Julian
AS I SCAN Fig & Olive’s main dining area, I’m reminded of a core principle I learned in business school: End every meeting on a positive note. In other words, if you’ve got potentially negative shit to share, say it up front. So I set aside my dish and place my elbows on the table. Here goes. “Your sister’s going to be staying at my place for a while.”
Carter blinks at me. “Excuse me? What—”
I put off his line of questioning with a lift of my hand and motion for our server’s attention with the other. There isn’t enough liquor in the world to loosen me up for this conversation, but I’ll drink anyway. After ordering a whiskey sour, I settle into my chair. Amid the sea of people sitting at white linen-covered tables, Carter draws people’s attention, his superstar-next-door good looks custom framed by the room’s skylights and strategically placed palms.
“What’s this about Ashley?” he asks.
The whispers and murmurs of the late-lunch crowd remind me how awkward representing your best friend can be. Twenty feet away, an agency colleague talks with her client, probably discussing the latest offer for a recurring role in a sitcom she’d gloated about last week. Meanwhile, I’m telling my client his sister’s moving in with me.
If I could rewind the last twenty-four hours and rescind my offer to let Ashley stay with me, I would. Her presence in my home is an unknown variable, a factor that could jolt my and Carter’s relationship out of sync and create a rift between us. Still, maintaining the status quo isn’t as important as being there when she needs my help, no matter how hard it’ll be for me to share my personal space with her. Now to convince her brother my intentions are honorable. “I’m not sure what she told you, but Ashley doesn’t just need to crash somewhere for a few nights. She’s been displaced. Something went down with her roommate, but she won’t tell me what. Anyway, she needs a place to stay, on a temporary basis, and since I have two extra bedrooms, I offered one of them to her.”
Carter scrunches his face as he pushes the food around on his plate. “Why can’t she stay with me?”
“Tori.”
He jerks his head up at the mention of his fiancée’s name. “What the hell does that mean?”
I raise my hands in surrender, immediately regretting my lack of tact. “No disrespect, Carter. Really. It’s just . . . well, I imagine it must be hard to live with two people in love, especially when one of them is your older brother.”
His cheeks bloom with color. “All right, I get it.”
The server arrives with my drink. Perfect timing. I take a sip and forge ahead. “Listen, I hope this doesn’t need to be said, but I’ll say it anyway. Ashley’s like a little sister to me. She’ll be safe, and I’ll treat her with respect. You have nothing to worry about.”
Carter draws back and regards me with a pensive expression. “I appreciate the blood vow, but I’m not worried.”
That stings. Does he think Ashley and I are so incompatible nothing would ever happen between us, or is he confident she would never entertain the idea of being with me? And why the hell do I care? “Oh, well, good. That’s a relief.”
Carter chuckles. “Yeah, you’d never go for Ashley. She’s way too flighty. Your perfect woman is a workaholic like you, keeps a to-do list for everything, and wears starchier suits than yours.”
“Fuck off with that noise,” I tell him as I smooth my jacket sleeves. “My suits aren’t stiff.”
Carter shakes his head. “That’s your comeback? You’re hopeless, bro. Anyway, given how uptight you are about being my agent, I can’t imagine you’d ever want to muddy the waters even more by trying to date my sister. Shit, even I can see how that might make things weird. But I know you well, J, and I’m not concerned.”
I tug on my tie as guilt settles on my shoulders. If he knew the trajectory of my thoughts about Ashley the past eighteen hours, he’d retract those words and question the fuck out of my motives. His point remains spot-on, however. Messing around with Ashley would turn the waters to sludge.
“I do think this could be good for Ashley, though,” he continues. “Maybe you’ll be a stabilizing influence. Show her that committing to a plan and following through on it isn’t the worst way to live your life.”
“Ashley’s not lost, Carter. She’s headed somewhere and enjoying herself along the way.”
“Yes, well, I hope wherever that somewhere is, she finds a steady job there. And a permanent place to live.”
“I hope you don’t talk like that in front of her.”
“Of course not. This is between us. I worry about her, Julian. I want her safe, happy, settled.”
“I want her safe, happy, and settled, too. But she’s twenty-six, not fifty-six, man. And I’m pretty sure she’d like a say in how that happens. Give her a chance to stumble. You did.”
“You didn’t,” Carter grumbles.
“Which only means I’m a late stumbler. I’m going to fall on my ass eventually, I just know it.”
He grins at the prospect of that. “This, I can’t wait to see.”
I slide my glass back and forth in front of me. Huh. That didn’t go as terribly as I expected it to. He’s accepted the idea that Ashley will be living with me for a short time, underscoring the trust between us. “What about you and Tori? You’re good?”
Carter’s slow smile says it all. “Yeah, yeah, things are great. We’re adjusting to our schedules, but when we’re together, I’m blissed out. She’s stressed about the gym, though. Doesn’t have enough employees to meet the demand.”
Tori’s fitness studio, Every Body, caters to anyone and everyone—young, old, differently abled, hard core and soft core, among others. “Is she hiring more staff?”
“She’s working on it.”
I nod absently, my mind already focusing on the business matters we need to discuss. Carter’s reaction will tell me whether it’s too late to heed Quinn’s warning. This go-round I gulp my cocktail. “I want to give you a heads-up about something. Work-related.”
Carter sits up. “Go ahead.”
“Barry Sanderson mentioned you in passing when I saw him at the GLAAD awards.”
He lifts a brow. “Yeah?”
Sanderson is an A-list director known for blowing through the megabudgets of his action films. He describes it as his character flaw, and the studios indulge him because he makes movies everyone and their grandmother wants to see. “He said he has his eyes on you. Interested in getting you to sign on for more than one film. Said he’d be contacting me soon to give me the details.”
“Holy shit.” Carter drums his hands on the table. “That’s huge.”
“That could be huge. He could’ve been blowing smoke up my ass, though, so until he calls, I’ll try to find out what he’s working on.”
He nods, his eyes shiny and bright. “Yeah, yeah. Of course. We don’t want to get ahead of ourselves.”
I don’t tell him that I’m nervous about this potential deal. Nor do I mention that I’m not equipped to handle multifilm contracts, not on my own at least. My commercial and television expertise only travels so far, and he’d be tied by this agreement for years. But this is what Carter expects of me, and I don’t want to disappoint him. Plus, Quinn’s “advice” is fresh in my mind. “If it’s what you want, I’ll do my best to make it happen.”
“Then it’s settled.” Carter lifts his drink. “I predict even bigger things for us, man. Just like we always dreamed.”
He doesn’t sound like a man who wants to fire his best friend, but Carter’s one of the most talented actors I know—and I know many. I suppose I could ask him outright if he’s unhappy with our working relationship, but I’m not sure I’d want to hear the answer before I get the chance to secure this megadeal for him. If anything, his enthusiasm renews my resolve not to disturb our arrangement. I clink his glass with my tumbler. “Yeah. To us.”
He shakes his head. “We’re a long way from Weston, huh?”
Weston. Damn, I haven’t thought about our days there in a long time. It’s where Carter and I met, his family having been assigned to help me acclimate to life as a boarding school student far away from my Atlanta neighborhood. They checked on me several times a month, inviting me over for dinner on the weekends. At the time, my parents were building their careers and couldn’t afford to bring me home for Thanksgiving, Christmas, and spring break, so I spent some of those holidays with the Williamsons.
“You guys became my home away from home, and I appreciate it.”
Carter extends his hand for a fist bump. “And now you’re returning the favor by taking Ashley in, and I appreciate that. The good part is, she travels a lot, so she won’t disrupt your flow.”
I’m slow to connect my fist with his because I know the truth: She’s only been at my place for one night, and my flow is officially disrupted.
ASHLEY’S BACKSIDE GREETS me as I walk into my condo. She’s stretching to place a couple of mugs in an upper cabinet, her long legs highlighted by the yoga pants she’s wearing.
Of course.
I need to maintain the status quo with Carter. Keep his feathers unruffled. Focus on proving my continued worth as his agent. Refrain from anything that might make it awkward for us to work together. Yet his younger sister, the one member of his family with the potential to permanently burrow herself under my skin, is playing house in my kitchen—at my invitation.
She turns her head and looks at me over her shoulder, genuine affection in her eyes. “How was your day?”
I unknot my tie and slide it off my neck. “Fine.” Not counting the stern warning from Quinn and an unshakable sense that my career isn’t as solid as I once thought, it was . . . fine. “Had a late lunch with Carter.”
“Cool.”
I expect questions, but she poses none.
Instead, she finishes unloading the dishwasher and wipes her hands on a towel. “Thanks for leaving a set of keys with the doorman. He’s a talker.”
“Benny takes the social aspects of his position very seriously.”
“I told him I bake the best chocolate chip cookies ever, and I think he was seconds away from dropping on one knee and asking me to marry him.”
“His wife and four children might take issue with that.”
“Did you know he has two grandchildren? They’re twins, and from what I saw in the many, many pictures he showed me, they’re adorable.”
That Ashley knows this her first full day here surprises me. It took months for Benny to share anything about his personal life with me. Then again, whenever Ashley and I talk, she gives me her undivided attention. Benny must have experienced that as well.
“Have you eaten?” I ask. “I know it’s late, but I could get something delivered.”
“Is that what you do on weeknights?”
“Yeah, if I’m home. Eating usually happens on the job. There’s a Japanese place a few blocks away that’s pretty good.” I cross the kitchen and dig in a drawer. “I should have a take-out menu in here somewhere.”
“Sounds perfect.”
Bent at the waist, we pore over the menu together, settling on a couple of rice bowls to share. Ashley peruses the desserts page, and her hair falls forward to cover her profile. I’m overwhelmed by the urge to push her hair back and see her face again. Instead, I grab the phone and call Ziki, hoping the concentration necessary to relay the order correctly will leave no room for my brain to betray me. Thank goodness, it works.
I cover the phone’s speaker. “Dessert?”
She shakes her head. “Nah. I’m thinking the bowls will be more than enough.”
After I give Benny the heads-up that we’re expecting a delivery, I turn back to Ashley. “I figured we could talk logistics while we eat. Schedules, house rules, etcetera.”
Her face relaxes. “I was hoping you’d say something like that.”
“I’m going to get out of this suit before the food arrives.”
Her gaze lands on the span of my shoulders, and her lips twitch. “Okay. I’ll finish putting away my things.”
I glance at the shopping bags by the door. “That’s all you have?”
She nods. “For now. I sent most of my stuff in Jersey to storage. And it doesn’t make sense to clutter your place for a temporary stay. My clothes should be coming early next week, and I have a carry-on with what I’ll need until then. I live my life from a suitcase anyway.”
She’s fidgeting as she talks. Maybe I’m not the only one unsettled by our new arrangement. “Which bedroom did you choose?”
Wrinkling her nose, she says tentatively, “The one . . . closest to yours?”
Damn. We’ve hit upon the most significant flaw of my place. The master bedroom shares a wall with the larger of the two guest bedrooms. I’m guessing the architect probably wanted to maximize the views from the eastern side of the condo, but the result is a lack of privacy that only matters when I have visitors—or a roommate. “That’s fine. You’ll enjoy the sunrise.”
She smiles brightly, and I can’t help staring at her mouth. It’s wide-set, the peak of her upper lip always left of center as though she’s reacting to a private joke. I’d like to kiss that mouth so greedily her lipstick smudges across her face. Breathe, Julian. Get your act together. “I’ll be back in a few, and then we’ll talk.” I escape the living area, unfastening my cuff links as I go. An ice-cold shower is calling my name.
Minutes later, the doorbell rings as I’m toweling off. I don’t want Ashley to pay for our meal, so I throw on a pair of sweats, mildly nervous about freeballing around her. This is my domain, though, and going commando here is nonnegotiable. If a man can’t let his balls hang free in his own home, then it’s no longer his sanctuary.
I reach the door just as Ashley pulls out a few bills from her purse. “I’ve got it, Ash.”
She turns and scans me from head to crotch. Her cheeks turn a lovely shade of pink as she gets an eyeful. “Oh, okay.”
Maybe freeballing wasn’t one of my best ideas.
As I settle up with the delivery person, she shifts to my left and stares at her bare toes. Am I making her uncomfortable? I’d hate it if that were the case, so I scramble to say anything to distract her from my underwear-free state. “Your second toe’s just as long as your big toe.”
Her head shoots up, and her eyebrows snap together. “What?”
“Your toes. Second piggy’s just as long as your big piggy. My mother once told me never to trust a person whose big and second toes are the same length.”
She shakes her head and snatches the take-out bag from my hands. “I can’t even with you.” But as she walks away, I detect a soft chuckle coming from her general direction. Achievement unlocked, and it feels good.
We engage in casual conversation as we prepare our plates, interrupting the flow every so often when she needs help finding something in my kitchen. Then we move to the dining area, a small nook that sits on an elevated platform near the floor-to-ceiling windows in the living room.
I dig into the oyakodon bowl, a mixture of rice, chicken, eggs, and scallions, while Ashley gorges on katsudon, murmuring her appreciation.
She uses her chopsticks to hold out a piece of fried pork. “Want some?”
Without thinking, I lean forward and part my lips. Our eyes meet as she drops the meat into my mouth. She watches me chew, her gaze never wavering. An unspoken battle ensues, although I’m not sure what’s at stake. All I know is I don’t want to avert my eyes first. Maybe I want her to think she doesn’t scare me, which isn’t true at all. She terrifies me. When I’m with her, it’s hard to remember why I shouldn’t pursue her. When she reciprocates my interest, like I think she’s doing now, it’s damn near impossible to remember anything at all.
Fuck it. I know when to stand down. I take a big sip of water and clear my throat. “Let’s discuss how to make this work.”
She sets the chopsticks across the rim of her bowl and places her elbows on the table, steepling her fingers. “Okay.”
“Let’s begin with what might annoy us. That’s usually a good place to start. Complete this sentence with the first thing that pops into your head. It really annoyed me when my roommate—”
I gesture for her to finish.
“Left me on the toilet with no tissue within arm’s reach.” She crosses her eyes as soon as the words are out.
“I can’t unsee it.”
She laughs as she picks up her bowl again. “You asked.”
“Okay, okay,” I say on a chuckle. “That won’t be a problem. You’ll have your own bathroom. It’ll be up to you to ensure you have the appropriate . . . supplies.”
“What about you?” she asks. “I’m guessing you have a long list.”
“I should be offended by that remark, but it’s true. I hate when people leave dishes in the sink. There’s a dishwasher for a reason. Also, it’s not cool to leave only a gulp of milk in the container. My roommates in college did that all the time. It pissed me off. If there’s not enough to fill a cereal bowl, it’s time to buy another carton.”
“What else? There’s more, right?”
“I hate the smell of microwave popcorn. It makes my stomach turn. I’m not saying you shouldn’t eat it. Just give me a warning, and I’ll steer clear of the kitchen when you make it.”
“What about your hours? I like to play my guitar in the evenings. That okay?”
“I didn’t know you still played.”
She drops her gaze, and her hands disappear underneath the table. “It’s just a hobby.”
It’s not like Ashley to be shy about anything, and I’m tempted to lift her chin and ask why she’s hiding this aspect of herself from me. But touching Ashley would be dangerous, so talking will have to do. “That’s quite a hobby. You were what? Twelve? Thirteen when you started? I’ve probably had twenty hobbies in that span.”
She perks up. “Oh, yeah, like what?”
Interesting that she sidestepped my question. I’ll let it slide for now. Besides, there’s more than one way to get an answer. “Golf.”
“How’d that work out for you?”
After taking another sip of water, I say, “It didn’t. Got into it mostly for my job. But golfing requires talking with your partners, and I didn’t have the patience for it.”
“You’re an agent. How can you not have the patience for talking?”
I shrug because I honestly don’t know the answer. I’ve asked myself the same question many times in recent years. “Hard to explain. The conversations just felt fake. Forced. And so damn boring. I’m not a golfer, but I know how to advocate for my clients. You want to talk to me about industry trends? Fine. You want to talk to me about handicaps? Big yawn.”
“Did anything stick?”
“Cooking.”
She sets her bowl down, places one of her hands on her chest, and grabs my wrist with the other. “Stop. You cook?”
My gaze zeroes in on the way her soft fingers close around my arm, their warmth wrapping around me in a way I suspect she didn’t intend. I give her a self-satisfied smile, hoping to appear unaffected by her touch. “I do.”
“Like what? Scrambled eggs? Spaghetti?”
“More like eggs Benedict and bucatini with mushrooms.”
She covers her forehead with the palm of her hand. “Enough, please. Any more of that and I’ll orgasm right here.”
More images than I can process flash in my brain. Ashley bent over a table, my body covering hers. Ashley on top of me, her long legs tangling with mine. Ashley coming long and hard, her body shuddering underneath me. And given what I heard last night, I know the soundtrack that would be playing in the background. It’s too much to handle. The circulating air changes course, pushing all the coolness out of the room. I take a long breath, pulling the remaining heat into my lungs, and my body tenses. “That. You can’t do that.”
She flutters her eyes and then regards me with innocence under the veil of her long lashes. “Do what?”
The vixen. She knows what she’s doing, and she doesn’t possess an ounce of shame about it. “Make sexual references around me. That’s not who we are. Together, I mean.”
She’s the sweet, shy girl who used to trail after Carter and me when we played hoops in the front yard. Except she isn’t. Not anymore. When I wasn’t looking, she grew up. Picked up a ton of sass—and a mouth made for long, slow kisses. It’s unsettling in the best and worst ways.
She compresses her face like she’s tasted something sour. “Who are we then?”
“We’re old family friends. Roomies for the short-term. Let’s not make it awkward.”
She blows out a long breath, pretending to be put out by my practical suggestion. “Well, if we’re talking about awkward, let’s address the elephant in the room.” Under her breath, she mutters, “Literally.”
I lean in to hear her better. “What?”
“C’mon, Julian. Your lack of underwear, that’s what. Your dick was practically swinging at me like a bat when you walked in here. For a minute, I considered ducking.”
My head snaps back. I’m not entirely sure I’ve heard her correctly. Did Ashley just say something about my junk? I shake my head as I try to regain my mental footing. This is her superpower—keeping me off balance—and I don’t like it. So now it’s clear. Whether or not I freeball, while Ashley’s here, this place will no longer be my sanctuary.