by PE Kavanagh
“So it’s okay to have sex, but not okay to have feelings?”
“No. None of it is okay, Luc. That’s the point!”
He opened his mouth several times, as if to speak, and stopped.
“Do you have something to say?” Each word bit more sharply.
He worked his jaw. “I… I’m sorry, Mo. I can’t.”
She sat up. “I'm getting up now. It’s probably time for you to go.”
He took a firm grip on her shoulders. “We’re not going to do that, Ramona. We’re not going to spoil this amazing time together with bad feelings. I'm going to respect your request. I won’t talk about… feelings. But being with me and hating yourself isn’t going to work.”
Damn. She couldn’t even be pleased that he had deciphered her jumble of thoughts. He shouldn’t have known she was hating herself. Guilt burned at her throat and filled her mouth with bitterness.
She looked away as he got dressed, afraid that the sight of him would force her to pull him back into the bed and confess that her heart was bursting as much as her body was burning. But none of that was possible. He wasn’t her Baloo anymore. He belonged to someone else.
The clink of his belt was followed by the sound of a zipper. “What are you doing today?”
She didn’t want to tell him about her day. She didn’t want to make small talk. Her first choice would have been to pack up all her stuff and get the hell out of Virginia. It was just as toxic as she remembered. Barring that, she would have wanted to force Lucas to tell the truth about Abigail. About his engagement. About why he had spent the night in her bed and not with his fiancée.
She couldn’t leave - had the foundation benefit in three days. And she didn’t want to hear the whole story, either. The truth was almost certainly going to make things much, much worse. At least now she could pretend that there was a perfectly good explanation for all of it. She could live in a fantasy that made her actions free from consequence and something she could easily walk away from. Ignorance was the price she would pay to stave off the admission that she had repeatedly done the most terrible thing, ever.
“Ramona, please don’t shut me out. I know you can tell what’s real and what’s not.”
It was impossible to not look at him. He pulled his jacket off the back of the spotted chair and slipped it on. That arm had just been around her. That chest beneath her. Those fingers inside her.
“You agreed you wouldn’t talk about it.” Besides, she had no idea what was real.
He did not make a move toward the door. “All right. So tell me about your day.”
A sigh rattled out of her. “I’m taking Dad to dialysis, then Connor and I are going to get started on packing up Granddad’s house. That is, unless our cousins have already looted it.”
“Good luck with that. The Governor wasn’t short on possessions.”
“Tell me about it.” This small talk wasn’t so bad. “What are you up to today?”
“It’s paperwork day. Light at the restaurant on Mondays and Tuesdays so I catch up on all the administrative stuff. I actually like it, the business side of things.”
She stood up. I can do this. “And that’s why you’re the hottest chef in town.”
He wrapped his arms around her. “Am I? And by hot do you mean sexy?”
That mouth…. No. She pushed out of his grip. “I actually meant award-winning, acclaimed restaurant kind of hot.”
He frowned. “Oh.”
He kissed her lightly on each cheek, then on her lips. “Have a great day, Mowgli. I’ll talk to you later.”
She held herself together long enough to watch him walk out of her bedroom, and then fell back onto the bed, exhausted. So much for a good night’s sleep making it all better. Which, of course, she hadn’t gotten because she decided that screwing him - twice! - was a better idea.
Fuck. She’d managed to make the horrible situation even worse. Maybe she wasn’t that different from old Grandad after all.
Chapter Four
Ramona stared at the knee-high piles of books in the middle of her grandfather’s library. She and Connor had agreed to take only the books they cared about, leaving the rest for donation. There were already more than she expected.
A first edition Darwin sat on the top of her pile. Her brother had claimed the entire collection of classical political books, including de Tocqueville, Locke, Plato, and Machiavelli. Thank goodness her cousins were too stupid to understand that some of the most precious items in this house were on these shelves.
Whatever else her grandfather was, he did prize knowledge and the power of language. That might have been the only thing she shared with the man who’d been the most powerful antagonistic force in her life. The bastard whose tyrannical hold on his family had left most of them scared, drunk, or on the run.
Connor, perched on a tall ladder, pulled a small dark book from one of the topmost shelves and handed it to her. A Carnegie joined the pile.
He reached his arm across to pull another book out. She flinched at the thought of him losing balance. “You sure you don’t want me to take a turn up there? You’re going to get a cramp in your neck. Or maybe kill yourself.”
Connor examined the spine of a book with a dull green cover. “It’s fine, sis. You can take over when I finish this wall.”
Ramona reached her arms up, then bent forward in a stretch. Everything ached. The combination of sleep deprivation, emotional turmoil and… extracurriculars… had left her a tight, sore, ball of tension. Maybe if they finished up early enough, she’d try to find a yoga class.
Her back cracked and popped as she slowly stood up. Yes, yoga sounded like exactly the right thing to address both her physical and mental distress. “Hey, do you know any good yoga studios around here?”
The carved lines of her brother’s face grew even sharper. “Kidding, right?”
“No, I’m not kidding. Yoga would be great for you. Maybe loosen you up a bit.”
“Here, catch.” He vaulted a hefty brown book with gold letting toward her. “Nope. But you’re welcome to come to Crossfit with Lucas and me. We go at five thirty.”
That didn’t make sense. That would be peak restaurant time. “Five thirty? Aren’t you both working?”
“AM, Mo. Morning time.”
Gruesome. And she knew exactly where Lucas was at five thirty that morning. “That’s a hard no from me. Thanks, anyway.”
It was good that Connor had found an outlet for all his energy. He’d always been tightly wound, so a vigorous workout might have been the only time he let loose. The idea of Crossfit made her shudder, but it appeared to be working for her brother. She had to admit, he looked better than she’d seen him in a long time. His lean frame had filled out, no longer so gangly. As for his workout buddy, that physique was created by nothing less than the gods. And that thought was like taking a huge shovel to the already bottomless hole she was in.
For the second time in twenty-four hours, the sound of footsteps preceded the appearance of the very last person she expected to see. Except for the lustful thoughts she was having just seconds before he appeared.
“Anybody order dinner?” Lucas stood in the doorway, large brown bags hanging from his hands and a broad smile on his face.
“Dude! I was just about to pass out from hunger.” Connor jumped off the ladder and greeted the new arrival, giving his sister a curious look as he passed. Ramona paused with a book dangling from her hand as if she had been frozen.
Lucas put the bags down and took a step toward her. “Ramona…”
The book dropped onto the floor, creating a much louder crash than she anticipated. “What are you doing here?”
“Haven’t you heard? I'm your brother’s personal meal delivery service.”
Connor chuckled before rummaging in one of the bags and pulling out a green bean. “You offered to come help. And bring dinner.”
She clenched her jaw before willing her face to relax. “Oh…”
Lucas did
not make another move toward her. She shifted her gaze from one man to the other. This was much more upsetting than she wanted or expected it to be. Merely being in the same room as him had turned her into a bumbling mess. Or a fawning schoolgirl. She needed to pull herself together.
“I’ll take these down,” Connor said, as he picked up the bags. “We’ll eat in the nook by the kitchen. Luc, grab a pile of books when you head down.”
Connor strutted out of the room. Neither of them budged until his footsteps changed from the tap on the wooden staircase to the silence of the carpeted hallway.
In a few steps, Lucas had reached her, slid his hand behind her neck and kissed her in the type of greeting that might have been predicted considering their very recent activities. It took more than a beat for her to push him away. And every ounce of willpower. He really didn’t need to be such a great kisser.
She steadied herself. “Why are you here, Lucas?”
“Your brother-”
“You can’t do this. Not here.” Not anywhere, actually. She flitted her eyes at her grandfather’s enormous portrait. Evil motherfucker.
“Okay, Mo.” He bent down to pick up the largest stack of books, balancing it on his chest and nearly blocking his view. “I’ll see you downstairs.”
The men had set the table and opened each of the containers by the time Ramona came down carrying her own pile. She plastered a fake grin on her face, determined not to allow her discomfort to seep into her mannerisms.
“What do we have here?” She peered into the boxes, filled with colorful salads, a rice dish, a stew of some kind, and something, off to the side, that made her inhale sharply.
“What’s up with the grilled cheese sandwiches, Mo? Lucas told me I'm not allowed to touch them.”
She stared at Lucas, unable to prevent the feeling of gratitude for his thoughtfulness.
He placed one of the three sandwiches, crusts removed, cut into perfect triangles, on a plate. “They’re specially made for Ramona.”
“Is there some secret story about those sandwiches?” asked her curious brother.
Lucas shook his head. “It’s just something from way back.”
They ate in silence. Well, Ramona ate in silence as the two men spoke in a shorthand she’d forgotten they used. She got up from the table with several of the now empty boxes.
“So what’s happening with the house? Who’s going to be taking care of it?” Lucas asked.
Connor answered. “He left it to Mo.”
There was no additional response for so long that Ramona wondered if the guys had left the room. She looked behind her to check.
Lucas shifted his stare from Connor to her, then back to Connor. “No way.”
Her brother grabbed a piece of broccoli from one of the boxes. “Right? He gives the most personal item in his estate to the one who left. Funny.”
She dropped the containers into the garbage and returned to the table.
Lucas slapped his forehead. “Are you telling me he left this house to you?”
She cocked her head, wondering about his incredulity. “Yes.”
“Holy shit. The cousins must be furious. And how about you, Con?”
“To be frank, the rest of us received significant inheritances. Arguably, much more valuable than this one house. I got the Lake House, and almost all of his business interests.”
Lucas huffed out a breath. “That old man… always defying expectation.”
About the only thing her mother and grandfather had in common was a pathological need to never do what was expected. “Yup.”
Connor shrugged. “He respected you the most. I think he saw you as most similar to him, except that all your energy was pointed in the opposite direction. Think about it, Mo. You’re the only one who ever stood up to him-“
“-and suffered the consequences.” Which were frequent and plentiful.
“True enough.” Connor nodded. “But I think it’s clear that you were the only one he trusted with the thing dearest to him. This house.”
Ramona gave her brother her best scowl.
“Damn. I’m totally shocked. What are your plans for the house?”
That was easy. “Clean it up. Sell it.”
Lucas paused for a beat. “But it’s not just any house. It’s part of American history. I mean, you could do so many amazing things. Build a school, or a library, or a shelter…”
The scowl remained. Its direction shifted. “I’m not going to move back here to take care of this, if that’s what you mean.”
“It’s not. I was just-”
“It’s one more thing that doesn’t really belong to me that I’d have to take care of. No, thank you.” She crashed the plates together and walked them over to the sink.
“Take it easy there, Mo. No need to get so snippy about it.”
She didn’t look back to address her brother and his ignorant statement.
Lucas answered. “It’s okay. It’s none of my business, anyway.”
Ramona excused herself, mumbling something about the bathroom. She stepped into one of the many tucked-in spaces in that enormous house and leaned against the wall. She tried to muster her yoga teacher’s calming voice, instructing her to breathe deeply. Moments later, the men crossed the foyer and headed upstairs to the library. Two of a kind, they were. Born days apart. If not for Connor’s sleek black hair and Lucas’ curls, they might have been twins. Evil twins.
She’d had quite enough of her brother’s odd looks and Lucas’ stupid ideas. He clearly had forgotten how far away her life was from all of this. A life she couldn’t wait to get back to. Sure, that house was a part of history, but it wasn’t going to be her burden. Someone else would have to pick up that mantle. In just a few days, she would be far away from all that disarray.
She paced in the large foyer, heels clicking on the checkerboard marble floor. Being emotionally out of control sucked. So did pretending it had anything to do with the damn house. It was guilt.
For so much of the last two days, she’d felt herself sliding into the warm wonderfulness that was Lucas Winston only to be reminded of the brunette calling herself his future wife. How could this be happening? Ramona didn’t do messy, tangled, or fraught. She got her needs met and mostly avoided anything hinting at complex intimacy. Her history and her mother had made it perfectly clear that that never ended well. Lucas, had he been a stranger, would have been the best one night stand ever. But she’d already had two nights and wanted many more.
Footsteps on the upstairs landing sent her scurrying into the kitchen. She didn’t want to see either of them. She was too confused, too frustrated, too ashamed. If hiding were an option, she would have taken it.
* * *
Connor appeared in the kitchen after the front door closed with a resounding thud. She fiddled with the few food containers still sitting on the table.
“What the hell is going on with you and Lucas?” His tone was not full of brotherly love.
Ramona cringed, praying that he meant anything other than what was in front of all their faces.
“Are you mad at him or something? You were really shitty to him.”
“I-“
“And when he showed up, it was like you had seen a ghost. Did something happen?”
All she could do was nod. And hope that her brother would magically hear what she was terrified to say out loud. “Yeah, something happened. Something bad…”
“What could possibly have happened? You’ve only been here for two days. And you guys haven’t seen each other in more than ten years. How could you already…”
Ramona kept her gaze steady as she watched realization dawn on her brother.
“Mo… Did you...”
“We… went too far.”
He opened his mouth wider than she’d ever seen. “No…”
“I know. It’s bad. And I'm not handling it well, as you can see.”
“You know he’s engaged-”
“Clearly. Hence the problem.”
Connor sat down and ran his hand through his hair. Same as Ramona’s but somehow never managed to be unruly or have a single hair out of place. Ever.
A quiver began near her chin. She swallowed hard to not start crying.
“I can’t believe it. The two of you… I mean on one level it’s completely obvious. Maybe even destined. But after all this time, and with the situation. There’s nothing good about this.”
She kept her attention on her shaking hands. “I’ve never been this kind of person, Con. I don’t want to start now. He’s getting married. But something seems really wrong about the whole thing.”
It never crossed her mind that Connor would know the secret, so she didn’t ask. Her straight-laced, excessively logical brother didn’t dally in such drama. She prepared herself for some stern words. He might even call her crazy.
“You’re right.”
She jerked up. “What? Do you know something?”
“Luc and I are like brothers. Have been our whole lives. Didn’t even tell me he was thinking about getting engaged. They hadn’t dated since law school. Then he shows up one day and tells me they’re getting married.”
“I don’t understand.” She really didn’t.
“Me neither. There’s something going on, and he can’t or won’t talk about it. I'm pretty sure she’s not pregnant. But they never even see each other. She’s been living in New York for years. They’re only together for public appearances. Maybe she’s blackmailing him… I can’t make sense of it.”
“Do you know her at all?”
“Not really. Her firm was involved in a case I worked on years ago. Before she went to New York. We interacted professionally, but nothing stands out. She seemed just like all the over-ambitious lawyers in town.”
“The whole thing is crazy.”
He pulled his glasses off and let them dangle from his fingers. “You know how our families can be. Nothing is ever simple. Everything is a coverup or a conspiracy or some intricate plan. All I know is there’s something deeply wrong with them.”