Northwest Romantic Comedies: Boxed Set Books 1-6

by Lia London

  A strangled yowl sounded, and he caught a glimpse of eyes looking directly at him. But they weren’t feline eyes or raccoon eyes.

  “Chieko?”

  Barth hurried to open the front door and peered into the darkness where Chieko stood beneath the kitchen window. “What are you doing out there in the middle of the night?”

  Chieko’s eyes rested on his bare chest before widening. “Oh! I’m sorry. Did you already go to bed?”

  “Well, it’s after eleven, and we’re meeting up at seven tomorrow morning, aren’t we? I need my eight hours of beauty sleep.”

  Her gaze seemed to struggle in its rise to his face. “I. Um. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have come. This is really awkward. I…”

  Barth reached a hand to her. “Come on out from those bushes. You’ll snag your dress. Careful with your coat sleeve now.”

  Her hand felt colder and smaller than usual, but he led her inside and gestured at the couch where his pillow and blankets waited for him. “Have a seat. I’ll go get my sweatshirt on.”

  “Yeah, that’s a good idea,” she said, blushing. “You look cold.” She turned her head and muttered, “Or triple hot.”

  Barth heard this and blushed, hurrying to grab a sweatshirt but careful not to step on the creaky boards in the hallway. Nice that she appreciated his body. Not nice that he had to store his clothes in giant plastic tubs in the bathroom.

  Barth came out, smoothing a U of O hoodie over his abs. He stuffed his hands into the central pocket and shrugged. “So, what’s up? You couldn’t wait to go to the dunes?” He noticed her sleek legs stretching from beneath the blue dress she’d worn in the news broadcast. “You’re not really dressed for playing in the sand.”

  Chieko cupped her cheeks in her hands. “I haven’t gone home after work yet.”

  “What? Why not?” He swept to her side and sat down close enough to knock knees. “They didn’t fire you, did they? You looked better than ever tonight. So relaxed and smiling.”

  She beamed at this, uncovering her face and letting out a soft sigh. “Thanks. That’s your influence. And no, I didn’t get fired. Brice loved it.”

  “Brice?”

  “My producer.” Her hand went to his thigh before retreating to her own lap. “I… um. Okay, I feel really dumb. I don’t know why I’m here.” She let out a soft grunt. “I’m so sorry. Everybody’s gone to bed here. I can’t believe I came so late. I guess I thought some of you might still be up after Sunday night dinner.”

  Barth tried to reassure her with his shrug. “It’s okay. Pappy’s still reading his Bible on the dining room table. It’s part of his bedtime ritual.”

  “Oh. Good.” She clasped her hands tightly. “And you?”

  “I was heading to sleep, but you’re sitting on my bed, so …”

  “Oh!” She stood quickly.

  “Sit,” said Barth, tugging her back down. “Tell me what’s going on. I can see something brewing in your eyes.”

  Chieko bit her lip. He could read her eyes? How different he was from her parents. How caring. She released a shuddering sigh. “I’m a little afraid I might have a meltdown. My mom and dad …” She grimaced and then turned her face to his with an intense look. “Kiss me, Barth. I need to feel something other than rage right now.”

  Barth tried to process what she’d said, but it made no sense. With a half laugh, he shifted back a few inches. “Kiss you not because I want to, but because you’re mad, so … I don’t get it.”

  Chieko clasped his jaw and planted a kiss on his lips.

  Barth savored a new, salty flavor for a moment before pushing back. “Wait. What’s going on?”

  Chieko’s face took on a pained look. “You don’t want to kiss me? You don’t like me?”

  Barth raised a hand to calm her, his other sifting into her hair. “Are you kidding me? Of course, I do. I’m confused. Are you mad or happy?”

  She dropped her forehead to his shoulder and spoke into the thick folds of cloth. “I’m mad, and sad, and scared, and furious, and—”

  He wrapped his arm around her. “Why are you mad?”

  “My parents.”

  “Why are you sad?”

  “My parents.”

  “Why are you scared?”

  “You?” she ventured weakly.

  He jerked back his head and lifted her chin with his finger. “Me? How could you possibly be scared of me?”

  Chieko buried her face in his neck and whispered. “I’m scared that I really, really, really like you and it’s going to ruin everything because I’m a wreck, and my parents would never approve, and I don’t care what they think, but they want me to marry this guy named Charles, and he’s a total octopus, and you make me feel like I mean something, but you don’t know what I’m like, and I—”

  Barth pulled her into an urgent kiss, in part because her rambling overwhelmed him, and in part because the feel of her pressed against him drove him crazy with desire. The kiss deepened, then slowed, until at last they rested their lips against each other, just breathing.

  Nuzzling her nose against his cheek, she asked, “Did you do that to shut me up?”

  “I… uh.” He nudged her lips. “I plead the Fifth.”

  Chieko’s soft giggle rippled through him, and she curled against him, tucking her knees up behind her. “It’s all right. Safer that way, I guess.”

  Barth combed his fingers through her hair. “Let’s go back and break that play down into its components.”

  “Okay, coach,” she teased, sliding her hand around his middle and settling comfortably against him.

  “I don’t know if I liked the part about some guy your parents want you to marry.”

  “I know I don’t like it. My parents are very traditional.”

  Barth shrugged. “So are Grammy and Pappy.”

  “No, I mean, Old World Japan traditional. They want me to…” She flopped back against the couch and stared at the ceiling. “He’s that guy that came to my apartment the other day when you were over. Remember?”

  Barth’s stomach churned. “The skinny little creep?”

  “That’s the one.”

  “Who is he again?”

  “Charles Sato,” she answered with obvious disgust. “He’s worth millions. He’s the poster child for successful Japanese Nisei. They want me to marry him and raise perfect little Sansei children to honor the family names.”

  “Sansei … They want you to do karate or something?”

  “You’re thinking sensei, which means teacher or older authority figure. Sansei is third-generation Japanese American, and we’re supposed to have achieved the American Dream with all the Japanese traditional trappings. Except I couldn’t care less.”

  “I thought you were proud of your Japanese heritage.” He knuckled her rib playfully. “Or can I go back to calling you China Doll?”

  “Okay, okay. So, I do care a little. But I…” She pouted, and Barth tried not to be distracted by her mouth.

  “But you what?”

  “I guess I want to be my own kind of person. Japanese, yes. But plain old everyday American, too. And I’m not sure if they’ll ever accept that about me.”

  Barth nodded, chewing on her dilemma of cultural identity, so different from his own. No one expected him to live like an Old World African. Which nation would it be, anyway? Nigeria, Ivory Coast, Kenya, or Ghana? His ancestors came from all over the African continent.

  “Let me ask you a question. Is this the Japanese-American culture, or is it your family’s culture?”

  Chieko pursed her lips. “That’s a fair question. They’re not all like that, of course. Plenty of people of Japanese descent don’t feel or act the way my parents do, but those who do…” She expelled a stream of air.

  The feel of her soft breath on his skin sent bolts of electricity through him. He needed to redirect his thoughts. “Let’s go back to the guy. The millionaire.”

  “Charles Sato, the total leech. He’s like a Halloween nightmare year
-round.”

  “Was he pawing at you?”

  “Like a hungry dog,” she said with a visible shiver.

  Barth ran a quick status check on the location of his hands and found neither of them compromised her integrity or his. “So, you don’t like him.”

  “Not even.”

  “Or his millions.”

  “Well who wouldn’t like to be a millionaire? But no thanks. Not if he’s the prize that comes with it.”

  “So, you don’t want to marry him?”

  She shook her head with tight lips. “That’s why we had a big, ugly fight tonight after work. They had Charles over for dinner with us and were really pushing the marriage vibes. He totally sees this as a done deal and kept treating me like a possession. When he finally left, I kind of lost my mind and blew up at them.”

  “What’d they do?”

  “Dad actually yelled. He never shows his feelings, but he’s furious that I would throw away the chance to be rich, rich, rich and so well connected.”

  Barth frowned. “And your mom?”

  “She actually cried.” Chieko shrugged. “I don’t even know exactly what was bothering her. Maybe it was that we were all being confrontational. Maybe she wants the money and fame, too. I don’t know what her problem is except that she has no spine whatsoever. She just goes along with whatever Dad says.”

  “And you?”

  “I guess I have, too.” She nestled closer. “It’s hard. He’s very controlling, and I don’t really know how to break away.”

  Barth could see a hole opening up in the defensive line. “You’re okay with being poor?”

  “Define poor. Grammy and Pappy aren’t poor. This is homey and comfortable, isn’t it?”

  A warm stew of hopeful emotions bubbled within him. “It is. It always has been, with or without extra play money.”

  Chieko nodded with a frown. “My family would never see it that way.”

  Barth ran his thumb gently over her cheek, resisting the urge to kiss her yet. “Let’s go back to the part about how you think you might really, really, really like me. I like that part. That was my favorite part.”

  “Really?”

  “Really. Because I can really, really, really agree with that whole line of thought.”

  Chieko swelled taller, and she faced him straight on. “Really?” She grasped his hands tightly. “It’s not crazy?”

  “Sure, it’s crazy,” he said, lifting her fingers to his lips. “But you can win a game with a crazy trick play.”

  Pappy chose that moment to appear in the living room doorway. “Most games are won with the steady drives, one down at a time, paying the price for each yard gained.” He gave Barth a pointed look. “One or two yards at a time.”

  Barth swallowed, knowing his grandfather would not approve of him racing into a highly physical relationship with Chieko or any other woman. “Yes, sir. Maybe it’s a little of both?”

  Pappy hugged his Bible as he shuffled across the room. “If you ain’t ready to pay the slow price for a new down, you ain’t ready for the trick plays.” He waved over his shoulder as he disappeared down the hall. “Good night, Miss Chieko. Be good, Barth.”

  Barth stared after him, mortified at what Chieko might think of their family’s old-fashioned values, but when he met her gaze, her eyes shone with tears.

  “I love your family,” she said, resting her chin on his shoulder in such a way that their noises almost touched.

  Did she include him in that declaration? Was it crazy to wish for?

  Chieko’s smile transformed her face with radiant beauty even in the shadowy living room, and the sweetness of her kiss assured him his wish was not crazy.

  Chapter 10 ~ Shades of the American Dream

  Chieko climbed into Barth’s truck, red-nosed and weary even before their breakfast burrito.

  “Oh no, did you catch a cold?” asked Barth, concern etched in his forehead.

  “No such luck,” grumbled Chieko.

  Barth tilted his head like a puppy hearing an unfamiliar sound. “What does that mean?”

  “It means I woke up this morning to a seven-page email from my mother scolding me for last night, and angry, control-freaky voicemails from both Dad and Charles.”

  “Aw, Baby, I’m sorry—”

  “Don’t call me Baby!” she snapped. Immediately, she regretted her tone. He’d meant no harm. “I’m sorry. My parents treat me like a useless little child, so I kind of hate that particular term of endearment.”

  Barth held up a hand and nodded. “I get it. You aren’t a baby, and I sure don’t think of you as one.” His lips quirked. “But you do have those baby-soft cheeks.” He stroked a knuckle down her jaw.

  She ran a playful finger up over his head. “And you have a baby-bald head.”

  “Aw, now, do you want me to grow out dreads like Garold?”

  Toying with his earlobe, she shook her head. “Don’t you change a thing—unless you want to,” she added hastily. No way did she want to micromanage him like her father did her.

  Barth’s gurgling response to her touch made her laugh, and she leaned over to place a soft kiss on his cheek. “I’m sorry I snapped. I’m not good at stuffing emotions into a box when I go from one thing to the next.”

  She let out a shuddering sigh. He’d find out soon enough how bad she could get. Would it be a sad, sobbing puddle or a raging tornado? Either way, he’d see her ugly, uncontrolled side, and find a gracious way to retreat.

  Patting the bench seat for her to scoot closer, Barth put the truck in gear. “Ready to go roll in the dunes?”

  “That’d sound so romantic if it weren’t early November in the Northwest, and you didn’t mean sand dunes in the middle of a desert instead of the beach.” Why did she have to sound so whiny? He’d be sick of her by the end of the day if she didn’t shape up.

  However, Barth patted her knee before switching gears, and said, “Christmas Valley Sand Dunes in November, and maybe a sunny California beach next summer. What do you say?”

  “For reals?” He saw them together that long from now? “I might have to take you up on your offer.”

  “You’re the boss.”

  “Not.”

  “But you—”

  “Drive!” She elbowed him playfully and tugged off her coat, which proved a tangling ordeal until she undid her seatbelt to free the shoulder straps.

  When she finally settled back into place, Barth was smiling at her.

  “Mm. You do look fine in blue, Miss Chieko. Your face is like the moon in a midnight sky.”

  Corny or not, Chieko knew he meant his words sincerely, and it made her blush. “Where’d you learn to sweet talk like that?”

  “When I first saw you. You inspire me!” He said it with such flourish that Chieko laughed.

  “You’re back in flirt mode, Barth. Stop!”

  “Old habits, Chieko. Old habits.” His hand found hers for a quick squeeze. “But if you don’t want me flirting, I won’t. Not with any other girl. Not now that you think you might really, really, really like me.”

  Chieko’s heart all but leapt into her mouth. How had she made such a crazy confession the night before?

  Oh yeah. She’d been angry and vulnerable, and he’d been warm and … Gads, did she dare admit how sweetly sexy he was in his flannels and skin? She tried to blink away the vision of his sculpted chest, but memories of his kisses made it worse. Embarrassment escaped her with an expulsion of air.

  “Wait, you don’t think you like me?” Barth frowned. “If you need more time to think about it, I’ll give it to you, but you should know I’ll be thinking about it hard.”

  “Don’t think,” she said. “Feel.”

  Her own words echoed through her skull like a bell tower chiming twelve o’clock. Feel. Feel. Feel.

  But feeling was dangerous. Messy. What was she doing?! Time to change the subject.

  As he pulled into the drive-thru to purchase their breakfast, she ventured to a safe top
ic. “So, today we’re going to the middle of nowhere, Sandsville, USA, but if you could go anywhere in the world, where would it be?”

  Barth held up a finger to pause their conversation, placed their usual order, then turned back to face her. “I’ve been thinking I’d want to see Egypt.”

  Chieko laughed. “Talk about sand dunes!”

  “Yeah, that, too!” He grinned. “But I want to see those pyramids and the sphynx and stuff.”

  “Ancient monuments to what can be done by slave power?”

  Barth’s brows shot up. “I guess I hadn’t thought of that. It’s where Moses was, and even Jesus for a time, when he was a refugee from King Herod and all.”

  Chieko squirmed. She’d never paid much attention to matters of faith, but she knew Barth’s family took the Bible and prayers seriously. Pappy had apparently been a preacher in his younger days.

  Tight-lipped, she nodded. “That’d be interesting. Plus seeing something so old that’s still standing, right?”

  “Back when things were built to last,” said Barth, passing her the paper bag filled with their food. “Before everything became disposable.”

  Chieko eyed the plastic straws to their drinks with a measure of guilt. Portland had already banned single-use plastic bags, and she knew other non-recyclable items were on the block, too. “Yeah, we think we live in a disposable world, except it doesn’t go away. It gunks up the oceans and stuff. We build stuff to last by accident nowadays. Landfills, floating islands of plastic bottles.”

  Barth turned to her with an appraising look. “Sounds like something we should get Parker to schedule a segment on. There’s got to be somebody doing something about all that.”

  “Let’s suggest it when we turn in today’s files.”

  They fell into companionable silence as he navigated the streets to get to the interstate. In a rhythm that naturally formed, she unwrapped his food and passed it to him, retrieving it periodically so he could grab his cup for a drink or fiddle with windshield wipers or turn signals. It reminded her of how her dentist and his assistant worked together efficiently and wordlessly at times, and she wondered why such a partnership appealed to her.