Love Garage

by Liz Crowe

  “I can be however I like in my own house.” His usual reply.

  Aiden trudged out to the garage for the riding mower. By three o’clock that afternoon, the five acres were mowed and trimmed to his father’s specifications¸ and Aiden had parked the mower in its designated spot between the horse trailer and the four-wheeler. His back ached and his shoulders stung from the sun.

  Now, his parents were setting up the two patio tables for the “family conference cookout.” He admired for the millionth time how seriously his parents took each family meal, never skimping on the courses, the drinks, the tablecloths, and fabric napkins. He’d missed it more than he’d been willing to admit, in his hurry to fulfill his long-stated goal to get the hell out of Kentucky and never come back.

  “Need help?” he hollered across the lawn.

  “No, take a dip in the pool. I’ll get you to fill the outdoor fridge in a few,” his mother replied. Aiden noted her face seemed more flushed than usual, her eyes sunken and worried. She caught his gaze, smiled, and gestured to the glimmering surface. “Go on. I know you want to get in.”

  He saluted her and jumped in the deep end, coming up at the opposite side with a gasp of relief. A few light laps later, he stretched out on a lounge chair before drifting off into la-la land to the sounds of birds and the baseball game on the outdoor radio.

  A loud screech and a splash of ice-cold water woke him, sending him off the chair to his hands and knees on the concrete. Jeffrey Norris jumped up and down, laughing and clutching one of the buckets from the toy box.

  “Jeffrey made Aiden fall over! Mommy! Did you see?”

  “Yes, honey. Don’t lose your floaties. I need to help inside. Ask Aiden if he’ll play with you.”

  Aiden raised his head and saw Rosalee, dressed in a batik-print sundress over her swimsuit. He grinned through the wet strands of his hair and got to his feet, yanking Jeffrey up, and holding him over the pool.

  “Make me fall over will ya, Jeff? You look hot. How about a dip?” After a glance at Rosalee to make sure he could handle it if he got dumped in, he had to gather his wits. Her nod and smile, the way she tucked a strand of curly brown hair behind her ear made his skin tingly.

  “Go for it. He loves it. I’ll be inside.” She waved at him, leaving him blinking, before a squeal brought him back to earth.

  “One, two, two-and-a-half, two-and-three-quarters….” He kept holding Jeffrey over the water, delighting in his excitement, while still admiring the kid’s mother sashaying across the lawn to the back patio.

  An hour later, both of them were waterlogged and exhausted. Aiden collapsed into a chair and tossed his water cannon to the ground. “I give. You win. Go get me a Coke. Will ya?”

  “Coke!” Jeffrey yelped as he ran, bowlegged, toward the patio. “Mommy! Aiden wants a Coke!”

  Aiden closed his eyes once Jeffrey disappeared into the house. The sudden rush of memories overwhelmed him. He could picture his brothers, their various girlfriends and friends, little sister and her passel of friends, and his parents gathered there around the pool so many years, so many nights of play and fun. And of course, later, various misbehaviors and illicit parties that had gotten them all in trouble but were part and parcel of his life here. It all filled his head, until his eyes burned.

  He must have drifted off again. Bloody-murder-style screaming woke him up facing the blue sky, confused and disoriented, until he jumped to his feet. Pool water sloshed around in his ears and nasal cavities. But the screaming would not stop. Panicked, he ran across the lawn toward the house, fearing the worst—that his mother had collapsed and died on the kitchen floor.

  Something dashed past his legs, nearly tripping him. The noise seemed to be coming from it. He stopped, regarding Jeffrey’s naked butt as he headed straight for the edge of the pool. Without another thought, Aiden ran after him, snagging him by the arm just as he poised to jump in, sans floaties or a swimsuit.

  “Let go of me!” he screeched. Tears streamed down his beet-red face. “Jeffery wants a Cooooooke!” He thrashed so hard Aiden had a hard time corralling him, but he set his jaw to the task, putting his twenty-some years, and a hundred-and-fifty pound advantage to good use.

  “Noooooooooo!” The kid kept it up at dog-deafening decibels, but Aiden held tight, grabbed a towel and wrapped him up in it, swaddling him so his legs and arms were immobile. “Jeffery doesn’t like this! Let go of me. Jeffery wants Mommy!”

  Aiden held on tight to him, making shushing noises, and rocking him back and forth until he stopped screaming and was reduced to chest-heaving sobs. The sun went behind a cloud at that moment, casting everything in late afternoon shadow. Rosalee appeared at the open sliding glass door, eyes wild.

  By then, Jeffrey had fallen asleep as fast as he’d run naked out of the house. Aiden rose, heart still pounding, but enjoying the child’s warmth against his chest.

  “Caught the escapee,” he said, trying not to leer down the front of her dress.

  Rosalee touched her son’s head and sighed then slipped her arm around Aiden’s waist. Aiden just stood, loving her pressed against him, while having an utterly inappropriate reaction to her proximity.

  She is Antony’s woman. Stop fantasizing. Now.

  “I’ll just, uh, set him down somewhere?”

  Rosalee sniffled and nodded, stepping back. “Thanks. Let’s stick him in the back bedroom, farthest from any noise. He hardly slept last night, as usual. He’s like an owl—up all night, but raring to go every morning.”

  Aiden walked up from the lowest level of the house that opened onto the backyard, past the kitchen where his mother puttered around—not lying dead, thank God—and past his father in the hall, who touched Jeffrey’s head.

  “Reminds me a lot of somebody else around here.” He smiled at Aiden. “Thanks for your help today, son.”

  Aiden gaped at the bizarre, out-of-character gratitude, but kept going, following Rosalee. He entered the far back bedroom, one that had housed his little sister most recently, but that now served as the guest room since she’d left for college. After sitting and attempting to settle Jeffrey onto the pillow, Aiden was surprised when the kid wrapped damp arms around his neck.

  “Hey, buddy, relax. It’s okay.” Aiden patted his back, feeling awkward, but not exactly unhappy at the close contact.

  “He may hang onto you a while, fair warning.” Rosalee was as far from them as possible, while still remaining in the room. “Sorry. He’s a little clingy when he gets upset.”

  “What the hell happened?” Aiden asked, keeping his eyes away from her on purpose. “He’s not gonna pee on me, is he?”

  Rosalee giggled. Aiden glanced at her. Big mistake. She looked devastating, hair wild and framing her small face, her eyes huge and bright, her petite form barely concealed by the light fabric of her swimsuit cover-up. He took a breath and words he probably shouldn’t speak formed themselves in his brain and were about to emerge from his mouth. But at that moment Jeffrey relaxed enough to let Aiden know he’d fallen back asleep, so he laid him down on the pillow, loosening the towel. His lips pursed and he mumbled something then flipped over on his back and flung both arms over his face.

  “He even sleeps like Paul did, Rosalee whispered, right next to him.

  Aiden shivered as a chill ran down his spine. A hand touched his bare shoulder. Aiden kept his eyes focused down, his brain rushing three or four steps ahead, playing this out to its only conclusion—a bad one for all concerned.

  “I’m sorry,” he said, also in a whisper. She made as if to move away from him so, in desperation, he grabbed her hand. She bit her lower lip, which made him want to do that very thing to her, and tugged at her hand. But he held on, like he’d done with Jeffrey. His brain clanged with warning bells, reminding him of his vow to stop fantasizing about Rosalee, of how much fun he’d had with Renee, of the implied ménage with her and Tricia.

  But his eyes were fixed on Rosalee’s, on her lips, the tempting line of her jaw, that wild
hair he wanted so very much to bury his hands in while he kissed her. She shook her head, but let him hold her close, so close she had her feet on either side of his, straddling his legs, her breasts at eye level.

  Without thinking about it, he threaded his fingers in one of her hands then took the other and did the same thing. The sunscreen and shampoo smells filled his brain. Staying silent, he tugged until she bent her knees, sat on his lap, and was kissing him so fast it shocked him. But he closed his eyes and let it happen, unable to keep from making a noise when her tongue breached his lips. Their hands stayed clasped—odd, yet somehow perfect.

  She tasted exactly as he imagined she would—ghostly flavors of beer and the minty gum she must have in her mouth registered in his addled brain—mostly like perfection. After about three seconds of “Oh no, you did not do this” guilt, he relaxed and gave in to the moment. And when his body hardened, she sighed and pressed even closer.

  With reluctance, he broke the kiss, let go of her hands and touched her lips. “Wow. Glad to know I wasn’t the only one thinking about doing that.”

  Her face flushed beet-red as she leapt up off him. “Oh, God, Aiden. I’m…I didn’t…I can’t…I’m sorry.” She ran out, leaving him sitting next to the slumbering Jeffrey, her taste on his lips, her words in his ears, and his heart pounding so hard it hurt.

  “Aiden?” He almost leapt out of his skin at the sound of Jeffrey’s voice.

  “Yeah, buddy? Thought you were sleeping.” Aiden had a moment of worry, wondering what he’d seen.

  “Are you gonna be my daddy?”

  He blew out a breath and thought carefully about his answer. “No, Jeff. I’m just your friend. Now get a little more rest. We have a party later, remember?”

  The boy frowned as if he wanted to say something else then rolled over onto his belly.

  Chapter Eleven

  Rosalee took one step outside the bedroom, heart in her throat, and ran straight into Antony. She yelped and pressed her back against the wall, hand to her sweaty chest.

  “Lord-a-mercy, Antony, you scared me.” Her voice wobbled.

  “Sorry.” He kissed her lightly. “Mama told me you were back here putting Jeffrey down for a nap.” He bent down to meet her eyes, but she couldn’t do it, not now, not on the heels of that bizarre encounter with Aiden. “You all right? You’re shaking.” He held her tight and she buried her face in his chest, sucking in familiar scents, some of them hers, from the night before. She clutched the back of his T-shirt, gripping so hard her fingers ached when she finally let go of him.

  “I’m sorry.” She wiped her eyes and smiled, banishing all thought and memory of Aiden from her mind.

  She wanted and needed this man. And he needed her, too.

  End of story.

  No discussion necessary.

  She took a breath. “Thanks. Needed that.”

  His smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. It was something she’d gotten used to, but she figured she’d take what she could get from him, considering he offered a hell of a lot more than many women ever got. When his gaze sharpened as he glanced over her shoulder, she froze, sensing Aiden near as if he’d triggered her internal radar.

  “What’s up?” Aiden brushed past the two of them in the close hallway. Rosalee closed her eyes, furious that he’d had the nerve to touch her arm, on purpose, right under his own brother’s nose.

  “Would ask you the same thing.” Antony tucked Rosalee under his arm and guided her toward the short flight of steps down to the main living area.

  By the time they got to the kitchen, Rosalee had her breathing under control and her mind fixed on one thing—forgetting Aiden, and focusing the full force of her attention on getting Antony to marry her, quick, before she did something utterly stupid and irretrievable.

  Going up on her tiptoes, she whispered in his ear. “I had a great time last night.” She let her hand trail down his back to his swim-trunks-clad ass.

  The man had gone full-romance on her for the first time, leaving behind the tried-and-true pizza, beer, and movie days, or her boring meatloaf and mashed potatoes, post-house repair. Dinner at a fancy restaurant in Lexington, meant to be followed by some kind of concert, but she’d been so worked up by the time dessert arrived she’d practically jumped him in the parking lot.

  They’d driven home with the windows down, music blaring, and holding hands. Rosalee marveled at how much of a mystery Antony remained, even after a long night of slow, luxurious, incredible lovemaking. Even when he’d been inside her, wearing a condom that time, after nearly an hour-and-a-half of mind-bending orgasmic activity for her, he seemed distant and detached. She’d cried at the realization, and he’d held her until she calmed down, but when he asked her why, she’d deflected.

  “Only really crazy women cry after sex,” she’d sniffled, burying her face in his neck. “You should get far, far away from me.”

  He’d chuckled and thumbed her chin so her eyes met his. “Nah. I think I’ll keep you close by.”

  She’d lain awake again while he slept, pondering how heavy her heart weighed in her chest even as she reveled in how sated she felt everywhere else in her body. That very morning they’d shared eggs and bacon cooked by him, and coffee made by her then she’d kissed him goodbye. But now she’d just gone and tongue wrestled his younger brother in a way that left her weak in the knees. Her own capacity to shock and dismay continued to blindside her.

  She heaved a sigh. Antony blinked as if he’d been daydreaming.

  “Me too, Rosie. You’re amazing.”

  “You say that a lot. I’m gonna get a big head.”

  His smile almost reached his eyes then retreated, leaving her frustrated.

  “Hey, you two.” Antony’s mother interrupted them. “Come on and see who’s here!” She motioned them forward into the kitchen. Antony dropped his arm from her shoulders, took her hand and kissed it. She had a sinking sensation when her intuition told her he was about to say something important when he got interrupted by a squeal of delight, and a body launching into his arms.

  “Wow, whoa, hey there, little sister. Didn’t expect you.” He set her down and grabbed her cheeks in one hand, making her lips pucker like a fish.

  “Leggo me,” Angelique squawked, her eyes dancing with delight, then greeted Rosalee with a grin and a quick hug.

  “So glad you guys are finally getting together,” she said under her breath. “Maybe he’ll go back to being the fun guy he used to be.”

  Rosalee opened her mouth to answer, when Aiden swooped in and picked his sister up, tossed her over his shoulder then ran out the back door. The sounds of her shrieks and laughs echoed around the family room. A breeze blew in and cooled Rosalee’s overheated face. She bit her lip and administered a not-so-gentle inner lecture before facing Antony, only to find him staring out the kitchen window. His mother stood between them, pondering her with a serious expression.

  Rosalee gave her a weak smile then averted her gaze, unwilling to contemplate what kind of mess she may have set in motion with her ill-conceived notion that kissing Aiden resembled anything like a good idea. But Lindsay Love’s eyes held no malice, just a sort of gentle study. Rosie acknowledged her scary maternal ability to sort out who’d misbehaved or needed her support with very little provocation with a nod.

  The sound of new arrivals diverted her attention. Kieran appeared, wearing his swim trunks and a polo shirt, sunglasses pushed up on top of his thick, red hair. He held the hand of a tall, whip-thin woman with ebony hair swept back in a casual, but classy chignon. Her turquoise linen sundress looked both out of place and impossibly chic. Her nails were trimmed and polished to match her toes, which peeked out of a pair of wedge-heel shoes that Rosalee had seen on sale for no less than seventy-five dollars—way outside her price realm for a pair of summer sandals. She took a moment to touch her own messy updo and wrinkly, cheap swimsuit cover-up.

  As she tucked her expensive-looking sunglasses on top of her head and glanced around wi
th a fake wide-eyed-innocent expression, Rosalee swore the corner of her lipsticked mouth curled in a sneer, revealing her identity immediately as “that Melinda,” who had the sweet, amenable Kieran Love pussy-whipped.

  “Hey y’all.” Rosalee stepped into their line of vision in the sliding glass doorway. Trying not to tug at her unruly curls, she gave Kieran a quick hug. Melinda took a noticeable step away from them, smoothing down her perfectly smooth linen skirt, as if Rosalee might have sprayed cooties over it on her way past.

  Kieran tugged her closer. Rosalee held out a hand and pasted a friendly smile on her face.

  “Hey, Rosie, I’d like you to meet Melinda, my fiancée.” Kieran gazed at his brittle future wife with a rapt and moony expression. Rosalee tried not to snicker.

  “Hello there.” Melinda held out a manicured hand, sort of sideways as if she expected Rosalee to bow and kiss it. She gave it a quick squeeze then released it, and swore to high heaven Melinda wiped it on her skirt.

  Kieran had not peeled his eyes off her the entire time, while Melinda stood there appearing both out of place and above-it-all for a solid thirty seconds. Rosalee let her, going against everything she’d been raised to do, by not making random conversation just for the sake of putting the snooty bitch at ease.

  “Well, so, I understand Melinda is here.” Lindsay Love joined Rosalee, wiping her hands on a kitchen towel. “Hello, honey, nice to see you again.”

  Rosalee heard the tightness in Lindsay’s voice. She hadn’t been wrong in assuming Melinda had not made a good impression before this. Melinda remained still, peering down her long nose at the mother of her fiancé. Rosalee’s ears burned.

  “Kieran, be a good host and get Melinda a cold drink,” Lindsay said, and headed back into the kitchen. Rosalee followed her without comment.

  “Wow, what a bitch,” Rosalee said, taking the beer Dominic held out to her in the kitchen.

  He chuckled around the mouth of his bottle. ‘“Bitch’ is too nice a word for that one.”