Room For You (Cranberry Inn)

by Beth Ehemann

  “In the linen closet in the bathroom.”

  “Thanks!”

  “No problem, babe,” he called back nonchalantly like it was just any other Saturday, but those three tiny words sent my heart into a tizzy.

  Leaving the bedroom door slightly ajar, I walked into the guest bathroom and slid the linen closet door open and laughed out loud. On the shelf there must have been thirty different shampoos and conditioners—fruity ones, flowery ones, extra-strengthening ones—made by every imaginable salon company. Still snickering, I called out the door again, “Did you rob a beauty supply store or what?”

  He chuckled in the living room before yelling back. “No, I had no idea what you used, so I bought every one they had.”

  My mouth hung open, shock coursed through my veins as I stared incredulously at the shelf. It was such an innocent, silly gesture on his part, but it meant more to me than he could possibly comprehend.

  Freak out about shampoo later, Kacie. Pull yourself together and get your ass in the shower.

  Tonight I was meeting several new people; most of whom would know me as nothing more than ‘Brody’s date’, so it was imperative that I didn’t embarrass him or make him look bad. More importantly, one of those people was his best friend since childhood, and his wife, who according to Brody, made a piranha look like a teddy bear. My stress level was at an all-time high; I desperately wanted everything to go perfectly. I wanted them to like me.

  Screw that, I wanted them to love me.

  When you’ve spent the majority of your adult life in jeans and t-shirts, an event like this was beyond intimidating. Lauren helped me in the style department with the dress and the shoes, but I was on my own with makeup. The last thing I wanted was to look like a cheap hooker he’d picked up on his way over. And don’t even get me started on table manners.

  Salad fork, dinner fork, soup spoon, regular spoon … it was all so damn overwhelming.

  An hour later, I stood in front of the full-length mirror, inspecting every last detail of my appearance. I’d put my hair up and then taken it back down six different times, changed my eye makeup three times and cursed out loud twice that I hadn’t brought that damn salmon colored dress with me as a backup.

  It is what it is. Showtime.

  I slipped my feet into Lauren’s not-too-high silver heels, took a deep breath, squeezed every drop of confidence I could muster out of my soul and strode into the living room.

  Empty.

  “Holy shit,” Brody muttered from behind me where he stood frozen at the kitchen sink.

  My heart rocketed into my throat and stuck there as I spun to face him. “Is that a good holy shit, or a bad holy shit?”

  He didn’t respond with his mouth, but his eyes spoke volumes as they raked slowly all the way down my body and back up again. “It’s the best holy shit ever.”

  Proudly, I looked down at myself and beamed up at him. “I cleaned up okay, huh? On a scale from one to ten-”

  “Six hundred fifty-two.” He interrupted as he stalked over, gripped the back of my head and pressed his mouth to mine hard.

  That kiss was different from all the other ones he’d given me. His tongue delved deep into my mouth with the delicious promise of things to come for the night. It was getting harder and harder to resist letting him do whatever he wanted to me. He pulled back just enough to press his forehead against mine, still cupping the back of my head.

  His tone was rough; if sex ever had a voice, this would be it. “We need to leave because I’m about to blow this thing off, throw you over my shoulder and take you straight to bed.”

  Just that sentence alone caused a fire to start between my legs, and I started to wonder if sleeping over was a good idea after all.

  A security guard waved us through the gated entrance of an exclusive golf course community. The winding streets were lined with antique lampposts and perfectly shaped hedges, each house bigger and more lavish than the one before.

  “What is this? The Stepford subdivision?” I asked in awe as Brody curved his way to the back of the neighborhood, easing his black BMW 740i into a wide stone-paved driveway that curved up into a half circle in front of what could have easily passed for a castle.

  “Something like that.” He put his car in park as my mouth fell open, staring incredulously at the two parking attendants heading our way.

  “They have valets for dinner parties? At their house?”

  Brody looked over at me and rolled his eyes dramatically. “Only the best for Blaire.”

  My door swung open and one of the young men took my hand, helping me out of the car. “Thank you,” I said, smiling up at him.

  Brody handed the other man his keys and met me at the front of the car. He offered me his arm, which I eagerly accepted before I broke a heel on Lauren’s shoe, or my ankle, on this fancy cobblestone driveway.

  “You’re not a big fan of Blaire, huh?” I asked as we slowly walked up to the house.

  He looked me dead in the eye. “Not in the slightest. We haven’t really liked each other since college. I’ve always thought she was a gold digger, and she thought I was a bad influence on Andy. I’m only here as a favor to him. Plus I’m excited to see the kids, assuming she hasn’t shipped them off for the night.”

  “They have kids?”

  “Yep, Logan is 4 and Becca is almost 2.”

  Perfect!

  That would be my in with Blaire; all moms love talking about their kids and telling those really embarrassing tantrum stories or comparing little tips and products. This would be easier than I thought.

  Their house was even more amazing up close than it was from the street. The over-sized, arched front doors were made of dark chestnut wood with wrought iron accents. Waist-high vases sat on either side of the porch with bright, hot pink flowers cascading down the sides. Brody reached over and rang the bell and within seconds, a sunny woman in her early sixties answered the door. Her short, gray bob curled around her plump cheeks as they rose with her cheery smile.

  “Welcome, please come in.” She stepped back and nodded politely as we walked through the doorway.

  We were barely through the door, when a little boy leapt from the widest staircase I’d ever seen, straight into Brody’s arms. “Uncle Brody!”

  The cute little guy with sandy blonde hair and bright blue eyes, dressed in Angry Birds pajamas, wrapped his arms and legs around Brody’s torso like a monkey. Not that I could blame him, I’d wanted to do that to him myself a few times.

  “What’s up, my man?” Brody peeled him off and tossed him up high in the air over and over. Logan’s squeals echoed through the cold, stone foyer. A chill passed through me as I looked around. You couldn’t even tell kids lived here.

  She probably keeps them locked in the dungeon.

  I chuckled to myself as a little girl with a head of white-blonde ringlets wobbled up to Brody and held her arms up.

  “Becca!” He cheered as he reached down and scooped her up in his other arm, covering her tiny face with kisses as she squirmed and giggled.

  “Figures the first thing you’d do when you get here is make the kids wild.” A soothing voice from behind me called out.

  A distinguished looking man, dressed in what I imagined was an expensive jet-black suit, appeared from the back of the house. I was shocked by his resemblance to Logan, who was an exact replica of him, just a smaller version. Same sandy blonde hair, same bright blue eyes.

  He walked over and offered his hand, which Brody awkwardly shook around Becca, pulling him in for one of those man hugs where they don’t really embrace each other, more like back slapping.

  “Glad you made it, I wasn’t so sure you’d actually show.” He reached for Becca who eagerly dove for her father’s chest, laying her head on his shoulder while she eyed me cautiously.

  “Trust me, I didn’t want to, but Kacie here was dying to try Blaire’s cooking.” He joked sarcastically as he draped his arm over my shoulder.

  “Hi Kacie, I
’m Andy.” His smile was warm and familiar as he gently took my hand in his.

  “Hi Andy, thanks for inviting me.” I couldn’t resist the cute little thing clinging to his neck any longer. “You must be Becca. Aren’t you the cutest little thing I’ve ever seen. Is that your baby?” I pointed at the floppy doll tucked under her arm.

  She sat up straight, her eyes lighting up as she lunged for me.

  “Becca, sit nice, honey. Not everyone wants to hold you.” Andy kissed her cheek.

  “It’s okay, I’d like to … if you don’t mind.”

  “Of course not,” he said as he handed her over to me. “I have to attempt to pry Logan off of Brody anyway. That’s a task in and of itself.” He reached over and tickled under Logan’s arms in an attempt to get him to loosen his grip around Brody’s neck, but Brody squeezed Logan tight and defiantly ran the other direction. Andy looked back at me and sighed. “As you can see, they have the same mental capacity. It’s why they get along so well.”

  Becca held her baby up to me, pointing at its face. “Nose.”

  “Is that the baby’s nose?” I cooed at her. “Where’s your nose?”

  She giggled and shoved her chubby little finger in her nostril. Andy reached over, quickly plucking it out. “She probably learned that from Uncle Brody, too.”

  I laughed, feeling instantly relaxed with Andy and wondering how such a nice guy could be married to the witch Brody had described. Clearly he must have exaggerated. Andy held his hands out to Becca, but she swatted them away and laid her head on my shoulder.

  “Wow, looks like I’ve been replaced,” he teased.

  “Fine by me,” I said. “She’s cuddly.” The smell of baby shampoo in her hair made me ache for my girls. I’d been so distracted with Brody today that I thought I was handling being away from them just fine, until this little reminder hit me square in the face.

  “Oh, I’m so sorry!” A woman bellowed as she came into the room. She looked like a supermodel. Tall, ultra-thin and dressed like she just walked out of a magazine, her large, platinum curls swayed like a pendulum when she moved. I was sure there was a dentist somewhere who was putting his kid through college, thanks to all she’d spent on teeth whitening.

  “Becca, come here. Stop bothering people.” She roughly took Becca from me, while Becca fussed in protest. “Gloria, could you come here, please?” She yelled toward the back of the house, sounding annoyed as her turquoise earring violently swung back and forth.

  “Coming.” A young lady briskly walked to the foyer. Her hands were folded neatly in front of her while her eyes were plastered to the floor like a child who had just been reprimanded.

  “Gloria, what am I paying you for? You’re supposed to be watching the children!” She scolded as she pushed Becca into Gloria’s arms. In the hand off, Becca dropped her baby on the floor and I bent down and picked it up, quickly handing it to Blaire, who rolled her eyes. “Here. Don’t forget her stupid doll.”

  She looked over at Brody and Logan and snapped her fingers. “Logan. Go. Now.”

  Brody glared at Blaire and gently pulled Logan off his shoulders, setting him on the ground. “We’ll catch up before you go to bed, okay?” Brody high-fived Logan as he walked off with Gloria and Becca, his shoulders slumped in disappointment.

  “I’m so sorry about that.” She locked eyes with me, grabbing my hand in hers. “I’m Blaire, so nice to meet you.”

  “I’m Kacie, nice to meet you too.”

  Brody walked up behind me and put his arm around my shoulders again. “Kacie is my date,” he taunted proudly.

  She looked him up and down, scrunching her nose in disgust. “I’m sorry for that too,” she said, leaning in close to me. “You guys wanna come in or what?” With that she turned and disappeared as quickly as she’d entered.

  Andy sighed at us, holding up his glass. “I’m gonna go refill this with something much stronger. You guys want one?”

  “Absolutely,” Brody answered for both of us, noticing I was still too speechless to talk. “Nice tie choice, big shot.” He reached over and flicked the sky blue tie on Andy’s chest that was decorated with little yellow Angry Birds all over it.

  “Hey, lay off man, Logan picked it out.” He looked at me and winked. “Plus it really pisses her off when I wear it.”

  We followed Andy to the back of the house, Brody groping my butt the whole way. In shock of his brazen behavior, I turned and stared at him in disbelief. He grabbed my hand and stopped walking, allowing Andy to go on without us as he pulled me in for a tight hug.

  “Don’t look at me like that, I can’t help it. This dress, my God,” he growled into my neck.

  Twice today Brody had a moment of animalistic intensity, and holy shit, I loved it. If he could turn me on like that with just his words, I was dying to see what he could do with his body … or his tongue.

  I bit my lip as he sucked on my ear lobe. “Maybe if you play your cards right, it’ll be in a heap on your bedroom floor tonight.”

  He groaned as he kissed his way down my jawline.

  “Hey, you two need to borrow the guest room, or can you hold off until after dinner?” Andy grinned, teasing from the kitchen doorway. I pulled back from Brody and straightened my dress, following him into the kitchen.

  “Sorry,” I apologized half-sincerely as we passed him.

  “Don’t apologize, I was just kidding.” Andy leaned in close to my ear. “Besides, I’ve never seen him like this, it’s kinda nice.” He smiled, squeezing my hand as he walked away.

  From across the kitchen Blaire narrowed her eyes, glaring in my direction. I swung around to see if there was anyone behind me but no one was there.

  “You okay?” Brody’s brows were crinkled, concern in his voice.

  “Yeah, I just thought … nothing. Yes, I’m good.” I shook my head, laughing nervously, thankful when someone called his name and distracted him with hockey talk.

  Turns out it wasn’t as big of a party as I thought it was going to be, only eight couples were invited. During the meal some of Blaire’s staff brought in an extra table in the dining room and we split up, four couples per table. Thankfully, Brody made sure we weren’t sitting at Blaire’s table.

  Dinner was actually really good. She made lamb chops topped with gorgonzola butter, garlic mashed potatoes and crisp asparagus. It wasn’t something I would have thrown a party and hired valets for, but she was trying and deserved a little credit. During the meal, I met a really sweet woman named Chelsea, who also happened to have twins. Apparently she and Blaire were in the same book club. We hit it off really well. It was nice to have someone else to talk to while Brody was busy arguing about the upcoming football season with the other guys. Talking about the girls made missing them a little easier to handle.

  After dinner, I noticed people started clearing out quickly, partially due to Blaire’s escalating tone. I could hear her getting louder and louder in her storytelling, and that witch cackle she had was impossible to ignore. Twice I saw Andy whisper something in her ear while trying to take her wine glass, to which she objected by pushing him off and laughing.

  Before I knew it Andy, Blaire, Chelsea, her husband Tom, Brody and myself were the only ones there. While the guys were talking in the den, Chelsea and I moved to the kitchen and were standing at the island, chatting and sipping coffee when Blaire came clomping up.

  “What are you two blabbing about?” She slurred as she swished her wine glass around.

  “Books … and kids.” Chelsea looked my way and smiled sweetly, then turned back to Blaire. “We both have twins—how cool is that?”

  Blaire’s jaw dropped as she focused on me. “You have kids?”

  My whole body tensed, my heart raced around in circles inside my chest as I silently begged for Brody to come in and tell me it was time to go.

  “Yep,” I squeaked out, my voice shakier than I meant for it to be. I cleared my throat and continued, “My twins are 5. Both girls.”

  “Wher
e’s their father?” she demanded boldly.

  “Uh, not sure.”

  “You’re not sure?” Her voice raised in accusatory disbelief. “What the fuck does that mean?”

  Oh God, Brody, where are you?

  “Oh … I get it.” Her eyes grew wide as a smirk crawled slowly across her face. “Single mom hits the jackpot with professional athlete.”

  Chelsea interrupted. “Come on, Blaire, that’s not fair.”

  “Oh shut it, Chels,” Blaire snapped. “You know nothing about this girl, neither do I—other than she has terrible taste in men.”

  “Blaire…” Chelsea continued half-heartedly, while I stood wishing I could morph myself into one of the flat slate tiles beneath our feet and disappear forever.

  “It’s a good idea, I don’t completely blame you…” Blaire walked over to the bar and topped off her wine glass, continuing her onslaught. “But seriously, you couldn’t find a better guy? Did you just grab the first one you found, or what? If it were me, I would have picked one that hasn’t fucked half of Minneapolis.”

  Her words punched me in the chest like a champion boxer forcing me to hold onto the counter to keep from reeling backwards toward the ropes. What was she talking about? Brody said he’d never really ever done the girlfriend thing.

  She seemed to notice my panic and fed off of it. “Did you know that? You’re not the first girl he’s taken somewhere, honey. Did you think you were special? It’ll be someone else next week.” She took a long swig of her wine, her eyes locked on me. “Hell, it was someone else just a couple weeks ago. He’s been screwing my friend Kendall on and off for years. She told me she texted him this weekend, but he didn’t answer … guess now we know why, huh?” She cocked an eyebrow and raised her glass at me.

  Chelsea reached behind the counter and apologetically squeezed my hand as she called into the den. “Tom, think we better get going!”

  Please, Brody, follow him in here. Please.