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Striding into the dining room, I find Aspen with plates piled high in her arms, and I pause, taking her in, my breath caught in my throat.
Fuck, she looks good in that green dress.
My gaze sails over her, taking in the way her short sleeves rest low on her shoulders, showing off her creamy skin, but the way it dips down in the back . . . fucking hell.
I avert my gaze. What the fuck am I doing? I can’t be looking at her like that. She’s practically a kid. If Austin caught me checking out his little sister, he’d castrate me.
It’s no secret that she’s had a crush on me since she was a kid. I always thought that as she got older and hit her late teens, she would have grown out of it, but she never did. Instead, she learned how to disguise it . . . not very well, but I appreciate that she’s always tried. I’ve watched over the past few years as she slipped a mask into place every time I walked into a room. She’s too careful around me, not the carefree kid she used to be. She watches what she says and is careful not to get too close.
I’ve never reciprocated that crush or looked at her as anything more than Austin’s little sister, but if I ever did make a move on her, Austin would never forgive me. Not that it matters. Despite how fucking gorgeous she is, that’s a line I would never cross. I’m always on my best behavior, never letting my hands or eyes linger too long, and I certainly don’t hide the details about the women I’m with. I notice the hurt in her eyes when she overhears my conversations with Austin, and I fucking hate to hurt her, but it’s important that she knows where the line is drawn.
Austin’s protective of her, and though we’ve never spoken about it directly, he’s made it clear that I’m not good enough for her, and I agree with him. She’s a shy girl, quiet and timid. While she likes to have a crazy night out of wild drinking every now and then, she prefers a quiet night at home in her ridiculous Grinch pajamas with a pint of ice cream and a good series to binge-watch. On the other hand, I live for my work. I spend my days dreaming of how I can expand and my nights living it up in my clubs.
Aspen and I . . . we’re not the same.
We’re not compatible.
Striding into the dining room, I act as though the very sight of her doesn’t blow me the fuck away. Just because I don’t want to get in bed with her doesn’t mean I haven’t noticed how fucking breathtaking she is.
“Hey, what’s going on?” I ask, watching how she stacks dishes high, balancing them as best she can, and while I might not know much about hosting fancy lunches, I’m almost damn sure she’s un-setting the table that hasn’t been eaten at yet.
Aspen’s head snaps up at the sound of my voice, and a dazzling smile cuts across her face. Fuck, she truly is gorgeous.
I continue around the large table toward her, unable to keep from noticing that there’s something different about her. Something different in the way she carries herself. There’s a glow—a happiness that screams of confidence, and it looks fucking good on her. She’s always been on the shy side, but not today. She looks as though she’s broken out of her shell, and for just a moment, I’m caught off guard, rendered speechless.
That dazzling smile falls, replaced by the fake one she always tries to use around me, and she casually loads up another dish. “Even at sixty, my mother’s still capable of driving me insane,” Aspen says, rolling her eyes and letting out a heavy sigh. “She spent an hour working on her table setting, then took one look out the window fifteen minutes before lunch was due to be served, and decided that she wanted to eat outside.”
I laugh, finally reaching her and stepping into her side. I immediately hook my arm around her, place my palm in the center of her back, and press a swift kiss to her cheek. “How’re you doing?” I ask, lowering my tone as I pull back, noticing the way a wave of goosebumps dances across her skin.
Aspen seems to think it over as if wondering what kind of response she wants to give when her cheeks begin to flush and she worries her bottom lip. A softness flutters in her eyes, and as she looks up at me, I’m fucking floored by her beauty. “I’m really good,” she tells me, and damn it, now I’m certain that something has changed.
Is she seeing someone? Maybe she’s finally fallen for someone else. That’s what I’ve always needed from her, but the thought of it doesn’t sit right with me. Perhaps Austin and I need to do some digging. Just because I’m not good enough for her doesn’t mean any other fucker is.
I nod, not sure how to voice a proper response without the deep curiosity showing in my tone. So instead, I reach for the dishes in her hands. “Here, let me help you.”
“Thanks,” she says, handing them to me and grabbing more. I follow her out of the dining room, through the kitchen, and toward the back door. “You should be warned though, Mom is on the warpath.”
My brows furrow, hoping nothing is wrong. “Why? Something happened?”
“Youhappened,” she says with a smug smirk.
The fuck? “Did I miss something?”
“Lunch,” she confirms. “It starts at twelve.”
“Okay. I’m definitely missing something,” I say, pausing by the back door, not willing to go out there without a little heads up when Angella is on the warpath, especially if it’s coming my way. “It’s not twelve yet. I’m still on time.”
“Are you though?” she questions, glancing back at me, her lips quirked into an amused grin before barely managing to get the door open. She steps outside but pauses again. “You know how Mom is. When there’s a lunch, there’s an unspoken rule to get here ridiculously early, but when it’s a big birthday . . .”
She lets her words trail off, willing me to put the pieces together myself, and the second it hits me, my eyes widen. “Oh fuck,” I breathe, glancing past Aspen to Angella, who’s standing out back, busily fussing over the outdoor setting. “I’m screwed.”
“That you are,” Aspen laughs. “I knew today was going to be a good day.”
She sashays away, and I refrain from dropping my gaze to her ass, repeating the mantra that’s been showing up more often than not—she’s my best friend’s little sister. I willnevercross that line.
Making my way outside, I meet Angella’s haunting stare, and I put all the plates down before stepping right into her. “I’m sorry I’m late, Angie,” I tell her straight up, knowing she can’t resist it when you come straight out with the truth instead of trying to make up some bullshit excuse like Austin and Aspen do.
She fixes me with a hard stare, and I pull her into my arms, dropping a kiss to her cheek. “Happy birthday, Mom.”
