Spring Into Love
Page 93
“Paulie, it’s possessed!” I pause to catch my breath and swallow a sob. “They’re everywhere, and it won’t stop!”
“Julianna? What are you talking about? What’s possessed? What’s everywhere? Are you okay?” Paulie asks with confusion in his voice.
“My—” Sob. “Dishwasher! There’s—soap—and bubbles—everywhere!”
I can hear him trying to stifle his laughter on the other end of the line.
“It’s not funny! Bubbles are taking over the entire kitchen! Why did I let you convince me to buy a house?”
“Because it’s a good investment,” he retorts matter-of-factly, as I can no longer see the bottom half of my kitchen door through the intrusion of foam.
“I’m having a hard time seeing that right now. It’s really more of a pain in the ass!”
He doesn’t even try to hide the laughter any more as he lets out a chuckle. “Okay, Jules. I’m on my way. Get something to start scooping the bubbles into the sink.”
“Thank you,” I mumble as I stand up, rubbing my backside, which is still tingling.
I’m about to hang up when I hear him yell into the phone. “Jules? Jules, you turned the dishwasher off, right?”
“Of course!” I grumble as I end the call and glide to the dishwasher, turning it off.
With the invasion of the bubbles stalled for the moment, I plant my hands on the counter and heft myself up to precariously stand on the countertop. I push up on the tips of my toes, reaching for a glass pitcher that sits above the cabinet. My index finger grazes the handle and I stick my tongue out in concentration, as though that’ll help the pitcher get any closer.
“Come on,” I mumble and balance on one foot, gaining the extra couple of inches I need to pull the container to me.
“Yes!” I shout victoriously, holding the glass piece over my head. Turning to get down, my foot slips and I reach out, flailing for anything to help break my fall. The pitcher shoots from my hand and tumbles to the floor as I move in slow motion, like a cartoon character running in place. Glass particles fly through the air as my rump lands on the counter and I jerk my feet up, trying to avoid the shards of glass.
“Ugh!” I cry out, stomping my feet on the counter like a toddler having a meltdown. When it rains, it pours. At that exact moment, a cabinet door comes ajar, and a plastic bowl dances off the shelf, bonking me on the head. Staring at the deep, plastic bowl, I wonder why I didn’t think of using that instead of braving the obstacle course to retrieve the highest item in my kitchen.
Cautiously, I slide off the counter and take a giant leap into my living room. Running down my carpet-lined hallway, leaving soapy footprints in my wake, I head into my bedroom. My neon yellow running shoes scream at me and I slip them on before returning to the war zone.
First things first—the killer bubbles. Grabbing the bowl, I begin scooping… and scooping… and scooping, until finally my kitchen door opens and I see my knight in shining armor, err, business suit.
“‘Bout time you got here!”
Paulie looks around the room with a hint of a smile on his face, and then his eyes land on me. The small smile turns into a full-fledged grin, showing off the set of dimples that we both have inherited from our father. Bending down, he doubles over in laughter and sets a grocery sack on the table. He rolls up the sleeves of his white dress shirt and loosens his tie.
Anger storms through me, and I throw the bowl in his direction as he makes his way to me. “What? Had to stop off for a snack?” I snap, irritated that he didn’t arrive sooner.
“Calm down, sis. I got fabric softener, which should make the bubbles go away, and there’s a mop in my Explorer to help clean up the mess. Consider it a housewarming gift,” my big brother says as he runs his index finger down my nose and gives it a light tap.
I move my arms around his lower torso and give him a tight squeeze. My anger is replaced by relief that he’ll fix this. He always does. He’s the big brother; that’s his job. It always has been, for as long as I can remember.
Paulie takes a handful of bubbles and places them onto my brown hair, just another trait we inherited from our father. “Ta-da! Princess Jules!” he announces with an infectious laugh, and I can’t help but join him. Not only does he make every situation better, but my big brother also always knows how to make me laugh.
***
Grunting, I tug at the last lug nut on the wheel of the Bobcat excavator. Finally in place, I pull my thick Carthart coat around my neck as the wind whips through the shed. Taking a look outside, I can tell by the dark night that it’s well past dinner time. All the other guys left a few hours ago, but as the boss, I have to stick around to make sure everything is ready before we start work tomorrow. I return the wrench to the old toolbox, one that’s been passed down from generation to generation in our family.
Before I flip off the light, I take a look around the building and smile. This is mine, all mine. The shovels, wheelbarrows, mowers, excavator… they’re all part of the landscaping business that I’ve bought from my father. I didn’t always want to run it, but after my life took a turn off the course it was headed, I needed something to focus my attention on, and this was the perfect distraction.
As I lock the door to the shed and walk to my truck, I see headlights driving down the usually isolated road. The driveway isn’t long, so it only takes a few seconds for the truck to come into view, and I recognize it as my father’s. He pulls up beside me, not turning off the engine, simply rolling down the window.
“Your mother was starting to get worried, son,” he comments.
I sigh and nod. “Sorry, Dad. I got caught up trying to fix a machine. You know it’s cheaper to do it yourself than take it to the mechanic.”
I’m twenty-nine, and have recently moved back home. Not because I don’t own my own house, I do. But there are too many bad memories lurking there that I prefer not to relive day after day. At the time, moving back in with my parents seemed like a good idea, but late nights like this make me cringe.
“I understand, Bent. Hurry up though, your sister is coming over to see you,” he responds, and drives off without any further explanation.
My baby sister, Brianna, is finishing up college in May. What could she need? Maybe she has a job interview she wants to practice for. Or, I think she has a professor that I had back when I was in school; she probably just needs pointers on how to study for the class. Jumping into my truck, I rev the engine and start the drive to my parents’ place. Whatever Bri needs, I’ll take care of it. It’s just what big brothers do.
Chapter 2
An hour later and the bubbles have disappeared thanks to the fabric softener. Sweeping up the last of the glass from the broken pitcher, Paulie holds up a large piece that is imprinted with the St. Louis Cardinals’ emblem. Shaking his head, he apologizes as though it’s his fault. “Sorry, Jules, I know this meant a lot to you.”
I shrug, although he’s right. The pitcher was a graduation gift from Smitty, one of my brother’s friends. Suddenly, all the events of the morning hit me and I start to cry again. I hate crying, it makes me feel weak. My brother is the only man I’ve ever cried in front of and he hates it when I cry even more than I do.
“Aw, come here, Jules. You shouldn’t cry until I send you my bill,” he teases as he hugs me again. Joking is always his solution to stop tears.
I pinch him and laugh, shoving him away. “Whatever, Paulie. You never warned me of all these joys of homeownership.”
I’m twenty-four and I just recently purchased my own ranch-style house just outside of the big city of St. Louis. I was perfectly happy renting, but once I graduated college and got a job, my brother convinced me to become a homeowner. He neglected to mention I now had to mow my own grass, fix roots in my pipes, and now wage war on an insane dishwasher.
Shrugging, he answers, “Sorry, Jules, these are just things that come with owning a house. You know I don’t mind helping out, but why didn’t you call Kevin?”
Kev’s got two pretty sweet floral sleeve tattoos that meet up and flow across his shoulder blades and neck. Pair that along with the two-inch gauges in his ears that make any girl’s panties melt, I know they do mine, and he’s not winning any votes from my big brother on looks alone. Oh, and he has a few other, um, hidden piercings as well, but my brother doesn’t need to know about those. Paulie still holds it against him that he took me to get my first and only tattoo—a teeny, tiny, itsy bitsy heart just below my collarbone. Paulie tells me that people will judge me because of it to which I simply roll my eyes.
Opening the black trash can lid, I dump what’s left of my precious pitcher into the trash. I stare at the remains a moment longer then answer, “He’s working.”
Paulie scoffs as he opens my fridge and takes out a bottle of water. “Working? Come on, Jules, the guy doesn’t work.”
Closing the pantry door after I put away the broom, I whirl around, hands on hips and protest, “Yes, he does! Today is an actual paid shoot!”
Strike two for Kevin after the tattoos and piercings. He’s twenty-seven, still lives at home, and lists actor/model as his occupation on official documents. With his muscular body and Tatum Channing looks, I was easily convinced that his big break is “right around the corner” when we first met. Three months later and I know it’s a joke, but I’m playing the part of supportive girlfriend for which I could win an Oscar for. He hasn’t quite figured out that St. Louis isn’t the best town for breakout actors.
Paulie leans against my counter, his black dress pants soaked from the wet mess in my kitchen, sleeves rolled up, arms crossed, and his eyes narrowed. “Jules, you can do better than him. If you’re going to ask him to move in, he has to start pulling his weight.”
“Whoa!” I hold up my hands and drop my mouth while my eyebrows shoot to the top of my forehead. “Move in? Who said anything about that?” True, he pretty much stays here every night, but again, that’s not anything Paulie needs to know either.
“I’m not an idiot, the Red Bull and Jager gave it away. I’m just saying that when he ‘officially’ moves in, he needs to be the one to handle these kinds of situations.”
Kevin handle this? Yeah right, what a joke! The guy can’t even remember to put gas in his car, there’s no way he could have handled the bubble drama. Besides, Paulie has a flexible sales job and he’s always able to come to my rescue when I need him.
“Oh Paulie, you know you’ll be lonely without me to take care of,” I tease him as I snap a dish towel in his direction, but he doesn’t laugh. My lips turn down. Did I just offend him? Even before our parents died and Paulie adopted me, he’d always taken care of me. From turning on my night light to moving me into my dorm room to now handling every downfall of homeownership, Paulie’s been the rock that’s held our two-person family together.
“Jules,” he says and pauses. The brief hesitation in his speech makes my stomach sour as though he’s about to tell me the worst possible news I’ve ever heard. Paulie was the one that told me about our parents’ accident so there can’t possibly be anything worse than that.
“I asked her to marry me on Valentine’s Day.”
Apparently, there is. My arms fly up in the air and my cheeks burn neon red as I start shrieking. It’s like an out of body experience. I can see myself thrashing around the kitchen, screaming at my brother all because he told me he asked her to marry him. Her.
“Her? The baby?” my voice shrills at him. And by baby, I mean she’s still in college and speaks in the highest pitched baby mouse voice I’ve ever heard. It’s like nails dragging down a chalkboard. I shake my head as I get goosebumps just thinking about it.
“She’s not a baby, Julianna,” Paulie says in a stern voice, his eyebrows creased and I know that now is not the time to make fun of her.
Clicking my tongue against the roof of my mouth, I try to regain my composure and in a calmer voice, I ask, “Why? Why her? She’s still in school, Paulie! What does she even know about love?” The calm didn’t last long.
My brother takes a seat at my kitchen table and pulls out a chair for me to sit beside him. Taking my hand, he begins, “Julianna, I love Bri. I wake up every morning and she’s the first thing on my mind. I want to be with her all the time, every day. There’s been a spot in my heart that’s been empty and she’s the only one that completes it. One day, you’ll find someone that does the same thing for you. Please give her a chance. I want your blessing.”
Sitting beside him, I stare at the wood paneling with small barns printed into it. My eyes go to the olive green stove, also from the seventies when the house was built. Then they land on the possessed dishwasher and I realize I hate this kitchen. I hate this house. Paulie pushed me to buy it so he could move on with his life. Tears well up in my eyes as I realize I’ve been holding Paulie back. He’s been waiting for me to be settled before he moves on, making sure I’m okay on my own. Now it’s my turn, blinking back the tears, I nod and lie, “You have it.”
***
Lying back, reclining in my Lazy Boy, I doze off and on listening to the day’s sports highlights and waiting for my sister to arrive. She’s never on time. If she says she’ll be there in thirty minutes, add another hour to that for her expected arrival time. I hear tires on the gravel driveway that leads to the basement apartment where I’m staying. My living quarters are surrounded by floor to ceiling windows all along the entire front wall with a bedroom, bathroom, and small kitchen area. It’s the perfect place for me to enjoy my bachelorhood.
I sit up in my chair and make out her Beamer in the moonlight. Flipping off the television, I go to the door and watch my short, petite sister climb out of her car. Her blonde hair shines in the light of the moon as she walks quickly to escape the chilly night air.
“Bentley!” she yells in her high pitch voice I’ve grown accustomed to over the years. Her arms encase my torso and she squeezes me like it’s been months since we’ve seen each other even though we just had dinner together two nights ago.
“Hey sis, everything okay?” I ask as I pat her back.
Nodding quickly, she takes my hand and pulls me inside, pushing me back down in my chair. Her heels click on the tile floor as she paces in front of me in what I can only assume is a pair of designer jeans and shirt. I have no idea what brand it is but she shops with my mom who has the most expensive taste of any woman I know. My sister begins talking in her own language I call Bri-anese. It’s a dialect that takes years to master because the woman speaks faster than the Micro Machine Man.
“Remember James Paul? The one I brought to dinner on New Year’s Day?” She doesn’t wait for me to answer as she exclaims with a loud shriek, “He proposed yesterday and I said yes!”
Leaning forward, I start to stand. “That’s great. Congrats, sis!” I say, but she pushes me back down in my chair.
“He has a sister, just a couple years older than me and I’m worried she hates me. Their parents died when J.P. was almost in college and he ended up raising her. From the time I met her, I can tell she’s possessive and not a fan. What do I do, Bentley? She has to like me! No, she has to love me. I’m marrying her brother, she’s going to be my sister-in-law!”
Smiling, I walk over to my sister and put my hands on her shoulders, giving her a firm shake. It’s obvious how much she truly cares about this man if she’s worried if his sister likes her. Bri has never been concerned with what any other woman thinks about her, not even when she was going through sorority rush.
“Brianna, she’ll like you. She’ll love you and if she doesn’t then it’s her loss. You’re going to be a beautiful bride and a wonderful wife. As long as J.P. and you stick by each other then that’s all that matte
rs.”
My little sister takes a deep breath and nods. I lean forward and kiss her forehead. “My baby sis is getting married. When do I get to talk to him?”
Bri pulls back and narrows her eyebrows. “Don’t you dare say anything to embarrass me.”
Putting on my most innocent face, I turn my hands up. “Who me?” I grin and she giggles at my expression. I won’t embarrass her, but I will let him know he’d better not hurt my sister.
Chapter 3
“They’ve been dating what? Six months? It’s ridiculous! He has no idea what he’s doing. I have to talk to him, let him see how he’s doing the wrong thing,” I vent as I pace back and forth in my god-awful kitchen.
Kevin grunts in response as he takes the last Angry Orchard from my fridge and pops the top, throwing the cap on my hutch. From the second he walked in the door an hour ago, I began letting out all my frustration on him although I’d already been texting him a novel about the world’s worst couple in the history of dating.
“I mean Kim was way better than this chick. Sure, Kim may have cheated on him, but still, at least she had a college degree and—”
“Jules, when are you going to stop talking about your brother and ask about my day?” Kevin asks after taking a long swig.
Wow, I feel like a total jerk when he puts it that way. Sighing, I walk over to him and wrap my arms around his neck. Geez, he is fine with that day old scruff he always sports and the spiky faux-hawk look he has going on. My fingers slide over his neck and through his hair as I press my lips to his. When his tongue ring rolls over my own tongue, my body shakes with excitement. This is exactly the distraction I need to stop thinking about the bomb my brother dropped on me.
“Sorry, babe. How was the shoot?”
With a grin on his face, he grabs my hand and leads us to the living room. I may be a chick, but that doesn’t mean my house is decorated like HGTV. In fact, other than the couch, recliner, and entertainment stand, there’s no decorations in this room. I mean, what’s the point of decorating when I’m, well, Kevin too, are the only ones to see it?