Resisting Roots (Lotus House Book 1)

by Audrey Carlan

  I was about to protest, but his hands felt so good running through my hair, I lost my train of thought.

  “Jesus Christ. Look at you. No comparison at all.” He moved his hands so that his thumbs were caressing both of my cheeks. “This pearly skin makes me weak. The blood-red lipstick makes me hard. And those black cat-shaped eyes make me want to hold you close and never let go. Believe me, there is no other woman I want more than you. Get that through your jaw-dropping head, will ya? And do it quick like. We have some yoga to do, and then we’re gonna meet your brother.”

  After his spiel, he leaned close, kissed me full, deep, and so wet I wanted to hydrate on his kisses alone, and then he moved me to my mat.

  “Okay, boss, put me through my paces. I’ve got a hot date I don’t want to miss.”

  * * *

  TRENT

  “Row, why is Mary with you?” Genevieve asked as a tall young man exited the driver’s side of a sweet classic 1965 Shelby GT350 in a royal blue with two fat racing stripes down the center of her.

  A smaller blond-haired little girl who was a dead ringer for Genevieve busted out the passenger side, ran into her arms, and hugged her close.

  “Hey, pumpkin, are you feeling okay?” she said to the little girl.

  Pumpkin? Was this her kid?

  The little girl skipped around her happily toward the door. “Totally fine! Minimum day,” she said as she entered the bakery.

  I watched the scene between Genevieve and her family play out without saying a word.

  “Row, I’m sorry. I didn’t check the schedule, or I would have taken you guys to school, cut it short with Trent, and picked you guys up.”

  Her voice was gentle but disappointed, and that disappointment was not aimed in the direction of the cool-looking teen in front of her. It was on herself, as if she’d had a giant magnifying glass and held that sucker right down over her. I didn’t like how hard she was on herself. At all. People were allowed to miss things and make mistakes. Even a curvy little blonde right out of my dreams was allowed a time-out, a frickin’ rain delay.

  “Hey, Vivvie, no biggie. I can handle picking up our little sis. It’s not an issue. We help each other out. Right?”

  Oh, she was their little sister, but where were these kids’ parents if Genevieve was stressed about picking them up and taking them to school? I’d be taking this up with my gumdrop after our visit with the siblings.

  The man-child in front of us glanced at me, grinned, and shuffled from foot to foot. Genevieve turned around and finally noticed I was waiting patiently. I’d let her lack of interest slip…this time, and only because I didn’t have the lowdown on her family situation.

  “Rowan, this is my…”

  I waited with bated breath to hear how she would spin our relationship to her brother. For one, we hadn’t gone on a date. For two, I’d kissed her a couple of times and gotten her off against the wall where she worked. For three, I planned on getting in there fully and taking far more of her than a quick mutual rubdown, and she knew it.

  “Client, Trent Fox.”

  “Client?” I growled into her ear, low enough that only she could hear as I stepped around her tiny form.

  Genevieve’s face tightened and she frowned. I played it cool. I would have plenty of time to define the parameters of what this was at a later date. For now, I had a kid to impress so I could get into his sister’s panties a whole helluva lot faster. Sad but true.

  In my experience with women, if I won over the friends and family, the chick would be begging for it. At least that’s how it had worked for me in the past. Not that I had a lot of experience with relationships. I’d had a couple of chicks I’d gotten to the fourth date with where they wanted to introduce their friends or family. Granted, it was early on, before my fame and celebrity status, but I used to put in the time to get into their panties. Every girl under the sun put out by the fourth date. Now, however, the women I met—aside from Genevieve and her host of hot yoga chicks—put out the same night with little to no courting. Half the time, they’d have my pants around my ankles and my cock down their throats before we got up to my hotel room. With a girl like Genevieve, though, I had to put in the effort, and I was willing to do that. For now. Until the season started anyway.

  “Oh my God, hi, man, I’m Rowan Harper. You’re like the best hitter in the history of baseball.” The young man that couldn’t have been more than sixteen held out his hand.

  I shook it, and after, he stared at his hand in awe, as though he’d never wash the thing again. It took extreme effort not to laugh, because in all honesty, the kid was me about ten years ago when I’d met one of my heroes in the game.

  “You play?” I asked.

  His brown eyes widened. “Yeah, man. High school. Got the team record for most hits on the team.”

  “Any scouts at the games?”

  He shrugged, and I paid close attention. His body language changed dramatically when I mentioned the scouts. Almost as if he turned inward, hiding something.

  “Perhaps. I’m not worrying about it.” He brushed it off like nothing.

  Back in the day, I’d sat in that same hot seat. A scout watching him play was a big deal.

  I glanced over at Genevieve. Her hands were on her hips, and a firm scowl marred her face. Looked like this was news to her as well.

  “According to what his coach told me, he had the best batting average in the State of California,” Genevieve added with pride.

  “Really, that’s good, Rowan. That’s how I got my start.”

  The kid shrugged. “Yeah, well, I’m going to UC Berkeley.” His tone was firm, settled.

  Genevieve narrowed her eyes again. “The plan, Row, was for you to go where you wanted. Coach says lots of schools will be interested. You’ll want to take the best package for your career in baseball and your schooling.”

  Rowan’s gaze shot to mine and then back to his sister. “I’m going to UC Berkeley. I’m getting a job, and I’m gonna help out at the house. Baseball is a long shot anyway.”

  She shook her head. “I don’t understand.”

  “Sis, we’ll talk about it later okay, but my mind’s made up. I’ve already got Coach putting the word out to the scouts.”

  Genevieve’s eyes about bugged out of her head. “You mean you’ve had some scouts ask about you?”

  Rowan sighed, and I crossed my arms. I was an interloper in a private family conversation, but for the first time, I didn’t feel out of place. Actually, I wanted to weigh in and set this kid straight about the game. If he had scouts calling, he needed to play it straight and let them battle it out for him. He was young. Had another year or two left of school, I gathered by his size and maturity.

  “Yeah, okay. Can we go and get a treat? Trent’s waiting.” He tipped his chin at me.

  I did the cool dude chin lift back.

  “No, we are not going in. Trent will wait. Right, Trent?” She swiveled around to face me, the locks of golden hair flapping against her shoulders.

  “Yeah, babe. Do what you gotta do.”

  “He called you babe.” Her brother’s eyes went wide as an owl’s. “You his woman?”

  “No!” she said.

  At the same time, I said, “Yes.”

  I didn’t know what in the world would possess me to answer that way, but when I did, it felt good. More than that, it sounded good. Right in a way I couldn’t describe. It was one of those things that dug deep into my chest and planted a seed, and that seed grew roots that spread out and into my heart where it burrowed and fed, leaving me confused and off my game.

  She turned to me once again. “Don’t you go putting stuff in his head!” she warned and then turned back to Rowan. “How many scouts have come calling? And don’t you dare lie to me.”

  The kid crossed his arms in front of his chest, taking a more adult stance than he had the balls for, but I’d give him props for trying. My gumdrop had turned into a little fireball right in front of my eyes, pacing bac
k and forth, murmuring under her breath in a way that sounded like hissing. I caught little bits of “I can’t believe this…” and “…after all they did for you…” on top of “…throwing it all away…”

  Finally, she stopped pacing and poked her brother in the chest. He winced but held his ground. Weaker men would have crumbled under the weight.

  “You will set up a meeting with your coach and me. Together we will discuss your options. I cannot believe you. This is your dream!”

  I walked over to her and placed my hands on her shoulders. They sagged in relief or perhaps on reflex, but I hoped it was the former, my touch being the catalyst.

  “How about we go order up some treats and chat about this? You can tell me what you’ve been told, and I can maybe give you some advice, yeah?” I said.

  The kid nodded, and without a word, turned and entered the bakery. Through the window, I could see their sister, Mary, was holding the line. She had a couple people in front of her, but if Dara was at the counter, it would be a while yet.

  The woman beneath my palms turned around and buried her face against my chest. Unexpected but not unwanted. I wrapped my arms around her shoulders and held her quietly for a few moments.

  “I know what he’s doing.” She sniffed and wiped at a tear that was threatening to fall down her cheek.

  I leaned forward. “What’s that, gumdrop?”

  She huffed. “He thinks he’s doing me a favor, giving up his dream to help me. But doesn’t he realize I’ve already given up mine? There’s no reason that two Harper kids should lose everything they’ve ever wanted and worked for. It’s not fair. I’ve already given mine up…for him.” She pointed to the bakery and the line where her siblings stood. “And for her!”

  I wiped away her tears. “Babe, where are their parents in all this? A kid like that needs his dad giving him the what for right about now.”

  She scoffed, “Don’t I wish.” She frowned and if it were possible looked even more miserable.

  “They aren’t in the picture?” I asked.

  Her eyes were filled to the brim with sorrow when her gaze hit mine. “Our parents died in a car crash three years ago. I’ve been taking care of them alone ever since. And now he’s going to do what I did and throw his dreams away out of some twisted alpha hero crap where you take care of your own or something.” Tears poured down her cheeks.

  I wiped the tears away as best I could. “Genevieve, I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”

  Yeah, I had an awful lot to learn about Genevieve Harper, and for the first time, I looked forward to the good and the bad of it. Holding her close, allowing her to put herself back together in my arms, I wanted to be the man that made sure nothing bad happened. Because with her, I saw nothing but a bright, shining light in places where my life had only been dim.

  Chapter Seven

  Headstand (Sanskrit: Sirsasana)

  The headstand pose in yoga is considered an intermediate to advanced level asana and can take weeks, months, and even years to master. It takes incredible core strength to hold this position correctly with the forearms and crown of the head to the ground and legs straight up toward the sky. Inverted poses bring blood flow to the head, which is said to improve memory and thoughtfulness and to release tension and stress.

  * * *

  GENEVIEVE

  Misery. Everyone in the Harper household avoided one another and had nothing but cold shoulders, chin lifts, and soft sighs while we sat down to eat Sunday night dinner. I’d made their favorite, turkey tacos. Even made a point to hit the garden and pull some fresh cilantro from Mom’s herb garden. At least that’s one piece of Mom that lived on. Her herbs. She loved gardening. The only thing I could keep alive were the herbs because I just sprayed them with water once a day, kept them out of full sun, and they did their thing. The rest of the yard, not so much. With my schedule, I could only do so much. Rowan mowed weekly, so the grass was short and green, and the bushes were somewhat in order. Every once in a while, he’d whack at some of the taller fronds, but it didn’t look meticulous the way Mom had kept it. Regardless, I think she’d be proud that we were even able to keep it going this long, even though it lacked the beauty and grace of her green thumb.

  I served the plates, and everyone looked at the walls, their plates, but not at each other. Once we’d left our meeting with Trent on Friday, things had deteriorated. Row and I’d been fighting ever since. He felt it was his duty as the man of the house to help provide for the family. Though I’m sure our dad would have agreed, I didn’t want him to miss out on being a kid. Having fun, going to parties, hanging out with friends. Already he had to help with Mary when he should have been worrying about nothing but his baseball and schoolwork. Rowan disagreed, hence the fighting.

  On top of the bad vibes in the house, Trent had texted me twice, asking for a time and day that we’d have our date. Finally, I broke down and told him we could have dinner next Friday. He was not happy he had to wait an entire week to take me out, which seemed odd to me. Didn’t he have a horde of willing females at the ready? This thing between us wasn’t a relationship. He was free to see whoever he wanted. I just didn’t want to hear about it. Ever. I might be cool about dating a hot baseball player who saw other women, but I didn’t want it thrown in my face. I also told him it was important to me to keep our date on the down-low. The last thing I needed was to have the paparazzi spreading lies or innuendo about me when I had two young, impressionable kids to take care of.

  Technically, Row wasn’t that young. He looked like a grown man, but I knew better. Behind all that bravado was a boy who’d lost his parents and didn’t want his big sister busting her bum to cater to his needs.

  I had to fix this. Subtly, I placed my hand over Rowan’s. He stiffened instantly.

  “Row…” I hoped he’d look at me and not his plate loaded to the edges with tacos and Mexican red rice. “Hey, bud, look at me.”

  Rowan lifted his gaze. The hurt I’d caused was visible through the line of tension burrowed in the skin between his brows. His expression was pained, and that simple look seared into my heart like an arrow tipped with guilt.

  “I know you want to work, help out the family, and believe me, you doing what you do around the house now and helping me by taking Mary to and from school and dance class is more than any of your friends have to do.”

  “It’s not enough. I’m a man, Vivvie. A man takes care of his family. It’s what Dad would want. It’s what I want.”

  “No, you want to be a pro ball player, and you’re so close to having that. After years of hard work.”

  He huffed and set down his forkful of rice. “And what about you? You were almost done with school when you had to cut and run from your dream to take on me and Mary. Is it fair that you gave up everything while we get to live free and go after our dreams?”

  I closed my eyes and tried desperately to find any reason I could give that would make him see it wasn’t worth it for us both to lose out on an amazing life. “My dream isn’t gone. Eventually I will finish my cosmetology license, and then I’ll work for a while and prepare for opening my own salon. You see, my dream is still alive. It’s just been postponed. And, honey”—I squeezed his hand tight—“I’d do it again in a heartbeat to see you play ball in college. Every game I get to attend means something to me. It proves that, even though Mom and Dad were lost to us too soon, we’re still alive. We’re fighting, and you know what, bud? Through it all, I’m happy. I think you and Mary are, too. Am I wrong?”

  Mary shook her head. “I’m happy, Vivvie. I go to the same school, live in the same house, and I get to go to dance and recitals all the time.”

  I smiled at my little sister. “And you’re a beautiful dancer. One day you may go professional with your dancing and end up on stage in a Broadway show or something. You never know. It’s important to dream. More than that, it’s vital to work toward them.” I cast my gaze to Row. “I want to see you on the field one day playing professionally. Giving ol�
�� Trent Fox a run for his money.”

  That got Rowan’s attention, and he threw his head back and laughed. “Man, you dream big, Vivvie.”

  “And so should you. So can we please reconsider this?” I held his hand tight, wanting to imprint the seriousness of what he was considering doing straight through my heart chakras and right into his. I focused every ounce of my love and energy into this effort.

  Rowan nodded. “I make no promises, but I’ll set up the meeting with Coach. And I’ll also tell him I’m looking to play for UC Berkeley’s team or UC Davis. That’s as far from home as I’m willing to go right now. Mary will only be ten when I graduate. She can’t have her bro being too far away. Nuh-uh, no way.”

  That was fair. Ideal, no. I’d hoped he’d be open to going wherever the best team was and with whoever would pay full tuition. But if this is what he wanted, I didn’t see a way of changing his mind. At least he’d still be in the game.

  “Thank you, Row. You won’t regret it.” I picked up my taco and took a huge bite. The cheese, turkey, cilantro, and tomato all coalesced together to make the most scrumptious burst of flavors. “God, I love tacos!”

  A round of “me too” started up the normal Sunday night conversation about school, baseball, the yoga center, our friends and neighbors. Even without our parents there, we still sat around our family table and gave one another our time, the same way we had our entire lives. Only this time, two empty chairs accompanied our trio. I’d put a candle in front of each chair, and I lit them at every Sunday supper so their light would shine around us.

  * * *

  TRENT

  She hadn’t noticed me yet. I was dead silent as I stared into the open private room that had become my regular haunt since last week when I started taking the personal classes. Genevieve just lifted her legs into a precarious position, one that made my dick hard as a rock and my mouth water. Damn, she still hadn’t dropped out of it. Her body was upside down, hands clasped behind her head bracing her neck. The crown of her head was to the floor, and her feet up in the sky. The pose was probably called pencil or something but I’d call it a headstand. I didn’t think anyone over the age of ten could physically manage holding his own weight up like that.