Martinis & Moonlight (A Country Road Novel - Book 3)

by Andrea Johnston

  “You feel like grabbing a few drinks tonight?” I ask as he pulls into his parking space at our complex.

  “Nah, I’m not feeling it tonight. I think I’ll go work on that piece I’m doing for my aunt. Her birthday is next month and I promised my mom I’d have it done.”

  “Ya about done? It’s a wall piece?”

  “Yeah, I’ll be done in time but my mom is driving me nuts about it so I figured I’d head over there tonight and it’ll give her a little peace of mind.”

  “Cool. See ya later.”

  Walking toward our place, I allow myself the briefest moment to acknowledge this is when having a girlfriend or at least someone I spend time with would be nice. I don’t do well alone. Probably because growing up my dad was in his own world wallowing over my mom. Still not something I understand. She left. I’ve never understood why he was sad about that. Regardless, I was left on my own and hated it. Heating up cold pizza, making a scrambled egg and toast, or heating up canned soup for dinner was less than ideal. Instead, I spent a lot of time at either Landon’s or Jameson’s house. Each of their moms pitying the poor kid with the drunk single dad.

  Of course, neither Mrs. Montgomery nor Mrs. Strauss would ever say they pitied me. Nah, they’re real moms and they’d never say that about a kid. They also wouldn’t leave their kid to go have a family with someone else. Yep, that’s what she did. My dad won’t admit it but I heard him mumbling to himself during one of his drunken rambles. He went on and on about how he and I were never enough and her new family was. As usual, this ended with him blaming me. I wasn’t enough. That was his point.

  Point taken.

  Two months ago, my Sundays consisted of a crossword puzzle, the occasional brunch with Kent and a few of his friends, and a day with a book before we had to return to the hustle and bustle of a new work week. Kent cooked on Sundays, always something gourmet that he researched in detail before committing to, and something I appreciated since it was less time in the kitchen for me and more time lost in a book. I enjoyed our Sundays together; they were quiet. And, predictable. I’ve learned in the time since our breakup that my entire relationship with Kent was nothing if not predictable.

  I suppose when you’re both successful and career driven, that’s a given. Plus, neither of us was looking to change how things were. We were both moving up within our company in our respective departments, our relationship was comfortable, we had a nice home that fit our lifestyle, and our families were nearby.

  When Jeff passed away and Dakota needed me most, Kent didn’t even question the nights away from home or the fact that I was essentially living in Dakota’s hospital room. Unfortunately, our company wasn’t as understanding, and when I wasn’t with my family, I was at work. I just assumed during that time he was giving me the space I needed to be there for my family. Now, I think he may have simply not noticed or even cared.

  We’d become complacent. Contentment in a relationship is one thing, but being complacent is something else and isn’t what I want in a relationship. I want passion, laughter, support, and love. That’s the relationship my parents have. As unconventional as they are individually, together they are a force.

  As I look out the kitchen window into the backyard, I notice my dad reach for my mom and squeeze her hand. Those small and simple gestures are what I want. What I crave. I didn’t have that with Kent. Looking back, I’m not sure I can remember a time that Kent took my hand for the sake of holding it. Kisses were for goodbye and goodnight, not just because.

  “Do you have any more of this dip, Min? It’s bomb.”

  “Yeah, it’s in the fridge. You’ll have to heat it up,” I say to my brother without taking my eyes off my parents.

  Sundays are now family day and I think my favorite day of the week. Whether it’s just me and the girls hanging out or my parents and Linc are over, it’s nice to just spend time together. My mom loves putting the girls down for naps and after they wake up, and are in their best moods of the day, we video chat with Dakota. The girls love seeing their mom and she loves talking to all of us.

  I finish washing the pots and pans and place them in the dish drainer before grabbing a hand towel from the counter when I hear Linc pull out a chair and sit at the table. I turn toward him just as he takes a chip and swirls it around the bowl of cheese dip he just heated up.

  “The kids are doing good. How are you holding up? You’re looking a little, uh, tired?”

  “Is that a statement or question, little brother?” I tease, smacking Lincoln’s arm with the towel as I take the seat across from him at the table.

  “It’s a fact. You look like shit, Min.”

  “Thanks. I look worse than I feel,” I say, wiping the dark circles under my eyes with my finger. “I don’t know how women do this; I’m exhausted.”

  “It’s a good thing you’re doing though. I’m glad they have you. It’s been a shitty year.”

  “Yeah, it has.” We both sit in silence for a few minutes, letting the events of the last year play out. So many changes for our small family, but here we are. Strong and together.

  “How about you? Ready for school?”

  “I move into the dorms in about five weeks. I think Mom’s going to lose her shit when I do. She’s already crying every day about my laundry.”

  “Yeah, she won’t know what to do with herself.”

  It’s weird for me to think of Lincoln heading to college. I was eight when my parents sat us down and told us we were getting a new baby sister or brother. To say I was less than thrilled would be an understatement. I loved being the baby of the family. Then Linc came along and I swear for the first few years I would stare at him in his crib and tell him I hated him. I didn’t really, but I hated not being the center of attention. By the time I hit middle school he was just annoying and I hated that I had to babysit him when my parents went out. Now, I look at the young man he’s become and I’m proud of him.

  “So, tell me about this job of yours. Dad says it is in construction? Seems like a step down for you.” I look at Lincoln as he stuffs a handful of cheesy chips into his mouth. Pig.

  “I really enjoy the job and my boss is great. He’s essentially handed the office over to me and I’m able to do things my own way, which I love. Plus, it’s flexible and allows me to check on the girls or leave early when I need to.”

  “Yeah, but it’s only temporary, right? You’re going back to your old job when Dakota gets home.”

  “I’m not sure anymore.” And, I’m not. When I spoke to my direct supervisor after Dakota’s decision to go to rehab, she was very upfront with me. She told me that company policy would allow me to take a leave of absence for up to six months, but after that, I either returned to my position or it would be filled. At the time, I was only planning to take a few weeks off while we worked out the basics with my parents and Kent. When Kent told me he wasn’t on board with caring for the girls and essentially kicked me out of our condo, his condo, I was forced to make a decision. That’s when I opted to take the leave of absence and move for Dakota.

  I look to Linc, who has a confused expression on his face. I smile at him and shake my head. “I’ll figure it out, don’t worry.”

  “I know you will, Min. You’re like the most put-together person I know. Can I ask you something?”

  “Sure, shoot.”

  “Do you think Dakota’s going to be okay? Mom and Dad won’t talk about it with me and I just feel bad leaving for school with this going on.”

  I stand and walk to the fridge, pulling out the bottle of wine I have in there. I pour myself a glass while I contemplate answering Linc. I don’t know if Dakota will okay. Honestly, I don’t know anything anymore, but I won’t tell him that. He’s a kid. He doesn’t need to be saddled with all our chaos and drama.

  I take a sip of my wine before turning to him. “Dakota’s going to be fine. She’s in a wonderful program. Each night I talk to her, I can hear how good she’s doing, and when we Skype, I see her getting
stronger. Both emotionally and physically. You need to worry about you. And for all that is holy, if you can’t afford condoms please call me. I’ll buy them.”

  “Yeah, can we not talk about my sex life? That’s just weird.”

  I couldn’t agree more, and weird is an understatement. Seems like just yesterday that Lincoln was wearing his Spiderman pajamas to school and now we’re talking safe sex and college.

  Over the next few hours, the adults play a round of cards, I manage to get in a few loads of laundry, and the girls nap. My mom gives the girls their bath and my dad tucks them in bed before they gather their things and head for home. I promise Linc we’ll do something fun before he leaves for school and bid them all farewell before throwing myself on the couch.

  I watch a little mindless television and, before long, I’m contemplating heading to bed early when my phone signals a text message. It’s Piper telling me the book we both pre-ordered is live and should be on my e-reader. Sleep is underrated. Especially when there is the possibility of a new book boyfriend in my future.

  I make my way through the house, double checking the locks on the door, turning off lights, and peeking in on the girls before heading to my bathroom. I decide a quick shower is a smart move. I know this book is going to have me up very late and tomorrow morning won’t be as smooth as usual. Once I’ve showered and settled into bed, I tap the screen and watch as my new book uploads.

  I may not be sharing my bed with anyone and I absolutely miss the companionship of a man in my life, but a good book will have to be enough for now.

  Days turned to weeks and I think the girls and I have finally found our groove and established a routine that works for us. Both girls love their babysitter, Mrs. Larson. She’s fun and gives off more of a grandmotherly vibe than task master, which seems to benefit Arizona. I would love to put her in a preschool, but after talking with Dakota we’ve decided to wait until she’s home. In the meantime, I’m chomping at the bit for my parents to take the girls this weekend.

  You know you’re an adult when you realize how excited you are to clean the house in the daytime, take a nap, read a book, and maybe even watch a movie! If all goes well, I may even squeeze in a pedicure. The sky’s the limit.

  After caring for the girls by myself, I understand why Dakota used to practically shoved Arizona in my arms with the mere suggestion I take her for a few hours. I thought she simply wanted me to bond with my niece. Nope, the reality was she was looking forward to peeing without an audience.

  A quick glance at the clock on the wall confirms I only have a few hours left in my work week. Tonight, the girls and I are going to have a relaxing night and then my parents will pick them up tomorrow morning after breakfast. I may be ready for the break, but even I know I’ll miss them tomorrow.

  Beyond the routine at home, I’m finding my niche at work, too. Jameson has been in the office less and less over the last few weeks, and while it’s a great feeling to know he trusts me with his business, this is a very lonely work environment. I might have stayed on the line with one of the clients a little longer than necessary last week. She was a good sport and didn’t mind reviewing her list of concerns on her home remodel two, okay three, times. I did also manage to score a new lasagna recipe from her so that’s a bonus.

  This week has been particularly quiet in the office, and as much as I hate to admit it, I’d even take an encounter with Owen at this point. Yep, be careful what you wish for.

  The door to the office opens and I sense him before I hear him. Maybe it’s that I smell him. Not smell in a gross way, but a way that is like some weird mating call. I’m sure there’s a name for that but I can’t think of it because there he is, walking toward me in a pair of khaki cargo shorts, a sleeveless T-shirt that, thanks to the sweat on his body, is clinging to his torso and chiseled chest, and a pair of sunglasses sitting atop his head. That smile I mentioned taking over his face as he gets closer to my desk has me quickly looking away in embarrassment. I know he can tell that he affects me. I know my tell-tale giveaway to embarrassment has completely taken over my arms, neck, and cheeks in a glorious shade of strawberry.

  “Well, Miss Walker, fancy meeting you here.”

  “Oh, hey.” I don’t take my eyes from my screen and very diligently read the same line over and over. Why does he make me nervous? I don’t get nervous.

  “Here are some invoices for you and I signed off on the time cards for my crew.”

  I finally lift my eyes from my screen to see Owen sitting in the chair in front of my desk, leaning back so he is rocking on the back two legs of the chair, with his arms crossed, and a smirk on his face. The same smirk he usually offers me before not so subtlety suggesting something flirtatious.

  “Thanks. Checks will be ready Monday as usual. Was there anything else?”

  “What’re your plans this weekend? Date with your boyfriend? Painting your nails with the squirt?”

  Clicking the save icon on the spreadsheet I’m working on, I sit back in my seat, crossing my feet at the ankle while folding my arms, and contemplating how to answer this. He’s trying to get to know me and I promised myself I’d be open to new friendships. Owen Butler is a lot of things, and while I’m not sure he’s completely harmless, I doubt he’s much more than talk.

  “No boyfriend,” I casually respond before whispering under my breath, “anymore.”

  “What? Some schmuck let you go? What a loser.”

  I snort out a laugh; I guess my whisper was louder than I thought. The more I’ve thought about my relationship with Kent, the more appropriate a word like “schmuck” is a perfect way to describe him. Boring, self-absorbed, career driven, and missionary style are also other ways.

  “Well anyway, I’m actually going to just hang out this weekend. The girls are going with my parents and it’ll be the first time in weeks I’ve had time to myself. How about you? Got a date?”

  Owen chokes on what I think was supposed to be a laugh, startling me a little while simultaneously sending a little shiver down my spine to my lady bits. His voice is deep and gravelly, as is his attempt to laugh, almost like he doesn’t do it very often and his vocal cords don’t know how to respond.

  “Yeah, I don’t date. Hook up maybe, but dating indicates I’m interested in a relationship and that’s not the case.”

  “I hear ya. A relationship is the last thing on my mind these days.”

  We sit in silence for a few ticks before Owen clears his throat and rests his chair on all four feet. I follow suit by sitting up more in my chair and grabbing my mouse. A few clicks and Owen stands and then taps the top of my monitor.

  “You should call the girls.”

  I look up at him, slightly confused, but not before acknowledging the sweat has dried from his torso while his shirt still clings to his skin. He must notice my gaze has lingered a little longer than necessary because he offers me that smirk again.

  “Sorry, the girls—Piper and Ashton. Me and the guys are heading to the lake for a little fishing so I’m sure they’re around.”

  “Oh.” The realization of how much my life has changed in the last few months struck me; when he said “the girls,” I thought of my nieces. “Yeah, uh, maybe.”

  “Well, all right then. Have a good weekend, Minnesota. See ya next week.”

  I don’t bother asking Owen to not call me by my full name. I know he knows it’s not my preference. And honestly, for whatever reason, it doesn’t bother me when he says it. I would never tell him that, but it’s true.

  After another hour of work, I log off my computer before locking up the office and heading for home. Once I’m home, the girls and I bid Mrs. Larson goodbye and I change out of my work clothes and into something more comfortable—less constricting.

  Jameson has told me repeatedly that I don’t have to dress up for the office. We’re a small construction company in a town that is far from formal. I mean, the fanciest restaurant is a steak house about twenty minutes from town and even that is
more of a lodge theme than five star. Regardless, I can’t seem to shake the need to dress in my pencil skirts and heels. I have taken a less-than-formal approach with my tops and hair. Things that Jameson wouldn’t know about me, but I know I’m less corporate than I have been the last few years.

  With a pair of shorts and a tank top on, I convince Arizona that a picnic in the backyard is a great way to eat our dinner of leftover pizza. While Arizona runs and plays with a bubble wand, Cali sits quietly on a blanket playing with her toys, and I let the conversation with Owen consume my thoughts.

  Our conversation was nothing but small talk. An effort to be more than co-workers and perhaps a little bit of friends. As with our other limited interactions, I sit here hours later with regret that I never asked about him. I allow him to control the conversations and each time offer him a little insight into me and never take anything away about him.

  I know Owen is about twenty-nine years old. His birthday is in January and he lives in an apartment. From what I can gather after the cookout at Jameson’s, Landon is his roommate. I know that Owen drives a Jeep and the one time I went to a job site, I confirmed that: he has abs that, if necessary, I could use for laundry, his back could give an Olympic swimmer a run for his money, and I, apparently, find large tattoos sexy. I also know he prefers classic and nineties rock to country music.

  Meanwhile, he knows about my nieces, that I had a boyfriend and don’t any longer, that I spend my time at my house, I have no friends, and most importantly that I lose approximately forty IQ points when he’s around. Seems like an uneven playing field if you ask me.

  Arizona has successfully emptied the contents of an entire bottle of bubbles without incident. Lucky for me, she didn’t try to share the bubbles with Cali—again. And by share, I mean give her them to drink.

  I gather up the girls and head inside for our nightly ritual of baths, teeth brushing, bedtime stories, and lullabies. Arizona was a little whiny about missing a call with her mom tonight, but Dakota had explained to her last night that she wouldn’t be able to call until after the girls were in bed. Once the girls are tucked in and the house is quiet, I put in my earbuds and click my favorite playlist. A playlist that has very similar music to what I heard Owen listening to when I was at one of his job sites.