by Tasha Ivey
“Whoa. Wait a minute. You’ve never mentioned a brother.” So there is another Baxter boy, after all. But for some reason, the image in my head is of a gangly teenager with braces and acne. Probably even still in high school.
“Oh, sorry. I thought I mentioned him before.” Makenna shrugs. “Remind me to introduce the two of you at the party.”
“Okay, so can’t we just pick up the gift and cups on the way? I don’t get why it’s a problem.”
“Well, it won’t be if you’ll stay here and wait for the liquor store delivery guy. He should be here within half an hour or so. Meanwhile, Makenna can help me hurry up and pick out a gift and get cups, and then we’ll be ready to go. It will save some time that way.”
I shake my head really fast. “Oh, no . . . you’re not leaving me here alone in frat boy central. I can feel the smell in here permeating my pores.”
“Just wait in my bedroom; it’s clean. And when the delivery guy gets here, just have him load everything in the trunk of my car . . . and the backseat. There’s a lot.”
Makenna sticks her pouty lip out at me, and as always, I cave. “Okay, fine. But the delivery guy better be hot.”
She readjusts the purse hanging from her shoulder. “Thanks, Cal. We’ll hurry.”
Once they’re gone, I hear yelling and stomping upstairs and something that sounds a lot like “you just got owned.” If I had to guess, they’re playing video games. Boys are so freaking loud and obnoxious when they’re in packs. They just feed off each other. Our building is co-ed, but either there aren’t any guys nearby or it’s superbly insulated. Other than footsteps and occasional laughter, I rarely hear anything too annoying.
I’m relieved, though, to find out that Shane’s bedroom is as promised. The bed is made, it smells clean, and the only thing out of place is a shirt thrown over the back of a desk chair. I love a man who can clean up after himself. Seriously, it’s so off-putting to go to a guy’s place and not feel comfortable even sitting down.
I flip through the channels on his TV, finally settling on a rerun of Friends. I keep the volume low, so I can listen for the delivery guy. And it takes thirty-eight minutes—not that I’m counting or anything—for me to finally hear the knock. “It’s about time.”
But as soon as I open that door, my hopes of having a hot delivery guy are crushed, set on fire, and dunked in a drum of acid. He, on the other hand, obviously thinks he hit the jackpot. I would be perfectly fine going my entire life without a balding, overweight, sweaty, fifty-year-old man hitting on me. I mean, seriously. He’s old enough to be my dad.
Finally, though, after getting a glimpse of his armpit stains every time he wrestles another box into Shane’s car, I sign the ticket and happily send him on his way. I’m just going to pretend I don’t see his name and phone number at the bottom of the receipt.
“I think you just might have a shot with him,” a deep voice calls out from across the lot.
I turn to the guy approaching me. I must have an angel looking down on me that sent a peace offering after I had to deal with the guy from the liquor store. He’s so yum. “Yeah, uh, no.”
After locking Shane’s car, I go back inside, almost making it back into his room before the lock turns at the front door and it creaks open. “So are you Lucy or Ethel?” the hot guy from outside asks after pushing the door closed and slipping his keys into his pocket.
Just my luck. He’s one of the Neanderthals that live here. “Excuse me?”
“Well, I’m assuming you’re Makenna’s friend. I heard you were coming over here today. God knows every other woman on the planet would know better. So I was just curious . . . are you Lucy or Ethel? You know, from I Love Lucy. I think Makenna is more of an Ethel, but I don’t know you.”
Is this guy for real? Are these the kinds of pick-up lines he keeps in his arsenal? That’s depressing. “Uh, I’ve never thought about it. Mind telling me who you are first?”
He holds up his index finger at me while he fishes his ringing phone from his pocket, frowning at the name displayed on the screen. “Damn. I have to get back to work, so I guess I’ll catch Shane in a little while.” He backs away toward the door and winks at me. “Be thinking about your answer.” And he’s gone.
“Guys are loud, obnoxious, and weird,” I grumble to myself.
I’m thankful when Shane and Makenna return only a few minutes later, and I practically pounce on them when they walk through the door. “Never again. Ever.”
“Why? What happened?” Makenna drops a couple of shopping bags on the couch and folds her arms over her chest.
“First of all, the delivery guy? Gross. I still want to gag, and I’m not entirely convinced he’s not a pedophile. Second, one of your suitemates popped in for a second, and he was really weird. Totally hot, but weird.”
Shane laughs, scratching the sprinkling of stubble on his chin. “I don’t know about the ‘hot’ part, but as far as the weirdness goes, you just described every one of them.”
Thankfully, it doesn’t take us long to load everything into both cars and get on the road. After a cup of gas station sludge—uh, I mean, coffee—and an hour later, we finally pull into the paved circle drive of Shane’s parents’ house. It’s a newer Colonial style home with bold white columns stretched vertically across the façade, but it holds a certain quaint, familial charm to it, regardless of its massive size. The black shutters are a stark contrast to the white exterior, but it’s the well-groomed landscaping, oversized wreath on the front door, and cozy-looking rocking chairs on the front porch that give the home such an inviting appeal. “I think I was just transported into one of those home magazines. It’s so pretty.”
“Funny you should mention it,” Makenna chuckles. “His mom is an editor for Southern Home Style magazine. That’s actually why they aren’t home this week; she had a home decorating convention to go to in Nashville.”
“Well, I hope you never invite her to our dorm room. I’m sure the half-naked David Beckham poster on my wall is totally not in this season.”
Makenna snorts. “David Beckham is always in season.”
Our eyes meet, and we both nod in unspoken solidarity. We may disagree on a lot of things, but a hot guy isn’t one of them.
“You coming inside?”
My eyes dart over to Makenna, and I shoot her a wry smile. “If I must. But don’t forget our deal. It better be the best damn cookie dough you’ve ever made, too.”
“It’s about time you two got here.” Shane calls out as he bounds off the porch. “I was just about to call to check on you. I thought you were just stopping to fill up and get coffee.”
“Oh, we did.” I sling my duffel bag over my shoulder and bump the door closed with my hip. “But have you actually ever ridden with her? I swear my grandma could walk faster than she drives. It’s so freaking frustrating.”
“I’m cautious. You got here, didn’t you?”
Shane’s mouth hitches up on one side. “I’m not even going there. Do you have something you need me to carry inside, Mak?”
“Just me,” Makenna jokes.
Shane takes it as a challenge and chases her, and I lean against the car to enjoy the show. She tries, bless her little heart, but she’s nowhere near fast enough to outrun him. Hell, if I were her, I wouldn’t have even wasted the effort. If a guy like that was chasing me, I sure as hell wouldn’t be running away.
He easily carries her inside over his shoulder, and I follow hesitantly, gawking at the expanse of the great room. It’s stunningly pristine, and I’m afraid to even breathe for fear of soiling it somehow. “You’re seriously having a party in here tonight?”
Shane sets Makenna down and finally answers me after giving her a quick peck on the lips. “Not in here, no. There’s a fully furnished guest house in the back.”
“Of course there is.” I deadpan.
“And I told her about the heated pool and hot tub.” Makenna walks through to the kitchen and perches on a bar stool. “It’s a lit
tle chilly out, but we brought our suits, just in case.”
“Thought you said that you were all that needed carrying inside.”
“Well, me and my bag. Do you really think I’d be dressed like this for a party?”
Shane’s eyes skim over Makenna’s tight fuchsia t-shirt and yoga pants with one eyebrow raised. “Mmm, yeah, I see your point. You look like shit.” He’s barely able to say the words before a smile breaks his stoic expression. Makenna gasps and throws a dishtowel at him, which he catches deftly. After stalking toward her, he settles between her legs hanging off the tall stool and murmurs something into her ear. Before I even realize what’s happening, he’s walking out of the room with Makenna’s legs wrapped around his waist.
I’m happy for her. I really am. But it just makes me acutely aware of how unhappy I am for me. “Don’t worry about unloading the cars,” I call out to no one. “I’ll get it.”
After we finally get out to the guest house, it takes three hours to get everything cooked and set up for the party, not including their half hour interlude. That’s three long hours of cooking and setting up decorations that I’ll never ever get back, but on the bright side, it has given me an opportunity to hang out with Makenna. Ever since Shane has come into the picture, we see less and less of each other.
I’m tying up the last of the balloons when Mak comes in to survey my damage. “Not bad. I knew you were the right person to blow up all these balloons since you’re so full of hot air.”
“Oh, you’re full of it, too, but your mouth has been busy blowing more important things.”
“Cute. Are you jealous?” She winks, attempting to not be phased by my comment. But the deep crimson blooming in her cheeks tells me otherwise.
We both turn at the sound of a door opening upstairs, and we watch Shane exit the bathroom, still wet from a shower and only wearing a loose pair of mesh shorts. He walks along the loft railing toward one of the bedrooms, rubbing his wild hair with a towel, and disappears.
My head whips back to Makenna. “Yes. Very.”
Following me into the kitchen, her face falls a little, concern marring her usual brightness. “You still haven’t told me about what happened with Tanner last night.”
“What’s to tell? I was honest with him and told him that I didn’t trust him. Half the time when he said he was coming over, he never showed up, and he wouldn’t ever call me back. I told him that rumors were circulating that he’d been spotted with Maebree Fuller on more than one occasion. He denied that, of course. So, to sum it up, I told him that we’d be better off as friends, like we were before.”
And that’s the truth. Tanner and I have been friends for a long time, but he became someone completely different when we started dating a few months ago. Makenna had just started seeing Shane, so I was bored one night and asked Tanner to come over and watch a movie with me, as we had done many times before. That night was different, though. Before we made it halfway through the movie, he was kissing me, and well . . . he was a damn good kisser, so I let him. I kissed him back. I never saw the change coming, but boy did it.
He was weird around me for nearly a week, but I finally made him talk to me about it. He finally admitted that he’d been crushing on me for a while but was afraid to change the dynamics of our friendship. Once we got the awkwardness out of the way and he opened up to me, I actually believed that we had a shot at something real. Especially when he told me that he didn’t mean to kiss me that night. I was almost a little hurt by that until he pulled me close and said, “But I definitely mean to kiss you right now.”
And he did.
Unfortunately, those three months of white hot attraction were spent primarily in my bedroom or his, which should’ve been telling of exactly what he saw in me. I pushed him a little to have a real relationship—you know, like actual dates—and I started seeing less of him and rumors started flying about him and another girl. The bastard definitely isn’t boyfriend material. I’m not so sure he’s friend material anymore either, but it made the break a little easier for me to carry out.
“Well, I’m proud of you, Cal. You deserve more than that. You know, there’s going to be a bunch of single guys here tonight. Maybe even someone worth your time.”
“No. Absolutely not. I don’t even want to think about it. Have pity on the first guy that comes up to me because it’s going to take everything I have to not stab him in the balls with one of these stupid little kabob skewers, just for being male.”
She rests her hand over my forearm. “Well, in that case, single girls will be here, too.”
“Please. You know you’re the only one for me.” I raise my eyebrows up and down at her suggestively, making her giggle.
“Oh, but she’s already taken.” Shane appears out of nowhere, startling us both. “Ready to go, baby girl?”
“Go? Where?” I ask Makenna as I head to the sink to wash my hands after wrapping the last platter of veggie kabobs with plastic.
“We have to go pick up the cake. You wanna come?”
“Actually, no. I think I’ll go ahead and get dressed and do my makeup while you’re gone. I have to be prepared. Never know who I’ll meet tonight.”
Makenna smirks. “Thought you were stabbing guys in the balls with skewers.”
Shane involuntarily cringes. “Whoa . . . what’s with all the violence?”
“Most men are douchebags. But you don’t fall into that category just yet. Your ‘boys’ are safe. For now.”
Makenna looks over her shoulder at him. “I’ll explain later.”
Shane points upstairs. “Second room on the left is all yours for the night. I already put your bag in there and your clothes are in the closet. There’s a bathroom that adjoins the first room, but I don’t think anyone will be staying in there tonight.”
“Okay. Thanks.”
Makenna pecks me on the cheek. “Your cookie dough is in the fridge. We’ll be back soon.” I hear as the door thuds shut.
It takes me only seconds to have the little bowl pulled out of the fridge and the plastic wrap peeled back, digging in with the first spoon I can find. A large wooden one. For the first time since we came in, I walk around to inspect the house. That’s right, I said house. Not guest house. I was expecting a smallish guest cottage when he first told me about it, but come to find out, this used to be their original house. When Shane was about thirteen, his mom and dad built the new house, saving their old one for frequent guests.
It’s not small by any means, probably about the size of my parents’ house. Downstairs, the open floor plan consists of the modest, newly-renovated kitchen and living room. The cathedral ceilings are covered in a honey colored wood, and the railings from the loft overlooking the room match the ceiling. Simple and understated, yet rich and inviting. It feels very homey.
I also expected the loft area to only house a couple of bedrooms, but I was wrong there, too. There are three. And an office. The bathroom that Shane came out of apparently adjoins the master bedroom. Seeing Makenna’s bag on the sofa by the window, I think it’s safe to assume she’s staying in here with Shane tonight. I walk back out to the main hallway and follow the corridor to the room Shane put my stuff in. It’s a simple space with nothing out of the ordinary, but I’m glad he picked it for me. A gorgeous picture window takes up almost half of the back wall, and a door to the side of it leads to a semi-private balcony, only shared with the empty room next door.
I know where I’m drinking my coffee in the morning. That is, if I’m not hugging a toilet. I’m such a lightweight.
Walking through the bathroom, I peek into the other bedroom, and I can smell cologne. It’s a guy’s room, for sure. Dark wood furniture, dark linens. This must be where Shane stays when he comes home; although, you’d think he’d want to stay in the main house with his family. But I guess that’s another story for another day.
It only takes me half an hour to get ready, but after I step back and admire my handiwork, I realize I do clean up pretty go
od, if I say so myself. I managed to work my stick-straight hair into flowing waves, and my new slim jeans and do-me red heels make me appear just a little taller, if that’s even possible. My see-through black blouse has a red cami peeking out underneath, which shows just enough cleavage, thanks to my favorite push up bra. Yeah, I wouldn’t mind so much if a guy hit on me a little tonight. I would hate for my good hair day to go completely to waste.
“Nice shoes.” A strangely familiar deep voice echoes from the living area the moment I take the last step off the staircase.
I jump and turn around, ready to scold Shane for scaring the shit out of me, and I meet the unyielding gaze of a familiar face. “Uh, excuse me? How did you get in here?”
The stranger—a damn fine one, at that—seems pissed as he stands to dig in his pocket, holding out a set of keys on his index finger. “I have a key. And you’re definitely Lucy. No question about it.”
I raise my eyebrows at him. “And you must be . . .”
“Thirsty.” He saunters into the kitchen and pulls a bottle of dark amber liquid and a lowball glass from the cabinet. He fills it three-quarters full with practiced accuracy and tosses in two ice cubes and the tiniest splash of cola. After swirling it around a little, he throws it back easily, as if it’s only water, until there’s only ice left clinking in the glass. He’s quite different than he was before. Earlier, he was a little flirty, but now something seems off. He’s intimidating to the point that I’m uneasy, and that’s hard to do. There’s this dark feeling floating around him like a thick fog, spreading and infecting him and the air we breathe like a noxious poison.
Once he starts refilling the glass again in the same manner, I can’t help but making a comment. “I see that. But don’t you think it’s rude to start the party before everyone else gets here?”
“It’s not rude if you’re the guest of honor.”
“Oh.” I can feel myself blushing. What the hell? I never blush. “You’re the brother?”
“So it seems.” Tall, Dark, and Moody finishes filling his glass and walks to the end of the island, extending his hand and none too pleased about it. “Wes.”