“Only once in a while.”
“Hey!”
Dad laughs. “Just kidding. He really was a good kid, still is. And he always was. Hard working, loved cooking with me and experimenting in the kitchen.”
“For real?”
“Oh, yeah. He once planned to become a chef but had the nerve to change his interests.”
He winks at me and I shake my head.
“No way! You planned to feed people for a living and now you just torture them?” she asks incredulously, those dark eyes twinkling.
“That’s right. I just love making people miserable and healthy.”
“What else?”
“Hated school.”
“What teenager enjoys it?” I challenge with a raised eyebrow.
“Your sister.”
“Yes, well, she’s weird.”
Dad snorts. “Anyway, he went to school, succeeded in graduating, shared his first kiss with his cousin.”
“What?!” Sierra asks, practically exploding from her seat.
“Calm down,” I tease.
Her jaw drops. “You did not just tell me to calm down.”
“She’s my cousin now. When I kissed her, she wasn’t.”
“She’s my niece. They had a very brief love affair…” Dad jokes.
“Gross, Dad.”
“High school romance. For a few weeks. Then they realized they would end up being family from my marriage to his mom and decided it was disgusting.”
“I’m so confused.”
“Maggie and I went to high school together. I had a crush on her then Dad started dating my mom. We quickly shut it down. We’re friends. Cousins. Nothing more.”
“I just like to give Jack shit about it.”
“He is awful fun to tease.”
With plates empty but the conversation still flowing, Sierra asks more questions about my teenage years and taking in every detail he gives her. He tells her what sports I played and how I’d zone out while playing Xbox. How I was always a morning person, waking practically with the sun. He told her that I went to live in Illinois, breaking his heart, to go to culinary school and had offers from five-star restaurants but turned them down because I wanted to repair his broken heart by returning to Michigan. That made Sierra and I laugh.
The waitress returns to see if we would like a slice of pie and none of us hesitate to order, my dad suggesting we each order a different kind and share because there would be no way he could decide what he wanted.
“You’re as bad of an influence on my eating habits as she is.”
“All the more reason to like her.”
Our waitress returns with four slices rather than the three we ordered, saying we just had to try the new mixed berry as well. Lemon merengue, Dutch apple, chocolate peanut butter, and mixed berry.
“Oh my gosh,” Sierra moans next to me. “Gimme.” She rubs her hands together excitedly before diving in with gusto. “There is nothing better than warm pie, is there?”
“I suppose not,” I murmur, wondering if I’ll survive sitting next to her alluring sweet scent while she practically orgasms while eating. Her bright smile so damn tempting. Her bottom lip fuller than her top, and I imagine kissing her and biting it. Those deep brown eyes so dark they’re almost black with thick, dark lashes. A few freckles that dot the apple of her cheeks bring out a playfulness that she doesn’t bother to hide or bury.
I glance up to see my dad staring at me with a knowing grin and I clear my throat, readjusting in my seat so I’m facing forward rather than angled toward her.
Every bite is as good as the last and we struggle to decide which we like the best.
“I need another bite of the mixed berry. That will help me decide, I’m sure of it.”
No, it won’t. She’s already polished off most of each of the slices, practically slapping our forks away when we try to get a bite. I push the plate in front of her and watch as she slides the fork between her lips, her eyes rolling back in her head as she sits back against the seat, chewing and moaning and driving me crazy.
“That. That’s the winner.”
“Winner of what?” I chuckle.
“My heart,” she sighs dramatically, placing a hand on her chest.
“Of course,” I mutter.
All too soon, we are finished with our meal and parting ways. Dad shakes Sierra’s hand and tells her he hopes it’s not the last time they share a meal together. She smiles brightly before spinning on her heel and waves as she climbs into her car. Dad drives us back to my pickup at the gym but not without grilling me about Sierra.
“Dad, she has a boyfriend.”
“She didn’t look at you like she had a boyfriend. She was also quite curious about who Jack Cole is.”
I have no answer for that so I simply ignore him, letting my own thoughts about Sierra consume me.
“Let me know how things go with Harper and Grayson.”
“Dismissing your father so soon, huh?”
“Never. Just… let it go, Dad.”
“What go?”
“Sierra. She’s living with her boyfriend. That’s more than just a relationship.”
He places a hand on my arm and I turn to look at him. “Fine. I’ll drop it. Just saying, though.”
“Yeah.” He doesn’t need to say anything more. I don’t feel for others easily and he sees it. That I feel for Sierra. Dammit.
CHAPTER FIVE
SIERRA
Home.
I look around the small ranch style house that I share with Jeff as I play with Toby, Jeff’s pit bull rescue. Funny how it sure doesn’t feel like home. Aside from Toby, that is. He. He I missed. Jeff? Not at all. Not even a second. We didn’t even check in with each other while I was away. That should probably be fairly telling. I’m not even sure he’ll be happy that I’m home. Home. Such a laughable concept as I look around this cold house. One I don’t have a single touch or influence in because Jeff owns the house and he likes things the way he likes things. His house. His decisions. It never bothered me for some reason. Maybe I always knew it was a temporary situation? A part of me knew that we weren’t meant for more. I felt more at home staying with my uncle Kyle than I have in years.
I went to see Kyle to clear my head, to try and shake the feeling that something wasn’t right between Jeff and myself. Our relationship had gone off course and I needed time to figure out if it was something that could be fixed or if what I feared was true. That we were done. Just like the last four relationships I’d been in. Do I run scared? Yeah. I do. But not without cause. The minute we start to argue, even if it’s just over what to eat for dinner or how to load the dishwasher, I start plotting my escape. I don’t try to. In fact, I try to stop the urge and convince myself that I’m overreacting.
I didn’t have a terrible upbringing. It just wasn’t… ideal. My parents… loved me, but their marriage wasn’t even close to normal. Dad would leave for weeks only to return, begging forgiveness. Then it would be our version of normal for a few months before it was Mom’s turn to leave for weeks. It was a sick pattern they repeated again and again. Unhealthy. Hate turned to love which turned right back to hate. They loved deeply but hated just as much. I never understood my family was different. I thought it was how marriages worked.
Until I began going to friends’ houses and saw what parents and family life was really like.
Until I got to high school and started dating and every relationship I was in would end before it had the chance to really begin.
Until I kept running from boyfriends because I thought it was normal, to be with someone you despised one second and liked or loved the next and they didn’t agree. Shocking as that may seem. That was sarcasm, in case you weren’t aware.
I fall in like. I fall in lust. But never true love. Never. Love isn’t warm and fuzzy. It’s screaming and hate-filled and sadness.
When I met Jeff, I was content being alone. But he made me laugh and we agreed that marriage was something neithe
r of us wanted. What I told Jack when I met him is true, he’s a cool guy. We never argue, though part of that could be because I easily settle. Not because I’m weak and have no opinions of my own, but because I’ve learned that there are only a few things that I need to concern myself with. How a home is decorated or what we fill our bellies with are not important. At least not enough to fight over.
I still believe that, but I’m starting to wonder if there is a possibility that I’ve replaced passion for contentment. Maybe my parents’ marriage was unconventional, but they definitely had passion. I heard that passion.
While it was quite gross to hear, it reminded me that there was love beneath the surface of their tumultuous relationship. Passion. Another laughable concept. I’ve never had it. Never felt it. Well… not never. I have felt the stirrings of it. A stranger turned friend in a matter of minutes who got under my skin and made me feel alive. Who didn’t judge me for my choice of how I make a living. Who let go of a few of his inhibitions when I tagged along on his errands but not once made me feel like I was in the way or a nuisance.
Jack Cole with his sexy hair, kept short on the sides and longer on top and attentive gazes. His physique, even covered by his clothing, does nothing to hide the fact that he works hard in the gym to keep it… well, sexy as hell. Even his hands are sexy. How is that possible? I can’t even describe how a hand could be sexy but his are. Jack’s smile that’s wide and teeth bright white and draws me in, wanting to keep it as a permanent fixture on his beautiful face. The way he listens, truly listens. Jack got under my skin in the too few moments we had together. It was fun and I can’t remember the last time I had fun with anyone, let alone a man who isn’t my uncle Kyle.
I like Jack Cole. I like the way he is with his father. Like who I was when I was around him. I like the fact that he has a few tattoos but isn’t covered by them. I like the fact that everything he does seems intentional, from what he fuels his body with to how he cares so deeply for the gym he owns. Teaching and coaching. Supporting his members. He’s a man who gives his all in everything he does. It’s clear as day to me, though I have no actual proof of that. One thing my mother did teach me was that you should trust your gut instinct about a man. My gut tells me Jack Cole is a good man. A man who I want to know more. Which is very unfortunate because of where I currently live. Who I live with.
Toby barks in my face, reminding me that I have been neglecting him as I think through my relationship.
“Sorry, boy. I missed you, too!”
His tongue hangs out of his mouth as he pants, hot stinky breath blowing across my face. “Go get your tennis ball.”
He takes off running like the clumsy oaf he is and returns with a slobbery yellow ball in his mouth, dropping it onto my lap unceremoniously. I toss it and he fetches. His favorite game. Luckily he gets bored after fifteen minutes and chooses instead to cuddle with me on the couch, laying his head on my legs and snoring within minutes.
I relax with Toby, sketching ideas for my online store. I have several notebooks filled already. Something that Jeff often teases me about. It doesn’t matter that I love what I do and make a pretty good living at it as well. He thinks it’s ridiculous and stupid and isn’t afraid to remind me that I make clothes for pets… something most people don’t purchase out of necessity. My job isn’t a career, according to Jeff.
I don’t disagree with him. But, my job is fun. It makes people happy. And there’s not a lot more I could hope for to fill my days. Life is too short to fill the minutes being bored.
The sound of the garage door opening alerts Toby that Jeff is home and he lifts his head, waiting for him to walk through the door. Toby might be Jeff’s dog, but the second I came into Jeff’s life I became his favorite. I feed him and take him for walks. He sleeps by me at night and listens to my commands far more than Jeff’s.
Jeff comes inside, calling out a greeting. “Hey, babe. You’re home?”
He walks around the corner, handsome in his light blue dress shirt and gray pressed pants. Always so put together. Such a contradiction to Jack who lived in casual clothes — or workout clothes when at the gym. And black. Everything he wore was black. It was sexy.
“Yup,” I answer simply.
He kisses me on the cheek. No passion. No… love.
We’re roommates who feel more than friendship but less than anything romantic.
Ugh, how do I get myself into these situations?
“How was your trip?” He sits down next to me, throwing an arm over the back of the couch and crossing one leg over the other. He reaches over and scratches the top of Toby’s head before rubbing my shoulder.
“Great.”
“And your uncle Kyle?”
I look up at him. “He’s well. I missed him and it was good to spend time with him.”
“I’m glad. From what you say, he’s quite the man.”
And shouldn’t that be another sign? I’ve been with Jeff for almost two years and I’ve never introduced him to my family. I’ve never met his. Glorified roommates.
I shift out of his hold and stand.
“Want to go to dinner? I haven’t gone to the store in a while and we don’t have much to make. Maybe Murphy’s Bar?”
Of course he didn’t. He would wait for me to go for us. Just like I’m sure he didn’t do any of his own laundry while I was away. After all, I only sew for a living. I have time whereas he doesn’t. Damn, how could I be such an idiot? I let him practically control our lives because I didn’t want to fight and argue. “Sure. Sounds good.”
“Great. Just let me change clothes.”
I nod and look down at the adorable pup as he stands and moves to our bedroom.
Toby nestles in closer, throwing a long leg over my lap, reminding me why I’ve stayed and dealt with this crappy relationship. Because of a dog. My gosh, I’m a moron but seriously… Toby is the perfect companion. He is more than just a pet. He’s my buddy, practically my kid. “Oh, Toby. What will I do without you?”
“Ready?” Jeff asks, coming back into the living room. He’s dressed in light wash jeans and a three-quarter zip navy blue sweatshirt with the yellow emblem over his heart that boasts his alma mater and sneakers. Every time we go to eat at Murphy’s, a sports bar and grill, he dresses more casually so he doesn’t feel out of place. He’ll cheer and boo at the appropriate times but in reality, he’s a nerd. He’s all about the academics. Which is totally fine. I just wish he wouldn’t try to be someone he’s not.
I swallow hard, bend down ,and kiss Toby on top of the head. “Yeah. I’m ready.”
It usually doesn’t take us long to get to Murphy’s. Just a fifteen minute drive from our house. But this ride seems to be going on forever. It’s pretty quiet aside from the music playing through the speakers of his practical sedan.
“This was a good idea,” I tell him, hoping to break the silence. “I’m starving.”
“You usually are,” he jokes, reaching over to nudge me with his elbow. He’s always teased me about my ability to put down my weight in food. At first I was offended, thinking he was making fun of me. Then I realized he couldn’t have cared less.
That’s the thing with Jeff. For all his annoying qualities, he’s not a bad guy. He might have old fashioned ideals (thinking the woman only belongs in the home barefoot and pregnant) and often worries too much about others’ opinions of himself, but otherwise he doesn’t have glaring faults. He’s neat and tidy, keeps himself in relatively good shape — though nothing like what I saw of Jack Cole’s body — and he’s a decent man. Nice enough. Boring as heck, but… well, nice. Never talks of marriage or having kids which was always fine with me. Rarely tells me about his day or the kids he’s teaching. Doesn’t really expand on much of himself. Aside from the fact that he’s a teacher, I don’t know a lot about Jeff. Even after all this time.
Shit.
We are roommates.
And now that I think of it, I honestly can’t recall the last time we had sex and the re
alization that that fact just now hit me shocks me. Has me sitting in my seat, staring out the window even though we’ve arrived at the sports bar and he’s already walking to the entrance, not waiting for me.
“What have I been doing?” I whisper out loud to myself. The horn honks and I realize he just locked me into his car, not realizing that I wasn’t following him. How does a man — the boyfriend — of the woman he’s living with forget his girlfriend so easily? Not even notice she’s not walking next to him or at the very least behind him? When I went anywhere with Jack, he always walked behind me. Opened doors for me. Showed me that he at least knew I was present for heaven’s sakes.
I almost want to wait here in the quiet of the car to see how long it takes Jeff to realize that I wasn’t following him into the bar but my stomach growls and I don’t want to sit here for hours hoping he remembers me.
I hit the unlock button and pray the alarm doesn’t go off but I can’t be so lucky. The horn starts blaring and I cover my ears as I open the door and get out into the cold night air. Jeff turns on his heel and looks back at his car in a panic. Not because he was worried about me, of course.
“Sierra? What the hell are you doing? I locked the car!”
“Yeah! With me in it, you jerk!”
He hits a button on his key fob and the horn goes silent just like the world around us. He stares and stares and stares at me before shaking his head like I just told him a lie and spins back around and storms into the bar.
“Well, fuck you, too,” I mutter and trudge along behind him. The only reason being that I really am hungry and their boneless wings are calling my name. Along with some cheese fries. Or an onion blossom. And an entire keg of beer.
He’s already seated at a high-top table when I get inside. I join him, draping my coat over the back of the chair before sitting down. He doesn’t acknowledge me, rather he’s staring at a TV hanging from the ceiling in the corner. Watching a hockey game like he’s interested in it and understands the sport, but I know better.
A waiter, and owner of Murphy’s, Nick, comes by to take our order, smiling at me but giving Jeff a weird, almost annoyed, look that I can’t completely decipher or understand. “You’re back.”
The Other Guy: A Textdoor Neighbor Romance Page 7