Garrett

by Linda Lael Miller

  It would make a lot more sense to simply walk away, right now, before things got any more out of hand.

  Except that she was a normal woman, not yet thirty, with healthy desires and needs that made her body ache with a singular loneliness sometimes—okay, often—in the depths of the night.

  “I have a son,” Julie said, very quietly and at considerable length. “What I do affects him. We’re between homes, Calvin and I, and he just met his father for the first time since he was a baby. I don’t want to confuse him. He looks up to Tate, and now you, and like any little boy, he’s impressed by airplanes and all the rest—”

  She was rambling.

  Tears sprang to Julie’s eyes at that moment, and she was completely unprepared for them.

  Garrett reached over, took her hand and pulled her easily onto his lap.

  “Hey,” he said. “Everything’s going to be okay.”

  “That,” Julie sniffled, making no move to get back to her own chair, “is easy for you to say. For you, everything will be okay, because you’re a man, and a McKettrick man, at that.”

  Garrett cupped her cheeks in his hands, let the pad of his right thumb brush lightly over her mouth.

  “Don’t you dare kiss me,” Julie said, thinking she’d die if he didn’t do exactly that.

  “I can wait,” he told her, his voice a sleepy, rumbling drawl. “Because sooner or later, Julie Remington, I mean to kiss you all over, and I’m only starting with your mouth.”

  A hot shiver went through her.

  It was going to be one of those achy nights, and there wasn’t a damn thing she could do about it.

  Garrett traced the edges of her mouth with his thumb again. “Did you mean it when you offered to cook for me?” he asked, his voice slow and low. His face was so close to hers that she could feel the warmth of his breath against her lips.

  She nodded. There was no sense in denying it. When Julie offered to cook for a man, it was a big deal. “Yes,” she said.

  “Tomorrow night?” he prompted. “My place?”

  Julie swallowed hard. On the inside, she felt like a pinball machine on tilt. “I’m going shopping with my sisters tomorrow,” she said. “For Libby’s wedding gown.”

  “I see,” Garrett said, barely breathing the words. “And you won’t be in the mood to—cook—after a long day on the town?”

  “I have to consider Calvin,” she reminded him.

  “Calvin likes spending the night over at Tate and Libby’s place, doesn’t he? With the twins?”

  Julie was almost hypnotized. She knew what was happening—she was being seduced—and she was going along with it. She was letting Garrett lead her, however circuitous the route, right to his bed.

  “Your place?” she asked. She knew he had a condo or a house or something in Austin.

  He raised his chin, looked briefly toward the ceiling. “Upstairs,” he said.

  Julie had been curious about Garrett’s private quarters. Now she was going to get the tour.

  Sort of.

  “No strings,” she warned. “On either side.”

  Garrett tipped his head a little to the right, nibbled briefly at the side of her neck. “No strings,” he agreed.

  Julie nearly cried out, the pleasure of his mouth on her skin was so intense. “We’re both adults here,” she said, breathlessly.

  Who was she reminding—Garrett or herself?

  “Consenting adults,” Garrett said.

  Julie got shakily to her feet. The irony was, she would have fallen back into Garrett’s lap if he hadn’t steadied her by taking a firm grip on her hips.

  When he bent forward and nipped at her, very lightly, where the legs of her jeans met, she couldn’t hold back a groan of desire so keen that it spiked through her like a bolt of lightning.

  He chuckled. “I thought so,” he mused, almost under his breath.

  Julie regained her senses—mostly—and stepped away from him. She still tingled where he’d put his mouth to her, ached to give herself up to him then and there.

  She didn’t, of course.

  She still had some dignity, some self-control.

  But not much.

  CHAPTER NINE

  IT WAS AN ACHY NIGHT.

  Julie barely slept, and when she arrived at Libby and Tate’s place the next morning, with an excited Calvin in tow, Paige was there ahead of her. Bright-eyed and dressed for marathon shopping in jeans, running shoes and a long-sleeved red T-shirt, Paige looked even younger than her twenty-eight years.

  Happy chaos reigned in the small kitchen—dogs barked, the twins squabbled and Tate gave a shrill whistle to get everybody’s attention.

  The dogs and the kids went silent, stricken with what appeared to be awed admiration. After all, not everybody could whistle like that.

  It was impressive.

  Tate was impressive.

  “Breakfast!” Tate announced, as a follow-up to the whistle, setting a platter piled high with pancakes in the center of the table, alongside a dish of scrambled eggs and a plate of crisp bacon.

  Since Calvin’s jacket zipper was still stuck, he threw the whole shebang off over his head, disappeared into the nearest bathroom to wash his hands and scrambled to join in the meal as soon as he got back to the kitchen. The way he dug into that food, Julie thought with rueful affection, a casual observer would think he was being starved at home.

  Libby, dressed in dark slacks and a long-sleeved white blouse, looked pretty spiffy compared to her sisters; like Paige, Julie had elected to go casual, wearing jeans, comfortable shoes and a lightweight sweatshirt.

  Libby and Tate exchanged a light kiss, in the midst of all that breakfast hubbub, and there was something so sizzly-sweet in the way they looked together that Julie’s throat went tight and her eyes stung.

  Paige gave her a light elbow bump. “Libby is getting married,” she said. “Can you believe it?”

  “I can believe it,” Tate said, when another, longer kiss ended, smiling down into Libby’s happy eyes. “And it’s none too damn soon, either.”

  Paige was driving that day—her car was a four-door and easy on gas.

  There was a flurry of departure—goodbyes, reiteration of plans and assigned chores for the day—and then the Remington sisters were outside, ready to roll.

  When Libby climbed into the back of Paige’s late-model compact, Julie shrugged and took the front passenger seat, feeling a lot more awake and ready for the day now that the three of them were setting off on their own.

  Paige slid behind the wheel, started the engine and reached to switch off the radio when country music blared into the car.

  “You’re growing your hair out,” Julie observed, with some surprise, noticing that Paige’s dark, glossy cap of hair was getting longer.

  “It’s been too long since you two have seen each other,” Libby remarked, from the back, “if you’re just now noticing that Paige changed her hair, Jules.”

  Paige backed up the car, turned it around and started down the bumpy dirt driveway toward the main road. “It has definitely been too long,” she agreed. “We need to do this more often. Get together, I mean, just the three of us.”

  Julie wondered at Paige’s words, though they sounded lighthearted. As different as they were from each other, the bond between the sisters had always been tight. Since Libby and Tate had fallen in love, though, things weren’t the same.

  They had always been busy with their separate lives, but they’d spent more time together before.

  Briefly adjusting the rearview mirror for a quick look, Julie saw Libby’s eyes looking back at her.

  “Are you feeling neglected, little sister?” Libby asked, addressing Paige. Her voice was gentle—as the firstborn, she’d looked after Julie and Paige, especially after their mother, Marva, deserted the family when they were small.

  Before Paige could answer—she’d surely been about to say yes—they met Garrett, driving Austin’s red truck, about halfway down the long driveway. />
  Julie, unnerved, would have preferred just to wave as they passed, but Paige stopped her car and rolled down the window, prompting Garrett to stop, too.

  Julie stared straight ahead while they exchanged pleasantries.

  Just the night before, she’d let this man kiss her—heck, she’d kissed him back—and they’d made plans to have sex and supper, though possibly not in that order—and the night before that, they’d gone horseback riding in the moonlight.

  Considering all that, Julie couldn’t bring herself to even look at Garrett, let alone make small talk. What would she say, after all?

  She imagined the conversational possibilities.

  I don’t usually plan sex—it’s always been an impulse thing with me.

  How could I have known you all these years, Garrett McKettrick, and never noticed how hot you are?

  I’m worried—you might have the power to break my heart.

  All discards, of course.

  Soon, mercifully, Paige and Julie had finished the informal country-road chat with Garrett, and they were off again.

  Julie snuck a glance at the rearview, watching as Garrett barreled on up the driveway, a plume of dust churning behind the old truck.

  “Phew,” Paige said, “when I first saw that red truck—”

  “You thought it was Austin,” Libby finished for her. “You two have been out of high school for ten years now. The breakup, spectacular as it was, is water under the bridge. Don’t you think it’s about time you stopped avoiding each other? Especially now that you’re going to be family?”

  Remembering Austin’s mood the night before, when he’d shown up during supper, Julie felt her spirits dampen a little. Something was definitely wrong there, and it made her sad.

  “Family,” Paige scoffed. “Austin will be part of your family, Lib, not mine.”

  “Meaning if Austin is going to be at our place for, say, Thanksgiving dinner, you’ll stay away?” Libby asked, sounding hurt.

  Paige and Julie exchanged glances.

  And then Paige softened a little, braking for the stop sign at the bottom of the hill and signaling a left turn, toward town. Their favorite mall, outside of Austin, was nearly two hours away, but they’d agreed to stop for breakfast at a roadhouse between Blue River and San Antonio.

  “I promise to be civil to Austin McKettrick if I can’t avoid him,” Paige said, raising one hand as if to swear an oath. “Fair enough?”

  “Fair enough,” Libby replied, though Julie knew she was still troubled. Then, after an eloquent sigh, Libby added, “You know, Paige, you need to mellow out.”

  “I need to mellow out?” Paige repeated, with a giggle. “Easy for you to say, Lib—you’re getting regular sex.”

  Julie scooted a little further down in her seat, hoping the subject would change before she felt compelled to blurt out to her sisters, with whom she shared pretty much everything, that she had decided to go to bed with Garrett McKettrick.

  “It’s not just regular sex,” Libby said, amused. “It’s extremely good sex.”

  Julie, who usually would have jumped on the topic with more aplomb than either Libby or Paige, remained silent. Miserably silent.

  “What’s the matter with you?” Libby finally demanded, poking her in the shoulder from behind.

  “Nothing,” Julie lied. “Nothing whatsoever is the matter with me.”

  “We’re talking about sex and you haven’t said anything outrageous,” Paige told her. “Who are you and what have you done with our sister, Julie?”

  Finally, Julie laughed. She couldn’t help it. Nor could she hide the note of despair underlying her amusement. A tear streaked down her cheek, and she wiped it away with the back of one hand—though not quickly enough to keep Paige from seeing.

  Paige pulled the car to the side of the road and flipped on the safety blinkers.

  “All right, spill it,” she told Julie.

  With her brown eyes and dark hair, Paige looked the most like their father. The resemblance gave her an odd authority, at least some of the time.

  “What’s going on?” Libby demanded, unhooking her seat belt and scooting forward to shove her head between the seats and study Julie.

  Julie sniffled. “I’m going to sleep with, of all people, Garrett McKettrick,” she burst out. “And I don’t even have the excuse of not knowing any better!”

  Libby began to laugh.

  Paige beamed. “Wow,” she said. “You and Garrett?”

  “There is no ‘Garrett and me,’” Julie countered quickly. “This is only about sex.”

  “I can’t believe I’m hearing this,” Libby said. “‘This is only about sex’?”

  “Hot damn,” Paige said, clearly delighted. Then she repeated, more slowly that the first time, “You and Garrett.”

  “Maybe we can have a double wedding!” Libby chimed in, thrilled.

  “No double wedding,” Julie was quick to say. “Garrett and I aren’t like you and Tate. This isn’t a love match—it’s pure lust. We don’t have the same goals, or even the same values, unless I miss my guess.”

  “Garrett’s a hunk and you could really use a man in your life,” Paige put in, careful to keep her eyes mostly on the road, though she did sneak a few glances in Julie’s direction. “Goals can be adapted, and let’s face it, the McKettricks are known for being straight shooters, so there shouldn’t be any problem with values.”

  “He’s a politician,” Julie reminded her sisters.

  “Think of how great this would be for Calvin,” lobbied Paige.

  “Garrett is a politician,” Julie repeated.

  “You make it sound like he has a case of leprosy,” Libby said.

  “That might be an improvement,” Julie insisted. “Garrett is aligned with Senator Cox, and Senator Cox, in case you haven’t been watching the news, has the morals of an alley rat.”

  “But you’re planning to sleep with the man,” Paige said, in a let-me-get-this-straight tone of voice. “Despite an obviously low opinion of his political affiliation?”

  “His former political affiliation,” Libby put in. “Garrett doesn’t work for Morgan Cox anymore.”

  “We’ve admitted there’s an attraction, that’s all,” Julie tossed into the verbal jumble, making her tone lofty. “Since we’re both consenting adults, we’ve decided to go to bed together. It’s just that simple.”

  “Straight to bed?” Paige teased, shutting off the blinkers and easing carefully onto the road again. “Without passing go and collecting two hundred dollars?”

  Julie rolled her eyes at the reference to the board game they’d played throughout their childhood. Paige had always been the one to buy up all the little green houses and red hotels, erecting them on the most expensive properties, too. A shark, winding up with piles of pastel-colored money at the end of every session.

  She’d been downright ruthless when it came to collecting the rent.

  “I’m cooking dinner for him first,” Julie said.

  “Well,” Libby said, drawing out the word and waving both hands for emphasis, “that’s different, then. You’re going to cook a gourmet meal for Garrett and then fall into bed with him. Where, pray tell, is Calvin going to be during this—this escapade?”

  Julie turned in the seat and found herself almost eye-to-eye with Libby. Libby’s words had been inflammatory, but now Julie saw that her sister’s baby blues were twinkling with mischief.

  “I hope,” Julie answered, “that Calvin will be at your place, spending the night.”

  “That’s it?” Paige marveled, sounding thrilled. “Take Calvin to a babysitter, cook a meal and hit the sheets? That’s your plan?”

  “I’m not a babysitter,” Libby said, miffed. “I’m Calvin’s aunt.”

  “That’s the plan,” Julie admitted.

  “I like it,” Paige said, with enthusiasm.

  They all laughed then.

  The topic of conversation turned to breakfast, and the day ahead—which bridal shops an
d upscale department stores ranked highest on Libby’s list, what color their bridesmaids’ dresses should be.

  Audrey and Ava would be junior bridesmaids, and Calvin was the official ring bearer.

  During breakfast at the roadhouse, they talked about the cottage Julie had been renting being put on the market, and the whole tenting-for-termites experience, and Paige, an RN, confided that she’d been offered a job at Blue River’s clinic. It paid less than she was making now, but the benefits were good and the hours were shorter, and she wouldn’t have to commute fifty miles every day, and that was worth something, wasn’t it?

  Libby and Julie agreed that it was.

  They visited two different malls and three bridal shops before they found The Dress.

  It was a cloud of gossamer silk, that dress, with a fitted bodice and lovely full sleeves and tiny ivory pearls and pinpoint rhinestones setting it alight, as though it had been fashioned from some long-ago snowfall. The veil seemed to be made of air and candlelight.

  Libby stood frozen on the sidewalk in front of the small Austin boutique when she spotted it in the window, a fairy-tale gown, more fantasy than fabric.

  Trying it on only magnified the magical effect.

  Of course, there would be alternations—the dress was too big through the waist and too small in the bodice—but the sight of Libby swathed in all that soft glory brought tears to Julie’s eyes, and to Paige’s.

  They stared at their sister in wonder, outside the dressing room, marveling. Libby seemed translucent; like a human pearl, she glowed with soft, creamy brilliance.

  Happiness looked good on Libby, and so did that marvelous dress.

  The exquisite gown, the saleswoman explained, was vintage, on consignment from the costume department of a movie studio. As far as she knew, no one had ever actually worn it in a film, but Julie pictured Loretta Young wearing it, and then Vivien Leigh, and neither of them could compare to Libby.

  Paige snapped a photo with her cell phone, planning to zap it off to Tate, but Libby absolutely forbade that. The dress had to be a surprise, she maintained—her groom was not to see her in that gown until their wedding, scheduled for New Year’s Eve.