36. Ariella
THIRTY-SIX
ARIELLA
PINCHE PENDEJO
The poor palms of my hands were red and stinging from all the picking I’d done at my callouses, but it barely registered as I leaned against the island. Ricky eyed me suspiciously, his gaze darting around the apartment before landing back on me.
There was no questioning whether we were related. From our skin tone to the deep color of our eyes and hair. Hair my brother currently had buzzed short in a look that usually had women drooling over him and me rolling my eyes. We clearly shared genes, but what sealed the deal was our smiles—nearly identical.
Not that he was smiling right now.
“So, they just put you up in a multi-million dollar apartment?” he asked, arching a skeptical eyebrow. “That’s awfully generous of them, Ariella.”
“Yup,” I squeaked, taking another drink of my water, desperate to keep some moisture in my mouth so that I didn’t flounder around when he asked me questions. I could tell by the side-eye he gave me that he was suspicious. I thought Gracie was a shit liar, but I was discovering I wasn’t much better.
“How about we cut the shit, and you tell me what the fuck you’re doing dating Dalton Langley. Don’t try denying it either, Ariella, I watched the interview,” he said, crossing his arms over his chest, clearly ready for a fight.
I froze for a second before anger started crawling up my neck.
“ That was what you latched onto from the interview?” I shot back. “You don’t want to congratulate me, or talk about how every reporter there applauded my accomplishments? God, Ricardo, how shitty is it that my brother only cares about who I’m dating?”
I hoped the walls were soundproof because my volume rose with every word.
“Because you never told me,” he yelled back, throwing his arms out to the side, hurt in his tone. “This is his apartment, isn’t it? You should have stayed at Graciella’s.”
“Why would I stay at her place when I’ve got a perfectly good apartment here?”
It was always like this with Ricky. Every conversation was laced with judgment, as if I’d never made a sensible decision.
“Because, Ariella, you are a woman in an unfamiliar city. It’s not smart for you to live with a guy you just met. How well do you even know him?” His face was the picture of brotherly disapproval.
I knew he wasn’t totally off with his logic, but there was years of build-up bubbling over at the moment, and there was no stopping me .
I scoffed.
“Oh yes, because my womanly brain is incapable of figuring out how to navigate life on my own.” He tried to interrupt me, but I was on a roll. “Why don’t I take my ass back home and live with mi mamá y mi papá until someone you all deem worthy to comes to collect me? In fact,” I rounded on him, his posture matching mine—tense and ready to fight, “you should make sure the man you choose offers up something in exchange. Money maybe? Some goats? God, but I don’t know how much I’m worth because I haven’t been cooking and cleaning lately, which is really all I’m good for, right?”
“Oh, and what you’re doing here is better, huh? You start dating some wealthy hockey player who probably only wants to get in your pants before he leaves you for someone else. Did you know that was what the articles say about him, Ariella? That he left his ex for a new woman—you.”
Red. All I saw was red.
“Don’t you dare say anything bad about him,” I said, my voice suddenly deadly calm. “He is nothing like that. I’ve never had anyone treat me as well as he does. To care for me and my dreams the way he does. Dalton is the most selfless man I’ve ever met, and his ex is a fucking reporter who dragged his name through the mud.”
He threw his hands in the air. “Well, how was I supposed to know that? I don’t know him.”
“But you know me, Ricky, and that should have been enough for you to trust my choices in who I want to be with.”
My chest heaved. The cold from the marble bit into my palms because I’d slapped them down at some point during my rant. Probably a subconscious reaction to keep from throwing hands with my brother.
We stared at each other in loaded silence for a long moment, and then he sighed, dropping his arms to his side. “You’re right.” The edge in his voice from earlier had lessened.
I nearly choked on my tongue at the admission. I didn’t think he’d ever said those two words to me before.
He waved a hand at my dramatic coughing fit, smiling.
“Okay, okay. Enough. I get it. You didn’t expect to hear me say that. I do know you, Ari.” He smirked. “And I’ve never seen a girl cut down a man the way you do. I’ve always known that whoever could put up with your ass would be a good man—you wouldn’t settle for anything less. But you’re going to have to cut me some slack, okay?” he said, his eyes coming back up to meet mine. “My whole life, I was told I needed to take care of you and protect you. How can I do that when you live hundreds of miles away? Or when you don’t tell me shit?”
I moved closer, relenting and hugging his center like I’d done since we were kids. “ Pendejo , you can do all those things by being there when I need you, not by showing up unannounced and lecturing me.” I pushed away. “And if you want me to trust you enough to tell you about what I’m doing, then I need to know you have my back and aren’t going to run off and tell my Dad.”
He looked away sheepishly, and I cut him off when he went to argue.
“I get it. You’re close with my Dad, but he treats you differently than he does me, and I am not going to sit around holding my breath for that to change. This is my life, Ricky. Mine. I will not sit around and waste it.”
He studied me, brows pulled together like he’d never considered this before.
Of course he hadn’t. Why would he?
He’d been allowed to make his own decisions since we were teens, while mine had always been questioned and dismissed.
“Alright.” He nodded. “I promise that whatever you tell me stays between us,” Ricky said sincerely before pulling away and pointing at me. “ Pero quiero conocer a este cabrón, ?entiendes? ”
I rolled my eyes. “Yes, you can meet my boyfriend. Now enough weird emotional shit. Let’s go get some food.”
“Does Texas even have good Mexican food?” he asked, grabbing his hat and following me to the elevator.
“Eh. It’s not San Jose, but I’ve found a few places. Come on, I’ll pay for your tacos just to prove I can survive in the world,” I teased over my shoulder, catching the middle finger he threw my way.
The moment the apartment door closed behind us, it dawned on me that at no point during that argument did I think about my relationship with Dalton as being fake…
How the hell did I used to start getting ready to go out at ten?
I’d probably been hopped up on adrenaline, because when Gracie and I managed to go out we’d had to lie through our teeth to convince our parents of where we were going, so we made the most of it. But now? Ten rolled around, and my ass was begging for bed.
The low murmurs of a conversation came from the guest room, and the chismosa in me desperately wanted to stick my ear to the door to hear who my brother was talking to.
If I were being honest, I was dragging my feet and looking to distract myself, making every possible pit stop on my way to Dalton’s bedroom. Who would have guessed the scariest thing I’d done since moving to Dallas was walking into a man’s bedroom?
Another buzz went off, practically burning a hole in the back pocket of my shorts. I knew whose name I’d see on the screen. Dalton had been texting me all night. The first few were genuinely wondering how it was going since I’d abruptly cut off our phone call, but after he knew I hadn’t been hauled back to San Jose, the texts had become way…dirtier.
Thatcher:
Don’t forget my photo
Also, I decided clothes are *not* optional
Blankets aren’t optional either
I didn’t answer.
Sexting while your older brother sits across from you putting down some tacos al pastor was not my idea of a good time, but now…
His bedroom door stood before me, tempting me like the phone in my pocket. I pushed it open, flicking the light switch. A warm glow illuminated the room, and my foot hesitated over the threshold. Being in there felt intimate, like seeing a part of Dalton’s life most never would.
“Don’t be a little bitch, Ari. It’s a room ,” I told myself, finally gaining the courage to enter.
His bedroom had the same moody vibe as the rest of the apartment, but felt more personal—more lived-in. Clothes were draped over a leather chair tucked in the corner, and various knick-knacks lay scattered across his dresser. I ran my fingertips across the wooden top, picking up a cologne that looked barely used. He either liked it a lot and it was an extra, or he hated and kept it for some reason. I uncapped it, catching a whiff of an awful powdery scent.
“Ugh. Definitely hates it,” I muttered, picking up something else. I smiled when I realized it was the keys to the Audi, remembering his shy grin the whole ride to the rink after I begged him to drive Betty the morning after I’d spent the night. My gaze snagged back on the cologne. “Why do you do things you don’t like, Thatcher?”
The whole time I was walking around the perimeter of his room, I actively avoided looking at his bed. The anticipation was bubbling up inside me, threatening to boil over. But instead of giving in, I walked into the ensuite. Thanks to Dallas’s thousand percent humidity levels, I’d been sweating all day, and there was no way I would sleep in someone’s bed smelling like swamp-ass. I might as well have been living underwater at this point, or at least that’s how it felt coming from a part of California where we panicked if it hit seventy- five.
My mouth dropped when I flicked on the light. His bathroom was massive, easily bigger than Gracie’s apartment. His shower alone was big enough to rent out, and there were more shower heads than I knew what to do with. There was no way I was waiting to test it out.
I stripped out of my clothes. Goosebumps pebbled up along my bare skin, a mix of the chilled air-conditioned air and the sheer fact that I was standing naked in the same space that Dalton stood naked.
You’re losing it, Ari. Who gets turned on by that?
Me, apparently.