Adios Pantalones (The Fisher Brothers Book 3) Page 15

  Part of me wondered if he’d always known. Maybe he’d been keeping tabs on me the whole time.

  First Date

  Ryan

  My phone pinged with a text.

  Sofia: Thank you for the flowers. You didn’t have to, but they’re gorgeous.

  A picture message arrived right after the text. A giant bouquet of roses filled my screen, stark-white flowers overflowing a white vase, not a bit of color showing, not even the green stems.

  I stared at the messages from Sofia for a solid five minutes before I even thought about responding.

  Glancing over at the two dozen pink roses I’d bought earlier at the farmers’ market, flowers I planned to take to her house tonight, I was more than a little confused. She had clearly gotten flowers at work. But if I hadn’t sent them, who did, and why did she think they were from me?

  Ryan: I’d send you flowers every week for a year, but I’d never send you anything so devoid of color when all you do is add so much of it to my life. Basically, angel, I didn’t send those. So, who’s the secret admirer?

  His name flashed in my mind the second I pressed Send on my response. Derek. It had to be. Unless there was some other guy trying to court my girl, but it seemed unlikely. Not that Sofia wasn’t worthy of all the admiration in the world, but I’d spent the past few nights with her on the phone for hours on end, and there were no other men in her life.

  Trust me, I’d asked.

  Sofia: You didn’t???

  I was about to type a response when my phone vibrated with another text.

  Sofia: Are you messing with me? They’re from you, right?

  Ryan: Angel, I didn’t send them. And if it wasn’t me, then . . .

  I baited my message, hoping she’d bite and land on the same page as I was. Her response took less than a second.

  Sofia: Derek.

  My vision blurred as the possessiveness I was growing far too familiar with coursed through my veins, heating my entire body.

  He knew where she worked. He’d sent her flowers with no card. What did this asshole want? What was he up to? What game was he playing? And why?

  Hating having so many fucking questions and none of the answers, I quickly typed out another response.

  Ryan: That’s what I thought too. We can talk about this later. See you tonight, angel.

  Sofia: Okay. See you tonight.

  I spent the rest of the afternoon attempting to calm myself down, realizing that a freaked-out Ryan was no good for anyone, least of all Sofia and Matson. I tried calling my mom to ask her advice, but when she didn’t answer, I opted out of leaving a message. I’d been almost desperate enough to call Grant, but I didn’t want to upset him, especially after his health scare at the beach. He never told me how fragile his heart was and I never dared ask, knowing that he’d damn well bite my head off.

  Navigating the internet, I did some research on stalking, intimidation, and harassment. I got loads of information, but nothing made me feel like I had any real power over the situation.

  I even called the police station and asked what people could do when they felt threatened by someone, but they had little advice to offer aside from suggesting Sofia file a temporary restraining order. She could even file an emergency protective order if she felt her life was in immediate danger. I planned to talk to her about it later to gauge where her head was at, but I didn’t want to scare her if she wasn’t already.

  I hated not knowing how to handle this situation. If Derek wasn’t Matson’s biological father, I would have considered simply beating the shit out of him and making sure he knew to stay the hell away from Sofia, or he was going to have more problems than the broken nose I’d give him.

  But he was Matson’s dad, and that added variables to the situation I wasn’t sure how to deal with. I was in uncharted territory.

  • • •

  Driving to Sofia’s house, I was torn between being excited at the prospect of being alone with her, and a little sad that Matson wasn’t going to be with us. I completely understood her reasoning for sending him away, but I still wanted to hang out with the both of them. Sofia and Matson were a package deal, and the last thing I wanted was to make her feel like I preferred one without the other.

  When I knocked on her door, I heard her yell before the door opened and she stood there wearing a big smile. Her cheeks looked flushed, like she’d been running around, and I leaned through the doorway and planted a kiss on one before handing her the bouquet of pink roses.

  “These are from me,” I said lightly, trying to joke, but she didn’t laugh.

  She brought the flowers to her nose and inhaled the scent, her eyes closing with the long breath. “They’re beautiful and they smell amazing. Thank you.” Then she dropped them to her side as she stood on tiptoe to give me a kiss.

  God, I loved kissing this woman.

  Reaching around her waist, I pulled her tight against me, and all my basic instincts kicked in. I wanted to feel her body, longed to feel her chest pressed against mine.

  I touched my lips to hers and quickly deepened the kiss, exploring the inside of her mouth. My tongue teased . . . touching, tasting, and searching for hers. It was erotic on the most primal level. My senses heightened, I was aware of every single thing about her, like the way her body moved against me before she tried to pull away to gain control. When I wrapped my arms tighter to bring her closer, refusing to let her go, she fell into me, deepening everything—our kiss, our touch, our connection.

  As we kissed, her hair fell between our merged faces, wisps of it clinging to my scruff and my wet lips. I loved all of it. Except that I needed to stop, or else I never would.

  Finally, I pulled away, practically breathless. “If you don’t stop kissing me like that, I’m going to take you to bed and have my way with you before dinner.”

  “Who says I’d stop you?” she asked, her eyes flashing with desire.

  “Don’t tempt me, angel,” I warned. For a second, I wondered how long it had been since a man had been inside her, but then I pushed the thought away. The last thing I needed was to imagine someone else touching my girl. I’d go stark raving mad with the thought.

  “Consider yourself tempted.” She turned around, pressing her ass against my jeans before moving away.

  “Not so fast,” I growled as I reached for her free arm and yanked her back to me.

  Her body spun around, facing mine, and I gave in to my instincts. My fingers tangled in her hair, my lips pressing kisses all over her face, her neck, and her shoulders at a fevered pace. She dropped the roses to the floor and reached for my neck, digging her fingernails into my flesh. Our bodies twisted together, our skin fusing as if we couldn’t get enough. The fabric between us felt like too much, and I pulled at her top, wanting it gone. I wanted nothing between us.

  The sound of someone’s stomach growling made us both pull away and laugh.

  “Yours or mine?” I asked, not knowing whose stomach it was.

  “I have no idea, but let’s blame you.”

  “Blame accepted.” I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand.

  Her breath continued to come out in short pants as her lips stayed parted. “Maybe we should eat first.”

  “It does smell amazing.” I sniffed at the air as she bent down to retrieve the discarded roses.

  “Sorry about dropping them,” she said with a wince, and I wrapped my arm around her waist.

  “I’m sure they’ll survive.”

  She led me through the entryway and into the small kitchen. I glanced around, taking it in, loving the size and feel of her bungalow. It was perfect.

  “Sit,” she told me, pointing at one of the barstools at the built-in island. I did as I was told and watched as her dark blue jeans hugged the curves of her ass so spectacularly, a hundred songs should have been written about it.

  “I hope you like Mexican. I never even thought to ask.” She looked at me, her brow furrowed.

  I shook my head, clucking my to
ngue. “You’re always making assumptions about me.”

  “Crap. What Southern Californian doesn’t like Mexican?”

  A hearty laugh escaped. “I love it. I was just giving you a hard time.”

  “Oh, thank God,” she said on a relieved breath.

  Sofia plated my dish with huge servings of enchiladas, Spanish rice, and salad, then filled her plate with the same but in daintier portions.

  “Does it look like I haven’t eaten in a week or something?”

  “You don’t have to eat it all,” she said, sounding embarrassed as she pulled up the seat next to mine.

  “It looks amazing. Thank you.” One bite, and I was in heaven. “This is delicious.”

  “It’s a family recipe my mom forced me to make,” she admitted.

  I grinned at Sofia while I chewed. “Tell her it was a hit.”

  “She’ll love hearing that.” She laughed and rolled her eyes. “Do you know how to cook?”

  I practically choked on my rice. “No. All I can make for us are cocktails. Don’t get me wrong, they’ll be delicious, but we’ll still be hungry.”

  “So, then I’ll cook and you’ll bartend. Sounds like the perfect compromise to me.”

  “I accept.”

  I shoveled more food into my mouth. She’d plated me way too much food, but it was so good, I couldn’t stop eating it.

  Finally, I couldn’t ignore the elephant in the room any longer. “Can we talk about the flowers?”

  “From Derek?” she asked.

  I nodded. “Did you actually like those?”

  She looked away for a second. “I did when I thought they were from you.”

  Her words were so sincere, my heart softened. “What’d you do with them?”

  “Threw them in the trash.” She spooned some rice into her mouth.

  “Should’ve brought ’em here so we could set them on fire,” I muttered under my breath.

  “Next time.”

  Sofia gave me a teasing glance, trying to make me smile, but all it did was drive me half crazy. The thought of that douchebag sending her flowers again didn’t go over well.

  “There won’t be a next time,” I snapped back.

  She reached across the table and touched my arm. “I was only joking.”

  I sucked in a calming breath. “I know. Sorry. What are your favorite flowers?”

  Smiling at my attempt to change the subject, she said, “Why do girls have to have a favorite? Why can’t we just love them all?”

  “You can. Do you?”

  “Kind of. I mean, look at them.” She pointed at the pink roses near us with a smile. “They’re so beautiful.”

  “So you love roses the most?”

  “I love them, yes. The most? I don’t know.” Her nose crinkled as she stared at the ceiling, pondering my question seriously. “I’ve always loved sunflowers. They make me happy whenever I see them. And wildflowers in general.” Her eyes practically sparkled as she spoke, and I took mental notes.

  “What about them?”

  “They’re a little messy and wild, kind of all over the place. I like that about them. The fact that they’re not perfect.”

  Her response was unexpected, and I loved it. Sofia seemed to have it all together, so it touched me that something messy and wild drew her, like something forbidden she couldn’t risk being as a single mom.

  “Back to Derek,” I said, and her smile dropped at the mention of his name. “So I guess he knows where you work.”

  She shrugged, not seeming surprised at all. Not that she hadn’t already come to that conclusion on her own, but I expected a more visceral reaction from her. Instead, all I got was a tight-lipped nod.

  “Why aren’t you surprised?”

  “That he knows where I work?”

  “Yeah. Weren’t you shocked or caught off guard?” I put my fork down and wiped my mouth with a napkin.

  “Not really. Derek’s family has a lot of money. His dad owns a large law firm in downtown LA that his grandfather started. Every male in the Huntington family has a job with the company. It’s expected for them to join it; they don’t have a choice. For as long as I’ve known him, it was set in stone that he’d take over the firm one day for his father. Actually, it was one of the first things he ever said to me before we started dating.”

  “You guys met in high school, right?” I asked, even though I already knew the answer. It seemed insane to me that someone’s life could be that planned out for them. But then I thought about my little brother, Nick, and I understood exactly how that kind of shit happened.

  “Yeah. He told me that the firm was his future, and I had to be okay with being second to it. If I had a problem with that, then I needed to walk away and pretend we’d never met.”

  I gave her a searching look. “And you never thought that was weird?”

  “I was fifteen, Ryan. I thought it was ambitious. I’d never met anyone who talked like that about their future, or even knew at that age what they wanted to be when they grew up. He was different, and I was intrigued.”

  Putting myself in her shoes for a second, I could see how she might have felt that way. It made sense.

  There was more to their history, and I found myself wanting to know it all—the way her mind worked, the way she saw and thought about things. Even though the topic wasn’t ideal for a first date, or comfortable at all for me, I loved getting to know her better.

  “When did you stop seeing him that way?”

  She swallowed her last bite of food before answering. “His family was very close, very tight-knit. I assumed it was out of love, the same way that my parents and I are with each other. But I realized toward the end of our relationship that it was out of necessity. The Huntington family had too much dirty laundry on one another to be anything but close. It wasn’t that they loved each other at all, as much as it was that they needed everyone to keep their mouths closed. The best way to ensure that was by staying together. It was like the saying ‘keep your friends close, but keep your enemies closer’?”

  I nodded.

  “Well, what do you do when your enemies are related to you? I don’t think Derek ever stood a chance at being a decent human being, really, now that I look back at it. He was raised in chaos and controversy, controlled by manipulation. To him, all his crazy behavior is perfectly normal.”

  Her voice completely calm and unemotional, as if she were reading the menu at Taco Bell, she said, “They have cops on their payroll, Ryan. Judges’ phone numbers on speed dial. And they use everything they have at their disposal to get whatever they want. That’s why nothing Derek does surprises me. He has the means to find out whatever he’s looking for.”

  “You know this sounds like something we’d read about,” I said, “not something in real life, right?”

  Actually, I couldn’t believe the similarities between Derek’s story and what my younger brother went through. I would have bet money that Nick’s story was a once-in-a-lifetime type of thing. But hearing this, I realized just how naive I was about what went on in other people’s homes.

  Sofia huffed out a laugh. “I know. It’s crazy, right? I wouldn’t have believed it if I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes. And when the family found out I was pregnant, that’s when it all fell apart. Derek told me his plan was to dump me after graduation, but my pregnancy news sped up his timeline. I’d overheard his grandmother saying that I was too soft and would eventually destroy the company if Derek and I stayed together. She said I wouldn’t be able to keep their secrets if my life depended on it. But his grandfather said that having a Mexican in the family might give them more street cred.”

  “What?” I stared at her, part of me horrified and the other part disbelieving. “You’re joking, right?”

  “I’m not. Please picture a seventy-year-old saying the words street cred.”

  “I can’t laugh about this right now. I’m too pissed off that you had to go through that.” I put my elbows on the table and fisted my ha
ir, tempted to pull the strands out one by one in my frustration. “I didn’t even know you back then, but hearing it all now really pisses me off. I don’t like it.”

  “I’m not upset anymore about any of that, Ryan. Truly. The only thing I’m concerned about now is why Derek’s back after all this time. I still don’t know what he wants with Matson.”

  Leaning back into my barstool, I sat quiet for a moment, letting all this soak in. I hadn’t considered before how Derek’s family history might be affecting his behavior, but I should have. You would have thought with all the insane bullshit Nick had gone through that I might have considered the possibility of a manipulative family controlling Derek, but I never had.

  Reaching for my glass of water, I finished it off.

  “Are you okay?”

  When I saw Sofia’s concerned expression, I felt like an asshole. I should have been consoling her, not the other way around.

  “Just processing. And still mad that you ever had to go through that.”

  “Ryan—”

  I held up my hand to stop her. “Look, I know my feelings aren’t logical or rational, okay? But I don’t like the thought of anyone hurting you. I don’t care if it happened twenty years ago or if it happened yesterday. My feelings about it are the same. Okay?”

  “Okay,” she said softly. “Thanks.”

  “For what? Being irrational and overreacting?” I smirked at her, totally feeling like the soft little girl my brothers always accused me of being.

  “For giving a shit,” she said, staring at her plate.

  Ha. Some women do like nice guys.

  “By the way . . .” I paused, waiting for her to look back up at me, and almost got sidetracked by how pouty and red her bottom lip was from her biting it through our whole conversation.

  “Yes?”

  “I loved this. The food, the conversation, all of it. Thank you for cooking for me, and for doing this. But I want to be very clear that I plan on courting you.”