Lingerie Wars

by Janet Elizabeth Henderson

Just when Lake thought that things couldn’t get any more complicated, his parents turned up. He was standing outside his shop, supervising the glaziers as they installed a new pane of glass, when the old converted school bus rolled to a stop beside him. Rainne flew out of the shop behind him and ran at the bus.

  “Eric, Joyce.” She squealed with delight as she bounced on the spot, hardly containing her excitement at seeing them.

  Lake continued to watch the guys fit the glass. He wasn’t going to even pretend that his folks were there for him.

  “Darling,” his mother said as she climbed down from the bus. “You look wonderful. Are you drinking those teas I sent you?” Rainne nodded. “I thought so. Your skin is glowing.”

  Lake suspected the glow had more to do with young Alastair than with the herbal teas his mother had sent. His father came around from the driver’s side of the bus. All long, loose limbs as usual, and still as skinny as a pole. He hugged Rainne with his usual detached air.

  “You came,” Rainne gushed. “I didn’t think you would.”

  “And miss the big show?” Joyce said.

  Although anyone could tell by looking at her that she was mystified by the whole thing. Lake scoffed to himself. If it wasn’t a “cause” then it didn’t usually penetrate the fog around his mother’s head. And the lingerie shop definitely wasn’t a cause. He was surprised they’d bothered to make the trip.

  Then it hit him. They had an ulterior motive. He looked at Rainne’s beaming face and wished she wasn’t so damn trusting. With an inward sigh, he went to greet his parents. It was glaringly obvious that they weren’t going to bother greeting him.

  “Mum. Dad,” he said with a nod.

  His dad looked at him blankly and his mother pursed her lips with disapproval. At thirty-eight, parental approval was low on Lake’s list of priorities.

  “I wish you would use our names,” his mother said. “We do have them, you know?”

  “I know,” Lake said.

  They stood in silence while panic grew in Rainne’s eyes. His sister was like a weather station, tracking the moods of everyone around her.

  “So,” his mum said, turning to Rainne. “This is your shop.”

  She smiled, but she didn’t fool anyone. She wasn’t impressed.

  “Technically, it’s Lake’s shop,” Rainne said.

  The look his mother shot him made it clear that she knew exactly who was behind her daughter’s bout of rebellion.

  “But,” Rainne pressed on, “once he’s got it up and running it will be mine again.”

  Lake stilled. Now wasn’t the time to tell her otherwise, but the enthusiasm in her voice twisted like a knife in his gut.

  “Tell me,” his mother said, “what are you going to do with it?”

  Rainne blinked a couple of times and cast a glance at Lake for help before answering.

  “I’m going to sell underwear,” she said at last.

  “Yes, yes.” His mother threw her waist-length braid back over her shoulder and adjusted the strap on her purple canvas satchel. “For what reason? What cause will this benefit?”

  Rainne’s cheeks flushed. Lake couldn’t stand it any more.

  “She’s going to make money. That’s what shops do. They provide services for cash.”

  His mother gave him a withering look.

  “Money isn’t a reason for doing something,” she told him. “Capitalism isn’t a way of life. It’s a disease.”

  “Looking after yourself and helping the community isn’t a disease,” Lake said.

  “Helping the community by selling underwear?” his mother scoffed.

  “We all wear it, Mum—even you,” Lake said evenly.

  He half expected Rainne to shout “stop fighting” like she did when he still lived at home. If you could call a bus “home”.

  “I’m starting an environmentally friendly range of products,” Rainne said. “I plan to only buy local, use people in the community and recycle as much as I can.”

  His mum rewarded Rainne with a dazzling smile.

  “Why didn’t you say so?” she said. “You’re starting a cottage industry. You’re making a stand against sweatshops and the cost to the environment by shipping produce halfway around the world when there’s good enough locally. You’re starting a movement, dear.”

  “Excellent,” his dad said.

  Lake was almost surprised to hear his voice.

  Rainne beamed.

  “It’s great, isn’t it? Plus, there’s a room in back that Lake uses to teach self-defence. I thought I could run yoga classes too.”

  His mum leaned in to Rainne for another hug.

  “I’m so proud of you,” she said.

  Yeah, right, Lake thought. Maybe Rainne couldn’t hear it, but he could. His little sister was being humoured.

  “I brought some of your favourite food,” his mother said as she retrieved an old, multi-coloured woven bag from the bus. “I thought I’d make us dinner.”

  “Do you hear that, Lake? Joyce is making us dinner.” Rainne beamed like a kid.

  Lake smiled for her. He was pretty sure that the invitation didn’t include their eldest child.

  “Yes,” his mother said tightly. “You can stay if you must. I’m making bean stew with organic black rice.”

  “As delicious as that sounds, I have plans.”

  Only Rainne was disappointed.

  “Come on, Lake. You can cancel your plans for one night,” his sister said. “How often do you see your parents?”

  About once every decade, he thought.

  “I can’t,” he said. “Meeting for the fashion show. If I don’t turn up, I could be ousted.” He turned to his parents. “And then your trip up here would have been wasted.”

  He saw the flicker of a look pass between his parents, and his heart hardened further. They weren’t there for the show. They were there for Rainne—and not to support her, either. They wanted to drag her into their latest cause. He clenched his fists as he looked at his sister’s grinning face. The only way he could stop them would be to tell her that the shop was hers.

  And that he couldn’t do.

  Against her better judgment, Kirsty turned up at Caroline’s house for the meeting about the show. Now that Caroline was involved everything had to be coordinated, planned and documented. She loved her friend dearly, but she didn’t have time for all this planning. She needed to be doing. She heaved a sigh as she knocked the front door of the tiny terraced house. It was one of the old miners’ cottages that sat on the back hills on the edge of Invertary. The row of houses was quaint against the green countryside, all crooked and miniature. Not that she could see them in the dark.

  “I brought wine,” said Lake as he came up behind her, making every nerve ending in her body stand to attention.

  “To a meeting?” she said. “Last night you came for dinner empty handed, today you bring drinks to a meeting. Is this how they do things in England?”

  He stepped in towards her, crowding her on the narrow path.

  “If I remember right, last night you didn’t mind one bit what I brought to your house.” That low voice of his sent tingles up her spine.

  “And what was that?” She swayed towards him.

  “Me.”

  Kirsty stuck her tongue out at him as Caroline opened the door.

  “Good. You’re on time,” she said.

  Kirsty found it hard to ignore Lake as Caroline led them through the short hallway and into the living room. Her senses were tuned into him. It was as though she was an FM radio and someone had set her to automatically find their favourite station. In this case, Lake. She was aware of where he stood, how he sat, what he wore, how he smelled. Everything about him was exaggerated to her keenly tuned senses. To make matters worse, it seemed that he was tuned into her too.

  He put his hand on the small of her back to guide her ahead of him into the living room and her skin throbbed under his touch. He leaned towards her to talk as Caroline hung up their
coats and his breath brushed her cheek, making her heartbeat race. He sat beside her on the couch, brushing his knee against her every time he moved. She was sure it was intentional. He wanted to touch her. He wanted her to be aware of him. He got what he wanted.

  To stop from throwing herself at him, Kirsty tried to focus on her environment. Caroline’s house hadn’t changed since her grandparents owned it. Caroline had been too busy raising her younger sister to spend much time, or money, on decor. The result was a house full of furniture you’d find in a retirement home. At least the furniture went well with the faded brown wallpaper. Lake handed the wine to Caroline, who seemed a little stunned by it.

  “Thank you,” she said.

  There was a pause.

  “What do I do with this?” Caroline said at last, making Kirsty grin. “Should I give you a glass? We won’t be clearheaded for the planning.”

  “I’m pretty sure we’ll all be clearheaded on one glass of wine,” Lake said.

  He obviously didn’t know Caroline. One glass of wine and she was three sheets to the wind.

  “Leave it until the end,” Kirsty told her. “I’d love a cup of tea, and I’m sure Lake would like one too.”

  Caroline nodded and left the room, carrying the wine as though it had fallen from the sky.

  “That wasn’t supposed to be hard,” Lake said.

  “You don’t know Caroline,” was all Kirsty said in reply.

  Lake rested his elbow on the back of the couch and traced a line down Kirsty’s shoulder with his index finger.

  “How’s the cupboard technique going? Added anything to the list today?”

  “I’ve given up on that,” she told him primly, but it was hard to focus on the conversation when he was touching her.

  “We still have work to do, though,” he said lazily as he gently caressed her cheek.

  Kirsty clasped her hands in front of her and focused on her breathing.

  “You know,” he said. “Therapy.” His blue eyes darkened. “I thought it went well. We should do more.”

  Kirsty swallowed hard. Her eyes dropped to his chest as she imagined him naked in front of her. She chewed her bottom lip.

  Lake groaned softly.

  “You’re killing me here, Kirsty. I’m not sure how much more I can take.”

  He wasn’t the only one.

  Caroline came in with a tray laden with mugs of tea and a plate of biscuits, and Lake dropped his hand back to his side. Kirsty was both relieved and upset that his touch was gone. She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye and saw he was watching her. A small smile curved his lips and Kirsty snapped her head back to Caroline.

  Ten minutes later they all nursed mugs of tea while going over the plan for the show. As ordered by Caroline, Lake and Kirsty had brought photos of the lingerie they planned to showcase so that there wouldn’t be any double-ups. The evening would have been completely routine if it wasn’t for the fact that every time she looked at Lake, she didn’t see him sitting there fully dressed in Caroline’s living room. Oh no. She saw him almost naked in hers. And every time he brushed against her when he reached for the photos on the coffee table in front of him, she didn’t feel the innocent touch of a competitor. No. She felt his hot skin beneath her fingers as she explored him. It was driving her mental. There was no way she could concentrate on anything Caroline said. She found herself agreeing to things that she had no recollection of. Come morning, she’d have to call her best friend and ask her to recap the meeting. Honestly, it was a relief when the evening drew to a close.

  “So...we know what we’re all doing, then?” Caroline said as she walked them to the door.

  Kirsty nodded, although she had no idea what she was doing. Lake smiled at her and she got the sneaky feeling that he could read her mind. She hugged Caroline, wrapped her mauve poncho tight around her, pulled on her black wool gloves and hat and braved the cold Scottish night.

  “I’ll walk you home,” Lake said as Caroline shut the door behind them.

  There was no point arguing. They lived across from each other. It would be pretty stupid to walk through Invertary with him following on her heels. He buttoned his denim jacket over the soft grey jumper he wore and flicked up his collar against the chilly wind.

  “You need another coat,” she told him, watching her breath billow with her words. “You’re going to freeze up here in that. This is only the start of winter. It gets worse from here on in.”

  He gave her a little half-smile, and she got the distinct impression that he didn’t plan to be there when the weather really fell.

  “Thanks for returning my computer gear,” he said.

  Kirsty didn’t know what to say to that. Really she should apologise, but manners or not, that was going to happen over her dead body.

  “How about you get my cut-out back too?”

  “They didn’t return it?”

  “Nope. And if it doesn’t come back I’ll need to get another one. It’s become a big attraction in the shop.”

  Kirsty grunted. She hoped that Heather kept the blooming thing.

  They turned into the street that ran along the back of the Presbyterian Church beside the graveyard. On one side of them was an assortment of headstones, on the other the dark paddocks of the MacDonald farm, which stretched up from the town limits into the hills.

  There was silence. The black night seemed to weigh heavily on both of them. Kirsty couldn’t stand it.

  “Come on,” she said. “I’ll show you something.”

  She turned into the graveyard.

  “Are you trying to scare me, or warn me off?” he said as he followed her.

  She looked towards heaven, although she had her back to him and he couldn’t appreciate her gesture.

  “I’m certain that it would take more than an old graveyard to scare you, Lake Benson,” she said, and heard him chuckle.

  They wove through the well-tended graves, past the worn headstones to a plot in the corner. Lake wasn’t sure why Kirsty was leading him into a dark graveyard in the middle of the night, but he was game to find out. In the corner of the plot, under the willow tree, was the biggest, ugliest headstone that he’d ever seen in his life. It showed an angel carrying a stubby woman in his arms. The angel had a broadsword strapped to his back and looked too much like Mel Gibson in Braveheart for it to have been a coincidence. Come to think of it, now he was closer, the woman in Mel Gibson’s arms was eerily familiar too. He stepped towards the stone to read the inscription.

  “‘Here lies Betty McLeod, she was a misunderstood woman. Talented beyond the pale. A beauty of her generation. And smarter than most of the folk in Invertary. She will be sorely missed’,” he read out loud.

  There was a birth date, but the death was blank. He looked over at Kirsty to see her grinning widely. He found himself grinning back at her.

  “Betty’s grave,” she told him. “She said she couldn’t trust anyone to get it right when she was gone. So she did it herself. She had a local artist sculpt that.” She pointed at the monstrosity. “She gave him photos from Braveheart and posed for her part, much to his distress.”

  Lake started to laugh.

  “Thought you’d like to see what she did with the money you paid for the shop,” Kirsty said.

  Lake shook his head with wonder.

  “It’s the ugliest thing I’ve ever seen,” he said.

  “I know.” Kirsty started to giggle. “But don’t tell Betty. It’s her baby.

  “Come on.” She held out her hand. “There’s something else I want to show you.”

  Lake took her hand, surprised that she offered it and held on tight as she picked her way round the side of the church. She pointed at a white box on the wall beside the main doors to the sanctuary.

  “That’s the town swear box,” she said. “The vicar’s idea. You’re supposed to trek up here when you swear and put in some money.” She giggled. “It was a fundraiser for the new roof.”

  “Did he make any money fr
om it?”

  “You’d be surprised how much. Invertary is a weird wee town.”

  “You don’t have to tell me that.”

  She smacked him playfully on his stomach. Apparently it was okay for her to diss the town, but not for him. She wove her way round the bushes on the other side of the church, through a clearing, and headed for a small, round stone building. It wasn’t very wide; it was tall and cylindrical with a domed roof. Lake frowned at the place.

  “This is George MacGregor’s folly,” she said.

  As they got closer, Lake grinned wider.

  “He was a rich developer during the Victorian era and had a thing for astronomy. He built this to get a better look at the stars.”

  “You know what it looks like, right?”

  Kirsty gave him a wicked smile.

  “Everyone knows what it looks like,” she told him. “Everyone except Caroline. She doesn’t think like that.”

  “There’s no thinking involved, just observing. The man who built this was building a memorial to his...”

  “...Penis.” She pushed open the door. “I know. Don’t tell Caroline. She worked hard to get this place restored. It would break her heart.”

  Lake shook his head. He really wasn’t sure how Caroline couldn’t already know.

  “She must see it. She’s pulling your leg.”

  Kirsty shook her head vehemently.

  “No, she isn’t.”

  Lake let it drop. Especially as he was now standing in the centre of the narrow, phallic building holding Kirsty Campbell’s hand. He had better things to think about.

  “See?” She pointed upwards.

  And there, at the top of the dome, was a circular window with a perfect view of the clear sky. Lake started to laugh.

  “This guy was nuts,” he said.

  “Oh, yeah,” Kirsty agreed as she stepped towards him. “Invertary attracts a type.”

  They stood shoulder to shoulder staring at the sky. One thing was for sure, without the lights from the town around them, the stars did appear brighter. It was pretty impressive. Then he felt Kirsty’s hand slide up his stomach and he really didn’t care about the sky.

  “We got interrupted yesterday,” she said softly.

  “If you think I’m stripping here, in an homage to another man’s dick, then you’re sadly deluded.”

  Kirsty laughed.

  “How about we practise the kissing therapy instead?”

  She wrapped her arms around his shoulders.

  “How about we go back to your place and I’ll get naked and we’ll see how things go from there?”

  “I like it here.”

  “In other words, it’s safer here.”

  “Don’t you want to kiss me?”

  “All the time.”

  “Well, shut up and get on with it.”

  Lake wrapped his arms around Kirsty and did as he was told.

  Kirsty loved the way Lake kissed. She loved the way he moved against her. Loved the feel of his strength beneath her touch. And the wonder of it all was that the more she kissed him, the more she wanted to kiss him. Not only kiss him. Touch him. Taste him. Feel him. Oh, but she wanted to feel all of him. She broke the kiss.

  “Lake, you know when you said that you wanted to see all of me?”

  He groaned deep in his chest. She felt him tense, waiting for what she had to say next.

  “I can’t. I’m not ready for that, but maybe we could touch. You know. In the dark.”

  She felt the muscles in his arms clench.

  “Who’s naked in this scenario?” he said tightly.

  Kirsty felt the heat of her embarrassment creep up her neck.

  “Both of us,” she said softly.

  “In that case, I like that idea a lot.”

  “But no light.”

  “I don’t need to see you. I can feel my way.”

  She let herself relax against him. That was what she wanted. She wanted him to feel his way.

  “Okay, then,” she said.

  She brushed his lips with hers and felt the beginnings of the stubble on his face nip her chin.

  “You don’t mean here, right?” he said against her mouth.

  She loved that he sounded uncertain. She smiled against him before biting his bottom lip ever so gently. He crushed her against him, which made her run her tongue over his lips. He made a raw animal sound.

  “No,” she told him. “I don’t mean here.”

  She stepped away from him, but held on to his hand.

  “Come on, Lake—walk me home. I’ll invite you in.”

  She looked over her shoulder at him as she led him from the folly.

  “And before you ask, I know exactly why I’m inviting you over this time.”

  The dark look in his eyes made her swoon. There was no going back from her invitation now.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN