by Brandi Evans
“I like this guy already, Lynds.” Her dad gave her a squeeze then pointed over his shoulder toward the open door. “You kids get inside. I’m gonna take a quick look at your car.”
Seth spoke before she could. “Would you like some help, sir?”
“That’d be great, and please…” Dad clasped Seth’s shoulder, leading him back down the stairs and toward the driveway. “Call me Carl.”
“I think it’s the radiator,” Seth was saying. “I filled the reservoir, but I don’t know if…”
Their voices faded into the darkness.
Wow. That intro had been easy. Too easy. Either Dad was drinking again, or maybe she and Seth had somehow been thrust into a parallel reality where fathers were polite to their youngest daughters’ dates.
Date? Seth wasn’t a real date. And yet, after their fabulous kiss on the porch, her fake date wasn’t feeling so fake anymore.
She shook her head. Inviting a total stranger to a family function to pretend to be her date? Shit. Her parents were right. She was too impulsive for her own good. The trait served her well as an artist. As a person in general…not so much.
Coming on to men was an art form she’d perfected as painstakingly as the perfect brushstroke, but she’d always employed her boldness in a safe environment—aka not along the side of the goddamned road. Seth Jones could be the next Ted Bundy for all she knew.
She suppressed an immediate smile. Seth? A serial killer? Hell no. A murderer of his dreams and aspirations maybe, if the sorrow and grief in his soulful brown eyes were any clue. If he was a monster, then she was a saint, and “saint” was one thing no one had ever called her. A bitch, a rebel, a slut, a brash feminist, yes, but never a saint.
Besides, Seth was a cop. From somewhere anyway. Possibly a detective and possibly undercover. Maybe even on some off-the-record surveillance. It would certainly explain his so-called working vacation. She made a mental note to find out more.
Sighing, she walked inside and braced herself for the onslaught of questions that would begin in three, two, one—
“Lyndi!” Her middle sister’s shriek pierced through the entryway, followed not so quickly by the woman herself. At almost nine months pregnant, beautiful blonde-haired Traci didn’t move anywhere quickly these days.
Lyndi fought down a familiar wave of jealousy at the sight of her pregnant sister. After almost nine months of seeing Traci with child, Lyndi would have thought the pang in her heart would have gone away, but it hadn’t. She’d told her sister she was happy for her, and she was.
Please, God, don’t let these feelings get worse after the child is born.
For her sister’s sake, Lyndi plastered on what she hoped looked like a genuine smile. She refused to let her grief overcome her, not tonight. Not ever again.
“I’m totally skipping the hellos,” Traci sang, “and going right to the part where I say, ‘Wow, sis! Your date was totally hot in the yellow bug lights on the front porch. Yum!’”
“It’s nice to know I don’t have to worry about my family spying on me from the living room anymore.” Lyndi made an exaggerated show of wiping nonexistent sweat from her brow. “What a relief!”
Mari, an attractive brunette who managed to get prettier with every pound she’d gained since her divorce, joined the conversation. “Yum doesn’t even begin to describe him, Trace, so don’t insult the man!”
Grin wide, Mari turned to Lyndi, and Lyndi couldn’t help but smile back. Seeing Mari happy, even if just for the moment, was such a relief. Since her horrific divorce from Paul, who’d be forever referred to as “the cheating bastard”, Mari just hadn’t been herself.
“Details,” Mari said. “Give us lots and lots of details.”
Yep, the piranhas were out for blood tonight. Too bad Laurence wasn’t here. Her twin brother always had her back, especially against their older sisters, and she had his. Still, Lyndi couldn’t help but smile at Mari’s and Traci’s envious teasing. It had been a while since she’d had a date, let alone brought someone home to meet the family.
“Well, his name is Seth Jones.” Making her sisters sweat for details, Lyndi shrugged out of her jacket and tossed it over the staircase railing. A quick neckline check assured her the low-dipping “V” of her dark blue dress was in place.
“Lyndi!” Mari and Traci implored in unison.
Lyndi gave her sisters the wickedest smile she could manage. “And yeah, he is pretty hot, isn’t he?”
“Um, yeah!” Traci linked her arm with Lyndi’s as they headed toward the kitchen.
The house’s decor hadn’t changed much since Lyndi had called this her primary residence. Lots of space accented with hardwood floors, seaside brown and green walls that complemented the rustic furnishings her mom adored. To the left was the living area, to the right the semiformal dining room, and along the back wall, bay windows and fluffy pillows invited anyone to come and enjoy the beauty of Redemption Harbor Bay where it backed up to the yard.
Lyndi pointed at Jo-Jo, Traci’s yapping Yorkie. “What’s mutt-dog doing here?” Lyndi asked.
“Mom and Dad are doggie-sitting him for me until I deliver or Manuel gets home. Whichever comes first. I’m getting tired, and quite incapable, of chasing after the idiot every time he gets out of the apartment, which he seems to do all the damn time. Now enough about my dog.” Traci hooked her thumb toward the front door. “Dish. We need to know everything. We’re living our love lives through you right now.”
Lyndi laughed. With “the cheating bastard” finally out of Mari’s life and Traci’s husband on active duty somewhere in the jungles of South America—in the same unit as Laurence—none of them had had much excitement in the sexual arena lately.
Her earlier thought came roaring back. What was Seth’s shoe size anyway?
Traci grabbed Lyndi by the arm and gave her a shake. “Come on! Dish it, sista. Don’t you know better than to keep a pregnant woman waiting!”
Lyndi fought the urge to roll her eyes. Traci’s sentence would have been just as accurate if she’d replaced “a pregnant woman” with “me”. With child or not, Traci was an admitted gossip addict.
“Well, Seth and I haven’t known each other long.” Lyndi had to raise her voice over super-active Jo-Jo, who was circling at her feet like a crack-mutt on a supersonic carousel. “Everything started rather abruptly. Just wham! Now, here we are.”
Okay, that was mostly true. So far, so good.
Mari sighed, voice whimsical. “Why can’t I get whammed? I could use a really good wham right about now. Hell! I don’t even remember the last time I got whammed!”
“Does he have a brother?” Traci asked.
Lyndi cocked her head and stared at her middle sister. “Why do you care? You’re married.”
She held her hands up, palms toward the ceiling. “I’m curious…for my big sis’s sake.”
Lyndi rolled her eyes. “Uh-huh. But I can’t help but notice you didn’t ask if he had a sister. Ya know, for your younger brother’s sake.”
Traci shrugged, and the three sisters shared a laugh as they finally reached the kitchen, where their mother’s smiling face greeted them.
Erika Garrison looked pretty much the way she always did. Simple red button-down shirt and comfortable jeans. Bare feet. Flour-stained apron around her waist. Blonde hair swept back from her face and tied with a scrunchie. Makeup that underscored her natural beauty instead of covering it.
A content warmth spread through Lyndi. Yep. I’m home.
“Lyndi, I’m glad you made it safely.” Her mom enveloped her in a hug that betrayed how strong a five-foot-two woman could be. Her mom might be petite, but she set the standard for feminine strength. Everything Lyndi was she owed to her mother—even the part responsible for the tactless remarks that often leaped from her mouth.
Lyndi couldn’t love this woman more.
“Maybe this will serve as a reminder to take your phone out of your jeans before throwing them in the washer. Then you’d ha
ve a way of calling for help when your car breaks down.”
“Ah, Mom…” Lyndi pulled back, smiling. “I love you too.”
Her mom rolled her eyes, another trait Lyndi had picked up.
“Hey, Mom,” Traci said, “you’re gonna love this.” Traci paused for dramatic effect. “Lyndi brought a date!”
“A…date?” Her mom’s voice pitched higher.
“Oh, come on!” Lyndi threw her hands into the air. She’d known bringing Seth along would cause a bit of an uproar. She’d kinda planned on it but geez. “My love life isn’t that abysmal.”
No one responded and their silence spoke volumes.
And wasn’t that great? Her family thought she was a manless loser, which was only partly true. A loser she wasn’t. But manless? Guilty as charged. But it was by choice. Mostly.
“His name is Seth,” Lyndi said, “but before you ask, no, we’re not super serious. Don’t go rushing out to buy bridal magazines, okay?”
“But they were making out on the front porch,” Mari added. “We’re talking massive touchy-feely. Dad caught them. Traci and I peeked a little.”
“A lot actually,” Traci confessed. “But this is Lynds we’re talking about. With. A. Guy.”
Lyndi shook her head. “What is this? Gang up on Lyndi night?”
“Of course not.” Her mother put her arm around her. “We’re just happy to see you with someone other than the men you paint.”
“Or the men you sculpt,” Mari added. “However, that statue you created last year, the Greek god in the loincloth? I would have totally done him if he’d come to life.”
Another eye roll threatened to seize control. Luckily, however, the front door squeaked open, and Seth’s and Dad’s voices carried into the kitchen.
“What about college?” her father was asking. “Did you ever play in college?”
Lyndi shook her head. Apparently, Dad hadn’t let up on his football inquisition.
“No,” Seth insisted. “I’ve never played before. I was raised to be more of a conscientious observer. I prefer reading and writing to tackles and touchdowns. That doesn’t mean I don’t enjoy a good game, though.”
Her dad laughed. “Reading and writing? No wonder my Lynds likes you. She always had a soft spot for those tall, sensitive types.”
The two men rounded the corner, and Seth’s gaze found Lyndi’s, his lips instantly curling into a smile that made her insides quiver and her panties wet. Thirty minutes into this fake-date, she was getting way more than she ever bargained for, and she was having trouble figuring out if that was a good thing or a bad thing.
Seth strolled to her and, like a good faux beau, put an arm around her and pulled her close. “It’s definitely the radiator—or at least something related to your radiator. The reservoir is almost dry again, but it’s too dark to get underneath the chassis and locate the leak.”
“O-okay.” She swallowed hard. Without his jacket, he somehow seemed even larger and stockier than before. “I’ll, um, take it to the shop tomorrow.”
“Why don’t you hold off on that,” he said. “Your dad and I are going to look at it tomorrow morning and, if the problem is simple, maybe we can fix it. Save you some money.”
“Tomorrow? You?”
Her fake boyfriend was making plans for tomorrow with her father? This was either a fantabulous turn of luck or the makings of a bad horror movie. Psycho boyfriend burrows his way into unsuspecting girlfriend’s life by connecting with her family. Insert sinister music.
“Yeah,” Seth whispered, leaning close…closer. “Unless you don’t want me to, and I’ll step back.”
“No. It’s not that. I just thought—”
He didn’t let her finish. More precisely his mouth didn’t. His kiss, a brief caressing of lips, sent her zooming down a spiraling slide of confusion, and damn if she didn’t want to grab hold of him with both hands and go for the ride of her life. However, since her entire family was watching, Lyndi didn’t fight when Seth pulled back.
After dinner, Lyndi and Seth headed to the family’s oceanside deck to enjoy the moonbeams as they danced on the harbor. Her family had stayed inside to clean up and, most likely, to gossip. After all, what was a Garrison family dinner without gossip? And boy had Lyndi given them a lot to talk about.
She looked sideways at Seth as they traversed the steep steps leading from the back door to the beachfront deck.
What am I going to do about you, Seth Jones?
The man was a complete mystery. He’d looked content as they’d ate. He’d answered all questions directed at him. Hell, he’d asked questions of his own too, even if most of his questions seemed strategic, as if he were trying, nonchalantly, to turn the focus of the conversation away from himself.
For example, her father had asked Seth about his job, and suddenly, they were discussing politics. Maybe it was just her imagination seeing diversions that weren’t there. She hoped that was the case because she wanted to get to know the enigmatic man better.
As they stepped onto the deck, Seth draped an arm around her. A square terrace butting right up to Redemption Harbor Bay, the “deck” didn’t attach to the house itself. On nice summer days, she liked to sit on the edge and dangle her legs into water so clear that she could see the sand below.
Two small lighthouses bracketed the bay and gave the entire area a movie-set quality. Many times, Lyndi had set her canvas here and tried to capture the idyllic scene. And failed. She just couldn’t get it quite right. Tonight, however, her place of respite felt anything but serene and peaceful.
Anticipation and something akin to fear prickled her skin like an army of red ants. The evening was winding down—okay, it was over and she was procrastinating—but she was Seth’s ride. That meant she’d have to take him back to wherever he was staying. And just what would they do when they got there? Bottom line, she wasn’t ready to say goodbye yet, but she didn’t know if she was prepared for naked conversations in bed either.
To fuck, or not to fuck? That was the question of the hour.
Seth pointed to the inlaid fire pit. “Would you like me to start a fire?”
“No thanks.” At this point, the flames would be overkill. With Seth’s arms around her, even the polar ice caps wouldn’t be enough to cool her.
At the railing, he turned her to face him and pulled her close. “Still doing okay? You were so quiet on the walk down here, and you don’t seem like the kind of woman to be silent unless something’s bothering her.”
“Guilty as charged.”
But what did she tell him? That she was pondering the pros and cons of taking him to bed? Yeah, that’d go over well.
He leaned in close, his breath hot against her skin. “If you’re worrying about that man—”
“No. No. Not at all.” She shook her head. “I’m…just trying to figure you out, Mr. Jones.”
His forehead wrinkled. “I didn’t think I was that hard to figure out. I’m a workaholic loner in desperate need of a life. I thought you caught onto that already.”
She chuckled. “I might have deduced that, Mr. Works-On-A-Friday-Night-While-On-Vacation.”
“See? Nothing to figure out.”
Yeah right.
Seth turned to the ocean and, elbows resting on the wide ledge, looked out at the water. “You said you have an art show opening soon. Do you have a particular theme? Or is it a free-for-all, a conglomeration of all things Lyndi Garrison?”
Imagine that. Seth changing the subject. The man didn’t like talking about himself.
Lyndi plastered on a smile and forced laughter into her voice. If this thing between them progressed, she’d press him for information, but for now, she’d let it pass. “The theme for my show is Light and Dark. My take on contrast. Good and evil. Life and death. Angels and demons.”
“Angels and demons?”
Did his voice just pitch higher?
“Yeah,” she answered. “Angels and demons have always fascinated me. How they were the
same until the War of Heaven. Now, the Fallen are forever separated. What’s not to find fascinating?”
“And you…believe in all this?”
The hesitation in his voice was slight, but it was there. She’d said too much. Her crazy beliefs had probably freaked him out.
“I don’t know if I believe it all in the purest sense,” she said quickly, “but the concept, mainly, is what captivates me. The idea all beings are created with lightness and darkness inside them. Even angels. And we all have to fight every day to keep the lightness in our souls greater than the darkness, lest the darkness overtake us.”
“Profound.”
“I’ve been known to have deep thoughts every once in a while.” She moved closer to him, leaned her head against his shoulder. “Mind if I ask you something?”
“Of course not.”
“I know you’re a cop, but what do you do on the force? Most cops I know don’t have long hair unless they’re undercover or something.”
He hesitated. “What I do is…complicated. I’d prefer not to discuss it right now. It’ll just put me in a bad mood.”
“If your job makes you so miserable, why do you stay?” She couldn’t stop the question from spilling out.
He laughed, but the sound was void of any merriment. “It’s been a long, long time since anyone’s cared enough to want to know what’s going on inside my head.”
“Then talk to me. Get some of the horrible out. I’m a great listener.”
“I want to,” he whispered. “I really do, which scares me a little because I haven’t…”
He let his sentence trail off, but Lyndi knew what he’d been trying to say.
“I haven’t in a long time too, Seth.”
“Why?” His question was equal parts wonder and curiosity. “I’ve barely met you, and all I want to do right now is kiss you again.”
“Really?”
He didn’t answer in words. Instead, with a gentle push, he wedged her into the corner of the railing. His strong arms lifted her onto the wide lip of the barrier. Sitting on the chest-high fencing—well, chest-high for humans of her stature—their heads were almost on the same level.
