Chapter Seven

Brick stepped through the door and right into a pool of pee.

"Dug! What the hell? Bad dog!"

Dug bounded around him in sheer delight, his tongue hanging out of his mouth while his body danced in some disjointed attempt to show off. Brick glowered at the animal in frustration. He'd deliberately had the dog walker come in to try to get Dug on a schedule and break the bad habits Grandpa Ziggy had allowed, but nothing worked. Brick could let him out every half hour, and Dug would still happily potty anywhere he felt like, grinning like it was a gift.

"I'm mad at you. I've had a shit day, and you ruined my shoe."

The dog's eyes rolled back, and he began to hump Brick's leg.

"No! Oh, for God's sake, I'm living a nightmare. What did I ever do to deserve this? Who did I piss off in a previous life?"

Dug humped harder.

Shaking the dog off his leg, Brick kicked off his expensive, wrecked sneakers and headed to the kitchen for the cleaning stuff. The satisfaction of paying the electric bill with Aspen's money melted away under her invitation for more. Though she wasn't his usual type, he'd been tempted. But his reputation preceded him, and he knew Aspen was curious. It had nothing to do with him as a man. He'd unwillingly become a legend of heartbreak, where stories were traded in hushed whispers, and females crowded his once-private space in a competition he wanted no part of. Aspen was just the newest one in town. He'd hoped Sierra would have warned her away, but maybe her sister telling her he was dangerous only made him more appealing .

He cleaned up the pee and mulled over the disastrous past hours. Aspen had trotted off with Marco and spent over an hour in the store like she had nothing better to do. Then they'd all returned with Patsy and Burger—where the hell did they get those nicknames?—to ask about the fully booked tour he'd lied about.

She knew it, too. Her dancing brown eyes told him she was reveling in his discomfort, but he refused to concede defeat. He'd pretended to prep the Jeep, refill the cooler with water, and finally managed to get rid of her. Then, he told Marco and the gang that the group had canceled due to a family emergency, locked up, and got the hell out.

Too bad he was still thinking about her. Even though he tried to rush the tour, he'd enjoyed their conversation. It'd left him wanting to ask questions. He wondered what her job was, what had brought her here for the summer, and why she was so damn determined to chase him when she knew about his reputation.

Brick pushed the gnarled thoughts aside and let Dug out even though he'd already done his business. He was just about to tackle dinner when his phone buzzed.

He shook his head and answered. "About time you surfaced," he muttered into the speaker. "Where've you been, man?"

A low laugh rumbled through the phone. "Literally in jail. But I'm sprung, and I need your address."

Brick took a moment to sift through the words. "Are you kidding me?"

"Nope. I'm in town. Be there soon."

He recited his address, and the phone clicked.

Fifteen minutes later, Kane Masterson was at his door. Brick stared at his friend, who'd been MIA for the past year. The man could still turn a woman's head with his russet hair and tall, lean build, though he looked a bit worn around the edges. Fatigue was stamped into the lines of his rugged features. Those shocking green eyes held a touch of bitterness that hadn't been there the last time. But his grin was the same—bold, big, and full of mischief.

"Prison looks good on you."

His friend let out a bark of laughter. "Thanks. I have two bags and a car that almost broke down an hour ago. Can I bunk with you?"

Brick cocked his head, pretending to assess the situation. "You didn't even bring a bundt cake, dude."

Kane sighed. "Still an asshole, huh?"

"Some things never change. Come on in. "

Kane trudged past and dropped two battered duffel bags on the floor. He looked around, taking in the house, and scratched his head. "Nice place. Grandpa Ziggy had good taste."

"To you, maybe." Hearing the sounds of a new visitor, Dug madly scratched at the back door, so Brick let him in. "Check out the dog I inherited."

Kane stared at the creature with the same expression most newcomers had when faced with a dog resembling a Frankenstein project. He knelt to pet Dug, who wriggled and was so happy that Brick wouldn't be surprised if he peed again. "What the hell is this thing?" Kane asked.

"Just a dog. Meet Dug."

Kane grinned. "Definitely not a chick magnet. Bet you haven't gotten laid. A woman would run after seeing your buddy here."

Brick laughed. There was something about being around Kane that made everyone happier. He was a smart-ass and trouble, but damn if he didn't bring a spark of life to a room just with his presence. Brick realized how much he'd missed him now that he was back. "Wanna tell me what the hell's been going on with you?"

Kane straightened and considered the question. "Ziggy got any good whiskey, or did you drink it all?"

"His stash is still untouched. I'm saving it for a shit day that nothing can save."

His friend waved his hand in the air. "Then bring it out, man. Because the only way I can tell this story is drunk as a skunk, and it might as well be the good stuff."

Brick grinned. "I missed you."

"Back atcha. Now, let's get smashed."

Aspen stared at the page with her furiously scrawled notes and new working outline for the book. After the tour, she'd realized Brick Babel was the perfect hero for her story. He was like his namesake—hard and cold as a brick that refused to break. When he was talking to her, she'd caught a glimpse of what he could be like if he dropped his guard, like he'd forgotten she was a woman intent on seducing him. Aspen had almost caught her breath at the beauty of his reflective expression: the deep ocean-blue of his eyes and firm jaw as he looked at her, sharing the story of Duncan, the wild horse that had captured his heart.

That was the man she needed. A guy like that could break her open and make her hurt with want. Her body had lit up and exploded to life like a Fourth of July spectacular. She hadn't felt such lust since…

Ryan.

Aspen waited to see if the memory of his name still hurt, but too much time and energy had finally passed. Now, the thought of her first love only inspired a tiny wince. God, she'd been so young. Falling for her professor was such a cliché, but it was the winding, twisted road of emotion he'd led her down that had made Fifty Ways to Leave Your Lover such a hit.

Aspen needed to open her heart to Brick to make this new book work. She couldn't play it safe, or the emotion would be flat. She was hopeful all the raw elements were already there for a spectacular affair. If only his personality was a bit better. Because right now, grunts and veiled dislike wouldn't get the job done. She may need to gather more recon on the man for her next approach because she couldn't keep booking tours to force her presence on him.

She was definitely in a pickle.

Her phone flashed, and she picked it up. "Hi, Nicolette. I have a fresh proposal for you. It's a bit unformed, but I think you'll agree it will be perfect once I write it."

The silence on the other end made her stomach clench. "Aspen. I just got off the phone with Bella. I planned on getting ahead of the pitch, shaking her a bit to see if she liked your new idea, but I have bad news."

Her heart pounded in dread. "What?"

"They want you to write the book first before they present an offer."

The breath whooshed out of her lungs. Disappointment crushed her spirit, but the shame was the worst. The feeling of failure. The idea that the world would gleefully shred her and call her a one-hit wonder. "I don't understand. Why now?"

Nic's sigh was dramatic. "Money, of course. Everyone is tightening their belt in New York, and budget-conscious is the new it word. Bella felt terrible and begged me to tell you she believes in you and will fight to the death. She suggested a sequel again."

Aspen closed her eyes in despair. "I don't want to write a sequel, Nic. I already gave my character a hopeful ending. Trying to extend that story might ruin the first one."

"I know, darling, I know. It's just that readers are so attached, and they want to see what happened to Mallory after she dumped that monster. Think of the global phenomena of Fifty Shades —three books, plus Christian's POV. It's a gold mine of opportunity. Bella said if you agree to the sequel, we're okay with a proposal, and you can get started immediately. Seven figures guaranteed, and I know I can sweeten the deal. But if it's something new? You have to write the book."

Aspen let the silence lengthen. She'd been fighting the push to write a sequel for the past few books because she had no desire to return to that part of her life. She wanted to leave that broken, young part of herself behind forever. She was different now. Returning to that world was like stepping back into the past, and Aspen only wanted to focus on her future.

But she knew how the publishing business worked. She knew how badly readers wanted to sink back into their favorite world. She was no George R.R. Martin, who told the world to screw off and that he'd finish Game of Thrones when and if he wanted.

The time may have officially expired on her stubbornness.

"What about other publishers?" she questioned. "Can we take a new proposal on the road?"

"Absolutely. We need to give Bella first right of refusal, but we can go wide once she passes. I'm sure others will want it, but I have to warn you, it may not be as good of a deal. They'll want hard numbers, and that may hurt us a bit."

Another stab of pain hit Aspen. Why did she feel like she was failing Nicolette, too, by refusing to write what everyone begged for? Was she being selfish? Could she manage to find a way to write a sequel?

"I need to think about it, Nic," she said.

"Absolutely. Think and call me if you want to brainstorm. Oh! I also got a request from The Island Bookstore for you to do a signing out there. Saturday evening at the Corolla location. Donna ordered a nice supply, and you'd be the only featured author, of course."

She almost groaned. God, she didn't want to do a signing out here and reconnect with her imposter syndrome. But there was no way she would decline an opportunity to sell more books. Especially when she needed another contract. "Sure. Sounds great!"

"Fabulous, darling. I want you to stew on this new idea and text me anything at any time. Whatever you decide, we will make it work. No worries."

"Thanks, Nic."

She hung up the phone and stared at her proposal. All the excitement from her new idea sputtered out and left her empty. Maybe this was it. Maybe she wouldn't write anything else again. Maybe she'd retire, make readers everywhere wonder where she'd gone, and then open a tiny used bookstore and refuse to sell even a single copy of Fifty Ways to Leave Your Lover . She'd take up knitting, get a cat, and only read cozy mysteries.

Right now, that sounded lovely.

Aspen closed the document and shut her laptop. Staring moodily out the window, she automatically picked up her notebook and sketch pad. Her pen began moving, and soon, her favorite characters were on the page and keeping her company. Allowing her muse to play and be free, she created a bakery filled with pies and watched as Piggy—her grumpy sidekick—convinced Purple Bunny to sell the baked goods to get rich and then giggled helplessly as Piggy ate their entire supply that night and tried to pin it on his arch nemesis, Coral Snake.

When she looked back up, over an hour had passed, and she felt calmer. Her fingers lovingly stroked the paper where her secret characters had sprung to life, and then she closed the notebook with regret. If only she could live in the world of Zany Zoo . It seemed to be the only time she was truly happy writing lately.

Holding back a sigh, she headed into the kitchen, where her sister was putting the final touches on dinner. Hair tied back, dressed in leggings and an oversized blue sweater with BEACH GIRL stitched on the front, Sierra floated around her domain with a relaxed confidence that made Aspen smile.

"What are we having?" she asked, taking a seat at the counter.

Sierra pushed over a cutting board of onions. "Shrimp stir-fry. Cut those."

Aspen pulled a face. "I hate crying."

"It'll be good for you. You need the detox."

Aspen grinned and began chopping. The silence stretched comfortably as they both fell into their roles. A pang of love hit her. She had always been the loner, comfortable with her own company and living amid the imaginary worlds she created. Sierra craved connection—as long as it was on her terms—building a strong foundation of friends and a career around people. But when they were together, it was as if they were two halves of a whole, finally complete. Sierra was one of the best parts of Aspen and knew all her weird habits and how her brain worked.

On cue, her sister came over to collect the onions and threw them into the skillet with a dash of seasoning. "You going to tell me how your stalking went?"

She choked out a laugh and wiped her teary eyes with the back of her hand. "Not so good. He lied about having another tour so he could get rid of me."

"Harsh." The sound of sizzling oil hit her ears, and the heavenly scent of garlic filled her nose. "Would be nice if you finally shared why you're chasing after him. I know it's more than a few orgasms or because you're bored."

Aspen sighed. She'd kept the truth from her sister before, but it only lasted a short time. Eventually, she always toppled. She hated lying anyway; it messed with her calm. "It'll sound far-fetched, but I need you to support me on it. Okay?"

"Okay."

"My career is in the toilet, and I need some romantic drama and heartbreak to write another bestseller."

The wooden spoon dropped to the floor with a clatter. Sierra stared at her with a focused, narrowed gaze. "I'll get the wine. Tell me everything."

She did. She spilled all her awful insecurities and her plan to ignite her muse by using her own heart. Sierra stayed silent as they both quickly drank their first glass of rosé. Finally, dinner was on the table, and Aspen felt lighter after sharing her secrets. "This is really good," she said, forking up a tender shrimp and blistered tomato. "I wish I liked to cook."

"It's good you don't like it ‘cause you suck. Remember the time you heated up the French bread pizza the wrong way? The cheese dripped to the bottom, and you set the toaster oven on fire."

Aspen rolled her eyes. "I thought the bread got crispier if it was facing up."

"And that time you tried to make hard-boiled eggs in a frying pan instead of water? The eggs exploded everywhere."

"Okay, can we not go on a Food Network memory trip?"

"Fine. Your problem is trifold. You lost your writing mojo because you don't believe in yourself anymore. Ryan's probably still screwing with your head."

Aspen's jaw dropped. "Wait. What? Ryan is in the past. I proved my point by making a multi-million dollars on my book. He has no power over me."

Her sister's eyes held a flare of sympathy. She refilled both their glasses. "Babe, he spent over a year whispering in your ear that you weren't talented enough to make it. He got deep in your head when you were vulnerable. Add the element that you actually loved the asshole, and you've got some deep insecurities. Your heartbreak didn't make it a great book. Your ability to write with emotional depth did."

She blinked. "That's the nicest thing you've ever said to me. Kind of."

"Second, the publishing business is shit. I mean, the fashion industry sucks, too, but at least it's not my personal product they're saying they hate. I'm lucky enough to sell other designers' stuff. But the bottom line is they want a sequel because they think it will guarantee success. Nothing is wrong with your books or writing, but the market wants what it wants."

"I know," Aspen said glumly, chewing on a crisp sweet pepper. "I'm screwed."

"What if your sequel is the same book you were going to propose?"

She opened her mouth to ask her sister to explain, then shut it. Immediately, her mind fired up with all the possible ways the current story could be dropped into a book. At the end of Fifty Ways to Leave Your Lover , the heroine, Mallory, wrote a bestseller and left her past behind in a wave of glory. It was an F-you to her ex-lover and the doubts he'd seeded. It was full of female empowerment and walking into the sunset alone and proud.

But what if that same writer, years later, ventured to a beach town for the summer for some R&R and became enmeshed in another heartbreak?

"I see my work here is done. Your eyes just rolled to the back of your head."

Aspen breathed out in awe and dropped her fork. "Sierra, you're a genius. I'll pick up the sequel years later. Mallory will be struggling with her identity as an author and fall hard for the local guide who ends up breaking her heart again. All I need to do is get Brick to want to have an affair with me so I can write about it."

"This is a really twisted setup, but I actually get where you're going with it."

She took a few sips of wine. "Should I try harder to seduce him?"

"No, he gets that all the time. You need to find a different hook."

They were silent as they thought hard. "Can you give me more background on him? Maybe I can find an angle."

Sierra rotated her glass to swish the pink liquid around. "He's not a talker, so most of what I've heard is gossip from the women he's dumped. But word is out that his grandfather Ziggy's tour company is going bankrupt. Not sure how long he'll be able to keep it afloat. And he's been pretty private these past months. Women have tried, but no one has broken through yet."

"Hmm, Marco also mentioned that the business is going under. Think he's trying to change and be a better man?"

Sierra rolled her eyes. "Doubt it. I think he'd indulge given the right opportunity. I mean, the man is a sex machine, from what I've heard. Maybe you need to be clear that you're leaving in August to return to New York and rarely come back so he feels safe."

She nodded. "Good idea. Too bad I need to jump through all these hoops to make him interested. Would be easier if I could just pay him."

They both laughed. "Madame Aspen and her hot new client. Yum," her sister quipped.

"Right? That way, I wouldn't have to play games, and we'd both be clear on our goals."

"Money for orgasms?"

"No. Money for a romantic drama that will help me write the most authentic story I can. Get your mind out of the gutter."

Sierra's eyes held a familiar drunken sheen that said she was on her way to tipsy. Aspen wasn't feeling any pain either. Her sister spoke loudly. "Orgasms will be a side benefit, though. Can't fall in love without mind-blowing sex."

"Sure, you can. Haven't you ever seen Love is Blind ?"

"Of course. But when they have no physical spark, they usually break up."

"Sex won't be off the table, but he needs to be comfortable with it," Aspen said primly.

"You can draw up a contract. How fun!" Sierra poured the rest of the bottle into their glasses. "What clauses can we put in?"

Aspen tapped her lip as she pondered, then realized it felt a bit numb. "He'd need to spend a certain amount of time with me so we'd bond. And he has to be a good listener. It will be hard to fall for him if he's all about himself."

"Definitely. The last few dates I went on were miserable. It was the him show. When I told them I owned a clothing shop, they literally said it was cute and loved how passionate I was about my hobby."

Her eyes widened. "Oh, that's bad. What'd you do?"

"Ordered everything expensive on the menu, including champagne, then ditched them when I was done."

Sympathy flickered. They were both having some hard luck out in the dating world. But at least Aspen had her imaginary friends to keep her company. Her sister didn't even own a pet. "That's my girl."

"Back to the contract. What other terms would you implement?"

Aspen scrunched her brow and thought about the possibilities. " Maybe do something that could bond us. Like skydiving. Something scary pumps up the endorphins, and within a shared experience, the feelings resemble love and lust."

"Brilliant. I read that in an article once."

"I got it from The Bachelor . That's why they do those ridiculous stunts like bungee jumping."

"There needs to be kissing. Lots of it."

Her stomach dipped to her toes at the image of Brick's gorgeous, sulky lips. "Definitely. A good make-out session can be just as powerful as sex."

They finished the wine and brainstormed all the potential ways Aspen could fall for Brick. By the time they finished eating and cleaned up, Sierra had a steady hiccup. "I gotta go to bed. We're doing inventory for the fall season, and I have to get up early."

She blew her sister a kiss. "Drink water. You've always been a lightweight."

Sierra stuck out her tongue and sashayed to her room, stumbling slightly toward the end of her elegant exit. Aspen grinned, heading out onto the front porch.

She sat in the rocker and stared into the darkness. The crickets chirped, the fireflies ignited, and the distant sounds of the ocean drifted on the warm breeze. She sank into the familiar comforts of being with her sister in a beach town where everyone knew each other at the local bar. It was a nice change from getting lost in Manhattan or having no one to talk to after hours of writing.

She almost laughed as she replayed their conversation about Brick. If only life could be like a rom-com. The local heartbreaker would immediately fall for her, seeking her out amid all the beautiful women because he saw something no one else did. Her imagination went into overdrive, creating a lush fantasy that included Brick sweeping her off her feet and getting her to fall for him as they spent an idyllic summer together. The tearful goodbye at the end would tear them apart, where he'd insist they could never work permanently, but that he'd never forget her. She'd always be the one who got away. She'd be his greatest regret.

Shivers raced down her spine. Aspen sighed with bliss and gently rocked back and forth. If only…

Suddenly, she jerked up, the idea crystalizing into reality, brimming with endless possibilities.

What if the whole thing could actually work?

What if they could give each other what they needed without game playing and wasting valuable time?

What if a business transaction could really turn into something real? Hell, fiction was based on truth all the time. If they set up certain parameters, it may be possible to create love from nothing but effort and focus. And if it worked, she'd have a bestseller everyone clamored for, and he'd have his grandfather's legacy. It was a win-win.

Aspen slowly smiled in the dark and made her decision.