Ridge

City Girls, Pfft

I am officially having the worst day I’ve had in years. It’s March 12th, and we are in the middle of the biggest snowstorm of the winter. Any other time this wouldn’t bother me one bit. I don’t mind the snow at all, and Ash keeps the house stocked with enough food and supplies to last a month without leaving.

It’s not the storm that irritates me, it’s the fact that we have a house full of reporters and photojournalists—one in particular—who are stuck here until the roads are cleared.

Allison Green is too curious, too inquisitive, and too connected to the world that tried to destroy me. She has city girl overachiever written all over her. She is trouble to be avoided at all costs.

So aside from hiding in my quarters on the third floor, which I cannot do when I’m working, I will be dealing with Ms. Green and her uptown-girl ways for a while. She had better stay out of my way and keep her camera’s lens cover on, or we are going to have trouble.

It’s one o’clock in the afternoon, and I am in the kitchen having lunch with my boss’s five-year-old son, Cannon—grilled cheese and apple slices. The meal makes me shiver. I detest kid food, but it’s what he likes, so that’s what we’re having.

Cannon is staring out the French doors at the snow piling up on the patio. “Can we go outside and play in it?” he asks.

“Not until the storm is over,” I say taking the last bite of a greasy, processed cheese sandwich. I’m not at all interested in going outside in this storm. Playing with young children makes me uncomfortable. I’m not good with kids. I try, but somewhere along the way, all childlike innocence faded away and was replaced with militant responsibility and order.

I had to grow up quick. My father died when I was ten leaving me the man of the house looking after my mom and two little sisters. I didn’t have enough time to be a child, and that is why I can’t relate to them.

“But this is when it’s fun,” he whines.

“Why is bundling up in five layers of clothing to run around in blowing snow and freezing temperatures fun?” I should not be in charge of this poor kid. He’s going to be jaded and calloused to the idea of fun by dinnertime. But my job is to make sure things run smoothly in this house and helping out from time to time with Cannon makes things run smoothly. Not to mention watching Stella chase Cannon around entertaining and home schooling him while she’s pregnant and taking a full load of college courses is a recipe for chaos.

Things are much easier now than they used to be before Ash married Stella. Stella is the naughty kid whisperer. When Cannon met her, it was like a switch was thrown turning a headstrong wild child into a sweet little boy. I am grateful for that, which makes me grateful for Stella, which makes me feel good about looking after Cannon.

“Dunno, it’s just more fun, that’s all. Please, Uncle Ridge, take me outside,” he begs with his palms pressed together in prayer position. I secretly like it when he calls me Uncle Ridge—it makes me feel like a real part of Ash’s family. I will never admit it, though. Cannon stores bits of information away to use as weapons of manipulation later on. I don’t need him using that title against me to get what he wants. He’s smart, much smarter than other kids his age. I know this because when he has play dates, I marvel at how bright he is compared to his peers.

“Well, maybe when Stella is finished studying, she will take you out so you can freeze your nose hairs and numb your feet. For now, you need to eat your lunch.”

He groans and drops his head back dramatically to look at the ceiling and sigh. “But…”

“No buts, eat so we can play basketball in the gym.” He won’t say no to that. Running around like a maniac in the Pride’s home gym is like crack for this kid. I don’t mind tossing a ball around with him if it will tire him out, and it usually does.

“Yay! Basketball!” he yells throwing his hands up in the air.

“Basketball? Did I hear someone say basketball?” a voice says behind me.

“Yeah, I did. I’m Cannon, what’s your name?”

“Allison, nice to meet you, Cannon,” she says moving closer. God, please let this kid eat faster. I need to get out of here.

“You wanna play basketball with us? Uncle Ridge won’t take me outside in the snow so we’re gonna go to the gym.”

Shit. I lift my hand to pinch the bridge of my nose and count to ten. He just invited the enemy to spend the afternoon with us—shoot me. Won’t somebody just get it over with and shoot me?

“I’d love to. That could be the perfect opportunity to get a few pictures of your gym for the story we are doing on your daddy.” She pulls a chair out and sits down on my left. Cannon is on my right. How did I become the meat in this terrible sandwich?

“You take pictures?” Cannon asks shoving a giant bite of grilled cheese into his mouth.

“Yeah, I do. Uh, you’d better be careful taking bites like that, or you’ll choke,” she warns. He can’t respond because he’s chewing, which is something he will be doing for the next five minutes with a bite that size, I imagine. Now I’m going to have to talk to Allison uptown girl myself—thanks a lot, Cannon.

“So, Ridge, what is it that you do for the Pride family?” she asks turning her whole body in her chair to face me. “Besides babysit,” she adds purely to irritate me.

“Mum non a aby!” Cannon says with a mouth full of food. He hates to be called a baby. Allison squints her eyes at him trying to figure out what he said.

“He says he’s not a baby. He hates to be called a baby. And I am Ash’s personal assistant and head of security for the ranch. I would like to take this opportunity to instruct you not to take any photographs of me while you are here. I’m a very private man, and I don’t want anything to do with Mr. Pride’s article.”

One side of her mouth rises in a smirk, and then she rolls her eyes. I have never wanted to smack a woman, but the thought just crossed my mind.

She turns to Cannon who is still chewing, “I apologize, Cannon. I wasn’t thinking, of course, you are not a baby. It’s undeniable that you are a young boy.” Then she turns back to me. “And as for you, I would like to take this opportunity to tell you that I hadn’t planned on taking a photograph of your smug, arrogant face, and if you happen to be in the background of any of them, I will happily edit you out.”

Typical city bitch slinging attitude and sass wherever she goes. Her sass is merely a drop in the bucket compared to the one I used to work for. No one is worse than Livi Fox. I can handle her.

“Then we understand each other, great.” I stand and push out my chair harder than I’d intended. “Are you finished?” I ask Cannon, and he nods hopping off of his chair finally swallowing his food.

“Yeah, let’s go!” he yells. Cannon always yells when he is excited. He yells when he’s not excited. Cannon is a yeller.

“Not so fast there, mister. You need to wash your hands first and put your dishes in the sink,” I remind him. He knows I’m all about order and discipline. He respects that, and it’s a good thing, or I wouldn’t be looking after him.

He marches to the sink and steps up on the stool I have placed in front of the sink just for him, rinses his plate, and washes his hands. I’m proud. The fits he used to pitch about doing that simple chore were astronomical. Thank God for Stella.

“You’re coming, right, Allison? You can take my picture, I don’t care. Will you throw the ball? Can you play basketball? Do girls play basketball?” The last question was directed at me.

“Yes, girls play basketball,” I answer.

“I’m coming with you. I’ll prove it,” Allison says getting up from the table.

“Cool, come on, this way!” he yells while running out of the kitchen.

I wave my arm toward the door, “After you.” I may not like her, but I still have manners, and she does have a great ass. I might as well enjoy the view.

We make our way through the house, Cannon squealing with delight, and Allison’s hips gently swaying hypnotizing me with her perfectly round ass. The more I watch it, the more I think about touching it until I mentally scold myself for even entertaining the thought.

She is the enemy, an evil temptress who works for the devil gathering photographs for his henchmen to pair with stories that ruin lives. I will not lust after her. I will not.

Now if only my cock would listen to my mind—it’s rock hard in my jeans and rapidly becoming uncomfortable—my body reacting to her curves, her silky jet-black ponytail hanging down her back, and her salty attitude.

I shake my head trying to rid it of lustful thoughts as we enter the gym. Ah, the smell of sweat and hard work. I breathe it in and let it calm the beast in my pants.

“You wanna play Horse?” Cannon asks.

“Sure.” She turns to me with her hands on her curvy hips and asks with a straight face, “Where are your balls?” She smiles raising her eyebrows challenging me to be inappropriate. It won’t work.

“On the ball rack,” I say pointing at a rack holding twelve basketballs on the other end of the court.

“I’ll get em,” Cannon yells, and he’s off running down the court.

“He seems sweet,” she says looking at me like she did this morning—curious—still trying to place me.

“He is.”

“I heard from the last photographer that he hasn’t always been so sweet.”

Is this woman trying to get information about the Pride family out of me for her precious magazine? Are there no limits or taboo topics they won’t publish? Children and their problems, no matter how big or small, do not need to have their shit smeared across the front of a magazine just so some hoity-toity snob can make a buck.

“He’s a good boy, and that’s all you need to know.”

She makes a little noise, an erotic hmm that I imagine her making during sex and then leaves me to help Cannon. That noise has me hard again. I’m getting frustrated with my cock for reacting to the enemy’s simple sounds and swaying hips.

I sit on a bench and watch Allison kick off her heels and run around barefoot with Cannon playing basketball. She looks right at home shooting a three pointer from half court in her pink pantsuit. I wonder what she looks like without that pink pantsuit. I’m willing to bet her skin is soft, pampered by spa treatments, and her hair is probably like silk from frequent visits to hair salons. City girls, they’re all alike—high maintenance and expensive taste—everything I bend over backward to stay away from—yet here she is tempting me with the very things I loathe.

Stella can’t be done studying soon enough. I have to get away from this woman. I can’t have thoughts of Allison in my bed writhing underneath me while I pound into her wandering around in my head. She’s a distracting witch using her womanly wiles to trick me into revealing my identity. Well, I have news for her. It won’t work.