"You said that already. I think we're good."
My phone vibrates on the nightstand and I glance at the screen to see who it is. "I'm sorry, Nicole—it's my mom. She worries if I don't answer."
"No, it's fine," Nicole says.
I pick up the phone and answer. "Hi, Mom."
"Hi, honey. How are you today?"
"I'm, um, I'm really good."
"That's nice to hear," she says. "You sound good. What have you been doing this morning?"
I grin at Nicole. "What have I been doing?" Nicole covers her mouth and giggles. "Well, I had a photo shoot this morning and it went well."
"Oh how lovely," she says. "I'm glad you're keeping busy."
"Yes, Mom, I'm keeping busy."
"So everyone's coming to dinner tonight. Can you make it?"
"Tonight?" I ask. "I thought dinner was on Monday."
"It was honey, but I changed it to tonight."
There’s something in her tone. "Is everything okay, Mom?"
"Yes, everything's fine. Just be here by six. Don't be late. What do you want for dessert?"
"Whatever you want to make is fine with me," I say.
"I have lemons. Lemon bars?"
"Lemon bars are delicious." I meet Nicole's eyes again and smile, shaking my head. She still has the sheet held up, but one side slips, revealing the curve of her breast. I suddenly very much do not want to be talking to my mother. "Listen, Mom, I have a lot of work to do. I'll see you at six, okay?"
"Sounds good, honey. I'll see you then."
I hang up and put down the phone. "Sorry."
"Don't ever apologize for talking to your mother," she says. "She seems really sweet."
"She is," I say. "She's just … she worries."
For a second, I think about inviting Nicole to dinner with my parents. I open my mouth, but stop myself. Bringing a woman home to my family is a big deal. In fact, I've never introduced my family to anyone I've been with. Not even Elise, and I was with her for two years. Am I crazy to imagine Nicole sitting next to me at my parents’ dinner table? Would she even want to?
I decide to let it go, for now. I don’t want to overwhelm her again. I seem to be good at freaking her out. Truth be told, I’m starting to freak myself out.
"Tell you what," I say. "Spend the day with me. I'll make us some coffee and breakfast. We can go into town if we need to, or…" I trail my finger along her skin, tracing the outline of her breast. "We can stay here all day."
"That sounds perfect."
I think so, too.
The day with Nicole is amazing. My only complaint is that it ends too soon. But skipping dinner with my family isn’t an option, especially since my mom made a point to call me about it. Of course, she makes it a point to call me every time she wants me over for dinner. I guess the silver lining is I get a lot of home-cooked meals.
It’s a while before I get up to make Nicole that breakfast and coffee I promised. The pink flush creeps across her cheeks and she bites her lip again. I’m defenseless against that look. I roll her around, playing with her, using my fingers and mouth. I make her squeal and giggle. It’s hot as fuck. When I finally plunge my cock into her, we’re both crazy with desire. I am not even fucking kidding when I say I see stars when I come in her. Motherfucking stars. It’s unbelievable.
I mention dinner at my parents’ again, and she gives me that sweet little brow furrow. I can tell the idea stresses her out, so I tell her I'll miss her and ask if I can see her again tomorrow. That seems to relax her, and she says yes.
I don’t want to wait until tomorrow to see her again. My head is full of her as I drive to my parents’ place, but family dinners with the Jacobsens aren’t really in-and-out affairs. I'll probably be there late. Maybe I'll call her when I get home. I can text her and see if she answers.
My parents still live in the house where I grew up. Jetty Beach is a long sand spit, with the ocean on one side and the bay on the other. Our house is down near the south end, a big two story with a rooftop deck that overlooks the ocean. They bought the house when my mom was pregnant with my brother, wanting a place to raise their kids. Even now that their children are grown and gone, they seem to want to stay.
I pull into the driveway, noticing Cody's car already parked out front. I check the clock. Five fifty-nine. Good, I’m not late. I’m in such a good mood from my day with Nicole, I don’t want anything screwing it up.
"Hey," I call out as I open the door.
"Hi, honey," my mom says from the kitchen.
I walk through the front room, with my mom's antique grandfather clock and comfortable but dated furniture. The back of the house is an open great room, with a kitchen, some seating, and a big farmhouse table lined with chairs. Mom stands at the stove, stirring. Her hair is about half gray and I don't think she's ever colored it in her life. Despite her old-fashioned tendencies, she dresses with a comfortable style. Her turquoise tunic flows down around a pair of slim jeans, matching turquoise sandals on her feet.
"Hi, Mom," I say, and kiss her on the cheek. I set down the bottle of wine I brought. "Can I help with anything?"
"I have this under control," she says, smiling at me over her shoulder. "How are you today?"
"I'm really good, actually," I say. I can’t very well tell her why, but I also can’t wipe the shit-eating grin off my face.
"You look good," she says. She pauses her stirring and scrutinizes me with an intense gaze. "What's going on?"
I grab a tomato from the top of a salad and pop it in my mouth. "Nothing. You invited me to dinner. I'm here."
She raises one eyebrow at me.
"Is Dad up on the deck?" I ask. I need to get out of here before she starts the interrogation. To prevent her from asking more questions, I grab a beer out of the fridge and head for the stairs.
The deck covers the entire roof, a waist-high railing running around the perimeter. A built-in grill and stone counter sit on the side that overlooks the water. A big wicker sectional with blue-and-white striped cushions is set up nearby, and I see that my dad put up some new patio umbrellas to provide shade.
Cody and my dad stand over the grill, in classic man fashion. I notice there’s no Jennifer lingering in the kitchen with my mom, and she isn't up here with Cody, either. I hope that means they’re still broken up, or at least that she isn't coming tonight.
"Hey," Cody says, lifting his beer.
"Hey."
Dad has a line of steaks along the grill. My father is about six-one, an inch taller than me—although at six-two, Cody has us both beat. Dad keeps his gray hair shaved in a buzzcut, the same haircut he's gotten every three weeks for as long as I can remember. Today he wears a turquoise-and-blue Hawaiian shirt and a pair of khaki shorts. It’s pretty warm for early spring, and when you live in a place that rains seventy percent of the year, a hint of sun tends to send us to our closets to dig out the shorts and sandals. I wonder if my mom coordinated their shirts; the colors match.
"Good evening, son," Dad says.
I walk over to do the customary inspection of the meat. "Hey, Dad. Those look good."
"Timing is everything," he says, sprinkling a little rock salt on the steaks. He has his grilling tools laid out in a neat row, and his spices set within reach. He takes his grilling very seriously.
I smile and take a swig of my beer. I lean against the built-in counter. Cody stares at me.
"What?" I ask.
"Huh," Cody says.
"What does that mean?" I ask.
My dad looks back and forth between the two of us and Cody shrugs at him. Dad turns his attention back to the steak.
You got laid, Cody mouths.
I give him the finger.
He nods his head in the direction of the railing. I scowl at him but follow him over. We both put our forearms on the rail, our beers dangling from our hands. The beach is two stories below us, grass-covered dunes leading to flat sand. Farther away, the waves roll in and out. It’s low tide.
I clench my beer bottle. "Don't fucking talk about her."
"Whoa, dude," he says. "You don't have to go all sensitive artist on me. I was just asking."
"Why are you asking?" I don’t know why I’m so defensive about it, but the way he called her hot irritates me.
"I don't know," he says. "You look different today. Better. I was just wondering what's going on and if … you know, if it's a good idea."
I’m getting tired of my family's scrutiny, but I kind of deserve it. I put them through a lot in the last year. "All right. Yes, it was Nicole. And hell if I know if it's a good idea. All I know is that she's amazing."
"Wow," Cody says.
"Wow, what?"
Cody shrugs and takes a swig. "This is different than what I thought when I first saw you."
"Different?"
"Yeah. You didn't just get laid, did you?"
No, it was so much more than that. "Look, I don't really know what this is. She's great and I like her a lot. I'm…" I hesitate, looking out over the water, sparkling in the evening sun. "I'm happy. But I don't know if this is going to be a thing, or what. She lives in Seattle. She has a job there. It's not like we we've been talking about the future. I'm just going to see what happens."
"All right," Cody says. "You tell Mom?"
"Fuck, no," I say, whirling on him. I lower my voice. "Don't say anything. Seriously. I'm not even remotely ready for that right now. I'll punch you in the nuts."
"I won't say anything," he says with a laugh. "It's your thing. Just, do me a favor, okay?"
"What?"
"Be careful."
I turn back to the view and take a sip. I know he’s right. My last relationship didn’t just end with broken hearts. It was far worse.
"I'm okay, Cody, I swear," I say. "I'm in a good place."
"Good. Then I'm glad to see you happy. Really fucking glad, if I'm honest."
"Watch your mouth," Dad calls out over his shoulder.
"Sorry, Dad," Cody says.
"He heard every word we just said, didn't he?" I ask.
"Definitely," Cody says. "But you know he won't tell."
No, he won’t. That’s one of the great things about my dad. He hears more than he lets on, and he’s basically the opposite of a gossip. He'll keep anything to himself, unless he thinks someone he loves is in danger.
I know that firsthand.
"So where's Jennifer?" I ask. "Anything going on with you guys?"
"I don't know," he says. "She says she wants to work it out."
"Do you think that's a good idea?"
"Probably not," he says. "I haven't really figured out what I'm going to do. Work is crazy right now. I've kind of been ignoring her."
"That's one way to deal with it."
"So, do you know why Mom invited us over?" Cody asks. "And why she insisted on doing this tonight instead of Monday?"
"No clue. I didn't say much to her when I came in."
"She gave you the interrogation look?" Cody asks.
"Yep."
"Don't blame you. But, pro tip: maybe wipe the grin off your face. You look suspicious."
I laugh. "Yeah, I don't think that's gonna happen."
We eat dinner on the deck at the slatted wood table my dad made. The sun dips low toward the water, and the waves keep up their steady rhythm. My dad is an absolute genius on the grill. My steak is cooked perfectly—medium rare, with just the right amount of pink, warm and tender throughout. It melts in my mouth.
Despite the delicious food, I have trouble keeping my mind from wandering. I keep thinking about Nicole. I shift in my seat, trying not to imagine her naked body straddling me. I’m not very successful.
Mom casts a few looks in my direction, and I try to avoid her gaze without making it look like I’m avoiding her gaze. Cody talks about work, deflecting questions about Jennifer. My dad is characteristically reserved, but my mom doesn’t say much either, which is unusual. It makes for an oddly quiet dinner at the Jacobsen house.
After we finish eating, my mom brings up lemon bars for dessert. She looks over her shoulder several times while I help her serve.
"Okay, Mom," Cody says. "What's going on?"
"Why would you think there's something going on? Ed,” she says, looking at my dad, “tell them there’s nothing going on."
Dad doesn’t say anything.
"You're acting weird," Cody says.
She takes her seat and picks up her fork. "I'm hardly acting weird."
"You actually are," I say. A new worry takes root. What if something is wrong? I can’t believe I didn’t think about it before. "Mom, are you sick? Dad?"
"No, no," she says, waving her hand. "We're fine."
"Then what is going on?" I ask.
"I think it's me."
We all turn around at the voice. It’s Hunter.
"Oh, shit," Cody says under his breath.
Before I can stop myself, I fly out of my seat and stride over to Hunter. I have enough self-control to keep from punching him in the mouth—that will hurt me as much as him. But I ball my fist and slug him in the gut.
Hunter doubles over, groaning. Good. I hope it hurts.
"Ryan!" My mom is right behind me, grabbing my arm to yank me back.
I pull away. "It's fine, Mom."
"It most certainly is not fine."
Hunter puts a hand up. "No," he says, his voice strained. He keeps an arm hugged to his stomach. "It's okay."
"What the fuck, Hunter?" Seeing him makes my blood burn with rage. Hunter disappeared the day after he graduated high school, leaving nothing but a vague note for my mother, telling her he was sorry. Six months later he sent a postcard, announcing that he’d enlisted in the Marines. Since then, my parents get a letter now and then, but otherwise none of us see or hear from him.
"Nine years," I say. "You left nine years ago, without a word to any of us. Am I supposed to be happy to see you?"
"Of course you should be happy to see him," Mom says. "Hunter is your brother, and we’re thrilled to have him home."
I’m not done. "If he’s our brother, why did he bail? He hasn't been here, Mom. He hasn't been here for anything." I turn back to Hunter. "Do you have any fucking idea what you missed? What we've been through? No, of course you don't. Because you didn't give a shit."
"Hey, Ryan," Cody says. "Take it down a notch, man. Let him talk at least."
"Great," I say, my voice thick with sarcasm. "Fine. Let's hear it, Hunter."
He stands tall, almost at attention. His brown hair is cut short in a military buzz, a striking contrast to the scruffy style that hung in his eyes when we were younger. He’s dressed in civilian clothes, jeans and a polo, but carries himself with the unmistakable air of discipline you see in military men.
"He doesn't need to say anything right now," Mom says. She grabs his hand and coaxes him toward the table. I wonder if she’s worried he'll leave again and not come back. "Come on, Hunter. Sit down. Have you eaten yet?"
"So you knew," I say. "You knew he was coming and that's why we're here."
Mom scoots her seat to the table and passes the plate of fettuccine to Hunter. "Yes, I did know. Hunter told us he was coming and I wanted to surprise you both. I thought you'd be excited."
I take my seat and glance at Cody. He shrugs. Cody’s too damn nice.
Hunter puts the pasta down, untouched. "Look, I owe all of you an explanation. I know that. Right now, all I can say is I'm sorry. I made a lot of mistakes. I probably can't ever make up for most of them, but I had to come back and at least give it a shot."
There’s sincerity in his voice, but I’m too full of anger to look at him. He caused my mom so much hurt and worry.
"I'm going to go get another beer," I say.
I hear Cody follow me down the stairs, but I ignore him. My Nicole-induced glow is long gone. Even though I knew Hunter might be coming back, seeing
him set me off. I go for the fridge, but I don’t really want another beer. Burying my anger in alcohol is probably not a wise move.
"I think Mom underestimated how pissed you'd be," Cody says. "She should have told us he was coming."
"Would that have mattered?" I ask.
"Doubt it," he says. "I think she was worried we wouldn't come if we knew. You especially."
"Aren't you even a little pissed about this?" I ask. "We haven't seen him in nine years. What was I supposed to do, walk up and hug him?"
Cody shrugs. "I don't know. I guess I'd like to hear him out. Yeah, it's been a long time, but he's here now, right?"
I hunch my back and stare into the open fridge.
"Ryan," Cody says. He pauses, and I know I’m not going to like what he says. I can hear it in his voice. "Is it possible you're pissed that he wasn't here when ... you know. He wasn't here for you, or for Mom when all the shit went down."
I take a deep breath. Cody has a point, whether or not I want to admit it. As much as Hunter put our mom through, I did worse. A lot worse. Maybe I’m still mad at myself, and seeing Hunter reminds me of it. Damn it. I don’t want it to be my fault. I want to blame Hunter and hit him again.
"Yeah," I say and close the fridge door, my anger dissipating in the face of the truth. "I hate admitting when you're right."
Hunter emerges through the doorway to the stairs. Cody gestures him in and he joins us in the kitchen.
"Hey, man, I'm sorry I hit you," I say.
"It's all right. I deserved it." He rubs his stomach and winces. "I don't remember you being able to hit so hard."
"So, what, are you back now? Or is this just an appearance?"
He rubs his head. "I'm back. I'm out. Medical discharge."
Now that he mentions it, I can see he’s walking with a bit of a limp.
"Wow, dude," Cody says. "What happened?"
"It's a long story, but I fucked up my leg. I mean, I consider myself lucky. I know guys who lost limbs. It was brutal. At least I can still walk. But it was a career ender." He pauses, looking away. "Listen, Ryan—your mom told me things were rough for a while. I'm betting there's more she didn't say, but whatever it was, I should have been here. I'm sorry."
He holds out his hand. I step in and bat it aside, bringing him in for a hug. We clap each other on the back and I move out of the way to let Cody hug him, too.
Must Be Love: (Nicole and Ryan) (A Jetty Beach Romance Book 1) Page 10
