by Alyssa Kress
~~~
"I'm sorry. I still can't tell you when I'll be home. But you'll get my check for the rent." Erica's call to her roommate was the last on her rather lengthy list.
"Aren't your clients getting antsy?" Cheryl asked. "I mean I understand your dad just died, but people don't cut a lot of slack for that these days."
Cheryl was always the voice of good cheer and optimism, Erica thought sarcastically. Maybe her emotions were still open and raw, for Erica had a sudden revelation regarding her rather distant relationship with her roommate. Maybe it wasn't all Erica's fault. Cheryl was hardly a supportive character.
"My clients aren't happy," Erica admitted. "But so far, they seem to understand." In fact, most of them had been completely sympathetic. Unfortunately, the two or three who'd been impatient were also her biggest clients with the most hours per month. She'd probably have lost them to another trainer by the time she got home.
More of those savings down the drain. But what could she do? She couldn't make plans until they spoke to the lawyer tomorrow and got the scoop about what needed to be done regarding Liam. Until then, she had no idea whether or not she'd have to be involved.
After saying goodbye to Cheryl, Erica leaned back in the chair in her bedroom. She dropped her head backward and closed her eyes so she wouldn't have to see the nice new wallpaper her father had hung in her old room, the distinctly feminine wallpaper with the roses and leaves. Why had he put it up? Meanwhile, the aspirin she'd taken for the headache that had started when she'd first begun calling all her clients a few hours ago didn't appear to be having any effect.
For the first time in her life, she was accountable for matters that went beyond her own life. With her father's death, she was now at least partially responsible for her underage brother. Clint would become guardian, true, but that wasn't official yet nor did it let her off the hook entirely. Besides, there were the current problems in Clint's life. Could he solve those in a week—or even a month? From what Erica could gather, his ex was both determined and vengeful.
Meanwhile, Clint clearly lacked backbone. If he was serious about splitting with Judy, he should file for divorce. At the very least, he should apply for a restraining order.
Her head pounded harder. Then her stomach growled. Dinner. She had to do something about dinner.
Groaning, she got up from her chair, a nice, new comfortable chair that had, for no rational reason, been installed in this room that nobody used. She opened her closed door and made her way down the hall to Liam's open bedroom door.
Before knocking on the jamb, she made a conscious effort to put the problem of his custodianship out of her mind. She didn't want her youngest brother worrying about what was going to happen or thinking nobody wanted him.
He was at his computer watching a video with his earbuds in. Even so, he sensed she was behind him before she knocked and turned with a questioning expression. "What's up?" He pulled out his earbuds.
"Dinner. What would you like to do about it?" God, she wouldn't be much better than Clint for a guardian if it came to that. Various fast food chains were the options she had in mind rather than a well-balanced, homemade meal.
Liam slapped a palm on his forehead. "I'm such a doofus. I forgot to tell you." He lowered his hand and gave her a worried look. "Brennan invited us over. He figured we wouldn't feel like cooking. Is that okay?"
At the mention of Brennan, an undeniable hit of excitement kicked inside Erica. She'd felt the same thing yesterday when she'd first seen him walking toward her at the restaurant. He was tall and moved with quiet confidence. But it was something underneath the surface that really got to her, an emotional steadiness she envied.
"Brennan cooks?" Erica asked, impressed.
Liam grinned. "Pretty well, actually. So, is it okay if we go?"
Erica quirked one side of her mouth. "I assume you already told him we were."
He lowered his eyes, but his mouth was still smiling.
Erica laughed. "Of course we're going. You think I'm turning down a free, gourmet meal?"
Liam's relief was obvious when he looked up again.
Erica congratulated herself on making her assent to the outing look like she had no personal interest in going over to Brennan's house. Meanwhile, she noted how good it felt to see Liam smiling.
"He said six-thirty-ish," Liam said.
Erica managed to restrain herself from changing clothes or putting on date makeup before the six-thirty appointment. For one thing, Liam would have noticed, and for another, Erica was determined to keep some reins on this fascination of hers.
Easier said than done when, a minute before six-thirty, they stood on Brennan's wide front porch, and he opened the door. His mere presence, tall and understated in a button-down shirt and chinos, made her heart speed and her face feel warm.
Maybe when she'd been thirteen she'd felt as excited and awkward around a male. Normally, she didn't get particularly anxious about the impression she was making on a man. She didn't recall awkwardness with the handful of boyfriends she'd had over the years. But then, none of those men had owned Brennan's confident presence. None of them had seemed like a boulder. Something the ocean could hit, and it wouldn't give an inch. In other words, none of them had been quite this attractive.
"Liam." Brennan smiled and gave Erica's brother a hug. He then reached out and touched her hand. Just a touch, that was all, not even a clasp.
It was the perfect gesture. An acknowledgment, subtly warm, but not assuming too much.
"Erica," Brennan said.
"Thank you so much for having us over."
"My pleasure. Please come in."
He'd said that the first time she'd entered his house, Erica remembered. And though she didn't feel as out of place today as she had then, she did receive a second hit of inadequacy as she walked into the high-ceilinged, quietly elegant room. Clint had told her Brennan owned two sports equipment stores. Apparently, they were both quite successful.
Another quality to envy. No matter how hard Erica worked—once she'd had three jobs while taking night classes—she never seemed to get ahead financially.
"Smells great," Liam declared once Brennan had closed the door behind them. "I hope that's your famous lasagna."
"It is." Brennan gestured toward the kitchen. "And you can melt the butter for the garlic bread now you're here."
Liam headed straight for the kitchen Erica could see laid out beyond an open arrangement of countertops.
"With that great sourdough bread from Biscotti bakery?" Liam asked.
"I know. I spoil you."
Liam laughed. It was a much easier and less awkward laugh than the one he'd earlier given Erica.
Smiling, and praying it looked like a normal smile and not the smile of a complete idiot, Erica turned to Brennan. "I hope you saved a job for me, too."
"Several, actually." Brennan gestured toward the kitchen and started walking in that direction. "Would you prefer making a salad dressing or setting the table? I got home from work later than I'd planned, so we're not quite ready to eat yet."
"Better put me on table-setting duty. I'm something of a disaster when it comes to cooking."
In the kitchen now, he turned to regard her with one raised eyebrow. "No patience, then."
She felt surprised. "None at all."
He nodded. "You have too much energy to be willing to simply stand there stirring while a sauce thickens, for example."
He was right on target. Though Erica didn't give herself quite so easy a pass. "I always thought I just didn't try hard enough."
He wore a half smile as he pointed to a lower cabinet. "Plates are in there. Glasses up here." He indicated the cabinet above. "And silverware in here." He opened the drawer in between the two.
Organized, Erica noted. And he'd pegged her well with the stirring sauce comment.
"I forgot your trick for getting the peel off the garlic," Liam said, separating a clove from the bulb.
"I'
ll show you again."
Erica kept half an eye on the two of them as Brennan explained some secret regarding garlic while she pulled out three plates from the lower cabinet. Brennan used an easy, warm authority with her brother. Liam responded happily and with a corresponding ease. Not the almost-anxious way he acted with her.
Or that she acted with Liam, truth to tell. Erica was always a little afraid that new people she met weren't going to like her, and, frankly, Liam fit into that category.
So did Brennan, she admitted to herself as she set plates on the table that stood just off the kitchen. She experienced tremendous fear he didn't like her—while actually wishing he did. It was all horribly embarrassing, but fortunately, none of her insecurities mattered.
Clint was going to figure things out, Liam's future would be settled, and she'd be going back to Los Angeles. She might visit once in a while, but she wouldn't be living here.
In fact, she might never see Brennan again.
She halted as the thought struck her with a surprisingly painful jolt.
Surreptitiously, Erica cleared her throat. "Napkins?"
"Ah, let's use the linen ones." Brennan stepped back from Liam and his garlic. "Where did I put them?"
Liam turned to shoot her a wink. "He never uses the linen ones when it's just me or Dad coming over."
Brennan coughed, and Erica could swear his face went a little pink. "Hall closet. I'll go fetch them." But his eyes met hers for a split-second before he headed down the hallway that was to one side of the kitchen.
The moment of contact between her eyes and his hit Erica hard. She had to pause a second, amazed by the message she received.
If she thought he was attractive, he thought the same thing about her.
Her heart pounded and blood rushed to her head. She was glad he turned away then to go down the hall to fetch those special linen napkins.
She struggled to get the warmth out of her face while she went to the silverware drawer. He thought she was attractive. Okay, okay, but so what? Even if she was right, being attracted did not equal wanting to make anything out of it. It didn't mean he was going to become her boyfriend or anything. Besides, she was returning to her life in Los Angeles very soon. Erica briefly closed her eyes.
She'd probably never see him again.
