Page 17 of Ride By Your Side

I let out a loud breath as he picks up speed and heads toward the rocky cliff he mentioned. “Ronnie, get it together,” I mutter under my breath, willing my eyes to stop following the delicious view in front of me. “You're not allowed to look at Blair’s older brother like that,” I remind myself. I mean, seriously, God really outdid himself when he made that one. Those back and leg muscles? It's like he's chiseled out of marble.

While it may have never been something I’ve needed to consider before, brothers are officially off-limits—right?

10

Miles

MaybeVeronicaisrightand there’s something to be said about yoga’s ability to calm the mind, because I’m experiencing the exact opposite as mine is a trainwreck of thoughts as I continue on my run.

The salty air, the crashing waves, the gorgeous blue ocean—running by it should feel completely euphoric, an experience that will stay with me forever, yet I can’t seem to enjoy it the way I should.

I’ve always been a runner. As a child, I watched and longed for the camaraderie of playing on some sort of sports team, but despite all my begging, my dad and grandma never signed me up, leaving me to sit on the sidelines while all the other kids played. I had to learn the hard way that the only basketball or football teams I’d be playing on would be the ones on the playground.

Running was something I could do for free and provided an amazing escape not only from the confines of the tiny, dirtyapartment I’d grown up in but also from all my troubles. While my sister found solace from hers through music and photography, I’d found mine through running, and of course tinkering with things, which eventually turned into my love of working on and fixing up cars.

However, I’m completely off my game today, and it all started when Veronica opened that damn door this morning wearing... well, whatever the hell that revealing outfit was, showing way more skin than I ever cared to see on my little sister’s best friend. I don’t want to see her like that. I don’t want to notice how perky and full her breasts are, or how soft and smooth her skin looked under that thin, sheer fabric.

I wouldn't say I see her as a sister, especially since I’ve always made a point to avoid thinking of her like that—or really, thinking of her at all. She’s very much cemented herself as my sister's obnoxious, pain-in-the-ass best friend.

Sure, she’s undeniably beautiful, but even as we grew older, I still always found it easier to dislike her than to ever think of her as someone I’d want to look at in that way.

There’s no denying, though, that the past few days I’ve gotten a glimpse into what my sister sees when she looks at Veronica. Her constant energy might be exhausting, and while I don’t consider her my friend just yet, I’ve surprisingly grown to not totally hate every second I’m around her. I’m actually starting to enjoy her company, at least when she isn’t trying to force feed me nasty-ass seafood or candy.

However, dinner and what we ate last night are the furthest things from my mind as my feet hit the sand beneath me—Veronica is all I can think about now. One would hope I’d be able to let my mind break free from that strange little encounter this morning. I’ve seen women wear far more risqué lingerie and outfits.

Fucking hell, even now, all my brain can think about is her current outfit—those tight yoga pants that cling to her perfectly round ass and the sports bra that, while it covers the important parts, leaves a nice peak of cleavage. Not to mention the fully exposed skin of her tight stomach.

Pete fucking West is truly one of the dumbest men I’ve ever met. While I’d made it a point to spend as little time with him as I could, I’d unfortunately, had a front-row seat just days before their would-be wedding as he attempted to body-shame her for wanting to eat some donuts. While I called him out that night, I’m even more worked up now. What the hell could he have possibly disliked about how she looks? Her body is perfect—each and every curve—and I’d do just about anything to run my hands all over it.

God, why the hell can’t I stop thinking about her damn body? And worse, I shouldn’t want to look at it, let alone touch it.

I force myself to keep running, but a quick glance over my shoulder pulls my attention away as I slow my pace. I can see Veronica, but I also spot a group of men, two of whom are making their way toward her.

I’m ninety percent sure she isn’t in any danger, especially since the man doing most of the talking is casually tossing a volleyball up and down in his hands. Before I can stop myself, I turn around and run straight toward them.

“Hey Ronnie!” I call, my voice straining to be heard from this distance, but thankfully she seems to hear me as she glances over her shoulder with a smile. “Are you ready to head back?” I ask, more winded than I should be, but I hadn’t exactly paced myself given how fast I high-tailed it back here.

With a sharp wrinkle of her brow and a scoff, she dismisses my idea with a slight wave. “We haven’t even been out here for a full thirty minutes.” She shushes me before looking at the two men, who seem to check me out and assess me exactly like I’m doingwith them. “And Jace and Benson here just invited me to play volleyball with them.”

“Oh, yeah?” I ask, doing my best to control my breathing as I close off the rest of the distance between us. I stand up straight as I walk directly behind Veronica and place a protective hand on her shoulder.

Okay, so usually I’m not the type of man to feel the need to mark my territory, but right now, I feel oddly protective. And okay, maybe she isn’t exactly my territory, but considering she just broke off her engagement only days before, these men definitely need to take a step back.

“You’re more than welcome to come and join in too,” the taller of the two males nods as I fully take him in. He’s got at least two or three inches on me and clearly has no problem being shirtless, as it shows off his broad chest and muscles, but I’m not the least bit intimidated. Then again, not much intimidates me—I’ve had an unwavering determination and fighting spirit, since I was a kid—hell, I’ve been fighting my entire life. I just can’t stand his smug grin, nor the way the shorter skinny guy is practically drooling over Veronica. Doesn’t he get how pathetic he looks?

“You really want to play?” I ask, turning my attention to Veronica instead of acknowledging the invite to join.

“Why not?” She says, shrugging as she meets my gaze.

“I just never took volleyball to be something you’d be interested in.”

I choose to keep my annoyance to myself that these men are a bunch of young college students, likely here for spring break. I’m not saying there’s anything wrong with it, but she is twenty-eight, after all, and these guys look barely legal. They’re pretty much babies and would probably have no idea how to handle a woman like her. Then again, maybe I shouldn’t trust her judgment, given that she’d somehow fallen for Pete West, of all people.

“Oh, come on. How often does one get to play beach volleyball?” she asks with a small giggle before turning back toward the guys. “I’m totally in.”

“That’s the spirit,” the smaller of the two cheers as he reaches out and gives Veronica a high five. I do everything in my power to keep my eyes from rolling to the back of my head.

“I guess that means I’m in, too.”

---