“Juice is fine. I rarely drink either,” I said. “I’m afraid I can’t handle my liquor. I usually end up sick so I seldom drink.” He passed the potatoes to me. “Are you a lightweight when it comes to alcohol, too?”
“No. I’m afraid my reasons are a little more complicated,” he said, solemnly. “I told you my mom and sister were killed during a home invasion robbery, right?” I nodded. “Afterward, I went off the deep end for a while.” He set the juice down and picked up the gravy bowl. “I didn’t handle their deaths well and started drinking, heavily. It was pretty bad. Seth’s family took me in after they died and I gave them a rough time of it. My grades slipped. I seldom went to classes, barely graduating.”
I didn’t know why he poured gravy on the moist turkey, and then I tasted the gravy. Incredible. I added it to my turkey, eating everything way too quickly. The guy could cook.
“So what happened after graduation?” I asked.
“A couple of my buddies talked about wanting to join the military. I spoke to Seth’s dad, Eric, and he encouraged me to join. No doubt he thought the military would force me into straightening up my act.”
“Did it?” I asked, slipping Daisy a piece of turkey.
“Spoiled.” He waved a finger at the dog. Her tail beat rhythmically against the wood floor. “Unfortunately for me, you can legally drink on base at the age of eighteen in the military. Though I never drank on the job, nor did I ever go to work under the influence, all my free time was spent in the on-base bars.
“Eric pulled a few strings and got me stationed under him, but I lived in the barracks so he seldom saw me outside of work. One day I got completely wasted and somehow ended up at their home. To this day I don’t know why I went there. Out of habit, maybe.” He put his fork down. “Eric found me early the next morning, passed out in his driveway in a puddle of my own vomit. He helped me inside, and into the bathroom where I took a shower and cleaned up. I went into my old room and crawled into bed. Before I fell asleep again, Eric came to me and said, ‘Sam, those men robbed you of your mother and sister. Don’t allow them to take any more from you.’ I’ll never forget that.”
Booker’s words hit me like a freight train. Garen robbed me of years of my life, and I’d allowed him to take even more by hiding, by not living how I wanted to live. “I’m guessing that’s when you stopped drinking?” I asked.
“Nope,” he said softly. “Though his words were in my head almost every waking moment, I didn’t get sober until Eric and his wife died. Seth was only sixteen at the time and needed me. I was no longer active duty. I bought a house with money I’d saved and Seth moved in, along with my grandfather. I never drank again and I let the anger go.”
“And things are good now?” I asked.
“Yes,” he nodded. “Sometimes I still struggle with the memories. That’s the main reason I left the MET. Nightmares I hadn’t had for years were back with a vengeance. When I started the law practice, they stopped again. I’m in a much better place now.”
“I’m glad,” I said as the buzzer went off in the kitchen, breaking the tense mood.
“The pies.” Booker jumped up and removed them from the oven. They smelled tempting. We cleared off the table as they cooled.
“Looks like you’ll be doing dishes,” he prodded. “The pie is going to be incredible.”
“We’ll see. You haven’t tasted it yet,” I warned.
“No, but I did wear it for a bit—part of it, anyway,” he said grinning. “I think orange just may be my color.”
Booker sliced us each a piece. “On three,” he said. He took a large forkful, as I scooped up a small bite on mine. “One, two, three.” We both bit into the pie. It was disgusting. I spit mine into my napkin. Booker forced his bite down his throat. “It has an interesting texture,” he said, laying his fork on the plate. “And the spices enhance—”
I stood with a shake of my head. “Forget it, Gatto. It sucks. I win. I’m going to watch the game. Hurry and load the dishwasher and maybe you can catch the second half.” I waved and walked into the family room with Daisy at my side.
My stomach fluttered at Booker’s warm chuckle.
Chapter 14
Booker
I shoveled the driveway so Tess could leave. Too bad only a few inches of snow fell, otherwise I’d have a strong case to insist she stay the night. My eyes raked over the empty prison most people lovingly call home. Prison might be too strong an analogy, but at times it felt like solitary confinement. I loved my home. I just hated the overbearing emptiness that threatened to crush me when guests left. I already felt the emptiness creeping in and Tess wasn’t even out the door yet.
“All ready,” I said, dipping my head back inside. Tess slipped on her thick parka, looking as if she were preparing for the Iditarod instead of driving across town. With a steel grip on her purse, she made her way to the car, flinching at a brutal gust of cold air.
“Oh! I hate the cold,” she grumbled to herself more than me. I held her car door open and she tucked inside, shutting it and opening the window a tiny crack. “Thanks for warming up my car while you shoveled.”
“Thanks for helping with the dishes after I lost the ‘promise.’” I made quote marks in the air. I stooped, eye to eye with her fake brown eyes, and couldn’t help but wonder what they looked like without the dark contacts.
“It was a sucker promise, anyway. I knew from the get-go I’d win. I’ve a long, painful relationship with cooking,” she admitted. “I’m hopeless in the kitchen.”
“I hate to think anyone is hopeless,” I pressed.
“Great. I’ll bring dinner over tomorrow. Would you like charred scrambled eggs or soupy hamburgers?”
“Soupy ham . . . ah, maybe you just need some lessons,” I assured her. She laughed and rolled up her window after thanking me again for Thanksgiving dinner.
I went inside, wrapped up the last of the turkey, and put it in the fridge after making a turkey sandwich. “Soupy hamburger,” I chuckled to myself. Scooping up the remote, I plopped down on the couch to watch the football game I’d recorded earlier, but couldn’t concentrate. My thoughts centered on Tess. Her warm smile as we set the table, her look of joy when she tasted my stuffing. Seth’s recipe, actually. I also remembered the look of sheer terror in her wide eyes when the blender exploded. Her entire body trembled. It made me sick to think what caused such a vehement reaction. Good thing I didn’t know who her ex was. I’d pummel him for every blow he’d given her. The look on her face reminded me of my mom and sister’s faces that horrible day. I could still hear their screams.
Now sickened, I tossed my sandwich on the plate and set it on the ground for Daisy, who promptly inhaled it, tail a-wagging. “You’re one lucky pooch.” I rubbed her ears as the doorbell rang.
Hoping it was Tess, I raced to the door. “Did you forget . . . What are you doing here again, Nikkolynn?” I braced my arm on the top of the doorframe, hoping it sent the message that she wasn’t welcome.
Her white fur coat draped her shoulders, and despite the row of black buttons, her hand pinched it shut. Something red poked out just above the collar. “I know it’s a little early, but . . .” She let go of the coat, and it dropped to her feet as she tossed her hands in the air. “Merry Christmas, Bookie.” She’d wrapped herself up like a present. Red paper covered in little Santa Clauses twisted around her body, and a red bow sat under her chin. “Aren’t you going to open your gift?”
There was a time she wouldn’t have had to ask. Nikkolynn was built for speed that started at the top, with her full mouth begging to be kissed, and ran clear down to her red painted toenails. She had a knockout body, probably from teaching some exercise class she used to talk about ad nauseam. What did she used to call it? Zimble, or Zumba maybe? Whatever the reason, she was too smokin’ hot for her own good.
Now what I felt inside at seeing her standing there in nothing but some paper and ribbon couldn’t light a candle. I felt nothing. Not a flicker of desire, no
t a whispering of love. Not a spark of fire. Not even hate or anger over what she’d done to me.
“Well, don’t just stand there, I’m freezing. Invite me in,” she demanded in her vintage princess tone. A tone I used to find cute. What was I thinking?
I stooped and picked up her coat, handing it to her. “Go home, Nik. Like I told you that first day in my office when you showed up, and each and every time you’ve dropped by my house since then, I’m not interested.” I started to shut the door, when her arm shot out, blocking it.
“If you don’t let me in, I’m going to sit here naked on your porch and freeze to death. And it’ll be all your fault.” She stomped her foot, as if that would intimidate me. I shook my head. I could be just a stubborn as her.
“It’s a holiday, Bookie. I don’t want to be alone.” Her sexy little body may not do a thing for me, but that pout did. And that fact that I knew she’d sit on my porch all night, naked.
Resigned, and clearly a sucker, I said, “You can come in, but not dressed like that.”
“I brought some clothes for in the morning, you know, in case I got lucky.” She wagged her eyebrows.
“You’re not spending the night. I’m watching the football game. You can join me if you want and have some pie, then you’re leaving. Understood?” I said firmly. She nodded and hurried to her car for a grocery bag.
“My clothes,” she explained, waving it. I nodded and led her inside.
“You remember where the bathroom is, I assume,” I said, debating whether to give her some of the store bought pie Tess left. My conscience got the better of me and I pulled a banana crème pie from the fridge.
“I’ll change here.” She dropped her coat to the floor and set her grocery bag of clothes on the counter next to the pie.
“You’re not changing in my kitchen, Nik.”
“Fine.” She took four steps back, now barely inside the family room, and peeled off the Christmas wrapping. I busied myself with the pie. The girl had moxie. I gave her several minutes to dress before looking up.
Nik sauntered to the counter in a barely-there lacy nightie, not much better than naked really. Still, I felt nothing. Maybe I’d been celibate for so long, I’d killed my drive. Or maybe the memories of finding her in bed with another man killed it.
“There was a time you couldn’t have looked away,” she purred.
“That was before I caught you in my bed with what’s-his-name,” I said dryly. “I lost interest after that.”
“Bookie, you don’t understand, I had to—”
“You’re right, Nikkolynn, because when I said I loved you, and subsequently married you, I thought you knew that meant we were exclusive. And I don’t want to talk about this again.”
She pouted and dropped onto a barstool, glancing over at me, no doubt hoping the pout would work as it had so many times before. It didn’t. I ignored her and ate my delicious pie. Nik’s head tipped back and I looked up to see what had caught her short attention span.
“Is that pumpkin on your ceiling?” She squinted at the orange blob.
I laughed, remembering the explosion again. “Tess and I were pureeing pumpkin and the lid blew off the blender. What a mess.”
“Tess was here for Thanksgiving? Who else? Seth, I assume.” She sneered Seth’s name. They never got along. He saw through her long before I had.
“Seth and his wife are in New York City. It was just Tess and me.” I had no idea why I shared that information with her.
“I thought you weren’t dating her.” She gave me the death glare, another one of the tools she used to get her way.
“Tess and I are friends. She has no family around here, and all mine were out of town, so we shared the day,” I said in my best ‘drop the subject’ tone. “I’m going to watch the game. You can stay or leave. Honestly, I don’t care which.” I paced to the couch, snatched up the remote, and settled onto the couch. The front door slammed as I hit play. “Thank you,” I muttered to the ceiling.
***
“Hey, Book, that thing you wanted has been installed,” Maggie said, yawning. “Want to come see?” She yawned again.
“Can you stay awake long enough to show me?” I teased.
“You want to invite Tess down, too, since technically this is for her?” Magpie asked before opening the office door.
“Great idea,” I said a little too eagerly. Maggie glanced over her shoulder at me, flashing a twisted grin.
Tess sat at her desk typing up a report, her fingers flying across the keys as she worked. She wore a white turtleneck underneath a red sweater. I glanced down at her feet hoping she’d worn the boots from the box I’d seen the day she moved. Nope. Brown flats.
“Tess, give your poor fingers a break and follow us,” Magpie said.
“I have to get this done. Booker needs it for a meeting this afternoon.” Her fingers continued to type as she spoke, her eyes glued to the computer screen.
“It’ll only take a minute, I promise,” I said.
She nodded and stood. “If it’s not ready in time . . .” she warned.
It’d be ready. In the three-and-a-half months since I opened my practice, she’d never been late with anything. In fact, quite the opposite. The girl had perfectionism down to a science, finishing every project way ahead of schedule. I made a mental note to tell her mistakes weren’t punishable by death.
We took the elevators to the basement. Tess fidgeted with her sweater the entire time. “Tess, relax.”
“Sorry.” She tucked her head. “I have another two pages to type up. I just don’t want to disappoint you, that’s all.”
“You haven’t yet,” I assured her. “Well, maybe once.” Her eyes popped open wide. “Your pumpkin pie needed a little help.” I rubbed my stomach and leaned against the elevator railing as if weak.
“A little?” She laughed and nudged my arm. “I warned you.”
Magpie stood watching us from the corner of the elevator, smiling ear to ear. The doors opened when we reached the basement. I took Tess’s arm. “Okay, close your eyes.”
“Booker, I’ve been helping Maggie and Lilah down here every night after work. I’ve already seen the space.”
“Not everything. Now close your eyes.” Reluctantly, she submitted to my request.
I slipped my arm around her waist . . . Okay, I could’ve held her arm, but my masochistic ways wouldn’t allow me to miss an opportune moment to be a little closer to her. I guided her through the door of the workout room and led her to the mirrors. Lilah came over from the other side of the room where she’d been wiping down one of the new treadmills.
“Open your eyes,” I said in Tess’ ear, stealing a whiff of her hair.
“Oh.” She stepped back. “I didn’t realize we were so close to the mirror.” She glanced around. “What am I looking for?”
Magpie turned her back around to the mirror, while Lilah chuckled. Tess studied the mirror, then her eyes landed on the barre. Her mouth dropped open. “You replaced the barre, Maggie?” She caressed the shiny wood with her hand.
“Booker’s orders,” Magpie said.
Tess turned to me, a look of confusion knitting her brow. “I thought you might want to get back into ballet since playing lacrosse in winter around here’s pretty tough.” She flew into my arms as I explained.
“Thank you!” She squeezed me tight. I hugged her back, glad to have my arms around her again even if it was for only a few moments. It felt as if everything in the world had righted itself. She pulled her head back and wrapped her hands around my jaws. “That is the sweetest—”
“Just friends, huh?” Nikkolynn’s shrill tone killed the mood. Tess moved away as Nik stomped toward us. I wheeled around, sick and tired of dealing with her.
“Hate to leave, but I’m exhausted. I’m going home to take a nap.” Maggie raced out the door. She had the misfortune of meeting my ex the other day. Nik was hired by a local restaurant supply house to demonstrate a new juicer they were featuring. Mags r
an into her while Seth and I were picking out appliances for his restaurant. Since getting out of jail, Nikkolynn had only been able to find a few temporary jobs. A felony conviction will do that for you.
“Maggie’s trying to do too much,” Lilah said, undaunted by my ex’s presence. I chuckled to myself at her moxy. “She’s helping Seth set up the restaurant, doing the design business with me, and this week and next she has finals.”
“You’re right. That’s too much,” I complained.
“Tell me about it.” Lilah pointed to the treadmills. “Yesterday we had an early appointment to pick up those. She looked like death warmed over when she got in my car. Halfway through the appointment she excused herself and ran outside. When I came out a few minutes later, she was white as a sheet. I took her straight home and told her to go back to bed.”
“That’s not good.” Tess stepped closer to me.
“Don’t worry,” Lilah insisted. “I’ve stopped taking any more jobs until after Christmas. If she’s still overwhelmed with school and the restaurant, we’ll wait until she graduates in April.”
“Excuse me!” Nik’s voice grounded our conversation to a halt. “I do believe I was speaking to Booker first.”
“Nik, why are you still here? In fact, why are you here at all?” And why did I ever get involved with you? I wondered for the millionth time. A lapse in judgment I’d be paying for for a long time.
“I’m here to ask you for a letter of reference.” She sneered at Tess while holding out a slip of paper to me.
“You’re joking, right?” I scowled at her incredulously. “A letter of reference, as in, ‘Nikkolynn is my ex-wife. I caught her in bed with another man, and she tried to use me for insider information to help said man in his drug dealing business.’” Tess coughed to hide her laugh. Good ol’ Lilah laughed right out loud. I couldn’t help but grin myself.
“Always the comedian,” Nik grumbled. She pressed against me, and ran her hand up my arm, aiming for my hair, only I pulled back before she reached it. “I’ve never seen your hair this long. I like it.” She wagged her brows at me and bit her bottom lip playfully.
Unbearable (The Port Fare Series) Page 12