The Veranda (Lavender Shores Book 3)

by Rosalind Abel

  I hadn’t figured out how to make it happen, and then he was leaving, heading to the door. There’d been no time to plan, no time to think. What I’d waited for was slipping through my fingers and I’d never get it again, so I grabbed the chance and held on.

  The entire thing lasted less than ten minutes. Probably less than five. But I’d replayed the moments over and over in the two days since. Half of the time in pleasure, the other half riddled with guilt.

  Even though I knew I should, I couldn’t make myself regret it. It was the perfect secret. Donovan didn’t even know what we’d done, and I wouldn’t ever tell him. I’d hold on to those moments for the rest of my life. A treasure and a curse. One I didn’t, wouldn’t, couldn’t regret.

  And there he was, no longer half naked. No longer coming undone inside my mouth. Donovan was once again the handsome therapist, member of a founding family. My brother-in-law, or ex-brother-in-law. And I was standing surrounded by all of Lavender Shores and a bunch of tourists and was as horned-up as a twenty-year-old. As the float passed, he turned from his mother and scanned the crowd. His gaze landed on me, and his smile faltered. Only for a moment, and then it was back. He gave me a little nod. The kind you offered the inner circle. The kind you give family. And then he was gone.

  I wondered what the glitch had been in his smile. He’d almost looked scared. But that didn’t make sense. Unless he’d known who I was?

  No... ridiculous. He hadn’t known. I’d worn a mask and half my face had been covered in fur. I’d even painted black around my eyes. I’d barely spoken, and not to him. I’d made certain not to look him in the eye, and I’d only messed that up once, when his dick had been in my mouth. No way he’d noticed then. Nah, he didn’t know. My guilt was eating at me, making me panic, that was all. Donovan simply hadn’t seen me since the divorce was finalized. He probably wondered if there were hurt feelings or if I somehow blamed him for his sister’s actions. That was all it was.

  Then he was past, and it was the final founding family float. The Epsteins.

  I hadn’t realized I’d gotten hard looking at Donovan until I noticed my dick deflating at the sight of the float, at Erica waving to the crowd like she was Miss America. Her gaze fell on me from a long way off. Her lips curved into a different sort of smile, one that lasted only a heartbeat. The kind that worked as if she’d lifted her middle finger.

  I plastered a smile on my face. A gentle one as I prayed she’d never know what I’d done with her brother. And that he’d never know, while I was at it.

  Erica stood by her father. Behind them, her mother, Kimberly sat with Ethan on her lap and held Emma’s hand, who stood nearby. The float was even with me when Emma finally noticed. Her beautiful face brightened, and she let go of Kimberly’s hand and rushed toward the edge of the float. “Dad!”

  I ran, knocking into a couple of people. “Emma, stop!” She was going to fall.

  She halted as I made it to the edge, her face scrunching to a condescending look that mirrored her mother’s. “I wasn’t going to jump, Dad.”

  Of course she wasn’t. She was nearly ten, and often as graceful as Erica. In fact, that fleeting moment of excitement was the most childlike I’d seen her in a while.

  Her annoyance was gone. “Are we still staying with you tonight?”

  “Of course, princess.”

  It was only then that I heard Ethan’s fit. I’d been too worried about Emma doing something completely unlike Emma.

  “Dad! I wanna go with you.” Ethan slid off his grandmother’s lap and hurried to join his sister. My heart leaped again, and I jogged beside the float, catching up. Ethan would tumble off or jump. He was a klutz and didn’t seem to have an ounce of self-preservation.

  “Get back to your place,” Erica hissed at them, then scowled in my direction, her beautiful mask slipping in front of the crowd for a moment.

  “No, I wanna go with Dad.” He stomped his foot. A little too much disrespect for a six-year-old, but I couldn’t blame him. “I hate this.”

  Erica glared at him with a similar expression. “Fine, get off.” She turned to Emma. “You stay where you are.”

  Emma straightened her shoulders and lifted her chin, looking every bit like the teenager she was going to be in a few years. Without a word, she took her place next to her grandmother once more.

  Sure enough, at that moment, Ethan jumped toward me. The crowd gasped, and I lurched forward and caught him in my arms, dropping my coffee in the process. “Ethan, what were you thinking?”

  He didn’t get a chance to respond, as Erica let her composure slip one more time. “He’s just like you.” She pointed to the ground. “And pick up your trash. Founding families don’t litter.” And then the float passed by.

  I dropped Ethan to the ground, grasped his hand, and scooped up the coffee cup with my other, then smiled at the nearby crowd. “My son the daredevil!”

  Some chuckled, but most were already focused on the next float.

  Ethan pulled at me as we joined the crowd. “Can we get ice cream?”

  “You don’t get to disobey your mom like that, throw a fit, and then get ice cream.” I nearly told him the real reason—that all the shops were closed for the parade—and then I remembered I was raising a six-year-old who needed to be a good man one day, despite his mother’s and father’s deficiencies.

  His face fell, but he didn’t get teary or start to throw a tantrum. Six was so much easier than four. “Okay. Maybe later?”

  I nearly laughed.

  Ethan grinned up at me. “Either way I love you.”

  That time, I did laugh. “Wow, little dude. Did your sister teach you that one? Manipulate through affection.”

  He shrugged. “Can we?”

  “Once Emma is with us, but only after dinner tonight, in which there will be vegetables.”

  He sighed. “I shoulda stayed with Grandma.”

  Emma, Ethan, and I ended up at Lavender Leaves after the parade. They both had brownies. I justified the earlier-than-promised treat by saying it wasn’t ice cream, though we all knew ice cream would still happen. I really just needed more caffeine. It was movie night. And the only way I was going to get through a full-length cartoon was caffeinated.

  The brownies were half gone when Lamont walked into the coffee shop. It seemed he’d attended after all, just not been on the float. I lifted my hand in greeting, then noticed who followed him.

  Donovan Carlisle was all smiles and handsome grace, until he saw me. He flinched, and that smile faltered again, though he quickly fixed it back into place. That settled it; I wasn’t imagining his reaction to me.

  He and Lamont greeted Pete, then headed our way. I tried to think of what to say. That hadn’t ever been a problem before. At least not for ages, and Donovan hadn’t even been aware of my struggle around him all those years ago. There was no reason for him to do so now.

  Luckily, the kids handled it for me. They’d both been so captivated by their brownies, they hadn’t realized their favorite uncle had come in.

  “Uncle Donovan!” Ethan noticed first and scrambled from the table, brownie forgotten. He rushed toward Donovan, not waiting to make sure he was ready, and simply leaped upward.

  And part of why he was their favorite uncle was because Donovan was always ready. He bent at just the right time and swooped Ethan up into a hug, as if he weighed no more than when he’d been three.

  Though she didn’t yell like her brother, Emma let out a pleased squeak beside me and hurried over to wrap her arms around Donovan. He grasped Ethan in one arm and wrapped the newly free one around Emma.

  Lamont grinned at them and flashed an easygoing smile my way. “I keep hoping Heather or Andrew will turn me into an uncle one day. Donovan always makes it look fun.”

  “He also makes it look easy. I assure you, it isn’t.” I was thankful that Lamont provided a distraction from Donovan. “I’ve heard Andrew and Joel want kids.”

  “They do. Well, I think they do. I know Andr
ew does. Even after nearly two years together, they’re still in the honeymoon stage. I doubt kids are in the forefront of their minds right now.” Though he still smiled, there was a sad quality to him, but that wasn’t unusual for Lamont. We didn’t have a ton of interaction, but he’d always seemed rather sad.

  “You can play uncle to mine whenever you want.”

  Lamont’s smile faltered.

  “Oh, right. Well, when they’re with me, in any case.” I smiled but couldn’t help shaking my head a bit. How had I managed to forget that the Kelly family and the Epstein family only tolerated each other on the best of days? I hadn’t been divorced from Erica long enough to forget something like that.

  Donovan joined us at the table, plopping Ethan into a chair and snatching away his plate. “Looks like I found myself a brownie!”

  Ethan hesitated for only a second. “You can have it if you want.” Unlike his halfhearted manipulation with me earlier, there was no doubt Ethan genuinely meant the offer. He’d do anything Donovan wanted. They both would.

  Donovan ruffled Ethan’s hair and slid the plate back. “You two are the sweetest monsters.” He patted his flat stomach. “However, I think I need a brownie all my own.” He turned to me, and this time his smile didn’t have a glitch, but I could swear it felt forced.

  The memory of his expression as I looked up at him with his cock in my mouth flitted through my head. I shook it away. Not the place. Not the time. Not that there was a place or a time for that. I glanced away, afraid he’d see the memory in my eyes, or that looking directly at him would make him realize it had been me two nights ago.

  “You doing okay, Spencer?”

  I forced myself to glance at him, enough not to be rude or overly weird. “Ah, yeah….” How was I supposed to take that? Was I okay as in, was I hurting over the divorce? That I’d had to interact with the man Erica left me for when I picked up my kids? As in, did I have a confession I needed to make about my sexual activities of late?

  Lamont gave me a strange look. “You don’t seem too sure about that.” He chuckled good-heartedly. “You do look a bit tired. Do you need Donovan and me to play uncles tonight while you get some rest?”

  Both kids let out pleading squeals at that.

  “Please do!” Emma clapped her hands, no longer looking like a preteen. “We’re watching The Dark Crystal tonight. Ethan’s never seen it, and Dad says he’s finally old enough.”

  “Thanks, sweetie.” And there was that look again. The falter of a smile that I’d never seen cross Donovan’s face before. “I’m gonna have to pass. That movie scares me a bit.”

  Ethan sat up straighter. “Really? It scares you? Maybe I’m not old enough to see it.”

  Donovan backpedaled quickly. “No, bud. I was just teasing. I have… a lot of work tonight. But rain check?”

  There, right there. The look that crossed Lamont’s face. Further proof that I wasn’t making up Donovan’s strangeness.

  “You have a client on Sunday night? On Pride? Who the—” Lamont stopped talking at the quick glare Donovan cast his way.

  Donovan cleared his throat and smiled again. “Well, good to see you all. We should get going.” He rounded the table and kissed both of the kids on their heads, while they continued to beg him to come over. And then he gave me a nod. “Good night, Spencer.”

  “Night, Donovan.” I dared to look at his eyes, but he’d already turned away. I spared a glance at Lamont, who shrugged. “Good seeing you, Lamont.”

  “You too, man.” Lamont waved at the kids. “Enjoy The Dark Crystal. It’s a classic.” He turned and followed Donovan, gesturing toward the counter as they walked out the door.

  I glanced at Pete.

  His eyes narrowed as he studied them before turning his gaze on me.

  I straightened and looked away, like I’d been caught by Ms. Phipps in church as she’d turned around in her pew to shush me when I’d been a kid.

  There was no way Donovan could know it was me the other night. No way. So maybe, now that his sister and I were divorced…. I used to think that he felt… or that he always wanted….

  I cut off that train of thought. Those moments had only been in my imagination, seeing what I wanted to see, and they would only lead to disaster. I’d already played with fire much more than I should’ve. Clearing my throat, I looked at my kids. “So, are we ordering in Chinese or pizza for the movie?”

  Three

  Donovan

  “What the hell was that?”

  I didn’t look at Lamont for a few paces. Too many to even begin to hope to pull off an innocent act, though I tried anyway. “What was what?”

  Lamont glowered. “You don’t have to tell me, but you’d better work on your game face if you’re going to act like that the next time you see Spencer.”

  He was right. Of course he was right. I couldn’t think of a response that would even come close to being believable.

  “I don’t suppose this was about Gilbert and Walden’s little announcement yesterday?” His tone sounded concerned and wary.

  I braved a glance at him. Lamont wasn’t a therapist, but he had an uncanny ability to read people, probably what made him a good writer. “No, not at all. They’d been dating a year. It was coming, and eloping was really the only option for Gilbert. Can you picture him having a big wedding?”

  Lamont chuckled. “I’d like to. That would’ve been kinda funny.”

  Lamont’s question struck me as odd, though. “Why would Gilbert getting married bother me?”

  He shrugged, but a blush tinted his handsome cheeks.

  Lamont wasn’t the only one adept at reading human nature. And I wasn’t the one who was hurting from Gilbert and Walden’s announcement. “You’ll find someone, Lamont.”

  He grimaced. “I hate when people say that.”

  “Well, you will. You’re such a great—” What was I doing? I really was off my game. I knew good and well that wonderful people, people who longed for love and deserved love, spent their entire lives searching and never found it.

  Lamont chuckled darkly. “Couldn’t even finish that, could you?”

  “Sorry.”

  He shrugged.

  We walked a few more paces, weaving in and out of the shrinking Pride crowd. Obviously Lamont suspected something between Spencer and me. Maybe because he truly was good at reading people or maybe because I was wearing my emotions on my sleeve at the moment. I toyed with the idea of telling him. I needed to tell someone.

  I leaped. “I’m aware that I made us run out of Lavender Leaves without coffee.” I kept my gaze firmly fixed on the ground. “Wanna come over and I’ll make a pot and we can chat? Or something.”

  “Sure, Doc.” Again his tone was gentle. He really would be a great therapist. “Only if you want.”

  I lived a couple of blocks from the shops of downtown, so Lamont and I walked. I’d purchased a small Victorian when I moved back to Lavender Shores after grad school. I’d intended to scale up at some point, but after a while, the desire faded. My house was pretty and cozy, classically beautiful, like all things in Lavender Shores. Not showy at all, though, not like the rest of my family’s houses. All except for the porch, which ran along the entire front of the house and down the side facing the street. My lawn was lush, but the porch was practically a garden itself, a few large ferns hanging overhead and sizable potted plants grouped near the corners. The gingerbread lattice and railing closed it in to a cozy degree. With the gas lanterns and pillar candles, evening was my favorite time to sit out and read, but it wasn’t bad during the day either.

  Lamont took the cup of coffee I offered and continued to sway gently in the wooden swing as I sat in the natural-toned wicker chair across from him. “I always feel like a Southern lady when I’m sitting out here. Like I should be wearing a pastel ball gown while having afternoon tea on the veranda, as Mom calls it.”

  I laughed. “You’re way too masculine to pull off a ball gown. You’d look a bit like your father
did this morning.”

  “Be nice, Dr. Carlisle.” He winked. “Dad was quite fetching.”

  I opted to avoid commenting on that one. Even this tiny amount of small talk felt forced at the moment. “You’ll keep this between us, right?”

  “Jumping right to it. All right, then. And of course. You know I will.”

  I met his gray-blue eyes for a moment, then looked away. “I went to a sex party in San Fran the other night. An ex of mine throws this big shindig every year. And….” I couldn’t tell him this. It wasn’t my story to tell. At least not only my story to tell. I couldn’t find what to say next.

  After a few moments, Lamont interrupted my silent stressing. “Are you really afraid I’m going to judge your sexual life? Do you need me to tell you the story of my parents again?”

  “No, it’s not that. It’s just….” I swallowed. I really was going to do this. “Spencer was there.”

  “Oh.” Lamont sat up straighter, his tone changing. “Oh!”

  “Yeah.” I still couldn’t look at him.

  “Did the two of you finally get together?”

  I nearly spilled my coffee at the jerk I gave. I stared up at him. “What?”

  Lamont laughed, though not unkindly. “You’ve wanted each other for years.”

  My blood ran cold. No way. There was no way he could know that, or that people were aware of how I felt. Not a chance. If there was, Erica would’ve strung me up from the nearest tree years ago. “What?” It seemed I was incapable of saying anything else.

  Lamont, being Lamont, didn’t require any other words, it seemed. “Don’t worry. It’s nothing anyone has been talking about. I doubt anyone else ever noticed.” Another laugh, this one darker. “Actually, I’m sure they haven’t. If they had, we both know there’d be plenty of talk.”

  I let that sink in for a moment, calming my panic. He was right. No one else had noticed. Couldn’t have. Then his words sank in a little further, and my heart leaped for an entirely different reason. “Wait a minute. We’ve wanted each other? As in you think Spencer wants me?”