by LL Meyer
Sunday passes peacefully in our now regular routine of breakfast out and then movies while Lily does her laundry. I told her she should leave it for Mrs. Jackson, our housekeeper, but she declined point blank. Her spunk is out in full force today and I’m glad. Kicking-My-Ass Lily is much better than Depressed Lily.
Jason and I have to work on Monday. Maybe not actual work, but at least making appearances, especially at sites where the work is contracted out and not done by our own crews. Lily claims she just wants to stay home and officially do nothing instead of tagging along with me. I’d prefer she came, so I can keep an eye on her, but she’s not a child and I’m actually not a mother hen.
I introduce her to Mrs. Jackson, who works Monday, Tuesday, and Thursday – the same as the admin staff downstairs. And if our housekeeper of five years is surprised to meet a girlfriend for the first time, she hides it amazingly well under her Jamaican humor and brashness. She has Lily laughing in no time flat. I already feel better about leaving her.
Before I go, I also introduce her to Jessica and Sharon in the office. Sharon is an older lady who has a picture of her grandson on her desk, but Jessica is younger than Lily, and I try to smother a smile as my Pretty Girl looks her up and down. Yeah, Jessica is young, curvy, and pretty, but there’s a million girls like her in the world, and I would never screw up work by sleeping with an employee. And to her credit, Lily manages to keep her expression pleasant.
“Oh, you’re Lily?” Jessica asks enthusiastically. “This just came for you.”
“For me?” She looks over at me as she takes the FedEx envelope from her.
Oh shit. This is going to be a fight. I pluck the package from her hands and head out the door. “Come on. I gotta tell you something.”
After saying goodbye, she follows me out. “What did you do, Dane?” she asks ominously.
But I don’t answer her because I’m typing out a message to Jason.
Need you to back me up in the kitchen asap.
“Dane,” she whines. “What’s going on?”
In the kitchen, I hold the envelope over my head to stop her from getting it.
“Did you get me something again? You have to stop that.”
I sigh. “Not exactly.”
She folds her arms over her chest.
Jason walks in. “All right, what’s going on?” Seeing her stance, he wraps his arms around her from behind for a moment, giving her a quick squeeze. Her attitude thaws a bit.
I wave the envelope before I offer it to Lily.
“Ah,” Jason says in understanding, while Lily now refuses to take it from me. “Oh come on,” he says to her. “Everyone loves to get something by FedEx.” He takes it from me and hands it to her. It irks me that she’s willing to take it from him but not from me.
She rips the tab angrily and pulls out the contents. Her shoulders sag. “A credit card?” She keeps sorting. “And a debit card? Dane, have you lost your mind?”
“No.”
“I can’t accept them.”
“Yes, you can, and you will. You don’t have to use them, just have them in case of an emergency.”
She’s so upset that she looks ready to burst. “Did you know about this?” she demands of Jason.
“Well, it’s half my money, so of course I did.”
“And why would you agree?!” Her voice is rising in volume.
“Oh, Pretty Girl,” he says with a smirk. “You’re part of the club now. Once you’re in, there’s no getting out.”
She rolls her eyes.
“But a word to the wise?” he continues. “His phone goes off if you spend over a certain amount, and then you get a very irritating phone call when you’re out getting custom rims for your truck. ‘What the fuck are you buying now?’” he mimics my annoyed voice and Lily tries not to smile. “So, really, if you want to avoid the phone call, you should just warn him first.”
“Well, there won’t be any phone calls, ‘cause I won’t be using the cards.”
I’m about to argue, but Jason holds up his hand.
“Lily,” he starts, and she frowns. He never uses her real name. “He just wants you to be safe. Humor us, okay? Take the cards and spend some money. If nothing else, it’ll keep him in a good mood.”
Jason is really laying it on thick, and it’s definitely wearing me down. Plus, Dane’s expression is one of pure hope that I’ll accept the stupid cards. Dejectedly, I suppose he wouldn’t be offering them if he didn’t trust me.
And now I find myself being drawn into his arms, and relenting under their combined persuasion. Against one or the other I know I could stay strong, but both? Not so much.
I feel his kiss on the top of my head. “Does this mean you’ll take them?”
Nodding against his chest, I sigh dramatically. “I can’t believe I’m doing this, though.”
“Thank you.” He kisses my head again, squeezing me tight. “And are you sure you don’t want to come with me?”
“I’m sure. I have big plans to do nothing today.”
About an hour after they leave, I’m sitting by the pool with a cup of coffee when my phone rings with a number I don’t recognize.
“Hello?” I answer cautiously.
“Lily?” says a female voice.
“Yeah?”
“Hey, it’s Jenna.”
“Oh, hi.”
“So, guess what? Dane came by and apologized.” She sounds completely flabbergasted. “He said you and Jase convinced him that he was being an ass last weekend.”
I laugh. “That was mostly Jason because I didn’t actually see the ass behavior.”
“No way. It’s your influence. Dane’s never apologized to anyone in his life and certainly not to me about my boyfriend.”
“Well, I’m glad. Especially if it makes you happy.”
She sighs. “It does. And there’s more. He said that we could go shopping.” She hesitates for a second. “But that I was only allowed to spend as much as you did.”
I snort. “Did he?” Scheming bastard.
“Yeah, do you know what that’s about?”
“I do. He wants you to convince me to spend his money.”
“Oh.” She pauses for a beat. “Will you need a lot of convincing?”
I laugh. “I guess not.”
“Awesome. Are you busy on Wednesday?”
“Nope.”
“Should we go then?”
“Sure.”
“I’ll come pick you up. We’ll make a day of it!”
She sounds so excited that it makes me smile even though I hate shopping.
“Okay. I’ll see you then.”
After we hang up, I go back to soaking up the sun. I know I should probably be mad at Dane for trying to manipulate both his sister and me, but I’m surprisingly anger free. I think I’m more flattered that he would go to the effort of setting the whole thing up. In fact, I’m pretty flattered in general. No one’s ever wanted to take care of me before. I mean, of course I had my mom when I was little, but she was never very interested in me and around the time I turned fifteen, I became totally independent when I got my first job at the mall. Shouldn’t I be more outraged at his taking some of that independence away from me? Or at least surprised at how willing I am to give it up? But I’m neither of these things. What I am is happy, relieved, and safe. It’s a glorious feeling that I could definitely get used to.
By the next day, I’m bored to tears. I spend most of the morning harassing Dane by text message to entertain myself. I’m sure he’ll be sick of me, but when he comes home in the early afternoon, I find him still happy to see me.
After a bit of snuggling in the kitchen, I ask him, “Dane, do you have time to take me to the library? I need something to read.”
“I have time to take you anywhere you want to go.”
I smile. “Really?”
“Of course. But why don’t you borrow Jason’s e-reader instead?”
“Jason reads books?” I say skeptically.
>
“I know, right? He doesn’t like it to be common knowledge.”
I laugh. “Is he upstairs?”
Dane shrugs. “Go find out. I’ve got work to do in the office.”
I grab his arm as he gets up. “Stay away from that little thing in the tight cashmere sweater,” I say only half joking.
He smirks. “Are you jealous?”
“Hey, I’m a woman and I see the way she looks at you.”
“Oh yeah? And how’s that?”
“She hangs on your every word.”
“Is that so? Well, it’s a good thing that I’m not interested – in the least. I’ve already got a super-sweet, smoking-hot girlfriend.”
Now I’m giggling. Who knew I was the type of girl to giggle? God knows I’ve done enough of it in the last three weeks.
On the landing upstairs, I hesitate to invade Jason’s side of the house. The furthest I’ve been is the rec room, which separates the two halves.
Since the ‘attack,’ he’s been touching me a lot. Holding my hand, putting his arm around me, things like that. Nothing inappropriate exactly, and I haven’t protested because I don’t mind. And surprisingly, neither does Dane. At least he hasn’t said anything. And to tell the truth, I like the attention Jason pays me. Maybe it’s a bit sexual, but I feel . . . flattered. Hmmm. There’s that word again.
At the end of the hall, his door isn’t quite closed. “Jason?” I tap lightly.
“Yeah?”
I push open his door a bit more and find him sprawled on his stomach across his unmade bed with a novel in his hand.
“Hey,” I say, looking around. His room is an exact replica of Dane’s, only reversed. The closet and en-suite are on the left side, while the fireplace and sitting area are on the right. Even the buttoned leather headboard and blue-gray color of the walls is the same, except that while Dane’s is always immaculate, Jason’s is covered in crap. From clothes to books, magazines, papers, and empty water glasses, there’s stuff everywhere.
“Hey, Pretty Girl. What’s going on?”
I waver. It doesn’t seem like the best idea to be here.
He rolls onto his side and props his head up on his hand. “You can come sit down. I promise not to bite.”
Forcing myself to ignore the way he’s smirking at me, I pick my way across the floor and sit cross-legged next to his legs. It’s just Jason, right?
My nerves push the first thing that pops into my head out of my mouth. It’s sarcasm, of course. “I assume you don’t let Mrs. Jackson clean your room.”
“You assume right.”
When that’s all he says, I bite my lip to stop myself from smiling. “You have your own filing system? You know exactly where everything is?”
“Probably not.” His smirk becomes mischievous, giving him a boyish appearance. “I just don’t like people touching my stuff.”
I manage to nix the inappropriate comment about touching his stuff that’s on the tip of my tongue, but I still run my mouth. “Aren’t you too old to have that hanging on your wall?” I gesture at a framed poster of a black Porsche with a girl in a bikini and high heels standing in front of it with her back to the camera. She’s holding up her long hair, and has her hip cocked.
“No way. I’ve been jacking off to her since I was thirteen.”
My eyes widen as I whack him. “Jason! Don’t tell me that.”
“What?” he says innocently. “You brought it up. Why do you think I have a Porsche in the garage?”
I can’t stop a laugh from bubbling out of me. “Oh my God. We’re changing the subject immediately. Tell me what you’re reading.”
Still with that stupid smirk on his face, he shows me.
When I see the cover, I don’t even bother to disguise my surprise. “You read Thomas Hardy for fun?”
“Don’t make fun of me,” he warns. “I’ll take you downstairs and throw you in the pool.”
“I’m not making fun of you. I’m totally impressed. You should go hang out on campus and whip that thing out, you’ll have girls all over you.”
He laughs. “You might have something there. Maybe I could find myself a pretty girl like you.”
Electricity jumps between us, and I immediately avert my eyes.
“Which one is it?” I ask in an attempt to dismiss the feeling. I lean forward to get a better look. “Far From the Madding Crowd? Isn’t that the one they just made into a movie?”
“Yeah,” he says with a smile. “That’s why I’m reading it. I kind of like those British movies.”
“Me too,” I admit with enthusiasm. “But I’ve never met anyone except my mom who’ll watch them with me.”
“It’s my mom’s fault, too. She’s a high school English teacher.”
I giggle. “My mom and I are just huge suckers for accents. When I was little, I was going to marry Prince Harry.”
He raises a brow. “Not William?”
“No, I figured my chances were better with Harry. William was too old.”
He bursts out laughing, and I’m grinning like an idiot. Jason is so much fun.
“So, if you’re reading that, and your mom’s an English teacher, how come you didn’t go to college?” I ask, genuinely curious.
His good mood begins evaporating. “I was going to. I got accepted and everything, but Dane . . .”
His words trail off. I wait with interest. Dane what?
“Dane didn’t want me to go,” he finally says.
My eyebrows go up. Way up.
“Don’t look at me like that. I couldn’t abandon him.”
I think back to what Dane told me about the years after his parents died. “He needed you,” I state.
He blows out a breath and rolls onto his back to stare at the ceiling. “Yeah, exactly. I guess he needed me more at the time than I needed to go.”
The slight tension I’d picked up on between Dane and Jason’s mom, Sandy, comes to mind. “I bet your parents were thrilled.”
His answering laugh shrivels into silence. “You could say that. But what made it worse was that Dane refused to even apply.” He rolls back to me. “We both grew up in families where college was a given. My poor mom felt like she was letting her dead best friend down. It wasn’t a good time . . . for anyone.”
“But why didn’t Dane want to go?”
Jason shrugs a shoulder. “You’d have to ask him. But sometimes I think that the twenty million dollars was actually a bad thing.”
Holy shit. My mouth falls open in shock. “Twenty?”
Jason nods. “His parents were both very successful lawyers from Back East somewhere. They were big into living below their means. Came to Oregon to raise their kid away from all the privilege. Plus his grandmother died the year before, plus life insurance. He got everything.”
“Wow.”
“Yeah, wow. But it all worked out,” he says, gesturing at the room around him.
My mind tries to wrap itself around twenty million dollars. I fail, so I move on to my next thought.
“Why don’t you go to college now?” I ask him.
He considers me for a moment before his head shakes, almost of its own accord. “Nah, I’m too old. Anyway, Dane saved me from spending a ton of my parents’ money on a useless English or Philosophy degree. If it weren’t for him, I’d probably still be living at home, working for minimum wage with no future prospects.”
The sadness in his voice catches me by surprise. I cock my head at him, his eyes telling me that he’s lying about not wanting that ‘useless’ degree.
This time he’s the one who averts his gaze and changes the subject. “So, will you watch the movie with me?”
It takes a second for me to catch up. “Oh, the Madding Crowd one? Are you kidding? Of course I will,” I say, happiness creeping up on me. “I’ve had to watch them by myself since I moved away from home.”
“Me too. Dane always falls asleep in the first five minutes.”
“Okay, pinkie promise.” I reach out my
pinkie to him and he wraps his around it. His genuine smile does nothing to quell the way my heart races at the contact.
“So, not that I mind your company,” he says as our fingers come apart, “but was there an actual reason you came to see me?”
“Oh yeah. Dane said maybe you would lend me your Kindle. I’m so bored with nothing to do around here.”
The look he gives me is reminiscent of something.
“Of course you can.”
Getting up, he goes over to the sitting area by the fireplace and starts digging around the coffee table. While he’s looking, I realize his expression is the same as Dane’s when I ask him for something; so completely willing to do anything.
He makes a noise of triumph as he pulls it out from under a bunch of Sports Illustrated. He comes back and sits beside me on the bed. While he’s showing me how to use it and explaining how to browse and buy books, I rest my head on the outside of his shoulder. It’s not until he’s done talking that I realize what I’m doing and snap my head away from him guiltily.
I manage to take the e-reader without touching his hands and scramble off the bed.
Near the door, I pause. I’m about to say thanks when I feel my phone buzz in my back pocket. Pulling it out, I roll my eyes at the message.
“Hey, Jason?”
I turn back to find a hungry look on his face. Momentarily, I forget what I was going to say, trapped under the intensity of his gaze. No, no, no. I tear my eyes from his. “Did you, uh, sleep with Glory?”
“What?” he chokes out. “No! Why would you ask that?” He says it like it’s the most distasteful thing he can think of, and frankly, I have to agree.
“Because she was acting weird the morning after the party and she keeps texting me.” I shake my cell phone at him. “She wants your number . . . badly.”
