by Lane Martin
When she had gotten married, she had chosen not to have any attendants. She had wanted one, her best friend, but Dick had two brothers and our mother—ever the etiquette police—informed her that if her betrothed had both his brothers stand up for him, then I had to be her second bridesmaid. Nicole was quick to remind me that I was the reason her wedding was ruined. Funny how it was my fault instead of hers. It was easy to blame me. God forbid it had anything to do with her and Dick marrying for status instead of what really mattered. Love. Nicole's resentment towards me was deep-seated. I could do two things about it: one, be bitter about it, or two, accept we would never have the close relationship I wanted with my sister. I chose the latter. My mouth hinged open and she grinned. She was up to no good.
"Nicole, stay out of it," Dick barked as our father's face reddened. The housekeeper snuck into the room, unnoticed by anyone but me, and cleaned the glass debris off the floor. That was how things worked in my family and I was sick of it. I wanted to clean up my own messes. Hell, I wanted to make them.
I needed to change tactics; the "this is my life" route wasn't working. While I hadn't gotten my musical talent from either of my parents, I had learned many other things from them. Mom was all about appearances, and dad was interested in one thing: the bottom line. I’d had an ace in my hand and it was time to lay down my cards.
Traffic had been worse than I’d thought it would be, so I’d arrived in town late. The realtor had another appointment, so I had to wait for her to sign the final papers and get my keys. As much as I wanted to get over to my new house, I didn't want to be any later than I already was to Dylan and Grady's party. I regretted my decision as soon as I pulled up to the address. Cars lined the street. Kids rode bikes down the sidewalk. A couple of women ran by pushing those jogging strollers. The yards were well kept, and many of the houses seemed to be recently updated. I couldn't wait to start on my own renovation project at my home. The party seemed to be in the backyard, so I followed the noise down the driveway, past several trucks and a trailer. In one hand, I held a bottle of wine I’d "borrowed" from my parents' cellar, and in the other, I held Cap, my violin, at the request of the party host. It felt like everyone stopped talking the second I stepped foot on the covered patio. The men were all wearing jeans and several of them had on navy blue t-shirts with a crest over the heart. I swore some of them had drinks frozen in motion on the way to their lips. The women were dressed equally causally. It was unseasonably warm for January, so the party was taking place outside on the large patio. I was completely overdressed in my typical business attire. I looked like I was about to go before a judge. I kind of felt like it too.
"Oh, good, you're here." Dylan, god bless her, arrived from out of nowhere. The woman was in a simple maxi dress without a stitch of make-up on, and her short hair looked effortlessly perfect. I would have straightened my skirt and checked my chignon if both my hands weren't full. "Grey, can you make yourself useful and put these in the studio where they will be safe?" She took both the bottle and violin case from me before I could object and handed them to a man who looked like he could be her husband’s twin before throwing her arms around me in a hug I wasn't expecting. I didn't usually trust anyone with my violin, but her hug distracted me. I hadn't realized how badly I needed it before her arms were around me.
When I’d left home that morning, not one person had uttered a word to me, not even the housekeeper. The only reason they’d even gotten out of bed before I left was for one last opportunity to scowl at me. Yes, I had negotiated what I wanted, and they had agreed to the terms, but it still didn't feel like a win. They didn't like it or approve of the choices I was making, that much was obvious. Dylan released me and I watched as the man disappeared into an outbuilding that looked like new construction. Should I tell him the contents of the case he carried cost over a million dollars or let it go? I took a deep breath and decided to let it go; Cap was insured.
"Thank you for having me. I'm excited to be here." It was all I got out before I was almost knocked over. Again. By the same darn dog. Did that mean his handsome owner was nearby? Ugh. I was an idiot for thinking about him. Again. Luckily for me, the man who had disappeared with Cap had rejoined us and saved me before I landed on my ass. The same couldn't be said for my shirt. It was covered in mud. Dylan scolded Rascal, the large shepherd who had appeared out of nowhere for a second time.
The same man I had been tangled up with last weekend rounded the corner. He was yelling for—shocker—Rascal, who now sat at my feet like an obedient dog and not the filthy beast who had moments ago ruined my shirt and nearly knocked me over. The man had dark hair and a sexy five o'clock shadow. He too wore a navy t-shirt with the image I had come to recognize as the local fire department logo. Perfect. He worked with Dylan's husband, and what had to be half the town was watching the entire scene.
I pointed an angry finger at him and whisper-shouted, "You!"
He raised his hands in defeat while trying to apologize for the actions of his beast. He had the gall to smile as he stared at my ruined shirt. I felt a twinge of pride momentarily while the sexy man blatantly ogled my breasts before I came to my senses and called him out on it.
Dylan scolded the man she called Saint and his naughty dog, Rascal. What kind of name is Saint, and why did the jerk have to be so sexy? I had to get out of there. I searched for the quickest escape route.
"I'm sorry, Dylan, but I'm going to have to cut my visit short. Thank you for inviting me and making me feel so welcome. I'll see you over at the school on Monday." I made my excuse to leave, not that one was necessary with the way I looked.
I didn’t want to disappoint our host and I was excited to see Shelby again, as well as meet her son, but my blouse was covered with muddy paw prints. How could I stay? I got a lot of satisfaction out of the glare Dylan threw at Rascal and his sexy as sin owner.
Saint moved closer and apologized. He even begged, and actually used the word please. His plea for me to stay tugged at my heart.
"Well, I can't stay like this." I motioned at my ruined shirt. Dylan offered to lend me something but compared to her, I was an Amazon. No way would anything of hers fit me. I could tell she didn't want to imply I was large but compared to her, I was a giant. At five feet, eleven inches, I was used to being the tallest woman in the room. My boobs weren't Sofie Vergara size, but like the rest of me, they were plentiful. My mother had always called me full-figured. I pointed out to Dylan that we weren't the same size with a shrug. Saint looked at my chest again. I'm not going to lie; I liked the way he looked at me.
Dylan caught him looking at me and admonished him for being "such a man." Grady joined us on the patio for the first time since my arrival. He took in the scene before him with an expletive, but Saint only responded with a promise to take care of it. He reached out for my hand, but I didn't budge.
"What do you think you're doing?” I complained through gritted teeth, trying not to cause any more of a scene than we already had, but he bent without answering. Before I knew what was happening, I was over his shoulder and he was moving quickly, like I weighed nothing, across the backyard, the dog following at his heels. He didn't put me down until we were tucked away inside a trailer parked at the back of the driveway.
Chapter Four
CARSON
Her brown eyes with golden flecks blazed at me once I put her down. I was tempted to kiss the woman, but the brunette beauty looked like she was about to slap me. My dog wasn't the only one who went crazy when she was around.
What the he—...heck is wrong with you?" It was obvious she was about to say hell when she corrected herself by saying heck. Lord, why do I think it would be fun to get this classy woman to curse like a sailor? "Do you always throw people over your shoulder and carry them off?" Rascal's tail thumped against the floor as he wagged it, and she diverted her attention to him. "And do you always jump on strange women?" She gave the top of his head a pet and I crossed my arms over my chest while he ate up her attentio
n. Damn, I am envious of my dog. Honestly, it was nice to see Rascal misbehave again. Like me, he had changed since the fire, only he couldn't tell me what he was feeling. Not that I shared much either. No, you couldn't handle it, so you packed up and left.
Her fingers snapped right in front of my face. "Hey." She snapped them again. "Hello." I shook my head out of the fog I was in. It always happens when you think about what happened. "Jeez, sorry to disturb you. But now everyone out there thinks we are in here doing who knows what. Should I be worried that I was kidnapped in broad daylight while the good townspeople of Sunnyville clapped?"
"I didn't kidnap you," I refuted as she placed her hands on her shapely hips. The action brought my attention back to her dirty shirt. Okay, to her boobs.
"Oh my God, you're looking at my breasts again!" Rascal barked when she stomped her foot.
“What can I say? We're both fans." I rubbed Rascal between the ears.
"You're both dogs." She groaned. "I need to get out of here." She made a move toward the door. Shit, she couldn't leave the party before she got to meet Brody, and she wouldn't stay, not in her current state of dress. I reached out for her.
“Please don't go. I'm sorry." She looked down at my hand on her arm and tensed. The second I touched her she went rigid. I knew I was pushing my luck, so I pulled my arm away. I raised both of my arms in surrender and she let go of the breath she was holding in. She doesn’t like my touch. I took a step back, giving her more space, and she gripped her hands together. "This is an important day for Dylan. She wants you to stay. Can I give you a shirt to wear?"
She bit her lip nervously before reminding me, "I don't even know you." No, we hadn't been formally introduced.
"I'm Carson. Carson St. James." I offered her my hand. It felt like it took minutes for her to reach out and take my hand in hers, and I felt like an idiot as I waited.
"Saint," she repeated. It was the same nickname everyone called me, but she said it in a normal tone. Maybe I was accustomed to hearing it exclaimed like it was in all capital letters. When she said it, it sounded like it was in cursive, or maybe a different language. She could say it as many times as she wanted.
"Yeah." I smiled like an idiot. I felt like a first-grader who had been picked first for a team on the playground. We continued shaking hands.
"Oh, God, I'm an idiot. I think Rascal's manners are rubbing off on me. I'm Penny." She chuckled nervously. Penny. She looked down at our joined hands before clearing her throat and adding, "Penelope Anderson." So formal. Her cheeks turned an adorable shade of pink as we continued to shake hands.
"It's nice to meet you, Penelope Anderson." I was nothing more than a small-town boy who put out fires for a living and swung a hammer in his free time. Everything about this woman screamed she was way out of my league. She had an air about her. Not that she was stuck-up, specifically, but in my world, people didn't go to a backyard barbecue in heels and fancy white shirt with their hair twisted up in an elaborate bun. Everything about Penelope Anderson screamed that she was the type of woman who got manicures every week and spent money like it grew on trees.
"Just Penny, Carson." I liked the way she said my name way too much. She released my hand, so I took a step back and shoved my hands into my pockets so I wasn't tempted to do something I had no business doing. Something like touching her again. I could hear the tick of the clock hanging on the wall over my shoulder. Seconds passed as she wrung her hands. Rascal stood between us, looking back and forth several times before barking. Penny was the first to break the silence. "Now what?" She motioned at her soiled shirt.
"Oh yeah. I should get you back outside." I turned to the small closet where I kept my clothes and pulled a fire department t-shirt and one of my button-downs out and turned to offer them to her. "These should fit." I shrugged. Why could this woman make me feel like a hormonal thirteen-year-old boy again? I was a man, not a punk kid.
She took them from me like they were covered in mud. Maybe she was stuck-up after all. With the dress shirt folded over her arm, she held up the t-shirt with both hands and examined it before laying it down and holding up the other shirt. Having inspected both, she finally asked, "Do you have any scissors?" I handed her a pair before stopping to think about what she was about to do.
She sat down on my bed. The trailer was small and since most of my time in it was spent sleeping, my bed occupied a lot of the space. She flattened the dress shirt and started cutting.
"Hey, that's my shirt," I complained as she continued to cut. She looked up from her project; her mouth was agape.
"Well, consider it restitution for the one your dog ruined," she snapped before returning to her work. Fuck, I was probably getting off cheap. I decided to keep my mouth shut. I watched as she made several more cuts. So much for your favorite dress shirt. Two cutouts formed at each side of the collar before she cut both arms at about the elbow. Her lips pressed firmly together as she carefully folded the shirt in half. She cut the bottom of the shirt off, making a curve at the front that matched on both sides when she lifted it to inspect her work. "It isn't perfect, but it will do for now." She sounded so disappointed. In what? Herself? I couldn't help but notice her tone as she spat the word "perfect" like it was a curse. My desire to know why she loathed a word I might very well use to describe her baffled me. What is wrong with me? She was the music teacher, nothing more. I wasn't going to be in Sunnyville past my current short-term contract. From what Dylan had told me, the teaching position was short-term too. Hell, for all I knew, Penelope Anderson was unavailable. Just like you. Okay, that wasn’t exactly right. My engagement with Kara had been over the second she’d walked out the door.
It had been a Tuesday morning, and I had stopped to get her a coffee on my way back to the apartment after a busy twenty-four-hour shift. She would be leaving to go to the hospital, while I would go home to sleep and take care of Rascal, who was still recovering. It had kind of become our thing since we’d moved into our temporary apartment. I would hand her the coffee, then she would kiss me and go to work. It wasn't ideal since we barely got to spend any time together, but it was the best we could do at the time. Things had changed between us. I tried to convince myself her distance was her way of dealing with the fire. It was easier then admitting what I already knew. She was gone when I got home. Her key and ring were on the kitchen counter, along with a note. I'll never forget what she had written to me.
Carson - I'm sorry, but I just can't do this anymore. Please don't try to contact me. This is for the best. I will always and forever love you. Goodbye.
Kara
Kara had been my girlfriend since our freshman year in high school. She and her family had moved to the area over the summer from Seattle, and the second I’d seen her, I knew she had to be mine. We had been the couple everyone loved to hate. I was the captain of the football team and of course, she was head cheerleader. We were prom queen and king and the couple voted most likely to be together still and living in town when we celebrated our twenty-fifth class reunion. I always liked the idea. Kara, not so much. College had proved to be a challenge to our relationship. We’d broken up a couple of times and had tried dating other people, but we’d always ended up back together. I had taken it as a sign we were meant to be.
As soon as she had gotten accepted into her nursing program, I’d asked her to marry me. I got a job with the fire department twenty minutes away from home and we moved into the house my grandparents had left me and started planning our future. When she graduated, she got a job in the local emergency room. Our life together had only begun when the fire came through and left nothing but destruction in its path.
"Um, could you turn around, Saint?" Penny stood with her head tilted to the left in question. Shit, you zoned out again. While I liked the way she said Saint, I wanted her to call me Carson.
I crossed my arms firmly over my chest. "If you call me Carson, Penelope." I should have been a gentleman and offered her some privacy by stepping outside or the use
of the bathroom, but for reasons I couldn’t explain, I wanted to challenge the woman my dog had a thing for.
"Penny, Carson," she countered. Yeah, just my first name was much better. I turned my back to her. Little did she realize I could see her in the reflection of the mirror. She put down my cut-up shirt and paused momentarily before she began unbuttoning her blouse. I felt like a creep for watching her undress, but I couldn't look away. Sheer, white lace cups supported her voluptuous body. The fabric of her shirt fell from her form, and I admired her hourglass silhouette as she lifted my shirt to her face and inhaled the scent of my clean shirt. Fuck, that was sexy. I tried not to move so she wouldn't notice I was watching her, but I probably should have focused on being quiet too.
"Oh my god. Are you watching me change? That's disturbing." She moved to cover herself with my shirt. The action was laughable since I had already seen everything she was trying to hide. She was gorgeous. I turned to face her.
“Disturbing?" I rubbed my chest. "You're the one who took a whiff of me." Her mouth fell open and her cheeks reddened. God, she was fun to mess with. "Don't worry, princess, I won't tell anyone you're a sniffer."
She threw my shirt over her head. I didn't bother to look away.