"Why are you so irresistible?" she heard herself saying, before she could stop herself. She cringed and smacked her hand against her forehead.
He chuckled. "We can discuss that over dinner as well, if you'd like."
"I'm not canceling my apartment hunting plans for Saturday," she said.
"I'll drive you around."
"Fine," she relented.
"Great. I'll pick you and your things up at six then."
"But I'm not off until eight," she countered.
"Let me save you guy's a step," Brett popped his head into the room. "Whatever you need to do, I'm good with it."
"You are the worst eavesdropper ever," Jennifer scolded.
"I love that guy," Nick laughed.
"I think what you meant to say was that I'm the best eavesdropper ever." He lifted a brow at her.
"You're ridiculous," she said as his head slowly disappeared from view. "Six it is," she sighed, defeated.
Brett – or at least his head — returned only moments after her phone call ended. "I have something for you," he smiled, and then stepped into the room revealing a large purple suitcase. "My grandma sold Lavender Lady Cosmetics," he justified the color. He hoisted the hard sided suitcase on to the bed and opened it for her. "And now it's yours." He flashed a smile that looked almost maniacal. "No give backs, no take backs, no returnsies, it's yours now. Infinity."
If Jennifer hadn't had seven brothers and sisters in her past life, she might have been confused by what had just occurred. She countered with, "Yes give back, take backs and total returnsies, not mine unless I say so, double infinity."
Brett gasped, an expression of awe and shock across his face. "Impressive," he said.
"Are you trying to stick me with a faulty suitcase for the rest of forever?" she glared.
"No. Just purple, and you can ditch it whenever you want. It was my grandma's. I can't ditch it, but I can give it away to someone in need."
Jennifer ran her hand along the hard top of the suitcase. She lifted her own suitcase and placed it carefully inside. There was still plenty of room to spare.
"Okay," she turned to Brett. "I'll take her."
Brett was a lot like having a brother. She enjoyed his company but it also had a way of making her miss the family she'd once had.
She wondered if she would ever see them again. She doubted it. She had thought about calling them, or at least Mike. She could call them now even. But what would she say? Hey remember me, I used to be Jenny Taylor... I've moved on now... I'm currently homeless — crashing at my boss's house. I work at a sandwich shop and I'm kind of dating a guy who belongs to a cult... so things are good. Yeah... definitely not making that call.
She finished packing her things into the big purple suitcase. The laundry basket wouldn't fit, so she left it behind and loaded the giant suitcase into Brett's car.
When they picked up Sam, Jennifer got out of the car and offered him the front seat.
"I'm fine sitting in the back," he winked. "I've seen the view."
An odd sensation caught her attention. It felt a little like suddenly having a spotlight cast upon her. She turned to see if she could define an origination point.
A small sign next to the front door, just below a security camera caught her attention. It read: 'All Visitors Must Check In With Park Place Security.'
Security. She thought of Mike. Then shook off the thought and climbed into the car.
At work Jennifer stowed the Purple Monster under Brett's desk. "I'm not taking this with me tonight," she told him. "I'm just going to leave it here until I decide what I'm going to do for sure. I probably shouldn't have brought it at all," she said mostly to herself.
"Whatever you want to do," Brett reassured her. "As long as you don't try and live in my office."
"That's not something you'll have to worry about," she assured him. "I sort of have this fear of running out of oxygen in small places."
"Hi-larious," Brett chided.
Brett had placed a Help Wanted sign in the front window and by the end of the after lunch lull he'd hired two new waiters. The first was Kevin; he was only looking for a summer job. He was 17, lanky and redheaded. Jennifer was secretly happy not to be the youngest person working at Sammie's anymore.
The other was Donna. Donna was what Ashley had termed a recognizable regular. They came in often enough that you recognized them, but not often enough to predict when they were going to come in next. Jennifer guessed she must have been nearing her 40s. Her hair was brown and she had nearly the exact same haircut as Brett.
Jennifer had done pretty good, for the most part, not to think ahead too far in her day or to think about anything that might be happening outside of Sammie's. But all that went right out the door when she saw Nick drive past at 10 minutes to six.
She was excited to see him — but she was nervous too. Expectations had a way of doing that. "Hey, Sunshine," she called to Ashley. "Can I talk to you for a second?"
"Sure thing," Ashley winked at her.
"Gulls room?"
Ashley nodded.
Jennifer retrieved the Purple Monster from under Brett's desk and made her way as quickly as she could to the restroom.
She freshened her make-up and hair, took off her name-tag and apron, and pulled out a silky red shirt she'd bought on a shopping trip with Erin. She had originally intended to wear it out on a date with Riley, but for some reason she never had. She paired it with a pair of black capri pants. She was just closing the latch on the Purple Monster when Ashley came in.
"Nick's here," she informed. "He's in the kitchen talking to Brett."
"It a conspiracy between them you know?" Jennifer said slipping her feet into a pair of strappy black heels she'd purchased during the same shopping trip as the top.
"You look really hot," Ashley smiled. "Like, take my breath away hot."
"Thanks." Jennifer smiled then worried, "Is it too much?"
"No. It's perfect."
Jennifer took a deep breath. "I'm afraid of messing things up Ash, I don't know what to do. Let me ask you — purely hypothetically — if Brett asked you to marry him tomorrow, what would you say?"
Ashley picked up Jennifer's apron and name-tag from the bathroom counter while she considered. She lifted her brow at the name-tag then flashed it at Jennifer. ANGEL.
"Is that what I've been wearing? I can't believe I didn't notice that. Well thank my lucky stars that I took it off before Nick saw it."
Ashley laughed. "Are you kidding? It's one of his favorites."
"So are you going to tell me what you'd say, or not?" Jennifer pressed.
Ashley let out an impatient sigh. "You do realize that Brett asking me to marry him is about as likely to happen as say... a border collie being elected president, right?"
"Okay," Jennifer countered. "Let's say that a border collie has just been elected president. What would you say?"
Ashley rolled her eyes at Jennifer. "I'd say yes. Of course I'd say yes. Happy now?"
"Really?" Jennifer was more than a little surprised by her answer, but hoped that it hadn't come through too much in her voice. She hadn't been expecting an outright 'yes,' or an outright 'no' for that matter, but she was sure that Ashley was going to go with more of an "it's too soon" sort of thing.
"But me and Brett is not the same as you and Nick." Ashley continued. "If you want my advice, it's this: you don't know what to do, and that's okay. Until you know for sure, 'I don't know' is a 'no.'"
"But what if I can't say no, what if I don't want to?"
Ashley laughed. "If you don't want to say 'No,' then don't. Say what you want, say what you feel and call for back-up if you need to. You have my number."
"Thanks Ashley."
"Anytime." Ashley pulled her into a hug. "Mmm. You smell good too."
"Really? I don't smell like sandwiches?"
"Of course you smell like sandwiches," Ashley chuckled. "But you also smell good."
Jennifer finished fastening he
r shoes, took a few deep breaths meant to calm then headed for the kitchen with her purse in one hand and the Purple Monster in the other.
"No, no, no." Brett was saying as she entered. "Bite-sized is for babies and people who don't own knives and forks."
It took her a second to register who Brett was talking to. She'd never seen Nick in anything other than jeans and a T-shirt, occasionally paired with a hoodie. He was still wearing jeans, but he had paired it with a button-up shirt and a sports jacket. He looked so good. All she wanted to do was slowly undo those buttons one by one and—
"Hey," Nick smiled at her.
"I'm not interrupting your conspiring am I?" she pulled her mind away from his buttons and smiled at him.
"A little bit." Brett held his thumb and forefinger up to illustrate the amount.
"Let me take that," Nick said as reached for the Purple Monster at her side. So much for leaving it under Brett's desk.
"Oh hey, I got something for you." Brett hurried to the walk-in freezer and retrieved a brown paper sack.
"If that's lemon sorbet I'm going to kick you." Jennifer narrowed her eyes at him.
Brett retrieved the lemon sorbet from the sack, and hid it behind his back instead handing her an empty sack. "Just in case you hyperventilate. You can just breath in and out into this," he grinned widely at her.
He was quick, she had to give him that.
She caught Nick suppressing a smile out of the corner of her eye. He further concealed it with his hand and a faux cough. "Sorry," he said under his breath.
She stepped up to Brett and stood so close they were nearly touching. "Ashley and I were talking about propositions earlier," she said so only he could hear. "I bet you'd love to know what she said."
The kitchen door swung open. She could've guessed who it was, but the sudden increase in Brett's breathing confirmed it.
"Hi Ash," Nick said.
"Heya, Nickerbocker," Ashley's tone was inquisitive.
Jennifer leaned even closer to Brett, reached around him and grabbed hold of the sorbet. "I think you're going to need that sack more than I will." She shot him a quick smile and then with sorbet in hand she turned. "Hey, Ash." She smiled wide. "See you all later," she said to the on-lookers in the kitchen.
"What was that all about?" Ashley asked Brett as Nick and Jen started out of the kitchen.
"Sorbet," Brett said. "It tastes better if you have to fight for it a little."
Nick and Jen shared a chuckle on their way out. Nick placed his hand lightly on the small of her back causing a sensation that tickled butterfly fancies and made her breath catch.
Jennifer hadn't really been paying much attention to the route Nick was taking until he turned onto Francisco Street. A sensation akin to panic shot through her, settling itself someplace around her throat and head as Nick turned into the driveway of the yellow house.
"Um," she cleared her throat. "Why are we here?"
"This is my house Jen; I live here." He turned off the car and got out leaving Jennifer alone with her painfully awkward stupidity while he retrieved the Purple Monster from the back.
She thought back to that day he'd walked her home. He'd told her that it was his house and she hadn't believed him. It was a rather unbelievable coincidence, but still, her reaction — which was basically to throw a tantrum and... not really call him a liar but definitely not believe him — seemed a little... uncalled for at the moment.
Nick opened her door. "Are you coming?"
"I should have believed you," she said, "I'm such an idiot."
"No you're not," he offered her his hand as she stepped out of the car. "You may have a rather serious case of denial," he cracked a smile and laughed a little, "but you're not an idiot."
Denial? Whatever. She wasn't denying anything.
He locked the car then slipped his hand back into hers and walked her to the door.
Chapter 18
Knight to E-4, Knight Takes Rook
Nick unlocked the front door and stepped inside. Jen took a deep breath. This was it. This was the yellow house – Nick's house. The house she had felt so drawn to. Would it still feel the same once she stepped inside?
She wasn't sure she felt the same now. Right now it just felt very large and stately. She took a breath for courage and stepped through the doorway into the large entryway.
Nick set her suitcase down near the bottom of the large curved staircase that arched gracefully to the landing above. A properly gaudy chandelier hung from the second floor ceiling; a perfect accent of elegance. It was beautiful, lovely, refined. But more than that, it felt like a place she could be quite comfortable in (for the rest of forever) — if she let herself. And this was just the first room of the house.
She didn't want to admit it to herself, maybe because it felt too good to be true, but the thought was there, drowning in the feeling that this place, this home — Nick's home — felt exactly right to her. It felt... like home. If home were a castle and she was a princess.
"Quick tour," he said, "clockwise from the foyer," He pointed in the direction of each room as he listed them off. "Office, hallway to garage and garage, laundry room, family room, kitchen, pantry, dining room, living room and the powder room is in the middle, just beyond the stairs." He took a breath and continued. "Upstairs it's bedroom, bathroom, bedroom that's an exercise room, my bedroom and bathroom and the widow's walk — do you know what that is?"
She shook her head.
"It's the little lookout on top of the house," he explained. "It's an old sailor's thing. It's also in the middle, just beyond the stairs, which will also take you to the roof. It's a good place for sunbathing or parties. Basement is downstairs, it's mostly unfinished; I use it to store things I should probably just get rid of. Backyard's in the back, you've seen the front yard, and... Yeah I think that's it."
His house has a lookout? How very... castle like. "It's... very nice," she said. "Very—" big, impressive, elegant, overwhelming — she couldn't find a word that didn't sound pompous or grandiose.
"Not what you were expecting?" he supplied
She chuckled nervously. "Not even a little bit."
"It's okay, I get it. Here, let me take that." He reached for the sorbet and hurried toward the back of the house with it, presumably to the kitchen.
He was always saying that. "I get it." Did he really get it? She hoped not. She felt so small, so stupid, so embarrassed by the fact that she was impressed, and by the thought that her only remaining argument against living with Nick was that propriety or etiquette or some other confusing social regulation required it.
Jennifer made her way into the living room, to the large grand piano sitting just inside. "Do you play?" she asked as Nick emerged through the dining room.
"Oh yes," he said. "My mother insisted on it."
"Mine too," Jen said, running her hand along the top of the piano. "Well, not my mother..." she trailed off.
"Why not your mother?" Nick asked, taking a seat at the piano. "If she raised you doesn't that count?"
"I used to think so," she said. "Did your sister play too?" She changed the subject.
"Yes," he said, "And the cello, and the guitar. Music was Lindsay's thing. Her talent. She loved it. She could play for hours on end, and did — and she never got tired of it," he mused. "For me, on the other hand, one of my greatest joys was the day my mother told me I didn't have to take lessons any more. I hated every moment of it, but now, I'm glad she was so insistent."
"Well, chick's dig it," she teased.
"Well yeah," he conceded. He started to play what sounded like Brahms. "It reminds me of them — my family. In a way, it's almost like a new memory. A memory for them, but not of them, if that makes any sense."
"Mmm," she agreed. It reminded her of her dreams. They felt like memories — they weren't very pleasant to think back on though, all the death and destruction, the constant running. "So what's your talent?" she asked, when he finished playing.
"Resea
rch, I guess. I like to learn things." He plunked at the keys some more then played a melodic scale. "Just not the piano." He looked past her, toward the dining room. "Hi Peaches," he called.
Jennifer turned to see a white and peach striped tabby cat slinking into the living room. Nick rose, and crossed the room to greet her.
"Jen this is Peaches. Peaches this is Jen." Nick smiled, scooping her up into his arms and petting the length of her. "Roger is around here somewhere. He's kind of shy. He'll probably make an appearance during dinner. Food has a way of making him less shy."
"Roger?" Jen asked.
"Peaches used to be part of a duo, Peaches and Cream. Cream died a couple of years ago and Peaches was lonely, so that's when we got Roger."
"But why the name Roger?"
"He looks like a Roger."
Jen laughed. "I look forward to meeting him".
"Can I get you a drink?" Nick asked setting Peaches down in the kitchen. "Brett recommended a Pinot Noir to go with dinner, which I have if you want it, but personally I was thinking I'd go with a beer."
"Uh..." Jennifer contemplated, unsure how to explain to Nick that her sheltered life had never included alcohol consumption — at least not until the whole "not water" incident.
"You don't drink, do you?" Nick said.
"Nope."
"Iced tea?" he suggested, "with lemon?"
"Sounds great."
"Great."
Roger, who was all black except for his big green eyes, made his appearance as Nick was compiling ingredients on the counter. He let Jennifer pet him and then took a seat on the counter to watch Nick. Peaches sauntered over a few minutes later, and leapt onto Jennifer's lap.
"She really likes you." Nick said. "Peaches was Lindsay's cat and she's never really liked anyone else very much. Maybe you remind her of Lindsay."
Jennifer took it as a compliment that Peaches thought so highly of her. "Do I remind you of Lindsay?" she asked Nick.
"Not really." Nick fidgeted. "Lindsay was kind of... uptight. Although, she would probably say that she was just very particular." Nick plied the cats with a can of cat food he split between them. And then resumed his dinner preparations.
The Aeon Star Page 15
