by Megan Hart
She’d caught her breath by the time he withdrew. She deliberately did not meet his gaze in their reflection and took her time rearranging her clothes while he took care of cleanup. She smoothed her hair. Ran her fingers over her lips, feeling them a little tender, a little bruised. She closed her eyes again for a second, drawing in a hitching breath, unable to stop the smile from twisting her mouth.
He came up behind her to nuzzle at her neck. “Better than popping a bottle of champagne, huh?”
“Yes.” She relaxed for a second into his embrace because she could; it didn’t have to mean anything.
She thought for sure that Ilya would pull away, but he held on to her for another half a minute until at last she was the one to twist from his grasp. He was smiling at her. She gave him an assessing look.
“You’re so beautiful,” Ilya said. “When did that happen?”
It had happened the moment it occurred to him that she was beautiful, Theresa thought. Before that, had it mattered about the shape of her face or the alignment of her eyes? If her mouth was lush and full and her hair luxurious? Beauty only mattered when it meant something to someone else.
“I bet you say that to all the girls,” was her light reply.
It had been meant to put a little distance between them. To remind him she couldn’t take him seriously. Ilya frowned, though, as if he were taking her words to heart.
“Only to the pretty ones,” he said. “And aren’t they all pretty?”
Stung, and knowing she had no right to be since she’d been the one to push away first, Theresa half turned. “We should start making some lists of things we’re going to want to replace. Get moving on things. That’s why we came here tonight, isn’t it?”
“Sure. Of course.” Ilya nodded. His fly was down, something he seemed to remember right in that moment because he zipped it, then stuck his hands in his pockets and looked around the kitchen. “I guess you have some ideas about that sort of thing already.”
She pulled the list from her pocket to show him. “I started something, yeah.”
“Yeah,” he said. “We started something, all right. Hey. Theresa.”
She looked at him.
“I didn’t take her home. I didn’t go home with her. Amber. We didn’t . . .” He trailed off, shrugging, letting his expression finish the sentence for him.
“It’s not any of my business.”
“I wanted to tell you, anyway,” he said.
“What makes you think I’d care?” Theresa said quietly.
“Maybe I want you to care.”
Another few moments of silence passed with neither of them smiling. Then she held up the list. He leaned closer to look at it. They talked about that list for the rest of the night, and that was all they discussed.
CHAPTER THIRTY
Alicia had pulled up a website that offered home-away rentals in exotic locations. The trip she’d taken on her own had been spent in hotels, hostels, and bed-and-breakfasts. She’d spent no more than a few days in each place, eager to the point of excessiveness to experience as much as she possibly could. But now she wanted to spend some real time in one place, getting to know it.
“I like this one.” She pointed at the picture of a stone cottage surrounded by a garden of wildflowers. “Scotland. Near Loch Ness. Have you been there?”
Nikolai leaned forward to look. “Nope.”
“One of the few places you haven’t been,” she said. “It would be fun to explore someplace brand-new with you.”
“I won’t eat haggis,” he warned.
Alicia made a face. “Yuck. Me neither. But . . . Scotland? Is that a yes? This says it’s close enough to town to ride bikes. There’s a pub there.”
“I think that’s a requirement, isn’t it?” Nikolai shifted on the couch to let his arm run along the back of it so his fingers could tickle her nape. “Looks good to me. Let’s book it.”
“You sure?” Her fingers hesitated over the keyboard.
“Absolutely.” Nikolai’s fingers curled around the base of her neck, a touch that had her mind going swiftly to sexy places. “Admit it, this is just a way for you to get me into a kilt.”
She laughed and leaned against him to offer her lips in a kiss he easily took. “With those legs? You know it.”
Nikolai kissed her again, and Alicia put aside thoughts of planning their trip. There were other things to think about. Like sliding onto his lap and taking his face in her hands. Like kissing him long and slow and then faster, harder. Like feeling him get hard against her body as his hands roamed—
The sound of the front door opening had them both scrambling to settle on the couch as though nothing had been going on, although Alicia couldn’t stop herself from giggling when Theresa walked in. Asking the other woman to be her roommate hadn’t been the wrong decision, and it wasn’t like she was regretting it, but it had certainly made things a little less . . . spontaneous.
“Hey,” Theresa said, eyeing them both with a look that said she suspected she’d interrupted, “I’m going to bed. Carry on.”
“I don’t have hot dogs in my pants,” Nikolai blurted, an homage to a show they’d all watched one afternoon a million years ago in which the cartoon character had been lying to his father about sneaking out to feed alligators.
Alicia burst into laughter, followed a moment later by Theresa, who shook her head and covered her eyes for a second.
“Okay, weirdo,” she said. “I’d forgotten all about that.”
Nikolai shrugged. “Me, too, until just now.”
“How’d your meeting with Ilya go? Did you get things settled?” Alicia asked.
Theresa nodded. “Yep. We signed the papers and got the keys and it’s going to happen.”
“Exciting,” Alicia said, watching Theresa’s face carefully. She didn’t look that excited. “Are you nervous?”
“I’m not putting too much of my money on the line, to be honest. I don’t have any to put on the line,” Theresa said with a rueful chuckle and seemed to relax a bit. “But, yeah, I am a little nervous. It’s a big commitment. It’s going to take a lot of work.”
“The best things usually do,” Nikolai said.
Theresa hadn’t moved out of the doorway, though now she shrugged out of her lightweight coat. She’d dressed up for the meeting, Alicia noticed. Pretty dress. Heels. She’d done her hair a little differently.
Interesting.
“So, where are you two crazy kids off to next?” Theresa asked.
It was clear she wanted to change the subject, so Alicia let her. She turned the laptop on the coffee table toward Theresa. “We’re thinking of renting this place for a month.”
Theresa moved closer. “Looks great. Hey, Nikolai, I got a lead on something the other day you might be interested in. You know the Mutter Mansion north of town?”
“Is that the museum we all had to visit in high school? The one that’s set up kind of like colonial Williamsburg?”
Theresa took off her heels and picked them up with a sigh of relief, wiggling her toes. “Yeah, the museum is the main house, the outbuildings and barn, and some part of the grounds. There’s a winery there, too. The original owners kept the summer house for their own use, and guess what?”
Nikolai laughed. “I can’t begin.”
“They keep bees. Have for years. They sell the honey, and the museum makes candles, lotions, and stuff like that from the beeswax,” Theresa said. “Mrs. Mutter is now in her nineties and needs to hire someone to look after the hives. She has about a hundred.”
Alicia’s eyebrows rose, and she turned to him. “Wow. How’d you find out about this?”
“I never knew how many different people I’d met and knew until I started doing this freelance stuff,” Theresa said with a grin. “I met Mrs. Mutter’s son, Ron, a couple years ago because he was the guy who built that apartment complex over by where the drive-in used to be.”
“The shoe factory,” Alicia said, since it was unlikely Nikolai woul
d know about it.
“Anyway, Mrs. Mutter has kept the bees for years, but had hired someone to handle them for the past decade or so. Her current guy is retiring, and she wants a new person to take over, or else she’s going to just let them go.” Theresa swung her shoes from the tips of her fingers and gave Nikolai a look. “I should mention that Mrs. Mutter has more money than she knows what to do with, not to mention that because the property is considered a historical site, it qualifies for different sort of grants and things to cover staffing expenses.”
Alicia blew out a soft breath. “Do you think that’s something you’d like to do again?”
“It could be.” Nikolai laughed, shaking his head. “Never thought I’d come home to do the same thing I did on Beit Devorah, but . . . hey. It’s something to start off with, right?”
“I can give Ron your name and number, if you want.”
“It’s work. Sure. I need a job.”
“Don’t we all.” Alicia was strangely relieved that Theresa had been the one to bring it up. “I don’t suppose you’ve heard of something magical that would suit me?”
Theresa laughed. “I’ll keep my eyes and ears open for you. It’s my favorite part of what I do, you know? Putting people together who will make a great team. Alicia, when you’re ready to put the house on the market, if you want a Realtor recommendation, I can give you one.”
“That’d be great, thanks.” Alicia studied the other woman for a second. “Everything okay with you?”
“Tired. Ate too much dinner.” Theresa made a show of patting her stomach with a frown. “I’m going to take a shower and hit the hay. ’Night, guys.”
After she’d gone, Nikolai turned to Alicia with a sexy grin and grasping hands, but she fended him off gently with a laugh. “Wait a bit. She’s not asleep yet.”
“I can be quiet. You’re the noisy one.”
She poked him. “Uh-huh. Right. Hey, what do you really think about the possibility of a job like that?”
“I don’t know. I can’t really think about it unless I know what it entails, you know? Beekeeping isn’t as easy as people seem to think. If she’s willing to pay me a living for it, sure. But I’d think about it.” Nikolai sat back against the couch. “It’s been bothering you, huh?”
Alicia nodded. “A little bit. I’m a little more worried about what I’m going to do, honestly.”
“You’ll find something great.” He stroked her hair and tugged her closer for a kiss. “We both will.”
With an ear cocked toward the sound of the running shower from upstairs, Alicia slid onto Nikolai’s lap again. “I’ve already found something great. Right here.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
Theresa had always been good with lists. Checking items off a list had made her feel accomplished, in control, and confident. She wasn’t sure a list was going to help with this—the crawl space in Alicia’s house. It was first on the list of things to do in order to get the place in shape to be put on the market.
“This is that last thing I want to do right before I leave to go to the other side of the world, but it’s not going to happen by itself. And I didn’t want to wait until I sold the house to have to deal with all of this,” Alicia said. “There’s so much of it. The furniture and stuff like that I can handle. Some of it’s going to go with me, and I’ll sell the rest. But all of this . . .”
Theresa laughed as she peeked into the long, dusty corridor festooned with spiderwebs. Boxes, some labeled but most not, lined the space, along with odd things like an old laundry hamper, some ancient baby toys, and a high chair. Other things she couldn’t identify in the shadows. “It’s a lot of stuff.”
“So-o-o-o-o much stuff,” agreed Alicia with a sigh.
In preparation for cleaning out the crawl space, Theresa had tied her hair into twin braids. She tugged both of them now and looked again into the crawl space, judging how low she’d have to stoop to avoid hitting her head. “Lots of people hang on to things for a long time.”
Alicia groan-laughed. “Yeah, thanks, Mom and Dad.”
“My dad never kept anything, really. He was always selling stuff to make some extra money.” Theresa moved into the crawl space, ducking to keep from hitting her head on the slanting beams. “And we moved a lot. I was always ready to go, ready to take only what was absolutely necessary. I got used to keeping only what seemed really important.”
Alicia followed her. “That must’ve been hard.”
Theresa had never spoken much about what it was like to live with her father back in the day, and definitely not to Alicia. They’d known each other for a long time, but only now was there the beginning of any closeness. Funny, she thought, how things could change.
“It was, sometimes. But it taught me the importance of figuring out what was really important and what wasn’t. Now I think it’s kind of nice.” Theresa shot a glance over her shoulder as she pulled up a rickety stool painted in primary colors and decorated with the alphabet. Behind it was a stack of boxes. She touched the top one. “Almost losing all the stuff in my storage unit actually reminded me of what it was like not to hold on to anything so hard. You can’t miss losing it if you’re not that attached to it in the first place, you know?”
“Or if you don’t know what it is, in the first place,” Alicia added. “Maybe I should just toss all these boxes without even going through them. I mean, if I haven’t missed anything in them for the past twenty years—and my parents sure haven’t—that says a lot, doesn’t it?”
“If that’s what you want to do. It would be a lot less work, for sure.” Theresa shrugged.
Alicia sighed and shook her head. “Nah, I should at least make sure there’s nothing important. When I told my mom I was going to sell, she did remind me that all this junk was in here. She didn’t ask me for any of it, specifically, but . . . I don’t think she would. She’s the one who packed it all away to begin with.”
“It was hard for her,” Theresa said.
Alicia gave her a look. “It was hard for all of us. It might’ve been easier if she’d been able to face it. She hasn’t ever, I don’t think. Not really.”
Theresa had not been the one to lose a sister or a daughter. She could make no judgment about how Alicia’s mom had reacted to Jenni’s death, not without sounding like a jerk. She grabbed a box, instead, swiping at the top to see if there was a label or something to indicate what was in it. Nothing. The tape closing the top had gone brittle and crumbling. She sneezed a few times, her eyes watering and throat itching.
“Hey, at least they’re not covered in mouse poop,” she said lightly as she coughed a bit from the dust.
“Thank God.”
Alicia grabbed the top box and started backing out of the crawl space. Theresa grabbed another and brought it out with her. They put both boxes on the floor next to the bed and sat. Alicia flipped open the lid of hers first, peering inside.
“Get the garbage bags ready,” she said.
Theresa chuckled. “Uh-oh. What’s in there?”
“Looks like old school artwork and report cards. My mom must’ve kept everything both of us ever brought home.” Alicia twisted the box to look at the side. “She dated it. That’s good. Doesn’t say exactly what else is in here, but at least there’s some idea of the time frame.”
Alicia didn’t pull anything out of the box, though. Just continued looking into it. Theresa studied her. “You okay?”
“Yeah. I’ll be okay. It’s Jenni’s stuff. That’s all.” Alicia looked up with bright eyes and a pinched smile. She tugged out a piece of faded construction paper and held it up so Theresa could see the scrawled childish signature on the bottom.
Theresa wasn’t sure what to say. Offering to simply toss everything didn’t seem like the best suggestion. It would’ve made her seem cold in a way she wasn’t, really, even if she could only imagine what it must be like for Alicia to come across these reminders.
“When I was younger, I was glad to be an only child. It seemed
easier. Dad never had much money, and I feel like I was very aware that if I’d had to share anything—his finances, his time, or attention—it would’ve meant less for me. But after I moved across the street,” Theresa said quietly, “I started to wish for a sister. I wasn’t that keen on the brothers I got, but watching you and Jenni, I figured having a sister must be like having a built-in best friend.”
Alicia’s smile broadened. “Jenni and I were kind of awful to each other when you lived next door. We fought a lot.”
“Awful in the way that sisters are to each other. I remember her being so angry because you’d borrowed her sweater,” Theresa said, then paused. “She came running down the street toward the bus stop, screaming at you, and she chased you around in a circle until the bus came.”
“She’d have punched me and ripped that sweater right off me, if she could’ve.” Alicia laughed harshly, shaking her head at the memory. “Wow, I forgot about that. I loved that sweater, and I was mad because she got it for her birthday and never wore it. It didn’t even fit her, but it looked great on me. She just didn’t want me to have it. And that’s what you wished for?”
“Not the fighting and the screaming, but she also French-braided your hair for you. I envied that. My dad was terrible with girlie hairstyles, and mine was always so curly it was impossible to do anything with.” She flipped up the ends of her thick braids, which sported tiny springs and coils of hair escaping the plaits. “She offered to teach me how, once.”
“She did? That was nice.” Alicia smiled. “I thought we were kind of terrible to you, sometimes.”
“You were?” Theresa’s eyebrows lifted in surprise. “I never thought so.”
“You were a Stern. We were kind of terrible to Ilya and Niko, so you got lumped in with them. You don’t remember?”
“No.”
Alicia gave an exaggerated wipe of her brow. “Phew. That’s good. I felt bad about it, sometimes, later. After you’d moved away. Like we could’ve been nicer to you.”
