Living at 40 (Lakeside Cottage Book 1)

by L. B. Dunbar

  At one point, Anna’s mother made the same decision, wanting this house to become their permanent family home instead of their house in Chicago. That decision came after the McCaryn children were all grown, though. Surprisingly, Ben seems perfectly happy to return to this area despite the big city contracts and extensive outlying suburbs his landscaping company services. He’s looking forward to scaling down in business while moving here is scaling up in house size.

  “Done,” Mason announces of his dish duty, drawing our attention away from Ben and Anna’s big announcement. Personally, I’m thrilled they’ll both be closer to me, and I can spend more time with my nephews and Mila, but I still wish it wasn’t for the reason they aren’t sharing yet. “Time for a drink.”

  After drying his hands, Mason steps toward an alcove off the kitchen which houses a built-in bar area. The distinct pop of a bottle topper released from a bottle is heard, and the glug-glug-glug of alcohol being poured in a glass follows.

  “Who else wants a scotch?” he calls out, and several of the guys groan.

  Anna hops off Ben and heads to the counter for another glass of red wine, and Logan hands me another glass. With a glass of water in his hand, he taps my glass. “To adventure,” he states half-heartedly and looks over at Ben again.

  “Come sit on the patio,” Ben tells his friends, and everyone falls in line to follow him. Only once outside, I notice Mason isn’t present. His head bobs up and down as he descends the stairs to a landing halfway down the one-hundred and fifty steps to the beach.

  “Go after him,” Anna whispers, sneaking up behind me.

  “Me? Why me?” Whatever Mason is sulking about isn’t up to me to decipher.

  “He’s lonely. It’s perfect. Just be with him. You never know where it could lead.”

  “Are you crazy?” I mumble, lifting my wine glass, and the words echo within it.

  “You want a baby. He’s your man. I’m telling you, ask him,” Anna encourages.

  “This is ridiculous,” I say, stomping off the patio like a petulant child. I do not want to sleep with Mason Becker, but I also don’t want to hear any more meddling from Anna.

  8

  [Logan]

  I still couldn’t wrap my head around the fact one of my best friends was giving up his hard-earned business to move to this area. Lakeside is a beautiful location, but his father’s business does a fourth of what Ben’s does in a larger city.

  Even more pressing on me, though, is the fact Autumn followed pouty Mason down the steps, and they hadn’t returned.

  “I’m going to check on those guys,” I state, offering no other explanation for following Autumn after ten minutes that felt like a lifetime. Mason had been flirting with her all through dinner despite her sitting next to me, and he continued the blatant perusal of her body while he washed dishes. Kiss-up. He’s never washed a dish in his life. If anyone warranted maid service, it was Mason.

  I only travel halfway down the wood steps leading to the beach before I see Mason and Autumn standing on a landing built as both a spot to rest from the climb and a private deck on the edge of the cliff for sunset viewing. Tonight’s sunset will be spectacular as the golden orb sinks toward the water-filled horizon. Nothing impairs the sun from kissing the waterline, and kissing was strongly on my mind.

  And the last thing I wanted was Mason kissing Autumn. However, his body's position—leaning his hip casually against the railing of the landing—said he was ready to make his move any second. Autumn faced him, holding her wineglass to her chest, and when Mason reached out to tuck her hair behind her ears, I almost tripped descending the short treads.

  “Let’s talk about this baby-making business.” Mason’s voice drifts up to me where only a few steps remain between them and me.

  Let’s not.

  “Hey, guys. What are we talking about?” I fumble down the next couple of stairs and watch Autumn take a large step back from Mason. Mason shifts his body to press his ass against the railing. Once I hit the landing, I step up to Autumn’s side and look up at my longtime friend.

  “Cock blocker,” Mason coughs into his glass while I smile broadly at him before turning to Autumn.

  “Am I interrupting?” I hope to hell I am because it sounds like Mason was on the verge of propositioning Autumn, and I’m not liking it one bit.

  “Mason and I were discussing Ben’s announcement.” She smiles over at him and then back at me.

  “It’s a big change,” I admit, still uncertain why my friend is making this move. He’s only forty. Not old enough to retire, too young to sit idle, although he’ll be anything but still if he works his dad’s business.

  Autumn only nods, gazing down at her wineglass held to her chest like a shield. When I don’t move or add to the conversation, Mason takes the hint.

  “I’m heading up to the house. Want another glass?” he offers to Autumn, who holds her wine up to show she still has a full goblet.

  As Mason heads up the steps, taking them two at a time, I turn back to Autumn.

  “Did I interrupt something?” I ask again, wondering if she wants him as her baby-maker. It would make sense. Women always wanted Mason, but for just once, I’d love a woman to pick me over him.

  “No.” She softly chuckles, twisting to face the lowering sun.

  “Is Mason making the list?” The question tumbles out before I can stop myself, and Autumn sighs.

  “I should kill Anna for opening her mouth.”

  Reaching out for her, I can’t help but stroke up her back and under her hair as I did earlier, wrapping my fingers around the back of her neck.

  “She always means well,” I say, defending Ben’s wife. Anna doesn’t mean to meddle but just wants to help. She was the same way in college, always nudging people together, wanting them to find what she and Ben have.

  Autumn chuckles softly and takes a sip of her wine. “I suppose everyone was pretty shocked by their announcement to move.”

  “I know I am, and I feel like I’m missing something.” Autumn lowers her head as she sets the glass of wine on the railing. The unsaid weighs between us. However, I don’t expect her to betray her brother’s reasons if they run deeper than wanting a change of scenery. “But let’s talk about us.”

  Her head swings upward, and she glances at me over her shoulder.

  “I want you to know I would never call you fat. Not now, not then, so I’m sorry if that’s what you heard—”

  “Because that’s what you said.” Placing two fingers over her lips, I stop her from interrupting me further. Only, touching her lips scatters my thoughts, and I can only concentrate on the tender swell of her bottom lip and the curvy bow of the top one. Taking a moment to stroke over those lips, I stare at them, swallowing hard as I want a taste.

  “Anyway.” I finally recover, tracing over her mouth one final time before dropping my hand to hers. “I didn’t think you were fat.”

  “I was solid, my mother would say,” she mocks.

  “I wouldn’t have said that either. You were just younger than us. You were Ben’s little sister.”

  “Yes, but I’m not little anymore.”

  “No.” I pause, staring at those lush lips again. “You’re definitely not.” My fingers toy with hers while my other hand still cups the back of her neck.

  “But I’m still Ben’s sister.” Said with hesitant sarcasm, a question lingers.

  “Should that matter?”

  “Does it?” she asks, and I bite my lower lip.

  “I don’t want it to,” I admit, and we stare at one another. Those rich coffee eyes swirl with specks of cream, and I drink her in. When she doesn’t respond, I confess even more. “I’d like to make that moment up to you.”

  “The moment when you called me fat or the moment you pushed me away?” she asks, her voice still tight.

  “You’re fucking beautiful,” I say, and her eyes widen. “It doesn’t matter what you looked like as a teen. We aren’t teenagers anymore.” I allow that
to sink in because if we were still young, she’d never be attracted to me.

  Then my head tilts, and I squeeze the back of her neck. “Why did you try to kiss me?”

  She tries to look away from me, but my hold on her neck tightens, and I release her hand to cup her chin forcing her attention back to me. Her eyes close, and she licks her lips.

  “I had a crush on you.”

  My own eyes widen in surprise, and I stare at her mouth, her pert nose, her closed lids. “What?” The word is a struggle.

  Her eyes pop open, spearing me with their hesitancy. “I had this crazy notion that you and I were meant for each other.”

  Everything in me says to pull back, walk in a circle, take a moment to collect my thoughts, and return to her, but instead, the hold I have on her neck stays firm, and my thumb strokes her cheek. This couldn’t have been true.

  “What made you act that night?”

  “This is so embarrassing. It doesn’t matter anymore, like you said. We aren’t teenagers anymore.”

  “Just tell me.” I’m wound tight, and I need to know why this beautiful woman who was once an awkward teen thought I was her forever person.

  “Ben asked you to hang with me, and you didn’t complain. You just kept your arm around my neck and kept me close most of the night. You were funny. Sweet even. We went upstairs so I could use the bathroom, and you waited in an open bedroom. I thought that meant you wanted me to meet you in the room, and when I entered, I tried to kiss you. You pushed me away, and I fell on the bed.”

  Slowly, I release my hold on her, pulling away and missing her skin while hating myself.

  “Did I hurt you?” Jesus, I’m a fucking dick. My hands clench into fists, one tapping on the railing.

  Shaking her head, she drops her eyes to my chest. “Just my feelings by what you said.”

  I still can’t believe I said such a thing, especially about her. “What happened next?” I ask, still forcing my hands to keep from reaching for her neck and face while my palms itch to touch her once more. Tell her how sorry I am for being juvenile and crass when I was young.

  “I ran from the room because you were laughing.”

  “I laughed?” I choke. What could possibly be funny about a chick tossing herself at me? Those things never happened when I was in college. My humor lured a woman in, but I worked hard to get her to the next level—agreeing to sleep with me. Like in movies where the couple is funny in bed, girls would say I’m sweet, and I’d instantly be friend-zoned. They didn’t take me seriously.

  “Bent at the waist, cackling.”

  “Jesus.” I hiss, turning my head away from her. I can’t look at her. I don’t deserve her looking at me, and I’m the one embarrassed. I’m mortified. Quickly recovering myself, I turn back to her. “I’m so sorry, Autumn.”

  Her breath hitches before she chews at her lower lip.

  “I was a dick back then. An immature, overweight, obnoxious, probably drunk asshole, and I’m so sorry I hurt you.” With her head tipping forward as I apologize, I bend my knees, tucking my body a bit so I can look up at her. “Forgive me?”

  God, please forgive me.

  She nods, craning away from me once more. “I do.” My hands return to their previous position, cupping her jaw and wrapping around the back of her neck.

  “Look at me and tell me you forgive me.”

  The setting sun reflects in her deep eyes, turning them a lighter brown speckled with gold. “I forgive you.”

  Slowly, I smile and bite my lower lip. We hold each other’s gaze a moment before I speak.

  “I’d like to make it up to you,” I say, still unsettled by my younger behavior.

  “You don’t need to—” My thumb stops her, and we stand in this position another second.

  “Kiss me,” I whisper, gazing at my thumb stroking her lips. “I promise not to push you away.”

  Her eyes widen again, and the descending sun reflects in them.

  “Let me rephrase,” I say, leaning forward. “Let me kiss you. Don’t push me away.” My thumb lowers to her chin, pressing her face upward as I lower for her lips. She hasn’t answered, but I don’t wait for permission.

  My mouth seeks hers, connecting with the softest lips I’ve ever touched. I intend to steal only one kiss, keeping it tender as I would have done when she was still young. Only, my brain kicks in, and my heart hammers, and the next thing I know, I’ve pulled her closer to me, opened my mouth, sought her tongue, and swallowed her gasp as we deepen our connection. Her lips mold to mine, following my eagerness. Her tongue swirls against mine as if savoring every stroke. Widening our mouths, we’re hungry for more, and our heads tilt. The hand at her neck holds her in place while my fingers delve into her hair. Her breasts rub against my chest, her body melting into mine as her palms flatten on my shoulders but quickly curl around the back of my head.

  “Fucking hell,” I mutter to her mouth, quickly recapturing them and drawing them back to me once more before asking. “Did you kiss like this as a kid?”

  She giggles against our joined lips. “I doubt it.” Wanting to swallow that laugh, I press our mouths together again. I adjust her body, lining her backside up with the railing and devouring her more. If I don’t slow us down, I’m going to hike her up on the ledge and strip her of her clothing, but I can’t seem to stop. I promise myself I’ll only take one more minute to kiss her, but her hands slip to my chest to tell me time’s up.

  Slowly, I pull back, and our eyes meet.

  “I hope that makes up for things, just a little bit.” Lifting her hand, she holds her forefinger and thumb close to one another, leaving only an inch between them.

  “Maybe a little bit,” she teases, and my eyes narrow. More than a little bit is happening in my shorts, and I have no doubt she can feel it through her summer skirt.

  Softly chuckling, I lean forward for another kiss, quickly stealing it from her before she objects.

  “The sun’s almost set,” she says, glancing over her shoulder, and I’m worried the kiss didn’t have the same effect on her as it did me. That kiss was more than I deserve for treating her as I did, and something I’ll long for the rest of my life if I don’t earn another one from her.

  Spinning to give me her back, she stares out at the lake, which looks as if it’s swallowing the sun like I tried to swallow Autumn’s tongue. She remains before me, so I risk running my hand up her back again, slipping it under her hair and cupping her nape. When she tips her head back, I slide my arm around her waist and hold her against my chest as we watch the sun disappear. Both quiet with our own thoughts, I’ll spend the rest of my life making things up to her if she kisses me like that again.

  9

  [Autumn]

  As we stand in silence, watching the glorious sunset, I smile to myself.

  Wow. Logan Anders knows how to kiss a woman, and I accept that women were attracted to him for more than his humor. He had jokes to bolster his confidence, but once a girl got past the enticingly nice guy, a man who could seriously kiss existed.

  “Please don’t put Mason on your list,” he mutters just below my ear as the sun disappears, but the afterglow still paints the sky in bright orange and vibrant pink. His words erase any aftereffects lingering from our kiss.

  “Why?” I say, twisting my body so I can face him. “Why does this matter?”

  Logan steps back and scratches at the scruff under his jaw. “I just don’t think you should fuck him.”

  “Are you saying I should fuck you?” Logan flinches as I wave a hand up and down his body. The question is harshly stated because I’m instantly annoyed. “What is with this competition between Mason and you?”

  “What competition?” he asks, his eyes narrowing at me.

  “Mason’s putting on the full-court press as well.”

  “What? Is he pressuring you?” Concern drips from Logan’s voice as he steps back into my space, cupping my shoulders and stroking down to my upper arms. “Don’t give in to him.”


  “Because I should give in to you?” My voice rises. I’m so confused. What in the— “Do you two have a bet or something placed on me? Is this some game to see who can get in my pants first?”

  “What? No. Of course not.”

  “Because I’m not sleeping with either of you.”

  “Why not?” Logan asks, and I should be aghast, but there’s something underlying his tone.

  “Because this is important to me.” This baby-making business isn’t a joke to me.

  It’s when his body stills, and his hands release my arms that I linger on his question. Why not?

  Why won’t I have sex with either of them, or why won’t I have sex with him?

  “And I’m not important to you.” The strength of his voice drops to that of a wounded kid, and his head lowers, eyes aimed toward my toes.

  “Logan, why would you even want to sleep with me?” As his head lifts and his mouth falls open, I hold up a hand to stop his answer. “I want a baby. I want someone to get me pregnant. You already have a child. And I don’t need a husband.”

  He takes a long second to stare at me before he answers. “You want no strings attached? You can use all this sexiness for baby-making.” He draws a hand down his own body, emphasizing his value. I don’t miss the part I need most straining behind his zipper. I’d felt him against my lower belly as we kissed. Logan definitely has the package I need, but can he deliver? And why would he want to? His teasing tone reminds me he can’t take anything seriously.

  “This isn’t a joke to me.” My voice lowers. I don’t want no strings attached to be the theme behind having a baby, but as I have no dedicated significant other, I’m settling for the next best thing. Settling reminds me of what Anna’s often said. I settle on being content when I should strive for more. Pushing away the thought, I glance back at the lingering line of rays just above the darkening water.