P.I.T.A. (L.A. Liaisons Book 3)

by Brooke Blaine

  “Hey,” I said, and he took that as an invitation to come closer.

  “I was next door and saw your car…”

  “Ah. Lunch with the family?”

  “Among other things,” he said. Then he inclined his head at the empty space next to me. “May I?”

  I brought my legs up to my chest and gave him a sardonic smile. “I’ve never known Richard Dawson to ever ask permission for anything. More like act first, apologize—”

  “Later,” he said, finishing my sentence and sitting down beside me. “Yeah.” His fingers ran over the foot of tile between us, and he looked up at me with hooded eyes. “But I’m not here to make any apologies for last night.”

  “I wouldn’t want you to.”

  His expression softened. “No?”

  “No. The only way to get someone out of your system is to fuck them out, right?” When his forehead creased, I rocked into his side. “I’m kidding. Geez. I’m not that harsh.”

  Dawson gave me a sideways look, and I laughed.

  “Okay, maybe sometimes I’m that harsh. But…it was what it was, and I have to say…” I reached over and patted his jean-covered cock. “Not bad, babe. Not bad at all.”

  Dawson shook his head as he chuckled, and then he reached over to grab a handful of my breast. “Likewise, love.”

  When he took his hand away, I shrugged. “Maybe I’d let you do it again if you promised not to throw pie in my hair.”

  “Now where would the fun in that be?”

  “Uh…in the letting you do it again part. Ass.”

  “I’m sorry, all I heard was letting you do it and ass.”

  “That’s because you grew from an adorable child into a sex-crazed pervert.”

  “I didn’t hear any complaints last night.”

  “Maybe you would’ve if we hadn’t been interrupted. Speaking of which, I think you traumatized poor Shayne. I’ll have her send you the bill for any therapy or eye-bleaching she needs.”

  “Duly noted.” His gaze trailed over the empty space, and I was sure he was reliving memories of his time there too. Couldn’t imagine he had too many fond ones.

  Dawson nodded over to the alcove off to the side that had previously stored my father’s first edition books of all shapes and sizes—which, of course, he’d never used. It’d been a hiding place for me, somewhere tucked out of the way where I could read or write in my journal.

  “Do you remember that night?” he asked.

  He didn’t have to spell out the rest of what he was asking. Did I remember that Christmas Eve night under the mistletoe that’d been hung there out of the way? Uh, it was hard to forget your first kiss. Harder still to forget when it was with your best friend.

  “The details are a bit fuzzy,” I said, lying through my damn teeth. I could tell him the play-by-play, down to what he’d been wearing that night. But that would mean revealing that it’d meant something, which meant giving him power over my emotions, and that was wholly unacceptable.

  “Come on, Pita.” He gave me a nudge. “It wasn’t that unmemorable. I can even tell you what you were wearing.”

  Okay, so maybe I wasn’t the only one who remembered those details. And maybe it didn’t actually mean anything at all.

  “Really?” I said. “So what was I wearing?”

  Dawson leaned back on his hands and kicked his legs out in front of him, crossing them at the ankles. “You were wearing a red off-the-shoulder sweater that sparkled like it had silver thread in it. Your hair was up in one of those things you called a French twist, and you were hiding in the alcove during your parents’ Christmas party…”

  “PAIGE? WHAT ARE you doing hiding back here?” Dawson peeked around the corner at me and then ducked under the hanging garland that led to the small alcove in my parents’ informal living room.

  My eyes darted around behind him, and I waited for someone else to enter the secret space. “Who says I’m hiding?”

  “Oh, come on. Todd’s been wandering around for twenty minutes asking where you are.” Of course he was. It had been my mother’s idea for all the guests to bring along their teenagers to have our own “separate” party, but that meant the guy I’d been dating for a couple of weeks now would want to corner me off somewhere for private time. And the thought of finally kissing a guy had me freaked out to the point of…well, hiding.

  “I don’t see Hannah attached to your hip either,” I said. “Now who’s hiding?”

  “I was just coming to find you. Everyone’s ready to play some games. Spin the bottle, maybe.”

  That’s what I was afraid of.

  The look on my face must’ve given me away, because he took a step forward. “You’re not scared, are you?” he asked.

  “Scared?” I let out a nervous giggle that sounded too high-pitched to my ears. “Of what?”

  “Well, I don’t think Todd’s looking to kiss your hand all night.”

  “Oh nooo.” I moaned, biting down on my thumbnail.

  “What’s wrong? You don’t want to kiss him?”

  “Well…no…yes…I don’t know.”

  “Which is it? He’s your boyfriend, so you like him, right?”

  I sighed and flopped down onto the reading chair. “I just… Whenever I pictured my first kiss, I thought it’d be different, that’s all.”

  “Different how?” When I shook my head, he said, “You’ve gotta give me something to work with here.”

  “I thought he’d be…” You, I wanted to say. But that was crazy, so I settled for, “Maybe I’m nervous that I’ll do it wrong.”

  Dawson let out a laugh. “Seriously?”

  “Why are you making fun?”

  “I’m not, I swear. But you read all those romance stories and you’ve made me watch chick flicks every week for the past few years, so it’s not like you don’t know how it goes.”

  “But I’ve never done it before. That’s the difference.”

  “Well…” He seemed to think it over, and then shrugged. “Why don’t you practice on me first, then?”

  My stomach flipped. “What? No.”

  “I’m serious. That way when he kisses you, you won’t suck.”

  “Gee, thanks.”

  “It’s a great idea.”

  “It’s a horrible idea. I’m not kissing you.” And to cover the way I was way too excited about the prospect of Dawson doing just that, I added, “Ew.”

  His hand went over his heart as if I’d stabbed him there. “Paige, that hurts. I’ll have you know, I’m a great kisser.”

  “Sure you are.”

  “Ask anyone.”

  “Richard Dawson, why would I want to come near you if you’ve made out with every girl in school?”

  He rolled his eyes. “Not every girl in school. Not you.”

  I couldn’t let Dawson kiss me…what if I liked it too much? To say I’d thought about it as we watched those romcoms on the couch would be an understatement—I’d conveniently left that out of my diary, in case anyone were to hack into it again.

  But really, though I would give almost anything for Dawson to be the one I had my first kiss with, what if I really was bad at it?

  Dawson seemed to notice the indecision on my face, because he reached for my hand and pulled me up off the chair.

  “Paige,” he said, his eyes watching mine as his hand came up to cup my cheek. “I’m gonna kiss you now.”

  I knew I should pull away. That what came next shouldn’t happen. I had a boyfriend. He had a girlfriend. And Dawson was just my friend. This was wrong.

  All of that was nothing but white noise in my ears. Because when Dawson’s searching eyes didn’t find the hesitation in mine that he was searching for, he leaned in closer, his head angling to the side as my eyes fluttered shut. My heart hammered in my chest so loud that the sound seemed to echo off the walls until it was all I could hear, all I could feel, and then—

  His lips touched mine, ever so softly and ever so right. The thundering in my heart gave way
to blissful silence as a warmth that I’d never felt before engulfed me. There was nothing shy in the way he kissed me, nothing nervous or indecisive. His mouth moved against mine in a way that said he was fully aware of what he was doing, what this all meant. And when I kissed him back, as natural as anything had ever felt, my lips told him the same.

  YEAH, TODD HAD not been able to measure up to that kiss later that night. So thank God he hadn’t gotten the distinction of being my first.

  Dawson bumped my shoulder and grinned. “I think it’s safe to say we’ve gotten better since then.”

  “Practice makes perfect.”

  “Mmm, too true.” He mimicked my pose by bringing his legs up to his chest. “You okay?”

  “Yeah. Sort of. I mean… I guess I’m a little pissed off,” I said, crossing my arms over my knees.

  His eyes traveled around the empty space. “I can see why. They didn’t waste any time, did they?”

  “Not even to say goodbye or to let me, oh, I dunno, take anything I wanted. But, you know…Quinn said something today that I’ve been thinking about.”

  “Quinn did? That scares me.”

  “She said ‘fuck my parents.’ That it’s their loss if they’re so quick to cut me out of their lives.”

  “And blackmail you into staying married.”

  “That too.” I gave him a hint of a smile and fiddled with the hem of my jeans. “I never wanted to turn out like them. Rich, entitled assholes stuck with each other.”

  “Well, I’ve raided your medicine cabinets, and I see no signs of prescription pills anywhere, so I’d say you have one up on them already,” he said, trying to lighten the mood, and I looked up at him sadly.

  “Don’t try to tell me I’m overreacting and need to get over it already.”

  “I would never tell you that. I’ve seen firsthand the wounds they’ve inflicted. But maybe Quinn’s right. Maybe cutting ties would make you happier.”

  “It’s easy to say that, but if you have nothing that ties you to your past, how do you know you even belong? Sometimes I feel…alone.” I tried to shake that thought out of my head. “I mean, obviously I have the girls, and thank God for that. If I didn’t—”

  “Come with me,” Dawson said, saving me from finishing that depressing thought. Then he got to his feet and held his hand out. “And I’ll show you where you belong.”

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Drag You Kicking and Screaming

  WALKING INTO DAWSON’S parents’ house was such a one-eighty from the dismal, empty space next door. Their decor had always been light and airy: butter-yellow walls contrasted with bold red accessories, and right now there was Christmas music playing on low throughout. My mom’s idea of decorating had been shades of neutral and greys, leaving the house in perpetual doom and gloom, and the silence had been deafening. Or, at least, that was the way it had felt to me.

  “Paige, what a nice surprise,” Gail said, as I rounded the corner into their spacious living room, which was currently scattered with boxes of all sizes on every available surface. There was barely a pathway to walk, but Gail made it work as she crossed the room to give me a big hug. “Excuse the mess, but we wanted to go ahead and knock out the Christmas decorating today while we had Richard here. He’s the only one that can manage carrying this stuff down the stairs anymore.”

  “I could manage it,” Charles said gruffly, pouting from where he sat on the couch untangling string lights. “How goes it, Paige?”

  “Good, Mr. D. When’s that knee replacement?” I asked.

  He grunted, and Gail’s twinkling laugh filled the room.

  “It’s next week, and I didn’t want him falling and making it worse,” she said. “Can I get you something to drink, sweetie?”

  Another difference in the Dawson household: they didn’t believe in having chefs, and Gail saw to it that every meal consisted of all the appropriate food groups. She also made sure you were never dehydrated.

  “I’m fine, thank you. I don’t want to intrude; I was just in the neighborhood and thought I’d say hi. Well. Hi.” Turning on my heel, I had every intention of leaving, but Dawson was there blocking my path.

  “Going somewhere?” he asked.

  “Richard, you can’t let her leave. Paige, I’m making ginger snaps later, and I know those were always your favorite.”

  “Holding the woman hostage with ginger snaps. I think it might work.” Dawson’s grin was infectious, and it had my lips turning up.

  “Well…I guess maybe I could stay for a little while,” I said.

  “Good,” Gail said. “Now why don’t you help me put the hooks on these ornaments?”

  Stepping over one of the boxes, I took a seat on the floor. “I can do that.”

  Gail slid over a small container of sparkling red and green jeweled balls. “I had to buy new ones, since these two over here forced me to do blue and silver the past few years. They’d already tried to convince me to decorate a palm tree.” She glared in their direction, and they both ducked away.

  After sliding a hook through one of the balls, I held it up, letting it catch the light. “I think these are gorgeous. And while I do love palm trees, I don’t think it’s meant to substitute a good Fraser fir.”

  “See?” Gail said. “This is why I need you around. I’m outnumbered.”

  “She says that, but you know she always ends up getting her way. Don’t let her fool you,” Dawson said.

  Gail didn’t even bat an eyelash. “I brought you into this world, and I can take you right back out of it too.”

  “Only if you can catch me,” he replied.

  I laughed, the good-natured banter between them taking me back to an easier time. One where hormones didn’t play a part in big life decisions.

  “Well, on my side or not, it’s good to see you around these parts, Paige.” Gail gave me a smile. “I’m glad you came by.”

  “Nah.” Charles tossed down the strand of lights he’d been working on and grabbed another. “I’m sure she came over this way because she wanted to see that they’d up and gone.”

  “Charles!” Gail said.

  “No, it’s okay. He’s right,” I said. A twinge of guilt twisted in my gut as I realized that not only had I neglected coming over because I’d been avoiding my parents, but the Dawsons had gotten the short end of that stick too. “I, uh… I’m not sure how I ended up there, honestly. My car sort of…drove itself. Maybe I wanted to see the house one last time, or maybe I thought they hadn’t really cleared everything out, or…I don’t know.”

  Gail’s face was full of sympathy. “Oh, honey—”

  “It’s fine, really. Can we talk about something else?” I said.

  She nodded. “Sure. As long as you know you’re spending Christmas with us this year.”

  “Christmas? Um, I don’t think—”

  “Paige, we won’t take no for an answer. We’ll even have Richard throw you over his shoulder again if we have to,” Charles said, a smile dancing on his lips.

  “Oh geez, you had to bring that up,” I said, inwardly cringing that they’d—quite literally—seen me show my ass. “I’m sorry about that. I’m normally quite well behaved.”

  When Dawson snorted from across the room, Gail held back a smile. “I think you’ve forgotten we’ve seen all your sides, Paige Iris. You were quite the little troublemaker when you were younger.”

  “Me?” I said.

  “Corrupting our sweet Richard…” she continued.

  “Oh hell no. You’ve got that backwards, and you know it.”

  “Everyone knows I was the angel face, Pita,” Dawson said, as he pulled an oversized wreath out of a box.

  “Then you’ve got everyone fooled,” I said.

  “I remember the first time I ever laid eyes on you,” Charles said. “You were a scrawny little thing, ’bout six, maybe—”

  “Seven,” Dawson supplied.

  “Right, right, seven. You came over and knocked on the front door and said you’d
seen a little boy move in next door to you and that you needed to meet him so you could be best friends.”

  “I’m sure I didn’t put it quite like that—”

  “Oh, you did,” Charles said. “And that was the last time you ever used the front door. Always came in the back or snuck in through Richard’s window. Naughty little thing.” There was a twinkle in his eye that had me cracking a smile.

  “Hey, you’re not supposed to gang up on the guest,” I said.

  Dawson rolled his eyes. “Please. You’ve never been a guest here any more than I have.”

  The truth of those words hit me like a Mack truck. He was right. Growing up, I’d spent more time over here than my own home when I could help it, and the way we all were able to sit around like this, like no time had passed at all, had me wondering why I’d let any distance come between us.

  As if she could sense the change in the air, Gail said, “Paige, could you hand me another package of hooks? They’re on the mantel.”

  “Sure.” Relieved that no one was going to acknowledge the elephant in the room, I got to my feet. After grabbing the package she wanted, a box of overflowing video cassettes stashed in the corner caught my eye. “Wow…are those home movies?” I asked, going over to check them out.

  “Oh…just a few old tapes I needed to go through,” Gail said, waving her hand. “Nothing we need today.”

  I picked up a cassette and read the spine. “‘Richard’s high school graduation.’ I forgot you guys taped that.” I picked up another. “‘Richard’s sixteenth birthday.’” Glancing up at the three of them, I said, “Been walking down memory lane?”

  Gail’s eyes flicked to Dawson, and they seemed to have an unspoken conversation before he turned to me and shrugged.

  “Mom wanted them all transferred onto DVDs.”

  “Right,” Gail said. “That’s why they’re all laid out. Just…going through to see which ones to use first and all that.” Then she cleared her throat. “Richard, why don’t you and your dad go try to find the box of garland from the garage? I don’t see those down here, and I think he needs a time-out from untangling those lights or he might end up breaking them all.”