The One I'm With (A Sweet Somethings Novel Book 3)

by J. Lynn Rowan

  That bold-faced admission knocks the air out of my lungs. I flounder for a moment, trying to breathe normally, while I stare into his eyes and see the truth of his words.

  Weird that his fear of screwing this up is more endearing than anything else.

  “So what happened two years ago that caused your change of heart?” I ask.

  He brushes his fingers into my hair. “I promise I’ll explain it all. Just . . . not today. Not while we’re here.”

  Nodding, I rise on tiptoe to wind my arms around his shoulders and hug him for all I’m worth. The tension leeches out of his body as he lifts me off my feet, dropping a light kiss to my shoulder.

  I won’t go to St. Croix without more information, but I can let it go for the time being.

  “Can we go down to the beach now?” I ask playfully.

  With a final squeeze, Josh sets me down. “Absolutely.”

  Smiling, I spin away. “You’ll have to help me with my sunblock.”

  “Come on, Red, have a heart!” he groans. “I told you I’m not a saint.”

  “You have to be.” I prop my hands on my hips and give him a mock glare. “Otherwise you’ll be calling the concierge to arrange transportation to the nearest urgent care facility. Have you ever gotten a second-degree sunburn?”

  He pulls a face. “No.”

  “Neither have I.”

  Disappearing into the bedroom, I retrieve a bottle of sunblock from my plastic zipper bag of toiletries, grab a lightweight t-shirt from Josh’s suitcase, and put them in the small woven shoulder bag I carried on the plane. Then I march back through the living room to the suite door, pausing only long enough to beckon Josh to follow.

  He can’t hide his grin as he trails behind me

  Chapter 11

  Pretending in Paradise

  For the next two and a half days, Josh and I exist in a little bubble of giddy excitement. Between swims in the bay, gourmet meals that leave me so stuffed I feel like I need to be rolled back to our room, and a couple water sport adventures when he gets me onto a Hobie Cat, sea kayak, and paddle board in turn, I almost forget what’s waiting for us when we get to St. Croix.

  Almost.

  At the end of each day, Josh kisses me goodnight at the bedroom door before flopping onto the couch. He snores before his head hits his pillow. I, on the other hand, toss and turn for at least an hour, wondering what it’ll be like to walk with him into his family’s home. How will they react to my presence?

  He answers my unasked questions as we buckle in for the flight to St. Croix. There are three stops on our itinerary—one in Antigua, St. Kitts, and St. Maarten—but the only time we’ll actually have to deplane is in Antigua.

  “Okay,” I say as we taxi onto the runway. “Give me the lowdown on what awaits us in Christiansted.”

  Josh doesn’t speak right way, but takes my hand before starting. “We’ll be staying at my parents’ house. Technically, it’s my house, too, though I haven’t really felt like it’s home in a couple years.”

  “And what about your brother and his family?”

  “They have a condo on the other side of Christiansted from where my parents live, but I’m pretty sure they’ll all be there when we get in. Nelson was hoping to start talking business over dinner, which will bore the hell out of everybody except him and my dad.”

  I smirk. “Including you?”

  “Especially me,” he says with a grimace. “I hate reporting in like this. I feel like I’m back in day school, checking in with my teachers to make sure I’m on track with a project. After they get the short and sweet debriefing, we’ll spend the next two days hashing out every detail of what I’ve done and still need to do in Asheville, and probably talk about where I’ll have to go next.”

  The mention of his next business trip, the one that will take him away from me for good, forces a thick lump into my throat. I swallow past it. “Didn’t you say you were hoping to talk to them about your own startup?”

  “If I can, yeah. For a web development consulting firm.” The frustration in his face ebbs away. “I’ve mentioned it a couple times, so it’s not coming out of the blue. They’ve just brushed it off as another half-assed scheme of mine.”

  I squeeze his hand. “I thought you liked the travel part of your job. Will you be able to run a consulting firm from halfway around the globe?”

  “That’s the thing.” He shifts in his seat, turning toward me as much as his seatbelt will allow. “I do like travelling, but I’m sick of living out of a suitcase. If I have my own company, my own piece of the family pie, I get to dictate when and where I travel. So much can be done remotely. A lot of what I’m doing now doesn’t really require me to be on-site. It’s become a way to get me out from underfoot in St. Croix.”

  “Sounds like your job is more of a punishment than an opportunity.”

  “Unfortunately, that was the point at the outset.” Josh falls silent for a moment. “I’m probably going to freak you out a little by telling you all this.”

  I sense him pulling away and tighten my grip on his hand in response. “Bring it.”

  He lets out a hard exhalation before continuing. “I didn’t have a lot of responsibility in the company when I finished college. A few little projects here and there, mostly related to my degree field. It wasn’t until my dad started rumbling about retirement that my brother pushed me to get more involved. For a few years, he was the public face of Mattingly Enterprises, but I came along for the ride. I got a lot of credit for things I didn’t deserve.”

  Some of the articles I read come to mind. “So what changed?”

  “I guess everything came to a head when Nelson got married a couple years ago.” Wincing with whatever memory popped into his head, Josh looks away. “I took things a little too far during their wedding week.”

  “Like what? Hit on a bridesmaid?” Laughter tinges my voice, but he doesn’t join in with a chuckle. The shame in his brief glance burns as much as it chills me.

  My smile falls away. “Josh?”

  “Not just a bridesmaid. The maid of honor, and my sister-in-law’s best friend.” He closes his eyes and tips his head back against the seat. “And you want to know why? For the stupidest reason—they all expected me to.”

  I touch his arm, but stay silent.

  “At least she was smart enough not to take the bait. And she was really sweet about it, too. Let me down easy, I guess you could say. But Nelson had already had enough of my shit. So I got the ultimatum.” He stares up at the ceiling of the plane. “Stop pulling the family name into the gossip columns and dragging it through the mud. Start acting like the professional I’m supposed to be. Straighten up, or . . .”

  “Or what?” I prompt, unnerved by the choked way his voice trails off.

  His chin drops toward his chest. “Or else I’m out of my nieces’ lives. For good.”

  “You’d do anything for those girls.” Even without meeting them, just from what he’s told me and the pictures I’ve seen, I know this to be true.

  Josh nods. “Exactly. Including taking on long-term projects that send me every which way, for months at a time. I make it home for special occasions, along with the checklist of all the good things I’ve done.”

  But that doesn’t explain why I’m sitting next to him on this plane. “Won’t I kind of throw a monkey wrench into all this?”

  “What do you mean?” he asks, frowning.

  “You’ve cleaned up your act.” I shrug. “My being here could counteract any progress you’ve made toward changing their opinion of you.”

  At last, he grins. The lopsided, mischievous grin that hooked me that night at the bar. “Actually, Red, I’m hoping the fact that you’re with me will prove a few things to all of them.”

  I expect a family car to
pick us up at the airport in St. Croix, but Josh rents one instead.

  “Haven’t owned my own in probably five years,” he explains. “And I hate having to arrange a pick-up. It’s just easier on everyone if I grab a rental when I fly in.”

  As we cruise away from the airport, he gives me the final rundown of what to expect when we get to his parents’. His dad will be gruff yet cordial, at least at first, while his mom will probably be welcoming but aloof. If Nelson and his wife, Sadie, are there, Nelson may or may not do the European kiss-kiss thing, but Sadie definitely will. Rose, the older of his nieces, will hang on the fringes as a slightly awkward and habitually shy teenager would tend to do. Katrina, the younger one, will barrel straight at us, armed with hugs and squeals, regardless of who else is in the room.

  “And your nephew?” I ask.

  Josh grins. “Well, if Nicky’s not napping or tucked under the part-time nanny’s wing, I might get to bounce him for a little while. Though I bet he’s gotten over the spit-up thing. For a while, I’d make a point of bouncing him right after he’d eaten, then hand him back to my brother.”

  I shake my head. “How evil of you.”

  “And you’ve never done anything evil to your older sister?”

  “Nope. At least nothing I’d admit to.”

  We buzz through Christiansted, Josh pointing out some of his favorite restaurants and a few landmarks along the way. Then we head along the back side of a resort to a residential street. The properties lining the north side of the road are fenced, gated, and very private, but through the breaks in some trees I can see the ocean.

  Of course the Mattinglys own beachfront property. Why wouldn’t they?

  After a few minutes, we pull into a driveway. Visible through the tall wrought iron gates is an Italianate villa, proudly displaying its terra cotta roof tiles and warm, peach exterior paint. Josh leans out the open window to punch a code into the entry box, and the gates swing open.

  My throat goes dry. There are some houses in Asheville that would border on being called mansions, the Biltmore aside. But nothing close to this. The impeccable lawn wraps around the house, dotted with trees and accented with flowering bushes that account for the sweet, exotic perfume filling the air. The closer we get, the more apparent the lavishness of the house becomes.

  “I could retire on an interior design job for a house like this,” I murmur to myself.

  Josh glances at me with a smile as he takes us down the winding drive. “Play your cards right, and you could get the chance. Mum’s been talking about redecorating the guest house for years.”

  “There’s a guest house?”

  He chuckles at my incredulity. “Yeah. I think she has this big plan to move me out of the main house, since I’m not here ninety-five percent of the time. Honestly, I’m surprised she didn’t do it when I was a teenager.”

  I smirk. “I bet you were so responsible as a teenager.

  “I do speak sarcasm, Red.”

  We stop before the front door, and Josh circles the car to let me out the same way he does on every date. I adjust my white skort before taking his outstretched hand and step from the car. My drop-jawed gaze sweeps the facade of the house, taking in the two-tiered portico stretching along the length of the building, columned arches providing glimpses of wide, cool spaces designed to catch a breeze.

  The front door opens. A thin, bald man, wearing what I can only describe as casual livery, comes outside and meets us at the foot of the steps. “Mr. Mattingly,” he says in a distinct British accent.

  “Hello, Stephen. Still haven’t retired?” Josh grins, then turns to me. “This is Stephen. Fifty years ago my grandfather hired him to be the butler, but he wears about five different hats in this house now.”

  I muster up a sweet smile, aware of how the butler—or whatever he is—takes an all-encompassing look at me. “Pleasure to meet you.”

  “And you, Miss O’Brien.”

  Butler Stephen knows my name? I thought Josh was springing me on his family, but apparently he’s at least mentioned that I was coming. Nerves flaring, I glance at Josh. He loops his arm around my waist and tucks me against his side. Then he leads me into the house, brushing past the butler and dismissing his assessment of me.

  We enter the two-story foyer, and I fight to keep my mouth from dropping open any further. From the cut-glass chandelier to the intricate pattern in the tile floor, everything smacks of detail-oriented design. Natural light fills the space from strategically placed windows, highlighting the creams, whites, and peach-toned pastels of the color scheme.

  “This might be the most gorgeous house I’ve ever seen,” I tell Josh.

  He shrugs. “It’s a house. Big enough for everyone to stay out of each other’s way, but lots of cozy corners to gather when you do want company.”

  “Will I get the grand tour?”

  “Mum will want to do the honors.” He steps aside to let Butler Stephen pass with our suitcases, which he carries up the elegant curving staircase. Josh watches him disappear through an archway just beyond the second floor landing. “I wonder where they’ve put you.”

  “Guest rooms, probably.” My attention wanders as I catch a peek at a sunny, comfortably appointed sitting room off the foyer to the right.

  “Maybe. Or you might be—”

  A high-pitched squeal interrupts him. The thud of running feet precedes the force of impact from a small but powerful ball of energy that cries, “Uncle Josh!”

  Grunting from the surprise attack, Josh releases me so he can swing a towheaded girl into a bear hug. She locks her arms around his shoulders and legs around his waist, nestling her face into the hollow of his neck.

  “I thought you’d never get here!” she says, her voice muffled. Then she pops her head up and looks at me over his shoulder. “Who’s this?”

  Josh sets her down. “This is Marissa.”

  “You must be Katrina.” I offer my hand to the little girl.

  She studies me for a moment in the frank way only kids can get away with, staring me down with eyes not unlike Josh’s. Then she tentatively shakes my hand before looking back up at her uncle. “Is she your girlfriend?”

  At the moment she asks this, the rest of Josh’s family appears out of a hallway leading to the rear of the first floor. An older couple in their sixties leads the way. Josh’s parents. His mom wears a simple yellow sheath dress, her dark brown hair pulled up in a smooth, effortless bun. His father, hair graying and casual khaki suit ironed into submission, looks a little disgruntled. Behind them strolls Josh’s other niece, Rose, a sweet-faced girl who’s the older version of Katrina, only a little on the gangly side as if she’s just gone through a growth spurt. Last comes a tall, dark-haired man with a close-clipped goatee, and a slender blond woman carrying a pudgy toddler. Nelson and Sadie.

  Nelson hears his younger daughter’s blatant question as he strolls forward. “Remember your manners, Katrina.”

  “It’s fine.” Josh runs an affectionate caress over Katrina’s head, drawing a bright smile from her. Then he takes my hand and tugs me close. I feel the tension spiraling through his body as he pulls in a deep breath and meets his brother’s gaze. “This is Marissa O’Brien.”

  A pregnant pause hits the air as everyone, including me, waits to hear how Josh will qualify my presence at his side.

  His fingers tighten briefly on mine before he lets go, only to loop his arm around my waist again.

  I hold my breath.

  He squeezes me. “My girlfriend.”

  Girlfriend.

  Girlfriend.

  The word echoes and rattles through my head. I try to process it, while the blank stares of Josh’s family show they’re trying to do the same.

  The only one left unfazed by the announcement is Katrina. She grins up at me and
grabs my hand again. “Can I show you around?”

  At this, Josh’s mother recovers herself and steps forward. “Now, Katrina dear, let’s give Marissa and Joshua a few minutes to breath before we start in on a tour.” Reaching us, she gently insinuates herself between the little girl and Josh. She glances back and forth between him and me, pats his arm a couple times, then rests her hands on my shoulders. A smile crinkles at the corners of her eyes. “Such a pleasure to finally meet you. We’ve heard so much about you.”

  There’s a news flash. But before I can respond, she leans forward and kisses my cheek.

  “I . . . You have a beautiful home, Mrs. Mattingly,” I stutter. “I would love a tour.”

  “Camille,” she corrects. “Josh mentioned that you’re an interior designer. Perhaps while you’re here you can take a look at the guest house for me.”

  Josh grins over his mother’s head. “Told you she might ask.”

  His mother swats his stomach, then pulls me away from him and leads me toward the rest of the family. “This is Thomas, Joshua’s father. Rose, our oldest granddaughter, as I’m sure you’ve guessed. Nelson and his wife, Sadie.”

  In turn, I shake each of their hands and exchange the standard polite greetings people mumble through when they’re conversationally shell-shocked. Except for Sadie. Josh’s sister-in-law can barely contain herself through the introductions, literally bubbling over with friendliness.

  Finally, she hefts her toddler into her husband’s arms and buries me in a hug. “Welcome to St. Croix! I know you’re not here for very long, but I plan on keeping you fully entertained while the three of them—” She jerks a thumb at her husband, father-in-law, and Josh. “—lock themselves away to talk business.”