Hopelessly Perfect (Perfectly Imperfect Love Series Book 2)

by S. E. Rose

  I get asked this on occasion. “Peru.”

  “Really?”

  I nod. “I spent some time in the Amazon and then went up to spend a few weeks in a small village in the Andes. They only spoke Quechua. It’s a local language and the main language of the Incan Empire. I learned a little about it while I was there. It was fascinating being around people who still live in their ancestors' homes. You’d walk into these stone houses, and there would be trout hanging from the ceiling, drying, and guinea pigs running around the corner of the dirt floor. I ate alpaca cooked over an open fire, and I learned all about weaving. I found them to be an incredibly warm and friendly community. It was just . . . peaceful there. Things were simple in a good way. I could have stayed there for longer, but I was asked to come help in New Caledonia, so I had to leave. I’ll go back someday, though. I still correspond with the local doctor in that area.”

  Lanie sighs as Tina brings out our plates. “Here you go. Let me know if you need anything else.”

  “Thanks!” we both answer. Tina smiles and heads to the next table.

  “That sounds amazing,” Lanie continues as she picks up a sweet potato fry.

  “It was. What about you? Have you traveled?” I ask as I take a bite of my burger.

  “I have. Dad liked to take us stargazing when we young. But I haven’t been to nearly as many places as you, mostly Europe and Canada. I did go to a law conference in Beijing a few years ago, but I only saw a few sights, like the Great Wall and Forbidden City.”

  “To be fair, most people don’t travel as much as I do. It’s a little extreme.”

  “Did you ever get tired of traveling?” she asks, a drop of ketchup getting on her face.

  I can’t help it. I reach over and wipe the drop away. Our eyes lock as I lick the sauce off the tip of my finger. Neither of us says a word. The heated look on her face tells me she’s as interested as I am. There’s no mistaking it. She blushes and looks back down at her plate. Now, I’m curious. She doesn’t strike me as the shy type, but my gut tells me that she won’t make the first move. There’s a lot more to Lanie than meets the eye, and I want to learn every last detail.

  “No, not until recently,” I admit, breaking our silence.

  She lets out a shaky breath. “Oh.”

  “What about you? You seem to work very hard. Ever get tired of it, think of changing jobs?”

  She shakes her head. “I love my work. I guess that’s why I work so much. I like analytical thinking, the research, the writing. I love everything about it.”

  “Have you ever thought of teaching?” I ask her.

  She laughs. “No. I’m not sure I have the patience for it. I’m not like Di.”

  “I mean at a law school. You seem great at your work. I’m sure others could learn from that.”

  “I’ve guest lectured a few times, but honestly, I’ve been so busy that I haven’t had time to think about anything but my cases.”

  “Well, since you have a few days off, you should think about it. There’s so much out there. Don’t let the world pass you by, Lanie.”

  “I . . . won’t,” she stammers. I can tell she doesn’t want to go down this path of conversation, so I let it go.

  “Tell me about your funniest case,” I ask, changing course. Lanie’s face lights up, and she giggles.

  “What?”

  She lowers her voice and looks around. “I probably shouldn’t say anything, but it’s all in the court record, so . . .” She pauses and clears her throat. “A few years ago, Mr. and Mrs. Quincey were getting a divorce. They were in their mid-forties and had two kids in elementary school. A typical middle-class, suburban family. Anyhow, the divorce got a bit heated. I mean, they were arguing about everything. We were in mediation for weeks. The judge finally decided to have them come into court. So, while Mr. Quincey was on the stand, his lawyer asked him why he thought he should get the family computer. He said he needed it for things. Well, Mrs. Quincey, who was my client, stood up and yelled, ‘Like what, porn?’ and he yelled back, ‘Well, I need it, after all, you don’t put out and you spend all your time with your vibrators.’ The judge had to call a recess. It was a disaster. Needless to say, both opposing counsel and I got called into chambers to discuss how we needed to control our clients. Then the judge had a come-to-Jesus talk with them both, and after that, they were much more amicable, or at least not screaming at each other in court.”

  My body shakes with laughter imagining the scene that Lanie has described. “That is definitely interesting.”

  “Very.”

  We continue chatting about the town, and Lanie shares the town’s history with me. Our conversation spills over into our walk down Main Street and her street. She walked since she’s only a few blocks away. We get to her house, and we both stop. It’s that awkward time when you aren’t sure what to do.

  I decide to go for it, but just as I start to lean in, my phone buzzes. I pull it out and look down. Damn it. It’s the hospital.

  “Sorry, I have to take this,” I mutter as I answer the call. After a few minutes of discussing a patient’s situation, I turn back to Lanie.

  “I should get inside. I need to do some laundry before I go to bed,” she says to me. She leans up and kisses my cheek. “Thanks for dinner, Brixton.”

  It’s now or never. I grab her arm and pull her back against me, crushing my lips to hers. The kiss is firm but gentle, and I feel her body relaxing until a voice snaps us out of our lust.

  “You kids ought to get a room,” Mrs. Miller’s voice calls out as she walks toward us with her toy poodle on a leash.

  Lanie steps back from me and wipes her lips with the back of her hand. “Hi, Mrs. Miller.”

  “Lanie, I’m surprised you’d be out here on the street making out with some guy. I never thought you had it in you.” She surveys me up and down. “If I were forty years younger, I’d get myself a fine piece of ass like him too. Now, you kids clear out of here. It’s indecent to be doing that hanky panky on the street.” And with that, she continues on her way.

  Lanie’s face is bright red. I can see it even in the dim light of the streetlamps. I can’t suppress my laughter any longer.

  “Did she just call us out for kissing?” I ask.

  Lanie nods. “Uh, yeah. She did. Damn it. Now the whole town is gonna know.” She sighs. “Sorry about that, Brix.”

  “Hey, I’m the one who kissed you. You don’t need to apologize.”

  “Well . . . I should get inside.” She starts to walk away from me, but I pull her back against me and kiss her once more.

  “Next time, I’m going to kiss you somewhere Mrs. Miller won’t interrupt us,” I whisper against her lips as I release her. She wobbles a bit as she steps back from me.

  “Brix . . .” She trails off, opens her mouth to speak, and shuts it again.

  I press a finger to her lips. “Good night, Lanie,” I say as I walk back to Main Street to go and get in my car. I spend the entire ride home thinking about her soft lips and wanting to taste more of her.

  Chapter Seven

  Brixton

  I haven’t been to the Moore’s Saturday night dinner in a while. The hospital has been busy, and many weekends I’ve just been too tired to do much of anything when I’m not on call.

  Admittedly, I’m having a hard time adjusting to staying in one place. When I was abroad, I often spent my time off traveling and exploring the area. I’m sure there are new museums and places to visit here, but I just haven’t had the drive to figure it out yet.

  I text Tabby to see when she’s heading over to the Moore’s house.

  Me: Tabs, what time you going to dinner

  Tabby: Wait! You are actually coming! (shocked emoji)

  Me: Yes, asshat. I’m coming.

  Tabby: six

  Me: See you then

  I decide to make use of my afternoon by taking a walk. There’s a park not far from the Moore’s house. I head over to the park, stopping at a local bakery to pick up
donuts on my way. I start walking along the trail. I take a deep breath and allow myself to enjoy the scenery. Some birds fly overhead, and I can hear squirrels chasing each other in the nearby brush. I find myself getting lost in nature until I hear a splash and a yelp. I run to my left, following the sound. I head down a path toward a stream. I can see someone up ahead. I start to call to them, but I come to a complete halt when I see a very wet Lanie.

  “Lanie?!” I call out as I run toward her.

  She’s leaning on a rock and holding her leg. She looks up and stares at me in surprise.

  “Brix?”

  “Hey, are you OK?” I ask as I approach her and bend down to get a better look at her leg.

  She slowly pulls her hand back to reveal a nice gash about two inches long on her shin.

  I examine it, gently cradling her shapely leg in my hand.

  “I think you’ll live. Why don’t I help you back to your car and we can clean that up?”

  “I walked here.”

  I raise my eyebrows. “From your house?”

  She shakes her head. “I parked at my parent’s house and walked here.”

  “Oh. Well, I’ll drive you there. I was going to head over that way after a walk.”

  I help her as she walks, and we slowly make our way back down the trail.

  “What were you doing there anyhow?”

  “I was just sitting by the stream and decided to try to climb over a rock. It was such a nice winter day. I couldn’t resist being outside. I slipped and fell into the water.”

  Her pants and shoes are soaked, but her top half is at least dry. She leans on me as we walk, and I can’t deny that I like the feeling of her flush against my side. I’m a little sad to let her go when we reach my car. I get out my first aid kit and tend to her cut before helping her into my car.

  “Thanks,” she says with a sheepish grin as I drive us down the street to her parent’s neighborhood.

  “You’re welcome. I’m just glad I was there to help.”

  “Me too.”

  I see her sniff the air, and I laugh.

  “I brought donuts,” I say, motioning to the backseat.

  “Oh. I thought maybe the fall had affected my sense of smell,” she replies with a giggle.

  Three minutes later, I pull into the Moore’s driveway. There are already a few cars here and kids are running around the front yard enjoying the unseasonably warm weather. I come around the car and help Lanie out as we make our way to the side door.

  Mrs. Moore takes one look at us as we enter her house and runs over. “Oh my! Are you OK, sweetheart?”

  “I’m fine mom, just a little cut.”

  “Let’s get you some ice; come sit down.”

  Lanie hobbles over to the breakfast table and sits down, allowing her mom to use her nursing skills. I sit down next to her and place the donuts on the table.

  “Oh, Brix, those smell fantastic. Mrs. Holmes’s shop?”

  “Yep. They are the best.”

  “I agree. Now please go get a drink and help yourself to food.”

  “Thanks.”

  “It’s nice to see you, dear.” She hugs me. And I go in search of drinks for both Lanie and me.

  By the time I make it back to the table, Tabby is looking at Lanie’s leg, Kent and Kylie are piling appetizers on their plates, and Clark is petting one of the dogs’ heads. I can’t remember its name.

  “Here,” I say, handing Lanie water and a hard cider. I remember she isn’t much of a drinker but wasn’t sure if she was in the mood or not.

  “Let’s take a closer look at your leg,” I say to her as I sit down and pull her leg into my lap. Yeah, I’m totally using this as an excuse to touch her. So sue me. I peel back the bandage her mother applied and examine her wound. She’s going to have a nasty bruise, but if she keeps the cut cared for, she’ll probably not have much of a scar. “You’ll make it. I mean, we may need to amputate it, but you have another leg, so it’ll work out.” I run my thumb along the bruise that’s forming, and small goosebumps rise on her skin.

  She glares at me and opens her hard cider. “Thanks, Dr. Crane. Whatever would I do without your services?”

  I grin at her. “Consider it on-the-house.” I carefully lower her leg after reapplying the bandage.

  “Who wants to play some cornhole?” Clark asks as he bounds into the room.

  “Why not?” I reply and follow him out.

  Kylie and Kent decide to team up against us, and the game turns into an epic battle that Clark and I win. After some high fives and fist bumps, I head into the house to use the bathroom. There’s some strange knocking going on in the laundry room. I hear a grunt as I wash my hands and exit.

  “Hello?” I ask. There’s no response. The door’s a crack open. I push it slightly and glance around it. Holy fucking shit. Mr. and Mrs. Moore are doing it. Like, full-on doing it. Mr. Moore has Mrs. Moore sitting on the counter, and, wow, I hope my sex life is that good when I’m their age. I quietly shut the door and walk back outside to the deck where Tabby, Lanie, and Di are now sitting at a table.

  Tabby glances up at me as I approach. She takes one look at my face and bursts out laughing. “Oh God. You saw them.”

  Di and Lanie’s heads whip around to stare at me before they too burst into uncontrollable laughter.

  “Your . . . face . . . is . . . priceless,” Lanie manages in between laughter that has tears running down her cheeks.

  “Why is everyone laughing?” I ask, completely confused and feeling awkward as hell.

  Tabby motions for me to take a seat. I sit and wait for her to compose herself.

  “Mr. and Mrs. Moore . . . uh . . . like to do it in the laundry room when guests are over. Don’t ask. It’s their thing. Anyhow, the first time I came over, I may have walked in on them. I came back out here, and everyone was laughing about it because I looked so shocked.”

  “Strange party game,” I mutter as I grab a beer and down a few swigs.

  Lanie pats my leg. “Don’t worry. At least you didn’t walk in on it as a kid, like the rest of us did.”

  Di nods. “The scars of childhood.”

  Kylie and Kent walk up from where they just finished another one-on-one game of cornhole.

  Kylie raises a can of beer. “To the scars of childhood!”

  We all cheer and laugh.

  Lanie

  After everyone settles down, I lean into Brix. “Welcome to the family,” I whisper. He gives me a curious look. “You’ve been officially hazed.”

  He laughs just as my mom comes out to offer to refill the cheese platter sitting on the table. Everyone looks toward her and bursts out laughing again; even Brix tries to press his lips together to keep from chuckling.

  My mother, in her ever-perfect façade, doesn’t even bat an eyelash as she grabs the plate and heads into the kitchen. I do note that Nana Betty is the one to bring it back out for us.

  “Do they do that every weekend?” he whispers to me as everyone gets back to talking.

  I grin and shrug. “I honestly don’t know, and I don’t want to know.”

  “I suppose I don’t want to know, either. But it’s safe to say that I will never, ever be going into the laundry room again.”

  I giggle. “Noted.”

  I lean over toward him, getting a whiff of his cologne that smells way too good on him. “I’d be careful about opening any closed doors in this house.”

  “Any?”

  I nod. “Any. The laundry room is their fave, but they have been known to get adventurous.”

  “Dear God, now I’m never going to open a door in this house again.”

  I pat Brix’s thigh, which is muscular, and my mind drifts for a moment before I realize that he’s waiting for me to speak. “Uh, probably best not to,” I say quickly as I pull my hand away.

  I join in the table conversation for the rest of the meal, and after dinner, Brix offers to drive me home.

  “I’m fine, really,” I say as I hobble t
o my car.

  “Please,” he says as he grabs my arm. “I’d feel better if I drove you.”

  I huff. I hate leaving my car places. It means I have to come back here tomorrow. Tabby walks out behind us with Kent’s arm wrapped around her. “I can drive your car home, Lanie. I mean, it’s on our way.”

  Chapter Eight

  Brixton

  “See?” I say to her.

  She rolls her eyes. “Fine, but I don’t need you to drive me.”

  She pulls out her car fob and tosses it to Tabby. She doesn’t say a word as I drive us to her house. Tabby pulls in first, locks the car, and tosses Lanie the key before getting in Kent’s car. “See you later, you two.” She winks at us, and I groan. My little sister needs to stay out of my business.

  I follow Lanie up to her front porch. “Here, let me,” I offer as she pulls out the house key.

  “I see all little sisters are annoying,” she jokes.

  I shrug. “Tabby’s pretty good, but yes, they are.”

  I shut the door behind us as Lanie hangs her coat on a hook inside her coat closet and walks into her kitchen.

  “You ought to get into dry clothes,” I point out.

  “Mom dried my socks for me while you guys were playing cornhole, and my pants are mostly dry now.”

  I grimace at the thought of Mrs. Moore in the laundry room. “Still.”

  She rolls her eyes again. “You are bossy, you know that?”

  “I like to make sure my patients are taken care of.”

  “I’m an adult. Not a child.”

  I look her up and down, and her face turns red. “I can see that, Lanie.”

  I saunter toward her, and she walks backward, hitting her countertop. She grips the edge of it, and I cage her in, smelling her perfume as I do.

  “Lanie . . .” I trail off as I look at her plump, perfect lips.

  “Yes . . .” she says in a breathy voice, her eyes fixed on my lips.

  I lean down to kiss her and . . . there’s a knock at the door.

  “Fuck,” I curse as I move to let her go and answer the door.

  I step back, and Lanie walks to the front door.