23. Aiden
AIDEN
“So, you lasted one class?” Mason asked Elle’s friend Taryn across the large, farmhouse-style dining room table.
Taryn laughed, shifting her weight forward as she lifted the glass of red wine beside her plate.
“I lasted ten minutes , Mason. I went into that one class, decided I’d rather stab my eyeballs out with a fork than listen to an entire lecture on statistics, and walked right out.
” Taryn shrugged. “Went right over to the guidance office, switched my major to dance, and never looked back.”
“What I can’t understand,” Quinn said as he leaned back into his chair, “is how you possibly thought you could have done economics in the first place. You’re a natural performer.”
That was putting it mildly. Aiden had seen Taryn dance on more than one occasion—both on stage with Elle, when his sister-in-law still performed in public—though that was getting rarer these days—and at private functions like Elle and Quinn’s wedding in Costa Rica.
The beautiful Black woman owned any stage she walked on. She had presence in spades.
Taryn set her napkin beside her plate. “Maybe, but my parents wanted me to do something in STEM. They thought a degree in the arts was useless and gave me hell for it. Now they’ve come around.
” She winked at Elle. “Helps that Heartbeats has grown so much. They don’t worry about me not being able to pay the bills anymore with the steady income of the dance studio. ”
“Not to mention that you’re a co-owner of a highly successful business,” Elle said with a proud nod.
“I’m jealous, I have to admit,” Isla said from her seat beside Elle. “I miss the performing arts so much. Of course, in my case, no one really fought me when I tried to pursue them, so I suppose I had it easier.”
“Maybe there’s a theater troupe you can get involved with in Costa Rica?” Elle asked, reaching for the video monitor beside her. Tara had fallen asleep for the night a couple of hours earlier, but Elle seemed to check the monitor every few minutes as though to make certain she was still there.
“Yeah, I don’t know,” Isla said. She looked down at the empty plate in front of her, then absentmindedly reached for another piece of garlic bread to sop up the remains of the marinara.
“Weirdly, it’s hard performing in Spanish.
Even though I’ve spoken it since birth, it doesn’t feel like my native language.
Even my mum and I default to English most of the time. ”
Aiden’s stomach clenched as he caught the look of sadness in her eyes. He’d replayed their conversation in the car so many times all day. He wanted more than anything to be alone with her and dig deeper into the wounds that were clearly weighing her down.
“I’m not sure where I belong anymore, Aiden—what world I’m really a part of.” She’d been so sad when she’d said that to him. And he wanted to help her through it—especially because he knew what she was feeling.
Give her the room to talk to him the way he’d been able to talk to her.
“I always forget what you are,” Elle’s friend Hunter said from the other side of the table. “You and Callum are Amertinoish. ”
“I can confirm she has every bit the Latina temper,” Kyle said as he pushed his chair back from the table. “Almost broke my surfboard because it was in the way of her supply closet one day.”
“Yeah, well, maybe you shouldn’t leave your junk lying around my office,” Isla shot back with a smirk.
Kyle laughed. “On that note, I’m going to head out and take advantage of being home to see some of my own friends instead of hanging out with the same losers I see all the time.
” He winked at Isla, then went over to his sister and kissed her cheek.
“Tara excluded, of course. Thanks for dinner, guys.”
“Hey, I resent that,” Elle said with a look of mock outrage. “You can’t come to my house, eat my homemade lasagna, then call me a loser and Irish goodbye me.”
“Technically, it’s not an Irish goodbye if he says goodbye,” Aiden said dryly.
Mason snorted. “And believe me, Aiden would know. He’s the master of slipping out sight unseen from every family event.”
Elle stood and hugged her brother. “Let me walk you to your car at least. Who knows when I’ll see you next. You’re home so rarely that I’m beginning to feel like both my siblings have abandoned me.”
As Elle and Kyle left, Aiden glanced at his own brothers. It's funny how, even though they all got along, he wouldn’t entirely characterize their relationship as close. Certainly not the sort of friendship that Elle seemed to have with her siblings. Or even the way that Callum and Isla were.
Maybe it was because there was four of them. Or maybe because Quinn and he had fallen out for years until Aiden had left the military and started at Camden Enterprises, giving Quinn the freedom he’d longed for to leave the family business and start a nonprofit organization.
And, unfortunately, Mason was three years younger than Aiden, so while they’d grown up together, they’d never been friends , per se.
Logan was even younger. Maybe more like Aiden in personality—funny as hell, too, and a more natural rebel—but too young for them to have gotten in the sort of trouble Aiden had gotten into with Quinn.
“Are we pulling out a board game?” Hunter asked with a waggle of his brows. “I brought a few good ones.”
Oh God. Aiden couldn’t think of anything worse.
“Sure. Go ahead and set one up,” Quinn said with an affable smile. “I’ll join you in the living room once I take care of some of these dishes.” He rose from his seat.
Isla pushed her chair back and grabbed his plate before Quinn could. “Actually, let me. The cook shouldn’t have to clean, and you guys have been working your tails off all day to host us. I can do the dishes.”
Dammit, why didn’t I think of that?
“I’ll help,” Aiden said, gathering his own plate.
Mason and Quinn both shot him a quizzical look. “This from the man who used to regularly pay us to do his chores?” Quinn asked.
“Wouldn’t be right to leave Isla to it on her own,” Aiden said as casually as possible. Had he seemed too eager?
He gathered more empty plates before anyone could question it and followed Isla to the kitchen. Setting the dishes beside the enormous farmhouse sink, he watched as Isla turned on the tap and reached for the sponge. “Not much of a board game player?”
She laughed, her eyes twinkling as she met his gaze. “No, I love board games. I just genuinely wanted to help—unlike you. Covering up your dislike for their fun activity with my good deed.”
“You wound me,” he said with a look of feigned outrage.
“Yeah, yeah. I know you is more like it. Not to mention, I have solid memories of you cheating at every board game we played as kids.”
“It’s only cheating if you get caught,” Aiden said with a shrug, then headed back to the dining room. Even though the others had made their way to the dining room, he hid his smile as he reentered the room. He didn’t want anyone else to catch the expression he was certain must be on his face.
Because Isla made him smile. She made his heart instantly lighter.
He balanced several more plates in his hands, then carried them back over to the kitchen.
After he’d cleared the table, he set to putting away the leftovers. “I don’t know how Elle and Quinn find anything in this kitchen. It’s bigger than the one at Littleton, and that’s saying something.”
He opened a drawer to reveal neatly organized utensils, then shut it.
Going over to another drawer, then another one, he frowned. No storage containers. He opened a cabinet and smiled. “Quinn would have every spice organized alphabetically,” he said in a deep voice and chortled.
“What makes you think it’s Quinn? Maybe Elle likes things neat and tidy.” A smile played on Isla’s lips as she looked over her shoulder at him.
They both laughed. Not a chance.
Another thing to like about her. She knew his family and their quirks.
Even though he and Lola only saw his family a few times together, she’d felt like a stranger in their midst, clinging to Aiden’s side, forcing laughs and smiles.
At last, he found the container he was looking for and put the leftovers away. Carrying the empty casserole dish toward the sink, he held on to it, looking for a place to set it. The counter beside the sink was already filled with dishes. “Where should I set this?” he asked at last.
“You can just put it in the sink,” Isla said, shifting over slightly to give him room.
He reached around her and set the dish down, his forearm brushing against hers as he did, his hips pressing against her backside with the barest touch.
But it was enough.
Enough to make every inch of him alert at how close she was, his body intoxicated with her instantaneously as he held on to a breath, chest tight.
Isla stiffened too, then she relaxed, leaning against him, her weight pressing harder against his hip, the smooth curve of her arse fitting against his thigh.
Aiden didn’t move his hand from the stream of water or the sudsy water swirling around their fingertips.
God, I want to touch her.
Taste her.
He reached for her fingers, letting his hand brush against hers. Then he leaned closer still, his lips grazing her ear. She’d worn a sexy little dress at dinner—black with a daring halter top neckline, her shoulders bare. “I could barely keep my eyes off you at dinner, you know.”
She smiled. “And why’s that?”
His lips nipped her earlobe. “Because I kept imagining taking this dress off you,” he growled.
Her breath caught softly, something warm and sexy in the sound. Turning her face toward his, her lips tilted toward his and caught his lower lip, soft and firmly between her own.
Fuck. Me.
Just a gentle nibble of a kiss, but enough that he didn’t pull away like he should have. His heart slammed hard into his ribs, and he returned a kiss. Then another.
A longer kiss now, unyielding, insistent, raw with hunger as he withdrew one hand from the sink and slipped it around her waist, dragging her arse tight against his hard cock.
She returned each kiss for kiss, and his body burned as he felt himself spiraling, control slipping quickly from him. Then her sweet, delicious tongue darted against his lips, urging them to part.
And he was helpless.
He tilted his head, angling it better as their mouths opened to each other, their tongues colliding with need. His grip tightened at her waist, the edge of the sink pressing into her stomach as he pushed her closer?—
“You know you guys can use the dishwa?—”
Elle’s voice came through the doorway as they sprang apart.
Oh, Christ.
Isla bit down on her lip, looking down at the running water, her cheeks already turning pink.
Aiden stepped away from Isla and turned to glance at Elle, who stood in the doorway, her mouth still open in shock.
She held Aiden’s gaze, then closed her mouth, swallowing. “Um,” she stammered. “Um...the dishwasher.”
Elle continued into the kitchen, not saying a word about what she’d seen. She didn’t meet Aiden’s eyes again, either. “We have two of them,” she continued, opening one, then the other. “Just throw everything in here.”
Holy fuck, what do I even say?
If he knew Elle, she wouldn’t be against it—or even judge them. But she might tell Quinn. Probably would tell Quinn.
She’d be dying to tell Quinn.
The awkward silence continued as Isla set a plate into one of the dishwashers. “That’s great, thanks,” Isla said quietly.
“No, no. Thank you. Both of you. I really didn’t expect...um, for you to do the dishes.” Elle paused, looking between them again, then gave an overly bright, forced smile. She turned to hurry back toward the door.
Aiden followed Elle and caught her in the dining room. “Please don’t,” he said, his voice edged with a rough scrape.
Elle froze, then turned and glanced at Aiden. She gave him a good, long stare, then squeezed his forearm. “You know I’ll never judge. But you’re playing with fire, Aiden. You’re going to get burned.”
“What if I already am burned?” he asked, stepping closer. “And I still can’t stop?”
“I don’t know,” Elle whispered, her eyes wide and filled with sadness. “But I know you’re a good man, Aiden. And you’re tough. I just hope this doesn’t blow up in your face because you don’t deserve that. But it might. Please be careful.”
She hurried off, leaving him standing alone in the dining room.
Aiden released a breath, his chest aching with the effort. He couldn’t very well go into the living room now and sit with Elle and Quinn, acting like nothing had happened.
But he couldn’t go back to Isla, either. Not yet. Not when his hands were still tingling with the memory of her skin. Not when her taste still lingered on his tongue.
This wasn’t just a mistake anymore. It wasn’t something he could laugh off or walk away from. He knew it, Isla knew it, and now Elle knew it too.
And soon, Callum would know it. One way or another.
He needed to think.
To figure out what he wanted.
And what he was willing to lose.