Sibling Rivalry

Chapter Ten

Chapter Ten

AIMEE SPENT THE night on her balcony staring at the ocean, as she sipped an Orange Spice hot tea after enjoying a bubbly hot soak in the tub. She even turned in early, her body drained from the stress of the past couple of days, before Karla made it home. To add to her good fortune, her sister was still asleep in the morning when she left for work and she saw no need to wake her. She still wasn’t ready to deal with Karla and the drama.

Luckily, she would be able to postpone it even longer. Clint texted her just after lunch and asked if she could watch Abigail until he made it home. He needed to go over some blueprints with an architect and his babysitter already made plans for the evening. She was more than happy to agree, especially after being such a fool when she saw Clint’s sister and assumed she was a girlfriend. Ginny even gave her permission to go home early, which she eagerly accepted. If her luck held out, Karla would be asleep before she even made it home.

Abigail was excited to see her and the babysitter was eager to be off on her own date. Aimee couldn’t blame her. A three-year-old could be exhausting sometimes and Abigail always seemed to have an abundance of energy stockpiled. As soon as they were alone, Abigail had game after game that she wanted to play with Aimee along with a myriad of questions.

“Slow down, little one. Your daddy said it would be a late dinner, so I should make you a snack to tide you over.” She opened the pantry door and pulled out the loaf of bread and the jar of Jiffy peanut butter. “I’m going to make you my all-time favorite sandwich.” She grabbed a banana from the basket on the counter and searched the drawers for a knife. “My mom makes these for me all the time.”

“My daddy eats those,” Abigail said, as she pointed to the bananas as they were placed on the peanut butter. “We usually have them for Sunday lunch.”

Aimee smiled at the girl as she slid the sandwich in front of her. “Well, your daddy has excellent taste in sandwiches.” A little warmth filled Aimee’s heart at the thought that Clint enjoyed the same comfort food she did.

It was a little after seven before she managed to get Abigail to calm down enough to sit still through a thirty-minute television show. Aimee sat on the couch, Abigail’s head on her lap, when Clint finally arrived home.

“Daddy!” Abigail was up and running when she heard the door open before Aimee could even turn her head. All she could do was laugh at the rambunctious little girl. She also felt a little envious that she couldn’t do what the little girl did.

“Heyyyy!” Clint dropped to one knee, his arms held out, waiting for his little girl to jump inside of them. She leaped and he wrapped his arms around her and squeezed, swinging her back and forth as he pretended to gobble up her neck. They were both laughing when he pulled away. “And have you been a good little girl for Aimee?”

“Uh huh. I have. I have. Tell him Aimee.”

Aimee finally made it to where the two were on the floor, laughing along with them. How could she not? The sight before her was heartwarming and gave her a sense of joy just to watch, a sense of family. Her thoughts went back to when Karla and she were little and her father would wrestle with them on the floor, arms and legs all in a tussle as they wriggled around the giant of a man, his arms pulling them over his head to lay them on the floor just so they could run around and jump on his back again. He would allow them to do it until they literally wore him out, and he would collapse on the floor in laughter and heavy breaths.

“She has been an awesome little girl,” Aimee said, as she stood there watching them. “She had a small sandwich when I first got her. Apparently, her father and I like the same kind, peanut butter and banana.”

He gave Abigail a kiss and then told her to go wash her hands. As he stood, he said, “My mom used to make them for me when I was little.”

“My mom always made them for me when she thought I was sad.”

“Very nice. Sorry about being so late. Some people just love the sound of their own voice.”

“I work at a law firm. I’m sure I know some people like that,” she said with a small laugh.

“Do you like homemade pizza? You should stay and have dinner with us. Unless, of course, you have somewhere else to go.”

The only place she had to go was home and she wasn’t exactly ready to rush over there. “I’d love to. Thanks.”

“Good. Give me a sec to clean up and we’ll get started. There’s some wine in the cabinet if you want to pour us both a glass.”

“Sounds good to me.” She stepped into the kitchen as he disappeared down the hall toward his bedroom. As she searched the cabinet for the wine and glasses, she thought again about his wanting to hang out with her. She hadn’t known him to date anyone since he moved into the Sea Breeze Condominiums. Besides, did she really want to be the first person he went out with after dealing with the aftermath of Bonnie’s departure? Or was he interested in her only because she was comfortable and always there? He didn’t seem to be pining away for his ex, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t. And what of Abigail? Aimee still wasn’t sure she wanted to risk hurting the little girl if things became serious and then didn’t work out. It just wouldn’t be fair to the little girl.

Aimee poured two glasses of merlot and turned around to lean back on the counter, one arm across her waist while the other held her glass to her lips. The wine was dry with a touch of tang. She licked her lips after taking a sip and stared into the living room as her thoughts wandered to why she wasn’t ready to go home, yet. Tuesday night had been a nightmare. She never knew Karla to behave so cruelly. Neither of them had a claim on Mitch, and if Karla was interested in him, all she had to do was say something and Aimee would have turned him down. Karla had to know that. Aimee always turned the guy over to her sister. Yet, everything she did was like some sneak attack to prove she was the better catch. Aimee had no idea what her sister was trying to prove by sneaking over to Mitch’s garage and f*****g him other than to prove she could. It had nothing to do with the car. Her sister was acting jealous and for her to be jealous of Aimee was ludicrous. If anything, Aimee should be the one jealous of Karla. Her sister had the guts to go after anything she wanted. Men flocked to her and would give her whatever she desired just to spend some time with her. She was the life of any party and people clamored to be around her. Aimee, on the other hand, was the forever wallflower. She didn’t have the courage to go after her dreams the way Karla did. She needed stability and a steady paycheck and the thought of losing those things kept her from ever reaching beyond the lines of safety. It’s not that she didn’t want to be more like Karla. She did. However, the thought of it scared the hell out of her. In many ways, she envied her sister and her ability to go after what she wanted. Of course, that didn’t mean she agreed with all of Karla’s tactics. Quite often, Aimee despised the way Karla went about things. Still, she never failed once she set her eyes on something.

“Now, that looks good,” Clint said, as he entered the kitchen.

Aimee reached behind her and grabbed the other wine glass, handing it to him as he drew nearer. “Just what the evening called for.”

Clint took it from her. “Oh, yes, the wine looks good, too,” he said, bringing a blush to her cheeks. He lifted the glass in a toast. “To a quiet evening.”

He just flirted with me!

Just before Aimee could lift her glass with him, Abigail came running out, squealing with two of her dolls. Aimee just laughed. “You were saying?”

He shrugged as he gave her a lopsided grin. “Well, it was quiet for a moment.” He took another sip of his wine before setting the glass on the counter and beginning to rummage around in the cabinets for cooking utensils and bowls. “While I get the dough ready, would you be so kind as to pull out the toppings from the fridge? There is pepperoni, some different shredded cheeses, and some onion and green peppers we can chop up.”

“I want to help!” Abigail bounced up and down at his side as he dumped flour on the counter.

“Of course, you’re going to help. I need you to assist in the dough squishing.”

“Yay! That’s my favorite part.”

“Really? I never would have known.” He gave Aimee a wink as he tousled Abigail’s hair. “Let’s get started or it will be breakfast time before we get to eat dinner.”

“No, it won’t,” Abigail said. “It can’t be breakfast time until we go to sleep and wake up again.”

“Right you are. How silly of me.”

Aimee found a cutting board, pulled out the vegetables, and began chopping while Clint and his daughter kneaded the dough into a round—more like oval—shape. Abigail kept rubbing her hands on her clothes and flour was soon streaked all down her shirt and even across her face. At one point, Clint took a pinch of flour and tossed it at Abigail, laughing as it dusted her hair and forehead.

“Hey!” She yelled and then took a handful of flour and tossed it at her father. It hit his neck and chest, exploding all down the front of him, falling in a cloud to the floor.

Aimee laughed as it coated him. She should have hidden instead, because Clint and Abigail scooped up some flour and threw it at her, laughter erupting throughout the small kitchen. Aimee screamed as the flour blanketed her hair, her face, her blouse, inside of her blouse. Everyone laughed and then tried to avoid the next wave as each grabbed handfuls of flour and started throwing it at whoever was closest. Soon, the entire kitchen was a carpet of white powder and footprints.

“Okay, okay! I surrender! I’d wave a white flag, but I don’t think it would be seen in this flour cloud.” Aimee laughed and waved her hands back and forth. Abigail squealed in delight and Clint just stood there, staring at her with a smile and his sparkling eyes.

Abigail didn’t want to end the flour fight, however, and grabbed another handful to toss at Aimee. Clint grabbed her hand before she could launch her volley and hugged his daughter to him. “Okay, that’s enough. When someone waves the white flag, you have to honor that.”

“But I don’t see a white flag.”

Clint kissed his daughter’s flour-covered cheek. “Trust me. She waved it. Now, while we clean up and the pizza cooks, you, little girl, need to get a bath and cleaned up. We’ve made enough of a mess.”

“Yes, sir,” she said in a fake pout before disappearing down the hall.

Clint still laughed as he reached for a broom that was tucked into a corner. Aimee still laughed as well, her hands stuck out to her sides. “I didn’t realize dinner at the Asher household was such a dangerous affair,” she said as she glanced down at herself covered in flour.

Clint walked over to her, his smile taking her breath away. She heard the water start in the bathroom. As he drew near, he picked up a kitchen towel that was draped over the stove handle. He wiped some of the flour from her face, brushing it off her forehead. “Well, one never knows when an impromptu food fight is going to ensue.”

Her eyes were closed as he wiped the flour from her face. When she felt the towel fall away, she opened her eyes and he was standing right in front of her, staring at her with soft eyes. He was close. Very close. She forced herself to breath and had to swallow to keep her mouth from becoming a dust bowl. “You look good covered in flour,” he said, the corners of his mouth turned upward.

She jerked her eyes up, realizing that she was staring at his lips. “Thank you,” she whispered. Where had her voice gone all of a sudden?

He stared into her eyes and then glanced at her lips. She could feel his breath on her face, he was that close. He leaned in a little, hesitating. She leaned toward him, her chest a flutter of emotions and nerves. His lips were soft, warm, as they pressed against hers. She held her breath as she closed her eyes and surrendered to the kiss. She breathed in the scent of him as his lips meshed against hers.

When he pulled away, he was smiling. “You taste good in flour, as well.”

She felt the blush heat her face as she ducked her head in embarrassment. “Thank you.” She almost giggled due to her nervousness, but stopped herself, not wanting to sound silly.

He still smiled, his cheeks pushed up and his eyes playful, as he took a step back. He began to sweep the floor, still glancing back at her every once in a while.

She watched him a moment before beginning to wipe down the counters. He kissed her. He actually kissed her. She found herself smiling as she stood there, hoping he wasn’t watching her. It was her second kiss in as many days, and she wasn’t sure which excited her more. Both took her by surprise, however. Mitch she chalked up to him wanting to pave the way for more intimate matters, but Clint? Was this what he meant by hanging out?

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

By the time they finished their pizza, Abigail was barely able to stay awake. After the third jerk of her head fighting drifting off, Clint finally told her to head to bed. She hugged Aimee goodnight, saying, “Thank you for eating dinner with us.”

She hugged the little girl back. “It was a great time. Thank you for having me.”

“You can eat with us all the time if you want.”

“Okay, little one, off to bed with you.” He stood beside her, his hand gently on the back of her head. “I’ll be right back,” he said to Aimee as he guided his daughter to her bedroom.

Aimee watched as they disappeared, and then began to pick up the dishes. She could still feel his lips on hers and she found herself running her tongue along them, remembering the sensation. The kiss took her completely by surprise. A good surprise, of course. Yet, now she found herself nervous and wanting to run away. She wanted to kiss him again, but she didn’t want to ruin a friendship. Yet, how would she know if she didn’t give it a shot? Would it even be worth it? Why was she thinking so much? Because that’s what you do, Aimee Harper. You think everything to death until the opportunity passes and you’re left alone. She didn’t want the opportunity to pass.

When Clint returned, he wore a new shirt and a pair of shorts. He held another outfit in his hands. “I brought you something to change into in case you wanted to stay a little longer. I’m sure being covered in flour is going to be uncomfortable before long and there is an old Cary Grant movie on if you want to stay and watch it with me.” His expression told her that he hoped she would say yes.

She put a hand on her head. She had to look a mess with flour all through her hair. “I really should go home and take a shower.”

He shrugged. “I have a shower.”

She debated within herself, but only for a moment. Being there with him was much better than being home having to deal with Karla. She finally nodded. “Sounds good.”

He smiled at her and it reminded her of a little boy who had just won something. “Towels are in the closet beside the sink. You take a shower and I’ll clean up out here.”

She nodded, afraid to say anything for fear of her voice cracking.

As she stepped into the bathroom and slipped her blouse up over her head, she couldn’t believe she was stripping in Clint’s apartment. She turned on the shower, allowing the water to heat up as she finished removing her clothes. Clint had given her a T-Shirt and a pair of his gym shorts. She smiled as she looked at them. Holding them up to her face, she breathed in their scent, his scent. She smiled as she set them back on the counter. Girl, what in the world are you doing? She shook her head as she stepped into the shower.

She made it quick, not wanting to stay hidden too long. As she washed, her hands gliding over her body, she closed her eyes and wondered what it would be like to be in the shower with Clint, his hands scrubbing her flesh. She could feel her n*****s shriveling up in anticipation as her imagination saw him standing in the shower with her, his breath on her neck as his hands reached from behind and wrapped around her. As the heat between her legs began to boil, she took a deep breath and forced herself to turn the water off before her thoughts led to her running him out of hot water.

The kitchen was cleaned by the time she emerged, hair soggy but manageable. His gym shorts were a little big on her and his shirt only fit because of her breasts. He probably wasn’t going to appreciate the extra bumps she put in it. He had another glass of wine waiting for her and Father Goose was paused on the television, ready to go. He glanced at her as she entered the living room and his smile made her pause, the flutters back in her chest. I really should have gone home.

“My clothes never looked so good.”

She felt the blush on her face. “Thank you, but I’m a mess and I know it.”

He walked around the couch to where she had stopped just inside the living room and wrapped his arms around her waist. “You look like my kind of mess.” He leaned down and kissed her again, his lips tasting like wine.

She placed her palms on his chest and returned the kiss, relishing the feel of his lips on hers. When they pulled apart, she felt the heat in her face grow, only matched by the heat between her legs. “Is that popcorn I smell?”

He grinned, his eyes wide with boyish delight. “Now, you can’t have a movie without popcorn, can you?”

She heard herself giggle as she patted his chest. “Not at all. It’s a must.”

“I knew there was a reason I liked you.” He took her hand in his and led her to the couch. She felt the warmth of his hand spread up her arm and into her heart. He was playful and gentle and she found herself just getting lost in his presence.

When they sat on the couch, he handed her a glass of wine, picked up the bowl of popcorn and set it in his lap as he reached for the remote. “Ready?”

She nodded as she smiled back up at him. Her thoughts, however, were on where he had set the popcorn bowl and how she would be reaching toward his c**k all night. She blushed even more at the idea of it and could not deny the tingle between her legs. She wasn’t sure if it was all a ploy to continue the night and lead her into his bed or if he was just being sweet and charming. Karla would say he had an ulterior motive, and it was all staged to get Aimee to let her defenses down and get between her legs. Yet, somehow, Aimee just didn’t see Clint that way. He was a caring man with a daughter. He wasn’t your typical male trolling the nightclubs looking to pick up a piece of ass to notch onto his bedpost. She pushed her sister’s voice out of her head and settled in to watch the movie, their knees touching just enough to send electricity through her nerves and keep her juices churning. When the popcorn bowl was moved to the coffee table, she didn’t know, but at some point she found his arm around her shoulders and her head lying on his chest. With his free hand, he played with her hair, stroking it and pulling absently at the long blond strands as he watched the movie. She could tell by his reflection in the television that he didn’t even realize he was doing it. He was lost in the movie. She, however, was lost in him. If this was his idea of hanging out together, she was all for it. She took a deep breath, content.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

The elevator dinged and the heavy metal doors whooshed open. Karla stepped into the muggy corridor that led to her apartment. She still felt the buzz of her vodka and cranberry and was glad she wasn’t working in the morning. She planned on sleeping until noon.

As she started down the hall, she spotted her sister coming out of Clint Asher’s apartment. Glancing at her watch, Karla noticed that it was just before midnight, way past her conservative sister’s bedtime. Karla’s eyes went wide as she noticed that Aimee wasn’t even wearing her own clothes. She was in male gym shorts and a T-Shirt. The bundle she carried must be her own clothing. Well, well, sister dear. What have you been doing tonight? There was no way Aimee could be torn up about Mitch Greenway if she was doing the nasty with Clint. Had it all been a ploy? A diversion?

Miss Fowler opened her apartment door and stuck her head out as Aimee slinked into their condo. Does that woman ever sleep? Karla chuckled as she passed the elderly woman. “And you thought she was the good one.” Miss Fowler just let out a sigh as she closed her door.

By the time Karla entered their apartment, Aimee was already tucked securely into her bedroom, door closed and more than likely locked. Karla stared at the closed door with her eyebrows raised in surprise. It seemed Aimee Harper had some game to her, after all. Karla debated knocking on the door and asking about her night but decided to wait until her sister’s temper cooled down some more. There was plenty of time to get the nasty details later. She gave a little snort of laughter. Knowing Aimee, there are no nasty details. However, she was in the man’s clothes. She shook her head as she entered her bedroom. There was probably some dull, boring explanation as to why she was in Clint’s clothes and not hers. It may even have to do with some messy situation with the man’s three-year-old daughter. She had hope for her sister, but she also had serious doubts that Aimee could loosen up enough for a one-night stand. Oh no, not Turtleneck Aimee.

So why were you in his clothes?