Laughing, my eyebrows draw up in disbelief. “Are you drunk?” It doesn’t take much for a girl as small as Kate to feel a bit of a lift from the alcohol. I’ve learned this from drinking with her.
She leans in toward me, lowers her voice, and pushes her glasses up the bridge of her nose. “Between you and me, I’d take a match to the roast if I could. It’s an awfully low count this year.”
The turnout has been great so far, maybe even better than last year’s roast, and people are still arriving. She hadn’t cooked the food or set everything up herself, but she did coordinate the whole thing. I can tell it’s the alcohol talking. A turnout this high doesn’t warrant dropping a match to the place just to watch it burn.
“I saw Garrett the other day,” she says, waggling her dark eyebrows at me with a stupid grin.
“Oh yeah?” I mask my curiosity with mere indifference. Kate has no idea about the tension Garrett and I share, sexual or otherwise. And I have no intention of ever letting her know.
“He was shirtless and tan. And… oh my God,” she takes a sip of beer to quell her madness. Half of it dribbles down her chin, but she paws at it with the back of her hand. “His abs are just perfect.”
Perfect? Remembering the feel of him underneath me at the golf course, my cheeks grow warm. I look away from her and stare out at the river so she doesn’t notice.
“You think he’ll be here tonight?” she asks, more concern in her voice than anything.
“Not sure. You know how he is.”
Kate bursts out laughing. “Yeah, yeah. I do know. I know how incredibly sexy he is.”
I furrow my brow at her joke— it doesn’t half make sense. Sliding my arms across my chest, I feel a weird tinge of guilt seep into me. I feel guilty for desiring him as much I do. Guilty about the intimacies Garrett and I have shared over the past few years. Kate was obsessed with him and had been ever since middle school. Every Friday night at his football games growing up, she’d go on and on about how much she liked him and wanted to be with him— in more ways than one. She’d try anything just to get him to look her way. And yet there I am, drunk off of whiskey and lust, getting naked with him up there on his golf course that one night in May. The mere thought of her desiring him more than me makes me shiver with upset. There’s no way she could understand the breadth of how I feel about him.
“Nerd Alert,” Kate suddenly calls out behind her hand.
Bolting up from the rock, I catch sight of my older brother— Franklin. He’s sporting a linen summer suit as he makes his way through the crowd like he owns the place. I watch as he pushes his dull brown hair out of his eyes, the same shade of brown I try to hide under a ghostly blonde dye job. He has always carried himself like anything he wants in life is handed to him. This, aggravatingly enough, is mostly true.
He reaches us and nods, shoving a plastic forkful of beans in his mouth. “You talk to Numnuts about the offer?”
“He has a name, Franklin. And yeah, I did.”
“And?”
“What do you think?”
“You really want to know what I think?” Franklin snorts and steals a moment to chug his beer. He stares right at Kate when he says it. “I think he’s an idiot looking a gift horse in the fuckin’ mouth.”
“Huh?” Kate asks, stepping down from her rock. Tripping toward me, she latches onto my arm. “Whose horse is gifted?”
Franklin shakes his head in disgust. “Someone better be taking the Shoreline, and it’s not me. So if you want it,” he says, nodding toward me, “you better speak up. If not, Garrett’s next in line. You best convince him.” Shifting his weight, his cognac-colored Oxford shoes shine in the harsh evening sun. “I don’t know why dad trusts that fool, but he does. Nothin’ I can do about it.”
“Yeah, well your confidence in him is touching,” I say, sarcasm dripping. I don’t hate my brother, but ever since he took over dad’s real estate business on Oak Island five years ago, he’d turned into a real asshole. “I’ll let him know how highly you think of him. Maybe that’ll change his mind.”
“Doubt it. He’s dumb as a box of rocks.”
I scowl at him, my fists involuntarily balling.
“What about you. You applied to vet school yet?” He glares at me expecting a joyous response.
“Quit acting like you give a shit.”
“Rachel, what?” Kate yanks on my arm, causing me to nearly lose my balance. “Who’s going to animal school?”
“I don’t know,” I tell her. “Why don’t you focus on your own stuff, Franklin? You’re so concerned with what everyone else is doing.”
“You don’t get it, do you?” Franklin takes a bite of his hotdog and keeps talking. “Dad’s on my back every single day. Who’s gonna take the Shoreline? How’s the real estate business doing? What’s Rachel doing about school? You know how much it all affects him. You want him to have a stroke or something? He’s not gettin’ any younger. At the very least, he needs to unload the brewery. That’s the one thing he can control.” He coughs and wipes his mouth with a crumpled napkin. “God knows he can’t control you.”
Shaking my head at him, I purse my lips to let him know I’m done engaging. My only escape is to dart across the crowd. “Come on,” I tell Kate, pulling her with me as I leave him there without so much as a goodbye.
She blindly tosses her beer bottle into a plastic bin beside one of the tables. Grabbing onto the back of my waist for support, she lays her head on my shoulder as we walk.
“Your brother’s kind of sexy when he’s whining,” she says giggling.
As we pass a grill with smoke pouring off it, we hear a distant, familiar voice from behind us.
“Is that Rachel and Kate?” the voice calls out to us. “Oh my!”
“No,” Kate moans under her breath. And like two deer caught in headlights, we turn to find our third grade teacher, Mrs. Dalton, waving at us with wrinkled hands.
“So good to see the both of you,” she says, hugging us. Her bracelets clink against each other like muffled wind chimes, and she smells like expired cold cream. “How are you two?”
Kate snorts and looks over at me beaming. She’s proud as ever behind her haze of alcohol. “We’re dr—“
“Great,” I say, jabbing Kate with my elbow. “We’re really good, Mrs. Dalton. How are you?”
Kate looks over at me, genuinely offended at me stifling her honesty, and I wonder how many bottles of beer she had before I found her juggling watermelon.
“You two are so grown up now, look at you. The times have surely changed, haven’t they? How I do miss seeing you both with Lydia.”
The comment immediately sobers Kate as she clings to my waist a little tighter. Looking over at her expressionless face, I don’t know what to say. Our collective silence triggers Mrs. Dalton into a tailspin of regret.
“Oh dear, I didn’t mean to go back like that.” She pats my hand with a sorrowful smile. “But I do think of you three often. How long has it been now?” she presses.
Kate straightens herself at my side. “I don’t really—”
“Ten years,” I say into the space between us, the memories threatening to crack me wide open. “Ten years this month.”
“Wow. Just a few weeks then,” Kate breathes, as if she’s just heard the news all over again.
Mrs. Dalton clucks her tongue. “Such a sweetheart that girl was.”
Her comment garners only the smallest of my smiles, and I know she means well, but she should have let it go. She sways from left to right and back again— impatient, like we’ve interrupted her evening out on the town.
“Well, it was delightful seeing you both. Take care now.” She pats us each on the arm one last time and heads toward the group at the river’s edge.
In the swift absence of Mrs. Dalton, Kate turns to me, her mouth wide open like she’s surprised at her own mind. “I think you’re probably going to hate me for this.”
Furrowing my brow, I glance at her and shake my head.<
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She takes me by the shoulders and squares me to her. I can still smell the beer on her breath when she speaks. “Don’t freak out, but I am maybe sort of thinking about doing something in Lydia’s honor.”
Staring off at a gaggle of seagulls on the pier behind her, I can’t bring myself to sound enthusiastic. “What do you mean?”
“You know how I love to plan stuff,” she says, grinning. She fans her arms toward the social still going strong around us. “I was thinking about doing something for Lydia this summer but I didn’t even realize it was ten years of her actually being dead.”
Dead. The word punches me right in the gut, and I feel like I might be sick.
“Ten years, I mean, that’s an entire decade,” she says. “That means I have to plan something, right? It’s like Lydia is giving us the ultimate, River Roast-inspired sign, a huge thumbs up.” She hiccups and aims her head toward the sky. “‘Plan me a glorious party,’ she’s probably up there saying.”
My eyes still trained on the seagulls behind her, I nod. She’s drunk, and I don’t want to offend her over the thought, but it sounds awful. Dreadful, even. Suddenly, the heat of the afternoon feels too much for me. The entire crowd around me feels foreign with infiltrating memories, and I feel my hairline growing wet with panic. “Hey, I have to run,” I say, pulling away from her.
“Rach, wait. A memorial party!” Kate hiccups again. “The lakehouse?” She smiles at me through her non-question of wanting to use my father’s house out at Lake Carson.
“Yeah, sure. Fine by me, but check with my dad,” I say, pointing toward the live music. “He’s that way.”
Chapter Three
With my heart pounding, I make a beeline for the only empty swinging bench I can find. It’s at the far end of the riverfront by the group of restaurants and is spackled with dried bird shit. Sitting there secluded, I wipe the dampness from my eyes. I’m not sure if it’s from the heat or if I’ve been crying, but either way, I can tell it’s smudged my eyeliner because my eyes are starting to sting.
The sound of waves lapping up against the shoreline calms me, and the slightest breeze of the swing brings me cooler air. I finally catch my breath from the nerve of Kate’s idea. A party? A memorial for Lydia? The thought alone sends my stomach churning as I feel more sweat pooling underneath my breasts and at the small of my back.
Growing up, Lydia had been best friends with Kate and me. She was Garrett’s younger sister by three years, and we were truly inseparable, a trio of girls that wanted nothing more than to spend every waking second together. Afternoons spent dodging ocean waves on the island, hiking the overlook bridge with Cherry Cokes and gas station snacks stuffed in our backpacks, sneaking out of the house after midnight to meet the neighborhood kids for a pickup game of Kick the Can.
I sigh and think about Garrett, how hard it was for him to lose his baby sister like that. He was fifteen at the time. The three of us had gone down to Lake Carson in Wilmington for the afternoon. I don’t remember much of what happened, but she never made it home that day. She ended up drowning out there.
Late one night after a few too many beers in the back of his truck, Garrett admitted that Lydia drowning was his fault, that he wasn’t able to save her. But the next morning, he texted me and asked me to forget he ever said anything. I agreed, and he hasn’t talked about that afternoon since. But I don’t blame him. If I’d witnessed her last breath, I wouldn’t speak a word about it either. The thought alone makes me want to hug the sadness right out of him. But how do you try to pull someone from a deep, dark cave of pain when they refuse the help? The only way I’d gotten through it myself is therapy.
Beyond the haze of my own guilt, I hear an obnoxious squeak echo off the parking lot of Carter’s River Grille. Looking up, I spot Garrett’s 2009 Silverado, large and blue, but he’s nowhere to be found.
My palms start to sweat as I consider heading to his truck to wait for him. But the past few days, I hadn’t been able to blot out the thoughts I’d been having about him ever since the golf course.
Screw it, I need to see him.
Gravel collecting in the toes of my sandals, I race through the dusty parking lot just as Garrett steps out of the restaurant with a to-go bag in hand. I can’t help but notice the broadness of his shoulders and how genuinely at ease he looks when he’s alone. Slipping into his truck, he turns the key just as I reach the driver’s side door out of breath.
“Hey,” I shout, aiming my voice at his open window. It carries over the sound of his engine causing him to notice me, but I haven’t really planned much beyond that. “What are you doing?” I ask, trying to kick the gravel and sand from my toes without him noticing.
“Talkin’ to you.” He has his right hand draped over the steering wheel, the other hanging out the window. “Come up here.” He motions to me with a thick finger, and I can’t help but to oblige.
Grabbing the window on either side of his arm, I hoist myself up onto his side rail so we’re nearly eye to eye. The air conditioner of his truck throws cool air on me, and I feel my nipples start to harden under the chill. “Did you get supper?”
“Steak and potatoes,” he says, rustling in his to-go bag.
“You know there’s a ton of food over there, right?”
“Sure, but there ain’t no potatoes.” He’s looking over at his bag, messing with something.
“There’s tons of them. Potato salad, mashed potatoes, potato casserole—”
“Nah, nothin’ good as this,” he says, bringing up a red-skinned, quartered piece of potato between his fingers. “Open.”
My eyes grow big as quarters, and I shake my head, my stomach still too full from the mounds of food I consumed at the roast.
“Damn, Gator. Just try it.” His voice is so sullen at the possibility of me not trying his potato, that my heart starts to ache for him.
“Garrett, I’m—”
“Please?”
Relenting, I open my mouth. As he stares at me, he places the potato past my teeth, his fingers brushing over my bottom lip sending sparks straight through me. When I close my mouth, he tries to read my expression, and closing my eyes, I chew. The vinegary dressing on the potato cuts through all the other foods I sampled earlier. The acid is a sweet and tangy relief.
“Good, huh?”
Swallowing, I shrug and glance at him. The worst thing I can do around him is be too agreeable. “It’s alright. Nothing to write home about,” I say, biting my bottom lip. I can still taste vinegar on it.
“Stop doin’ that.”
“Doing what?”
“Bitin’ your lip like that.” He sighs heavily and runs a hand down his face in what seems like frustration. “Making me want you.”
Staring right at him, I bite my lip again and can’t help but smile. The moment he tells me not to do something, I’m for sure doing it again.
His eyes are fixed on my lips now, and he slides his wide hand underneath my hot mess of hair, the chill of his palm causing me to shiver. Pulling me closer to him through his window, he presses his thick lips to mine, silencing every wrong thought in my head. His lips taste strong of clove and peppermint, and my vinegary lips part in a hurry the moment I feel the sweep of his tongue. I can feel him caressing the back of my neck as I suck on his lip. The sounds of our kissing are dampened by the still-running engine and the hum of his air conditioner. I trace tiny circles on his forearm, intoxicated by his flavor. But in a sudden halt, he pulls away from me, leaving me breathless.
“I gotta go feed Dudley,” he says, snapping me back to reality.
I’m half mad at him for bailing mid-kiss, but it’s probably for the best. If Kate happened upon us, I’d not be allowed back in our apartment for who knows how long. I hop down to the gravel. “Why don’t you just get a cat or something?” A cat would make more sense, given that Dudley isn’t really a pet at all. He’s a wild fox that regularly snoops around Garrett’s backyard and waits for extra table scraps. Shit, for all I know
the potatoes are for Dudley.
“I hate cats. All they do is sleep and shit.”
“They cuddle occasionally. And meow.” Admittedly, I can’t think of much more than that. But I’d been more of a dog lover myself.
Garrett eyes me, looking down at my denim cutoff shorts then up to my eyes. The strength and longing in his stare nearly steals my breath. I hate how much he affects me.
“Come home with me?” he asks, wielding a certain wonder in his tone.
Though my core tingles at the idea of spending the night with him, my logic won’t let me. It’s the same Garrett he’s been for years, the one wanting a spin for free. And that just isn’t something I’m willing to do anymore. Even with him.
“Sorry, I can’t.”
Sighing, he throws the truck into gear. “Right. See yah.” Any other night, he would’ve tried to convince me otherwise, but he throws his hand up, showering me in plumes of parking lot dust.
Chapter Four
The work cell phone rings, and I grab it from the dashboard of the van. “Pup Wash Mobile. Good morning, this is Rachel.”
“Honey, it’s me. Can we fit an appointment in after lunch?” It’s Delaney, my boss. I can hear her brushing her teeth in the background.
“I’m sure we can,” I say, pulling the appointment book from the passenger seat. “Let me check.” Thumbing straight to the afternoon schedule, I see an open slot. “Would two-thirty work?”
“That’s perfect, it’s out in the county.” I hear her spit into the sink. “I’ll let Rose know you’ll be stopping by then. Thanks, Honey.”
Jotting the address down, I start up the van.
I love my job, but at twenty-two and fresh out of college, my dad hounds me to find something that can sustain me. I’ve worked at Pup Wash Mobile Grooming every summer since graduating high school, and now that I’ve officially finished my last semester of university, Delaney agreed to take me on nearly full-time. I was thrilled when she offered. The reality of spending more time with dogs than with humans makes me grateful for the gig. It sure beats basic customer service, which is something my dad never understood.
All the Wild Ways: A Friends to Lovers Romance Page 2
