Dirty Laundry

by Lauren Landish

  Carson nods, grinning. “Okay, if you say so. Is Elise like . . . your girlfriend now or something? Do you love her?”

  Wow, what a lot of stuff to dump on my head at once. The little girl who’s had my heart her entire life, asking all this stuff about Elise . . . how the fuck do I answer this?

  I need to reassure her that nothing has changed, that she’s still my priority, but the things Elise said about being a good example, not a martyr, come back to me. Besides, I do need to be honest . . . I know I feel something for Elise, I just don’t know what yet.

  “Baby, it’s still soon to say I love her, but I like her a lot. And that’s new for me, maybe enough for now. I don’t think I could fall in love with a woman unless you got along with her too. You’re the most important thing to me, Carsen.”

  She smiles, giving me that look that I’m sure all parents get when their children think we’re talking like a silly, senile idiot. “I know that. But if you like her a lot, and you want me to get along with her too, don’t you think I should meet her? I mean, more than just a freak-out in the kitchen where I froze like a dork? I want to meet her.”

  I look up to Sarah for her opinion but she shrugs her shoulders. I think back to what Sarah told me before about living a little, having a bit of fun, and what Elise told me about showing Carsen what a relationship should look like, and my decision is easy.

  “Okay, baby. Elise said she wanted to meet you too, and to let you know something.”

  “What’s that?”

  I lean in, whispering in her ear. “She says she’s not the boogieman. So . . . is dinner good?”

  Carsen looks like she’s thinking for a minute, and I kick myself a little. For fuck’s sake, the kid just caught Elise half-naked in our kitchen two hours ago. Even if she’s asking to meet her, I need to slow my roll here and not move too fast. But my daughter surprises me every time. “Yeah, but we’re gonna need the supplies to make s’mores out back if she’s coming for dinner. Oh, and Aunt Sarah? You need to make those chipotle chicken wraps you kick butt with.”

  I laugh. She’s not reconsidering. She’s making the damn menu. I smile at her, ruffling her hair. “All right, kiddo. We’ll get the supplies. But also, let me call Elise, see if she’s available for dinner tonight, okay?”

  Carsen rolls her eyes. “She’s your girlfriend, Dad. Of course she’s available.”

  Sarah snickers, and I can read her face clearly. If only things were that easy.

  When the doorbell rings as dinner approaches, I’m nervous. I’ve never done this, introduced someone I’m interested in to my daughter. Hell, I never thought I would do this, at least not while she’s still a kid.

  But fate intervened, I guess, and here I am. I’m excited for Carsen to get to know Elise though. I think they’ll like each other.

  At least I hope they do or I’m fucked. Elise looks stunning. Her hair is pulled up, but curls cascade down her back and her cheeks are flushed. She’s wearing a pink tank top that shows a hint of her cleavage, but she’s thrown on a sheer jacket with a floral design all over it that dips long in the back over her jean-covered ass and a pair of white Chuck Taylors.

  It’s more ‘city chic’ than what I’ve seen her in before . . . but it’s cute and I like it. She looks sweet and sexy, all rolled up into one tempting package. “Come in,” I greet her, taking her in my arms. “You look beautiful.”

  I kiss her lips lightly, aware that we probably have an audience spying from the kitchen. So I keep the kiss quick, and Elise hums. She probably understands. “Thank you. And thanks for actually greeting me instead of stomping off like Conan the Barbarian.”

  I chuckle. I have been a bit of a grumpy ass. I look down at her, lowering my voice just in case. “You ready for this?”

  She smiles, her lips wavering a bit, but she nods. “Yes. I’m ready.”

  I take her hand, holding it between us for a split second before turning and leading her into the kitchen, where Carsen and Sarah both scuttle back from the edge of the doorway. Busted, you little spies.

  Sarah recovers first, offering a hand again but with a decidedly warmer tone than earlier. “Nice to meet you, Elise. I’m Sarah, this big oaf’s sister.”

  I can feel the tension in Elise’s hand lighten at the casual comment, and I make a mental note to thank Sarah later for making this easier. She’s always known how to help make things easier for me.

  Elise shakes, then offers her hand to Carsen. “Hi, Carsen. Your dad said it was your idea to invite me over for dinner, so thank you for the invitation. And I heard something about s’mores?” she asks, looking around the kitchen. “Mmm, I love s’mores.”

  It’s perfect. She’s not treating Carsen like a little kid but is being genuine and treating her like the young lady she is, as much as I forget that sometimes. We head outside to the backyard. It’s one of my favorite family places around the house, a large flagstone patio with a fire pit and loungers that opens up to a green yard, blue pool, and a hot tub. “Whatcha think?”

  “Can I live in your hot tub?” Elise jokes. “That thing’s bigger than my bathroom.”

  “No peeing in the pool!” Carsen declares somberly before grinning. “But sure!”

  I assume my place at the grill to get the chicken going, Sarah having already made her chipotle rub. “Hope you like things hot and spicy.”

  Elise smirks and glances over at Sarah. “Does he know what he’s doing?”

  Sarah laughs, nodding. “With the grill? Yes, he’s a total pro. With teasing you? Well, I’m just going to pretend he’s innocent.”

  They laugh, and I’m glad to see they are starting to bridge the gap between them. Carsen brings me the chicken, and I pat her on the back before letting her get to know Elise.

  “Elise?”

  “Yeah, Carsen?”

  “So you love my dad?”

  I’m surprised and glad I haven’t had a drink yet or else I’d choke. I know I should jump in to save Elise, but I’m kinda curious what she’ll say. Instead, I just lay out another chicken breast and adjust the fire to the right level.

  Obviously, she doesn’t love me, despite her earlier slip of tongue. It’s too soon for that, but we’ve definitely got something here, I think. Whatever the original reason we met, whatever the excuses we’ve used to start talking, we’ve left the idea of it being just an ‘interview expose’ long behind. So I’m interested to see what she’ll say.

  I can feel Elise’s eyes on my back, but I’m not letting on for a second that I’m eavesdropping and instead pretend to mess around with one of the chicken breasts. Still, I’m holding my breath for her answer.

  “We haven’t known each other that long, but I definitely like him,” Elise says with frank and open honesty that warms my stomach. “I want to get to know him better. You too, if that’s okay?”

  I hear Carsen hum, and the smile in her voice is evident when she replies. “I’d like that too. I asked him the same question.”

  “Oh, and what did he say?”

  Carsen laughs. “I can’t tell,” she replies sassily. “I can keep a secret.”

  Elise laughs back, obviously ‘served.’ “You got me. I can keep a secret too, though. I promise, Carsen.”

  The last bit is solemn, truth in her every word. I hear it, and Carsen must too. She lowers her voice some, but she’s like me, she’s got a terrible whisper than tends to carry. “He said he likes you too . . . a lot.”

  I can’t help it. I have to know Elise’s reaction, so I look over my shoulder, ignoring the grill temporarily. My tongs clatter, and Elise hears me, so I see her looking at me like I just caught the moon, a wide smile on her face and her eyes glittering.

  “Is that so?” she says. “Well . . . let’s see how he cooks before I say anything else. I’m a liberated woman. I want a man who can at least cook for me once in awhile.”

  Conversation continues, with me mostly butting out to let the ladies get to know each other. Maybe, just maybe, I put a little e
xtra attention into the chicken so that by the time we sit down at the big table, dinner looks scrumptious.

  “Well, what’s the verdict?” I ask after two minutes of silence.

  Elise looks up, wiping the corner of her mouth. “I’d say . . . I like it a lot.”

  Carsen giggles and forks some sliced and grilled corn. “Just wait until Dad makes s’mores. He does them just right, browned and not flamethrowers.”

  “What if I like flamethrowers?”

  “Everyone likes a good flamethrower,” Sarah jokes, inserting herself. “Useful for . . . difficult ex-boyfriends.”

  “Oh, I’d love to hear that story sometime,” Elise says with a wink. “Just in case.”

  I swallow, getting up. “I think I’ll go get the marshmallows and stuff.”

  The only regret I have as the four of us toast and prepare our s’mores is that I’m not using a real wood fire. Maybe another time, I could take Elise out camping, do it right.

  Nobody complains about the lack of smoky hints though, and I notice after she’s finished that Elise has just a little smear of chocolate and marshmallow on the corner of her mouth.

  “Hold still,” I growl, leaning in close. Elise smiles as I kiss her, licking the sticky mess before tasting her even more delicious mouth.

  Carsen groans, pretending not to gag. “Ugh, LD moment.”

  Elise laughs, pulling back a little. “Uh, what’s a LD moment?”

  “Lovey-dovey,” Carsen explains in that adults are so ignorant voice. “It means get a room. Some of us are innocent. Like Aunt Sarah.”

  We all burst out, but I have to know something. “Carsen, do you know what ‘get a room’ means?”

  She smirks, nodding. “Yep, it means you’re grossing everyone out with your kissy faces, so go kiss somewhere else. I have watched Netflix, you know.”

  “Yep, that’s exactly what it means, little daughter of mine. And yes, your aunt is totally innocent.”

  Sarah, Elise, and I stifle giggles at her innocence, and I’m reminded again just how sweet this age is, on the cusp of teenage drama but still young and naïve. With her Netflix comment, though, I make a mental note to double-check the parental control settings. A dad can’t be too safe with his little girl.

  I know it’s impossible, but I want to preserve this time for Carsen as long as I can. It’s sweeter and better that way.

  After the mess of s’mores, we clean up and Carsen heads upstairs for a shower.

  “What do you think?” I ask Sarah as we clean up the dishes, Elise outside wiping down the table.

  “I think . . . good job, baby brother,” Sarah says. “I like her so far.”

  I tell Sarah goodnight and watch with joy as she gives Elise a hug. “He’s a good one,” she says when they part. “Stubborn as a damn mule, but good. Don’t break his heart.”

  Elise shakes her head, not letting go of Sarah yet. “I won’t. I know he’s a good man.”

  Sarah heads home, and as soon as the front door closes, I grab Elise to my chest, hugging her tight.

  “Think it went okay? Did they like me?” she asks as I run my hands down her back.

  I kiss the top of her head, nodding. “It went better than okay. They loved you. I think Carsen is gonna hold you to that promise to teach her to knit though.”

  I can feel her smile as she lays her head on my chest, humming happily. “I hope so. I meant it. I haven’t done a single stitch with anyone since my grandmother died. It’d be nice to share it with someone else, even if only for a minute. I think Grandma would like that.”

  We’re quiet for a minute, just swaying in the foyer as we hold each other tight. I feel a little torn. I want to invite her to stay . . . but at the same time, it’s so fast. Maybe taking a few hours’ break might do some good, let this all settle in. For Elise, for me, and mostly for Carsen. I definitely don’t think she’s ready for her dad to have sleepovers.

  “Thank you, Elise,” I say, my voice gravel as I resist letting her go. “This was better than I ever would’ve dared dream. And right now, even though I know you should go home and have a good night’s sleep in your own bed, the only thing I can think of is taking you upstairs and burying myself inside you, telling you thank you over and over again.”

  Elise pulls back, looking up at me and placing her hands behind my neck. “Thank you. You let me into your story, your family, your world tonight. And I know that’s not something you do lightly. And as much as I’d love for you take me upstairs right now, we shouldn’t. It was a big night for Carsen too. Be with her tonight. Make sure she’s okay with all of this.”

  One statement, and it sums up how she’s breaking down my every wall, every defense. Whatever fucked up gossipy rag story brought us together, Elise is good at her core. She cares about people, about my daughter and how she’s doing after a good but pretty risky night.

  “Good idea . . . but still,” I growl, backing her up against the door, taking her mouth in a passionate kiss. I gather her hands in mine, pressing them to the door above her head, forcing her to arch. I hold her there with one hand, the other moving down to cup her throat, lifting her chin up to meet me, kiss for kiss, breath for breath.

  I’m not even sure whose air I’m breathing anymore. It’s ours, mixed between the two of us in panting gasps as we fight for more from each other.

  I press against her, grinding my cock against her softness, and she gasps. I take advantage and dip my tongue in to taste her. It’s hot, heavy, and heady and I want more.

  But we can’t, not tonight.

  Not with Carsen here, especially when I need to check in with her and make sure she’s okay with all of this. With a groan of unsatisfied frustration, I pull back and press my forehead to Elise’s.

  “When can I see you again?” I groan, my control wavering. “Because it’s stupid, but I need you soon. I can’t imagine going to sleep without us coming together.”

  Elise’s eyes are still locked on my mouth as she licks her lips, and I know exactly what she’s thinking. With a blink and shake of her head, her eyes clear. “Huh? Oh, I should go into the office tomorrow. Write the next article, and I need time to work in your ‘dirt’ without exposing your real side. How about the day after?”

  I think for a second, knowing it’s probably for the best. “That works. What about if we go out to my little piece of land, ride ATVs or hike? We could get you a bit of ‘behind-the-scenes with Keith Perkins, Country Star’ out there for the next article. And then, there’s a little cabin. It’s rough, but we could stay overnight.”

  Elise smiles like she just won the lottery. “That sounds like the best plan I’ve heard in ages. Except . . . by rough, you do have plumbing, right? And heat?”

  I laugh, letting go of her hands. “So high-maintenance. Yes, there’s plumbing and electric. Heat is handled by a wood stove, but it’s a small cabin so it’s enough. Besides, if you get cold, I can probably come up with some ways to warm you up.”

  Chapter 15

  Elise

  And so, in an ironic twist, the story that brought us into contact with Keith Perkins was easily explained.

  I pause, pondering before highlighting the whole paragraph and deleting it. “Nope, just won’t do.”

  “What won’t do?” Maggie asks, making me jerk my head up. “Let me guess, Keith’s got a girlfriend?”

  Ouch, close to the bone. “No, it’s not that,” I reply, lying my ass off while trying to distract my friend. “I just . . . I have a lot of information, and it’s been harder trying to figure out what’s supposed to go in this one and what goes in the next one.”

  Maggie nods, taking a seat on the edge of my desk, a familiar spot for her. “So what’s his big secret then?”

  I smirk, knowing I’m lying, but it’s the lie that Keith said was okay when I texted him. “He was out running errands, and if you can believe it, his maid was having a bit of a situation and he was just doing her a favor.”

  “Uh, by buying half the aisle?”
Maggie asks, lifting an eyebrow. “Nice boss. I think if I had that problem, Donnie’s response would be to ball up a copy of The Times and chuck it at me.” She doesn’t sound remotely convinced.

  I shrug, wanting to change the subject as quickly as possible because the more I think about it, the more ridiculous it sounds. “Keith’s just boring, really. His only unusual hobby is archery. Next time, I’m going to get some shots of him practicing. But other than that, he’s just a normal guy. So . . . what’s with your face?”

  “My face?” Maggie asks, rubbing at her cheeks. “What’s with my face?”

  I look closer, squinting as I confirm my suspicions. “You’re . . . glittering. What the hell have you been up to?”

  “Oh, well . . .” Maggie says, blushing. “That undercover at the senator’s office didn’t pan out, so Donnie has me following another angle. There’s this club out by the airport, Petals of Heaven—”

  “Oh my god, Donnie has you, of all people, at a strip club?” I ask, gleefully shocked. “I mean, not that you don’t look the part but . . . well . . .”

  “Don’t worry, I’m not stripping,” Maggie reassures me. “I’m a cocktail waitress, so the glitter’s more for showing up under the blacklights.”

  “What does Donnie have you out there doing then?” I ask, worried. I’ve heard of Petals. It’s one of those places where you don’t ask questions most of the time. You don’t want to piss off the owners.

  “They get a lot of celebrity patrons, apparently,” Maggie says, waving her hand. “One of Hollywood’s big family men, in particular, has been in three nights in a row now, having himself a particularly good time in the private rooms in the back. I don’t have pics yet, but I think I’ll be able to. Someone’s going to have some explaining to do!”

  “Wait, what is this?” I ask, surprised. “You’re liking this assignment, aren’t you? Our innocent little librarian has a naughty streak to her? What happened to the Maggie who was scandalized when someone told her that her ass looked good in a dress?”