The Garden (Lavender Shores Book 2)

by Rosalind Abel

  I gave a groan of my own. “Oh shit. Of course they did. And your dad knows where you two had sex the first time? I know your boundaries are fairly nonexistent, but that’s just gross, bro.”

  “Shut up.” Andrew tossed his napkin at me, this time making contact. “I didn’t tell him that, but my family was kinda with me the night I met Joel in the bed-and-breakfast. Doesn’t exactly take a rocket scientist.”

  I leveled my gaze at Joel. “Are you sure you wanna marry into this family? Andrew is stuck with his gay, gay, gay, straight dad, and I’m stuck with my wonk-a-do mother, but you still have time.”

  “Quit trying to break us up, asshole.” He was laughing, but this time when Andrew leaned over the table to smack me, he had enough success that I was probably going to have a red mark on my shoulder.

  Joel just grinned and nodded in my direction. “His dad really is so gay, though, right?”

  “Yep. The gayest thing I’ve ever seen. And I just saw the two of you with puppies. That was a whole new level I didn’t even know existed.”

  Joel ignored the barb. “Andrew made breakfast so I could get details, so it’s time to spill.” As if to prove the point, he balanced the puppies with one hand and used his other to scoop out another portion of the frittata and slid it onto my plate. “Lamont and Heather said you got freaked out by Walden. He’s really—”

  “Wait, what?” I cut him off. “Andrew’s brother and sister weren’t even there yet.”

  Andrew glanced at Joel, then gave me a pained expression. “They heard about it from Micah.”

  “My brother wasn’t there either! At least not that one.”

  Joel chuckled.

  I glared at him.

  He just smiled and placed the two reject puppies on the floor before looking back at me, still chuckling. “I really love your families. They’re fucking crazy, but holy shit. I’m never gonna be bored.”

  “I hate you.” I took a bite of the frittata and spoke to Andrew without bothering to chew or swallow first. “You have until there’s no more food left, then I’m outta here.”

  “Spoken like the best friend I know and love.” His tone grew more serious. “We don’t have to talk about Walden.”

  “What? Then why the breakfast?” Joel didn’t give Andrew a chance to respond before turning to me. “Really, Gilbert, Walden is a great guy. I know him better than Andrew because he comes into the memorabilia shop, but we both love him. And so does Lacy.”

  “Well, there’s one more strike against him. He likes sports.”

  “Nope.” Joel shook his head. “He was hoping I sold comic books, which I didn’t, but because of him I do now. It seemed like a good addition to the shop, and it wasn’t something anyone else offered in the town.”

  Fuck. Comics. If that wasn’t just fucking adorable. Throw in the stupid hat he had on the night before, those god-awful red glasses, that dorky tweed jacket, and underneath it all the body and talented ass of a sex god who collected comic books? The man couldn’t be further from my type. Well, except for the body and ass part. So why did all that other shit make me want him even more?

  No, not want him. I didn’t want Walden. And, yes, I remembered his dorky name too. I didn’t want him. I just wanted to fuck him. And fuck him. Like a lot. Like many, many times.

  When I looked back at Andrew, his mouth was hanging open.

  “What are you doing? If you need to be fed, look to your baby-talking fiancé over there. You guys can practice for the wedding cake fiasco.”

  “Oh my God.” Andrew cast a glance at Joel, then focused on me again, his blue eyes huge. “I can’t believe it.”

  “What?” I asked, annoyed. Andrew was one of the few people who never pissed me off. Ever. But he was suddenly starting to.

  “You like him.”

  “Shut the fuck up.”

  Andrew sat back in his chair, his tone growing quiet. “Shit.”

  “Shit?” Joel looked back and forth between us. “Why shit?”

  I took a deep breath. It seemed there were stories Andrew hadn’t told his fiancé. I leveled my gaze at him. “I. Do. Not. Like. Walden Thompson.”

  Andrew flinched, just a touch.

  I guess I hadn’t controlled my tone as much as I’d tried. Guilt tugged at me. “Sorry.” I took another breath and slumped into my seat. “Andrew, I’m sorry. I’m not trying to bite your head off. But I don’t like him. We just had great sex. Some of the most fun sex of my life, sure, and you know that’s saying something, but still. It was just sex.” I could feel Joel’s gaze on me, and I turned toward him.

  “I’m not sure you’d be so defensive if you didn’t like him.”

  I pointed at Joel, managing to infuse humor, even though I meant what I said, kinda. “Okay, Andrew I love. You, I’ve already forgotten your name. You, I’ll kill.”

  Completely unconcerned, Joel shrugged again. “Truth hurts.”

  I turned back to Andrew. “I’m ignoring your human-sized dildo over there.”

  Despite himself, Andrew burst out laughing and looked at Joel. “I’d say that fits your talents, babe.”

  Joel puffed his chest. “I’d agree. We should tell Gilbert about the other night when I used the—”

  “Nope!” I stood. “We get enough of that oversharing from Andrew’s dad. You are not allowed to catch whatever socially unacceptable disease that man has.”

  They both laughed, and Joel motioned for me to sit down. “Fine, we won’t talk about how much you do or do not like Walden Thompson, or whatever. Even if you do.” He lifted a finger to cut off my retort. “Tell us about whatever big celebrity you’re designing jewelry for at the moment.”

  I latched onto the subject change, relaxing back into the easy banter I’d always had with them. “Now come on, you know I can’t disclose that sort of thing.” I grinned wickedly at Andrew. “But you love her.”

  His eyes twinkled, and he leaned forward. “I do? Is it Anne Hathaway?”

  I snorted. “God, you and your Anne Hathaway obsession.”

  “Tell me about it.” Joel broke in again. “I’d never seen The Princess Diaries. I wish I could still say that.”

  I tsked. “Well, I hate to tell you, Joel, but you won’t like this one either. I know how you feel about country music.

  Andrew gasped. “No!”

  “Yep.”

  “No way!” He gasped again. “Holy shit, Gilbert. Have you met her? Or Tim and the kids? Invite me up when there’s a fitting.”

  “It’s a necklace, Andrew. There’s no fitting. And it’s all online.”

  His expression fell, looking totally crushed. I couldn’t help but laugh a bit. Andrew was such a dork, and I loved him.

  Shit. Maybe I did have a soft spot for the dorky nerd types. Andrew didn’t look like it, but he still was one. Though Walden hadn’t looked like it either, at least with his clothes off.

  As I sat back on the couch, my jeans squeaked against the leather. “I gotta be honest, Doc. Andrew and Joel about talked my ear off this morning. And I’m aching to get the fuck out of this town and back to my lake. Can we do the speed-session thing and I pay the full price?”

  Donovan rolled his eyes.

  “That isn’t very professional, Dr. Carlisle.”

  He tilted his head, studying me. I hated when he did that. “You’re in rare form this morning. You’ve got the humor walls up so high I can barely see you over the top.”

  “Was that supposed to be funny? My invisible walls of emotional defense are so high you can barely see through them?” I shook my head in exaggerated disgust. “Speed session or not, I’m taking off a few dollars for forcing me to sit through such abuse.”

  “Wow. You really are in deep, aren’t you?” Concern laced his tone. I preferred the eye roll. “I didn’t see you at the party last night. I’m assuming the engagement is triggering some issues, or is it more the cabin being gone?”

  From the twinge at both of those, I’d been in therapy long enough to know he’d
hit the nail on the head. However, due to all those years with him, I also knew he’d missed the biggest nail. “You mean you didn’t hear about me basically running out of the Kelly’s house?”

  He shook his head.

  “Huh. Lavender Shores is losing its touch.”

  He ignored the jibe. “Tell me about it. Why the running?”

  I leaned forward, elbows on my knees. “It’s this fucking town, man. I hate it. Everyone knows everything. Or at least think they do. I steal back into town and I’m sixteen all over again. Never mind that it’s been nearly twice that long since I actually was sixteen. But still, that’s all everyone sees, except for my family. And the Kellys, of course. Just fucking sixteen-year-old Gilbert Bryant. Home-wrecking slut. I hate this fucking place.” I did. I so, so did. And I hated Erica and her little bitch friend, Lauren. I nearly said that last part, but I knew the way his sister treated me ate at Donovan. I didn’t need to add to it.

  I pinched the bridge of my nose. I could literally feel my pulse throbbing in my neck and behind my eyes and the beginning of a headache rushing toward me. I needed to get a grip. It was one thing to despise my hometown. It was another to give in to such anger.

  Donovan got up, crossed the small space, and sat beside me on the couch, then put a firm hand on the back of my shoulder. “Are you okay? I’ve not seen you like this since—”

  “I’m not going to try to hurt myself. I’m not even close.” I paused, judging the truth of those words. I was angry, embarrassed, tired of it. But I wasn’t to that point. I twisted, looking Donovan in the eye. “I’m really not.”

  He nodded. “Okay. Good.” It was clear he believed me. “Then what was the trigger?”

  I sighed and went back to pinching between my eyes. “I met someone.” My words hung there, and I played them over in my head for a second. That was one of the reasons I loved Donovan so much. He didn’t jump onto every word I said. Didn’t try to assume what I meant. He gave me time to hash through it myself. “I guess the better terminology would be that I fucked someone. Which I know is nothing new, but I liked this guy. At least noticed him, ya know? The fucking was… well, it was fucking awesome. But he wasn’t just some hole to fill.” I hurried onward. “I’m not saying I like him or anything. I don’t have some pathetic crush.”

  “I know.” He patted my shoulder, then moved his hand away but stayed beside me on the couch. “It sounds like you had some sort of connection. That you didn’t just see him as a way to get off like most times, but that maybe… you recognized his humanity and you approved of it.”

  I snorted. “Well, I wouldn’t say it like that either.”

  He gave a soft chuckle. “How would you say it?”

  I considered for a moment. “That works, actually.”

  Donovan waited, then spoke when it was clear I wasn’t sure what to say next. “That actually sounds like a good thing. Like the sort of thing we’ve been talking about lately. A real connection with a guy. Again, not saying it has to go to a relationship, you know that, but it’s good that you saw him as more than a blowup doll.”

  “Geez, Doc. Crass much?” I glared at him.

  “Those were your words a few sessions ago. About that guy you fucked on the pontoon.”

  “Oh. Right.” That guy. I shrugged. “Well, compared to Walden, that’s pretty accurate.”

  Donovan flinched, though it was such a small reaction that if I hadn’t been seeing him for so long I wouldn’t have noticed.

  “You know Walden?” Of course he did. It was Lavender Shores. Everybody knew fucking everybody.

  “Know of him. We’ve not met officially.” Donovan’s tone was gentle, like I might break. And he might be right. “I take it when you were… intimate, you weren’t aware of his profession?”

  I shook my head. “Do you think I’d ever fuck a teacher? Ever? No matter what kind of body they had?”

  He sighed, long and slow.

  So much for a speed session.

  Six

  Walden

  March

  I’d been so desperate to move to Lavender Shores, I honestly thought once I arrived I’d never leave. Sure, the obligatory occasional trip back to Louisiana to visit family, but other than that, where else would I need to go? I lived in my dream town. Every day was a vacation.

  Right. Not so much.

  Lavender Shores was everything I hoped it would be, and more really. But life had become real. It might be paradise, but there were still bills to pay, a house to clean, groceries to buy and turn into meals, just like anywhere else. And just like anywhere else, the months between Christmas vacation and spring break were hell on teachers and students. By the time the two weeks of state standardized testing had come and gone, I was completely frazzled. Point Reyes National Seashore outside the classroom window did nothing more than taunt with its forested beauty leading down to the sea. Forest or not, biodiversity to explore or not, I had to get the hell out of town. It didn’t matter that I had three nights scheduled with friends at the ski resort for the end of the week; I needed out and fast.

  The steamy sulfur water of the hot springs had been the answer. Less than an hour in the bubbly depths and I almost felt human again. Children’s laughter wafted over from the large pool, making me grumble inwardly. Shaking my head, I adjusted my position, turning away and folding my arms over the edge of the concrete enclosure. I had five more nights before having to return to work. And two of them were by myself. By the time my friends arrived, I’d be Walden Thompson again, or at least close enough. And by Monday, maybe not teacher of the year, but I’d at least be less frazzled enough to make it to the end of May.

  I let out a long sigh and pushed the sounds of people away. I had the small hot springs pool to myself at the moment. In front of me, the snowcapped mountains were purple and white in dying daylight. I’d traded one forest scene for another, and while I preferred what Lavender Shores offered, this was exactly what I needed. Hot water, gorgeous nature, and two nights completely alone. Just me and a book. A wild man for sure.

  I sighed again, this time dragging it out, making sure I truly accepted the luxury of it all. Another glance around at the beauty, carefully avoiding looking at the children in the large pool, then I settled back down and retrieved my Kindle from the towel I’d wrapped it in.

  In all honesty, I wasn’t sure I was ready for the book I planned to read. My favorite kind of story was urban fantasy, however passé werewolves and vampires might be. I wasn’t sure I could enjoy a romance novel. But I’d met Lamont Price the night of the engagement party. He’d gone out of his way to be kind to me; I’m sure I’d looked a complete wreck after Gilbert had rushed away. Lamont had distracted me with stories of the town and his family, and he’d made me feel a little less like a pariah. At any other time, I would’ve been captivated by his good looks, but Gilbert had been the only thing I could think of at the time. When Lamont confessed that he wrote romance novels, I’d thought he was joking. The man was about as handsome and butch as you got, even if he was soft-spoken. I never would’ve guessed he wrote romance novels. I felt like I owed it to him to at least try one of his books and leave a review on Amazon.

  But a romance? Like I hadn’t been fixated enough since that damned engagement party. I was doing a better job of not thinking about it, but the look on Gilbert’s face right before he left was never too far away. Like I’d done something to disgust him, or something wrong. No, that wasn’t quite it. More like he’d discovered I was disgusting and wrong. In the flash of a moment, it was so easy to see he regretted every second of our brief time together. And that was without him even knowing anything about me. How much worse would his expression be then?

  Shit. Here I was in luxury, thinking about stupid Gilbert Bryant. I could do that at home. I was paying way too much a night to be miserable. Maybe I needed to go to therapy again. It shouldn’t be so hard to get a man I’d spent a matter of hours with out of my head.

  I glanced around again, remindin
g myself where I was and how good I had it, then brought the Kindle to life with a swipe of my thumb. I’d downloaded one of Lamont’s books before I left home, so it was sitting there waiting for me. It couldn’t be that bad. I’d chosen the one fantasy title he’d written. Plus it was a straight romance. Even if the entire thing was sex, at least I wouldn’t be picturing Gilbert and me. Hell, I’d never had sex with a woman, so reading about it would be nearly as realistic to me as the vampire books I loved so much.

  Less than a page in, and fuck. The thing started off with a bang. A literal bang. As in, she was a solitary female in a pack of werewolves. Werewolves who liked to gangbang it seemed. And while the heroine was definitely enjoying herself to the fullest, there were nearly constant details of the male wolves touching each other as they fucked her. The alpha commanding one of his subordinates to press against the base of his shaft as he fucked the female. How an erection grazed another man’s ass as they waited their turn. Explicit aspects of muscular shoulders, chest hair, thick thighs, and low-hanging balls.

  I suddenly realized I was hard as a rock. I spared a glance behind me. At least the kids were still in the other pool and I was under the water and hidden beneath my swim trunks, but still. Not exactly what I was expecting. Hell, not at all what I was expecting. I’d envisioned a sweet, nearly chaste story of longing and fairy tales. Not erotica. I never would’ve guessed from how gentle and quiet Lamont seemed. And, did the women who read his books really think he was a straight guy? It was like he wasn’t even trying. Gorgeous woman on the cover or not, this was obviously nearly as gay as I was. Maybe it got a little subtler later on.

  A shrill shriek of laughter cut through the pleasant ease of the space, and I clicked off the book. Nope. Not reading that in the sight of children. Not gonna happen. I clicked back to one of my Women of the Otherworld series. They were my favorite. I’d just reread one of them. The one about the ghost, I thought. Maybe it’d help all the shit on my mind disappear.