by R. C. Martin
Me: I’m an idiot!!!!!
I toss my phone onto the counter and reach for a clean mug. Before I have a chance to grab the full coffee pot, I receive a text response.
Geoff: I doubt it. What’s up?
Me: I called Judah. Before coffee. OMG! I left the most spaz-tastic vm!
Geoff: Did you tell him yes?
Me: Did you not hear me? BEFORE coffee! It was a disaster!
Geoff: Did you say yes?
Me: …yes. But that’s not the point!
Geoff: Proud of you.
Geoff: You’re not a spaz.
Geoff: Drink your coffee.
I smile in spite of myself, annoyed but not surprised at the way he calmed me down in two minutes flat. Though I still feel mortified over my recent word vomit, Geoffrey’s right about one thing—I do need to drink my coffee. Besides, I can’t take the message back. Now all I can do is wait.
Suddenly, I’m that much more grateful my sister will be in town today. I could use the distraction.
I arrive at the golf course fifteen minutes before the top of the hour. As I turn into the parking lot, I spot Benjamin pulling his clubs from the trunk of his BMW X5. He’s in a pair of navy shorts and a striped T-shirt. I chuckle to myself, remembering how much he appreciates getting a little sun. Sometimes, I swear, the kid was meant to be a beach bum. With his blonde hair and blue eyes, I’m sure he’d fit right in. Of course, every time I say as much, he’s quick to remind me of his fear of the ocean.
My phone rings in my pocket just as I’m climbing out of my vehicle, but I ignore it as I go to greet my brother. “Pretty boy—you ready to get your ass handed to you this morning?”
He looks over at me, laughing as he helps close the distance between us. “Who are you calling pretty, slut,” he jibes as he offers me his hand. I accept the gesture, fully prepared when he pulls me in for a hug. “Good to see you, man.”
“You too, kid.” He’s only two years younger than me, but since he came into my world, he’s always been my kid brother. He’s also three inches shorter than me, and I’m sure I’ve got him beat by at least twenty more pounds of muscle, so he doesn’t argue when I call him what he is. Instead, he rolls his eyes and straps his clubs over his shoulder.
“We’ll see who’s doing all the talking after the eighteenth hole.”
“Yeah, yeah,” I mumble, opening the trunk to retrieve my gear.
We head into the clubhouse together, exchanging small talk and pleasantries. We find Aunt Eddalyn just as I did the week before, up at the bar, casually sipping at her coffee, poised as ever. When she spots us heading her way, she gasps and then claps her hands before hopping out of her seat.
“There’s my long-lost nephew. Oh, it’s so good to see you,” she says, opening her arms.
Ben sets down his clubs and wraps her in a warm hug. “You, too, Aunt Eddalyn. Sorry it’s been so long.”
“Oh, nonsense,” she says, waving away his apology. “I understand how the world works, dear. You’re a busy man, chasing after his dreams. It’s a hard job to do, making all of us proud, but you’re doing just fine.”
“Stop. You’ll make me blush,” he jokes.
She laughs just as his phone chirps from inside of his pocket. When he reaches for his, I remember that I had a missed call, and I reach for mine as well.
“Humph,” Eddalyn grumbles. “Do I need to take those things away from you boys? Take the morning off. We’re here to play golf, not work.”
Ben chuckles and I don’t miss the goofy grin on his face. “It’s not work this time. I promise—one text and it’s off.”
“Very well,” she concedes before looking my way. She arches a brow at me and I know I’m about to have to make the same promise.
“If he gets to read his, I at least get to listen to mine,” I say with a smirk. Before either of them can say otherwise, I turn my back to them and play the voicemail that awaits me.
When the sound of her voice floats into my ear, my chest swells.
Victory.
Teddy’s nerves are quite apparent in her message, her words jumbled and uncertain. I’m not sure why, but when I reach the end, I find myself replaying it. I like the sound of her voice, and I imagine her with the phone pressed against her ear, her long, red hair draped over her shoulder, her sexy, little body in whatever she slept in the night before.
Fuck—I want to taste her lips; want to sink my teeth into her skin; want to know how many other freckles she’s hiding.
I push play for the third time. Her shy demeanor is like a cool drink on a hot day, and I can’t wait to unwrap and unravel her.
Ben grasps my attention when he claps a hand on my shoulder and leans into me. “What is it? Last night’s booty call forgot her favorite pair of panties?”
A smug smile pulls at my lips as I pocket my phone, my eyes meeting his. Truth be told, there wasn’t a woman in my bed last night—but he doesn’t need to know that.
“Last night’s booty call wasn’t wearing any panties.”
He laughs, shaking his head at me. “Come on. I’m about to beat your whore ass.”
At three o’clock, I decide I have to stop acting like a psychotic-stalker-chick and just pretend my phone doesn’t even exist. I haven’t heard from Judah and, honestly, I don’t think I can be surprised. After the message I left him this morning, I probably extinguished any and all interest he had in me. Checking my phone every fifteen—okay, eight—minutes won’t erase my ridiculous, babbling acceptance to his dinner invitation.
Aside from the restlessness caused by Judah’s silence, my day has actually been pretty great. Most days with Harper are. We have always been really close. I think it’s our closeness in age that has helped us foster the relationship we have. We’re less than eighteen months apart, which means that while I don’t know life without her, she doesn’t remember life without me.
Of course, being two of three females in a house of four growing up, we’ve had plenty of fights. PMS, crushing on the same guy, stealing each other’s clothes—there were lots of opportunities for us to find a reason to yell at one another. However, at the end of the day, there’s nobody in the whole world who loves me like Harper does. And at the same time, there neither is, nor will there ever be, anyone who loves Harper like I do.
Brunch with Sarah is a blast. She scored us a table at Lulu’s, one of Fort Collins’ most popular restaurants, known for its delicious French cuisine. We all drink one too many mimosas, which leads to an astounding consumption of beignets, and an obnoxious amount of laughter. It’s been a long time since the three of us have hung out together, and it’s nice spending time with the girls.
After a couple hours at Lulu’s, we part ways and Harper insists on spending the afternoon window shopping. Since the weather is nice, and I know how much she loves popping in and out of stores along the main drag through Old Town, I don’t argue. For a while, we just browse, catching each other up on the last few weeks that we’ve been playing phone tag. It doesn’t go unnoticed that she is more interested in what I’ve been up to, while all of my inquiries lead to vague responses of how busy she’s been hanging out and enjoying the last few weeks of her summer.
I don’t press, sure that I’ll be able to get the truth out of her later tonight.
She’s seeing someone. I just know it.
“Oh, my god—The Smitten Kitten!” she gushes, wrapping her hand around my elbow as she pulls me into the boutique. “Let’s buy something!”
“What? Harp—I thought we were window shopping.”
“We were,” she replies, looking back at me from over her shoulder. Those green eyes shimmer with mischief and I squint at her. Her shoulder length hair, just a shade lighter than mine, is pulled back into a ponytail that dances across the skin at the base of her neck. “Now we’re buying outfits for dinner tonight.”
“We’re going out? Again?”
She rolls her eyes, letting me go as she reaches a rack full of dresses. “I love the sh
it out of you, Teddy, but your little ass needs to get out more. I mean—fuck—you’re twenty-two and it’s a Saturday night.” She gasps, taking a dress off the rack and pushing the hanger under my chin. The little, green halter number drapes down my front. “You would look hot as hell in this!”
I look down and note that the hem extends barely past mid-thigh. I then look back up at my sister, arching an eyebrow at her as I shake my head. “You know I don’t wear dresses this short. Besides, green is your color. It brings out your eyes.”
She scrunches her face at me playfully, then holds the dress out in front of her. “I should try it on, huh?”
“Yeah,” I say with a laugh, knowing there is no point in arguing with her. She’s already made up her mind. We’re going out tonight, and at least one of us will be wearing a new dress. “Try it on.”
“Okay,” she agrees with a grin. “But you’re buying something, too. Don’t think you aren’t. In fact…” She pauses, returning to the rack. I wait while she hunts, following her to the next rack when she doesn’t find what she’s looking for right away. “Ah-ha,” she sings. She holds up a strapless, blue ombre, maxi dress—the sweetheart, navy top fades into white around the ankles before it transitions into a light teal hemline. “Bet you have a pair of wedges you could wear with this.”
I won’t deny that it is a cute dress. It’s simple, but it’s light and flowy. She’s right, too. I do have nude wedges that would pair well with it. I also have the perfect, long necklace—the pendant is a rusted gold peacock with teal beading in its tail. I don’t tell her that, though.
“I don’t know, Harper. It won’t cover my whole back and—”
“You have all that fucking hair, bitch! Wear it down. Boom! Tattoos covered.”
I narrow my eyes at her, snatching the dress out of her hand. “You know I hate it when you call me that.”
A grin spreads across her face. “You know I love it when you do as I say.”
“Yeah, yeah,” I mumble before we head toward the fitting rooms.
Twenty minutes later, we’re leaving the store with our purchases, headed back to my apartment. Somehow along the way, Harper convinces me to let her straighten my hair tonight—a chore that will take at least an hour. I would never agree to do it myself, but I know how much she likes to play with my hair, and I’m a such a sucker when it comes to my big sister.
“So, since you’ve decided we’re getting all dressed up, where are we going tonight?” I ask as she pulls into the parking lot of my apartment complex.
“Have you ever been to Aussie’s?” she asks, sweeping a non-existent hair behind her ear.
That move right there—it’s her tell. She’s most certainly keeping something from me.
“Aussie’s? Aussie’s Steakhouse?” I deadpan. She smiles at me as she shifts into park and turns off her car. “Harper—you are aware that I’m a recent college grad, right? And you are a teacher. We can’t afford Aussie’s, especially not after the money we just dropped at The Smitten Kitten.”
“Teddy Bear,” she coos, reaching over to rest her hand on my knee. “Tonight, money is no object. I’ve got you covered, okay? So, come on. Let’s get upstairs. We need to shower so I can start on your hair.”
She’s out of the car before I can say a thing. It takes me a moment to get my wits about me, but when I do, I climb out of her car to find that she’s already grabbed her overnight bag and both of our recent purchases.
“Money is no object? Seriously? You better start talking, Harp.”
With a giggle, she walks past me, heading for the stairs that lead to my third-story unit. “Come on, Teddy. We only have a couple of hours.”
I stifle a groan as I follow after her. Something tells me that whatever she’s got up her sleeve, I won’t like it. “You know, you might think you can get me to do anything, but you’re wrong,” I inform her as I let us into my home. “If you don’t start being a whole lot more transparent, I’m going to sit my tatted ass on that couch and watch you get ready for whatever fancy dinner you’ve planned. I don’t even like steak, by the way.”
“First of all,” she says, dumping all of our things in my empty armchair. “They serve more than steak at Aussie’s. Second, your tatted ass is going out with me tonight.” She points a finger at me before she turns and heads for the kitchen. “Third, I’ll be as transparent as you want me to be after—”
When she stops speaking, I fold my arms across my chest and wait impatiently for her to continue. After another moment of silence, I sigh in annoyance.
“After what, Harper?”
She suddenly rounds the corner, an empty glass in her hand, tucked against her chest, and a sly smile curling her lips. “Who’s Jude?”
It isn’t until she asks that I notice the card she holds in her other hand. My cheeks flush, my stomach tingles anxiously, and I have to tighten my arms around my chest to keep myself from reaching into my back pocket for my phone.
Not that I would find anything even if I did look.
He’s not going to call. At this point, I’m sure of it.
“Teddy, you’ve got some explaining to do. Those flowers? Fucking hell!”
I open my mouth to speak, but then promptly seal my lips. I know that I can tell Harper anything, I’ve been doing it for forever; but the humiliation that accompanies this particular story is far too fresh.
“Right, well, I’m going to just hop in the shower,” I say, turning to do just that.
“Oh, no you don’t!” she laughs, sprinting across the room. She grabs hold of my elbow, spinning me back around. “I’ll spill if you will.” I hesitate once more and she arches her brow at me. Knowing that I won’t win this tug-of-war, I surrender.
“Okay, fine.”
“All right. Your turn.” I stare down my sister’s reflection, more than ready for her to take the floor.
“He’s going to call you,” she murmurs from behind me, giving my shoulder a squeeze.
I draw in a deep breath, willing myself to stay calm. We’re in my bedroom and I’m seated on the top step of my step-stool, my hair a recently washed and dried, wild mess. Harper is stalling, and I just might kill her in a second. The only reason I even told her about Judah is because I want to know what she’s hiding. Her reassurance is not only unnecessary, but it’s also unwanted.
“No, see, this is what girls do—they hear the facts and then they twist them into something else, something romantic, something false. He’s not going to call. It’s fine.”
“No man puts in that much effort only to take back his invitation when you’ve finally said yes.”
“Harper Isla Fitzpatrick—if you don’t shut up about Judah, I swear I’ll—”
“Need I really remind you that I’m holding the flatiron?” she asks, interrupting me. “I wouldn’t threaten me if I were you.”
I glare at her reflection. “Hussy.”
“Bitch.”
“Skank.”
“Whore.”
I can’t help but crack a smile at that one. “Yeah, you know me, your regular harlot.”
She laughs and then twists around me to kiss my cheek. “I love you.”
“Love you, too,” I sigh.
“His name is Ben,” she whispers, resting her chin on my shoulder. “He’s amazing. Ah-mazing! And he’s in town for the day, just like me. And we’re meeting him tonight for dinner. And before you say anything about being the third wheel, he’s bringing his brother, so it’ll be sort of like a double date. And you can’t hate me because I really like him—like, I really like him. So, you’re going to come, because you are the best sister in the world, and it’s going to be fun. And you’re going to look hot!”
I gape at her in the mirror, completely and totally speechless. For a full minute, we just stare at one another. Honestly, I don’t even know which part of what she just said that I should address first. I also have to remind myself about her previous warning—she is wielding a flatiron, and I have no weapon to defend
myself against that.
Also—if I piss her off and she doesn’t fix my hair, I’m screwed.
“Okay,” I say before I take a deep, calming breath. “How about you start from the beginning?”
I flick my gaze at my watch when Benjamin looks over at the door for the sixth time. We’ve been standing at a table in the bar for ten minutes, waiting for his date and her sister to arrive. He’s barely touched his drink, but I’m sure the love-sick fool could use it.
“Calm down, kid,” I insist, sipping at my scotch. “It’s not even five minutes after the hour.”
“What? Oh, I’m fine,” he says with a shrug, directing his attention back to me.
“Sure you are.” I shake my head at him as he finally takes a pull of his beer. “You haven’t told me much about her, by the way. I have no idea what I’m in for tonight.”
“She’s great,” he practically gushes.
I cough, covering my mouth in an attempt to mask my amusement.
“Fuck you,” he laughs. “I’m serious. She’s smart and she’s funny—god, she’s funny. She’s got the foulest mouth I’ve ever heard on a woman, and it’s sexy as hell; but only because she’s actually really sweet, which is such a beautiful contradiction. She’s a knock-out, too.”
“How’d you meet?” I ask, hoping to keep him distracted while we wait.
“At a charity event.”
“Of course,” I pipe in with a knowing smirk.
Benjamin sits on the board of three separate charities. It’s always been a big passion of his—giving back. There was a time in his life when he needed all the help and support that he could get. He believes wholeheartedly that he wouldn’t be as successful as he is now if not for the advocates who fought for him when he was a child.
“It was an orchestra concert event,” he continues. “It was put on by a group of teachers and professors all across Colorado Memorial Day weekend; and it was actually a very successful night. We raised over ten grand.”