Still standing behind them, I watch them turn to each other and then once again cover my mouth as they break out into typical Alex and Harlow snort-filled laughter.
“Mommy,” Rylie crosses her arms as her eyebrows come together in frustration, “You promised you wouldn’t laugh!” She redirects her attention to Harlow as her face relaxes itself into a mischievous grin. “You do look much better than Harlow, though. So it’s okay if you laugh at her.” Insulted, Kyndall gasps out loud and the look on her face breaks my silence.
My laughter increases ten-fold when Alex and Harlow twist in their chairs, surprised by my sudden appearance. The raised eyebrows, electric eye shadow colors, blush red cheeks — literally, and fluorescent pink lipstick is too much for me to take. I double over with laughter while everyone joins in with me. Rising back up, I push myself off the wall, wiping the corners of my eyes as Nycole, Alex’s oldest at ten-years old, enters the kitchen.
“Ya’ll are weird,” she says without a second thought as she walks toward the refrigerator, which makes me giggle again. I continue smiling as I watch her, amazed at how much she resembles a twenty-year old woman. With her dark curls now reaching her lower back, her tan skin mixed with her light brown eyes, she’s absolutely gorgeous.
“You’re weird, Nyc. Always talking about boys with your friends.” Kyndall stands and holds her thumb to her ear with her pinky at her mouth. “Oh, Trevor. He’s soooooo cute. Do you think he likes me?” she mimics. She’s actually pretty good. I was privy to that conversation last week.
I glance over at Alex and Harlow, who are trying unsuccessfully to straighten their faces.
“Yeah, Nyc. Boys have stinky feet and cooties. So, you’re weird.” Rylie chimes in, demonstrating her unwavering support.
“Okay! Okay! Settle down, girls.” Alex stands up, pulling the hair band off her wrist to put her long, dark hair in a ponytail. “No one is weird in this family.” She looks at Harlow while pushing her chair back under the table and smiles. “Except Harlow. She’s definitely weird.”
“But she looks pretty!” Kyndall adds, putting her make-up back in its Barbie make-up case.
“Yes, I’m sure she looks as beautiful as I do,” Alex adds with a laugh. Quickly, she snakes out her arm, snagging Nycole’s shoulder as she attempts to pass by and pulls her daughter into a tight embrace while placing a gentle kiss on the top of her head. I stifle another grin when Nyc rolls her eyes, but she soon relaxes into her mother’s arms, her slight smile almost hidden by her hair. The tenderness of the moment warms my heart.
Family.
Moments like this, they’re the reason why I come over here every chance I get. They temporarily soothe my soul.
Around the corner, heavy boots stomp down the stairs accompanied by Blake’s deep booming voice. “Girls! Your rooms didn’t even come close to passing inspection. Throwing everything in the closet or under the bed does not count as clean.” Holding the baby in his arms, he turns into the kitchen, only to skid to a standstill when he sees Alex. His light brown hair is messy as its edges curl away from the sides of his face and barely poke out from behind his ears, his olive green eyes beaming with laughter. Humor radiating from her own eyes, Alex glances upward to meet his stare as he towers above her tiny little body, showing no fear as she dares him to say something. He chuckles under his breath and then directs his attention to the girls. “No one’s playing with Tatum until chores are done.”
Rylie’s chair screeches across the hard wood floor and she takes off running. “I’ll be right back, Tatum! Don’t go anywhere!” she yells breathlessly as she passes by, heading up the stairs.
The other girls quickly follow suit, leaving me alone with the adults in the kitchen. Well, quasi-adults I’m reminded as I hear the snorts of Alex and Harlow by the stove. I turn to investigate, but my eyes don’t make it that far because I find myself temporarily preoccupied by Blake, or the look on his face rather. With his eyes full of tenderness while wearing an adoring grin, he’s clearly captivated by his wife as she giggles with her best friend.
My throat tightens as I reminisce, thinking about my morning with Cash and about how moments like this just don’t exist in our relationship, which leads my train of thought to Noah and his worries about my settling. I swallow my tears.
Noah.
Making eye contact with Blake during my thoughts, I glare at him from between my lashes, remembering that I have a bone to pick with him.
“So, Blake,” I place my hand on my left hip. “When exactly were you planning on telling me that Noah falls underneath your direct employment at your duplexes?” I give him a smirk.
I hear the quick swish of Alex and Harlow turning to listen in on our conversation, but my eyes remain on Blake. When he gives me no answer, I raise my left eyebrow, which results in a chuckle as he places his coffee on the kitchen table. Sitting in the seat previously occupied by Rylie, he looks back at me, while wearing a crooked grin. He raises his right eyebrow and counters my snarkiness, breaking eye contact with me to speak in baby talk to the handsome man he’s now bouncing up and down in his lap. I forgot how much J.D. looks like Blake.
“Well,” he coos, “I didn’t think you held any interest in Noah Reese, Tatum. So why would I think to tell you that he was working for me at ‘The Place’?”
Snickers galore from behind me.
Mouth pinched, I turn to glare in the direction of the women behind me, but once I take in their clown-like appearance, the fact that they are now less than two feet away from me — obviously caught up in their eavesdropping, and Alex’s “When I was a kid, no wait, I still do that” t-shirt, my smile won’t contain itself no matter how hard I try.
“You guys are ridiculous,” I say, shaking my head in disapproval.
Harlow’s reddish curls bounce while she giggles and I watch as she elbows Alex in the side, prompting her interrogation.
“So,” Alex begins, “What is up with you and Noah? I hear he almost decapitated Cash the other night.”
“Nothing’s up with me and Noah, ladies, if that’s what you’re thinking. He’s with Ryder, and I’m still with Cash.” When both their mouths hit the floor, I offer, “He was actually pretty understanding, seeing as though I vandalized his truck based on the misconstrued notion that he was cheating on me with his cousin.”
Their mouths snap shut just before they trade wide-eyed glances, but I’m thankful for the lack of commentary on the issue. It’s embarrassing enough even saying it out loud.
Blake clears his throat from the table, pulling all of our attention in his direction. “Plus, Alex,” his tone full of warning, “He’s heading to Boston at the end of the summer. So…”
“Boston? Why? What’s in Boston?” I ask, purely out of curiosity and for no other reason. At all.
“Harvard. He was accepted to med school back in the spring and Trace just confirmed he was leaving mid-August. I hate to lose him as part of my crew. He shows a lot of promise.” Blake says while slowing shaking his head, warning Alex not to push the subject as the baby grabs and pulls his lower lip.
I sit down at the bar, partly out of shock, but mainly so I can stop turning my head back and forth between the two. My neck’s starting to cramp.
Alex scowls back at Blake and his warning, and then dismissively shrugs her shoulders. “Well, there’s no reason you guys can’t be friends anyway. There’s nothing wrong with that,” she emphasizes the last part while looking at her husband.
Bringing her purple-lidded brown eyes to mine she adds, “Plus, I happen to know from experience, that right when you think you have everything in place and in order, something or someone comes along and blows it all to smithereens, the pieces landing in a way that they construct a brand new path — one that you never imagined you would travel. Life is funny that way.”
She walks over and places her hand on my shoulder. “Something tells me that you, my dear, are a walking tsunami. But,” she holds my eyes with hers, “I also think you happen to
be exactly what he needs.”
She gives me a light squeeze before heading over to Blake, where he lectures her about involving her “gut feelings” in other people’s lives. I don’t know how he can manage to lecture her without laughing at the state of her face, but something tells me he has a lot of practice with this sort of thing.
Hearing a high-pitched scream and a lot of scuffling from upstairs, Harlow quickly heads out of the kitchen, but not before giving me a wink accompanied by a not so subtle smile and a giggle.
In her absence, I find myself alone at the bar as I think.
So, Mr. Perfect is leaving mid-August to attend his perfect med school. Then, upon graduation, I’m sure he’ll marry another one of his perfect blonde bombshells and have perfectly beautiful children while managing his perfect practice. He’s obviously destined for a life of perfection.
Jesus. How perfectly boring.
I twist my dark hair around my finger, suddenly feeling sorry for him.
While I don’t believe I’m his life-altering wave of mass destruction, I do think that if I’m going to be forced to spend the days with him at the duplexes and some nights with him at the bar, I might as well help him have some fun before he starts his perfect venture. Plus, I agree with Alex. There’s nothing wrong with being friends.
I glance down at the writing on my t-shirt. If I didn’t know any better, I would think it was a sign.
Laughing, the words “Perfection is Over-Rated” bring a genuine smile to my face…
And a mission to my mind.
Noah Reese is going to learn how to have fun this summer.
Pulling up to “The Office”, I park in my usual spot and smile to myself when I see Tatum’s beat up Civic in the parking lot. I know she’s not working tonight because I gave her Friday off, so I assume she’s here for the same reason I am — payday.
As I throw the Jeep into park, Ryder flips down the passenger side visor to apply even more make-up. I still don’t understand why chicks think that piling on the eye shadow to create the perfect “smokey eye” as Ryder calls it, makes them look sexy. She kind of resembles a raccoon right now. But, whatever.
Opening my door, I step out onto the gravel and start to close it when Ryder speaks from inside the Jeep. “Can you get mine too, Noah? I don’t want to mess up my shoes,” she asks before smacking her lips together after yet another application of horrid hot pink gloss. Without saying a word, I shut the door and head towards the back entrance of the bar. It feels odd not to be wearing my boots. Or my regular work jeans and white t-shirt. Tonight, I’m sporting a fitted black polo and my dark Diesels, substituting my regular brown work boots for black ones. I figured I should probably dress up to take Ryder to this damn club opening she’s been going on and on about for weeks. I couldn’t care less, but, at least it’s a night off bar duty.
Once inside, I make my way through the kitchen, saying hello to Laura and Holly as I pass them heading to Trace’s office. I hear their giggles and try to grin internally, dipping my head to hide my amusement. But my traitor dimple begins to sink in as my lips twitch and curve into an obvious smile, which makes them laugh even more. Shaking my head at them, I let my grin show because it’s useless, there’s no hiding it. Those two are T-R-O-U-B-L-E when they’re together. The giggly, flirtatious, look-at-how-hot-we-are-now-buy-us-a-drink kind of trouble. But, they’re also really cool chicks to work with. They bring in good tips, so I try to stay on their good side.
Still laughing and not paying attention, I round the corner, only to run straight in to a completely different kind of trouble. A black-headed, blue-eyed, whirlwind kind of trouble. A trouble that looks unbelievably hot in a tight-ass, short black dress. A trouble wearing the highest black heels I’ve ever seen, heels that make her legs look unbelievable and should be outlawed judging by the bulge forming inside my dark Diesels. Damn. She’s also a trouble that I’ve formed a decent friendship with over the last few weeks, so any mental images I have of her doing certain things to me wearing those heels have got to go.
“Hey!” she says laughing as she flips her hair off her shoulders. My eyes immediately land on her pouty lips, the clear shine reflecting off of them as she smiles. “What are you doing here?”
I clear my throat and tear my gaze from her mouth. “Getting my check, you?”
She looks me up and down as she nods her head. “Me too,” she says clearing her own throat. “Where are you going, looking all spiffy?”
I chuckle because only she would say spiffy. “I’m taking Ryder to that new club, Parallel. Where are you going looking all spiffy?”
She claps her hands together excitedly before taking my hand. “We’re going there too! Yay!”
I’m still surprised every time she touches me. It’s such a drastic change from the first day at the duplexes. As I think about the last month or so — all the times that we laughed together at something ridiculous that she said, or the fact that she insists on bumping hips with me every single time a song comes on the radio that she likes while singing at the top of her lungs, even the times she lightly brushes her hand across my arm while she’s speaking — there’s a level of comfort and ease about our friendship. Reason five hundred why I need to curb my inappropriate thoughts about this one.
I smile to myself as she tugs me harder. “Where are you taking me?”
“To the employee bathroom!”
Well, that did absolutely nothing to fend off dirty thoughts.
“Why?”
She giggles. Obviously, she’s already started drinking. Great. Well, at least we’ll be at the same place so I can make sure Dickhead the Douchebag takes care of her.
“Because, I’m gonna fix your hair. It looks too…perfect. It needs to be messy — sexy, like you.” She stops dead in her tracks. “Um…I mean, as sexy as you look now.” She exhales, frustrated. “Sexily dressed, that’s what I mean.” She bites her bottom lip nervously as she mentally tries to hook her words and reel them back in. I just laugh because she looks so damn cute.
“So, you think I’m sexy?”
Saying nothing else, she rolls her eyes and pulls me in the direction of the bathroom. Once we arrive, she flips on the light and points at the commode for me to take a seat. Turning on the faucet, she sets her purse on the counter and pulls out a travel size hairspray. After digging around for a little while longer, she turns towards me.
“Well, I guess this will have to do.” Tilting her head to the left, she scrunches her mouth to the same side, deep in thought. Nodding to herself, she leans over and wets her fingers in the sink before stepping between my legs.
After breathing in deeply, she places her fingers in my hair. Slowly, she distributes the water throughout, often leaning back to the faucet to get more. Her cool hands work from the sides of my head toward the top, where her fingers interlace to form a spiky section down the center. Then she bends at the waist, placing her face so close to mine, her breaths hit my mouth. I know I can’t have her, but damn if I don’t want to take some piece of her with me. So greedily, I take in her air with every breath she releases. Her eyes still focused on my hair, I watch her mouth. Still breathing with her, I lick my lips, the movement distracting her so that she brings her pale blue eyes to mine. In silence, we stare, only the shared breaths between us are heard.
Taking her hand out of my hair, she places it on the side of my face and gently strokes my cheek with her thumb as we hold each other’s eyes. Before long, I watch a soft, sad half-smile appear on her lips. “Much better,” she says with one last soothing run of her thumb before she backs away. Reaching for the hair spray, she tweaks the top of my hair, pulling random pieces in different directions before spraying them. I fight the urge to put my hands around her waist and pull her into me. To hold her. To have her.
Instead, I sit with my hands on my knees, wanting what I can’t have.
After a couple of more sprays, she steps back. “All done. You’re good to go. To the bar. With Ryder,” she says
, the pitch of her voice getting higher with each incomplete sentence spoken. There’s no mistaking the heartache filtering between the both of us. I could slice it with a knife it’s so thick.
Standing up, I look in the mirror evaluating her work and after touching the hardened pieces with the palm of my hand, I smile back at her reflection.
“Thanks, Tate. It looks good.”
Surprise fills her eyes. “Tate? We’re on a nickname basis now?”
I laugh, relieved the awkwardness has passed. “Well, you did just fix my hair, so I think that upgrades us to nickname level.”
She nods in agreement. “I think so, yes. Although the only other person who has achieved that status is Sadie, so it’s a pretty big accomplishment.”
I chuckle again. “Good to know.”
Turing away from the mirror, I reach for the door knob. “Well,” I let out a breath, “See you there?”
“Yep. I’ll be there.” She reaches for the hairspray and puts it back in her purse before slinging over her shoulder. Giving me the fakest smile I’ve ever seen, she passes by me as soon as I open the door.
And my eyes find the scowl of a raccoon wearing hot pink lip gloss.
Arms crossed, Ryder glares in my direction before turning on her heel to exit the front of the bar.
“Ryder!” I yell. Taking off after her, I make my way through a small crowd before making eye contact with Tatum. Sorry, she mouths. I shake my head, letting her know it’s okay. And it is because the moment I just shared with her, that brief amount of time that I allowed myself to have even the smallest bit of her, was completely worth the shit that I’m about to have to deal with.
It also solidified the fact that I will have to end things with Ryder. None of this is fair to her. My summer fling with no attachments is not faring so well, for either of us. Besides, I’m pretty sure I saw a couple of wedding magazines at her apartment when I picked her up tonight, which made my chest almost implode. I have to do something for the sake of my own health.
Running in Place (Mending Hearts) Page 7