The Game Series (43 page)

I pull my shirt on. “This is gonna be a fuckin’ nightmare.”

“But I’d imagine it’s pretty hard.”

“Yeah? Then at least I have something in common with it.”

~

Megan pulls up outside a row of old stables on the edge of Palm Springs. There’s nothing beyond them except open space, and I can see why the stables were built here.

“This is the place I learned to ride. I called ahead this morning and asked them to saddle the horses up for us.” She smiles at me.

“Right.” I look dubiously at the stables.

“Come on!” She gets out of the car, and I follow suit. “Oh, and, um, don’t go caveman, okay?”

“Why would I go caveman?”

“The owner’s son may have a teeny tiny crush on me.”

I look at her blankly.

“He’s only just sixteen,” she carries on. “He’s crushed on me since he could walk.”

“Right.” I have to ride with a boner and deal with a sixteen year old guy making eyes at my girl. Who said this was a good idea?

“Oh, Aston.” She laughs, grabbing my hands. “Don’t be grumpy. He’s cute.”

“Cute?”

“As in sweet-cute, not hot-cute.”

“Am I cute?”

“You’re hot-cute.” She tugs me forward and kisses my cheek. “There is a big, big difference.”

I grin as she leads me over to a stable with two brown horses. Her smile widens and she drops my hand, racing over to one of them. She runs her hand down the horse’s nose and hugs its neck.

“Hello, boy,” she coos. “Did you miss me?” She nuzzles her face into the horse’s neck, and I find myself smiling. That is definitely sweet-cute.

I keep my distance. I’m really not a horse guy. I have no idea why I’m here.

Megan turns to me, a light in her eyes and a huge smile on her face.

Scratch that shit. I know exactly why I’m here. I’m here because this makes her happy, and if I wanna do anything in my life, it’s make this girl happy. No matter what it takes or whatever I have to do to achieve it, I’ll do my damnedest to put that smile on her face as many times as I can.

She unbolts the door and leads the horse out, patting his neck. “This is Storm. He’s my baby.” She glances at me. “He was my sweet sixteenth present. Most people got a car. I got a horse, and worked for my Dad for a year to get my car.”

“Isn’t a horse cheaper?”

“It depends, but my boy is a thoroughbred and worth more than I could have earned in the year leading up to my birthday. Besides, a car is a car. Storm is one of my favorite guys.”

“I thought I heard your voice,” a woman calls and appears from the back of the stable. “It’s good to see you, Megs. Your boy has missed you.” The woman pats Storm.

“I missed him.” Megan smiles at her. “June, this is Aston, my boyfriend. Aston, this is June. She owns the stables and takes care of Storm for me while I’m at college.”

“It’s nice to meet you,” I say.

“So you’re the reason she called ahead? Learning to ride?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

She nods approvingly. “Nice choice, Megan. He’s cute.”

Megan snorts into her hand. “I’m getting that a lot.”

“I don’t mind.” I grin.

“Let’s just hope Poppy thinks you’re cute. She likes beginners, and if you chuck her one of these …” She throws me an apple I didn’t even realize she was holding. “… She’ll love you forever.”

“Where is she, then? I’ll go charm her.” I wink at Megan, and throw and catch the apple.

“This is Poppy.” June unlocks a door and leads out a white horse with gray speckles. “She’s the calmest of the bunch and she’s been with me for six years. She’ll take care of you.”

I walk up to her, gently reaching out to rub her neck and offering the apple. She takes it, eating it in under a minute, and nudges my shoulder with her nose.

“You’re not having any more,” June scolds her. “You be nice to Aston, old girl. Megan likes him.”

Megan reaches over and pats her nose. “Hey, girl. Ready to ride?”

Poppy neighs in what I assume is a yes, and both women lead the horses to the paddock. I follow behind, lagging slightly. Horse-riding. I never thought I’d see the day I’d be riding a horse – especially not to make a girl happy. I shake my head in a mild sort of amusement.

“Right.” June waves me over to her, and I watch Megan expertly mount Storm. Those pants are tight as fuck. Crap.

“Yep.” I stand next to Poppy, staring at the saddle.

“Gather the reins in one hand, put your left foot in the stirrup, and hold onto the wither,” June orders me. “Then push up and swing your leg over her flank. Make sure you don’t kick her.”

“What if I do?”

“Then she’ll take off, and you’ll land on your ass.”

Megan giggles, and I shoot her a look. “No kicking horse ass. Got it.”

“Ready? Go.”

I do as she says, sitting on Poppy’s saddle.

“Not bad,” June praises. “Now let your legs hang down, and I’ll sort out your stirrups.”

She fiddles with them and instructs me on how to settle my feet in properly. She puts a hat on my head, tightens the strap under my chin, and pats Poppy’s behind. She begins to move and I grab the reins tighter.

“Holy–”

“Sit up straight!” June barks. “Megan, he’s all yours!”

“Thanks, June!” She waves her off, and Poppy follows Storm out into the paddock. Megan turns to me, grinning. “Whatever you do, don’t squeeze your legs.”

“Why not?” I mutter, wishing I could lean forward and grab the horse’s neck. I admit it. I’m scared of this damn beast.

“Because she’ll go faster.”

“Great. You couldn’t have given me a run down on the way here?”

“Did you tell me about fishing before we got on the boat?” Her eyes sparkle, and I nod my head toward her.

“Touché, baby. Touché.”

She clicks her tongue, and Storm begins to move faster.

“I hope you’re not expecting me to go any faster.”

“I’m not,” she calls. “I didn’t actually expect you to get on Poppy!”

“Nice to know you have confidence in me,” I shout dryly as she rounds behind me. Poppy’s walking at a nice pace. I’m really not into taking her up into a trot. No way.

The ground is dusty as we leave the small paddock, and the sun beats down with a still hot temperature. “Where are we going?” I ask her.

“You’ll see.”

I slide down from Storm’s back and pat his neck lovingly, hooking his reins around a tree branch in the shade. I take my helmet off, shake out my hair, and look under the roots for the basket I asked June to place there earlier. Storm turns his attention to the water I’ve given him, and I lie the blanket out on the ground on the other side of the small tree. Excited, I sit down and wait for Aston to catch up.

Palm Canyon trail is one of my favorite to take – it always has been. Sitting here by the stream and letting Storm rest was a weekly pastime before I left for Berkeley. We’d do the other trails on our other rides, but our Saturdays were always reserved for this.

And now I remember why.

The green of the fauna is a stark contrast to the barren desert beyond, and the rocks that dot the stream are just big enough to sit on. It’s beautiful here. Peaceful in the winter when no one comes here.

“How do I get down?” Aston approaches.

I laugh at the sight of him. “Click your tongue three times, and she’ll stop, then get down the way you got up.”

“Not kicking her ass, right?”

“Exactly.”

He clicks his tongue and Poppy stops. His dismount is swift and it looks like he could have been riding his whole life.

“A picnic?” he smirks, hooking her reins over the branch the way I did and removing his hat.

“Surprised?” I smile as he drops onto the blanket next to me.

“Yep, but then you always surprise me.” He presses his lips to mine, and I cup the side of his face.

“You said you wanted to see Palm Springs. There’s not much in the other direction you can’t see in any other town, but this is my favorite place in the whole world.” I drop my hand and look around. “I’ve missed it here. I didn’t realize it until I was sitting here.”

“It’s pretty damn nice,” Aston says appreciating the view. “You really grew up here?”

“Pretty much. My mom has her horse at the stables, too. You didn’t see him, but Midnight is–”

“Black?”

“Yep, actually.” I glance at him. “She grew up here and taught me to ride. We spent every weekend out here until I was fourteen and she let me come alone. I didn’t miss a weekend until I started college.”

“Did you not think about riding in Berkeley?”

I shake my head. “I don’t think I have the time. Besides – I can’t expect my parents to pay for it as well as college. I could get a job, but then I definitely wouldn’t have time to ride. It’s a lose-lose situation.” I shrug.

Aston rummages in the basket. “At least you can still ride when you get home … Even if it is only a few times a year.”

“True.” I smile as he pulls out the strawberries. He grabs one from the dish and brings it close to my mouth. I hold it in place, and take a huge bite. Juice dribbles down my chin and he grins, flicking it away with his thumb.

“I hope you don’t think I’m feeding you,” he mutters, biting into his own strawberry.

“But you just did.” I pout, looking at the other strawberry in his hand. “And that’s a huge one!”

He looks at it, then at me and sighs. “Fine. Have the huge strawberry.” He holds it out to me, and I lean forward, biting into it slowly, my lips wrapping around it. His eyes flick down, focusing on my mouth, and I sit back.

My lips curve up as he puts a hand just behind my back, his face coming close to mine.

“You have a little …” he whispers in a rough voice, bringing his thumb to my face. I glance down at it, watching as he presses it against the corner of my mouth softly, wiping along the curve of my bottom lip. I part my lips, drawing in a slow breath, and close my eyes as he sweeps his hand into my hair.

His breath is hot across my lips, mingling with mine, and my heart pounds as he hovers there above me, millimeters from touching me. It’s a moment that seems to last forever, a moment filled with hope, anticipation, resolve, and
love
.

Hope for us. Anticipation for the future. Resolve to make it last. Love for everything we have and have yet to share together, and for everything we are.

And when he finally touches his lips to mine, it makes it all the sweeter.

~

The ride back to the stables is easy – mostly because Aston realizes he isn’t going to fall off if he goes into a trot. I let him drive back to my house and that seems to make up for forcing him to sit on a horse and stare at my ass in tight riding pants all day.

It kinda makes up for it, anyway.

Everyone is out when we arrive back, and I bet Mom dragged them all to the store. Tonight is her annual Thanksgiving eve party, which translates as lots of people, lots of wine, and lots of Nan eyeing up all the younger guys.

“You were a bit of an overachiever as a kid,” Aston says as we go upstairs.

“I was?”

“Yep. Swimming, horse-riding, gymnastics … Anything else?”

“Hmm. I danced for a bit. Well, six months. I gave it up. I was too heavy on my feet from gym, and I was a terrible ballerina.” I grin. “Gymnastics is a lot like dance, but apparently dance isn’t a lot like gymnastics.” I shrug, walking into my bathroom and running the shower.

I toss my clothes into the laundry basket and step under the steaming hot water, letting it run over me and soothe my aches from the day of riding. My legs are stiff and I know they’ll be even worse tomorrow, but it was so worth it.

It was even more worth it because Aston got to know some of me after showing me so much of him. His life is stuck in San Francisco, and while my life is in Berkeley, my heart is in Palm Springs.

He needs a little shove to let his heart break completely free from the confines he keeps it in. He might have let it go a little for me, but he needs to let it go for himself.

I just hope this weekend can do that for him, even just a bit.

I begin to hum to myself as I wrap a towel around my body, the soft melody of
Cry With You
by Hunter Hayes filling the small room. I scan the rows of bottles and tubs on my shelves, grabbing a vanilla moisturizer to match my shampoo.

The unsung words of the song haunt me, resonating through my body as I perch my foot on the edge of the bathtub and rub the moisturizer along my leg. The song reminds me of Aston, all his pain and all the pain I feel for him. It reminds me how I know I’ll never leave him, how I can give him the kind of love he needs to get through whatever his past throws at him.

Just like Hunter Hayes, I feel all the pain.

I let the towel fall away as I rub the moisturizer all over my body, letting it dry the water remaining on my skin. Two rough, warm hands cup my hips and a hot, chiseled chest presses against my back. Aston’s lips blaze a trail across my shoulders, his hands moving to my stomach and holding me flat against him.

“Were you watching me?” My voice is slightly shaky.

“Would you slap me if I say yes?” he replies in my ear, his hands moving up to cup my breasts.

“No,” I breathe out, pushing into his hands.

“Then yes, I was.” He kisses my neck, his hands massaging me in a way that tugs on all my stomach muscles and starts a desperate ache between my legs.

“Why?”

“Because,” he whispers. “I couldn’t not. I don’t know if you realize how beautiful you are with no make-up on, your wet hair, wearing just a tiny towel or nothing at all. I’ve never seen you totally natural before, and I didn’t think you could be any more beautiful than you usually are, but you are.”

He slides his hand down my stomach, easing his fingers between my thighs. He rubs his finger against my clit and pushes his hips into me, his erection digging in between my ass cheeks. My head drops back against him, and he blazes more kisses down my exposed neck, curving his fingers and soothing my ache. He keeps it up, holding me against him even as heat swamps my body and my legs give out. He holds me as the shaking subsides, still kissing me tenderly.

“My turn,” I whisper, spinning in his arms. I cup him with my hand, running my fingers along the outside of his boxers. He tugs us back into my bedroom, and I creep my fingers inside his boxers to touch him fully. He’s rock hard, and my fingers barely go right around him as they start a steady, pumping rhythm up and down him.

Aston pushes us onto the bed, moving his hips in time with my hand, and plunges his tongue into my mouth. The ache starts between my legs again, and I involuntarily buck my hips when he groans my name into my mouth. I squeeze him in my hand, not stopping my body’s responses to the desperate exploration his hands are undertaking.

It doesn’t take long before he pulls away from me, rolls on a condom and positions himself against me. He looks into my eyes as he pushes inside me, my muscles clenching around him. There are so many words I could say to him in this moment, so many things that need to be said between us, but this feels like it’s meant to be.

The first time since we came out. The first time since we used the word love.

After, we both shower and get ready for Mom’s party. My dress swishes about my knees as I stand and check my reflection in the mirror, smoothing the skirt out. Aston steps up behind me, linking his fingers with mine, and smiles.

“We make a pretty hot couple.” He winks, and I laugh.

“I’m not used to having to share looks and brains with someone. I always assumed I’d be the smart one out of us,” I tease him.

“Oh, you’re the smart one, all right.” He touches his lips to my temple. “You’ve taught me a lot in the last month. A lot I wouldn’t have learned without you.”

I reach up and touch his face, meeting his eyes in the mirror. “You don’t know that.”

“No, I do. When we were on the trail today and we stopped for lunch, you taught me how something barren and empty can be full of life and beautiful.”

My lips twist up slightly. “The canyon was deserted,” I remind him.

“But it was full of life because of you,” he says honestly. “You added to the beauty of it, bringing a desolate place alive. Just like you did for me. I always thought I was dead inside, that I had to feel that way. That I couldn’t remember because remembering meant feeling, and feeling meant being. And then there was you. You made me remember what it was like to live.”

“Aston …” I take a deep breath. “But none of that matters if it’s all for me. You have to ask yourself who you live for.”

“At first it was you. All you. Now? Now it’s a little of both. You taught me how to love, and I’m pretty sure I love myself just a little bit, now. I’ll never see what you see, but it’s more than I’ve ever had.”

I blink harshly, trying not to cry, because he can’t possibly understand how much those words mean to me. He can’t understand how much I wanted to make that pain better for him, make him understand he’s more than he thought. And he definitely can’t understand how his words seal around my heart, gripping onto it like a vice.

“Really?” I whisper.

‘Her heart did whisper that he had done it for her.’

“Really, baby. I live for me, but I love for you.” He kisses my temple again, and I feel every word.

He was always my Mr. Darcy.

And I was always his Elizabeth.