by Kylie Scott
Mouth still grim, he wandered back into the kitchen, sitting on the floor at my side. “You’re welcome.”
“I’ll cook you breakfast.”
“There’s no food in the house.”
“Damn. All right, if Samantha has delivered my purse by morning, I’ll buy you breakfast.”
“Deal.”
We passed the bottle back and forth in silence for a while. My head grew progressively fuzzier, all of the emotion of the day’s events softening to a “meh.” For now, I was all humiliated, hurt, and raged out. The knuckles on my right hand stung like a bitch and if I started mentally picking apart all of the what-ifs and could-haves again I’d go insane.
The light over the dining table emitted a soft golden glow, leaving the rest of the house in shadow. It seemed even quieter and emptier as the night set in.
“How long has it been since you’ve been here?” I asked.
“We played at a small festival a few years back. Not since then.”
“You’re in a band?”
“I was. We broke up a couple of months back.” He’d leaned his head against the kitchen cupboards, eyes closed. “We’d been together for ten years, based down in L.A. mostly.”
“What instrument do you play?”
“Guitar.”
“That’s great.” I could see it. It made sense. I shook my head in wonder, making the room turn lazy woozy circles, or my brain did. I’m not sure which. “Not about your band breaking up, I mean about you being a musician. Are you going to join another band or—”
He made a noise in his throat. “Been trying to put one together. Bass player from the old one’s still on board, but we just haven’t had any luck finding the right people.”
“That sucks.”
“It sure does.”
“So that’s your drama?”
He opened one eye. “Pretty much. Only came back to town to sell this place to my sister. Need to pay off the mortgage, get a little to live on while we find a new singer and drummer, get things sorted out.”
“Your sister, is that Nell who Andy was asking about?”
“Yeah.” His gaze darkened. “She split with her husband a little while back. Figure she’ll be happy to buy the place, have somewhere of her own to live. She always loved this house.”
“It’s beautiful.”
His face softened, relaxing into a smile. “You do love the old Arts and Crafts bungalows.”
“Yes, I do.” When he smiled at me like that … whoa. Let’s just say the house wasn’t the only thing that was beautiful. “I’m sorry you’ve got drama.”
“I’m sorry you’ve got drama too.”
“And I’m sorry I dragged my drama into your house.”
“I know.” He covered my hand with his much larger one. Warm. He was so warm and lovely and stuff. If the shitty day and toxic tequila had left me with an iota more energy I’d run my no-strings-sex-between-new-friends idea past him. As it was, I’d save it up for tomorrow. At least I had my memories of him bare ass naked to keep me happy in the meantime. And trust me, there was real happiness to be had in having seen this man naked. My dreams had better be full of him, or I and my subconscious would be having a serious talk.
“What?” he asked.
“What, what?”
“You’re looking at me funny.”
“Am I?” My jaw cracked loud and proud on a yawn. What a day. I laid my head against his shoulder, getting comfortable, closing my eyes.
“You planning on crashing right there?” he asked.
“Mm-hmm.”
“Okay.”
All I could hear was the in and out of his breathing, the occasional sound of the tequila sloshing about in the bottle as he took a drink. All was calm. Peaceful. For now at least.
“You were a beautiful bride, Lydia.”
I smiled, too close to sleep to speak.
“Beautiful.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
Fucking Samantha. If the woman was on fire, I’d make s’mores.
After so gracefully passing out on the kitchen floor, I’d woken up on a bed in the spare room this morning. Everything hurt. I’d stumbled into the kitchen in search of water and seen the latest disaster through the glass doors. My almost-mother-in-law had been busy. Real busy.
With Vaughan’s cool dude aviator sunglasses to guard against the brain-piercing morning glare, I searched the backyard for my belongings. A bra here, a pair of panties there. You never knew what you might find hidden in the long grass.
Why, it was just like a treasure hunt minus the map.
And the fun.
My green silk blouse hung high in a tree and it wasn’t alone. God knows how she’d gotten it all up there. Unleashed her flying monkeys, perhaps? Wicked witch was about right.
A box of books and another filled with personal mementos had been dumped straight over the fence as if they were garbage. I didn’t have the heart to look inside and see what was broken. Every muscle in my jaw ached. I wanted to scream and rage, to let it all out. Again. Only if I started, I wasn’t sure I’d be able to stop.
A pounding head and queasy stomach didn’t much help matters. I’d done a quick search of the kitchen and come up empty on the Advil front. Tequila, like Samantha, was clearly not my friend. And it had to have been her who’d chucked my stuff over the fence. Chris would have simply paid someone to deliver the lot to the front patio. Thrown cash at the problem to turn it into someone else’s. Such was his style.
No, only his mother would delight in this type of fuckery.
“Vindictive bitch,” I muttered, adding a pair of boyfriend jeans to the growing pile at my feet. Each item retrieved fueled the fury.
There’d better be a special level of hell to reward her for such spite. One without Botox, where no matter what you did, your dark hair roots showed and the only clothing option was unwashed secondhand sweats. That’d teach her.
Insert insane cackling here. Yep, I was losing it. Lucky for me, there were no witnesses to my descent into lunacy.
Oops, I spoke too soon.
I hadn’t heard her arrive, but a woman stood watching from the back deck. Her strawberry-blond hair shone in the sunlight and she was covered in tattoos. Behind her, the kitchen door was open, meaning she’d come through the house and therefore had a key. Interesting.
“Hi,” I said.
“Hi. I’m Nell, Vaughan’s sister.” She made her way toward me, holding out a hand for shaking.
I shook it. “Lydia. A new friend of Vaughan’s.”
“Nice to meet you.” A sweeping glance took in my clothing and one of her eyebrows went up. Probably because none of what I wore was mine. Vaughan had left some clothes on the end of my bed, bless him. Soft gray sleeping pants rolled up at the bottom on account of being made for someone much taller and a Rolling Stones T-shirt. Loved the way the tongue and mouth slogan stretched over my assets. Such a tasteful statement. Luckily, a bra had been the first item on this morning’s treasure hunt adventure. Out-of-control breasts were not something I needed.
A hard kind of curiosity filled Nell’s eyes. “A new friend? Not that it’s any of my business…”
“Not that it’s any of your business,” I agreed, crossing my arms over my chest. “But yes. Just a new friend. I’m in between homes so he let me crash here last night. My belongings had a little accident.”
It was one way of describing it. Sort of.
“Yeah. I was going to ask about that. Normally yard sales happen out front.” With a finger, she hooked a pair of underwear from down beside her feet. Awesome. Black lace boy shorts. At least they were a nice pair. Definitely not embarrassing to have a stranger checking out my undergarment styling at all.
“Thanks.” I added them to the pile, my friendly smile frozen to my face. “Issue with the ex.”
“Men.” Her lips thinned.
“Mm.”
“Think they can get away with anything just because they have something to swing between t
heir thighs.”
I snorted. “Pretty much.”
“Raging assholes, all of them,” she growled, cheeks pink with anger. “We’d be better off if they were just jettisoned into space en masse.”
Clearly, Nell was still stuck in the bitter stage of a relationship breakdown. I was moving on to moving on. The damage was done. Now I just wanted to get my shit together and get out of this town. Seek a life somewhere else. Pretty or not, this place hadn’t been kind to me.
“Men do suck,” I said. “But actually, this was his mother’s handiwork.”
“You’re kidding?” She wrinkled her nose, making a scattering of freckles jump and move. She seemed a bit older than me, petite where her brother was tall. Same pale blue eyes, though. She wore plain black slacks and a T-shirt with a picture of a bluebird above the words “The Dive Bar.”
“Nope,” I said. “Definitely his mother’s style of attack.”
“Shit. Come on, I’ll help you pick it all up.”
“You will?”
“Sure.” Nell’s smile now was genuine, kind.
“Thanks.” This woman’s moods were more chaotic than mine. I couldn’t keep up.
“No problem. Better than just sitting around, waiting for my idiot brother to wake up. We need something to put your stuff in. I think there’s some empty boxes in the garage.” Without another word, she strode off toward the side of the house while I watched, bemused.
People. You could never tell.
I rolled my shoulders, trying to work the kinks out of my back. If anything, my body hurt worse today than it had yesterday. Muscle strain times one thousand.
Funny, with Nell helping, the weight of my mess seemed to lighten. Maybe things weren’t so bad and the bulk of the human race weren’t against me.
Today had been my first in months without a good morning text from Chris.
I mean … of course there hadn’t been one. My cell phone was broken apart. But the lack of it had been less a mild ache and more of a good hard slap upside the back of the head. I’d gotten so used to being part of a couple. To being “we.” Time to adjust back to being alone.
Yep, I was swinging single.
Assorted bugs, bees, and butterflies flitted around, doing their thing. It was, all in all, another perfect summer’s day. In another life, Chris and I would have been en route to Hawaii for our honeymoon. Man, I’d been so excited about the trip. Sandy white beaches, fruity cocktails, and fun. Lots and lots of it. Instead, my new black tankini waved in the wind, stuck halfway up a pine tree.
You had to give it to her, Samantha had been dedicated. She must have been out here for hours last night, throwing my shit around.
Nell and I had been working maybe half an hour, picking the contents of my makeup bag and jewelry box out of a thorny bush, when Vaughan appeared. He stood on the deck, yawning; a cup of coffee filled one hand and a pastry the other. Worn jeans, no shirt, even more reddish-blond stubble.
Damn, he was hot. The kind of hot that only got better with age and experience. Not that I was even remotely interested in getting involved with him beyond the new-friends-having-sex thing. Neither of us intended to stay in town and I had only just gotten out of a ruin of a relationship. But good lord, such a northern Idaho sex god.
Primitive man might have worshipped the sun, but I’m pretty sure the sun worshipped Vaughan. The way it bathed him in a golden glow, showcasing his ink. Tattoos had never even interested me before. A stable job and a fixed residence? Yes. This whole “reckless bad boy living the rock-and-roll lifestyle” vibe Vaughan had going? No. Absolutely not. It went against everything my parents had taught me to value, due to them providing a lack of said things during my childhood.
All the things I probably needed to start questioning, given my recent bad choices. Though, I don’t know. What was wrong with wanting a home and a little stability? Yes, I’d rushed into it, a big mistake on my part. Next time I’d take it slow, really get to know the person and make sure we were right for each other. Lesson learned.
At any rate, I ignored the stirrings of lust from my loins, for now. Etiquette dictated that jumping a man in front of his sibling was not the right thing to do. Plus, with my hangover looming large, now did not strike me as the best time to raise the no-strings-sex topic. No, I’d keep an eye on the man, see if he gave off any of the right signals. My poor girl parts would just have to wait.
At least he couldn’t see me ogling him because of my shades. I probably had drool on my chin, though. Ever so discreetly, I gave it a rub.
“You’ve got a nerve,” said Nell, suddenly tense beside me. If spikes had suddenly appeared running down her spine I would not have been surprised. “Would it have killed you to call me, let me know you were back?”
“Hi, sis.” Another yawn from Vaughan. Then he stuffed his mouth full of pastry, talking around it. Or through it (Chris would have been appalled. Fuck you, Chris.). “Thanks for bringing over breakfast.”
“Eat with your mouth closed. God, you’re gross.” Nell crossed her arms, staring him down. “Have you even evolved since you were eight?”
“I’m taller. And I got over the whole girl-germs thing too.” He winked.
“Kind of figured that, what with the way you treated the fly on your pants like a revolving door during high school.” For the next part, Nell adopted a low manly tone, “Hey, I’m the guitarist in a band. I write songs and I care about feelings and shit. Come on, you know you want a piece of this, baby.”
I quietly sniggered (she did his voice so well).
Vaughan cracked up laughing, nearly doubling at the waist. “Not bad. But you have to offer to play them some broody-ass emo tunes out by the lake. Works every time.”
Nell flipped him the bird.
“Take it easy,” he said. “I was going to call you today. Things got busy yesterday.”
“Oh, I know. The whole town’s talking about it. It’s how I knew to bring breakfast for both of you.”
“Awesome,” I moaned. Not unexpected, but still. Two hundred–odd guests had been in the front garden, waiting for the nuptials to happen. Made for a lot of mouths to do a lot of talking.
“Sorry,” said Nell. “But your botched wedding is hot news everywhere.”
I nodded, mouth curved down in a frown.
“We need to talk,” said Nell, turning back to her brother.
“Sounds serious.”
“It is. I’ve been trying to get ahold of you for weeks.”
“Sorry.” Head hanging low, Vaughan winced. “There’s been a lot going on. I’m here now, though.”
“Which leads me to the next question. Why are you here?” She tilted her head. “You’ve avoided this place like the plague for years.”
“You just said you wanted to talk to me, now you’re giving me shit for being here?” He grabbed at the back of his neck, rubbing hard. “Like you said, it’s been a while. Maybe I just wanted to catch up with you.”
As eyebrows went, Nell’s left one was particularly vocal. The way it arced called bullshit on her brother without saying a word. “What’s going on, Vaughan? Last I heard you guys were touring with Stage Dive and everything was great.”
He gave a smile completely devoid of any joy. “So fucking great the lead vocalist went solo and our drummer joined another band.”
Nell’s jaw dropped, her face bloodless. “The band broke up?”
“Yeah.”
His sister still gaped.
“Got decided late last year. Once we finished the tour with Stage Dive we were splitting. I’ve had time to get used to it. Let it go. It’s fine.” He ignored her reaction, turning instead to me. “How are you doing, Lydia?”
“Hey. Hi. Good.”
“I take it you already met my sister. Come inside. There’s coffee for you too.”
“Okay. In a minute.” A glint of metal beneath some leaves caught my eye. Carefully, I dusted off the antique silver necklace my grandmother had given me for my twenty-first.
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I hung the pendant around my neck, fingers fiddling with the clasp for a moment before it locked into place. Forget Chris and his family. I’d find my feet. They were nothing to me now, less than nothing. They were so subpar-nothing I didn’t even know how to describe just how zilch they were. Moving on.
“Babe, why’s your stuff all over the yard?” asked Vaughan.
“Pardon?” I blinked, returning to earth.
“Your stuff, it’s everywhere.” He downed the last of his coffee in one long gulp, his gaze fixed on my face.
Gah. Like he didn’t have enough to deal with without more of my drama. “Yeah, sorry,” I said. “I’ll get it cleaned up.”
“Lydia, stop,” he ordered in a stern voice. Then his gaze softened. “What happened here?”
“Samantha delivered my belongings.” I said, carefully retrieving my best black mascara from the bush of death. The thing basically consisted of a big evil ball of thorns beneath a couple of leaves. It was Satan’s shrubbery. Any more scratches from it and I’d look like I’d been in a cat fight. Close enough to the truth.
“You’re fucking kidding.” He wandered down the steps toward me.
“Wish I was.”
“Hey.” He gripped the back of my neck with his free hand, rubbing it far more softly than he’d done his own. The calluses on his fingers were rough, making for such a different sensation than Chris’s soft hands. “This petty bullshit is the worst she can do. Ignore it. You’re better than this.”
“I don’t know. Given half a chance, I’d really like to shoot her out of a cannon and forget to put up the safety net.”
“That seriously the best you could come up with?”
“No. Give me more time. It’s early.”
Sweet baby Jesus, his laugh. It was so low-down and dirty. I hadn’t even said anything worthy of such a sound. Disturbingly, I couldn’t remember what Chris’s laugh sounded like. Had I ever even heard it? No memory leaped to mind. What a sad and sorry statement about his life and the part I’d played in it. And while Chris’s problems were most definitely his own, I and mine needed a damn good looking over.
I needed change. Now.
