“That’s revolting.” Connor sputtered in disgust as he walked inside. “Besides, Rudolph was the one with the red nose. Donner was way too sexy for that shit.”
I started to look back, making an inappropriate joke that would probably haunt me later, when a voice cut across the restaurant. “Micah, Connor! I didn’t know you were joining book club!”
Connor’s gaze met my own, just for a heartbeat. We knew that voice. The entire town knew that voice.
Shit. Book club.
It was Tuesday night. We knew what Tuesday night meant, what it had always meant. Holy fuck, we’d stumbled into book club.
Suddenly the claustrophobic feeling of being trapped in my home sounded like a slice of heaven.
As one, Connor and I turned to see Robert Kelly leaving a long table filled with women and coming toward us. For a second, my brain couldn’t make sense of what my ears had heard and my eyes were seeing.
“Oh my God.” Connor’s voice made it sound like he was about to bolt. Not that I could blame him.
Before I was able to put the pieces together, Robert was hugging me, strands of the long blond wig he was wearing catching at my lips. And as if proving that Connor and I had really stumbled into some fucked-up Alice in Wonderland world, my mother’s voice cried out over Robert’s shoulder, “Boys!”
I saw a new version of my mom. One that I was going to have to pay Donovan Carlisle a fortune in therapy to be able to unsee. Considering I’d grown up with Regina Bryant, that was saying something. She stood shakily from the head of the table, waving, then had to grip the edge to remain upright. With her other hand, she started to wave a glass of wine, spilled some, then stared at the offending object. She took a swig, placed it on the table, and waved again, successfully that time. None of that was overly concerning. The only time Mom drank more than a solitary glass was on her Tuesday night book club. Which was typically in the safety of the Bryant house, or one of the homes of the other book club members. The truly horrible part was the skintight, black leather bustier, which appeared to have been meant for a much smaller woman, complete with a corset cinched up the center with thin black rope. At her knee-high black-booted feet, lay a dominatrix whip.
A quick scan of the rest of the table revealed that every woman was dressed in matching apparel. Though at first glance, none of them quite as successfully—if that was the right word.
At some point in my horror, Robert had quit hugging me and was pulling away from Connor, who seemed to be having a similar reaction and was currently staring at our mother in disbelief. After a second, the edge of his lip that always turned up, cracked into more of a smile. “Mom, what are you all up to?”
“Well, book club of course!” She made a flourish in the air with her hand, lost her balance, and crashed down onto her chair. She looked down, apparently realizing she wasn’t on the floor, and then gave a small nod and smile of achievement.
Robert had a hold of Connor's hand already and reached out and grasped mine. “Come on, join us! We need some beautiful men in the group. I can’t be the only one.”
I looked over at Connor as Robert pulled us toward the table. “I think they’re drunk enough, that if we run, they won’t even remember we were here.”
He shrugged. “I know it probably makes me a sick bastard, even more than the reindeer comment, but I kinda want to see where this goes.” His grin broadened. “I don’t have my cell with me, so it’s up to you to get pictures. Gilbert and Lacy will definitely want to see this.”
Proving I was his equal in evil, I took it a step further. “I’m sure you’re right, which means we should send the pictures to Hayley.”
His hazel eyes widened. “Yes! Brilliant. No wonder I love you!” His eyes widened again, in a completely different expression.
A little jolt of panic shot through me, but I shrugged it away. That comment could easily be said between brothers. And even if it wasn’t, judging from the score of empty wine bottles on the table, nobody would notice or remember. The group of dominatrix women played a game of musical chairs, shuffling around the table and making room for Connor and me to sit down.
Robert grabbed chairs and placed them between him and our mom. Before he sat, he gave a little twirl. “So, what do you think?”
He didn’t match the women at all. Despite the leather pants, which were more buckskin brown and were crisscrossed up the crotch with leather ties. His shirt was made from a billowing white material, huge puff sleeves cinched at his wrists, and a deep V-neck down past his sternum, that too crisscrossed with leather bindings.
“You’ve never looked better, Robert.” Connor kept the laughter out of his voice, which was impressive. “You’re the most handsome pirate I’ve ever seen. It turns out blond really is your color.”
Robert smile faded, and he scowled at Connor, then looked at me. “I’m not a pirate. Surely, Micah, you can outsmart your brother. Here’s a hint, remember this is book club and these ladies don’t read Treasure Island.” He flicked the blond hair off his shoulder in emphasis.
It was the hair flip that did it, looking for an instant like it was caught in the breeze. “Connor’s not necessarily wrong. Surely Fabio has been a pirate a couple of times.”
Robert cheered, then sat down with a flourish. “Nicely done, boy. Nicely done!” He looked down at his body. “Granted, I don’t fill out this shirt as well as Fabio, but I daresay there’re no complaints about the pants.”
I leaned into Connor, as Robert gave his impression of Fabio’s voice. “New plan. We’re videoing this shit and sending it to Lamont. We’ll tell him he’s got a new cover model for one of his books.”
Connor chuckled and nodded in agreement.
Mom jumped in, grasping my hand and motioning across Connor to where Robert took his seat. “Of course, Robert’s not normally in book club, but when he heard what we were reading, he had to join in. We finished the trilogy tonight”—she leaned even closer but increased her volume instead of whispering—“for the fourth time. So we decided to have a theme party. Obviously.”
Several of the other ladies joined in, a few of them lifting glasses of wine, others shaking little whips or long feathers.
Robert also attempted to whisper, but failed. “I have to say, I was disappointed. It was a little tame for my liking. Definitely doesn’t measure up to some of the experiences I’ve had. If you’re going to go for it, I say really go for it.”
I didn’t have to ask, the outfits finally making sense. It seemed Connor caught on at the exact same moment. “Really, Mom? Again? How many times can you all read the Fifty Shades books?”
She leaned over once more, this time her strapped up breasts grazing my arm as she patted Connor’s cheek. “Don’t knock it till you tried it, baby. You should read them. You might learn a few things.”
We both shuddered.
The confining walls of my home were sounding better every moment. “Well, we don’t want to bother you all. We were just going to grab a pizza and watch a movie.”
I made to stand, but Mom grabbed my arm, holding me in place. “Don’t you dare. You’re not intruding on book club at all.”
Connor nudged me again and smiled at Mom, noticeably keeping his gaze fixed on her face. “This is better than any movie we could watch. Don’t worry, Mom, we’re staying.” He snagged a slice of pizza from the center of the table and turned to Robert. “So, why Fabio? Doesn’t the guy in the books wear a suit or something?”
Robert rolled his eyes. “Exactly. Talk about boring. Plus, I already had all of this in my closet, and I only wear my suit if someone is getting married or insisted on dying.” His eyes widened happily and he reached over, stroking Connor’s muscled arms. “Speaking of, there is this sheer shirt in the International Male catalog. It’s got tattoos printed on it that run up and down the arms, so it looks like you’re not wearing anything and are just tattooed. I think it would look phenomenal on you.”
Connor chuckled again. “Robert, you do remember
that I have actual tattoos. These are real, you know.”
Before Robert could reply, Miss Brighton, who had always looked like she dyed her thick black hair with shoe polish, and was eighty years old if a day, leaned across the table and grabbed Connor’s hand. “Actually, I’ve been meaning to come into your little shop. I’ve been thinking about getting a butterfly tattoo on my lower back. I think the kids call that a tramp stamp. Do you give a senior citizen discount?”
Mom pulled me in closer, drawing my attention away as Connor and the rest of the table began talking tattoo choices. “Don’t let Marian Brighton fool you. She doesn’t need a tattoo for the town to know she’s a tramp.”
“Mom!” I shot a glance at Miss Brighton, making sure she hadn’t heard.
“Oh, please!” Mom waved me off. “She is. But I don’t mean anything bad by it. Lord knows your brother was a tramp forever.”
I glanced back at the table again, making sure Connor hadn’t heard. That really would’ve hurt his feelings to hear our mother talk like that. Nor was it a comment I expected from her, no matter how drunk she was. “Mom, lower your voice.”
Her brows knitted, and she looked at Connor, then back at me, then rolled her eyes. “Oh, good Lord! Not Connor. Gilbert. Don’t be silly. I’ve heard stories from people about all the men you and Connor have seen from time to time, but we all know it can’t compare to the hordes Gilbert’s made his way through. Thank the Lord for Walden. Lavender Shores might be sexually liberated, but I’m pretty sure Gilbert was pressing the limits.”
I laughed hard at that. It was going to be like offering Gilbert a Christmas present to relay this conversation. Before I could think of what to say next, Mom finally found her actual whispering level, and despite the overwhelming smell of wine on her breath, there was no slur to her words. “I’m glad you’re here, Micah. I’ve been meaning to talk to you.”
She sounded so serious that a tingle of worry bit at me.
“I’m sorry things didn’t work out with you and Seth. He really is a dear, dear love. But he’s not for you. I think you always knew that.”
Relief arrived. I wasn’t sure what horrible thing I’d been expecting… accusations about Connor, telling me she was sick, but the Seth breakup was manageable. “It’s okay, Mom. I’m fine. Really.”
“Well, of course you’re fine. I wasn’t worried about that. Like I said, you two weren’t meant to be.” She leveled her gaze, though it looked like it took some effort to truly focus. “You’re free again, baby. Go to New York, reclaim your life, your dreams. It’s silly for you to stay here wasting all that talent on farming.”
I adored my mother, and I had to remind myself of that fact before I spoke. I knew she’d loved her parents, had a great childhood, but I also knew she’d worked her ass off to leave Texas, risked everything to have a different life. To her, Lavender Shores and her real estate business was the stuff of New York City symphonies and Broadway. Me falling in love with the occupation of her father was like turning my back on everything she’d sacrificed and fought for. “Mom, I know it’s not what you want to hear, but I’m not going back to New York.” She opened her mouth to argue, but I pressed onward, clarifying. “I’ll still go when they need me at the recording studio, I might play a concert here and there, every once in a while when there are special engagements at the Symphony, but I’m staying in Lavender Shores. I love working on the farm with Adrian. I love owning the Green Violin.”
There was a squeeze on my knee under the table, and I glanced over. Connor met my gaze, gave a quick smile, then refocused on the rest of the table—obviously he was eavesdropping. I took a second to marvel at the feel of his hand on my leg there in public. Even if it was hidden by the table, even if there was low risk, considering how distracted and drunk the rest of the book club was. It was the first time he’d ever touched me, ever claimed me, in public. Feeling almost giddy, despite the conversation I was having with Mom, I slipped my own hand under the table, over Connor’s, and linked my fingers with his.
The distraction had given Mom a chance to regroup and offer a different argument. “Even if all that’s true, and I’m not sure it is. And while I know you miss your grandparents, we all do, and I know farming makes you feel close to them, there’s no young man for you here. Seth is just one more proof of that. Not only do I want you to reach your career goals and dreams, but I want you to have love, baby. I know you’re fine on your own, that you’re strong, but I want to know you have someone to walk through this life with.”
I almost told her. Almost pulled Connor’s and my hands out from under the table for her to see, for the restaurant to see, for all of Lavender Shores to see.
That wasn’t my choice to make. And I wasn’t truly sure how she would respond, especially considering she was drunk.
So I got as close to the truth as I could. “I’ve already found the man I’m going to walk through life with, Mom. I’m not worried about being alone.”
She blinked a couple of times, obviously confused. “But Seth….”
“Not Seth.” Maybe saying this much was a mistake. I was sure it was. But it felt so good to say it. Like a relief, even if I couldn’t say Connor’s name yet.
“Then who? Do I know him?”
I hesitated, knowing I couldn’t tell her, but not wanting to lie either. “We’re figuring some things out, Mom. We need a little time. But I promise to tell you soon. And I promise that I’m not alone. And I’m happier than I’ve ever been in my life.”
She studied me, suddenly looking almost sober. “Really? You’re really happy?”
“Yeah. Just as happy as I always dreamed I could be.”
Mom smiled and took my free hand. “That’s all I want. That’s all I’ve ever wanted. For my baby to be happy.”
I hoped that was still true when I told her. When we told her. In truth, she wasn’t the one I was worried about. I was much more concerned about what Dad would think, with his greater sense of propriety and notions of what Lavender Shores founding families should and shouldn’t do. But I wasn’t truly certain how Mom would react either. But with my right hand in Connor’s, and my left in our mother’s, I chose to hope for the best. I’d held on to that dream for years, never truly knowing if I could have it all. Well, having our family’s acceptance was part of having it all. So, I wasn’t done hoping quite yet.
Sixteen
Connor
There’d never been a time since I’d known Micah that he hadn’t dreamed of playing the violin. That wasn’t exactly right, I hadn’t known Micah before he was playing the violin. Since he was four, he was nearly considered a prodigy, but by the time he was nine, he was already daydreaming of playing in New York City, having his own albums—his version of rock star dreams. It was part of the reason I’d struggled to accept he truly could be happy anywhere else. The reason everyone struggled with it. It wasn’t until his teen years, well after I entered the picture, that he fell in love with farming at our grandparents’.
I hadn’t had such dreams. No burning desire for a career or fame and fortune. Just escaping the life I’d had, and the destiny of hell, seemed like more than enough. Drawing was my only passion. But it was nothing more than a hobby. Even so, it was what Mom and Dad latched on to for me to go to college. To get a degree in art. It was then I discovered tattooing. The sense of relief the needles seemed to provide as they passed over my skin, the act of ownership and defiance of having a permanent statement on my body. By the time I graduated art school, not only had I spent countless hours under the needles’ embrace, but even more learning to wield them.
Chances were, most tattoo artists would walk into Lavender Ink and roll their eyes, at least those who didn’t spend most of their time with the trendy, yuppies, or hipsters. When I decided to open a tattoo parlor, I hadn’t expected to be allowed to do so within the town limits. The acceptance of my business clarified just how much the Bryants and Kellys truly considered me blood, nearly as much as each of them getting the tatt
oo I designed.
I didn’t press my luck, I kept the aesthetic of Lavender Shores in mind as I designed my shop. The end result being more luxury day spa and art gallery and not at all seedy tattoo parlor. Maybe if my first love had been tattoos, I might look around my shop and feel a little bit of embarrassment, but it had all started with art. The tattoos came later. Lavender Ink was classic, clean, modern, and beautiful. And every inch of wall space was covered in professionally framed ink drawings and designs from myself and the other three artists who sublet from me.
Micah showed up around six in the evening, an hour before closing. Two of the other artists had already left for the day. I’d spent hours putting the finishing touches on Micah’s design, and was rewarded with a brilliant smile as he inspected it. “I knew you’d make it perfect.”
“You sure you’re okay with it? We don’t have to do it tonight. I can change anything you want.” I didn’t know why I offered, habit, I supposed. Micah was right. It really was perfect. So perfect, that my only regret was Micah not getting it as a back piece. It would be amazing huge, but it would look flawless on his forearm as well.
“You kidding? It’s not going to get any better than that!” He pulled off his T-shirt, and tossed it on the chair in the corner of my booth, his smooth muscles rippling in the evening sunlight streaming through the front windows as he moved. “Plus, I’ve been psyched about this for days. I don’t want to wait anymore. I just got out of the shower. I shaved my arms, there’s not even peach fuzz to get in your way.”
I glanced behind at Monica, the receptionist, and Jasmine who was working on a client. Neither of them were paying attention. I looked back at Micah, who’d stepped closer, and I couldn’t help eyeing the blond treasure trail traveling from his navel and disappearing into low-slung jeans. Low enough that I suspected he wasn’t wearing underwear. I had to force my eyes to meet his, and kept my voice low. “Not that I’m complaining, but I’m only tattooing your forearm. You don’t have to take your shirt off.”
The Hideaway (Lavender Shores Book 5) Page 15