The Girl in the Mirror (Sand & Fog #3)

by Susan Ward

  Krystal, it seems, does as well.

  Sweet and beautiful.

  Soulful, pleading eyes.

  All pretty and fragile on the surface, effortlessly knowing how to tap in and take hold of the protect-them zone inside us men. And girls today don’t want protecting. They don’t even want boyfriends.

  I stare at the kitchen, sipping my beer and trying to figure out where to sleep, and more importantly, how I got roped into this.

  Brayden’s words from earlier replay in my head. Put a beautiful, messed-up girl in front of you and you fall for her every time.

  I drop the cap into the trash compactor and answer him. Yes, Brayden, I do. But it’d be worth it with Krystal. She’s an amazing girl.

  I shake my head. Honest thought. Dumb thought. She’s amazing, but an IED like Marley.

  I’ve lived this before. I should know better. The good guy doesn’t ever win in this circumstance. He ends up twisted up, tangled up, and then spat up. Never with the girl. A lesson I should have already learned.

  It’s a problem.

  Brayden’s right.

  I should have left with him.

  Why didn’t I?

  Strange that I was self-raised, me and Jane for so long and without a mother in the house, yet I’m the one who ended up the romantic and not my sister. But this has got to stop. The rescuing the girl, the chasing the unattainable and forgetting the reality.

  I’m an employee.

  She’s my employer’s daughter.

  Doing this is probably not going to help either of us.

  In fact, I’m pretty sure I’m choosing my own self-destruction.

  Jobless.

  Blackballed for employment.

  Broke.

  All for a girl who most of the time doesn’t even notice me. Yes, Brayden was right. I watch her. And not just because something about her seems off to me, if I’m being honest here.

  I nearly couldn’t breathe the first time I met Krystal. She’s that beautiful. And time with her hasn’t improved anything because now I can’t breathe, think, or speak when I’m with her.

  I finish off my beer, toss it in the trash, and exit the house onto the back patio.

  It’s like a concrete oasis edging the sand. Blue-bottomed pool. Tables with chairs, those plush double loungers brightly decorated with pillows, enormous potted plants, fire pits, all facing the ocean.

  Never seen anything like this in Ohio, and this is the house Krystal’s family have because. Janie would be blown away by this. I need to bring her down for a visit soon, if I can get her to come.

  My chest contracts.

  I push away that thought, and instead take my phone from my pocket, snap a picture, and attach it to a text.

  Me: Where I’m sleeping tonight, Sis.

  On the far side of the patio, I settle on a lounger with an unobstructed view of the beach. Lights blaze from the houses on either side, but the shoreline is empty.

  All this, and these people don’t even care.

  I lean back and close my eyes as I listen to the surf. It’s never quiet anywhere in LA like this.

  If I keep perspective, maybe this weekend won’t be something I regret. Hell, this part is worth it. As for the girl? She has all this. Why would she even look at me?

  Out of my league.

  Colossal understatement.

  She’s a job.

  Don’t foul this up, Jake…

  * * *

  “Aha. I knew you two were lying to me.”

  I jerk awake to find Madison Parker standing close, hands on hips and pretty face damning with suspicion.

  I check the beach. People there. By the position of the sun it’s midmorning. Oh crap, I didn’t plan to sleep this late.

  “Are you going to tell me the truth now? What’s really going on?”

  I glance up at her. “Nothing’s going on.”

  One brow shoots up. “Then why didn’t you sleep in Krystal’s room? Why are you out here?”

  I turn to sit on the edge of the chair. “We don’t have that kind of a relationship yet and she’s pissed at me.”

  “Oh,” she says softly, and I’m not sure why that appeases her, but it does. She sinks down beside me on the chair, nodding. “Should make for an interesting weekend.” She makes an irritating sucking sound with her lips and teeth. “What kind of relationship do you have?”

  I shrug. “When I figure it out, I’ll let you know.”

  She laughs and springs to her feet. “You hungry? Nick’s making breakfast. No need to wait for Krystal to get back from her run to eat. She never eats. But then you must know that.”

  I follow her into the kitchen. Nick is standing at the stove, moving a long wooden spoon through a loaded egg scramble.

  Over his shoulder, he glances at me. “Dude, you look like you slept in your clothes.”

  Madison’s head slowly tilts. “He did. On the patio.”

  Their eyes lock. “Oh.”

  Nick turns back to the stove, shaking his head as Madison sinks down on a stool at the breakfast bar.

  What was that about?

  I have that feeling again, that I’m trapped inside something that could blow up.

  Why is Madison so snoopy and suspicious? Is it me? Or is it Krystal? Her level of distrust seems extreme even in this circumstance. Why does she keep digging at it?

  I head toward the coffeemaker. “How long will Krystal run?”

  Madison makes a short laugh. “Who knows? Until she can’t anymore. Her only limit is the limit. She never stops until she reaches it. But then, you know that, since I’m pretty sure that personality quirk extends to everything.”

  The hair on my neck stands up.

  What is she suggesting with that?

  I pour a cup. “She’s an elite athlete.”

  “You consider ballet a sport?” Nick asks.

  Shrugging, I lean back against the counter to study them both. “Sure. Don’t you? She trains harder every day than I did when I was in the military. That sounds like an athlete to me.”

  “No,” Madison says slowly, “I’m an athlete. I got offers from six division-one NCAA schools for volleyball.”

  “Maybe she is an athlete without it being a sport,” Nick adds reasonably. “You could both be right, Madison.”

  “Technically, I think it’s consider an art,” Madison replies, annoyed. “Personally, I think it’s a cult.”

  Choking, I spit a mouthful of coffee into my cup. My knowledge of dance is anemic, but I didn’t expect that or the derision in her voice. “A cult? Not really?”

  Her brows hitch up. “Yes, really. Mind-fuck, dedication and endless commitment. Or haven’t you noticed that everything is about ballet for her, that there is no length she won’t go to succeed, and the rest of her life is only secondary. It’s like they’ve brainwashed her or something. Don’t expect her to have a lot of time for you if you ever do figure out what your relationship with her is”—she makes a face—“or even to have fun this weekend. Krystal doesn’t do fun.”

  That was harsh and I’m ready to shut this down, but since I’m going to be guarding Krystal full time soon, getting a better read on her from Madison isn’t a bad idea.

  “What do you mean doesn’t do fun?” I ask cautiously.

  Madison exhales heavily. “Fun. You know what fun means. It’s everything we do other than the things we have to do. Fun. You’ve heard of it, right?”

  Their laughter irritates me, and I say defensively, “You’re pretty hard on her, seeing as you’re family and all.”

  Madison’s face turns red. “If we’re not hard, who will be? I know her better than anyone does. I’m hard on her because we are family. Don’t tell me that you haven’t noticed she’s a little extreme at times, in all the wrong ways, and that it doesn’t worry you.”

  “That’s definitely true, Legs,” Nick murmurs, scooping his concoction onto plates.

&nb
sp; My gut tightens since I don’t like how they’re bashing Krystal behind her back. “I don’t see her that way at all.”

  Madison stabs her eggs with a fork. “Daryl didn’t either. And look where that got him.”

  They both shake their heads, and the way they do it puts my nerves more on edge. Oh, they can’t know about what she does with Daryl. Or do they? Things may be different in Southern California, but having your boyfriend tie you up can’t be a normal thing that people talk about. Not even here.

  “What are you trying to imply with that?”

  Madison looks up from her plate, aggravated. “Oh, simmer down. Please tell me you’re not like Daryl and going to go all caveman on me every time we say anything slightly honest about Krystal. We love her. She’s a great girl, but I don’t think she’s a happy person and I want her to be.”

  “That’s all anyone should want for her. I’ve never met anyone like her.”

  Madison’s eyes brighten in approval. She crinkles her nose. “I’m sorry—you know? About last night—my saying I didn’t like you. It wasn’t nice, and I don’t know you so I shouldn’t have said it.”

  “No big deal. I’m over it.”

  An enormous smile claims her face. “Good. I want to have fun this weekend. I won’t see her again for months. None of us will.”

  Nick motions with an arm. “Sit down, Jake. Eat.”

  I take my chair at the breakfast bar.

  I reach for some toast and set it on my plate. “So what are we supposed to do this weekend?”

  They look at each other and bust up laughing.

  I stare. “What’s so funny?”

  “Sorry. No insult,” Nick says through chuckles. “We’re going to do whatever, man.”

  OK, no help there to figure out what I’ve gotten myself into. “We’re going to hang out at the beach for three days? Is that the plan?”

  “We’re not into that whole have-a-plan thing,” Madison explains, sinking her teeth into her lower lip to hide a smirk. “The beach isn’t a place. It’s a philosophy. It’s about letting go of everything else and just being, and by doing that, letting your life happen. At least, that what my dad says.”

  My gaze rapidly moves back and forth between them.

  Nick stands up, grabbing his plate with one hand and patting my shoulder with the other. “Dude, kick back and enjoy and live. That’s what Maddy is saying.”

  Madison follows him to the sink and starts helping him clean up the breakfast mess. Kick back and enjoy and live. I watch them as I finish my meal.

  He drops a kiss on her head as he hands her a freshly washed plate. They sure are into each other, even if both of them are a little out there. It’s going to make Krystal and me stand out like a sore thumb. Their eyes. Body language. No, you can’t fake that.

  No wonder Madison isn’t swallowing our story.

  I’d be suspicious of us, too.

  I’m still not convinced that Krystal is right, that having them believe we’re a couple is the only way to keep what went down with Daryl the idiot private for the both of us.

  But on the off chance she’s right, one thing is for sure.

  Madison Parker doesn’t strike me as a girl who would roll with being lied to. If I don’t make this believable, there goes my job.

  Chapter Sixteen

  “Krystal”

  Through the side door, I slip quietly into the house to avoid everyone and pull out my earbud. My gaze shifts right and then left.

  Silence.

  Inside my room, I toss my iPod on the bed and then sit to remove my shoes. Not that I care, but I wonder where Jacob is. He wasn’t on the patio sleeping when I got back from my run.

  On the patio.

  I unlace and kick off my Nikes. Kind of sweet and it made figuring out what to do with him last night less problematic. He can be considerate.

  Oh yuck, maybe he’s worried if he stays too close to me I might make a move on him.

  You expect nothing, right?

  A full-body shudder makes my cheeks flap. God, that moment was mortifying, seeing what he was thinking of me instead of his Buckingham-Palace stoic unresponsiveness.

  I can’t believe he’s actually worried I might try something with him. Does he think I’m some kind of kinky sex fiend? The guy seriously needs to enter the twenty-first century.

  True, what I do with Daryl is a bit on the fringe but, heck, we had a serious relationship, it’s nobody’s business, and lots of couples are into kink. All you’ve got to do is check the blogs or an online bookstore to know that.

  Times have changed, Jacob. Clearly, he’s in the Stone Age, where people are still inclined to judge how others get their freak on.

  Socially provincial.

  I wonder where he’s from.

  Definitely not California.

  I thought we’d all moved beyond openly judging everything. Well, everyone except Jacob Merrick and parents.

  Mom and Dad never would understand my thing with Daryl if they ever found out. No, they would freak. I’m pretty sure my parents don’t even think I have sex.

  No, I haven’t had the safe-sex, let alone any sex, talk from either of them. Though I’d been warned by Kaley to be prepared for Mom’s family condoms speech.

  I shudder again.

  I head into the bathroom and turn on the shower. As I wait for the water to heat up, I strip, working not to see myself in the mirror, but my disobedient eyes stray there anyway.

  My body—what I have—is nice. Muscled, long-limbed, but nothing to write home about. My boobs are too small, my hips too straight, and my skin too pale, but that California sun glow doesn’t work on a ballerina. My creamy paleness makes me look like a freak everywhere else, but on stage is a definite must.

  Ballerinas must be long-limbed, lean, and pale.

  I’m that; not a guy magnet.

  Not that I care.

  I want eyes unable to look away when I dance, not when I walk down the street. I’d rather land the audience than the sought-after guys in this world that most girls waste time pursuing.

  The hot, unattainable, break your heart guy.

  The guy who wrecks your life and moves on to the next girl. The kind of guy my dad used to be before marrying Mom.

  Jacob is right about one thing: even good guys do bad things. My dad had quite a history not being a good guy when he was young.

  What kind of man is Jacob?

  Nerd boy or sought-after?

  Boyfriend material or Mr. Hit-it-and-quit-it like most of the jerks in Pacific Palisades?

  Some girls might think Jacob’s a find.

  That is if they only look at him and don’t try to talk to him. And if they’re willing to make every first move because, after six months of watching him, I’m pretty sure he’s not one that makes first moves. Even though he is really good-looking.

  A one-off in the world of males.

  His own brand of weirdness.

  Supercute self-created nice guy.

  I love his hazel eyes. He’d be that dangerous, intense sort of guy if he wasn’t so shy. If he smiled more he’d be a heartbreaker.

  What’s up with that?

  Why does he rarely smile?

  Why is he so standoffish?

  Why doesn’t he like me?

  And, crap, where did he go?

  We need some preperformance instruction before we head out for the day with Maddy and Nick. I need to establish some expectations of him so we don’t blow this with Madison. If I don’t tell him what I want, Jacob will be himself.

  Cover story blown the first day.

  Nothing says sham faster than a guy who can’t even look you straight in the eye or say more than three words at a time to you.

  Yes, got to fix that one fast.

  He’s gotta act a little like he’s my boyfriend. He can’t call me “miss”—which one of those security jerks told him to do that? Someone must have, the g
uys are always messing with him, and I wouldn’t put it past them so they could laugh every time he does it.

  And I can’t have him sleeping on the patio a second night. That’ll raise the red flags with Madison, though he did look sweet trying to be comfortable on one of those loungers, no blanket, curled on his side, using his arm to prop up his head. From the look of his biceps he must lift weights every day. You don’t get a build like that walking the lawns at our house.

  I wonder if he has a girlfriend. I bet he does. Doesn’t strike me as the play-the-field type. No, he’s a one girl at a time kind of guy and he’s too cute to be available in Southern California. Even broke, which I’m pretty sure he is by how alarmed he was at the prospect of losing his job, his looks would put him at the top of the hunt list even in my zipcode.

  What am I doing thinking about Jacob? He’s a problem. One of the things I have to manage. He knows about Daryl and I can’t have him telling my folks that. Got to keep him contained. Can’t afford to forget that.

  After a five-minute shower and a quick towel dry of my hair, without bothering to put on even the makeup I use sparingly, I dress quickly into a black T-shirt and pull on my mid-thigh shorts. Madison’s going to make a comment about the shorts, but I don’t care. We don’t all have to show everything we’ve got every second. Though for Maddy it’s hard not to. There’s just so much of her. Besides, it doesn’t matter how I look, since I’m spending the weekend with Jacob.

  Bracing myself, I leave the room.

  Time to join the party.

  Now where are they?

  Kitchen, empty.

  Living room, empty.

  Out on the patio I’m greeted by laughter and that slap/ping a volleyball makes when hit. Crud, Maddy already has the net up. She better not expect me to play. I can’t afford an injury the week before school starts and she’s always so cutthroat. Got to show off her skills every second on the court, and is overly critical about how uncoordinated I am in sports.

  My two least favorite things.

  Sun and V-ball at the beach.

  Madison has hijacked the weekend.

  As always.

  Irritated, I go onto the sand and stop.

  The ball is rapid-fire shooting across the court, Nick and Madison on one side, Jacob and—who moved in on my guy?