Chapter 13
Chapter Thirteen
Lemon
What if you had a chance to do something you’ve never done before? Something that could change the way you see the world and how the world sees you.
I was mad before. Angry, even. How could Oliver judge his own children the way he does?
One week. And today’s their last day at school. I’ve learned so much about them simply by listening, and it boggles my mind that their father hasn’t realized that’s all it would take for him.
Poppy is a fantastic photographer and artist. She’s got an exhibit on display at the library. She showed Oliver the flier at dinner last night, but he was quieter than Kimmie. Did he even read it?
The twins ate with their fingers half the meal, and while I probably should have helped out and enforced cutlery, I didn’t. I let it happen so I could observe.
What I noticed? Oliver Nashville is disassociated. And his children are vying for his approval. Only, Bryar’s done waiting around.
If he’s not careful, she’ll find it somewhere else.
I know this.
I try like hell to let the stress and weight of these new emotions fly behind me with the wind as my roller-blading speed increases. My pulse picks up, and I love every second of it.
I glide in a spread eagle, deepening my stretch into a lunge as I roll down the carefully maintained asphalt in Pine Forest Estates, the gated community with everything in its place, just how Nash wants it.
The bushes are all maintained, the fountains all lit and flowing, surrounded by bright, beautiful flowers, and not a single pebble of a walkway is out of place.
I hate it with half of my soul.
The other half of my hate is reserved for the stupid old grump I now live with. I gave him the silent treatment for the way he acted with Bryar, and I know it’s not my place, but as the daughter of another rich old prick, I felt it necessary to help another queen, you know what I mean?
Whether she’s thirteen or thirty, she was in the right by supporting her sick coach.
Should she have let her boyfriend drive her without permission?
Probably not. But as the twins informed me, it wasn’t even her boyfriend.
He’s the cheer captain for the high school team Jasmine also coaches.
It was just two captains rallying their teams, but would Oliver have trusted that even if she’d been truthful?
The wind howls, an unusually chilly day for the end of May, but it feels renewing, restorative in a way. It’s laughable, I know, but I feel something in the wind.
A calling.
No, a legitimate calling.
My foot buzzes at the end of a double lutz, and I realize it’s not the pavement, so I skid to a stop and unzip my skate pocket, revealing a screen full of Tina’s smiling face.
“Lem! I’m so glad I got you before this next meeting. I’ll be tied up for hours.” She blows out an audible breath and then howls into the phone. “Girl! You got it! They loved your audition video for Adventure Mountain. You got the callback.”
“I did? I got it?” My whole body tingles with excitement. I can make this work. With this million, I can be my own person, my own way.
For the rest of my life.
Maybe one day I’ll even take over like Papa wants, but I’ll have power and money behind me when I finally make Perkins Global what I know it can be. No more unnecessary spending, no more snail mail…we could be entirely internet based, reduce the fuck out of our global footprint.
“This is incredible.” I shake my head at Tina. “When does everything happen? I’m pretty booked up until…” I scrunch my nose as I glide to a stop at the Nashville residence. Nash is shirtless, rolling beneath the Denali.
I clutch the phone tightly, nodding to Tina who goes on about something.
Something that isn’t torsos, and oil smudged forearms, and sweat beading and—holy fuck, it’s the damn pants again!
“Hellooo, Lemon Perkiiins!” Tina hollers. “Did you hear me? When are you tied up?”
“Hopefully tonight,” I mumble as Nash’s six-pack glistens in the sunlight. Fuck! “Sorry, T, what were you saying?”
“They make final casting decisions at the end of the summer, and the show films in November.”
“Perfect!” It all works within my timeline. “What do they want for the callback? I can do some skating or hiking. I could get a GoPro and—”
“There’s one thing I forgot to mention about this show, Lem.” Tina bites her bottom lip. “It’s one of those survival shows. Like, eat bugs from the earth and you don’t get to bring anything kind of shows.”
“Oh,” I say, taken aback, but I’m still not ready to quit. I mean, I’ve gone camping before. I’m sure with some practice this summer I could learn about berries, and one of my redneck friends could take me hunting, even if the image does shake me up.
The thought of killing an animal makes me want to not kill an animal. You know? But…
“For one million, Tina. We can work with survival.” I’m great at things I can learn later. At least it’s not one of those shows where you’re naked.
“One more thing,” Tina chirps. “It’s one of those shows where you’re naked.”
“Take a picture; they last longer.” Nash rolls from beneath the SUV, but remains horizontal, which looks ungodly good on him, the sweatpanted fucker.
I roll to a stop with a hand on my hip and pop a large pink bubble as I lift my sunglasses. “Remind me again, who needs to last longer?”
“Very funny.” He props himself up on his elbows. His biceps flex beneath him, his body forcing them against the rolling cart that’s pinned by his weight.
And now the asshole’s got me jealous of inanimate objects, too. I check him out shamelessly as he sweats and simmers just feet from the hem of my skirt. He could reach right up. I want him to reach right…
“Lem, you know we can’t. We shouldn’t…”
He struggles, but I know what he’s going to tell me.
We can’t fuck.
He can’t be with the nanny.
With me, more specifically.
But I know he wants it. I’d wager hard cash he’s inflating like a birthday balloon beneath those cotton monstrosities.
“We can’t be a thing, I get it.” Doesn’t mean I don’t want it. I blow a raspberry into the air when he just glares at me. I can’t read the look in his eyes, so it’s a welcome relief when he breaks contact to grab a new filter.
“Why are you changing the oil, anyway? Does your new salary of millions not leave you much wiggle room for a mechanic?”
His jaw ticks.
I hate that I love it.
“You challenge me, Lemon Perkins.” He closes in on my space until there’s no division between what’s his and mine, and I sneak a quick breath, determined not to flat-out pant.
As of now, I hold the cards.
I’m the tease he can’t stop thinking about, the one who couldn’t care less if it’s his dick or someone else’s in my bed tonight. That alone might be what’s kept him from caving, even if it is a lie.
And there’s absolutely no way I can let him know that. He can’t fall in love with me.
And I refuse to fall in love with him.
Not with his children depending on him to be their steady force. He’s the only one in their corner, and fuck if I don’t want to join that corner and brighten it and paint it and make it part mine, but I can’t do that to them when I plan to leave.
Because I will leave.
When the sparkle fades and the newness and wonder dims, they’ll feel how everyone else does.
I’m simply too much.
His gaze fixes on mine, boring into his lips, fantasizing about the ways I could use them despite all my convictions telling me no. I can’t even hide the lust I feel anymore; I send fuck-me daggers straight to his cock.
A single beat passes before we both know this is fucked, this wall we’re half-assedly erecting, pushing the other away just to tease them right back in.
I’m not sure when we conclude it, but sometime between closing the garage door and untying my halter, my legs wrap around his body, and we say fuck it to avoiding the inevitable.
One arm supports me while the other roams my breasts, pawing the fabric of my blouse. He doesn’t handle me with care. It’s quite the opposite, and I know with every piece of me it’s for the same reason I want to throw caution to the wind myself.
This thing between us is uncontrollable.
He wraps his hand around my throat and pins me to the wall, wetness sliding down my thighs.
And when he pushes his fingers into my panties and finds me soaked for him?
“I’m always wet when I skate.” I gasp.
“Liar.” He smirks, sliding a finger inside of me and curling, dragging my pleasure out straight from the root of my G-spot and fuck, he’s good at this. I lift my eyes to his, my head too weak to stay up when all my focus is being sent to my legs to keep curled around him.
He smirks and slides his fingers back out. The sudden loss of his existence within me is assaulting, and I cry out, guiding him back.
“Do not leave me with blue balls again, Oliver Nashville, or I swear to God when I find out what your middle name is, I will post it live on social media.” I rock into his fingers until they settle back in where I want. “There’s only room for one tease in this house.”
“Brat.” His amused smile stretches to meet his eyes. I like it, I think.
“I was going to point out that women can’t get blue balls, but with the look in your eyes, I’m afraid to do anything but—”
“Make me come?” I tease, moaning in delight when he hits the perfect rhythm, circling his thumb over my pulsing clit. “Oh, fuck, Nash.”
The pressure builds to a near explosion, and I rock my hips into his entire hand while I chase my climax. “Fuck me!” I scream, unable to keep the thoughts that race through my mind at bay.
Oliver. Fingers. Eyes on me.