Beneath the Surface (14 page)

His grip tightened in response, his expression curious as he studied her. He was taking her measure and making no attempt to hide it. Wasn’t this the brother Asher had called the human lie detector? She released her grip, but he didn’t reciprocate.

A nervous glance Asher’s way brought him up beside her. His arm slipped around her waist and he pulled her into his side, breaking Jaxson’s contact. Yep . . . there they were, traitorous little bastards, battering around inside her stomach like it were a field of wildflowers.

“Jaxson, this is my girlfriend, Quinn. Quinn, my twin brother, Jaxson.”

“It’s nice to meet you,” she offered, torn between stepping away and leaning into Asher’s side. The current of awareness thrumming through her veins set her pulse on a chaotic course. He felt so good and yet she didn’t think it was a wise idea to stand in his arms for very long. Her only saving grace was that he had no idea how strongly his touch was affecting her.

“Dad mentioned you were seeing someone. I didn’t believe it.” Turning his gaze back to her, Jaxson said, “It’s nice to meet you, Quinn . . .”

“Summers,” she supplied honestly, because Asher had warned her not to lie if she could help it. She was safe with his family, and wasn’t worried about giving her full name, but that didn’t mean she wanted to get into the dirty details of what brought her to Asher’s doorstep.

“Jax is a homicide detective in Denver,” Asher finished their introduction. “Don’t mind him. He can be a little . . . intense. And then there’s this yahoo over here . . .” He guided her around, pointing Quinn in the direction of a guy lounging in a lawn chair wearing nothing but a pair of tight, low-riding jeans, cowboy boots, and a shiny silver belt buckle. A Stetson was tipped low over his brow, shielding his eyes from the sun. “My youngest brother, Fisher.”

The man climbed out of his chair, moving with a slow, easy grace that defied his size. Wow, these boys had some good genetics. He ambled toward her, the neck of his half-empty beer bottle trapped between his fingers, dangling at his side. He tipped his hat with his knuckle and gave her a nod. “Ma’am . . .” Was that a hint of a southern drawl? If the size of his belt buckle matched his ego, then women beware.

He shook her hand and she smiled politely.

“PBR nationals ended a few days ago. When Fish isn’t traveling, he trains the horses here on the ranch.”

“PBR?”

“Fish is a professional bull rider.”

“Ahh . . . that explains the belt buckle,” she teased.

He winked and shot her a sexy grin, pointing at the silver metal. But he was off by a few inches. “Eight seconds, baby . . .”

“You know, there are some women that might not be so impressed by that record.” She winked back.

Asher caught her meaning right away and busted out laughing, a deep throaty sound that resonated right through her. She’d never heard him laugh so hard before or seen him look so at ease and relaxed. There was a difference between this man and the presumably carefree one she’d met at Violet’s wedding. Had she been privy to this side of him, perhaps they wouldn’t have gotten off to such a rocky start, because this Asher was charming, attentive, and downright sweet. Until now, she’d only seen the arrogant, cocky version or the withdrawn, broody one. Neither had struck such a chord with her as the one holding on to her right now, and she felt a flicker of fear skitter through her. She did
not
want to fall for this man—but if she was being totally honest with herself, it might be too late.

Jaxson let out a deep, masculine bark of laughter. She probably shouldn’t have said what she did. She hardly knew this guy well enough to be giving him shit, but then again, when had that ever stopped her? She was relieved when Fisher joined in. Apparently, his ego could take the ribbing.

“That’s a good one,” he conceded, giving her a nod of approval. “Asher, your girl’s got sass. I like it.”

“Oh, you don’t even know . . .” he told his brother, wrapping his other arm around her and pulling her in for a hug. His scent surrounded her and she found herself taking a deep breath, drawing him in as he planted a quick kiss on her temple before letting her go. She tensed, startled by the unexpected show of affection. The whole thing happened so fast and seamlessly, it was over before she knew it. But holy hell, the effects would be lasting for a while. Heat rocketed through her, flushing from the top of her head to the bottom of her toes and hitting a few key areas in between.

Like a scratching record, time momentarily stood still while her mind scrambled to catch up with what had just happened. He was being kind and affectionate—and it was all a lie. She’d do well to remember that before she got the delusional notion that Asher actually cared about her, before she lowered her defenses and got hurt again. Not even three hours ago he’d likened her to fucking a porcupine, so there was no way in hell this wasn’t for show. She just wished she hadn’t felt such a sharp sting of disappointment at that revelation.

She scowled in annoyance with herself, turning away before anyone could see it, but Asher’s answering frown told her she was too late. He was perceptive to a fault. She could feel his eyes on her as she excused herself to go get another beer, hating that he saw the weakness inside her. Even if underneath all that bravado he truly was this attentive, affectionate guy, she didn’t know if she could ever open her heart again and trust him enough to find out.

“’Bout time you met a woman who made you work for it,” Jaxson joked, slapping Asher on the shoulder.

But he wasn’t laughing anymore.

CHAPTER

16

H
e probably shouldn’t have done that. Correction—he definitely shouldn’t have done that. Pulling Quinn into his arms and kissing her, even for an impulsive, chaste peck, was a mistake. Raw need roared through him like testosterone-fueled octane. Her light, floral shampoo reminded him of a field of wildflowers. He craved to bury his nose in those silky blonde strands and draw her scent deep into his lungs. The moment his lips had brushed her temple, he’d felt her flinch and quickly let her go.

She hid her unease well, excusing herself to head back to the house for another beer. He doubted the others noticed, but her rejection was another stinging slap. He wondered if Quinn was like this with all men or just him—cool, reserved, and wary. Even knowing she needed to act the part, she seemed unable to tolerate his affection longer than a few minutes before coming up with an excuse to skitter away like a frightened doe.

Admittedly, it unsettled him how easily he could pretend with her and how much he enjoyed the freedom the guise provided to touch her. This last week had been torture, and he wouldn’t think about how good, how right, it felt to have had her at his side since they’d gotten here. So good, he needed to stop this train of thought before he grew a cockstand. That was the last thing he needed someone noticing. He took enough ribbing from his brothers as it was.

Flames shot up on the grill, the whoosh and hiss of frying burgers demanding his brother’s attention and thankfully taking the focus off of him. “Shit!” Jax cursed, turning back to the burning meat. He grabbed the water bottle and shook it. Swearing again, he handed it to Asher. “Go get me some water, will ya?”

“Sure.”

“Thanks.” He poured his beer on the flames, temporarily averting ruin.

“You’re wasting good beer . . .” Fish complained.

“Better than burning Mom’s burgers.”

“Good point. Here.” Fish handed Jax his beer too, and returned to the lawn chair.

Asher noticed him wince as he lowered himself down. “You all right?”

“Yeah, just landed bad on my last ride is all. I’m fine.”

Fish wouldn’t say so if he wasn’t. Before Asher could ask him about it, flames roared from the grill again. “For chrissake, how high is that thing turned up?”

“Don’t you worry about it,” his brother shot back. “Just get me some water. I’m running out of beer.”

Asher shook his head at the sorry burgers and walked toward the house. It was no use arguing with him. Jax was the most stubborn, bullheaded man he knew. If he wanted to be in charge of the grilling, then all the power to him.

“Grab some more beers while you’re in there,” his brother called over his shoulder as Asher opened the patio door.

He crossed the living room and was about to round the corner of the kitchen when the sound of his mother’s voice ground him to a halt.

“So, tell us, how did you and Asher meet?”

“Yes, tell us,” Kim added with conspiratorial excitement. “We’re dying to know how you managed to capture that man’s heart. He’s like the elusive white buffalo,” she laughed.

For a moment, Asher considered taking pity on Quinn and saving her from the nosy twosome, but he wanted to hear what she said. They had her cornered in the kitchen. He could only imagine her deer-in-the-headlights look as her violet gaze darted around nervously, looking for the easiest escape route.

“Umm . . .” He could hear the hesitation in her voice. “We met at my sister’s wedding. Asher was the best man and I was the maid of honor.”

“And you took one look at each other and fell madly in love.” His mother, a hopeless romantic, hijacked Quinn’s story with her wishful thinking.

Asher held back a sarcastic snort of laughter, the memory of that day an all-too-familiar reminder that Quinn’s bark was just as bad as her bite.

“Something like that,” Quinn said evasively. “If you’ll excuse me, I think Asher is waiting for me.”

“Let him wait,” his mother said dismissively. “I’ve been waiting his whole life for him to finally settle down and bring a woman home for us to meet.”

“I’m the first?”

He couldn’t decide if she sounded flattered or concerned about that little revelation. And why was the subject now suddenly turning to him, he’d like to know? If they didn’t tread lightly here, he was going to have to do some serious damage control where Quinn was concerned. She already thought he was a commitment-phobic man-whore. Then again, she wasn’t that far off in her assumption.

His father obviously hadn’t let his mother in on the ruse, and he wished he would have. Asher knew how important it was to her that he meet someone and settle down. The last thing he wanted was to fill her with false hope, because he was fairly certain Quinn Summers was not his one true love—if such a thing even existed. His one true lust, perhaps . . .

“Asher’s a very special man,” his mother continued.

Oh, God help him, his mother made it sound like he belonged on the short bus. He couldn’t believe she was sales-pitching him to this woman.

“He’s been through a lot, especially since what happened in Nisour Square.”

Shit, she was
not
going there. Yes, yes she was . . .

“He doesn’t let people in easily. You must be a special woman if he’s opening up to you.”

Please stop talking . . . 
Asher closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. He couldn’t believe this was happening. Note to self:
Do not let Quinn out of your sight again.

All right, it was time to intervene. He was about to enter the kitchen and break up their little chatfest when Quinn spoke, and her confession stunned him like the concussive blast of an RPG.

“Sometimes you meet someone and without even realizing it, they become the difference between life and death. Asher is that for me, and I’m incredibly thankful I met him.”

Was that honesty in her voice? It sure as hell sounded like it, or perhaps it was wishful thinking. Either way, it made his chest tighten at this rare glimpse of her. Before he could think any harder about the significance of her words, the patio door slid open and Jax shouted, “Hey, jackass . . . What in the hell is taking so long with that water? I’m all out of beer.”

Shit. Busted . . .
“Just wait a goddamn minute,” he growled back, stepping around the corner and entering the kitchen. “And turn down the temperature on that grill!” All eyes focused on him, and was that a blush staining Quinn’s cheeks? Holy hell, she was beautiful . . .

Pretending he hadn’t just walked in on the middle of their conversation, he twisted the cap off the water bottle as he headed over to the sink. “Hey, Quinn, could you grab some more beers and bring them when you come out? Jax poured everyone’s on the grill.”

“Sure.” Amusement lightened her voice as she headed for the fridge. “I’ll be there in a minute. I was just helping your mom and Kim throw together this fruit salad.”

That wasn’t all they were doing in here. He turned off the water and recapped the bottle as he left the kitchen. The moment he rounded the corner, the room erupted into a fit of feminine laughter.

“Do you think he heard us?” Kim whispered.

“Lord, I hope not,” Quinn answered.

“Hey, Quinn, you want to play corn hole?”

She swallowed wrong and began choking on her beer as she busted out laughing. For some reason she found Fisher’s question ridiculously hilarious and completely inappropriate. She drained her fourth beer and decided to switch to soda because she was starting to get a little buzzed. She’d consumed her first and second fairly quickly to curb her anxiety over meeting Asher’s family. It was an unfounded fear, because they’d all been incredibly friendly—except for Jaxson. He was polite and kind, but more reserved than the others. She’d occasionally catch him watching her. Not in a lewd or creepy way, but pensive and thoughtful, as if he was trying to do the math and she and Asher didn’t quite add up. He watched her interacting with Asher and the rest of the family, spending a lot more time listening than talking as the group gathered around the picnic table for lunch.

She drank her third and fourth beer during lunch, in hopes of numbing her body’s traitorous response to Asher’s frequent touches, which, by the way, did not work. If anything, it heightened her craving and she found herself sitting closer to him at the picnic table than necessary, her thigh resting against his, her arm occasionally grazing his while they ate.

Despite his attempt to stifle his reaction, she knew she was affecting him too, and she was just tipsy enough to find it amusing. It pleased her to know she wasn’t the only one who wasn’t immune to this “innocent” contact, and she was taking a great amount of pleasure in getting a little payback of her own.

“It’s a flattering offer, Fish, and I can honestly say no one’s ever asked me that before, but I’m not so sure your brother would appreciate us ‘corn-holing.’”

The others at the table laughed. She even got a chuckle out of Jaxson, and Quinn couldn’t be sure, but she thought she might have made that tough bull rider blush.

Asher slipped his arm around her and pulled her a little closer. Dipping his head, he told her with a throaty chuckle of amusement, “Corn hole is like a beanbag toss game—but with corn.”

“Oh,” she laughed, joining the others. “Well then, in that case, I’d love to. I don’t know how to play, though,” she warned. “We don’t have ‘corn hole’ in Manhattan.”

“No worries, sweetheart. I’ll teach you,” Fisher offered.

“What about you?” she turned to Asher, making the mistake of glancing up into his eyes. How many different shades of blue, green, and brown were in there, she wondered, too buzzed to care that she was staring. “Don’t you want to play with me?”

Hunger flared in his eyes. It was so raw and unguarded, her core clenched in response to his need.

He bent a little closer, his lips brushing the shell of her ear as he whispered, “I think I’m going to have to sit this one out.”

The rumble of his voice set her nerve endings on fire. Her gaze dropped to his lap and she saw the reason he wouldn’t be moving from this spot anytime soon. Maybe she shouldn’t have enjoyed the flare of feminine satisfaction that gave her. If she didn’t put some space between herself and this man soon, she was likely to do or say something her sober self would regret. They were in dangerous territory here. This ruse would only give them so much leeway before they got themselves in trouble.

“Your loss,” she told him with a flirty grin. “Well, Fish, it looks like I’m all yours. Teach me to corn hole.”

A low groan meant for her ears only rumbled in Asher’s throat. Fisher chuckled as he slipped out of the bench across from them and gave her a gentlemanly bow. “Darlin’, I’d be honored.”

Quinn braced her hand on Asher’s muscular shoulder as she rose, using him for balance as she carefully stepped one leg over the bench and then the other. She took her time, not only because the world was spinning a little, but also because she knew her breasts were in his face and she couldn’t resist giving him a generous shot of cleavage.

She listed forward and Asher reached up, catching her hips to steady her. His grip was firm, his fingertips pressing into the flesh of her backside. The image of him gripping her like this as she rode him flashed through her mind. Her sex moistened, welcoming the fantasy. God help her, she needed to get away from him for a little while.

“You going to be all right?” Asher asked, concern replacing the burn of lust she saw blazing in his eyes only a moment ago.

“I’m fine. I just stood up a bit too fast, that’s all. I don’t usually drink,” she confessed quietly.

“You sure you want to play?”

His hands were still on her hips. Her heart rioted inside her chest. This wasn’t helping her stability any, that’s for sure. “I’m good.” She pulled out of his reluctant grasp and followed Fisher toward the two rectangular boxes with a hole cut out of each one. She could feel the heat of Asher’s stare burning into her ass every step of the way. Jaxson and Rory were already there, marking off the distance between the two boxes.

“He’s got it bad for you,” Fisher told her as they walked across the yard.

He wasn’t the first person to tell her this since they’d arrived, and she cursed the little leap of joy her heart took every time she heard it. This was crazy, reminding herself for the hundredth time that this wasn’t real. Asher was just a really good actor. But then, she couldn’t very well tell his brother that.

“How do you know?” she found herself asking him instead.

“Are you kidding me? He hasn’t been able to keep his eyes off you all day.” He glanced over his shoulder. “He’s still staring at you.”

She resisted the urge to look, but couldn’t contain her grin.

“You’ve got him in knots, sweetheart.”

They were almost to the boxes, about to join the others, when he slowed his steps and turned unexpectedly serious. “Don’t hurt him, Quinn. That guy’s been to hell and back, and he deserves a little happiness.”

Before she could respond to his warning, that carefree grin flashed across his face again and he threw his arm around her shoulder, pulling her in for a brotherly hug. “Now let’s play some corn hole.”