by Lark Lane
“Nice to meet you,” J.D. said.
I stared at his outstretched hand, his forearm and bicep, and smooth unmarked skin over taught muscles. His body was lean but athletic. In my head, King Arthur from Monty Python cried Run away! Run away! My body didn’t listen. Not to me, not to the king. It was totally lust at first sight. Before I knew it, my hand was in his. My heart swelled in my chest, about to burst. Couldn’t everybody hear the pounding?
His hand covered mine entirely. He was polite enough not to notice I was trembling. Everything in me wanted to move closer, press my chest against his, to feel his arms around me.
Jeez. I didn’t even know the guy.
“Hi,” I said. Memorable first word. One for the history books. I literally could not push another sound out of my mouth. If I didn’t get away from him, I was going to melt into the deck. Frank and Lisa headed to the bar, and I pulled my hand away and followed them.
“Now you’re going to taste a decent martini,” Frank said, opening the vodka.
I felt warm, and not from the heat of the day. I pulled my hair up, wishing I had a scrunchie to keep it out of the way, and swept it over my shoulder. As a breeze played across the skin on my back, I imagined J.D.’s perfect lips on my neck. Down, girl!
He was still standing on the deck steps looking at me, his face serious and his arms folded across his chest. If he had any brains in his head, he’d run away. Right now. Yes, I was lonely. Yes, it was months since I broke up with my last boyfriend. And yes, I’d love to meet someone at least half sane to have a relationship with.
I was also self-aware enough to know no half-sane guy should want anything to do with me.
Frank poured out five red martinis in plastic glasses, and Lisa squeezed limes in them. I offered a toast. “To Dr. Frank.” I finished all but one swallow of the drink right there. The alcohol was starting to do its job, and I mentally cut myself off.
Frank grabbed Lisa’s hand and wiggled his eyebrows at me mischievously. “Follow me, people.”
As Frank and Lisa led the way from the deck, Brad took the fifth martini to J.D., still standing on the grass by the deck steps. J.D. glanced at me and back to Brad before he accepted the drink, shaking his head ever so slightly.
In a moment of clarity, I understood. Brad had meant to match J.D. up with me—and J.D. obviously wasn’t interested.
A blind date no one had bothered to tell me about. I was a little bit pissed off. I never asked to be set up with anybody. Suddenly J.D. wasn’t so gorgeous. Hell, I could barely take care of myself and Stacey without taking on a loser who hadn’t worked for three years.
Okay. That was harsh. But jeez.
I tried to pass Brad and J.D., but they were standing close together. I turned sideways to get through, facing J.D., and put my palm on his chest. In a bratty fit, I looked up and gave him a flirty smile, letting him get a good view of my bare shoulders and the swell of my breasts under my tank top. I was glad I decided to wash my hair earlier. Let him take in the scent of my rosemary mint shampoo.
J.D. gave me an amused smile in return—then poured his martini into my near-empty glass.
Talk about my taunt backfiring. I only succeeded in embarrassing myself. Not to mention getting hot and bothered all over again. There was no way to deny it. J.D. was hot.
Crap, why did I do that? I hate, hate, hate it when I lose self-control. Still, J.D. gave himself a good look at me, and as I hurried away I was half embarrassed and half happy. I was pretty sure he liked what he saw.
Ahead of me, Frank exchanged a look with the DJ. He gave her a thumbs-up, and she answered back with a thumbs-up and changed the song. The Beach Boys’ Wouldn’t It Be Nice? started to play.
I remembered the ring. Oh, Frank. I had the sinking feeling he was going to propose to Lisa in front of everybody. Guys must think that’s romantic, judging from all the proposals on YouTube, but I wonder about the ones that go bad—the ones that never get posted.
Frank led us to an immense boulder on the east edge of the lawn, one of countless granite outcroppings all over the place that give Granite Bay its name. We climbed up and sat down. The granite felt nice and cool against the back of my legs. I’ve always liked Indian Rock, as my little brother used to call it. When we were little kids we’d come up here and try to pound acorns on the granite.
The excited gleam in Frank’s eye made me nervous for Lisa. I’d hate to be proposed to in front of other people, even if my answer was going to be yes.
“It’s been ages since I had a Friday night off,” she said. “I’m usually working while everyone is playing. This is great.” She leaned against Frank and laughed. She had no clue what was about to happen.
J.D. sat down next to me. He’d exchanged his empty martini glass for a bottle of beer. That was a surprise. I thought he wanted to leave. Brad must have talked him into staying. He almost set the beer down in a hole.
“Watch out!” I grabbed his wrist.
“What the what?” He frowned at the hole and ran his hand around its inside wall. “Wow. This looks man-made.” It was about five inches across and cylindrical.
What can I say? The sound of his voice was like hot molasses, quiet and strong, with an edge. He had far more self-confidence than I’d expect in someone out of work for three years. It seemed he could stay calm at the center of hell.
“More likely woman-made,” I said. “They’re called mortar holes. Hundreds of years ago, they were worn into the granite by Maidu Indians grinding acorns into meal.”
J.D. looked around. “And the acorns must have come from all these oak trees. That’s cool you know that.”
“We learned about it in grade school. It’s part of our local history.”
“History.” He nodded. “Brad says you’ll be studying the Maidu up at the dig. A three-week vacation must be nice.”
“But didn’t you just come off a three-year vacation?” I said. His face went red, and I felt like a jerk. “I’m so sorry,” I said. “That was a shitty thing to say. Three years out of work is no vacation.” I was such an idiot.
“Don’t worry about it,” he said. “Trust me. It’s not that big a deal.”
“No, really. I know what it’s like to struggle.” I didn’t want him to get the wrong idea. “People think I have money because I have this house, but it’s not what it looks like.”
“Is this where you grew up?” It was so great he didn’t judge or try to make a clever comment.
“My mom did. This was her parents’ house. I grew up in Loomis, close to the vet where Frank works, actually.” I never told my story to strangers, but with J.D. it wasn’t like that. I felt like I’d known him all my life. “My niece and I moved in here with our grandma six years ago. I was seventeen and Stacey was twelve.”
“Where were your folks?”
Crap. I’d gone too far. Opened the wound. “They were…” We’d come to the edge of things I never talked about, and I’d led the way. “They died.” Please don’t ask about it. Please don’t ask.
I spread my fingers and pushed my palms against the granite to keep my hands from clenching. J.D. reached over and gently covered my left hand with his.
“I’m sorry,” he said. I was relieved he didn’t press me to say more.
I inhaled and held my breath and exhaled. I wanted to lean against his arm. It was hard to remember we’d only just met.
“Stacey’s great,” I said. “My niece. She’s away on her high school graduation trip. About a year after we moved in here, my grandma died. See the wisteria blooming at the kitchen window? When my mom was in high school, she and my grandma planted those vines. Grandma told me the hardest thing for her after Mom died was the next spring when the wisteria bloomed. I think she died of a broken heart.”
“That’s so…sad,” J.D. said.
“Since then, it’s been me and Stacey. And then Lisa. I’ve supported us on student loans, and Lisa helps out a lot. She offered to get me a job at the restaurant, but I didn’t wan
t Stacey coming home to an empty house after school. I wanted her to have the closest thing possible to a normal—Oh. God. No.”
I’d completely lost track of the conversation beyond J.D. and me. Frank was reaching into his Dockers for the ring. He was going to ask Lisa right here in front of everybody. I looked at Lisa. Her face was lit up with a smile and her eyes were closed, listening to the music. No clue what was coming.
“Let’s dance.” I grabbed J.D.’s hand and jumped up. “Brad, you too.” I had to save Lisa—at the least, protect her privacy.
“What?” Brad looked confused.
“Come on, man,” J.D. said. “Do what the lady says.”
I gave J.D. a grateful look. Together we dragged Brad down off the boulder out to the lawn and blended into the dancing crowd.
Adele’s Set Fire to the Rain was playing. The grass was cool under my feet. The alcohol hit me as I raised my arms over my head and moved with the music, well aware I was dancing with two hot guys, Brad in front of me and J.D. behind. I swayed my hips and inched back close to J.D., my eyes closed, my body permeated by music and alcohol and desire.
I called my reaction to J.D. lust at first sight, and it was. Easy to understand. Easy to deal with. I was in tune to his movements. Even with my eyes closed, I sensed his energy so near me. I wanted to feel his arms around my waist and lean back against his chest.
But this was worse than simple lust. This was nothing so trivial. Safe, I thought. I’ve come home. It was survival instinct. I opened my eyes and turned around. J.D. wasn’t where I expected. He’d put some distance between us and was looking at me strangely.
Once again I felt ridiculous. And humiliated. I’d obviously been flirting with him, and he was just as obviously repulsed.
“Damn!” Brad said. “She said yes.”
Brad was watching Frank and Lisa on the rock, and he looked sick to his stomach. Frank slipped a ring onto Lisa’s finger and they kissed.
“Fuck.” Brad sounded defeated and miserable, and he turned away.
“Brad, I’m so sorry.” I watched him cross the lawn to leave.
I saw J.D. ahead of Brad, already halfway to the side gate. Disappointment rushed through me. I couldn’t stand it. I had to get away from everything. The noise. The people. I took off the other way, to the safety of my garden.
Chapter 7
Paper lanterns in primary colors flickered in the trees as I fled the backyard, and solar lamps glowed at random intervals along the path to the gardens.
We have two gardens beyond the lawn, out where there are fewer trees and long days of uninterrupted sun. At Lisa’s insistence, we’ve had a vegetable garden for the last three years. It’s great. We save on groceries, and it’s amazing how fantastic fresh-picked food tastes.
My flower garden is next to the veggie garden. As a joke last year, Frank put in a topiary tableau of alpacas and bunnies where the two gardens meet.
The fountain was on and joined with the wind chimes to serenade the roses, peonies, lilies, nasturtiums, and a few straggling daffodils. The wood nymph and fairy statues greeted me from their hiding places among the flowers.
My rose garden is my serenity spot. Flowers save my sanity. They never fail me. I give them what they need to bloom, and they give my soul what it needs to survive.
Someone had been in the flower garden earlier and left a single Peace rose, like an offering, in the iron fairy’s arms. It made me feel better knowing someone else in the world thought of such things. I picked up the rose and inhaled the flower’s fragrance then sat down on the iron bench to watch the stars and sort out my feelings.
I was pinned between euphoria and despair, sorry for Brad, but so happy for Lisa. Frank too. At the same time, thinking about J.D., I felt like a disappointed child. Oh-so-sorry for my sorry little self.
Not that I expect to ever have a normal relationship. I usually don’t even try. After what happened to my family, I had a kind of mental crackup and went on a sex binge. Angry, ride-’em-hard-and-hang-’em-up-wet sex. When Grandma died it got really bad. I had someone new in the house every other night. It only ended when I found that creep watching Stacey in the shower.
So I don’t go looking for relationships now. The very idea scares me. Still, I’m human. Every six or seven months I forget that I’m a lunatic, and my loneliness comes out and demands to be fixed. I find someone, anyone, and it ends in anger and despair and a lonely supply of condoms in my nightstand.
Tonight I blamed the martinis for impairing my self-control. J.D. was fatally flawed as a potential boyfriend, despite my body’s conclusion to the contrary. It was crappy of me and unfair, but if I ever did manage to keep a man in my life, it would be someone with a consistent employment history.
Yes. I’m a hypocrite. Who was I to judge? I’d never worked anywhere beyond my McJob at the mall. So yes, crappy and unfair of me, but there it was.
Romanticism died for me a long time ago. In the real world, the practical world where I had to live, J.D.’s sexy voice and yummy arms and dark eyes that looked into my soul weren’t enough. His kindness and intelligence and compassionate nature were not enough.
Were they?
“Are they enough?” I said to the flower. Inexplicably, I burst into tears.
Something landed at my feet and broke, covering me with cold liquid. A water balloon. Amid shrieking laughter, another one hit the iron fairy and broke over her.
“Dude!” Someone yelled. The bozos had migrated from the keg.
I jumped up, my pulse racing. In the veggie garden, they were pulling up plants and laughing like maniacs. My hands started shaking.
“Put your hands up!” one of the guys yelled. He held one of Frank’s topiary bunnies between his hands.
I broke out in a sweat and started hyperventilating.
The other guy put his hands up like a referee calling a touchdown.
“Field goal!” the first guy yelled. My hands clenched as he drop-kicked the bunny through the other guy’s arms.
Then the screaming started. Ear-splitting, tortured yowls from hell. My nostrils were bombarded by the scent of pine trees and wet dirt. I clamped my hands over my ears, but the sounds only grew louder and more tormented. I couldn’t get the screaming out of my head.
An Adele song had the crowd moving on the lawn. The singer’s voice was full of sex and desire and longing, but the unrelenting beat wasn’t slow enough. I wanted to wrap my arms around Nora and press my chest to her back, plunge my face into her hair, and feel her body grind against mine.
She moved between me and Brad, her hips swaying and her arms up and bent over her head, turning in a circle, her eyes closed. The worry had fallen away from her face, and she was even more beautiful. I wanted to take her in my arms and never let go.
It wasn’t merely the scent of Nora’s long dark hair that drove me crazy or the lure of her soft skin, or the mystery of her haunted brown eyes. All those things drew me to her before she ever said a word, but I’d hoped when she did speak it would break the spell. That she’d turn out to be an ordinary woman, easy to walk away from.
But then she did speak, and she did become a real person—but nowhere near ordinary. Despite horrible losses, she had so much to give. She looked out for the people she cared about, to the point of taking on heavy burdens so others’ loads were lighter. The opposite of every woman I’d ever been with.
If I didn’t get some space, I was going to grab her and kiss her right there.
Brad stopped dancing. He stared back at the boulder Nora hauled us down from. “Damn, she said yes.” From the way things looked, Brad’s angel had just agreed to marry another man.
Shit, the dude looked messed up. Maybe it really was love this time.
Nora’s attention shifted to Brad. She cared about everybody. It wasn’t easy to walk away from Nora. But it was imperative I did. I turned away.
“Brad, I’m so sorry,” I heard her say behind me.
A cloud of mint and rosemary pursued
me across the lawn, tormenting me. I couldn’t get away fast enough. As I reached the side gate, Brad caught up with me.
“What are you doing?” he said. “You can’t leave.”
Over his shoulder, I watched Nora leave the dancing and take the path to the garden. I wanted to follow her, run my hands through her hair, pull her close and kiss those lips.
“We’ll find another way,” I told Brad. “I can’t do it. I’m getting the Pashley and riding home.”
“Well, that’s just crazy,” Brad said.
“I can’t, Brad. She’s too…”
“I mean it’s crazy to ride right now. It’s getting dark and the Friday night drunks are out. I’ll drive you.”
“It’s not that late. I want the exercise,” I said. “And man, I’m sorry about Lisa. She seems great. She’s definitely beautiful. Tonight the better man did not win.”
“That’s the thing, dude,” Brad said. “When I look at it objectively, maybe Frank is the better man.”
“I think not.” I got the bike out of the back of the SUV. “You’re an organizational genius, not to mention a tech billionaire.”
Oops. We both looked around to make sure no one was listening.
“Yeah, there’s that,” Brad said. “But can I cure a sick alpaca? Do I make Lisa laugh? No. And no.”
“And you suck at cranberry martinis.”
There. He laughed. He’d be okay.
“I thought I was going to puke,” he said. “Give me a Sierra Nevada Pale Ale any day of the year.”
While I strapped on my helmet, Brad turned his SUV around and headed down the driveway. I mounted the bike, eager to burn off my frustration. It was a beautiful evening, the stars were blazing, and there was a perfect crescent moon. I breathed in the scent of the lilacs that lined the driveway. Brad was going to be okay. I was going to be okay.
Fuck Steve Heron. We’d just have to get our ducks in a row before MolyMo could make its move. Everything was going to be okay.
I heard a scream like it was the end of the world. Then another.
Nora.
I spun the bike around and headed for the side gate. It was slightly ajar, and I plowed into it, knocking it wide open as I rode through. The music had stopped and people were just standing there on the grass, stunned and confused. They parted like I was Moses when they saw me coming.
