This Thing Called Love (A Mirror Lake Novel)

by Liasson, Miranda

  He thought of the teenage punk who’d wanted to date his sister Samantha last year. Motorcycle, black leather kind of dude, tattooed arms. He spelled sex and Brad had practically threatened to break his arms if he so much as touched her. He’d forbidden her to see him.

  But she had anyway.

  He knew where Olivia’s father was coming from.

  “Mr. Marks, I care for your daughter. I’d never take advantage of her.” She stood tight and tense, her arms crossed rigidly. Tom started to enter the kitchen, but saw what was going on and backed out quickly.

  Olivia pressed between the two of them. “Are you both done discussing me? Because I’d like to say something. First, Brad, shame on you for doing anything to make my life more hell. But I accept your apology. And Dad, I’m almost thirty years old. I appreciate your looking out for me, but I can protect myself.”

  “Um, okay,” Alex said, poking her head through the door. “Time to eat. Everyone grab something off that table.”

  “Let’s go before the food gets cold,” Olivia said firmly, and left to help Alex carry out the side dishes.

  “I’ll let this go,” Frank dropped his voice so only Brad could hear. “Only because your grandmother is the most kindhearted woman in Mirror Lake, and I respect her greatly. But if I find out you’ve used my daughter like those other bimbos of yours, I swear I’ll castrate you like a county-fair hog.”

  Brad stared at the older man and saw the same fury he felt fathering Samantha. “Understood.”

  Frank Marks was right. He wasn’t good enough for his daughter. Not because he’d gone to a local university instead of a prestigious one or the fact that he’d stayed in their same small town his whole life instead of settling somewhere else more sophisticated and worldly.

  Olivia needed a man willing to settle down and raise a family and he wasn’t ready to commit to anybody. Most of his siblings had turned out okay in spite of all the mistakes he made, but Samantha was the wildcard and God only knew what would happen to her. And he was nowhere near ready to go through all that agony again.

  Regardless of the same fierce attraction between them that made him want to rip all her clothes off and sink deep inside her sweet soft body.

  It had to be doused.

  Because it was just that. Attraction in the midst of a whole lot of chaos. Everything else about them was at complete odds. Their jobs, their ways of life.

  And he had to keep his hands off.

  CHAPTER 11

  “You can’t make me stay. You can’t!”

  Olivia froze on her porch swing, the last bottle of the day inches away from Annabelle’s eagerly awaiting mouth, just as the voice of a woman hurled through Brad’s open door, packed with outrage and vinegar.

  What in the world? He wasn’t the type to force a woman. Maybe some unusual sexual activity was going on, like role-playing? Ew. She started to gather her things to go back into the house, but Brad’s voice from next door halted her.

  “You’ll do as you’re told, or I’ll ship your hiney right back to college.” Oh, oh. No kinky sex games. He was speaking—okay, yelling—at his sister, Samantha.

  “You can’t do that. The dorms are closed for summer.”

  “Then I’ll ship you to a summer camp somewhere. You can be a counselor.”

  “Brad, you know the plan. Buzz already has me signed up for shifts at the diner. I’m staying in town.”

  “Then you’ll stay here.”

  “I’m not living in your bachelor pad. That’s disgusting. And I’m not staying with Tom and Alex, either. Spike says there’s plenty of room in his apartment above the auto shop garage.”

  “I didn’t raise you to come home and parade the fact that you’re moving in with some tattooed biker in front of the whole town. What will Effie say?”

  “She loves me. Unlike you!”

  The screen slammed, making Olivia jump. Annabelle startled. “It’s okay,” Olivia soothed. “Just those noisy Rushfords going at it as they’re apt to do. Let’s hope you got your temperament genes from our side of the family.”

  A slender young woman with an athletic build stalked across the yards and came to stand, arms crossed, on the side of Olivia’s porch.

  “My brother’s impossible.”

  Olivia smiled. Can’t argue with that.

  “I’m not going back there.”

  “I have brownies and leftover picnic food. Come on up.” Olivia did not want to entangle herself with any more problems involving Brad. God knew she was already in neck-deep. But she understood firsthand how stubborn and opinionated he could be and couldn’t help but reach out.

  Her visitor scaled the porch stairs in a few graceful jumps and plopped into a wicker chair. She brushed tears from her eyes and pulled a hair elastic from her wrist, twisting a dark mass of spirally curled hair on top of her head in a few quick movements.

  “Samantha Rushford, all grown up and so beautiful. Come here and give me a hug.”

  Samantha complied, and kissed Annabelle on the forehead.

  “Everything sucks so bad. My brother is riding me about everything. He doesn’t even know I didn’t start my summer class. Or that stupid research project I’m supposed to be doing. And my professors all gave me incompletes on my spring semester work and I have to retake every single one of my exams. I went back after the funeral but I-I just couldn’t . . .”

  Olivia reached over and squeezed her hand, doing her best not to disturb Annabelle as the baby finished her bottle and nodded off to sleep. “Oh, honey. It’s okay to take some time to heal. We all need it.”

  “I just needed to come home, you know? But he won’t even talk to me. When he heard me say I wanted to stay with Spike, he blew a gasket. Spike is the only one who gets me. He doesn’t bottle up his feelings like my dumb brother does.”

  Olivia hesitated a second, knowing there was a fine line between kindness and interference. “You can stay here for a while. I could use a little company. If you don’t mind hearing Annie cry during the night.” Brad. Was. Going. To. Kill. Her.

  On the other hand, he just might be grateful Samantha was staying with her and not Spike.

  “To be honest, I’d probably sleep right through it.” Samantha got up and hugged Olivia again. “Thank you. But he’ll never let me.”

  “Let me talk with him.” As if that had helped anything so far. After that embarrassing incident with her dad earlier today, he’d probably never speak to her again.

  On the other hand, he did owe her big-time for that little baby class stunt he’d pulled.

  “Oh, would you?” Samantha pressed her hands together in a little clap. “I’d be really grateful.”

  “Why don’t you go in and take a shower. There are some clean T-shirts and shorts in a pile on my bed.”

  “A shower? But I—”

  Olivia lifted Annabelle on her shoulder for a burp and stole a glance at Brad’s house. “Whether you need one or not. Because here he comes now.”

  After Olivia deposited Annabelle in her bed, she found Brad standing outside, all lean and sexy attitude with big arms crossed and one leg propped up on the porch step. Except he looked madder than a bull with his balls tied off. And hotter than ever in a white T-shirt, shorts, and flip-flops.

  The geraniums were finally taking off, thanks to her obsessive watering schedule. Realizing she hadn’t done it yet today, she took her glass of iced tea from a wicker table and dumped it in one of the barrels before she sat down. Anything to delay the confrontation.

  “I know she’s in there,” he said. “Don’t deny it.”

  “You make it sound like I’m harboring a fugitive.”

  “There’s a penalty for that.” But he said it with a look that brought very unpunishing images to mind. Involving lips and tongues and lots of skin-to-skin contact. Her internal temp gauge overloaded to
midday Saudi Arabia instead of cool Connecticut evening, so she took a deep breath of night air to force some sense into her head. “Does it really matter if she stays here? It would give both of you a chance to calm down.”

  “You’re meddling in my parenting skills.”

  She lifted a brow. “As you did with mine.”

  “Touché.”

  “In this case, somebody had to since they’re clearly not working.” Olivia jumped up from the swing, leaving it creaking gently as she ran into the house.

  “Where are you going?” he called, irritation cutting his voice. She came out a few minutes later, carrying a sweater.

  Olivia told herself she was doing this for Samantha’s sake. To help everyone cool off. But breaking free from the house and all her responsibilities to spend an hour doing something fun with Brad made her positively giddy.

  She wouldn’t even mention the tension between him and his sister. It wasn’t her business, and she shouldn’t get involved.

  “This way.” She pushed her cell phone into the pocket of her jean capris and tugged his arm.

  He stood his ground, frowning.

  A slight smile escaped her lips. He was still as fiercely stubborn as a nor’easter blowing in off the coast. “There’s music in the park. Plus I want ice cream. Want to come?”

  “It’s late.”

  Olivia placed her hands on her hips. “Bradley Paul Rushford, Samantha is nineteen years old and you know as well as I do that not a thing is going to be solved tonight. She has studying to do and she said she’ll watch Annabelle. Now, come on.” This time he moved—feet dragging—as she pulled him along. A little faster than a kid about to get a butt-full of shots in the doctor’s office. “Fresh air will do us both some good.”

  “What’s the band?” he asked reluctantly.

  “It’s a group that sings old sea chanteys and drinking songs. They do unusual stuff with a mandolin and guitar.”

  His expression softened microscopically, but at least he kept walking forward.

  They made their way down the old tree-lined street, with sidewalks as bumpy and lopsided as crooked teeth from years of tree roots protesting against the concrete. Streetlamps lit their way past old turn-of-the-century homes, most cared for and loved, with tidy lawns and flower beds and signs of children’s toys scattered in the yards, abandoned after the fine long day.

  After a minute, Brad took her hand, the most simple of gestures. She looked his way, but he was surveying the neighborhood as casually as if he wasn’t having a sudden heart attack and his pulse wasn’t pumping off the charts like hers.

  His hand was warm, his grip firm. Simple hand-holding, but it sent a thunderous wall of heat rushing through her. An unwelcome realization shook her to the core. She wanted those fine hands all over her body, roaming, exploring, making her moan.

  “Um,” she said, lifting up their joined hands.

  A wicked sparkle flashed in his eyes. God, he was sexy and dangerous-looking when angry but gorgeous beyond words when he smiled.

  Maybe this was a bad idea. She wasn’t sure how much longer she could resist him.

  “Um, what?” he asked innocently.

  “Um, I wasn’t sure you’d be talking to me after the picnic?”

  He chuckled, a warm sound that soothed her agitated insides. “Your dad is just looking out for you. I’d feel the same way about Samantha. But I didn’t think you’d be talking to me, either.”

  “Why not?”

  He stopped walking and pinned her with his dark, intense gaze. A gaze that made her go gooey as melted caramel on the inside. “You know. After the way I tried to undermine you.”

  He could undermine her any time he liked if he looked at her like that, as if he was about to lick her like an ice cream cone and devour her in one bite.

  “I’ve been thinking you’re right about one thing. I have to figure out how to change my life for Annabelle’s benefit. I asked my boss if I could reduce my hours and do more work from home.”

  “When do you hear back?” Did he sound hopeful? Pleased? Why did she care?

  “She’s working on it. Any day now.”

  “That’s great. I’m sure you’ll make it work, no matter what happens.”

  They continued on in silence as the quaint residential neighborhood gave way to larger, older homes that once belonged to town founders and mayors and even a Gilded Age shipping baron or two. One had been converted into the B and B, which glowed with welcoming lights and overflowing flower baskets. Brad paused to chat with a young couple pushing a stroller and walking with two toddlers carrying raspberry-red balloons, out enjoying the perfect spring evening.

  “I’ve forgotten how friendly everyone is,” Olivia said as they moved on to downtown.

  Brad shrugged. “It’s who we are. Suppose that’s what happens when everybody knows everybody.”

  “It’s different with my neighbors in New York. Mrs. Bertolini occasionally says ‘hi’ when forced, and the reclusive author down the hall comes out once or twice a year for air and groceries.” People were more unguarded here, and that was nice. Before she could get sentimental about it, Olivia reminded herself how quickly that quality could veer into buttinsky range.

  They walked in silence for a while, passing Pie in the Sky and Mona’s. Across the street, in the park, a crowd gathered around the gazebo and the strains of a fiddle and mandolin drifted toward them. Call her crazy, but she decided to bite the bullet. For Samantha’s sake. “Funny that both of us were suddenly thrust into parenthood.”

  Brad smiled. “With intensive on-the-job training.”

  “You’ve done a great job with your siblings.”

  “The boys I handled, somehow. It’s the girl who’s the thorn in my side.”

  “I remember when she was around eight, you were her champion. You taught her how to stand up to that mean girl who kept stealing her lunch.”

  He laughed. “We packed two lunches and she hid one in her book bag. The bologna sandwich she put in plain view in her locker had hot sauce on it. That solved the problem pretty quickly.”

  “And remember how you tossed her a softball over and over until she learned to catch so she wouldn’t be the last one to be picked for a team?”

  “Yeah, well, the issues are more complicated now. I’m not her hero any longer.”

  “You might be surprised.” He looked unconvinced. “She’ll be all right. You both will be.” She touched his arm to second that. When he slowed his pace and glanced at her, struggle and worry shadowed his eyes. Why would he feel so much pain about a child who was kindhearted and good and clearly not a failure in any sense of the word?

  “She does things just to get under my skin. And she thinks she’s in love with some deadbeat punk with a jewel in his nose. Who will use her then dump her. And I won’t have my sister taken advantage of like that.”

  “It’s called a nose piercing. And she wouldn’t be home if she didn’t love you. She’s just hurting, like all of us.”

  “It didn’t start with Kevin’s death. Samantha has always been the one who’s been the best at pushing the splinter further under my thumb. First it was skipping classes to protest animal cruelty. Then it was taking off on a whim to drive cross-country with a friend because she wanted to see the Grand Canyon. She wanted to take a year off before college and I wouldn’t let her. Now she’s talking about art school. Art school. What kind of job is she going to get from that?”

  “Artists can do quite well. I have a friend—”

  “Don’t, Olivia.” Brad blew out a frustrated breath. “I’ve heard it all. The point is, I’m responsible for her until she’s an adult. I have to make sure she turns out okay. And so far I’ve failed miserably. I begged her to study for the SAT. Do you know what she did? Got an extra job just to spite me—so she could say she had no time to study.”

&nbs
p; Olivia grabbed his elbow and pulled until he came to a stop. She’d meant it as a grab-your-attention gesture but her fingertips tingled at the contact with his warm skin. He was a fiercely protective man who deeply loved his family. And that was wildly appealing.

  “Brad. Stop beating yourself up. Cut Samantha some slack.”

  “She’s doing it to spite me.”

  Olivia tossed up her hands. “Why on earth would she want to spite you? Except for the fact she’s a teenager and that’s what they do.”

  He shifted his weight. He wore khaki walking shorts and his calves were toned and lean and so distracting. Suddenly he was far more appealing than ice cream.

  “Because I screwed up. She’s always known how to test me, push all the buttons. Out of fear, I tried to squash her rebelliousness. And I was too harsh. It only made her want to rebel more. I’m not cut out for parenting, plain and simple.”

  He screwed up? Mr. Take Charge of Everything? If she didn’t see the tense set of his shoulders and the agonized expression in his eyes, she never would have believed it. Every impulse in her wanted to gather him close and comfort him, but he was a proud man, and she’d never seen him admit weakness like this. “You were so young when you had to take charge,” she said quietly. “You did the best you could.”

  “I didn’t have a clue what I was doing. And with Samantha, it shows.”

  “You’re afraid she’s going to get in trouble. Sleep with the nose-piercing guy, get pregnant, stop school, that kind of thing?” He gave a terse nod. “It’s the same thing my dad worried about with me and you. In fact, he’s still worried, if what he said at the picnic is any indication.”

  “I worked my ass off and I’m successful. It’s a little different.”

  “In his mind, you still had sex with me, and that’s all that counts.”

  “It was a lot more than that, Liv.” His brutally intense gaze drilled into her, making goose bumps rise like tiny pinpricks all over her arms.