Nora pulled her gaze from Hamilton and focused back on her sister, forcing a smile back in place as she started walking again. “Clearly they aren’t as creative as you,” she said as she moved past Hamilton, not even acknowledging him as she headed for Beth at the opposite end of the booth.
Such a quick exchange between the two teenagers, only a few seconds, but Beth had missed absolutely none of it. Not that she could say anything to Nora about it. Conversations of that caliber were strictly off limits.
“Penny,” Wallace called out to his youngest granddaughter. “Come over here and pick something out.”
“Yes, papa.” She gave Nora a quick peck on the check before she was set on the ground and scurried off.
“Can I go out tonight?” Nora asked Beth by way of greeting.
Yup, that was how Nora started most conversations these days, straight to something that she wanted. No hi, hello, or even a fuck you very much.
Well, at least that last one wasn’t spoken in words, though Beth did think that was the expression she got from her niece more often than not.
That wasn’t the case today, but Beth wondered if Nora had been distracted by the proximity to Hamilton. It might have been brief but it was very evident to Beth that her niece was trying very hard to put on an air of nonchalance. She couldn’t keep up with that and her usual contempt for her aunt.
“Who are you going with?” Beth asked, silently praying it wasn’t any of Nora’s new “friends.”
“Monica and Gretchen.”
Thank God. Monica and Gretchen had been friends with Nora since pre-school and though they hadn’t been around as much as they used to, they hadn’t been phased out like Hamilton.
“Where are you going?”
“Bubba’s Burgers and then the movies.”
Until two years ago the closest movie theater to Mirabelle had been in Tallahassee. People had had to drive over an hour to go see something on the big screen. So the novelty of the new local theater definitely hadn’t worn off, and it was the place to be on the weekends for a lot of the high school kids.
“What’s it rated?” Beth asked.
“PG-13.”
“And Monica is driving?”
She was the only one out of the three girls who had a car. Gretchen had already been in two fender-benders and her parents had smartly revoked her license. But Monica was very responsible for a seventeen-year-old; she had to be. Her father was the county sheriff and he didn’t tolerate any funny business of any kind.
As for Nora—well, Beth’s niece was less than enthusiastic about getting behind the wheel of a car. Understandably so. Even though she had her driver’s license she avoided driving as much as possible, though she was fine being driven by someone else.
“And what time will you be back at your grandfather’s?”
“Well, that’s the other half that I need to ask permission for,” Nora said. “Monica and I wanted to stay the night at Gretchen’s. We’d go back right after the movie ended, which is at ten.”
“It’s your grandfather’s night with you guys. Did you ask him?”
“I did. And he said it was up to you. I also told him I’d make it up to him on a night of his choice, and we’d have dinner, just the two of us. My treat.”
Beth’s eyes moved over to her father, who was looking at the pair of them. He nodded his permission. “Well, that was nice of you,” she said as she looked back to Nora.
“I’m capable of it sometimes.”
Clearly; just not with Beth. “Okay. But I expect a phone call when you get to the McPhersons’ house.”
“All right. I’ll call.”
Beth could tell from Nora’s tone that she was trying to hold back her exasperation. Because, at seventeen, she was apparently beyond checking in.
Nora’s eyes left Beth’s, moving to a spot over Beth’s shoulder. Tension snapped her niece’s shoulders and back into the most rigid posture imaginable. Beth didn’t need to turn to know that it was Hamilton who’d caused such a reaction in Nora.
Didn’t stop her from turning anyway. Immediately, it was clear to Beth why the scene was no match for Nora’s attempted indifference. Both Hamilton and Dale were now very much occupied with another group of girls who’d wandered up.
One of the girls, a pretty blonde with legs longer than any teenager should posses, was laughing as Hamilton handed her a pen. She reached out and grabbed his arm instead, running her fingers over his forearm.
Beth turned back to find Nora already ten feet away. She sighed as she stared at her niece’s retreating back, wishing for the millionth time that whatever was going on with Nora and Hamilton would get resolved.
Neither of them seemed happy about the current situation.
A gently nudge at Beth’s side had her turning. Mel had two cups of freshly squeezed lemonade in her hands. She handed one to Beth.
“I do not miss being a teenager at all.” Mel shook her head.
“You noticed all of that?”
“A blind man wouldn’t have missed it.”
“True.” Beth nodded before she took a sip from her cup. The lemonade was the perfect combination of tart and sweet. “The angst and hormones floating in the air right now is enough to give me hives.”
Mel raised her eyebrows. “You’re a fine one to talk. I think half of those hormones in the air are leftover from you and Tripp.”
At the mention of his name Beth scanned the nearby tables, looking for him. He’d said he was going to buy some baked goods. “They are not. He and I aren’t that bad.”
“He’s gone,” Mel said.
“Oh.” Beth immediately stopped looking around, wishing she could ignore the flair of disappointment that he’d left. Not that it mattered…she was going to see him tonight.
Oh, good Lord. What the hell was wrong with her? Apparently she was no better than her seventeen-year-old niece.
Not wanting to make eye contact with Mel—who was more observant than was natural for any human being to be—Beth moved closer to the table of baked goods in front of her. There was a huge gap in the middle and as she went to shuffle some things to fill it, she realized the empty space was where her cookies had been.
She immediately turned to Mel, who was standing in the exact same position and sipping her lemonade—all calm, cool, and collected.
“What happened to my cookies?”
Mel took another drink, this one long and slow before she lowered her cup. “Tripp bought them all.” Her mouth curved up in a grin.
“Excuse me?” Beth asked. That couldn’t be right. There’d been about thirty bags left, and they were priced at five dollars a bag. “He did not drop one hundred and fifty dollars on cookies.”
“You’re right.” Mel shook her head. “He didn’t. He gave me two hundred dollars.”
“He what!”
“Two hundred dollars. And that was after Finn bought five bags for himself.”
“Why in the world would he do that?” She knew he liked sweets, but come on. Hadn’t she just made him a pie the night before?
“Beth, it would appear that Tripp Black doesn’t want anyone else eating your cookies.” Mel took a step forward and lowered her voice. “And I believe that includes more than just your baked goods.”
Chapter Eleven
Living a Little…or Living a Lot
Music pumped through the speakers on the bathroom counter, the steady bass ricocheting against the tiles that surrounded the room. It was loud, but not loud enough to drown out the thoughts that were bouncing around inside Beth’s skull.
What was going to happen tonight?
Her stomach flipped for the hundredth time and she reached for the glass of wine on the counter. She’d been nursing the merlot for over an hour, making it last all the way through the bath she’d indulged in.
Instead of cancelling her earlier agenda, she’d decided to just move things up. She’d hoped sinking below the foamy hot water would help to relax her. It had, until her
overactive imagination had ventured off into thinking about Tripp…and the evening…and his mouth on hers…and then his mouth everywhere else.
Her plan had kind of spiraled after that. She’d left the tub more flushed than ever and had to take a cold shower to cool herself down.
It had worked for the most part, but she definitely wouldn’t need to wear any blush tonight. She’d gone light with her makeup, anyway. Just a little mascara and eyeliner, and a touch of bronze eye shadow. There was no point even bothering with lipstick; she was under absolutely no illusions that lipstick had a prayer of staying on her mouth.
She wasn’t kidding herself with Tripp’s “hands off” promise. It wasn’t that she didn’t think he was a man of his word, because she did. It was just that it was becoming blatantly clear that there was something going on between the two of them that neither could suppress.
She glanced into the mirror as she downed the last of her wine, then set the now empty glass on the counter. “What am I getting myself into?” she asked herself as she started to pull out the big, turquoise, Velcro rollers that stuck out in a halo around her head.
Well, the answer to that question might be figured out very shortly. In twenty minutes, to be exact.
Beth fidgeted with the belt on her robe as she headed for the walk-in closet that was accessible from the bathroom. It was large enough that both Kevin and Colleen’s clothing had fit inside.
Now, with only Beth’s things filling the racks, it was probably about one-third full. Since her weekly outfits consisted mainly of scrubs, she had a little less in her wardrobe than some. And really, some of the things in there needed to be tossed, something that was made even more apparent as she ran her palm down a pale yellow dress with pilled material. She grabbed a gray cardigan that she hadn’t worn in over a year, spotting a hole on the shoulder.
When was the last time she’d gone shopping for clothes? With a pang she realized it had been shortly before Colleen’s death. Her sister had come up to Tallahassee with Nora and the three of them had spent the day shopping.
There’d been one department store, where all three of them had loaded up their carts until they were overflowing. When they’d gone into the dressing rooms it had been a revolving opening of doors as they’d tried on outfit after outfit, having their own little fashion show.
Beth had spotted a royal blue dress almost the second she’d walked into that store. It was sleeveless, with a high rounded collar and about five inches of matching blue lace that went to the top of the bustline. The back of the dress was the same as the front, with just a little lace at the top.
All she’d been able to think as she looked at it was, it’s sooo pretty.
But the second she’d looked at the price tag she’d known she wasn’t going to buy it. On sale it was seventy dollars, which was a little pricey for something she wouldn’t wear all that often. Not only that, but there’d been no specific occasion that she needed it for. She would’ve been buying it just to buy it, which wasn’t something she did. When it came to clothes she usually bought things more for purpose than to be pretty.
“Just try it on,” Colleen had said, tossing it into the basket.
As Beth unloaded her loot in the dressing room, she’d hung the blue dress on the back of the door, separate from everything else. For the next twenty minutes, while she worked her way through the other clothes she’d grabbed, it just hung there taunting her. She was almost done with her stack of clothes when she finally gave in and tried it on.
When Beth walked out of her room, both Colleen and Nora had been standing outside waiting for the next round.
“Oh my gosh, Aunt B. You have to buy it,” Nora said immediately.
“She’s right,” Colleen agreed. “That needs to be in your closet.”
“It’s too much for something I don’t need.”
“Stop being so practical. Sometimes it’s not about what you need, Beth. It’s about what you want. Live a little.”
Beth pulled herself from the memory of her sister, a smile tugging at her mouth as she moved to the back of the closet. The blue dress hung from the hanger, still unworn and with the price tags still attached. She reached out, rubbing the soft, stretchy fabric between her thumb and forefinger.
“Live a little,” she whispered before she reached up and pulled it from the hanger.
* * *
The steady beep from the oven filled the kitchen for a full five seconds, signaling that it was preheated. Duke lifted his head from where it rested on his stretched out paws, and the moment the noise ended the dog barked in response. He looked back and forth between Tripp and the offending object that had created the noise, making sure his master was aware.
“I heard it, buddy,” Tripp told the dog as he walked over to the oven. He pulled the door open, stepping back as a wave of 350-degree air escaped in a burst.
The lasagna, covered in foil, sat waiting on the counter. Tripp transferred it to the middle rack before closing the door and setting the timer for forty-five minutes. After that he’d have to take the foil off and cook it for an additional fifteen. As it was five minutes to six, dinner would be ready a little after seven.
“Perfect timing.” He rubbed his hands together as he headed for the front door and walked outside.
It was a clear, cool evening. The sun hung low and was starting to paint the sky different colors. They looked like subtle strokes of a brush at the moment, touches of pinks and yellows. But in no time at all they would become deeper shades of purple and orange.
He had a feeling it wouldn’t take much convincing to get Beth to join him on the deck for a drink to go along with their conversation. They had over an hour before they could eat anyway; might as well watch the sunset, too.
Tripp found himself grinning as he mounted the front steps to Beth’s porch. How could he not? The evening laid out before him was going to consist of time spent with Beth. And though there was the whole hands-off condition, he could keep himself in check.
As he raised his hand to knock, he took a deep steadying breath. His fist rapped the door once before it opened with a suddenness that caught him off guard. But it was nothing, nothing compared to what happened when he saw what was on the other side of that door, or more accurately who.
Words failed him. His brain had left his body and he didn’t know how to talk, let alone breathe anymore.
Beth stood on the threshold, her blond hair falling around her shoulders in soft, thick waves that begged for a man’s hands. His hands. Her blue eyes popped, the color never more vibrant than at that moment, and he had no doubt it had everything to do with her dress.
And dear God, that dress. It just might be the most provocative thing he’d ever seen in his life. Don’t get him wrong; she didn’t look immodest. Not even in the slightest. It was more the subtlety of it. The lace at the top showed just a hint of her cleavage before transitioning to the solid blue material, material that flowed down her body, hitting at about mid thigh.
There was no outlining or accentuating of her lovely curves in this dress. For the most part it hung loose, giving just a little hint of the wonder that lay beneath.
And then there were her legs—magnificent things that they were—which ended in yellow wedges, her pink toenails peeking out.
At that moment Tripp knew he was good and truly screwed. Why in the hell had he promised a hands-off evening? It was going to be the sweetest torture, looking but not touching.
As his eyes wandered back up her body and to her face, he saw the confusion in her eyes and the frown on her mouth.
“Don’t tell me you came over here to cancel.”
At her words he somehow regained the ability to speak. “No.” He shook his head as he swallowed, that one word coming out just a tad bit strained. “Not cancelling.”
“Then what are you doing on my doorstep? Did you think I was going to get lost or be late? Because I still have”—she glanced at the small silver watch on her left wrist before she
looked up at him again—“three minutes. And I was literally walking out the door when you knocked.”
“Neither.” He shook his head, hoping the motion would clear it a little. It didn’t. “Just because you live next door doesn’t mean I’m not picking you up for our date.”
“Oh.” Her mouth rounded on the word before transforming into a smile. It was like looking at the sun.
“You look…God, you look stunning, Beth.”
“Thank you.” The pleasure in her eyes at his words was unmistakable. “I, uh, let me just…” She held up her right hand where the keys to her house dangled from her fingers.
She tucked her small purse under her arm as she grabbed the handle and pulled the door shut, stepping down to the porch. The move put her about six inches away from him, and he couldn’t bring himself to move back, so when she turned, she ran right into him.
Just that quickly he failed in his hands-off mission. They had been together for less than sixty seconds, too.
Instinctively he reached out to steady her, his hands on her bare shoulders. He didn’t mean to do it, didn’t mean to skim his palms down her arms, but he did it anyway. Another thing that he really shouldn’t have done was take a deep breath.
Vanilla. All he smelled was vanilla. It filled his lungs and head.
Somehow—the how of which he had no idea—he let go of her and took a step back. It wasn’t remotely what he wanted to do. Nope. What he wanted to do was pull her up against him…feel more of her…feel all of her. What he wanted to do was lean down and take her mouth, dip his tongue past her lips and taste her. And he wanted to do a whole hell of a lot more, all of which did not involve stepping away from her.
But he needed to get his shit together. Stat. Because if he didn’t let go of her, he wasn’t going to be able to stop touching her. This thing with Beth wasn’t about a game of control to be won. No, it was about something else…about figuring out what was going on with the two of them…what could go on after this.
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