That’s not to say I don’t enjoy being generous. I bought Nelle a minivan after Jaxon was born. Mostly as a joke—before becoming a mom, she swore she’d never drive one. Fun fact? She still drives it.
“I just wanted to call you before I leave the country.”
“What?” she all but shrieks out.
I chuckle. “Sorry, that sounded more dramatic than I meant it. Saint offered me his cabin for the summer, so I’m going up to Ottawa to chill for a few days.”
When Saint said he needed someone to take care of the cottage this summer, I jumped at the chance. He’s from Canada originally, and bought the cabin a few years back, wanting a place where he could enjoy quiet summers during the off-season. This is no rustic log cabin, however. It’s a four-thousand-square-foot lodge with five bedrooms and six bathrooms.
Although now that job is Aspen’s, so I debated on going at all.
Sure, I could have hired a local to handle the few tasks Saint was convinced Aspen couldn’t manage. But then I decided against it. I need a change of scenery. A break from the day-to-day bullshit that keeps me feeling like I’m underwater.
And the chance to see Aspen again? Let’s just say I don’t exactly hate the idea. She’s gorgeous, after all.
Nelle asks a few more questions, but I try to downplay my visit north not only to her, but also to myself.
Ever since I kissed Aspen, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about her. And the idea of the two of us being alone together at a cabin in the woods with no one else around for miles . . . it’s arousing, to say the least.
“That sounds like a nice getaway,” my sister says, snapping me back to reality.
“Yeah, it should be. Saint can’t make it up there this summer, so he needs some help with the place—clearing brush and securing the place for winter.”
“Cool. Are we still on for New York?”
“Yep, I’ll see you then.”
I have plans to see my sister in New York in a few weeks. I’ll be coaching a youth hockey camp there for a few days, and since Nelle and Jaxon are close enough to visit, I’ll meet up with them afterward. I’m sure I’ll take them out to lunch and shopping or something. Maybe even play my nephew in some one-on-one. He learned how to skate recently, and I haven’t seen his skills in person, only via shaky cell-phone video.
Nelle and I say good-bye, and a few minutes later, I’m opening the front door to let Saint inside.
“Damn. Nice digs, homey,” he says, peeking over my shoulder at the sprawling entryway and sunken formal living room beyond.
We exchange a fist bump.
“Thanks, man. Come on in.”
I bought this place a few months ago, but only recently moved in. The house was built in the seventies and needed some major renovations. It was owned by some bigwig finance executive, and apparently he and his wife really liked wall-to-wall shag carpeting and gold window treatments. I worked with an architect to take this place down to the studs. Now the rooms are open and bright, and it all suits me much better.
I give Saint the grand tour. We stroll through the cozy family room with its oversize fieldstone fireplace and a view of the pool in the backyard, and the vaulted-ceiling dining room with seating for twelve. I’ll probably never even use this table, but the interior designer thought it would fit the room, and it does.
“You gonna host a dinner party or what?” Saint asks, running a palm along the sleek bamboo table.
I shrug. “Maybe a poker night.”
“Oh, man. Even better. I’m there.”
I show him into the rooms I use most often, which are my bedroom with its adjoining TV nook where I’ve fit a small sofa and a huge flatscreen, and the en-suite bathroom. Two huge walk-in closets are beyond that—his and hers. The hers closet is empty, which is totally fine with me for now. I’m not looking to jump into another relationship anytime soon.
We end up inside my bedroom where I have a half-packed duffel bag and some clothes scattered across my bed.
“You still planning on leaving in the morning?” Saint asks, taking a seat on the leather bench at the end of my bed.
“Yeah. It’s, what, a seven-hour drive?”
He gives me a sly grin. “Six, jackass. And you know that. You’re the one who gave Aspen that factoid. Practically twisted her arm to get her to agree to this.”
I become suddenly very interested in packing some extra pairs of socks. You can never have too many socks, after all. Then I grab a drawstring bag for my shoes, tucking inside an old pair of sneakers and some work boots, and shove it into the duffel.
“Did she make it okay?” I ask without glancing his way. Aspen had plans to drive up a few days ago, no doubt eager to put her couch-surfing days behind her and to put some distance between her and the city.
Saint makes a noise of agreement. “Cell service is spotty up there, but yeah, she called me when she was pulling into town. I don’t assume she had any problems after that.”
“Good to hear.”
“What’s the deal anyway?”
After shoving the socks into my bag, I turn to face him and shrug. “There’s no deal.”
“Liar.” Saint folds his bulky forearms across his chest and waits. He knows I can’t stand unfilled silence.
Bastard.
I roll my eyes. “I guess I could relate to the whole shitty breakup thing. Plus, the girl is practically homeless right now. Crashing at Eden and Holt’s place?” I shudder at the thought. “I figured she needed the gig more than I did.”
He weighs my words, still watching me closely, trying to figure out my angle.
“Dude, I don’t have a deal.” I hold up both palms. “I swear. Yeah, she’s cute as hell. But I’m literally only going to get away for a few days, and to help your ass out.”
Saint tosses me the spare key he brought with him. “Helping me out? You cost me five grand. Dick.”
I give him a sharp look. “Yeah, but you can afford it. And I thought you agreed to two?”
He scoffs. “That made me look cheap, so I gave her the five.”
I chuckle dryly and tuck the key inside my bag. “Well, remember I’m helping you out as a friend. Aspen isn’t. She deserves to be paid.”
As he shakes his head at me, I hope this game of twenty questions is almost over, because Saint has always had the uncanny ability to see straight through me. And right now, I really don’t want him to see how much the thought of being alone with Aspen affects me.
Last weekend, once she agreed to stay at Saint’s place, I walked her outside and we waited together on the curb for her ride to arrive. She looked at me like I was some white knight sent to help her. Not fucking likely. I’m not anyone’s knight. Yes, I might have helped her by getting her the gig, but trust me, I had very selfish reasons.
Saint’s voice interrupts my thoughts. “She’s not a toy for you to play with this summer. You know that, right?”
“Chill, dude. Of course I know that.”
He flashes me a conspiratorial grin. “But you want to hit that, don’t you?”
Isn’t that the million-dollar question? Good thing I’m smart enough not to answer.
“All I’m saying is, Aspen Ford is not the kind of girl you fuck around with,” Saint says seriously.