“I promise I’m not a stalker,” Spotty said, “if that’s what you’re worried about. Crap. That’s exactly what a stalker would say, isn’t it? Man, I am so sorry.”
“It’s okay,” I said just to stop the nervous rambling. That wasn’t what I was worried about, but I couldn’t tell him that.
I looped my arm through Spotty’s, and he walked me to a gold van sans FREE CANDY signs.
He slid the back door open, helped me in, and then got in the driver’s seat. “Would you like champagne, madam?”
I looked out both windows thinking a cop would somehow appear at the sound of a driving minor offering a seventeen-year-old a drink. “Isn’t having an open container illegal?”
With a conspiratorial smile, he whispered, “It’s sparkling cider. Just play along.”
“Oh.” I sat up straighter in my seat. “Yes, please, pour me a glass of your finest champagne.”
Was that the right thing to say?
He nodded approvingly and winked, his mouth coming open as he did it. Apparently, I’d done something right. A cooler sat between the two front seats, and he opened it to reveal a bottle of sparkling cider nestled in ice along with one fluted wine glass. After pouring me a drink, almost to the brim, he started the van down the road.
For the next fifteen minutes, I sipped from my drink and watched the town pass by out the windows. Woodman was bigger than McClellan, and there were different parts of town—nice parts, run-down parts, parts with smaller houses and bigger houses. I imagined what the house we were going to would be like. Maybe a plantation-style home with a wraparound porch.
Eventually, Spotty pulled the van down a driveway through a cedar tree row and stopped in front of a tan, ranch-style home. Not the classic I’d been picturing, but still nice.
“Where are we?” I asked.
“Paradise.”
I gawked at him, and he cracked a grin.
“I was supposed to say that,” he whispered.
This time, I gave him an open-mouth wink. We looped arms again, and he led me around the house.
Standing next to a table covered in a satin tablecloth, ornate dishes, and flickering candles, was Andrew. Even in a tweed suit, bowler hat, and bright blue tennis shoes, he looked like the guy of my dreams.
Chapter Twenty-Three
“What is all this?” I asked.
Andrew’s blue eyes went wide, making him look perfectly innocent and adorable. “What?”
I folded my arms across my chest, and my ornate brooch dug into my arm.
“Oh, you mean this?” Andrew gestured at the table.
I dropped my hands to my sides and hid them in the dress’s pockets. “Something like that.”
“Darling,” he said, “get ready for a night you’ll never forget.”
He extended his hand, and I walked closer to him. When I rested my hand in his, he spun me around and held me close to his chest.
It might have been the dress or the candles or the tobacco smell of his jacket, but I felt faint in his arms, like we really were in the fifties and I really was in paradise.
His face came close to mine, and he breathed, “Shall we?”
Unable to rub two words together, I nodded.
He spun me back to standing, then let go of my hand long enough to pull out my chair. I sat down, and Andrew helped scoot me closer to the table. Upon inspection, I realized how cute it all was. The china had to be at least fifty years old, another bottle of sparkling cider rested in ice, and votive candles flickered lazily in the slight breeze.
Andrew took a seat across the table, then reached out to hold my hand. The breeze hit my back, almost inching me closer to him. I twisted my fingers through his and looked into his eyes. It didn’t feel cheesy. It felt…intimate. Perfect.
“Ahem.”
I jerked back and saw Andrew’s friend, Roberto, standing in all black.
My hand covered my chest. “Hi, Roberto,” I said, breathing heavy.
His brown eyes danced. “It’s Big Bird, ma’am. Are you and the good sir ready for the first course?”
I looked from Roberto (AKA Big Bird) to Andrew. “‘Good sir’?”
Andrew’s lips twitched. “Just go with it.”
Laughing, I looked back to Big Bird. “Bring it on.”
He lifted a finger. “Perfect. I’ll just pour your drinks first and be on my way.”
After serving us more cider, he left into the house.
Andrew swirled the cider around under his nose and made a big show of tasting it.
I rolled my eyes but couldn’t help a giggle. “You’re ridiculous.”
He swung his head around and gave me the smolder. “Ridiculously crazy about you.”
I might have been wearing a dress fit for a teacher, but I felt like a little schoolgirl with all the charm he was throwing my way. A smile stretched my lips so wide my cheeks hurt.
Roberto returned with two plates heaping with mozzarella sticks and two ramekins, one with ranch and another with marinara sauce.
I stared at Andrew over the plates.
“Remember? You told me your favorite app was cheese sticks with ranch. Which, by the way, is insane. Marinara’s way better.”
My heart melted like the butter on my roll.
Roberto bowed—actually bowed—and then left us to enjoy our food.
“You know,” Andrew said, “I always kind of wanted to do a Lady and the Tramp thing with cheese sticks.”
“You’re kidding.”
He held up one of the fried treats, shaking his head. “Not in the slightest.”
His eyes dancing with mischief, he placed it between his teeth and leaned forward.
How could a girl resist? I took the other half in my mouth and pulled back, and all of the cheese inside came with me. Andrew covered his mouth and cracked up laughing.
Not wanting to stuff the whole thing in my mouth and blow this whole good-sir-madam thing, I took the food out of my mouth and set it on my napkin, laughing too. “Told you it was ridiculous.”
Andrew’s shoulders shook with suppressed laughter. “You didn’t tell me that.”
“Oh.” I looked at my plate. “Well, I thought it, so same thing.”
“What is that? Like an I-thought-you-so?”
I shrugged. “Sure.”
“But we didn’t get to my favorite part of Lady and the Tramp scene.”
“That awkward part where they had to swallow food while kissing?”
Andrew dipped his head down and stared at me under his lashes. “Come on. The kiss. It was classic.” He reached up and tipped my hat back, then his fingers grazed from my temple to the sensitive skin at the nape of my neck. And his lips were on mine, salty and oily from the cheese stick, but totally delicious.
He nipped my nose with his. “You’re gorgeous.”
“You’re handsome.”
Big Bird snuck up on us. “And this is your entrée.” He lifted the lid off the platter. “Chocolate chip pancakes and fluffy scrambled eggs.”
My other favorite.
As I took in the meal, Andrew studied my reaction.
“It’s perfect,” I said.
His lips turned up, soft. I knew because I’d kissed him earlier, and I wanted to do it again, so I did.
Roberto coughed. “Still here.”
Andrew sent him a look.
Big Bird bowed. “Still here, good sir and madam. Plus, Spotty spent quite a bit of time making the eggs. Best not let them get cold.”
He didn’t need to tell me twice.
The food was delicious. If things didn’t pan out with Andrew, I might have to see about Spotty.
Just kidding. But the eggs were great.
Dessert came next—cherry pie with homemade vanilla ice cream. Perfection. But that wasn’t all.
Big Bird and Spotty came out and spread a blanket and pillows on the ground, then they set up a projector screen and started playing a movie. The Perks of Being a Wallflower. I hadn’t seen it before,
but Andrew said it reminded him of me. And it actually reminded me of me so much I cried more than once.
As the end credits rolled down the screen, Andrew kept me cradled against his chest, and we stared up at the clouded night sky.
“What kind of love do you think you deserve?” he asked, referencing my favorite line from the film. We accept the love we think we deserve.
I thought about it for a moment. “I think I deserve the kind of love I give.”
He pressed a kiss to my temple. And if there was ever a question about what I needed to do next, it was gone now. I knew what I had to do.
On the drive home, Andrew and I didn’t talk much. We just held hands across the console, and he sang softly to the radio. Not well, but that didn’t matter. I just liked the feeling that he was singing each lyric for me.
We pulled up to my driveway with ten minutes to spare, so we sat in the car.
“So,” he said, “your birthday’s coming up.”
I nodded. “Seventeen.”
“Young ‘un.”
I shoved his arm. “Just because you’re turning eighteen in October.”
His stare sent sizzles across my skin. “And you’ll be underage. Forbidden.”
My breath caught. “You won’t let a little thing like that stop you, will you?”
“Never.” He shook his head. “Your parents are letting me throw you a party here. Be there. Saturday, seven sharp.”
“Like, at my house?”
He nodded. “Does that sound good?”
It sounded too good. And I hoped he wouldn’t hate me when all was said and done.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Rhett and I took the horses out to check cattle at the end of the day. Usually, Harleigh volunteered for that chore, but she had another date..
The pasture we rode to was right near the house, and we took it slow, letting the horses meander the fence line. Rhett had opted to ride bareback, so he leaned over the front of the horse, looking right at home.
“Excited for college?” I asked.
He tilted his head to look at me but stayed lying down. “If I had a choice not to go, I wouldn’t.”
“Why don’t you have a choice?” Up until a few days ago, I never understood why someone wouldn’t do everything in their power to go to college. But now I did. Sometimes, other things were more important.
“My grandpa. He’ll never forgive me if I don’t go and give myself a second option.”
“Yeah?”
“He took me to this fancy college in New Jersey for a college visit—his alma mater—but it just wasn’t for me.”
I looked down and rubbed my horse’s neck. “So, tech school was the compromise?”
“Yep,” he said. The only thing that could have made him more country was a wheat straw between his teeth.
“What’s your dream job?” I asked.
He snorted, sounding oddly similar to the horse. “This is it.”
A smile touched my lips, and I looked around us, at the miles of rolling, grassy hills and grazing cattle, and I believed him. “It is pretty nice out here.”
“Mhmm.”
For a while we rode in silence, taking in the world around us. Maybe lives were just like the cattle in the field. We each had the chance to go different directions, but when it came down to it, everyone was in the same pen. Trapped.
“What about you?” he asked.
I shrugged. “Honestly, my biggest dream has always been to get away. It didn’t really matter where.”
A crease formed between his eyebrows. “Is it that bad?”
“You have no idea.” It wasn’t now, with Mom and Dad getting along, but it was going to be soon. Good times like this never lasted, even when I didn’t do something to mess it up. “Rhett, can I ask you a favor?”
He sat up on the horse. “Yeah, anything. What’s up?”
I wanted to tell him to think twice. That it wouldn’t be so simple. But I just told him what I needed and hoped for the best. “I’ve got to take my sister to a concert tomorrow, and I need you to come get me.”
And, surprisingly, he agreed.
That night, I slept restlessly, thinking of all the ways my plan could fail, but if it worked, it would be worth it.
The morning of my birthday, Dad made my favorite food—chocolate chip pancakes and eggs, then we hung out around the house, watching TV, snacking, talking about my party that evening. Around three, Mom and Dad said Liz and I should go do something for a few hours so they could get ready with Andrew. This was exactly what I’d been hoping for. And what I’d been dreading.
“Let me go clean up our room real quick,” I said. “It’s a mess.”
Liz held her hands up like she was praying. “Thank God, it was about time.”
“Hey, it’s half your mess!”
Mom laughed and smiled between the two of us. “It’s just like old times. But better.”
My stomach skydived without a chute, and I fought to keep a smile on my lips. “Be right back.”
In our room, I hurried to throw together a bag of Liz’s stuff—no easy feat since her belongings were scattered around the room. There was one thing I wouldn’t dare leave, though. I searched everywhere for her sonogram picture and finally found it under her pillow.
I ran my hands over the smooth paper, over the image of my niece or nephew. That tiny little person hadn’t asked to be here, but it deserved the best life possible. I’d do whatever I could to make sure it had a better childhood than Liz and I had.
I made sure I had everything I’d need in one of my old purses—all the cash from my savings account, the title to the pickup, and a green onesie that said, “My Auntie Loves Me.” Then I stuffed it in the duffel bag.
I tossed Liz’s bag out the window, then shimmied out myself and hurried to throw it in the bed of my pickup. Back in my room, I picked up my own purse and walked into the living room.
I leaned against the threshold wall, watching them. Mom, Dad, and Liz all spread out and arguing over how much they thought this antique bench on the screen should be worth. Liz was about three thousand dollars high, and Dad made a crack, saying that was the reason why they had so little money.
Liz caught sight of me. “Ready to go?”
My smile faltered, and I nodded.
“Cool.” She stood and pulled up her leggings, doing that weird pants dance girls with thick thighs have to do after sitting down.
I went to Mom and wrapped her in a tight hug. In less than twenty-four hours, our house would be thrown back into chaos, and I would miss this, even if I knew it wouldn’t last.
“I love you,” I said into her shoulder.
“Love you too.” She rubbed my back, and I pretended we were just a normal mom and daughter with no giant baby secrets hanging between us. No breakdown about to happen.
Dad stuck out his arm, and I went to hug him too. He pulled me down into his lap. “Even if you’re all grown up, I still love you, squirt.”
“You too, Dad.”
He opened his arms wider. “Get over here, Lizard.”
She rolled her eyes at the old nickname but came and joined in on the hug. Then Mom did, too, and we were this awkward, dysfunctional, but totally loving family, if only for a minute.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Liz didn’t notice the bag in the back of the pickup. She just got in and closed the door. “Let’s make a Walmart run. I need to get some baggier shirts.”
I put the pickup in reverse, backed out, then drove to the corner and stopped. “Liz, are you going to tell Mom and Dad?”
Her eyes widened, and she looked down at her lap. “I…I don’t know.”
“Liz, I need to know. Are you going to tell them, or are you going to duck out before they can tell?”
She blinked quickly and shook her head almost imperceptibly.
“That’s all I needed to know.” I started the pickup back down the road and turned to go out of town.
“What are you doing?
” she asked.
“We’re going on a little road trip.”
For the next hour, she begged and cajoled, trying to get information out of me. Finally, I snapped.
“Liz, knock it off. I’m not telling you because you’ll try and talk me out of it, and I don’t want that to happen.” It would be way too easy to start being selfish and turn around, especially when I pictured Andrew waiting, at our house, at the birthday party he threw just for me.
A couple of hours into our trip, my phone started ringing. Mom. Then she called Liz.
“Don’t answer it,” I said.
She stared at me. “Why shouldn’t I?”
Whatever came over me was like a mix between crazy and genius, a blend of Jekyll and Hyde and totally foreign to me, but I went with it. I’d risked everything for this moment, and Liz wasn’t going to ruin it, not for me, and definitely not for her. “I’ll drive this pickup off the road.”
She raised her eyebrows.
“Don’t you dare try me,” I said. I couldn’t let her spoil this before we even got to Dallas.
And at that moment, I felt so crazy and desperate that it must have shown on my face. She believed me.
“Turn your phone off,” I said. “And hand it over.”
She gave it to me, and I put it in my door pocket.
Mom called me again. Another from Mom. Then Andrew. Then Dad. Then texts came in. I turned my phone on do not disturb. I couldn’t handle the reality of what this might do to our family, to my relationship with Andrew. Standing him up had been necessary, not right. At least, I told myself it was necessary.
Liz kept an angry silence for another hour until we passed the Dallas city limits. Then, she gasped. “You’re taking me to his show.”
I clenched the steering wheel. “Liz, he deserves to know.”
Her head shook back and forth so quickly her ponytail swung around her. “No, no, no. Skye! He’s going to hate me. I was on birth control. He used a condom. This wasn’t supposed to happen.”
And then Andrew’s words about intimacy came to mind. “He shouldn’t have been having sex with you if he wasn’t ready for the consequences.”
Loving Skye: Book Three (The Texas Star Series 3) Page 9