It’s nearly ten-thirty when June knocks on the window to get my attention. I’m lying on our living room couch, wrapped in an afghan, and she waves at me through the glass next to the front door.
“Hey,” I say as I let her in. “Thanks for coming over.”
“Where’s Phillip?” She cranes her neck to peek into the kitchen.
“Working. He wants to finish his research before our honeymoon.”
“Is it a honeymoon or a science expedition?” She peers at me through her glasses. I’m so used to her contact lenses I forget she’s near-sighted sometimes.
“Please not now, June.” I walk back to the couch and take a seat. “You’ve made your opinion about Phillip clear. And I appreciate your concern. This just isn’t your business.”
She takes a seat next to me and places a paper bag on the coffee table. “Here’s your granola.”
“Thanks.”
“Are you sleeping down here?” She gestures to the pillow propped up at the end of the couch.
“Just until Phillip gets home,” I say. “I’ve been helping him watch the specimens through the scope the last few nights.”
“But you two do still sleep together, right?” she asks me pointedly.
I ignore her obvious insinuation, but she presses me again. “Do you?”
“Why are you so nosy about my sex life?” I say. “There are lots of ways to express love, you know. It doesn’t have to involve sex.”
“No,” she says. “It doesn’t. But when you’re about to marry somebody, I would expect you would want to show your love that way as well. At least sometimes.”
I fish in my pocket for an elastic and pull my hair back. “If you must know,” I say. “Phillip and I have sex as often as possible. We’re like any modern-day couple; sometimes life gets in the way.”
I peek into the bag of granola.
“June!” I shout, even though she’s sitting right next to me.
“What?” She peers into the granola bag too.
“This is that awful fruity kind! It’s swarming with apple chunks, and it’s too sweet!”
She shrugs. “Sorry. That’s what you get for avoiding the store because a hot guy works there.”
“He’s not that hot,” I say in a way that doesn’t even convince me.
June bursts out laughing, her green eyes flashing with amusement. “He’s not? What do you consider hot then? Besides a burning stove?”
Silence while June cocks her head and studies me. “Lei,” she finally says. “Don’t let the hot guy run you off.”
I nearly break and tell her the truth about my past with Brayden. Not because I think that would get her to back off, but because maybe then she’d understand why my connection with him scares me so damn much.
Before I can decide, June says, “He’s away all day Friday if you want to come in to work. He’s got a game in Billings, so they’re leaving in the morning and won’t be back until the middle of the night.”
“Wow.” I picture Brayden coaching football, and the image is so hot I nearly fan myself. “Sure, I’ll come in.”
“Great.” She walks over to the desk where my computer sits. “Is this your portfolio?”
I forgot I’d pulled it out of my closet the other day. “Yeah.”
“Do you mind if I look through it?” she asks me. “It’s been so long since I’ve seen it.”
“Um…” I finally give a half-shrug. “Sure. Go ahead.”
She flips through the pages in silence before looking up. “You’re an amazing artist, Lei. You know that, right?”
I shake my head. “Thanks, June. It was a long time ago.”
“And you can still paint circles around most of us. Your freaking storefront sign is attracting customers.”
I look away from her. “Thanks. It’s been fun to paint again. But you know, it’s not a career.”
“It could be.”
“No,” I say. “My future is in my PhD. Painting was always a hobby.”
She drops the subject and begins to look at the newsletter file sitting open on the screen. “Maybe one day you should try the sweet, Lei,” she says over her shoulder. “You might find you like it.”
Brayden
I haven’t seen Leleila since I drove her home after dance class. A part of me is relieved. I shouldn’t have pushed her on the “let’s be friends” idea. That wasn’t my smartest move. But I do need her help. It’s supposed to rain this Sunday, so there’s no time to delay. But I don’t want to bug her when she’s clearly busy.
“Hey, little brother.”
I lift my head just enough to see Luke approaching. His cowboy hat covers his dark head of hair that’s always a little too long, like mine. We may have matching eye color, similar builds, and be competitive as hell, but our temperaments are pretty different. He’s the life of the party and seems to know everyone in the county. He never played football; instead, he competed in rodeos across the state and beyond. Being brutally thrown off a bronc ended his competitive career although he still claims he’s going to make a comeback.
I raise my hand in a wave and then return to the issue at hand—fence mending.
“Need a hand?” He steps up to the fence before I can answer and holds it steady while I bang the last post into the ground.
“Thanks.” Wiping the sweat off my brow, I grab my tools and toss them into the back of my truck. “How are things at Wild Ranch?”
“Things are good.” Luke leans up against the side of my truck and gives me a hard look. “Got your message. What’d you want to talk about?”
“I’ve got a kid on the team—his dad’s got an addiction issue.”
“Wes Thompson.” Luke lifts an eyebrow. “The whole town of Wilcox knows about it, Bray. You don’t have to beat around the fucking bush.”
Ignoring his sarcasm, I plunge ahead. “Wes is worried for his dad this weekend. It’s the anniversary of his mother’s death, and his dad’s taking it hard.”
“That’s tough.” That shadow I know too well passes behind Luke’s eyes. “But what does that have to do with me?”
“I want your permission to contact Hal.”
“No way in hell.” Luke slaps the side of the truck hard. “How would you ever explain it to Wes?”
“I told him I would figure something out. I’ll tell him I had contacts.”
“Like your brother’s former sober companion, the guy who made sure he wouldn’t pop the painkillers he’d gotten addicted to after a bronc nearly killed him?” Luke’s tone is hard as stone, and I have a flash of memory of our brutal fights as kids.
Luke fights hard. He plays hard. And he never had a drinking problem. But any mention of an addict, and he’s right back to his life after the accident when he couldn’t get through a minute without a painkiller. He kicked the habit with a lot of help and an intervention. And we managed to keep the issue private, no small feat in a small town. He wants to make sure it stays that way.
“Look, I understand why you’re worried. I just…”
“No.” He glares at me.
I blow out a breath. “Fine. Thanks for coming by. I’ll figure something else out. A college scout is coming to the game on Friday, and Wes just…”
Luke’s watching my face. “Wes what?”
I hold out my arms. “He’s fucking got it, Luke. Everything he needs.”
“Are you serious?” His expression changes from anger to enthusiasm. “You think this kid can make the pros?”
“A hundred percent, yes. I wouldn’t put so much effort into getting him to keep going if I thought he should pursue a different path.”
“You so rarely think one of your kids should dream that big.”
“Because the chances are one in a million.”
“So you think Wes is one in a million material.”
“Yes.”
We face each other in a staredown. Finally, Luke bangs the truck again. “Christ. Fine, I’ll help you out.”
I exhale in re
lief. “I owe you.”
“You always owe me,” he jokes. “But I’m not giving you Hal’s info.”
“So then what…”
“I’ll babysit the dad on Friday.”
“What?”
“That’s my offer. Send me his address, and I’ll make sure to take care of him for the day and night until you get home at two a.m.”
“You’re not a professional at this kind of thing,” I say with concern.
“Maybe not, but no layperson is going to be better equipped to understand what this guy’s going through than a former addict. And alcohol never did it for me, you know that. I could sit at a bar all night long and nurse one beer. I can work with him. Deal?”
He holds out his hand. Not sure I have any other option right now, I take the deal.
Chapter Nine
Leleila
I wake up Saturday morning feeling cranky. Just what I want to do—stand outside on the middle of Main Street and collect donations. I love to help Mountainview’s homeless, but I prefer to do it less publicly. But Phillip and June love these Food Drives—Phillip because he can chat up the locals for his research, and June so she can advertise her store.
I reach for my glasses on the nightstand and climb out of bed. I pad downstairs in my t-shirt and pajama pants and go find Phillip, who’s staring into his microscope in the living room.
“Good morning,” I say.
He looks up at me with his left eye, keeping his right one expertly trained on the lens. After years of practice, I’ve gotten used to us having quite intimate conversations this way. We discussed our first time having sex like this, and had our first make-up after our first fight, among other things.
“Hi, baby.” Phillip pats the couch next to him. “Have a seat.”
I sit down and lean my head on his shoulder. “What do you say we stay in this morning? Maybe drop off some cans of food later at the shelter? We could even spend some time talking to the people while they eat?” I kiss his neck. “And for now, we could get back into bed together.”
Phillip smiles. “That sounds nice. I know we haven’t had much time lately. The thing is, I promised Arthur I’d help him with the bins. Not many of the volunteers are available this weekend, so I don’t want to leave him hanging. You don’t mind running the table for a little while, right?”
I exhale. “Sure.”
“Great.”
I change the subject. “So dance class was fun the other night.”
“Oh, yeah?” Phillip still has his eye pressed into the lens.
“Yeah. Brayden, the guy who works at June’s store, was kind enough to fill in for you, but I missed you there.”
“I know.” Phillip pats my shoulder. “The thing is, baby…”
Here it comes.
His one eye that’s trained on me blinks at whatever expression I’m making.
“Let’s get a snack and chat for a few minutes,” he says, leaning back from the microscope and standing up. “You must be hungry.”
We walk into the kitchen, and I make myself a bowl of granola.
Phillip leans over and kisses my cheek. “Hey, did you see the new steakhouse that opened on Main Street?”
“Yes!” I say. “It looks really nice, and I heard they use pastured beef. Maybe one night we can go try it…”
“They don’t offer veggie burgers.” Phillip shakes his head as he reaches into the cabinet for a glass. “I stopped by to ask. The guy got annoyed with my questions.”
He fills his glass with water from the filtered tap and takes a seat on one of the bar stools at the kitchen counter.
I turn away from him and open the refrigerator door to grab the hummus and then take a box of gluten-free crackers out of the cabinet. I shake some crackers into a bowl and place the dish and hummus on the counter in front of him.
Phillip reaches for a cracker and dips it into the hummus. “Lei.” Phillip’s tone is unusually gentle. “If you want to take the dance lessons, that’s great, and we can still do a dance together at our wedding if it means that much to you. I just don’t think I can put in the practice this month. You can teach me the steps a few days before.”
I purse my lips. “But the lessons are about spending time with each other. That’s part of the fun of it, learning to dance together. Besides, I can’t go take the class on my own. Everyone has a partner.”
Phillip snaps his fingers excitedly. “What about that guy who filled in for me last week?”
I try to sound calm. “What about him?”
“Well, I figure he must be trustworthy if your sister’s impressed. Just ask him to be your partner for the rest of the classes.”
My pulse starts hammering in my neck. “I don’t really even know Brayden,” I say quietly.
“So get to know him enough that you feel comfortable.” Another huge bite of cracker and hummus.
I stare at him. “You want me to get to know Brayden?”
“Of course. You’re in training. It’s not like you’re going on a date or something.” He chuckles. “Besides, I know you—you’re like me. This guy could never satisfy you; you’d be bored in days.”
I tap my metal spoon against my now-empty cereal bowl.
“Do it, Lei. Take the class.” Long silence again to swallow. “We’ll dance together after we marry. Besides, we don’t have anything new to learn about each other; we’ve already lived together for years. This isn’t our parents’ era, baby.”
“Right.”
“In terms of today, if you can man the table for a while, I’ll take over for you as soon as I can,” he promises.
That’s about as good an offer as I’m going to get. I take it and go upstairs to shower. Our house phone rings, and I yell down to Phillip that I’ve got it.
“You’re still going, right?” Sophia’s voice comes through so loudly and with such enthusiasm I have to hold the receiver away from my ear.
“Going where?”
Judging by her happy tone, she can’t possibly mean the food drive. Sophia hates these things; she only does them because I drag her.
“Food for Hunger? Gazebo? Have you forgotten?” She sounds breathless.
“Yes, I’m going. I have no choice. You can skip it and just pick me up there around eleven if you prefer, and we can get coffee. I’m sure I’ll be more than ready to leave by then.”
“I’ve got two umbrellas next to me in case it rains,” she says. “And my best raincoat. You wear yours, too, Lei. As well as something slutty and easy to take off underneath.”
“What?!” I close the bedroom door and then sit down on the bed. “Sophia, I’m not…”
“Not dressing up for Brayden?” Sophia’s tone is impatient now. “Remember him? He’s coming today.” She laughs. “Hopefully in more ways than one. And before you get mad, I’m only teasing you about the coming part. Kind of. You know June and I just want what’s best for you. We want you to be happy, Lei. And this feels like your last month of freedom. You know?”
I lie back on my pillows, trying to ignore the feeling of suffocation I get at her words. “Sophia, he probably won’t even show up. I doubt Brayden’s big on food drives.”
“Nooooo.” She says it slowly and draws the word out as if she’s talking to someone who’s not very smart. “Brayden’s big on you, Leleila. And you’ll be there. Trust me, so will he. Plus, he’s got the perfect excuse—June tries to get as many staff as she can to help out. And you’re her sister, plus you’re working at the store too. So even though you’re technically forbidden to him, you’re actually not. And that little interplay right there? Priceless. I’m hot just thinking about it.”
I swallow and sit up quickly. “I’m getting off the phone. This is a ridiculous conversation.”
“Just remember to wear something slutty!” I go to hang up the phone, but I can still hear her. “Or go topless underneath your raincoat—that’s even better!”
I slam down the receiver. My face is burning hot as I stand up to go show
er.
While the warm water washes over my body, I chide myself for worrying about Phillip and me. Phillip cares about me, and he loves me dearly.
The thing is, he hasn’t been looking at me very much lately, and until Brayden re-entered my life, I think I’d tuned out Phillip’s lack of attention. Somewhere along the way, I stopped noticing that Phillip’s focus was on his work far more than on his relationship. Our routine of living nearly separate lives has become just that—our new normal.
Feeling another man’s eyes on me has done more than awaken my sleeping libido; it’s alerted me to issues in my relationship that I’ve been sweeping under the carpet and refusing to look at.
As I rinse the shampoo out of my hair, I try to remember when it started. Was it once Phillip got tenured? Maybe. That moment was so exciting at the time, and I remember making love that night, and thinking how proud of him I was, and how lucky that I found him before somebody else did. Because once he was tenured, all these female scientists came calling under the façade of seeking professional advice. And Phillip loved every second of their attention.
It bothered me, but then Phillip proposed. When he held out his hand and asked me to take it forever, I felt cared for and special. But after I said yes, I had a nagging feeling inside, a whisper of what felt like entrapment. I thought it was because I always thought of marriage as old-fashioned and antiquated, and I never wanted to feel owned. But Phillip agrees with all of that. I think.
I take the soap off the dish and run it down my body. When I reach my breasts, I start to think about Brayden again, and I can’t stop. I run that soap over and over myself until I’m fully lathered up, and yet I don’t want to rinse off and get out of the shower.
But I do.
I put in my contact lenses, which always takes me at least two tries, and take my time getting dressed.
Just as I reach the bedroom, my phone buzzes.
My heart lurches when I look down and see Brayden’s name flash across my screen.
I flick the screen to read his text.
Just found out this weekend could work if you’re free at all to grab that sample.
Brayden (Wild Men Book 6) Page 7
