by Lavinia Kent
Sleep is good.
* * *
—
Veronica turned and looked at Brian as he sat on the sand beside her. Until this moment, she had not realized how strange it was to see him at rest. He was constantly twitching with energy, and rarely seemed completely at ease when still. Even when he’d been doing yoga a couple of nights ago in her living room, she’d felt the suppressed motion of his body, as if moving slowly and being still was an actual activity.
“I have to get back soon,” she said, stretching her pants-covered legs in front of her on the towel.
“I know, but thank you for joining me for lunch,” he replied, his face still turned to look out over the water. “I know you’re busy at work.”
“Yes, but never too busy for my boys.” She smiled at her dog, who lay on his back on the hot sand, legs in the air. It was true, she should have stayed in the office trying to catch up on Charlotte’s work, but…She would have no regrets.
“That’s not true. I’m sure you’re frequently too busy, but it was nice that you weren’t today. And I’m glad to be one of your boys.” He reached over and scratched Baxter’s belly.
She debated the statement. It was true that even when she was working in Forbidden Cove, she frequently considered herself too busy to take a break, but was she? “Okay, I admit that I probably couldn’t spend an hour sitting on the beach in the sun every day, but I could do it more often than I do, particularly at this time of year, when things are slowing down as people close up their houses and go back to the city. Even with the extra work Charlotte gave me, I am keeping up. I just hope my father’s noticing.”
Brian shot her a look. She knew that he thought she was dreaming, that she should confront her father about what was coming next at the firm. “Oh, don’t look at me like that. Once this wedding is over and things go back to normal, I’ll straighten it out with him. He did make a comment the other day about Charlotte not being able to handle work and a wedding. I think he was commenting that she’d be stretched too thin to manage the firm and keep her marriage happy. And yes, I am reading what I want to into it. At least Greg hasn’t used the wedding as an excuse. He’s working almost as many hours as I am.”
Brian kept staring, his eyes telling her he wasn’t exactly pleased to be hearing that. Finally, avoiding the pitfalls of commenting on her family, he said, “Well, I’ll just say thank you again for making the time. It’s good to be important enough for you to change your schedule.” He turned to look at her. “And I didn’t mean it at all sarcastically. I hope you know that.”
“I do.” Reaching over, she placed a hand on his and considered these last days. They’d been together almost every night, except for the one that she’d been running so late she’d chosen to stay in the city while Brian kept Baxter. It was quite a relief to not always be worried about the dog. They’d had very little actual time together, but sometimes it was enough simply to fall asleep in his arms, with almost no talking—and very little sex.
That should worry her. This was not what she had been looking for, but it was all so easy. She’d never been in a relationship that was simply easy before. It wasn’t that they didn’t have disagreements—it was that the disagreements seemed so on the surface. She had no fear that her opinion would change things between them.
There was one thing that bothered her, however. She still didn’t feel like she knew much about him, about his life. It was certainly true that she had a tendency to speak of her own problems, to come home and unburden herself about work, but that didn’t explain away how little she’d gotten to know of him. It was like there was this gap that he didn’t talk about, and when she asked he put her off. It was like he had some big secret. He kept hinting that he was waiting for something and he’d tell her then, but he wouldn’t say what—and so far she hadn’t pushed. That wouldn’t be true for much longer.
She paused, considered, spoke. “I enjoyed having you there when I woke up this morning.” Did he have any idea of the full meaning behind that statement? That she was telling him that she knew things were changing between them and liked it?
“I enjoyed being there.” He turned to face her, still holding her hand. “It was mostly just the way things happened. I fell asleep and didn’t wake up again—but I admit that it’s not something I’ve had happen before. I’m very good at getting up when I need to. I guess I didn’t feel like I needed to. I hope that wasn’t a mistake?”
Honesty. She was going to keep this honest. “I liked it. Far more than I thought I would.”
“So, should I ask now, is it okay if I sleep over again?”
She’d known this was coming when she brought up the issue. “Yes. I guess that’s what I am trying to say. I like the way things are between us, but if I am going to keep getting in deeper, I need to know more about you, know what it is that you aren’t telling me. I’ve let it go, but I can’t for much longer.” She knew that last part was a little defensive, but she couldn’t help it.
His expression was wary. “I know I’ve been less than forthcoming and I probably should have explained things a while ago. So, what would you like to know?”
There were so many things, and yet now it had suddenly become awkward to ask them. She’d start with something easy—and something that wouldn’t take too much time. She really did have to get back to the office. “What happened to your knee?” she said, pointing to the red lines that lay across his golden skin.
* * *
—
Shit. He hadn’t seen that one coming. It was such a simple question, but one that required him to reveal his whole life. He’d decided to be honest, that it was time to tell her, but not now, when she was about to rush off back to work.
“Do you not want to talk about it?” she asked.
Clearly he’d been quiet for too long. “I don’t really like to talk about it—or even think about it—but I’m not opposed to telling you.” He turned from her and rubbed Baxter’s belly again. “It’s just a bit of a story and I’m not sure there’s time for it right now. I can’t believe I am asking this, but can we put it off until later?”
“Sure. You understood when I wasn’t ready to talk about my father—and you’ve been great with my busy schedule. I can give you a pass. We don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to. I’m curious, but I thought it would be an easy question. How about I ask something else?”
“Whatever you want,” he answered, although his stomach tensed. He didn’t want to refuse again, but he had suddenly realized that almost none of her likely questions could be answered in a couple of minutes. He lifted his head to look at her again, waiting.
She met his gaze. Her lips pursed. “What’s your favorite color?”
He grinned. “Blue.”
“Should I get a blue dress to wear to my sister’s wedding? I do need to shop for it soon.”
“I admit, I think you’d be stunning in blue, something bright.”
“I’m not sure that I’ve ever had a bright blue dress, at least not since I was a child. I’ll have to see what I can do.”
“You don’t need to do it for me. You’ve probably figured out that I find you tremendously attractive whatever you wear. If you want to wear jeans, I’d be fine with it.”
It was her turn to smile. “I can imagine Charlotte’s reaction to that. It almost tempts me. What will you be wearing?”
Did she think he’d show up in board shorts? He should have told her everything earlier, let her know that he had a closetful of suits, even if he didn’t love the memories they brought back.
“Did I say something wrong,” she said hurriedly. “I was just curious. I’m sure you have a nice suit—and I would have let you know if black-tie was required. I was wondering about shirt and tie color. I want to coordinate, but not be matchy-matchy.”
He really was going to tell her everything tonigh
t. He wished there was more time now. “Why don’t you find a dress and then let me know? I’m sure I have something that will work.” And that was true. One thing about the NHL was that it had strict requirements, demanding its players wear suits when traveling.
“Sounds like a plan,” she said, trying to relax her voice. Leaning forward, she placed a quick kiss on his lips and then pushed to standing, brushing her ass to be sure that no sand clung to it. “And I’m sorry that every easy question I asked seemed to grow into more than I meant.”
He rose to stand beside her and bent to give her his own kiss, this one a little longer, if not especially deep. “I do understand. It’s as much my fault as yours. I know I’ve put off telling you everything. I kept thinking I should wait until I have more answers, but…I’ll tell you everything tonight, even if some of it is still up in the air.”
“Dinner tonight, then. I shouldn’t be that late, and we can talk. Should I pick something up?”
“If you have a grill—or even if you don’t—I could buy a couple of steaks and grill for you.”
“A man who sets the timer on the coffeepot and offers to cook? Be still my heart.”
“Grill, not cook, and I will make you do the dishes.” A sudden picture of her doing them naked and dotted in bubbles filled his mind. He shook his head. That was not a fantasy he’d ever had before.
“Now, I’d like to know what that smile is for.” Veronica bent and gave her dog one last rub. “Will you drop him at my house or keep him for the day?”
“I’ll probably keep him. I have some work to do, and he’s good company.”
Her face clouded, and he knew she was about to ask what work, but she restrained herself—for the moment. “I do have to get back. I’m expecting a call from my father. I am actually working directly for him at the moment. It’s a nice change.”
He picked up Baxter’s lead and shook out the towel. “I’ll see you tonight and we can discuss everything then.”
She smiled and waved as she walked away.
* * *
—
Veronica entered the house with a pounding headache. Her father wanted to close the Forbidden Cove office. It was profitable, but he felt like it was a distraction from their core business. Veronica thought she had dissuaded him for now, but it was hard to be certain. He knew how much it mattered to her, and she wasn’t sure he’d tell her the full truth if he was closing it. Not that she was ever sure about anything with him.
In any case, he wouldn’t be doing anything for several months. The office was always almost closed during the winter months anyway. It was more a matter of whether it would reopen in the spring.
The house was quiet. Brian must still have Baxter.
Recently she’d begun to realize how much it mattered to have her boy around to greet her. It felt so lonely to come in and have no one there.
Or maybe she was missing both her boys. She had to admit that she’d kind of gotten used to having Brian there—and that he was even better company than Baxter.
She kicked off her shoes, low pumps that for once didn’t leave her feet aching, and walked into the kitchen, pouring herself a glass of water from the fridge. She’d wait until Brian arrived to have a real drink.
Should she change?
Even as she had the thought, there was the pound of feet on the stairs, followed by the scrabble of claws. A tap on the door and then they were both there.
Baxter showed his joy more clearly, his tail wagging so hard that his back half was vibrating. He came and sat before her, begging for attention. She glanced up at Brian. He didn’t show anything obvious beyond a light grin, but there was something in his eyes that assured her he was as pleased as Baxter.
He lay a bag of groceries on the counter. It must be nice to be able to hold a bag and Baxter’s lead at the same time. Whenever she tried it, she felt a constant fear of dropping everything in a great fountain of produce.
“Do you have a grill, or should I do them on the stove?”
She pulled in a deep breath and released it, trying to also release the last of the tension from her father’s call. She’d gotten rid of most of it the moment she’d seen her boys, but there was a lingering edge and she didn’t want to take it out on Brian. “I have a grill, sort of.”
He raised a brow in question.
She led him to the back of her dining area and slid open the French doors to the tiny rear deck. A small hibachi sat there on top of a slightly decrepit wooden bench. “It came with the condo. I have to confess that I’ve never used it—but I do have charcoal.”
Brian came out and stood beside her, the two of them filling most of the small space. “I can make it work.” He picked up the dusty grills and carried them into the kitchen, where he began to scrub.
“What can I do?” she asked.
“There’s salad stuff in the bag, or you could rinse the potatoes for baking.”
“I’ll get the potatoes going first. They probably take longer.” She searched through the bag and found the potatoes. She paused then, watching him scrub the grill, the muscles of his back clearly visible under his T-shirt. It was truly a sight to behold. “Can I get you a drink or something?”
“I’d love a glass of water—that is what you’re having, isn’t it?”
She picked up her glass and rattled the cubes. “Trying to be sure I’m not drinking vodka by the tumbler?”
“You know that’s not what I meant.”
“I do. I just had one of those days where a tumbler of vodka would have been awfully tempting.”
He turned his head to look at her over his shoulder. “Oh? You seemed so good at lunch.” Then he paused. “That call with your father?”
She hadn’t really wanted to talk about it, but then, she had been the one to bring it up. “Yes. He has some ideas that I don’t like, and it’s hard to tell if I’m actually persuading him or if he’ll change his mind back as soon as he’s done speaking with me.”
“Partnership stuff?”
“I wish—and no, I still haven’t talked to him about it. This is something else. But tonight we’re supposed to be discussing you.”
He gave the grates a final rinse and carried them out to the grill. “Where did you say that charcoal is? And I’m not avoiding you, just trying to take care of things first.”
“I trust you.” She showed him where the charcoal was and watched as he skillfully lit the coals.
“That will take a few minutes to get going. I’ll have that water now.”
They went back to the kitchen, and she dumped the potatoes in the sink before filling a tall tumbler for him at the fridge. “Do you do anything to the potatoes before they go in the oven?”
“Not normally. Sometimes I put a little oil on the skin to help crisp them up.”
“That sounds good.”
They worked together quietly for a few minutes. She got the potatoes going and then started to chop vegetables for the salad. He seasoned the steaks, and then stood watching her until the coals were hot.
The sizzle of cooking meat. Was there a better smell in the world?
“Do you want to eat here or in front of the TV?” Veronica asked.
“I think the table would be best—although I admit that the memories are distracting. But I do want to talk, not watch TV.”
“You’re right, although I do like snuggling with you on the couch.”
“I admit that has its attraction, but it also might not lead to talking. This is your chance to hear my story.”
“You are, of course, right—but I don’t have to like it.”
He smiled. “My parents have this thing that whenever one of them is obviously right, the one who is wrong makes a big deal of it. It sounds silly, but somehow the overplaying of being wrong makes it easier to admit fault. It’s never about big stuff. It’s
about something like directions, or how much a bill was.”
“I like that—and I do understand how it could make it easier. Sometimes it can be so aggravating to be wrong when you were sure you were right.”
“I admit, I’m not always good at it. I like to think I’m right.”
“I’ve haven’t ever been in that situation—I mean, with someone I’m in a relationship with. I guess it’s sad my relationships have never reached that point. And, of course, I don’t remember my parents being together. My father and his current wife never argue—but that’s not a good thing.”
“I would imagine not.”
“I can’t decide if they don’t care enough, or if my stepmother knows part of the deal is that she always agrees with him—even when he’s really, really wrong.”
“You make me feel like I have the best family in the world.”
“Well, that’s a place to start. You have a family, one that you love. I know you’ve mentioned having two brothers and a sister and your mom is a therapist. What else should I know?”
His shoulders relaxed. She hadn’t realized they were tight, but they must have lowered by about two inches. “My older brother is a college professor. He teaches economics. My younger brother just started at the police academy. Becoming a cop has been a lifelong dream for him. Don’t ask me why. And my sister’s still in school, she’s younger than us boys, but she wants to be an actress. My parents made a deal with all of us that we could do whatever we wanted, and they would support us, as long as we finished college.”
So he had finished college. She hadn’t been sure—and while she liked to think it hadn’t mattered to her, she had to admit it was nice. “It sounds like a pretty sweet deal. I’m not sure I ever even considered a world that didn’t involve college—and then law school. For as long as I can remember, I knew it was my path. I didn’t necessarily think that I’d end up at a firm though. I thought I was more of a do-gooder.”
He was silent for a moment, and then asked with care, “Was that what you wanted, or what your father wanted?”