by Lacey Black
Latham, God love him, opens his mouth (probably to tell her that we have company), but then notices her outfit. His eyes are wide with excitement, and maybe a little amusement.
“Get ready, Mr. Douglas. I’m about to give your penis one hell of a hug with my vagina,” my sister croons, walking over and straddling his lap.
“Jeezus,” I groan, trying to burn that image out of my head.
Harper yelps and turns my way. “Jensen?” she gasps, pulling at the lace on her nightgown that covers her breasts. I, of course, avert my eyes because if this is my last sight on earth, no way in hell do I want it to be of my sister wearing something sexy and talking about vagina hugs.
Latham laughs, pulling her into his chest and kissing her forehead. “We have a visitor, honey.”
“I see that,” she grumbles, throwing her leg over his and standing up. “I’ll be right back,” she adds as she hurries back inside, hopefully to put on more clothes.
“Cockblocker,” Latham teases, a wide smile on his face.
“I’m gonna go,” I say, standing up.
“No!” Harper yells from inside the house. “You’ve already ruined the vagina hug, so you might as well stay and finish your beer. I’ll be out in a second.”
“Can you stop talking about your…vagina,” I beg, shaking my head and chugging the rest of my bottle. Latham, the bastard, just laughs.
“So. What’s up, little brother?” Harper asks a minute later, returning to the back deck wearing shorts and a T-shirt, as well as carrying three fresh bottles of beer. She hands me a new one and takes the other two to Latham. As she hands him a fresh beer, she sits down on his thigh, this time facing me.
“Can’t a little brother stop by and say hello to his big sister?” I ask, taking a smaller drink from the new bottle.
“He could, sure, but something tells me that’s not the case.” She gives me a knowing grin and waits for my reply.
I go ahead and fill her in on what happened tonight at Ashley’s place, hating she’s getting all worked up over the drama with my ex. But Harper is loyal, and for a while, considered Ashley a friend until Ash started pulling this kinda shit when our marriage was ending.
“What a crazy bitch,” she mumbles, taking a drink of her own beer. “I can’t believe she’s still pulling this crap. She’s so hot and cold.”
“That she is,” I exhale, glancing off into the dark night. My mind is reeling with everything that happened today. First with work, then with discovering Kate is back in town, and then this bullshit with Ashley. My mind is toast.
“How’s everything else going?” she asks, leaning back against Latham’s chest and watching me.
This is the part where I could tell her it’s fine. I’ve already shared all of the night’s drama with Ashley, so I’m sure she’d think that’s the reason I stopped over. And she’d be correct—it was the main reason. But there’s more. God, there’s more to this shitshow story, and I don’t know how to process it.
So instead of finishing off my drink and leaving them to do whatever it was they were about to do, I find myself opening my mouth and spilling the rest of it. “Actually, I met the new owner of the Elliott mansion today.” Without finishing the beer, I set the bottle on the table and rest my elbows on my knees.
“Okay,” she says, drawing out the word. “Everything okay? You still have the job, right?”
I laugh humorlessly. “Oh, yeah, I still got it. There’s no getting out of it now, even if I wanted to. I’ve already signed the contracts and the work has begun. It’s just gonna be hell working there when Kathryn Elliott is on the opposite side of the walls.”
Her eyes widen in shock. “Kathryn? As in your Kathryn?”
“Not my Kathryn, remember? But, yes, they are one and the same.”
“I don’t understand,” Harper says, her blue eyes turning concerned.
“Apparently, her father passed away and left her the house. She’s moving into it,” I state, keeping it to the basics. Actually, I only know the basics, so that’s all I can say.
“Holy shit, Jensen, and you saw her?”
I nod my confirmation. “We had a brief conversation. She had some sort of panic attack when she saw me.”
“I don’t believe it,” she mumbles, my sentiments exactly. “What are you going to do?”
Standing up, I answer, “What can I do? She’s the homeowner. I’m the landscaper. There’s nothing there anymore.”
Liar.
“Liar,” Harper states with a grin. “If there wasn’t, you wouldn’t be here.”
Know-it-all.
Crossing my arms, I stare down at my smug sister. “Fine. It was hard seeing her. It’s going to be hard tomorrow too. It’s been twelve damn years, and now all of a sudden, she’s back. I hate it. I hate that just the sight of her affects me the way it does, but at the same time, I’m… I’m happy,” I say, that final word barely a whisper.
Harper stands up and come to me. “Of course, you’d feel both of those things.”
“But I shouldn’t,” I insist, making Harper shrug.
“Maybe, maybe not. Did you get to talk to her?” she asks, giving me a pointed look that lets me know she’s not meaning about landscaping or the weather.
I shake my head.
“Well, Jensen, I believe you’re never going to truly move past this until you talk to her. Maybe that’s exactly what you need for closure. Find out why she left and then move on. You’ve been in this crazy state of limbo since the summer after your high school graduation. Even when you moved on with Ashley, you were still closed off.” My all-too-knowing sister glances at her boyfriend. “Take it from me, don’t just assume shit. Talk it out and then move past it.” Her blue eyes meet mine. “And you and Kathryn are a decade past time to talk.”
I sigh knowing there’s nothing she said I can dispute. “You’re right,” I confirm aloud.
“Of course I’m right. Your big sister always is!” she bellows, a beaming smile on her pretty face.
“Bullshit,” Latham coughs, making her turn and glare at him.
“Excuse me?” she asks, a hint of humor in the way she glares at him.
“I didn’t say anything, Sweetheart. I just had a little tickle in my throat,” he replies, wide smile on his smug face.
“No vagina hugs for you,” she tells him before turning back to face me.
“And that’s my cue to leave,” I tell them, throwing my half-full beer bottle in the outside trash bin.
“It was nice to see you, man,” Latham says, standing up and throwing his empty in the trash too. “Stop by anytime.”
As I head around the side of the house to the driveway, I hear my sister holler, “But maybe call first. Next time, we might be in the middle of the vagina hug.”
I almost reach my truck before I turn back around to face them. They’re standing on the edge of the porch, laughing grins on their faces and their arms around each other. “If Latham is able to stop and answer the door, I’m pretty sure he’s not doing it right,” I tease before realizing what we’re really talking about.
“Oh, he does it right,” Harper confirms, making me wince.
“I’m out, and I’d appreciate never talking about this again,” I wave off as I slip into my truck and head for home.
A home that’s quiet.
A home that’s not really a home, not without Max there.
The fact I’ll be trapped inside the walls with nothing but my overactive imagination doesn’t settle well with me, but there’s nowhere else for me to go. It’s late and I’m tired. My bed is calling to me. I’m just pretty damn sure I won’t be alone in that bed. No, there’ll be a ghost beside me and all of the memories she’s resurrected.
It’s going to be a long night.
Chapter Six
Kathryn
How I’ve managed to survive this week with only seeing Jensen a handful of times is beyond me. Well, that’s not true. It was actually pretty easy, considering I hid inside the
house under the impression of working. Not that I wasn’t up to my eyeballs in dust bunnies and dirt, but it was definitely a convenient excuse not to go outside during the daytime.
The house is slowly coming along. Very slowly, actually. I started cleaning my old bedroom, which is where I’m now sleeping. I was only able to stay at the bed and breakfast in town for a few days, just enough time to get one bedroom and bathroom ready for occupancy. The electrician was kind enough to make sure power was still on in that wing of the house and the contractor helped ensure the relocated fridge and washer and dryer were working too.
I’ve moved on to the other bedrooms, once used by guests. Actually, now that I think about it, we rarely had guests. But here I am, tearing apart the bed, taking down dusty curtains, and giving the rooms a deep clean. Each bedroom has an en suite bathroom, so I’ve taken the time to clean those as well before moving on to another room. After one week, I’ve completed my bedroom and two of the guest rooms.
Now that it’s Friday evening, I’m exhausted. Like bone-deep exhausted. But without the kitchen ready to use, I have limited ways to cook food. That’s why I’ve eaten out or brought home take-out way more than I’m used to. Sure, I have some fresh fruits and vegetables in the fridge, and even a few blueberry muffins in my room for breakfast, but without a stove or microwave, I’m limited on my dinner options.
That’s why I’m heading out to grab a quick bite.
Pizza.
That’s what I crave, which is weird because I haven’t craved something like pizza in years, but just the thought of Pizza Castle has my mouth watering and my stomach growling.
As I head out the front door, I notice all of the fresh landscape work around the front entrance. I’ve avoided looking out the window to see what Jensen has been up to, but loved to take a stroll around the property to see his progress. Today’s work included planting new flowering trees and ornate shrubbery around the front entrance. I also notice he has the fountain cleaned out and taken apart. Jensen told David, my attorney, that he would take a look at the pump and plumbing to see how extentive the damage was, but anticipated having to bring in someone else to fix it. That’s exactly like the young man I knew so many years ago. He loved tinkering around with things, figuring out how they worked, and trying to fix them himself, if possible.
I’ll have to ask if he was able to get the old fountain going.
The drive to town is quick, but finding a parking spot near the pizza joint isn’t. In fact, I have to drive around the block twice before I get lucky and someone pulls out of a spot. With my purse in hand, I hop out and head down the sidewalk. There are people loitering around. A few families and couples strolling near the old band shell and town square, which brings a smile to my face. The only time I did that was with Jensen and his family. My parents barely had time for me, let alone to take me to the park or milling around town. They had companies to run and fundraisers to organize.
When I reach the gazebo, I find myself stepping inside, my fingers grazing against the old, well-maintained wood. A smile crosses my face as I recall my very first stolen kiss, right here in the middle of this gazebo. We were sixteen and had just left the homecoming dance. The night was still young, the air cool and crisp. Jensen threw his suit jacket over my shoulders as we strolled down these very paths that snaked through the town square. When we reached the gazebo, he pulled me into his arms. His fingers had a slight tremble to them as he softly lifted my chin and gazed into my eyes. I knew what was about to happen, the anticipation almost more than I could bare.
Then he kissed me.
Soft and sweet, the perfect first kiss for two young kids.
I push those memories aside and step out of the gazebo. Making quick work of retracing my steps, I head just down the block to the pizza joint, the smell of oregano and garlic becoming more pronounced with each step I take. I pull open the familiar red door and step inside. A smile instantly crosses my face as I glance around, realizing nothing has changed in the twelve years I’ve been gone.
“Can I help you?” a friendly young girl asks from the hostess stand.
Glancing around, I realize the place is packed with families waiting by the door to be seated. “Actually, I’d like to place an order to go, if that’s okay?”
“Of course,” she says politely, handing me a menu. “We could seat you, but it may be a twenty minute wait.”
I wave her off. “No, that’s okay. I’ll take it to go.”
It only takes a few seconds to find what I’m after on the menu. “I’ll take a personal pan veggie pizza with extra mushrooms and a side salad with Italian.”
The hostess jots down the order and gives me a smile. “I’ll run this back. Should be about fifteen minutes or so. Have a seat,” she says, then gives me a brighter grin. “Well, if you can find a seat, that is.” Then she’s off, taking care of my order.
I glance around the foyer, noting the décor on the walls and avoiding the faces, in case someone from my past is near. When I gaze into the full dining room, that’s when I feel it. The hairs on the back of my neck stand on end, and even though I haven’t spied him yet, I know he’s here. I can sense it.
Unable to fight the urge to look, my eyes finally connect with those ocean blue ones I’ve been avoiding. He’s sitting at a booth, staring directly at me—into my soul, is probably more accurate. My heart starts to gallop and my breathing comes in short little pants. No, I don’t feel the onset of a panic attack, but I definitely feel something strong (primarily between my legs).
Jensen gives me a tentative wave and a small smile. It’s awkward, at least it is for me. I mirror his actions, trying not to let my nervousness show. Unfortunately, my arms feel stiff and my wave is anything but fluid, and let’s not get into my smile. I probably look all teeth, with my strained, fake smile in full force. I’ve seen that look before. It’s been photographed and published in newspapers all over New York, mostly while I’m on Charles’s arm.
Suddenly, he waves me over and before I can even try to figure out what I’m doing, my legs are carrying me there, through the dining area and toward his booth. It sits on the back wall with an old version of the Monopoly board game on the wall.
“Hey,” he says softly, the deep timbre of his familiar voice wrapping around me like a warm blanket.
“Hi.”
“I’m Max,” a loud voice calls from across the booth. My eyes connect with the much younger, much shorter version of the man across from him.
“Hi, Max. I’m Kathryn.” Now, my smile is genuine. The little boy is the cutest little guy I’ve ever seen, and it’s not because he looks so much like his dad. His eyes are wide and expressive and his smile could melt the glaciers in Iceland.
“Do you like pizza?”
Again, I smile as I reply, “I do. I love it. Do you?”
He nods emphatically. “It’s my favorite.”
My grin is automatic. Heck, I’m not sure I’ve stopped smiling since I walked over here. “Let me guess: extra cheese?”
“And mushrooms! Lots of mushrooms!” he bellows with excitement.
“Shhh, inside voice,” Jensen instructs with a small grin, making Max sit back down in his seat.
“Can I tell you a secret?” I ask, leaning over to where the boy is sitting. When he nods and his eyes light up like little sapphires, I confess, “Mushrooms are my favorite too.”
“See Dad? Kate like mushrooms too!” Max tells the older version of himself across from him. My heart starts to jump in my chest when the young boy refers to me by the nickname no one uses.
No one but his dad.
I glance over to Jensen. He’s smiling softly at his son as he replies, “I know she does.” Then those blue eyes connect with mine and I feel it down to my toes. Jensen clears his throat and adds, “Do you want to join us?”
My mouth opens, but nothing comes out. Part of me is ready to decline. I don’t want to interrupt his dinner with his son. And besides, how awkward would that be? My vote i
s for pretty damn uncomfortable. But then there’s the other part of me—the one ready to say yes, to reconnect and enjoy a meal with an old friend and his son.
An old friend who’s seen you naked more times than you can count.
I’m still not sure which answer I’m going to give when I see the hostess approach. She’s carrying a small pizza box and a white paper bag, presumably with my salad inside. With a friendly smile, she hands me my order. “Here you go. You can pay at the front counter. Oh, are you joining them? Would you like for me to get you a plate?”
As I open my mouth to decline, I’m stunned by the response that comes from the table’s occupant. “Yes, that would be great,” Jensen says on my behalf.
When she rushes off to get me a plate, I turn stunned eyes toward the man at the table. “I don’t want to interrupt your dinner,” I tell him.
Instead of replying, he just scoots over in invitation. Something tells me this is a horrible idea, but that still doesn’t stop me from slowly lowering myself into the booth beside him. Heat radiates off his large body as our shoulders brush, igniting a fire deep in my blood that has been long dormant. This is most definitely a horrible idea, yet here I am, sitting beside Jensen Grayson after a twelve-year absence, and do you know what?
I like it.
A lot.
Max starts chatting immediately as the hostess returns with a plate for me and a large pizza for the rest of the table. I smile when I see the pie, half covered in meat and the other half in just mushroom. Funny, that’s exactly how we used to order it back when we were dating in school.
I try to focus on what the kid is saying, but it’s hard. He’s chatting a mile a minute, completely unaware of the tension that surrounds the table. I’m pretty sure a big part of it is sexual, but I’m not about to vocalize it. Instead, I watch as Jensen effortlessly places a slice on Max’s plate and cuts it into smaller pieces. Then, without breaking stride, he opens my box and pulls the small four-slice personal pizza out, placing it on my plate. Then, and only then, does he finally place two meaty pieces on his own plate.