Stud by Siskind, Kelly (23)

TWO MONTHS LATER

Ainsley

I grinned at my crossword clue, an easy one that wouldn’t require any cheating. Before I could type my answer, Rachel elbowed me. “They’re finally starting.”

“About time.” I pocketed my phone and watched the group of fit men slap one another’s backs as they spilled onto the soccer field. “It’s a hunk buffet.”

Gwen snorted from my other side. “You two aren’t allowed to indulge.”

“But we can look,” Rachel said.

And we did. Thick thighs abounded. Broad backs filled out the yellow or blue shirts on either team, long socks suctioned to defined calves. There was one particular set of calves I was searching for—the pair attached to my favorite hunk…whose ass was being squeezed by another man.

His perverted brother flashed me a wink.

I glared at the jerk. “Emmett needs to get over the ass grab.”

Rachel scrunched her adorable nose. “Why does he even do it?”

“Because he knows it annoys me. It’s always the left cheek, the one with the tattoo. Neither of them will tell me what it means.”

“I still can’t believe Owen hasn’t let it slip.”

“I can’t believe we haven’t pantsed him yet to see that sucker.” Gwen shook her head in disgust.

My scowl deepened. “He’s staying mum. I figured it’s better to focus my efforts on Emmett. He’s likely to crack sooner.”

“Good luck with that one.” Cameron climbed the small set of bleachers, joining us for the morning festivities. He scanned the field. “It’s a hunk buffet.”

My words exactly. “You and I share a brain.”

Gwen sat straighter. “Good thing I’m the only one of us available. Considering how long it’s been, I might need the all-you-can-eat variety.”

Rachel and I traded hopeful glances. Gwen had been on a break from men for over a year, focusing instead on work and CrossFit and her other life-threatening hobbies. She also hadn’t been out much since her mother had passed away last month. The end had come suddenly, so swiftly Gwen hadn’t spoken with her since their last fight. Gwen claimed she’d come to terms with the loss, accepting that her “mother” had gained said title by blood alone, not through any sort of proper relationship. She’d said losing her had felt like reading about a celebrity death in a gossip rag—a moment of sadness, followed by life moving on.

I patted her thigh. “If you go the buffet route, make sure the men all wear their bibs before entering your restaurant.”

Cameron cracked up. “I need a book of Ainsley-isms.”

I could totally rock that book. “We’ll call it Musings on the Love Glove.” Not that I had time to write such brilliance. My next two months were fully booked.

Aside from my growing client list, my weekly Habitat shift took priority, and I needed to add a before-and-after page to my website, showing off recent makeovers. One in particular would be front and center: Sloane. She’d progressed from a size celery to a size Italian eggplant and looked stunning in her less-conservative wardrobe. She was my ideal client, ready to shed her past with a new look and a new lease on life. She’d also made sure Thomas hadn’t slandered my reputation.

I hadn’t let her pay for my services.

The referee blew his whistle, and we all enjoyed the view as the throng of male magnificence ran and grunted and dripped sweat. We cheered. We leered. We had a blast.

“Have you ladies made birthday plans?” Cameron bent forward, elbows planted on his knees. He was a handsome devil, his mix of ink and fifties flair deliciously sexy.

Rachel sat between us. She leaned back so we could all talk. “We’re keeping it simple. Going to a bar. Just close friends.”

Namely him and Emmett, Owen and Jimmy, Rachel, Gwen, and me. Our little gang. Rachel and Cameron chatted about grabbing dinner beforehand while I watched the tail end of the match, but my mind was stuck on our birthday and all it meant.

I couldn’t believe it had been a year. Almost a year. We’d be turning twenty-eight tomorrow, April 12^th. Two years from thirty.

I’d never been this excited for our yearly celebration. Ringing in the occasion with Owen made it special. I planned to kiss him silly when the clock chimed twelve. I would also thank my lucky stars I’d made last year’s resolution to become a better person, and had worked off my derrière to realize it.

Like spring cleaning, uncluttering one area of my life only made me want to streamline the next section, and the next. My work no longer made me feel like a bottom-feeder. I’d released my guilt over Anton. Owen and I had returned to each other, better, stronger. Ridiculously in love. Even my parents were doing better. Granted, my father’s job at the auto plant wasn’t my doing, but it gave him purpose each day, put pride into his voice. He and Mom no longer needed my help covering their mortgage.

Rachel had found her happy, too. She’d fulfilled her resolution and now had Jimmy and viticulture school.

Our happiness had my focus drifting to my right, to Gwen who was barely watching the soccer match. Her gaze was glazed, like she wasn’t actually seeing it. A cheer rose up around us, shouts and claps blowing into the warm spring air. Gwen didn’t flinch.

She was the strongest of us, could run a marathon, probably karate chop a cement block. She had the brass balls to jump out of airplanes. But losing her mother had been tough, and she seemed lonely these days, still enjoying her job, but…pensive.

I squeezed her thigh. “What was your birthday wish?” She’d never once said.

She didn’t face me, just stared at a faraway point in front of her. “To know who my father was.”

I pressed my hand to my throat, understanding sinking in. She’d asked her mother while she’d been sick and had gotten stonewalled. With her gone, she’d never know. She wouldn’t find the peace that came with the knowledge she’d sought her entire life.

I wrapped my arm around her shoulder and pulled her close. “I’m sorry.”

“Thanks.” Her attention settled on her lap. “I’m still going through her house, hoping to find a hidden shoebox or something with a clue, but…” She shrugged. Gwen wore a ribbed tank top that showed off her toned arms and kick-ass physique, but inside she was soft, likely sinking at the prospect of never learning this one truth.

“I can help. Come by this afternoon maybe.”

She didn’t acknowledge my offer. “I want you to know how happy I am for you and Rachel. I know you stuck with your resolutions. It’s impacted your lives, and you both deserve the best.”

My DKNY-loving heart cracked. Gwen was no less deserving. More so for the year she’d endured…and the year wasn’t quite over. “We still have until tomorrow night to fulfill your wish, not that the timeline really matters. But we’ll scour your mother’s place anyway. Tear it apart, if need be.”

She shrugged me off. “You’re sweet, but I’ll pass. It was a silly wish to begin with.”

Her eyes narrowed, focusing on a group of players preparing to take the field. They all jogged out, except for one man stretching on the sidelines. Gwen’s attention didn’t move from him. Owen and Jimmy had finished shaking hands with their opposing team and joined the guy. I had zero clue who’d won—aside from us who got to watch all the hotness—but I was more curious about the man Gwen was eyeing, especially when Jimmy and Owen clapped him on the back.

Gwen’s jaw nearly dislocated. “Holy shit.”

I squinted, checking the guy for familiarity. He was a looker with tanned skin and disheveled dark hair, short on the sides and longer up top. His toned body gave Owen a run for his money, but nothing about him rang any bells. “Do you know him?”

All she said was “Holy shit” again.

Cameron walked down the bleachers to join Emmett. Rachel leaned toward us. “Do you guys know who won?”

“No clue,” I said, my attention fixed on my incredulous friend. “But Gwen is having a meltdown.”

Rachel assessed Gwen’s open mouth and unblinking eyes. “Do we need to call a doctor?”

I snapped my fingers in front of her face. “What’s with the catatonic state?”

“It’s him,” was all she managed.

Again, I stared at the boys, all of them grinning as if they were old buddies. “Him who?”

“August.”

Rachel and I drew a collective breath. The August. The neighbor Gwen had spent the majority of her childhood with, chasing each other across their joined yards. The one who’d taught her how to play guitar and had dragged her to his boisterous family dinners so she could escape her depressing home. The guy she’d been in love with.

“Was he that hot when you knew him?” Hot with a capital H.

“He’s filled out,” she murmured.

His gaze shifted, dragging toward us as though sensing our attention. The instant he saw Gwen, he froze. She squeaked. He opened his mouth, then closed it. Something dark passed over his eyes, but Gwen was already on her feet. “I need to go.”

My usually fearless friend bolted from her seat, disappearing around the bleachers.

Rachel scratched her knee. “That was odd.”

“Understatement. She’s hiding something.” I’d always sensed there was more to the August story than Gwen had let on. She’d given us the basics of their childhood and teen years, but when she’d skim over their relationship afterward, she’d always clam up and her eyes would get glassy. “If she doesn’t spill the details, we’ll pry them out of her.”

With alcohol.

We stood, dusted off our behinds, and headed toward our sweaty men. Jimmy and Owen were at their duffle bags, chugging Gatorade. When Owen saw me, he prowled my way.

I held up my hands. “No. You’re gross.”

Unconcerned I was wearing an adorable Miu Miu floral dress, he wrapped his big, glistening arms around me. “Deal with it.”

Unable to resist, I sank into his embrace. Some things were more important than fashion. “Great game.”

“You even know who won?”

“I did. I got to watch your ass and thighs flex. It was quite a show.” I pressed my nose into his drenched shirt. His pungent musk of salt and man mingled with his usual apple pie. “I’d like to bottle you.”

He released me far enough to plant a soft kiss on my lips. “You’ll have to settle on living with me.”

Excited, I did a jig and twirled in his arms. When he asked last week, I almost rented a truck that night to move my stuff pronto. I couldn’t wait to blend our lives more permanently. “You’ll need to build an addition with a separate walk-in closet for me.”

“Might be tough, timewise. Ellen messaged to say she sold two of my pieces. I need to get to work.”

I smacked his rock-hard chest. “Seriously?”

“Seriously.” He couldn’t hide the pride in his bright eyes, and the timing was perfect. She Who Must Not Be Named had signed the final papers on their house sale and divorce recently. Owen could stop paying his lawyer and invest more fully in his growing business.

I beamed at him. “Your designs will take San Francisco by storm.”

“Here’s hoping. And if I find time, I was thinking of building us a dance room. Solid wood floors. Mirrors so I can watch you twirl.”

Or so I could watch other things. “Only if we can dance naked.”

His answering grunt had my body humming, as did the way he palmed my ass. He moved to gather his bag, and I searched the soccer field, scanning the new group of men sweating it out on the field. When I spotted Gwen’s old crush, I tugged Owen’s arm. “How do you know August?”

He followed my line of sight and smiled. “He played soccer with us when we were in high school. On the California Regional League. Great guy. Haven’t seen him since. Why?”

I could share Gwen’s state of shock and their mysterious history, or I could use this tidbit in my favor. “I have gossip. Tell me what your tattoo means, and I’ll spill the details.”

“Nope.”

Damn him. “You’re no fun.”

“So you’ve said.” He linked our hands, and we walked to his truck, the sun high, my spirits higher. He opened my door for me and helped me into my side, the eternal gentleman. Once I’d clicked my seat belt in place, he brushed my hair from my face. “You get more beautiful every day.”

Heart, meet the moon.

Any other man, and I’d laugh at the cheesy sentiment, but this was Owen. A romantic who believed in finding his other half, and reminded me of his love daily. He kissed me hard and true. I nipped his bottom lip. “Us,” I said.

His brows pulled together. “What?”

“Nothing.” I shoved him out the door and pulled my phone from my bag. The writers of this crossword clue may have had Utopia in mind for their answer, but I knew better. The true answer was two letters. One word. My place of ideal perfection was wherever Owen and I were, together. Utopia was Us.