Stirred (Twisted Fox Book 1) Read online

Of course she stops now.

  “Not sorry that I said that because you do look amazing. I’m sorry I shocked the shit out of you.” His hand cups his chin before he caresses it, staring at me, waiting for my response.

  “Thank you,” is all I can muster out.

  It’s not that I don’t believe Cohen, that I doubt he’s attracted to me. It’s that I hate that he is. I hate that I’m attracted to him.

  It’d make our relationship much easier if he weren’t.

  Cohen’s phone ringing interrupts this super-awkward, weird talk.

  He fishes his phone from his pocket, and a smile fills his face when he shows me the screen. “It’s Noah.” He answers the call, moving the screen back to face him, “Hey, buddy!”

  “Hi, Dad,” Noah replies on FaceTime.

  Cohen’s stool squeaks as he drags himself closer to me. “Look who’s here with me.” He tilts the screen, so we’re both in front of it.

  Noah’s face is so close to the camera that I can see up his nostrils, and a few seconds later, he drags it away, his eyes wide.

  “Hi, Jamie!” He looks back and forth between Cohen and me in suspicion. “Where are you guys? On a date?”

  “We’re just hanging out,” Cohen answers while I chew on my cheek uneasily. “I’m about to come home, okay? I’ll be there before bedtime to tuck you in.”

  “Is Jamie coming over too?”

  Cohen shakes his head, and apparently, I no longer know how to speak. “No, Jamie is going home to her house.”

  “Ah, man,” he groans. “I think she should come over too.”

  Cohen’s voice lowers. “Maybe another time.”

  “All right.” He grins. “Will you ask her what I asked you to?” Noah looks all secretive while Cohen looks nervous.

  “I’ll ask her tonight,” Cohen says with a head nod.

  “I’ll see you when you get home.” He waves at us. “Bye, Jamie!”

  I return the wave and find my voice. “Good night, honey.”

  Cohen hangs up, and I grab my purse from the back of the stool.

  “Looks like it’s our curfew,” I say, laughing as I stand.

  “The kid does make the rules.” He taps his knuckles against the table. “Let me tell Archer and Georgia I’m heading out. Be right back.”

  I play with the strap of my bag. “Are you sure you don’t want me to take an Uber?”

  “You’re not getting an Uber.” His tone is flat, and he walks away.

  I grab my phone when it beeps with a text.

  Ashley: OMG! I’m obsessed with you two being all snuggly in the corner.

  Me: Stop.

  Ashley: It was cute!

  “You ready?” Cohen asks, returning a few minutes later.

  I slide my phone into my bag. “Whenever you are.”

  20

  Cohen

  Jamie looks gorgeous.

  Breathtaking.

  As soon as she walked in, she had my full attention. I did my best to hold back from staring at her the entire night and finally acted like I noticed her when Georgia pointed at her table, telling me my future girlfriend was there.

  I didn’t plan to venture to her table before leaving, but when I saw that jackass hitting on her, there was no stopping me.

  My hand rests on the arch of her back as I lead her through the bar to the employee entrance. She’s quiet as we make our way toward the Jeep, and I open the door for her before slipping into the driver’s side.

  She tucks her bag into her lap. “Thank you for the ride home.”

  “I got you,” I answer, looking over at her before reversing out of my spot. “Anytime, and come back to the bar anytime.”

  “I’ll remember that.”

  I drum my fingers against the steering wheel. “Are you busy next weekend?”

  “Not that I’m aware of.”

  “It’s Noah’s birthday.”

  “Oh, yes. He’s told me all the things he wants.”

  “That’s my son.” I hesitate, the question I’m supposed to ask Jamie at the tip of my tongue. Is this a bad idea? “We’re going to Ski North. It’s a few hours from here.”

  “Ah, Ski North. The place where they have fake snow and forced us to go on field trips.”

  “He asked me to invite you.”

  There. I did it.

  What Noah had asked.

  Granted, it’ll be more difficult than just asking.

  She’s quiet for a moment. “I mean, sure. That’d be fun.”

  Here comes the problem.

  “I checked the cabin availability since we made reservations already, and unfortunately, there isn’t anything open.”

  She frowns, and when we stop at a stoplight, there’s a why are you telling me this then expression on her face. “Oh.”

  “We have a two-bedroom. If you’re up for it, you can stay with us. I’ll crash on the couch, and you can have my bedroom.”

  “No, I don’t want you to do that.”

  “I thought you knew I’m a fucking gentleman. Come on. Noah wants you to come, and it’s his birthday. Georgia and her friends will be there too.”

  Does it sound like I’m begging too much?

  “Let me check that I won’t be on call.”

  “And if you aren’t, you’re game?”

  “I’m game.”

  I grin.

  “I do want to make it clear that I am not skiing or doing anything of any physical sort. My workouts are yoga, work, and Pilates. Not extreme sports.”

  “Skiing isn’t an extreme sport.”

  “It is in my book. You can break your bones.”

  “You won’t have to ski. You can watch us.”

  I pull up in front of her townhouse and put the Jeep in park.

  She unbuckles her seat belt. “Thank you for the ride.”

  “Thank you for the company tonight.”

  She lets out a long breath. “Can I tell you something?”

  “Shoot.”

  “The night you called me drunk, you asked why you couldn’t have chosen the other sister.”

  My eyes widen as I stare at her underneath the streetlight.

  Shit. That’s what I remember saying, but I didn’t want to bring it up in case I’d imagined it.

  That thought has hit me too many times, and I wasn’t sure if it’d left my mouth.

  “That doesn’t surprise me,” I say, my mouth turning dry. “I was drunk, and my drunk ass likes to be honest.”

  “You can’t.” She frantically shakes her head. “You can’t say things like that, Cohen.”

  “I can’t be honest?”

  There’s sadness in her eyes. “Because you did choose her.”

  “It was a lot more complicated than that. You were so much younger than I was, and I met you while I was dating her.”

  “I also wasn’t pretty then.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Not tooting my own horn here, but I’m not the geeky kid I used to be.”

  “Are you shitting me? Why do you keep thinking you were geeky? Because you were smart?” I snort before releasing a harsh breath. Will she quit with the I’m not good enough attitude? “You had goals, which I love about you.” Another harsh breath leaves me. “My feelings, our situation, are complex. It crosses lines even though we technically haven’t crossed any lines. I’m trying my hardest not to ruin this … to ruin your relationship with my son because of our … feelings.”

  “So am I.”

  “We’re teetering very close to that line.”

  “What are you saying? Where are you going with this?” She laughs, and there’s an edge in her voice. “Forget it. I should’ve never brought it up. Stupid Georgia drinks. Tell her I’m never drinking those things again.”

  I turn, facing her, and move a strand of hair away from her face.

  She shuts her eyes. “Can we act like I never brought it up?”

  Hell no.

  We shouldn’t throw it under the bus, but I don’t know what e
lse to do.

  “Sure,” I say, “we can.”

  I never knew I was such a good liar.

  21

  Jamie

  I zip my suitcase shut.

  Cohen offered for me to ride with him and Noah.

  Since I didn’t want to drive by myself, I took it.

  Here we go again.

  Crossing another line.

  Cohen said he’d take the couch, so it’s not like we’re sharing a bed.

  Ski North is a ski resort a few hours away from town that offers skiing, tubing, and other activities I know nothing about. They’re open year-round, and they use artificial snow when there isn’t any. I’m not an outdoorsy person, and when we traveled here for school field trips, I would hang out in the ski lodge—which will also happen on this trip.

  Noah rambles nonstop the first two hours of the ride, telling us how excited he is to play in the snow.

  Eventually, exhausted from his excitement, he passes out.

  “I love my son to death,” Cohen says, stealing a glance at Noah, “but damn, silence can be a great thing sometimes.”

  “Silence can be boring,” I reply.

  “That why you work in the ER? You like chaos all the time?”

  I shrug. “I like staying busy. It keeps me out of my head.”

  “Same, but it’s so much better when it’s quiet, so your head can rest a moment.” He clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth. “You like chaos. What else is different about Jamie Gentry now?”

  “I thought you liked silence? Let’s try that the rest of the ride.”

  He laughs. “Consider this our road game. We can make it chaotic if you want?”

  I shift in my seat to glare at him.

  “All right, you dated the Sprinkles heir—”

  “Stop calling him that,” I cut in, playfully shoving him.

  “Have you dated anyone else? Doughnut Doug’s son?”

  “I am so strangling you in your sleep tonight.”

  “Don’t make me scared to sleep on the couch.” He peeks back at Noah. “We have an hour. You entertain me. I’ll entertain you.”

  “That sounds way more suggestive than it should.”

  He lifts his chin. “Okay, Dr. Mind in the Gutter.”

  I decide to give in. If he asks questions, then I get to ask questions. Although I’m not sure if I want to know anything pertaining to his dating life. Maybe I’ll get deeper, ask him his darkest secrets, what he thinks about when he jacks off at night, stuff that will make him squirm, as he enjoys doing to me.

  “Fine, I’ve dated some, but it was hard in med school. I thought I’d make up for it after graduating, but dating seems to be at the bottom of my to-do list.” I jokingly punch his arm and decide against asking him make-him-squirm questions. It’d open a door, but he’d do the same—or worse. “What about you?”

  “I’ve dated some, not much.” There’s no squirming on his part.

  I suck.

  “Dated women who like answering your phone.” As much as I hate talking about the call, I’m also mean, as I love hearing him say she means nothing to him.

  “I have not dated, am not dating, nor will I ever date Becca,” he grinds out, the subject irritating him.

  “She sure made it seem like you were.”

  “She was jealous.”

  “Jealous?” I poke my chest and squint at him. “Jealous of what?”

  “Of the gorgeous woman who called my phone.”

  His answer should make me smile, giddy, but it does the opposite.

  “Don’t say that,” I mutter.

  “What?”

  “A gorgeous woman?” I roll my eyes, possibly seeming bitchy, but from what I’ve witnessed, Cohen has his fair share of gorgeous women who don’t sport scrubs and Cheeto cheese on their lips instead of pink lipstick.

  “I’m confused about how Becca looked makes you any less gorgeous.”

  I snort.

  “Wait.” He lowers his voice. “Do you seriously not believe I’m attracted to you?”

  Just as I’m about to answer—well, just as I’m thinking of an answer—Noah saves me.

  “I have to potty,” he whines. “Really, really bad.”

  Cohen sends me one last puzzled look. “Looks like a pit stop is in order.”

  “Nope, not happening,” I say. “Over my dead body, which will happen. My body will be dead if I do this.”

  As soon as we arrived at Ski North, nobody wanted to go along with my brilliant plan of getting settled before hitting the slopes—or not hitting the slopes and grabbing some hot chocolate from the ski lodge.

  Everyone but me wanted to be outdoorsy.

  Ew.

  We loaded our bags into the cabin, and we’re now in the store thingy place where you rent shit to go down hills and break limbs.

  “I promise, it’s super easy,” Grace says, patting my shoulder.

  “Yeah, kids do it all the time,” Georgia pipes in.

  “It’ll be fun,” Cohen says, joining the peer-pressure party.

  “Breaking bones is not fun,” I grumble.

  He chuckles. “You won’t break any bones.”

  “I told you that I don’t do extreme sports. I do yoga. It’s safe and calming. Snow and velocity are not calming.”

  He gestures to Noah and then Grace’s niece, Raven, suiting up. “The kids are doing it.”

  “All the kids are doing it,” I mock. “You’re like the cute kid in class, asking me to do PCP.”

  He leans in, his lips going to my ear, and he’s chuckling again through his words. “And you said I’m dramatic as fuck.”

  I groan when he pulls away. “Being a doctor has taught me to take extra precautions. I’ve witnessed too many accidents from people with better coordination than me, a girl who never picked up the skill of jumping rope.”

  Cohen holds out his hand. “I’ll bet you fifty bucks you won’t fall—or at least, you won’t break something.”

  “Why would you make that bet? I can easily fall right now and win that fifty.”

  “Because I know you won’t, and you like to play fair.”

  I frown. “Fifty bucks isn’t worth a broken bone.”

  He throws his head back. “We’ll put you on the beginner hill with the kids.”

  “No thanks on seeing elementary students ski better than me.” I glance around. “Maybe I’ll try the snow-tubing thing. The chances of me not smacking into a tree in a tube might be better odds.”

  “Actually, it’s not.”

  I groan.

  “What if I hold your hand?”

  “That sounds more dangerous.”

  “Come on, Jamie!” Noah says.

  “You got this!” Georgia adds.

  I feel like such a fun-sucking loser.

  “All right”—I throw my arms out and then allow them to slump to my sides—“I’ll do it.”

  “I told you it was a bad idea,” I grumble, shooting Cohen a death glare.

  I should’ve never gone down that hill—beginner or not.

  Just like I said, skiing is not a good time. You slide down a snowy hill with no helmet—or if you’re like me, you tumble down a snowy hill with no helmet. I’m not sure what went wrong, but I lost my footing and tripped.

  It went downhill from there—literally.

  “Wrong. You said you’d break something,” Cohen argues, handing me a Ziploc bag filled with ice and wrapped in a paper towel. “All your bones are in place.”

  “But my ankle is as swollen as the tree I hit.”

  Not swollen or painful enough to go to the hospital.

  It just sucks.

  Not to mention, it was embarrassing.

  More humiliating than me trying to drunkenly make out with Cohen forever ago.

  Kids—yes, kids—were staring at me, a few of them stopping gracefully on their skis to help me after my fall. I was tempted to go home, but Noah came running over to me, giving me a big hug, so I decided to stay.
r />   “The swelling will go down,” he says. “We’ll try again tomorrow. I wonder if they make ski training wheels.”

  I roll my eyes and place the ice on my ankle. “You’re smoking crack if you think I’m hanging out on Murder Hill again.”

  “What will you do then? Become a snow-lodge bunny?”

  “Damn straight.”

  We’re in the cabin, and thankfully, I dropped my bag into the bedroom upstairs before my accident. It’s a decent-sized cabin with a large kitchen and a living room, and it’s decorated how you’d expect a ski cabin to be—an antler chandelier, pillows, blankets, beds, curtains with bears on them, and a comfy plaid couch.

  He jerks his head toward the staircase. “Do you need a piggyback ride to your room?”

  I shoot him a dirty look.

  He turns around and bends down, showing me his back. “Come on. Hop on.”

  Noah is sleeping. He exhausted themselves skiing today. Tomorrow, they’re going out again

  “Ugh, fine.” I slide the ice bag into the pocket of my pants, and he assists me onto his back.

  “Piggyback might not be the best idea.” He snaps his fingers before placing me back to my feet. “Stand.”

  “What?” I stare at him, unblinking.

  He waits for me to do as he said.

  I sit, clasp my hand around his shoulder, and lift myself, using his body as leverage. As soon as my feet graze the floor, he picks me up in his arms, wedding-style, and I gasp.

  “This is going to be much easier.”

  I clasp my arms around his neck, tucking myself into his body, and the aroma of his aftershave relaxes me. I love it. It’s masculine with a hint of menthol and officially my favorite smell. I’d love to wake up with my sheets smelling like him.

  Just as soon as it seems he’s lifted me into his arms, he’s up the stairs and carefully depositing me on the bed.

  “I’ll be in the living room if you need me,” he says, walking backward and stopping in the doorway. “Yell before your uncoordinated ass comes down in the morning. I can’t have you falling down the stairs.” He taps his knuckles against the door. “Open or shut?”

  “Shut, please,” I croak out.

  “Good night, Jamie.”

  I love the way he says that to me.