One True Thing (12 page)

twin brother. His
identical
twin brother, judging

by the way almost everything about them seemed

exactly the same—hair, eyes, skin color, height.

Oh, holy hell. Twins.

That explained so many things, especially the

feeling I’d been having on and off—the rightness,

that bone-deep yearning. With Asher standing

there, gaping at me with an almost wounded

expression, it had come back with a vengeance,

strong enough that I could barely breathe for how

much I wanted to stand up and go to him.

At first glance, I wouldn’t have been able to

tell them apart. It was no surprise I’d mixed them

up. Christ, Archer had never even mentioned

having a brother on either of our dates. There was

no real way I could have known. But as I stared at

Asher in mute horror, little differences started to

stand out.

He was darker than Archer, his lips a little

fuller, his body, or what I could see of it in the

shorts and sleeveless shirt he wore, more solid

and less wiry. He also had an impressive-looking

tattoo that went from shoulder to elbow on his right

arm—a tattoo I’d missed the first time I’d seen

him, the time he saved me from falling, because

he’d been wearing a button-down shirt with long

sleeves. (And I was 100 percent sure, just by the

feeling in my belly, that it was
him
that day and not

Archer.)

I opened my mouth to say something to him, I

didn’t even know what, just anything to break the

excruciating silence, but before I could make a

sound, Archer spoke.

“Oh,” he said, looking between me and Asher

with a puzzled expression on his face. “If you’re

gonna stand there staring, I guess I should make an

introduction.” The sneer in his tone was hard to

miss. He waved a hand at me. “This is Dyl—

Dusty. Dusty, my brother, Asher… who has yet to

remove the stick that was implanted in his ass at

birth.”

Asher gave a jerky nod, just once up and

down, then turned on his heel and disappeared

down the hallway that presumably led to the

bedrooms.

I blinked, snapping out of the weird spell that

had held me frozen. A part of me—a big and

probably stupid part—wanted to go after him,

explain, tell him if I’d known it wasn’t him, I

would’ve never given my number to Archer. But

how psycho would that make me look? I’d never

even spoken to him, and he’d only said a few

things to me, and that had been weeks ago, nearly

two months.

I swallowed the achy tightness in my throat

and sat up stiffly, moving slow and careful, as if

any sudden movement might crack the fragile little

shell holding my emotions in check. I was aware

of one thing and one thing only: I had to get out of

there. The sooner the better. I couldn’t stay there

with Archer another minute, not while Asher was

down the hallway, behind some closed door, and

the truth of the situation had everything in me

longing to follow.

“Well,” Archer said after a few seconds. He

was staring in the direction his brother had gone.

“That was weird.”

I slid off the couch and reached for my shirt,

which was lying in a crumpled ball on the carpet.

“I… I’ve gotta go.”

Archer shot me an incredulous look. “What?

You’re joking, right?”

I shook my head and yanked my shirt on. “No,

I… I’ll, um, talk to you later, okay?”

Archer made an annoyed sound. “Fuck, I can’t

believe this shit. You’re seriously gonna leave me

hanging?”

I didn’t bother to answer. I could see from the

bulge in Archer’s jeans that he was still hard and

apparently ready to jump right back in where we’d

left off. I, on the other hand, was reeling inside,

confused and miserable and so far from turned on I

felt almost sick.

I buttoned up my jeans and walked out of the

apartment, ignoring Archer’s irritated, “Oh, come

on
,” as the door closed behind me. At that moment,

I couldn’t have cared less about Archer or what he

wanted to do with his cock. The only thing I
did

care about was Asher and the look on his face

when he’d seen me, as if it had hurt him somehow

to realize it was me his brother had been kissing.

Oh God. Only me. How did I get myself into

such a big-ass mess?

Asher

WELL, if that hadn’t sucked. A lot. Like all the

stupid hopes of happiness I’d pinned on that one

guy—who I didn’t even know—had gotten shot

through with some poisoned arrow all in one fell

swoop. Like it was the cute guy’s fault that he met

Archer, like it was his fault he thought I was

Archer those few times when we connected.

And I’d built this whole big thing with him

out of thin air. That thin air was really damn

painful when it imploded, though. Sure felt like

something to me. As much as I didn’t want anyone

to find out how dumb I felt, I needed to talk. So the

next day I called Christy. As flighty as she acted

sometimes, she was honestly a good friend.

“Hey, babe. What’s up?” she asked as soon

as she picked up the phone.

There was noise in the background, honking

and the rush of traffic.

“Are you busy right now?”

“Not too busy for you, sweetness. Do you

want to meet for coffee?”

I was grateful that Christy was always ready

to be there for me. “Can you come to the Starbucks

on Santa Monica? The one near Ramada Plaza?

I’ll buy you a Frappuccino.”

“You don’t have to buy me anything. Besides

those things have like a zillion calories. I’ll take a

tall, skinny vanilla.”

“Okay.” I chuckled at the way she

contradicted herself but planned to get her a grande

anyway. She was in for a lot of whining.

“TELL me what’s wrong, Ash,” Christy said when

she arrived and joined me at the table I’d claimed

near the windows. “And that’s a grande. I can’t

drink all of that.”

I rolled my eyes. “It’s sugar-free and fat-free.

Drink it.”

Christy giggled. “Okay. I’ll drink. You talk.”

I proceeded to tell her about my pathetic

affair, which was basically all with myself, since

the guy I thought I was having this fun little

flirtation with was really having one with my

brother. It was embarrassing, to say the least, but it

felt good to get it off my chest.

“Oh, hon” was all Christy had to say when I

was done talking. The sympathy in her eyes was

obvious. But she was my friend, and I didn’t want

her to think I was a total loser.

“I’ve gotta move out, Chris. I can’t watch

them hook up over and over.”

Christy’s sympathy turned into a snort, which

was probably louder than she’d intended because

it was followed by a giggle into her coffee. “What

on earth makes you think it will happen again? You

know your brother.”

“Yeah, but the way Dusty looked at me… it

was like something special was going on. And all

along he thought I was Archer.” Every time I

thought it or said it, the whole thing sounded

worse.

Jesus.

“You know what I think, sugar?” Christy said,

after a few minutes of listening to me fret.

“What do you think?” I had an idea, it was

honestly my idea too, but I needed confirmation.

“I think you’re right. You’ve gotta get out of

there. It’s not good for you to be around Archer all

the time, even if he never sees this Dusty guy again

and he ends up being a momentary flash in the pan.

Archer is bad news for you, and he needs to take

care of himself for once.”

I nodded. “You know, that’s what my mom

said too.”

Mom had never met Christy, but, other than

her profession, I thought they’d probably get along.

“Your mama’s a smart woman. I think I might like

to meet her.” She must have seen my brief look of

panic. “Don’t worry. We can tell her I make

documentaries.”

I nearly spit out my coffee.

WHEN I got home from coffee with my porn star

personal guru, I had a few e-mails on my

computer. I kept my “porn” e-mails off my phone,

just for, well, to be smart. There were a few

potential clients. I called the first of them and

made an appointment to meet later in the week at

The Banana Leaf. Yeah. Pathetic. I was well

aware.

In my defense, the café was one of my

favorites. At least, that’s what I told myself while I

walked down the street on my way to the meeting a

few days later. It was close, they had great salads

and sandwiches, and I’d been going there forever.

My choice of meeting place had nothing at
all
to

do with a little blond pixie who happened to be

hooking up with my brother. And there it was. That

involuntary stabbing feeling. Damn. I was an idiot.

I dropped my eyes down to the sidewalk and

forced myself to take one step at a time. Honestly,

when I thought about it, I almost hoped my pretty

boy wouldn’t be there. At least in that case, I’d be

saved from looking like an idiot
and
a stalker.

Chapter Six

Dusty

“WOW.”

The word fell stone-heavy into the silence

between me and Rue. His voice sounded a bit

strangled, as if he was fighting the urge to laugh

and mostly failing. I couldn’t say I blamed him. I’d

just finished telling him about my second date with

Archer and the discovery of his brother, Asher,

and how I’d been confusing the two. In all fairness,

i t
did
sound like the plotline for some quirky

romantic comedy—except I wasn’t Meg Ryan, and

the reality of the situation made it a hell of a lot

less funny.

“Oh, Dust….” Rue’s voice trailed off into a

laugh. “I’m sorry, but—”

“I know,” I said miserably. I picked up my

half-empty glass of Moscato and tossed back the

contents in one long gulp. “It’s not that funny,

Rues.” It really wasn’t, especially when I was still

nursing a humiliation hangover from the night

before. Every time I thought about it, how I’d lain

there frozen solid while Asher stared at me, unable

to say a word, my belt undone, pants open, I

wanted to curl up into a ball and hide in the back

of my closet for the rest of my life. It was just that

embarrassing.

“I’m sorry,” Rue said again, once he’d gotten

himself under control. “But you have to admit,

babe, it’s kind of crazy….”

“It is.” That I couldn’t deny.

“What are you going to do?” Rue reached into

the bowl on the table between us and grabbed a

cherry. We were sitting outside on the patio in our

backyard, sharing a bottle of wine and munching

on the fruit while Alice slept and Erik worked on

the edits for his upcoming novel. It was a little

muggy, but a light breeze helped to take some of

the edge off, and the moon was bright enough that

we didn’t need to light any of the tiki torches that

surrounded the patio.

As unexciting as it might have seemed to

some people, maybe even Rue back in the day

before Alice was born, I was happy to be there. It

had been a while since I’d gotten to spend any real

time alone with Rue. I’d missed talking to him.