by Jodie Larson
Lizzie nods and takes a sip of her soda. “They miss the warm air, that’s for sure. I think my dad said the temperature had dropped to the lower thirties when they got off the plane. My fear is they’ll want to come out here.” She widens her eyes dramatically. “I love my parents, I really do, but they can be a bit over the top at times.”
Breck laughs. “They care about you. It’s sweet.”
“Yeah,” she says, looking at him. “But so are your parents and they only stayed for a few days. Mine were here for two weeks.”
“That’s because mine are used to the arrangement,” he says. “You need to remember that their golden child moved across the country and their oldest is getting ready to have a baby.”
“I’m not their golden child and Tatum is barely pregnant. It’ll be months before he or she will be here. And besides, they didn’t know she was expecting until they got their gift.”
Myles and Tatum had given his parents T-shirts that said “World’s Greatest Grandparent” on the front. I think Susan tried hugging the life right out of Tatum. Then the tears started coming. The guys all retreated to Kade’s mancave while the women talked everything baby, including my mom.
That’s all I need is for her to get on my case about finding a girl and settling down.
“Compared to Myles? Yeah, you’re the golden one.”
She shrugs. “Can’t argue there.”
“That’s for sure,” I say. “I don’t think I’d ever describe Myles as being the golden anything.”
Jenny calls the fake name Breck gives at public places. He bends down to kiss Lizzie’s forehead before heading up to get the two trays heaped with food. I wasn’t expecting that. I figured we’d be getting the bare minimum like most places around here. High price, low quantity.
I grab my food off the tray as Breck distributes his and Lizzie’s food. Unwrapping my first taco, I stare at it for a second, trying to understand what exactly I’m looking at.
“It’s coleslaw. Don’t worry, it’s really good,” Breck says. Lizzie’s also eyeing the strange concoction. At least I’m not the only one who thinks it’s weird.
“Here.” Brecken takes one of the sweet chili packets and puts it on top of his taco, followed by some freshly squeezed lime. Lizzie and I shrug and follow suit. One packet may not be enough. I’ll judge after the first bite.
A small hum escapes as I chew. It’s good; a nice surprise. Wasn’t expecting that by any means. Part of me was expecting it to be fishy with little flavor. What I get is the exact opposite. The lime really brings it all together.
I could get used to this.
We finish our first taco, trading comments before pulling out the next one and repeating the process. Breck brings up our promo tour around the city while Lizzie talks about her list of sights to hit up while she has downtime. Of course, Brecken takes a few of them off her list because he wants to be the one to show her around.
It’s almost comical listening to them because they sound like an old married couple. Not surprising. They’ve been practically joined at the hip for the last few months, minus that period where they needed to figure their shit out.
I crumple up my wrapper and toss it on the tray. “Well, thanks for the invite, but I think I’m going to head back.”
“No,” Lizzie says, a frown pulling at her lips. “Stay. Please. We don’t hang out anymore.”
“We didn’t really hang out before,” I reply.
Lizzie’s frown deepens. “Pax, I know it’s hard on you. I do see it. My biggest fear is making you feel like I’m pushing you out. You and Breck did everything together and now I’m here, throwing a wrench into your life.”
Shit. She shouldn’t feel like this. It wasn’t my intention to make her feel like a burden, or less welcome in our home. Lizzie has every right to be there. I just need to accept that it won’t be me and Breck anymore, that he has someone in his life that he truly loves.
I’m an asshole.
“You’re not throwing a wrench into anything.” I pat her hand with a smile. “Besides, you’re not a plumber. And Breck told me about your skills with tools, so I think I’m safe, even if you throw something.” Lizzie tosses a glare at Brecken. I laugh at his embarrassment. “I’m a big boy. I can take care of myself, though I appreciate the inclusion. Tell you what.” I tap the edge of the table with my fingers. “Let’s pick one night a week to all go out and do something together. Deal?”
I’m hoping she goes for this plan. The thought of her feeling guilty for something that’s my issue will eat me alive.
Her green eyes brighten with excitement. “Deal.”
I look to Breck, who nods in agreement. Good. Now we can get over the awkward and get back to normal.
They lace their fingers together and I take it as my cue to leave. “Okay, lovebirds, I’m heading back to the nest. Don’t stay out too late. It is a school night.” I laugh at my own joke.
Breck nods. “Yes, Dad.” He gives me a mock salute as I push my chair back to stand.
As I step away from the table, the bell above the door sounds. In a flash, the most attractive blonde I’ve ever seen flies to the register, brushing a few strands of hair from her face as she places both hands on the counter.
“Jenny! I’m so sorry, but I forgot my lunch earlier and I’m starving. Can you grab me the usual?” She taps her foot on the ground. “Please?” Despair rings in her voice as she pleads her case.
Jenny looks up and tries to hold back her smile. “Again? Geez, you’d forget your head if it wasn’t attached to you.” The blonde whimpers and chews on her lip. “Fine, give me a minute and I’ll have Carlos whip you up something fast.”
“Oh, thank you. You’re a lifesaver.”
When Jenny disappears to the kitchen, the distraught woman at the front turns slightly as she continually twists the watch around her wrist. It takes me a second to gather my thoughts as I not-so-subtly stare at her. She’s about Lizzie’s height, or I think she is. Hard to accurately assess from back here. Her hair is half pulled back with loose curls framing her face. She is beautiful; an effortless beauty really. Sure, I may be on the opposite side of the restaurant, but it’s only about twenty feet and I can see the simple makeup she’s wearing. It’s not flashy or drawing attention to any one part of her face. She doesn’t need to.
Those eyes, though. There’s something about them that I can’t look away from. She’s smiling, but they’re sad. Tired. Longing.
Brecken clears his throat, reminding me that I’m standing up for no good reason in a very empty restaurant. I waver between pulling my chair out again or walking to the door, even if it’s just to get a better glimpse of her.
“You okay?” he asks, trying—and failing—to hide the amusement in his voice.
I look at him and nod. “Yeah. Uh, fine.” From the corner of my eye, I see Jenny come out from the back, carrying a brown to-go bag in her hand. Using this as my chance for a better look, I turn back to Breck and Lizzie. “See you guys later.”
The closer I get to the counter, the more of the blonde’s body comes into view. Clad in khaki pants and a black polo shirt, I start my gaze at her long legs, following them up to her curvy hips and narrow waist. An hourglass figure I haven’t seen in a long time. Most of the girls around here are rail thin with little to no definition at all. Not her. She has curves in all the right places.
Jenny hands her the bag and smiles. “I took care of it for you.”
Smiling, the woman accepts the offered bag and smiles. “You’re an angel. I’ll pay you back later.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Jenny says. “I’m sure I owe you for something.”
Clasping the bag in her hand, she waves goodbye but turns too fast and loses her balance, colliding with a table and knocking the purse off her shoulder, spilling it and the contents to the floor. I quickly spring into action.
“Here, let me help you.” I bend down and help gather her belongings as she drops to her knees and does the sa
me.
“Oh, my gosh, I’m so clumsy. Thank you so much.” For the first time, she looks at me and flashes a genuine smile; little lines creasing her mouth as if they were meant to be there. And just as I thought from across the room, it’s confirmed with mere inches between us.
She’s beautiful.
I dump the items into her purse and extend a hand. She takes it, gently pulling her up, making sure she’s balanced before letting go.
“Thanks, again,” she says.
I shove my hands into my pockets, causing the sleeves of my shirt to tighten as my biceps flex naturally. “No problem.”
For half a second, we stare at one another. The blues of her eyes are clear, almost like the color of the sky. Bright and shiny. Like nothing I’ve seen before.
Before I have the chance to introduce myself, she glances at her watch again and all levity from her expression leaves.
“I’m sorry to cut and run, but I’m really late. Thank you, again, for helping me. I really appreciate it.”
And just like that, she flies out the door and disappears into the wind. No name, nothing to go by on how to find her again.
Except for the fact Jenny seems to know her usual order.
Looks like Brecken isn’t the only one who will be frequenting this place more often.
The heavy scent of coffee fills the air as I stumble from my room, scratching my stomach while running my fingers through my hair. Dark roast, my favorite. I’ve slowly turned the other two onto the flavor after I refused to buy anything else. Of course, they tarnish it with their fancy creamers, ruining a perfectly good cup of black deliciousness.
“Morning,” Lizzie says, barely looking alive. Honestly, I’m surprised she’s up at all. Five a.m. isn’t exactly a normal time to get up, especially for someone who doesn’t have to work today. Brecken leans his head against his propped-up hand, his heavy lids barely staying open. I walk around the counter and grab my favorite mug—the one with the middle finger on the bottom. Filling it to the brim, I blow against the steaming liquid and take that first necessary sip.
Perfection.
Grabbing my usual stool, I sit and snatch the variety section of the paper that Brecken is pretending to read.
“Why do they have to schedule radio interviews so early in the morning?” Brecken yawns, almost like a lion’s roar before picking up his mug and taking a sip of coffee.
“Because most radio shows start at six. Gotta entertain those morning commuters.”
“That’s stupid.” He yawns again while flipping the page. “Why can’t work start at ten?”
Lizzie quirks a brow. “Has it really been that long since you’ve had a normal job?”
Breck shrugs. “Kinda.”
I withhold my laugh as she rolls her eyes. “Here, let me hold your silver spoon while you drink your coffee.” She gives a yelp as he drags her onto his lap and nips at her neck.
“I’ll show you what you can hold.”
Oh, God. Please. Let me get through the morning without wanting to gouge out my eyes.
Clearing my throat, they get the point and disengage from each other. Lizzie has the decency to look apologetic.
“I’m just saying, when I had my hospital stint during clinicals, I’d have to get up earlier than this. And there were days when I’d be getting home around this hour.”
“Hey, we have late nights, too,” I say.
She gives me a pointed stare. “Coming home late because you were partying is not the same. When you come home smelling like vomit and various other bodily fluids, then we’ll talk.”
“You’ve never partied with your brother, have you.” Not so much a question as I laugh at my joke.
A visible shudder runs through her body, folding her arms close to her chest as if she’s freezing. “Gross. Now I can’t enjoy my coffee and I’ll have nightmares once I go back to bed. Thanks, Pax.”
“You’re welcome.” I raise my mug in salute and enjoy her discomfort. One good thing about Lizzie: she’s basically one of the guys. To an extent. Kinda nice that we don’t have to censor ourselves around her.
After draining the last of my coffee, I head back to my bedroom and jump through a quick shower, making sure to relieve all tension from my body as I rub one out under the hot water. Listening to those two is borderline pornographic some days, which isn’t helping my neglected libido. So, I’m on a bit of a dry spell. Not the end of the world. All one needs is a good imagination and a free hand.
The benefit of needing to be out before the rest of the working population is the morning commute isn’t quite as bad. An hour and a half later, we’re sitting in the back of some radio station, the first of three scheduled stops today. The best compliment I can give them is the furniture looks new and not like it was picked up off the side of the road. Some of the furniture I’ve seen along the way has been a stretch to actually call it furniture. There was one couch in particular that I didn’t sit on because, at some point, I wanted children and the visible springs could have hindered that possibility of ever happening.
The four of us sit in silence, barely functioning. Except for Kade. The only thing staining his usual perfect appearance are the dark circles under his eyes.
“Suppose you’re used to not sleeping much, huh?” I ask him.
He nods and takes a sip from his Yeti. “Yeah, Lyric has decided she hated sleeping again, so we’re back to waking up every few hours. I almost felt bad leaving Adrienne this morning. Then I remembered Lyric’s exploded diaper that Adrienne woke me up for and I got over it.”
Myles picks his head up as he laughs. “Oh, man. I don’t want to hear about your horror stories. I’m still trying to wrap my head around Tatum being pregnant.”
“Dude, it’s been four months and you still haven’t come to terms with it?” Breck asks.
“It’s a slow process,” Myles says. “I’m still not sure what happened this time to make the baby when we struggled for months.”
“Well, when a man and a woman love each other very much…” I dodge the throw pillow as it sails by my head.
“I’m not confused by the mechanics of it, dick. It’d be nice to know which technique worked so we can try it again once the baby comes.”
I raise my brows. “Oh, God. You’re planning on more? Won’t one mini-you be enough?”
Myles smirks. “Tatum wants three, so you better come to terms with it now.”
Lord, help us now.
A knock at the door turns our heads and the station manager, Brett, walks through.
“Hey, guys. Thanks for stopping by so early in the morning.”
Kade stands and shakes his hand. “No problem.” We go through the formal introductions and the general expectations. Pretty standard.
The whole interview takes less than twenty minutes. We take a few callers, play an acoustic song for the DJs, and sign some CDs and shirts for later giveaways. Within a half hour, we’re back in the town car and heading to the next stop.
Rinse and repeat. Twice.
By ten o’clock, I’m dragging ass and in desperate need of a nap or coffee. Kade stops us before exiting the car in front of our condo.
“Don’t forget. We have meetings this afternoon, so do what you need to do then be back around two.”
So much for my nap. Looks like it’s coffee for the win. Breck, on the other hand, stumbles out of the car, barely keeping his eyes open.
“I’m heading upstairs to crash for a couple hours.”
I hook my thumb over my shoulder. “Sounds good. I was gonna ask if you wanted some coffee, but looks like I have my answer.”
He nods and opens the door, waving to the girl behind the desk before grabbing the elevator. We both know he won’t be sleeping right away. He’ll make himself “tired” first. Something I don’t want to think about.
With that unsavory thought, I pull the earbuds from my pocket and plug them into my phone, scrolling through my playlist until stopping on “Breakdown” by Tantric.
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There’s a coffee place just a couple blocks over that I discovered a few weeks ago. I’ve been trying to hit it up more often, but with Lizzie constantly making coffee for us, I haven’t had the need to venture out.
The morning sun feels good after being in the freezing studio rooms. I understand the whole concept of keeping it cool due to all the electronics, but it shouldn’t feel like it could snow at any given moment. The last one was the worst. When Kade has a hard time strumming a guitar, you know it’s bad.
I weave through the busy sidewalks, keeping a low profile, as much as I can. I should have grabbed my hat. Not one person acknowledges my existence as they pass by, so maybe it won’t be so bad.
A tiny bell above the door jingles as I enter the coffee shop and slide my aviators on top of my head. What the fuck is up with everyone needing that stupid annoying noise? The barista behind the counter runs from machine to machine, filling multiple orders at once. There’s a small line waiting as she calls out for the next person. Taking my spot at the end, I tap my fingers against my leg as Nirvana fills my ears. “In Bloom” is one of my favorite tracks and I try like hell to not start drumming on the guy’s back in front of me.
“Next,” a bright, chipper voice says, loud enough so I can hear it over the blaring music.
I pop a bud out, pause the music, and stop in front of the counter. Looking up, I smirk and chuckle to myself. Well, what do you know. As luck would have it, the mystery girl from the other day works at my newly favorite coffee shop, just blocks from my place.
A smile lights up her face, pulling those pink, heart-shaped lips up at the corners.
“Good morning, welcome to Grounded. What can I get for you?”
It takes me a second to register what she asked. I’m too busy focusing on her face and hypnotizing features to answer. Those sky-blue eyes are exactly as I remember, flashing with genuine happiness. Or what I can assume with happiness. I won’t claim to know what she’s thinking, but it’s hard to fake that kind of sincerity. The other barista I’m used to appears to suffer from RBF, or is so bored she can’t even hide it, like she’d rather be anywhere but here.