The Heart of Us, page 9
“You wanna do it? I'll even go easy on ya,” he mocks with a wink.
I laugh, some of my anxiousness releasing. “Sure. You set up the game. I gotta call Oakley really quick so she doesn't worry.”
“You got it, boss.”
“Har har.”
Easton flashes me his devilish boyish grin. With everything going on in his life and with the shop, he still makes an effort to keep my mind occupied.
I walk up to my room and dial my sister's number. She answers on the second ring.
“How'd it go?”
“Actually, it went fine. Easton acted like my personal bodyguard. The nerves were still present, but I didn't worry about anyone coming for me. If they tried, he would've tackled them in two seconds.”
“Would it be weird to wish Justin would just so I could see him get his ass beat?”
“Oakley!”
“You should let me meet Easton on FaceTime so I can see for myself.”
“See what?”
“What's making you drool every day. I think it's my right to be introduced to my future brother-in-law.”
“You're ridiculous. I'm hanging up.” I glare.
“Wait! Before you go and do God only knows what with him, I just wanted to say that given the circumstances, you've been happier this past week than I've seen you in months, hell, years. I hope this version of you is here to stay.”
“Thanks, sis. I feel a ton of mixed emotions, but I can definitely say that happiness is somewhere on that list. He showed me how to surf a couple of days ago. That was a ton of fun.”
“You? Surfing? I can't picture it.” She chuckles.
“Sure did. He even said I was pretty good too.”
“I bet he did,” she sing-songs in her sarcastic tone. “He got a front row seat staring at your bootylicious ass.”
I roll my eyes, even though she can't see me, and sigh. The majority of what comes out of my sister's mouth is sass and sarcasm.
“He wasn't looking,” I reassure her. “He remained professional the whole time.”
“Were you wearing a nun suit?”
“Uh, no. A bikini bottom and swimming shirt.”
“Oh then sis, he was absolutely checking out your ass. Probably your tits too.”
“The last time I had a guy even look my way like that was over a decade ago.”
“Based on what you've told me these past two months and how protective of you he's been, I can't imagine him not noticing how gorgeous you are. If Easton's a twentysomething red-blooded man who likes women, he's definitely noticing.”
“Well, even so, that doesn't mean anything will happen,” I remind her. “In fact, any kind of sexual relationship is off the table. I'm not in the market for one.”
“If that's the case, maybe you should introduce him to your very single and sexy sister.”
I snort. “Sure. When you can reassure me you won't jump his bones like a wild bear, I'll get right on that.”
She laughs, not giving me the reassurance I need, but I change the subject and let her know he's waiting on me in the game room.
“Gonna play pool, huh? More ways to gawk at your ass.”
“Goodbye, you pain in my butt.”
“Love you!” she calls out before I end the call.
Her generation seriously has no filter.
“Everything okay?” Easton asks when I return twenty minutes later. “I thought maybe you fell asleep.”
“No, Oakley's a chatterbox. You'll find out someday, I'm sure.”
“Is she coming to visit?”
“I don't know, but she's been persistent about meeting you. Even if it's through FaceTime.”
“So you've been talking me up, huh? What’re you telling her?” The corner of his lips tilt up into a shit-eating grin.
“That you can't cook or change out smoke detector batteries, and you have a co-dependent hamster named George. Oddly, that only made her want to meet you even more.”
My serious tone causes his jaw to drop, and after a few seconds, I burst out laughing.
“Low blow about George, by the way.” He points at me. “But otherwise, accurate.”
“It's okay,” I coo and smile at his cage. Easton must've brought him in while I was gone. “Most people get attached to their pets, so you aren't much different.”
“Well for that little smart-ass remark, you get to break.”
I take the pool stick from his grip, rub some chalk on the tip, then line up the shot. As I focus on my aim, my thoughts go back to Oakley's comments about him staring at my ass. As I glance over at him, I notice his gaze wandering to my backside.
“Is there something wrong with my posture?” I ask, bringing his attention to my face.
His gaze snaps to my eyes as he scratches his cheek. “Uh...well, you should spread your legs out a bit more. They should be shoulder-width apart with one foot forward. Lower your chest closer toward the table so you can properly align the stick to the center of the ball.” His deep baritone sends shivers down my spine.
I follow his instructions and adjust my stance. When he approves with a nod, I make my shot.
“Not bad.”
No balls went in.
“Next time, arch your back and add a little more force.”
Easton goes next and sinks two balls. “Guess that means you're stripes.” He takes another turn and misses.
I walk around to the other side, trying to find a good angle. The perfect one is in front of him. Instead of moving when I lean over the table, his feet stay planted behind me.
“How's the view from there?” I mock.
“Not bad, but I'd say you need to go lower.”
I blink. “Excuse me?”
Easton presses his palm to the small curve of my back. My shirt rose up when I moved. “Like this,” he states, pushing me down. “It'll allow you to fully see the playing field.”
I gulp as his warm hand presses against my skin. He’s made no attempt to remove it.
“Take your shot, stripes.” His low, husky tone causes pleasure to shoot between my thighs.
What the hell is happening to me?
After ten seconds of trying to collect myself, I strike the ball and watch as my ball goes straight into the pocket.
“Beautiful,” he murmurs.
Slowly, I stand and look over at him.
“Did you feel that?”
I blink a few times, my heart racing a million miles an hour. “W-What?”
“Your posture. How you were able to get the ball in...”
“Yeah. I think I’ve figured it out now.”
He flashes me a wink. “Awesome, let's see you do it again.”
I move to the other side of the table, and this time, he stays in place. Putting myself in the same stance, I focus on the cue ball and aim for the middle pocket. My chest rises and falls as I nervously pull back and slam my stick into it. It shoots forward and hits the side of the table, speeding past where it should’ve gone.
Dammit.
“So close,” Easton says.
He knocks two more of his in, then misses the third before it's my turn again. That time I make it but miss the next. We go back and forth until we each have one ball left.
“Okay, stripes. You got this?”
I grin at his teasing tone because my ball is only inches away from the pocket.
“Get ready to lose,” I taunt.
Easton lifts his arm and reaches behind his neck for the back of his shirt, then slowly pulls it off. “You're making me sweat with all that confidence.” He uses the fabric to wipe off his forehead. My eyes focus on his broad chest and lower to his stomach.
Jesus Christ.
I've seen him shirtless before, but right now, he's close enough to touch and lick that sweat off his body.
His playful wink nearly does me in.
I swallow hard and refocus on the game. Sucking in a breath, I take the shot.
And fucking miss.
“You play dirty.”
“What do you mean? I even taught you the correct stance!” he says innocently. But his smirk isn't fooling me.
I narrow my eyes because he knows exactly what I'm talking about.
“My turn.” He walks around to my side, acting like he's already won.
“Your arrogance is showing,” I tell him.
“You mean my optimism?”
I lick my lips and plant my feet. If he wants this shot, he'll have to do it pressed against me.
“Well, good luck to you then,” I say, crossing my arms.
He starts to lower himself, then realizes he needs to move closer to line up the stick.
“Excuse me, please.”
“Go ahead.” I shrug, and that's when it hits him that I'm playing him right back.
Easton slides into position, and his eyes are level with my ass. I look back at him, and he’s wearing a devilish smirk on his face. Without focusing on the stick or ball, Easton takes his shot. It goes directly into the hole.
“You weren't even looking!” I gasp.
“Trust me, I was.” He winks, moves a few inches over, then smashes the eight ball in.
“That's game, stripes. You wanna knock your last one in for sentimental purposes?”
“You're a cocky shit,” I groan, stepping around him and tossing it into a pocket. “You're supposed to be a gentleman and let the woman win. It's called chivalry.”
He barks out a laugh. “I think I found your first flaw. You hate losing.”
I furrow my brows. “Don’t worry, I have many more than that.” And insecurities too.
He lowers his eyes like he's memorizing every inch of my body. Usually, being under his hard gaze would make me self-conscious, but for once, I'm not. I wish I could read his mind when he looks at me like that.
“Nope, I only see sore loser.” He shrugs, and I roll my eyes.
“You're insufferable,” I mutter, hanging my stick on the wall.
Easton laughs, setting up the table again. “I've heard that a time or two. You hungry?”
“You cooking?” I lift a brow.
“Hell no. That's apparently my one flaw.”
I snort, shaking my head as I walk to the kitchen. “C'mon, since you gave me pool tips, it's time I show you how to make real food.”
“Omelets are real food,” he argues.
“Not the way you make them,” I say with a chuckle.
Once we're behind the counter, he grabs an apron and ties it around his waist. He looks ridiculous, but in a super sexy shouldn't be thinking about my boss kind of way.
Fuck me.
At least he’s taking my mind off my shitstorm life. He’s the perfect distraction.
CHAPTER NINE
EASTON
DAY 10
After Tatum’s second surf lesson early yesterday, I slept in until nine. She's getting the hang of it, and I enjoy watching her. Each time Tatum stands upright on the board, she grows more confident, and I love seeing her find this new happy version of herself. Every day we try to do something different to pass the time, and honestly, I can't believe a week and a half has passed. Updates from the insurance company and police department have been slow, but since it's Saturday, I won't hear anything until next week.
After lunch, Tatum soaks in the tub, and it takes cleaning the kitchen to distract me from fantasizing about her in there. The lines are blurring more and more each day, but neither of us is ready to admit our underlying feelings. Tatum's going through a major life change, and I don’t want to complicate things more, but I’m certain she's giving me the same signs I’m giving her. Tatum wants me as much as I want her.
My phone vibrates, and I find a message from Piper.
Piper: I don't want you to be worried about a strange truck pulling into the driveway, so I’m just letting you know a delivery is coming for you today! It will have instructions, so READ THEM.
She’s a bossy little shit, but I smile at her aggressiveness.
Easton: Geez, you sending me a cookbook?
Piper: Nope, 10000x better!
Easton: Not gonna lie, I'm a little scared.
Piper: Make sure Tatum is there! You'll need her help.
My mind goes to a game or a puzzle maybe, but I don't know why she'd be so excited about that.
Easton: Alright, sis. I'll keep a lookout for it, I guess.
Piper: I can't wait!
I have no idea what’s up her sleeve, but I never put anything extra or over the top past her.
Ten minutes later, the doorbell rings, and I'm shocked it arrived so soon. I find a brown box on the porch and bring it into the kitchen. There's nothing on the outside to give away what it could be, but it feels light. Now, I’m even more confused.
I rip off the tape just as Tatum walks out with a towel on her head.
“Hey, what's that?”
“I was just about to figure that out. Piper sent it.”
Inside is another box, but it's black.
“What do you think it is?” she asks.
“She told me she sent instructions and to have you help me with it, but I don't see any.”
Tatum unravels her towel and throws her hair into a wet messy bun. Even undone and fresh out of a bath, she looks stunning.
“Is that it? That little white card,” she says, pointing at the other side of the box.
“Oh, it must be.” I rip it off and open the envelope.
* * *
I hope you like the one I picked out. Take it in the shower with you and imagine your boss's hands and tongue all over you.
Love,
Your absolutely favorite little sister
PS—I included some scented lube ;-)
* * *
I blink and swallow hard as I try to come to terms with what the fuck I just read. This can't be from Piper.
“What's it say?” Tatum asks.
“Uh...I'm not sure this package is for me.”
“Oh. Who's it for?”
I hand her the note and watch as her eyes nearly bug out of her head. Her palm covers her mouth, and it takes her a few seconds to speak. “Oh my God.”
Her cheeks turn a sexy shade of red before she quickly lifts the lid and peeks inside. “I'm going to die. After I kill my sister.”
“Over a vibrator? Don't most chicks have those?” I ask, trying to reassure her that she has nothing to be embarrassed about.
“I'm sure they do, but I wasn't referring to that. I cannot believe she wrote that note. Easton, I'm so—”
“Tatum, it's okay. I know how siblings can be. I'm sure she said it to get a reaction out of you. It's no big deal.”
I cover her other hand with mine and give it a little squeeze. Whether or not her sister's words are true, I don't want Tatum to feel awkward. It's taken us long enough to be comfortable together, and I'd hate to backtrack. I enjoy her company, but she's still my employee, and we need to maintain professional boundaries.
That's what the logical part of my brain says anyway.
The other part wants me to open that box and use that vibrator on her until she screams my name and comes all over it.
“I'm going to just...take this upstairs. You know, out of sight and out of mind. And then I'm going to drown myself in the ocean. Be right back.”
I chuckle at how frazzled she is. Not over the fact that she uses a sex toy but because of her sister's comments about her boss, me. If they weren't true, there's no way she'd be acting this way.
It takes Tatum twenty-five minutes to come back downstairs. She's changed her clothes and brushed out her hair, looking pretty as always.
“So?”
“So what?” She furrows her brows as she sits next to me on the couch.
“Did you give your new vibrator a test run?”
She stands, but I quickly grab her wrist and pull her down. “Oh come on, I'm just teasing.”
She shoots me a glare, and it causes me to laugh. “How about I share an embarrassing story with you so we're on an even playing ground? Then you can make fun of me for it all you want.”
Tatum folds her arms over her chest and stares at me. “That'll depend on how bad this story is.”
I turn my body toward her with a grin. “I had a major crush on a teacher in high school. She was at least ten to twelve years older than me, and it was the first time I realized I was attracted to older women. Of course, the circumstances made it a thousand percent illegal, but I needed a way to get my feelings out before I embarrassed myself. So I started writing in a journal. Random thoughts I had, what I noticed about her that day, and that eventually turned into poetry.”
“Oh my God,” she mutters, holding back a smile. Yeah, she already knows where this is going.
“Halfway through my junior year, she was offering after-school tutoring to five students only. You bet your ass I was first in line. Even though I was acing her English class, I was prepared to dumb myself down just to get her attention.”
Tatum looks at me with pity in her eyes and a smile on her lips. My plan to make her feel better is already working.
“My teacher knows I don't need the extra help, so instead, she asks me to help tutor one of the other students after school. Of course, I agree because I wanted any reason to be around her. He was a guy I had trouble with before, and I’d put him in his place a few times. You know the type of prick, a top athlete who talks a lot of shit. While I was taking notebooks from my backpack, my journal fell out, and he grabbed it. Before I could stop him, he opened it and started reading.”
“Oh no...” Tatum smirks. “He saw all your private thoughts.”
“Yeah, then he read them aloud for everyone else to hear, even her. I’d stupidly written her entire name in one of my poems so I couldn’t even lie about who it was about. He was bigger than me, and I was too chickenshit to fight him. From that point on, I was teased for being in love with our teacher.”
“How'd she react?”
“She was humiliated, and so was I. Even worse was when she asked me to stay after, and the other students started a rumor that we were having an affair. News spread fast. Whispers about me echoed through the halls. I did my best to ignore them, but then a week later, the principal and counselor brought me into the office. They asked if I was being sexually abused or taken advantage of by a teacher. Of course I said no, but they got a hold of the notebook and used it as evidence against her. Some things I wrote were...graphic. Fantasies. With details. All in my sixteen-year-old head. They thought it was legit. The school placed her on leave while they decided what to do. Once they chose to take it to court, I had to testify and explain my fascination with her in great detail to prove that she’d never touched me.”
