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All I wanted to do was slam the book shut on this chapter of my life.
I wasn’t expecting a plot twist of Alec Mansfield proportions.
4
Alec
This woman is going to be the death of me.
We end up sharing an Uber. The arrangement made sense, since we both live in the same complex, as fate would have it. Obviously, why pay an extra Uber fare? The only thing that I neglected to tell her was that I’d left my own car in the parking garage of the Maine Medical Center, and was expecting to walk back there after our little meeting.
Wouldn’t exactly call it a date, considering how much she clearly still loathes me, and I never did get around to the apology. I kept waiting for the perfect time to work it into the conversation, but I found myself asking questions, wanting to know more about what she’d been up to and what she’d become.
Now we’re sitting in the back of someone’s Kia Telluride that smells overwhelmingly of pot, listening to UB40’s “Red, Red Wine,” and she’s bopping her head a little, moving her upper half in slow figure eights, something I don’t think I’ve ever seen her do—probably because she has no rhythm whatsoever.
She’s singing a little, too, and I think I’ve heard wounded seagulls that sounded better—no offense to seagulls.
Still, it’s freaking adorable.
And it means she’s somewhat comfortable around me.
Hm. She might be a little more than tipsy.
I’m not drunk, but maybe she has that effect on me, because I’ve totally lost it. For some reason, watching her gyrate around has me growing harder with each passing stoplight, and I’ve suddenly got an overwhelming urge to silence her off-pitched notes with a kiss.
My cock strains, growing unbearably stiff, pushing harder against the inside of my pants the second she leans my way.
I steal glimpses of her from the corner of my eye, unable to stop thinking about what she would look like naked and on top of me.
Doesn’t matter how many years have gone by or how much life has happened since the last time I saw her, turns out shoving my mad crush on her to the depths of my soul has only made it intensify.
It’s like I’m in high school again.
Stassi Hutton is sitting right next to me, and has no idea how many nights I fantasized about gripping her hips, driving deep into her, how many times I dreamed about hearing her moan in pleasure with every thrust.
She stops dancing when she catches me watching her.
Shyly, she tucks a strand of silken hair behind her ear, and it’s all I can do not to pull her against me and take her, right there. She’s more beautifully oblivious than I remember. All grown up.
If Cooper and Aidan knew the thoughts I was thinking about their kid sister right now …
“Are you going to get in touch with them?” she asks out of nowhere.
I’m a little worried she can read my mind. “Who?”
“My brothers.”
“Eventually. Once I settle in. I just got here three days ago. You didn’t see the U-Haul pulling in?” I ask.
“Must’ve missed it.” She flashes me a curious look I can’t interpret because she’s an enigma and always has been. “Don’t tell them we saw each other. I might be an adult, and they might’ve moved across the state, but … oh, Aidan even got married, did you know that? And Cooper’s engaged. They both have their own families. But they still treat me like I’m three.”
She’s rattling on. It’s adorable.
I vaguely recall receiving an invitation to Aidan’s wedding years ago, but my mom was having an operation and with my father being locked up at some white collar prison facility, she needed my help with the aftercare. I thought about hiring a home nurse, but she wouldn’t have it. She wanted me, her doctor son, to be at her beck and call despite her never being at mine when I was a kid … but I digress.
I’d much rather have attended Aidan’s wedding—if only so I could see Stassi.
But everything aside, I couldn’t abandon my mother in her time of need.
I’m a lot of things, but I’m not that.
She, fortunately, made a full recovery. But missing Aidan’s wedding is something I’ve always regretted. I should’ve been there, celebrating with the Huttons.
“Wouldn’t dream of telling them a thing,” I say, taking in the way her icy strands gleam in the streetlights that shine through the rear passenger window. That hair was the first thing that got me all those years ago. It’s like waves of sunlight and silk, the way it frames her pretty face.
She sighs and flops against the back of the seat, leaning so close that the side of her breast brushes my bicep. I haven’t been able to stop looking at her curves since she walked in the bar, but now I get to feel them, too? Shit.
