Stark Raving Mad

by Knight, Vanessa

  “I’m sure we do, somewhere around here. We’ll tackle it tomorrow. Tonight we eat.”

  “I’m all for that.” She leaned the frame back on the mantel and wandered around the room, taking in all the antiquated decorations. His aunt always had an interesting way of decorating. “There are a lot of owls.”

  “She liked owls.” His eyes roamed the room. Yeah, the owls were still creepy and overpowering. They were in every space—ceramic owls on the tables, stuffed owls on the floor, owl throw pillows lining the floral furniture, plaster owls and plates hanging on the walls. So far, no one had taken the time to dismantle the owl shrine.

  He walked to the back of the room and got the owl bowl from the center of the dining table. Every day they had lived here, he’d come home from school and find that bowl filled with fruit. He’d sit at one end of the table and his mom would sit at the other. Him adding and subtracting. Her trolling newspapers, local and not-so- local, trying to find a job.

  He walked into the kitchen and found a towel in a kitchen drawer. He ran the towel over the table and chairs before wiping the slippery grooves of the bowl. He’d never dismantle the owl shrine, either, it meant too much to him and to his mom, no matter how much he’d like to. He placed the bowl in the center of the table. ”Ready to eat, or did you want to call your sister first?”

  “Eat.” She started poking her phone. “I’ll send her a text.”

  He slid out the chair, and motioned for Brook to have a seat before he ran out the door to get their dinner. When he came back inside, the smell of pizza replaced the musty air as he dropped the box on the table. “Did you want this salad tonight, or should we save it for tomorrow?”

  “Tomorrow is fine.” Her stomach growled. “A salad just isn’t going to cut it tonight.”

  Yeah, he knew the feeling. Joe opened the box and then broke off two cans of soda.

  She took a slice, cheese hanging down in oozing strings, and groaned as it hit her lips. “This is amazing.”

  “It is.” He brought a piece to his mouth. Gooey cheese, sweet sauce, and cornbread crust melted in his mouth. “Mmmm…”He had missed this taste. Chicago had some kickass pizza, but still, nothing beat Uncle Tony’s. They ate in silence with the occasional groan mixed in. This was exactly what he needed after today.

  “I think I’m going to head to bed.” Brook stared at him as he finished his last piece of pizza.

  “What?” He ran a napkin over his chin, hoping she wasn’t staring at a pizza mess.

  “Thank you for today, for the past few weeks—for keeping me safe.” She twirled the empty soda can on the table, tears pooling above her lower lids. “For taking me away from there. I don’t know what I’d do if something happened to my family and my friends.”

  “Nothing will happen. We’re here.” He rested his hand on hers, their fingers weaving together.

  She angled her chair towards him, inching closer and closer, her legs framing his. “Yes, we are.” She rubbed his wrist in slow circles. Standing, she slid smoothly onto his lap, surprising the hell out of him. Her eyes softened. “Thank you for sharing this place with me.”

  He wanted to tell her she was the only reason he would consider coming back, but he couldn’t. That would raise questions he didn’t want to answer. It would lead to drama filled stories and eventually pity. He hated pity most of all. ”You’re welcome.” That was all the armor he had, a common pleasantry, a simple saying to escape the impending self-exploration.

  He didn’t want that. He wanted this. He needed this. Her with him, touching him, chasing away the demons, at least for tonight. Her lips met his. Soft, but probing.

  “Did you really want to go to sleep?” He asked as his body tightened. His interest grew longer and longer as she pushed herself toward him. Damn, he wanted her. Bad.

  “I said I wanted to go to bed.” She turned away and sauntered down the only hallway in the house. She knew she had him hooked as she moved her hips back and forth. “Who said anything about sleeping?”

  * * *

  Brook rolled over, her hand hitting a solid chest. Oops.

  Joe sputtered, but continued his slow, rhythmic breathing. She stared as his chest rose and fell. Her fingers slid along the hard lines to the soft path of dark hair. She knew where it led. And it was good. Right now wasn’t the time to think about that, though.

  She couldn’t believe she slept with him last night, over and over again, but after the Stark realization and the whole fleeing-for-her-life thing, she’d needed him. She’d needed him close, and damn, he’d gotten close. Her body was sore from all the closeness, but it was definitely a good sore.

  She slithered through the blankets and off the bed. Grappling with the jeans on the floor, she managed to cover her legs and throw on a T-shirt before walking into the kitchen.

  Yuck. It was worse than she remembered. Although, in her defense, it was pretty dark last night. How was she supposed to see the dirt film covering every little thing in the room when it had been pitch black? Oh, and she’d been starving.

  Starving. Food sounded pretty good about now. She’d had a heck of a workout last night, and looking at the filth, she had a long day of cleaning ahead. She opened the refrigerator. Non-dairy creamer and a science experiment sat on the top shelf. A see-through plastic container with fuzzy white and green contents. She pulled it out of the fridge with two fingers and dumped it in the trash by the back door.

  She went back to the soft light. Salad. She could have the salad from Joe’s uncle’s place.

  Knock. Knock.

  “Crap.” She looked up, her heart rate hammering in throat. Who would be knocking? Here? No one knew they were here. She barely knew where they were.

  Knock. Knock.

  Crap. She looked at the door, tempted to answer it. Tempted to run to Joe. Tempted to roll into a ball and pray for whoever it was to go away. She was leaning toward the ball.

  She stuffed her body against the counter, ducking behind a wall. She couldn’t take the chance of anyone seeing her. Not here.

  The hallway to the bedroom was covered, so no one would see her there. Getting to that hallway would lead her right through the living area, though, and the bare front windows. Even the back door was directly in the line of sight of the front windows.

  She peeked around the wall, and a face popped up in front of the glass of the window, followed by another knock. She plastered herself back to the cabinet, heart beating a conga. Dammit.

  “I know you’re in there, Joe. Get your butt out here,” a man shouted through the door.

  Did she know that voice? Who knew? He kinda sounded familiar, maybe. The only ones who knew they were out here were Shay, Adam, and Allison, and she’d bet money it wasn’t Adam out there. Where the hell was her super-cop when she needed him?

  Brook dropped to the floor and peered around the corner. She just had to wait till the unwanted visitor left the front windows, and then she’d crawl to Joe. Yeah. She could do this.

  “Joe, c’mon man. It’s Tyler.” The person outside plastered his hand against the glass, blocking the light as he searched the front of the house. Tyler. Joe’s cousin. She recognized the dark eyes and dark hair. What was he doing here?

  She crossed the floor and opened the front door. “Tyler?”

  “Hey, um, yeah, is Joe here?” Tyler shifted the box in his arms as Bruno flew down the hall, barking. Took enough time for him to come running. Thank goodness Joe didn’t keep him around to be a watch dog. The poor thing would be out of a job.

  “He’s sleeping.”

  “Hey, Bruno!” Tyler leaned the box so it rested on one arm, and reached to pat the puppy’s head. “My mom sent over some casseroles and groceries for your stay. We ate everything in here over the summer.”

  “Thanks.” She let the teen in the door at the same time a large gun-wielding man came down the hall from the bedroom. Joe must have seen his cousin, because he slipped the gun in the band of his jeans.

  Tyler drop
ped the box on the counter and kneeled to give Bruno a proper hello, thankfully missing Joe’s dramatic entrance. The attention hound rolled to his back, begging for attention, keeping Tyler busy as Joe leaned against the doorway.

  “Tyler. What are you doing here this early?” Joe glared at Brook.

  She widened her eyes and flipped both palms up, the universal sign for what was I supposed to do? She was sure he had plenty of ideas of what she was supposed to do.

  Funny. She had some theories on what he was supposed to do, too. Her theories weren’t very nice and weren’t very comfortable for him. But they would’ve knocked that judgmental smirk right off his face.

  “Ma wanted to make sure you had food while you’re here.” Tyler pulled out plastic container after plastic container, as he said beautiful words like, “This is lasagna. This is extra gravy.”

  Brook’s mouth watered just staring at the plastic. She couldn’t wait to see how she reacted once they opened the container. And eating it, heaven help her. Her stomach growled. Thank goodness for the good workout last night.

  “Tell her thanks.” Joe started putting the food in the fridge.

  “She said to call if you need anything else. I can bring it tomorrow.” Tyler picked up the empty box. “I’m heading to the dunes today, so I can’t come back until tomorrow. Just text me, or call Ma.”

  “Thanks, Ty.”

  “Oh, wait. I have a new cell phone.” Tyler sifted through a drawer and pulled out a pen. He wrote his number on a Chinese menu hanging on the fridge. “Text me if you need me.”

  After the teen walked out the front door, Joe locked it behind him. Alone again.

  Brook sifted through the food, and found milk and a box of cereal. She threw open cabinets and drawers until she found a bowl and silverware. “Want some?”

  “Sure.” He glowered as he stood against the kitchen entryway wall.

  “Just get it over with.” She poured cereal into the two waiting bowls. If he was going to yell, she’d rather he just say his piece so they could move on. She’d had enough fighting lately. Today was about peace. “I’d like to enjoy my breakfast, so if you could just get on with it, that would be great.”

  “Get on with what?” He was still standing in the doorway, arms crossed. “The yelling.” She poured the milk and handed him a bowl and spoon. “Why would I yell?”

  “Hmmm…Let’s see, I let someone in the house without getting you. You freaked out, and had to come running, guns blazing. But in my defense, he said who he was and I recognized him through the glass.”

  He dipped the spoon into the bowl. “You still should have come and got me. I heard a man’s voice and thought the worst.”

  “I thought you don’t always assume the worst.” She cringed. Maybe not the best thing to say to keep the peace. She dropped into a chair and stared at the brown flakes in the bowl as she picked up her spoon. If she just pretended nothing happened, maybe he wouldn’t go all ballistic on her.

  He didn’t say a thing.

  Maybe he hadn’t heard her. If she pretended it never happened, maybe it would be like it never did happen. Nothing to see here.

  Denial, the enabler of hope.

  “We gonna go there again?” He sighed.

  “No. Why bother?” She brought the spoon up to her lips as Joe sat across from her. Silence enveloped the room. She knew their fight would rear its ugly head again and change the dynamic of their relationship. She couldn’t be with someone who didn’t respect her. He didn’t have to respect all lawyers—hell, half of them she couldn’t stand either—but he needed to respect her.

  She figured she’d play nice while they were stuck up here, but she couldn’t keep her mouth shut. That wasn’t her way. And she wasn’t about to change for anyone.

  She finished her cereal and washed out the bowl. “I’m going to take a shower.” If a man wanted her, they’d have to take her just the way she was. Opinions and all.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Allison Southby sat alone at the restaurant, papers covering the table. Pictures of veils, venues, and churches cluttered the space. She raised a glass of wine to her lips. She wanted Brook there, or Adam, or Julie.

  But Brook was stuck who-knew-where with Joe, Adam was trying to find that Stark asshole so Brook could come home, and Julie was hung over and barely able to walk.

  So Allison sat alone. Drinking before noon. Overthinking wedding choices, because no one was there to stop her. Picking and re-picking colors and styles. She’d thought of every wedding theme available. Everything from zombie wedding to skydiving. There was also underwater wedding, superhero wedding, and her absolute favorite, nude wedding. None of them were viable options, but it was interesting reading about it.

  And reading about crazy ideas was a hell of a lot better than worrying about Brook’s safety, or worrying about her future husband. Worrying about the whole damn situation was getting old.

  Husband. Adam was going to be her husband. She liked the sound of that. Soon Adam would be her husband. He was already her everything, her heart and soul. Why not seal it with a license?

  She ran a hand over the veil samples. How could there be so many different types of veils? Tulle. Organza. Mesh. Lace.

  And don’t get her started on colors. White. Ivory. Natural.

  Vanilla.

  Maybe she’d just skip the veil. She pushed the samples into her briefcase.

  There. The veil was done.

  Check.

  Flowers were next. Hundreds of pictures were stuffed into a thick book of flowers. So many different types and colors. Too bad she couldn’t handle the flowers the same way she handled the veil.

  Nope. She needed flowers. Adam’s mother would have a fit if Allison didn’t have flowers. She opened the book and stared at the first page.

  “Planning a funeral? Don’t tell me. You finally realized you are way too good for golden boy and ran him down with your car.”

  Allison’s head flew up. Ben Mooring. The man who’d tried to take her company. The man who broke Julie’s heart. “Ben. I heard you were back in town. The gutter reject you?”

  “The gutter wasn’t a good fit, but you heard I was back, huh? Good news travels fast.” He pointed at the empty chair across from her. “May I?”

  She thought about saying no. She wanted to say no. After he broke Julie’s heart and tried to take over her company, she wanted to do more than say no. Swift kick in the family jewels—that would be fun. Ooh...a punch to that perfect nose on that perfect face—oh wait, Julie already did that. That had been fun to watch. Wouldn’t it be fun to do?

  “C’mon. I’m not all bad.”

  “Well isn’t that a glowing recommendation? ‘I’m not all bad’.”

  His eyes darkened, his face stretching into a frown. This wasn’t the Ben she remembered. He was trying to put on a good show, but something was different. She waved a hand.

  “Fine, have a seat.”

  “Thanks.” He sat in the chair and leaned back. The restaurant hummed around them, clinking silverware and glasses, the murmur of patrons enjoying their early lunch with family and friends.

  Well, she had complained she was lonely. She didn’t think her complaints would be answered by Ben, though. Proof that God had a sense of humor and a penchant for imposing said humor on Allison.

  She stared at the table and waited for Ben to say something, anything. He just sat there. Staring. At her. Heat crawled up her neck as she shifted in her seat. She refused to look up. Refused to acknowledge this disaster of a meeting. Her eyes swept the table until she found—wine. Alleluia. With all the excitement, she forgot about her loneliness-lifeline sitting at the edge of the paper hill.

  Ah…three more of those and she might be able to tolerate this silent trip down memory lane. Of course, that was how Julie ended up with superglue holding her forehead together.

  “A little early to be drinking, isn’t it? Alcoholism isn’t good for relationships.” Ben smirked as he walked up to t
he table. “Maybe that’s why you’re drinking alone.”

  Alone. She was alone because everyone was dealing with important stuff. Not that it was any of his business. “I see you’re alone. Isn’t your house a little too fragile to be throwing stones?”

  Ben smiled and ran a hand through his blond hair. He looked so different. He was still a good-looking man, but his blond hair had grown long, softening his features. All that was missing was a surfboard and a wicked tan. He looked good. She could almost understand why Julie had fallen for him.

  Too bad he was such a jerk.

  “I’ve missed you. You were always so fun.” His eyes crinkled as he flagged down a waiter and asked for a water.

  “How have you been?”

  “Fine. You?”

  “Good. Took some time to figure things out, you know, reevaluate the priorities.”

  “How’d that work out for you?”

  A waiter brought a glass of water and Allison’s bill. Ben ran his finger through the condensation dripping from the glass.

  “Good. I think I figured out what I want.”

  “What is it you want, Ben?”

  “I’d like a job at Byrnes and Company.”

  Allison’s stomach dropped. He’d tried to take over the company when he was their competition, she could only imagine the diabolical schemes he’d concoct if he was allowed inside the front door. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

  “I was afraid you’d say that.” His eyebrows bunched as he stared at the glass of water.

  “I’m sorry.” She truly was. He was still a smartass, but he seemed to have gotten a grip on his evil side. But even though he seemed changed, Byrnes and Company had been duped before by this man. She couldn’t take the chance.

  Not that Adam would let her hire him back. If it was Adam’s decision.

  Technically it was hers, and she wasn’t completely convinced, either.

  “Don’t be. I did this all to myself. I’m sorry for everything I did. I screwed up.” He tilted back the glass of water. Contrite was a very good look on the man after all the bridges he’d burned.