Beach Reads Box Set

by Madden-Mills, Ilsa

  Jack holds up his hands in deference and says he’ll be out back throwing the ball for Alfred. Really, he’s just trying to get away from Edith. He knows if we’re together in a room with her long enough, she’ll catch on to us. She’s like a wily detective, good cop, bad cop, and grandma all wrapped up in one.

  * * *

  You’d think I wouldn’t be one for keeping secrets. Secrets, secrets are no fun unless you tell everyone—yada yada. Whoever came up with that catchy little rhyme clearly never engaged in a sexy secret affair, because guess what? Keeping this secret from Edith is fun as shit, like when I take some coffee up to Jack’s office later in the afternoon and just as I turn to leave, he catches hold of my elbow and pulls me down on his lap. The door is open. We could get caught. Edith could swat us in the heads with a rolled-up newspaper.

  “How are you feeling about last night?”

  “Good,” I reply dreamily.

  He’s staring at my mouth. “No regrets?”

  Now I’m staring at his mouth too. “None.”

  He wraps his hand around my neck and a little spark trails down my spine. I shiver and he pulls my face toward his. Then we make out like teenagers. We kiss until I’m fluent in the ways of the French. We kiss until my chest is constricting and my panties are wet, and then he releases me and I half hobble, half skip out of the room. I’m panting like one of those sled dogs that just finished lugging a lazy human across the Iditarod finish line. He tells me he’s excited to take me to dinner and I tell him, “I too, am, uh, dinner excited.”

  My lips are swollen. Edith asks me about it when I make it back to the living room after a quick 38-minute cool-down on the stairs.

  I tell her I got stung by a bee.

  “On your lips?” she asks, dubious.

  “Yeah, it was weird—flew right in the kitchen window.” My voice wobbles. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ve been meaning to read…”—I grab the first book within reach on the shelf beside me—“…this book…”—I look down at the cover—“Advanced Husbandry Techniques.”

  She tosses her hands in the air and walks away. “Strange choice for light reading. You do know husbandry doesn’t mean what you think it does, right? No book is gonna teach you how to land a decent man.”

  Later that evening, I doll myself up and hop into the back seat of Jack’s truck. Edith and Jack sit up front, and I’d just like to point out that of the two us, I’m a much easier date than Edith is. She insists she’s too hot, and then she’s too cold. She snaps at Jack to drive faster then tells him he’s taking the bends like a madman.

  At the steakhouse, she demands to be seated in a booth and makes Jack and me sit on the same side because she “has baby-birthing hips.” Jack reminds her that she gave birth nearly fifty years ago and she stares right at him as she orders the most expensive bottle of wine on the menu in retaliation. I have no choice but to drink some of it too. Smirk.

  I don’t think Edith picked a booth to intentionally make me sit closer to Jack, but if she did, she’s a miracle worker. We’re basically squashed together. His denim-clad thigh is pressed against mine. The booth isn’t tiny, but then, neither is he. I’m stuck between him and the wall, and I’m not sure which one is more unyielding.

  We shift and get settled then he stretches his arm along the back of the booth, behind my shoulders. If we were fourteen and at the movies, I’d consider this, like, fifth base. His hand is near my shoulder, which is riiiight around the corner from my boob. His finger brushes the strap of my dress innocently. I try to focus on my menu, but my eyes are glazed over with visions of what I would be doing if we were alone right now. I want to climb into his lap and eat him for dinner.

  “Jesus, don’t they have steakhouses back in California?” Edith asks, grabbing my attention. “You look overwhelmed by the five choices.”

  I laugh like I’m trying it out for the first time.

  Jack saves me. “Want to share something?”

  “Yes,” I say like that’s the best idea I’ve ever heard.

  We put our order in with the waitress who’s a friend of Edith’s. Edith takes it upon herself to invite her to our yoga session tomorrow, which, after a few weeks of Edith spreading the word, now includes more than 30 people on any given weekend. Last week, we had 48. Pretty soon, I’m going to have to find a stadium to host it.

  “Oh, and it’s a five-dollar donation,” Edith adds quickly.

  Up until then, I’ve never charged anyone for the class. I’d never even considered charging for it.

  Our waitress doesn’t even bat an eyelash at the cost. When she walks away, I lean forward.

  “Since when am I charging people?”

  Edith sips her wine casually. “Since now. You’re a good teacher and five bucks is nothing. I spend that much on a damn cup of coffee down at Starbusk.”

  “You mean Starbucks,” I correct.

  “’S what I said, Starbusk.”

  Jack is watching us with an amused smile.

  “What do you think?” I ask.

  “I think if people are willing to pay for your time, then clearly your time has value.”

  I sit up straighter. Yes, right. My time is valuable.

  “Okay, Edith, I’ll have you ask for the donations tomorrow and we’ll see how people respond. If everyone runs back to their trucks and peels out, I’ll just go back to doing it for free.”

  Once that’s settled, I turn to the basket of warm rolls in the center of the table. I’m slathering whipped butter onto every crusty bit I can find when I hear my name from a few yards away.

  I jerk my gaze up and see Tucker making his way toward us. I haven’t seen him since the wedding, but we’ve talked. He called the farmhouse the day after to see if I was doing okay since he wasn’t able to take me home. Jack was out working, so I happened to answer the phone first.

  I smile. “Hi Tucker, good to see you.”

  Edith barely greets him. I realize now that she never really wanted us together. She was using him as a pawn.

  Jack scoots a tiny bit closer to me. At this rate, my face will end up squashed between the wall and his bicep. My lips will pucker out like a fish.

  “How are you guys?” Tucker asks, looking at no one but me.

  “We’re fine. Jack is treating us to a dinner date,” Edith answers.

  She enunciates the final word extra hard.

  Tucker notices Jack’s arm around my shoulder and frowns. “Meredith, I tried calling you the other day, but you know how fickle that Blue Stone phone can be.”

  I glance at Jack, and he doesn’t even bother feigning remorse. In fact, his face is a mask of indifference. It’s like he doesn’t even know Tucker is standing there. I want to poke him in the ribs and tell him to play nice.

  “Oh, um, yeah.” I glance back up at Tucker. “Sorry about that. What’d you need to tell me?”

  He glances away from the table. “Well, we should probably talk about it in private. It’s about your divorce.”

  He says the word divorce like it’s nasty and pus-filled.

  I frown. “What about it?”

  He rocks back on his heels, understanding that anything he needs to say, he’ll have to say in front of Edith and Jack. “I was just going to offer you my legal advice pro bono, if you need it.”

  “Not necessary,” Jack cuts in. “We’ve already got it covered.”

  “Oh, I didn’t realize.” His gaze cuts to me. “Well, regardless, if you need any help, Meredith, you know where to find me.”

  When he walks away, the three of us sit in awkward silence. My roll is still buttered and untouched. It feels weird to stuff my face at a moment like this, though just to be clear, I could still easily put away four to five buttered rolls at this very second.

  “Since when do I have my divorce covered?” I ask my roll.

  Jack sighs and moves his arm from around my shoulders. “I called my lawyer the other day and asked him about our options.”

  “‘Our’ options?
”

  He clears his throat. “Your options.”

  Edith excuses herself to use the bathroom then I look up and see her take a seat at the bar. Let it be known, I’ve never met a person smarter than Edith.

  “It’s not that I’m not grateful, I am, I just…” I sigh and drop the roll. No one is sadder about that than me. “It feels wrong to have you help me with this, like I’m just running from one guy to another, looking to you to solve my problems.”

  His dark brows crease. “Do you really think that or do you feel like you should think that?”

  Oh.

  Well…good question.

  “I don’t know.”

  A not insignificant part of me is worried what other people will think.

  “We aren’t talking about a rebound here,” Jack continues. “I’m talking about your future, about you rebuilding your life and accepting help freely given.”

  The edge of my mouth curls up. “Is it freely given though?”

  He rears back, almost offended by the question. Still, it bears asking. “Of course it’s freely given. When I asked you the other night if you wanted me and Edith to be your people, this was part of the deal. You can walk out of my life tomorrow. Quit working for me. Date Tucker. Go back to your husband, and I’ll still be your person if you need me. That’s how it works.”

  Well damn.

  I’m tearing up inside a steakhouse while an overwrought country song plays overhead. How cliché.

  “I appreciate what you’re saying, I really do, but think about it from my perspective. You’re holding all the cards. You’ve given me a place to live and a place to work”—I drop my voice in case the people in the booth behind us are listening—“not to mention what happened last night. That introduces a whole other slew of complications.”

  “So let’s uncomplicate it.”

  Oh shit.

  “Do you not want to repeat what we did last night?” I ask quietly.

  If so, what was all that making out we did this afternoon for?

  “I do.”

  “Are you firing me?”

  “No.”

  “Are you kicking me out of the shack? Because now that it’s adorable and trendy, I really like living in it.”

  He finds that amusing. “No, you can live in the chic shack as long as you want.”

  “Well then how are we uncomplicating things?”

  “I think I’m going to hire another housekeeper, maybe one with housekeeping experience.”

  “Don’t you like the way I fold your underwear?”

  He cracks up at that.

  “I’m doing it because it’s a lot of work, and I think if you had some help, you’d have more time to focus on what your next step should be.”

  “Next step.”

  “Yes, like what Edith was saying about charging people for the yoga class. That’s a good idea.”

  Interesting…

  “Well if you’re going to phase me out, I’ll need severance, and if we’re going to keep doing that other thing, I’ll need hazard pay.”

  He moves his arm back around my shoulder. “I’ll consider it.”

  “Also, the new housekeeper can give Alfred his baths. I’m never doing that again.”

  He’s wearing a panty-dropping smile as he says, “He likes you.”

  “He likes everyone.”

  “Tell that to the door-to-door salesman he chased down the road the other day.”

  We are flirting. We are openly flirting, and I need to focus.

  I straighten up and return my attention to the table. “Right, but what about what you just told Tucker? About having my divorce under control?”

  “We can call my guy in the morning. He’ll explain it better than I can, but basically a lot depends on whether or not you come to an uncontested agreement on the terms of the divorce.”

  I nod. “I’ve already decided that’s what I want.”

  “What about alimony? My lawyer says you could easily get two or three years of spousal support.”

  My stomach twists into a knot. “No. I don’t want anything from him.”

  “Don’t throw it away just to spite him.”

  I turn and look him square in the eye. “Think about what I’ve done for the last eight weeks. Do you think I would have willingly scrubbed toilets if it wasn’t absolutely necessary? Do you think I would have survived in that dingy shack with no A/C if there was any other way forward? I would gladly give up all the money in the world in exchange for not having to deal with him any longer.”

  He nods. “Good. That means the divorce will probably be done as soon as possible.”

  I glance down at his lips, suddenly overwhelmed by the urge to lay one on him.

  “This is the sexiest family law conversation I’ve ever had on a date.”

  He smiles. “Want to change the subject?”

  “Will you do that thing with your finger again? Where you play with my dress strap?”

  “Oh, I didn’t realize I was doing that.”

  Our gazes lock, and I think if Edith weren’t making her way back over to us, he’d lean down and kiss me. Maybe it’s better that she is here; this way we have to eat our steaks instead of each other.

  “Oh, don’t mind me,” Edith says when she sits down. “I’m just an old lady who can’t hear a damn thing in this loud-ass restaurant.”

  27

  Meredith

  We make it home late after dinner and Edith announces very loudly to anyone within earshot that she’s going to bed.

  “And you two better go on too. That’s my secret to good health, you know—eight hours every night!”

  Jack walks me back to my shack, which is odd considering his bedroom is in the exact opposite direction.

  I’m thinking of ways to draw him into the shack for a little nightcap (Ooh, I called my sex lawyer and he’s about to serve you with a big subpoena), when he tells me he has to head over to San Antonio for a day trip early in the morning.

  He might as well have just told me he’s going off to war with the way my body reacts to the information.

  “Why?”

  What I really want to ask is, Do you have to?

  “I have meetings with a grocery distributor there. We’ve been working on getting Blue Stone wine into their stores. There are a lot of details to hammer out and I need to be there to help my project manager.”

  “When will you get back?”

  “Sometime after dinner.”

  I should not be depressed by this, but I am.

  “Are you going to start Christine-ing me?”

  “Never,” he says, squeezing my hand. “I’ll bring you back a souvenir.”

  Now we’re talking. I perk up immediately.

  Then, he throws a cherry on top. “And maybe the day after, you and I can go out on a real date, just the two of us.”

  “Really? I don’t know…Edith makes a great third wheel, like when she talked about her bunions on the way home? I would have never brought that up on a first date, but I liked the sincerity.”

  He laughs at my stupid joke, which means he’s definitely into me.

  When we reach the shack, he turns me to face him and hooks his hands around my waist. His fingers barely dip past the hem of my jeans as he squeezes and tugs me toward him.

  “So this is good night?”

  I tilt my head back to look up at him. His head is framed by stars. Out here, you can see millions of them.

  “Or?” I ask, like a shameless flirt.

  “Or I could kiss you?”

  He’s bending down before he’s even finished the question and the last word is whispered against my lips right before his mouth presses to mine. My insides liquefy. My arms link around his neck, partly because I want to keep him right where he is, and partly because he’s so tall, I sort of have to hoist myself up to reach his lips without straining my neck.

  Just like against the front door and in his office, our kisses go straight from zero to sixty. If a s
cientist stuck an old-fashioned thermometer between us, the mercury would blast straight out of the top.

  His hand skims along the side of my breast and my brain says, Yes! Let’s do this, big boy! but he pulls back and presses his forehead to mine.

  “It’s just that my meeting is really, really early tomorrow morning, and I have to be on point.”

  “That’s okay, we can have sex really quickly.”

  He laughs. “I want us to go slow. After everything you’ve been through, I want to be careful.”

  “I’m not fragile.” I pinch my forearm to prove my point. “Look, see? That didn’t even hurt.”

  He soothes the patch of slightly red skin with his hand. I swoon.

  “You could come with me tomorrow?” he continues, obviously noticing how sad I am that he’s leaving.

  I smile. “You go. Make all the deals, shake a bunch of hands, sign contracts, kiss babies. I’ll be here, holding down the fort with Edith.”

  He closes his eyes, takes a deep breath (like he’s gathering every ounce of resolve inside of him), and then he steps back and releases me.

  “So then I’ll see you when I get back?” he asks. “It could be pretty late.”

  “I’ll stay up.”

  He seems happy about that, stealing one last kiss before he turns back for the farmhouse.

  I watch him walk away and a very clear thought flashes in my head like a neon sign. I try to ignore it and it starts glowing even brighter, as if someone flipped a switch to max brightness. I bat the thought away and my brain says, Nice try, then adds exclamation marks. In the end, I have no choice but to acknowledge the intensely blazing thought:

  I AM FALLING IN LOVE WITH JACK MCNIGHT!!!!!!!!!

  * * *

  If you’re curious, one day is made up of 24 hours, which is 1,440 minutes, or 84,000 seconds. 86,000 seconds feels like too long to go without Jack. Sure, technically, I went twenty-eight years without him, but now I’m counting seconds. So far, he’s only been gone for 10,800 of them; I have a lot more seconds to live through before he walks through that front door again. Fortunately, life sees fit to make those seconds as interesting as possible.