by Jodie Larson
He doesn’t say anything, just narrows his eyes in contemplation. “Are you sure? Maybe she invited you as her date?”
I shake my head. “We’re not dating. I’m a friend helping another friend.”
“Whatever helps you sleep at night,” he scoffs.
Taking another look at my watch, I realize I only have an hour before I told Lizzie I’d pick her up. “As much as I enjoy sitting here and gossiping with you, I need to get ready.”
“For your date?”
“For dinner at my best friend’s parents’ house, asshole.”
Paxton’s laugh follows me all the way down the hall to my bedroom. I shut the door, muffling the sound. Or he got bored and went back to his Call of Duty game.
This is not what I need right now. Being home was supposed to be easy. A few months of relaxing fun, hanging out with the guys and getting back to our roots. But Lizzie throws a wrench in the whole mix. Not really. Just in my head. She’s a distraction I don’t need, a temptation I thought I’d gotten out of my system. And yet, with one look, she brings me to my knees.
“No more thinking about her like that,” I say out loud. “She’s Myles’ sister.” Maybe giving the words a voice will keep my emotions in check, especially with dinner tonight.
First, I need to shower. And I can guarantee it’ll be a cold one.
I promptly roll up to Lizzie’s driveway at five-thirty, just like I told her I would. Her house is dark, but that’s to be expected since she’s now living out of her garage.
Five minutes go by and still no stirring inside. What is taking so long? Might as well find out. Hopping out of the truck, I trek up the sidewalk and walk through the door. No point knocking. Growing up, we never knocked, just walked right in. Since I’ll be here regularly over the next few weeks, might as well get used to that.
As suspected, the only lights I can see as soon as I walk in are the ones in the kitchen. Though she’s not there. Faint music plays down the hall and I follow the sound, bringing me to the closed door of her bedroom.
I should go back and wait. Or text her to let her know I’m here. Yet as I have my silent argument, my traitorous hand reaches for the doorknob anyway. As the door swings open, I gasp quietly at the sight before me.
Lizzie. In nothing but a bra and matching panty set. If you could even call them panties. They barely cover anything. A scrap of lace that allows the rounded curve of her ass to peek out the bottom. And they’re black. If I have one weakness, it’s black lingerie. There’s something innately sexy and provocative about it. Like an air of danger mixed with lust.
Seconds tick by as I stare at her through the crack in the door, dumbstruck and completely in awe of her beauty. No longer a gangly teen. She has curves and definition. A woman.
I should go. Yet, I don’t. Rooted to my spot, I watch her tap her foot in front of her closet with her hands on her slender hips. Now that position I remember. It’s her tell of frustration or indecision. She was never patient, nor could she make a decision to save her life.
The song changes, as does her personality, from what I can see. Volbeat’s “Heaven Nor Hell” pumps through the tiny speaker sitting on her dresser. And once again, I’m graced with her beautiful voice. I wonder why she never wanted to sing before?
Okay, I’m officially hitting creeper status. I tear my eyes away from the dancing angel as she slides a pair of jeans over that heart-shaped ass and quietly re-latch the door before knocking. Within seconds, it opens and Lizzie’s beaming smile greets me.
“I’m late, I know.” She turns back into her room and I’m thankful she put a shirt on before answering the door. “Have you been waiting long?”
“Figured I’d come in and check on you before calling search and rescue. Once I heard the music, I assumed you were still getting ready.”
Lizzie crouches down, digging through her shoe rack at the bottom of her closet.
Look away from her ass. Look away from her ass.
It’s hard not to stare, especially since I know what’s lying beneath it. Nothing but sinful black lace covering the smoothest, palest skin…
“Breck? You listening?”
I shake my head and instinctively cross my legs. An act that’s proving to be a bit difficult due to the rush of blood to a certain appendage.
“Sorry, blanked out for a sec. What’d you say?”
Lizzie stands and sighs. “I asked if I looked okay.” She slowly turns in a circle, holding her hands out to her sides.
“You look great,” I say truthfully. There’s more I could add, but for the sake of my sanity, I need to keep that information to myself. “It’s just dinner with your parents.”
Another sigh. “I know, but it’s the first full family dinner we’ve had in a long time. And I don’t want to look like an orphan.”
“Definitely not an orphan.” I look at my watch. “But if we keep your mom waiting, she could very well disown you.”
Taking a glance at her bedside clock, she cringes. “Shit. You’re right.” Within seconds, she puts the final touches on her appearance and shoves me out of the doorway. “Ready.”
After securing her house, I open the passenger door to the truck for her.
“Man, your girlfriends must have felt like princesses with you being all chivalrous and stuff.”
Girlfriends? Is she crazy? “Uh, I guess.” How do you respond to something like that? I wouldn’t say it’s chivalrous, just common courtesy. Have the men she’s dated before never done that? Anger slowly simmers as I take my seat and back out the drive, heading to her parents’ house.
Knowing how immature guys can be, I bet they didn’t know they had a good thing in front of them. Taking advantage of her kindness, using her for what she’s worth and never giving anything in return. It’s enough to make me want to break each finger of the guys who have ever done her wrong.
Thankfully the drive is short, so I can’t dwell on her past. I park behind Tatum’s car and get out fast enough to open Lizzie’s door again. The flush creeping across her cheeks brings out the green in her eyes, even more so than the delicate green silk top she selected.
Before we even reach the door, it swings open with Mrs. Donovan filling the space. “Brecken Lavery, you come here and give me a hug.”
“With pleasure.” I walk right into her open arms, letting her squeeze me for a second longer than what’s deemed acceptable. My second mom. This woman raised me just as well as my own, maybe even a little better.
She swipes at my forehead, brushing back a few stray hairs. “You get more handsome every time I see you. Isn’t he handsome, Lizzie?” she asks, craning her neck to the woman standing behind me.
“Yeah,” she replies in a hushed voice, almost like she was afraid to say it out loud.
Before anything else can be said, we’re whisked inside and quickly ushered into the living room where Myles, their dad, and Tatum all sit.
“Brecken,” Lizzie’s dad says, standing to shake my hand.
“Sir,” I respond and take the empty seat next to Lizzie.
“Haven’t seen you in a while. How’ve things been?” His gruff voice reminds me of our childhood, mainly of him yelling at us to keep the noise down. Once Myles got his room above the garage, it got better. We could be loud and he didn’t have to listen to us anymore.
“Good. Keeping busy, staying out of trouble.”
“Trouble? You? Never,” Mrs. Donovan says, bringing Lizzie a glass of wine. Myles stifles a laugh, covering it with a cough. It doesn’t stop the glare from both Tatum and his mom. “You want anything, sweetie?”
I look around and see both Myles and his dad drinking a beer. Lord knows I could use one of those right now. “I better not since I drove Lizzie here.”
“You plan on getting drunk?” her dad asks.
“No, sir.”
“Then you can have one.”
Before I have a chance to say thank you, she thrusts the cold beer into my hands.
“Thanks
, Mrs. Donovan.”
She playfully pushes my shoulder. “How many times have I asked you to call me Susan?”
“And how many times have I done what you asked?”
No matter how many times she makes this request, I can’t do it. Calling her Susan feels wrong on so many levels. I’ll call her Mom before ever using her first name.
“Outside of this one request?” She raises a brow. Lizzie snickers next to me, with Tatum joining across from her. How did I end up in the hot seat?
“Thanks, Mom,” I say, hoping to smooth things over. It works because I’m gifted with a smile before she heads back into the kitchen.
I try my best not to sit too close to Lizzie, though it’s proving hard since the only available couch was the loveseat. Myles and Tatum should be sitting here, not the two of us.
“Catch any baseball while you’ve been home?” Mr. Donovan asks.
Myles shakes his head. “Not yet. I was hoping to go to a game soon. Maybe round up the guys for a night out.”
I nod. “Sounds like a good plan to me.”
“Hey,” Tatum says, folding her arms over her chest. “What about us girls? Maybe we want to go too.” She looks to Lizzie for vindication.
A wicked gleam shines in her eyes, followed by a matching grin. “No, let the boys go to their night out. I’m sure we could find something to entertain us.”
Tatum nods as a knowing look passes between the two women. Myles should be scared. Hell, I know I am, and I’m not even a part of anything. Tatum and Lizzie getting together always meant trouble.
Their dad stays out of it, tuning out his kids’ squabbling and focusing his attention to the movie on TV instead. Smart man.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Myles asks, looking between his sister and his wife.
“Oh, nothing.” Lizzie’s deceptively sweet voice isn’t fooling anyone. There’s a plan brewing inside that head of hers.
“Bullshit.”
“Language!” their mom chides from the kitchen. I withhold a laugh. Lizzie turns her head and gives me a wink. Not like I know what she’s planning, nor do I want any part of it. I’m perfectly content staying in my little bubble.
Mrs. Donovan appears, wiping her hands with a dish towel. “Come on, everyone. Supper’s ready.” She eyes down her two children. I’ve seen that look before. It’s the one that says to remember their place.
We gather around the dining room table where the delicious aroma of garlic and tomato assault my senses. Lasagna. Her specialty. We used to beg her to make it every week. Hell, I’d ask her to send it to me in California if I knew it’d survive the trip.
I take the available seat next on Lizzie’s left. Myles eyes me suspiciously across the table, but I ignore it. We’re here at his parent’s house. Not like I have some nefarious plot to ruin his night or make a move on his sister.
Mr. Donovan starts dishing out the steaming pasta, making my mouth water as we pass the plates around to the women first.
“Have you visited with your parents since you’ve been home?”
I take a bite and hum with pleasure before answering. “A couple times. Mom gets angry if she doesn’t see me once every few days. Not to mention I like helping her around the house. Dad’s not getting any younger.”
Ow!
A sharp, stinging pain—courtesy of Myles—shoots up my shin. Fucker kicked me like we were eight-years-old.
“Oh, a son who wants to visit with his parents? Must be nice for Melinda and Roger.” Mrs. Donovan gives a disapproving glance at Myles, earning me another kick. This time to the other shin. He’s damn lucky we’re at his parents’ house or I’d be kicking his ass right about now.
“Well, I’ll make sure we’re over more often,” Tatum says.
Pretty sure we all knew that was coming. Myles can’t say no to Tatum, or his mom. When they band together, he’s pretty much screwed.
“Good, because I want to talk about throwing a wedding reception for the two of you since we weren’t invited to the actual ceremony.”
Myles pushes the food around his plate. “I told you, no party. No one came to the wedding because we eloped. That was the whole point.”
His mom frowns. “It’s not right. I’ve waited years for the two of you to get married and then you took it away by going to Vegas.” Myles looks down. “I won’t make a big deal, but I want to do something.”
Tatum places a hand on his forearm. “You know, my mom has been asking for the same thing. We did deprive them of an actual wedding. Maybe a small reception would be fun. Then everyone could get together.”
Looking between his mom and his wife, Myles turns to his dad in a last-ditch effort. The only response he gets is a hard stare, one that says to just go with whatever his mom wants.
Knowing he’s defeated, he heaves a sigh, letting his shoulders slump. “Fine. Plan whatever you want. But nothing big and we’re not saying vows again. Reception only.”
His mom grins from ear to ear. Just the answer she was looking for. At least that’ll keep Tatum busy for a while.
Mr. Donovan looks up and smiles at Lizzie. “What have you two been up to lately?” he asks, darting his eyes between the two of us.
I damn near choke on my water. Lizzie, however, doesn’t miss a beat. “Brecken is helping me renovate the house a little.” She looks between her dad and Myles, who has all of a sudden taken an interest in the conversation. “Well, not renovate, but update. We’re starting with the living room floor and then see what needs work after that.”
“Oh, really?” Mr. Donovan sets his fork down, giving us his undivided attention.
I swallow past the newly formed lump in my throat. “Just a few days a week. She needed help and I have extra time.”
“That’s very sweet of you. Have you decided what flooring you’re going to put down?” her mom asks.
Lizzie swallows the bite in her mouth. “We went to look at different options today but didn’t decide on anything. I think we’ll go tomorrow to a couple other stores and see what we find.”
Her dad nods. “Good idea. You want to make sure you get something durable and not the first thing you see. It’s always good to shop around.”
I nod. “That’s what I said. Hopefully we’ll find something and start installation later next week.”
“Well, if you need help, let me know.”
“Yeah, me, too,” Myles adds.
Before I have the chance to respond, Lizzie presses a hand to my arm, halting the words from forming. “We’ll let you both know, but I think Breck and I have this. Besides, you should see the cute little area we set up in the garage for my makeshift living room.”
“Maybe we’ll stop over tomorrow. Just give us a call when you’re done shopping.”
At least I know I’ll be spending the day with her tomorrow. The shopping part doesn’t even bother me. In fact, domestic and mundane feels natural with Lizzie. It’s strange yet not unwelcome. Something a real couple would do.
But we’re not, and I need to push those thoughts away. We’re friends, and it has to stay that way.
Once the dishes are cleaned up, we stay for a little bit, reminiscing about old stories while entertaining with new ones from our life in California. Lizzie stays engaged, asking questions but nothing specific. Almost like she’s trying to avoid talking about anything personal. Tatum, however, fills in the holes that I deliberately left out. Thankfully she only glossed over my shenanigans from the road. No one wants to hear about the occasional groupie that managed to turn my head.
We say our goodbyes with the promise of coming back soon.
“That includes you, Brecken. I expect to see you here once a week,” Mrs. Donovan says, squeezing me tight.
“Yes, ma’am.” I know better than to argue. If she wants me here, I’ll be here.
I help Lizzie into the truck and we head back to her house.
“Thanks for coming over tonight. Mom really enjoyed it.”
“You know I love
seeing your parents. Just remind me to wear some shin guards the next time your brother joins us.”
Lizzie cringes. “Yeah, sorry about that. I knew Mom was egging him on. It’s a topic of contention.”
“I noticed,” I say with a chuckle.
I park in her driveway but don’t turn it off. Today has been a great day. Teasing her while shopping, spending time with her family, it felt like old times. Yet, it felt different. Like something changed along the way. I can’t pinpoint what it is. But this new feeling…I like it.
“Want to come inside for a beer?” Her timid voice draws my attention. She plays with the hem of her shirt and for the first time since I picked her up, I remember what she’s wearing underneath.
Coming inside is definitely not a good idea.
“I probably shouldn’t. It’s getting late.”
“Are you going to turn into a pumpkin? Come on, have a beer with me. Then I can kick your ass at Just Dance.”
Beat me at a game? No way.
Turning the truck off, I unfasten my seatbelt and open the door. “You’re on.”
Having Brecken around has been a godsend. Besides getting the work done at my house on the cheap, he’s been great company. Granted, it’s been a week with only a few partial days of work, but it hasn’t stopped us from texting each other about what’s been going on. He’s become the friend that I miss from all those years ago, the one who wanted to include me in everything, even if my brother didn’t.
Except tonight.
Stupid guy’s night. Myles made a huge deal about getting together one last time before Kade abandoned them all for fatherhood. I love my brother dearly, but he really is dumber than a box of rocks. He needs a child of his own so he can see that your life doesn’t end when you become a dad. In fact, from the fathers I’ve seen at the office, it makes them a kid again.
At least Tatum had the right idea. They’re going out, so we’re going to as well. It’s only fair. Though we have Quinn leading the charge, so who knows what’s in store for us.
Speaking of, my perky blond friend bounces up to the table with three shot glasses in hand.
