Resisting Roots (Lotus House Book 1)

by Audrey Carlan

  “If they see a weakness, they will exploit it, Vivvie. They don’t realize they’re doing it. The little buggers are programmed to test adults.”

  It was one of the last things she’d said to me the night they had their fatal accident. At least they’d both kissed and hugged each of us.

  “Vivvie!” Mary pursed her pink lips and looked at the mirror. “High ponytail with the bow hiding the rubber band.”

  I smiled. “Perfect choice.” And it was. She looked like a hip little girl on one of those after school Disney shows where they find all the newest talent to turn into pop stars.

  Mary chewed at her thumbnail. This was a sign that she had something she wanted to talk about but was nervous about it.

  Tipping up her chin while holding the brush, I looked into her eyes. “Out with it. What’s up? You know you can talk to me.”

  She brought her hands together and smoothed the fabric of her romper. “Is Trent your boyfriend?” she asked quickly.

  The question sent an additional shiver of nerves racing up and down my spine. Since I believed honesty was always the best policy, I answered her as truthfully as possible. “We’re dating.”

  She tilted her head and scrunched her eyebrows closer together. “Does that mean he’s going to move in here soon?”

  I added the rubber band and wrapped it around her hair several times until I got a tight fit. Then I tugged it back a touch, loosening any pull. “Mary, I doubt it. Honey, he’s a very important baseball star. I’m not sure our relationship will go that far, if ever. Plus, I don’t know if that’s something he would want.” I shrugged and clipped the red bow into her hair.

  “But he likes you. I saw him kiss you at the car, and he made us pancakes, and he stayed with us when the bad guys tried to get into our house. He even fixed the door and made our yard nice.”

  Did all of that mean he wanted more from me? Sure, he’d said we were taking it one day at a time, but what did that mean to someone like him? Did that mean I was his girlfriend? I shook my head. No. No it didn’t.

  “Yes, Trent likes me, and I like him. When a man and a woman like each other, they spend time together to see if they want to become boyfriend and girlfriend.” I nodded. Yes. That sounded pretty good. I almost wanted to pat myself on the back for that one. Maneuvering through these parental-type minefields was not easy. Especially since Mary was an inquisitive, mature child for her age.

  “Do you want him to be your boyfriend?”

  Like that one.

  I set her on the vanity and continued to work on my own makeup, adding the finishing touches. A long black line to accentuate the cat shape of my eyes, and my signature lip gloss. Tonight’s was red and matched the red slacks I wore. I’d paired the slacks with a simple white blouse and a pair of red cork-wedge heels.

  “Well, do you want him to be your boyfriend?” Mary asked again.

  I sighed and put down the lip liner. “Honey, I don’t know. Right now we’re just seeing how things work out.”

  Her lip trembled, and she bit it. My heart sank, and I worried there was something more going on.

  “I just don’t understand. You should make him your boyfriend and then marry him. Then you will be happy all the time, and you won’t have to work so much, and then we would be safe, and Rowan could go to any school he wants.” Her words came out in a rush so quick she’d lost her breath by the end of her insistent recommendations. Without further ado, she hopped off the counter and stomped out of my room. Her little shoes clomped all the way down the double staircase.

  Leaning against the counter, I stared at myself in the mirror. “What the heck just happened?”

  Mary obviously had some very specific hopes pertaining to Trent, but why? I hoped I’d have a few minutes to chase her down and get to the bottom of it, but when I went down the stairs, Trent was in the doorway. Mary had her arms looped around his waist. He patted her head while she hugged him. He didn’t seem put off, but he definitely wasn’t used to hugging a child. The stiff way he stood and repeatedly patted her head like a dog had me snorting and failing to hold back my laughter.

  Trent grinned and opened his arms out wide. “A little help here?”

  “Mary, honey, get your coat.”

  “Can I sit shotgun?” she squealed, acting like her normal self again.

  “I think shotgun is for your sister,” Trent said. “But another time, I’ll take you for a ride. Okay?”

  “Hey, Trent!” Rowan held out a hand and did the half hug, half slap on the back man greeting.

  “Gumdrop, you look beautiful. Come on over here so I can greet you properly.”

  Shyly, I walked over to him. When I was within arm’s reach, he grasped my waist and tugged me flush against him.

  “Hi, babe.” He leaned forward for a soft kiss.

  I glanced to the side and caught Row shaking his head and looking down. Mary, on the other hand, was holding her hands to her chest and smiling so huge it looked like her dreams were coming true.

  “See! I knew he was your boyfriend!” She jumped up and down. “Man, I should have bet on it.”

  I grudgingly pulled away from Trent’s kiss. “Honey, he’s not my—”

  But she ran off down the hall screaming, “My sister’s boyfriend is famous!”

  Groaning, I turned around. “Sorry.” I leaned my head against his chest and patted the space over his heart.

  Trent lifted my chin. His eyes were a brilliant mixture of yellow, brown, and green. “For what?”

  He couldn’t be that dense. “For what she said. I never told her that you were my boyfriend.”

  He moved his head back. “Then what am I?”

  Tilting my head, I assessed his mood.

  Happy? Check.

  Easygoing? Check.

  Commanding? Check.

  “It doesn’t bother you that my sister called you my boyfriend?” I desperately wanted to know the answer.

  He jerked his head back and curled his lip up. “Why should it?” Then his eyes widened. “Are you dating someone else?” This time, his voice was a straight growl, and his grip around my waist tightened.

  “No! Of course not. Only you. But saying you’re someone’s boyfriend gives a certain stature or claim, if you will, that goes with it. I didn’t know if we were there yet.”

  Trent moved his hands down to my bum and squeezed. “Oh, I’m claiming this ass as mine. Let it be known to the world that Genevieve Harper’s ass is mine from here on out.” He snickered and squeezed the cheeks again.

  I smacked him lightly on the chest. “Stop kidding around. I’m serious.”

  “Me too!” He got close and leaned his head against my forehead. “This ass is mine.”

  Holy crap! I whipped my head around to see if Rowan was still in the room, but he’d left. Thank God. Probably the second Trent kissed me.

  Trent slid his hands up my ribcage. “These tits…mine, too.”

  Oh, my. My heart started beating so fast I worried it pound right out of my chest. “Trent…”

  He used his thumbs and swiped the prominent peaks through my shirt. “Everything on this body is mine, gumdrop. No other man touches it. If that means you have to call me your boyfriend to be okay with that, I’m your boyfriend.”

  I sighed. He doesn’t get it.

  * * *

  TRENT

  Ma was her usual self when we arrived. Dad took our coats and hung them on the coat tree. Immediately, Genevieve, Rowan, and Mary slipped their shoes off and set them by the door.

  “Are your feet hot?” I asked the trio.

  Genevieve shook her head and bit her lip, blinking that doe-eyed uncertain gaze at me.

  “Oh, dear, so nice of all of you to worry about keeping our floors clean. Such good manners. Your parents must have taught you well.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Rowan nodded and held out his hand to my mother first and then my father. “I’m Rowan Harper, and this is my sister Mary, and my eldest sister, Genevieve.”
/>   “Lovely to meet you both. Thank you for having us.” Genevieve held out her hand.

  My mother quickly lost her cool. Her eyes teared up, and she pulled my girl into an emotional hug. “You have no idea how long I’ve waited to meet you,” she said dramatically, as if Genevieve were her long lost daughter.

  Genevieve’s cheeks pinked, and she smiled. “It’s good to meet you as well, Mrs. Fox.”

  I rolled my eyes and tugged my mother away from my girl before she scared her off. “Ma, relax. Everybody, this is my mother, Joan, and my dad, Richard, but you can call him Rich.”

  All three of them thanked him and called him sir. Their manners…top-notch. Made me want to work on my own. Maybe, but unlikely.

  Once the pleasantries were out of the way, the six of us made our way into the combined kitchen-family room. My mother hustled to the stove where she was pan grilling pork chops. The entire room smelled like grilled onions and green peppers.

  “Smells awesome, Mrs. Fox.” Rowan patted his belly before taking a seat at the bar island where Mom cooked.

  Genevieve followed, holding onto Mary’s hand.

  Mary was acting timid, which was unusual for the more boisterous little girl. The few times I’d been around her, she wasn’t so quiet.

  “Sweetheart, I brought a coloring book and crayons.” Genevieve took the loot from her giant purse and offered it to the girl.

  Mary’s eyes lit up. She took the seat directly between her brother and sister.

  My mother smiled. “Ohh, Ms. Mary, I love fairies.”

  “You do?” Her eyes shone and her smile beamed.

  Ma nodded. “I love when they have purple-and-blue wings.”

  Mary’s head bobbed up and down. “Totally! I’ll color you a picture.”

  Oh, man, there it was. My mother smiled huge, her eyes tearing up.

  “I would love that, dear.” She walked over to the fridge and cleared a spot. “And when you’re done, I’ll put it right here so I can look at it every day.”

  Mary radiated happiness. Mom had not lost her way with kids. An unusual feeling hit my chest, kind of like a cross between an ache and a heartbeat. I rubbed at it, went to the fridge, got myself and Dad a beer and a soda for Rowan and Mary. I set the loot down on the counter and passed out the drinks.

  “Babe, you want a glass of wine or a beer?”

  Genevieve glanced at my mother.

  “It’s okay, gumdrop. Ma’s having wine. Right, Ma?”

  “You betcha, sport.”

  Genevieve smirked. “Sport?”

  I rolled my eyes.

  “Oh, I like that one. Sport. Suits you.”

  Ma came over with an opened bottle of white wine and a glass. “It always has. My big jock.” Ma hugged my side and checked on Mary’s drawing. “Ms. Mary. That is stunning. You’re an artist for sure!” she gushed.

  Ma laid it on a little thick, in my opinion. I glanced at the image. The girl did have talent, though.

  “Thank you, Mrs. Fox.” Mary wiggled in her chair and bit her lip as she made sure whatever she was coloring was just right.

  “How’s about you call me Grandma Fox? I’m old enough to be your grandma. Do you have any grandparents, honey?”

  Mary solemnly shook her head.

  “Well, you do now. How does that sound?”

  Mary smiled wide. “Sounds awesome. Right, Row?” She nudged her brother.

  “Of course, Mare.” His cheeks pinked up, and he played with his soda can.

  I looked at my girl, and instead of seeing a similar smile, she was ghostly white. “Excuse me.” She got up. “Where’s the bathroom?” Her face was strained and her hands shook.

  Taking her by the hand, I ushered her down the hall and to the bathroom. I planned to go in with her, but she slammed the door in my face. All I could hear after that was the water running in the sink.

  Ma rushed down the hall. “What happened? Is she feeling ill?”

  I shrugged. “I don’t know. She seemed fine, and then after you told Mary to call you grandma, her face turned white and she looked like she was going to hurl.”

  My mother closed her eyes and leaned up against the wall. “Shoot. Way to go, Joan. I screwed up, sport.”

  “Why?” I had no idea what would make Ma think that Genevieve feeling unwell had anything to do with her.

  She leaned her head against the wall and then let out a slow breath. “Too much, too soon,” she said. “I’ll handle this. Just keep the other two entertained. I already took the chops off the stove, so we’re fine for now.”

  Frowning, I shuffled from foot to foot and looked at the closed door. Part of me wanted to storm into the bathroom and make sure she was okay. The other part wanted to run far away from any potential drama that might unfold. Women rarely made sense. In the end, I decided that if Ma was willing to take on whatever happened and smooth things over, I needed to allow her female expertise to do its thing.

  * * *

  GENEVIEVE

  “Genevieve, dear, please open the door. I need to speak with you.” The sweet voice of Trent’s mother lilted through the door.

  I stared at myself in the mirror and wiped at my eyes, removing any residual mascara that had tracked down my face during my mini-panic attack. They didn’t come that often, but when they did, I usually needed more than a few minutes to pull myself together. Maybe she’d think I was sick and Trent could just take us home.

  “Sweetheart?” She tapped at the door again.

  I opened it and was about to lie when she pulled me into her arms.

  “Oh, Genevieve, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to come on so strong with your brother and sister. It’s just that I’m so excited to have you here.”

  “It’s okay. Everything is so confusing right now. We don’t have any family, and here you are blessing us with a meal and being so nice…” My voice cracked. “Reminds me of times with our own parents.”

  “Oh, sweetheart. I’m sure you miss them terribly. That’s why we need to get a good home-cooked meal in you three and spend some quality time getting to know one another. How does that sound?” Her tone was straightforward yet still hopeful.

  I cleared my throat and decided once again to be honest. “That sounds lovely, but I don’t want Mary getting too attached.” I was afraid to tell her the rest. That eventually, when Trent kicked my family and me to the curb for a newer, hotter, younger model with no baggage, we’d be left missing him and his family. I was already in too deep with Trent. So far that when he went his own way, I’d be crushed.

  Joan narrowed her eyes. “Now why wouldn’t you want Mary to get attached to me, dear?” She frowned in that disapproving way moms did.

  Maybe that was one of the things they in taught Lamaze class. How to make your child feel guilty as sin. Ugh. She was going to make me say it. Pulling at my hair, I thought about how I could best say what needed to be said without making her son out to be a player, even though in the past, that’s what he’d been. I was just waiting for the day that his true nature would come rushing back to the surface. I figured that would happen about the time that he left for spring training in February, if not sooner. He’d go off to play ball, and we’d be left in the lurch. Heartbroken. “Mrs. Fox. I like your son a lot. More than I should. But he’s admitted he’s not the settling down type—”

  “In the past.” Her response was firm.

  I shook my head. “Right, in the past—”

  Again she jumped in. “Not right now.”

  That made me pause. “What do you mean, not right now?”

  Her steely blue eyes pierced mine as she laid a hand on my bicep. “You’re different. That’s how I know.” Such a simple statement, but it held such weight.

  “Sure, I may be different. All women are. But am I enough?” I laced my fingers together. “My life isn’t roses and rainbows. I have two children who need me, count on me to provide for them. Most men would not step up to commit to someone who was already filled to the brim with o
ther commitments.”

  Joan shrugged. “All I know, dear, is that you are the first woman he’s brought home to meet his parents in a decade. Let me say that again. In. A. Decade.” She huffed and hooked her elbow with mine. “That, to me, is more than enough. Now, I’ve got pork chops cooked and ready to eat. Do you like pork?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Then prepare to be wowed.”

  She led me back into her beautiful kitchen that smelled wonderful, where my brother was laughing at Trent, and Mary was making art for his mom.

  “I already am,” I whispered.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Opening the chakras is as important to our physical body as our mental state. Each chakra is designed to store and distribute energy and messages throughout the body that control our habits, desires, and mental health. Closed chakras can hinder mental and physical health, affecting the choices and decisions we make in our daily lives.

  * * *

  TRENT

  Due to a meeting scheduled with my agent this morning, I arrived at Lotus House early to take Genevieve’s hatha yoga class. As much as I hated to, I had to pass on our private lesson. When I got there, she was chatting animatedly with a tall, muscular man who wasn’t wearing a shirt. He had a pair of loose white pants that I’d seen other yogis wear before. The lack of shirt wasn’t what sent my hackles rising. It was the way he kept touching Genevieve. With familiarity. A caress of her arm, holding her hand, and then as if watching something in slow motion, it happened. He leaned forward, all smiles and male bravado, and put his lips on my woman.

  What the fuck?

  I stormed over to Genevieve and this random man who had his lips on my girlfriend. When I got to them, they’d stopped kissing and were staring sweetly at one another.

  Without thinking, I reacted, shoving the man’s arm and pushing him roughly into the wall. The motion was so forceful, he knocked into one of the giant Sanskrit symbols that hung beyond the platform where the instructor taught, banging it into the plaster with enough force to leave a mark.