The Lemon Sisters

by Jill Shalvis

  “Because you’ve been hiking again? Climbing?”

  She hadn’t been climbing at all, but interesting that he assumed she had been. That she was brave enough. Because she wasn’t. “Maybe,” she murmured, but that wasn’t true, either. She was pretty sure it was the fact that she was opening herself up to emotions again. The seven years of numbness hadn’t been great, but the sparks of feeling after going so long without hurt like hell. She was way too vulnerable after lying so intimately wrapped around Garrett for the past few hours.

  He just continued to hold her close, projecting warm, safe, calm vibes, and she began to relax. She hadn’t really even noticed she was shivering until it began to slow and then subsided entirely.

  “Hungry?” he asked.

  “Yes.”

  She watched as he pulled stuff from the fridge and got out a pan. In no time at all, he produced two grilled cheese sandwiches. She stared, fascinated by the way he moved around the kitchen with the same calm efficiency he had when he was working. And it was all so effortless. How did he stay in such constant control? Was he really that good at compartmentalizing? And where did she sign up for a class?

  “Admit it,” she said. “Grilled cheese sandwiches are still the only thing in your arsenal.”

  “Hey, grilled cheese sandwiches are life. Sit,” he instructed, cutting up the sandwiches and stacking them on a plate, adding a mountain of chips. All the while, she watched him. She couldn’t help it. There was something incredibly sexy about a man wearing only a pair of jeans, making snacks in the kitchen at two in the morning after he’d made you writhe in pleasure for most of the night.

  After they ate, he drew her back to his bed. She opened her mouth to say she needed to go, but he kissed her softly, gently, then tucked her into him, running his hands slowly up and down her back until she melted against him. He had a way of doing that, making her forget everything bad.

  So yeah, okay, maybe she’d stay, just a little bit longer.

  Chapter 12

  All her other demons would just have to get in line.

  Mew.”

  Brooke sucked in some air, opened her eyes, and . . . drew a blank.

  “Mew, mew, mew!”

  Okay, she knew those grumpy voices.

  “Give it a rest, ladies.”

  She knew that raspy voice, too, and it washed over her in the early-morning light. As did the realization that she’d spent the entire night with Garrett.

  “I’ll feed you all in a minute,” he said, presumably to the cats.

  Brooke sat up. At the movement, the cats glared at her. Ali McClaw and Chairwoman Miao were at their feet, Princess Jasmine on Garrett’s chest, staking her claim.

  Brooke apparently had done the same, because she was snuggled up to his side, a leg thrown over him like mine. “Damn.” Her voice was more than a little ragged around the edges as well. “It’s morning?”

  He came up on an elbow, dislodging the princess, who shifted to the end of the bed with a pissy expression. The man didn’t have any such look. His face was pure sated, sexy male. The sheet had slipped low, exposing him to just below his hip bones, and she felt her mouth water.

  “How did we get here?” she asked.

  His expression changed. “I drove us home from the bar parking lot. You wanted to come in with me.” He paused. “Please tell me you remember that.”

  Oh, she did. She’d led him out of the truck and into his house, where they’d spent the next few hours rediscovering their insatiable passion for each other. They’d done it on his kitchen counter, in his shower, and finally in his bed, all to their extremely mutual satisfaction. “I remember,” she said, not exactly thrilled with having to admit it out loud. “I meant, how did we get here . . . metaphorically?”

  Princess Jasmine hunkered down with a butt wriggle and then took a flying leap, destination: Garrett’s lap. Catching her in midair, he tossed her gently over the side of the bed. But the other two cats held their positions like five-star generals, and he shook his head at them. “We’ve talked about this. The bed’s off-limits.”

  “Wow,” Brooke said to him. “Way to be tough.” She waved a hand in their direction. “Shoo.”

  Neither of the cats budged, though they both narrowed their eyes. One growled low in her throat.

  “Rude,” she said, but she sort of got it. Garrett was theirs, and they didn’t want to share. She could easily adopt the philosophy if she let herself. Instead, she slipped out of the bed and looked for her clothes. Her undies were MIA, so still wearing only his shirt, she bent for her shorts and apparently flashed him, because she heard a very male sound of approval.

  “Commando,” Garrett said approvingly. “I like it.”

  “Yes, well, you like pretty much everything, so . . .” She buttoned the shorts and then found her bra. Still wet. Her top wasn’t much better, so she left them both where they were and kept Garrett’s shirt on, hugging herself, hoping he wasn’t going to make this into a big thing.

  His eyes were heavy-lidded and heated as he crooked a finger at her. “Come back to bed.”

  Hell no. In the light of day, he’d be able to look deep into her eyes, and she wasn’t sure she could continue to hide in plain sight now that they’d decimated each other so thoroughly.

  “Nervous?” he asked.

  More like turned on beyond belief. “I don’t do nervous.” She flashed a quick smile that she hoped he bought. “So . . . thanks for the ride last night. And . . .” She grimaced. “For, you know, what came after that.”

  “You mean you?” he asked with a tinge of amusement.

  Rolling her eyes at the both of them, she headed to the door.

  “Brooke—”

  “No.” Knowing what he was about to say, she shook her head. “We don’t need to talk about it.”

  Garrett blew out a breath, like maybe he agreed with her, but here was the thing about Garrett and how the two of them differed at their very cores: If she wanted to not think about something, she did just that. She could ignore anything, even if it was right in front of her face, if she wanted to badly enough. But Garrett wasn’t wired like her. If something bothered him, he got it out. And if that something required action, well, then he’d act. He was about doing the right thing, even if the right thing was also the hard thing. Especially if it was the hard thing.

  He caught her at his bedroom door and pulled her around to look at him. He was still naked. Gloriously so, and apparently without a self-conscious bone in his body, although a certain “bone” did nudge her belly good morning. She sucked in a breath.

  “Ignore that.” He looked deep into her eyes.

  “What?” she asked.

  He shook his head. “I guess I’m just looking for some sort of sign that not acknowledging our past or what we were to each other—or where we’re at now—bothers you or hurts you.”

  “And?”

  “And . . .” He studied her, his eyes hooded. “I’m getting nothing. Not only is your head hard as rock, but so is your damn heart.”

  “And on that note,” she said lightly while feeling anything but. “I’ve gotta go.”

  “I’ll walk you.”

  “Not necessary. Seriously,” she said when he pulled on a pair of jeans and looked around for his shirt before realizing she was in it. “I don’t need you to walk me across the damn yard.”

  “So you’ll let me give you an orgasm, but not walk you home?” “Let’s be honest. It was a whole bunch of orgasms.” She paused and gave him a reluctant smile. “And they were very nice.”

  “They were a lot more than nice.”

  This was true. There was actually nothing nice about what he’d done to her. Erotic, yes, with moments of tenderness and affection and a whole lot of delicious, dirty, wicked intent.

  “So what now?” he asked.

  “I told you. I’m going next door.”

  “Interesting that you never call it ‘home.’”

  “You want the truth?” she as
ked.

  “Always.”

  It was an uncomfortable reminder that there was plenty she hadn’t been honest about, and he knew it. But she was tired, and that always left her feeling vulnerable, which meant her mouth spoke without permission from her brain. “I thought this would be a lot easier. I thought I’d come here, help Mindy, face you and my past, deal with it, and then go back to LA feeling like a new woman. I thought I’d get my old job back and prove to myself that I could conquer my fears.” She shook her head. “But I still feel . . . lost. I don’t know where home is anymore.”

  He stared at her for a beat and then gave a slow, understanding nod. “I get that.”

  Thanks to his rough childhood, she knew he did, and remembering that softened her. Going up on her tiptoes, she brushed a kiss on his sexily unshaven jaw. “I’ll see you.”

  Sliding his hands to her hips, he turned his head and caught her mouth with his.

  Instant desire—disturbing because she’d thought the long, sensually charged night they’d just shared would’ve been enough. But she was starting to worry she would never get enough.

  A knock at his front door surprised them both. Brooke began to pull back, but Garrett tightened his hold. “Ignore it,” he purred in the same wicked, should-be-illegal voice he’d used in the deep dark of the night.

  The knock came again. “What if it’s Mindy or the kids needing something?”

  Expelling a deep breath, he headed out of the bedroom and down the hall. She followed, thinking that no man should look that good in a pair of dangerously low-slung Levi’s and nothing else. “Uh . . . you might want to button those . . .”

  He reached down to do just that, and if possible looked even more sexy as he opened the door. Since she’d stopped at the bottom of the stairs and out of sight, she couldn’t see who it was, only Garrett’s reaction. His broad shoulders froze for a beat and then, casual as you please, he leaned up against the doorjamb, hands sliding into his pockets, saying nothing.

  “You probably weren’t expecting me,” a man said.

  Garrett didn’t budge. Still casual. Still calm. “I stopped expecting you before I knew the meaning of the word,” he said.

  Brooke stayed where she was, trapped between the social nicety of not wanting to intrude on something that was none of her business and her own damn insatiable curiosity.

  “I know it’s been a long time,” the man said. “I also know you don’t have any reason to believe me, but I’ve changed my life, turned it around.” He paused, and when Garrett still didn’t speak, he went on. “Been out of prison a year now. Asked around about you, and was told you were living here.”

  Holy shit. It was Garrett’s dad. His mom had died when he was young. Gary, his dad, hadn’t been around in years. At one point he’d been the town handyman, usually a drunk one. He’d been in and out of jail for petty theft, which was how Garrett had ended up in foster homes, and not always good ones, not until he landed in this house with Ann.

  “Wow,” Garrett said in an unimpressed voice. “A whole year this time.”

  Brooke still didn’t move, but now for another reason entirely. Garrett hated the guy. No way was she going anywhere if there was a chance he’d need her. Though in what universe he’d ever need her, she had no idea.

  “Yeah.” His dad cleared his throat. “And I’ve realized some things. I’m only as big as my last mistake.”

  “Ah,” Garrett said, his voice expressionless. “The power of AA in prison.”

  “Fifteen months sober,” his dad said, sounding proud. “I’m looking to pick up some small jobs while I’m here, if you hear of anything.”

  Garrett didn’t speak.

  “Okay,” his dad said into the awkward silence. “Well . . . here’s my number. I was hoping we could try to get to know each other. Family is family, right?”

  “You haven’t wanted to be family in . . . well, ever,” Garrett said. “You left when I was eight years old to do a bunch of stupid shit. Eight, Dad, and all on my own. You really expect me to want to get to know you now?”

  “I was hoping. I mean, I don’t expect forgiveness, or anything like that. Forgiveness is a gift, one that has to be freely given or it has no value.”

  “Yeah, and here’s the thing,” Garrett said. “I’m not interested. And I’d appreciate it if you didn’t contact me again.” He shut the door, turned, and saw Brooke at the bottom of the stairs, clearly eavesdropping.

  “I’m sorry,” she started. “I’m just—”

  “Leaving, right?”

  Right. It was night and day. Only a few minutes before he’d been completely open and relaxed. Now he was completely closed off to her, and hey, hadn’t that been exactly what she wanted? But while she had her faults—many of them, actually—she thought maybe Garrett had a few surprising ones of his own, such as an obstinate streak a mile wide and, surprisingly, not a whole lot of capacity for forgiveness. Not that his dad deserved it. Nor did she, for that matter. “Do you want to talk about it?” she asked quietly.

  He laughed, though it held no mirth. “Definitely not.”

  “Are you sure? It’s a big deal, him showing up out of the blue after all this time. We could—”

  “‘We’?” he asked. “When have we ever been a ‘we,’ Brooke?”

  A direct hit. She nearly staggered back from it, but instead forced herself to meet his gaze, knowing he was reeling. “I get it. You’re upset at what just happened. But we could talk about it and—”

  “There’s nothing to talk about,” he said. “And there’s certainly no ‘we.’”

  Okay, so he’d just faced down his dad and been forcibly reminded of his abandonment.

  And she’d done the same thing to him seven years ago.

  If he wasn’t going to forgive his father, he sure as hell wasn’t going to forgive her. “Garrett—”

  “Save it. This was a mistake.” And with that, he moved past her, vanishing into the bathroom, leaving her with a clear understanding that she was the mistake. The lock clicking into place sounded like a cannon and carried a clear message—stay out. She was still standing there in the hallway when the shower went on. She exhaled slowly and told herself it didn’t matter what he thought of her—none of it mattered. She was leaving soon anyway.

  But she was lying to herself, because it did matter. Feeling more hurt than she thought possible, she made the walk across the yard, past the constantly improving—and ridiculously complicated—Slip ’N Slide.

  Apparently, Linc and Garrett bought into the bigger-is-better mentality.

  Men were dumb.

  Still telling herself she didn’t give a shit about anything, especially what Garrett thought of her, she got all the way to the guesthouse before realizing she’d left her keys at Garrett’s. Perfect. Since she’d rather jump off a cliff than go back for them, she detoured to the big house, sneaking in the kitchen door wearing Garrett’s shirt, her shorts, no shoes—which, like her keys, were still at Garrett’s, where they could rot right along with him.

  This early, the kitchen should’ve been empty. But of course it wasn’t. Mindy sat at the kitchen table sipping tea. She eyed Brooke’s appearance. “Huh. I thought you didn’t need a man.”

  “I don’t,” Brooke said. “But I could use a box of cookies and a nap.”

  Mindy snorted. “My walk of shame’s usually going back for a shopping cart after figuring out I can’t carry twenty-three items in my arms through the store.”

  Brooke sighed and headed for the teapot, because she was going to require caffeine. Copious amounts of it.

  “Where were you? What were you doing?” Mindy gave Brooke another once-over. “Maybe the better question is, who were you doing?”

  If she didn’t recognize Garrett’s shirt, no way was Brooke going to enlighten her. That was a can of worms best left shut. If she’d managed to keep her thing with Garrett to herself for all these years, she could sure as hell keep it up now. “It doesn’t matter.”

&n
bsp; “Anyone I know?”

  “Leave it alone, Min.”

  “Right.” Her sister got up and refilled her mug, her posture projecting butt-hurt feelings. “I have to leave a lot of things alone when it comes to you, apparently. Like why you changed jobs. But hey, I get it, I’m not important enough in your life for you to confide in me anymore.”

  “I didn’t mean it like that. I meant you have enough going on with you and Linc. You guys doing okay?”

  Mindy shot her an are you serious? look. “You saw what he did.”

  “Look, I’m not exactly a fan of men right now, but I really do think he believed he was giving you what you wanted.”

  “By putting a huge load of more responsibility on my plate?”

  “So he went about it wrong.” Brooke shrugged. “His heart was in the right place. And it’s Mom and Dad, Min. They probably sold the shop to him at a steal. If you’re not into it, then sell it, make a mint, and sit on a pot of money.”

  “You think money is going to make me happy?”

  “I think the only thing that’s going to make you happy is you figuring out what you want.”

  Mindy looked stricken, then quickly turned her back on Brooke. “I thought you were on my side.”

  Brooke sighed. “It’s not about sides. It’s about liking where you’re at in life. And I’m sure not going to judge anyone on that. I came here because you needed me. I wanted to help with the kids, and as it turns out . . .” She lifted her shoulders. “I like them. A whole lot.”

  Mindy turned back, her eyes bright. “Yeah?”

  “Yeah. They’re . . . amazing. You’ve done an amazing job with them. But, Min, you know I can’t stay, right? Not even if you get me pretend jobs.”

  “The job is real. And they’d like to see you today to go over what they want.”

  She blew out a breath. “I feel like you’re not hearing me.”

  “It’s tailor-made for you, Brooke. You take pictures. Great ones. That’s all they want.”

  The back door opened and in walked Garrett, wearing his typical work gear: boots, jeans, and a T-shirt advertising some tattoo shop in San Francisco called the Canvas Shop. His hair was still damp from a shower. He had his tool belt slung low around his hips, the leather creaking as he strode across the kitchen, looking sexy as hell, which pissed Brooke off.