real Jax Roland.”

  “On a dark and stormy night, I was born in Charleston, South Carolina. I weighed eight pounds, two ounces. I walked when I was barely nine months old, and my favorite food was sweet potatoes. On my first birthday—”

  “Silly. Don’t go back that far.” She hooks her arm in mine, and before I realize it, we’re walking down the cobbled pathway to the beach.

  We sit on the sand and watch the tide come in and before long I’m telling her about the triplets and how they’d giggled over Jean Claude van Ram. She tells me about Kyle and how she caught him cheating. Her eyes mist over as she explains the particulars, and I half-expect her to get emotional. She doesn’t. Part of me wants to think it’s because she’s moving on…

  I stop that line of thinking.

  We move on to other topics and talk until the sun dips below the horizon. A soft orange haze settles over the water, and it’s the best feeling in the world, sitting here with her. Seagulls race overhead, and periodically someone walks past us enjoying the beach, but neither of us seems to notice…

  Thirteen

  Ashton

  Kicking off our week of restorations, I set out freshly baked biscuits and homemade freezer strawberry jam I made with Granny more than a year ago. It’s nostalgic, and it makes my eyes heat for a moment. At the same time, it makes me smile to have these little things she and I shared, these little pieces of her.

  Normally I wouldn’t take as much care cooking all my best, inherited recipes, but knowing Jax is going to sink his teeth into one of my flakey biscuits, well, it kinda makes me hot. I sniff and shake my head, reminding myself he is a man, and therefore he is not to be trusted. Still…

  We sat on the beach last night until the sun had completely set and the night grew chilly, and we talked about, well, just about everything. The most amazing part of all? Jax Roland has a vulnerable side to him. I saw it in the way his shoulders slumped when he talked about his dad, but I also saw the joy in his eyes when he told me about his nieces.

  I’m arranging the fruit and putting it with everything else on the buffet when I hear a mob of dogs barking outside. Lulu.

  “Hello to the house!” she calls loudly. “Dang… Look at this. Wow!”

  Sticking my head out the back door, I see she’s left the five dogs tied at their special watering station, and she’s walking around the porch with her mouth open looking all around.

  The screen door slams behind me as I exit, following her gaze. “What do you think?”

  “Did Jax do all this? It looks amazing.”

  The flood of optimism her words send through my stomach almost makes me need to sit. “It does look good, doesn’t it? He really is a pro. I mean, of course he is. He has a show and all, but he knows things to look out for and little shortcuts. It would take me years to learn all this. If I ever did.”

  “I love the new trim work here.” She points to the unpainted wooden cornices we installed late yesterday evening around the beams at the corners of the porch.

  “The old ones were all rotten. I was able to pull them out myself, and you know I have no muscles.”

  Her green eyes go round. “He let you near power tools? Is he insane?”

  “First, that’s not fair. It was one time, and I’d never used a power drill before—”

  “You’ll drill your eye out—”

  “I will not. I just took the paint off the edging.” Shaking my head, I exhale an exasperated breath. “Anyway, I used a sledgehammer.” Then, I shake my head. “It was really just a crow bar, and Jax made me wear these giant plastic safety goggles.”

  “He really is a hero,” she sighs. “I wish I’d been here to see him rushing in to rescue JC like that.”

  “You’re lucky he was here.”

  She faces me with her arms crossed. “You say that, but you wouldn’t have let my favorite pet drown.”

  “I wouldn’t count on it.”

  We stand for a moment observing the fresh planks in the porch floor, the fresh woodwork overhead. I imagine painting them in bright, happy colors as a salty breeze slides my hair off my shoulders. I can’t stop smiling… until I feel my bestie’s eyes on me.

  “Have you banged him yet?” Her voice is conspiratorial.

  My gaze narrows. “We have a professional working relationship.”

  “So have you banged him?”

  “You are impossible.” Dropping my arms, I glare at her. “I am not having sex with Jax Roland.”

  “Why the hell not? That is some Grade A, smoking hot man-meat if I’ve ever seen it. And he’s a hero on top of it!”

  “You said it right there. He’s a man. I’ve written them off.”

  “What? You switched teams?”

  “You know that’s not how that works.” My eyes narrow. “Anyway, Jax and I have to work together. We’re not screwing it up by, well, by screwing.”

  “Damn, you’ve got some self-control. I’d be on that like white on rice. Like a duck on a June bug, like—”

  “I
get the point, and you’re such a liar.” We walk slowly toward the kitchen door. “You would never start a relationship with one of your pet owners.”

  “Have you seen my pet owners?” She levels her eyes on mine before shaking her fiery curls. “But who said anything about a relationship? I’m talking about a good old-fashioned roll in the hay. He has needs. You have needs. Scratch that itch, girl!”

  My stomach is tight, and I confess, the idea of rolling around, wrapping my body around Jax’s has me feeling flushed. Grab the reins, Ash.

  “This is not a farm. We do not have hay.” I reach for the screen door and give it a yank. “Now, I just put out some biscuits and strawberry jam. Come eat.”

  The wind changes directions, and Lulu takes a step to follow me before seizing up and letting out a screech. “Oh, Jesus, save us! I’m going to vomit!”

  “What now?” I turn to see her face is a mask of horror, and she’s clutching her nose. Then it hits me, the smell of putrid, rotten eggs, or worse, something dead.

  I grasp my own face, hissing. “What is that?”

  “It’s the skunks!” Mrs. C shouts at us, nearly making me jump a foot off the ground. “Help me close the windows, quick!”

  I run inside, Lulu hot on my heels, and we frantically race around the downstairs, shoving the glass windows down as fast as humanly possible.

  “Too late!” Lulu cries, still holding her face. “It’s horrible! Make it stop!”

  “I told you those critters were in the crawl space.” Mrs. C is beside us, wrapped in a sea-green kimono robe with my oven mitt clutched over her face. “I was just about to take a shower when I caught the first whiff.”

  Dropping my hand, I try to be brave and not cover my nose, but holy shit. It smells like tires burning. “We do not have skunks!”

  Rapid thudding comes from the stairs, and Jax appears in the room, a look of disgust on his face. “What the hell is that?”

  I smile and hold my hands at my sides, even though my eyes are watering. “What the hell is what?”

  His eyes widen. “Are you serious?”

  “Cut the crap, Ashton!” Mrs. C barks at me before gripping Jax’s arm. “Save us, Studly!”

  Just then an ear-piercing yelp comes from the yard. It’s followed by more yelping, a cacophony of injured dogs.

  “The dogs!” Lulu cries, snatching up a doily and running out the front door.

  I’m right behind her with Jax behind me, and we’re on the porch in time to see the poor collie, my favorite of the mob, furiously rolling on the ground and scrubbing her nose in the sparse grass.

  “She must’ve gotten too close,” Jax shouts. “You’ve got to take her home, bathe her in peroxide and baking soda. Or tomato juice. I’ve heard tomato juice works.”

  “It’s okay… it’s okay…” Lulu stands over the dog holds her hand above it without actually making contact. “Shit! I don’t want to touch her!”

  “Poor Lassie. Put her in your dipping tub!” I’m thinking fast. It’s a good thing my friend is a dog groomer.

  The little Chihuahua is shaking like a leaf, and Lulu scoops her up, grabbing all the leashes and taking off at a fast dash without even looking back. It’s like DEFCON 1 around here, only instead of radiation poisoning, we’re all trying to avoid skunk spray.

  “Damn, Ashton.” Jax turns to me, and I’ve given up. I’m clutching my face in both hands, eyes watering. “We’ve got to do something about this now. We can’t work in this.”

  “But what can we do?” Thankfully the wind changes directions again, sweeping the foul, sulfurous scent away from us, out to sea.

  I hear the noise of windows going up again. “It’s like being trapped in a loaded outhouse,” Mrs. C cries. “I’ll set up some fans and put out bowls of vinegar.”

  “I’ve only read about this.” Jax’s brow furrows, and I can see he’s strategizing, figuring out a solution.

  I watched him do it all day yesterday while we were working, and it’s kind of sexy the way the muscle in his jaw ticks as he thinks, the way he chews his full bottom lip… Lulu’s roll in the hay suggestion flashes in my mind, and the space between my legs heats. You’d think the memory of that olfactory stink bomb would be a buzz-killer.

  It isn’t.

  My eyes go to Jax’s ass in those jeans as he walks around the porch, stopping to bend and look under it every few paces. “We need to try and find where they’re hiding and block it off while they’re out.”

  “I guess nobody’s hungry for breakfast…” My dreams of Jax sinking his teeth into one of my buttery, flaky biscuits are effectively skunked.

  Good lord, Ashton, focus. We have a real problem here.

  He straightens in front of me. “Any chance you have chicken wire?”

  “Come on.” I lead him in the direction of the old garage. “I know we have some leftover lattice from when we planted the climbing roses.” He helps me pull open the double doors, and we start rifling through leftover supplies leaning against the walls. “There could be some in the attic. Granny never kept chickens, but who knows what you might find.”

  He pulls the overhead door down and lowers the wooden ladder. It’s wobbly, but once he steps on it, it locks in place.

  “Just be careful. It’s been at least a year since anyone climbed this thing.”

  He’s standing with his torso through the ceiling, looking into the attic. “I think I found some!”

  Half an hour later, after searching the ground for small holes—signs of skunks digging for grubs, Jax told me—we’re climbing under the porch. I’m holding a light, and Jax has a small trowel in hand.

  “It makes sense this is where they’d be,” I grumble, doing my best not to get tangled in vines or put my hand in anything gross. “Nobody’s on this side of the house.”

  We’re in the far back corner, where the underbrush and sandy landscape creates a natural cave beneath the boards.

  “Look what we have here. Hand me the light.” I look up to see a small burrow about the size of his head surrounded by dark green leaves. The smell is stronger the closer we get. “I’ll just flick this on here, and…”

  For the space of one second, his whole body goes rigid, then he’s backing out so fast, he almost kicks me in the face.

  “Ouch! What’s happening? What is it?” I’m sputtering and doing my best to crawl out of his way.

  “Get out! Get out!” Jax grabs my arm and attempts to pull me with him. It only makes me face-plant in what I hope is just cold sand. “One’s still in there!”

  “One is—oh no!” A flood of foul-smelling odor fills the space around us, and I don’t know how I manage it. I somehow get in front of Jax, escaping the tiny crawl space where we’re trapped with the stinky thing.

  The stench is stronger. It seems to be following me, and burning tears stream down my cheeks. “Run to the ocean! Take off your clothes and get in the water!”

  Without thinking, I snatch the hem of my shirt and whip it over my head. I shove down my Pink capri sweatpants and leave them in the sand before charging straight into the waves and doing a dive.

  Underwater, I hear the noise of Jax charging in behind me, and when I come up for air, I see he’s coming up as well, grabbing handfuls of salt water and scrubbing them all over his… jaw droppingly naked body.

  He’s busy scrubbing his skin, but I’m drinking him in like water in the desert. As his hands move over his face and hair, his muscles flex, sending water tracing down every line in his round biceps, down the lines of his torso, down the V of his obliques, all the way to his long, thick cock, swaying heavy and tempting between his muscular thighs.

  “Oh, shit.” I feel lightheaded, frozen in place. My mouth is open, and I can’t stop staring at him.

  “Did it just get me? Are you okay?”

  Blinking rapidly, I shake myself into focus. “What? You got sprayed?”

  “I guess she didn’t get me full on.” He turns around, and fuck a duck, his ass is even better naked
. Of course it is! It’s tight and square, and it has those perfect indentions on each side. I want to bite that set of buns. “Otherwise, I think I’d really be burning.”

  Completing the circle, he stops and faces me again. The waves are still rolling in around us, but it’s a relatively calm day at sea. His eyes darken as they drift down my heaving torso, and I realize I’m standing, soaking wet in only my thin, white nylon bra and panties… which are now wet and completely see-through. My nipples tighten under his gaze, and I shiver. Only, I’m not cold at all. I’m burning up and thinking about Lulu’s advice about needs—living, breathing, red-blooded, healthy adult needs.

  “Ashton…” Jax’s voice disappears in the wind, but I quickly notice that long, thick member is as awake as I am.

  In only a few steps, he closes the space between us, pulling me against his rock-hard abs. My arms go quickly around his neck as our mouths fuse together. His tongue finds mine, curling and stroking, and I feel a rise against my stomach.

  I exhale a whimper, and everywhere our skin touches is fire. Our lips chase each other’s. My arms tighten around his neck, and we break away with a gasp. He kisses a trail along my cheek to my ear. “I want to be inside you so bad right now.”

  It’s like lightning in my veins. My hands move to the tops of his shoulders, and crazy thoughts drift through my head. I could shove my panties to the side and ride him like a stallion right here in the surf.

  Right here in front of Mrs. C and everybody. “Dammit,” I exhale, easing back. “It’s too public… we can’t do this here.”

  His expression is heated, and we’re both breathing hard. We’re both gazing into each other’s eyes, and an inferno is blazing between us. It’s like a grease fire, with the water only making it hotter, wilder.

  As if waking from a dream, Jax releases me, taking my hand and leading me to the shore. He doesn’t say a word as I watch him walk to his jeans and pick them up, holding them over his incredible cock before continuing to his shirt. He keeps going until he disappears up the path to the house, all the way inside, leaving me wet and needy and smoldering on the inside.