Chapter 16
Sixteen
Pen
He doesn’t live far, and I’m there in less than ten minutes.
Punching in the code he gave me—Balderdash!
, seriously—I wait as the massive brushed steel gates silently glide back.
They reveal a wide drive that curves sharply to the left.
As soon as I make the turn, the house looms into view.
My immediate impression is of glass and steel garment boxes piled haphazardly and punctuated here and there with enormous wood panels.
It’s beautiful in the modern way of glossy airport terminals.
It hugs the cliffside as though a giant plunked those boxes into the earth before moving on.
August is already coming out of the gigantically tall wood door as I pull up. He skids to a stop and wavers there as I cut my engine.
“Holy shit,” he exclaims, holding a hand to his chest in dramatic fashion.
Taking off my helmet, I look up at him in confusion. “What’s wrong?”
Shaking his head slightly, his eyes are wide and on me. “Give me a second here, Sweets. I gotta . . . You just . . .” His hand lifts, weakly gesturing in my direction. “Seriously, Pen?”
With a roll of my eyes, I press down the kickstand and step off my bike. “Have you been drinking? Because I don’t think that’s wise.”
August waves my question away with a distracted hand. He’s still staring at me like I have two heads as he trots down the front walk. “You’re riding a motorcycle!”
“Ah, yeah.” I glance at my bike, then back to him. “You have a problem with that?”
“Pen . . .” He sounds a bit weepy. “A motorcycle!”
In two strides, he’s before me. He clasps my waist, and, with a soft growl, tugs me close. My hands land on his chest to steady myself. Against my palms, his heart thuds quick and strong. It’s so sudden, he’s so big and solid, I struggle to breathe properly.
With another sound of frustrated distress, he rests his forehead on mine. “Do you have any idea how incredibly sexy that was to see?”
“Oh, for Pete’s sake.” I’m so flustered, I don’t know whether to laugh or wrap my arms around him.
“I don’t know who Pete is,” he murmurs. “But I empathize with his plight. I’m gonna need a minute.”
He’s gently rubbing up and down my waist, going a little farther down my hips with each pass. It feels good. Far too good. Heat swirls in lazy circles deep in my core, weakening my knees and urging me to drift closer to August, to lean against his firm length. I resist, but only just.
“Don’t tell me you’re turned on by this?” I say weakly.
“Okay, I won’t.” He’s kneading the dip of my waist now, his breath escaping in deep gusts that make my skin shiver.
“August . . .” It comes out a little desperate. Whether it’s for him to act or to back off, I’m not sure. He’s done my head in. This is August, the boy who ignored me our entire childhood.
A fine shudder wracks his body, the grip on me going tight. He expels a breath and steps back. When his eyes meet mine, they’re strained around the edges, his smile brittle. “Not cool, Penelope.”
“What!”
One brow lifts high. “You gotta warn me before you up and do hella sexy things like pull into my driveway on a motorcycle—and wearing a tight leather jacket too!”
“Oh, for crying out . . . I can’t tell if you’re joking or not.”
He nods once, shortly. “I know. It’s very annoying.”
“To me,” I correct. “Annoying to me.”
“Uh-huh.” No longer listening, he steps around me to study the bike.
My ride is a 2019 Triumph Street Twin in a matte ironstone finish, which gives it a nice vintage styling.
“God, the way you look on this . . .” Quicksilver eyes flash with interest. “When did you start riding motorcycles?”
“Last spring. I needed a cheap mode of transportation. The seller was motivated, and I got it for under six thousand, which is much cheaper than a car. This is LA. I rarely have to worry about the weather. I can get around quick and easy. And . . .” I shrug. “It’s fun.”
“I fucking bet.” He runs his fingers over the leather tooled seat. “She’s very pretty, and a good size for you. Fast?”
“She can be.” I flash a smile. “But I’m a responsible driver.”
August grabs my backpack and straightens to his full height. “I must say, Pen. You keep surprising me.”
“Lots of people ride motorcycles.”
His look is admonishing. “Penelope Morrow, don’t try to play this off with that insouciant tone. You go around all sweet and shy, wearing those cute little good girl sweaters—” I bristle and he grins “—and then come roaring down my drive like Lara Croft—”
“Lara Croft! I hardly—”
“Just like her! And it makes my head spin.”
“Are you going to stand out here all day talking crazy or are you going to show me your house?”
August takes my hand in his. “I’m done for now. Come inside. I think I need a lie-down after all this.”
“Goof.”
The inside of August’s home is cavernous and cleanly beautiful. Our footsteps click along the polished limestone floors and echo in the empty space. Huge abstract art canvases hang here and there bringing splashes of color, while twisty-shaped alabaster glass chandeliers glow overhead.
“It’s very serene,” I tell him as he leads me into a great room that’s punctuated by a towering stone slab fireplace.
“It’s totally void of personality,” he says offhandedly and sets my pack on the couch.
“You could say that about a lot of houses.” A glass wall that must be at least fifteen feet wide exposes a picture-perfect view of the valley below and skyscrapers of downtown in the distance. I turn back to August. “What would you add to make it a home?”
Frowning in thought, he looks around and rubs the back of his neck. “I don’t think there’s anything to be done that could make this homey. It’s just too big.”
“Why did you buy this place if you didn’t like it?”
He keeps his gaze firmly on the room, but a slight flush crosses the bridge of his nose. “Let’s just say I was still riding the high of being drafted, and mistakes were made.”
“Okay.”
My simple acceptance has his mouth pursing.
He gives himself a shake as if stirring out of deeper thoughts and finally meets my eyes.
A gleam of self-deprecation enters his. “Truth, Pen? I think what I really wanted was to get something the polar opposite of my parents’ place.
That doing so would somehow cement my adult status, and I’d make a definitive statement. ”
“Well, you definitely accomplished that.”
“Problem is, once I actually moved in, I realized I vastly prefer the house I grew up in.” A quick glance around has him sighing. “Whenever I’m here, all I feel is weirdly exposed and ridiculously alone.”
My heart squeezes at the thought. It must show, because he pushes a smile and cants his head. “I mainly hang in the outdoor living area. Let’s go out there.”
Under the shady overhang of the main house, there are two seating areas: one facing a giant TV, and the other a black stone fireplace. A bar stands between them.
But the real gem of the outside is the infinity pool that runs the entire length of the house. It shines like a mirror, reflecting the California sun and the blue sky above.
“I do laps here,” August says with a fond look at the pool. “It’s great for endurance training and gives my joints a break.”
“I try to get some laps in at Pops and Pegs’s when I can.”
His smile is soft when he turns my way. “Eventually, you’ll have to call it your house, Pen. Because it is now.”
“You’re right, I know. Eventually, I’ll get there.”
“Have a seat at the bar. I’ll makes smoothies while you tell me about your weird morning.”
I slide onto a barstool as August rummages in the outdoor fridge for ingredients.
“Sarah kicked me out.”
He pauses in the act of pulling out the blender from under the bar. “The fuck?”
I recap my conversation with Sarah. And August makes us blueberry yogurt smoothies that are thick and delicious. He serves them in tall glasses with aluminum straws.
“You’re an artist with this,” I tell him after taking a long taste. “What makes it so thick?”
“Chia seeds. They have a variety of health benefits.” He gives me a knowing look. “Smashburgers and diners aside, I actually follow a pretty strict diet our team nutritionist set up. Now, back to your roommate situation. This Daniel and Priti lived there before?”
He leads me to a long U-shaped lounge couch, and I take a seat on one of the chaise sections. “Daniel and Priti were a couple and they lived there with Sarah. But then Sarah slept with Daniel—”
“Awkward.”
“Not yet.” I take another pull from my smoothie then set the glass aside. “Priti didn’t mind. The trouble started when she slept with Sarah too.”
“And that Daniel minded?”
“He minded that he wasn’t included. That pissed him off. Then Priti called him a hypocrite.”
“Where’s the lie?”
I grin. “Exactly. They fought a lot and eventually, Priti moved out. Daniel stayed. In came Becca.”
August’s eyes are alight with interest. “Don’t tell me. Becca and Sarah?”
“Yes, but then Daniel wanted in on the action. He figured Becca would be into it. But she only liked women. She left, and apparently said the atmosphere was unhealthily predatory.” I stop and raise a shoulder. “I learned this from Daniel, so the source is spotty at best.”
August stretches his long legs before him at an angle to avoid the coffee table. “I’ve got to say, this makes my college years look boring. And I was a star athlete.”
“No instances of ‘ring around the frat house’ sex for you?”
“My roommates were football players, so no. Even if I’d been so inclined, sleeping around isn’t my thing.”
“No?” I strive for nonchalance. I don’t really want to picture him with flocks of bed partners. But his comment has me wondering.
The corners of his mouth curl up slightly as though he sees right through me.
“No. Mom taught us that both the act and our partners deserve respect. I never felt comfortable going all out like that. Besides, when it’s offered from every corner at every turn, it kind of takes the thrill out of things. ”
If he says so.