S.O.B. Page 3

  I feel my eyes widen and my jaw drop. A cruel chuckle rumbles deep in Levi’s chest and he breaks out in a triumphant grin as he backs toward the door. I hate him. So damn much I could spit nails.

  “While sparring with you has been fun,” he says jovially as he shifts toward the door, “you’re not the only one who has work to do. So I suggest you grab a shower and meet me downstairs in an hour so we’re not late.”

  Crossing my arms over my chest, I lift an eyebrow to hide my surprise. “What constitutes ‘work,’ exactly?”

  “Ah, now that, dear sister, is a surprise. But rest assured. I’ll make sure you put those fingers to good work.”

  ***

  “Change. Your. Fucking. Clothes, Vista. Now.”

  I can’t believe she thought she could get away with it. After leaving her room to get ready for the day ahead, I jumped in the shower, wrapping the lower half of my leg in plastic to keep the cast dry, and then struggled some more to get dressed, and still made it back downstairs with time to spare. Massive time to spare.

  Women and their beauty regimens. I’ve never understood how any one person could take so damn long on their appearance and come out looking totally natural.

  That’s Vista. She’s natural from the top of her walnut brown head to the tips of her unpolished toes. But somehow, she manages to not only look stunningly beautiful, but take for-freaking-ever to do it.

  It’s the clothes. She’s made a perfectly ordinary pair of black skinny jeans and a transparent black and purple striped cap-sleeved top look like lingerie. It’s entirely inappropriate for where we’re headed, and I have an insatiable urge to march up to her and tear every thread off of her.

  “What’s wrong with the way I’m dressed?” she asks, looking down at herself.

  “Nothing, if you’re going for the biker whore look,” I snark back. I don’t know why I do it. Pressing her buttons is a knee-jerk reaction that I can’t seem to get a handle on. But it doesn’t matter anyway. Vista is cold as ice. Case in point, the way she’s looking at me now. It could freeze a man’s nuts off.

  “I do not look like that,” she bites back. “And I’m not changing.” The way she says this while lifting that stubborn chin says the conversation is closed. I don’t like it, and I consider fighting her on it, but I remind myself that I’m not her boyfriend or her daddy. I know when to back down and when to start a fight, and we just don’t have time for a fight today.

  Crossing the floor in long strides that make her hips sway and my jeans tight, Vista shoves past me and rips open the refrigerator door. “Where are we going?”

  Pivoting around, I lean back against the counter to relieve the pressure the crutches put on my underarms and continue drinking my glass of milk as I watch her. She has her head in the fridge, her arm slung over the top of the open door, and the position shoves her perky ass up and out. Goddamn.

  Running my tongue over my teeth, I can’t help wondering what she’s like in bed now. Wild? Or tame? As teenagers, Vista was the shy type, letting everyone else call the shots while she followed. The one time I got her underneath me, she was exactly the same—meek, malleable, easy to please, and eager to follow directions. But she seems different now. More confident.

  “I already told you,” I begin, addressing her question before I forget that one was asked. “It’s—”

  “A surprise. Yeah, yeah. I heard you the first time,” she remarks. Straightening, she slams the door shut and rounds on me. “Don’t you have anything other than beer, milk, and condiments in this place? I’m starving.”

  “It’s a bachelor pad, princess. Any food that gets eaten here is ordered in.” With a sigh, my eyes travel over her slight frame. She’s slim, but curvy. Healthy. Not like the stick thin chicks I usually find in my bed the morning after a bender. They’re all sharp angles, but it’s not their curves I’m looking for anyway. “Don’t worry. I’m sure we can scrounge up some celery sticks when we get there.”

  Her face bunches up at my suggestion and she smacks her lips in distaste. “Do I look like a girl who eats celery for breakfast?”

  “I don’t know,” I tell her as I turn and lead the way to the door. “Usually women with flat asses are on a two-hundred-calorie-a-day diet.”

  She stops mid step and stares up at me with fire dancing in her eyes. “I don’t have a flat ass, you jackass. You’re confusing me with your bed partners.”

  “Have you ever heard of Sir Mix-a-lot, Vista?” I ask as I swing out into the hall and call for the elevator while she locks up behind us. When she steps up next to me, I deliberately lean into her so that the entire right side of my body rubs against the left side of hers. Immediately, she sidesteps, and I nearly burst into laughter. I never expected teasing her could be so much fun.

  We pause to wait for the elevator and I use the time to lean down, close enough that my lips skim the shell of her ear. Her lips part, and I hear her sharp intake of breath which only makes this moment even more enjoyable as I whisper, “My anaconda don’t want none….” I trail off, humming the rest of the tune.

  It takes her a moment, and then she lowers her chin to her chest and her shoulders begin to shake with silent laughter. When she lifts her head, her face is tinged scarlet and she’s wearing a wide smile that threatens to stop my heart.

  I’m shocked. I expected her to freak out and start screaming, or rear back and hit me, because that’s what uptight princesses like her generally do. But this is a pleasant surprise. Maybe Vista isn’t the ice queen she projects. I wonder how much of that rebellious streak that led her into my arms the first time is still left in her.

  We step into the elevator together and silently watch as the numbers count down. It’s so quiet in here that every breath she takes registers in my ears. I watch her from the corner of my eye, unable to stop looking at her. I still can’t believe she’s here. I never thought I’d see her again, and I’d always imagined that if I did, it would be under duress. We didn’t end on a good note, which is entirely my fault, and I certainly never expected that I might actually begin to like her. Again.

  “What do you want to eat?” I ask her as we grow closer to the ground floor. “I’ll swing by someplace on the way.”

  The elevator slows to a crawl, and when the doors slide open, I throw out a crutch and hold them there, waiting for her to pass through first. Then she purses those pale pink lips that I know are going to star in many midnight fantasies as she walks out.

  “I want eggs. And bacon,” she adds as I fall into step with her. “Oh, and toast with cinnamon butter. And coffee. The real stuff, not instant.” She makes a face and it’s so adorable on her, I find myself smiling.

  A girl who actually eats. I’m impressed. “Are you going to be able to eat all that?”

  “Please, that’s a snack compared to what I usually eat.”

  I find myself laughing as I lead us past the front desk. It’ll be nice to share a meal with someone who doesn’t complain about carbs and blowing their diet for once.

  “You’re paying, right?” Vista’s chocolate brown eyes lift to mine as we push through the turnstiles and cross the sidewalk to my car that’s already waiting for me. I nod my thanks to the valet as I lean down to open the passenger door.

  “I thought you were getting this one,” I tease her.

  “Excuse me? Who’s the famous soccer player slash trust fund baby here?” A frown crosses her face as she looks down at the car then back up at me. “I hope you don’t think you can drive with that thing on.”

  “Hasn’t stopped me yet,” I inform her with a confident lift of my chin.

  Her mouth flaps open and she shakes her head in disbelief. “I don’t know why I expected you to be reasonable...” she mutters. Pausing with one foot in the door, she grips the top of the frame and stares up at me with a challenging lift to her brow. “If you get us killed, I’m going to strangle you.”

  “Oh, and how do you plan to do that? I’ll be dead.”

  I grin down
at her and her eyes narrow as if annoyed, but I see the amusement in them. She likes it when I tease her, and I’m shocked to realize that I’m more than willing to keep doing it if it means keeping that smile on her face.

  “You’re picking up the tab this time,” she tells me. With a wink, she drops into the seat and I close the door, shaking my head as I round the front of the car and climb into the driver’s seat.

  When I rolled out of bed this morning with a mile long headache, cotton mouth, and the prospect of having to deal with an unwanted guest, I didn’t think this day could get much worse. But then I found myself standing in her room and, well...I have to admit, this day is looking pretty damn good from where I’m sitting.

  I glance over at Vista who’s riding shotgun in a car that’s normally reserved for myself alone. She has her face turned away from me, staring out the window at the passing scenery and bobbing her head to the music drifting from the speakers. The morning sunlight filtering through the skyscrapers catches in her hair, setting off the strands of gold and red that run throughout and make me want to reach out and touch it to see if it’s real. She’s gorgeous. Perfect in every way.

  Yeah, things are definitely looking good from where I’m sitting.

  5

  It sounds like I’ve stuck my head inside a beehive. The incessant buzzing of the oscillating saw as the ortho doc cuts through Levi’s cast fills the room and vibrates in my skull. To be honest, it’s making me nauseated. I keep my head turned away, focusing on the wall of medical posters depicting the inside of the human body as a distraction.

  “How can you be squeamish,” Levi questions over the noise, “when you work with this stuff every day?”

  He’s got to be kidding, right? Tossing him a look that I hope conveys the depth of my irritation, I attempt to control my voice. “I don’t work with this stuff, Levi. I handle the after care, when all of this stuff has already been handled.” Hence the reason I wasn’t here twelve weeks ago.

  I tell him this with a childlike roll of my eyes and a condescending shake of my head as I turn my attention to my phone buzzing inside my purse. I pounce on it, eager to finally have something interesting to focus on because even though logic tells me the doctor’s done this a hundred times and knows what he’s doing, I’m convinced that saw is going to chop Levi’s leg right off, and I just can’t.

  “And FYI,” I snipe at him as I read the incoming text. “Your ‘surprise’ sucks.”

  Mom:Hey, sweetie! How’s the view from where you’re standing?

  The text I get from my mom is teasing and an incredibly cheesy play on my name, and because this day is already heading south, it makes me long for home. My real home. Not the couch I’ve been crashing on in my friend’s studio apartment back in Cincinnati, or the bed so graciously afforded to me by Levi, but the one from when I was a kid—a saggy twin-size mattress stacked on top of a creaky box spring and set on an old metal hospital style frame. The blankets and sheets were mismatched and covered with tiny nubs. It wasn’t glamorous or even particularly pretty, but it was mine and it smelled of home.

  Me:View is great. How’s the sun there?

  Mom: Hot. But my tan looks fabulous!

  Her text is followed by a picture of her dressed in a very classic fifties style navy and white polka dot one-piece lying out by the pool. I recognize the landscape behind her and know she’s at home.

  Me:Looking great, Mom. How is David enjoying the weather?

  Mom: He’s in Japan until Friday. I have the house to myself.

  Me: House party!

  Mom: LOL I think I left my wild streak back in the sixties.

  Me: Maybe you should hire a detective to track it down.

  Unlike many of the rich housewives I’ve been introduced to, my mom is a homebody. The only thing she needs to be happy is her kids, her home, and her husband. She has two out of the three. David Black is a nice enough guy and a decent enough stepfather, but he falls short as a husband.

  Before the ink was even dry on the marriage license, he was off on the first of many long business trips. He’s hardly ever home, which leaves Mom alone more often than not, and she doesn’t have many friends to keep her occupied, though not by any choice of her own.

  As soon as the women in the community uncovered her humble beginnings, she became the black sheep, unwelcome pretty much everywhere aside from those rare times when she was permitted to accompany David to one of his charity galas or some other snobbish affair.

  I know my mother isn’t happy, but try telling her that. I learned long ago that there is no changing her mind. She married David Black and she is determined to make her marriage work. What’s she’s doing is honorable, I guess, but it’s certainly not what I would do. When I get married, it’s going to be to a man who lives for me, because if he can live without me, then he’s not worth the time or hassle.

  Mom:How is the living situation? Is Levi being nice?

  I grunt to myself,and then type my response.Nice digs. Roommate didn’t work out. Stuffed his body in the incinerator.

  Mom: You’re a riot.

  Me: Maybe I’m not kidding.

  Mom: Hang in there. Only a few weeks left. Be nice.

  I can’t believe she’s telling me to be the nice one. Clearly, Levi has her as snowed as the rest of the country.

  Me: Oh, I will. *shakes fist*

  Mom: Be nice! LOL

  I can picture her smiling in my mind and chuckle to myself.

  “Who the hell are you talking to?” Levi’s voice comes as a shock, and I jerk my head up to find him watching me with an amused smile. “Your fingers were flying,” he says, pointing to the phone in my hand. “Boyfriend?”

  “I don’t have a boyfriend,” I grumble, then send off another quick text to my mom.

  Me:At the doctor’s. Gotta go.

  Mom: Is everything ok?

  Me: Levi’s getting his cast off. I told the doc to take the leg, but he doesn’t take bribes. *sigh*

  Mom: You crack me up. Ok, love you!

  Me: K, love you too!

  Tucking the phone back in my purse, I sit back in my chair, noticing the lack of noise right away. “You’re done?”

  Extending his leg out in front of him, Levi says, “Cracked that baby off five minutes ago. The smell was horrific. Guess you didn’t notice because you were too wrapped up in talking to lover boy.”

  “It was my mom.”

  His eyes widen. “She’s a boy?”

  “You are intolerable,” I reply, scowling.

  His expression sobering, he asks, “How is she?”

  “Alone.”

  Dropping his gaze to the floor, he grows silent, and I welcome it. My mom’s impossible not to love, and we both know what a crap deal she got hitching herself to his father. It’s difficult not to feel sorry for her.

  “So are you all set then?” I ask, needing to escape the oppressive feeling talking about our parents stirs up.

  “Doc, are we all set?” Levi asks the man in the white lab coat who is busily writing notes in his file.

  “You’re set,” the doctor confirms, “but,” he adds quickly when Levi moves to jump down from the table, “I want you to remember that while the bones have mended you still need to take it easy. That means limiting your activities. Nothing too vigorous or strenuous right now. You’re going to have to work up to where you were. Do you have a physical trainer lined up to help you with that?”

  Levi tips his head toward me. “You’re looking at her.”

  The minute I agreed to be his therapist, David had Levi’s records faxed over, and I got to work putting a schedule together. I meet the doctor’s cool blue stare and nod hello. “I’m up-to-date on his records and have a plan already in place to get him back into top form.”

  “Well, then. We’re all done here.”

  After exchanging handshakes, the doctor instructs Levi to schedule a follow-up appointment and we head out.

  After grabbing a quick lunch in a drive-thru
window and eating in the car in the parking lot, Levi drives us in the opposite direction.

  “So where to next?” I ask him.

  “It’s a surprise.” A smile stretches across his face, and it looks so good on him, it’s a struggle not to stare.

  Staring out the window, I droll, “Another surprise? Well, color me excited. I can barely contain myself.”

  “Well, try your hardest, princess.” Levi chuckles. “You’re going to love this one. I guarantee it.”

  ***

  “I’m beginning to think you don’t know what the meaning of surprise is.”

  The gym Levi brought us to is nice. Really nice. From the outside, I could see through the glass front that it has two levels. From the inside, I can see it’s been outfitted with all of the latest and most expensive pieces of equipment—treadmills, stair climbers, weight benches, ellipticals, even a lap pool, and the list goes on. It’s a personal trainer’s dream. As a therapist, my mind is already teeming with possibilities.

  “How are you feeling right now?” Levi asks.

  I look around the gym, torn, but because I never expected this, I settle on, “Shocked.”

  Tossing his heavy arm around my shoulder, Levi jerks me playfully into his side. “I hate to tell you this,” he says low enough so that only the two of us can hear him, “but that’s the definition of a surprise.”

  Planting my palms against his side, I shove him away, but he’s sturdy enough that he barely budges. “You’re such an ass.”

  Pursing his lips, he blows me a kiss.

  I glare at him.

  He laughs.

  S.o.b.

  “So, where do we start?” Levi’s eyes dance with mischief as he scans the open floor and the collection of machines. “Weights? Leg press?”

  Shaking my head, I step past him, taking the lead. “Think smaller.”

  One of the corners of the gym has been set up for aerobics classes. Currently, none are being held, leaving the room open for our use. I see what I’m looking for and head for it.

  “A Pilates mat? What do we need that for?” Levi asks as he pulls up beside me.