“Snuggling it is,” he says, while doing my bidding.
As soon as he’s settled, I bring my feet up and turn them toward him so I’m pushing against his leg to get some space. He makes a sad face. “Do you ever sleep in a hammock overnight?” I ask.
“Not anymore,” he tells me.
“Why not?”
“Last time I did that, I had a half-eaten protein bar in my pocket. It attracted wildlife.”
“What happened?” My brain goes right to a bear attack.
“I woke up to sharp jabs coming from the underside of the hammock. A raccoon family was down there poking at me. I’m guessing if I didn’t wake up when I did, they would have torn through the fabric to get the goods.”
“Oh, my gosh!” I have no other words.
“The key is to not sleep outdoors with food in your pocket, but the experience soured me on nighttime hammock sleeping, nonetheless. It’s still a great place to nap though.”
“I’m afraid I’d have to have someone keep guard to even do that.”
“Just let me know when and I’ll happily volunteer my services,” he says with a twinkle in his eye. There’s no way I could fall asleep with Brogan watching me.
When I don’t answer right away, he adds, “You don’t trust me, do you?”
“Not for a second.”
“Addison, we’re adults now.” His tone is laced with an emotion that almost sounds like longing. My body responds by sending out a heavy pulsing sensation that spreads through my extremities like the aftershocks of an earthquake. Yikes.
“If we were still kids, there’s no way in hell I’d be sitting next to you. You’d probably be working out a plan to tie me up, slather me with honey, and offer me up to the bears.”
“Black bears are predominantly plant eaters,” he says like he’s giving a lecture. “When it comes to meat, they prefer fish or small mammals.”
“Whatever you say, Mr. Science. My point is that you were not trustworthy when we were kids. The jury is out on what I think about you now.”
“Let’s play twenty questions,” he suggests. “That way you can get to know me better. Ask anything you want.”
I think for a minute before asking, “Why were you such a butthead to me when we were growing up?”
“Truthfully, it was kind of fun to see how easily we could upset you. Again, I’m sorry.” Before I can ask another question, he says, “My turn. Where is your favorite place to vacation?”
I thought he’d want to know something provocative like whether or not I slept in the nude. I’m pleased to discover a thoughtful question. “I love the old cities in Europe. I like to walk the streets of Paris and imagine what it was like two hundred years ago.”
“Two hundred years ago, those streets were probably flooded in human waste that was being tossed out of windows.”
“Yuck.”
“It’s the truth though. The past is nowhere near as romantic as Masterpiece Theater would have you believe.”
“Where is your favorite place to vacation?” I ask.
“Machu Picchu.”
“Peru? Why?”
“James and I were avid alien hunters when we were kids. I saw a show once that said the mountains of Peru were notorious for UFO sightings.”
“So, you go to South America in search of aliens?” Ew.
“No. Well, yes at first, but I was only twenty then. I go now because the experience is downright mystical. It’s the only place in the world where I feel like time doesn’t exist. The hours are no more than a cycle of the sun.” Seeing my look of confusion, he says, “It’s like being inside the most beautiful song you’ve ever heard. But it’s a song with no beginning or end. As long as you’re there experiencing it, it just escalates until you think you must be in heaven.”
“Brogan Cavanaugh, you’re a poet,” I tell him, more than a little surprised.
“I’m just passionate about things that are important to me.” The look he gives me is smoldering.
I can’t seem to find my voice for several moments, but finally manage to tell him, “I’ve never been to South America.”
“I’d be happy to recommend places if you ever decide to go.”
“Thank you.” I hope Billy hurries back. It’s starting to feel like we’re on a date instead of an evening fueled by revenge. I have to remember to keep my focus if for no other reason than to settle an old score.
“Addison …” Brogan begins.
He sounds serious, so I interrupt, “I should check on dinner.”
I scoot around trying to figure out how to get off of the hammock but am not very successful.
“Put your feet over the side again,” Brogan says. Once I do as I’m told, he hands me his wine glass and pulls me onto his lap. Holy. Crap. I’m sitting on Brogan Cavanaugh’s lap and guess what? I’m not hating it. Before I can nestle in, because I’m thinking about it, he puts his hands under my butt and pushes off until I’m standing up. Wow and wow.
My knees feel weak and it’s all I can do not to crumple to the ground. Brogan hands me our wine glasses and stands up with relative ease. He doesn’t look the least bit affected by our recent contact and it makes me want to take my shoe off and hit him with it.
Brogan Cavanaugh is a flirt and I’m sure a total playboy. I’m going to have to watch myself with him because I’m guessing he’s the kind of man to play fast and loose with a girl’s heart.
Chapter Thirty-Four
The Mothers
Ruby: I wish I was a fly on the wall so I could watch Addie and Brogan at supper tonight.
Libby: No.
Ruby: Come on, you have to be curious about what’s going on up there.
Libby: I am, but I can wait to hear about it after the fact. BTW, Addie just texted to say that she wants to take the car out again tomorrow. Apparently, she’s having lunch with some gal she met the other day.
Ruby: Thanks for the heads-up. I’ll make sure to give her a set of keys to my car. Hopefully she won’t ask any questions.
Libby: Good luck with that.
Ruby: I got this.
Brogan
Billy walks into Addie’s cabin carrying a bucket of blackberries. “I brought dessert,” he announces.
“I bought the can of whipping cream you asked for this morning,” Addie tells him. Clearly the two of them are hanging out when I’m not around. I don’t know why that bothers me, but it does.
It’s not that I’m jealous of Billy, but if I were being honest, it’s probably because I don’t like the idea of anyone helping Addie but me. She makes me feel territorial.
Addie says, “You both sit down while I dish up.”
“It smells delicious. What are we having?” I ask.
“Swedish meatballs on egg noodles. I don’t have that many recipes that work without an oven.”
“I’m so hungry I could eat the whole pan,” Billy says.
“Good,” Addie replies. “You can come back tomorrow night for leftovers.”
Addie serves me and Billy first before bringing her plate over. “I figured we’d have our salad after the entrée.”
“Very continental,” Billy offers.
Addie raises her glass in a toast. “To a simple meal in the woods with friends.”
She looks at Billy when she says “friends.” He raises his beer bottle and adds, “May your neighbors respect you, trouble neglect you, the angels protect you, and heaven accept you."
The only toast that I can even think of is, “Here’s looking up your dress,” but I don’t dare say that, so I merely respond, “Here, here.” Then I take a sip of my wine.
Billy takes the first bite and immediately releases a grunt of pleasure. “I can’t remember the last time I ate something so good.”
I eagerly cut a meatball in half with my fork and take a bite. I nearly spit it out, but Addie is watching for my reaction. I don’t know how she managed it, but it tastes like—what is that? Clams? Who ever heard of swedish meatballs tasting lik
e clams?
I chew it quickly and wash it down with a gulp of wine, but it’s so nasty there’s no way I can keep eating it.
“Will you be coming back for leftovers tomorrow night, too?” Addie asks me.
“That sounds lovely,” I tell her, “but I promised to meet up with James tomorrow night.”
“You could invite him along,” she suggests enthusiastically.
While I would love for James to get a load of Addie’s cooking, that’s not going to happen if it means that I have to eat it again myself. “We need to talk business. Maybe another time.” Maybe at my place.
I sit and watch while Billy and Addie practically lick their plates clean. How are they doing that without wanting to puke? Even if you like clams, it should not be the predominant flavor in a non-seafood-based dish.
“You’re not eating much,” Addie says to me. “I thought you said you skipped lunch.”
“I did. The heat must be affecting my appetite.”
“It’s not hot right now,” Billy comments while continuing to scrape his plate for any microscopic traces.
“Maybe I just need something lighter. That salad sounds great.”
“I’ll get it for you,” Addie offers.
“I can get it myself.” I move to stand up, but she beats me to it.
“Nonsense. You’re my guest.”
She brings back a beautiful plate with garden greens, avocado, pine nuts, and feta cheese. If I eat three helpings of it, it might fill me. “Thank you,” I say as she puts the plate in front of me.
“There’s more if you want it.” It’s like she’s reading my mind.
I stab a big chunk of avocado and cheese with my first bite and greedily put the fork in my mouth. I can’t stop my gag reflex. I immediately begin to heave like I’m going to throw up. How in the world can a salad taste like clams?
“Oh, my,” Addie says, “you don’t like my salad either?” She’s guessed about the meatballs and looks hurt.
“I must be coming down with something,” I tell her. “My taste buds seem to be off.”
“You poor thing.” She pats my hand like she’s my mother. “Maybe you should head home and try to sleep it off.”
I don’t want to leave; I just don’t want to eat anything she’s serving. “Let me just sit here for a bit and see if my stomach settles.”
“You don’t know what you’re missing,” Billy says in between bites. The man is eating like it’s his first meal in a month.
“Doesn’t it taste a little bit like clams to you?” I ask.
Billy looks at me like I’ve lost my mind. “It’s ground beef, man. How can ground beef taste fishy?”
I wish I knew.
“Clams?” Addie asks. “You must be under the weather.” Then she takes another bite of her food.
I’m positively starving but the thought of eating makes me want to hurl even more. “I think I’ll try some of your blackberries, Billy. Maybe the sweetness will refresh my palate.”
He stands up and says, “I’ll get you a bowl.”
“You two are making me feel like a king serving me like this.”
“Don’t get used to it,” Billy says. “I’m only being this nice cause you’re sick,” and then he dramatically adds, “and there’s a lady around.”
Addie smiles at him. “You are a dear man, you know that?”
I’m about to throw up on multiple counts now. Bill opens the cabinet and retrieves a bowl before scooping some berries into it. “You want some whipped cream on it?” he asks me.
“Yeah, give me a lot of that.” I briefly fantasize about spraying the whole thing directly into my mouth. I’ve got to do something to get rid of this clam flavor.
Billy goes to town with the whipped cream and then drops my bowl in front of me. “Eat up,” he says.
I pick up my spoon and fill it with one of Oregon’s finest foods. Then I put it in my mouth ready to let the sweetness overpower the sweat sock flavor that’s lingering there. Holy mother of … “Blech!” I spit out the partially masticated food right back into the bowl I scooped it out of before running outside. I barely make it to the side of the cabin before throwing up.
Billy follows and chastises, “Boy, you’re not being very polite to your hostess.”
When there’s nothing left inside me, I reply, “How can blackberries and cream taste like clams?”
“You best make yourself an appointment with the doctor. Something’s wrong with you.”
I can’t think of one ailment that makes things taste like the dreaded clam, but clearly there is something wrong with me if I’m the only one reacting to the food this way.
Addie walks out onto the porch. I make my apologies, “I’d better head back to my place.” I sway on my feet from my recent exertions.
“Do you need Billy to go with you?” She sounds concerned.
“No, no, I can get there by myself. I’m sorry to cut the night short,” I tell her sincerely.
“No worries, I’m here for a month. I’ll have you over another time.”
“Next time it’s my turn to treat you,” I tell her. If I don’t turn out to be sick, the thought that goes through my mind is, There is no way I’m going to let you cook for me ever again.
Chapter Thirty-Five
The Mothers
Libby: I figured out why Addie invited Brogan over for dinner.
Ruby: Why?
Libby: Revenge. She used to talk about all the things she wanted to do to Brogan and James to get revenge on them.
Ruby: You think that’s the only reason?
Libby: Without a doubt. And Rube, I hate to say it, but I think her need to get even is going to supersede any attraction she feels for Brogan.
Ruby: The need for vengeance and love aren’t mutually exclusive emotions. Did I ever tell you about the time I put eye drops in Tom’s drink?
Libby: Um, no. Why did you do that?
Ruby: Remember that big fight we had junior year? I saw him flirting with Cindy Johnston at a frat party and I didn’t like it. With the help of Jason Farmer, I got a couple eye drops into his drink. He was so busy running to the toilet he didn’t have time to make eyes at anyone else.
Libby: Why didn’t you ever tell me this?
Ruby: I wasn’t exactly proud of myself. Plus, I didn’t think you’d approve.
Libby: At least it all worked out.
Ruby: And it will between Addie and Brogan as well. Just you wait.
Addison
I agree with Don Corleone, “revenge is dish best served cold.” Like gazpacho.
Billy and I enjoy the rest of our meal after Brogan leaves. We have more than one laugh as we reminisce about his expression when he tasted the clam juice in all his food.
Billy confesses, “I spread a thin layer of honey on the seat of his outhouse when I went off to get the blackberries.”
I find the thought of Brogan getting honey all over his butt and having to take a cold shower to wash it off positively vindicating. I ask, “What else can we do to him?”
“You’d better pace yourself. That boy is nobody’s fool and if too many things happen too quickly, he’s going to suspect you.”
That’s a good point. I want to get even with Brogan, but I don’t want to inspire retaliation, especially when I have so much time left here. I ask, “Do you think he’ll blame me for the honey smeared all over the outhouse seat?”
“If he asks I’ll tell him I saw some kids up here or something. But I didn’t put enough on that he’ll easily be able to tell what it is.”
After cleaning up, Billy gets himself settled on the porch and I head off to bed. I sleep remarkably well, considering I’m still on a rollaway cot from the lodge. Aunt Ruby promised to have a king-size bed brought up sometime tomorrow.
The first thing I do after getting out of bed is to pop my head out to see if Billy is around. He’s not. I figure this is the best time to take my first outdoor shower. I’m not at all pleased by the prospect, but I fee
l emboldened by my revenge against Brogan last night. I’m going to prove to that man that I can do anything he can and not complain about it.
I venture outside in my flip flops and robe, hoping not to run into any wildlife on the way. So far, so good. After turning on the spigot, I wait for a solid minute while all kinds of dirt pours out of the pipe. Yuck. Once it’s clear, I take my robe off and pull the curtain closed.
Holy freaking heck, the water is cold! There is no way I can wash my hair in here. My brain would freeze and probably stop working altogether. I hurry and quickly rinse off my body without bothering to use soap before putting my robe back on.
There’s no way I can shower here again. That’s when I remember Aunt Ruby telling me to pick up any supplies I might need. Even though I’m pretty sure Brogan expects me to rough it while I’m here, my job is to turn this place into a glamping site, not to keep it a horrible rustic sorry excuse of a camping shelter.
I hurry up and get myself ready for the day before heading to the lodge. Billy showed me the way on a map again last night and swore up and down I wasn’t in jeopardy if I followed his instructions. For some reason, I trust him. So, while I’m nervous, I’m also fairly certain I’ll arrive unharmed. I carry my mace pointed out in front of me just in case though.
I text my mom as soon as I exit the woods and get into the clearing, but she doesn’t respond. She’s pretty much gone MIA the last couple of days, probably afraid I’ve gone into full lunatic mode. Even so, she’s the only reason I’m here and she therefore owes me her emotional support.
I message Aunt Ruby next and ask her to tell my mom that I need the car. She responds that I should pick up keys for the Jeep from Chris at the front desk. That might actually work out better if I wind up buying a lot of stuff.
“Hi, Chris,” I greet as I walk into the lobby.
“How’s it going up there?”
“Better than expected,” I tell her.
“Good for you,” she exclaims emphatically.
“I’m not loving it,” I assure her, “but it’s not getting the best of me.”
Love is a Battlefield (Seven Brides for Seven Mothers Book 1) Page 15
