My plans are fucked thanks to my brother who asked me to give him a ride to the airport. I spent two hours on the road. While driving up to the airport, Sterling hit me with some news. Since Abby is going to help him with the business side of his career, he wants to move to France or perhaps Italy. He’s searching for inspiration.

It feels like I’m losing him. We fight a lot, and I want to maim him sometimes, but ever since Dad died it seems like we’ve become better friends. No longer just brothers. At least I have Abby near me, for now. She didn’t believe what I said, that we’d spend the next month here in Tahoe. That’s what she needs, and I’m giving it to her. In a month though, she’ll have to decide what she wants to do next. My chest tightens because I already know the answer. She’s staying in Tahoe. I’m not going to think about it. For these next few weeks, I plan to enjoy her and this place, as much as work will allow it.

“Is this what you do on Saturdays when I’m not around, Ahern?” Her voice is soft, sweet.

After I arrived from the airport, I had to work for a couple of hours. The board needed me to rework the last proposal. I type the final lines of the email I’m sending to my assistant and shut down my computer. Once again, the company has disrupted all the carefully laid plans I made while driving back from dropping off Sterling.

“Sometimes it’s inevitable because they keep emailing me, and usually you’re too far away,” I say turning to face her, “Lucky for me, you’re around now, baby.”

I grin to myself once the words I said settle in. Because it’s true, I’m so goddamn lucky to finally have her by my side. Is it luck when I have been the one stopping myself from taking a leap of faith? It doesn’t matter. She’s here with me, and the infinite possibilities of our future are open right in front of us. I stare at her perfect, lush, curvy body. It’s barely covered by a one-piece swimming suit. I lick my lips thinking of all the things we can do today.

“Stop looking at me like I’m little Red Riding Hood and you’re the big bad wolf,” she says.

“A man can always dream. We can cosplay.” I wink at her taking my laptop back to the office.

“Mr. Ahern’s kink is cosplaying.” She smirks.

“Ah, we’re talking kinks, now?” I arch an eyebrow. “Cosplaying doesn’t do it for me. You’ll know what I like when you’re ready.”

I’m tempted to ask her: Are you a virgin? It’s right on the tip of my tongue. Would she care to know that I like rough sex? Blindfolds, ties, and my biggest fantasy is to claim her entirely. Slide my dick down her pussy, those beautiful tits, into her mouth … and that gorgeous ass.

“Because I’m so innocent you think I’ve never heard of …” she covers her mouth. “S-E-X.”

“Have you?” I challenge her.

“Heard about the birds and the bees? Of course. We had health class at school,” she says casually, biting her lip, her eyes lost somewhere else.

What are you hiding?

“Why don’t we forget about work and have a little fun?” She changes the entire conversation. “Race you to the pool?”

As she’s about to take off, I ask, “Hey, do you want to try that new bar down the South Shore?”

The owner of Edgewood stopped by the table last night to greet us and mentioned the new restaurant and bar on the south side of the lake. He said it’s been getting rave reviews. They have the best selection of single malt scotch in the area.

“Are we having dinner out?” she asks, scrunching her nose.

“I was thinking on going down to the pool first. We can cook pasta or throw a couple of steaks on the grill. Afterward we can head to the bar,” I offer, holding back the words let’s just have sex.

“Hopefully we can get to the lake tomorrow,” she says, glancing at it.

Previously I had planned to use the boat or maybe the paddle board. Take a hike around the area and discuss the possibility of owning a dog. Not that we would do it now. It can wait. I’d like to research breeds and discuss whether we want a puppy or to adopt a rescue. Those are discussions we’ll have to shelf for another time.

Right now, I want to eat her.

“Sounds like a plan. Maybe we can discuss the grants and some of the ideas I have in mind for the second part of the year,” she says leaving my room. “Get dressed, I’ll be downstairs waiting for you.”

Before I put on my swimming suit, I go to the bathroom and jack off, thinking about tasting her, driving myself deep inside her.

Fuck. I cry as I come hard on my hand wishing it was hers, her mouth, or better yet, her pussy.

We spend a long time swimming. I eventually throw a couple of tuna steaks on the grill while Abby tosses a salad and opens a bottle of Zinfandel. At eight, we drive to McLadden’s on the other side of the lake. We walk through the old cabin that’s been refurbished into a bar. We sit outside by the garden where soft jazz plays. The rustic furniture matches the ambiance. They don’t have tables, but rather groups of chairs surround fire pits with small trays placed on stands in between the chairs. The waiters wear flannel shirts, jeans, and cowboy boots.

“Their uniform is like mountain man meets Clint Eastwood,” Abby says, sinking down onto one of the chairs and moving the tray. “The cushions are comfortable and smart. They drilled these things to the ground.”

She wiggles her ass, and I close my eyes because her breasts bounce with the movement. She’s not wearing a fucking bra. We spent too much time by the pool, and even though it was a bit cloudy, her shoulder got a little sunburn. She’s been trying my patience all day. The woman rubbed her perfect body against mine while we played in the water.

“There’s nothing fruity,” she says handing me the drink menu and grabbing the one for food instead. “We could order some tapas and wine.”

“Good choice,” I say, lifting my hand and calling the server.

“Just like when we went to Spain,” she says, her eyes twinkling. “Remember our last trip there?”

How could I forget it? She finished her summer job here in Tahoe and had three weeks left of vacation before she had to go back to school. We decided to spend them in Spain and Italy, our favorite countries. There’s something about both countries, their music, their food, as well as the hospitality, that makes us want to stay there. She wants to buy a house either in Mallorca or Tuscany.

“We should plan a new adventure,” she suggests.

“You know, I miss this. Being able to hang out with you without any worries.”

She huffs, slumping a little in her chair. “Well, except we have to go back soon, don’t we?”

Our place. It sounds strange, but defines Tahoe perfectly. Ever since she moved out of my parent's house, we’ve been traveling buddies. We’ve visited this place more often than any other. I recall her face from earlier when Sterling offered to buy the house. When I said that the house was Abby’s, I wasn’t lying. Maybe the deed is under my name, but I’ve always thought of the house here as hers. Her comment from yesterday that we should move to Tahoe replays in my head. I never stopped and asked her about her long-term plans or ambitions. Would she have told me if I hadn’t begged her to go back to Denver?

Our relationship is based on lengthy phone conversations and a few trips a year. I feel like I know her well, at least more than anyone else. But, these past weeks have shown me that there are many layers to her that I haven’t yet peeled away.

The server brings the bottle of zinfandel I ordered, a platter with sliced meats and a variety of bread, chips, and veggies. Once he pours the wine, I raise my glass.

“To all our future trips,” I propose a toast.

“To our future,” she says raising her glass.

“To us,” I add.

Abby and I reminisce about our trips. All of them have been fun, but some are more memorable because of a few incidents. Like the time I broke my ankle hiking in Peru. The day my brother hooked up with a married woman, and her husband was chasing him around with a loaded gun in Belize. The time we went to Australia and a kangaroo kicked me in the ass when I bent over to pick up my backpack.

It’s been so long since the last time we took a trip and just sat down without worrying about finals, work, or being interrupted by my brother. Our friendship is just like this conversation. Smooth, flowing freely without any restraints. I hope that our romantic relationship flows just as well.

“Are you feeling better?” I dare to ask. “Yesterday I was tempted to take you to the ER.”

I grab her hand and caress the inside of her wrist with my thumb.

“Sorry. It’s been a strange couple of weeks,” she apologizes while also dismissing the subject.

I don’t think I’ve ever seen her so distraught in the past, and she was extremely upset six years ago. I wish there were something I could do for her to make her life easier. That’s all I’ve ever wanted, to make her more comfortable. Her happiness is my mission in life.

“If you hadn’t come home to work for Ahern, what would you be doing?”

She shuffles around the chair, straightens her back and smiles. “Are you interviewing me, Mr. Ahern?” Abby drinks some of her wine and smiles. “Well, for starters it’s a bit late. You already gave me a job.”

When the waiter strolls by to pick up the empty platter, Abby requests the dessert menu. Poor thing, her heart is going to break if there’s nothing sweet to satisfy her craving. Thankfully, I have a few pints of ice cream at home waiting for her.

“What would you be doing if you weren’t in charge of your Dad’s company?” she asks once the server walks away.

I’m entirely caught off guard by her question. Once upon a time, I had other plans, but I let them go, and I never shared them. Not even with her. Moving close to her and starting my own company was a surprise. I didn’t want to tell her until it was all in place.

“Finish at least one of my software projects, open a company …” I shrug. “It doesn’t matter.”

“Then why are you asking about me?”

“Well, it’s never too late to learn about your dreams.” I omit that now I feel like an asshole for imposing mine on her. “I had no idea that you wanted to live here, in Tahoe.”

“The thought’s crossed my mind,” she shrugs.

“What did you want to do?”

She takes a sip of her drink, sets down her glass and smiles at the waiter who gives her the menu.

“Chocolate covered strawberries,” she licks her lips, looking at me.

I’m turned on by the simple gesture. Dirty thoughts about her body, melted chocolate, and my tongue make my blood boil. My dick pulses, growing harder. I’m so fucking horny, I want to drag her to the car and fuck her right in the back seat.

Her eyes light up as the waiter leaves. “Everything okay, Wes?”

“Of course,” I say, composing myself. “You were talking about your ideal job.”

“Ideal is so cliché. I mean, as a CPA I can work almost anywhere. We could be handling our business over the phone,” she says in a sultry voice.

I pull the collar of my shirt, gasping for air. What is wrong with me tonight?

“So far, the only real job I’ve held is working for your charity, which I love. I think you should create a fully functioning non-profit instead of just calling it a grant. If you want me to, I can take the whole operation over. I love it because I get to stalk people online and give them money afterward. How cool is that?”

She chuckles, winking at me. Abby takes her glass of wine and drinks it all. I refill it as she continues telling me about the charities she’s helped so far and the applications she’s working on. She’s pumped up about the prospect of going through all the requests for funds we’ve received in the past six months and if possible, authorizing all of them.

“You love it,” I conclude enjoying the sparkle in her eyes.

“It’s interesting and fulfilling.” She nods, though her face turns a little serious. “Honestly, if I could, I’d create a nonprofit to help in other ways instead of just giving money to several places once a year. Something meaningful …”

Her shoulders slump, and she stares at the glass of wine she’s holding tightly. The waiter sets down the strawberries and chocolate and fills up our glasses with more wine. I should be concerned that Abby drinks it like water and pours some more. She’s lost inside that mind of hers. Whatever I said has those wheels turning fast.

“For runaway teenagers,” she says after a long pause. “A safe house for teenagers. For those who aren’t safe at home,” she expands. “If a kid has a place to go, they wouldn’t have to wait until they’re old enough to leave their homes or run away.”

“Sounds like you know someone like that.”

“Yeah, you could say that.” It feels like she’s shutting me out. A big steel walls crashes down between us.

“Another bottle of Zinfandel, sir?”

“No, thank you. Can you bring me a Macallan, neat?” I order.

“I’ll have more wine,” Abby requests.

“I wish they had daiquiris,” she says, dipping a strawberry in the chocolate. “After my grandmother died, living with my mother was different. She was moody. When she was unhappy, she’d take it out me.”

It feels like an elusive butterfly just flew nearby. I stay still to make sure I can watch it for as long as possible before it flies away. Abby tells me about the nights when her mother would arrive home angrily and turn the air-conditioning high, trying to freeze her, and wouldn’t let her go into her bedroom. The days when she wouldn’t feed her. My hands curl. I’m fucking furious as I listen to her. I shake with rage as I learn that the woman who was responsible for her well-being mistreated her for years.

“One day, she tied me to a chair she’d placed under the shower,” she continues. Although her body is here with me, her voice sounds lost, much like her gaze. “She turned on the cold water and let it run. It was just for a few minutes, but I stayed tied there for hours, shivering and afraid. It felt like my mind detached from my body, and I counted for a long time remembering how Grandma and I used to count together. When I was much younger, my grandmother would put me in the bathtub, and we’d count my toys.”

Once again, I find out why counting under the water is like therapy for her. Or is it just a way to deflect from her problems?

She chuckles humorlessly. “If I’d had another place to go, I would’ve left my mother. Maybe I wouldn’t be so fucked up.”

Abby remains seated, but it feels like she’s putting a world of separation between us.

“What happened to you before you came to the Aherns, Wes?”

Her question catches me off-guard. I lean back, my jaw tightens, and my teeth grind together. Something about her question is unnerving. I sit there staring at Abby like she’s offered me a knife and asked me to give her a piece of me I swore I’d never give away.