Inside Out (Willow Springs #2)

Chapter 1

Natalia

Ihate his face.

He’s disgustingly handsome. Handsome enough for both of my fathers to fall head over heels if I ever brought him home to them—which I’ll never do.

Rowan is the kind of guy you see in a movie, or modeling for Calvin Klein, or a cologne. The point is, he’s hot. His hair is blond but more golden, a shade I think most people have to dye their hair to achieve.

Or maybe he does dye his hair.

I’m going to tell people that.

“Natalia!”

I gasp. “What?”

“You got something right…” Lana points to the corner of her mouth with her finger.

I go to wipe my mouth and she laughs. Rolling my eyes, I hiss, “I hate you.”

She smiles as Isabelle says, “You know, I think he has a crush on you too, by the way.”

“He doesn’t.” He couldn’t.

“Aha!” Isabelle exclaims, her finger in my face. “You didn’t deny having a crush.”

“You can’t have a crush on your sworn enemy.”

Lana gapes. “Of course you can. It’s the hottest kind of crush.”

“He also isn’t your sworn enemy,” Isabelle laughs. “You’re so dramatic.”

I snarl at her.

Rowan Asher is the devil. All he does is tease and poke at me like he’s trying to flirt. He comes into my bakery twice a day and orders the same stupid things, smirks, and sarcastically tells me what else I should try baking because I’d make it well. It infuriates me.

And he has the playboy look. You know, the one where he obviously knows he’s attractive and uses it to his advantage. It makes me sick, and it makes me wonder why anyone would ever try to sleep with him.

“He isn’t hot.” Yes, he is.

“Yes he is,” Isabelle disagrees. Everyone disagrees. It’s annoying.

“Shut up,” I groan.

I don’t know why I hate him, not completely anyway. Maybe it’s because he’s just so…nice. And I don’t understand why he’s nice to me.

Lana points her finger at me. “Be nice, it’s her birthday.”

“Exactly! Let’s go sing Happy Birthday to me; I want to try your cake.”

“It’s strawberry with—”

“Nope.” Isa stands and smooths out her dress. “I said I wanted to be surprised!”

Following Isabelle’s orders, we gather at the pastry table I set up— everything freshly baked by me. Isa sits behind it and Nico lights the candles, her brother Luca giving him a side-eye when he does.

I take out my phone for pictures and videos, and a shoulder lightly bumps mine. My lip curls and I look up at the ridiculously tall, beautiful demon, but he only grins down at me.

“Gremlin,” Rowan says.

“Demon.”

Somehow his grin widens. “I liked your macarons by the way.”

“Shut up.”

He chuckles. “It was a compliment.”

“Was it? Or is it going to be followed by criticism?”

“No criticism today.”

He never criticizes anyway. I’m convinced he’ll eat anything I bake. “How chivalrous.”

The candles are lit and I hit record just before everyone starts singing. I’m singing along and smiling until the six-foot-three man stands directly in front of me.

I growl and lightly kick the back of his knee, making him nearly fall. “Move.”

He smirks over his shoulder and whispers, “I can’t see.”

“You’re a fucking giant!”

He turns to gaze down into my eyes. “Your arms were in my way.”

I gape at him. “Because I’m short!”

“That sounds like a you problem.”

I smack his phone out of his hand and it falls onto the grass. He gasps and gapes at me before he does the same thing. “I swear—if it’s cracked, you’re buying me a new phone.”

“You did it to my phone first!”

“Are you two done?” Christian asks, arms crossed and glaring at his friend.

Rowan clears his throat and runs his fingers through his hair, his muscles flexing under his sweater and his tanned, muscled forearms on display. I peel my eyes away from him and toward our friends who all glare disappointedly.

“Sorry, Isa,” I say, ashamed, and pick up our phones.

Isabelle shrugs, tapping her fingers against each other with her usual whimsy smile. “That’s okay. Now just the two of you sing.”

Rowan and I blink at her. “Isa—”

“I said sing,” she says with a scary calmness.

Everyone else in our group smiles and waits, especially Lana who’s smirking like this is what I deserve. I look up at Rowan, finding his eyes are already on me, then back at Isabelle.

And then we sing “Happy Birthday,” just the two of us, as cruel punishment.

“We share a birthday,” Luca grumbles.

“We’re adults,” Isabelle retorts. “I get my own party if I want my own party. You celebrated yesterday with the guys!”

Luca rolls his eyes and waves it off while Lana and I snicker beside the twins.

“Thank you for hosting.” Isa hugs Lana in the foyer of her and Christian’s lavish, new home.

“Of course,” Lana says, hugging tightly. “We have all the space.”

Isabelle hugs Christian next, thanking him, and Lana pulls me into her. “So, should we talk about the whole Rowan scandal?”

I shake my head and pinch her side. “No,” I grumble.

Lana squeals and pulls an empty-handed Isabelle into her other side. “I love you guys.”

Isabelle snorts. “So, Lana is drunk.”

“I’m not drunk,” Lana sings just as Christian says, “She’s tipsy.”

We’re all proud of Christian and his sobriety. During the party planning, he wanted us to feel comfortable drinking things other than juice, lemonade, water, or sodas. And of course, we all felt terrible about it and denied it, but he insisted that it was okay—that he was strong enough.

Isa and I held Lana on many sleepless nights, and we don’t want to do it again—even though we would. But we trust Christian. Over a year and a half sober, and he’s okay. And he’s taking care of one of my bestest friends—my sister.

Both of them are my sisters, and Elena is-slash-was too, before she disappeared from Willow Springs to somewhere in New York, turning a quartet into a trio.

Anyway, we brought wine and beer, and Lana was wary about it herself.

Eventually, she ended up pouring herself a glass of white wine and eased up on the idea.

Throughout the night, she didn’t spare a glance at Christian, trusting him entirely.

It’s admirable, really—their love. I wish I had that.

I wish I could feel that connected to someone or something other than my bakery.

Isabelle has her ballet studio, Lana has her bookshop café, Julian has his gym, Rowan has his restaurant, Luca loves being a firefighter, and Nicolas loves being a second grade teacher. And me? I love my bakery. But I’m so disconnected from everything that I’m not sure I even love that anymore.

Lana squeezes us tighter, so we squeeze her back. “I love you guys,” she cries.

“Oh no,” Isa mutters. “CoCo, get her to bed.”

“I didn’t even drink.” Lana pouts like a child being told to go to bed.

“Sure, but you’re overly emotional right now.”

Lana gapes. “What.”

Christian chuckles and wraps his arm around her, kissing the curve of her neck. “It’s okay. I love when you’re emotional.”

“Thank you, baby,” she whispers back. Christian keeps kissing her neck and her eyes roll slightly. Lana giggles, giddy and flushed, and Isa and I yack. “Okay, time for everyone to go now!”

“Ew,” I gag teasingly. “Just say you’re kicking us out so you can fuck.”

“Natalia.” Christian sighs, his eyes stern. “Please leave so we can fuck.”

I groan and roll my eyes, everyone snickering as we say our final goodbyes.

In the expansive driveway, Isa and I meet the rest of our group.

“Pretty sure they’re already doing it against the door,” Luca jokes but shudders.

I snort, and Rowan does too. The guys say goodbye to each other—save for Julian who had to leave earlier to take Grace home after she cried because of a tummy ache—then Isa and I say goodnight to her brother and her not-really-forbidden love.

“See you tomorrow at Mami and Papi’s, yeah?” Luca asks his sister over the top of his car. She shouts out her agreement and then moves to hug Rowan, who flicks me a look over her shoulder.

“Happy birthday, Isabelle,” Rowan says with a soft smile before he makes his way to his SUV.

Nico lingers with his hands in the pockets of his bomber jacket. “Goodnight, Isa,” Nico says and leans to kiss her temple.

I watch how easily Isabelle gets flustered by her childhood (and adulthood) crush as she stifles a giggle. They should just do it. Just make out and do it already.

It’s been will they, won’t they since high school and mostly to spare Luca’s feelings and opinions. They haven’t acted on their crushes out of too much consideration for everyone else.

Isa watches Nico walk away and step into his car, flushed pink from cheeks to ears. She deserves to be selfish for once.

Then she squeals like the four of us girls used to do in middle school whenever we would talk about our crushes. “I hate this,” she groans, pouting. “He’s so pretty.”

I throw my arm around her as we strut down the driveway to the street where our cars are. “Oh, Isa.” I sigh dramatically. “I say, you should just do him.”

She jams her elbow into my ribs. “Stop. There’s already weird tension between him and Luca because of me, and it’s pissing me off. He acts like because he’s my twin and a man he has to protect me from everything.”

“You could just tell him you’re an adult and you’re gonna do who you wanna do,” I tease, and Isabelle chuckles.

“It’s fine.” She frowns. “One day, I guess.”

I frown and hug her the best I can with our height difference, rubbing circles on her back. “I’m sorry, birthday girl. But hey, he kissed your head.”

“He did, didn’t he?” She giggles again and pulls back. “Feels very middle school right now.”

I shrug. “No shame in an adult crush.”

She arches a reprimanding brow. “Like your crush on Rowan?”

“Goodnight,” I mutter.

“Everyone let us know when you get home!” Christian shouts loudly and we all respond with a thumbs up before he closes the front door of his house.

“I thought they were already fucking,” Isa whispers.

I laugh with her. “So did I.”

“Goodnight, Nat,” Isa says, giving me one more quick hug.

“Goodnight, Isa.”

As soon as she releases me to get into her car, and everyone else is gone, I find myself alone in the dark, again.