Red Hot Kisses Read online

  Huh. Trixie seems to be here for all the right reasons, and I’m glad.

  “I’d like everyone to post at least twice a week and attend as many WB centered events as you can. I’ve got a running list going on our page and be sure to use the forum. Someone’s always online, so feel free to ask as many questions as you like.” I look to Trixie. “Or just chat if you’re in the mood.” A goofy grin buoys its way to the top before I can stop it, and I blink back to reality. “And yes, there are several hours available at the station. If you’re interested in doing a show, come talk to me afterwards. You’ll need a theme, but I can work with you on that.”

  Seth sits up. “Coral graduated.” His head tips my way before looking to Trixie. “She had a show that dealt with relationships—the Love in the Night hour. You could take her spot if you want. It could use a girl’s touch.” He elbows her and gives a quick wink.

  Is he hitting on her? My blood boils in an instant, and for a second it catches me off guard. No way am I into Trixie. She just so happened to tie my brain up in a pretzel last night, and a part of me wants to warn Seth to stay the hell away if he happens to like his balls where nature intended them to be.

  I clear my throat as chatter begins to light up the air, and both Trixie and Seth glance up my way.

  “I don’t think that’s a good fit,” I say without having a single reason to back it. The only thing I don’t see as a good fit right now is the fact Seth keeps inching his seat toward hers. “Coral was a senior when she started the show. She had three breakups under her belt. She could empathize with people who were calling in. Trixie’s just a kid.”

  Trixie’s cheeks pinch with heat, pink at first, then quickly migrating to eggplant. Crap. Why do I get the feeling I just stepped on a minefield?

  “Pardon me?” Trixie says it so fast and sharp you can hear a pin drop—hell, you can hear two molecules trying to bind together. It’s that deadly quiet. “Did you just say I’m a kid?” Her left eye comes shy of winking. “Look, Mr. I Bed Them Each and Every Knight.” A small round of titters circles the room, and Bella Du Murex claps up a storm as if I had that pot shot coming for some time now. I’ve turned her away more than a dozen occasions, and now I’m starting to feel the heat from all those rejections. “I may not have whore stamped across my forehead like my fearless ‘leader’—” Trixie says the word leader with air quotes, and somehow the fact she’s mocking me stings more than the fact she’s just called me a whore. I already knew that part. “But I have a good head on my shoulders, and I can talk, write, or burn my way out of a paper bag. I do want that show on relationships. In fact, if you have a bona fide advice column, you can throw that my way as well. I think it would be perfect for me.” She pauses a moment to direct the heat of her hatred at me. “I think the student body at WB will find it refreshing that a young little ol’ freshman such as myself is able to bring new light to all things relationship. In fact, since I don’t have the vast bank of sexual knowledge someone of your STD stature has to contend with, I’ll call upon those with more experience. I bet there are a ton of romances that have blossomed right here at Briggs while you were busy bedding the masses. Real deal relationships that don’t rise and fall with the donning and sloughing off of a condom.” A circle of gasps takes over the room. Any brotherly affection I’ve felt for Trixie Toberman is quickly fading, and I’m wishing she’d suddenly be moved to leave the room and perhaps take Miranda and Bella with her. Those lavender eyes squint over at me. “I’m going to dominate the hour I’m on the air. I’m going to have the attention of the entire school before the semester is out, sweet cheeks. Just you wait and see.”

  My entire body spikes with heat. All eyes are cast my way, every person in the room holding their breath as to what my response might be to this terse little freshman.

  “Fine.” I stare her down without blinking until my eyes burn. “You can have Coral’s slot. One to two a.m. on Tuesdays and Thursdays. Good luck herding the masses to your relationship symposium—sweet cheeks.” I force a smile as I throw her own words back at her.

  Trixie’s mouth falls open as she struggles to sit upright. “One to two in the morning? I’ll be dead on Wednesday for classes!”

  “Not my problem.” I give a quick knock over the table and get everyone’s attention, not that I ever lost it. In fact, I don’t think anyone’s been this enthralled at one of these meetings since the club’s inception. “Seth, I want you covering football practice. Make sure to get a good shot of Rex. It’s his last hurrah as quarterback. Miranda, you and Bella can take the cheerleaders on. Be sure to get a few shots and quotes to give to the yearbook staff as well. I told them we’d help out.” I glance at Trixie. “Alpha Gamma Sigma is apple picking today at Hollow Brook Orchards and distributing to the food bank afterwards. Trixie, you’ll be joining me. The rest of you can enjoy your Saturday.” The group breaks apart as bodies swarm to the door. I glance up and catch Miranda sneering as she walks by Trixie.

  “Good luck feeding the residentially challenged,” she hisses to her. “I hear they crave brunettes this time of year.”

  “You would know. You are one,” Trixie snarks right back and Bella laughs, causing Miranda to swat her on their way out the door.

  Seth comes over looking decidedly ticked.

  Seth Baker is a good guy, mostly. His sister, Misty, and my brother, Nolan, are set to get married in a few short months. They were old flames who reconnected this past winter, and I’m glad about it. If anyone deserves to have love on their side, it’s those two. Nolan and my cousin, Lex, helped raise me once our mother passed away. My father is still alive and wreaking havoc on real estate in New York. His favorite pastime is scooping up buildings and businesses alike in Manhattan like they were candy at Halloween. He was too busy for us kids long before my mother lost her life at that intersection. My stomach sours just thinking of that awful day, and Seth slaps me over the arm, pulling me out of the trance.

  “Dude, why did you have to talk to her like that? It’s her first day. She’s jittery.”

  I glance over his shoulder to find Trixie messing with her phone. Probably giving my sister a play-by-play.

  “She can take it. Besides, she swung the bat first. I simply waited until I was at home plate to swing back.”

  Seth growls, signifying the fact he’s taking it way too personal. It’s obvious he’s emotionally invested because he’s interested in her. “Be nice.” He looks her way, and I can feel his concern for Trixie permeating the room with heat. “How about you cover practice and I’ll hit apple picking with Trix?” His shoulders sag as if he were taking one for the team. And I know which team he’s taking it for, Team Seth.

  “I got this. Besides, it’ll be good for her to know who’s in charge. She needs a little structure in life. She’s not in high school anymore. She’s playing with the big boys now.” That kiss comes back to me. That was no high school closet game she was invoking. Trixie Toberman knows her way around the human mouth, and she wasn’t shy about showing off her skills.

  Someone clears their throat behind me. “And let me guess. You’re that big boy?” I freeze before turning around. In no way am I looking forward to seeing her gloat. I turn slowly to find an ear-to-ear grin embedded on her face, her eyes sparkling like a clear night sky.

  “That would be me.” My body tenses as she laughs right in my face.

  Seth leans in. “You sure you got this?”

  “Yes, dude, go,” I bleat before looking back to my newest irritation in female skin. “I’ll have my truck in front of Cutler Tower in ten minutes. Don’t forget your sunscreen and maybe pack a smile. That snarl you wear isn’t exactly your best look.”

  Her mouth falls open once again, but I don’t hang out waiting for a response.

  Nope, I head straight for my truck, but the image of those pillow soft full lips falling open for me can’t seem to leave my mind. In fact, the pervert in me keeps imagining her dropping to her knees for me, and it’s all I can do not to
head back to The Row and get a little relief.

  Something tells me with Trixie Toberman around there will never be any relief.

  * * *

  The drive to Hollow Brook Orchards isn’t a long one, but it feels like the most arduous twenty minutes of my life. Trixie sits stoic and stiff as a statue in the passenger’s seat with her arms folded tight in that worn jean jacket of hers, her hair in a ponytail, one long flowing black river setting the divide between us. She’s donned a pair of skintight jeans that set all sorts of alarms off in me once I spotted her headed for the truck. How in the hell am I supposed to concentrate on something as innocent as picking apples when she’s looking like someone just dipped the lower half of her body in blue paint? And I’m pretty pissed about the fact I noticed it, too. I shouldn’t notice anything about her that I wouldn’t on my own sister. But, then again, if Sunday were wearing those things that hardly qualify as a vague idea of pants, I would have made her march right back up to her dorm and find something more appropriate like chainmail.

  “So you like Briggs so far?” There. I’m making an effort, even if it is at the exact moment I happen to be pulling into a parking spot.

  “Ugh, don’t even pretend you want to have a conversation with me.” She gets out before I kill the engine, and I jump out after her trying to catch up. The temperature is a crisp forty-five degrees, a good sign we’ll get an early snowfall this year. That’s one thing my mother used to say she appreciated about Hollow Brook, the fact that autumn chases summer away as soon as September arrives. Ironically, she died in the fall, too. The anniversary is coming up in a few months, and I hate that day each and every year.

  “I didn’t drive you all the way out here to have us ignore one another.”

  Her eyes meet with mine, and you can see the fire burning in them. She’s that raging mad. This, right here, is the reason I’ve never bothered with a girlfriend. This is exactly how I imagined it would work, her constantly pissed at something I may or may not have done and me expending energy I don’t have just trying to make it right. And that about sums up all I know about relationships to begin with. Just before my mother died, all she did was fight with my father. She wanted his time, and he didn’t want hers. Unfortunately for my father, once my mother died, his love life didn’t get any better. He brought home one bitter soon-to-be ex after the other, only to showcase to my siblings and me why relationships don’t really work. To this day he’s chasing skirts. The richer he gets, the younger they are, and yet not one of them sticks. I’ve decided to avoid the heartache altogether. I was the one mopping up my mother’s tears when he would storm off. That’s when I decided I wasn’t going to be the source of pain for people. There was no way in hell I was going to become my father.

  “I’m not ignoring you,” she grunts. “Finding out that you were the leader of the Media Club was like looking forward to a nice big fat wet burrito, only to find a long greasy hair in it.” She growls as if she actually might bite.

  “Greasy hair, huh?” I lead us straight for the fields, picking up an empty basket by the arched entry to the orchard, and Trixie arms herself with a fruit picker, basically a broomstick with a metal claw on the end. Typically, it’s harmless, but the way she’s wielding it with that look on her face lets me know I’d better keep my own fruit in check.

  “So what’s your major?” Her upper lip lifts to the side as she snarls out the question.

  “Business for undergrad. I’m going into real estate law next.”

  “Just like Daddy.” She bats her eyes up at me. “Sunday filled me in on the fact your dad ate Manhattan. How very Godzilla of him. I’m guessing the financially motivated fruit doesn’t fall far from the fiscally sound tree.” She tries to jab me with that stick in her hand, and I narrowly jump out of the way before she impales me with it.

  “Hey, watch it.” I laugh as I catch it by the tip and reel her in. “You mess with the bull, honey, and I’m going to make sure you get the horns.” My body slaps with heat at the innuendo I just let fly, and I feel like a jackass for it.

  “Wow, you can take the beast out of the frat house, but you can’t do anything about that sexual predator lurking inside him.”

  “That’s not what I meant.” My eyes close a moment because I’m afraid that’s exactly what I meant.

  “That’s exactly what you meant.” She shakes me off the stick and thrusts the fruit picker at me as if drawing a boundary line. “I’m no afternoon delight, so you can get your sick head out of the gutter. I knew the instant you singled me out for this apple picking dalliance that you had nothing but sexual shenanigans in mind.” She spits the words out with such anger I’m stumped that she has the ability to muster it for me. “I’m not laying down for my leader if that’s where you think this is headed.” She glares with such venom—holy crap, I think I’m actually getting aroused.

  “Yes, that’s exactly what I want.” Shit. “I mean no.” I shake my head, trying to get my brain to think straight. “We’re here for the club. I’m taking pictures, showing you the ropes.”

  She huffs so hard her tits ripple from under her shirt. “I bet you’d like to show me the ropes.” She spits out ropes as if it were a dirty word. “I’m guessing there are just a few basics I’ll need to learn.” She taps a finger over her pretty pink lips, and my mouth begins to water. “Let me see. You’re going to lure me to some deep, dark corner of this apple pie hideaway and teach me to get down on my knees. I bet there’s some serious sucking up you’d just love for me to do.” Her scowl grows ten times with intensity as she glowers my way. All playfulness aside, I’m beginning to think her disdain for me is the real deal.

  My face burns with heat, partially because a very demented part of me was envisioning just that, and if it were any other girl but Trixie, it probably would have been a reality. Hell, I should have brought Miranda. My stomach sours instantly at the thought. Screw that, any other girl but her or Trixie.

  She leans in and glowers at me for no reason. “Just so you know, your powers are faulty with me.”

  “Nice to know you appreciate them from afar.”

  “You’re not funny.”

  “Neither are you, honey.”

  The wind picks up and ices the air between us. The blue sky behind her highlights her raven black hair and gives her a larger-than-life appeal. Trixie looks like the quintessential girl next door in her red and black-checkered flannel, the indigo of her jean jacket setting off the hint of purple in her eyes.

  “Look, I didn’t bring you here to take advantage of you.” My voice softens as I raise my hands in surrender. Her shoulders sag as she slowly lowers her weapon of choice. “I brought you here to say that I don’t know exactly what happened last night, but I’m sorry. I don’t know what got into me.” There. I’m taking all the blame so she won’t have to. Our eyes lock as we enter a standoff.

  Take the bait, Trixie, and run with it. I’m offering you an out. There’s not too many of those in life. I should know.

  “You’re apologizing to me?” The fruit picker dangles by her knees as her shoulders slump, her voice so soft it’s almost inaudible. I’m not sure what Trixie’s story is, but by the looks of things, not too many people have apologized to her for anything.

  “Yes. Now, are you ready to do some apple picking for a good cause?” I nod back at the endless orchards, each tree decorated with round, juicy, red ornaments just waiting for us to take ahold of them for the greater good of the community center. I’ve been volunteering with them from as far back as the time my mother was alive. She had us kids there once every other week distributing food, passing out clothing and sundries to the needy. My mother never wanted us to forget how privileged we were and that the true privilege of our cushioned life was to be a servant to others.

  Her eyes widen a notch. Her face turns away as if she were begging her gaze to follow but couldn’t. “I guess it’s time to show these apples who’s boss.” She stabs the fruit picker into the ground next to her foot
as if we were about to declare war on all things Macintosh.

  A dull laugh rumbles through me. I have a feeling Trixie Toberman shows just about everyone who’s boss.

  We hike out past the frats and sororities that have shown up for that day and hit a couple of trees hard. I do most of the climbing, but there are several oversized stepstools set out to give us both the experience.

  “How come you do all the pitching and I do all the catching?” Trixie calls out from below as I toss her another shiny apple with a pink blush on its cheeks just like the one she’s sporting now. Even though the temperature is steadily dipping as the afternoon wanes on, we’ve both managed to work up a sweat.

  “Was that double entendre on purpose, or are you just sweet and innocent that way?”

  “What?” She shakes her head in disbelief as if I just informed her that I had two dicks.

  “Geez, never mind.” I hop down and brush my thighs over hers without meaning to. The sun is setting behind her as the sky and all of its peach wonder explodes like a crayon box in hues of burnt orange and pinks. It sets off her hair, her skin, and makes her entire body glow like an ethereal being. I’d give anything to commemorate the moment with a picture. So I do. I whip out my phone and land next to her.

  “Say cheese, sweet cheeks,” I say before snapping a quick picture of the two of us.

  “Sweet cheeks,” she says it bored, omitting the actual command and I show her the picture, the two of us with our heads touching, each with an amicable smile as if indeed we had a good day, and I think we did, all things considering.

  “Now, spot me while I get the real work done.” Trixie stomps her way up the stepladder and starts dropping apples at me as if they were live grenades.

  “Slow down, would you? We don’t want to bruise the fruit.”

  She howls out a short-lived laugh. “If by fruit you mean your head, then I’ll speed up the effort. I’m betting a little bruised ego will do you a world of good.”