Styled (Travesty Book 4) Page 13

  “Yeah. I don’t know if Ava told you, but we’re kind of hoping to go international in the next couple years. LA’s a big stepping stone. You know, see if we can succeed with retail somewhere other than New York.” I wiped my mouth on a napkin, already sizing up a second piece. I hadn’t realized how hungry I was before now.

  Mrs. C smiled. “I remember Ava made her prom dress. It seems like yesterday.”

  “She made me this dress for Lex’s bachelorette in Vegas,” I offered. “I never would’ve picked it but it was cool. Short. Yellow.”

  “It was gold,” Ethan corrected. “And when you moved, it looked like water.”

  “I’ve never known you to be so poetic, Ethan,” Mrs. C marvelled.

  “Sure I am. Remember that limerick I wrote junior year? There once was a man from Little Rock—”

  “Yes, come to think of it. It got you suspended.” Mrs. C raised a brow.

  Mr. C jumped in. “How’s your work, Ethan? It seems like we see Ava and Kate as much as we see you, and they’re both out of state.”

  He chewed thoughtfully but I could see he’d relaxed into the family time like I had. “I’m in the running for this new eco development in West Hollywood. It’s down to two of us.”

  I grinned. “Really? That’s amazing!”

  “Yeah.” A matching smile split his face.

  “I’m sure you’ll get it,” I blurted. “I mean. You’re kind of great.”

  Every set of eyes landed on me. Shit. I probably sounded like a kid with a case of hero worship. I covered the awkwardness by reaching for my water glass, chugging until I was full.

  “I bet you wish you had Gia to help with that right now,” Mr C offered. “You ever hear from her?”

  Ethan shrugged, but the move looked tight. “Just found out she’s engaged.”

  Mrs. C gasped. “No. Already?”

  “Yeah. Anyway, Dom can back me on the development.”

  But I was barely listening.

  Gia had to be the most serious girlfriend Ethan’d had. I mean, he’d said himself today that he had loved her. Learning she was engaged after only a few months had to be a shock.

  Maybe that explained why he was so eager to hook up. To blow off steam, or to soothe his ego.

  I shoved down the numb feeling that started in my stomach, worked its way up.

  “I’m going to clear the table,” Mrs C declared, rising and reaching for my plate.

  I grabbed it before she could get there. “Let me help you.”

  Mr C, oblivious, asked Ethan a question about sports, which he answered as I squeezed behind his chair to get out.

  I caught Ethan’s mom in the kitchen, forcing down the sudden indigestion. “Thanks for dinner.”

  “My pleasure. You must be excited for the wedding. Have you been in many bridal parties?”

  I shook my head. “None, actually. I have a pretty small family and not a lot of friends. Which sounds kind of messed up now that I say it, but…It was nice of Lex to include me.”

  “Nonsense. You’re part of the dream my daughter and my almost-daughter started a long time ago. So, you’re family now.”

  Her warmth spread through me. A feeling I hadn’t known I was looking for. “Thank you,” I said, and meant it.

  “Family looks out for one another. And I have to say, I like seeing you with Ethan.”

  I flushed, pushing a piece of still-damp hair out of my face. “Oh. I’m not with Ethan.”

  She gave me a hard look. “I like the way you look at him. He needs more people who care about him like that.”

  “Am I interrupting?” Ethan leaned in the doorway of the kitchen, setting a shopping bag on the counter. It must’ve contained the box of photos we’d found earlier.

  “No,” I said at the same time as his mom said, “Of course not.”

  He looked between us. “We’d better go.”

  I turned away, putting the last plate in the dishwasher.

  “Of course, Ethan,” his mother said smoothly. “You must have work to do.”

  “I do. Dom’s helping me with the planning for this development pitch, and he’s going to kill me for being home late. But I was thinking of bringing the bike back.”

  “The bike?” Mrs. C said, perplexed. “Sure. We’ll get it taken into the city for you sometime.”

  “Actually, I was thinking I could take it home tonight. If I can find someone to drive it.”

  I straightened, turning to find Ethan watching me like we were the only two people in that room.

  I tried to control the way my heart thudded in my chest.

  Failed.

  “I think we could work something out.”

  19

  Ethan

  “How does your phone not explode with the sheer volume of notifications?”

  I glanced up from my computer. Dom occupied the chair on the other side of my desk, triaging email from clients. “I get to them all. Eventually. Need another coffee?”

  “Yeah, thanks.”

  I’d started working after I’d got back the night before around ten. Reviewed past sales records for Pacific Palisades until my eyes were ready to bleed. Started again at seven that morning.

  I shifted off out of my chair. Maybe I’d break my one-coffee-a-day rule myself.

  My phone buzzed and I glanced at Dom. “Hello, Ethan Cameron’s office,” he answered. Then glanced up at me. “It’s a ‘Jordan’.”

  I grabbed for the phone, like my sister snatching up the last pair of shoes at a sample sale. “Hey. You calling to make small talk? I never thought I’d see the day.” I continued out the door, ignoring Dom’s “What gives?” face.

  “Not quite,” Jordan replied. “Just to say I crashed your bike.”

  “What?”

  “Kidding. When do you want it back?”

  I considered. “Why don’t you keep it. You need some way to get around.”

  “Seriously?” she paused, and I wondered what was going through her head. “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome. So. You have a hard day of scrapbooking ahead of you?”

  “Yeah. Putting my business skills to use picking borders for the slideshow.”

  I held the door for someone as I made my way into the all-white kitchen. Two other realtors were at the far end, locked in a discussion.

  “How are you?” I asked as I grabbed a packet of the coffee Dom liked and popped it in the machine.

  “Pretty sore.”

  My finger froze over the “start” button.

  “I mean, from riding the bike.”

  “Right.”

  Nothing says professional like springing a boner in the kitchen at work. But as I found the wherewithal to deploy the espresso machine, I couldn’t stop the highlight reel from yesterday playing in my mind.

  The feel of riding behind Jordan. How hot it was to hold her while she steered the Ducati with expertise that rivaled mine.

  By the time we’d gotten back to the garage, there was no hope in hell of me not touching her. But when my hand had snuck inside her jeans, finding her wet already…

  Shit.

  I’ve been around the block. But I was glad she hadn’t been able to see my face, because feeling her shake in my arms on the back of that bike?

  That was sure as hell out of my comfort zone.

  Speaking of which—

  I always used protection. But I’d found myself without a condom on account of my recent celibacy. Thank God I’d gotten tested last week because when Jordan had looked up at me with those hazy eyes, I couldn’t stand the thought of not being inside her.

  Whether it was going bare or just her, the sex was good enough to make me see stars—even before I came harder than I can remember with her soft lips whispering in my ear.

  “What are you doing today?” Jordan asked, breaking into my dirty reminiscing.

  “I’m at work. Plans for the development.” I shook my head to clear it. Then pulled out Dom’s coffee cup and switched in mine, alo
ng with a pod of the Ethiopian blend I liked. “Do you want to meet up later?” I added on impulse.

  “I can’t this afternoon. I’m going surfing. But what about tonight? I mean, assuming there are any new listings to see.”

  Fuck. She meant meet up for work.

  I didn’t want to talk about stores. I wanted to talk about how I was going to make her scream my name. Even if I had to tie her to the damn bed to do it.

  Because as unbelievable as it’d felt to explode in her tight body, she should’ve come first. Again. As many times as I damn well wanted before I let go.

  A cloud of doubt rolled in. What if what we did was a one time thing for her? I mean, most women I’d slept with were more than happy for a second go.

  But you don’t usually lose your shit like a teenager after about five minutes.

  I pushed aside the discomfort as I scrolled through my calendar. “Tonight I have a work dinner.”

  “Oh, OK.” Was that disappointment in her voice? “Well maybe we could—”

  “Ethan?” Dom stuck his head in the door, an impatient expression on his face. “You need help making coffee, princess?”

  “Who’s that?” Jordan asked.

  “My work wife.” Dom flipped me off.

  “I should let you go.”

  I pressed the heel of my hand against my eyes, wincing. “Sure. We’ll go look at more stores tomorrow.”

  Dom disappeared and I clicked off, then lifted the two cups of coffee in my hands. I backed through the glass door and out into the hall.

  “Who was that?” Dom demanded as I re-entered the office.

  “A client.”

  “This is the little sister, isn’t it? I was going to ask how your no-girls thing is going but I don’t have to.”

  I shot him an annoyed look. “What are you talking about?”

  “I’m saying you found a big-ass loophole, man. Business and pleasure, no harm no foul, right?”

  “Let’s do our jobs, OK? Everything’s about work right now. I don’t want Mick to be the one selling this development next week.”

  I buried myself in the condo documents. If I was going to sell them, I had to know everything inside out. Not just the glossy brochures. I needed the architects renderings. The builders specs. All of it.

  Fortunately they’d been shipped over yesterday. At least something had happened when I was in San Diego.

  I spread them out on my desk and worked through them, draining my second cup of coffee as I went.

  “Hey Dom. Look at this for me. What does it say?”

  “The specs on the fittings for the pipes. They’re normal. Aren’t they?”

  “Not for a build that’s supposed to be top of the line environmentally.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean these should be efficient. Water-saving taps and low-flow toilets are the basics. Plus deeper cuts like smart heating systems. Gray water recovery. That build in Santa Monica last year had all of those, and this is supposed to be higher grade. You can’t just paint the walls green and call it environmentally friendly.”

  Dom raised a brow. “Are you seriously worried about toilets?”

  “Yeah. I am.”

  “Ethan, I know you love trees. I love trees too. We all love the fucking trees. It’s probably a mistake. You gotta keep your head down on this. It’s what you’re giving up everything for. And you know Mick wouldn’t give a shit about this.”

  I turned it over in my head. I liked details and wanted everything to line up. If I was putting my name on something, I wanted to be a hundred percent sure my clients knew what they were getting.

  And given the price tag on these condos, it probably was just a mistake in the drawings. There was no way they’d cheap out on fittings.

  “You’re probably right,” I said finally. “Can you get started on those client lists?”

  “You got it.”

  20

  Jordan

  Two weeks to the wedding

  “I think I’ve swallowed enough salt to give me hypertension,” I panted, lying flat on my back in the sand.

  Kent peered down at me, chuckling. “No way. You almost got it that time.”

  “You’re a liar. A flattering, patient liar.” I dragged my ass up, pulling my surfboard under my aching arm for what felt like the millionth time. “When you said we were coming to Manhattan Beach, I figured that meant I’d have some kind of kinship with it.”

  “Can’t promise that. But it’s good for beginners. Come on, let’s go again.”

  Kent wasn’t the most talkative guy, so I’d been skeptical of his teaching abilities. But since he’d picked me up in his Jeep after lunch, he’d been the surf guru. Not only had he brought me a board, but he’d showed me how to paddle out, how to pick the right waves, and how to pop up.

  Though it felt more like lurching up when I did it.

  After two hours, I’d managed to get up three times. Each time, I’d wiped out before we’d got to the shore.

  Ava and Lex would have laughed if they’d seen me doing this. I preferred to keep private my displays of incompetence. But the sun shone down on us and the breeze couldn’t dispel the warmth in the air.

  All of it made me think that just maybe I could try this again.

  We paddled out, and I was thankful I’d put on the more conservative of the two bathing suits I’d brought. This one was black and sporty. I might be the only person wearing a one-piece, but at least I wouldn’t be flashing all of LA.

  “Maybe we should call it a day,” I grunted after getting up, falling, and swallowing another mouthful of seawater. “I clearly suck at this.”

  “Who cares? You only do things you’re good at?”

  “Maybe,” I admitted.

  Kent shook his head, staring down at me. “No way. We’re staying out here until you get it once.”

  “You realize that could take all night?”

  “I’m patient.”

  He was. It was after six by the time I managed to ride my three-foot wave all the way into the sand.

  “Nice!”

  Kent was generous with his praise, but I did feel a little high of accomplishment that I’d stuck it out.

  “OK, it’s definitely time to call it quits. Tomorrow I’m going to feel muscles I didn’t know I had.”

  He grinned. “You’re welcome.”

  With his easy smile and casual tone—not to mention the seriously cut body—I could picture the beach bunnies falling at his feet. In fact, he’d left more than a few women gawking in our wake.

  But he didn’t seem to care about anything other than what we were doing, which made him move up a couple more notches in my books.

  “Hey Kent. Did you grow up in San Diego?” I asked as we carried our boards back out to the road, dodging the other surfers and the traffic.

  “Nope. Moved here from Idaho for school. I’d never move back though. This place has its own rhythm.”

  “How did you get started?”

  “I was in Hawaii on a family trip. My parents needed to ditch me for the day, so they found a surf camp.”

  “And you were a natural?”

  “I sucked. It was terrifying. I was afraid of the water. But when your heart starts beating along with the waves and the sand…you don’t want to go back.”

  The walk felt twice as long as it had coming in, but I liked listening to Kent talk. It took my mind off my burning muscles.

  “So why California?”

  “More options for school here.”

  “Right.” I’d forgotten he was in engineering with Dylan. “What are you going to do when you finish?”

  “Actually—” he shot me a look as we finally reached the Jeep and he took my board to load it in. “—I’ve been working on my own line of boards.”

  “No way. For real? Can you show me some? Do you have a business plan?”

  He laughed. “Sure I’ll show you. Still working on the business side. It’s not my strength.”

/>   “Maybe I can help. After we can grab dinner, I’m so hungry.”

  “Sounds great. Thanks.”

  I did a check on the traffic while he got into the Jeep—something I’d gotten used to since coming to LA.

  “Dude, it says it’s going to take you more than three hours to get home.” An idea formed. “Do you want to crash? We can order food in and you can show me your boards. Assuming you have pictures.”

  He grinned. “Hell, yeah, I have pictures. Are you sure?”

  “It’s the least I can do for you spending the day with me.”

  By the time we got back to my place I’d gone from hungry to starving. “What do you want to eat? Sushi?” I asked, grabbing a takeout menu from off the fridge.

  I pulled open my phone to order. Then noticed the text from Ethan.

  My dinner’s canceled, let’s meet up

  I have a couple listings to show you online

  I groaned, letting my forehead fall against the freezer door.

  An hour ago I’d have sworn I couldn’t think about lifting my arm high enough to unlock the door.

  But now, the thought of Ethan coming over had me ready to do all kinds of things.

  I can’t

  I texted back. I deleted “but I wish I could.” Instead I typed,

  Kent and I just got back from surfing, he’s crashing here tonight

  Dylan’s friend?

  Yeah

  I watched the dots on the screen

  He can’t get a hotel?

  I frowned.

  I have a couch

  Right

  I’ll come get you tomorrow morning

  Sure

  I clicked out of the conversation and shook my head.

  Guys complain that girls are hard to read. But really, they’re the ones speaking their own language. Case in point: we’d talked this morning and Ethan’d seemed fine. No weirdness.

  He wasn’t jealous, was he?

  Of course not.

  We’d had one hookup.

  Which I was trying to be cool about, especially after being reminded he’d had a serious relationship less than a year ago.