The Lemon Sisters

by Jill Shalvis

  Garrett was sprawled out on his bed, hands behind his head, boots crossed.

  She held on to her towel and stared at him. “What the actual hell?”

  “Right back at you, Goldilocks.”

  “I needed hot water.” She grimaced. “I’m sorry. I should’ve asked.”

  He waved a hand, like, Mi casa es su casa . . .

  So she could use his house, but not his body. Or his heart. Check. “What made you come back?”

  “I was looking out Mindy and Linc’s bathroom window when you did your cat burglar imitation.”

  So much for stealth. “Go back to work,” she said. “I’ve got to get dressed, and then I’ll get out of your space.” She dropped her duffel bag on the bed, but he didn’t move. She raised a brow.

  “I won’t look,” he said, and closed his eyes.

  She did some mental knuckle cracking. He’d seen it all before, of course, but she hadn’t been mad at them both at the time. And she was mad at them both. She was mad at herself for caring and at him for making her care. But screw it. If he wasn’t into her, it didn’t matter, right? So she dropped the towel.

  At a low, rough male sound, she glanced up and found Garrett’s eyes open and on her. “Hey,” she said, scrambling to wrap the towel around herself. “You said you wouldn’t look!”

  “I lied.” His gaze wandered down her body and then slowly back to her eyes, his own dark with heat. “I learned from the best.”

  “Not funny.”

  “I wasn’t going for funny.” He rose from the bed with an effortless grace she couldn’t have managed on her best day—which this clearly wasn’t. Not sure what he was planning, she let out a squeak at his approach, and with as much dignity as she could, given that all she was wearing was a towel, she grabbed her duffel bag and ran.

  Back in the guesthouse, she rushed to get dressed, half braced for Garrett to follow her.

  He didn’t.

  Telling herself that’s what she wanted, she went through the rest of the duffel bag, more from curiosity than anything else.

  Her sister had thrown in plenty of clothes, and . . . indeed, her cameras. She pulled out her favorite, an older Nikon that had never failed her.

  The minute she had it in her hands, the ache inside her deepened. Great. Now she needed sex and to get outside and take pictures. She put the strap around her neck and hopped into her car without saying a word to anyone. She went back to the bluffs and hit the stairs. At the top, she stood back so far from the edge of the bluffs that she couldn’t see anything. But she needed forward progress on something, so, rolling her eyes at herself, she took two baby steps off the trail and gulped in air.

  “You’re being ridiculous,” she said out loud.

  No one cared, especially her feet, which refused to take her any farther. “Dammit.” Slinging her camera from her front to her back, she dropped to her knees and then sort of shuffled another few inches toward the edge. One, two, three, four . . .

  “You okay, ma’am?”

  She nearly leapt out of her skin as she craned her neck to look behind her. A teenage kid had come down the trail. Ma’am? Was he kidding? Did she look old enough to be a damn ma’am? “I’m fine.”

  “You need help down?”

  “No!” She took a deep breath and added a hopefully normal smile. “I’m okay, thanks.”

  He shrugged and ambled away, continuing down.

  “Ma’am,” she muttered. “I’m not a damn ma’am.” She forced herself to shift another few feet toward the edge. She still had like twenty feet to go and was sweating in places that shouldn’t be sweating as she moved inch by inch. One, two, three, four. One, two, three, four . . . Her initial goal had been to hang her feet over the edge, but just the thought made her want to throw up.

  Baby steps, the therapist she’d seen after the helicopter crash had told her.

  Right. Baby steps. That worked, as long as they came in even numbers. She did eventually get there, but she did not hang her feet over. She sat and concentrated on breathing. When she no longer felt like she was an impending stroke victim, she spent an hour there taking pictures and almost forgetting she’d left that world behind.

  Going down was very slightly easier, and afterward, she sat on the beach awhile, until the sound of the surf and the feel of it vibrating beneath her soothed her soul. She’d done what she’d come here to do. She’d set Linc straight. She’d helped Mindy. She’d talked to Garrett and made things as right as she could. That meant she could go.

  But oddly enough, she wasn’t quite ready to leave.

  It was the end of the day before she walked in the back door to Mindy and Linc’s, needing food and possibly alcohol.

  Her sister was in the pantry, rearranging the shelves.

  “I thought you were at the shop today,” Brooke said, knowing Mindy had gotten up early to bake a bunch of goods for the front display and to cover for Xena, who’d taken the week off now that Mindy was back.

  “Was at the shop,” Mindy said. “Just got back.”

  “So you got up at the crack of dawn and baked for the shop, then you worked the shop, and now you’re cleaning?” Brooke asked.

  “It’s a little thing called my life.”

  “I know,” Brooke said. “But I bet Brittney would do some of it for you.”

  “I know, but . . . I like doing it.” Mindy shook her head. “She’s upstairs with the kids, who are home from camp. I apologized to her.”

  “For treating her like crap, you mean?”

  Mindy winced. “Yes. She said not to worry about it. So she’s playing with the kids and I’m cleaning.”

  “Proof positive that one of us was switched at birth.”

  Mindy smiled. “Garrett just said the same thing to me. It’s so nice to have him next door again. He’s happy there, though he’s not home much. He works with the rec center and soccer league for at-risk kids, and he even does some emergency fostering when the need arises, but he’s also been really in demand with work, so—”

  “Why are we talking about Garrett?”

  Mindy looked surprised. “I don’t know. Because we were all close friends? And I guess I wanted you to know how great he’s been to me. So great that . . .” She grimaced. “So this part’s actually kind of embarrassing.”

  “You could just stop talking.”

  But apparently Mindy couldn’t. “Once Linc and I went into our rut, I started crushing on any guy who smiled at me.”

  Brooke slid her a look. “Including Garrett?”

  Mindy grimaced again. “You know what? Forget it.”

  Brooke wanted to, but it was a little late now. “You’re married, Min. And he’s your neighbor.” And he had his tongue down my throat, so . . .

  “Well, it’s not like he’s an old geezer with a spare tire and false teeth,” Mindy said, clearly defensive now. “He’s smart and funny and . . . well, hot. I mean, if you could see him in the mornings after his run—”

  “Jeez, Min.”

  “What? Let’s be honest, it’s not like I’m the only Lemon sister who ever crushed on him. You had a big, fat crush on him in high school. You know you did.”

  That’s when they both heard a noise behind them. Hoping it was Ketchup, but knowing her luck didn’t run in that direction, Brooke turned to find, yep, both Linc and Garrett in the doorway. Awesome. Linc was in a suit, Garrett in battered jeans, battered boots, and a T-shirt that had some sawdust still sticking to it, both men clearly coming in from work.

  Linc glanced at Garrett, then back to Mindy. “Tell me there’s dinner.”

  Mindy blinked. “That’s what you want to talk about?” she asked. “Not my crush on the sexy guy who lives right next door?”

  “I skipped lunch,” Linc said. “My stomach’s eating my other organs.”

  Garrett raised his hand. “I want to talk about the fact that you think I’m sexy.”

  “I hope it’s steak,” Linc said, sticking his head in the fridge.

 
Mindy went hands on hips. “So you don’t care about my crush?”

  Linc shut the fridge. “Do you still have it?”

  Mindy looked at Garrett.

  Garrett raised a brow.

  “Would you be jealous if I said yes?” Mindy asked Linc.

  Linc eyed his wife, suddenly appearing to realize she was 100 percent serious. He paused. “You really have a crush on my best friend?”

  Mindy sighed. “No, my vagina had a crush on him, not the rest of me. And he’s also my best friend.”

  “Please never say ‘vagina’ again,” Brooke said.

  Linc looked at Garrett.

  Garrett lifted his hands. “Hey, there’s enough of me to go around.”

  Mindy smacked him. “Oh my God. Tell him nothing ever happened!”

  “That’s true,” Garrett told Linc. “Mostly because she’s a little . . .” He circled his finger at the side of his head, the universal sign for crazy.

  Mindy smacked him again.

  “Ow,” he said. “And see?”

  “Look,” Mindy told her husband, “it was a temporary crush. Like I said, my—” She broke off and eyed Brooke. “—lady parts wanted him. But my heart wanted you, the end.”

  Brooke went to the freezer for the vodka.

  “I thought you said that was seventy-five percent water,” Mindy said.

  “It’s still twenty-five percent vodka.” She poured a healthy glug into a cup and knocked it back.

  “Is no one going to ask Brooke about her crush on Garrett?” Linc asked. “Maybe she’s still got one.”

  Everyone looked at Brooke.

  Brooke considered a second shot of vodka.

  Mindy took that bottle away. “Do you still have a crush on him?”

  “Gee, it’s such a shock that I don’t come home anymore,” Brooke said. No way was she spilling the beans, not on their past, and not on whatever that had been in the hot tub. It wasn’t that Mindy and Linc wouldn’t understand. It was that she didn’t know how to talk about her and Garrett from that time in her life, not without losing it. And there was no reason to do so anyway, since it wasn’t like they were going to be a thing now.

  Or ever.

  “And I don’t have a crush on him,” she said without looking at Garrett. “If I ever did, and that’s a big if, it was because I was young and stupid. Very stupid.”

  “How disappointing,” Garrett said dryly.

  Mindy laughed. “It’s just like old times!” She looked at Brooke. “And see? You can have fun here, so you can’t leave. And . . . I’ve got a surprise for you.” She pointed to the camera still around Brooke’s neck. “The county’s going to pay you for your pics.”

  Brooke blinked. “What?”

  “Wildstone’s mayor stops by the shop every day for a smoothie. She says they’re putting together a new tourism package that includes brochures and a website. They need content of everything from the beaches to the wineries to the ranches to downtown . . . everything. I got you the job.”

  Brooke shook her head. “I’ve got a job.”

  “This one’s flexible. And it pays really well.”

  Brooke fingered her camera. “I’m out of practice. I might suck.”

  “You don’t.”

  “What if I hate it?”

  “Well, then you’ll suck it up like the rest of us tax-paying citizens for the sake of eating.”

  Linc was flipping through Mindy’s binder. “Oh shit, my bad, it’s my turn for dinner.” He smiled at Mindy. “I’ve got this, babe. Garrett, set the oven to 450 degrees—we’re having pizza rolls.”

  Mindy looked a little panicked, and Brooke knew why. Pizza rolls were not on her list of approved foods. But as Linc was one, actually home, and two, trying to be in charge of dinner, she knew Mindy wouldn’t take it from him.

  As Garrett set the oven, Linc pointed to his jeans. “Did you know you have cat hair all over you?”

  Everyone looked at Garrett, who was indeed wearing cat hair from the knees down. He shrugged. “They like me.”

  “They’re not rubbing up against you because they like you,” Linc said. “They’re doing it to mark you as their bitch.”

  Garrett gave him a banal look. “I beat you in arm wrestling all the time. So who’s whose bitch?” He shifted away from the oven, having to brush up against Brooke to do so.

  The last time she’d seen him, she’d been bare-ass naked and he’d been fully dressed. It should’ve pissed her off, but it had done the opposite. It’d turned her on. “I’m up for pizza rolls,” she said. “I’ll be in the outside closet. Someone let me know when they’re ready.”

  “It’s a pool house,” Mindy said. “And you’ve already had too much alone time. Wait with us for the artery clogging. Please?”

  The “please” was progress, and Brooke let out a long breath. “Just so you know, my alone time is for your safety.”

  Mindy made a face and Linc laughed.

  “Hey,” Linc said when Mindy glared at him. “You’re the one who needed her own alone time in LA.”

  “Marriage,” Garrett said in the tone of an off-camera narrator. “When dating goes too far.”

  “Someone tell the old cat lady to stay out of this,” Linc said.

  Garrett told Linc he was number one with his middle finger.

  THE OVEN DINGED and Brooke pushed past the guys, grabbed a hot mitt, and pulled out the perfectly browned, deliciously cheese-and-meat-stuffed pizza rolls. “Yum.”

  Garrett reached past Brooke to grab a pizza roll, which he popped into his mouth. “Shit. Hot . . .” He waved a hand in front of his mouth, which didn’t stop him from taking another.

  “I haven’t had pizza rolls since I was a kid,” Brooke said, watching Garrett eat. Did the guy have a hollow leg? Where did he put all the food he inhaled every day?

  Catching her staring at him, he picked up another pizza roll and brought it to her lips.

  Surprising herself, she opened her mouth and took it, barely resisting biting his fingers while she was at it. He must have seen the urge in her eyes because he laughed low in his throat.

  Mindy had her hands on her hips, staring at them both. She turned to Garrett, eyes narrowed. “What was that?”

  Clearly Mindy thought Garrett had just made some sort of move. Of course she had no way of knowing it was all old news.

  Really old news.

  “Can I talk to you a minute?” Mindy asked Garrett.

  Oh boy, thought Brooke.

  “Sure,” Garrett said easily.

  “No,” Brooke said.

  “I didn’t ask you,” Mindy said.

  When Garrett didn’t make a move to step out of the room with her, Mindy grabbed his arm.

  He planted his feet, taking the time to grab a third pizza roll before letting her tow him out the back door by his biceps and across the yard, backing him up against his truck before getting in his face.

  Which Brooke knew because she and Linc both moved to the window over the sink to watch. “Your wife is scary,” she said.

  “No offense, but all the Lemons are scary.”

  He had her there.

  Outside, Garrett did the universal male hands-up not-my-fault gesture, and Mindy backed off an inch. Garrett calmly said something and Mindy listened with her head turned away, toward the street. Finally, she nodded.

  Garrett straightened up and they hugged. Then, with a ruffle of her hair, he walked off.

  He didn’t look back. Fine. Whatever. He really didn’t want her. There were plenty of other men who would.

  Probably.

  Maybe.

  “I thought you were going to fix things between the two of you,” she said to Linc.

  “I’m working on it. In fact, I had an announcement to aid my cause, but then you ate a pizza roll out of Garrett’s fingers like you two are a thing.”

  “We’re not a thing! And anyway, what is this, high school? What’s your announcement?”

  “You’ll see.”


  Mindy walked back into the house and Linc took her hand. “I’ve got a surprise for you,” he said.

  “You do?”

  “Yeah.” He proudly thrust a file folder into her hands.

  Mindy opened the file and looked at the papers. Brooke watched her face go from curiosity to dread.

  Clearly, Linc didn’t read the mood change. “I bought you the shop,” he said proudly.

  Oh, dear God. Dead husband walking, and he didn’t even know it.

  Mindy lifted her head and stared at him. “Wait. Are you serious? You bought me the shop? Without talking to me about it?”

  His smile faded some. “We did talk about it, lots of times. It’s all you’ve ever wanted.”

  “Yes, years ago . . .” Mindy turned away and started for the door, but stopped and turned back. “But you know what we just talked about? The fact that you work nonstop and we never have any time together. We don’t do date nights, nothing. You travel to do surgeries on weekends at clinics, and I . . . I run this life we planned together, all by myself.” She shook her head. “I already don’t have time to breathe, and you . . .” She stared at him. “I can’t believe you did this, that you clearly talked to my parents and spent that kind of money before discussing it with me.”

  “Because I thought we were on the same page,” Linc said carefully.

  Mindy let out a long, shaky breath. “We’re not even in the same book, Linc. I mean, yes, maybe before I had kids, this would have been my dream. But that was a long time ago. I haven’t had time for that dream in forever.” Her eyes welled. “I can’t . . .” She shook her head. “I’m tired,” she whispered. “Like, all the time. I already told you—”

  “I know.” He took a step toward her. “You’ve been swamped taking care of the kids, the house . . . me. All I wanted to do was to take care of you.”

  “I can take care of myself, Linc.”

  “I know that, I just thought this would make you happy.”

  She slapped the file against his chest. “You thought wrong.”

  Completely bewildered, he caught the file.