Third Strike Read online

  Millen lifts his brow, and I realize I haven’t said anything. Mainly because I’m too mesmerized by the young woman standing next to him.

  I swing my gaze back to my best friend. “I’m always up for a party. What’s it for?”

  “Our parents’ wedding anniversary. Twenty-five years,” Ashley explains as she walks over to the outdoor bar and pours herself some iced tea.

  I bite my lip and mentally calculate how much money I can save between now and then. I may have an extremely healthy bank account, and a freehold house back in Sacramento, but I still watch my spending.

  I worked my ass off after school, weekends, and over summer doing any job I could to save up enough to support myself while I was studying. Mom did her best of course, but there wasn’t much left over after the mortgage and feeding a growing teenage boy.

  “I’ll cover you to come up with me,” Millen says quietly, for my ears only.

  “I’m good, man. If you’re sure it’s okay I come…”

  He claps me on the back, shaking his head. “Drew Peters, you might as well get used to it, because you’re one of the family now.”

  I match his grin as Ashley walks back to her lounger and grabs the white sarong from the chair, wrapping it around her torso and covering up her distracting—okay, very distracting—attire. She says something I can’t hear to her friends. Both of them turn their heads toward me briefly before looking back up at her. Oh to be a fly on the wall… or lounger.

  She comes back our way, her friends in tow, all of them moving casually toward the open French doors, their gazes darting between the two of us. Ashley’s body language has changed. The sultry swing of her hips is now muted. Her teeth sink into her bottom lip as her friends pass her by, and she stops in the doorway, her small fingers wrapped around the frame. “I’m going to shower and change, then I’m heading out with Lisa and Lucy,” she says. “Oh, and Mom and Dad said we’re going to the club for dinner. So if I don’t see you before, I’ll catch you both then.”

  “Sounds good, Ash,” Millen says. She waves her hand in the air and moves deeper into the house.

  He walks over to the bar and leans down to the fridge, turning his back to me. Unable to resist one last look, I turn my head just in time to see Ashley rounding the corner but not before I catch her curious eyes on me. Something I can’t explain moves between us in that moment. It’s a thing—something unexplainable, something dangerous, something I’ve never experienced in my twenty years on this Earth. Something that scares the living crap out of me at the same time as pulling me in and making me want more.

  I’m saved by the bell—or from impending discovery—when Millen appears in front of me with two beer bottles in his hand. “You want a swim?” he asks, handing me a bottle.

  Now that his sister isn’t flouncing around in a barely there, painted-on bright red bikini—a swimsuit reminiscent of the flag a matador waves in front of a bull—I can definitely get on board with a soak in the pool.

  Something tells me I’m going to have to watch myself whenever I’m around Ashley Ross.

  If I’m not careful, I’m gonna get myself in trouble.

  Not the good kind either. The ‘falling for your best friend’s sister’ kind, which is always bad. Or else it’s so good, it’s dangerous.

  Either way, I’m totally screwed.

  Six weeks later

  When I was a kid, whenever I couldn’t sleep, I’d sneak out my bedroom window, lie down in our backyard, and stare at the stars. Somehow it relaxes me, settling my overactive brain. Sure enough, half an hour later I’d be crawling back through my window and I’d be out for the count as soon as my head hit the pillow.

  Even now, it does the trick.

  That’s why I’m lying out on a lounger by the pool in Millen’s backyard with one head phone in, listening to music on my iPod. My attention is on the sky above when I hear the French doors open from the house. When I turn to see who it is, I still at the sight of Ashley quietly closing the door behind her. Her hair cascades down her bare back, her deep-red prom dress clinging to her curves.

  Spending six weeks back on campus in Texas was great. I used classes and assignments to distract me, and erected a giant wall to stop myself from thinking of her. That barrier was all but obliterated the minute she walked into the living room of her parents’ home in her prom dress.

  From the deep V of her neckline, to the scarlet fabric draped down her torso, skimming her hips and trailing to the floor, to the high mid-thigh split in the skirt allowing one long leg to peek through, giving a glimpse of the sky-high black heels with red soles adorning her feet. She looked elegant, much older than her seventeen years, and the sight of her made my breath catch—an unexpected tightness making itself at home, like a clenched fist, around my heart.

  Her sapphire eyes slowly scanned her family members, her normally stoic father’s mouth dropping open, her mom stepping forward to envelop her daughter in the biggest of hugs as she buried her face in Ashley’s neck.

  “Mom…” she whispered. “You’ll make me cry if you keep that up.”

  Mrs. Ross pulled away with a gentle laugh, both Ross women staring at each other with shimmering eyes.

  “I guess this is where I swoop in and save the day,” Millen announced, his voice rougher than usual as he moved beside them and wrapped his arm around his sister and mom.

  “You look beautiful, Ash.” He leaned in and kissed her temple, before shifting back and looking her up and down and then smirking at me. “What do you think, Drew? We might need to double-team the douchebag with the scary big brother speech if she’s going out looking this good.”

  If only he knew my thoughts were far from brotherly right then.

  A frame of mind that wasn’t helped when her date knocked on the door, and let out a slow and totally inappropriate wolf whistle under his breath, as his lecherous gaze raked down her body from head to toe. Having been a teenage boy whose sole focus was condoms, booze, and using copious amounts of both, I recognized his train of thought. It was not about treating this beautiful woman like the princess she deserved. It was all about corrupting her and claiming his prize at the end of the night. The muted growl in Millen’s throat proved he was making the exact same assumption I was, and liked it about as much as I did.

  Ten minutes later, Ashley went into the kitchen to grab her purse, and Millen and I escorted Dane—aka “the horny douchebag”—out to the waiting limo, letting him know—in no uncertain terms—what guys like us do to guys like him who disrespect girls we care about.

  Millen earned a deathly glare from his sister when she walked out the door and saw us standing next to her date. When she met my eyes though, there was definitely surprise and a flash of uncertainty in her features. Recovering, she schooled her expression and plastered a blinding smile on her lips, before placing her hand in Dane’s outstretched one. Then, Dane the douche, had the balls to grin like the Cheshire cat.

  That was hours ago, and as far as I knew, Ashley was staying at her friend Lucy’s house for the night. She wasn’t supposed to be tiptoeing out onto the deck, purse and discarded heels dangling from her fingers, and walking down toward the pool.

  She freezes mid-step the minute she sees me, her wide eyes catching mine as her mouth drops open with a gasp. “What are you… why…” she whispers, bending down and placing her shoes and purse on the chair beside me.

  “I couldn’t sleep,” I reply with a shrug. “How about you?” I ask, taking a swig of the beer in my hand, as she sits opposite me.

  “Just wanted to come home, be in my own bed, and sleep late.”

  She’s quieter than normal, her larger-than-life energy muted, and it captures my attention. It’s then the light from the moon catches her face, and I see her red-rimmed eyes and trembling bottom lip.

  Sitting up, I lean forward and rest my elbows on my thighs. “What’s wrong?” I ask, my blood pressure rising as worst-case scenarios run through my head. If that dirtbag touched a hair o
n her head without her consent, I’d fucking kill him myself.

  She sits and runs her hand through her hair, sweeping it over her shoulder, her gaze firmly fixed on the ground. Instinct has me wanting to reach out to comfort her, but the reality that I’m not that person for her holds me back—let alone the fact that there’s a line between us that can’t be blurred, much less crossed.

  “You don’t want to hear about my drama,” she says, forlorn. There’s a twinge in my chest, not only from the dejection in her voice, but the vulnerability in her eyes. God, I wish I could bring myself to touch her.

  “If it matters to you, why wouldn’t I?”

  She tilts her head slightly, her eyes lifting to mine as if to see if I’m being sincere. “Because you’re you—a hot twenty-year-old college guy, staring up at the stars with more interesting things to talk about.”

  “Hot?”

  She narrows her eyes, a small curve of her bee-stung lips capturing my attention. “You know you’re hot. Don’t deny it.”

  Even upset, with slightly smudged makeup and a tinge of sadness marring her features, she’s breathtaking in the dim light.

  “C’mon, mini Ross. Spill it.”

  She cocks a brow. “Does that work on my brother?”

  I shrug, my smirk all the answer she needs.

  We sit there, eyes locked, acting like we have all night. Her eyes widen slightly before she breaks my gaze and lies back on the lounger, moving her attention to the sky. I copy her and return to the stars as I wait for her to talk.

  Whatever she says will determine whether I need to run to the guest suite to wake Millen and go on a douchebag ass-kicking rampage. And if, for some miracle, he wasn’t the cause of her tears, I can’t make it better if I don’t know what happened.

  Where did that come from?

  A few minutes of both of us lying there is all she needs to open up. “Everything was fine until after prom king and queen were announced,” she says quietly.

  “You didn’t win?” If that’s the case, then the vote must’ve been rigged because, until tonight, I’d never seen a more worthy prom queen than the girl beside me. Poise, grace, confidence and goddamn gorgeous to boot. Any guy with a dick and any girl with a conscience should’ve voted for her.

  She laughs, but there’s no feeling behind it, a hollow sound that belies the action entirely. “I did. So did Dane. Then we danced the first dance together, and it was everything a senior prom experience should be… until it wasn’t.”

  I clench my fists at my side. “What happened, Ash…?” My voice is low and rough, edged with tension. I’m poised to act against anyone who did her wrong.

  “I really don’t want to—”

  I snap my head toward her. “Ash…” I near on growl.

  She holds her hands up in surrender. “Alright, already. Down, Hulk.”

  If it were any other time, I’d laugh at that.

  “Let’s just say that although I was going to dump Dane, he decided to get in there first and do it by making out with Lisa in the girl’s bathroom, just as I walked in. Then he made a big show of leaving with her in the same damn limo he hired to take me in.”

  That motherfucker.

  Before I can respond, she keeps going, sitting up to face me and hitting her stride. “I mean, one of my best friends, really? That’s so fucking cliché, right? He wasn’t man enough to pick up his balls and tell me to my face that he was dumping me, so he decided to let his dick do the talking instead. What a fuck-nugget!” She’s whisper shouting by the end of her rant, and it takes everything in me not to smile—something I fail at the moment I mirror her sitting position and catch her own lips twitching. The more I fight it, the more her eyes shine. The longer I don’t say anything, the harder it is not to pull her into my arms and give the girl a hug.

  What I definitely don’t tell her is that at my senior prom, I was the Dane in a very similar scenario, but only because I’d had half a hip flask of Jack in the limo before prom. And the Lisa in my situation was the sluttiest, most ruthless girl in school who had been cheating on my best friend at the time, so that was my way of saving him a whole lot of heartache down the line.

  My methods may have been flawed, but my intentions were good. Nonetheless, things were never the same between him and me again.

  “You’re not hurt about him; you’re more hurt by her,” I surmise, her tear-filled nod confirming it. “You deserve better, Ash.” I rise to my feet and fish my iPod out of my pocket. I scroll through the songs in my favorite playlist until I spot the perfect soundtrack for a moment like this.

  An idea forming in my brain, I quickly scan the house to make sure it’s still dark. I may kick myself for this later, but all I want to do is make things better for her. No teenage girl needs to remember her senior prom and have it marred by the recollection of her best friend leaving with her boyfriend.

  Meeting her eyes, I reach out my hand for hers. Her brows furrow adorably. Don’t think of her that way. She’s still Millen’s baby sister.

  I push those thoughts aside and wiggle my fingers. “Stand up, Ash. Every girl needs a good memory to erase the bad, and I know just how to do it.”

  She tentatively slides her hand in mine, and I’m forced to grit my teeth so hard, I swear they’re about to break. That’s because the first touch of her skin to mine feels so damn right—even though I know, it’s so damn wrong.

  Standing in front of me, her big, bright eyes looking up into mine, she’s both vulnerable and strong, innocent yet knowing, awed yet willing, wary but oh-so trusting. That alone makes me feel ten feet tall and invincible. I push all thoughts of consequences and complications down as far as they will go. I ignore what the responsible and right thing to do would be, and for the first time in a long time, I trust my gut and go with it.

  I press play on my iPod and hold up one of the head phones for her. I put the other one in my ear, and “You and Me” by Lifehouse begins to play. Standing close, I tangle my fingers with hers. Lifting her arm to wrap around my shoulder, I lose myself in her wide-eyed gaze. My hand cups her face, my thumb swiping away a lone tear sliding down her cheek, and before I can think about it, I’m dipping my head and gently brushing my lips against hers. A buzz coursing through me in the wake of our kiss.

  Neither of us speak. Instead, she draws in close, turning her cheek to rest against my chest, the tension in my body disappearing the moment she tightens her hold around me.

  As we sway together, hand in hand, holding our bodies close, I acknowledge that whatever this is—whatever this could ever turn out to be—will quite possibly be the making or breaking of me. And that’s not something I’m ready for, let alone prepared to acknowledge.

  In this moment, she’s downright perfect, and that thought spears through my chest like a lightning bolt.

  This isn’t just a moment in time, it’s a memory. A pivotal one. One I’ll never let myself forget.

  That leaves one big question.

  Now what the hell do I do?

  Drew 20, Ashley 18

  I’ve become the king of avoidance. My head is deep in the sand, ignoring everything and anything going through my mind that’s even faintly related to a certain blonde-haired, sky-blue eyed woman—one who’s far too forbidden for me to even think about in the ways I’ve been thinking about her. Especially in bed. In the shower. All the places I shouldn’t be thinking of the taste of my best friend’s sister.

  I can’t even put into words what kissing her meant to me because I’m still discombobulated by it. It’s like something has shifted in my equilibrium. Something huge, something significant—or something that will be. I’m too young and reckless to deal with the consequences of falling in lust with Ashley, Millen’s Ashley. She’s not a one-fuck-and-chuck kind of woman. She’s the put-a-ring-on-it-and-lock-it-down kind, and I’m so far from being in any position to contemplate doing that with anyone, let alone the one woman I definitely can’t have.

  Therefore, I’ve spent four mo
nths being busy. I didn’t go to Lake Tahoe with Millen for the Fourth of July. I stayed at home in Sacramento, fixing up my mother’s house and finally working up the courage to sort through her things. I donated most of it. I kept all of her jewelry and keepsakes that she cherished—all those with sentimental value to me—went into storage.

  I considered selling the house, but then Millen and I spent a night sitting on the back porch staring out at the darkening sky, and I realized that this was where I felt closest to Mom. I may not always live in the house, but I can’t bring myself to get rid of it.

  Millen came and visited whenever he wasn’t working with his Dad at Ross Corp—their family conglomerate.

  I’m not anywhere near their level of rich, but I am comfortable, thanks to Mom’s life insurance policy. That means I don’t have to get a job, but knowing I am approaching my last two years of college, I’m aware I need to make connections for the time when I will.

  I’ve even started casually—very casually—dating Kayley, a nurse from Mercy General. She is twenty-four, a brunette, and has a mouth like a hoover that she loves to use… and often. She knows the deal and given I’m leaving for college again in two weeks, we’ve cooled things off and left on good terms.

  What I don’t expect is Millen’s call on a Thursday night, a week before we’re due to return to Texas.

  “Yo. What are you doing?” he says, his voice muffled. The static in my ear tells me he’s in his car with the windows down—something he often does.

  “Sitting on the couch watching Oakland play the Royals. That rookie Luke Williams just hit it out of the park in his first game, first time up at bat, and the second ball he’s ever faced in a major league game. It was surreal.”

  “Damn, that would’ve been good to watch.”

  “Not a bad way to spend a Thursday night,” I say.

  “Better still would be getting off your ass, packing a bag, and making sure you’re ready to be picked up in twenty minutes.”