However, I have Lucas.
“That’s great, Mom,” I say. “I bet it’s going to be lovely.”
“I hope so,” she says. “I’m very happy with the caterer we chose, and I think your father wants a Mediterranean theme for the food.”
“That sounds good,” I say. “Listen, I called to officially RSVP.”
“You didn’t have to do that,” she says. “Of course you’re coming.”
“I know. But I also wanted to let you know I’m bringing someone.”
“Sure, honey, that’s fine,” she says. “Who are you bringing? Juliet?”
“No, I’m bringing Lucas.”
“Lucas, that man in the surfing pictures?” she asks, and I can hear the skepticism in her voice.
“Yes, Mom, Lucas the man in the surfing pictures,” I say.
“Well, honey, are you sure?”
A sliver of anger twists in my belly. Why does she have to question everything I do? “Yes, I’m sure. Lucas is my boyfriend, Mom.”
I cover my mouth and close my eyes. Fuck—Lucas is right, sometimes no other word will do—I shouldn’t have said that. I’m so glad I’m having this conversation over the phone, because there’s no way I could have said that to her face. I just lied to my mother.
Worse, I lied about Lucas. And I’m going to have to tell him.
“Oh, I didn’t realize,” she says. “How long has this been going on? Were you planning to tell us?”
“It’s new, Mom. That’s why I haven’t said anything yet.” Or I’m lying through my teeth and Lucas is going to kill me.
“All right,” she says. “In that case, please bring him along. I’m anxious to meet him.”
“Yeah, it will be great,” I say. “Well, I should let you go. I know how busy you are. But I’ll see you at the party, okay?”
“Sure, sweetheart,” she says. “I’ll let your father know to expect you both. Talk to you later, honey.”
“Bye, Mom.”
I put the phone down and lower my head to the countertop. What did I just do? I didn’t need to tell my mother that Lucas is anything other than a friend. She probably would have been happier hearing that. I know she and my dad are still holding on to the idea that Brandon and I will get back together. It doesn’t seem to matter that he moved across the country to be with another woman. They seem to think we’ll both come around, and wedding bells won’t be far behind.
Plus, there’s no way Lucas isn’t going to be mad at me over this.
21
21: Lucas
We pull up to Becca’s parents’ house after a quiet drive from Jetty Beach. There’s a gate out front that’s open to allow guests in, and a long driveway leads to the house. Other cars were parked along the street behind us, but she directs me to an area where there’s more parking. The house itself is massive, with huge double front doors flanked by pillars.
As requested, I’m wearing a dark gray suit and tie. I don’t have a reason to dress up like this very often, but I actually enjoy it. I got my hair cut yesterday so I’d be nicely groomed for this party. It seemed like Becca would appreciate that. She did tell me I looked great when I came to her door to pick her up.
Becca turns toward me and she has a little groove between her eyebrows. She only looks like this when something is really bothering her. Without thinking about it, I take her hand.
“Are you really that nervous?” I ask.
“Kind of?” She takes a deep breath. “Lucas, I have to tell you something, and I’m afraid you’re going to be mad at me.”
I get a twitch of nerves at that. I’m suddenly worried this has something to do with her ex. Did she find out he’s going to be here too? “Okay, well, just tell me.”
“I called my mom after you said you’d come with me, to let her know I was bringing someone.” She takes another deep breath. “I told them you’re my boyfriend. I’m sorry, it just kind of came out.”
Hearing her say the word boyfriend opens something inside my chest. I quickly tamp the feeling down before it overtakes me.
“I’m not mad,” I say. “So you want me to act like we’re dating tonight?”
“Yeah,” she says. “I guess that’s what I’m saying.”
I twine my fingers with hers, bring her hand up to my lips, and kiss it. “I have you covered, darling. Tonight, you have the best fucking boyfriend on the planet.”
She smiles, but it’s not the bright smile I’m used to. It’s subdued. I feel bad that she’s so jittery about this party. I know she’s nervous about seeing her ex’s family. Me? I can’t wait. I want to show her off in front of them so they can see the sexy, confident woman their son was stupid enough to leave behind. That’s going to make her feel better.
She glances down at her hand, still clasped in mine, and pulls it away. “Okay, I guess we should go in.”
“Wait.” I reach over and slide my hand across her cheek and through her hair, bringing her face close. I slant my mouth over hers and kiss her softly.
I never kiss Becca like this. We’ve had our mouths all over each other, but it’s always in the midst of sex. This is different. This is sweet, like her. Tender. It’s not a prelude to something else. I’m not about to suggest we bang in the car before we go inside. I just like the way her lips feel against mine. She feels good.
She feels right.
Hearing her call me her boyfriend kind of did too, but I’m putting that out of my head. Things with Becca are fine the way they are. And we have a dinner party to get through tonight.
“What was that for?” she asks when I pull away.
“Courage.”
I go around and open her car door for her. She looks fucking incredible in a knee length black dress and silver heels. Her blond hair is pulled up, and she has a silver necklace with a diamond at her throat. There’s a little shimmer in her makeup and her glossy lips taste like mint.
Her eyes dart to the front door and back to me.
I take her hand and lift it, kissing it again. “Are you okay?”
“I think so,” she says. “I don’t know why I’m so nervous.”
“Because your ex’s family is here and it’s going to be weird to see them,” I say.
“Am I so transparent?”
“How else would you feel tonight? It’s totally normal to be nervous. But trust me on this: By the end of the night, you’re going to be walking out of here with your head held high.”
She laughs. We head for the door, hand in hand. She’s like this tiny little bird, so fragile, but as soon as the wind catches her wings, she can soar. This is literally the cheesiest thought I’ve ever had, but I need to be her wind tonight.
I squeeze her hand when we get to the front door. “Is there anything else I should know before we do this? Any warnings about your parents?”
Her shoulders slump a little. “My parents are nice people, but they treat me like I’m eleven. My dad calls me princess a lot. They wanted me to marry Brandon so he could take care of me. He’s the golden boy in their eyes. Honestly, I don’t think they believed me when I told them he broke up with me. I think they assume it’s my fault, and I ruined this big chance I had.”
“Holy shit.” Instinctively, I bring her closer. “So you showing up with another man is going to be…”
“Nail in the coffin,” she says. “I’m sorry, Lucas, I have to be honest. Deep down, I think I told them you were my boyfriend because I want to kill any notions they have of me getting back together with Brandon. Maybe that was a crappy thing to do.”
“Not at all.” I slide my hands around her waist and turn her so she’s facing me. “Like I said, I’m in. And I’m glad I can do this for you.”
“Really?” she asks. “I was so sure you’d be weirded out.”
“Nope,” I say. “This is going to be fun.”
“Our next adventure?”
“Exactly.”
We turn toward the door, and this time she grabs my hand. I push the door open, and we
walk inside.
Her parents’ house is kind of ridiculous. It looks even bigger on the inside. The foyer has a shiny marble floor leading to a huge staircase. Off to one side, there’s a living room with a big fireplace, also marble. Above it is a painted portrait of what must be Becca with her parents. She looks about ten. On the other side is a dining room with a large table, all decorated in cream and gold. Everything is light and pristine and so clean. But there’s very little color. It’s mostly beige.
She leads me past the stairs toward the back side of the house, where it opens to a large kitchen and a family room with a big TV. There are appetizers on a bar height table, and more pictures of Becca at varying ages on the walls. There’s another fireplace, and what looks like Becca’s senior picture in a gold frame above it. She was right—I don’t see any pictures of her sister.
Guests mill around the appetizers and there’s a caterer working in the kitchen. The rest of the guests seem to be outside; I can see a crowd of people through a set of French doors.
Becca’s grip on my hand tightens as we walk through the house. I lift her hand and kiss it again, hoping to give her some reassurance.
A man who can only be Becca’s father comes in from outside. He’s about my height, with short blond hair peppered with gray, and a trim build. He’s dressed in a dark suit, and he holds his hands out to the sides, the corners of his eyes crinkling.
“Princess,” he says with a smile.
I note that he’s not looking at me.
“Hi, Daddy,” Becca says. She drops my hand and walks forward to hug her father. “Dad, this is Lucas Murphy. Lucas, Stephen Foster.”
I step in and hold out my hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Foster.”
“Lucas.” He takes my hand in a firm shake. So far, so good. “Thank you for joining us.”
He’s polite, but there’s a hint of displeasure in his eyes.
A petite woman in a cream-colored dress covered in sequins comes in. Becca favors her father, but I can see the resemblance. This must be her mom.
“Sweetheart,” she says, coming in to hug Becca. “You finally made it.”
“Well, Mom, it’s a long drive,” Becca says.
“This is why you should have taken that apartment we found,” she says. “You’d have been right up the road. We could have picked you up.”
Becca’s face colors. “That’s okay, I made it just fine. Mom, this is Lucas Murphy. Lucas, my mother, Karen Foster.”
I hold out my hand and she takes it with a light grip. “Nice to meet you, Mrs. Foster. Congratulations on your anniversary.”
“Thank you,” she says with a smile. Her eyes dart between me and Becca a few times. “Well, please, mingle. Enjoy yourselves.”
Becca’s dad squeezes her shoulder before he walks away with his wife.
She lets out a long breath. “Okay, we got that part over with.”
“Your parents are nice,” I say.
“Yeah, they’re always polite,” she says.
“Then what were you worried about?”
She shrugs. “I don’t know. We should go do a lap outside.”
I put my hand on the small of her back as we head out the double doors. The backyard stretches out in front of us, a huge expanse of precisely manicured landscaping, with a big, multi-level deck and lots of seating. The guests are all well dressed—the men in suits, the women in dresses—and they stand in small groups of threes and fours, clutching drinks and talking.
I lean in and speak softly into Becca’s ear. “Do you see them?”
“Over there.” She gestures with her head to the left. “Older man in a gray suit, and his wife is in the navy pantsuit with the platinum blond hair.”
“Do you have to talk to them, or can you keep your distance?” I ask.
She takes a deep breath. “I don’t have to, but I want to. I want to show them I’m okay.”
I smile at her and caress her back. I love seeing that fire in her eyes. “That’s my girl.”
Her brow furrows a little, but she smiles back. “I could use a drink first, though.”
We make our way to the bar on the other side of the deck. She asks for a glass of white wine. I opt for a whiskey, neat. We stand off to the side and a few people come over to say hello to Becca. She’s friendly, but I can feel the undercurrent of tension running through her. I keep a hand on her at all times—on her back, or her arm. Partially, I want to make sure I’m touching her when Brandon’s parents turn around and notice us. But I also want her to feel my presence—to know I’ve got her back tonight.
She sucks in a quick breath and her whole body stiffens. “Oh my god.”
“What’s wrong?”
“Brandon’s here.”
A jolt of adrenaline zings through me and I follow the direction of her gaze to the French doors. A guy dressed in a dark suit comes through and his parents walk over to greet him. His blond hair is swept back in an ultra-douchey pompadour and he reminds me of all the pretentious lawyers I had to socialize with when I lived with Valerie in New York. I hate him instantly.
“What is he doing here?” she asks, her voice small.
I know it’s a rhetorical question, but I answer anyway. “Maybe he came with his parents.”
“He moved away. He’s not supposed to be here,” she says, the heat in her tone growing. “If my parents invited him here to see me again…”
Brandon turns, his eyes landing on Becca, and his face changes. His smile fades and he swallows hard.
Even if Becca didn’t ask me to play the part of her boyfriend tonight, as soon as Brandon looks at her, I know I would have done it anyway. Fuck that guy. Brandon’s parents watch her as if they’re waiting to see if the timid little girl will fall apart.
They’re all in for a big fucking surprise.
I put my hand on the back of her neck and rub my thumb up and down the top of her spine. I don’t need to smother her to claim my territory. I simply lean in and kiss her neck, right below her ear. She plays it perfectly, turning her face up so she can look at me, her lips parting in a smile. I meet her gaze, smiling back, and I get so lost in her eyes I actually forget what we’re doing for a second.
“Hi, Becca.”
“Brandon,” she says.
I keep my hand on Becca’s neck and watch her. I don’t look at Brandon at all, so I don’t know if he’s looking at me. I gaze at her, like she’s the only person in this place that matters. Like I’m thinking about slowly slipping that dress off her shoulders, letting it pool on the ground at her feet. Kissing the pale skin of her shoulders and watching her cheeks flush.
“Lucas?” Becca says.
I snap back to reality. I got a little carried away, there. I shake Brandon’s hand. “Nice to meet you. Brandon, is it?”
“Yeah.” His hand tightens on mine before he lets it drop. “So, Becca, it’s nice to see you. How have you been?”
“I’ve been wonderful, actually,” she says without hesitating.
“Have you?” he asks.
The amount of concern in his voice raises my hackles. What does he think? That she can’t possibly get along without him?
“Absolutely,” she says. “I moved to a new place and I really love it. Things are good.”
“Who are you living with now?” he asks. “I thought you’d still be living here with your parents.”
“No, of course not,” she says. “I moved out to Jetty Beach, actually.”
“With Juliet?” he asks.
She shakes her head. “No, I live alone.”
His eyebrows lift. “Wow. I had no idea.”
Okay, he’s a little too surprised at this bit of news. I need to take this asshole down a notch. “Yeah, it’s amazing what can happen when a person has their own space. Freedom to really explore life and all it has to offer, you know?”
“Uh, sure,” Brandon says.
“We’ve done a lot of great exploring together, haven’t we, Becca?” I grin at her and sw
eep a tendril of hair off her shoulder.
Her cheeks flush the slightest shade of pink—god, I love that—and she bites her lower lip. “Yes, we really have. It turns out there’s so much to explore.”
“It’s true,” I say. “There’s a whole world out there.”
Her eyes sparkle. “And it’s so much bigger than I imagined it could be.”
I barely manage to suppress a laugh, and I smile at her like an idiot.
“It’s interesting,” she continues. “There are so many more ways to enjoy it than I knew about before. So many options. Luckily Lucas really knows what he’s doing. He’s shown me a lot of things that I wasn’t sure I’d like, but… holy shit. I’ve loved them all.”
The color drains from Brandon’s face and he gapes at Becca.
I meet Becca’s eyes. She smiles at me, triumphant. I’m so fucking proud of her.
“You are, without a doubt, the most amazing woman I’ve ever met,” I say.
As soon as the words leave my mouth, I realize that it’s not a bullshit line. I’m not acting, and I haven’t been this whole time. She really is, and the way I’ve been looking at her, touching her, stealing little kisses—I mean it all. I love being like this with her—like we’re actually a couple.
Like she’s mine.
I’m dazed, like I just got hit upside the head with something hard. Becca isn’t mine. We’re putting on a good show, and maybe that’s all this is. Maybe I drank that whiskey a little too fast. But I’m staring at Becca and something is blossoming in my chest. Something huge, and I have no idea what to do about it.
Because I’m scared to death.
She’s still talking to Brandon. I clear my throat and try to blink away my confusion.
“I’m surprised you’re in town,” she says. “I thought you moved to the East Coast.”
“I did,” Brandon says, and he casts a glance over his shoulder toward the house. “I’m living in New York City now. But we came to town to see my parents.”
Good Girl Next Door: A Steamy Small-Town Romance (Jetty Beach Book 6) Page 14