ERIK’S DECIDED HE wants a big party for his thirtieth birthday. Last February we went to Cabo for mine and ended up becoming Internet famous. Given he’s my baby brother, I’m tempted to challenge him to top that, but honestly, no one needs another year like last year.
He’s rented out the Laughing Fish winery in Freeland on a Thursday night in mid-July. His birthday isn’t until August, but this is wedding season on the island. He’s lucky he found a place to hold the party before October.
The Laughing Fish is kind of like a farm version of Dave & Buster’s, only outside. Freshly mown lawns provide a backdrop for the party. There’s the usual outdoor party games—like corn hole, horseshoes, and bocce ball—along with a huge fire pit and a barn. Erik asked his friend with a barbecue truck to set up for eats on the gravel parking lot. Cari ordered a big cake that unfortunately resembles an ass. I wish I meant the animal.
He’s invited everyone he knows and probably some he doesn’t. There’s a couple playing bocce ball against Dan and John I’ve never seen before.
Even rainbow Falcor is here. He’s brought a group of friends along with their drums. When they start to play, I turn up the volume on the wireless speakers to drown out the sound. No one asked them to play.
One of the women with him stands up and sways to the music with her arms above her head. Backlit by the low afternoon sun, I can see through her long, bright floral dress. Not only isn’t she wearing a bra, I’m pretty certain she’s commando, too. Guess the hippies don’t believe in grooming any of their body hair.
More and more I’m convinced they’re into some polyamorous, commune love. They can do whatever they want, I don’t care. Yet I can’t help but wonder if that’s what Ashley’s into, too. It’s ironic that both super conservative religious people and the hippies share a love for shared lovers. I wonder what Ashley’s ultra conservative grandmother would have to say about that coincidence.
Across the lawn, I spot Diane and Hailey sitting with Baby Day on a blanket. Both women have dark hair and big boobs. I don’t feel bad staring because, with the exception of Ashley, most of the other women are pregnant. John and Diane are expecting their second while Tom and Hailey are pregnant with their first, so are Dan and Roslyn. There’s something in the water or beer around here. I check out Cari’s stomach to make sure she and Erik haven’t joined the breeder club. They’re not even engaged, but it’s been a year since they got together. Any day now he’s going to propose. At least I have Jonah as my wingman.
My eyes find Ashley sitting at a picnic table under the shade of the old hay barn with Roslyn. Relieved she’s not one of Falcon’s harem, I decide to give her some space. We haven’t spoken in a few weeks and I’ve avoided the coffee huts. It’s been a feat of resistance on my part. Luckily, I can get free coffee at Whidbey Joe’s whenever I want.
I’m enjoying my slice of red velvet cake while standing around the fire with our friends. Luckily, once you cut it, you don’t know what part of the butt it comes from.
Don’t judge. Cake is cake.
Erik’s holding court, going on about the wisdom he’s acquired over the past thirty years. In the background, frogs and crickets provide a natural soundtrack.
“More like the last nine months.” Dan raises his glass in Cari’s direction, and everyone laughs at Erik’s expense.
“Yeah, yeah, everyone pick on the youngest and the best looking.” Erik fakes a pout. “You’re all jealous old men.”
“Hey now,” Tom Donnely speaks up, earning more laughter, especially from his wife, Hailey. “You might be the baby, but don’t think it makes you cute.”
“He’s not the baby anymore. Not with Baby Alene and all the women around here getting knocked up. It’s an epidemic.” Ashley’s snide comment lands as well as a fart in an elevator. Only Erik and I hear her bitter tone, and our eyes lock for a second. When the conversation moves on, I exhale in relief.
Yeah, the Donnelys are at the same party as Ashley. Luckily, the farm is big enough they have enough space to ignore each other. I’ve caught Hailey giving her a few side-eye looks, but that’s been the extent. Not that I’d jump in the middle of a girl fight. Hell no. Thankfully this isn’t junior high all over again and we’re adults who can pretend to get along for one night. Hell, I can hang around Tom, with his annoying cocky smirk and golden boy mop of hair. Even though I want to punch him after the way he ended things with Ashley. He didn’t do right by her and it continues to sting, despite being two years ago. Sometimes I want to thank him for dumping her, but most of the time I clench my teeth and try to play nice.
“Now that you’re a grown-up, you going to make an honest woman out of Cari?” Diane asks, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. She’s petite but has her giant lumberjack of a husband wrapped around her finger. I’ve never seen a man so in love with his wife and baby as John Day.
One thing I’ve learned over the past couple of years, as everyone’s paired off and mated, married people like other people to get married, too. The pressure is like joining a cult or a multi-tier marketing scheme.
“Ugh. I hate that expression.” Ashley scowls. “What does that even mean?”
“I agree,” Cari says. “I don’t need a ring on my finger.”
“Sing it, sister.” Ashley holds up her cup of beer.
“Some people like traditions.” I interrupt their toast. “There’s nothing wrong with marriage. Ask these guys.”
The group is evenly divided between married and not, with Dan and Roslyn straddling both teams with their engagement.
“And some people hate being put into a box and labeled,” Ashley mumbles into her cup, but her voice is loud enough to carry around the small circle.
“Some people argue and bicker like an old married couple.” Tom shares his unsolicited observation. “Like Erik and Jonah. Or Dan and Jeff.”
“Or Ashley and Carter.” Jonah throws me under the bus.
“Maybe some people protest too much,” Roslyn adds. “You can cut that sexual tension with a knife.”
Whoa. Leave it to Roslyn to call us out.
“It’s Erik’s birthday party. Why is everyone suddenly focused on Ashley and me?” My neck itches and feels hot, and it’s not from the fire.
Erik drains the last of his beer and snickers to himself. “I don’t understand the two of you. It’s not like you’ve never hooked up before. I mean in high school the two of you were inseparable. All googly eyed and horny.”
I lunge for Erik in an attempt to clamp my hand over his mouth to stop the words from hurtling into the world.
Of course I can’t shove them back down his throat, but I do succeed in pouring my beer all over his front. It’s hollow satisfaction.
“What the fuck?” Erik shouts and jumps away, brushing his hands over his soaked shirt and shorts. From his chest to his knees, beer dampens his clothes. He fires angry bullets from his eyes at me. “Did you do that on purpose?”
Pressing my forearm against his chest, I lean into him.
“Keep your mouth shut,” I mutter through gritted teeth. “You want to relive high school, share your own stories.”
“Whoa.” Erik shoves my arm away. “Relax. I’m not spilling anyone’s darkest secrets here. Everyone knows the two of you had a thing as teenagers.”
Cari clears her throat and Roslyn raises her hand.
“I . . .” Cari starts, then trails off. “I’m in the dark here. New girl to the island and all.”
Roslyn nods. “Me too.”
“I swear this place is the flannel version of a telenovela series come to life.” Roslyn’s gaze bounces between me, Ashley, and Erik.
Ashley still hasn’t spoken. She’s pressed her lips together and her chest rises and falls with her deep breaths.
I can’t tell if she’s mad or something else. Her nostrils aren’t flaring like she’s seeing red, but she’s breathing like she’s trying to hold herself back. I can almost see her counting to ten with each inhale and exhale.
“So . . .” Roslyn points between me and Ashley. “You were high school sweethearts? Or . . . something?”
“Something,” Ashley responds flatly.
I considered us sweethearts. Back in the day, we kept our relationship a secret. Her parents didn’t allow her to date, but they were always talking about us getting married. Like we were some sort of prearranged marriage to unite the Curtis and Kelso business empire together forever. The idea of having their twisted approval made us want to hide our real feelings for each other. Turns out, it didn’t matter how secretive we tried to be. We still broke up, unable to withstand the storm around us.
I have a long list of reasons why. All of them are pointless and lame:
Her parents hated me.
I hated my parents.
My family life went up in flames.
Her father was to blame.
Other people’s opinions mattered more than my own.
Neither one of us was ready to be adults.
I wanted to leave the island and never look back.
I never took responsibility for my actions.
I let Ashley believe we weren’t worth fighting for.
Okay, the last reason is the most embarrassing of all. I let her walk away because I knew she could do better. I never fought to get her back because I didn’t deserve her and would only ruin her. For years I’ve loved her from afar. I know the true meaning of pined.
I’ve spent years always dreaming I’d do something to earn her respect and she’d realize I’ve been the one all along. Instead of being a failure who never did anything but maintain the status quo.
Rather than growing up into what my dad and grandpa would consider a man with his own family and a career, I froze myself into a half-life of partying, pointless hookups, and a job with no future.
Now I’m thirty-one and I’ve had enough.
I’m tired of pretending to happily float along while I’m slowly being dragged farther from shore. My heart has always belonged to Ashley and I can’t live with myself if I don’t at least try to win her back.
I’m prepared to go to battle to make her mine.
The conversation shifts to babies and I move positions, closer to Ashley.
“At least you don’t deny it,” I softly say so only she can hear.
“The first step is admitting you have a problem.” Her words are clichéd, but the usual icy tone isn’t there.
“Am I a problem?” I lower my voice and ignore the group of our friends trying to pretend they’re not listening to us.
“More like a vice.” She speaks with her eyes focused on the ground.
“The temptation or the grip?” I ask, narrowing the distance between us. Both options sound promising. One, she sees me as something bad, but irresistible. Or she can’t let go of her feelings for me.
“I call you sinful and you smile.”
I force my smile upside down into a frown.
“However you meant it, I’m taking it as a compliment.”
“Of course you would.”
“The expression ‘sinfully good’ comes to mind. How is that not flattering?” I grin down at her.
“I didn’t use those words. You asked if you were a problem and I compared you to a vice. You know, something you know is bad for you but you can’t quit?”
“Why would you ever want to quit me?” I push out my chest and cross my arms with my hands on my elbows, flexing my pecs.
Beside me, Erik coughs to cover up a snort. The sound bursts the bubble around Ashley and me, reminding us we’re not alone. With an eye roll, she walks away in the direction of the keg and bar.
“Your lines are the worst.” My little brother doesn’t pretend he hasn’t been eavesdropping. “You need to apologize to Ashley and every woman you’ve attempted to pick up. It’s insulting.”
I swat his hat off his head. “Shut it. You finally get a girlfriend and think you’re an expert on women?”
He bobbles the hat and manages to catch it on his foot, jumping around like he’s playing hacky sack. Nothing but a giant goofball. How he got lucky enough for a woman like Cari to fall for him, I’ll never know. Someone should make sure she’s human and not a cyborg from the future.
“Whoa, someone needs to get laid. Too bad you don’t know anyone willing to sleep with you.” Erik thinks he’s funny.
“Speak for yourself.” I bump him with my shoulder harder than a joke.
“Hey, now you’re bringing me into this smack talk.” Cari glowers at me. A dark fairy with her dark hair streaked with blues and greens, she’s compact and intense. “If this were a horror movie, I bet Erik and I would be the sexually active couple killed first.”
Erik’s eyes soften and crinkle in the corner as he gazes down at Cari with raw love and pride. “I love it when you talk horror movies.”
He leans close to kiss her and she responds by sliding her hands down to his ass.
“Easy there, this is a family party,” I mumble, averting my eyes.
“Ugh. Enough with the public tongue wrestling.” Ashley steps beside me and hands me a fresh drink.
“Thanks.” I take a long pull on my beer. “Sorry about Erik.”
Rolling her lips together, she looks up at the evening sky. “I’m surprised our big, dark secret hasn’t come out sooner.”
“I don’t understand why us dating in high school became something sordid and shameful. Doesn’t everyone root for high school sweethearts?”
A short chop of breath leaves her nose.
“Did you just snort?”
“I almost choked on my own tongue. Us?” She pauses to sip her drink. “Darling sweethearts?”
I ignore her sarcasm. “For a brief moment in time, we were.”
Without moving her head, she shifts her eyes to look at me. “Someone’s feeling sentimental.”
I tilt my chin and shrug my shoulders. “Maybe. Or maybe I’m realizing a great truth about life.”
“Feeling philosophical?” She studies my eyes. “Are you stoned?”
It’s hard to return her stare without getting lost in memories. “More like nostalgic.”
“Really? I didn’t think you had it in you. Carter Kelso has deep feelings?”
Ouch. “You of all people should know how deceiving our outward personas can be.”
Her dark lashes almost meet as she narrows her eyes at me.
“I’m being honest. I don’t for a minute accept the idea you’re the whore of Whidbey.”
“Nice way to label me.”
Ignoring her, I continue. “I also don’t accept your ‘zero fucks’ attitude.”
“You’re wrong there.”
“You jumped in to help Erik last year.”
“Totally self-serving. More press for him means more press for the coffee business. Plus, I got to work with Roslyn and pick her brain for business ideas.”
With an exasperated exhale, I shake my head. “Not buying what you’re selling. You forget I know the real you. Better than anyone here.”
“You knew teenage me. Before life decided to be the true bitch she is. People change, Carter.” Bitterness fills the empty spaces between her words.
One thing that will never change is Ashley’s stubborn streak. She’s dug in and no argument will alter her mind. At least not one made with words.
I can spar with her over words, winning and losing imaginary battles, but if this is war, then I need to bring in my best weapon.
“Come with me.” Gripping her waist, I tug her behind me as I walk toward the main barn.
For a second she resists, then follows. Once the tension releases in my arm, I link my fingers with hers. She doesn’t return the pressure or curl her fingers around mine, instead keeping her hand rigid and straight. With another tug, I pull her beside me.
“Relax. I’m not kidnapping you.” With my free hand, I open the side door to the barn, the one leading to the tasting room and bathrooms.
“Are you sure? You’ve literally dragged me away from our friends.”
“You could always scream for help.” I flash my teeth in a wolfish grin.
Her response is to tighten her fingers around my own.
“Thought so.” I keep moving and pulling her behind me.
Passing the office, I make sure we’re alone before stepping into the dark and quiet kitchen. On the far side of the building, we’re away from the party noise. The only sound is the hum of the restaurant size refrigerator. In the shadows, even if someone were to walk by, they couldn’t see us. I spin her so her back is against the stainless-steel fridge.
“Wha—”
I don’t let her finish the word before I cup her cheek and press my lips against hers.
Lifting our joined hands above her head, I brace my hips against hers. My body hums with the familiarity of being close to her. I release her mouth for a second, inhaling her fresh citrus scent. She no longer smells of berries and vanilla like she did when we were in high school. Her body is also different, but I feel the same irresistible draw of two opposite magnets pulling together.
I know the moment she allows herself to feel it, too. Her lips part in a soft gasp. I suck the full bottom one into my mouth, slowly dragging my teeth across the smooth softness. Releasing her lip, I pause, letting my breath mix with hers as I exhale and wait. Inside my head I’m chanting a list of desires.
Kiss me back.
Touch me.
Believe me.
Feel this.
Want me.
Show me.
Love me.
“Fuck,” she whispers before tangling her hand into my hair and pulling my mouth back to hers. When she parts her lips, I sweep my tongue inside. She matches every twist and flick with her own exploration. Once or twice our teeth knock together as we scramble to reacquaint ourselves. I release her hand, using both of mine to cup and angle her head to deepen the kiss.
If I thought my chaste kiss ignited the embers of memory, this kiss is a match to a drum of gasoline. In this moment, I could be seventeen again. My body responds as we grind against one another. The faint metallic scent of sunscreen on her skin brings me back to summers when we were teenagers.
She lifts her foot and wraps her calf around my leg above the knee. A barrier of the thinnest floral fabric means I can feel the heat of her skin on my leg. It would be so easy to lift her skirt and touch her.
While I’m trying to resist the urge to take this kiss further, her hand trails down my chest to the waist of my shorts. Her fingers skim along the leather of my belt until she reaches the buckle. After the shortest pause, she begins to pull the leather from the loops.
An image of her kneeling before me, her curls falling forward as she slides me inside of her mouth flashes behind my lids. I groan and roll my hips into her, dragging my growing erection against her stomach. This encourages her to finish unbuckling the belt and tug up my shirt.
When the cool air of the dark kitchen hits my skin, I have a moment of clarity. I tilt my head back, exhale, and stop her fingers where they’re skimming along the skin inside my shorts, inches away from where I throb for her touch.
“Stop.” I hate myself for halting her. I can’t believe I let what was supposed to be a kiss to remind her of what we had get this far.
“Why?” She sounds confused. In the low light from the hall it’s difficult to read her expression. Her eyes are dark and her full lips parted. Her chest swells with her rapid breathing. When she speaks, her tone is cold and accusatory. “Isn’t this why you brought me in here? A quickie in the kitchen? Fast fuck instead of fast food?”
“What? No?” I lean away from her, confused. “No. Why would you think that?”
Her fingers flex, reminding me they’re inside of my pants, but her voice sounds defensive. “Oh, I don’t know. Maybe because you dragged me to a dark room and started making out with me. So high school, Carter.”
“Wait, that’s not what’s happening at all.” I’m surprised she could even think that.
She swipes the swollen head of my penis with a single finger. “Are you sure? Your dick would say otherwise.”
I hate that this is where her mind goes, but I can see how I messed this up. Lowering my voice, I try to clarify. “I wanted to prove a point.”
“Which is? That I’m a slut and will fool around with anyone, anytime, anywhere?”
Her harsh words slice through me like sharp blades. I’m so angry at her assumption I do the one thing I shouldn’t in this moment.
I kiss her again.
This time I don’t start off chaste and cautious. My fingers lace into her curls and I pull her head back so I can plunge my tongue into her mouth, taking control. With a nip to her full bottom lip, I pause the kiss, but keep her tilted back. Looking into her surprised eyes, I wait until I have her full attention.
“Don’t ever call yourself a slut again.” I don’t temper the anger in my voice
She lowers her gaze and removes her hand from my shorts.
“Look at me.” I tilt her chin up with my index finger.
Instead, she closes her eyes, refusing my plea. “What do you want from me?”
“Please look at me.”
She opens one eye and squints.
With a sigh, I lean my forehead against hers for a moment. “I didn’t . . . I wasn’t thinking about having sex with you. At least not at first. Or here. Or tonight. Although I want to . . . I hate that you label yourself as some sort of defense.”
“I own what I am.” The whispered words contrast the defiant jut of her chin.
“You’re smart, kind, beautiful, funny and talented. And you also happen to be the sexiest woman I’ve ever seen. But that doesn’t define you.”
“Says who? You? The feminists? What if I want to put my sexuality first? Too scary for the patriarchy?”
“We’ve gone from an almost hand job to arguing in less than a minute. This is a new record even for us.”
“You’re the one who rejected the handy.” She crosses her arms over her chest and uses her elbows to push me farther away. “That’s all I’m saying. Sex is easy. Like riding a bike or getting back on the horse. Or . . . help me out here. I’m out of boring clichés for sex.”
I lean one shoulder on the stainless door next to her.
“Why complicate sex with feelings? This is the twenty-first century. We’re not beholden to some archaic societal bondage.”
Great, now I have an image of her tied to my bed. I’ll be saving that for later when I’m home alone.
“Now you’re thinking of kinky shit, aren’t you? Handcuffs? Ropes? Scarves? The silk ones are nice.”
“You had to deliberately put that image in my head, didn’t you?”
Her grin is wolfish, showing her teeth while the gleam in her eye shines with wicked thoughts.
Don’t be fooled by the red hair. She’s not red riding hood. She’s the wolf.
And I’m acting like a prissy grandma in my nightie.
“Maybe coming into a dark room and being alone with you was a terrible idea.”
“Doesn’t have to be.” She reaches for my shorts again.
“Stop. We’re not having sex.”
“Boo.” She frowns.
“At least not tonight.”
She raises her eyebrows in question. “Oh? You have plans? Do I get a say in this?”
“I do have plans.” Reminded of my long game, I bob my head twice. Feeling resolved again, I give her another chaste peck on the lips.
“Care to share?”
“Not tonight. Tonight was a test.” I stand up straight and walk to the door. With a slight bow, I gesture for her to leave ahead of me.
“What kind of test?” She brushes a hand over her hair, untangling the mess from my hands.
“You passed. That’s all you need to know.”
Tilting her head to one side and then the other, she keeps her eyes on me. “I don’t like this.”
“Figured you wouldn’t.”
“Especially the part where you get me riled up and leave me hanging.”
“Trust me, I’m only hurting myself more.” I point to the bulge in my shorts as I fix my belt and close the top button.
“You’re an idiot. Who turns down sex without strings?”
“A man who wants more.” I want strings. An entire ball bigger than the world’s biggest ball of twine. Give me all of them. Preferably involving a knot and the two of us tying it. But I’m not dumb enough to tell her any of this tonight. I may have almost lost this scrimmage, but I learned my lesson. I need to set limits, some boundaries so sex doesn’t mess up our chance for more. Not a wall, but a line in the sand. Something I can easily cross when the time is right.