In His Kiss (Love On The North Shore Book 4)

by Christina Tetreault

  “We live in the same town, Claire. Seeing him around is a given.” Whether I like it or not. “I already saw him anyway, this morning while I grocery shopped.”

  Across the table, Claire worked on putting a dent in her brownie. She enjoyed them almost as much as Ella. “Oh. How’d it go?” she asked, her voice full of sisterly concern.

  Ella cut another brownie. Just one wasn’t enough this afternoon. “He asked me to lunch today!”

  “What did you tell him?”

  “You didn’t just ask me that. What do you think I told him? No, of course.” She bit into the brownie and savored the combination of gooey chocolate chips and crunchy walnuts. “I can’t believe he asked. Later, in the parking lot, he helped me change a flat and I think he was going to ask me again. Corey from kickboxing showed up and cut him off.”

  Claire shrugged a shoulder and frowned, giving Ella the impression she disagreed with her decision. “You think I should’ve said yes?” Ella asked.

  “I didn’t say that.”

  “Your mouth didn’t but your face does.” Her sister’s facial expressions always gave away her true thoughts and feelings.

  “I’m not surprised he asked, that’s all. Whenever I see him, he asks how you are. And I haven’t seen him with anyone in months, at least not around here. When you were together, I’d always see the two of you come and go. If he was seeing someone, I’d see them together in the parking lot and stuff.”

  Her conversation with Jessie yesterday came to mind. She’d mentioned Striker had dated right after they’d broken up, but she hadn’t seen him with anyone in a long time either. “So what? Maybe he goes to his dates’ houses.” She paused and thought of another possible excuse. “Or maybe he’s taken to having sex in the bed of his pickup.”

  Her final comment earned her an eye roll. “Maybe if he was sixteen and living with his parents, I’d accept that one as a possibility.” Standing, Claire walked to the refrigerator and came back with milk and two glasses. “It’s also possible he’s not over you.”

  “Mon dieu.” During her first stay in France as an undergrad, she’d learned all the words and expressions they didn’t teach you in school. She’d added her favorite ones to her everyday vocabulary. “Those pregnancy hormones must be messing with your head.” Not over her. Ha! What a joke. “Jessie told me he started dating right after I left. He’s over me.”

  Claire filled each glass with milk and passed one to her. “Then why does he always ask about you?” Her voice took on her annoying “big sister knows best” tone.

  “It’s called being polite. People do it all the time.”

  “He could say hi and keep on walking. And just because he went out with someone doesn’t mean he’s over you. Guys do really stupid things.” She pulled the brownie pan closer and cut another square. “Jared and I broke up once and then got back together,” she said, referring to her husband.

  “That was different.” She’d come over for lunch and conversation, not a relationship intervention.

  “Why?”

  Ella wracked her brain for an answer. No good one materialized, so she latched on to the first thing she thought of. “You were both still in college.”

  “And that matters why?”

  She only had a mediocre comeback, and she knew it. “You were both young.”

  “Yeah, Striker and you are so old. Maybe you should both look into one of those over-fifty-five retirement communities. A new one is being built right in Danvers. They’ve been advertising it on television for months. It’s going to have a golf course and everything.”

  She hated when her sister was right. “Jared’s nothing like Striker. He didn’t date everything with two legs and breasts before you.”

  “Okay, I’ll give you that one. Still, I think it is possible Striker realizes he messed up. If he asks you to lunch or something again, maybe you should go. See what happens.”

  Ella shook her head. Not happening in this lifetime. “Nope. I’m not interested. I’m over him and moving on.” Too bad her head hadn’t mailed the message down to her heart.

  ***

  From the driveway, he saw lights on inside his sister and Tony’s house. After leaving football practice he’d stopped at Peggy Sue’s, the popular bakery and coffee shop in town, for a sandwich rather than going straight to his sister’s. Already on her shit list, he didn’t want her angry because he’d showed up in the middle of dinner. With it well past seven, he figured it’d be safe now.

  He walked up the steps and past the large urns filled with flowers. Definitely something his sister had put out, not Tony. Ringing the bell, he waited. He hadn’t visited since the spring, when he and Ella came by for a friendly card game and pizza. It’d been the last time Cat invited him over.

  “Striker?” Cat said after opening the door. She had a glass of what looked like iced tea in one hand and a frown on her face.

  Striker ignored the frown. He’d known not to expect a warm welcome. “Hey, Trina.” While everyone else called his sister Cat, he’d always opted for Trina instead. If someone else did use the nickname, she corrected him or her. She never corrected him. “Not interrupting dinner or anything, am I?”

  “No. We finished. Tony just put on the baseball game.”

  She still didn’t invite him inside, and it didn’t look like she planned to. “Can I come in and talk to you?”

  With a shrug she moved away from the door, and he took her response to mean yes.

  Looked like his sister had been busy. Prior to his marriage, Tony’s house had been neat and clean but devoid of much personality. During his last visit, he’d noticed Cat had started to make little changes, adding pictures to the walls and colorful pillows to the couch. Since then she’d gone even further. The walls were no longer off-white but instead a dark burgundy. A gray area rug covered part of the hardwood floor, and more pictures had been added to the walls, including a few from the vacation they’d recently gone on.

  “Striker,” Tony said when he spotted him.

  Striker stopped in the center of the living room while Cat disappeared into the kitchen.

  “All alone again tonight? Bet you’re wishing you’d taken Cora up on her offer.”

  He hoped Tony’s voice didn’t carry. His sister already appeared unlikely to help him. If she thought he was sleeping around, she’d kick his ass out.

  “Like I told you, I’m not interested in her.”

  Striker didn’t stick around for Tony’s response.

  He found his sister seated at the table drinking her iced tea and looking at her smartphone. She didn’t glance up until he pulled out a chair.

  “Okay. What do you need to talk about?” She pushed her phone away and leaned her elbows on the table.

  “Ella.”

  “What about her?” she asked, her voice frosty.

  He hated admitting he’d screwed up, but he didn’t have much of a choice. “I screwed up, Trina.”

  Cat gave a sarcastic laugh as a reply before she said, “Could’ve told you that.”

  He ignored her comment. Getting into an argument wouldn’t help him. “She barely talked to me when I saw her this morning.”

  “Striker, why should she? You told her it was over.” She took a long sip of her iced tea before she continued. “Did you expect her to drop to her knees when she saw you? Beg you to reconsider?”

  He clenched his fists. His sister was in full bitch mode. But he needed her help, so he couldn’t call her on it. “Trina, all I want is another chance. But right now, I can’t even get a conversation with her.”

  Cat glared at him. “Why?”

  “Why what?”

  “Why do you want another chance?” she asked with suspicion.

  “Because I do.”

  “Yeah, not good enough. Sorry, can’t help you.” Cat pushed back her chair. “I’m going to watch the game with Tony. See you tomorrow at the wedding.” She took a few steps away. “You know the way out.”

  When had
his sister turned into such a pain in the ass? “C’mon, Trina.”

  “Give me a good enough reason to help you.” She stopped, but remained standing. “Otherwise all I can say is leave Ella alone. Keep with the one-night stands you like so much.”

  Damn it. She was going to make him say it. He hadn’t even said it to Ella. “Why the hell do you think I want a second chance? I love her.”

  Cat dropped back into her chair. “Are you sure?”

  “What’s wrong with you? I wouldn’t say it if I wasn’t. Will you help me or not?”

  “I’ll try.”

  Chapter 4

  She moved and checked her reflection in the mirror from a different angle. Yep, the dress had been worth every penny, or perhaps every euro. She loved to shop. Anyone who took one peek in her closet would know it. Normally, though, she set out a budget and stuck to it when she indulged in one of her favorite activities. Except for the bridesmaid’s dress she’d worn to her sister’s wedding, she couldn’t remember ever paying more than two hundred dollars for a single dress. Until she saw this one.

  She’d gone out with a fellow professor who’d wanted to show her some of the best boutiques in Paris. Ella saw the full-length gown the moment they walked in. Unable to pass it up, she made her first mistake and asked if they had it in her size without bothering to check the price. Then she made her second and carried the gown into the dressing room. Once she’d slipped it on and looked in the mirror, she had to have it. At the time, she’d rationalized her purchase by reminding herself it might be a long time until she made it back to Paris. After all, this was the first time she’d returned to France in five years and, even then, she’d only made it into Paris a handful of times.

  More than once since then, she’d questioned her decision. While gorgeous, the gown wasn’t a practical outfit she could wear to class or out with friends. Right now, however, the mirror said she’d made the right choice. The gown looked as if it’d been custom-made just for her.

  “You’re going to have fun today,” she said to the mirror. She’d pretend Striker wasn’t even in the same room. If he tried to talk to her again she’d be polite, but she didn’t think he would. Claire was wrong. He was over her. Today he’d show up at the wedding with a date. Why he’d asked her to lunch yesterday, she didn’t know, but it wasn’t because he still cared. And she didn’t feel anything for him, either, so she wouldn’t seek him out. Instead, she’d use her time getting to know Dakota, Mack’s friend from work. The one Jessie had told her all about. Yep, she had a plan, and no matter what she’d stick with it.

  Flowers and guests filled St. Mark’s, the oldest church in North Salem, when Ella walked in. Immediately, Sean O’Brien, one of Mack’s groomsmen, greeted her and led her down the aisle to the pew where her parents sat. Moments later Claire and her family joined them. While Claire and Mom chatted away, Ella glanced around. For the most part she recognized everyone. The few exceptions she assumed were people Mack worked with.

  Which one’s Dakota, she wondered, checking out the men she didn’t know. If Jessie hoped to set them up, he’d come alone. That narrowed down the list of potentials. Maybe he was the tall, athletic-looking blond guy with the beard. He appeared to be alone, and he sat on Mack’s side of the church. Or was he the guy who could pass as a younger Dwayne Johnson? She let her eyes roam over the pews until she spotted Cat seated with Tony and her parents. Spotting her as well, Cat smiled and waved. Ella didn’t hesitate to do the same.

  Despite the situation with Striker, she’d discovered Thursday night that nothing had changed between them. Now she felt stupid for avoiding Cat back in the spring. In true Cat fashion, though, she’d never mentioned it. In fact, when she visited along with Jessie and Kelsey, she hadn’t even mentioned her brother.

  From the other side of the church, the music changed and Ella heard the doors out to the foyer close. Soon Father Perkins appeared, followed by Mack and Striker, his best man. Although she trained her eyes on Mack, she kept sneaking looks at Striker. While not Hollywood handsome, his rugged good looks and sexy smile always got him plenty of female attention. Back in middle school and high school, she’d had a wicked big crush on him. Whenever she slept over Cat’s house and he walked into the room, her heart beat double time and her tongue tied itself in a giant bow. A few years older, he’d never noticed her or any of his sister’s other friends. Instead, he’d spent his time with either girls his own age or ones a few years older. In high school, he’d been one of the few guys she knew who regularly dated college girls.

  Gradually, her crush subsided but it had never completely disappeared. The previous fall, when he’d stopped and offered to change her flat tire, she accepted not because she needed it but because she enjoyed looking at him. When he’d asked her out, she’d been unable to refuse even though deep down she recognized it was a bad idea. Striker wasn’t her type. She liked men who took relationships seriously. Not ones who considered dating and sex a game. After a few weeks together, she’d thought maybe he’d changed or perhaps she’d misjudged him. He’d been the perfect boyfriend. Everyone in her family liked him. Her niece, Kerry, loved him and often called and asked them to visit. Then April rolled around and he pulled the rug out from under her.

  Again, the music changed. The door behind her leading into the foyer opened. Grace, Mack’s daughter, and his niece, Brianna, started down the aisle. Both wore matching pale lavender gowns and carried bouquets. Erin, Mack’s sister, walked behind the two little girls, her dress a much darker shade of purple. Charlie Sherbrooke, Jessie’s maid of honor, came down the aisle last. Once Charlie reached the altar, Joyce, the pianist, began playing the traditional wedding march. Slowly, Jessie and her dad walked past the rows of guests. She’d never seen her friend look happier. Happiness and love literally floated around Jessie, and Ella smiled. She glanced toward Mack. Someday she wanted a guy to look at her the exact same way. Joy and love were written all over his face. It might have taken some time for Jessie and Mack to get together, but no doubt they belonged together.

  Unable to stop herself, Ella glanced past Mack to Striker. He’d never know. Like everyone else, he’d be looking at Jessie.

  Her eyes collided with his. His lips tipped upward in a tentative smile, and he gave a slight nod.

  Sugar. Not the exact word she wanted but, given the location, it’d have to do. He’d caught her.

  ***

  “Where did you get the dress?” Kelsey asked Ella as they sat at their table in the reception room at Turin, an Italian restaurant in Salem. Jessie had put them at the same table, along with Dakota Smith, Mrs. Mitchell, and Charlie and Jake Sherbrooke, but so far, they were the only two to have arrived.

  “It’s gorgeous. If I had somewhere to wear it, I’d asked to borrow it,” Kelsey continued before Ella answered her. About the same size, they’d shared clothes in the past.

  “A little boutique in Paris. It kind of called my name the second I walked inside.”

  “I can see why. What else did you pick up in France?”

  “And why do you assume I bought anything else?” Ella asked, trying to sound put out.

  Kelsey laughed. “Please. You can’t go two weeks without shopping for something. You bought more than just that gown.”

  Well, her friend did speak the truth. “Not too much. Mostly gifts for Kerry. I would’ve picked out a few things for the new baby, too, if someone had bothered to tell me Claire was pregnant.” Her niece had loved all the gifts she’d brought back for her, her favorite being a cherry-red dress decorated with sequins.

  “Don’t look at me. I assumed you knew.”

  “I know. I still can’t believe neither my sister or mom told me.” Ella dismissed the thought. Talking about it wouldn’t change it. “Jessie looked so happy today. Mack, too. He couldn’t take his eyes off her when she came down the aisle. Do you know where they’re doing pictures?”

  “On the town common.” Kelsey leaned a little closer. “You’ve never met Dakota
Smith, right?”

  “Not yet. But Jessie told me about him.”

  “Well, he just walked in. He’s talking to Mrs. Mitchell.”

  Curious, Ella looked toward the door where the young Dwayne Johnson lookalike spoke to the widow. Together they walked toward the table. “He looks like—”

  “The Rock,” Kelsey said, using the actor’s stage name. “I know. And Jessie intentionally put you and him at the same table. Just a little heads-up, lately she’s been playing matchmaker. She managed to set me up with another of Mack’s coworkers back in June. Super nice guy, but I don’t have time for a relationship.”

  Shortly after Mrs. Mitchell and Dakota joined them, Charlie and her husband did as well. She’d grown up with Charlie and played soccer with her throughout high school. Of all the women she knew, Charlie was the last she’d ever expected to get married and have children. She’d always come across as a career-focused individual. Now, though, Charlie was married to perhaps the most gorgeous man in the room, who also happened to be the son of the President of the United States, and they had a five-month-old son.

  “And where is your adorable baby?” Mrs. Mitchell asked, taking control of the conversation at the table. “I was hoping to see him again.”

  “Garrett’s with Jake’s aunt for the night. We’ll pick him up in the morning,” Charlie answered. “Jessie told us to bring him, but I didn’t want him interrupting the ceremony. He’s teething and very cranky. I’m worried about my brother’s wedding. Sean and Mia insist that he come. Jake’s cousin is getting married next weekend, too, and he wants Garrett there.”

  While Mrs. Mitchell filled Charlie in on methods to help ease discomfort during teething, Jake, Dakota, and Kelsey discussed cars. Kelsey’s dad had been a car fanatic and he’d passed his passion on to both his children. Thus, Kelsey could hold her own when it came to anything with four wheels and an engine. Left as the odd man out, Ella ran through all she needed to do before the semester started right after Labor Day. At least for most of her French courses, she could use the same syllabus she’d given students the previous fall. But she’d changed the textbook for her French 202 class, so she’d need to modify that one. She’d also picked up a few Spanish courses this semester, too. She hadn’t taught Spanish in three years. She’d need something entirely new for those courses. With the semester starting soon, she didn’t have much time. Perhaps it was a good thing she was single. Without a man in her life, she had more time to dedicate to teaching at the university and at the dance studio.