As I look at the table, I hope this isn’t the first and last time they come to my house. It’s been so long since I’ve had people who aren’t my family hanging out with me. I’m not the only one who is happy about tonight. Dad is having a good time with them too.
“I speak for all of us when I say that the town would benefit from having a Latin cuisine restaurant,” Henry speaks, standing from his seat and taking his plate to the sink. “If you are ever interested, we’re open to discussing a partnership with you.”
Dad looks at him and then at his brothers. “My life is in New York, and I’m busy with my wife.”
“We’re just leaving you an open door,” Pierce adds. “Maybe you can set it up, see that it works properly, and just visit often.”
“Emilio, we appreciate your hospitality and the food,” Henry says, patting Dad’s shoulder and walking toward the sink with yet another plate. Why is he clearing the table? “Guys, let’s clean before we leave.”
This is the first time I realize that even when the brothers are teasing each other all the time, they are getting along. When I first met them, I swear I thought I’d have to use the taser gun I carry in my purse to control them. They couldn’t be in the same room without threatening to kill each other. I was looking forward to posting a scoreboard and setting bets on who would survive this challenge.
Well, I could still do it. At least, I can bet on how long it's going to take me to kill Henry once he’s back to his asshole demeanor. I might not be fighting with him, and I might miss our arguments, but this is the eye of the storm. Once we settle, I’m sure he’ll bring his A game, and that’s when I will teach him he can try to control me, but he can’t take me down.
Everyone leaves almost at the same time. Except for Henry who stays behind sweeping the kitchen.
“You don’t have to do this,” I say, taking off my shoes.
“It’s been a long day. You still have to organize your closet,” he points out. “I can stay if you need help. We might be able to get it done tonight.”
“Thank you, but I’m ordering hangers, baskets, and having my sisters pack the clothes I left in New York,” I explain. “It’s a big project that’ll require more than a night.”
“Why didn’t you bring them or have the movers do it for you?” he asks as he puts away the broom.
I shrug. There are too many answers to that question, including that I had no idea if there would be space for them.
“The guys and I were thinking about setting up a fire pit in your backyard,” he says. “I don’t know what else you’d like.”
“A pool?” I joke.
He twists his lips and stares at the ceiling for a moment. “I don’t think the backyard is big enough for that, but we can try a hot tub or something else.”
“It’s fine the way it is right now,” I say.
“Hey, I just want to make sure this house is what you want,” he states. His voice is so low, and he’s so close to me.
“Making up for dragging me here?”
“No, I’m trying to make sure you’re comfortable,” he says, his hand lifts and as he’s about to touch my face, he retracts it and takes a step backward. “There’s nothing I have to compensate for or feel guilty about your relocation.”
“You could hire someone else for the factory,” I suggest.
“Why is it that you think you’re better suited for Merkel?”
“I always wanted to travel and see the world,” I explain. “That’s why I applied for the scholarship in the first place. I thought I’d be managing one of the hotels, preferably in Maui, Fiji, or Barbados. Instead, I ended up in corporate and then…with you.”
“You’re in charge of the program now,” he says. “You decide the positions for each candidate and plan their career even before you send the acceptance letters. How do you decide their fate?”
“Skills,” I answer. It’s more complicated than that, but why go through the tedious process when he created the program.
“I know your dreams, your test scores, your passion… I also know your strengths, Sophia. The path you’ve been following since you started with us isn’t a coincidence,” he states. “Could you have handled all those jobs that have knocked on your door? Sure, but you’re made for more. I’m not holding you back. I’m shaping you before you get to the top of the hill.”
“You can’t possibly believe that,” I state almost laughing at what he just said. Is he serious? Does he believe I should just be with him forever? Or is he going to hand me my own company free of charge?
“You’re right. I can’t believe I’m doing this. I hate explaining myself to others and yet, here I am telling you more than I usually do,” he declares. “I only ask you to trust me. Even when I upset you, I’ve never failed you.”
“So now I should be what? Thanking you for keeping me stranded in this position for so long?”
“Not yet,” he says smugly and leaves me stoic.
This point goes to freaking Henry Aldridge.
Henry
The weekends are almost always exactly the same in Baker’s Creek. Bustling with people, vendor booths set on Main Street, and Anna Tattle, the town gossip, taking notes and pictures of everyone who attends the festival of the weekend.
In general, I don’t have a problem with her, until she posts her version of the events on social media. My brothers and I always come out like the antagonists of the town. Well, except Hayes who is the saint since he cures everyone. Someone should stop that woman, but my brothers think it’s hilarious.
The only difference between weekends is the type of festival. This weekend is the Beads and Handmade Jewelry Festival.
“This reminds me of Mardi Gras. Maybe we should go to New Orleans once this is over,” Leyla suggests, pulling Sophia along with her while they rush to the next booth.
“Why are we doing this again?” I ask Pierce.
“It’s our turn to show the town that we’re a part of them. They still think we’re here to tear them apart.”
“We’re not,” I deny. “It was the old man, but he’s making us look like the assholes. Have you found the list of buyers yet?”
Our father has a list of pre-approved buyers who will be purchasing the town’s assets if we fail to meet the stipulations of his last testament. I might have an idea or two on how to be a step ahead of his nonsense. However, I need names before we can start to work on my plan.
“No, and we’re here because your woman dragged mine here, and I don’t have an excuse to stay at home,” he says. “Plus, the doctors are making us look bad. They have their own booth.”
Pierce and I don’t have the same relationship that Hayes and I do, but I’m trying because we’re brothers. It’s pretty easy to piss him off, maybe as easy as it is to get on my nerves. Which is why I don’t ask why he just called his estranged wife, “my woman.” Seriously, what the fuck is the deal with these two? Moving on from his issues, I decide to clarify something.
“It’s not a booth. Hayes and Blaire are in their practice. Which happens to be on Main Street. They opened today just in case there’s an emergency like last weekend,” I remind him and sigh because people can be stupid. Who eats a pound of onions in one sitting just because it’s the Onion Festival? “Though, they make me feel like I’m littering while they’re being productive. I should be working too. I mean, Vance is in charge of the security, and Beacon is playing later tonight.”
“If it makes you feel better, Mills isn’t doing anything today. He’s at home,” he says, staring at the booth where Sophia and Leyla are still chatting with a shirtless man with lots of tattoos.
“He has a kid. That’s plenty,” I remind him and then say, “If you had had one of those during the happy period of your marriage you could be exempt from this ordeal.”
“Never, never bring that shit up in front of Leyla,” he warns me.
“Why do I feel like you need to provide us with a long list of banned subjects when it comes to you
two?”
“It’s not long,” he says pointing at a big drink a woman carries. “I need one of those. I bet they have alcohol, like those drinks they sell in Vegas. Maybe if I’m drunk enough, I can keep walking around. We have to see every booth and thank the vendors for being a part of this wonderful festival.”
“Don’t sound so excited,” Sophia says, carrying a small suede bag with her. I take it from her and put it in my pocket, with the other four I’m storing so far. “So far that booth is the best one. The pieces are gorgeous and the artist, he’s hot. He likes redheads, by the way.”
“Where is Leyla?” Pierce asks, stomping toward the booth.
“Don’t forget to thank the vendor,” she calls after him.
When I glance at Sophia her mischievous grin makes me reach for her hand. I squeeze it.
“You've been hanging with Blaire for too long,” I state. “Then again, you can be wicked on your own.”
She shrugs one shoulder. “He deserves it. Plus, I get a kick out of those two. They act like they can’t stand each other, but it’s just bullshit.”
“Do you know there’s a list of banned subjects we can’t discuss in front of Leyla?”
“No, that’s a new one,” she answers. “I get the feeling that he coddles her even though she’s pretty strong. You know, because he hates her and wants her out of his life.”
I laugh, “He’s so whipped it’s not even funny.”
“She loves him too. I wish I knew what happened between them.”
“Earlier one of the Mary’s came to visit with him and Leyla didn’t care. Maybe it is just one-sided,” I point out, watching the booth and waiting for my brother to swing a punch at the guy in front of them. Instead, they are shaking hands. “Do you think he set them up on a date?”
Sophia rolls her eyes. “Of course not. He’s an Aldridge. If he knew there’s any chance that he’d take his woman, he’d be throwing the first punch. I’m sure he met his wife.”
“The artist is married, and you knew it?”
She releases a loud laugh. “The actual artist is the redhead next to him. She brought her husband along. They are from Idaho.”
“Why would you do that?”
“Leyla did care about Mary Beth dropping by with breakfast for the boys,” she states. “I heard Mary Lu came along to visit with you.”
I put an arm around her shoulder, bringing her closer to me and say, “She did, and I told her I was on my way out to be with you.”
“Oh no, you’re not using me as your shield, Aldridge,” she spouts trying to push me away, but I don’t let her. “Just enjoy their adoration and tell them you’re a taken man. After all, you are taken.”
Pierce comes right behind Leyla. He’s glaring at Sophia. “Nice couple. I skipped the thanking since you had done it already.”
“How’s Mary Beth, Pierce? Are you two going out on a date?” she taunts him.
“Only if Henry and Vance agree to join us since she can’t go out without her sisters,” he retorts but gets no reaction from Sophia.
“I still don’t understand why they are called the Mary’s when the third sister’s name is Nina,” Sophia says, ignoring Pierce’s taunting.
“Wasn’t Nina the one who was trying to catch the doctor?” Leyla asks. “They have their sights set on the Aldridge boys. I’m sure at least one of you is going to end up related to Anna Tattle. It could be you, darling husband.”
He sneers at her but doesn’t say anything. As we make our way to the other booths, I move my arm from Sophia’s shoulder and grab her hand, interlacing our fingers. It’s something we’ve done before, I just never thought much of it until now. Never before had I thought about how her hand fits perfectly in mine or how I love the feeling of her skin against mine. I’m tempted to guide her hand to my lips, but I won’t kiss her until she asks, just as I promised her.
But fuck if it doesn’t feel like it’s been years since the last time I tasted her. It’s not like we have time to be together. Other than working out, we haven’t spent any time alone since she arrived. There’s always someone with us, like her parents, my brothers, or an employee. Years. I’ve repressed myself for years. For at least the past year I’ve been fantasizing about her. What are a few more days or weeks?
I hope nothing because I’m about to combust with need, and if I have to keep jerking off for the lack of sex, my dick might fall off before I can have her.
We continue making our way through the booths, while Pierce is desperately trying to locate those big drinks that he hopes are loaded with vodka and will make him forget that he’s browsing with his brother and soon to be ex-wife.
When we find the place that’s selling those large drinks Pierce wants, Sophia wiggles her hand out of my grip, “We agreed, no touching.”
“I was only holding it. You should stop being stubborn and let me kiss you.”
“Sure, just because you say so.” She rolls her eyes. “You don’t get to decide what I should do, Aldridge. What’s next? Tossing me over your shoulder and dragging me to your secret cave?”
“Only if you’re into that, beautiful,” I say, taking a good look at her. “Let me know since I’d have to find a cave to make your fantasy a reality.”
“My only fantasy is eliminating you and disposing of your body without getting caught,” she says. “So yeah, find that cave so I can use it for that purpose.”
“You’d miss me.” I wink. “Tell me what you’re into, and I’ll make all your wishes come true.”
“What about you? Any fetishes?” she questions me with a serious face, but she’s definitely biting her lip so she can hide the smile.
I’m into you. You’re my wish and only fetish.
With the way she looks, I could eat her right now. She wears a black strapless dress and a pair of high heel sandals that make her toned, tanned legs look like a mile long. Longing thrums through me, to push her dress up, move the thin fabric that covers her sweet pussy and thrust inside her. I stop myself right there because even when the tension of not having her is eating me alive, I can’t just take her.
So what if every day we’re together I’m thinking about the ways I could fuck her, wondering if she’s wearing black lacy underwear, or what is under the outfit of the day.
“I’m into not becoming the mistress of some powerful mogul,” she retorts, and lucky me, my brother and Leyla come out of the booth right before I can discuss Martina with her.
“Lavender-strawberry lemonade,” he says, handing one of the two tall drinks he’s holding to Sophia. “It’s not even hard lemonade. What the fuck?”
“Thank you,” Sophia says.
“You know what’d a great business be?” Pierce asks and answers, “Setting up a booth that sells alcohol. At least beer and wine.”
“They’d have to request permission from city hall to sell alcohol outside an establishment. It’s not that easy,” Sophia says, sipping from the lemonade. “This is so good.”
“I knew you’d enjoy it,” Leyla says, drinking from her own, though hers is reddish. “Mine is Rooibos tea lemonade.”
“We should buy the bar and have a booth. I heard Levy is selling it, but it can be just a rumor,” Pierce proposes. “Can you see me as a bartender?”
“No,” Leyla answers. “Stick to what you know. Wait until the beer festival.”
“The kombucha festival is coming up soon,” Sophia informs him. “They should have a tequila, vodka, or scotch festival. I’ll have to check on those sporadic free weekends they have and see if we can institute them.”
“The drinking festival,” Pierce announces. “I’ll be the sole organizer.”
“Do they have a strawberry festival?” I whisper in her ear. “I like to suck on them.”
“You’re unreal.” She drinks from her lemonade, staring at a booth where they sell beads to make jewelry.
Leyla walks toward it and Pierce follows right behind.
“I’m pretty real, babe.”
She pokes my chest. “Un-freaking-believable,” she repeats. “Yet you don’t care about the consequences.”
“What are you talking about?”
“You know who does that? Heartless men who think they can own any woman in the world.”
“I’m pretty confused,” I complain. “What did I do now?”
“Flirt with a woman when you in fact are already taken. At least throw in a dating contract so I know the fine line.” She pokes me again, but this time I catch her wrist because I’m fucking done with this subject and being unable to discuss it with her.
“We have an emergency at The Lodge,” I announce. “We’ll meet you guys later.”
We walk against the current of people toward her house. I’m not interested in having anyone hear our business, and the walls at The Lodge are too thin.
“What are you doing?” Sophia growls.
“Taking you home to iron out our issues because I’m done,” I say, dragging her along Main Street.
“I don’t want to go.”
“Would you like me to discuss it right here?” I ask, coming to a halt. “We can air our problems right in the middle of the street if you prefer. One way or another we are getting this over with.”
She huffs, lifts her chin, and walks toward her house.
Once we’re inside she says, “I don’t see the point of this conversation. What is it? Some bullshit speech on how you have to marry her to preserve your powerful lineage. People like you don’t have a choice but to abide by tradition. My life is too complicated to hope for more, we could complement each other and never ask for more. No, maybe you’re going to try to convince me that I can be your happy while you endure the missus. Been there, done that, got the T-shirt.”
I frown. “What do you mean you’ve been there?”
“It doesn’t matter. I’m not going into a relationship like that, not even with you.”
“May I speak or are there any more conspiracy theories you’d like to throw before I explain to you what’s happening?”
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