Rattling Around: The Baxter Boys #5 (The Baxter Boys ~ Rattled)

by Charles, Jane

  It was easy to keep my hands off her when we were at the house because we were surrounded by friends and roommates, and that’s the same reason I didn’t kiss her. I don’t need to hear their shit, which I would once she was gone. But, now that we are alone all restraint is gone.

  No, it’s still there but it wants to disappear.

  I should stop, I really should.

  Instead, I cup her ass and lift until she’s sitting on the table, her legs spread around my hips. If we were naked and not outside, I’d be sinking into her right now.

  I’m also not alone in this. Noelle is just as invested, holding me close, her hand cupping the back of my head, and kissing me with such passion and heat that I might explode without her even touching my dick.

  “Ah, you’re back.”

  Tink’s voice is like being dunked in an ice-filled pool. Noelle freezes and I pull back, look into her eyes and slowly turn to find Tink leaning against the outside doorjamb.

  How long had he been standing there?

  Her legs slip from around me as I pull away and she slides off the table.

  Why do I suddenly feel like I’m a five-year-old caught with my hand in the cookie jar right before dinner?

  “Is Kaden okay?”

  “He’s fine. We just came by to get a few things he forgot.”

  “I’ll go help him.” She grabs the sack and heads for the door.

  “Thanks for everything, Sean, and I’ll let you know about tomorrow.”

  “My…” Crap, answering my pleasure in front of Tink is probably the wrong thing to say right now.

  “Exactly what is everything?” Tink asks.

  “Conversation and internet use.” I sure as hell am not going to tell him about the massage. He’ll kick my ass. At least that’s what I assume by the way he’s staring at me.

  “Be careful,” he says.

  “Always.”

  “Not what I mean.”

  “Me either.”

  “Look, that’s my innocent niece and she’s been through a lot lately. She’s vulnerable.”

  “I’m not taking advantage,” I assure him, then his words sink in. “Innocent?”

  He snorts. “Hell, I don’t know, she doesn’t share that with me, but in my mind she is so remember that.”

  Shit! “Of course.”

  I shove my hands in my pockets and rock back on my heels. “I really like her, but what you just saw, that’s pretty much the extent of well…”

  He nods. “Just watch yourself.” Then he heads inside.

  I blow out a breath and head back home. Why do I feel like I just escaped a fate worse than death?

  Geez, if he’s that way with his adult niece, I wonder how he behaves when a boy shows up to take his daughter out?

  After nodding to everyone who is still in the living room, I head to the basement to get more work done.

  I think my heart about stopped when Tink mentioned innocent. This is not the time in Noelle’s life to be giving that up, but I doubt she is. Not that it matters.

  And, it’s really not up to me when the time is or was right for her. But, we’ve only known each other a few days and her life hasn’t exactly been easy since she arrived from Paris six months ago. Even she admitted that she isn’t even settled into her grandparents’ house. I just can’t help but feel that if we would have had sex, I’d be taking advantage of a vulnerable woman and that is not right. She might not be sorry if it had happened, or might not be for a few weeks, but I wasn’t going to risk it. I need to know that I’m not just an escape and that’s exactly how I felt. And mind-blowing sex, which it would be, is only temporary, like drinking a bottle of wine. Once the haze wears off, the problems are still there.

  Why doesn’t Noelle want to talk about her mom? It doesn’t make sense? She talked about her before the trial but today she clearly wanted that topic off the table. Is it something she’s consciously or subconsciously doing?

  Do I ask? Does she even know?

  Blowing out a sigh, I turn on NPR. Maybe with my mind occupied I’ll come up with some answers.

  I can’t believe I’m sitting in front of a potential employer less than twenty-four hours after applying. When I returned Rosetta’s call this morning she wanted me to come in right away.

  Mrs. Sanchez and I have exchanged pleasantries, and we’ve gone over my resumé and experience and so far, so good.

  “I met with the potential bride this morning,” she says.

  As in the one Joy and I discussed?

  “She loved most of your ideas and signed the contract.”

  “I’m glad.”

  “Joy even came in early and made a mockup of the bouquet sample centerpieces.” Mrs. Sanchez leans back. “Right after the meeting, I was telling Joy that you were just what we needed. Someone with fresh ideas. Maybe European ideas. You certainly thought of things we hadn’t.”

  I’m pretty sure anything I came up with could have been discovered with an internet search. Of course, I don’t tell her that. “I’m really not a wedding planner. I’m a chef and it’s my understanding that your current chef needs cooks.” Even though eventually, if Moira ever moves back, we will be wedding planners, in a sense.

  No we will be caterers. Food and only food.

  “Well, Chef George will need to agree to your hiring, but I also want you.”

  I want to cook. That’s all. But, this is a job offer so I keep quiet. With the low level in my bank account, I can’t exactly afford to be picky right now.

  “The catering is only part time and weekends mainly. Chef George organizes everything based on the menu and he’d be telling you when to report. A busy week is Thursday night through Sunday night, and rarely a Monday, Tuesday or Wednesday, and honestly, rarely a Thursday or Sunday.”

  “A weekend position.” I try not to let the disappointment sink in, and I should have known that would be the case, but I wasn’t considering the catering schedule in the States when I applied. Once school starts, I’ll only have evenings with Kaden and then be gone the entire weekend. That’s not fair to him.

  “Chef George is a personal chef when he’s not catering weddings for us, but for the rest of his staff, they work other jobs.”

  The more she talks, the worse it gets.

  “Which is why I’d like to offer you a position to assist with wedding planning. Joy is a marvel at it, but she really wants to just focus on flowers. But, after what the two of you came up with, I think you’d make a marvelous team.” She smiles and I kind of return it. Rosetta’s trying to push us both into something we don’t really want.

  “The hours are during the day and we can work around what you need, and then you could work the catering end, cooking, for events.”

  This is not at all what I want. But, I also need a job. “What if the ideas I had yesterday were just a fluke and I don’t get another one.”

  She rolls her eyes. “Fresh person. Fresh ideas. That’s what we need.”

  Before I can respond, the door to Rosetta’s office flies open and a man storms in before he tosses papers on the desk.

  “What the hell is this?”

  Rosetta picks up the papers and glances at them. “The email I sent you. The new plans for the European-themed wedding.”

  “This is ridiculous. Who came up with these dishes?”

  I start to raise my hand.

  “This is New York, not France or Italy,” he barks.

  “It’s what the bride wants,” Rosetta argues. “We almost lost her as a client, which we cannot afford to do.”

  “It will cost her more, does she realize that? You didn’t even clear prices per plate with me.”

  “She is fully aware that a new budget will be coming. This is what she wants and money is no object.”

  “Her daddy’s estate in the Hamptons and the reason you are bending over backwards.”

  “With a guest list of the most elite in society.” She stares him down.

  I had no idea the wedding was that
important? This could be Rosetta’s chance to make her mark and grow, but why did the bride come here? It’s an average florist shop with a room dedicated to wedding planning. More Mom and Pop than Fifth Avenue.

  “Where the hell did she even come from?”

  “A friend of Joy’s walks her dog.”

  Chef George rolls his eyes. “Don’t get a damn dog if you can’t walk it yourself.”

  He turns and sees me, and I think he just now noticed that I’m in the room. “Who are you?”

  “Hopefully, a new cook for you,” Mrs. Sanchez answers.

  He turns to Rosetta, a fist on his hip. “I hire my own kitchen staff.”

  She pulls a piece of paper from the stack on her desk and hands it to him. He reads over it, stroking his chin before looking over it to me. “Let me guess, you came up with that menu.”

  “It’s the theme she wanted.”

  “Yeah, well you won’t be cooking it until you prove yourself to me.”

  I get that. People work closely in a kitchen and you’ve got to be able to get along, though I’m not liking him all that much right now.

  “Tomorrow. Six a.m.,” he pulls a card from his pocket. “My kitchen. We’ll prep and cook, then go to the venue. After the food is done, you serve. Morning wedding, brunch meal. Got it.”

  “Yes,” I practically stammer out.

  “Don’t be late and don’t screw up.”

  He heads for the door then stops and slowly turns. “How come you didn’t complain about serving? With a fancy resumé like yours I thought you’d be above that.”

  “Customers and front of the house are just as important as what is going on in the kitchen,” I tell him.

  “I wish half the people who applied got that. They just want to cook. But, they have to earn that right by clocking time in the dining room.” Then he storms out of the room.

  Great. My first job might be with one of the most unpleasant chefs in New York. But, it’s a job and nobody says that I can’t keep looking until I find the right one for me.

  On my way home, I stop in at the bakery next door and get donuts and muffins to take home. It’s not even noon yet and I’ve already been on an interview and gotten a job. I’ll have to dig through my boxes of clothing for a clean white shirt and black pants, get them laundered and hung, wrinkle free, when I get home. And, I should just get everything unpacked and settle in.

  I finally have a job.

  Another hurdle cleared.

  When I walk in I find Uncle Tink in the living room with Grams and Gramps. “Where’s Kaden?”

  “With Destiny, kicking her ass at some video game,” Uncle Tink answers.

  “I hope she doesn’t mind hanging with him.” She’s a teenager and I’m pretty sure that spending the day with her eight-year-old cousin two days in a row doesn’t rank high on her “what I want to do with my summer vacation” list.

  “Nah. She’s having a good time. By the way,” he gets sheepish and pushes his foot back and forth on the carpet. “We’re headed up to the lake in a few days, Destiny is thinking Kaden might like to stay up at there for a week to play with the cousins, maybe swim in the lake, that type of thing.”

  “You mean, the Commune.” That’s what I call the strip of land outside of the school Grams’ side of the family founded. Practically all of Grams’ nieces and nephews built a house along the lake. Grams has land there too because the land that wasn’t used for the school was divided and left to the two kids—Grams and her brother—in a will. She never did anything with her land because Gramps worked in the city. They had thought about building a lake house once upon a time but never did. Then Grams gave Uncle Tink half of the land because he did want a lake house. The rest was to go to Mom if and when she wanted it.

  Crap, that land will now belong to me and Kaden, unless Grams decides to leave it all to Uncle Tink now. It’s not like I’d do anything with it.

  “Don’t call it that,” Uncle Tink says. “They aren’t a cult.”

  Not really, but what family wants to live that close to each other? Though, some just use their places for vacation and visiting, but others are year round.

  “You need to come up this weekend too,” he says.

  “Why?” I like it up there, but not as much as most.

  “You need to step in for your mom.”

  My heart skips. “Her place on the Foundation?” Crap, I’m inheriting a lot of things I never wanted.

  “It’s your duty and your inheritance.”

  “Really, a requirement?”

  Again, he looks me dead in the eye. “Don’t play dumb, Noelle, you’ve always known this comes with your birthright. You need to start thinking about what you are going to do to make a difference.”

  Anger shoots through me. “Have you forgotten that I have a brother to raise, no money, and no skills to make a difference.”

  “It’s not all about money.”

  I know it isn’t, but I’m tired. Can’t I just be for a few days, a week, even a month, before I’m out there?

  It’s selfish, but I just want to take care of myself for a little bit.

  Except, I was doing nothing but taking care of myself from the moment I moved to Paris and until I came home. It is time to give back. Grams instilled that in me since I could remember. I am blessed and am lucky to have what I have, and will have, and I need to take care of others when the time comes. I just don’t know what the hell it is that I can do.

  “What did Mom do?”

  Uncle Tink frowns. “The Art Center. She taught music. Don’t you remember?”

  “That’s closed.”

  “Because she had to quit after she got pregnant with Kaden.”

  I didn’t know that was the reason. But then, I was spending little time at the Center. “Do you think Gary made her?”

  He snorts. “I wouldn’t be surprised.”

  If it was still around, I would do something there because helping kids was important to Mom. Maybe it’s in the Baxter genes or something. “All I know how to do is cook. I have no other skills”

  “I’m sure you’ll find your niche. Everyone has one, but it’s important that you come up this weekend. Everybody will be there.”

  “Big meeting?”

  “Just a normal one, to deal with stuff.”

  “I’d love to,” I lie. “But can’t.”

  “What else are you doing this weekend?”

  “I just got a job and will be helping cater a wedding tomorrow.” Then I go on to tell my grandparents and Uncle Tink about the interview and offer. As I’m finished there is a knock at the back door.

  16

  “Which sink is clogged?” I ask Mr. Dempsey. He called about half an hour ago but I took my time getting cleaned up before I came over since I might run into Noelle.

  Damn, I’m like a kid with his first crush where she’s concerned.

  “Jesus, Dad, I am right here!” Tink grumbles. “I can fix a damn clog.”

  Zach walks around me and goes straight to Mrs. Dempsey, bends and places a kiss on her cheek.

  She blushes and smiles. “What is that for?”

  “You look exceptionally radiant today,” he flirts with her.

  Tink pulls himself up from the couch. “Where is that clog?” He looks at his dad. “I’ll fix it.”

  Mr. Dempsey stands, leaning heavily on his cane. “No, you’re not because we need to have that other talk.”

  Tink closes his eyes for a moment and then he nods.

  “That’s why I asked Sean to come over with Zach.” Then he turns to my roommate. “Zach, can you take Doris outside so she can enjoy the weather?”

  “Of course,” he says instantly. “Come along Mrs. Dempsey. You can show me your garden.” Zach gives us a quick look. I know he’s wondering what is going on because the question is in his eyes, but he’ll get Mrs. Dempsey out of here for a private discussion.

  “Well, I’ll go fix the clog,” I say, still wondering what needs fixed because he hasn’
t told me yet.

  “There’s no clog. You’re needed for this conversation. At least some of it,” Mr. Dempsey answers.

  Why would they need me? I assumed this was a family matter.

  Or, Tink told him about last night. I hope they don’t really think Noelle and I need to be talked to. We are adults and can do what we want. It’s not like we’re fifteen and sixteen and need to be reminded of the dangers of sex.

  “Noelle is going to need your help. I trust you and don’t want her taken advantage of in any way,” Mr. Dempsey says.

  I’m not sure how to take that. Not that I’d ever take advantage of Noelle but I’m kind of wondering what Tink told his dad and give him a look.

  “Not that.” He shakes his head and looks away.

  “What are you talking about, Gramps?” Noelle asks.

  He doesn’t answer. Instead he goes to a desk and takes documents out of the top drawer. “You should sit too, Sean.”

  I take a chair facing Noelle. She’s as lost as I am and I want to gauge her reaction. Whatever this is, it is important and I hope she’s not hit with something hard. She’s been hit with enough.

  “I’m just going to put it out there,” Mr. Dempsey says. “My knees and hips are bad and your Grandmother can’t be left alone.”

  “I know that,” Noelle answers. “I’m here now so you can get your surgery.”

  He’s shaking his head. “No. We will not be a burden to our children or grandchildren.”

  Noelle’s eyes widen. “You are not going to a nursing home.”

  “Stop,” he cuts her off. “It is an assisted living facility. We will have our own place. The community is gated so those who are suffering from Dementia can wander outside and inside, but not go anywhere where they can be harmed. She’ll have people to watch over her and I’ll be able to have my surgery and have a small apartment to go home to, where I’ll have nursing care, someone to take me to therapy.”

  “But to leave your own home.” Tears fill Noelle’s eyes.