by Amber Burns
About a head taller than her, Vanna can rest perfectly under my chin. But I have to close the distance between our mouths once more, swooping down and catching her off guard with a rogue touch.
Whatever she says is swallowed by our open mouths, tongues kissing and dancing, teeth gently locking around her lower lip, tugging the soft, reddening flesh playful –
Loud coughing separates us.
“For the sake of and my fairly new pine flooring installation, get a room because we’re opening…now.” Wes looks up from his watch and moves quick to turn the store sign from ‘closed’ to ‘open’ and unlatch the front door for the first customer who hasn’t showed up yet.
“Sorry.”
“Why are you apologizing?” I ask. Vanna gives me a floundering look. Well, she should have thought twice about how that apology sounded when we were making out.
I don’t want my girl groveling to someone over our PDA. My kisses should be making her beg for more, not apologizing for it happening in the first place.
“Hey, hey.” Wes, taking his place behind the front desk, points at me. “Stop bullying my baby sister.”
“I am not bullying her.” Something in my tone prompts Vanna to smooth her hands over my chest. My nostrils flare, the white hot irritation simmering down as quickly as it narrowly boiled over.
“Raging hormones in check?” Wes doesn’t let up. In some ways he’s like Vanna, I realize. Hot and cold, cold and hot – the Sterling gene had a serious mercurial flavor.
I glance down at Vanna, calming at her small smile.
Our baby better not be like his uncle.
“Anyways, she should apologize. You should both apologize.” Wes clips. “You looked ready to make babies all over my expensive flooring.” He makes a face.
“W-We w-were not!” Vanna is sputtering. Frankly, I only wish we were making babies all over the floor and not even to spite Wes.
“It sure looked like it,” Wes’ speculation throws his younger sister into a tizzy. I wrap my arms tighter about Vanna afraid she’s going to confront Wes. Siblings threw tough words and tougher punches. It’s my way of returning the favor when I wanted to clobber Wes for insinuating I was ‘bullying’ Vanna and she calmed me, like seconds ago.
“Who’s making babies?” Violet stirs out from the back, her heels clicking to a stop by the front desk.
“We weren’t making babies!” Vanna’s snapping response throws Violet’s hands up in a placating gesture.
“I wasn’t accusing you of making babies.” There’s a beat and then, more quietly, Violet directs her question to Wes, “Were they making babies? Ew. And aw.” She goes from a curled lip to clutching a hand to her chest staring at Vanna and me.
“’Ew’ and ‘aw’?” Wes rolls his eyes. “That’s all you have to say? I almost had to scrub their sex juices off my floor. Not to mention carry out a placenta.”
Violet sighs. “Aren’t you taking it too far?”
Taking it too far is putting it lightly. Vanna is shaking in my hold, whether from anger or hurt I’m unclear. I don’t like it though. I’m all about respecting sibling boundaries, but I’m going to throw it out the window and tell Wes to fuck off when Violet does it for me.
“Why are you being more bitchy than usual?”
Wes looks up from the computer. “Maybe I don’t like it when people stand around my store. We’re on time, people.”
A storm cloud of emotion darkens Violet’s features. I didn’t think she had anger in her. Then again, what do I know? I’ve known all three for less than a week.
Vanna surprises me by slipping from my arms. I move after her to the front desk where Wes and Violet are having a silent glaring match.
“Wes’ right about getting back to work, and Violet, I’ll help you set up in the back if you haven’t already.”
In mediating mode she’s fierce; an entirely different creature than the shy, frail thing moments ago. A raw picture comes to mind, startling me out of the store into my head: Vanna prying two of our daughters apart, one girl clutching to one arm and the second little girl crying herself to sleep in the other arm.
“Thanks, V, it’s done though. That’s why I missed some of the action out here,” Violet says.
I tune back in to note Vanna’s interception of an argument is a partial success. Wes is still sulking, and Violet finds the order book to flip through while waiting on their elusive first customer.
“What were you two doing?” Wes looks up from his screen, plain curiosity pleating his brow.
Vanna perks up, deer-caught-in-the-headlights of her big brother’s speculation, probably wondering why she bothered to break up Violet and Wes’ bickering and drawing attention to herself again through the kind act.
“We were about to fuck when you interrupted us.” My blunt comment sparks Vanna’s ire. She actually stamps her sneaker, fists clenching over the Wes’ desk.
“We were not!”
Wes throws his head back and cackles, and it breaks up his gloomy expression.
“I didn’t think it would ever come to this. I was hoping they’d at least get this part right.” I have no clue who the ‘they’ are that Wes is talking of. The disgust souring his tone is enough for me to gander that he didn’t like them…whoever ‘them’ was.
“When a man and a woman like each other enough, the woman comes to bed with only gift women have. Like this,” ringing his index finger and thumb, Wes’ other index spears the circle shape of his opposing hand. “And that’d be the man coming in, bearing his ‘gift’.”
“Shut the front door.” Violet is sobbing with her laughter, having forgotten about her feud with her brother it seems. She’s peeling herself off the desk and in time to answer the two young women who strolled in from the street.
“Not you.” She wipes imaginary tears from under her eyes, rubbing her hands together and clearing her throat of the remnants of her loud mirth. Her change happens in a blink of an eye. It’s hard to tell she was struggling to lift her head a second ago at Wes’ raunchy parody of a ‘sex talk’.
The Sterling siblings, Vanna included, are back in business mode.
I recall what Wes said about getting a room, and an idea sparks, demanding attention. I’m moving to the door, barely reminding myself to drop a kiss on Vanna’s forehead when the customers are lead away by Violet to the back for a look-see at the merchandise.
“I have to run an errand, but I’ll be back. Hold the fort down without me.”
“Sorry to burst your bubble, Amos, but she’s been doing that for the last three decades.” Wes’ sour-puss act makes a snippy comeback.
He’s lucky I owe him for planting the genius idea I’m heading out now to put into action, otherwise I wouldn’t hesitate to knock some friendly into him.
Outside I pull out my cell and risk extra fees for a call.
“Hello? Yeah, I’d like to inquire about reservations for the night.”
5
It’s done.
It took about three hours, but it’s done. I’m not complaining.
Two reservations for the night at Pearlwater Lodge on Lake Placid, an almost two hour away five-star rustic hotel with purported breath-taking views of the lake, an all-inclusive spa treatment, complimentary breakfast and lunch packages, and a myriad of other activities, or so their site is boasting.
“That place is stunning. If I didn’t have a venue booked, I’d convince River to marry me there sixteen days from now.” Iris ambushes me from behind, her elbows supporting her over the back of the couch. “You’re leaving Mams and Pops then?”
She means our grandparents and my temporary return to my childhood room while Iris places the finishing touches on her upcoming wedding.
“Not when I have it so good here. It’s basically a five-star resort with Mams’ cooking, cleaning and hanging out with Pops.”
Iris’ laugh is short. “Then what’s the hotel for?”
“Wooing my girl.” I’m grinning. I hear it in the note
on my voice and see it in Iris’ shocked face.
“A girlfriend?” Iris twirls in place and forgets all about her trip to the kitchen. Down she drops beside me on the couch, particularly falling into my lap with her excitement. “Spill, bro. Now.”
All casual-like, I set the laptop to sleep and move it to the seat beside me. “What do you want to know?”
“What can you share? Or should I say, what information can I squeeze out of you?” She’s folding her legs, hunkering down to wheedle all my secrets to the open.
I think and find my answer. “Her name. That’s the only thing I’m not ready to share.” When I say it, I know I made the right decision. I might have roped Vanna into giving me the opportunity to grow to love me, but any if not all my efforts would go to naught if I sent Iris and her one-woman sniffing brigade out to find her and pelt her with questions.
After answering her questions, Iris slumps back into the couch. “So, if I got this right, she a thirty-nothing part-time worker, dark hair and eyes, a little curvy but with a ‘fit ass’, and you’re hopelessly in lust with her. Did I get that all?”
“That sums it up. Honestly, I’m still getting to know her,” I drift off, wondering if I’ll ever feel solid about Vanna. She’s erected enough barriers around her – barriers she isn’t even aware of, I figure it’s foolish of me to hope to be able to dismantle each one.
“I can’t believe you didn’t tell me you were dating.” Iris brings me back to the living room of our grandparents with a punch. Light enough to shock me to catching the tail-end of her complaint. “Five days or not,” she jabs her finger in the space between us, taking my one and only excuse out of my mouth. “I should have been on your speed dial as soon as this happened.”
“I’m heading over to her workplace now.”
Iris is standing up and heading for the stairs, possibly to switch her PJ camisole and roomy shorts for something presentable. I call her back as I pass to the front door. “You can’t come with me.”
“Come on. Why not?” She hovers over the last step, pouting. That sad face got her many a thing she wanted. Not this though. I’m not being bowled over this time.
“You can meet her some other time. You know, when I warn her.” Boots on, and in the middle of drawing my coat over my shoulder I face my baby sister. Her arms are folded and she’s tapping one slipper impatiently, as if counting the seconds until I relent to her wish.
Like I said, not this time, sis.
“You’re making me out to be some sort of rabid dog.”
From up in Iris’ old room, Honey takes that cue to bark. I chuckle. “I think that says it enough.”
She sighs. “I just want to see her.” And I know she does; I can hear it in her uncharacteristic whining. One thing about Iris all her friends and family understand and accept, she doesn’t beg for anything. You’re better off going her way or heading off on your own before she caves to anyone’s plans.
How her fiancé and my old Marine buddy, River handles her is beyond any normal human’s comprehension. I seriously underestimate the guy’s stoicism, apparently the ultimate Iris-foolproof shield.
I don’t have this shield, so I figure I better split before she really convinces me to take her along.
The drive from Cold Springs to Albany is an hour. I plan it so I can catch Vanna for lunch at one.
Parking Pops’ Chevy by Wes’ Bug in the parking space two lots from Sterling Outfits, I walk the distance whistling again.
I cut off at the tinkling greeting of the bell above the door, but it’s the raised voices that pique my interest.
In the back, Violet and Wes are at it again. And, not surprisingly, Vanna is playing the referee.
“Going to dinner does not immediately equal I want to have sex with the guy.” I picture cartoon steam flying out of Violet’s nose and ears. She’s standing on one side of Vanna’s raised hand, the other hand being pushed away by Wes as he tosses back, “You weren’t supposed to be having dinner with him at all.”
They haven’t noticed me yet, leaving me in the awkward position of debating announcing my presence or waiting for them to recognize their audience of one. Vanna has her back to me anyways, and Wes and Violet are too busy cutting each other down. I might as well kick in my heels for the long run.
As predicted, the back-and-forth continues for another twelve minutes. I know because I timed it.
Like most siblings, Iris and I used to fight more as kids. Older now, we hardly see each other and, as a result, our fights are more banter-like, light teasing if anything. It helps that we both share the same laid-back approach to life, and we don’t butt our noses in where we’re not wanted.
Considering they work together and live close enough to irritate each other, it makes sense why Violet and Wes butt heads. Vanna is a rare specimen to endure it with her gentle touch.
One more reason to want her: She’d be great wife and mother material.
“What are you doing here?” Wes is the first to take note of me. Vanna’s hands drop and she whirls around.
Shame springs from her gnawing on her lower lip. She wrings her hands together, taking a step and then holding her position there, shutting down whatever she’d planned to say.
In answer to Wes, I shrug. “The door was open, and I let myself in.”
“And she forgot to lock up for lunch again.” He throws up his hands. “Forget it. Just one more thing I’ll add to my towering pile of duties.”
Violet makes a noise akin to a snarl and a laugh in the back of her throat. “Funny. A pile of duties, huh? And where exactly is this pile of duties?” She waves around. “Surely not in here. And your desk is looking pretty empty right now.”
Wes is mute. The only telling of his anger being his reddening ears and the splotches of blood surfacing over his throat and cheeks; the coloring reminds me of how Vanna can be around me.
Must be a family thing.
“Oh, and FYI,” Violet is saying, “I hold my end of this business down as much as you do, so don’t even go there. You’re not mom or dad, Wes, so stop trying to control my life.” She stands a little straighter now, but there’s a wobble to her lips. “I know the difference between right and wrong. I’m a big girl, have been for a long time now. It’s my mess, all right, and I’ll clean it up. But I won’t grovel to you with an apology.”
Having said her bit, Violet moves towards me. I shift out of her way, coming against the wall. She plucks her yellow coat up off the make-shift coat rack on a wooden stool and steam-charges to the front of the store.
“Vi, where are you going?” Vanna calls after her sister.
“Where else? Lunch.” Violet’s response is followed by the bell chiming and the front door slamming close with her departure.
Wes is following not too soon.
“Close up if you’re eating out,” is all he manages to Vanna, ignoring me all together.
“His mood has not improved over the day.” Once he’s out of earshot, I’m all over Vanna. Or I am until she carefully extricates herself from my hug.
“I have to dust and sweep.”
She can’t get rid of me that easily. I’m dogging her heels, her secondary shadow, waiting for her to throw me the first bone or doggy treat. “Can I help?”
“It’s fine. I got it.”
I maneuver myself around the room whenever she brushes close with the broom. She keeps her head down the entire time, but she has to be feeling my burrowing gaze.
“What’s up?” I break the silent tension first.
At least it gets her to still that silly broom. Yet she still doesn’t answer.
“You’ve been sweeping the same fucking area for five minutes.”
“Amos!” Now I got her attention.
Fuck. I guess I said that part aloud.
“You don’t need to cuss.”
Baby, I do. It’s me.
I sigh, my hands coming about my neck, supporting the taut muscles riding high from thinking about Vanna and ma
king this – us work. I never took marriage as being an easy thing, but that’s the whole point, to get to a reasonable place where my proposal to her won’t be shot to hell right from bat.
“Tell you what, tell me what’s bothering you and I’ll stop cussing.”
Her lips thin.
“It’s nothing.”
I cross my arms, my legs drawing apart just the amount to look threatening. Both in the Marines and at home with Mams and Pap, Iris and I were taught to rely on family – with the Marines it was all about team. Nobody wanted to be saddled with a loner, let alone a liar in the middle on Afghan tour.
