Invigorated after a refreshing swim on a hot day, Sophie walked up the stairs and grabbed her towel. Warmed from the sun, the heat from the towel radiated into her bones. Her stomach was starting to growl, reminding her again that she had missed lunch.
Well past four in the afternoon, it was nearly dinnertime. Maybe she could spend a quiet birthday dinner in her room with some reheated lasagna and a massive glass of wine. If all went well, she could have her way tonight without any arguing about how birthdays should be spent.
After enough lonely birthdays, she certainly didn’t mind another quiet evening alone. Preferred it, actually. Especially with this being one of the biggest birthdays of her life, financially anyway. Lingering to let the sun dry off some of the drips, she didn’t rush back to change.
She should have. A thick cloud of dust came barreling down the driveway. Everyone she knew was either already here or at work for at least another hour, maybe two for Paul. Emerging from the dust cloud, she could see a white convertible Camaro coming down the drive.
Sliding on her flipflops, she wrapped the towel around herself and tried to sneak in the back door of the house to avoid talking to a stranger in her swimsuit. Pippa and Denise were both inside and could answer the doorbell. Looking across the way, she could see Asher poking his head out of the garage to see who would be driving up so recklessly.
Before Sophie could reach the house, the car came to a screeching halt, kicking up another puff of dust. Stepping out was a busty, platinum bleached blond in a leopard print dress and heels. Shit. No sense putting it off, Sophie stepped into view.
“Happy birthday.” Suddenly calm and gracious, Yvette walked across the entrance to the pool area. She held out a small, wrapped package.
“What are you doing here?” Niceties were long gone. They had disappeared years ago.
Right around the time Yvette sold off the few heirlooms she had from her parents. Her mother’s wedding ring, her father’s military medals, the quilt her grandmother had made for her shortly before she passed away. Sophie had stuck out the last two weeks of high school and was gone.
At eighteen and three months, she lived out of a motel for the duration of the summer before starting at UCLA. During those months, and her first year or two at college, she’d gone a little nuts after six years of feeling miserable. Tried a few bad habits she quickly learned were not her style.
Yvette looked all innocence. “I wouldn’t miss your birthday for anything.” Looking Sophie up and down in her bikini, towel, and flipflops, she cringed. Gesturing awkwardly, she poorly attempted to compliment her. “And I wanted to see that you’re looking well. That these Sutherland folks are taking good care of you.”
It ached to know her aunt may have remembered her birthday every year, as she clearly knew the day, but hadn’t bothered until it meant a few hundred-thousand-dollar payoff. Too little, too late.
“Didn’t I just give you enough money to last until you nailed the Netflix job?” Sophie made to leave, but Yvette grabbed her arm. Her long, fake nails dug into Sophie’s skin before Yvette remembered Sophie didn’t respond to violence. She’d only tried it once, but Sophie already had a decent right hook by then. Bruises didn’t get Hollywood wannabes jobs.
“Yes, and thank you. My landlord has backed off a bit. Really, I have apologized more than enough for missing your birthdays.” Yvette’s expression was all regret. Ha.
“And selling my family’s belongings. And tarnishing my reputation, more than a few times. Oh, and for never being the grownup.”
There was always another job she was counting on soon. But, if it was her own money that she’d actually earned, Yvette needed to invest it in the next job, not frivolities such as food and electricity. Investment usually meant more plastic surgery, makeup, hair stylist appointments, mani-pedis. “You are so much better of a person than I could ever be. Your sweet mother passed that on to you. I appreciate everything you’ve ever done for me.”
Moving onto excessive sweetness was never a good sign. Sophie tore free of her grip and continued toward the house. She knew exactly what Yvette was here for. Wasn’t sure she could handle it.
“Please. I took you in–” Yvette’s tears were in full force, her body limp with hopelessness.
“Because I was a nice source of steady income. Someone to tell you how nice you looked, what a great actress you were, how generous you were.” Letting loose the final resentment she’d been harboring, Sophie kept her voice calm but was vibrating inside. “I didn’t have anywhere else to go. My mother would never have chosen you if she’d had any other choice. Perhaps you should have skipped the last Botox, nails, the airfare to come here, the fancy car rental… and not bothered to show up here.”
That was enough for Yvette. Like flipping a switch, she was in full-bitch mode. “You’ll have had full access to your funds since this morning. If you cared about me and my future at all–”
Sophie scoffed, astonished somehow. “How do you think you’re entitled to a share of my inheritance? You blew through yours before I was even born.” Sophie knew this day would come but couldn’t help being astonished at her aunt’s narcissism. Couldn’t help her disgust.
“For putting up with your antics, yes.” Yvette walked as close as she dared, standing tall in her stilettoes to drive the point home. Her voice low, she sneered, “I’ll make you a deal. You give me half, and I’ll stay out of your life. Forever.”
Sophie backed away, turning toward the house again. Yvette wasn’t done yet. Anticipating the threats, Sophie couldn’t decide whether to hear them out or to run away, plugging her ears and yelling la la la la la.
“What do you think will happen if you don’t? This is sure a sweet little town you’ve decided to settle in. It would be too bad if all of your clients found out about the embezzlement scandal I helped get you out of a few years back. Or perhaps that little prostitution ring you were running before you left LA? I could keep going, it just depends on how quickly you come through for me.” Yvette was almost giddy now from her deviousness.
Seething, Sophie stood tall, eye to eye with Yvette in her bare feet to Yvette’s heels. With all of Yvette’s creativity, it was astonishing she was so unsuccessful in life. “I actually should thank you for teaching me how to be practical, frugal, and love myself for who I am. You’re not getting one more cent from me. Go home. Don’t ever contact me again.”
Her hand finally on the front door, she ignored Yvette’s finally plea as she started sobbing melodramatically in the driveway. “Please,” she cried.
A rumbling voice from behind them spoke up. “If you don’t leave this property immediately, I’m calling the police.” Sophie’s hand stilled on the doorknob mid-turn. Asher had been clearly listening in. He’d let Sophie handle it, then he was there to back her up when she needed it.
Instantly switching to the charming vixen, Yvette strutted like a hungry cat towards Asher. “What’s this? Little Sophie find herself a handsome boyfriend? If she won’t share her money, maybe she’ll share you.”
Holding his ground, he didn’t flinch when she ran her long red nails along his shoulder. His arms folded across his chest, he remained expressionless, unmoving until she got the point. Wow, she certainly was dense. Her hand ran down his back and slapped him on the ass as she circled her prey. Still ignoring, he didn’t move.
Sophie would have socked her by now. Was tempted to intervene, but it was interesting to watch Asher not reacting in the least. She could use a few lessons on ignoring.
Putting on a pouty, dejected expression, Yvette finally stepped back. “Well, you’re no fun.” Glancing back to her niece, she used her innocently sweet expression that could have won her an Oscar, “My dear, dear Sophie. You have four days. Au revoir.”
Turning on her heel, Yvette sauntered back to her shiny rental convertible. Suffocating dust billowed behind the wheels as she flew down the driveway. Yvette meant what she said. And could pull it off, as she had many times before. Conniving bitch.
Biting her lower lip to keep from crying, Sophie breathed slowly in and out. Refusing to shed a single damn tear on behalf of that witch again. How could that woman be related to Sophie’s mother? They were from different stock.
Sophie doubted her mother had a clue what she had turned into, or she might have written for foster care, rather than letting her go into the care of her only living relative.
Frozen in place, her hand still clutched around the doorknob, she blinked away the threatening tears. Once the car was out of sight, Asher turned towards her. Seeing her about to lose it, he closed the few steps between them in a heartbeat.
His arms wrapping around her, he held her close against him. Melting into Asher, she let him hold her up so she didn’t crumble.
Still in her swimsuit, towel slipping down, Sophie soaked two perfect breast prints into his shirt. He didn’t care. What a damn witch. Her aunt was a real piece of work.
“Why can’t she just leave me alone? I tried not sending money for a while, but that just made it worse. I had to take time off of school to clean up her mess.” Sophie buried her face into his shoulder, her hair tangling in his short beard as he kissed the top of her head.
“I’m no psychologist, but there is something seriously wrong with that woman.” His voice was gruff, struggling to restrain the emotions that were boiling to the surface.
Fury at Yvette. Fear that Sophie was going to have to live with this for the rest of her life. Regretful that Sophie had suffered this woman for so long.
He could feel Sophie’s damp nod of agreement against his chest. “Should I just wire half my damn trust fund to her and tell her that’s it? I know it won’t stop her, but it should buy me a few years of her pestering, anyway.”
Pulling away only slightly to see her face, but hesitant to let her go, Asher looked down at her. He wiped away the stray tear she hadn’t been able to withhold despite her efforts. “Why don’t you change your phone number tomorrow, before you start work and start establishing yourself in Foothills. Change your email. You’ll be moving soon. Make her at least work to find you.”
“She’ll find me.”
Expression stern, Asher was on a mission to make this harassment stop. Not exactly within his repertoire of skills, unless she wanted Yvette watched, abducted, or assassinated. If he officially got the police job, he’d be well-equipped to help. He’d submitted everything the moment he’d gotten home, now it just depended on how fast Jonah worked. If she spread the lies she was threatening, Sophie should have a damn good case. Maybe Lincoln could help? “If she does, you call me.”
“Thanks for coming to my rescue.”
“Anytime. Always.” A crushing ache in his chest, Asher wished he could do more for her.
They stood there for minutes, hours, who knew. He couldn’t seem to let go, and neither could she. Since age twelve she’d lived with that monster of a woman. How did she turn out so normal? His dad was downright patient and supportive by comparison.
“I’m okay now.” Sophie pulled back and managed a soft smile. “I’m going to get changed.”
Asher didn’t want to let go, but knew he had to. She knew he was here if she needed him. Needed anything. He managed a nod and watched her walk into the house.
Giving her a few minutes, he tried to calm whatever the hell was going on inside his head. Sophie was nothing he’d ever expected. Like no one he’d met before. She was a fascinating mix of enduring character and determination to make her way in the world. An open book he still didn’t know enough about.
He trotted over to the garage and shut the door, giving up on his truck for the night. It had made a few decent drives now, but it wasn’t long for this world. Despite the knowledge that it was time to invest in a replacement, he didn’t want to give it up. His grandfather had driven that truck since he bought it off the showroom floor, and it had always been a safe haven for Asher.
Feeling more than a little at loose ends, but damn tired and ready to crash, Asher headed into the house. After the day he’d had, he should have expected the tirade as soon as he walked in the door. Couldn’t catch a break.
Pippa stood staring, her accusing scowl boring a searing hole into his soul. “Why is Sophie crying, and why are you wet with a lovely boob-height bikini imprint?”
Done with her attitude, done apologizing for ancient mistakes, he blew up. “Because lovely Aunt Yvette just stopped by demanding money from Sophie. Threatened her while she was at it. I’m sorry for being there for your friend. And mine, by the way.”
His angry bridezilla sister immediately softened. “Oh no. I wish I’d been out there. I assumed it was UPS or something. Did you give her a piece of your mind for me?”
Eyebrows raised, jaw clenched, he nodded. “Hell yeah. What a witch.”
Simultaneously looking up the stairs, his heart broke for Sophie, and he saw Pippa hurting for her friend as well.
He stared up the stairs, wishing he knew what to do. Wondering if she was doing okay, if there was anything he could do to help. Unsure if she would prefer a moment alone or a distraction.
“I’m glad you’re friends with Sophie. I feel bad. She’s in a new town and hasn’t started work yet. Pretty much just living at my beck and call these days, and I’ve been terrible company. I almost forgot her birthday. Mom said you brought home pie for tonight and we’re having a quasi-surprise party for her?” Pippa lowered herself into the living room couch, looking downright forlorn.
Hoping this was the moment, he sat in the couch opposite. “She’s pretty awesome. I can see why you and she are such good friends.”
Smiling reflectively, Pippa nodded. “She is. Got me through grad school, I swear.”
Here goes nothing, “Pippa, about Sophie–”
After a quick knock, the front door opened as the intruder let himself in. Grady. Dammit, not now. Worst timing ever. For the second time today. “Hey there. Sophie around?”
Asher held firmly in his spot on the couch, not trusting himself to say anything decent. Pippa answered for them. “She’s in her room. I’d give her some space, though. Her aunt was here, and it was a pretty unpleasant interaction.”
Grady nodded, looking quite sympathetic. “I’d like to talk to her anyway. I owe her a huge apology, so maybe she could use some kind words.”
Selfish prick. Just let her be. Asher mentally berated himself. Maybe Grady was right; maybe he could at least right wrongs from earlier today and bring some relief to Sophie. Or he could make her day much worse.
Puzzled, Pippa raised an eyebrow at Grady but apparently didn’t think she should pry. “You know which room is hers? I’ll bet she could use a good friend right now.”
As Grady neared the top of the stairs, Asher hopped off the couch. “I’m going to go get changed into a dry shirt.” He headed straight for the bathroom that separated his and Sophie’s bedrooms. Not that he was intending to listen in, but, hey, what if Sophie needed backup?
He could hear Grady’s voice easily through the door. “I’m so sorry about earlier. I’m sure it’s obvious, but I was rather hoping to ask you out myself. Guess I moved too slow, which I’m notorious for.”
Sophie mumbled something he couldn’t hear.
Grady continued, “I guess when I realized you and Asher had something going on, realizing I’d missed my window, I blew up. He’s got a reputation, and I know you haven’t dated much, so I worried that you were being taken advantage of.”
Speaking louder this time, he could hear Sophie. “Apparently I give off that vibe. Thank you for worrying about me, but whatever it is about me that gives off this vibe, it’s not innocence. I just know myself well enough to know that I won’t pursue anyone that I can’t see myself with fifty years from now. Not anymore, anyway.”
Silence reigned for a moment. A hopeful twinge fluttered in his gut. Fifty years from now, huh?
He tried to picture what was happening. Grady was sitting down now? “And that’s not me, huh?”
“Sorry, no. I really wanted to feel that way about you. You’re everything I’m looking for, but as Freya would put it, the pheromones just aren’t there.”
“What is it about Asher? I was worried it was because Pippa warned you off about him and you had a forbidden fruit complex.” A long pause. Hopefully Sophie was giving him a good death glare. Or laughing in his face. “I heard about his history with Pippa’s friends.”
Sophie’s voice was surprisingly calm. He wanted to punch him in the Adam’s apple. “First, that was a long time ago, and I don’t think Pippa sees her brother for who he is today. Nor was Pippa as good of friends with those particular few as she cares to recall.
“Not that it’s any of your business, but we haven’t had sex. Second, if you got to know Asher at all, I think you’d like him too. He’s clever and thoughtful. He’s only been out of the navy for a short while and went through a lot. Give him time.”
Somehow, Grady redeemed himself. “Okay. Lincoln likes him, and thinks you’re pretty capable, so I won’t tear the guy apart just yet.”
As if. Navy SEAL. Expert in the kicking ass business. Not that he would; he was also trained when to use restraint. Tempting, however.
“You going to tell Pippa or just send her a wedding invitation when the time comes?”
He could hear Sophie calming, a genuine smile in her voice. “We’re holding off on saying anything to her until after the wedding. Pippa has enough on her plate right now. I just need to find a way to let her know she and I will always be friends, no matter what happens with Asher.”
“Your secret is safe with me. For now. But, if he tries to pull anything, I’m raising the alarm, got it?”
“Thanks, Grady.”
Asher could hear Grady closing the bedroom door as he left. Moments later, he was about to sneak away when the bathroom door opened, the doorknob nearly smacking him on the ass as he tried to sneak away, undetected.
“Get all that?” Sophie’s eyebrow was raised in challenge. The grin on her face destroyed any chance she may have had at appearing menacing.
“I won’t kick his ass just yet.” He leaned down and pulled her against him. Wrapping her arms around his neck, her body molded against his. Pressing his lips to hers, he savored the sweet, easiness of the kiss.
Pulling back, Sophie sniffed the air, and a satisfied smile passed her lips. “Did I smell Italian for dinner? I’m starving.”
Ignoring the mouthwatering scent of dinner wafting about the house, he stared at her mouth and growled, “Me too.” Lifting her up onto the bathroom counter, he devoured, feasting on her warm lips, soft neck, hands running along the smooth skin of her back.
Ending the building tension before things got out of hand, he ended the kiss and shook his head to clear his one-track mind. Sophie did the same, hopping off the counter. He was falling so deep and so fast for Sophie, it was becoming painful to be unable to shout it from the damn rooftops. Not to mention, sexual frustration was a bitch and a half. A little release would go a long way to improving his mood.
Turning, he headed out through his bedroom to change into a dry shirt. Just to piss off his dad, he pulled on a ripped up old Disturbed concert tee to match his dark mood. He was itching for a fight but wouldn’t start one. Unless provoked.