by Jen Talty
“I don’t want to agree with you,” she said, reflecting back on her outrageous behavior and insane thoughts since she’d found out about Larry’s affair. “But if I don’t, I’m going to go through life angry and unable to find true happiness.”
If she were being completely honest with herself, she was going to have to hear Michelle out as well.
Change is good for the soul.
Tristan sat on the fireplace hearth watching Brooke as she closed the front door.
“I’m glad that this is over with.” Brooke pressed her back against the wall, and slid down until her ass hit the floor. “But I dread cleaning up this mess.”
“I hired a cleaning service, which is already paid for. They will be here in twenty minutes.” Tristan braced for impact. He’d stuck within her budget for everything, even letting her pay for it all when he would have preferred to foot the bill. “You’re exhausted and I wanted to do this for you.”
“You’ve done so much already. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to repay you.”
“I’m sure I’ll think of something.” He stood, snagging his sport coat and tossing it over his shoulder. “Let’s get out of here.” He held out is free hand.
“Don’t we have to wait for the cleaners?” Her face paled and dark circles had formed under her sad eyes.
“My boss’s wife is still in the kitchen. She knows they are coming, so let her deal with it.” He knew it would take time for Brooke to get past the utter sadness over the loss of her grandfather, among other losses. But he could feel the core of her personality would pull through in the end.
Brooke nodded, letting him pull her to a standing position.
“Where are we going?”
“For now, just a walk. You need some fresh air.”
The fact that she didn’t argue about the cleaners or leaving the house, told him her level of mental exhaustion had gotten the better of her.
She leaned into him as they strolled down the street. The afternoon sun warmed his face. The sounds of boats zooming up and down the shoreline filled the air. It was the kind of evening Rusty would often show up, asking Tristan to have a beer.
He held her close, hand running up and down her arm. “Let me drop my coat off so I don’t have to carry it. Maybe change my shoes.”
She looked down at her feet. “I forgot I put on sandals.”
“It’s been a long day.” He guided her down the driveway toward his modular home. “Want to sit down on the dock?”
“I’d like to come in, actually.” She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “See how you live.”
The screen door shuddered as he pulled it open. “It’s your typical bachelor pad.” He followed her into the kitchen area and tossed his coat over a chair, suddenly aware he still had a tie around his neck. He enjoyed living in a world outside of what he grew up in. Even though he knew he had money in the bank, and he certainly didn’t have to worry about paying his bills, he got to see the world from a different perspective.
Especially when the people around him had no idea who his father was or how much money his family was worth.
But he knew he’d somehow pay a price with that secret when it came to Brooke. It sucked because he hadn’t planned on ever making the fact he was the son of Albert Lawrence Reid, the founder and CEO of Highlands Pharmaceutical, known to the world. He didn’t feel the need to share it with people because that was only one aspect of who he’d become as a man, and a very small one at that. His co-workers and friends all knew, or at least he suspected they did, but no one said a word, and they didn’t treat him any differently, which had been the point.
“Are you going to give me the five-dollar tour?” For the first time in hours, she smiled.
“More like the ten-cent tour.” He tossed his hands. “This is my kitchen.” He pointed to the far end of the double-wide. “That is the one and only bathroom, but the shower is big and it has great water pressure. It also doubles as my laundry room.”
“That’s always a plus.”
He tugged her hand, pulling her into the main living space. “Welcome to my family/gaming room.”
She glided her hand across the leather recliner. “Nice furniture.”
“My parents let me take it.” He blinked a few times, shaking his head. “I think that is the lamest thing I’ve ever said.”
“You sound like a twenty-year-old getting his first apartment.” Her laugh filled his ears and warmed his skin like he’d just slid into a hot-tub.
“You have a flare for decorating.”
He looked around the room. Cream colored valances lined the top of the windows. Honeycomb blinds, pulled halfway up, graced the glass panes. A few tasteful decorative lamps and wall hangings he’d picked up at a well-known upscale store accented the light furniture.
Perhaps his simple lifestyle wasn’t as simple as he thought.
“How many bedrooms?”
“Three, but I use one as my office.” He led the way to the front of the modular home.
She peeked her head into his office and guest bedrooms, which were tiny and not very exciting.
“Wow,” she whispered stepping into the front bedroom, overlooking the lake. “What a view.”
He shoved his hands in his pockets and leaned against the door jamb. She stood at the foot of his bed, looking out the double window. The sunrays kissed her dark hair. Her skin shimmered against her black dress. Beautiful didn’t do her justice. “I never lived on a lake before until I moved here.”
When she turned, her face silhouetted in the bright light, cutting his breath short.
“Where did you grow up, anyway?” she asked.
“Saratoga. My parents and brothers still live there.”
“You never did tell me where you went to college when you told me about your one long-lasting relationship.”
He swallowed, wondering how best to toss his education out there. “Harvard.”
“Holy shit.” Her golden eyes grew wide. “Impressive.”
“I wanted to be a lawyer, remember?” He undid his tie, tossing it on the bed. He wanted to draw her into his arms and hold her, kissing her forehead. Her body fit against his so perfectly. It seemed like a waist not to keep doing it, but he thought better of it. Today wasn’t the day.
Follow their lead. Her words hung in his mind like bee over a flower.
“I can’t imagine what the loans are like on a school like that.” She turned her back, once again staring at the water.
“My parents helped out a little.” Ha. They footed the entire bill.
His heart hammered liked a drum. Sitting on the edge of his bed, all he could do was stare at the most perfect woman he’d ever met. Confident. Strong. Passionate about life on so many levels.
She lowered her head. “Is this you and your sister?” Lifting a picture frame from the small table under the window, she faced him.
He nodded. “Two weeks before she died.”
“You were both go-cart racers?” She tapped the picture. “Is there really such a thing?”
He let out a small laugh. “She was so much better than I was.” He leaned forward, reaching out for the picture. It felt heavy as Brooke placed it in his hands. “It’s how she died.”
“Racing?”
He traced a finger across the frame, down the glass, and over Tamara’s flawless face. “It was a hobby for me, but she wanted to be a race car driver. She’d been practicing, buying time in cars at different races.” He tapped the picture. “This was to be her last season of go-carting before moving up to a car.”
“Wow. That’s cool.” The bed shifted as Brooke eased herself on the end of the bed.
“Tamara was cool.” Tristan continued to look at his sister. Her long hair, which matched the color of his. Eyes also identical. They looked so much alike, yet she was so feminine and he her masculine counterpart. He tried to remember her alive every day, but today, the moment she had taken her last breath filled his mind constantly. He didn’
t want to say anything because today wasn’t about him or his sister. It was about Rusty and his beautiful granddaughter who’d been given a shit hand, but managed to play the cards she’d been dealt with style and grace.
“You were very close to her,” Brooke said as a statement of fact. Her eyes shifted colors yet again, into a soft yellow-brown that reminded him of the changing colors of the leaves in the fall. “You said she died in your arms.”
Tristan sucked in a harsh breath.
“I’m sorry. You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.”
“It’s not that.” He patted the mattress. “Sit here, it’s a better view.” He fluffed up a couple pillows, while she crawled across his bed. “Today is about you and Rusty. Not me.”
“But I want to know. Seems we’re sort of drawn together in a morbid way.”
The corners of his mouths drew upward, but it didn’t last as he let the images flood his brain from that fateful day. “I didn’t love racing the way she did, so I spent more time on her pit crew than actually racing. She wanted to go out with a big win and I think since she’d been racing cars, she pushed the go-cart too hard and too fast. She was in the lead. I told her she could take the corners easy. She didn’t listen to me, knowing she could easily break a world record.” He paused to control his escalating pulse. “I could see her coming around the corner, wheels on edge and I knew she was going to crash, so did she because she said, ‘oh shit’. I ripped off my head gear the moment I saw the go-cart roll the first time.” He grabbed the center of his gut. “I felt the cold metal bar rip through my stomach, even though it was happening to her. I could hear her scream out in pain inside my head.”
Tristan wiped his face. He’d never once been able to tell the story without shedding a tear or two. A constant purge of pain and sorrow. A necessary evil to keep from going crazy.
“When I got to the wreckage, the frame of the go-cart was ripped apart. I reached in to pull her out, but stopped when I saw part of the roll bar had sliced through her stomach. I climbed in as best I could. Held her steady, waiting for the ambulance and fire trucks. Her breath was so ragged she couldn’t speak, but I could feel her thoughts, and I didn’t like them one bit.”
A guttural sob came from Brooke. He glanced over at her to see her hand covering her mouth, eyes wide and filled with tears.
“Don’t cry, babe.” He wrapped his arms around Brooke. The heavy burden he’d bared had gotten lighter over the years. He could never pin-point the event that triggered this sense of calmness, or maybe acceptance until right now. This moment. It was as if Brooke sucked up some of his pain.
“You’re going to think I’m crazy, but I think you just put those thoughts in my head.”
He kissed her temple. “Tamara knew she was dying. She held my hand, staring into my eyes, telling me it would be okay with her thoughts. That I’d be okay without her. She closed her eyes and took her last breath. Something inside me snapped in half. I held her for another ten minutes before they made me get out so they could remove her body.”
“I can’t imagine,” Brooke whispered, resting her hand over his.
He entangled their fingers. His own tears dried up as a warmth spread from his belly to his mind.
I’m still with you.
His body tensed for a moment. The shrink had suggested that he let the connection snap with his twin out of anger and grief.
Abandonment.
The same emotion he accused Brooke of not dealing with.
“My turn to say something crazy,” he said.
“What’s that?” She titled her head, gazing up at him.
“We were destined to meet.” He took her chin between his thumb and forefinger. “I hadn’t realized that I still haven’t completely allowed myself to forgive my sister for leaving me.”
“She never left you.” Brooke tapped his chest. “She’s always been right here, and also in your mind. I sense her. I know it sounds weird, but it’s impossible not to see and feel the closeness you had…still have. It’s so special and strong.” She kissed his cheek. “You’re special.”
“No. You’re extraordinary and I wish I had met you sooner.” He searched her eyes and face for a reason to keep his lips from entangling with hers, but the same questioning stare fired back at him. “You know I want you.”
“I do,” she said in a soft purr. “It’s wrong for me to want to be with you when I know it’s about rebound, revenge, fear.”
“I think you’re wrong about all that except for fear, but not in the way you think.”
She cocked her. “What does that mean?”
“I saw the way you were with Larry today. It’s been a long time since you really loved him.” He cupped the back of her neck, pulling her closer, feeling her hot breath on his face. “This thing with us? It’s not revenge or rebound. It’s real and that frightens you.” He paused, waiting for her to speak, but all she did was open and close her mouth. “It scares me too,” he admitted.
“The only thing that is real here is we both hurt for different reasons.”
“No.” He pressed his mouth against hers, smiling when a soft moan escaped her parted lips. “Tell me you don’t want me.”
“I’d be lying if I said that, but this is purely physical”
His body craved the woman in his arms, but his conscious wouldn’t allow it if she truly believed what they felt for each other wasn’t real or some manifestation of collective pain. “Are you positive about that? Because I know without a shadow of a doubt that I like you. Really like you. The kind of like that goes beyond hanging out, shooting the shit, and I’m not talking about being fuck buddies either.”
“Oh, my, God.” She rolled her eyes. “That’s so romantic, how could a woman resist that?” The words could mean she was about to get out of his bed, but she leaned into him and her eyes sparkled with mischief that told him she wasn’t going anywhere.
“Aren’t you the one who said I needed to find a woman who thought my idiosyncrasies were adorable?”
“I’m not that woman.”
He arched a brow, his hand resting on her hip as he shifted her sideways.
She didn’t try to wiggle away and she smiled.
He took that as a good sign as he gently brushed his lips against hers, keeping his eyes open and focused on her dark pupils as they dilated. “You think I’m funny.”
“I think you’re weird.”
He kissed her cheek, moving toward her ear, and down her neck. “You like weird.”
“I do,” she said softly. Her chest rose up and down with deep breaths as he circled his arms around her body, kissing his way down to the pendant dangling dangerously close to her cleavage. Tangling the locket between his fingers, he glanced up. She stared down at him, lips parted, eyelids fluttering. Purposefully, he glided his hand from her hip across her middle, resting his palm under the swell of her breast. She rewarded him by sucking in her lower lip.
“Tell me you don’t want this and I’ll stop.” He needed her to say the words. Maybe this would be one night, maybe it would be more, but if she didn’t want to find out, then he’d have to walk away.
His heart wouldn’t survive if he didn’t.
“What do you want, Brooke? Are you willing to take a leap of faith? Give this…us…a good old-fashioned college try?”
“Oh, my, God. Just stop talking.” She smiled. “I want you.”
His insides shook with the power of an earthquake registering a ten on the rhicter scale. Her hands glided up his back as he pressed his knee between her legs, kissing his way to her lips, which greeted him with insatiable hunger. Her tongue darted in his mouth, taking control.
Her passion flooded his mind and body like gale-force winds smashing against the beach, out of control. Rolling to the side, he found the zipper on the back of her dress and eased it down, his fingertips skimming across her smooth, silky skin.
She thrust him onto his back, straddling him as she tore her mouth from him to
lower her dress, exposing her black, lacy bra.
“You seem to like this position.”
She smiled. “I’m a control freak.”
He arched a brow. “That makes two of us.” He cupped her ass as he sat up, the small space between her breasts called to him as he pressed his lips on the top of her mounds. “This could be interesting,” he whispered as he flipped her over.
“Whoa!”
He stood at the end of the bed, tugging her dress over her hips, exposing black, lacy boy shorts, matching her bra. At least he thought they were called boy shorts. Whatever they were, they looked damn sexy on her. “Do I need to worry about this dress, or can I just toss it to the floor.”
She’d raised up on her elbows, tossing her head back, laughing. “I can’t believe you asked that?”
“I don’t want to get into trouble later for ruining your dress.” He decided, based on the feel of the fabric in his hands, the dress needed to be hung up in his closet. When he was done, he stood at the side of the bed.
“You’re turn.” Her dainty fingers easily undid the buttons on his shirt. Kneeling in front of him, her dark hair flowed over her shoulders, covering her breasts.
He tossed his shirt to the floor, and quickly pulled his t-shirt over his head. His stomach muscles tightened and twitched when her plump lips kissed the center of his bare chest. The palm of her hands brushed against his nipples.
“Come here.” He fisted a large clump of her hair, tugging at it, exposing her beautiful long neck.
Her seductive smile sent his blood boiling. The color of her eyes shifted to a deep copper tone. For a long moment, he stared at her, soaking up her beauty, imprinting this moment on his brain forever. When his lips met with hers this time, the urgency had dissipated into a romantic slow dance, savoring every swirl of her tongue against his. He captured every sweet moan her throat eased out and swallowed them as if they were the finest full-bodied Cabernet one could buy.
The faint humming of boat engines on the lake echoed in the background as the late afternoon sun cut through the window, heating their already hot bodies.