I placed the first dozen in the oven and turned on the timer.
“Okay. I’ll text him.” I got the phone and touched his text, bringing me to the empty screen of dread. “I was a little dramatic with my exit.” I told her, glancing at the mixing bowl.
“How dramatic?” she asked.
“I might have revved the bike as I did a U-turn in the street, and that was after I turned him down for a ride after initially agreeing.”
“And he’s still texting you?” She smiled and stuck her finger in the dough.
She had a point. What was wrong with him?
I exhaled and placed the phone back on the counter.
“Let’s wait until the cookies are done.”
She rolled her eyes, and I grabbed a spatula and began lifting the cookies off the tray. Brandy snuck one, and I began heating up marshmallows, butter, and vanilla in a small pot for the glaze.
“To die for, girl. Like usual,” she sang, licking her fingertips. She put the next tray of cookies in the oven for me as I continued stirring the icing.
“What if he wants to go out tomorrow morning?”
“Seriously? You’re considering giving up a Saturday morning sleep-in session for him? This must be serious,” she joked. “I’ve tried for years to get you up on the weekends to go jogging with me.”
“Uh. Yeah. You said it right there. Jogging. Who wants to wake up early for that?” I turned the stove off and began dribbling the icing over the first batch of cookies. “Waking up for Jason, no question.”
She got a potholder and took the tray out of the oven as I debated if I was ready for another encounter so soon.
“It probably won’t be for tomorrow since he cancelled in the first place.”
“True,” she agreed.
A loud pounding at our front door broke me out of my spell, which scared the bejesus out of me. The knock wasn’t a soft, neighborly knock. This was filled with urgency and determination.
“Who the heck?” Brandy asked, as she smacked another round form of dough on the tray.
“Maybe it’s Jason,” I teased. I wiped my hands on the kitchen towel and walked quickly to the door, dodging a sofa table we had pushed against the foyer wall. I looked through the peephole and dread filled me as Aaron, my brother, stood staring back at me. He was dressed in a tee and jeans, his hands shoved in his pockets.
Chapter Eleven
“Who’s at the door?” Brandy called from the kitchen.
Crap!
I didn’t want to holler back because he’d know I was right by the door and now that she’d yelled, he probably knew we’re here.
“It’s Aaron,” my brother’s voice rumbled through the door.
Guess it wasn’t probably anymore.
Brandy turned the corner into the hallway as the admission was uttered. Her eyes widened and a grimace appeared along her lips.
“Are you gonna open the door?” she whispered, now standing right next to me, cookie in hand.
“I hope she is,” Aaron laughed as he stood on the other side of the door, which just annoyed me. He wasn’t supposed to have fun in this world. He was supposed to be riddled with guilt.
I scowled at her and placed my hand on the knob. Taking a deep breath in, I twisted the knob and opened the door.
There he was, my long-lost brother, standing in front of me as if he’d been at my door a hundred times before, but he hadn’t. Ten years had gone by, and apparently he hadn’t had the slightest interest in me, until now. But why now?
Dressed more casually, Aaron looked more like I remembered him. There was a boyish quality threaded through his stare, but there was also a weathered tiredness sitting behind his eyes.
I raised my brows and didn’t say anything as I crossed my arms in front of me, waiting.
“I actually just wanted to come by and make sure you were home safe,” he muttered, looking rather sheepish. “And it looks like you’re fine.” He glanced at Brandy and then back at me.
“Why wouldn’t I be?” I asked. Was this what it would have been like having him as part of my life during my teen years and college? Always trying to look out for me and protect me? I pushed away the grief and resentment that surfaced as I watched relief wash through him.
“Jason said you were pretty upset, and he was worried because you took off on your bike…” his voice trailed off as our neighbor down the hall unlocked their door and proceeded to enter their condo. “…And you didn’t text him back.”
“Since when have I ever been a concern of yours, and how did you even know where I lived?” I asked, feeling my temper daring him to say the wrong thing.
“Jason told me.” He took a deep breath in. “And I’ve always worried about you.”
“Glad he respects his clients’ privacy,” I retorted, ignoring the other half of his statement.
“Come on. It’s not like that and you know it,” he said, his voice softening. “Jason’s a good guy.”
“Funny. He said the same thing about you. Not really sure I can trust either of your opinions.”
Aaron shook his head and shifted uncomfortably, which wasn’t missed under Brandy’s gaze.
“You’re lucky she’s letting you off easy,” Brandy said. “If this makes you uncomfortable, you should see how she gets when she’s really fired up. She’s made grown men cry.”
Jesus, Brandy!
“Is that so?” Aaron asked, a tip of a smile threatening his lips. “She was always feisty growing up.”
“Just because you knew the twelve-year-old Gabby, doesn’t mean you know her now. Don’t kid yourself,” Brandy scoffed. “I’m not impressed.” She looked at me, but I saw something in her eyes… like maybe she was impressed.
“Listen, I’m glad you’re okay. I don’t want to ruin your evening anymore than I already have. Just know that I didn’t put Jason up to anything,” he said.
My cheeks warmed with embarrassment, knowing Jason had revealed our encounter, but I prayed not all of it.
“I hope we can sit down sometime and talk,” Aaron said in response to my silence.
“I’d like that.”
“You would?” he asked, surprise etching his words.
“You would?” Brandy seconded.
“Yeah, but I’m not sure when.”
The oven timer went off and Aaron nodded. “Okay. Well…I hope…hope to hear from you soon.”
“Yep. I’ll call you next week.” As I uttered the words, my stomach twisted into a knot. Next week? That seemed far too soon.
His eyes fell on Brandy. If I didn’t know better, it almost felt like she threw him a second look.
“Nice seeing you again,” he told Brandy before leaving.
I closed the door and exhaled, feeling the weight in my chest settle over my entire body. Sleep sounded wonderful.
“Guess, that’ll teach me not to respond to Jason immediately.”
“Do you believe your brother?” she asked.
“Good point.”
It was still weird hearing the term ‘brother’ roll off of anyone’s tongue and apply to me. I had grown accustom to imagining my life another way as an only child. The idea of having a brother did nothing over the years but fade into the deep recesses where only my sleeping dreams and waking imagination could recall him. In my sleep, he remained an eighteen year old with defined features and a kind spirit. In my waking hours, he remained nothing but a figureless shadow, leaving hollowness deep within me. Needless to say, there was a reason I stopped thinking about him while I was awake. Unfortunately, I hadn’t figured out how to master my dreams, and he had an awful habit of appearing in them, alongside my mom.
“You okay over there?” Brandy asked, dripping the icing over the piping hot batch of cookies.
“I think you’re right. The only way I’ll stop being haunted by my brother is to make him as real as I can and find out who he is. I just don’t want it to suck as bad as I think it will.”
“You mean finding out who he i
s or finding out why he left?” she asked.
“Maybe both,” I told her, hoping to switch subjects. “So are you really ready to start law school in the fall?”
She flashed one of her dynamite grins and nodded. “Absolutely. I’m just glad I got into the evening program.”
“About that. I want you to know whatever extra time you may need or anything…”
She held up her hand. “Nope. I don’t want any special treatment. I know I can do it all.”
“You say that now,” I teased, “but one of these days you’re going to change your mind.”
“We’ll see,” she said, shaking her head.
“I’m really proud of you. I’m sure I should go get an MBA, but the thought of any more school is frightening.”
“If it was something you actually wanted to pursue, I’m sure you’d be as excited as I am.”
“Probably true,” I confessed.
My phone flashed with another text, which Brandy glanced at as she continued to dribble the glaze. “Want me to tell you what it says?”
I nodded.
“Don’t hate me,” she read aloud.
“For what?” I asked.
“No. Not me. That’s what the text says,” she replied, placing the icing back on the counter.
I typed quickly and hit send before I had a chance to talk myself out of it.
Fortunately for you, I don’t think anyone could hate a face like yours. I’m making my special coconut cookies and no I didn’t offer my brother one. I’m still trying to get over the embarrassment of earlier. You haven’t seen my best side… Would love coffee. Maybe start over?
I looked over at Brandy. “We shall see.”
The phone buzzed almost immediately to reveal a text back from Jason.
That’s debatable! What I’ve seen so far has been far from forgettable. Free tomorrow morning for coffee? I saw you riding around in circles before I left. Thought you might like to actually make it to a destination. Know a great little coffee shack just a short ferry ride away…
I started laughing, feeling a wave of heat run through me.
“That’s a good sign.” Brandy said, just as the timer went off.
I typed each letter slowly now, feeling a stir of something unrecognizable.
So you knew I was fine?
I placed the phone on the counter and within seconds, it buzzed again.
I knew you weren’t fine, which is why I called for backup. Plus your idea of fine and mine are quite different. Meet me at the Coffee Shack in Bainbridge tomorrow at ten o’clock.
“Hmph.” I quickly texted.
I thought you were busy tomorrow, which is why you had to come today to drop off the bike?
“What?” Brandy asked, as I sent the text.
I shook my head, staring at the screen for his response.
I lied. I didn’t want to wait until Saturday to see you again. See you at ten.
“He’s very presumptuous.” I typed my response and snagged a cookie. “Who says ten works for me?”
Brandy’s brow quirked slightly and she shook her head. “You’re impossible.”
Chapter Twelve
I pulled up to the gravel lot directly in front of the coffee house and parked. It was a beautiful little spot, perched on a cliff, overlooking the Sound. The little building was quaint, and I could immediately imagine myself settling into island life and stopping here every morning for coffee. With cedar shake siding and window boxes filled with magenta geraniums and marigolds, I was drawn to the coziness of the building and definitely drawn to the seclusion. There were a few cars in the lot, but I didn’t see his bike. Good! That would give me enough time to get out of my gear.
Unstrapping my helmet, I set it on the seat and flipped my head over trying to rid myself of helmet head by running my fingers through my hair only to leave it tangled instead of flat. I unzipped my jacket and pants and folded them up, placing them in the saddlebag. Running my hands along my cutoffs, I heard a bike behind me on the main road and turned around as the excitement started pounding through me. But then I watched as the bike continued to drive by.
As I strolled up to the entrance, I noticed a tiny For Sale sign propped up in the window. The creaky hinges of the door sounded, alerting anyone inside the establishment to my arrival. I looked around the space and only saw an elderly couple reading the Seattle Times, and a mother rolling her baby back and forth in a stroller as she munched on a pastry. I walked up to the counter, scanning the drink menu, and smiled as one of the baristas hopped into place.
“What can I get for you?” she asked. Her hair was in a bouncy ponytail, which seemed to match her personality.
“I’d like an orange spiced iced-coffee,” I replied, glancing at the baked goods. Since I couldn’t even remember exactly how many cookies I’d had the night before, I passed on getting breakfast.
As I was leaving a tip in the jar, I heard the door scrape and felt the breeze from behind as it opened. The barista’s slight smile transformed into an ear-to-ear grin as she spotted whoever was behind me, and her flirtatious laughter erupted into the tiny space before she even said hi. A little jolt of unexpected jealousy sprang up as I watched the barista’s reaction. All this and I still refused to turn around to greet him. After all, maybe it wasn’t Jason.
And then I felt it—felt him. He stood directly behind me, possibly less than a foot away, when a sensation unlike any I had felt before sprinted through my veins. There was something delusional about these thoughts that forced out my sanity. I couldn’t feel him. But I could and the pull was beyond my control.
“Good morning,” he murmured from behind. I remembered his gentle touch the day he led me out to view my bike, and a chill ran up my spine. And then I imagined being woken every morning by his deep masculine voice, and I blushed immediately.
“Good morning to you too,” I said, stepping aside and turning to face him.
He looked even better than I remembered. How was that even possible? He was still in his leathers, but his jacket was unzipped, revealing a fitted shirt and so much more.
“Hi there, Jason,” the barista’s voice rang out, interrupting my swooning. The greeting he received was far more personal, bordering on intimate, than what I had received. Apparently more than one of us was vying for his attention.
“Hey, Kayla,” he responded, flashing his dazzling smile at her as he reached for his wallet.
“You know. You weren’t supposed to arrive before me,” he teased, turning to look at me. “I wanted to buy your drink.”
Ha! Did you hear that, Kayla? No. This was ridiculous. I’ve started arguing with myself.
“Next time,” I promised, smiling.
“So I might be lucky enough to have a next time…”
“We’ll see.” I shrugged and walked toward the end of the bar. I could sense his eyes on me as I walked away and enjoyed being the focus of his attention, much to Kayla’s dismay.
“Iced-coffee, orange spice,” a different barista called as she placed my drink on the counter.
“Thanks,” I told her, taking the cup and a straw.
I looked behind me and saw a corner table that looked out toward Puget Sound.
“Does this work okay?” I asked.
“That’s my favorite seat in the house,” he responded, grabbing his drink order off the counter.
Favorite spot in the house, huh? I wonder how many women he’s met up at this coffee shack? No! Don’t think like that. Not everything has to end in a snarky thought.
An already dismantled newspaper was spread on the table, which I tossed onto another table. I sat down in the wooden chair and watched him glide over to the table, as did the other females in the coffee shop.
“Doing fine, I see,” he stated, taking a seat across from mine. “You’ve got a flush to your cheeks.” His eyes inquisitive.
“More than fine after a ride on her,” I said. “She’s so responsive and a lot of fun to ride.”
He
started laughing and shook his head. “I still don’t take you for a biker.”
“Well, you don’t know me,” I shot back, locking my lips around the straw. His gaze tumbled to my mouth as I took a sip, and I pushed away the gratifying feeling that swelled up inside of me. Releasing the straw, I licked my lips gently and smiled. Two could play this game.
“I’d like to get to know you,” he offered.
I glanced at the counter and noticed Kayla wiping the counter in endless circles as she attempted to listen to our conversation. I held back a chuckle and turned my attention back to Jason who was still waiting a response.
“So just how many women do you like to get to know over coffee?” I teased, taking another sip.
“Not many,” he said, his voice hinted a note of caution. “What about you?”
“A fair amount,” I replied, keeping my face completely deadpan.
Disbelief, followed by wonderment, filled his expression. “Is that so?”
“Loads, actually.”
“Good to know,” he said, leaning back in the chair. A flicker in his eyes reminded me of something pleasantly familiar as I flipped it back to him.
“Do you—”
“I’ll start with the questions,” I interrupted him, hoping to avert any issues.
“Go for it,” he said, completely enthralled with what I wasn’t sure.
I was suddenly speechless and had to reach into the depths of lameness to start my rapid-fire line of questioning.
“How old are you?” I began.
“Twenty-seven,” he answered.
“What’s your favorite color?”
“Gold,” he responded.
“Snow or sun?” I asked.
“Snow.”
“Where do you live?”
“Depends on the day,” he responded, throwing me for a loop.
“What do you mean?”
“Pretty much that,” he replied, running his fingers along the scruff on his jawline.
“Are you homeless?” I scrunched my nose up.
Spring Fling Trio- Beyond Love Starter Set Page 9