Perfect Excuse (Mason Creek Book 11)

by A. D. Justice

  “Are you trying to trick me back into bed with you, Mr. King? I can see right through your games, you know.”

  “Bed? No, I wouldn’t do that.” I wink at her surprised expression. “But if I can entice you into a hot shower by plying you with liquor and brownies, I won’t complain.”

  She slips her clothes on, wraps the towel around her shoulders, and steps under my arm. “A hot shower sounds perfect. You don’t even have to drug me first.”

  “You partook more than willingly. You can’t blame me for your food choices.”

  “I’m teasing, you know. I’d never do that. I’m right where I want to be, fully aware of what I’m doing. You’d never take advantage of me like that and the whole town knows it.”

  We walk back to my condo with our arms wrapped around each other and our steps fall into perfect sync. Maybe our future is a little brighter after a skinny-dip under the starry sky. Maybe we can find a way through this mess together.

  After a steaming hot shower for two, we fall into bed and fall asleep wrapped in each other’s arms. Sheer exhaustion overtakes me almost as soon as my head hits the pillow. I think Liv was already half asleep before she even reached the bed. The last thing I hear before sleep pulls me into the darkness is the soft, rhythmic breathing of my wife in peaceful slumber.

  The alarm goes off, and we groan in unison.

  “I swear I just closed my eyes two seconds ago. How can it already be time to get up?” Liv grumbles into the pillow. Her voice is muffled, but my body echoes her sentiment.

  “If we were independently wealthy, what would you do?”

  She turns over to face me, laying her head on my chest. At least the awkwardness we felt last time is gone.

  “I’d like to think I’d be this great humanitarian and philanthropist, but the truth is I’d probably do absolutely nothing.” She chuckles at herself. “Sadly, we’re not incredibly wealthy, so I have to get up and face the day. In our case, I’m afraid that also includes facing the music since everyone will know I’m here by now.”

  Annnd, the awkwardness is back.

  “Are you working today?” I stroke her back with my fingertips, trying to keep the connection alive.

  “No, I’m going to my parents’ house today. They’re on the way back from one of their whirlwind excursions. I’ll get to spend time with Jeannine before they arrive. I’ve been extremely busy at the store lately, so I haven’t seen her much at all.”

  “Can I ask you a question? You’d think I’d already know the answer, but I’m ashamed to admit I don’t.”

  “Sure. Ask away.” She acts like an open book, but I feel her protective walls rising into place.

  “Last night you said you were lonely a lot while growing up. Was that because your parents left you behind while they went on their extended trips?”

  She inhales deeply before answering. “Yes, that was a big part of it. They left me in Jeannine’s care for weeks at a time. She did her best to entertain me and keep my mind off their absences, but I still felt it every time. I always thought it would be different if I had a bunch of siblings at home with me. But they never had other kids, so I always questioned if I was a mistake.”

  She’s noticeably silent after blurting out her confession.

  “I’m so sorry, babe. You never told me any of that before now. Sometimes I think I’m just now getting to know you, after all these years together. Why didn’t you share any of this with me before now?”

  She rests her chin on the back of her hand and looks up at me. “It wasn’t that I was keeping anything from you, Ryder. Leaving the past behind me and focusing on our future was better for my own sanity. Besides, I never felt lonely or abandoned when we were together. You never made me think I was your biggest regret.”

  Her voice trails off, leaving the last words hanging in the air between us unspoken, but still as loud as thunder.

  She never felt as if she was my biggest regret… until now.

  Chapter 11

  Olivia

  “Jeannine, I’m home. Where are you? For crying out loud. Do I have to search every room? Where’s the security around here? You just let anyone walk in off the street.”

  “No one would believe I taught you better than to scream throughout the house. They’ll say I was a terrible nanny and shouldn’t be allowed around children, all because of you.” She steps out from the study into the large foyer with her arms folded across her chest.

  “Don’t give me that look, Neeny. It never worked on me as a child, so it definitely doesn’t work on me now.” I mimic her stance and initiate a staring contest.

  She wins. I burst out laughing, as I always do. This is a running gag between us. We’ve kept it going as far back as I can remember. She holds her arms open wide, and I rush into them without a second thought.

  “Oh, my baby girl. I’ve missed you so much. You haven’t come home in so long.” She rocks from side to side, still holding me in her embrace as tightly as she can. “Why do I have to find out what’s happening in your life through the gossip blogs instead of from you?”

  “Ugh, that damn column. She means no harm, I know, but I hate being the flavor of the week.” I rest my cheek on her shoulder and relish the affection from the only real mother I’ve had.

  “Huh. Flavor of the week, nothing. You’re the star of it again today.” Her body shakes with laughter, and I bury my face. “Water was chilly, was it?”

  “Not already. How could they possibly know? It was the freaking middle of the night—just a few hours ago.”

  She pushes me back to look at me. “Can’t live with him but can’t live without him, can you?”

  “Something like that, I guess.” I shrug and look down at the floor for a second, then meet her questioning gaze again. “That’s not entirely true.”

  “Yeah, no shit, sweetheart. You two can’t stay away from each other, and the whole town knows it. What else is going on in your glamours life that I don’t know about?”

  We walk into the kitchen and Jeannine makes us a cup of hot tea while I tell her all about my lingerie line and the magazine feature article coming out soon. She sits beside me, slides a cup in front of me, and grips my hand in hers.

  “I had no idea those were all your designs, Liv. I’m so proud of you. Have you told Ryder the exciting news?”

  “Um, no. I haven’t told him any of it yet, Jeannine. What’s wrong with me?” I blow on the tea and take a sip while she collects her thoughts.

  “There’s nothing wrong with you, sweetheart. You’ve always worked so hard to make everything you do absolutely perfect. I noticed it when you were a little child, always striving to impress your father with your drawings and anything else you made. It’s not my place to say, but I always thought he was entirely too critical. Your mom and dad love and care about you, Liv. They just never learned how to show it the way they should.” She slightly narrows her eyes, tilts her head to the side, and pats my hand.

  Pity has always rubbed me the wrong way, but coming from Jeannine, it nearly tears my heart in two.

  “I barely remember those times. Mostly, I just think about how often you were there for me.”

  “There’s no doubt I always will be. Maybe you should allow your husband to do the same. He has supported you every step of the way so far. There’s no reason to believe he’ll stop.”

  “You mean other than that pesky divorce thing.”

  “Ah, yes, that. You’re both clearly dead set on seeing that through. You barely speak. You can’t even be in the same room as the other. Absolutely no love left between you two in the least.” Her deadpan expression matches her monotone voice.

  “You know, I can’t quite put my finger on it, but it seems as if you’re trying to tell me something. A secret, maybe? Feel free to be blunt and just put it out there.”

  “Olivia, you are making the biggest mistake of your life and only you can stop it.” She leans in to hold my gaze with hers as she speaks.

  “Gosh,
it’s just on the tip of your tongue, isn’t it? Maybe you’ll think of a way to phrase it soon.” I rest my chin on my hand and give her my most innocent expression.

  “Ryder King is a saint.” She leans back, lowers her chin, and glares at me from under her furrowed brows. Then I slowly arch one eyebrow and smirk, waiting for her to read my mind. “Fine. Saint may be a little generous, considering the gossip I read this morning. But you still know what I meant.”

  “All right, I’m sensing a theme here. I had planned to avoid the gossip rag all together, but you’re not going to let me. I suppose I should read it so I’ll at least be prepared when I see the pointing fingers or hear the sniggers behind my back.”

  “And before your parents get home.”

  Begrudgingly, I pull up the MC Scoop on my phone. My initial reaction flies out of my mouth before I can stop it.

  “Fucking hell!”

  “I suggest a better explanation when your father questions you about it.” Jeannine rinses out our cups and puts them in the dishwasher while I reread the article.

  Rocky Mountain High

  But we’re not in Colorado, friends. This happened right here in Mason Creek.

  Did anyone hear the shrieking mating call of the rare and elusive female king fisher in the middle of the night?

  We weren’t magically transported to Africa by Puff the Magic Dragon. No, Scoopers, what you heard came from our very own naughty nightgown girl, Olivia King. She and her soon-to-be-ex-husband Ryder took to the river, high as a March kite, for a little late-night skinny-dipping.

  From the sound of things, the water wasn’t too cold for Mr. King, if you know what I mean. Does Mary Jane heighten the water experience? Nymph minds want to know.

  For a couple going through a divorce, they definitely seem intent on keeping their relations open—way out in the open. With so many people trespassing on private land to reach the old bridge in the woods, the owners installed a few security cameras for their own protection.

  No word yet on if Mrs. King’s fishing expedition landed her a whopper, but it does appear Mr. King can’t resist the bait she dangles in front of him. He’s caught in her trap—hook, line, and, per the Mrs. herself—a nudist colony membership. Although, for those of you who frequent her shop, you’re already mostly nude, anyway!

  Stay tuned for more as the latest on the Ex Marks the Spot segment unfolds.

  “Jeannine, the only merciful action to take now is to kill me. Put me out of my misery and help me avoid the repercussions yet to come.” I stare at my phone, still in disbelief, as she sits next to me again.

  “Look at me, Olivia.” She waits for my full attention. “No.”

  “No, what?”

  “No, I won’t save you from yourself this time. You’re a grown woman. You only answer to those whom you choose.”

  “You’re right. Yeah. Yeah. You’re exactly right. I’m going to use this free publicity to my advantage. My ‘Draw the Shades’ premier night will be the talk of the town for so many reasons. In fact, I’m even more excited about it now than ever before.” I jump up from my seat, throw my arms around her neck, and place a long, hard kiss on her cheek. “Thank you, Momma Neeny. I love you.”

  “I love you too, baby girl. Go show everyone how a real woman roars. Or squeals, in your case.”

  Our shared laughter quickly dies with the sound of the door from the garage slamming shut.

  “I’m glad you’re here.” Dad sounds anything but glad. His loud, gruff voice holds more irritation than usual. His eyes burn with anger, all directed at me. His lips form a thin line as he paces back and forth, all while staring holes through me.

  This stance used to intimidate me. But not today. My epiphany only a moment ago revealed more to me than a robust marketing plan ever could. My life is mine to live. My choices are mine to make. My accomplishments are mine to be proud of and celebrate. My worth is mine to decide.

  “Really? Because you don’t sound glad. That’s unfortunate, since I bet you couldn’t tell me when the last time you saw me was. Let’s double down on that bet while we’re at it. When was the last time you were glad to see me?”

  My outburst surprises him. He stops pacing in mid-stride and jerks backward, as if I physically slapped him. His bottom jaw drops open, and for a few seconds, he reminds me of a fish. His mouth opens as if he’ll say something, then closes again without making a sound. His stiff arms drop to his sides, hanging loose in an uncharacteristic display of sloppy demeanor.

  “Your mother and I were… shocked to read about you in the local gossip column. Not once, but twice. Care to explain yourself?” He raises his eyebrows and purses his lips.

  “Nope.”

  “Beg your pardon?”

  “No, I do not care to explain myself, my actions, my marriage, or my business to anyone. If this is the first time you’ve heard rumors about me, you obviously haven’t paid attention over my entire life. This article is one of a thousand rumors spread all over town about me. I don’t owe you an explanation for this one any more than I owe you one for any other tale about me.”

  “Then why are you here?” Mom looks genuinely confused. I could almost get past her question easier if it was asked out of anger or frustration, but not this.

  “That’s a great question, Mom. Why am I here? Am I the mistake you couldn’t make right? Was I an accident you never intended to take responsibility for? Only you can answer the question about why I’m here.”

  “We did not raise you to speak to us this way.” She puts her fists on her hips and glares in my direction, but she can’t quite make eye contact with me.

  “You’re right, you didn’t. Because you didn’t raise me at all. Jeannine did. And when she was off work, the other members of the house staff stepped in. But you? No, you didn’t raise me to speak to anyone like this. But since I’m grown and have made my own way without your help, I’m free to tell the harsh truth.”

  “Well, if that’s how you feel about us…”

  “Well, if that’s all you have to say about my existence in your lives and about being my parents…”

  The heavy pause in the conversation reveals as much as their words did.

  “Since my presence in my parents’ home is such a mind-boggling mystery, I won’t be back until the reasons become clear. Or, I should say, if the reasons ever become clear.”

  Jeannine had left the room during our confrontation, but now she waits by the front door, her face beaming with pride. “I know that was hard for you, sweetheart, but you did the right thing. Confront your fears and demons head-on. Stop letting them bully you.”

  “Did you just call my parents demons?”

  “Yes, I sure did.”

  We muffle our laughter as we say goodbye, then I head back to my house. I have a lot of work to do if I’m going to pull off this fashion show anytime soon. And since the big day will be here in only six weeks, I have to get my idle ass in gear. No more lazing about with happy brownies and tequila shots.

  After several hours of developing a solid fashion show outline, identifying the perfect models, and finding all the supplies I’ll need to succeed in this enormous undertaking, I’m finally ready to begin making outreach calls. Except now it’s almost eleven o’clock at night, and none of the local stores are open. When I stand from my drawing board, I feel every one of my thirty years in my aching muscles and frozen joints.

  That soak in a hot tub would be perfect right about now.

  Since I can’t start at the top of my to-do list, I grab the large box of men’s underwear samples from the manufacturer. I’m always so excited to see my new creations come to life every time a new shipment arrives. This one is especially exciting because it makes a distinct new line and new direction for my little company.

  One by one, I hold up the new garments, inspecting every seam and how the fabric of choice hangs. Visual presentation is paramount to selling the inventory, especially around here where all the men are more rough-and-rowdy tha
n GQ-and-cultured. They need more than a nudge in the right direction. They have to be pushed off the cliff with their four-wheel-drive truck, holding a beer and scratching their ass on the way down.

  On that note, another idea strikes me like lightning out of nowhere. My fashion show is incomplete, and there’s only one way to remedy it. Lucky for me, this will have everyone’s tongues wagging about my shop, my show, and my talent. For once, I may just have the perfect excuse to make them talk about me.

  But this reason will remain my secret—and mine alone—until party night. Then it’s go time.

  Chapter 12

  Ryder

  Therapy session number two is today, and I feel like I need it more than ever. It’s been a week since our last session—and our last night together—but I haven’t heard from Liv since then. Here I thought we’d turned a new corner and could put all this unpleasantness behind us. Instead, she disappeared for an entire week without so much as a kiss my ass on her way out of my life once more.

  Kiwi and I arrive for our appointment a few minutes early. Allie greets us and ushers us into her office. Again, Liv isn’t here yet, opting for a fashionably late entrance instead. Maybe she’s not taking this part of the process as seriously as I am. Allie could help us work through the invisible baggage cluttering our relationship if we’d both just lay all our issues on the line.

  With two minutes to spare, Liv rushes into the room and sits beside me as she did last time. She’s barely seated, but she’s bouncing up and down, unable to sit still. Her face beams with happiness, and her smile splits her face in two. She hasn’t spoken a word yet, but her obvious excitement is contagious, nonetheless.

  “What has gotten into you?” I’m trying to play it cool, but I’m dying to know what’s going on.

  “You!” She releases a little squeal before grabbing my hand. “You had the best idea ever. I’ve spent the last seven days and nights planning every single detail of my upcoming fashion show. I’m so excited. I can hardly wait.”