Chance (The Fosters of New York 1)

The only person I would be helping is Asher. I planned on coming to the house for some rest and relaxation. I may have solved the great mystery of where Asher has been hiding but that's where my part in this twisted Foster saga ends. Responsibility is a bitter pill to swallow for some people and I'd definitely put Asher into that category. "I'm staying here. You need to handle it by yourself."

He tilts his chin up in a slight act of defiance. "Did you come looking for me, Bell? Did you know I'd be here?"

I could tell a small white lie that would give him some reassurance about the unspoken strength of our friendship, but false hope isn't what he needs right now. "No, Asher. I was taking care of some business on Martha's Vineyard yesterday and Gabriel suggested I come here to get away from things."

There's no masking the disappointment in his expression. "You didn't seem surprised to see me last night. It felt like you knew I'd be here waiting for you."

I look down at the hardwood floor. There's a stain on one of the boards. I remember exactly how it got there. Asher and I had found a stray puppy down by the beach and in our infinite, and grade school, wisdom we had smuggled it into his room. It hadn't gone through the rigors of being housebroken so it had relieved itself wherever it saw fit. The stain I'm looking at now is a reminder of that time when we were young, innocent and unaware of real consequences.

"I've been looking for you around every corner for weeks." I lean my leg against the bed. "Every time my phone rang, I hoped it was you. I came here to escape that. I was so tired of worrying."

"I've let you down." He sweeps his hand across his brow. "I've let everyone down again."

"You're going back now." I point to his bag. "You should finish packing. The car Gabriel sent for you will be here soon."

"Will you call me when you're back in the city? You'll call me, right?"

"You need time to sort out things with your brothers." I start towards the bedroom door. "Once things have settled, call me and we'll talk."

Chapter 34

There's something wickedly decadent about shutting yourself off from the world. I've only been alone in the house for a few hours and I can sense the pull that Asher felt. Once he left, I'd called Clive to tell him that I wouldn't be back to the office until Wednesday. I shot off a short text message to Graham after that telling him to expect me back at home until mid-week and then I'd turned off my phone and tablet and buried them in a drawer in the guest room. I have my pick of rooms since the house is completely vacant but the familiarity of that room called to me. I had unpacked the few items I brought with me last night and had fallen asleep in that bed.

I break off a large chunk of bread before slicing some cheese and placing it all on a small, square plate. I pour myself a half a glass of the deep bodied red wine I bought yesterday. It's lunch for me and as soon as I'm done indulging my hunger, my plan is to head down to the beach to lie in the sun.

I take my snack outside to the large table that has always inhabited the west corner of the Foster's yard. We'd gather around this spot when we were children to wait for the dinners that the cook prepared for us. Miles and I were always hesitant to try new things, given the fact that our mother never ventured far off the baked chicken path. It was here, in this spot, that I found my love for fresh shucked oysters and charcoal grilled corn on the cob.

I sit in silence as I eat, pulling the clean air into my lungs. Sipping the wine slowly, not wanting to slip into the edges of feeling lightheaded or sleepy. I want to embrace the day and enjoy it.

"Rowan Bell?" A man's voice carries through the silence. "That's not you, is it?"

It's me but right now I wish it wasn't. I can feel eyes peering over the fence at me. I know who lives next door. It's Ian Handler. He was Caleb's best friend for years. He lived in the city too and each summer he'd catch a ride with the Fosters out to his family home here. I look to the left knowing that it's a move I'm going to inevitably regret. Apparently the universe is determined to spare me the luxury of having any time to myself this weekend.

"It is you." He smiles at me and his top teeth instantly pop into view. I remember vividly the way his two front teeth subtly overlap each other. There was one summer, when I must have been either thirteen or fourteen-years-old when I found his smile alluring. To be honest, I found everything about him appealing for a brief span of time. I see why when I look at him now. His face is still ruggedly handsome and his hair is now shorter, but still the same rich black that it was back then.

"Ian." I know I should stand but I don't. That would be a silent invitation for him to engage me in a conversation I don't want to have. "How are you?"

"I'm great." He pops out of view and I cringe. I know what it means. He's on his way to the gate that separates the two yards.

I finish the last mouthful of wine in my glass before I lick my lips, sweeping up any wayward droplets. I slide the linen napkin I found in the kitchen over my mouth and I ready myself for the bear hug I know is just seconds away.

"Rowan." As if on cue, he's standing no more than three feet away from me. "Come here and give me a hug."

I stand slowly, biding my time until I embrace him. I scratch the back of my neck before I pull on the hem of the short sundress I have on.

His arms are around me in an instant. I'm consumed with the scent of his skin. It's cologne inspired by the outdoors. He smells like a walk in the forest. It's strangely pleasant.

"You look exactly like I remember you." His voice is deep and gruff.

"You do too, Ian."

"Are you here with Asher?" He looks over my shoulder to the empty plate and wineglass sitting atop the dining table. "When I saw him yesterday he didn't say anything about you coming up."

It's an out that I know I shouldn't take but given the fact that I can feel the beginnings of an erection through the thin swim trunks he's wearing, I'm going to use his assumptions to my own advantage. "I surprised him. I arrived last night."

"I bet he's happy to see you." He leans back and my eyes involuntarily fall to the overwhelming bulge that seems to keep growing and growing. I pull my gaze back up quickly but not before he notices. "You're almost as hot as I remember you."

Thank you, I think?