Shoving the card into the envelope, I swipe my tongue across the flap and seal it closed, gazing down at the variety of presents stacked on the kitchen counter. Okay, so I might have gone just a bit overboard. But isn’t that what aunts are supposed to do? Emmy is such a cool kid. She’s easy to buy for, so I did just that. It’s easy to shop for someone else. Myself? Not so much.
Glancing down at my tattered shorts and worn tank top, I consider my options. I don’t exactly have an abundance of cute clothes to wear to this party, certainly nothing like the other ladies will be wearing. Mia will most likely be in a frilly sundress and sandals. Sabrina will be wearing something similar. Amita will stand out like she always does, coming across as never trying too hard but always wearing clothes that look like they were made for her body.
Then there’s me. The scrub-wearing, ponytail-sporting little sister. Put me in anything other than shorts and a T-shirt and I am immediately uncomfortable. In fact, do I even own a dress?
Padding into my closet, I assess the goods before me. Goods being an over-exaggerated word by far. Thankfully I came across a cute sleeveless top when I was shopping for Emmy, but what the hell do I pair it with? Somehow I think the group will frown at scrub bottoms or yoga pants.
Okay, time to consider the bigger picture. This will be a birthday barbeque: casual, easy, relaxed. As far as I’m aware, only our family, a few of Emmy’s friends, and Sabrina’s best friend Jack will be in attendance. Really, there’s no need to dress to impress.
With a sigh, I dig through the bank of drawers that line one half of the wall, extract my nicest pair of white shorts, and hold them up for perusal. Yeah, these will do. I’ll look fresh and casual and … like me. One can only hope.
Thirty minutes later I’m showered and dressed and taking a final look in the mirror. Not bad. Not bad at all. I lean in close and swipe another coat of mascara over my lashes. Due to my chosen profession, I rarely wear a lot of makeup. Today is no exception. But I’m still a woman and there’s no way in hell I’m leaving this house without something on my face. A bit of tinted moisturizer, some pink gloss on my lips, and I’m ready to go.
My hair hangs heavily around my shoulders and for a moment I consider that I should put it up. The reflection in the mirror shows a dark mass of waves. Only I know that as soon as I spend a few minutes out in the humidity, those waves will blow up like a balloon and become of halo of frizz around my head.
Quickly securing it in a loose bun on top of my head, I shut off the light and shove my feet into simple white sandals. After putting all the packages into two large tote bags, I slide my sunglasses on top of my head and stroll toward the elevator. I’m determined to have a good time today. Or at the very least to appear like I am. Roman has been relentless in the weeks since our family dinner, calling me daily to chat about nothing. I understand this approach; I’ve used it on him a time or two when he felt the need to retreat from everyone. Part of getting him to back off is making him believe that everything in my life is hunky-dory. Even if it is not.
Cars line the U-shaped driveway leading to Roman and Sabrina’s house: a beautiful, sprawling five-bedroom Spanish-style home he surprised her with a few months back. This home is a far cry from the small, two-bedroom apartment where he used to live and a testament to all that’s changed in his life in such a short amount of time. No one deserves it more than Roman. That’s for sure.
Stepping up to the front door, I take a deep breath and reach for the handle. We don’t stand on ceremony in our family, although I will say that all of us usually knock when we show up at Cruz’s house. My intimidating older brother has a way of instilling rules without once opening his mouth to say so.
The moment I step into the large foyer, all I hear is laughter. You’d think in a house this size voices would get gobbled up by the walls, but that’s not the case. The hallway off to the left leads to the kitchen and dining room, while the hallway to the right leads to the laundry room, guest rooms, and media room. In front of me is a large living room, the staircase to the second floor, and a bank of windows that look out into the enormous backyard.
Glancing around, I smile. For all the opulence this house inspires, it is still just the space where my brother resides. The furnishings are nice but simple, the decorations minimal. He’s not one to be influenced by wealth, even if that wealth is his own. This house had to have cost him a pretty penny, but it is still a space that is filled with warmth. A place where you feel like you can kick off your shoes and flop down on the floor.
Turning left, I head into the kitchen where the laughter originates from, immediately spotting my three favorite ladies. Mia, Amita, Sabrina, and I have developed a very close friendship in the past few years. Even though only one of them is technically my sister-in-law, I feel grateful to have them in my life.
They greet me with hugs and smiles then go right back to filling platters, stirring pots, and chatting. Sabrina moves effortlessly around the space, handing off things to be done without asking, and keeping perfect pace with the conversation.
“So what did Cruz do?” she asks, washing her hands and looking at Mia over her shoulder. I’ve come into the conversation midway, so I have no idea what they’re talking about.
Mia laughs. “He sputtered around for about five minutes, his eyes all wide and his mouth hanging open. Then he started laughing and couldn’t stop.”
Hmm. Cruz laughing? Sure, I’ve seen my brother chuckle a handful of times, but the man she describes is someone other than the tight-lipped, intimidating man whom I’ve grown up with. Granted, he’s changed immensely since meeting her, but he’s still the hardass I’ve always known.
I send her a curious look. “What are you talking about?”
All three girls start laughing, but it is Amita who finally is able to speak. “Thomas peed in Cruz’s face.”
Chuckling, I shake my head. “Would have paid money to see that.”
Amita throws her hands up and nods. “Right?”
We finish filling platters and one by one, Sabrina sends us out to the patio to start filling the food table. I’ve gotta give it to Roman’s fiancée … she does know how to throw a party. The music is going, there are streamers and balloons hanging around the entire patio area, and there’s enough food to feed an army. I suppose teenagers can eat like military men, so it’s safe to assume that’s why she’s made so much.
My parents are seated at one of the five round tables scattered around the large patio area, chatting with Jack. I like Jack. He’s an easy-going guy and not bad to look at either, if I do say so. There’s something about a tall guy with bright blue eyes that does something to me. Too bad he swings for the other team. Even if he didn’t, all I’d ever do is admire him.
“Hey there, gorgeous,” he drawls as I make the rounds hugging my parents and him too.
“Hey, Jack. How’s it going?”
He shrugs. “Not bad, not bad at all. And you? Where have you been keeping your hot self?”
I roll my eyes at him. Jack is so very good for the ego. “Just working.”
His eyebrow shoots up. “Sweetheart, you need to get a life.”
Don’t I know it. “Thanks for the advice.” Lifting my gaze, I see my three brothers and some guy I don’t know standing at the opposite end of the patio guarding the volleyball game Emmy and her girlfriends are playing. Roman lifts his chin in greeting gesturing for me to join them. I’m not big into chitchat with strangers, but I’m also fully aware that he’ll hunt me down and insist I join whether I want to or not.
With a beer in hand, I stroll across the travertine patio toward the men. I stop only to hug Emmy and wish her happy birthday then step up next to Marco and say hello to the group, but keep my eyes centered on my niece and her friends. I hate mingling. If it was just my brothers, I’d throw out a few comments then take my leave, but having this unknown stranger here changes my rules. Not that I’m going to suddenly strike up a conversation with this guy or anything. That’s way too far out of my comfort zone.
“Hey, Bella, how’s it going?” Roman asks.
I shrug. “Fine. Busy.”
There’s a thick beat of silence, and this time Marco says, “You work too much.”
I shrug again. “I like my job.”
“What is it that you do?” My eyes snap up to the stranger. Something about this guy is slightly familiar, though I doubt we’ve ever met.
I’m sure I’d remember if we had.
He’s tall, equally as tall as my brothers. Cargo shorts and a Seattle T-shirt encase his long, lean body. His chest is broad and hazel eyes, peering down at me through a set of square-framed glasses, are bright with laughter. His expression is curious as he lifts one brow when his question goes unanswered.
I remain silent and check him out without really checking him out—which is to say I notice that he’s nice looking, but I refrain from looking deeper. His long, blondish-brown hair is pulled back into a ponytail giving him an artsy, bohemian look. A slow smile lights his face as he shamelessly looks me up and down. The smile widens with each passing moment; he must like what he sees. I have to give the guy credit. It takes a lot of balls to check out the sister of the three imposing guys standing next to you.
“I’m a nurse,” I remark, turning my gaze back to the game.
“Wow. That’s impressive.”
Okay, Mr. Cutie, now is not the time to try and charm me. You’d think by the way I’m not looking at him, he’d take a hint. Though when he speaks again, I’m starting to believe he’s either really gutsy or just plain ol’ stupid.
“Do you work at a hospital or a doctor’s office?”
Gulping my beer, I consider how much longer I should let this go. I’m slightly amused at all the male testosterone that’s suddenly circulating. It’s not like I haven’t brought men—one man actually—around my brothers before. So why are they all of suddenly acting like cavemen glaring at this stranger, looking ready to piss all over the ground to mark their territory? I feel bad for the guy. He’s just trying to make conversation with me. Sure, he’s flirting just a bit, but what the hell? I can handle myself.
Can you?
The instant self-doubt that settles over me is every reason to shut this down. Without another word, I immediately turn and head back inside the house. My brothers can deal one on one with that guy. I want no part of it.
Once inside, I prop my hip against the counter and wait for my instructions. Mia has Thomas settled in the high chair, and she’s shoveling some nasty looking orange stuff into his mouth while he waves his hands around. Something strange and unknown churns in my stomach and for a very brief moment I consider that it might be jealousy—of what she has. Of what my life is lacking. Perhaps it’s just plain old need. Whatever it is, I wish it would go away.
Sabrina sticks a large spoon into a massive bowl of potato salad and fixes her gaze on me. “So, Bella, did you meet Jace?”
I assume she’s talking about the stranger on the patio, but since I’m not about to rehash that awkward few moments, I reply, “No.”
Her smile widens as she sets the bowl aside and reaches into the fridge for something else. “I’ll introduce you.”
Chances are if I say “oh hell no” that will only cause for further interrogation. “Uh. Okay.”
Mia glances at me over her shoulder. “You’ll like him, Bella. He’s a nice guy.”
These two chicks are anything but subtle. “Whatever you say.”
The girls exchange a look that I try very hard not to interpret, and thankfully Amita saunters in with a glass of wine in her hand to break the ice. “What else needs to go outside?” She must pick up on the weirdness in the room. Her large, dark eyes quickly dart back and forth from me to the others. “Whatcha talking about?”
“Jace. We were telling Bella he’s a nice guy.” Mia swipes at Thomas’s mouth with the spoon then goes right back to shoveling.
Amita rolls her tongue over her lips and moans, “Mmm, mmm, mmm. He’s dreamy.”
Scrunching up my face, I find that I’m blinking repeatedly in confusion. What the hell am I missing here?
Sabrina laughs and sets yet another bowl off to the side. “He is pretty cute. Not a thing like Jack.”
Huh?
There’s no further conversation about the guy—thank God—and with bowls in hand, Amita and I stroll back outside. Sabrina is hot on our heels with platters of meat for the grill and inquires if anyone needs a drink refill. Fully intending to join my parents at their table, I turn to find the stranger seated there chatting happily with Papa. There are a few vacant seats but since I have no intention of fueling whatever fantasy it is that the ladies have going on, I help myself to another beer and stroll across the lawn to settle on the covered porch swing.
The volleyball game is still going strong. I notice that now there are a few young men joining. They must have wandered in through the side gate. The pained look on Roman’s face makes me snicker. Poor guy. This is his first foray into real parenthood and at thirty-one, he’s got a lot to learn about raising a seventeen-year-old.
He catches my eye, quickly moves across the grass, and settles down next to me draining his beer, growling, “Better keep their damn hands to themselves.”
Patting his knee, I bite back a laugh. “Calm down, Dad. She’s a good girl with a good head on her shoulders.”
“Not her I worry about. It’s them.”
Fair enough, I think as my eyes drift around the yard. Marco and Cruz are manning the grill, and Jack has rejoined my parents and ponytail guy at the table. The other women are chatting happily while Amita bounces Thomas on her hip and nuzzles his neck. It is all so Norman Rockwell-perfect so why doesn’t it feel that way? Everything I could ever want is right here before me, yet there’s an emptiness inside of me that nothing seems to fill.
The stranger lifts his head and his eyes latch onto mine—a look that momentarily silences the other voices around me and sends an odd uneasiness settling in my stomach. I quickly look away and force myself to watch the game. A few minutes pass and when I risk another glance that direction, I find him looking at me once again.
“You’ve got an admirer,” Roman drawls.
“I doubt that.”
He snickers. “I feel kinda sorry for the guy. He was just trying to talk to you and you shut him down. Fast.”
“Who is he anyway?”
Roman sends me an amusing look. “Jack’s brother. Jack’s twin brother.”
I’m a nurse. I understand basic biology. I’ve gone to college … to nursing school. I save people’s lives for crying out loud. Then why do I burst out with, “How the hell is that possible?”
This time he looks at me like I’ve suddenly sprouted two heads. “Uh, they’re fraternal twins, Bella. Not identical.”
Well, duh. Of course they aren’t. In fact, with the exception of their similarities in height and stature, and the minor fact that they are both really cute, they look nothing alike. “Oh yeah. Of course.”
“What’s going on with you?”
“What? Nothing.” I really need to quit stammering all over myself. People are going to start thinking I’m nuts.
Roman’s eyebrows wag up and down. “What’s the matter, little sister? You think the guy is hot?”
Glaring at him, I snap, “Knock it off.”
His mouth opens, as if wants to speak again, then immediately clamps shut. Roman is a smart guy. He knows when not to push me. Though that doesn’t keep him from throwing an arm around my shoulder or pressing his lips to my hair. It’s his silent way of letting me know that he loves me.
I somehow manage to keep a good distance between me and Jack’s brother for the remainder of the party. I’m the dutiful aunt playing my part by laughing and smiling and engaging family members in conversation. I sing “Happy Birthday,” eat cake, and watch as presents are opened. As the minutes take forever to roll by, I’m very aware of the occasional interest a certain someone seems to have taken in me. He’s very subtle, I’ll give him that, but if he thinks any of it will gain Brownie points with me, he’d better think again. I’m half tempted to pull Jack aside and give him an earful, but thankfully I refrain. Doing so would only put interest where I don’t want it. I’m better off just getting through the rest of the evening and never having to see the guy again.
My parents leave shortly after the presents, as do the teenage boys—much to Roman’s delight. Just when I think it’s safe to take my leave, he announces that all the adults should play cards. Spending any more time here is the last thing I want. I want to escape to the sanctuary of my apartment, my pajamas, and a good book. Not spend another few hours dodging the bullets in the room.
When I try to make my excuses, Roman instantly shoots me down, and takes my hand then shoves me down into a chair. We’re all seated around the one long table on the patio, drinks close at hand, while Marco deals out the cards. White twinkle lights hang from the eaves and music plays softly in the background as we settle in and begin to play. I’m seated between Roman and Jack with Jack’s curious brother directly across from me. Avoiding him is harder than ever now, but I’m determined to do my best. The guy can think what he wants, but this girl right here is no fool. She’s not going to be swayed by a pretty face.
Been there before and you know what happened.
My stomach rolls as I shove the painful memory aside and take a sip of my margarita, hand shaking as I set the glass down on the table and force my attention on my cards. The conversation goes on around me, but all I can hear is the loud pounding of my heart, the agonizing reminder that one fleeting thought can still send me spinning.
“I’m Jace, by the way.” Lifting my head, I gaze across the table at Jack’s brother. A soft smile lights his handsome face as he slowly holds out his hand. “We were never properly introduced.”
Feeling my face warm from the sudden interest everyone seems to have with us, I slide my much smaller hand in his and reply, “Isabella.”
His fingers tighten briefly. “Nice to meet you, Nurse Isabella.”
Yanking my hand back, I mutter something incoherent and go right back to staring at my cards. Roman, the big ass, snickers under his breath and like the good sister I am, I stretch my leg out and kick him in the shin. Real hard.
Jace doesn’t speak to me at all for the duration of our card game, though he easily slides into conversation with everyone else at the table. Jack is his usual charming self, looping his arm around my shoulders, whispering naughty innuendos in my ear and generally keeping me entertained. When we pause to refill drinks, I take that as my clue to get the hell out of Dodge.
“I’m heading out. See you guys later.”
There are protests and a few hard looks from Roman that I ignore, but thankfully I’m able to skirt out of the room without looking like too much of a fool. I make a stop in the media room and hug Emmy goodbye. We chat for a few minutes and I leave her with the promise to take her and her friends shopping very soon.
I sling my purse over my shoulder and step out onto the front porch running right into Jace. My nose smacks down onto his hard chest as we collide and for a moment, I’m caught in this weird space where time literally stops. My nostrils fill with the scent of his cologne, an intoxicating mix of sandalwood and citrus that I recognize but can’t put a name to.
His hands reach out catching me before I can topple over. Large palms cup my bare shoulders as he holds me steady. “Sorry about that.”
His touch is scalding, blistering. I can’t move away quick enough. Stepping aside, I reply, “What the hell are you doing?”
“Waiting for you.”
Okay. This is just weird. What is with this guy? “Waiting for me?”
He grins one of those movie star grins with perfectly straight, white teeth. “Well, yeah.”
Anger takes over where wariness has been, and I find myself glaring up at this guy wondering what the hell he wants from me. “Alright. Be straight with me. What’s your deal?”
He smirks down at me and shoves his hands into the pockets of his shorts. “No deal. Just thought I’d tell you that you have a flat.”
Tipping my head to the side, I look out into the driveway and sure enough my front tire is flat. “How’d you know that car is mine?”
Jace leans casually against the wall and shoots me a bemused expression. “Because I asked.” When I remain silent and seething, he replies, “You must have been inside with Emmy. Sabrina told me the Honda was yours.”
Geez. Now I feel like a fool. “Oh. Well, thanks.” I may have a nursing degree, but I have no clue how to change a flat tire. “I’ll just get one of my brothers.”
He laughs. “What, you think I can’t change a flat?”
“I can’t ask you to do that.”
“You didn’t ask. I offered.” He strolls down the walkway and out toward the car, his easy stride unhurried. When he reaches the vehicle, he turns to me and yells, “I need you to unlock it for me. Gotta get the spare.”
“Oh yeah, of course.” Bustling toward him I click the doors open with the remote and pop the hatch then stand back with my arms folded watching him work.
I don’t know what to make of this guy. He’s nothing like his brother, though in all fairness I don’t know anything about him. He appears to be mellower than Jack, not the grab-you-by-the-hair personality that Sabrina’s best friend possesses. Not that I know Jack well either but the few times we have been around one another, it’s clear to see he’s as confident and arrogant as my own brothers can be.
“This won’t take long,” Jace remarks, digging around in the back of my car for the jack and other items he needs.
“You sure you don’t want me to get one of my brothers?”
Grasping the spare tire, he lifts it easily with one muscled arm and shoots me a grin. “No thanks. I’ve got this.”
Long minutes go by and I stand there like a dummy watching this stranger manhandle my tire. It’s like watching a G-rated dirty movie—if there is such a thing: a cute, fully-clothed guy lifting and bending and moving with such fluid grace; his sinewy muscles and tight butt are certainly a nice sight and the longer it goes on, the more bending and squatting there is and the more unsettled I start to feel. There’s something very wrong with me standing here ogling this stranger, especially when I’ve done nothing but act like a bitch to him all day long. I suppose that’s the reason for the strange fluttering in my chest and the clammy hands.
“You never did say where you work …” He slides the spare tire on reaching for the bolts.
“No, I didn’t.”
He shoots me a grin over his shoulder. “You’re good.”
I shrug, playing along. “Yeah, I know.”
There’s some more muscle action as he tightens everything down. Then he meticulously puts everything back in the car and tosses the bad tire in the trunk. Slamming the hatch down, he turns to face me. “So, I don’t suppose you’d agree to have coffee with me sometime?”
My stomach dips nervously. “You’d suppose correctly.”
Smiling, he wipes his hands off on his shorts leaving grease stains on the gray material. “You’re a tough one, Miss Moran. I feel like we got off to a rocky start.” He takes a step toward me but is careful to leave a wide space between us. “Is it just me you don’t like or all men in general?”
Blinking, I’m stunned at his directness. “I don’t know you.”
A grin lights his face. “Exactly. Which is why I think you should let me take you to coffee.”
“No thank you.” Moving around toward the driver’s side of the car, I swing open the door and toss my purse inside. “Thank you for changing my tire.”
He nods. “Drive slow and get it replaced tomorrow.”
“Yep. Will do.”
I can feel his eyes on me as I gun the engine and put the car in gear. That was by far the strangest encounter I’ve ever had with a man. Not that I’ve exactly had many encounters. The experiences I’ve had have been decidedly more clinical; get in, get it done. We’ve never exchanged niceties, and barely took the time to learn more than first names. Even Damian, as self-assured and cocky as he is, didn’t throw me off-kilter the way this man has. I have to ask myself why that is. He’s very easy on the eyes, in a surfer meets nerd sort of way. He wears his confidence easily; it’s not thrown out there like so many other men—his brother and all of mine included. He owns it completely, and I have to admit there’s something very sexy about a man who is that sure of himself.
But the closer I get to home, I remind myself there are reasons I can count my experience on one hand. Reasons why I remain detached from men in general. There might be instances when I wish I could take a chance, learn to trust, but I’m immediately reminded that I’m destined to spend my life alone. My future was set in motion the night I walked into that college party and took my first drink of beer. Even though I didn’t know it at the time, my choices sealed any hope I might have had on finding real love. No man should have to live with the burden of knowing what I know; I’m tainted and ruined in every way.