Her head was spinning and she shifted, catching her heel on the edge of the carpet. Losing her balance, but not willing or able to let go, she brought them both tumbling down to the couch. For the barest moment, she hesitated and then all thought was gone. Pulling him close, she matched him kiss for kiss, breath for breath. Her universe narrowed to the fire that was building in her, to the desperate need that made her grip his shoulders. The rough shadow of his beard rasped against her cheek, her chin and she ran her hands up through his hair.
Brooks, she was kissing Brooks. Her friend. It made no sense but nothing had ever felt so right. His hands skimmed up her rib cage, making her gasp. His weight should have felt like a burden, like she was being crushed, but she welcomed it with an arching need. Time ceased to have meaning and all she knew was the heat they created, like they’d been soaked with fuel and someone had tossed them a lit match.
He kissed a trail down her neck and she wanted to weep. The familiar scent of him, the warmth of his skin, was like a drug and she was helpless to refuse, to push away.
“Finley,” he whispered and brought his lips back to hers with a gentleness that squeezed hot tears from her eyes.
“Caroline?” her mother’s voice sounded down the stairwell.
They froze for just a moment. Brooks rolled off the couch onto his feet and pulled his jacket back over his shoulders. She hadn’t remembered pulling it off. He glanced over at her and his eyes traveled down her gown, to the hem. He pulled it from where it had crept near her calves down to her ankles.
“Caroline, are you home?”
She swallowed, trying to find her voice. “Yes, Mama.” It came out weak and shaking.
“Did you have a good time?” She didn’t sound like she was coming any nearer.
Caroline sat up, a pulse pounding in her head. “Yes, I did. I’ll be right up. I’m just going to get some… water.”
“Okay.” The sound of her mother’s slippers shuffled down the hallway.
Brooks met her eyes and his face was a mixture of shock and dismay. “Caroline,” he whispered. “I’m sorry. I didn’t meant to-”
She shook her head. Of course he was sorry. She’d practically attacked him and thrown him on the couch. She held a finger to her lips and stood. Walking quietly through the house, she made her way in the dark to the back door. He was right behind her, footsteps echoing her own.
She opened it and stood aside. Her face was burning and she was glad it was dark in the kitchen.
“Finley, I just don’t know what to say. I’m sorry-”
She squeezed her eyes shut, willing herself not to cry. If only he would quit apologizing. “Can we talk about this later? Maybe when the punch has worn off?”
He stood for a moment silently. Then he nodded, walking through the door. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
She didn’t bother to respond, only closed the door softly and leaned her head against the cool wood. Her life had just turned upside down. Or right side up. For the first time, she understood herself. What had happened was nothing to do with the punch and everything to do with the fact she was absolutely and unequivocally in love with her best friend.
“If I loved you less, I might be able to talk about it more.”- Mr. Knightley
Chapter Twenty One
Brooks slapped a hand against his desk, making the old wood creak. He’d known it. He’d felt as soon as he’d lain eyes on the man. A simple Google search would have turned up a lot of interesting items. Franklin Keene embroiled in a dispute with a publisher over copyright. Franklin Keene denies file sharing without permissions from international publishers. Franklin Keene changing the name of his company again and again, changing states, cities and internet sites.
It was all pretty solid evidence but when he added Lauren’s name to the search he sat back in his chair in shock. Frank and Lauren not only knew each other, they were business partners.
Brooks gritted his teeth. He’d been pretty sure when he’d overheard her at Marshall’s that there was no contract for any kind of book. He searched Publisher’s Weekly and there was no deal naming Lauren Fairfield for a coffee table book on Southern mansions. There was no deal naming her, ever. It had all been a ruse to con confused older people out of their antiques. And the idea that Frank had bothered to woo Caroline on the side made him furious.
He took a deep breath. But he was no better. He had kept his feelings hidden when he should have spoken out. He let her assume that all he felt was friendship when he should have declared himself like a gentleman. Images of last night flashed through his mind. He should never have kissed her when she’d been drinking. She’d looked fine but her judgment wasn’t clear.
He swallowed hard. Things like that happened when alcohol was involved. His feelings were true and he’d known exactly what he’d been doing when he let himself be pulled down on the couch, but she was a woman who’d had a little too much of Grandma’s punch. Apparently enough to make him seem like a pretty attractive man. She’d never touched him like before. Sure, she’d been friendly, warm. Last night wasn’t friendly. It was… He pushed his chair back. He couldn’t sit here and go over and over it in his head. It was a torture, especially since he was fairly sure that she would regret ever having kissed him.
He paced the small room, willing himself not to look out the window, at the clump of trees that hid Caroline’s house from view. Grandma was always going on about ferreting out God’s will. But he didn’t even know where to start looking.
He lay back on the bed and threw an arm over his eyes. All he knew, all he was sure of, was he hadn’t made the right move last night. It had hurt their friendship and maybe had hurt Caroline. A man knew what he had to do, what he should do.
Sitting up slowly, he looked at the Homer painting, thinking of loss and grief and what can’t be changed. There was only one thing to do and that was to talk about it over like adults. He let out a long breath and headed out the door. Lord, there’s so much to lose. But whatever happens, don’t let me hurt her any more than I have.
***
Debbie Mae let out a whoop that echoed around the kitchen and grinned. “I knew it.”
“What? How?” She hadn’t even known it would happen, so she wasn’t sure how her cousin could have called it before the fact.
“Well, I can’t take total credit. Manning said it about six months ago. I thought he was nuts, but then I started watching you two together. You just needed a little shove, a little nudge. And the Emma party did the trick!”
“Thanks for the shove but… it was weird.”
“First kisses are weird, for sure.” Debbie Mae pressed the biscuit cutter into the dough.
Caroline followed her movements, saying nothing as the heat rose to her face.
“What? That wasn’t your first kiss with Brooks? Am I slow on the uptake here?” She paused, hands covered in flour.
“No, no, it was our first kiss.” Caroline chewed her lip. She carefully deposited one floppy raw disc onto the greased baking sheet. “But it wasn’t one of those first kisses like you get at the end of the date, at the front door, under the porch light.”
“No?” Debbie Mae scooted a few biscuits to the edge of the sheet and dusted the cutting board again.
“It was like our first and our hundredth kiss, at once.” It was the only way she could describe it, and even as she said the words, she knew it didn’t make much sense.
Debbie Mae’s expression was a mirror of the confusion Caroline felt. “What does that mean?”
She swallowed and focused on the biscuits. Her face felt hot and the more she tried to focus on the facts, the more she remembered of that evening. His hands, his breath against her neck, the length of his body pressing her into the couch in a way that made her want to weep with desperate happiness.
“Wow, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you quite that color.” Debbie Mae’s tone was teasing but her eyes had gone wide. “Was it the punch? Are you trying to tell me that you two went past the
first kiss and on into the land of no return?”
“No, not at all!” Caroline twisted the cutter into the dough a little more forcefully than she meant to. “I was stone cold sober by then. It was just more than a kiss.”
She hadn’t moved, eyes still fixed on Caroline’s face. “Like how much more?”
“Not as much as you’re thinking.” Another flabby biscuit joined its sisters on the sheet.
“Then why the blushing? You’re freaking me out, here.”
She paused, rubbing her forehead with floury hands and not even caring. “I’ve had boyfriends before.”
“Sure. There was that guy, David, who took you to every alien invasion slasher flick that ever came to the theaters. Oh, and then there was the guy who tried to jump the picket garden gate and landed right on his-”
“Right, I remember all of them.” Ugh, maybe she hadn’t dated the smartest guys on the planet. “But no matter how cute I thought they were, during that first kiss, my brain was still functioning. I was still thinking about how my hair looked or if I was going to be tired the next day because it was so late or if I’d picked up the mail.”
“Brain function is always good.” Debbie Mae plopped the last biscuit on the sheet.
“Boy, that’s the truth.” Caroline couldn’t help the tone of her voice, bordering on downright regret. “With Brooks, it was like I’d been stun-gunned. But I was still conscious.”
Debbie Mae’s eyebrows had gone way up. “Awake but nobody home.”
“Well, maybe awake but somebody home with really, really bad judgment.”
“Uh-oh.” She took the sheet and slid it into the oven, setting the timer. “What has he said about it?”
“We haven’t talked about it at all. Just sort of pretended like it didn’t happen.”
Debbie Mae whirled around. “He didn’t call yet?” Debbie Mae folded her arms across her chest. She looked like an angry mama bear, ready to take on the man that had dared mess with her cousin.
“You can stop being angry right now because I don’t expect anything from him. I’m not some wronged, young girl who’s had her innocence taken from her.” Caroline stared at the counter, trying to gather her thoughts. “I don’t even know what to think, honestly.”
Debbie Mae was quiet for a moment. “I suppose you’re right. It’s true that not every kiss is the same and we can’t hold anybody to the emotions of the moment.” She took a breath, her brown eyes shadowed with concern. “This is what I know. Brooks is a good guy. He always has been. He’s not going to be kissing you if he didn’t mean it.”
Caroline felt a weight begin to lift from her heart. “I know he is. Whatever happened, we both should take responsibility for it and act like adults.”
“But at the same time,” Debbie Mae paused again, as if not want to speak the words. “At the same time, humans are complicated creatures with physical needs. As much as we think we have control over every action in our lives, there are moments where we act on our baser instincts. ”
Caroline nodded, the weight coming back to settle with a vengeance. Physical needs. It made sense, really. Two healthy adults could have a passing, momentary loss of sanity brought on by natural desires. “The thing that I keep coming back to is my own response. I mean, if some guy just grabbed me, I’d give him a righteous kick. But Brooks… I just…” She blinked and shook her head. She had flung herself into his arms, practically dragging him down onto the couch. A vague memory of her hands running up the long muscles of his back, under his suit coat, made her catch her breath. He’d been so warm, so solid. All she’d wanted to do was be as close to him as humanly possible.
Debbie Mae was grinning. “And I always thought you two were such intellectuals, living the cerebral life, with no temptation to distract you. Little did we know, you’re all just as -”
“There you are.” A deep voice cut into the conversation and Caroline felt shock travel up her spine, all the way to the base of her skull. She knew who it was before she even turned around to see Brooks standing in the kitchen doorway, eyes shadowed with some unnamed emotion. He didn’t look like he’d slept well but he was showered and shaved. A button up shirt and khakis replaced the Regency clothes but when she looked at him, she still saw the tails and the cravat.
Her face went hot and she stared at the biscuits as if they held the words she needed to say so they could all go back to being comfortable around each other.
He gave Debbie Mae a hug and then shifted, as if not sure whether to cross the kitchen to Caroline.
“Hey,” she choked out. “What are you up to?” She wanted to bite the words back. Obviously he was standing in her kitchen, visiting her.
He glanced at Debbie Mae, who began studiously scrubbing the biscuit dough from a bowl. “I thought maybe we could talk, if you had time.”
“Sure.” She wiped her hands on her apron and gestured to the living room.
He followed behind her, silent except for his footfalls. She realized Absalom was at home and her stomach went tight. She’d feel so much better about this talk if Absalom were there to push his heavy body against her legs, like a shield against heartache.
They stood in the living room, facing each other but not meeting each other’s eyes. He cleared his throat. “I’m sorry for last night.”
She let out a breath. “I know.” He’d already said that twice before.
“I should not have kissed you. I needed to tell you something far, far earlier than that moment.” He straightened his shoulders. “When I saw Frank with Lauren, it made me crazy. I couldn’t imagine how he could be flirting with you while he was in a relationship with her, even if it was secret.”
She nodded, staring at the floor. He cared about Lauren, that had always been clear. “You sure told him where to get off that train.”
His lips tugged up for a moment. “I was mad. Totally inappropriate timing, but I didn’t want to see him-”
“I know.” Touching her, kissing her, calling her. Lauren was a lucky girl. She didn’t want a cave man, but something about Brooks standing over Frank and threatening him made her wish for a little bit of that, too. “He’ll probably ignore you.”
He was silent for a moment, his eyes narrowed. “I need to tell you something I found out about Frank.”
Caroline listened, shock filling her from head to toe. “I can’t believe it.”
“It’s true. And Lauren is involved.”
She covered her mouth with her hand. How horrible for Brooks. He cared for Lauren and she was throwing it all away for that shyster Frank.
“I know you must be angry with me for-”
“I’m not. I’m really not.” She couldn’t bear that he be in any more pain than he was already. She took a breath, willing herself to be strong. “I understand needs and urges. We’re both adults. These things happen.”
There was a pulse of silence. She looked up to see his eyes widen in disbelief. Sure, she was being pretty understanding, but she was partly to blame. Okay, maybe a lot to blame.
“I see.” His voice had gone tight and hard.
“We both probably should just move on.” Her throat closed over the words. She didn’t want to move on, she wanted to step forward and let him hold her again. She wanted to feel his mouth on her and the weight of him against her and the heat of his hands. She blinked back hot tears. God give her strength, she was going against every fiber of her being.
She fought for control, swallowing back the ache in her throat. “Let’s not make this harder than it has to be.”
Those words were like flicking a switch inside him. He nodded, eyes impossibly sad. “You’re a good friend, Caroline.”
She nodded, not trusting herself to speak. She wanted so much more than friendship. But that wasn’t her right and she wouldn’t make him feel guilty for something they both had done.
“Are you coming in for lunch? We have a chicken roasting and the biscuits should be almost ready.” Her voice shook but she held her chin high
.
“No, no.” He patted his stomach. “I’m… okay. Still full from breakfast.” He glanced at the door and her heart squeezed in her chest. He was desperate to get away, now that they’d had their ‘talk’.
“Ok, well, see you later. You’re coming to Mobile Bay, right?”
He turned, frowning. “Mobile Bay?”
“Debbie Mae has roped me into going down to Alabama with them for the reenactment. She said you and Manning would be at Fort Morgan.”
He nodded slowly, brows drawn together. “I’ll be there.”
“Then… See you in a couple weeks.” She almost flinched. She was trying to give him space, freedom. But all she felt was a vicious ache in her chest.
“Right.” He turned to the door, giving her one last glance, then he was gone.
Caroline sank onto the couch and let hot tears flow down her cheeks. She didn’t bother to wipe them away or calm herself. Her heart was breaking and it was the worst pain she’d ever experienced in her life.
It was over and there was nothing that could be done to fix it. The image of Lauren flashed through her mind. Of course he’d fight for her. Of course she’d forget Frank and learn to love Brooks. As much as she wished otherwise, she couldn’t imagine her doing anything else.
“Mr. Knightley, if I have not spoken, it is because I am afraid I will awaken myself from
this dream.”- Emma
Chapter Twenty Two
The sparkling blue water spread before her like a glass quilt, rippling and shimmering. Caroline let out a long sigh and lifted her face to the warm sun. There wasn’t a more beautiful spot in the world, she was sure of it. Crossing Mobile Bay on a slow moving steamboat, cold iced tea in her hand was about as good as it got. And she couldn’t enjoy a moment of it.
“Still moping? You need to get some guts, girl.” Debbie Mae adjusted the strap on her sun dress and squinted across the bay.
“How does one go about procuring guts, Debbie Mae?” She knew she was being irritable but it wasn’t a question of getting guts. It was about Brooks being in love with another woman. It wasn’t an attraction she understood, but she knew love didn’t follow the rules. She’d learned that lesson really well.
2 Emma, Mr. Knightley, and Chili-Slaw Dogs Page 20