THERE WERE WORSE THINGS THAN BEING STRANDED IN THE MIDDLE OF
nowhere during a rainstorm.
For example, I could be running from a rabid bear intent on mauling me
into the next century. Or I could be tied to a chair in a dark basement and
forced to listen to Aqua's "Barbie Girl" on repeat until I'd rather gnaw off my
arm than hear the song's eponymous phrase again.
But just because things could be worse didn't mean they didn't suck.
Stop. Think positive thoughts.
"An Uber will show up…now." I stared at my phone, biting back my
frustration when the app reassured me it was "finding my ride", the way it
had been for the past half hour.
Normally, I'd be less stressed about the situation because hey, at least I
had a working phone and a bus shelter to keep me mostly dry from the
pounding rain. But Josh's farewell party was starting in an hour, I had yet to
pick up his surprise cake from the bakery, and it would be dark soon. I may
be a glass half full kinda gal, but I wasn't an idiot. No one—especially not a
college girl with zero fighting skills to speak of—wants to find herself alone
in the middle of nowhere after dark.
I should've taken those self-defense classes with Jules like she wanted.
I mentally scrolled through my limited options. The bus that stopped at
this location didn't run on the weekends, and most of my friends didn't own a
car. Bridget had car service, but she was at an embassy event until seven.
Uber wasn't working, and I hadn't seen a single car pass by since the rain
started. Not that I would hitchhike, anyway—I've watched horror movies,
thank you very much.I only had one option left—one I really didn't want to take—but beggars
couldn't be choosers.
I pulled up the contact in my phone, said a silent prayer, and pressed the
call button.
One ring. Two rings. Three.
Come on, pick up. Or not. I wasn't sure which would be worse—getting
murdered or dealing with my brother. Of course, there was always the chance
said brother would murder me himself for putting myself in such a situation,
but I'd deal with that later.
"What's wrong?"
I scrunched my nose at his greeting. "Hello to you too, brother dearest.
What makes you think something is wrong?"
Josh snorted. "Uh, you called me. You never call unless you're in
trouble."
True. We preferred texting, and we lived next door to each other—not my
idea, by the way—so we rarely had to message at all.
"I wouldn't say I'm in trouble," I hedged. "More like…stranded. I'm not
near public transport, and I can't find an Uber."
"Christ, Ava. Where are you?"
I told him.
"What the hell are you doing there? That's an hour from campus!"
"Don't be dramatic. I had an engagement shoot, and it's a thirty-minute
drive. Forty-five if there's traffic." Thunder boomed, shaking the branches of
nearby trees. I winced and shrank farther back into the shelter, not that it did
me much good. The rain slanted sideways, splattering me with water droplets
so heavy and hard they stung when they hit my skin.
A rustling noise came from Josh's end, followed by a soft moan.
I paused, sure I'd heard wrong, but nope, there it was again. Another
moan.
My eyes widened in horror. "Are you having sex right now?" I whisper-
shouted, even though no one else was around.
The sandwich I'd scarfed down before I left for my shoot threatened to
make a reappearance. There was nothing—I repeat nothing—grosser than
listening to a relative while they're mid-coitus. Just the thought made me gag.
"Technically, no." Josh sounded unrepentant.
The word "technically" did a lot of heavy lifting there.
It didn't take a genius to decipher Josh's vague reply. He may not behaving intercourse, but something was going on, and I had zero desire to find
out what that "something" was.
"Josh Chen."
"Hey, you're the one who called me." He must've covered his phone with
his hand, because his next words came through muffled. I heard a soft,
feminine laugh followed by a squeal, and I wanted to bleach my ears, my
eyes, my mind. "One of the guys took my car to buy more ice," Josh said, his
voice clear again. "But don't worry, I got you. Drop a pin on your exact
location and keep your phone close. Do you still have the pepper spray I
bought for your birthday last year?"
"Yes. Thanks for that, by the way." I'd wanted a new camera bag, but
Josh had bought me an eight-pack of pepper spray instead. I'd never used any
of it, which meant all eight bottles—minus the one tucked in my purse—were
sitting snug in the back of my closet.
My sarcasm went over my brother's head. For a straight-A pre-med
student, he could be quite dense. "You're welcome. Stay put, and he'll be
there soon. We'll talk about your complete lack of self-preservation later."
"I'm self-preserved," I protested. Was that the right word? "It's not my
fault there are no Ub—wait, what do you mean 'he'? Josh!"
Too late. He'd already hung up.
Figured the one time I wanted him to elaborate, he'd ditch me for one of
his bed buddies. I was surprised he hadn't freaked out more, considering Josh
put the "over" in overprotective. Ever since "The Incident," he'd taken it
upon himself to look after me like he was my brother and bodyguard rolled
into one. I didn't blame him—our childhood had been a hundred shades of
messed up, or so I'd been told—and I loved him to pieces, but his constant
worrying could be a bit much.
I sat sideways on the bench and hugged my bag to my side, letting the
cracked leather warm my skin while I waited for the mysterious "he" to show
up. It could be anyone. Josh had no shortage of friends. He'd always been
Mr. Popular—basketball player, student body president, and homecoming
king in high school; Sigma fraternity brother and Big Man on Campus in
college.
I was his opposite. Not unpopular per se, but I shied away from the
limelight and would rather have a small group of close friends than a large
group of friendly acquaintances. Where Josh was the life of the party, I sat in
the corner and daydreamed about all the places I would love to visit butwould probably never get to. Not if my phobia had anything to do with it.
My damn phobia. I knew it was all mental, but it felt physical. The
nausea, the racing heart, the paralyzing fear that turned my limbs into useless,
frozen things…
On the bright side, at least I wasn't afraid of rain. Oceans and lakes and
pools, I could avoid, but rain…yeah, that would've been bad.
I wasn't sure how long I huddled in the tiny bus shelter, cursing my lack
of foresight when I turned down the Graysons' offer to drive me back to town
after our shoot. I hadn't wanted to inconvenience them and thought I could
call an Uber and be back at Thayer's campus in half an hour, but the skies
opened up right after the couple left and, well, here I was.
It was getting dark. Muted grays mingled with the cool blues of twilight,
and part of me worried the mysterious "he" wouldn't show up, but Josh had
never let me down. If one of his friends failed to pick me up like he'd asked,
they wouldn't have working legs tomorrow. Josh was a med student, but he
had zero compunction about using violence when the situation called for it—
especially when the situation involved me.
The bright beam of headlights slashed through the rain. I squinted, my
heart tripping in both anticipation and wariness as I weighed the odds of
whether the car belonged to my ride or a potential psycho. This part of
Maryland was pretty safe, but you never knew.
When my eyes adjusted to the light, I slumped with relief, only to stiffen
again two seconds later.
Good news? I recognized the sleek, black Aston Martin pulling up toward
me. It belonged to one of Josh's friends, which meant I wouldn't end up a
local news item tonight.
Bad news? The person driving said Aston Martin was the last person I
wanted—or expected—to pick me up. He wasn't an I'll do my buddy a favor
and rescue his stranded little sister kinda guy. He was a look at me wrong
and I'll destroy you and everyone you care about kinda guy, and he'd do it
looking so calm and gorgeous you wouldn't notice your world burning down
around you until you were already a heap of ashes at his Tom Ford-clad feet.
I swiped the tip of my tongue over my dry lips as the car stopped in front
of me and the passenger window rolled down.
"Get in."
He didn't raise his voice—he never raised his voice—but I still heard him
loud and clear over the rain.Alex Volkov was a force of nature unto himself, and I imagined even the
weather bowed to him.
"I hope you're not waiting for me to open the door for you," he said when
I didn't move. He sounded as happy as I was about the situation.
What a gentleman.
I pressed my lips together and bit back a sarcastic reply as I roused
myself from the bench and ducked into the car. It smelled cool and
expensive, like spicy cologne and fine Italian leather. I didn't have a towel or
anything to place on the seat beneath me, so all I could do was pray I didn't
damage the expensive interior.
"Thanks for picking me up. I appreciate it," I said in an attempt to break
the icy silence.
I failed. Miserably.
Alex didn't respond or even look at me as he navigated the twists and
curves of the slick roads leading back to campus. He drove the same way he
walked, talked, and breathed—steady and controlled, with an undercurrent of
danger warning those foolish enough to contemplate crossing him that doing
so would be their death sentence.
He was the exact opposite of Josh, and I still marveled at the fact that
they were best friends. Personally, I thought Alex was an asshole. I was sure
he had his reasons, some kind of psychological trauma which shaped him into
the unfeeling robot he was today. Based on the snippets I'd gleaned from
Josh, Alex's childhood had been even worse than ours, though I'd never
managed to pull the details out of my brother. All I knew was, Alex's parents
had died when he was young and left him a pile of money he'd quadrupled
the value of when he came into his inheritance at age eighteen. Not that he'd
needed it because he'd invented a new financial modeling software in high
school that made him a multimillionaire before he could vote.
With an IQ of 160, Alex Volkov was a genius, or close to it. He was the
only person in Thayer's history to complete its five-year joint
undergrad/MBA program in three years, and at age twenty-six, he was the
COO of one of the most successful real estate development companies in the
country. He was a legend, and he knew it.
Meanwhile, I thought I was doing well if I remembered to eat while
juggling my classes, extracurriculars, and two jobs—front desk duty at the
McCann Gallery, and my side hustle as a photographer for anyone who
would hire me. Graduations, engagements, dogs' birthday parties, I did themall.
"Are you going to Josh's party?" I tried again to make small talk. The
silence was killing me.
Alex and Josh had been best friends since they roomed together at Thayer
eight years ago, and Alex had joined my family for Thanksgiving and
assorted holidays every year since, but I still didn't know him. Alex and I
didn't talk unless it had to do with Josh or passing the potatoes at dinner or
something.
"Yes."
Okay, then. Guess small talk was out.
My mind wandered toward the million things I had to do that weekend.
Edit the photos from the Graysons' shoot and, work on my application for the
World Youth Photography fellowship, help Josh finish packing after—
Crap! I'd forgotten all about Josh's cake.
I'd ordered it two weeks ago because that was the max lead time for
something from Crumble & Bake. It was Josh's favorite dessert, a three-layer
dark chocolate frosted with fudge and filled with chocolate pudding. He only
indulged on his birthday, but since he was leaving the country for a year, I
figured he could break his once-a-year rule.
"So…" I pasted the biggest, brightest smile on my face. "Don't kill me,
but we need to make a detour to Crumble & Bake."
"No. We're already late." Alex stopped at a red light. We'd made it back
to civilization, and I spotted the blurred outlines of a Starbucks and a Panera
through the rain-splattered glass.
My smile didn't budge. "It's a small detour. It'll take fifteen minutes,
max. I just need to run in and pick up Josh's cake. You know, the Death by
Chocolate he likes so much? He'll be in Central America for a year, they
don't have C&B down there, and he leaves in two days so—"
"Stop." Alex's fingers curled around the steering wheel, and my crazy,
hormonal mind latched onto how beautiful they were. That might sound
crazy because who has beautiful fingers? But he did. Physically, everything
about him was beautiful. The jade-green eyes that glared out from beneath
dark brows like chips hewn from a glacier; the sharp jawline and elegant,
sculpted cheekbones; the lean frame and thick, light brown hair that
somehow looked both tousled and perfectly coiffed. He resembled a statue in
an Italian museum come to life.
The insane urge to ruffle his hair like I would a kid's gripped me, just sohe'd stop looking so perfect—which was quite irritating to the rest of us mere
mortals—but I didn't have a death wish, so I kept my hands planted in my
lap.
"If I take you to Crumble & Bake, will you stop talking?"
No doubt he regretted picking me up.
My smile grew. "If you want."
His lips thinned. "Fine."
Yes!
Ava Chen: One.
Alex Volkov: Zero.
When we arrived at the bakery, I unbuckled my seatbelt and was halfway
out the door when Alex grabbed my arm and pulled me back into my seat.
Contrary to what I'd expected, his touch wasn't cold—it was scorching, and
it burned through my skin and muscles until I felt its warmth in the pit of my
stomach.
I swallowed hard. Stupid hormones. "What? We're already late, and
they're closing soon."
"You can't go out like that." The tiniest hint of disapproval etched into
the corners of his mouth.
"Like what?" I asked, confused. I wore jeans and a T-shirt, nothing
scandalous.
Alex inclined his head toward my chest. I glanced down and let out a
horrified yelp. Because my shirt? White. Wet. Transparent. Not even a little
transparent, like you could kind of see my bra outline if you looked hard
enough. This was full-on see-through. Red lace bra, hard nipples—thanks,
air-conditioning—the whole shebang.
I crossed my arms over my chest, my face flaming the same color as my
bra. "Was it like this the entire time?"
"Yes."
"You could've told me."
"I did tell you. Just now."
Sometimes, I wanted to strangle him. I really did. And I wasn't even a
violent person. I was the same girl who didn't eat gingerbread man cookies
for years after watching Shrek because I felt like I was eating Gingy's family
members or, worse, Gingy himself, but something about Alex provoked my
dark side.
I exhaled a sharp breath and dropped my arms by instinct, forgettingabout my see-through shirt until Alex's gaze flicked down to my chest again.
The flaming cheeks returned, but I was sick of sitting here arguing with
him. Crumble & Bake closed in ten minutes, and the clock was ticking.
Maybe it was the man, the weather, or the hour and a half I'd spent stuck
under a bus shelter, but my frustration spilled out before I could stop it.
"Instead of being an asshole and staring at my breasts, can you lend me your
jacket? Because I really want to get this cake and send my brother, your best
friend, off in style before he leaves the country."
My words hung in the air while I clapped a hand over my mouth,
horrified. Did I just utter the word "breasts" to Alex Volkov and accuse him
of ogling me? And call him an asshole?
Dear God, if you smite me with lightning right now, I won't be mad.
Promise.
Alex's eyes narrowed a fraction of an inch. It ranked in the top five most
emotional responses I'd pulled out of him in eight years, so that was
something.
"Trust me, I was not staring at your breasts," he said, his voice frigid
enough to transform the lingering drops of moisture on my skin into icicles.
"You're not my type, even if you weren't Josh's sister."
Ouch. I wasn't interested in Alex either, but no girl enjoys being
dismissed so easily by a member of the opposite sex.
"Whatever. There's no need to be a jerk about it," I muttered. "Look,
C&B closes in two minutes. Just let me borrow your jacket, and we can get
out of here."
I'd pre-paid online, so all I needed was to grab the cake.
A muscle ticked in his jaw. "I'll get it. You're not leaving the car dressed
like that, even wearing my jacket."
Alex yanked an umbrella out from beneath his seat and exited the car in
one fluid motion. He moved like a panther, all coiled grace and laser
intensity. If he wanted, he could make a killing as a runway model, though I
doubted he'd ever do anything so "gauche."
He returned less than five minutes later with Crumble & Bake's signature
pink-and-mint-green cake box tucked beneath one arm. He dumped it in my
lap, snapped his umbrella closed, and reversed out of the parking spot
without so much as blinking.
"Do you ever smile?" I asked, peeking inside the box to make sure they
hadn't messed up the order. Nope. One Death by Chocolate, coming right up."It might help with your condition."
"What condition?" Alex sounded bored.
"Stickuptheassitis." I'd already called the man an asshole, so what was
one more insult?
I might've imagined it, but I thought I saw his mouth twitch before he
responded with a bland, "No. The condition is chronic."
My hands froze while my jaw unhinged. "D-did you make a joke?"
"Explain why you were out there in the first place." Alex evaded my
question and changed subjects so quick I had whiplash.
He made a joke. I wouldn't have believed it had I not seen it with my own
eyes. "I had a photoshoot with clients. There's a nice lake in—"
"Spare me the details. I don't care."
A low growl slipped from my throat. "Why are you here? Didn't figure
you for the chauffeur type."
"I was in the area, and you're Josh's little sister. If you died, he'd be a
bore to hang out with." Alex pulled up in front of my house. Next door, AKA
at Josh's house, the lights blazed, and I could see people dancing and
laughing through the windows.
"Josh has the worst taste in friends," I bit out. "I don't know what he sees
in you. I hope that stick in your ass punctures a vital organ." Then, because
I'd been raised with manners, I added, "Thank you for the ride."
I huffed out of the car.
The rain had slowed to a drizzle, and I smelled
damp earth and the hydrangeas clustered in a pot by the front door. I'd
shower, change, then catch the last half of Josh's party. Hopefully, he
wouldn't give me shit for getting stranded or being late because I wasn't in
the mood.
I never stay angry for long, but right then, my blood simmered and I
wanted to punch Alex Volkov in the face.
He was so cold and arrogant and…and…him. It was infuriating.
At least I didn't have to deal with him often. Josh usually hung out with
him in the city, and Alex didn't visit Thayer even though he was an alumnus.
Thank God. If I had to see Alex more than a few times a year, I'd go
crazy.