Rest, My Love (Triple R Book 2)

by Jules Dixon

  “I’d be glad to throw something together for you.”

  “Let’s both go in. I’ll turn down the flame a little, and the kettle will be fine.”

  With a hand on her lower back, I steered her to the basement door. We climbed the two flights of stairs of the split-entry home.

  “To the right and inside that door.” I pointed over her shoulder.

  I grabbed a couple of ingredients from the fridge to make an omelet and some toast.

  “Coffee?” I offered.

  “More of a tea drinker.”

  “I think we have some of that.” I searched the cabinets and pulled out a box of tea bags.

  “Thanks.” She collected a mug from the cabinet and heated water in the microwave.

  “So what kind of beer are you brewing today?”

  “Kölsch. It’s a golden, slightly fruity German beer from the town of Köln, or Cologne as Americans say. It’s a great summer lawn-mowing beer.”

  “Sounds delicious. Have you ever been to Germany?” She took her warmed water out of the microwave and dunked the tea bag.

  I pointed to the sugar on the counter, but she shook her head.

  “Stationed there for three years when I was in the army.” I slid my omelet out of the pan and threw the toast onto my plate.

  “Travel to any other European countries?”

  “Italy and Belgium.”

  “That’s really neat. I’ve never been outside the US.”

  “Europe has old history and America has new history. There are good points to both. The cathedral in Köln was one of the only things the allied forces left mostly standing while doing their worst to take Hitler down, using it as a landmark. It’s charred black on the outside, but it’s still one of the most amazing buildings I’ve ever seen. I’d love to go back someday and do a long tour of Germany.”

  Sage sipped her tea, and I ate my breakfast in comfortable silence. Well, semi-silence. I didn’t know if Sage realized it but she hummed little melodies to fill the quiet.

  Fucking adorable.

  ****

  Sage was genuinely interested in the brewing process. She admitted to being a science geek and that chemistry had been her favorite subject. That was ideal for brewing. It was half chemistry and half culinary arts. And, occasionally, just some plain good luck.

  We were midway through the hour-long mash part of the process, where the grains were steeped with hot water to release starches and other compounds, when two tall females made their way up the driveway like models on a runway.

  Great.

  “Bubba Vee!” the taller one yelled out and the shorter one, by half an inch, laughed.

  The young woman had called me the nickname since she was one year old and I was eight.

  “Good morning, Laken.” I stopped checking the temperature of the mash. “How’s my baby sister doing today?”

  Her long arms wrapped around me. She always had a hug worthy of an honorable mention in the great hugs category. “I’m really good.”

  “Happy Birthday, Rahl,” the blue-eyed version of our mother said with a kiss on my cheek.

  “That’s not until Tuesday, Fiona.” I released Laken and pulled my oldest sister in for a hug.

  “We all have to work that day, so Laken and I decided to surprise you and take you to lunch, but I guess that’s not going to happen.”

  “One, I’m too old for surprises, and two, as you can see, I’m busy.” I shook my head.

  “Rahl…” Laken stretched my name and pointed with her head at Sage.

  “Sorry. Sage Whiteman, these two overbearing but mostly well-meaning beautiful women are my sisters. This is Fiona Vendetti-Richter and Laken Vendetti.”

  “Nice to meet you both.” Sage shook their hands.

  “You sing at Two Fine sometimes, right?” Laken asked.

  “Occasionally.”

  “You kick ass!” My sister bobbed around with a youthful vitality that I found exhausting.

  Sage laughed. “Thanks, I think. Rahl, sorry, but that tea … a restroom?”

  “Come on! I’ll show you!” Laken offered in a cheerleader chant.

  “Thanks, Lake.” I glanced to Fiona and she rolled her eyes.

  Sage followed Laken into the house, and I readied myself for the older of the two sisters to shoot questions at me like bullets in Afghanistan. From experience, hers could be as painful as the real things.

  “So, girlfriend?” was all she probed.

  I waited, questioning if that was the only grenade she’d throw. “No,” I confirmed.

  “But you like her?”

  I stared down Fiona.

  That bomb isn’t going to go off.

  “I’ll take your muteness as a yes.”

  I huffed.

  Fiona continued, “She’s really pretty, Rahl. Those silvery green eyes are amazing, that smile is adorable, and that body … wow. And she can sing?”

  I nodded at my long-winded sister while measuring hops into mesh bags for later.

  Fiona grabbed my arm. “Maybe she can bring you out of whatever funk you’ve been in since you got back last fall. I worry about you, Rahl.” Her eyes glanced me up and down, stopping at one spot that didn’t hurt anymore, but I understood her worry. “All the time.”

  I paused measuring and guided her into my arms. “Don’t worry. I’m okay, sis. It’s that one in there you should worry about.”

  “I think there’s something up with her, too, but she won’t tell me. Last weekend she had a date but she wouldn’t tell me with who.”

  “That is odd. Normally she won’t shut up. I think it’s a Vendetti female personality trait.” I chuckled when she rocked into me to let me know the remark was uncalled for. “Maybe the baby is growing up?” I offered.

  “I guess. Kind of scary.”

  I released Fi and walked to take a reading of the grains, adding a little boiling liquid to keep the temp between 145-150 degrees.

  There are scarier things in life. A lot scarier.

  Chapter Six

  Sage

  “So you know Rahl from the bar?” Laken dragged me up the stairs by my hand.

  I could tell this bouncy young girl was the Twenty Questions type. In two minutes, we were already five into a game.

  “Yeah, we started working there about the same time.”

  I stopped in the living room and stared at an Epiphone Zakk Wylde bulls-eye finish Les Paul guitar in the corner.

  “Rahl play guitar?”

  “No, his roommate, Easton, does. Has since high school. He’s in the band “Lost Men,” some juvenile homage to an 80s movie.” She rolled her eyes. “Easton’s explained the bizarre story several times but I still don’t get it. Have you met Rahl’s roomies?”

  “Not yet. This is my first time over here.”

  “Well, I hope you stick around. My brother doesn’t smile a lot since he came back last year and he didn’t stop smiling when he looked at you. I think that’s a good sign.” She pulled me down the hallway. “Here, let’s go into Rahl’s room. He has an en suite bathroom and it’s probably a lot cleaner than Kirby’s in the hall. The army followed Rahl home in lots of ways, some good and some…” She sighed, stopping inside the doorway and ushering me into the room. “Anyway, in there. I’ll see you back out in the garage!” Laken’s blue eyes and long straight blonde hair shimmered like her personality.

  “Thanks, Laken!” I responded with so much spirit I wanted to smack myself. I’d caught the Laken-happiness disease, contagious and yet it infected a person with love for life.

  She exited the room with a happy wave of her hand.

  Wow, that’s his bed?

  I froze at the bottom railing, took in a deep breath, and enjoyed the view. Tia was right. King-sized.

  The bedding was made with hospital corners and the silky grey comforter was pulled until the surface didn’t have a single wrinkle. Almost too perfect, like serial killer and/or OCD perfect. The rest of the room was just as pristine. The bathroo
m was jarringly similar to the bedroom, super clean and über organized. The army had followed Rahl home. But what other ways is Laken talking about?

  After completing what I really came up here to do, I rounded the corner and bumped into a thin man exiting his room across the hall.

  “Sorry!” I squeaked out, backing away.

  “No problem. Hey, I’m Kirby Miller.” He extended his hand.

  “Sage Whiteman. I’m here brewing beer with Rahl. Actually, he’s brewing and I’m watching.” I blushed, dropping his hand, and added quickly, “I’m watching the brew, not him.”

  Kirby pointed down the hall. “Cool. After you, Sage.”

  We made our way to the first set of stairs, and Kirby tugged at my arm. I stopped and stared up at him. He sealed a finger to his lips as male and female voices echoed up the stairs from the basement. He listened for a minute and cursed under his breath.

  “What?” I whispered.

  “The two people talking about hooking up are Rahl’s twenty-one-year-old sister, Laken, and our twenty-seven-year-old roommate, Easton. I swore I saw her car parked around the corner last night when I came home.” He closed his shadowy hazel eyes and whispered, “Easton, if Rahl doesn’t get to you first, I’m gonna kick your ass. She’s like a little sister to me, too.”

  My eyes widened. I could imagine that dating a sister was not cool in bro-world, much less having sex with one.

  “Do you think maybe Rahl knows?”

  Kirby’s eyes opened. “No, with how he’s been acting, he’d go ballistic. Okay, sounds like they are done. Best to keep this quiet. Sorry, Sage.” Kirby cleared his throat. “So what do you do?”

  Laken magically appeared at the bottom of the stairs as a door closed in the basement. “Hey, Kirbs! Yeah, I’d like to know, too.”

  They walked with me to the garage door. “I work at Sugar Plum Dreams Design over on Pacific Street. Right now, I’m an interior design slave, but someday I hope to own or co-own a design firm.”

  Laken followed me out the door. “That’s cool. I’m finishing up my B.S. degree in architecture at Lincoln. Finals are this week, but I only have two, and two big team projects that I’m done with, thank goodness.”

  “Congratulations. I graduated from the university in December with a B.S. in design, which I’m afraid could possibly mean I’m full of B.S.”

  She giggled. “I’m glad my time there is almost over. I’m looking forward to moving back to Omaha permanently.”

  “Good luck finding a job. Really didn’t take me too long.”

  “Everything okay?” Rahl asked.

  “All good.” I walked to him and noticed how his gorgeous green-flecked brown eyes flickered while his smile broadened.

  “I like her,” his little sister relayed to my back. “She’s a designer.”

  Rahl tipped his head and smiled those dimpled cheeks back at me. “Good to hear, Laken.”

  I moved to his side and his arm brushed against mine, sending a happy tingle through my body.

  “Rahl’s building a new home. Doing a lot of the work himself. That’s why we never get to see him anymore. He won’t let me pick out any of the finishes. I don’t think he trusts me,” Laken relayed like a petulant child.

  Rahl chuckled but he didn’t argue.

  Laken was young in age and maybe a little immature, but I could tell she wasn’t innocent.

  “I see you met Kirby.” Rahl changed the subject.

  I nodded.

  Rahl’s eyes glanced to the basement door when it creaked behind us. “Easton.” Rahl motioned with his head. “Easton Roecker, I’d like you to meet my friend, Sage Whiteman. Sage, this is Easton. We grew up together and he’s my oldest friend.”

  I shook his offered hand.

  Easton’s coal-black eyes and matching hair against his pale skin were quite contrasting and unnerving. He wasn’t Goth, more GQ model with part rocker and a dash of vampire.

  “Nice to meet you, Sage.”

  “Easton, I love your bulls-eye guitar. How’s the sound?”

  “Powerful and it has an amazing sustain. You play?” His baritone voice vibrated through the humid May air.

  “Better than you,” Rahl threw out and moved to the container of soaking grains.

  My cheeks warmed with embarrassment. “Well, I doubt that, but yes, I do play. I prefer acoustic, but I’ve been known to touch a few metal strings, too.”

  “If you ever want to give it a try, have at it.”

  “Thanks, Easton.”

  Rahl harrumphed, his arms crossed and his chest puffed. “While this Mensa gathering is impressive, I was teaching Sage how to brew beer. So everyone but the green-eyed young lady is excused.”

  The Ogre’s irritable and fairly intimidating behavior had the girls gawking at him. Both of them appeared at a loss for words. That was more like his normal side than the pleasant smiling side I had witnessed most of the morning.

  Fiona pulled on Laken’s arm. “Let’s head out. I was thinking of shopping. You interested, Lake?”

  “Sure! I have a hot date tonight. I want to get something sexy to wear.”

  Kirby and I watched as Laken stared at Easton. Head down, he rocked in his boots.

  “Someone from high school?” Rahl asked, still engrossed with what he was doing.

  “Actually, he did go to Bellevue South.”

  Easton’s head and eyebrows rose.

  “I know him?” Rahl lifted his head.

  Easton’s face ghosted two shades paler. He walked out of the garage. “I’m gonna go meet the band for breakfast. Nice meeting you, Sage. Later, Rahl … Kirb. Bye, Fiona.” He turned around, smirked, and shook his head. “Bye, Laken.”

  “Bye, Easton.” Laken’s blue eyes flashed at him.

  It bothered me that they hid their relationship from Rahl. Even if they knew the truth was going to upset him, they should still be adults about it. Plus, they’d rubbed the secret in his face, like children.

  And worse yet, I know the secret.

  “Bye, bro, have a happy birthday!” Laken skipped from the garage like she was ten and had no worries.

  Fiona gave Rahl a good-bye hug. He softened into the affectionate move. “Love you, Rahl. I’ll meet you for lunch next week.” She gave him one last concerned look.

  “Sounds good, Fi. Tell your hot-shot doctor husband, who isn’t a very good actual shot, that I say hello.”

  She smiled. “Will do. It was nice to meet you, Sage. Hope to see you again.”

  “Thanks, Fiona. Me too.”

  The girls drove off in Fiona’s bright red Beemer, giving a final wave as they passed by.

  “I’m going to Ashley’s tonight after work, Rahl. I’ll see you tomorrow morning.” Kirby gave a final wave.

  “I’m planning on going to the house early to work all day, back around early evening.”

  “Good luck with your brew. It was nice to meet you, Sage.”

  “Have a good day, Kirby.”

  Rahl turned to me and became all business. “It’s time to sparge the grains. This is draining off the liquid that is now infused with the sugars and other compounds from the grains. The liquid product is called the wort.”

  I stepped in close to him and watched as a cloudy golden liquid flowed from the container into a stainless steel boil pot. It smelled like a sweet bread dough with a little tang of citrus.

  He reached for a small mug and took a sample tasting. “Not bad. It’s a little warm, so be careful.”

  I took a sip. “It’s delicious. Like a warm sweet tea but with a denser consistency.” I set the cup down on the table and pushed my hair behind my ears so it was out of the way. “What’s next?”

  “The wort boils to sanitize and concentrate the sugars and then we add hops to add flavor elements that bitter and balance the beer. The wort gets cooled as quickly as possible and transferred to what is called a sealed carboy to prevent natural yeast strains from the environment entering. Later, I add a Kölsch yeast to start the
fermentation process. In about three weeks, I’ll force-carbonate it and we’ll have beer.”

  He brushed against my back as he moved to the other side of the kettle. His warm hand trailed along my lower back, and I trembled as the warmth spread through my body.

  “Think you’ll sing tonight?” He adjusted the burner and came back to where the wort was draining into a food grade five-gallon bucket.

  “Who’s the band?”

  He raised his eyebrows with the question. “Jackpot?”

  I wrinkled my nose and made a face like smelling something awful.

  Cause Jackpot stinks!

  Rahl chuckled. “I’ll take that as a no. Shame, I like listening to you.” He passed by me and wrote something down on a piece of paper.

  “Maybe I can work something in. Any requests?”

  “Hmmm. I don’t know. I’ve been out of the states for almost six years. I don’t know a lot of new stuff. I really liked when you sang that Colbie Caillat song the first time.”

  I touched his arm and he turned to me. “You really liked it?” My fingers slid down his arm and the firm muscles jumped at my touch.

  He squared his body with mine. “I came home that night and bought the song for my running list. But you might just do it better than the original.”

  “I … I was singing that song to someone.” My skin prickled under my t-shirt and my heart skipped a double Dutch rhythm. I took a deep breath.

  He stepped closer to where I had to strain my neck to look up at his face. “And who was that person, Sage?” His chest rose sharply.

  I met his gaze. I sucked in a breath when his brown eyes warmed to the color of fiery topaz. My eyelashes weighted heavy. “You, Rahl,” I whispered.

  Anticipation and need to have a man touch me seared through every nerve on my body. His hand slid behind my neck and although his fingers dug into me a little harshly, the intimate contact had my skin rolling with pins and needles of desire.

  “For me?” Rahl’s hushed voice rumbled out of his mouth and through my body.

  I nodded and his lips shifted up on one side.

  His head dropped and his soft lips brushed mine. I worked my hands up his chest, exploring every hard muscle on their way to his neck. He tilted my head easily with his large hand and increased the pressure on my lips at the same time. Like we were of one mind, we met tongues in the middle of our opening lips. The slow roll of our tongues curled my toes in my black flip-flops. A warm arm wrapped around my waist and pulled me up and into him, my legs dangling unsupported, but the safety of his massive arms comforted me.