The XOXO New Adult Collection: 16 Full Length New Adult Stories (189 page)

Twenty minutes later, I was back in my hotel room. I pulled the clothes I'd just purchased out of the bag and set them down on the bed. The shirt was packaged and I knew it would need to be ironed before Kellen wore it. I was already pretty sure the guy had never used an iron in his life. I peeked into the closet and breathed a sigh of relief when I spotted the iron sitting on the top shelf. I grabbed it and plugged it in and wondered if I could add an additional charge to his bill for ironing his clothes.

I thought back to our conversation on the patio. Not the part where he touched me, where he looked at me with those half-lidded eyes and that sexy smile, his head cocked in just such a way that I thought he might lean down and kiss me. No. I pushed that firmly out of my mind and focused instead on his reaction to our conversation about the apology I was asking him to give. At least he hadn't fought me too much on it. His points were right and were exactly what I'd expected to hear. He might've pulled the trigger too quick in punching the guy, but I was certain that he'd been targeted and hadn't really been in the wrong.

Other than getting drunk and trying to hook up with some airhead. My stomach rolled a little at the thought.

My phone vibrated on the nightstand and I grabbed it, thankful for the diversion.

Anthony. My youngest brother.

I tapped the speaker button. “I'm surprised you're awake this early.”

He snorted. “It's mid-afternoon.”

“I know.”

“Shut up, sis.”

I chuckled. He'd always been a midday sleeper, a product of rising early, scouting early morning waves before anyone else could beat him to it. He and Leo used to get up before the sun, fumbling around in the dark, grabbing juice and whatever they could stuff in their mouths before heading out in Leo's VW bus. They'd come home mid-morning, eat and fall back in to bed.

It felt like a lifetime ago.

“What're you doing?” he asked.

“Working,” I said. I'd torn the packaging off the shirt and arranged it on the ironing board. “Like usual.”

“Like usual,” he repeated. “On what?”

I hesitated. “Just same old stuff.”

“Gotcha,” he said.

I picked up the iron and ran it across the fabric. “And are you working today?”

He laughed. “I'm between jobs, Gina. You know that.”

He was two years younger than me and hadn't held any job for longer than a few months. Retail, restaurants, landscaping, surf lessons. He'd done it all, but couldn't get anything to stick, mostly because he didn't like taking orders or having his surfing schedule messed with. He managed to scrape by, but I think it was harder than he let on.

“Hey,” he said, and I could tell by his tone that he was changing the subject. “You going to see Leo this week?”

A small chill ran through my body. “I don't know. I've got something kind of big I'm working on.”

“It's his birthday,” Anthony said.

“Duh.”

“You need to go.”

I flipped the shirt and pressed the iron to the collar. “Don't tell me what to do.”

“Just sayin'.”

I knew it was Leo's birthday. I'd celebrated it with him for twenty-three years. But I also knew what seeing him would mean.

“We can go together,” my little brother said. “If you want.”

“I'm gonna have to check my schedule,” I said. He started to say something but I cut him off. “And, no, that's not an excuse. I'm not lying about my week being busy.”

“Fine,” he said. “But still. You should go.”

“Let me call you tomorrow and we'll see, alright?”

“When's the last time you went?” he asked, a hint of accusation threaded in his voice.

The line buzzed. I cleared my throat. “His birthday last year.”

He was quiet for a moment. Then, “I was there two weeks ago.”

“Good for you.”

More silence. I slid the iron down one sleeve, smoothing out the creases.

“Just try and make it happen, alright?” he asked.

“I will. I'll call you tomorrow.”

I pushed the speaker button and ended the call. I finished the shirt, trying to ignore the fact that my fingers trembled as I glided the iron across the smooth, blue fabric. I grabbed a hanger from the closet and hung the shirt, buttoning the top button to secure it. I didn't think about Kellen wearing it. And I didn't think about taking it off of him either. I didn't think about Kellen at all.

My mind was cluttered with other things. The past. With Leo and Luke. All of the memories settled over me like a big black rain cloud, dark and suffocating.

And I didn't have an umbrella.

SIXTEEN

Kellen

––––––––

“J
esus Christ,” I said. “You're trying to choke me.”

“Stop being a baby,” Gina said. “And hold still.”

I wasn't being a baby but it was the only thing I could think of to say. Because she was standing an inch away from me, her arms around my neck, her breath blowing on my face, and the only thing I wanted to do was crush her to me.

She'd knocked on my door right at five, armed with a shirt and tie for me, wearing a dress that, the minute I saw it, I wanted to rip from her body. I'd stood there with my mouth open but if she noticed, she didn't say anything. Instead, she breezed past me, thrusting the shirt and tie in my arms as she walked by.

“Go change,” she'd said.

And I did.

She was now trying to use the tie as a noose around my neck. But I was having a hard time thinking about how uncomfortable it was, mostly because I was trying to concentrate on keeping my dick from standing at attention while she was right there.

She adjusted the knot at my throat, her fingers brushing against my chin, her eyes locked on my chest. She fiddled with it a bit more before taking a step back. “There.”

“It feels tight.”

“It's supposed to,” she said. “Ties aren't meant to be comfortable.”

Nothing was making me feel comfortable at that moment. Not the tie, not the suit, not the fact that I was headed to a banquet where I was the guest speaker, and definitely not the fact that I was insanely attracted to a woman who most definitely was off limits – and who very likely was also definitely not interested. Because she hadn't said a word about how I'd looked when I'd stepped out of the bathroom, suit and shirt on, my usual mop of hair carefully brushed. I'd even gone so far as to slap some lotion on my face.

“That's stupid,” I said.

“I don't make the fashion rules,” she said, putting her hands on her hips. “I just follow them.”

“I don't like following rules.”

“I'm aware.” She raked me over with her eyes. “Alright. You look pretty good.”

“Gee, thanks,” I said. “Way to put me at ease.”

Her cheeks flushed a little and I smiled. About time she showed some kind of reaction, even if it was just embarrassment. “You look good,” she said again. And then she quickly clarified. “I mean, the suit looks good on you. It fits well. And you look comfortable in it.”

“I'm not,” I said. “I'd rather be in shorts.”

“Me, too,” she admitted.

I didn't want her in shorts but didn't say this out loud. I stole a couple of glances at her as she fiddled with stuff in her purse, making sure she had her phone, shoving the copy of my speech into the main compartment. Her dress was black, soft and clingy, with a neckline that plunged just low enough to show off her cleavage. Not in an exhibitionist way, but more subtle, more feminine. She'd pulled her hair up into some sort of bun, but it was loose and messy, like it might fall out any minute. The same diamond studs she'd worn earlier winked at me, along with a smaller, matching pair pierced higher into each earlobe.

“Alright,” she said. “Let's get going.”

I followed her out to her car and within minutes, we were on the freeway, heading south. The traffic wasn't awful until we hit Oceanside and then it started to bog down. The late day fog was trying to burn off and the Pacific was a deep blue off to my right.

“So,” I said, leaning back against the head rest, trying to get comfortable. “Are you gonna tell me where you lived? Is it somewhere around here?”

She shook her head. “Already again with the questions.”

“Hey, I put this monkey suit on for you,” I said, motioning to the pants and jacket I was trying hard not to wrinkle. “That should count as an earned question.”

She shook her head again but this time, she was smiling. “Fine,” she said. “Yes, I lived here.”

I raised my eyebrows. “Here? Right here? On the freeway?”

She turned to look at me, a pointed look on her face, and I grinned. “Well...?”

“No, not on the goddamn freeway.” She changed lanes and pushed down on the gas. “Encinitas.”

The surf spots in Encinitas ran through my head. Swamis, a point break with nice hollow rights. Beacons, a good outside break, rarely crowded. D Street, fast and hollow. And other ones up and down the coast. Blacks in Del Mar, one of the most unforgettable breaks in SoCal. Ponto in Carlsbad, some of the best summer surfing on the West Coast. I'd been to all of them, more times than I could count.

“Really? Cool. How long?”

“My whole life, pretty much,” she said. “Lived there as a kid and didn't leave.”

“You like it?”

She nodded. “Mostly. Beats L.A. or Orange County. No offense.”

I shrugged. “San Clemente doesn't feel like Orange County.”

“I agree, it doesn't,” she said. “Anyway, my company has offices in downtown San Diego and L.A. so I can get to either. It works.”

“Do you get to travel a lot?”

“Not like you,” she said. “But enough.”

I nodded. I'd gotten to travel to places I'd never thought I'd be able to visit. “You have family down here?”

She shifted in her seat and cleared her throat. “Yeah.”

I waited, but she didn't say anything. She looked uncomfortable but I wasn't going to stop with the questions. She'd kept answering and I intended to keep asking.

“Parents? Sister? Brothers?”

She squirmed again in her seat. “Parents are both dead. Two brothers. What about you?”

“My parents are alive,” I said. “They just moved to Florida. My dad was big on the whole no tax thing and couldn't wait to get out of here. No brothers or sisters.”

“Just you?”

“Just me.”

“Was that weird?” she asked. “Growing up?”

I shrugged. “Not really. Was all I knew. My parents were decently cool. And I didn't mind not having an older brother knock me around.”

I laughed, but she didn't. Her hands tightened on the steering wheel and the veins in her neck popped. I couldn't tell what it was I'd said that she was reacting to, but it was definitely something.

An awkward silence fell between us. I wanted to keep talking, to find out more about her, but she'd turned her attention fully to the road in front of her, effectively putting up a wall between us. So I sat there and fidgeted in my seat, trying not to tug at the tie choking me.

I didn't say anything else and neither did she as we drove through Oceanside and into North County. We approached the first exit for Encinitas and I pressed my lips together so I wouldn't be tempted to ask her anything more about where she lived. She flew past the Encinitas Boulevard exit and I pictured the drive down the road to the beach, to the D Street break and I wondered if she'd ever gone to watch guys surf there. Or if maybe, at some point over the last ten years, she'd been there when I was out in that water.

She fiddled with the knob on the radio and the car filled with some alternative song I'd never heard. And once again, I found myself surprised by the kind of music she listened to. It shouldn't have, I realized. There were a lot of things about Gina Bellori that had caught me by surprise. Her no-nonsense, take charge attitude. Her smart ass sense of humor. The fact that she didn't back down – ever – from me, even when I gave her shit. Her vulnerability, usually when I least expected it. Those were all things that I hadn't expected, hadn't anticipated when I'd sat down with her just two days earlier in that hotel lobby.

I also hadn't expected to be so insanely attracted to her.

I swallowed and shifted again in my seat, this time trying to adjust the bulge growing in my pants.

Within minutes, we'd exited the freeway. Gina turned right, heading toward the UCSD campus. I'd been in the area a handful of times, mostly just driving past as Jay and I made our way to the cliffs to check out the breaks just west of the campus. I'd never really seen much of the school other than the parking lots at the Scripps Institute that led down to the beaches. She navigated her way through the campus as if she'd driven it a hundred times before, passing the giant glass structure that passed as a library, past dozens of nondescript classroom buildings and residence halls. She finally pulled into a parking lot near another glass and stone structure, this one smaller, less like a bird's nest than the library.

“This is it?” I asked.

She shoved her keys in her purse. “Yep. International House. The banquet is in the Great Hall.”

The Great Hall. It sounded fancy. Formal. And suddenly, I wasn't thinking about Gina and how hot she was or about the questions I still wanted to ask her. I was thinking instead about the fact that I had a speech to give, a speech I wasn't entirely sure I was prepared for.

“How are you feeling?” she asked, right on cue, as we walked across the lot toward the building. “About tonight?”

“Okay, I guess,” I said. At least I was trying to feel okay about it.

“Just be yourself,” she said. “I'm not going to hover, but I'll be around in case you need me.”

“I thought you were my date. You're just gonna leave me?”

Her cheeks colored and I bit back a smile. I loved that I could crack her professional demeanor. “I believe we're sitting together at dinner. I'm not sure if that's a date or not.”

“So I should introduce you as my date, then?”

“You can introduce me however you'd like,” she responded, pulling her purse tighter to her body. “Manager might be better, though.”

“You're a hell of a lot better looking than Heath,” I said and she blushed even more. “Maybe I'll stick with date. Makes me sound less 'available'.”