Eden

 

I take it all back! Ugh. School could wait. Boyfriends? Who needed that kind of drama in life? I didn’t. The butterflies dancing in my stomach testified to how unprepared I was for what I was about to do. Maybe I should just pull out a pair of comfortable jeans and a nice V-neck tee.

Why, oh why, did I think this short skirt and these boots were a good idea? Maybe I should have run this outfit by my mom before she and dad left to take Josh to the airport. Too late now.

Come on, Eden, no time for second thoughts now.

If the time glowing from the alarm clock beside my bed wasn’t proof enough there wasn’t time to change even if I wanted to, and I kind of did, the sound of Dylan’s horn blaring out on the street was.

Taking one last glance at myself in the full-length mirror, I gave myself a quick pep talk. I could do this!

With a deep breath, I made my way out of my room and trotted down the stairs and out the front door.

Whoa.

Dang Dylan! How was I supposed to keep hating him when he looked like that? Day-um! Hoping my sunglasses would cover the lust glowing from my eyes, I assumed the hateful mask I’d been perfecting for the last decade, while avoiding taking in every last delicious detail of Dylan’s appearance as he leaned against the open passenger door, waiting for me.

Jeez, didn’t he know the James Dean look was overdone? Girls were going for the metro look now, weren’t they? You know, skinny jeans and tight t-shirts with pointy shoes? Dylan at least had the tight t-shirt part down. The black fabric stretched across his broad chest like it had been painted there by a master. His worn cargo pants hung loosely from his narrow hips. Cargo pants had never looked so good. The black work boots on his feet were scuffed and broken in from working for his dad’s construction company all summer. The work must be responsible for the muscles, too.

Dylan frowned as I approached and removed his sunglasses, propping them in the still damp hair he’d combed back off his forehead. Eyes squinting, his gaze roved over me from head to toe. It might have been flattering except for the horrified look on his face.

“What in the hell are you wearing?”

Stopping dead five feet from him, I fought the urge to roll my eyes like a ten-year-old.

“What?” Dragging my eyes away from him, I glanced down my outfit and I reminded myself why it was better to hate Dylan than to crush on him. Hating him didn’t mean I couldn’t appreciate pure, unadulterated masculinity, though, right?

Right.

“What are you wearing, Ed,” he asked again, only this time instead of sounding pissed off, his voice was low and husky.

There was no stopping the eyes at this point, no matter how childish it was. “They’re called clothes, Dylan.” Setting my hand on my cocked hip, I dared him to comment further. I must have really hit the mark if my pseudo-brother was getting upset about my look.

“I don’t think that skirt qualifies as clothes,” he replied, raising one brow.

“Good thing I’m not worried about what you think,” I shot back, taking a step toward his truck.

“Wait!” Dylan stopped me with a hand on my arm.

With all the attitude of a pre-teen, I met his gaze defiantly. Then instantly wished I hadn’t. Golly. He was hot.

“Why? Let’s go,” I demanded. Come to think of it, one brother was enough.

“Seriously, what’s with the outfit? You never used to wear stuff like that.” He looked truly perplexed and a little disturbed. It might be fun to play with him. Try out some of my newly discovered feminine wiles.

Taking a step closer, I smiled my most seductive smile. It was a good one, too. I practiced it in the mirror all the time. Don’t judge. Nobody wanted to go for seduction and wind up with creepy! Dylan’s expression turned wary as my finger trailed from his collarbone over one well defined pectoral muscle and down toward his rock-hard abs. With one brow raised in challenge, I allowed my finger to dip lower and lower over his stomach. We’d see who called chicken first.

“Eden!” Shouting just as my finger reached his belly button, he swatted my hand from his body.

“Don’t you like my clothes, Dill,” I asked, biting my lower lip, fully entertained because he called me by my actual name.

Dylan’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed hard, his eyes dipping to my lips before returning to meet mine. Fascinated, I watched as an emotion I’d never seen before passed across his face before it hardened, his jaw muscles twitching.

“You know what, whatever. You can dress however you want. Let’s go.”

“Thank you.” Again, with attitude.

Ever the gentleman, Dylan held my door, closing it once I was in before stalking around to his side of the truck. In seconds, we were peeling out down the street.

Dylan cranked up the radio, blaring Breaking Benjamin from the speakers. Before long, he pulled into the parking lot in front of the school. He hadn’t said another word to me the whole time. Whatever. I needed to focus on my plan and Dylan Coulter had absolutely nothing to do with that plan.

“Thanks for the ride,” I called over my shoulder as I hopped from the front seat once he stopped in front of the double doors leading into the school.

“Hey, Ed,” he yelled out the window after turning down the stereo.

“Yeah,” I asked, wondering what in the world he had to say that he couldn’t have said while we were still driving.

Dylan seemed to struggle to spit it out and I was about to turn away and go inside without waiting to hear when he finally got the words passed his lips.

“Just- just, sometimes the thing you think you want, you really don’t.” Then, he just looked at me as though trying to gauge my response to that cryptic remark.

“Okay, Dylan.” He had no idea what I wanted in the first place. “See you tomorrow.”

There wasn’t time to worry about Dylan, anyway. I had more important things to do, like wow the male population of my high school until I found the perfect guy to be my new boyfriend.

 

Dylan

 

Holy shit!

What were her parents thinking letting Eden out of the house looking like that? She might not have any idea what kind of thoughts a guy had when a hot girl dressed in short skirts and thigh-high boots, but I did.

Oh, man, did I.

I about had to scrape my jaw off the pavement when I first saw her walking out of her house, she looked that good. Don’t get me wrong, Eden’s always been pretty. Gorgeous. Adorable. And so tiny, you wanted to put her in your pocket and take her home. But today she looked like a goddess.

A freaking sex goddess, running her finger over my body making me feel things I shouldn’t feel for a girl who wasn’t even sixteen yet. Things I shouldn’t feel for my best friend’s baby sister. Hell. I remembered Eden in diapers and it did weird things to me seeing her in black leather. Weird need-a-cold-shower kind of things.

Scrubbing my hand over my face, I pulled away from the curb in front of the school and made my way out of the parking lot. Five more weeks and I’d be out of here. Why did I let my step-dad talk me into waiting to sign my commitment papers at the recruiting office? I’d be done with basic training already if I’d done what I wanted and signed up as soon as I turned eighteen. I could have left the day after graduation. But summer was the busiest time of year for construction and Derrick needed the extra pair of hands. So, here I was still at home having inappropriate thoughts about a girl that was way too young for me.

It was time to get out of here. My thoughts have been my enemy lately, especially where Eden was concerned. Like I said, Eden’s always been cute and spunky and fun. But over the last couple of years all those qualities have been amplified and added to. And all of it was attractive. To me, especially to me. And I hated it. She was my best friend’s little sister for crying out loud! Josh would never understand the mixed-up feelings Eden stirred in me. Not that I would tell him. Or do anything about it.  Because I wouldn’t. But that didn’t mean I didn’t want to. Sometimes.

“Hey, Dylan. Getting a late start this morning,” Derrick said as soon as I exited my truck, like he’d been waiting for me, which he probably had been. Derrick was a good guy and he was a good husband to my mom and a dad to their kids, the twins, Hazel and Reed.

“Yeah, Josh left this morning and the Crenshaw’s asked if I’d give Eden a ride to school ‘til she gets her license next month.” Mr. and Mrs. Crenshaw both commuted and had to leave the house well before school started. Josh and I had made sure Eden had a ride since we’d started driving. One more month didn’t seem like a big deal and I was only a half hour later than usual to the construction site.

Derrick just grunted. He wanted to say more. Probably something along the lines of don’t make someone else’s problems your problems, but Josh’s family was like my own. They’d treated me like their own son since Josh and I became friends as toddlers. Letting them down was not an option. In the end, it all came down to the fact that I was leaving in less than five weeks and Derrick wanted me to stay here and prepare myself to take over the family business instead.

But I’ve known I would follow in my own father’s footsteps since I was just a little kid. My dad was in the Army. I didn’t know much about him, he died before I could even really meet him long enough to remember him. I’ve seen pictures and Mom’s told me stories, but there was a huge hole in my life where he should have been and wasn’t. Derrick tried to fill the void, but I wasn’t ready to let him, even after ten years of him being my step-dad. For some reason, I felt that if I joined the Army, lived some of the life my dad had lived, I would understand what the big deal was, why he chose to do something that could, and did, take him away from us. From me.

My mom cried for a week straight after I signed commitment papers. Derrick didn’t understand why I’d want to join the Army after what happened to my dad. I think Mom got it, but she still didn’t want me to go. As for me? The last thing I wanted was to stay home and work for my step-dad for the rest of my life never going out on my own and seeing what the world had to offer.

I suppose I could have gone to college like Josh but that wasn’t for me. I hated high school- well, the academic side of high school. Four more years sounded like a special kind of torture. I was meant to be a soldier. I’d been spending time hanging out at the recruiting station, picking their brains about what job to take and what training to do as I progressed in my career. I joined an MMA gym at the start of the summer and loved every minute of training. I was ready. I’d be able to pass all the physical training tests without any problems. I was focused and determined. I was ready to kick ass at basic.

 

The work day was long and hot, and I couldn’t get my mind off Eden in her short skirt and leather boots. I wondered what the reaction was at school that day. No way the guys weren’t talking about her and it made me want to punch something. Hard.

Which was how I found myself driving to the gym after work even though I was dead tired.

“Hey, Dylan. Didn’t expect to see you here today.” Mark Andrews, my sparring instructor, greeted with an outstretched fist once I emerged from the locker room, ready to hit something, mostly Mark’s face.

I bumped it with my own gloved fist. “Needed to get rid of some excess energy,” I told him, my thoughts returning to Eden without my permission. Damn that girl.

Mark grinned. Nodding, he began dancing around the mats like a boxer with his fists up by his face. “I think I can help with that.”