2-1/2 years prior
I never stood a chance. I should’ve known it from the moment she officially walked into my life that she’d so effortlessly bring me to my knees. After that night, she became a permanent fixture in my head. Maybe not always in the forefront of my thoughts in the very beginning, but there nonetheless. Always there.
While we were both born and raised in the smallish town of Huntsville, Kentucky, it wasn’t until after I’d graduated from high school that the Hellman twins even made a blip on my radar. My youngest brother, Nolan—known to most as Mouth because he was always talking—had begun mentioning the twins his sophomore year in high school.
Madeline and Margaret Hellman, known around town as Maddie and Maggie, were all-American, blond, and bright-eyed identical twins. I’d seen them in and around town with their mama and grandma always fawning over them, but I’d never paid much attention. They were little girls as far as I was concerned—about fifteen or sixteen to my eighteen years when I first started hearing about them. Mostly, I just considered my brother so much younger and immature, and since they were in the same grade, I assumed they were too.
I’d been wrong.
As it goes in small towns, everybody knew everybody’s business. At least a version of the truth. The story with the Hellman twins was like that of a lot of twins; they were polar opposites. One was far more outgoing and a spitfire compared to her more timid and demure sister. Of course, at first, I didn’t know which was which and didn’t care enough to inquire further. All I knew was Nolan had a thing for Maggie—the quiet one. They shared a few classes, and he’d nudge me or point her out anytime we happened to see them around town.
By the time they were just a little older and he’d point them out, I’d begun doing double takes. In the short time I’d become more aware of them, they’d gone from the little girls I’d dubbed them to the stars in the wet dreams of every teenage boy in town. Long honey blond hair. Big baby blues you could appreciate even from across a crowded farmers market. Which happened a lot since my brothers and I often accompanied our grandmother to the farmers market.
On one of those trips to the open market, I first noticed more than just the physical stuff, like the legs that went on forever with curves that could make even grown men turn. I knew because I was one of them. Granted, I was almost nineteen now that I’d begun with the double takes. Still, I was an adult, and they couldn’t have been much older than sixteen.
This week my brother Joaquin aka Quino and I were the ones who would be helping Ama, as we call Grandma, lug her veggies and fruits around as she shopped. Quino and I were chatting with Roy, the garlic guy who’d been a vendor here since I was a kid, when I overheard that familiar, sweet laugh.
I turned to see the twins with their mother and grandma. One of them was pushing their grandma around in a wheelchair. They’d stopped as one of them applied what looked like sun block on their grandma’s face. I immediately knew which was which, even though Madeline wasn’t even facing me. The continued laughter was the dead giveaway.
While Margaret stood behind her grandmother’s wheelchair, smiling but not laughing like Madeline, her more animated sister continued to giggle as she applied a generous amount of the stuff on her grandma, who didn’t seem thrilled about it. For as much as her grandmother was frowning, it was obvious Madeline’s laugh was contagious, and the corners of her grandmother’s lips twitched upwards a few times. I even caught myself smiling.
“They grew up fast.”
I turned to Quino, who was looking in the twins’ direction then back at me with a lifted brow. Shrugging it off, I brought my eyes back to Roy’s garlic stand and pointed at the sign. “I’ll take some garlic fries.”
“Coming right up.”
“I guess,” I said to Quino, who was still eyeing me curiously.
Seeing as I wasn’t about to get any deeper into a conversation about the twins, Quino changed the subject to talk about the shop. My family owned the embroidery shop in town. We had a lot of biker clubs coming through here, and Cortez Embroidery Designs had made a name for itself—not just in Huntsville but with biker clubs from all over, which often made our shop a stop on one of their runs. They got a lot of their biker accessories, like their leather goods, embroidered by us, and tomorrow one club was scheduled to make a stop.
“Xavier just texted me,” Quino said, motioning to his phone. “They got the delivery just now. It’s a big one.”
“Perfect,” I said, taking the fries from Roy and handing him my money. “Just in time.”
Xavier was the third of my three brothers, and we all knew the drill. Anytime one of these biker clubs rode through town, we had to make the most of the opportunity. So, we made sure to stock up just for the occasion.
We shared the fries as we talked about how we’d have our hands full tonight unloading all that inventory and putting it on display in time for tomorrow. As Ama moved along the market, from one vendor to another, Quino and I followed along, holding her accumulating bags, and continued to discuss the shop. Though I was often distracted from the laughter that was never too far in the distance.
At one point, I got caught up watching as Madeline’s family stopped at one of the few vendors not selling food. Madeline giggled as she tried different sunglasses on her grandmother. It was easy to differentiate her bubbly personality from her sister’s more reserved one. Despite the constant mischief that danced in Madeline’s eyes, something about her take-charge personality seemed to be the life or center somehow of her little family’s dynamic.
Not even until the drive home when Madeline was long out of sight did I realize something else. It wasn’t just her ever-smiling demeanor that I’d been distracted by time and time again throughout our time at the farmers market. She was also the far more affectionate of the two. While she’d been playful and seemed to be doing a lot of teasing, she was also quick to lean over and kiss her grandmother on the head more than once. She brought her arm around her sister several times, and many of the times I’d inevitably turned in her direction, her arm was hooked into her mother’s as they walked along happily.
In every instance, I’d found myself inadvertently smiling. But it wasn’t until the drive home that it hit me. She reminded me of my mother. My mother died when I was just a kid, and many of the memories of her had faded over the years, but the one thing I’d always remember about her was how happy and loving she’d always been. I was too young to know it then, but at that moment, it dawned on me. My mother had been the light of my life—the light of all our lives. She’d been the Madeline in our family: the eternal giver of love and affection to everyone from my father to Ama—her mother-in-law—to each of her boys. There was nothing she couldn’t make better for any of us, and like Madeline, she had the ability to light up a room just by entering it.
As bittersweet as the memories were, I was relieved. It made sense now why I’d be so distracted by her, despite knowing I had no business being intrigued in any other way by her. As thoughts of my mother distracted me, by the time we dropped Ama and her groceries home, thoughts of Madeline were overshadowed with sweet memories of my mother. And by the time we arrived at the shop to start unloading the new inventory, the niggle of worry I’d begun to feel about my fascination with the young girl was completely gone. It had been just like one of the many other things that brought on sudden memories of my mother that so easily could change my mood and entire frame of mind.
At least I thought it was.
Every time I saw Madeline after that day, I was inexplicably awestruck. Everything about her was breathtaking now. Breathtaking enough that I’d begun concentrating on not getting caught up each time. And then it happened. I met Ama for lunch at a local café. Ama lived with us, but she worked three hours a day as a teacher’s aide at the local elementary school. Had for as long as I could remember. So occasionally, we met up after her shift and during my lunch hour and grabbed something, before she headed home and I headed back to the shop.
We were halfway through our meal when in walked the Hellman women: Madeline, Maggie, their mother Ms. Hellman, and they wheeled in their grandmother. As usual, it was impossible not to be drawn to them—her. In my defense, I wasn’t the only one in that café who turned and looked. My grandmother and a few others did as well. Only I was incapable of keeping my eyes from roaming in their direction for too long.
More alarming, I was pretty damn sure now I could absolutely tell them apart, despite how identical they were. Margaret smiled enough and her smile was just as sweet. She even had that hint of mischief in her eyes like Madeline, yet Margaret seemed to be holding back as if she had a secret.
Madeline, once again, seemed to be an open book. She held nothing back with eyes that lit up whether she was smiling or speaking seriously about something. She had this air of energy and life and . . . waywardness she carried with her so unapologetically. Even as she sat at the table with the other three women, she was once again the life of the group—from the way she smiled big and spoke with confidence, to the way she listened intently, giving whoever was speaking her full and undivided attention.
Ama excused herself to the ladies’ room, and I was left there by myself trying to keep my eyes from wandering in the Hellman’s direction. When Madeline slid out of her booth suddenly, taking her mother’s keys, I breathed in, relieved that she walked outside. It gave me a break from all the restraining I’d been doing.
Then she walked to their minivan, which, of course, was parked in clear view of my window. Once again, I was powerless to keep from looking. She slid the side door open and pulled out a book or magazine of some kind. Like so many of the other times I’d seen her these past several weeks, she was wearing shorts. Not like the short shorts some of the other girls in town wore, but her legs were long enough that any length of shorts on her was eye-catching as hell.
I was so caught up in eyeballing her legs I didn’t even notice Shane at first. I knew him from school, and he still came in the shop every now and again. Like my brothers and me, he was also into buying old motorcycles and fixing them up. I had nothing against the guy, except that I knew he could be shady. Hence openly approaching an underage girl and ogling her so obviously when he knew he’d be in deep shit if he tried for more.
Like most other boys I’d seen her talking to, Shane, too, had that hopeful look in his eyes. Only he wasn’t a boy. He was a man—my age—who had no business getting any ideas about her.
I watched as he sat there on his bike in the middle of the parking lot, chatting with Madeline. The whole time he wore this big wolfish smile on his face. She smiled sweetly at whatever it was he was saying. The way she carried herself, so full of confidence with those bright eyes and ongoing carefree demeanor, made her seem much older than her sixteen years.
As if on cue, Ms. Hellman called out for Madeline. I’d been so sucked into watching them I hadn’t even noticed her mom get up. But she was now standing by the café entrance, holding the door open. Of course, Shane took off almost instantly. Ms. Hellman watched him for a moment, the disapproval all over her face, before going back to her booth. Madeline started back to the café as well then seemed to remember something and rushed back to the van. She slid the side door open again and fetched a binder of some sort out of the backseat then closed and locked the door.
When she turned back toward the café, she happened to glance in my direction and saw me watching her. She slowed, and her expression softened from her harried one. That blond hair of hers practically glowed around her face, and for the life of me, I couldn’t look away.
“That Loretta is going to have her hands full with those girls in a couple of years.” Ama’s comment as she reached our booth broke me from the spell I’d been pulled into. “Seems those twins of hers turned into little women overnight.” Ama slid into the booth across from me again. “Very pretty little women.” She picked up the dessert menu from between the condiments, opening it in front of her as she peered over it and raised a telling brow. “Very tempting little women most men around these parts need to remember are still minors.”
Clearing my throat, I responded to Ama’s comments with nothing more than an indifferent grunt. I hoped she was done, and it seemed like she was until she added one more thing without looking up from her menu.
“You saw Loretta just now, Nico,” she said in a lower voice. “That woman don’t play. Remember that the next time you decide to burn a hole through one of her daughters the way you were doing just now.”
While I didn’t respond, and I knew Ama didn’t expect me to, the warning was duly noted. I wasn’t even sure what the hell happened that had me staring at her so obviously, but after that day, it was as if she was everywhere.
It was even worse than after the farmers market because, from that day on, I couldn’t go anywhere and not see her or at least hear something about the Hellman twins. As crazy as it sounded, it also became clear to me now that my attraction to a girl I knew nothing more about than what everybody else knew about her from afar, was more than just physical.
Even the times she was with her friends, she tended to lead the way with them as well. I realized a big part of my fascination with her had nothing to do with her reminding me of my mother like I’d been trying to convince myself. Madeline exuded something else that made me nervous as all hell—sensuality. But it was an innocent sensuality. It was difficult to explain. You could just see it in those eyes. She oozed womanly sensuality, and she didn’t even seem to know it. That, coupled with her undeniably bubbly personality, was the only way I could explain why already I was fixated on her specifically. Otherwise, I might have been looking at her sister in the same way.
Most of the time I managed to stay unnoticed when I looked at her—or rather looked for her—each time I was in or around town, but not always. A few times she’d caught me, and as the time had passed, I was sure she’d picked up on how I was having just as hard a time as all the other saps in town of keeping my eyes off her—maybe more.
But I knew better. Though I didn’t know much more about them than what my brothers had said and what I’d seen around town, Ama was right, and everyone else in town knew it as well. Loretta didn’t fuck around.
I’d heard stories of her breaking out her shotgun on more than one occasion when someone trespassed on the small property they lived on. I was certain she’d do the same to any man getting funny ideas about her two baby girls. No thanks. I had enough female company to keep me busy to put any more thought into the off-limits twin and her shotgun-toting mother.
And then that early summer night at the lake happened.
It was Friday night, and just like every year when the school year started to wind up for summer break, the Friday night hangouts by the lake were just getting started. I closed my dad’s embroidery shop and headed out there looking to spend a few hours of shooting the breeze with friends and maybe hooking up. Except for Quino who closed with me but had a date, my other two brothers were already out there.
As I usually did when I first arrived at the lake, I parked and lit up a smoke so I could stake the place out by myself for a little while first. I’d heard about and seen enough of the twins now to know they were getting popular with the boys. Not in a bad way, but from what Nolan told me, even the quieter seemingly shyer one of the two had just as many admirers as the more outgoing one. But I’d yet to, nor did I plan to, socialize with either—ever.
“Did it hurt?”
I should’ve known right then those deep blue eyes that close, coupled with that sweet voice, would be the end of me. One of the twins—but unlike most of the folk in town, I knew exactly which one—stood before me, staring at my arm curiously.
Trying not to get too sucked into her intoxicatingly playful eyes, I looked away from them as our eyes met and I glanced down at what she was staring at instead. I couldn’t help smirking. She was asking about my latest tattoo.
“A little,” I said, not making too much of it, then glanced back at her. Smiling at those curious eyes just couldn’t be helped, so I did as I continued to indulge. “But it’s the best kind of pain there is. The kind that hurts so good.”
I knew flirting with her was a risk, but I could see the way she was looking at me—the way most girls did when I took them in so unabashedly, making no secret of my dirty thoughts. She was younger than most girls I normally hung out with. I figured a few more risqué comments from me might have her red as a beet and walking away as she should.
“That thing between your legs,” she said, making me stop mid-drag of my cigarette, and my brows jumped at attention. “It just keeps getting bigger.”
Coughing what little smoke I’d inhaled, I proceeded to make an ass of myself nearly choking then laughing until I was finally able to speak. “What?”
“Your motorcycle.”
This time she did the evil grinning as she glanced down at the bike I was sitting on. I was as stunned as I was amused. Looking her up and down again, I noticed her stance wasn’t that of a demure little sixteen-year-old. It was almost as if she’d read my mind and she was challenging me to try and make her blush. Even though I was sure she was Madeline, I didn’t want her to know it, so I played it off.
“You must be Madeline.” I took another drag of my cigarette because I needed it, then blew out the smoke slowly. “From what I’ve heard, you’re the wild one.”
I eyed her, knowing she might not take my choice of words too kindly, but I needed to get the upper hand back.
“Well, I am Madeline, but I don’t know about the wild one. What’ve you heard?”
“Oh, I’ve heard about you.” I smiled in a way I knew would not be appreciated, given the implication.
“I’m more outspoken and possibly too daring for my own good, while my sister’s the quieter more level-headed one, if that’s what you mean,” she said with just enough attitude I was almost smiling again. “But if you’re implying anything else, I can tell you where you can shove those bullshit rumors.”
I chuckled, raising my hands on either side. “I didn’t say it was bad. I’ve just heard a few things.”
“Like what?” She crossed her arms in front of her, arching her brow.
“You’re impetuous.” I peered at her, surprising myself now about how close I’d paid attention to some of the things I’d heard about her. “Is it true you jumped into the river off the very top of Pike’s Crest?”
“I did.” She smiled proudly, but it was fleeting because just like that she was frowning. “Mama almost killed me when it got back to her. God, word gets around fast in this town.”
“Well, it is dangerous.”
Of course, she argued. She insisted it wasn’t dangerous if you knew what you were doing. That she’d been jumping off cliffs for as long as she could remember. All the while, my eyes were in heaven, watching her every move and that spunk with which she delivered all her emphatic statements. It was a simple enough topic, but I was getting more curious about her now as my eyes continued to have a field day, taking in every detail of her: that cute little nose, the pouty lips, the womanly curves. Her mama would sure as shit have shot me if she knew the dreams I’d already had about them. And those long milky white legs. “So, is that why you came over here?”
“What?”
It must have been my ogling followed by the question because she looked ready to spit, and it made me laugh again. “To ask if it hurt to get my tattoos and about the thing between my legs.”
And there it was. Finally, her face tinged with color, and she glanced around as if to see if anyone had overheard. “Actually no.”
Interesting.
Just as she had from her first question, she had my undivided attention. She lifted a stubborn little chin and arched a perfectly groomed brow. “Your brother, Nolan, he goes to school with my sister and me. Apparently, he loves making her squirm.”
Instantly, I was grinning again because I could only imagine. “Is that right?”
“Yes, it is, and it makes her uncomfortable. I think it’s cute that one of the big bad Cortez brothers has a crush on my sweet bashful sister . . .”
Once again, I was sucked into every word she was saying: every detail of her threats about how my brother better stop embarrassing her sister.
“And if he doesn’t?” I challenged.
“If he doesn’t . . .” She got all serious suddenly. “He’s going to be dealing with me.”
“Why hasn’t he already?” I smiled, bringing my cigarette to my lips but stopped before taking another drag. “I mean why don’t you tell him? Why you telling me?”
“Because I knew he flirted with her but didn’t know how uncomfortable it made her until just now,” she retorted without a flinch. “And I didn’t see him anywhere, so I figured you could pass the word along. Maybe talk a little sense into him in case he refuses. According to Maggie, he’s insatiable when it comes to his teasing and flirting.”
That had me laughing again. “Yep. Insatiable, that’s my brother in a nutshell.”
“Well, you said it yourself. I’m impetuous, remember? You and your brothers may think you know about me because of the things you’ve heard. Nolan has no idea. Bad boy or not, he’ll live to regret the day he messed with the wrong girl’s sister.”
I stared at her for a moment because I could already tell, if I hadn’t been able to stop thinking about the little Hellman twin before, it was going to be impossible after tonight. But I knew better than to even think about doing more than playfully flirting with her. So I toned it down. “I’ll let him know. Tell your sister she doesn’t have to worry about Nolan for too much longer. He’ll be gone for at least a year soon.”
“Thank you,” she said, looking a little surprised by my change in demeanor, but then her curious eyes were at it again. “Where’s he going?”
“Got an apprenticeship in Radcliffe with a relative. He wants to be a tattoo artist. The guy’s a hell of an artist.”
As determined as I was not to let my growing intrigue with her be so damn obvious, those blue eyes were like magnets. I kept getting sucked into them.
“Can I get a ride later, Nico?” I turned to Jenna and her friend walking by and smiled big because I knew what kind of ride she was implying.
Eyeing the short shorts she and the other girl were wearing, I couldn’t help but smile. “Maybe.”
Jenna smiled even bigger with a twinkle in her eyes that said it all. Coming here tonight would have the happy ending I’d been anticipating.
“I’ve never ridden on one of those before,” Madeline said once the girls were far enough away. “Maybe I can get a ride sometime too?”
I stared her down, swallowing hard. She couldn’t possibly mean what Jenna had meant. Shaking my head, I began to chide myself for being delusional—completely irrational—until our eyes locked again and neither of us spoke. The moment felt like the one back at the café when Ama called me on it. It went on for so long I had to remind myself to breathe normally. Then I was hit with clarity even as the fabric around my crotch tightened and I sat up straighter. What the fuck was I thinking? “Not a chance in hell. You’re jailbait, baby girl. Your mama would have me hung if she ever saw you on the back of my bike.”
For a split second, something flashed in her eyes. She turned to look at the girls who’d just walked by as her brow twitched. But then just like that, she turned back to me with a shrug. “So, Nolan’s an artist, huh?”
I nodded, surprised by the change in subject but relieved since I was still a little dazed about that moment we’d just had. Before I could say another word, she continued. “I’m an artist too, and Nolan’s my age. An insatiable artist, huh . . .?” Like earlier when she’d made her thing-between-your-legs comment, she smiled sinfully. “Maybe he’s been flirting with the wrong sister.”
The moment I realized what she was implying I was overwhelmed with an annoyance like none I’d ever felt. Even worse, trying to hide it proved impossible. Then I realized something else. It was what she’d been going for. A single encounter. One conversation and this girl thought she knew how to push my buttons?
“Don’t worry about passing on the message,” she went on casually. “I think I’d rather tell him myself now. If you see him around tonight, tell him to come find me. I look forward to talking to him.”
Frozen to the spot, I stood there and watched her walk away without so much as a good-bye. Naïve had always been a word I associated with females. Young innocent girls who got taken by guys, especially older ones. But I knew now how naïve I’d been. Even as the older more mature of the two, for a moment I had to wonder if it didn’t apply to me. I tried to convince myself but wasn’t sure I actually believed I could laugh off the encounter with little Ms. Madeline Hellman and never look back.