Sultry Oblivion by Alexa Padgett
Nash
“Are you worried?” Aya asked, those big, long-lashed eyes trained on my face. She tugged at the ends of her hair, a sure sign she was concerned.
I had to smile because I’d missed the gesture. I’d missed her. Having her next to me settled something vital.
“Only that I have to share you with Mama Grace,” I told her.
“You’re not sharing me, Nash. And that wasn’t what I meant.”
I jutted my jaw. “I know. Look, if you’re ready for whatever the meanies throw at you, how could I not be?”
“That doesn’t really answer my question,” she said, exasperation making her scowl. “And how come the meanies are only mean to me? And who calls them meanies? Nash, are you going soft on me?”
I narrowed my eyes and scoffed. “It’s bad juju to whale on the paps—you know that.” Maybe she didn’t. But I stood by this theory. “And Nash Porter doesn’t have a soft bone, or appendage, in his body. It’s bad juju to suggest otherwise.”
Aya wrinkled her nose. “TMI, Superstar.” She placed her hand on my arm, pulling my triceps to her chest.
I gritted my teeth at the feel of her soft flesh. My mind spiraled back to being in high school. I wanted her as much—no, more—than I had then, which made thinking clearly a challenge. I used my aching, now-wrapped hand to tug her palm down to snuggle against my good one.
“I am worried,” I admitted, trying to turn my focus away from how good her gorgeous tits felt against me. “I don’t want the paps to scare you away. Hence my reason for not spreading bad juju.” Tension lashed up my back, settling with painful tightness in my shoulders. Would Aya run again? Part of me was waiting for it. She might not see it that way, but she’d run from me before, and now she’d run from Lord Dipshit back to me.
I liked this direction better, but it didn’t break her pattern of running.
My headof security drove my car while Hugh sat next to him. Steve had stayed at the house, not interested in animals or the media circus Aya and I together would unleash.
“What should I expect?” Aya asked.
“Cameras,” I said with a sigh. “And questions. About you, us.”
“Well, I did live here before, so I’m aware of how often you were photographed then.”
“It’s worse now,” I mumbled. Not that I wanted to tell her, but I also couldn’t lie.
“All right.” She blew out a long, slow breath. “What if we focus on this event? You know, be in the now, and we’ll see how it all shakes out.”
“Sure,” I muttered. I lifted her hand and kissed the back of it.
We walked through the front doors of the shelter and into the shutter-clicking madness of paparazzi. I sighed, wishing I could be anywhere that meant keeping Aya to myself.
Instead, we were here at the shelter.
The director pushed through the mass of reporters, looking slightly frazzled. Nancy Pratt was a graying version of Miss Frizzle, The Magic School Bus teacher on the PBS show that Lev had watched every single day when he was in first grade. For some reason, he’d found the weird teacher a comfort. He used to read me some of the books once our mom was too busy filming or doing press to read to us at night. I learned a few things, too.
Thanks, Lev and Miss Frizzle.
Thinking about my brother didn’t gouge my heart the way it used to, and I heaved a full breath, thankful I’d had this remembrance now, which brought a warm glow to an otherwise fraught moment.
“Mr. Porter! Thank you so much for coming.” Nancy beamed.
“Of course. And this is Aya. She’s…my love.”
A stunned silence ensued. Even the camera shutters paused. Aya shifted, her linen-clad hip rubbing against my thigh. The shocked silence dragged on.
“We attended Holyoke together for a few years before Aya’s mother died and her father moved her to England. A mutual acquaintance helped us to reconnect, and here she is. I couldn’t be happier.”
We’d discussed the best course of action with Hugh and decided I should volunteer a few details so the paps could write about that. Maybe if I doled out dribs and drabs of information, they’d remain satisfied.
I doubted it.
Still, Aya beamed up at me, her smile mega-watts brighter than the stadium lights. I kissed the tip of her nose.
“I like that you call me your love,” she whispered.
“That’s what you are,” I said. “What you’ve always been and always will be.” I kissed her nose again, ignoring the collective gasps. Yes, yes, I never did public displays of affection. Mainly because those other women weren’t Ay. With her, I couldn’t help myself.
“What happened to your hand?” someone called out.
I scanned the room, unsurprised by the avid hunger on so many faces.
“I hit a wall.”
“Is it broken?”
“Will you be able to use it for your next leg of the tour or will it get pushed back again?”
“The tour’s on,” I said. “This will heal, and I’ll be back out there for the fans. We owe them.”
I waved goodbye and squeezed Aya’s hand as we followed Nancy down the hallway toward the outdoor pen where they’d put the cats. Thankfully, the press couldn’t follow us here.
“What, exactly, do you want to get out of this visit?” I asked Nancy. “I mean, besides publicity for the shelter?”
“Donations and a lot of adoptions,” was her reply.
“Cool. I’ll see what I can do about adoptions, but Hugh has a check for you to keep this place no-kill.”
Hugh stepped forward and handed her the check. Her eyes widened and then filled with tears. She pressed it to her chest and sniffled.
“Bless you, my boy. Bless that sweet heart of yours for saving so many of these darling animals.”
I smiled, but it was forced. I wasn’t doing this for publicity or thanks.
Ever since Aya had told me about her wish for a cat in that text years ago, I’d made a point to visit these kinds of places. Sure, in the beginning it had been punishment for screwing us up, but I’d quickly realized I loved animals. By my second or third trip to a shelter, I no longer considered it penance. I enjoyed spending time petting and playing with the animals too much.
Lev and I had always wanted a pet—anything furry and cuddly that we could hold and nurture—but our mother hadn’t liked the shedding aspect and Brad had toured too often.
After Lev died, Brad didn’t even want the responsibility of taking care of me. I was even angrier because his new kid, Alonso, had two dogs and a guinea pig, all because wife three (yes, he’d married twice more since divorcing my mother) had “surprised” her son with them.
Manipulation was alive and well in that Porter household. But it wasn’t my problem.
I pushed through the chain-mesh gate and let go of Aya’s hand so I could squat down in the small sea of fur. I settled my butt on what I hoped was a pee-free spot of grass and began gathering up the little bodies, rubbing them to my cheek.
I grinned at Aya. “You asked how I stayed sober. This is one way—animal therapy. I don’t have to pick one. I get them all.” For a short period of time.
She settled on her heels next to me, tickling one of the smoke-gray kittens under its chin. The baby closed its blue eyes and rumbled out a purr. My chest warmed at the sight of her, even as something else ached. I still couldn’t believe she was here.
She glanced over, a question settling on her features.
I cleared my throat, trying to move past the strange mix of feelings. “That one likes you. Would you like one? For your birthday? Like you mentioned in your texts?”
Her smile bloomed, and the warmth in my chest spread. I liked making Aya happy.
“You remember that?”
“I remember every single message.”
She hummed low in her chest, matching the kitten’s frequency.
“Well?”
“You know I’ve always wanted a cat. What about you? Why don’t you have one?”
I glanced around, taken aback. I didn’t want one. I wanted them all. How could I choose?
“Maybe I should,” I said.
She picked up an orange-and-white long-hair and placed the tiny body in my hands. I stared into green eyes and melted. I rubbed my palm over the small head, leaning close to press a kiss between its pink nose and eyes, which crossed in an attempt to keep staring at me.
With a startled sneeze, the baby pulled back. Mmrrrow.
I laughed. “You’re getting me a kitten?” Excitement billowed through me.
She winked. “It is almost your birthday. So if you plan to get me one, fair’s fair, Superstar.”
“We’d better take them both, then,” I said with a grin.