by Grouse, Lili
“Elle,” Kristen cut her off and sat down on the bed next to her, turning to face her. “A guy like that is so not worth it. He only thinks about himself, and trust me, that makes for a pretty sucky experience for you.”
“But-”
“Listen, I know what it’s like, okay? I’ve been there. I wanted to be popular, and I thought that because the popular guys talked about hooking up with different girls every night, that was what I had to do to get there.”
“But you’re so pretty?” Annabelle said as if it was inconceivable that Kristen would want for attention.
“Thanks,” Kristen smiled. “Right back atcha. But looks have surprisingly little importance when it comes to feeling secure about who you are – or figuring it out in the first place.”
“Can I ask you something really personal?” Annabelle said after a moment of processing.
“Okay.”
“How old were you? Like, when you first… you know?”
“Too young,” Kristen smiled wistfully. “I was 16. I was at the quarterback’s house – his parents were out of town somewhere – and there was a party. Sometime in the middle of it, he tugged me upstairs and we went into his bedroom. It was quick and painful, and afterwards, he went back down to join the party. I considered sneaking out and going home, but when I came down the stairs, I saw him high-fiving his team mates with his arm around one of the other cheerleaders. So I stuck my chin out, walked over to where he was standing and kissed one of the other guys right in front of him. Then I went home.”
Annabelle’s jaw had dropped and Kristen felt tears stinging the back of her head, reliving the humiliation.
“TMI?” Kristen attempted a joking remark, but it felt flat and forced leaving her lips.
“No,” Annabelle shook her head. “Did you talk to him again?”
“No. He moved away a few months later, but my reputation stuck. I was a party girl with a slut label until well into college.”
“Did you sleep with a lot of guys?”
“Not as many as the rumors said I did,” Kristen said with a crooked smile.
“I’m scared I won’t have any friends left if I don’t go on this trip,” Annabelle admitted, biting her lip.
“Okay, I know this is like the lamest thing to say, but if your friends don’t like you for who you are, then they’re not really your friends. Honest.”
“You have lots of friends, though, don’t you?”
“I do. Most of them are more like casual acquaintances. I have a few I can trust – the few who wouldn’t care if I were flat out broke or the queen of Sweden.”
“Sweden?”
“I really like IKEA.”
They both laughed then, and when Ford knocked on the door and came in, he found them just like that.
Kristen brushed her hair smooth. She’d finally gotten a chance to make a salon visit – along with Annabelle, of course – and her hair was currently honey blonde and straight. It wouldn’t last long, so she wanted to enjoy it while she could. Straighteners only went so far.
It was their second night in New York, and she was getting ready to go out to dinner with Ford and Annabelle. She was wearing one of her new dresses – a silky smooth black dress that flared out around her knees with thin straps holding the bodice up, her back almost bare except for a criss-cross pattern.
After their heart-to-heart the night before, Kristen and Annabelle had become much closer, and considering the secrets they’d shared, Kristen hadn’t been up to spending the night with Ford. He hadn’t asked why, and she hoped he wouldn’t, but he had asked if they could stay another night in New York so that she had time to relax.
It was a sneaky way of getting a second chance at getting her into bed, and they both knew it. Annabelle, however, oblivious to her father’s scheming side, was beyond thrilled. Instead of one full day of hitting the streets of New York, she was getting two. They would be flying back Monday morning, leaving Sunday night wide open for nocturnal activities.
Kristen was just putting on her earrings when there was a knock on her door. She went to open and found Ford standing outside.
“May I come in?”
“I’m not late, am I?” she asked, checking her phone. “We’re not supposed to be at the restaurant until…”
“You’re not late,” Ford said and stepped inside, closing the door behind him. “Annabelle’s in the shower. I figured I’d give her some space.”
“You’re all dressed up,” she remarked, checking out his charcoal suit. He looked really good in a suit.
“It’s a nice restaurant,” he shrugged. “You look amazing.”
“Thanks,” Kristen smiled, feeling oddly timid. “When did you get the suit?”
“While you two were getting your hair and whatnot done.”
“Ah.”
“You approve, then?”
“Mm-hm,” Kristen nodded, stepping closer. “You look very hot.”
“And that’s a good thing?”
“Stop fishing for compliments,” she chided him playfully, reaching up to pat his cheek, “it’s not very attractive.”
He was about to say something in response, but Kristen didn’t let him. She rose up on her toes and kissed him. When his arms circled her, however, Kristen pushed against his chest. “We don’t have enough time for this.”
“Not to brag, but that’s not entirely true,” Ford said with a crooked grin.
“Trust me, that’s nothing to brag about,” Kristen said and tapped his nose, slipping away from him. “Now go, I need to finish getting ready.”
“You look plenty ready to me,” he said, raking his eyes over her.
“Out,” she pointed to the door, but she had a smile on her face. Ford shrugged and backed up.
“I guess I’ll wait in the lobby, then.”
“Enjoy the New York Times,” she called after him.
After dinner, Kristen surprised them with tickets to Wicked, which Annabelle was thrilled about. Ford was less thrilled when his daughter chose to sit in between him and Kristen, thereby excluding all possibilities of handholding during the scary bits. There were quite a few. Flying monkeys freaked him out.
As they walked back to the hotel, Annabelle was chatting animatedly of what she had seen, and how those kids had been such jerks to Elfie and what other choice did she have except become what they all thought she was. Ford had a hunch there was a deeper meaning to what Annabelle was saying to Kristen, but he refused to dwell on it.
Annabelle was reluctant to leave Kristen’s room, wanting to chat with her all night, and Ford tried suggesting she let Kristen get some rest, because hadn’t they all had a couple of busy days? Eventually, Annabelle fell asleep with the TV on, and Ford ducked out of the room.
He felt like a schoolboy on prom, itching to get his girl alone, and he would have been upset with himself about it if his libido hadn’t been telling him to suck it up and go get the girl.
He knocked lightly on Kristen’s door and when she opened, she was in a white robe, her hair softly framing her face.
“I thought about having a shower,” she said and held the door open for him, “but once I do, my hair is going to revert back to its curly state, and I’d like to enjoy this a little bit longer.”
Ford reached out and ran his hand through a portion of her hair. It slipped between his fingers like fine sawdust. “Yes,” he agreed, “I’d like to enjoy this, too.” His hand fell to her shoulder, where he pushed back the rough fabric of the robe, smoothing it over her naked skin. He leaned in and planted a kiss right on the edge of her shoulder, then kissing his way along her collarbone. “And this.”
Kristen let out a murmur of approval and his hands went to untie the robe, letting it fall to the floor. She was completely nude underneath, which he should have been prepared for under the circumstances, but wasn’t. He bit back a curse and kissed her deeply, one hand on the back of her neck and the other at her hip, holding her against his straining arousal.
&nb
sp; Kristen lightly pushed at his chest, creating some space between them. Before he could question if she had changed her mind, she was undoing his shirt buttons and sliding her hands over his chest. He closed his eyes and let her explore him as she had so many times before, yet it never got old. He could feel her backing him up and when the back of his legs made contact with the edge of the bed, he obediently sat, spreading his legs so she could step between them.
Ford felt her fingers travel downwards to his fly, and his eyes flew open. “Not yet,” he managed to get out and, at the level he was at, leaned in to capture one of her straining nipples with his lips. She held him to her, encouraging him wordlessly – and, occasionally, not so wordlessly. When she’d had enough of the torture, she pushed at his chest again and this time, he obeyed, scooting back on the bed and letting her climb on top of him.
He murmured more than a few expletives as his hands travelled the smooth curve of her hips and buttocks, and when she leaned over him and let her silky hair tickle his chest while she circled his nipples with her tongue, he just about lost it.
Kristen stroked Ford’s arm, which was holding her to him, with light brushstrokes that she was sure would tickle him to death if he were awake. But he wasn’t. He was sleeping comfortably while she was agonizing over their level of intimacy. Tonight hadn’t been about sex. They’d made love. She wasn’t ready for the repercussions of that clarification, so she tried thinking about other things.
Like how he put her needs above his own. Like how he was great with his daughter and continued making the effort, even when their relationship had been strained at best for years. Like how she and Annabelle were getting along like old friends and how she was betraying her friend by sneaking around and sleeping with her friend’s father behind her back.
Okay, so there was a major age difference between her and Annabelle, and she was the adult. Ford and she were both single people. His ex-wife had moved on, so he had every right to do the same. But it couldn’t be with her.
She was leaving. Eight months or so from now, she was quitting this town – well, Greenport – and never looking back. Yes, she might meet up with Annabelle from time to time, as they lived in the same city, but Ford? No. She needed to make a break for it now. The sooner the better.
FOURTEEN
“When is Kristen coming over?” Annabelle asked as they set up the tree in the living room.
“I’m not sure, Annie,” Ford said, rubbing his head.
“Well, can’t you call her? I got her a present.”
“That was really nice of you, Annie. I’m sure she’ll be thrilled to hear that.”
“So call her.”
“Okay, I will. Let’s just get this tree sorted first.”
Annabelle muttered something, but didn’t push him, for which Ford was grateful. Since they got back from New York a couple of days ago, Kristen had been avoiding him. She’d moved into a B&B a few miles outside of town, and gotten herself a rental car.
When he’d asked her what was wrong, she’d simply said that he was right about them getting too close, and that they should take a break from each other. He didn’t agree, but arguing about it would be pointless and only push her further away.
The forced separation didn’t get any easier as Annabelle understood it even less than he did and wouldn’t stop talking about Kristen, insisting he convince her to move back in. He’d briefly considered letting his daughter broker the peace, but decided that was not only an underhanded strategy but a cowardly one at that.
He wasn’t going to get out of calling Kristen and inviting her over, though. He knew his daughter well enough to know that once she set her mind to something, there was no derailing her. He had a feeling that was a character trait she shared with Kristen.
“There. Done. Now call Kristen,” Annabelle proclaimed after putting the star on top.
Ford bit back a groan and left the room to make the dreaded call.
Kristen was just replying to yet another email from Quinlan Bankhead when her phone rang. She looked at the display, saw it was Ford calling, and let it go to voicemail. What part of ‘we need a break’ didn’t register with him?
After a minute or so, her phone beeped to alert her she had a new voicemail message. With a deep sigh, she listened to the recording.
“Kristen. Annabelle wants you to come over tonight. She got you a present. I know you said we needed time apart, but this isn’t about us. Please call me back.”
Kristen listened to the message one more time, then leaned back in her chair, rubbing her temples. She couldn’t disappoint Annabelle. But since she hadn’t planned on spending the holidays with them, she hadn’t gotten the girl anything. And it wasn’t like she would be able to find anything between now and this evening… Kristen bit her lip and pondered. Her gaze went to her suitcase, and then to her purse. Maybe she had the perfect gift right under her nose…
“Kristen!” Annabelle exclaimed when Ford let her in. “You came! Awesome!”
“Hi, Elle,” Kristen said, feeling slightly awkward just standing there. “Thanks for inviting me.”
“Come on in,” Ford said, closing the door behind her.
Kristen unzipped her jacket and set her purse down by the door. Ford helped her with the jacket and she thanked him just as she would anyone. She didn’t feel her insides warm up when his fingers accidently brushed against her shoulders, no sirree.
“Come see the tree,” Annabelle said and waved her over to the living room. “Dad made eggnog.”
“Yum,” Kristen smiled and followed Annabelle’s direction. “Wow. Nice tree.”
“I know, right? Mom always hires someone to do it, but Dad said we should decorate it ourselves. We even went out to buy it.”
“Impressive,” Kristen remarked and looked over to where she thought Ford would be, but he was nowhere to be seen.
“Mary Crenshaw invited us over for dinner – all three of us,” Annabelle informed Kristen, who felt the awkwardness rise to a whole new level. It was one thing to spend the evening with Ford and Annabelle, a very different thing altogether to spend it with family friends of theirs.
“Oh.”
“She’s a great cook,” Annabelle said, as if that would make all the difference. “Like, seriously, she makes the best Devil’s Food Cake ever.”
“You eat there a lot?”
“I work for her – oh, you already knew that, that’s where we met – at the Food Shopper. She always has leftovers for employee lunch and dinner.”
“Cool boss.”
“Yeah. What’s your boss like?”
Kristen laughed. “Pretty awful. But I’m more of my own boss, actually. I only have temporary bosses.”
“Did your parents ever make you work in a shop or something like that?”
“My parents? No. I don’t think they cared enough to teach me about stuff like managing money.”
“What was your first job?”
“Um… home staging. You know, for people who want to sell their homes? I had a couple of friends that were moving, so I helped them out.”
“Cool.”
“Eggnog?” Ford appeared with two glasses. One he handed to Annabelle and the other to Kristen. “This one has alcohol,” he said in a low voice as she took the glass from him.
“Thanks,” Kristen said and tipped her glass to Annabelle’s. “To good friends and good food.”
After returning from the Crenshaws’, where they had indeed been treated to some excellent cooking, Annabelle insisted Kristen open her present. She watched with mixed excitement and worry as Kristen carefully unwrapped the gift.
“It’s lame,” Annabelle cautioned right before the last piece of paper fell away, “you can return it if you want.”
Kristen smiled as she saw the picture on the box. A ceramic hair straightener. “It’s perfect.”
“Your hair looked so great after the salon visit, so I just thought…”
“I love it, Elle,” Kristen said and hugged
Annabelle. “Really, I do. It’s an awesome gift.”
“Cool,” Annabelle said, attempting to mask her delight.
“I have something for you, too. I hope you don’t mind that it’s second-hand…” Kristen said and handed over her gift.
Annabelle quickly tore the paper off, then just stared. First at the wallet, then at Kristen, then back at the wallet. “For real?”
Kristen couldn’t help smiling. “For real.”
“Thank you!” Annabelle practically squealed and threw her arms around Kristen’s neck.
“You’re welcome,” Kristen chuckled. She was happy Monsieur Vuitton would go to someone who’d appreciate him as much as she had.
“It’s a wallet,” Ford said, sounding puzzled.
“Dad!” Annabelle exclaimed, frustrated with his lack of understanding.
“It’s a woman thing,” Kristen said, still chuckling.
“I have to text my friends,” Annabelle said and ran upstairs.
Ford got up and started clearing the wrapping paper, no doubt occupying himself so he wouldn’t have to talk to her.
“I’m sorry I didn’t get you anything,” Kristen said as she watched him clean up.
“I wasn’t expecting anything,” he said. “We’re not together, are we?”
“No. We’re not.”
“So we’re cool, then.”
“I should probably get going…”
“You okay to drive?”
“It’s been hours since I had that eggnog. I’ll be fine.”
“Okay. Have a good night, Kristen.”
“You too.”
“You are so lame, Dad! It’s just a party!” Annabelle was wearing her voice out trying to get Ford to allow her to go to a New Year’s Eve party with Donny Preston and he was steadfastly denying her permission.
“You’re only 15, Annie. I don’t want you out alone at night.”