by Kylie Scott
“I guess so,” I said, watching the bird disappear out of sight. “We’re always hardest on ourselves, right?”
A shrug.
Right. As if this guy would be swimming in a sea of inner doubt. Beautiful. Talented. Loved by his family and friends. Imagine having the bravado to take to the stage in front of hundreds, no, thousands of people. It was up to schmucks like me to find their spines and get their shit together. Some people just naturally knew how to strut.
“I blame it on women’s magazines and the media,” I announced, setting my cup of coffee aside. “‘Are you too needy? How to be more confident and look less like crap in seventy-eight simple steps! Only three hundred thousand dollars to a better you!’ Well, thanks. I hadn’t realized how everything about me was godawful until you pointed it out.”
I gathered up my long hair, tying it into a loose knot on top of my head. “Every woman on earth should launch a class action against the mass media. Take it down.”
Nothing from my friend on account of where his gaze was fixed. Yet again.
“Vaughan, I’m talking. Pay attention. My eyes aren’t down there.”
His gaze snapped back to my face.
“Thank you.”
“That was a trap. You lifted your arms up,” he grumbled, brows turned down. Never had a man looked quite so oppressed. “What was I supposed to do?”
“A trap? You think I’m trying to trap you?” I wrinkled up my forehead. “Vaughan, I’m genuinely beginning to get concerned about your breast fixation. Seriously. How can you function when any hint of tit sends your brain into a coma?”
“You were staring at my ass earlier. You don’t see me telling you off.” He cracked his neck. “And anyway, it’s only happened with you. I’m fine around every other rack. I can discreetly appreciate and move on. Yours are different.”
“Really?” I grinned, my stomach doing the strangest loop de loop.
In lieu of answering, he disappeared once more under the hood. In the distance, I could hear kids laughing and a car passing by. The wind was blowing through the pine trees and a bird was singing. Man, this place was lovely. So relaxing. If I owned this home, I’d never give it up. They could bury me in the backyard, let me turn into fertilizer.
Vaughan glanced at me around the corner of the hood, immediately snagging my attention.
“I humbly apologize for objectifying you,” I said. “I’ll try not to do it again.”
A snort.
Fair enough.
“What a lovely day,” I said.
I couldn’t have asked for a prettier picture. A big old tree shaded the driveway on the side of the house where he’d popped the hood. Stray rays of sunlight lit the golden red of his hair and the colored ink on his otherwise pale skin. I guess playing in bands, enjoying the nightlife, didn’t make for a great tan. But it didn’t matter. He didn’t need one. Tall, lean, and firm in all the right places, Vaughan Hewson was a girl’s wet dream. Luckily I respected him for his mind.
“My feet hurt from last night. It’s been years since I spent that much time on them.” I gave my Birkenstock-clad beauties a stretch. To cover the rest of me, I’d chosen denim cut-offs and an oversize tee. Comfortable was the look I was going for. “I’ve been thinking about your place some more, if you’re still interested in selling it.”
Nothing from beneath the hood.
“I know a good agent, Wes from Brewers Real Estate. He’s a nice guy, not quite as cutthroat as the rest. I could give him a call, ask him to stop by if you like?”
I waited for a response.
“Up to you, of course.”
The sound he made was far from happy. “Thought we were going to talk about this again when I was ready.”
“I haven’t heard from the Delaneys yet, but they’re not going to waste time getting rid of me,” I said, tone wry. “I don’t know how much longer I’ll be here and I don’t want you getting ripped off.”
He stopped, stared. “Thanks. If you could give him a call, that’d be good.”
“Okay,” I said quietly.
“It’s just … it’s hard to let it go.”
“Yeah.”
Wiping his greasy hands on a cloth, he turned to look at the house. “Always figured they’d be here. I’d come back for holidays and shit, and nothing would change. Dad would still be screwing up the Christmas lights and Mom would be going berserk over the pumpkins each Halloween. Nell and Pat would have a kid and it’d all be good.”
“Sounds nice.”
“Mm.” He paused. “After I was over touring and had made some money, I was going to buy one of those places on the lake. Settle down.”
“Here? Not out on in California?”
“Nah. In my head, it was always here.” His hands twisted the cloth up into a tight ball. “I had everything figured out.”
“You know,” I said, trying to speak gently, “I’ve heard most people have three different careers over their lifetime.”
“Do they?”
“Maybe playing in the band was just your first one.”
“Are you serious? You want me to just give it up?” he asked, the volume of his voice rising. “Hock the guitars and what, get a job at Burger King making fries?”
“I don’t want—”
“Because I can really see that working out fucking great, Lydia.” He chucked the cloth aside, furious. “Good idea. Awesome.”
“Vaughan.” The muscles in my jaw ached.
“Want to know the difference between me and you, babe?”
I kept my mouth shut. Pretty damn sure he was going to tell me.
“Your dream was marrying some douche with a nice big bank account and hiding out behind the white picket fence for the rest of your life.” The jerk towered over me, looming.
“That so?”
“Christ. You know it is.” He laughed, spitefully.
Wow. Yeah. I had nothing to say in response.
“But my dream … mine.” His thumb hit him squarely in the center of his chest. “It was a little bigger.”
I had no words. None.
For a good minute I just stared up at him, amazed by his outburst, more than anything. There was no real reason why I should have been. He and I had now known each other for what … a bit under forty-eight hours? I’d known Chris for four months and been clueless. My track record for reading people was, after all, shitty.
“Okay. I’m sorry for saying something that upset you.” I paused, taking a deep breath. “That was obviously insensitive of me, given everything you’re going through.”
Nothing.
“What I meant to say was that there might be other jobs in music that would work for you. That you might love as much.”
Still nothing.
“I am not your enemy, Vaughan. I care a hell of a lot about you.” My hands hung stiff by my sides. It was all I could do to resist strangling the idiot. “The way you just spoke to me is not okay. How dare you say that my hopes for the future are less important than yours. That I’m some money-grubbing bitch ready to spread her legs for a big house to play trophy wife.”
“Lydia—”
“I’m not finished, you asshat.”
The man looked down at me, eyes full of surprise, or bewilderment. His face was drawn, lips shut tight. Just as they should be. I stared at him, memorizing every detail for a later date, when I didn’t want to burn him down or burst into tears. Stupid female emotions, always getting me into trouble when I wanted to be a hard ass. My butt wobbled, it always had and always would. Time to accept myself and all my flaws and move on.
“Actually, I am finished.”
“’kay.”
“I’m going to get my stuff together,” I said. “I think that would be best.”
He had no comment.
I backed away, turned, and started walking toward the front door.
Most of my stuff was already packed into boxes. This shouldn’t be too hard.
My foot hit the front step
and I stumbled, losing my balance. I grasped at the old iron railing, fighting to catch myself before my face met the floor. Awesome. Such grace.
“I’m sorry.”
I stopped cold.
Nothing more was said.
Slowly, I turned. He stood in the long grass, watching, waiting. Honestly, it was hard to look at him. The expression on his face and the way he held his body, the emotion in his eyes. My world was so colored when it came to him. Every detail so vivid and real. He shouldn’t have that power. It would have been so much easier to leave him otherwise. I’d broken into his house, but he’d somehow broken into me, cracked me wide open, exposing me to so much more of life than what had existed before.
And to think I’d genuinely believed I loved Chris. What an idiot. I didn’t have a fucking clue about love. I got like and lust, things along those lines. But the rest was an abyss, a big black hole, and I couldn’t see the bottom. Couldn’t even begin to fathom the depth of it. Inside me, there lived a big ball of emotion to do with my friend Vaughan. None of it was ready to be labeled. All I knew was, leaving him hurt.
“Is that it?” I knotted my fingers in front of myself, unsure.
One thick shoulder rose and fell. “Does there need to be more?”
“I’m not sure.”
He took one step toward me, and then another. With him standing at the bottom of the stairs and me on the second, we were eye to eye. His hands tangled with mine, first one then the other. God, his skin was so warm.
Our bodies gravitated toward each other. The pull of one messed-up heart to another. I watched him warily, trying to hold something back for safekeeping. It didn’t really work.
“You’re right, I was an asshat.”
“Yeah, you were.”
A little nod. “I’m going to kiss you now,” he whispered.
“Oh. Okay,” I whispered back to him. I had no idea why we were whispering.
I didn’t have a good reason not to let him kiss me. Well, there was always protection of the heart and all that. Really, though, given the grinder I’d already put mine through, it was a little late for that.
His lips brushed against mine. Such a soft touch. Up and down in the tiniest of motions, he grazed his mouth against mine. It was sweet, lovely, and a little weird. I’d never been kissed like this. Not by anybody. Every part of me yearned to press forward, to push for more. But at the same time, what he was giving me was so good. To rush him and his artistry would have been wrong.
His breath warmed my face and his fingers tightened around mine. I held perfectly still while he gently rubbed his lips against mine, doing what he wanted. The tip of his nose nudged my cheek, time and again, and my chest leaned against his. With what he was doing, I’d have been knocked on my ass otherwise. His kisses were hypnotizing.
When his lips opened a little, just enough to softly kiss my bottom lip, I swear I swooned. Over and over he kissed my lips, first the top then the bottom, the sides and the corner from where my smile started. No part was left untouched. My smile grew wider, my nipples hard and my loins Vaughan-addled. That’s a medical term.
He drew back slightly, smiling too. “You forgive me?”
“I’d have forgiven you without the kiss.”
“I know,” he said, still speaking softly. “The kiss was more for me.”
“Was it?” God, he was pretty. The prettiest man I’d ever met. “Do you believe in crazy at first sight?”
Lines creased his brow. “What?”
“I’m not down with the whole L-word and I don’t think this, whatever this is, is that. So don’t freak out and suddenly accuse me of being a stage-ten clinger or something, got it?”
“Okay.” He looked amused.
“But what if there was crazy at first sight? Because I think we have a credible basis for that.”
For a moment he just stared at me, obviously deep in thought. “I definitely thought you were crazy the first time I saw you, sitting in my shower in that dress.”
“Mm-hmm.”
“And you do drive me crazy, sometimes.”
“Ditto.”
His tongue played behind his cheek. “I might be a little crazy about you too.”
“You definitely are about my breasts.”
“Your tits are world-class,” he said, hands flat on my back, pressing me harder against him.
“Thanks. I appreciate that.”
“It’s more of an all-of-you thing, though, on the crazy front. Just so you know.”
I could only grin. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.” He leaned his forehead against mine, getting closer. “What about you? I confessed. Come on.”
“I came up with the idea in the first place.”
“Doesn’t let you off the hook.”
I groaned. “Fine. I’m crazy about you too. Crazy in all the ways the word can be taken.”
“We’ve only got a few days,” he said, bringing all of the happy crashing to earth. Suddenly the sun didn’t shine. The earth didn’t spin. Everything was fucked.
No. I wouldn’t let it be.
“I know. I mean, I know this isn’t a permanent thing for either of us.” Something inside of me screamed denial. “It’s more of a crossing of paths on the great journey of life.”
“Right.” He kissed me lightly once more. “Doesn’t mean I’m not crazy about you.”
“I know.”
“And about what you said,” he started, gazing off over my shoulder. “I know you were trying to help. I’ll think about it, okay?”
“Okay.”
His hands rubbed my back, then he set me loose, exhaling hard. “Unless you want to go hit the mattress with me right now, I better take a breather. Go finish the car, start on mowing the lawn and shit.”
I looked down. Yes, something was definitely hardening in the front of his pants. Huh. We hadn’t even used tongue. And they said romance was dead.
Time on the mattress sounded great, but while we were short on time, I also didn’t want to rush things. What if we had sex and then the build-up, the rush of all those good hormones and hopes and dreams through my, body was over? No. We needed to take it slow. Man, it was so hard to judge the ins and outs of this situation.
“I’ll let you go do your jobs,” I said in a rush, moving back from him a little.
“Okay.”
“Oh, another thing I was thinking about, though.” I put a hand on his super-hot bare chest to stall him.
He gave me a wary look.
“Relax. I was just wondering if you’d help me buy a car. You know about their insides, right?” I pawed at his chest in a totally nonsleazy subtle way. “I’m going to need wheels to escape this place.”
“Sure. Be happy to, babe.”
“Babe?” I looked at him down the length of my nose.
“Babe,” he said, resolute.
Meh. Who was I to fight him? “Fine.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Nell waltzed into the house late Monday afternoon, with Rosie the waitress hot on her heels. One carried booze, the other pizza boxes. Immediately my stomach rumbled in need. Pizza was just the best.
“Did I miss the part where you knocked?” Bent in half, Vaughan sat on the sofa, tying his shoelace.
“You’re funny, little brother,” said Nell breezily, dumping her box full of wine bottles on the kitchen counter. She was wearing a denim miniskirt and orange shirt. Rosie rocked a breezy blue maxi dress. Definitely not Dive Bar uniform.
“I’m serious,” said Vaughan.
“I know. That’s what makes it so amusing.”
“What’s going on?” I asked, stuffing crap into my handbag. We’d been preparing to head to work. Given the swift departure of Eric’s waitress friend, Stella, I’d agreed to fill her shifts until a replacement was found. Or until it was time for me to leave town. Whichever came first. I was wearing my best black slacks and a matching Dive Bar shirt Nell had given me the night before.
“I’m giving us the night off
.” From a cabinet she pulled out three wineglasses, rinsing them beneath the tap. “Lydia, Rosie, and I are doing some girl time. Be a darling and go away, would you?”
“I really need to start locking the doors,” Vaughan muttered, stretching out on the couch. “Who’s running the bar?”
“Eric.”
“And?”
“Just Eric.” Nell beamed. It was an unnerving sight. “He’ll also be tonight’s waiter. Boyd has got the kitchen under control, but otherwise, Eric’s on his own.”
Rosie also grinned like a loon.
“Is that good for your business?” I asked without thinking, and accepting a very large glass of red. “Wait. Never mind. Forget I said that. I will not rain on people’s parades with unnecessary practicalities they can figure out for themselves.”
Over on the couch, Vaughan gave me a small smile, a look of understanding.
“O-kay. It’s fine.” Nell laughed. “We probably need a voice of practicality around here. But the thing is, sometimes, you just have to teach people a lesson. Either that or resort to homicide, and I’d rather not go to jail.”
“Word,” said Rosie, taking a sniff of her wine. “Ooh. You grabbed the good stuff.”
“Of course I grabbed the good stuff.” She turned to her brother and me, curiosity filling her eyes. “So what have you two been up to today?”
“Vaughan worked on his car for a while, then he helped narrow down some potential sets of wheels for me.” I left out the part where my real estate agent pal had stopped by to take a look at the house.
“She wants a Prius.” Vaughan snickered.
“They get good mileage.”
“Lydia.” Nell winced. “No. Just no. Okay?”
Even Rosie seemed mildly terrified by my taste in vehicles.
“Do none of you care about the environment?” I raised my shoulders, amazed.
“It’s for your own good that we save you from this.” Nell held her glass of wine high, toasting my lack of style, apparently. “You’ll thank us one day.”
“I doubt that.” So this was what having friends involved. Maybe I should just get a pet rock or something. A plant, maybe. Anything incapable of answering back.