by Julia Day
He could have anyone he wanted and look who he went after. “I wish I knew why you’re interested in me.”
Ash shifted on the picnic table until he faced me fully. “How can I resist you?”
“The other seventy-something kids in our graduating class have managed.”
“Which is exactly the way you want it.”
“How do you figure that?”
“You protect yourself from relationships, Eden. It took a lot of patience and determination to get past your defenses, but I’m glad I tried, because I found this amazing girl waiting for me. You’re generous and loyal and fair. When you commit to something, you give it the best that you’ve got, and that includes the people you care about. There just aren’t many of us because you don’t have the time.”
Tears burned behind my eyes. “I will always find the time for you.”
“I know, and I get how lucky I am,” he said, linking his fingers through mine. “You’re so clear about what you want from life—”
“You are, too.”
“True, but I have my parents and friends to help me, and you’re doing this alone.” He kissed the back of my hand. “I’m humbled by how intensely smart you are. Nobody at school comes close. Not even me.”
Wow. Did he really believe that?
“I like to watch you think. You see the connections that the rest of us miss. I love how you can be scared by a decision and take the risk anyway.” His lips brushed the corner of my mouth. “I’m in awe of you.”
This praise was making me itchy. We had to flip it back to him. “Someone from your circle of friends would be a more logical match for you.”
“I don’t want to date anyone from my circle of friends.”
“Upala’s smart and talented. She dresses preppy like you.”
“What is wrong with you today?” His eyes narrowed on me. “Want to know what I like about the way you dress? I like that you keep your incredible body hidden and that I’m the only guy who gets to check out the reality. It makes me—” He groaned.
“Makes you what?”
“Uncomfortable.”
It took all of my willpower not to look down to see if he was presently uncomfortable. I watched the little guys instead.
Ash slipped an arm around my waist. “Why are we talking about this? You chose me. I chose you. That’s enough.”
I buried my face in his shoulder and gave into the wave of happiness.
“Hey,” he said, “I have something for you. No big deal.” He drew a small, thin box from the pocket of his jacket.
I ripped into it with savage eagerness. “A phone?” It was an expensive gift. I should be outraged, right?
“It’s one of those prepaids. I have my number programmed in. We’ll be able to contact each other without anyone knowing.”
My concern at the extravagance was instantly demolished by my appreciation for its usefulness. “We needed this.”
“I’m glad you see it that way.”
What would I tell my folks if they saw me use it? I would have to make something up. The better option was to keep it out of sight.
“Thanks.” I slipped the phone into my back pocket and smiled at him with a need so great that it ached.
This silent but glowing thank-you lasted about fifteen seconds, because two small hands grasped my knees, demanding attention.
“Come on, Eden,” Raj said. “Play with me.”
I straightened with an exaggerated sigh. “Do the Gupta men always get what they want?”
“We do.” Ash rose and helped me off the picnic table.
We spent the next hour doing all sorts of silly things. Throwing rocks in the lake. Climbing the play structure. Hunting for squirmy critters. When the boys begged for a game of hide and seek, I gave in quickly, even though I hadn’t played in years.
I “hid” in a stand of trees, which by this time of year had few leaves. Raj found me right away and chased me back to “home,” his legs pumping for all they were worth. He tackled me at my knees, knocking me to the ground. Rolling over to my back, I lay prone with a wiggly boy pinning me by my shoulders. Or so he thought. I could hardly catch my breath from laughing.
“Look, Uncle Ash. Look. I got her. I got Eden.”
Ash’s face appeared above me, his eyes wide with concern. “Are you hurt?”
“I’m fine,” I said in between gasps. “Raj got me, fair and square.”
Destin and Kurt caught up and cheered Raj noisily. The three boys took off running, comparing notes on the best way to wrestle down clumsy babysitters.
Ash sounded worried. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
“Yeah. I think it’s your destiny to help me when I fall.” I sat too suddenly and cringed. Next thing I knew, I was wrapped in Ash’s arms.
“I’m better now,” I said, resting against him. I gave into the delicious feeling of being wanted and hoped it would never end.
* * *
The playdate had been good for Kurt. He was more relaxed this evening. Instead of watching a DVD, he pulled a barstool next to me and climbed up, his knees bumping the tabletop. “I have homework,” he said.
“I do too.”
“We can do our homework together.”
“Sounds like a plan.”
For ten minutes, I calculated orbitals and energy levels while Kurt practiced writing the letters C and G. I had better luck than he did.
Eventually, he tossed down his fat pencil and rubbed his temples in an eerie imitation of his mother. “I’m finished.”
“Excellent. Ready for bed?”
“I am.”
“Let’s go then.”
He ran down the hall ahead of me and charged through the bedroom door. As I passed Marta’s room, I glanced in. She was curled against a pile of fat pillows, reading from The Best of Sherlock Holmes.
I followed him into his room. He was already under the covers.
“Good night, Kurt.”
“You can ask me about school again. I won’t cry this time.”
Whoa, progress. I leaned against the doorframe. “Do you like school?”
“No.” His eyes followed my every movement. Maybe he wanted to talk but didn’t know how to start.
I perched at the end of his bed and nodded with encouragement. “Will you tell me why?”
“I’m supposed to use my inside voice, but I don’t have one.”
“Is it your teacher who’s asking?”
“Yes. She says I’m too loud a lot.” His eyebrows beetled into a thick line. “The other kids laugh.”
Anger blazed through my veins. If it had happened more than once, did that mean she wasn’t demonstrating what she expected? Kurt liked rules and tried hard to follow them.
But even if she’d shown him, why was she correcting him in front of other students? That was terrible for any kid. “Did she teach you how to find your inside voice?”
He shook his head.
“It’s the reason you go to school, to learn how to do things you don’t already know.” I knelt at the side of his bed. “Why don’t I teach you what an inside voice sounds like?”
“Do you know how to be a teacher?” He rubbed his eyes and yawned.
“I’ll do my best.”
We got a short lesson in. He was too sleepy for a long one. Eventually, we got his inside voice to the decibel level of a loud whisper. It was a start.
I gave him a good-night pat, turned out the lights, and wandered to the kitchen, puzzling over what I should do next. Should I discuss the problem with his mother when she got home tomorrow? Text her now?
How about both? Yeah.
One thing I knew for sure. Mrs. Fremont would have to hold a parent-teacher conference soon, and I wanted to crash that party.
* * *
Marnie and I made it to Grampa Holt’s church on time and sat in the back row. It was as nice a funeral as I’d ever been to, if it was all right to say such a thing. The minister gave a wonderful eulogy. It made me regret that
I hadn’t met Mundy’s grandfather before he got sick. He sounded like a great guy.
The funeral was a predictable affair for our part of the world. First came the memorial service in the church sanctuary, then a long line of cars to the cemetery, followed by a graveside service. Afterwards, everyone returned to the church fellowship hall for the epitome of a Southern funeral reception. Pans of fried chicken. Sides of potato salad, deviled eggs, and pickled okra. A whole table devoted to desserts like banana pudding, sweet potato pie, and red velvet cake.
Mundy and her parents mingled in a daze, too distraught to eat. I filled a plate with a sampler of food and set it near them. They ignored it.
Destin darted about the hall at first, but the heavy atmosphere finally got to him. He clung to my skirt, then my hand, and ultimately to me. I found a rocking chair in a quiet corner and cuddled him on my lap. When Clarissa discovered us an hour later, Destin and I were both asleep.
“Here, I’ll take him,” she said, hoisting him in her arms. He mumbled and burrowed his face into her neck, his weight immediately slack.
I stood and stretched. “I’ll find Marnie.”
“She’s gone. I asked her to let you and Destin nap for a while longer. You’re good with him.” Clarissa smoothed Destin’s damp curls. “Can you sleep over tonight? Mundy needs you.”
“Yes.”
She nodded. “Grampa Holt is the only grandparent Mundy remembers. She’s taking this hard.”
“No problem.” I looked around. A devastated Mundy stood on the other side of the hall, attached to a visibly grief-stricken Campbell. The receiving line had dwindled to almost nothing. “Should I drive her home?”
“If you don’t mind.” She put a light hand on my arm. “Eden, I want you to know…” She stopped and took a deep breath.
“What is it, Clarissa?”
“You’ve been a good friend to Mundy.” She gave me a pained smile. “Thanks.”
21
From His Perspective
Marnie’s grandparents and all eight of their kids had single-handedly populated a large portion of North Carolina’s Crystal Coast. A month could hardly go by without a birth, death, or marriage. Saturday’s wedding would draw my parents an hour away from here. Adding in the ceremony and reception, Ash and I would have hours to be alone.
“Sweetie, are you sure?” My stepmom had fretted all morning that I was refusing to come because I couldn’t stand being around her family. And while that was true, it wasn’t the main reason today.
“I’ll be fine, Marnie. Go.” Go!
Dad growled, rubbing the small of his back with a fist. He’d pulled a ten-hour shift yesterday and spent most of it on his feet. He was hurting. “Marlene, can we leave already?”
“Yes.” She snatched up her purse.
“Do you have any Advil in there?” my father asked. The slamming of the door cut off her answer.
My parents would have to speed if they didn’t want to be late for the wedding, but at least they were gone. I watched from the window as they roared down the street. After they were out of sight, I opened the front door and listened for the sound of tires squealing onto the highway.
Finally.
I raced down the lane and around the bend to the clubhouse. Ash’s Z4 waited in the last parking spot. He got out as I approached and reached for me.
“Not yet. Someone might see.” I gestured toward a trail winding past the playground and picnic area before disappearing into the woods.
Once we were sheltered by the trees, though, I yanked Ash to me, exploring his mouth with mine, trying to take the edge off my hunger.
He eased back. “Whoa, slow down.” He pressed a line of tiny kisses down my cheek, behind my ear, along my neck. “We have plenty of time.”
I shivered at the slide of his lips over my skin, yielding to his lead. I didn’t want to slow down, but he knew better than I did, didn’t he? He was the one with experience.
Or was this about control?
It didn’t matter. Either way, I was enjoying the hell out of it.
Soon, we were walking side by side, holding hands, as we explored the perimeter of the property. I pointed out the best features of Heron Estates.
“Here, let me show you my favorite place,” I said as we emerged from the woods into a narrow meadow.
We made straight for the running trail and followed as it traced the edge of the bay. I pulled him onto the creaking wooden planks of the dock and led him to its end. We stood quietly, soaking up the scene. The water splashed against the pillars and teased the marsh grasses. A heron launched into the sky, searching for another place to hunt, far from human intruders.
“Is this your view?” He sounded as reverential as I felt.
“Yeah. It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” I pointed at our trailer, visible through a stand of trees. “Come on.”
We crossed the lawn, tramped up the steps of the back deck, and slipped in through the sliding glass door. I locked it behind us and turned. “This is my home,” I said in a rush of nerves and apology.
He stood in the center of the den and studied the room. There was the old love seat covered with a floral sheet. The homemade curtains and pillows. The plastic flowers on a faux-wood table.
His jaw flexed.
“What’s wrong?” I watched his reaction closely.
He relaxed into a more neutral expression. “Nothing is wrong.”
It wasn’t nothing. There was no hiding the discount store furnishings or the cheap carpet. The trailer surprised him, and he was doing what he could to hide it. “You think it’s a dump.”
“No, I don’t.” He looked at me over his shoulder. “Are you upset?”
I was more than upset. I was ashamed. It was the nicest home I’d ever lived in. Yet, as I tried to imagine it from his perspective, I knew what he was thinking. So this is how trailer trash live.
A weird feeling bubbled inside me, as if my bones were crumbling and my muscles were jumping. I was in danger of barfing at any second. We shouldn’t be here. This place shouldn’t be a part of our relationship. I’d been an idiot to let him in. “You’ve seen enough. Let’s go. Do you like the beach?”
“Eden, I want to stay.” He held out his hand.
I ignored it, crossing my arms over my chest, trying to fight off the wetness burning behind my eyes.
“Come here, please.”
When I didn’t move, he drew me gently into his embrace. One of his hands rested at my waist while the other rubbed lightly at the base of my skull. I shuddered against him, confused and aching.
“We’re good,” he said.
No, we weren’t. I shook my head.
“What’s bothering you?”
I inhaled, dragging in the fresh scent of him. “It’s small.”
“It’s been engineered for efficiency.”
I stiffened. “Don’t patronize me.”
“I’m not. Do you think it makes a difference to me where you live? Because if you do, I’ll try my best not to feel insulted.”
“It would make a difference to your friends.”
“Then it’s a good thing that you’re not dating them.” His mouth hovered near mine. “I just want us to be together. I only see you, not where we are.”
I melted a little. He’d said the perfect thing.
“Can we stay?”
I nodded.
He kissed me softly and straightened. “Is the date officially underway?”
“Yes.”
“What’s next?”
I wasn’t sure. Lots of physical contact should definitely be on the afternoon’s to-do list, but I didn’t know what that meant to Ash. So far, our make-out sessions had seemed fairly tame. Was that because of the newness of us? Because complete privacy was hard to find? Or were they tame because that’s where Ash set his limits?
Maybe we should start with something easy. “Do you want a tour?”
“No.”
His answer was so fast and forceful that I
giggled, for possibly the only time in my life. “Behind me is the kitchen—”
He stopped my nervous babbling with a kiss that promised to last forever. Not that I was complaining.
The warmth of his mouth pulled away. “Eden?”
My eyelids opened. “What?”
“How long before your folks return?”
“At least four hours.”
“Where’s your bedroom?”
“Uh…” A fast transition. “What are we…?”
“Hey.” His hands slid down my arms until his fingers could link with mine. “Don’t worry. You’re in charge.”
“This might well be the first time in history that Ash Gupta handed over leadership of a project to someone else.”
That comment earned me a hard, delicious kiss. Being a smart-ass was a productive attitude to take with him.
“Okay, then. Follow me.” I led the way to my bedroom. It was small but nice. Clean. Everything in its place. I could say, with complete honesty, that I was proud of this room.
He leaned against the doorframe while I walked around, playing hostess. “Here are my desk and my mirror.” I glanced at the bed. Okay, not mentioning that. It was obvious what it was. I pointed to my bookcase filled with photos, awards, and other happy stuff. “Those are my favorite things.”
He said nothing.
I’m in charge. My arms and legs quaked. What next?
I couldn’t bring myself to look at him. “It’s perfect for me, although I’ll bet you have closets bigger at your house.”
“Eden. Don’t.” He walked over and hauled me up against him until my toes hardly touched the ground.
Damn, I wasn’t exactly a tiny girl. His strength was sexy. “How often do you work out?” I asked, to keep the conversation going, because conversation was good. It bought me time.
“I play sports whenever I get the chance.”
“Like?”
“Tennis, golf, surfing.”
“Surfing?”
He grunted, his focus no longer on the talking. “I like it when your hair is loose,” he said, frowning at my ponytail.
“Take it down.”
One of his arms supported me while, with his free hand, he reached for my ponytail holder and pulled it off carefully. “I wish you would always wear it this way.”