by Logan Chance
She looks down at his hands. “Because you like to paint?”
Ah, I watch her with impressed eyes that she picked up such a small detail. “Yeah,” he reveals, watching her with eyes as impressed as mine.
“You like living here?” I ask him.
“If you don’t like getting into trouble, sure it’s fine.”
“Like what kind of trouble?”
My mind is on drugs, burglary, money laundering, but he answers with, “Dirt bike racing.”
“Ah, now that’s something I can get on board with.” I glimpse over at Addison. “But, don’t tell the wife.”
He laughs. “Sure. I’m still trying to get my parents on board with the whole thing. They think it’s dangerous.”
I smile and wink. “It is.”
His phone rings and he slides it out of his hoodie pocket, stares at the screen but doesn’t answer. “It’s my mom.”
“Everything at home ok?” Addison asks. With a little more prodding, I bet he’d be more than happy to spill some secrets about his parents, but I also know you can’t push a teen too hard.
“Yeah, we just had a fight.”
Ah, now we’re getting somewhere; never underestimate the power of a beautiful blonde. “Why’s that?” I ask.
His eyes dart around and he chews on his bottom lip. “Nothing.”
I rise, deciding it’s best to let her handle getting more info from him. Sometimes, the best ‘man’ for a job is a woman. “I’m going to roll the trash to the curb.”
So Addison can work a little more voodoo on Preston, like she has me, I take a little extra time dragging the green containers to the end of the driveway.
When I return, she’s handled it alright.
“Spoke to Miffie, and Preston is going to crash here tonight. He’ll go home before church tomorrow.”
Church? “Ok,” I answer, hiding my surprise. I can’t wait to hear how this came about.
She sets him up in the living room, so he can watch TV, and tells him she’ll get his room ready. Then, I follow her upstairs like this is all perfectly normal.
We step into her room, and I close the door. “How in the hell is that kid now sleeping here?” I whisper.
“They argued over his dirt bike.” She sits on the edge of the bed. “Listen,” she whispers back, looking like a very cute animal caught in a trap, “these people have real issues. And so do we. This means you have to sleep with me tonight.”
Well, fuck. Not going to lie, that doesn’t bother me one bit. Addison, however, acts like she’s ready to chew her arm off to escape.
I step closer. “Right or left side?”
“What do you mean?”
“Which side of the bed do you sleep on?”
“Oh, the left side.”
“Perfect.”
She stands with a sigh. “I’ll go tell him where the guest room is and give you time to hide all your things, so he doesn’t suspect anything.”
And that’s what I do for the next fifteen minutes. By the time I’m done, it’s like a normal unused guest room complete with a hard ass bed. You’re welcome, Preston. Homelife won't seem so bad after sleeping on that rock.
Since Buckley probably won’t go for my normal sleep attire—nothing but my boxer briefs—I change into ball shorts and a T-shirt before hitting the hallway bathroom to brush my teeth.
Addison returns just as I’m getting into bed. “Everything good?” I ask, slipping onto what feels like a cloud.
She nods and her eyes sweep up my legs, singeing the fine hairs, before she enters the master bathroom and shuts the door.
Five minutes later, she returns with a wary look on her makeup free face, and as she climbs in bed beside me, asks with minty breath, “You're not a cover hog are you?”
“Guess you’ll find out,” I answer with a grin.
She burrows under the covers, sticking a tubular pillow between us.
“There’s something there with the Pattersons, but I can’t believe Miffie would be laundering money for the mob.”
“It’s always the ones you never suspect.”
“Well, I’d put my money on anyone else but them.” She turns to face me, tucking a hand under her cheek against the pillow. “She seemed really upset about Preston.” Her drowsy eyes touch every part of my face while she speaks. “I felt bad for her. I just can’t picture any of these people working for Matteo.”
“One of them is. Maybe Preston will give us a clue.”
“I didn’t offer him to stay because of the case,” she says, softly. “I was in and out of foster homes growing up, and had some messed up men in my life, and it would’ve been nice if someone offered me that when I needed it.”
It feels like she punched me in the gut. I’d rather think she’s a pretentious tightass, because the alternative is… well, it’s not fucking good.
“You can’t get too close, Addison,” I warn, feeling something protective rise up inside of me.
“I’m not.”
But, I don’t believe her. It’s written all over her pretty face. “I mean it. I don’t want to see you get hurt.”
It’s silent for a moment or two, and I try to block out the temptation of having her in bed with me. If she stares at my mouth one more time, I might just kiss her, and it wouldn’t be for pretend.
“Call me crazy,” she finally says, “but I kind of had fun tonight.”
“Call me crazy too then.”
Our eyes stay connected and I can’t turn away, I don’t really want to either. There’s so many other things I could be doing right now. I need to check the monitors to see what the neighborhood was up to while the party was going on. As popular as I’d like to believe we are, I know not everyone was at our house this evening. But I can not remove myself from this bed, even though I should.
“Do you think we’ll figure this one out?” she asks, like I hold all the answers.
“Of course we will.”
I’ll ask God to forgive me for my lie tomorrow, because right now, I have no fucking clue if we ever will.
Thirteen
Addison
Things to ponder when you’re awake at dawn:
•Is that a Captain America shield tattooed on the forearm draped over me?
•How do you get one inch of space in a king-sized bed?
•Why am I not removing myself from Vin’s chokehold spoon?
•Is God really a woman?
Vin isn’t a cover hog—he’s a complete bed hog. I woke on the edge of the bed with him curled around me like the letter s, and that’s where I’ve remained, thinking about this case while he sleeps. Truth of the matter is, Vin isn’t wrong here. I need to reign in my emotions and not let them get away from me. I like this place. I like the women. And I kind of like Vin. Is that so wrong?
My loner life is like a distant memory. And I like that too.
The sun rises, shining brighter through the window, and that’s not all that’s on the rise.
Vin’s morning wood nudges between my ass cheeks, and my body instinctively wants to nudge back. Let him slip inside for a little wake up call to my vagina. It’s been out of use longer than Sleeping Beauty. That’s my signal to get out of this bed.
Gingerly, I lift his arm and creep off the bed without waking him. Or so I think.
“It’s too early to get up,” his sexy morning voice complains.
“We have church in a few hours. I told Miffie we’d be there.”
His rumpled dark head turns to face me, but he doesn’t leave the bed. I’m going with or without him. I need to speak to Jesus and ask for some divine intervention to solve this case so I can get out of this house before I do something I’ll regret. Like climb back into bed and beg Vin to kiss me.
“Ok, I’ll be ready in a few,” he finally says.
I turn away and grab the things I’ll need to get ready, before hustling away from his sleepy-eyed stare, and into the bathroom.
By the time I shower, dress for church, and wander downstair
s, Preston is gone. I have a text from Miffie informing me he’s back home and thanking me for everything. I send back a smiley emoji with a ‘you’re welcome’ and throw in some prayer hands.
I try my best to avoid Vin—so sinful in black slacks, a white button-down, and blue tie—as he moves around the kitchen preparing breakfast.
He has the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, showing off his arm porn. I don’t know what it is, but a man is ten times sexier with his sleeves rolled up and intricate black ink weaving over the skin of his forearms.
Lord, help me.
“Eggs?” he asks, trailing his eyes down my modest navy shift dress to my heels.
I nod. “Sure, ok.”
He scrambles a few eggs, and pops some bread into the toaster. “Toast?”
I nod again, not saying anything. What I really want is coffee. And lots of it. I need to wake up and get out of this dream where I lust for Vin Mills.
“You ok?” he asks.
“I’m fine.”
After breakfast, we pile into the Rover and head to the stone church across the road from the shopping center.
“Listen,” Vin says, taking my hand as we walk toward the chapel, “if I burst into flames when I step inside, just know, that was the best night's sleep I’ve ever had.”
My stomach does this weird thing, like I just caught air going down a steep hill, because actually, it was mine too.
I plaster on a promotion winning smile as we step in through the front doors. Soft, gospel music plays throughout the pious chapel.
I let go of his hand, and miss the warmth of his touch immediately. But, this is no time to think about the small crush I may or may not have on my partner.
I stop cold.
Miffie and Helena are in a heated discussion just outside of the restrooms. They‘re too absorbed in their intense discussion to notice me, so I tell Vin I’ll be right back and slip into a small alcove where I can eavesdrop.
“Tell your husband to stay out of Chester’s store,” Helena snips. “It’s no big secret Chester isn’t fond of Richard.”
“He wouldn’t be caught dead there anyway,” Miffie’s high-pitched voice replies.
“Hey there, Addison,” a male voice says from behind me, giving away my position.
Speak of the devil, it’s Chester, Helena’s husband, and I have no good reason to be standing here. I’m caught with my hand in the cookie jar, so I stick my literal hand in my purse, digging around as if searching for something that could have caused me to stop in my tracks to retrieve it. “Hi,” I say back to him.
Both Helena and Miffie stop speaking, and when I glance over, Miffie has vanished like Jesus from his tomb on Easter morning.
As if she wasn’t just in a war of words, a now smiling Helena, joins her husband.
“Addison, I’ll see you tomorrow morning, right?” She swings her arms like she’s swinging a tennis racket.
“Absolutely, I’ll be there,” I say a bit too chipper.
“Babe, there you are.” Vin’s hand snakes around my waist, and phew.
“Here I am.” I turn into his embrace. “I think I got lost. This place is huge.” I look over at Helena and Chester. “Have a blessed day.”
We leave them and pass under the rococo-carved archway to enter the main chapel. Sunlight pours in through the stained-glass windows, and we find an empty pew near the back and slide in. The organ plays a soft religious melody, and the chapel fills with families, piling into pews before the service begins.
I lean over to Vin, whispering in his ear. “Miffie and Helena were having a big issue out there.”
“Wonder what it was about? Make sure to ask Helena tomorrow at tennis.”
I tap the temple of my head. “On it.”
I lean back in the wooden pew, glancing around at all the families sitting together. I can’t stop watching, and a sense of longing passes over me.
Vin wraps an arm around me, playing the part of the doting husband. “Everything ok?” he whispers into my ear.
“I never had this.”
He leans back to stare into my eyes. “Had what?”
“This. Family. Any of it. I never had a family to sit with at church.”
His arm squeezes me a bit tighter. “It’s not all it’s cracked up to be.”
“You hate your family?” I ask, wondering how anyone could hate the very people who are supposed to love you.
I wouldn’t know, though. Growing up in foster homes, and being shuffled around every few years, wasn’t exactly a bonding experience. Never once did I feel like I belonged.
He stares at me for a beat too long, like he doesn’t know how to answer. “Hate is a very strong word. I don’t hate my family.” Then, he scoots closer. “Nothing is black and white when it comes to families. It’s all gray and foggy. Families can be difficult. They can want you to take over your father’s lumber business instead of becoming an agent. You can fight. And the fight can last for years, but you never hate them.”
“I guess nothing is ever perfect,” I say, trying my best to understand.
“You never tried searching for your birth parents?”
“They both died in a car accident,” I share with him, to my surprise. “I was the only one who survived, and there was no other family. I was only three.”
“Shit,” he breathes out. And then, he must remember where we are because he makes sure no one heard him. “Fuck, I didn’t mean to say that. Shit. Wait. Sorry.”
I giggle to myself, trying not to let anyone in the church see me. “It’s ok.”
He turns away from me when the preacher speaks from his podium. And just like most people sitting in here today, we listen to the words he has to say.
The preacher talks about loving your community. Of course, the sermon today would focus on something I know nothing of. But, it makes me listen harder, wondering how it is I’ve become a part of this world in the Highlands, and how for the first time in my whole life, I kind of feel like I belong here.
When the preacher finishes his sermon, and the last hymn is sung, the churchgoers exit the chapel and head out to have conversations in the parking lot before heading home. Vin and I mingle a bit with Miffie and Preston before they leave to do family things.
“Should we swing by the grocery store?” Vin asks, once we’re in the Rover.
“Might as well,” I answer.
I’ve never shopped with anyone before, so this can be added to the never have I ever list. After we park, he grabs a cart from one of the stalls before we enter the bustling store. Domesticated Vin is very tempting.
We enter the store, and the first aisle we come to is the pet area. “Oh look,” I say, reaching out to pluck a little ball of string from the end display. “Maybe we can get the cat a toy?”
Vin stops with his hands on the cart. “If we’re going to get him a toy, we need to get him this.” His eyes light up as he reaches for a shield with a star on the front of it. “This is what I’m talking about here.” He holds it up.
“Is that Captain America’s shield?” I ask.
“Sure is. The cat will love it.”
“You know, if we’re going to buy the cat toys, maybe he should have a name too?” I bite the bottom of my lip, waiting to see how Vin feels about it.
He nods. “Ok. What name are you thinking?”
I glance at the shield in his hand. “Cap?” I ask, using the nickname most of the other avengers called Captain America.
Vin smiles like I’m a superhero. “I love it. Cap the cat.” He throws the shield into the cart.
“Listen,” I tell him as we walk toward the produce section, “sorry for unloading that on you in church.”
He looks over at me. “My shoulders are broad enough for whatever you want to put on them.” He stops the cart by the bananas with a very serious expression on his face. “Don’t feel like you have to carry things alone.”
My stomach takes another little freefall dip. “That might be the nicest thing an
yone has ever said to me.”
“I’m sure people have said nicer things.”
“No,” I answer honestly. Sure, they’ve said nice things, but the depth of what he offered isn’t lost on me.
“Well, it’ll be our little secret.” He grins. “Gotta keep my street cred.”
I return his grin. He’s really not what I expected at all.
“Nice backhand,” Helena calls from the other side of the tennis court as I land another ball over the net.
It’s been forever since I’ve played, but it’s like riding a bike, the game comes back in a flash. And it feels so good to work out this restless energy.
Obviously, I’ve never played anywhere as posh as the courts here, but the game is all the same no matter how much fancy you wrap it in, and The Highlands Country Club is certainly fancy.
This place is like the White House.
Fat, white pillars outline the front of the club, which houses two upscale restaurants and is surrounded by a competitive golf course. It’s very elegant and seems just the type of place Helena would frequent.
But, it’s not the only club in town. And it’s not the club the Pattersons attend.
Helena let me know early on this morning the argument I overheard with her and Miffie at church was due to some golfing tournament between the two clubs of the Highlands. Apparently, Richard and Chester haven’t gotten along since Chester lost with a double bogey.
Hopefully, Helena won’t shut me out once I finish spanking her ass in this game. She bends her knees, waiting on my serve, and I send a zinger over the net that she fails to return.
Instead of throwing her racket at me, like I expect, she hits me with a toothy smile that is whiter than her sleeveless tennis dress.
“You gave me a workout. Great game,” she congratulates me.
She invites me for a light lunch, and I follow her into the restaurant hoping I can get something useful out of this to help us with the case. We take a seat near the window with a view of the lush greens of the fairway.
“Why isn’t Miffie a member here?” I ask, settling a linen napkin in my lap. “It’s beautiful.”
She shrugs. “Richard and Miffie are having financial problems,” Helena says, leaning in close to me as if this is the biggest and most important secret in the world. And I guess in the Highlands, it is.