Sindy Kate

CLIVE:

All I could think about was how good it felt to hit my bed and snore under my sheets.

Alone.

Not with the blonde who talked a lot—Emily.

She kept batting her eyelashes as she told me about her first photoshoot experience. She was a boudoir model according to her profile on Heartrate, a dating app owned by my brother Skipper. She was a dish, I must say, but too much of a dish to be my type.

Skipper and his girlfriend, Ardella, had created an account on my behalf. They had even come up with a not-so-original username.

BritBond69. Seriously? The number 69 made it sound dirtier and naughtier than my fine personality warranted.

Back to the fake blonde. And I do mean fake. I could see the evidence right before my very eyes—D cups to be precise. They jiggled when she giggled. Hah, that even rhymed.

I didn’t know if she did it on purpose to get attention, or if they just did that on their own.

I wasn’t an expert, but I knew when a woman’s breasts were real or enhanced. I wondered if they were uncomfortable when she ran on a treadmill. They looked pretty heavy.

“Hey, you’ve been staring at my cleavage,” she flirted, and oh, they jiggled again.

I cleared my throat and smiled politely. “My apologies.” They’re kind of distracting. “So how long have you been modeling?”

Bloody hell! Just shut up, Clive.

Truth be told, I didn’t date much back in college. I was barely able to graduate so I didn't have time to fool around like my brother. I had one serious relationship since. Sadly, it didn’t work out. Then I got into trouble for fraternizing with my co-worker, and things got nasty between us until I got fired.

That was when my brother came up with this idea—to get me back in the dating game. Now I was chatting it up with my first date.

She sighed. I suddenly remembered she had already mentioned she’d been modeling for two years. “So, you love photography?”

What? Oh, yeah, my profile.

“Yeah, I love photography, and I paint as well. Been doing it for years as part of my therapy. I'm planning on building my own studio—”

Her eyes widened slightly. “What kind of therapy? Wait, do you have PTSD or something?” I didn’t miss the tremor in her voice.

“Um, no.” Wouldn’t I mention that on a first date?

She checked her watch, and I knew what would happen next. I honestly wouldn’t be disappointed if she walked out on me, besides I didn’t want to go on a blind date in the first place. I wouldn't have even be here if it weren't Ardella and Skipper, who didn’t give me much of a choice.

Dating apps like Heartrate were for people who wanted one-night stands. That just wasn’t me—I didn’t want to end up in a hotel room or the loft of a woman I barely knew. God knew what would happen next.

“Thanks for tonight, Clive. I had fun.” Did she really? She took her clutch and slid off the barstool. Her exposed knee brushed up against mine. Then she finally stood up.

“Me too, Emily.” I nodded and smiled. “At least let me walk you to the parking lot.”

“No, no. That won’t be necessary.” She forcefully smiled. “Bye!”

That was it. She was gone in a flash.

The music suddenly became too loud for my taste. The air thickened with a mix of perfumes and alcohol that tempted me to order a drink. I gulped my lemon-lime soda, faced the bartender, and tossed him some bills.

Time to go to bed, Clive. I sighed in dismay.

My brother forced me to come to New York with him. That arsehole believed my destiny was here. I knew he loved me and had promised Dad he would take care of me. No doubt he would do anything in a heartbeat if I asked.

After our dad passed away, he asked me to go on a vacation and have fun. And by have fun, he meant gallivant and shag around like he used to do.

I couldn’t let him run the businesses alone, so I needed to take some classes and get some training. I wanted to help him; it was what a brother should do.

And that was how he met the love of his life, whom he’s been in love with for ages. They even have a kid. The cute little thing, Rina, looks exactly like them.

I walked out of the bar, ignoring the tiny throb inside my chest.

***

I groaned when my phone rang because I knew who it was already.

“Hello?”

“How's your date going?” Brilliant! It was Ardella, the aforementioned love of my brother’s life.

“She ran away before I could explain. Why are Americans so frightened of someone who suffers from PTSD?”

“What? Why did you tell her that? You don’t have PTSD, CC.” CC, that's her nickname for me.

“Well, I mentioned I’ve been painting as part of my therapy. And that was it. She just thanked me and left like her arise was on fire.”

Her voice echoed through my ear as she laughed out loud. “Really? How could she think you’re violent? God, you would never harm a fly. And so what if you're suffering from PTSD? People get through it without harming anyone. I guess she's watched too many psycho-thriller movies and it's affected her tiny brain. You deserve someone better.”

“I won’t go on a blind date again. It’s terrible. The app said that we were 75% compatible, and guess what? She didn’t like me. And I can’t even say that she was unattractive because she was, but she was too attractive to be my date, you know? This whole thing is rubbish.”

“CC, this wasn't exactly a blind date. Don’t give up so easily. You’ll find a woman who can blow your mind.” She laughed again.

“That’s the thing. I don’t want someone to blow my mind.”

“You know what I mean, CC.”

I scratched my head as I tried to make her understand my point. “I know, but dating doesn’t have to work like this.”

“Gosh, you’re such a man! Going out on a date doesn't have to mean anything, you know. It doesn’t have to be love at first sight. Love can start with friendship. Just be yourself and treat your date as if she's one of your friends. It'll make it easier to get to know each other. Unless you want to shag her.”

The word shag made me grimace. I should feel comfortable talking about sex with Ardella, but it was awkward because I hadn’t had fun in a long time.

“I’m really not comfortable doing this kind of thing. I don’t know. I’m not aloof, and I’ve been in my fair share of relationships without having to use a dating app to find someone.”

“Your fair share of relationships? Do you mean your exactly two girlfriends? One who was cheating on you, and the other who—what even happened? How long ago was that?” I heard Skip yelling from the other line, then he barked out a laugh. “You need to get laid, brother. I’m a little bit worried about your biological clock!”

I rolled my eyes. Of course he had been listening to my entire conversation with his girlfriend.

“Go to hell, brother. Men don’t have a biological clock, you wanker!”

“I will go to hell as long as Ardella comes with me!”

“I will deactivate my account. Your app is rubbish!”

“Try going out one more time. If it still doesn’t work, then you can uninstall it for good,” Ardella agreed. I couldn’t say no to her. She was too good for my brother; he almost didn't deserve someone like her. She was the reason he stopped gallivanting around.

“Fine. Just one more time.”

“Clive, put that charm to good use, mate. Trust me, it always works and—”

“Just buck up, Skip!” Ardella must have hit him or something because he groaned loudly, then the faint sounds of them snogging followed. Jesus! Couldn't they wait a second until I stopped listening?

“Okay, guys. Cheers!”

***

I scratched my scalp in irritation. I was not desperate to be in a relationship. I was not a sex-starved bloke either. Well, I did miss it if I was being honest.

When was the last time I had mind-blowing sex? Six months ago? And my hand was not really anything to write home about. I grabbed my laptop from the nightstand.

When the window opened, I quickly searched through the browser history and clicked the link to Heartrate's website.

I yawned.

I hated this site as it had plenty of ads. Skipper and his best friend were getting rich off of them though. I leaned myself comfortably on the pillow as I focused on the screen. I clicked on the log-in button.

Pop-up ads flashed on the screen with different videos of women wearing insufficient outfits. Some were just talking, but there was no sound. Some were—

Holy hell! A message popped up: Talk to these girls and have your dreams come true! Funny!

I snorted. “Nah! No thank you, mate.” I would not be tricked by this shit again.

I found myself swallowing hard though. I shifted in my seat as my dick reacted to the video.

Poor bloke, it had languished in limbo for months now. And the first time I put any effort into dating again, it was a spectacular failure.

I was about to click the close button when another ad appeared.

Another group of women, these ones were more daring though. One was pinching her nipple through the thin camisole she was wearing.

Cam girls, huh?

One preview caught my attention. The cam girl was licking chocolate spread off a cucumber. Seriously, a cucumber?

I burst into laughter. Doesn’t she own a spoon? But I was not so daft that I didn't know what the cucumber represented.

Jesus!

Did men really get horny from watching these? Pathetic, lonely blokes who couldn’t find dates? Like me.

I could feel my pulse increasing as I went to click the close button. Instead, I clicked enter. Shit!

I swallowed again. What am I doing? I scanned the options quickly, then I hit the register button.

My brother would laugh his arise off if he found out about what I had just done. He would think I was out of my goddamn mind. But he would never know, right? I was just curious.

Who am I fooling?

Okay, I was more than curious, and I thought this might be better than going out on a date, which only gave me false hope.

I quickly signed up with a new username. Then I clicked on the preview of the Nutella girl. Nutella girl? That’s cute.

Sindy Kate.

I read it aloud, making me laugh like a twit. It sounded like the word syndicate.

Then there she was, live in the flesh. She had a slim figure, almost skinny, but her arms were toned. Her round face had a hint of makeup, not too much—that was what I liked in a woman. Her full lips were painted glossy pink.

She’s just a cam girl, Clive. You’re not going to hook up with her, are you?

As if she’d be willing to meet you, mate. Since when did I think about hooking up? I pushed the thought out of my head.

Her creamy skin looked flawless, and there was no way it was just a lighting effect. My skin tingled as I wondered if it would feel soft and smooth against my fingertips.

She was fully dressed though. Her unruly blonde hair cascaded down her shoulders to her chest. One thing I was sure of was her voluptuous breasts were real, unlike my date earlier, because they bounced naturally. Her nipples poked against her tiny white dress when she changed her position so she was sitting on the floor with her legs crossed—probably a request by one of her viewers.

I had to clench my jaw to stop from getting a hard-on. The longer I looked at her, the harder it got, but that was point, right?—to entertain.

She looked no older than twenty-five—younger than me.

Why did she choose this line of work? That question bugged me for some reason.

But those eyes—they were big and hypnotizing. I didn’t know if she was wearing contacts, but they were a shade of forest green I’d never seen before.

Beautiful.

Then she stopped talking and stared at the camera. My heart pounded in my chest; it felt like she was staring right back at me.

My jaw slowly fell open.

Fuck!

WESTLEY:

The oak trees towering above both sides of the driveway were like a gateway to paradise. They were one of many things around here that I learned to appreciate and love. There was also something about this place that I couldn’t find in the city. Perhaps it was a serenity that the city couldn't offer.

This little paradise welcomed me with open arms.

When Keene brought me here, I thought I would regret it, but everything around here grew on me quickly, and it was now the only place I considered home.

I sauntered to the front porch, sitting in the swing on the right, which I had already claimed as mine. It gave me a perfect view of the sun-streaked leaves that cast glittering shadows on the entrance.

I closed my eyes at the buzzing of bees around the flower pot in front of me. The earthy fresh smell and scent of the blooming wild roses I had planted in the flower bed were already relaxing my mind.

Keene once said that I had a green thumb. I laughed at the idea, but when I saw them first thing in the morning, they just melted my heart. It blew me away to see the fruit of the hours I spent cultivating those flowers. They were worth my sweat.

“Harry!” I jolted awake, sitting straight up at the sharp male voice—it was Keene, my best friend, the strongest guy I knew.

We met in college, and he’s been my rock ever since.

“Harry,” he repeated, “guess what?” He was grinning, his brown eyes glittering with excitement.

He was handsome in a classic actor kind of way. Finally, he had let his light blond hair grow out; he used to keep it buzzed, which made him look even paler than he already was. I always loved to pinch his small straight nose, which was now wrinkling at me as if he had read my mind.

“Hey, I said I've got news.” His expression suddenly turned sour when I didn’t pay any attention to what he was about to say. Lately, I wasn't lucky enough to receive any good news.

“Jeez, Keene. Just say it already.” I scowled at him. I hated when people interrupted my rest.

The fact that he had surprised me made my heart rate accelerate, and it was uncomfortable. He knew I’d suffered from Paroxysmal Atrial Fibrillation when I was in college, and it came back when I was under stress.

“We've got a guest. I received an email earlier, and I replied that the cabin is ready for visitors. I thought you’d be thrilled to hear the good news. He’ll be here as early as tomorrow morning. So we still have a day to prepare the cabin. Isn’t that great?” He grinned again.

Indeed, it was good news. Keene had been left with an almost empty bank account after his father's chemotherapy was ineffective. He never gave up on his dad and sold everything until there was nothing left. Right before they signed the papers for their small house and two cabins, his father passed away.

“Okay.”

“Just okay? Harry, it's been like a year since we've had a guest. Not to mention, the property is only half paid for. You have to admit that none of our strategies have worked. A small business like this needs good advertising to get the word out, but we already know that's impossible for us right now.”

“Did we really have strategies, Keene?" I chuckled bitterly. I understood his underlying frustrations because he couldn’t work anymore. For many days, I wished my lifestyle was like it was before—then I could easily help him—but things changed when I chose to set out on my own. "But you’re right. This is good news. I’ll go clean the cabin.” I hustled to stand, but he grabbed my arm.

“I'm coming with you.”

I widened my eyes to shut him up. “I need exercise, so you better not help me, Keene. Do you hear me?”

He shut his mouth tight. He may have been my best friend, but I had bothered him so much already that I could barely sleep at night. The least I could do was some chores since he could barely stand on his own two feet.

“Harry—”

“Just bring some clean towels and sheets, okay? And some toiletries, too.” I stepped down off the porch, then I paused to look at him. “Who’s our guest?”

“Ardella Rogue booked the cabin. Our guest is a guy named Clive—”

“Okay. I should start cleaning because we still have to go to town for groceries.”

The cabin was made of the finest wood from the foundation to the walls and floorboards. It was a little bit old, and we'd had to make sure it wasn't infested with termites.

This one only had a small bedroom, a kitchenette with tiny cupboards and a single Viking stove, and a living room with enough space for a wooden rocking chair and an old black leather couch, which had been Keene’s father’s favorite. There was a small fireplace with neat piles of pre-chopped wood.

I started clearing cobwebs from the windowsills, pulled the white coverings off the furniture so I could start dusting them, and then vacuumed the floor.

I was in the bedroom, pulling the sheets off the bed, when Keene came over, probably with the things I had asked him to bring.

“Just leave them on the couch. I’m done cleaning that area.”

“You don’t have to clean alone, you know.”

“Just go and make a list of what we need from the grocery store.”

I ignored his heavy sigh. Barely a few seconds later, he was sneezing and running out of the cabin. It made me chuckle.

What I had learned about this life was nothing came free. You had to work hard to earn it. I guess my independence had taught me that the hard way, but so far, I liked it.

I was beyond exhausted by the time I was done with the bathroom. I was sweating like a pig and sticky with dust. I could smell myself—old wood and soot. I laid back on the couch, trying to get a few minutes' rest before we headed to town.

“Harry!”

“Dang it, Keene. Are you trying to give me an early heart attack?” I rubbed my eyes, lifting my gaze to him.

“Sorry.” He gave me an apologetic look.

“How long was I out?”

He shrugged. “Three hours?”

“Three hours?” I asked incredulously. “And you didn't wake me?” I stood up quickly, grabbing his hand. “Let’s go then. Do you have the list?”

“Yeah, and I went there myself while you were passed out. I know how grumpy you get when someone disturbs your sleep.”

I paused, narrowing my eyes at him. “What the hell? Why did you go alone?”

“Because I could, and you were tired. I came back safe and sound, so stop worrying about me like I'm going to fall apart in front of you.”

“Don’t do this again, Keene.” I walked past him, still scowling. “Close the door behind you.”

“Wait! You’ve been tired lately, Harry. Are you having trouble sleeping?”

My throat suddenly thickened. “No.”

“Then what have you been up to?”

“Nothing.”

“If you’re worried about—”

I turned to face him. “I’m fine, okay? I promise.”

He already had a lot on his plate, and I couldn’t add more. I knew he tried his best to be strong when I was around, but deep inside, he was struggling. I guessed we dealt with our pain in different ways.

I strode toward the kitchen and grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge. He had been telling the truth—he went grocery shopping on his own; the fridge was full.

A small smile curved on my lips when I saw some cups of peach yogurt—my favorite. “Thank you.”

“It was the least I could do after I left you alone to clean the entire cabin.” I didn’t miss the guilt in his voice.

“And I couldn’t let you die sneezing.” I rolled my eyes.

“Go ahead and hit the shower. I’ll make us some sandwiches.” He grabbed the fresh lettuce and tomatoes from the fridge, then stopped. “I can feel you watching me, Harry. I’m not that weak; I won’t collapse on your watch. Just take a freaking shower.”

“Who said you're weak? Besides, you went shopping all on your own.”

“You’re not going to drop this, are you?” He grabbed the sandwich bread, slicing it in half. “What do you prefer, halloumi or cheddar?”

“Went for the fancy stuff, huh?” I chuckled.

“We’ve got a guest staying tomorrow, darling, and we can’t just feed him couscous salad every day.”

“What’s wrong with couscous? I can make more than a salad out of it.”

“I know, Chef Westley.” He rolled his eyes. “These will be done in a few minutes. Now get your ass ready because I’m starving. You’re going to bed early tonight, Harry. No more stalking your dysfunctional family on the internet.”

My chest ached every time he mentioned my perfect family. “That was only one time. I just wanted to see my sister, and I was curious about how they were doing without the black sheep of the family.”

He searched my face, then nodded slowly.

I walked away, releasing the breath I had been holding for a while.

Thank God, he didn’t pry!

***

After lunch, I rechecked our emails. Our guest hadn’t yet arrived even though he was supposed to be here before noon. And there was no way his flight had been canceled because of the weather. Maybe he had changed his mind.

Well, if he did, we had wasted our time for that jerk.

“I need to bring in some supplies, Keene. Just lead him to his cabin if he arrives before I’m done, okay?” I could feel my heartbeat increasing. I had to take a few deep breaths to calm it down.

Yesterday I had been so completely drained I couldn't even put some bottled water in the cabin. I hoped this man arrived today because I was going to curse him for the whole month if he didn't show his ass.

I looked around at the place. It looked spotless, everything seemed to be perfect. I was ready to bail when I heard a very distinctly male voice, and it was not Keene’s.

Our guest had finally arrived.

Great!

There was something in his accent that seemed different. Irish? Australian?

"Thanks, mate." Oh, British! Our guest is a freaking Brit?

How the hell did he find this place?

I scurried toward the living room as sunlight entered the cabin, indicating that Keene or our guest had just entered.

A tall shadow hovered.

His voice was deep yet calm as he got closer to me. He was still talking to Keene when he stopped in the middle of the living room and dropped his suitcase and duffle beside the couch. He snapped his gaze in my direction when he, perhaps, sensed they were not alone.

Then our gazes locked. Suddenly, his gunmetal blue eyes widened as if in recognition, and his jaw literally dropped.

Crap!

My lips instantly dried with dread. The pain spreading through my chest from the hammering of my heart made me feel dizzy.

Oh my God! What if?

“Sindy?”