Chapter 10
TEN
Anson
Fuck.
I did know it was her. There’s no way out of this one except by admitting the truth. Or at least part of it.
“I did.”
“And yet you still…” She gives me the mercy of not repeating my actions back to me like an indictment.
“I did. You were so… I don’t know. Wild and eager.
You just sort of slammed into me and took me by surprise, and I thought you knew it was me.
I assumed Hazel sent you after me to get the whiskey.
Figured you thought I needed some help. When you said your best friend’s brother at the wedding.
I thought you meant Hazel, and therefore me.
“So yeah, I thought it was out of the blue, but stranger things have happened than a bridesmaid going after a groomsman in the heat of the moment. Plus, the wedding just made me realize, nah not realize… It reminded me. Reminded me of how lonely this all is. I figured it couldn’t hurt anyone if I just went along with it and gave you what you wanted. ”
“Is that what you do with those women? Go along with it? Or do you enjoy it?”
“Does it matter?”
“It should. Shouldn’t it? Also, if that’s you going along with it, damn.” She presses her lips together. “I want to know what it’s like when you’re having fun.”
I could show her. I’d happily fucking show her.
I can’t say that though. We’re having a serious conversation.
Hashing out everything that’s happened this week, and it feels like we’re being more honest with each other than we ever have.
I’m not going to sacrifice that because I can’t help silencing a fucking impulse that I should be able to control.
I’d much rather show her than talk about this though.
“I enjoy being with them. Physically. In some cases, there’s a real friendship there. I wouldn’t do it if I didn’t. But it’s a very clear arrangement. Expectations. Boundaries. All those things you said.”
“Does it work?”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, when I talked to her, she made it sound like you helped them transition back to being able to date again. Or at least do casual hookups again with other men.”
“Yeah. For some of them, that’s the goal.”
“And for others?”
“They just want me to be a stand-in. It’s just about the sex. Being able to have it again and not feel all the pressure and expectations.”
“That makes sense.” She pauses like she’s on the verge of asking something else but hesitates.
“You can ask. I don’t mind. Just wasn’t quite prepared is all.”
“Are you still seeing any of them?”
“Occasionally.”
“And they don’t mind what we did Saturday?”
“No. You don’t need to feel guilty if that’s what you’re worried about. I told you we were good, and I meant it.”
“I don’t feel guilty. I feel…” She pauses again, and it takes an eternity before she finishes her sentence. “Curious.” Her lashes lift, and her eyes meet mine, studying me to see how I’ll react. So I take a big fucking risk.
“I got that impression when you made some pretty quick work of getting me out of my pants.”
She laughs, the kind that makes my chest go tight and my heart skip a beat even when I wish it wouldn’t. Her eyes drift to the side like she’s remembering something she doesn’t want to, and her smile fades.
“I haven’t felt a thing since Chris and I broke up. It’s why I agreed to try things with Jasper. I just wanted to feel something again. A swarm. A flutter. A flip. I’d take anything at this point. I thought with all his experience, he must be good for it, you know?” She shrugs.
“I see.” I don’t know what else to say.
I’m picturing her with Jasper again. Remembering the way they kissed. She says he kissed her, and I believe her, but fuck if she didn’t look like she was enjoying it. I hate the thought of it even if it makes me a shitty friend.
“But he kissed me and nothing. Absolutely nothing,” she laments as though she can hear my thoughts. I should feel guilty about the way that warms my black heart. But I can’t bring myself to do it.
“I’m sorry it didn’t work out. Maybe the timing was just wrong.” I try to say the kind of thing I would to anyone else in this situation, but it feels bitter on my tongue.
“Yeah. I’m pretty sure that was a huge part of it. He followed a stranger I met in a whiskey closet who had my heart pounding out of my chest. Damn near killed me when the lights came on.” A soft smile returns to her face, and she glances up at me again.
I lift my hat and smooth my hair back before I put it back on. Sucks for me that I get her heart started in all the wrong ways. Now’s the time for the real apology I was trying to make when I started this conversation.
“About that…” I start, trying and failing to find the right words to set us back on track.
“It’s all I can see when I close my eyes at night. It just replays over and over,” she admits. “I can’t stop thinking about it.”
I’m knocked fucking speechless by her admission. Any sort of capable answer I would have had for someone else is out of my reach. It’s the last thing I expected. But she doesn’t stop there.
“I guess what I’m saying is you really must be good at this. That you could do all that, make a woman feel that way, and then just be casual the next day. Is it really no strings? No feelings with them?”
I feel like I’m speeding on one of those winding switchbacks on the mountain, just hanging on for dear life, and I have no idea what the hell is around the next corner. Each curve we hit is threatening to take me to the top or launch me down to sudden death. All of it is too fast for me to process.
“Yes. That’s part of the deal, but I didn’t mean to imply—like I said, that doesn’t mean I don’t care.”
“I know.” She shifts her stance and looks down at the counter. “So how do these women get on the roster? Referrals?”
“There’s not a roster.”
“Rotation. Schedule? Whatever you call it, I guess.”
“There’s not a rotation.”
“Okay…” She draws out the word as if she’s embarrassed that she said the wrong thing, and she takes a step back. “I’m not trying to be insulting. I’m just curious. I can stop asking questions if I’m overstepping here.”
“I’m a one-woman kind of guy. I can’t handle more than that. With the business and Ford and working with the Stocktons.”
“So it is kind of a relationship that you’re in.”
“No.”
“I guess I’m not following.”
“It’s hard to explain.” I didn’t imagine ever having to explain this to her. Mostly because I didn’t expect her to ever find out.
“But the position is currently taken? If I had a friend who wanted—”
“I’m not touching your friends, Bristol.” How the hell did we get here from where I thought we were headed? “That’s way too many layers of complication.” I try to explain away the sudden flare in my tone. It’s disappointment. Not anger. But it burns all the same.
“Oh.”
“I’m sorry. I think we crossed wires at some point in this conversation. Fuck, probably a few times.” I lament.
“No. I’m sorry. You’re right. Layers of complication.
Asking your brother-in-law to sleep with you to cure your post-breakup slump is a bridge too far.
It’s just been a week, and I’m desperate to move on from him.
I thought—I don’t know what I was thinking.
Clearly, I wasn’t. Can rabies cause temporary insanity? Because I think maybe I’m having that.”
I think I’m having a fucking heart attack.
“What did you just say?” I ask past the ringing in my ears.
Her eyes snap up to meet mine, and I see the nervousness in them. It’s genuine. I know her well enough for that.
“We can pretend like this conversation never happened. This week never happened,” she volunteers quickly.
“I shouldn’t have said anything at all. It was a breach of your privacy.
I’m sorry.” She rushes to follow it with an apology, and I see the same blush from the wedding night blooming across her cheeks and chest.
“If there’s something I can do to get you to drop Chris for good. You name it. I’ll do it. Fuck, I’ll temporarily dedicate my life to the cause.”
Her eyes widen, and she lets out a surprised laugh, rolling her lower lip between her teeth and shaking her head as she struggles to find somewhere to look.
I can’t stop staring at her though. Waiting and hoping like hell she’s as serious as I think she is.
Because if she gives me this opening, I’m running with it.
“Is it weird if I ask you to do that for me? It’s weird, right? I just thought maybe if we could repeat the situation in the whiskey room, it wouldn’t be. Like strangers in the dark. I know it probably sounds ridiculous. Maybe I am.”
“It doesn’t sound ridiculous. Part of getting over someone is finding a new version of yourself.
Sometimes you can do that on your own. Sometimes you need help.
” I take a step toward her without thinking, and she looks at me like she’s seeing me through a whole new lens.
I don’t know yet if that’s good or bad for me.
“Would it be crossing a line we shouldn’t? I just kept thinking that if anyone found out. Hazel especially…” She worries her lip between her teeth.
She’s not wrong. Despite my repeated denials, my sister has been sure for a long time that Bristol and I belong together.
She did everything in her power last year to try to manifest it.
All it managed to do was make me realize I wanted things I couldn’t have and drive Chris and Bristol right back together again for the millionth time.
I can’t take that kind of pressure again, and I’m certain it’d have the same effect on Bristol.
The girl is brave as hell, but when she’s under too much pressure, she has a well-worn, comfortable rut she runs to like a bat out of hell for cover.
Ford and I are part of that routine. Her friends. But so is Chris.
So no one could know about any of this. Definitely not my sister. I’d have to be careful as hell not to run her off either. But a shot’s a shot. However long it might be. So I’m taking it.
“No one has to know. We can keep it a secret. Meet somewhere discreet.”
“In this town?” She looks at me skeptically. “Your sister’s family runs it.”
“I own a lot of property. In town and out of it.”
“Right. Construction.” She says it like it’s an epiphany. “What about everything else? We’re going to work on that festival every day. Arguing about it, I’m sure. You still need my help with Ford. How would that work?”
“That all goes on as usual.”
“And we just pretend to be strangers when we do this? Like we were that night.” She’s proposing the idea more than asking, given her tone, and I don’t hate it. If she needs me to pretend with her, then I will.
“If that’s what you want. Whatever you think will help.”
“You’re awfully amenable.” She flashes another skeptical look in my direction but then corrects herself. “I guess that’s why you’re good at this. You’d tell me, though, if you didn’t want to? I don’t want to be forcing you into something because you feel bad for me.”
There isn’t an ounce of me that isn’t willing. None of these situations were, but this one is in a league of its own. Incomparable really. Because being with Bristol isn’t just sating a need. It’s a chance to cure a craving I’ve had for years. One I only admit to myself in my darkest hours.
“You know me well enough to know I don’t do anything I don’t want to.”
She considers that, tilting her head as she does it. “Well, I suppose that’s true.”
“When do you want to start?” I hope I don’t sound as eager as I am.
“When do you have time?” Her brow knits together. “How do you ever have time? I guess I normally help you with that, huh?” She smirks, seemingly pleased with the idea of having been my accomplice.
“I can make time. It’s just a matter of Ford’s schedule. But I can ask Bo for help.”
She winces at the idea. I’m not keen on Bo knowing about this either. Any of my siblings save for Cade would find a way to make this a mess.
“I’m not going to tell him why. I’ll just say we’re working on this thing for Hazel for the next couple of weeks.”
“Speaking of. We should make sure we do this before Hazel comes home. She’ll be back in town for Halloween. We might be able to trick everyone else, but if she gets even a hint of this, she’ll have us dead to rights before we know what’s happening.” Bristol makes a good point.
“Midnight on Halloween, then.” That gives me a few weeks to make this woman see reason where Chris is concerned.
“Then we go back to being normal.” Bristol grins. I don’t know if I can go back to anything resembling normal once I’ve had her, but I’m willing to make the gamble just to get a taste.
“What does your weekend schedule look like?”
“Ford’s football games don’t start until next Friday night. He’s going camping one last time this weekend before school with some friends.”
“I’ve got someone covering me this weekend. I thought I might need to spend weekends prepping, so we can be installing during the week.”
“What time does your shop close on Friday?”
“Six.”
“Think you could meet me at eight somewhere just outside of town?”
“I think so.”
“Good. I’ll text you the address.” The anticipation all week might kill me, but it’ll be worth it.
Like the universe knows I need a break, the alarm on my phone sounds. Bristol looks at the clock.
“Time to pick up Ford?”
“Yeah. Hop in the truck. I’ll drop you off after I grab him from practice.” And just like that, we’re back to our regular routine.