Donovan said, “We may as well talk about a topic that might hold your attention. How was dinner the other night?”
Troy cringed inside. He thought it might be time to abandon the regular “drink beer and hang out on the back deck” sessions that he and his brothers enjoyed. Or at least put them on hold for a little while. He wasn’t even sure what was going on with Alison, so talking about it with anyone else wasn’t something he was crazy about.
“Good. It was good.”
“Just good?” Gavin asked.
Troy narrowed his eyes at his most taciturn brother, thinking how ironic it was that he would be the one digging for more details. “It was good, what do you want me to tell you?”
Jett shrugged, taking back the reins of the conversation. “Nothing. Good is fine. It’s just that I heard it was a real rager. What you might call, oh I don’t know…a four-alarm kind of night.”
Troy sighed and sagged his shoulders in defeat. “All right. So, how many people know?”
Donovan shook his head. “I’m disappointed in you, Troy. It’s like you didn’t even grow up here.”
“Basically everybody, then?”
Gavin jumped back in. “Oh, yeah. It’s all over.”
Jett laughed, clearly enjoying the conversation a lot more than Troy thought was appropriate. “I mean, you almost burn the new girl’s house down because you’re so eager to get into her pants you can’t even bother to turn the stove off—”
“That’s not what happened.”
Now it was Donovan’s turn to laugh. “Really? Because Jared said you ran downstairs in jeans and no shirt or shoes. She was in a robe. And Max tweeted a picture of the burned lasagna. So, I don’t know. I mean, if you say that’s not what happened, I believe you, but the evidence paints a very different picture.”
Troy growled in frustration. “Fine. I mean, sure, yes, technically that’s what happened, but you make it sound cheap.”
“Cheap? Nah. Meeting the fire department in nothing but your jeans? How could anyone make that sound cheap?” Jett grinned.
Troy shook his head and finally had to chuckle. “Oh, man. I hope nobody gives Alison a hard time about this.”
“That’d never happen,” Gavin assured him.
“Why?”
Gavin finally grinned along with his brothers. Well, his version of it anyway, which consisted of a small flick of the corners of his mouth. “Because, compadre. They may have just met her, but the sad truth is, they already like her better than you.”
Troy barked out a laugh. “Can’t say I blame them.”
“That’s a given.”
“Still, I should probably go over and check on her. Make sure she hasn’t had to deal with anything.”
“Clean up her kitchen, at the very least,” Jett said.
Troy sighed. “I’m gonna be hearing about this for a while, aren’t I?”
“Oh, yeah, for sure,” Donovan replied. “I kind of thought that went without saying. I mean, I’m already starting to figure out at what age I think your future kids will be mature enough for Uncle D to tell them the story.”
“You’re getting a little ahead of yourself, don’t you think?”
“Not really. I’d wait until they were at least ten.”
“You’ve already got Alison and I married off and having kids in your mind?”
“Married? I don’t know. I mean, she’s an artistic type. I don’t know how she feels about marriage. I didn’t want to impose fantasy future-her with my fantasy traditional values, but, yeah. I figure you guys are in it for the long haul.”
“That’s crazy, man. We’ve been on three dates.”
“One of which was so hot it ended in literal fire,” Gavin interjected in his typically deadpan delivery.
Troy grinned. He had to admit, he’d thought about it himself. He couldn’t help it. He looked at Alison and saw forever. He saw them taking sunset strolls on the beach, cooking dinner, and binge-watching shows while a fire crackled in the fireplace.
He saw kids and marriage and the whole thing. He’d only made the “that’s crazy” remark to Donovan because that’s what it felt like he was supposed to say in a situation like this. In his mind, it wasn’t crazy. It was right. It was one hundred percent, beyond a shadow of a doubt, right.
Chapter 23
Eyes closed. Head thrown back. Fingers moving deftly up and down the piano keys while totally lost in belting out a song. This was Alison’s happy place.
It helped her work out her feelings when she was lost in despair. But, like this morning, it was also her vehicle for celebration when every cell in her body tingled with excitement over some new development.
Wow. She couldn’t remember the last time that any happiness or satisfaction she’d felt hadn’t been strictly about a career development. This was new territory to her. She felt young again, like she was just starting out in life and relationships, discovering all these lovely butterflies and the incredible things they could do to her belly.
All morning, she couldn’t stop singing about love. All of the most heartfelt love songs that the stage had to offer, she’d belted them out one after another, lost in her emotions. Some were about longing. Some were about fulfillment. But all of them were, in one way or another, about love.
“So In Love” from Kiss Me, Kate.
“Somewhere That’s Green” from Little Shop of Horrors.
“Something Wonderful” from The King and I.
“I Can Hear the Bells” from Hairspray.
It was the most like herself she’d felt since…
Well, damn. She couldn’t remember since when. That couldn’t be a great sign.
Even through her wispy haze of glee, there was an underlying nervousness. In fact, that was the other way that these feelings were reminiscent of her high school does-he-like-me-does-he-not kind of infatuations: the crushing uncertainty about what the future would hold.
Would she stay here or move back to New York?
Was this thing with Troy a fling or something more?
What did the future hold for her?
Yeah. She had plenty of questions floating around in her mind. She was pretty short on answers, though.
“Beautiful.”
She startled at the deep voice resonating through the living room and whirled around on the piano seat. “Oh my God, Troy! You’re lucky I wasn’t holding a mug!”
He came and sat down on the piano bench next to her. “True. Although I think holding a hot mug might’ve compromised your playing, so I was probably on pretty safe ground.”
She leaned up and kissed him. “Smartass.”
“Yep.”
“I was a little worried when I didn’t hear all that trademark banging and sawing this morning.”
“Really? I thought you’d be glad for the opportunity to catch up on your sleep after the workout I gave you the other night.”
She giggled. “True. But I was kind of afraid that the trial by fire, so to speak, had scared you off.”
He put a hand to his chest. “Never! Although, I do have to tell you that apparently we’re the talk of the town.”
“Seriously?”
“Oh, yeah. Welcome to small town living. It’s more than just fun softball team camaraderie. There’s the highly developed intelligence community, as well.”
“Ha. Okay, consider me warned. Although, I don’t really mind if people find out about us. Even if it does cause a little gossip along the way. In fact, let them talk. I think we’re pretty interesting. If we can provide some entertainment, I say why not.”
“Wow. The consummate performer. Always ready to entertain, even if she has to burn the house down to do it.”
“You know it, buddy.”
“Anyway. The reason I wasn’t over here this morning was because I had to go to the monthly staff meeting. I’ll be back to getting you out of bed at the crack of dawn tomorrow.”
She pressed her body the length of his and ran her fingers up his ches
t. She got a deep thrill from the flannel fabric under her fingers. It was such a man’s fabric. It made her want him. Bad.
“I’m looking forward to it. Do you think maybe you could tuck me into it beforehand?”
He groaned. “Oh, God. Don’t tempt me.”
She kissed his throat, reveling as the vibrations from his moan traveled through her lips. “I think you’ve misunderstood my intention. Tempting you is exactly what I plan to do.”
He dipped his head and kissed her, long and hard. “I’d love to, baby, but I can’t. I’ve got to be on the jobsite in ten minutes. And Mila’s home tonight, so I can’t come over then.”
She sat back and smoothed her hair, giving him a crooked smile and a put-upon sigh. “Buddy, you’re lucky I find responsible men hot as hell.”
“Oh, believe me. I’m thanking my lucky stars for that good fortune even as we speak.”
“Why don’t we all do something this weekend? The three of us? It doesn’t have to be anything elaborate.”
“Well, Mila does have to collect some shells for her marine biology project. That could be kind of fun.”
“We could take a walk on the beach, collect some shells. Chat. It would give me a chance to get to know her a little better.”
“It’s a date. Well, if you can call helping an eighth grader with her homework a date, then it’s a date.”
“Oh, it’s a date,” Alison assured him. “And it sounds like a pretty awesome one to me.”
Chapter 24
Waves crashed over Alison’s feet and ankles as she strolled up the beach, enjoying the seasonally-rare feeling of Oregon sun kissing her shoulders. When she’d seen the bright day outside her window that morning and felt the warm air, she’d known it was the perfect chance to wear the one spaghetti-strap sundress she’d brought and walk barefoot for their stroll along the beach, letting the light breeze lift her hair and rustle her skirt.
Alison loved theatrics, and she loved looking the part. Costumes had always been one of the main tools she’d used to inhabit her characters fully onstage. So, now, dressed in perfect costume as a carefree summer beachcomber, she couldn’t help but feel the part as well.
Deep in the back of her mind, she knew her problems were waiting for her again as soon as the sun ducked back behind the nearly omnipresent clouds and the fog rolled in off the ocean. She would slide them back on as she slid on her cardigan. But for now, in the sunlight? They’d evaporated.
“Alison! Look at this one!” Mila lifted a shell and dusted it off.
Alison took it and turned it over in her hands, examining it from every angle. “It’s spectacular. I love the colors. And the shape is so unexpected.”
“That’s exactly what I thought,” Mila said, pride pouring off of her in waves. Alison’s heart swelled with warmth at the words.
Mila ran off down the beach to continue the hunt for the next perfect shell to add to the collection, and Alison turned to look at Troy. “She’s wonderful, Troy. I love her. You’ve done an incredible job.”
Troy waved this aside. “She’s done the heavy lifting herself. All I’ve done is kept her safe and fed. Ninety-nine percent of how smart and great she is was who she was on the day she was born.”
Alison laid her hand lightly on his arm. “I don’t buy that for one minute. Keeping her safe and fed was what she needed, and it’s what you gave her, and you didn’t get in the way of the rest. That’s more than a lot of parents manage to do, so I still think you deserve some credit.”
Troy took her hand in his as they strolled. “You’re good for my self-esteem.”
She shook her head. “You think I’m flattering you, but I’m not. I’m just holding up a mirror to reflect reality.”
“Honestly, she’s come out of her shell more since you’ve been here than any other time I can remember. She was going through this phase where it seemed like everything I said, the kinds of things she used to think were hilarious and fun, were suddenly totally annoying to her. It was like someone told her it was illegal to show enthusiasm about anything. And that same person then offered to pay her five bucks every time she rolled her eyes, and she was like, ‘oh, great, that’s how I’ll pay for college.’”
Alison nodded sagely. “I’ve seen that syndrome before. It can be pretty serious if it’s not caught in time. It’s lucky that we seem able to turn it around at this early stage.”
“Syndrome?”
“Oh, yes. Diagnosable and everything. It’s called ‘teenageritis.’”
Troy laughed, and then they strolled a little farther in companionable silence. Finally, he broke it by saying, “We?”
“What?”
“You said it’s lucky that we seem to be turning it around.”
She considered that for a moment. “I guess that’s how I think of it. Are you cool with that?”
“I’m more than cool with it. I’m cold with it. Downright freezing.”
She smiled, and the smile gradually transformed into a laugh. “That’s good. But, Troy?”
“Yeah?”
“I’m going to have to revisit that diagnosis. I’m starting to believe some of those eyerolls may have been earned honestly.”
He laughed. “I won’t argue that one.”
Mila came scampering back, holding two more shells this time, one in each hand. She handed one to Troy and the other to Alison. They reached out and took them, and as they did, she saw that Mila’s eyes didn’t even glance at the hands they used to accept the shells. She was zoned in on the hands that hung between them, fingers intertwined. And a small, bright, almost secret smile danced on her lips.
“These are beautiful, Mila,” Troy said, and Mila’s head snapped up as if his words had snapped her out of a trance.
“Troy, can Alison come to dinner? Please?”
Troy looked at Alison. “Oh, I don’t know. I hate to put you on the spot. Are you free?”
“As a bird,” she confirmed.
“Yes!” Mila cried, then snatched the two shells back and shoved them into her bag before running off down the beach.
“Well, it’s official,” Troy said.
“What?”
“You’re her new favorite person in the world. I think you’ve surpassed me. That’s okay, though. I don’t blame her one bit.”
Chapter 25
“Do you think she likes chili?” Mila asked, her face making no secret of what she thought the answer was.
“I think she probably likes it better than the other things I can make.”
“What else can you make?”
“Exactly.”
She groaned and flopped back onto the couch dramatically, like the world was ending, in the way that only young teenage girls could truly commit to make it work.
“I don’t know why you’re so worried,” Troy said, trying to keep his voice as neutral as he could so as not to spin the conversation out into crying, or screaming, or accusations about how he didn’t understand.
It was true. He didn’t understand. He didn’t get what the big deal was about most of the things Mila thought were world-ending since the whole teenager thing had started. And, frankly, he didn’t really care to. But the way Mila said it made it seem like a shortcoming.
“Um, oh, I don’t know. Because she’s elegant? Because she’s from New York? Because she’s famous? Take your pick!” She punctuated the list with a tortured moan.
Troy put the spoon he’d been stirring the chili with down on the spoon holder and walked over to sit next to Mila on the couch. He waited in silence for a moment, giving her space to catch her breath. Finally, he said, “Hey, Mila-bug. Are you feeling nervous about Alison coming over here tonight?”
She wouldn’t meet his eyes. “Yeah. I guess.”
“Why? What is scaring you?”
She thought for a moment, then turned to him. “What if she gets over here and is, like, ‘This house is so small and normal-y. We’re having chili for dinner. I can’t be seen with people who’d make chil
i for dinner!’”
“You’re afraid we’re not good enough for Alison?”
She hesitated a moment, then nodded.
Troy squeezed her shoulder. “You don’t need to worry about that, Mila. I promise you Alison’s not caught up in things like money and material stuff. Hey, the first time she met me, I was working construction, right? And that didn’t scare her away.”
Mila took a deep breath. “You’re right. I’m not gonna freak out.”
The front doorbell rang then, and Mila grabbed one of the couch pillows and pressed it into her face as she squealed. “Okay… maybe a little freaking out.”
Troy chuckled as he made his way to the front door. The way Mila had come to life around Alison gave him hope that maybe he hadn’t completely lost the sweet little girl she used to be. Maybe that girl was still lurking in there somewhere, buried under layers of detached too-coolness, nail polish, and social media.
He pulled open the door and Alison was standing there, looking even more stunning than she had that afternoon. He wouldn’t have thought it was possible. She’d nearly given him a heart attack in the wispy, feminine sundress she’d worn to collect shells on the beach.
But, here, in her fitted jeans with a soft long-sleeved tee and black high-heeled boots, she looked even better. Her hair was straightened, and it hung in a glossy sheet down her back.
He wasn’t a guy who usually noticed make-up one way or another, but the bright red lips she was sporting were tough to miss. They were bright and lush, apple-red and glossy, and they pretty much begged to be kissed.
Troy was seized by the urge to grab her right there in the doorway, let the bottle of wine she was holding go crashing to the ground in classic Alison style, sweep her up in his arms, spin her around and kiss her deep and hard.
It wasn’t appropriate. Obviously. There was no way he could do it.
That only made him want it more.
Instead, he leaned in to give her a hello kiss on the cheek and take the bottle of wine. With his mouth close to her ear, he whispered, “The way you look tonight is making it very difficult to keep from taking you straight upstairs and forgetting the rest of the world exists for a few hours.”
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