Off Beat (Forgotten Flounders Series Book 1)

by J. C. Hannigan

“The Cajun lobster salad, please. Thank you.”

  “I’ll have buttered lobster with a Caesar salad.” My mother said when Adella turned to take her order.

  “And I’ll have the buttered lobster with a baked potato.” She nodded, writing out my dish before swiftly collecting the menus.

  “I’ll be right back with your drinks,” she assured us, heading to the hostess stand with the menus.

  Once we were alone again, my mother turned to look at Harper. “Calum tells me you opened the bookstore on Main. That’s wonderful! I’ve heard really good things about it. I hadn’t realized you were behind it, though, or I would have made sure to stop in.”

  “Thank you,” Harper’s cheeks heated beneath my mom’s genuine praise. “But I couldn’t have done it without my business partner and friend, Ellery. She runs the café, and her treats hook the clientele.”

  “Well, I can’t wait to see it. It’s been too long since I visited Mahone Bay for the shops. Usually, I was just passing through to check in on my father. He lived a few blocks from here.”

  Although she’d brought him up, I knew my mother wasn’t fishing for information about how Gramps had known about Asher. She’d mentioned him organically and hadn’t spared me so much a conspired glance.

  “I hadn’t realized he lived so close,” Harper admitted sadly, glancing at me briefly. I could see the guilt reflecting in her irises. It wasn’t her fault, I’d never mentioned where he lived. Gramps used to come to us for Sunday lunch, and our conversations would always circle around music and Harper’s adventures around Canada.

  Gramps had done a lot of touring in his early twenties, and they’d spent many lunches discussing their favourite places in other provinces while Connor and I would listen, bemused and a little jealous. Neither one of us had ever really traveled outside of Nova Scotia at that point. Growing up, my parents hadn’t really had the money for vacations and trips.

  “I was sorry to hear that he had passed. He was a kind man.”

  “He was. And he loved music, just like my Calum.” Mom smiled warmly before her green eyes moved to Asher. “I hear you play the piano?”

  “Yup, I do. I’m pretty good at it—not as good as Dad is at the guitar, but I’ll get there.” He replied with confidence, and I swear my mom’s face nearly split into two with the grin that appeared when she heard how easily he’d called me that.

  “Do you take lessons?”

  “Yes, at Mrs. Prichard’s.”

  “What a small world! I used to take piano lessons from Mrs. Prichard when I was a little girl. She was a good friend of my father’s. She taught your Aunt Connor, too.”

  Of course. Between Ted and Margaret Watson and Mrs. Prichard, it was no wonder my grandfather had quietly pieced it all together.

  “Really?!” Asher exclaimed; his eyes bright with excitement.

  “Really. I can’t believe she’s still teaching,” My mom laughed, shaking her head a little.

  “I come from an entire family of musicians?” Asher asked with wonder, turning to look at me with questions in his gaze.

  “Well, those of us on the Murphy side are musically gifted, anyway. The Jacobs are more tradesmen or fishermen.” I explained, my gaze drifting to Harper.

  “This is so cool!” Asher exclaimed, twisting to look at his mom.

  Harper

  Maeve really wanted to check out the bookshop, so we did that after we finished lunch. The restaurant wasn’t far from the shop, so I’d parked in my usual spot and walked down with Asher. Maeve thought it’d be perfect to walk back and enjoy the crisp spring air and sunshine, so Cal left his car in the parking lot, and we made our way down Main Street to Fairmont.

  It was a little strange strolling through town with them. For six years, we’d lived here, and for two, I’d worked at the bookstore. Excluding the tourists, there weren’t many people in town that I didn’t know on at least a first name basis.

  But I hadn’t realized that Maeve had grown up in this very town, or that many of the locals knew her because of who her father was. I still couldn’t believe that Calum’s grandfather had lived in the same town as us. In all the years we’d lived there, I hadn’t walked into him once…had I?

  Furrowing my brow, I tried to recall a time where I might have. No, I was positive I hadn’t. Frank Murphy didn’t have a forgettable face, and the last time I could remember seeing him was at one of their Sunday lunches in Lunenburg, a few months before Calum left.

  Several people had stopped to exchange pleasantries with her. By proxy, everyone seemed to know Calum, too. I’d assumed it was because of his profession, but those who knew Maeve seemed to be familiar with him for that reason first, then star-struck by his success second.

  Questioning stares accompanied us, but nobody addressed the elephant strolling down the street hand in hand. Even the small number of people who stopped us to say hello didn’t seem to need the verbal confirmation, they were merely just more interested in spectating up close than I was comfortable with. I’d have to get used to it, though.

  We were no longer a boy and girl in love and on the cusp of adulthood. Not everything could be exactly as it once was. His profession and status alone changed that. People would always be interested in him, in the music he was making, in his personal life, and by proxy, they’d be interested in Asher and me.

  Asher led the way, walking a little ahead of Calum and me with Maeve. She’d been asking him plenty of questions and had him chatting almost nonstop about school and his friends and what he liked to do for fun.

  A woman in her fifties spotted Maeve from across the street. She wore a beige wool-blend coat and short brown hair chopped in a severe bob. Her dark eyes that seemed to express every thought that filtered through her head. At first, she had seemed confused, squinting at Maeve from across the street—as if she was trying to place where she knew her from. Then clarity cleared away her confusion, and she all but jogged across the road to approach them.

  “Maeve Murphy! Is that you?” she exclaimed, her penciled in brows lifting with surprise. “I haven’t seen you in ages!”

  “Kathleen Burnham?” Maeve replied questioningly, and the woman nodded eagerly. “I thought you had moved to Vancouver?”

  “Yes! I’m here visiting Mom for a couple of weeks. Just got in three nights ago!” The woman, Kathleen, smiled sympathetically at Calum’s mom. “I was so sorry to hear about your father. Frank was one of the kindest souls around.”

  “Thank you,” Maeve said, her tone both warm and polite. Asher shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot and looked back at us. His fidgeting brought the woman’s attention to him, and she smiled kindly at him.

  “And who’s this handsome fellow?” Kathleen asked, her attention returning to Calum’s mother while she waited.

  Calum and had I caught up and stopped on the sidewalk beside them. Kathleen’s interested gaze went to us—widening slightly at Cal’s tall stature, eyes dropping to take in our entwined hands before returning to Asher.

  “This is my grandson, Asher.” She replied with the same kind of reverence my mother had when she talked about her grandson.

  “Grandson?” Kathleen repeated with a subtle tilt of her head.

  “You remember my son, Calum?” Maeve continued, placing a hand on Cal’s forearm beside her.

  “Of course!” Kathleen exclaimed, eyes darting back to Maeve for a moment before returning to Calum. “Although…I haven’t seen you since you were a little boy about yay high,” she paused, lifting a hand mid-thigh before continuing with an airy laugh. “You probably don’t even remember me.”

  “Yeah, sorry. Unfortunately, my memory doesn’t stretch back that far.” Calum chuckled, lifting his free hand to shake Kathleen’s.

  “Oh darling, handshakes are so informal, and I’m practically an aunt.” She cooed, ignoring his hand and instead wrapping her arms around him in a hug while her curious gaze lingered on me for a beat. Calum had been holding my hand since the moment we started walking,
and even then, he refused to let me go. I tried to tug my hand away, but he held fast, hugging Kathleen back with his one arm before she stepped back. “And I presume this is your wife?”

  As if sensing my discomfort, Calum ran his thumb along the back of my hand until his thumb gently pressed against the knuckle of my ring finger. I turned to look at him, and his lips curled into a potent smile. The spark in his eyes informed me he liked hearing that. The gleam in his irises told me he was up to something, and I narrowed my eyes in warning.

  He turned back to Maeve’s old friend and grinned. “Not yet, but I plan on rectifying that soon. Does that count?”

  “Absolutely! Marriage is an outdated concept these days.” Kathleen Burnham’s lips curled in a slow, bemused smile.

  “I don’t think it’s an outdated concept at all,” Maeve frowned a little.

  “Well, yes, dear. But you’re the only one of us not divorced, so of course, you can say that.” Kathleen said with a smile that seemed false. She studied the three of us again for a moment before turning her attention to Maeve. “Well, I hate to cut it short, but I best be on my way. I’ve made Mother wait long enough—I booked a mani-pedi to escape her for a bit.” She wriggled her freshly manicured nails before wrapping her arms around Calum’s mom in a hug.

  “It was wonderful seeing you again, Kathleen! Take care of yourself.”

  “And you! We must meet up again for coffee before I head home.” She said, her arms falling away as she stepped back. “My flight home is the second weekend of May.”

  “We’ll get together before then. Give me a call.” Maeve smiled. Her friend inclined her head and continued on down the street. After Kathleen Burnham had rounded the corner and we’d continued on our walk, Asher spoke up.

  “What does rectifying mean?”

  “It means…” Cal trailed off, his eyes seeking mine. “To put something right.” He continued, rubbing his thumb against my knuckle. I could feel the words he didn’t say as clearly as if I’d heard them spoken, and my heart fluttered in my chest.

  “Okay.” Asher grinned, holding open the bookstore door for us. Maeve went in first, her eyes as wide and bright as a child’s on Christmas morning.

  “Oh, Harper! This is gorgeous!” she exclaimed, her head turning this way and that as she took in the rows of bookshelves, tables, and displays. “I remember when this place was an old thrift store. It looks incredible!”

  “Just wait until you try the coffee,” Calum said, winking at me.

  Maeve adored the shop—and Ellery—so much so that she ended up leaving with ten new paperbacks and a box of cannoli from the café.

  “It was so great seeing you again,” Maeve said to me when it was finally time for her to go. She hugged me hard before releasing me. “And you!” she added, pulling Asher in for a hug. She held him close for a moment, soaking it in with a soft, maternal smile. Calum watched on, his own lips curling into a happy smile that immediately made my heart skip with delight.

  “It was good seeing you, too, Maeve. We hope you can all make it to Asher’s party.”

  “Of course!” She cooed, eyes shining brightly. “Is there anything, in particular, the birthday boy wants?”

  “LEGO!” Asher proclaimed. “I don’t have the new Captain Marvel set. The diamond heist set would be cool, too, though!”

  “A LEGO fanatic? I should have known,” she chuckled, glancing at Calum warmly. “I’m sure I still have your old sets kicking around in a bin somewhere.”

  “You probably do,” Calum laughed, shaking his head a little. The door chimed, and in walked a woman that looked remarkably like Maeve. I knew the second my eyes took in her red hair and bright green eyes that it was Connor, all grown up.

  I hadn’t seen her since she was fourteen. Even then, she’d always resembled their mother—the light to Cal and his father’s dark. She looked even more like Maeve now; the same porcelain skin, the same vibrant, ruby hair, and sparkling emerald eyes. She peered around the shop before finding us in the café. Grinning, she floated over to us with light, sure steps.

  “I texted Connor after lunch to let her know I would need to be picked up.” She explained to us. “I figured I’d occupied enough of your time, Calum.”

  “Mom don’t be silly. I would have driven you home.”

  “What, you aren’t happy to see me?” Connor teased, coming to a stop near the table we loitered at as we said our goodbyes.

  “Of course, I am, Pip.” Calum ruffled her hair affectionately. “Asher, this is your Aunt Connor.”

  “Hey! It’s so great to meet you,” Connor smiled, her green eyes a little misty before they moved to me. “Hi Harper, it’s good to see you again, too.” She threw her arms around me in a brief but warm hug.

  “It’s good to see you, too,” I replied before she stepped back, her eyes dropping to Asher again.

  “I can’t believe how much he looks like you, Cal!” She exclaimed, shaking her head like it mystified her.

  Asher beamed at the comparison, puffing his little chest out importantly. “I’ve been getting that a lot lately.” He remarked, trying for aloof; but I knew he was thrilled about it. We chatted for another couple of minutes, and then Maeve let out a deep sigh.

  “Well, I need to get dinner started,” She said. I could sense she didn’t want to leave just yet; neither did Connor, but never-the-less, they said their goodbyes and headed for the doors—box of cannoli and books in hand.

  Calum

  When dawn broke Thursday on Harper’s second day off, I was already wide awake, holding her in my arms. I breathed in the scent of her shampoo, letting it fill my lungs before releasing it with a sigh. I’d do anything to spend the rest of my life waking up with her, just like this. She shifted in her sleep, her ass moving against my morning wood. Exhaling, I tried to resist rubbing against her.

  Harper wiggled her hips again, rubbing her ass against me. The thin t-shirt she was dressed in—my t-shirt—rode up to pool at her waist. She wore nothing beneath it, and I only had my boxer briefs as a barrier. I knew how quickly I could get them off if provoked.

  Snaking my arm around her stomach, I gently palmed her breast, rubbing the soft material of the t-shirt over her nipple, relishing how quickly it pebbled. She drew in a breath, her chest rising and falling—my hand moving along with it. Harper pushed her ass harder against me, and I jerked my hips forward with all the control of a teenage boy.

  Rolling over so that her head rested against my arm, Harper peered at me with sleepy, seductive eyes. Her fingers stretched across my lower abdomen, gliding slowly down until her hand disappeared into the waistband of my briefs. She gripped me with a steady hand and smiled. “Good morning.”

  “Morning, Acushla.”

  We spoke in hushed voices, not wanting to disturb the sleeping child down the hall. I’d checked in on him after using the washroom when I’d first woken up. He’d been asleep then, and I could still hear him faintly snoring away.

  Which was good, because Harper started pumping her hand, her fingers gently squeezing my shaft. In a flash, I’d shoved my boxer briefs down my knees and worked them off with my feet while she continued her torturous, slow pumps, biting her lip as she watched me.

  Unable to withstand it anymore—and with my boxers still around my ankles—I climbed over her. Bracing my arms on the mattress, I nudged her legs apart with my knee and freed my right foot from my boxers.

  Settling between her thighs, I kissed her, rubbing my tip against her entrance, finding it sleek and hot. With a slow jerk of my hips, I slid in. She was still a little swollen from last night, but so wet, so ready.

  “I love you,” I murmured, my eyes locking with hers as her thighs fell open for me. “So god damn much.” I moved against her, slow and deep. She brought her arms up around my ribs, her hands gripping my shoulders—nails biting into my skin. Lost in her heat, I welcomed the sting of it.

  I didn’t mind that she hadn’t returned my words—I could see them in her eyes, f
eel them in her kisses and touches. It was enough—more than enough. Our sounds were hushed, our movements slow and purposeful. My eyes never left hers, not even when we both climaxed, our breaths the only noise we risked.

  I didn’t want to break the spell of her warmth, but I knew we had the entire day. I pressed another kiss to her mouth before doing so.

  “Stay in bed, beautiful,” I told her, forcing myself from the bed. “I’m going to grab a shower before I make breakfast.”

  “Mmm,” she purred, stretching against the mattress. “I need to use the bathroom first.” She added, slipping out of bed. Her thighs were bare, and when she stood up, my cum trailed down. I fucking loved marking her like that.

  “What are you grinning about?” she demanded in a whisper.

  “I’m thinking about how hot it is to see my cum slide down your legs,” I said softly, into the shell of her ear before stepping back and allowing her to pass.

  I gave her a few moments of privacy before she tip-toed back. She handed me a clean bath towel and slipped back beneath the sheets with a wistful look about her as if she wanted nothing more than to join me.

  Winking at her, I strolled soundlessly from the room and down the dark hallway to the bathroom.

  Although small, Harper’s tiny house was whimsical and so very her. I knew she was comfortable here, and I had no intention of forcing her to leave it before she was ready—I just hoped like hell it would be sooner rather than later. If it wasn’t, that was okay, too, but I knew I’d end up crashing here more nights than not, just for more of this.

  I showered quickly, returning to Harper’s room to dress with the towel around my waist. She’d fallen asleep again, her dark hair the only thing visible beneath the blankets she’d drawn up to hide from the sun.

  Crossing over to the windows, I went to close the blinds. Before I could pull the cord, movement out of my peripheral caught my attention. Harper’s father was taking the garbage out. The rest of the houses on the street had blue recycle bins and garbage cans set out.