CHAPTER FOURTEEN
RILEY
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Just ring him.
Do not ring Colt Winters.
You can never look him in the eye again. I saw his cock, and it was...
Stop thinking about him. Do your taxes.
But I want him.
No, I should forget about him.
I wonder what it costs to fly to New York City.
I should just get drunk and sleep with someone. Clearly, I’m sex deprived—
“Argh, shut up, brain!” I stomp to the fridge and pull out a lettuce, tomato and a sad-looking cucumber, then slap them down on the bench like they did something to offend me.
As I start dicing the cucumber, I begin muttering again to myself, this time out loud.
“Should just give him Kylie’s number. She’d be into phone sex. Not that I wasn’t into it. Obviously.”
My cheeks heat, despite being alone.
I’ve never done anything like that before. I’m not a prude. I love sex, but flashing my private parts to a stranger on video is not something I’m comfortable doing.
Would we call him a stranger?
Honestly, if I was that way inclined I’d just open an Only Fans account and plan my retirement. Which is a little bold—I might not draw a crowd.
Jesus, now I’m imagining myself as an online sex worker. Or influencer. Or whatever they call themselves.
Sexfluencer?
If they don’t, they should.
Unfortunately, it’s not my thing.
All power to them and their growing bank accounts. Me? I’d need therapy.
Perhaps I do. Perhaps I’m really messed up after Simon left me, and I need to talk to someone. Why did I get involved with a man on the other side of the world?
I’m certain there is something about being commitment shy. Which I absolutely am.
I thought I could trust Simon.
Instead, he hurt me.
It was silly getting involved with Colt. I knew from the beginning he was only interested because he thought I was sexy and fun coming from another country. That it would end up with him pressuring me to do sexual things online with him.
I didn’t like how it made me feel.
But I like him and can’t make the two things coexist.
Colt Winters is a man who can have any woman. He’s rich, gorgeous, and powerful. Not at any point has he said he wants to meet me or hinted toward this being a relationship.
It’s just flirty fun.
It was fun...until it wasn’t.
I’m not going to claim to be heartbroken. I’m not. We barely know one another.
Dinner with my parents last night didn’t help. Dad kept glancing at me when the topic of Cameron’s wife doing another round of IVF.
“This time, you might become an aunt, Riley,” Dad said. “Your brother is married and about to become a father. You need to start looking at what you’re doing in life.”
Mom noticed, but when I gave her that wide-eyed help me stare, she glanced away.
“We all do things in our own time.”
“You’ll be thirty in a few years.” Dad sipped his water and gave me that pointed look.
Later, when I was helping Mom pack the dishwasher, she brought up the topic of freezing my eggs.
“In a couple of years, you’ll be considered geriatric.”
“I’m sorry, what?” I froze, a plate in my hand dripping.
“Riley, the floor. Be careful, or your dad will slip.” She grabbed it from me. “It’s not my wording, it’s the doctor's. Women think they have until they’re almost fifty. I read it last week. They don’t. Even with medical intervention.”
I couldn’t argue with her.
I did want to be a mom one day and knew I didn’t have forever. I just hadn’t met a man I could trust.
“Lots of women wait until they’re in their thirties. Can’t I just enjoy the fact I have an amazing business, great friends, my health and think about it when I meet someone?”
She leaned her hip against the kitchen bench and gave me the mom look. Full of love and wishing she could impart all her years of knowledge.
Well, that isn’t how life works.
This is my life to make mistakes, learn lessons, and have adventures. From the things I choose.
They had me and Cameron early. Mom has only just turned fifty-one and has hit menopause. Dad, fifty-two and still judgmental and bossy.
“Darling, you can do all those things. Your father and I are very proud of you.”
“Doesn’t sound like it,” I muttered, putting the plate in the machine.
The Mom-smile appeared. “Well, we are. But you aren’t dating. When was the last time you went out with a boy?”
Oh my god.
“Men, Mom. Men. I am twenty-eight, not eighteen.”
“I meant men.” She closed the dishwasher door and gave me a pointed look.
I twisted and took a few steps away, wanting out of this conversation. “I don’t know. A while, I guess. Two years.”
“More like three and a half. Since Simon.”
“It’s creepy that you’re keeping track.” I crossed my arms, glancing down at my sneakers.
“It’s what parents do when they’re hoping for grandkids.”
My eyes shot up, and all I could feel was failure. Tears pricked at my eyes.
“Oh, darling, come here.”
My arms fell to my sides, and I let Mom pull me into an embrace.
“What if I can’t, Mom? Simon cheated on me, and that was after five years. I loved him. He loved me. I thought.”
“He did,” she cooed. “Men do stupid things.”
“He broke me.”
She loosened her hug and took my chin. “He did not break my little girl; he made you smarter and stronger. You’re not a nineteen-year-old girl anymore. It was young love that lasted more than most. Now, as you reminded me, you’re meeting men.”
Actually, I was meeting billionaires living on the other side of the world.
“Maybe.”
“I know it. You will meet the love of your life as I did your father.” She kisses my forehead.
I breathed in my mother’s scent and wished I could curl up and go to sleep in her arms like when I was a little girl.
Life was so confusing sometimes.
Colt should mean nothing to me, but a week after vagina-gate as I now refer to it, he’s still all I think about.
“What if he’s in another country?”
Blink, and I’d have missed the concern in her eyes. The rubbing of my arms as she stepped away quickly was another sign.
“There are sixty million people in Australia. I’m sure you can find one here.”
Find one? I wasn’t looking for a new duvet cover. I was, as my dear mother had called it, looking for the love of my life.
Actually, I wasn’t looking.
However, I didn’t want to be that girl who was single when everyone else was saying vows and giving birth. Not that I could see Kylie or Billie doing it in the next year or two.
You never know, it could happen.
I needed to take a look at my business plan and work out where I could outsource tasks, increase my prices and make room for romance. Or life would get away from me.
Dad wasn’t right about my career—his comments about how I wouldn’t be able to handle being a landscaper at fifty was absurd. He was in his fifties and wasn’t using a walker. In any case, for all we knew, robots would be doing our jobs by then.
So, for now, I’d keep doing my little planting thing, as he referred to it.
Maybe I’d find something else I enjoyed. Perhaps I’d write a book and capitalize on my knowledge and experience.
Perhaps I’d teach.
Perhaps a lot of bloody things.
I wasn’t going to tell him I’d been thinking about these things and prove him right. If he’d been a little bit more supportive and showed me some of that pride Mom spoke about, maybe I’d be less defensive.
Just because I’d chosen a more masculine and physical profession than women normally did, it didn’t mean I’d fail. I hadn’t so far.
It wasn’t nineteen eighty-five, for goodness sake. And if men didn’t find me attractive, then that was too bad. I wasn’t changing who I am.
Colt does. Find me attractive.
I tossed the diced tomato into a bowl angrily, focusing back on my dinner prep, and let out a sigh.
“Yeah, well, he’s thousands of miles away.” Ten thousand three hundred and fifty to be exact.
Not that I’d googled.
And it was best I didn’t make any more contact with him. It was going nowhere, and the time spent not talking, I’d really missed him.
Even I knew that if I were involved with Colt, I would never meet the love of my life.
Knock, knock, knock. “Oh, Jesus.”
I freeze.
Dropping my knife, I round the counter and walk through the living area towards the front door. Through the curtains, I spot a fancy-looking SUV.
Too fancy for this neighborhood.
I purchased my home not long ago and am very proud of it. The area is safe, modest at a push, and quiet. Three-bedroom homes and units line the streets along with schools, 7-Eleven stores and churches.
A few blocks away there is a set of convenience stores, including a barber, bread shop, and liquor store. Not far from my place there’s a park where kids play, moms walk their babies, and couples power walk.
Everyone is hardworking and trying to stay afloat.
They do not drive...I squint...Porsche SUVs.
If my brother’s been given a new fucking company car, and decided to drive over here to show off, I swear to god I’m going to—
I rip open the door and freeze.
“Hello, gorgeous.”