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First published by Kendall Ryan Books 2014

First published in Great Britain by Harper 2015

Copyright © Kendall Ryan 2015

Cover layout design © HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd 2015

Cover photographs © Gallerystock

Kendall Ryan asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.

A catalogue copy of this book is available from the British Library.

This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.

All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins.

Source ISBN: 9780008133924

Ebook Edition © February 2015 ISBN: 9780008133917

Version 2015-01-30

Praise for Filthy Beautiful Lies

‘Provocative and filthy…I. Love. This. Book.’ – Roxy Sloane, #1 bestselling erotica author

‘Every Kendall Ryan book should come with a fan and some batteries because they are that hot.’ – Lauren Blakely, New York Times & USA Today bestselling author

‘Compelling characters in a wicked hot story. Kendall Ryan is a goddess.’ – Lexi Ryan, New York Times & USA Today bestselling author

‘Intense, consuming, and ridiculously sexy…Kendall Ryan has outdone herself yet again.’ – Emma Hart, New York Times bestselling author

‘Sinfully enticing, sexually charged and lust driven! Filthy Beautiful Lies is Kendall Ryan at her devastatingly best.’ – Rachel Brookes, author of the bestselling Breathe series

Contents

Cover

Title Page

Copyright

Praise for Filthy Beautiful Lies

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Epilogue

Acknowledgements

KR Page When I Break

KR Page Lies

KR Page Love

KR Page Lust

About the Author

Tell Me Your Favorite Part!

Connect With Kendall Ryan:

Also by Kendall Ryan

W6 Book Cafe

About the Publisher

Chapter One

Collins

I can’t seem to ejaculate lately.

It isn’t from lack of effort on my part. Hell, no. I’m no quitter, but despite pumping into my very hot supermodel girlfriend for the last hour, trying every position you can imagine, and even inventing a few of my own, I am nowhere near coming.

Fuck.

Sweat drips from my abs and chest onto hers, and I murmur an apology and thrust harder, slamming into her body again and again as I try to get there. She’s already come four times and during her last two orgasms she asked me if I was close. Yes, I lied.

Giving a final huff, she pushes me off her. ‘What the hell, Collins?’ She moves from the bed, tossing a pillow at my face, as she grabs her silk robe.

I sit back on my heels; naked as the day I was born, wondering what the fuck is wrong with me. Tatianna is tall and thin with long silky hair, and she’s front and center in the mental spank banks of men worldwide. This has nothing to do with her, or shit, maybe it does, I don’t know.

‘Listen, babe, I’m just tired, okay?’ I’d run six miles that morning and then done a brutal kickboxing workout with my youngest brother, Pace. And hell, maybe some of the conversation we’d had while throwing jabs and uppercuts is still spinning in my head. When he’d inquired about my relationship with Tatianna, I’d admitted to him that I was pretty sure she only regarded me as her personal bank account, and she was merely a warm body to lose myself in. Only that isn’t working so well for me lately either.

I watch from the bed as Tatianna dresses herself, choosing designer garments from the massive walk-in closet I had built for her. She tosses stray clothes to the floor before finally settling on a black shift dress and matching heels. ‘I’m going out,’ she says in my direction.

I know she’s pissed at me, but shouldn’t we talk about this? Isn’t that what couples do?

I merely nod.

I’m sure she’s going out shopping, her typical Saturday afternoon activity.

After she’s gone, I shower and dress, then sit alone in the library enjoying a one-hundred year old scotch. I consider calling my brothers, but they’re probably each busy with their families. Leaning back in the leather armchair, I close my eyes.

I exercise control over all things in my life—from my company, to my relationships, to the way I handle my business—only my cock hasn’t gotten the memo. The selfish prick.

I could make an appointment for a physical—but I’m sure my doctor would tell me the problem is with my head, not my dick. I can come just fine with my own hand—and I don’t want to hear why he thinks that is. Not something I care to examine, thanks, Doc.

As the oldest brother in a family without a mother, and a father who worked too much, a hell of a lot fell on my shoulders. I ran a tight ship and made sure my brothers kept in line. And now, as the CEO of a company, it’s no different. I rarely have time for frivolous things, like fun. Maybe now I’m paying the price. I’ve forgotten how to fucking ejaculate. Christ.

I’m sitting alone, enjoying a drink while the sun sinks low in the sky, when the doorbell chimes. No one rings the bell. My brothers would let themselves in, and the housekeepers would enter through the garage. I push up from the chair and head toward the foyer, wondering who the hell is at my front door.

I open the door to find a young woman standing on my front porch. There’s something alluring and vaguely familiar about her wide set mossy-colored eyes fringed in dark lashes. My dick perks up in interest. Really, now? To this brown haired girl who looks equal parts terrified and hopeful?

We each stand there, eyes roaming over the other. Did her car break down? It seems unlikely that she hiked the mile up my private driveway. I’m about to offer her my cell phone when she speaks for the first time.

‘Collins?’ She squints at me, like she isn’t just looking at me, but looking into me, as strange as that sounds. Her voice has a familiar quality to it. Soft, yet gravelly. My memory scrambles through a scotch-induced haze to place her.

‘Gremlin? Is that you?’ I find that I’m the one squinting now, trying to understand how the girl I used to know by that nickname has transformed into this beautiful creature before me.

‘It’s Mia now,’ she corrects me with a pout.

‘Mia, fuck!’ I pull her into my arms, squeezing her against my chest. She’s still the same height as when we were teens—barely clearing five feet, whereas I’ve sprouted up to a commanding six-foot-two.

Her posture relaxes once she’s in my arms and she lets out a small chuckle. ‘I didn’t think you recognized me at first.’

‘I’ve had a lot on my mind today. Besides you look just a little different than the last time I saw you.’ I release her and meet her eyes, and I can tell we’re both remembering the last time we were together. We were fifteen years old and below deck on my dad’s boat while it swayed gently at the dock. She’d told me that she was moving. And then begged me to take her virginity. Which I did. My last memory of her is with blood smears on her thighs and tears blurring her emerald green eyes. I still feel like a shit for that night. Shame burns hotly through me, forcing me back into the present.

I clear my throat, and Mia blinks away the memories no doubt clouding her vision. If she’s here on my doorstep in LA, maybe that means she’s forgiven me for that night. We grew up together and were pretty much inseparable from the time we were five years old. Until she moved away. I haven’t seen or spoken to her in fifteen years. As I drink in her appearance, I realize some things are still the same—her green eyes that sparkle when they catch the light and her messy brown hair that curls every which way, but some other things are definitely new. Those tits for instance. I’d remember those. Her waist is tapered and trim, but her hips flare out, and without needing her to turn around, I can tell her ass is round and lush. The girl has curves that are completely at odds with the scrawny, scab-kneed tomboy I recall playing with my entire childhood.

‘What are you doing in LA?’ I ask.

‘I… ‘ She pulls in a deep breath. ‘It’s a long story. Can I come in?’

‘Of course.’ I’d been practically guarding the door like a jackass. I step aside and welcome her in. She has a large suitcase with her, and I offer to take it, pulling it inside and leaving it by the front door, since I have no idea what its presence means.

‘Your home is amazing,’ she says, her eyes darting up the curved staircase that rises above us.

‘Thank you,’ I murmur. I don’t want to talk about my home, I want to understand why she’s here. The mischievous twinkle in her eyes has dimmed, and even though I haven’t seen her in fifteen long years, I hate the thought that something happened to her. This woman once meant everything to me.

I show her around, giving her a brief tour of the first floor before leading her into the library. My drink is still on the side table, reminding me of my shitty afternoon. ‘Would you like one?’ I ask.

‘Sure,’ she says. ‘But only if you have something a bit less manly than whatever that is.’ She waves her hand at the glass of amber-colored liquor.

‘I think I can make that happen.’ I head to the small bar in the corner of the room, and pour some vodka into a glass, then reach into the mini-fridge below and grab cans of lemon-lime soda and cranberry juice. ‘Will this work?’ I ask, holding them up for her approval.

She nods and smiles at me. It was always so easy to make her happy.

I hand her the pink drink, and she joins me, sitting down in the leather armchair across from mine.

Seeing her here, watching her cross her ankles, and the delicate way she brings the glass to her lips…it evokes all kinds of memories.

Our relationship had never been romantic—we were friends—best friends. But when I lost my mom tragically in an auto accident at age fourteen, it was Mia who was there for me. It was Mia who I wanted. For days I couldn’t eat, wouldn’t talk to anyone, not even my brothers. I remember Mia holding me with my head against her chest. I listened to her heartbeat while she stroked my hair and told me silly little stories to distract me. The pain was so all-encompassing, so deep, I didn’t know how to put it into words. But Mia didn’t need words. She knew.

It was after one of those sessions that we shared our first kiss. It felt natural with none of the fumbling, over-zealous tongue attacks that some of my previous partners had. I’d instantly grown hard for my friend, and that confused the shit out of me. I’d never seen her as more until that moment. But something changed that night, because from that day on, I began noticing her as a developing woman. I would catch her watching me too, her eyes following me around the room with a certain curiosity twinkling in their green depths.

It was about a year after my mom’s passing when she told me she had something important to tell me, and we agreed to meet late one night out on my dad’s boat.

It sat in its slip at the dock, and while there was no sign of Mia, I climbed below deck, surprised to find she was already there waiting for me on the pullout bed. I crawled up beside her, the moon our only source of light. With a solemn expression, she told me that her parents were moving across the state, and that they couldn’t afford to send her to private school anymore.

I remember my stomach twisting into a knot, and pulling her close to me. I couldn’t stand the idea of her leaving. Needing to fix it, to take away Mia’s tears, I’d called my father on his cell phone right then. I asked him about paying for her schooling so she could remain at Linden Academy, but he’d blown me off. He said there would be other girls and I shouldn’t give my heart away at age fifteen. But he didn’t know that I’d given her my heart the day we met. We were five years old, and I still remember the first time I laid eyes on her. She was so small, much smaller than all the other kindergarteners and was being bullied by a couple of the older kids. Unable to stomach the thought of someone so defenseless being hurt, I rushed to her side. The big green eyes that latched onto mine pierced straight through me, and the silly smile that uncurled on her mouth did me in. She’d captured a piece of me that day.

When I hung up with my father, the look in Mia’s eyes told me she already knew his answer. But the next words out of her mouth shocked the shit out of me. She told me she was a virgin, which I assumed, and said she wanted me to be her first.

God, just thinking of that conversation transports me back to that humid July night. My stomach was rolling with nerves, and even though I knew we probably shouldn’t, my dick was rock hard at the thought of fucking her. At being inside her first.

Hoping she didn’t look down and notice the erection straining in my gym shorts, I told her we couldn’t. We weren’t even dating, and with her leaving the next day, I was worried she’d regret it, and I didn’t want her to feel bad after. She said she didn’t want it to be with anyone else and wanted to always have the memory of her first time being with me. She made a very convincing argument, or hell, maybe I didn’t need much convincing.

I only agreed to do it because I made her promise that she would be okay when she left the next day. She promised me she’d move on, accept her move, and date other guys at her new high school. I believed her.

I gave her one slow kiss, pressing my lips against hers, giving her the chance to change her mind and pull away. Only she didn’t. Her tongue licked against my lower lip, and when I opened, it slipped inside my mouth and stroked mine.

Mia was surprised that I didn’t have a condom with me. She assumed I’d done it with a few of the girls from school that I’d messed around with. When I admitted it would be my first time too, she looked at me like she understood that we were both giving a piece of ourselves to the other. I jogged up to my house and retrieved a condom, and was back at the boat within minutes. I was guessing that by the time I made it back, she would have changed her mind, but instead she was undressed and under the quilt, quietly waiting for me with wide green eyes.

I still remember the tight squeeze of her around my cock, the puff of breath against my neck when I fully entered her, the way it felt when I came inside the latex for the first time, wiping her clean after and worrying that she hadn’t come. My chest gets tight as feelings of lust mix with ones of shame. I fucked up that night.

‘Collins?’ she asks, pulling me from my faraway thoughts.

I clear my throat. ‘Sorry. It’s just surreal seeing you here. Tell me what brought you to LA. Are you still living in Connecticut?’ I ask. I hate the formality of my questions, but we have lost ground to cover, and the scared look on her face when I’d opened the door is still lingering in my mind.

She takes a big gulp of her drink. ‘This is going to sound crazy…’ she laughs nervously.

‘Mia, I’ve known you since you were five. We used to tell each other everything.’

I didn’t know if someone had hurt her…or if she was running from something, but I waited patiently while she gathered her courage and downed several more sips of her drink.

‘Remember that promise we made each other?’ she says.

I watch her quietly. She was going to have to be more specific. Shit, it’d been fifteen years. ‘About?’ I probe.

‘Us. When we turned thirty…’ She swallows nervously.

I take a deep breath, trying to understand where she is headed with this. ‘Mia?’

‘When we were ten. We promised each other that if neither of us was married by the time we were thirty, we’d marry each other.’

The memory drifts into my head. Her soulful green eyes looking up at me like I was her savior, our pinky’s locking together in solidarity. Christ, we had promised that, hadn’t we? The suitcase by the front door. The fact that I’d turned thirty a few months ago. All of it slams into me at once, and a panicky feeling presses against my chest.

Heels clicking across the wood floor capture our attention. ‘There you are,’ Tatianna says, entering the library. ‘This house is really too big.’ She takes in Mia’s presence and stops. ‘Oh, I’m sorry, I assumed you were alone. Hi, I’m Tatianna.’ She holds out her hand and Mia rises to her feet and shakes it.

‘Mia. It’s nice to meet you. I’m sorry, I should go…’ She sets down her drink.

I rise to my feet and place my hands against Mia’s shoulders. ‘You don’t have to go anywhere. I’m sure it’s been a long day of traveling. Please sit.’

She swallows and watches me uneasily. ‘Are you sure?’

I nod. ‘Very. It sounds like we have a lot of catching up to do.’ After that fucking bomb she just dropped on me, there’s no way she’s going anywhere.

She nods, her smile unsure.

‘Tatianna, would you like to join us for a drink?’ I ask, heading to the bar.

‘Sure,’ she says, her voice flat.

I make her the raspberry vodka-soda mixture she likes and hand her the glass. Tatianna sits down across the room and crosses her legs, her posture straight as a rod and her eyes glaring blankly ahead. She’s still pissed about earlier.

I fill Mia in on the past fifteen years—that my brothers and I all live in the Los Angeles area now and that I run a successful investment firm downtown. My mouth is saying the words, but my brain is still trying to wrap around the fact that she showed up here after all these years.

Both women watch me and listen, Mia interjecting with questions every now and then, laughing happily when I tell her both of my younger brothers are settled down—Pace with a young son and Colton just got married last month.

Mia doesn’t offer many details about her life, or what has prompted her to come here, but I’m guessing Tatianna’s presence has thrown her off. There is still a lot I want to know.

‘So, I’m sorry,’ Tatianna interrupts, ‘who did you say you were?’

‘Mia was my best friend growing up,’ I answer for her, not liking Tatianna’s tone.

‘Yes. We were pretty much inseparable until we were fifteen.’

‘What happened when you were fifteen?’ Tatianna asks, not knowing the minefield she’s walking into.

My eyes lock on Mia’s and her cheeks heat. I can tell she’s remembering our first and only sexual encounter. I still worry that I’d been too rough with her. The way her small body trembled in my arms after, the blood I saw between her legs. I feel sick just thinking about it. If I had the chance to redo things today, I’d fuck her so well, she’d never want to leave. Christ, did my brain take a sick day too? I need to lock it up. Mia is not here to fuck. I repeat the mantra in my head.

‘My family moved,’ Mia answers, blinking and looking away from me. ‘And you are?’ Mia asks, and takes a sip of her drink.

Tatianna frowns at me, obviously not happy that I hadn’t offered up this information. ‘I’m his girlfriend.’

Chapter Two

Mia

‘I’m his girlfriend,’ Tatianna says. She’s answering my question, but her glare is directed at Collins.

I’m mid sip, and her admission makes me suck in a breath—or drink rather—down the wrong way, sending me into a coughing fit.

‘Excuse me,’ I stammer between coughs. ‘I’m sorry. Of course you are.’ I manage to get my breathing back under control, but I can tell my face is flushed. Embarrassed isn’t a strong enough word for how I feel. He has a girlfriend!? I want to die.

I think back to when he gave me the tour of his home. The place is amazing and beautifully decorated, but there were no photos of him with a woman, no flowers or feminine touches anywhere. There wasn’t even a cozy nook where a girl might curl up and read a book or fashion magazine. And when Tatianna showed up, sure they were familiar with each other, but not in any way that even hinted at romance. Their eyes didn’t linger on one another’s, and from how far apart they sat, I just assumed she was an employee. Heck, the house is big enough that he must have several employees living here.

Also, I’d been so lost, deep in conversation with Collins, that I’d hardly noticed how beautiful she was. Now that I really look at her for the first time, it is obvious this is the type of woman he would date. She’s tall, slender and gorgeous. In fact, she looks familiar. I realize that she’s Tatianna Markov, the woman whose photo was on the cover of every Vogue magazine I saw at the airport kiosk.

My stomach sinks as I look at both of them—a tricky feat since they are on opposite ends of the room. But while my gaze floats between them I see some familiar mannerisms. Both have matching perfect posture. Just looking at them makes me sit up straighter. Their faces are harsh and cool with neutral expressions that give nothing away. That’s a new look for Collins. He never used to look so cold. I think back to our younger years. He was always guy-serious, but it was easy to put a smile on his face, one of my favorite things to do. The look on his face now is stern and immobile. I’m glad it isn’t directed at me, but it’s sad to see him this way at all.

Tatianna tosses her hair back and turns to me. ‘So, what brings you to Los Angeles?’

My eyes dart to Collins, but he manages to hold his stoic look, unfazed by her question. In a panic, I try to take a sip of my drink but it’s empty.

Collins gets up. ‘I’ll get you another one.’ He steps over to the bar and sets up three more glasses, making another round for each of us.

I take a deep breath, anything to stall. I don’t like lying, but there is no way I’m going to tell this woman I came here in the hopes of marrying her boyfriend. It was so stupid of me to come. I wish I’d taken time to think about what I was doing instead of just rushing online to find the cheapest ticket. It hadn’t even occurred to me that he might not be single. Although I’ve always been a bit out of control whenever Collins was involved. Why should now be any different?

But I’m not going to share any of this with Tatianna. She would just laugh me out of the house if I did that. Her eyes are on me, waiting for me to respond.

‘I…’ I search for words, anything that isn’t the real reason I came. ‘I lost my job.’ I feel myself sinking down in my chair, unable to believe I’m about to admit to Collins and his girlfriend that I am a failed accountant. ‘I was fired actually.’ Someone please shut me up.

Collins hands me a new drink, and I take several fortifying sips.

‘What did you do?’ he asks. He looks genuinely perplexed as he takes the seat across from me. I’m sure the girl he remembers never would have been careless enough to get fired from a job. I guess things change.

‘I was an accountant.’ I look down at my drink, stirring it with the straw. ‘My boss framed me for embezzling funds. And I had no way to prove it.’

Collins holds his hand up as if to stop me. ‘There’s always a way. I know several excellent forensic accountants. I could help connect you with one.’ He leans forward in his chair.

The concern in his eyes tells me he’ll help me if I want. He’d always been protective of me, and I love seeing that side of him again. I chew the inside of my lip, considering it briefly, but I’m too humiliated by the whole thing, besides, it isn’t worth the trouble. It was a small enough amount that they didn’t press charges. I wave him off. ‘It’s not worth it. He only managed to get a couple thousand before he…or, rather ‘I’ was caught.’

Tatianna laughs. ‘The guy must suck at embezzling if he only managed a few thousand.’

I force a smile, but a few thousand seems like a lot to me. They kept my last paycheck to make up for the loss. It would have been enough for me to at least pay rent for a few more months.

‘Anyway, I’m here because I needed a place to get a fresh start.’ I stir my drink as I try to think of any topic of conversation other than my failed accounting career.

Tatianna yawns and stretches in a way that looks more practiced than real. She’s definitely not an actress.

I take it as a not so subtle suggestion that it’s time for me to leave. Humiliated, I stand up, ‘I should get going,’ I say, downing the last of my drink, and placing it on the nearest table. I head out to the hall and the direction I hope will lead to my bag and the exit. I may not have enough money for more than one night in a hotel, but I can’t stay here.

‘Wait, Gremli…Mia. Hang on, where are you going?’ Collins follows me out into the hallway, and catches my arm, forcing me to stop. The contact of his large hand closing around my upper arm sends chills zipping down my body. It’s been a long time since he touched me so intimately, yet my body recalls that night with perfectly clarity.

‘I shouldn’t have come. You’ve got…’ I wave my hand around vaguely, not sure what I’m referring to exactly. It could be the amazing house, beautiful girlfriend, or perfect life. Any one of these makes me feel small, but the combination makes me feel as if I could cry. I swallow against the hard lump in my throat and force myself to look up at him.

He smiles, making me smile.

‘Nonsense. You came all this way. I want you to stay. At least a few days. We have fifteen years to catch up on.’ His eyes latch onto mine, kind yet insistent. It makes me warm. He still has the look that makes me feel like I’m the only one who matters. How does he manage to do that, even while dating the drop-dead gorgeous woman in the next room? I don’t know, but I can’t say no to him. Not when he looks at me this way. Besides, the house is so big he must have ten extra bedrooms, it’s not like I’m putting him out or anything.

I sigh. ‘Okay.’ Just thinking about a bed makes me tired. It was a long day and a long flight. A yawn escapes.

He leans back into the library doorway. ‘I’m gonna give Gremlin here the purple bedroom.’

‘Who?…Whatever,’ Tatianna answers in a dull tone.

He slides his hand around mine, as if we’re still little kids, only now his hand is much larger, and my fingers and palm are swallowed by his firm grip. It feels completely natural, him taking my hand, and I follow him to the front hall where he effortlessly lifts my suitcase and pulls it up the steps. We venture down a long hallway until he finally stops in front of a door, opens it, and puts my suitcase down just inside.

‘Grem…Mia, I’m glad you’re here.’ His mouth hooks up in a playful smirk as if he thinks it’s funny that he can’t seem to call me by my real name. The first time we met, I was wearing a Gremlins T-shirt. The outdated, thrift store tee was the reason he’d had to save me that first day in kindergarten. Some of the other kids were teasing me about my second-hand clothing, and he came to my rescue. After he told the other kids off, he managed to turn the whole thing into a joke by saying gremlins were cool, then calling me gremlin. Not in a mean way, but as friendly jab. I was so thankful for the rescue that he could have called me almost anything that day, and I would have laughed for him. The nickname unfortunately stuck.

I smile. It is kind of funny. But I also blush because we’re alone again. Just the two of us, and he’s looking at me in that way, again. The way he did when he first realized who I was at the front door. I had no way to be sure, but his eyes smoldered as if he was remembering our first and only time together, fifteen years ago on the boat.

I remembered that night as if it happened yesterday. I’d been so nervous, but so sure it was the right thing, and the only way to really say goodbye to him. It was a way for me to give him a part of me that he would have forever. He tried to talk me out of it, even though I could tell by the way his eyes surveyed my body that he wanted to devour me. I was so relieved when he finally agreed, and also admitted that it was his first time too. Because it meant he also wanted me to have a part of him. A part I’ve held dear all these years.

He’d been so gentle, and so careful with me. I can’t say he was perfectly smooth, but neither was I. Still, his kisses were warm, and his arms held me close as we struggled to figure out the best way to do what neither of us really knew how to do. But then he’d taken control, laying me down and moving over me. He had been so tender and so attentive; easing in slowly and making sure he didn’t hurt me. Making sure I was okay. And it did hurt, but only a pinch and only for a moment. And then it was amazing. The feeling of having him inside me, filling me. The memory still makes me blush. And yet afterwards he was so worried he’d hurt me. I felt whole, so completely cared for.

But now, I’m thirty. And single. And jobless. And perhaps I’m crazy, but I want to recapture a bit of my youth – and the best part of it was him. Even though I pushed it out of my head for many years, as I grew older, I longed to share my life with someone. Not just someone. Him. Collins. My first love. My first everything. Deep down, my heart knew what my body felt all those years ago – we were destined to be together. I didn’t know how or why, but I knew he’d eventually come back into my life when the time was right. I couldn’t help but wonder if I purposefully avoided serious relationships all these years, avoiding commitment in order to fulfill our promise to each other. Every man I dated over the past decade was compared to him, and not a single one measured up. As embarrassed as I was to just show up on his doorstep unannounced, the boy I longed for all these years is now a man. And my body takes notice, my heart pumping hard as he watches me.

Now Collins is taller, and though still trim, his shoulders are broad like an Olympic swimmer. His cheekbones and jaw line matured and sharpened, and his once slender, soft lips have filled in, making them that much more lickable. Collins always stood tall and confident. His tailored, button up navy shirt is just loose enough to leave a bit to my imagination, and my imagination does naughty things with his beautiful abs.

He clears his throat.

My eyes drift up the blue shirt, which brings out the sparkle in his cool blue eyes.

‘I don’t want you to get to upset over Tatianna. She’ll be fine with you staying here.’

I nod. ‘Sure.’ I doubt that, but I won’t argue.

‘There are fresh towels in your bathroom. If you need me, my bedroom is at the end of the hall.’ There’s a pause and he smiles, making his eyes sparkle. ‘It’s great to see you again.’ He leans in and picks me up in a hug that is reminiscent of so many things. Our childish youth, our strong friendship, and our romantic farewell all those years ago. I know I shouldn’t let myself feel so attached to him after only an hour, but the thought of watching him turn and walk away into the arms of Natasha, or Tatianna, or whatever the hell her name was makes me want to rip out my earrings and prepare myself for a full on girl fight.

After several long moments, where I can feel his heart beating against mine, he sets me down and closes the door, leaving me alone in the room.

I turn and lean my back against the door staring blankly at the guestroom and wonder what I’m really doing here.

Chapter Three

Collins

The door to the guestroom closes and I just stand there, still in shock that Mia is inside. That she’s flown all the way to LA. And more surprising than anything is the fact she’s still single after all these years. Not that it matters—I’m with Tatianna. But still, my heart feels full seeing her again. I’ve often wondered where she was, what she was doing. Shit, I figured she was married with a couple of kids by now.

I hated hearing that she’d been wrongly framed and then fired from her job. Although the accounting job made sense. She was always good with numbers. In the various childhood ventures I’d started, she’d always point out my mathematical errors. Funny, considering I owned one of the top investment firms on the West Coast.

I wander back downstairs, but Tatianna isn’t in the library where I left her. The house feels cold and quiet. I head back upstairs to the master suite that takes up the entire second floor west wing.

‘Tatianna?’ I call, not finding her in the bedroom.

‘In here,’ she says from the Hers walk-in closet.

I find her hanging up clothes on little pink padded hangers. There are a half dozen shopping bags at her feet, and I’m reminded of our fight this afternoon. ‘Are you okay?’ I ask.

She stops what she’s doing and watches me. ‘Who is that woman?’

‘Mia? She’s a childhood friend.’

‘You never dated her, did you?’ Tatianna raises her manicured brows at me.

‘No.’ Not officially. ‘We were close growing up, but her family moved across the state just before we started high school. Does it bother you that she’s staying here?’

She shrugs. ‘No, I guess not.’

‘Come here.’ I open my arms and Tatianna drops the garment she’s holding to the carpet and steps into my arms. ‘I’m sorry about earlier,’ I whisper, placing my lips against her neck.

She sighs heavily and rests against me. ‘It’s okay. I know you have a lot on your mind with the merger and everything.’

The merger? That was three months ago. I don’t correct her. ‘It looks like you found some good things on today’s outing, huh?’ There are shopping bags and tissue paper littering the closet floor.

She nods. ‘Bergman’s was having a sample sale and then my favorite jewelry designer previewed their fall collection at the Grove today, so I swung down there.’ I listen as she tells me about her day, my thoughts faraway. ‘I’m just going to finish putting all this away, okay?’

I nod. She loves organizing her closet, and I know she can spend hours in there. I had it designed just how she wanted—with a brightly lit crystal chandelier hanging overhead, a floor-to-ceiling mirror on one wall and rows and rows of colorful high heeled shoes resting on the shelving at the end of the room.

I’m still too keyed-up to relax, so I head into the sitting room linked to the master suite and pull out my cell phone. I try to figure out which of my brothers to call while Tatianna hums quietly in the other room.

While I’m sure Pace remembers Mia, he’s five years younger, and his memories of her will be spotty at best. Colton, then.

‘You’ll never guess who showed up here today,’ I say in place of a greeting.

‘A strippergram?’ he asks.

‘No.’ I chuckle. ‘Mia Monroe.’

It takes him only a second. ‘No shit?’

‘Yeah.’

We each wait silently on the phone. He knew how close we were growing up. Which means he knows how much she meant to me.

‘Explain,’ he says, finally. ‘What’s she been up to all this time? How does she look? Why is she there?’ He shoots the questions off one after the other.

‘She looks incredible.’ I don’t know why those are the first words out of my mouth. Probably because the image of her standing on my front porch is burned into my brain. Gone is the slender, boyish frame of youth, and in its place are generous curves and the soft rounded flesh of womanhood. ‘She’s an accountant now.’ I don’t mention that she’d been fired or the secret marriage promise we made when we were ten that she’s come to collect on—because that’s crazy. It’s completely fucking nuts. And it makes my heart thump like it’s got some type of damn tick. Maybe I should schedule that stupid physical after all.

‘You still have a thing for her?’ he surprises me by asking next.

‘Of course not.’ Fuck. ‘I’m with Tatianna.’

He sighs, and I hear him tell Sophie that he’ll be there in a few minutes. ‘Yes, but we both know that Tatianna is just a convenience. You’ve been in love with Mia since you were five years old for fuck’s sake.’

‘I’m not in love with Mia,’ I drop my voice. Tatianna does not need to hear this. Besides, I don’t have time for love right now. It’s messy and unpredictable. I don’t do messy, or unpredictable. Never have. Wasn’t about to start now. No fucking thank you.

‘Well, now that she’s back, the least you can do is man up and fuck her finally.’ He laughs.

‘Uh, already taken care of.’

‘Fuck, man. She’s only been there a couple of hours, and you’ve already banged her?’

‘No, dumbshit. When we were fifteen. We were each other’s first.’ I have no idea why I’m telling him this information. I guess Mia’s shocking entrance back into my life has brought out my sharing side.

‘No shit?’ he says. ‘I always thought Erika Garcia sophomore year was your first.’

‘No. It was Mia,’ I say. ‘On Dad’s boat.’

‘Interesting. I always took girls there too.’

‘I know you did, you little horn dog. But I thought of it first.’

‘Damn, Mia Monroe,’ he says again.

‘So what should I do?’ I ask.

‘Listen, all I’m saying is that I know you were crazy about her. I’m glad she’s back in your life. Shit, I remember the year she moved. It was like someone took the spark out of you. Like they pulled the beating heart right out of your chest. You moped around for six months. Maybe this is a good thing. You can have some fun for once.’

‘Fun? You’re one to talk.’ Actually, Sophie being in his life has been a game-changer. He’s like a different man now. Much more light-hearted and easier going than before.

‘I’m doing just fine, asshole. Worry about yourself,’ he barks.

Maybe he’s right. There’s no reason that he and Pace need to have all the fun. Might be nice to join in for once. And if anyone can bring that side out of me again, it’ll be Mia.

Hell, this should be interesting at the very least.

‘Okay thanks, man. I’ve gotta run.’ I hang up wondering what the hell is going to happen next.

Mia Fucking Monroe.

Chapter Four

Mia

My eyes float over the room, taking it in. It’s much larger than a hotel room—the ones I’m used to anyway. This guestroom is almost the size of my old apartment. Three large windows stretch up towards the vaulted ceilings. There’s a walk in closet, a small oak desk and chair by one of the windows, and a seating area at the foot of the bed, with a loveseat covered in a purple floral pattern, and matching stuffed chair. I see why he calls it the purple room. It’s subtle, but most of the furnishings have hints of purple. I wonder if he remembers that it’s my favorite color. The thought makes me smile. But no, it would be silly for him to remember something so ridiculous, from so long ago.

The bed must be a king. I’ve never slept in anything so big. I wonder if I actually could, or if I’ll spend the night getting lost in the expanse of it. At least it looks soft. So soft. The lavender duvet is as fluffy as a cloud, tempting me to run and jump into it. Instead, I head across the room and peek into the attached bath.

It’s larger than any bathroom should be. There’s a double sink, a Jacuzzi tub, and a separate large shower with more showerheads than I’d know what to do with. It’s all so much that I feel my mouth actually fall open. If this is just a guest bedroom, what must the master bedroom be like?

Collins’ family had always been well-off when we were growing up, but this is more than well-off, this is wealthy. I wonder if I had looked harder online, would I have found him on one of those richest men alive lists? It’s intimidating. I feel like I’ve stumbled across a new culture and don’t know the customs or the language. I tip toe across the room, careful not to disturb anything.

I had no idea he would be this affluent. Of course Collins was a born entrepreneur. When we were six and most kids were opening lemonade stands, he figured out that the markup value on ice cream treats, combined with his cute-kid factor would put him ahead of the game and setup a weekend neighborhood ice cream stand.

The local ice cream man didn’t have a chance, and Collins made bank. Not that he needed it. No, I’m not surprised he is doing so well. I’m proud. He always had this in him. I smile at the thought.

I take another look around the room, and my eyes land on my huge suitcase. The one I packed with as many of my everyday things as I could, and a few very important items I didn’t want to cram in my parent’s small storage space.

Collins invited me to stay for a few days, so I might as well unpack. I hoist my suitcase up on the bed, unzip the front pouch, and pull out my old childhood scrapbook, flipping it open to the first page where I’d long ago glued the cover of a bridal magazine. The one Collins had found that fateful day hidden under my mattress.

I run my fingers over the crinkled paper, and smile as I remember the promise we’d made. It all started because of this very magazine. I’d found it at my babysitter’s house, and loved it because it had a purple wedding dress on the cover. I never understood why brides always wore white and thought this elegant lavender gown was the very dress I would wear when I got married. I liked it so much that my babysitter let me take the magazine home. I’d been hiding it under my mattress, and Collins found it one day when we were playing in my room.

‘Who’s getting married?’ he’d asked, wide eyed.

I snatched it away from him, trying to hide it a little too late. We might have been best friends, but he was still going through his all girls have cooties phase. Something I was normally immune from, but still, there were certain things I kept to myself. Or tried to. ‘I am,’ I proclaimed in the strongest voice I could. Still, I felt myself blush.

Collins wrinkled his nose and furrowed his brow in that way that made a small crinkle over one eyebrow. ‘No way.’

I rolled my eyes. ‘Not today. But one day.’

‘I’ll never get married. That’s gross.’ His eyes widened.

‘Yes you will. Everyone does.’

‘Okay, fine. But if I have to marry someone, I’m gonna marry you.’ He poked me in the arm with his finger hard enough that it hurt, just a little.

It wasn’t a romantic candle lit dinner with champagne and get down on one knee type of proposal, but at the age of ten, it was all I needed. And I wouldn’t trade that memory for anything.

In my bedroom that day, we deliberated and it evolved into a promise that if neither of us had married by the time we were thirty, we’d married each other.

Pinky swear.

I’d turned thirty a few months ago, and the promise had been lurking in the back of my mind ever since. But did that mean I actually needed to spend the last few dollars I had running across country to see Collins? It seemed like a good idea at the time, but the more I analyze it now, the sillier the whole thing seems.

I pull out my phone and dial my friend Leila’s number.

‘Are you really there? I mean actually in LA,’ she says by way of greeting.

‘Yes,’ I say.

‘I can’t believe you went, girl. You are crazy,’ she shrieks in her usual over excited tone.

‘You’re the one who said I should go,’ I say.

‘So? We were drinking. Besides, I was 100% kidding and you know that.’ I think back to when we met for drinks just after I was fired. We were talking over my options, or lack of options. I was about to get evicted for non-payment of rent. She offered me her sofa in the tiny one bedroom she shared with her husband and newborn. No thank you. Then suggested my parents’ place, which was even smaller than hers. The next thing out of her mouth was a joke, ‘Maybe you should move to LA and marry that Collins guy.’

She laughed. But I didn’t. The mention of my childhood love made my cheeks warm and my belly churn. It seemed like an option, one as good as any other. Maybe even better. Just the thought of seeing Collins again had been so enticing.

But now that I was really here, I was questioning myself. ‘I know,’ I say. ‘I shouldn’t have come. He’s got a live-in girlfriend, and she’s super beautiful.’

‘Mia, I’m sorry. But what did you expect?’

My inner romantic knows exactly what I expected. He was going to open the door, recognize me at once, and we would be married the next day. ‘I know. It was childish of me to come.’

‘But you’re in his house? Does that mean he invited you to stay?’

‘For a few days.’

‘And he has a guest bedroom, or a couch or whatever?’

I laugh. ‘It’s more like a guest suite. He’s doing really well. His house is amazing, Leila. He’s got so many guest rooms they name them. I’m in the Purple Room.’

‘Well, sounds like you might be okay there for a few days then. But remember—my couch is always open if you need a place to crash. And if things get weird there, I will find a way to loan you the money for a ticket home.’

I know she means it. Leila’s a great friend, but there’s no way I’ll let them cut into their small savings to fly me home. Not with their newborn and all. ‘No you won’t. I’ll be fine,’ I say.

‘The offer is there.’

‘Thank you.’

We get off the phone, and I chew on my lip as I mull over my situation. When I told Collins what I was doing here, he seemed kind of stunned. Not that we ever really talked about it since we were interrupted by Tatianna’s arrival.

There’s a knock at the door. ‘Mia, are you hungry?’ Collins says through the door.

I pull it open. He and Tatianna are there.

‘Sure.’ And I absolutely am. The four-hour time difference means my stomach wants dinner yesterday.

‘Dinner’s ready. I asked the cook to set an extra plate for you.’ He waves for me to follow them and I do. Collins and Tatianna walk next to each other, but manage to avoid physical contact and don’t say a word as we make our way down to the dining room. I wonder if this is how they normally are together, or if I’ve caused this icy tension. The Collins I knew loved to talk. Some days we’d spend the entire day taking turns telling stories. Sure there were times we’d been quiet, but usually it was because we were reading, or watching something, or even just tired.

The silence between him and Tatianna seems different somehow. Not awkward exactly, but not comfortable either. It’s like they don’t have anything to say to each other, so they’ve just stopped talking. But surely there’s always something to talk about. In all the years Collins and I were friends, I don’t ever remember either one of us ever lacking in interesting things to say.

Collins stops at a doorway and motions for me to enter. Having adjusted my expectations to assume everything is huge in this house, I am not disappointed by the size of the dining room. I follow Tatianna down to the far end of what might more aptly be called a dining hall.

‘Take a seat.’ Collins points at one of the places made up at the end of a table long enough to seat twenty. I sit down and try not to gawk too much as I take in the two amazing crystal chandeliers that hang from above, elegantly illuminating the room. Collins takes the seat next to me, at the head of the table, and Tatianna seats herself on the other side of him and across from me. She barely takes her eyes off her phone as she pours herself some water.

I turn to Collins, wondering if this is the way she usually is when they eat dinner, but he doesn’t seem to notice. I can’t help thinking that if I were dating someone as amazing as Collins, I wouldn’t be staring at my phone when he was around, I’d be gazing into his eyes.

The food is already served and on the table. Collins picks up a bottle of wine and fills my glass before filling his own. He doesn’t offer any to Tatianna. In fact, she doesn’t even have a wine glass.

Dinner is a baked chicken breast with grilled vegetables. Collins looks at it for a moment as if he’s psyching himself up for it, and then picks up his silverware and starts cutting the chicken into pieces.

‘When did you start liking poultry?’ I ask as I cut into my own. I’ll eat almost anything, but Collins had always been a bit of a picky eater, and disliked pretty much all fowl. He’s more a red meat kind of guy. As I take my first bite, I notice Tatianna looking at him coolly, but not saying anything. Crap. Maybe I offended her. ‘Not that I don’t love it, I just meant…I guess we change with age, right?’

Collins finishes chewing, and chases his bite down with wine, then says, ‘Tatianna doesn’t eat red meat, so we don’t really keep it in the house.’ He looks as if he’s talking sadly about a battle he’s lost.

I guess it makes sense if they live together, they must eat a lot of their meals together. But as I glance at her plate I notice she’s not even eating the same thing. Her plate is smaller, and piled with baby spinach and a small cherry tomato that’s been quartered and spread around the edge to give it color. I have to hide my shock. If she’s not even eating it, why should she care? It angers me that she would force her food preferences on him. Especially if they don’t even eat the same thing. Why does she feel the need to change him? He was perfect to start with.

Collins eyes her plate, then looks up at her meaningfully, but doesn’t say anything.

I wonder if he’s realizing how stupid it is, too. I stab a piece of chicken a bit harder than I need to with my fork, and take a bite. Chewing it, I mentally talk myself out of glaring at her throughout dinner. This is her house too after all.

I take a deep breath and ask Collins more about his business as we eat. It’s a bit weird. I was always the numbers girl, and yet, here he is, the owner of an investment firm. Being a bit of a numbers geek, I prod him all evening with questions about the inner workings of it all.

‘Collins,’ Tatianna jumps in while he takes a bite. ‘As fascinating as this is, I’m about finished, and I have to call my agent. You don’t mind if I leave you two, do you?’ At this point, I realize she’s tuned out virtually the entire conversation. If her phone hadn’t been there to distract her, I wonder if she might rather count the individual pieces of spinach in her salad than talk about his work.

‘No, go ahead,’ he says. He kisses her cheek as she kisses the air next to his. I look at his hard square jaw, and smooth tan skin. How could she not want to brush her lips against that jawline?

‘Nice meeting you, Mia,’ she says glancing at me briefly before turning back to her phone and wandering off. She probably figures this is the last time she’s going to see me, and hell, maybe it is. Collins has a good life, a serious girlfriend, I can’t just come barging in.

By dessert, I have a pretty good snapshot of how the money flows through an investment firm. Collins geeks out almost as much as me, and we lean over our chocolate lava cake as we talk about the inner-workings of his company. His eyes are vibrant as he talks about his business, and I can tell he really does love his work. The life in his eyes is something I haven’t seen in a long time, and it fills me with warm energy.

When dinner is over, he walks me back up to my room, leaving me at the door.

‘I’ve got some business to attend to before bed, but we’ll be going out on the yacht tomorrow. I hope you’ll join us. I think you’d love it.’

Just the idea of being on a boat with him brings images of that night back to me. I wonder if he’s thinking about it again, too.

He looks down at me. We stand a foot apart, but there’s a desire in his eyes to move closer. To be alone with him on his yacht sounds delicious. I think of his perfectly built adult body taking command and riding me and feel a throb between my legs.

I swallow, and remind myself that he invited me to go with him and his girlfriend. ‘That would be fun,’ I say.

He smiles and his eyes flit down my body briefly, making my cheeks flush. He didn’t look at Tatianna that way. In fact, during dinner they’d hardly exchanged a look, let alone talked to each other. I have to wonder if he’s happy with her. I mean he must be, they live together. But this evening at dinner, he didn’t seem happy, at least not with her.

‘Night,’ he says.

‘See you tomorrow.’

I close the door and my head is spinning. My pulse racing just from the thrill of being near him. I fall back on the bed and stare at the ceiling. He may not seem overly excited about the promise we made each other when we were ten, but he does seem genuinely happy to see me. It won’t hurt if I stay a few days. I roll over and dig in my bag—which is still on the mammoth bed—and pull out my laptop, opening it up.

Maybe I can look for a job here. If he’s really with Tatianna, I can’t expect him to put me up forever. I need an exit strategy.

Just in case.

Chapter Five

Collins

I park my car in the marina lot and lead the way toward the docks. Tatianna’s eyes are downcast on her phone, while Mia’s are wide and her neck is craning to take in every ounce of her surroundings.

‘Oh wow, this is…’ She chews on her lip, searching for the word.

I know this is much different from how we grew up, but I don’t want her to feel intimidated. ‘I have a thing for boats.’ I grin at her and wait for the double meaning in my comment to hit. Her cheeks flush pink and my dick throbs eagerly at the memory of her tight little body. I’m thankful for the cover of my aviator-style sunglasses. ‘We’ll have fun today,’ I add, recovering.

‘Yes.’ She swallows and glances at Tatianna, who is following closely behind us, but absorbed in something on her phone as she so often is lately.

‘This is her,’ I say, pointing up ahead to where the sleek, white-hulled vessel rests in the water. She’s big—but not obnoxiously so. Only seventy-feet, which is actually on the small side for a yacht. But she sleeps eight guests, in four private cabins, which is plenty big for my recreational use.

The staff has her all ready for us. The chrome fixtures have been polished and are sparkling in the sunlight, and I can see up on the main deck that the lounge chairs have been outfitted with pillows and towels. I offer Tatianna a hand and she climbs aboard. I glance back to see what’s keeping Mia. She’s still standing on the dock, her attention captured by something at the stern.

‘Mia?’ I climb down the steps and go to her.

She’s staring at the purple cursive lettering I had painted at the stern, just above the swim platform.

‘You named your boat Gremlin?’ she asks with astonishment in her voice.

I shrug. ‘It seemed fitting.’ When I bought my boat, I could think of no better name than after my friend who I shared so many good times with—one of the most significant happening on a boat. Her eyes widen and find mine as the meaning behind the name sinks in.

‘Come on.’ I take her hand and lead her toward the stairs. ‘I want to show you around.’

She squeezes my hand, and then follows me up on board.

Every inch of the yacht seems to amaze her, and I love the giddy excitement she openly displays. It’s refreshing. She seems to like the theater room with its big screen and comfy reclining loveseats the best. ‘The intent behind it is for rainy days, but we have so few of those in Southern California, that it’s never been used. We mostly stay out on the deck,’ I explain.

‘I’m sure you and Tatianna come and stay the night here just for the fun of it, sometimes, right? Movie and popcorn night. That would be fun.’

My brow crinkles. ‘No, actually we’ve never done that.’

Mia’s confusion is written all over her face.

I decide to continue the tour. Showing her the bedrooms feels too intimate, especially given what happened between us the last time we were below deck together, so I merely point and continue walking.

Mia shuffles behind, her gaze bouncing around each room to absorb every detail.

No matter what is going on in my life, or at work, I always looked forward to Sundays. Fresh ocean air and blue skies are good for the soul.

I guide her back upstairs. The breeze is just beginning to pick up as we motor out of the harbor. The deck is outfitted with various couches and chairs arranged for conversation, there’s a hot tub off to one side and then plenty of lounge chairs with fluffy cushions for sunbathing. That’s where Tatianna has already stationed herself. As usual she’s removed her top—her small pointy nipples are staring straight up at the sun. She sits up when she notices our arrival.

‘Let me know if this makes you uncomfortable,’ she says to Mia, gesturing to her naked chest. ‘I don’t like tan lines, but I can cover up if you prefer.’

Mia stares straight ahead, seemingly unfazed by Tatianna’s display. ‘I’m not uncomfortable.’ Mia removes her own tank top from over her head, and I swear I see the whole thing in slow motion to the beat of hypnotic music. I am mesmerized. Mia has nothing to be ashamed of. Her chest is on the large side and is barely contained by the cups of her purple bikini top. If she wanted to follow suit and take off her top, there is no way my erection would go unnoticed. I already feel my cock stirring in my shorts, and I have to distract myself with gathering drinks.

I look down at my dick and curse at him. ‘Not today, fucker,’ I say under my breath while arranging cups with ice.

‘What was that?’ Mia asks, coming over to join me.

‘Nothing,’ I bite out. ‘What would you like to drink?’

‘Do you have lemonade?’

‘Sure do.’

Breasts are one of the few areas where Tatianna hasn’t been blessed, however, that doesn’t mean I’m free to gawk at Mia’s glorious, round tits. But dear God, it’s like Christmas. I can’t seem to keep my eyes from straying over to her chest. The soft mounds are pushed together thanks to the straining fabric, and her cleavage is plentiful. I want to bury my face between them and treat them to wet kisses. Mia in a bathing suit is holy hell, hot. I’m used to Tatianna’s model-thin body with her lack of curves, and visible rib cage. Mia has soft rounded flesh that I want to sink my teeth into. I can’t stop staring, and I’m hoping the heated gazes I’m sending her aren’t obvious.

‘Collins?’ Tatianna asks, pulling my attention away.

‘Yeah?’ My voice comes out tense and too rough. I clear my throat and try again.

‘Can I have sparkling mineral water with a slice of cucumber?’ she asks.

‘Of course.’ I head to the kitchen to retrieve a cucumber, thankful for the moment away from Mia. I have no idea why she’s affecting me this way, but I know I need to get my head on straight.

We settle in for some sunbathing, but after an hour of sitting quietly in the sun, Mia declares herself officially bored and wanders off in search of something to entertain herself.

There are books and board games in a cabinet inside, and I expect her to return with one of those, but when she makes her way back on deck fifteen minutes later, she’s carrying several foam noodles and one of the crew members—James, I think—is attaching a giant inflatable slide I didn’t even know I had over the side of the boat.

‘I hope you don’t mind, but I asked the captain if we could stop to swim,’ Mia says.

‘Swim?’ Tatianna and I both ask in unison. Tatianna sits up and watches as the slide is attached.

‘Yeah, unless you’re chicken,’ Mia taunts, waving one of the noodles at me.

I rise and remove my sunglasses. ‘I’m game.’ I can only sit in the sun for so long. Typically after an hour or so, I head inside and check my email while Tatianna continues sunning herself to a deep bronzed glow.

‘Are you seriously going to go down that thing?’ Tatianna asks, eyeing the slide with disdain.

‘Sure, why not?’ I shrug.

‘I’m not getting in that freezing cold water,’ Tatianna says, laying down again. ‘You two have fun.’ She lifts the fashion magazine she was reading back in front of her face.

When I get close, Mia spanks me across the ass with a noodle. An unexpected laugh falls from my lips. There is something so playful and whimsical about her personality. She can still make me forget myself and just let go, despite our years apart. She’s always possessed that skill. It was most helpful right after my mom passed away. I needed that levity more than ever, and Mia provided it. And I suppose now is no different. I like that she doesn’t act her age.

‘Come on. I’ll let you go first down the slide,’ she says.

‘Let me, huh?’ I lift one eyebrow. I pick her up and set her down on the top of the slide. It doesn’t escape my notice that she’s removed the shorts she’d been wearing all afternoon. Her bikini bottoms don’t match the top. They’re lime green. And the rounded curve of her ass cheeks peeking from the bottom is highly distracting. ‘Down you go.’ I place my hands on her shoulders and give her a playful push while still holding her securely.

‘You wouldn’t.’ She glares at me while her mouth is curved up into a crooked grin.

‘Maybe I’m not as nice as the guy you remember.’

‘You’re perfect,’ she says, her face going serious for a moment.

She can’t say things like that. It’s confusing as shit. The conversation I had with Colton last night spins in my brain. He was convinced that I’ve been in love Mia since I was a kid.

‘Collins?’ she asks, her face still holding its serious expression.

‘Plug your nose,’ I tell her and give her a shove.

Mia goes barreling down the slide toward the ocean and just before I hear the splash, she lets out a playful squeal.

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