all week that doing something with you is a priority.”
That seemed to surprise her. “Okay.” She sighed. “Now I wish I would’ve backed out of this stupid dinner party. This isn’t the group I thought would be here tonight.”
“All the more reason for us to dine and dash.” I slid my hand up her forearm, circling my fingers around her wrist, pulling her hand away from my face. I lowered my mouth so our lips nearly touched. “If you don’t want me to kiss the hell out of you, say so now.”
“Like I could say no to that.”
The instant our mouths connected, I felt that spark of heat between us ignite.
She made a soft moan and swayed against me.
And we were so caught up in the hunger that kept expanding, neither of us was aware we had an audience until Ramon yelled, “Do I need to get out the garden hose and spray you two off? Are you in high school or what?”
Laughter behind us broke the moment.
I rested my forehead to hers. “Sorry.”
She rubbed her cheek against my beard. “The only thing to be sorry about is that you had to stop. Let’s get this dinner over with.”
“Deal.”
Ramon stepped in front of us and addressed Trinity haughtily. “Will it be a problem if I keep the original seating arrangement?”
“Yeah, it’ll be a problem if she and I aren’t sitting together since we are here together,” I answered.
He harrumphed. I thought he might snap, Deal with it, but he spun away, announced dinner and told his guests to find their places at the table.
I was placed at the end of the table. I doubted Ramon put me there because I’m a big guy and need extra room—he intended to put me on the spot where everyone could see me.
Ramon and Davina directed the servers on where to set the food on the table. Then they shooed them away.
“Turn your wineglass over if you don’t want sangria,” Ramon said.
I noticed I was the only one who turned my glass over.
Ramon noticed and gifted me with a “You’re a Neanderthal” sneer.
The food made it around the table twice and I was happy it wasn’t bite-sized portions. I’d just dug into my third miga when Davina addressed me.
“While we’re thrilled to have you with us tonight, Walker”—no sarcasm in that—“it seems our Trinity has been keeping you her dirty little secret.” She sipped her sangria. “Dish the details on how you met.”
Trinity squeezed my knee beneath the table. “We met last week during happy hour and due to a . . . miscommunication didn’t exchange contact information. So we were surprised to run into each other last Saturday at the Seventh Street Community Center and discover we’re working together.”
“Oh wow. So this is new new,” Davina gushed. “And what are you doing for this production?” she said to me. “Are you an actor?”
I washed down the miga with a mouthful of beer. “I’m working on the sets.”
Ramon said, “You’re an artist?”
“No, I’m constructing the sets.”
Davina and Ramon exchanged a look. Then Ramon added, “So you work in construction when you’re not volunteering at the community center.”
“You asking if I have another job? Yep.”
“And what might that job be?”
Beside me I felt heat from the glare Trinity aimed at her friend. “Mostly remodeling. Some new construction. I’ll add a few odd jobs occasionally if they sound interesting or challenging.”
“A construction worker,” Davina said. “I was mistaken to think that you were in logging.”
Logging. Jesus.
“So do you own the business or do you just punch a time clock?” Ramon asked.
Snoopy little man. I had no need to impress these people so I refused to try. I was a laid-back guy—until I wasn’t. “Own it.” I stretched my arm across the back of Trinity’s chair. “It’d be easier working for someone else, as I’m sure you’re aware.”
Ramon tossed his head. “I love being in charge. I’m constantly thinking of ways to expand. That’s the only way to get ahead, don’t you agree?”
“Actually, I don’t. I’m busy enough to keep my customers from feeling like I’ve overextended myself. That still gives me family and free time.”
“Family time? What, do you have an ex-wife and a bunch of kids to support?”
“Ramon,” Trinity snapped. “That is not your business!”
I brushed my fingers down her arm. “It’s okay. Your . . . friends should know that I’m not shirking parental responsibilities to spend time with you. No kids. Never been married.”
“Sounds like you keep yourself busy,” Miguel said, cutting off Ramon’s interrogation. “What do you do in your free time?”
“During football season I’m at the stadium rooting for the Vikings, or if it’s an away game I watch it with my family. Once hockey season starts I attend as many—”
“Minnesota Wild matchups?” Miguel inserted with a grin. “No offense, but they suck.”
“I’m not a Wild fan. I’m a Blackhawks fan.”
Miguel held his fist across the table for a bump. “Now you just need to support a real football team, like the Bears.”
“Not in this lifetime.”
“Omigod, we are not talking about sports at my dinner party,” Davina complained.
“Amen and thank you,” Ramon said. “I don’t get the whole sports thing. I hear people going on and on about this player and that player and this game and that game and I want to ask them why they bother. I mean, it’s not like they’re the ones out there getting pummeled in the grass. It’s not like they’re really experiencing it, so why are they so invested?”
Several people around the table nodded in agreement.
But I couldn’t let Ramon’s lame argument go unchallenged. “You’re right . . . if you apply that same philosophy to the arts. Why bother attending the theater if you’re not the one onstage? How are you really experiencing it? The same could be said for going to the opera or other concerts. Where’s the personal connection if you’re not the one belting out an aria or playing the violin?” It made me way too freakin’ happy to see Ramon’s mouth tighten. I’d shut him down and he knew it.
Score one for the dirty construction worker.
Miguel laughed. “Need salve for that burn, Ramon?”
Davina waved her hand distractedly. “I’m just thankful we’re not sports obsessed in academia. It makes for much deeper conversations.”
“Much deeper bullshit,” I muttered.
I swear Miguel snorted.
Bored with toying with me, Ramon asked the dark-haired woman about one of their colleagues and the gossip fest began.
After the servers cleared the table, I excused myself.
I wandered through the house until I found a bathroom. Then I exited through the front door, cutting to the side yard where we’d first gone in, and sprawled on the stone bench facing the street. Not long afterward I heard the squeak of hinges. Glancing over at the gate, I hoped Trinity had tracked me down and we could get the hell out of there, but it was Miguel.
He crossed the yard toward me. “I’m heading out,” he said. “Just wanted to say it was nice meeting you, Walker—” He frowned. “Sorry. I don’t remember your last name.”
I knew as soon as I told him he’d make the connections. “It’s Lund.”
A pause lingered.
Then Miguel snorted. “You’re a Blackhawks fan because Jaxson ‘Stonewall’ Lund is your . . . ?”
“Cousin. And man, I really thought they had a chance at the cup this year.”
“We Chicagoans had high hopes too.” He groaned and lightly smacked himself in the forehead. “Of course. If you’re related to Stonewall, then you’re related to ‘The Rocket’ Lund too.”
I grinned. “He’s my little brother.”
“Really? That is awesome. I suspected something was up when you shot Ramon’s asinine comments down.” He ch
uckled. “Why didn’t Trinity point out your family connections?”
“She’s not into sports.”
“She doesn’t know, does she?”
“Nope. And name-dropping would be meaningless here in academia anyway.” I had the oddest thought about my mother. She’d probably mispronounce it “macadamia” just as an excuse to call them a bunch of nuts. I wondered if I could get away with it.
Miguel offered his hand. “I wish you luck. Trinity was looking for you. I told her if I found you I’d send you back to the party.”
“Thanks.”
I pushed up from the bench, more than ready to leave the dinner party from hell. I’d almost reached the end of a large row of lilac bushes when I heard my name.
“You mean Walker isn’t glued to your side?” Ramon said snidely. “He seemed so insistent on that.”
“He’s getting some air.”
“He probably snuck off with Miguel to talk sports,” he retorted.
“So? He likes sports. What’s wrong with that?”
“The better question is . . . what’s wrong with you? You’re so desperate for companionship you’ll pick up any dude with a tool belt.”
Ouch. Not for me—because I couldn’t give a damn—but that was a harsh assessment for Trinity.
“Walker is not just a dude with a tool belt.”
“Right. He’s different than the last three construction guys you dated.”
“Why do you care?”
“Because I’ve had to listen to you whine, cry, bitch and complain about these . . . blue-collar losers you pick up like stray dogs and then they dump you. Your work suffers; we both know it. I’ve tried to be supportive, but I’ve reached my limit.”
“How ironic. I hit my limit too. So ask me why I’ve been avoiding your parties, Ramon.”
“Because you’re too busy slumming in dive bars and picking up random guys?”
That little fucker. He had no right to talk to Trinity that way. No right. I’d put an end to this shit right now.
But Trinity did not take Ramon’s comments lying down.
“Did you hear what you just said to me? You’ve gotten to be so nasty and condescending that you don’t even realize when you do it—because you do it all. The. Freakin’. Time.”
“Oh boo hoo, I’m so mean to you. It makes me an ass to point out that I care that you’re throwing your life away.”
“Throwing my life away?” she repeated. “Because I’m dating Walker?”
“Maybe that seems harsh, but I have to be that way to get through to you. You’ve lost your ambition. Now I hear you’re sunbathing at the lake instead of finishing projects that can advance your career? You’re painting sets for a third-rate community theater production? I can see that you’re so enamored with this Walker guy that you’ll stay in a job way below your skill level just to be with him. You should be busting your ass to finish an oil painting and a watercolor to display with the textile piece to showcase your work in other mediums. Instead you’re going boating. You don’t deserve this chance with Kierkegaard because you’ll blow it.” He paused. “Tell me I’m wrong.”
“You’re wrong. And I’m done with you.”
“You’re throwing away our friendship because I take issue with the big lumber-jock and the fact your involvement with him means you’re not focusing on what’s important?”
“This so-called friendship is not ending because of him. It’s ending because of you being an asshole. I’m ashamed of ever thinking you were a friend.”
“Oh no you don’t—”
I stormed around the edge of the bushes just as Ramon grabbed her arm. “Take your hand off her. Now.”
Ramon released her. “Big surprise he acts all macho.”
I didn’t respond because my focus was on Trinity. From having a sister, I recognized she’d reached meltdown stage. I moved in front of her, blocking her from his view. “You need anything from the backyard before we go?”
She shook her head.
I pulled her in and held her for a moment. I kissed the top of her head and murmured, “Let’s go.”
Trinity tucked herself against my side.
The other guests had finally gotten out of their chairs and were watching us leave.
Davina had joined Ramon. Neither of them said a word as we walked past.
I situated Trinity in the passenger’s side. She gently batted away my hands when I tried to buckle her seat belt.
After we pulled away from the house, she started to cry.
It ripped me up to hear her trying to mask her sobs. I parked in the first empty lot. “Trinity. Come here.”
“No. I’m f-f-fine.”
“Bullshit.” Don’t snap at her. That’s not what she needs. “Sweetheart, you need a shoulder to cry on right now. I’ve got two. Pick one.”
“I don’t deserve for you to be nice to me . . .” She sobbed harder.
I brought her onto my lap. When she buried her face in my neck and let the tears flow, I ran my hand up and down her back.
After the storm of tears tapered off, Trinity settled into me.
Although the events that had led to this situation were less than ideal, I liked having her in my arms like this, holding her. I liked that she let me comfort her.
Neither of us spoke. I didn’t track the passage of time, but after being lost in my own thoughts I realized her breathing had turned deep and she’d fallen asleep.
The warmth of her body and the teasing scent of her perfume put me into a relaxed state and I started to drift. Surely it wouldn’t hurt to close my eyes for a minute or two . . .
—
A knee pressing into my crotch woke me. Then the numbness in my upper thigh morphed into a pins-and-needles sensation. I tried to shift sideways and Trinity’s head slid toward the steering wheel, so I jerked her back.
The movement startled her. “I didn’t mean to fall asleep on top of you.”
“I didn’t mind, since I crashed too.”
Her body tensed.
I hoped it’d take her some time to come around. But one second she was sprawled on me; the next she practically launched herself back to the passenger’s seat.
Okay. Not only did she have catlike reflexes, she was as jumpy as a cat.
She fumbled with her seat belt and her legs started bouncing.
“You all right?”
“I have a hideous headache. Can you please take me home?”
“Of course.”
The ride to her house was silent except for her occasional mutterings. The fact she wouldn’t look at me gave me a bad vibe.
After I parked next to the curb in front of her house, several long moments passed before she noticed where we were. She immediately reached over to undo her seat belt.
I stayed her hand. “Trinity. Are we going to talk about—”
“You don’t understand. Ramon . . . that’s just how he is. Sometimes he’s not even aware he’s being—”
“Such a fucking tool?” I snapped off.
Trinity talked over me. “Yes, he knew exactly where to dig into me so the barbs would do the most damage. Friends know each other’s weaknesses. It really sucks that this seems to be the norm in the art world—hey, just point out those weaknesses at a damn dinner party where everyone can get a running tally of all my faults. But
Just What I Needed Page 14
