Undeniably Perfect (Perfectly Imperfect Love Series Book 1)

by S. E. Rose

  Me: Fine.

  Brix: I love you!

  Me: You’re my brother, you have to.

  Brix: I really really love you.

  Me: You owe me!! So big!

  I get to work on cleaning my clothes and shoes. Then, I go online and using the first insurance check I received I find a computer and a camera store nearby. I take the spare key Kent left me and walk down to the stores. Two hours later, I have new camera equipment and a new laptop.

  I grab an Uber over to an appointment with a client that I rescheduled after the fire. A fellow photographer is letting me use his space this week to finish up the charity headshots and a few client sessions.

  For the first time since the fire, I feel like my life might be getting back on track.

  Kent

  I let the shower rain down on me as I scrub off the doubleheader. I’m only just shy of twenty-eight but I feel about a hundred and ten right now.

  I throw on sweats and grab my bag in the locker room. It’s late, almost midnight now, but I’m determined to go home. Our stellar game led our coach to only require a morning conditioning and practice tomorrow. I actually have a night off, which means I’ll make my parents’ weekly Saturday dinner, something I haven’t done in a while.

  My mind is filled with thoughts of playoffs as I enter my apartment. I’m surprised to find Tabitha is still awake and busy at a laptop.

  “Hey,” I say as I lean on the counter of my breakfast bar and look at the photos on her screen. “You got a new computer.”

  “Yep. I had to get some stuff today. I had a client session.”

  I realize that I really don’t know Tabitha well and she’s been staying in my apartment. I mean, I’d be an ass for not having offered it up, and I strangely feel at home with her, but I also am suddenly interested in getting to know this woman sitting in one of my bar stools.

  “Tell me something I don’t know,” I demand.

  She looks up and slants her head to the side.

  “Uh…ummm…penguins give each other back massages as foreplay.”

  The shaking in my belly boils over and I lean down, slapping my hand on the counter as I begin to laugh.

  “I definitely didn’t know that,” I manage after a minute. “I meant something about you.”

  “Oh. Well, I’m really not that interesting.”

  “There is no way that a woman who can spew out a fact like that is anything less than interesting.”

  She shrugs. “I had an internship with National Geographic in college and I got to go on an expedition trip to Antarctica. I spent a whole afternoon sitting at a chinstrap penguin colony and taking photos. It was amazing. I took a bunch of a penguin massaging another penguin”—she imitates a karate chop motion—“and I thought it was so cool. I showed it to a guide, and he laughed and said it was just a mating ritual. So, yeah, I totally photographed penguin porn.”

  I take a seat next to her. “That may be the most fascinating thing I’ve ever heard.”

  She blushes. “It’s not that interesting.”

  “Where else have you been?”

  She closes the lid of her laptop and looks at me. “Not many places, maybe a dozen states, Canada, Mexico, and Costa Rica. What about you?”

  “Anywhere you can see stars,” I say.

  “What?”

  I laugh. “My dad works for NASA and our family vacations always surrounded a stargazing activity. We went to Iceland to see the Aurora Borealis. We did a cross-country trip in an RV one year and stopped at a bunch of national parks. Canada to see the Northern Lights again. We’ve been to Hawaii and Puerto Rico. I’ve been to all fifty states, but that’s mostly because of playing ball. And I’ve been to some Caribbean islands and Mexico on vacation.”

  “Wow! That’s a lot of travel. My grandparents didn’t make a lot of money, so we didn’t travel a lot. We only went to places where we could drive. I haven’t even been on the other side of the U.S.,” she admits.

  “Really?”

  She nods. “I always wanted to go to California, but I’ve just never had the opportunity.”

  “How’d you get into photography?”

  She’s quiet for a moment before she launches into her story. “When I was about nine, my grandmother took me to a garage sale. She used to go to them all the time. I’m not sure anything in their house isn’t previously owned. Anyhow, I had ten dollars from my birthday. I saw this old camera, and I was fascinated with it. The lady wanted twenty dollars, but when she saw me looking at it the entire time my grandmother was browsing, she offered it to me for ten. And that was my first camera. It was an old Nikon that required film, but I loved it. I took photos of everything. Then in high school, I got a job for the summer. I saved up and bought a new one. I took photography as a class after that. I entered a photograph in a state contest and won a scholarship to a local college. So, I went and studied photography and interned at some really cool places and then opened my own business and the rest, as they say, is history.”

  “And you have a brother?”

  “Yep, Brixton. He’s five years older than me. He’s the smart one. He got a full-ride scholarship to college and then med school. He’s a pediatrician who travels to third world countries to provide medical care. He’s always traveling. I keep meaning to go visit him, but things have been…sort of crazy in my life for the last few years.”

  She pauses and I want to pry but I sense whatever it is that she’s not saying is serious. I decide she needs to trust me before she can tell me. So, I change the topic.

  “So, how was your first ball game? I meant to ask.”

  Her face lights up at my question. “It was really cool. Your mom tried explaining it all to me. I think I got about half of what she said, but the hot dogs and beer were good.”

  I chuckle. “Other than my sister, Kylie, who played softball, I think the food is my family’s favorite thing too.”

  “I’m sure they love seeing you play.”

  I shrug. “Yeah, but it’s pretty normal now. I mean, I know they are all proud of me, but it’s just a routine.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah, I guess that’s sort of my problem right now. I’ve gotten into a bit of a rut lately. It’s like my passion for the game just isn’t there like it’s become a job and I’m trying to figure out how to love it again.”

  “You have really long days,” she points out. “I didn’t realize athletes worked that hard.”

  I grimace at her admission. “We do. It’s not just practice but also conditioning and stretching and weightlifting and cardio and massages and ice baths and PT on injuries.”

  “Geez, that’s a lot. You do all that every day?”

  I shake my head. “No, not every day, but a lot of days, yes.”

  She looks around the apartment. “Thanks again for putting me up here. It’s sort of above and beyond what any client needs to do.”

  I cringe at her use of the word “client.”

  “Well, I think we are beyond the client relationship, don’t you?”

  She blushes yet again, and I want to reach out and touch her so badly. I feel like a moth to a flame. I quickly place my hand down to keep from touching her.

  “I suppose we are.”

  “Well, then as friends, I want to offer you a day away from all of this.” I motion to the apartment.

  Her eyes widen. “I’m sorry, what?”

  I laugh. “I have off tomorrow night. Saturdays are always family and friends dinner at my parents’ house. Do you want to come? I’m going to spend the night at home and hang out with them. I just need a little downtime before next week.”

  I can see the indecision in her eyes.

  “I swear, I’m not a serial killer.”

  She laughs. “The way you keep harping on that, I’m beginning to wonder.”

  I grin at her. “OK, fuck it. Why not?” she answers.

  “Great. I promise, it’ll be fun and if anything, it’ll get your mind off your studio for
a few hours.”

  Chapter Eleven

  I pull up to my house. “This is it,” I say like an idiot because who else’s house would it be.

  Tabitha is silent next to me as she looks around. I park and open my door, but she doesn’t move.

  “You coming?”

  She nods after a moment and opens her car door. She gets out but just stands there staring at my house. “You live in a mansion.” I look around. Yeah, my house is a little over the top. The first year I played I may have gone a little overboard and bought a crazy expensive car and an insanely large home. I mean it’s only five thousand square feet, so by rich people’s standards, it’s a modest-sized house. However, compared to my parents’ home, which isn’t small, it’s over twice the size. So yeah, it’s big.

  “Over-compensating for something?” she asks me with a smirk.

  I shake my head at her sassiness. “Oh, kitten, I don’t need to over-compensate,” I whisper in her ear. I watch as the color creeps up her neck. It’s sexy as fuck, and I love it.

  “Come on,” I urge her forward with a little push.

  She starts walking, and I open the side door, letting us into my mudroom.

  “The guest apartment is above the garage,” I say to her. She follows me up a back staircase above the garage, and I open the door to a living area with a micro-kitchen. It’s open and airy with vaulted ceilings and giant windows overlooking my backyard. There’s a bedroom off to the left and a giant bathroom. I wasn’t keen on the idea of a guest apartment, but I figured it would be best if any of my siblings ever needed a place for a while. That way they wouldn’t be in my way and I wouldn’t be in their way.

  “Wow,” is all that she says as she looks around.

  “You can stay here as long as you like. I have a spare car in the garage that doesn’t get much use,” I offer to her.

  She turns to me with her mouth agape. “You’re offering me an apartment and a car?”

  I nod. “Tabby cat, you are good peeps. I know we’ve only known each other for a few days, but I can see it already. So, mi casa es su casa.”

  She giggles. “Gracias.”

  “De nada.

  “Come on, I’ll show you the rest.”

  I walk her around my home. The main level has a large master suite and another guest room with a bathroom attached. There’s a giant two-story main living area with a dining room and kitchen. My office is near the front door. Upstairs, there are three more bedrooms all with en suites and a cozy library area. But the fun stuff including my movie room is downstairs in my walk-out basement.

  Tabitha

  “Do you want to see my playroom?” he asks as he stands in front of a closed door.

  My eyebrows shoot up. Did I hear him correctly? Dear god, have I misjudged him?

  “Your playroom?” I repeat, hoping I have this very wrong.

  “Yeah, my playroom.” He says this like it’s a normal thing like he wants me to see his remodeled kitchen or his library or his back patio.

  “I…” I trail off, at a complete loss for words. My mouth hangs open as I scramble to answer him, but my mind won’t let me. I know enough pop culture to know that playrooms are for kinky sex stuff, and Kent did not strike me as the type, so I’m super shocked.

  All of a sudden, Kent’s face splits into a grin and he begins laughing. “Oh, shit. You should see your face. I’m sorry. I had to do it.”

  It takes me a minute to process this. “Are you kidding?”

  He wipes a tear from his eye. “No, but it’s not that type of playroom. I promise. I like to get a little freaky in bed sometimes but I’m no Christian Grey.” He opens the door, and I gasp in surprise.

  It’s a playroom like a legit playroom. There’s a pool table, foosball, air hockey, ski ball, basketball, pinball, a Pacman arcade game, and two walls of shelves filled with board games and bins labeled with names. I walk over to the walls, my curiosity piqued.

  I run my fingers over a bin labeled with Kent’s name. The bins are clear, and I can see transformers inside it. Another bin marked Di has barbies and so does Lanie’s bin, except hers have no heads. I turn and give Kent a raised eyebrow.

  He leans against the shelf. “My parents cleaned out their basement a few years ago to convert our old playroom into a movie room. They wanted to donate all our toys, but when we all spent the day cleaning them out, there were so many we just couldn’t part with. I’m the only one with a house that had any extra space, so I volunteered to ‘store’ them until everyone had space for their stuff.” He looks around the room.

  “And I may have added a few things to the room…grown-up toys.” He gazes at the arcade games.

  “Lanie couldn’t part with headless barbies?” I ask as I more closely examine the plastic bins.

  He laughs. “It’s a long story.”

  I look up at him. “I like long stories.”

  He studies my face for a long moment before he speaks, the corners of his mouth turning up as he begins the tale. “Well...when Lanie was...gosh, let me think. I was a baby, so Di and Lanie would have been about four. Anyhow, Di loved playing with Barbies, all dolls really. She liked doing their hair. So, one day Di and Lanie got in a fight and Lanie ended it with saying, ‘Fine, I’ll just take off all their heads.’ And she pulled off all their heads. Di, of course, totally freaked out. Mom came running and Lanie got a time-out. However, from there out, Lanie insisted all her dolls not have heads so that Di wouldn’t take what was hers. My parents thought if they did this a few times, then Lanie would get over it, but Lanie is really stubborn. When we cleaned out the playroom, well, Lanie and Di couldn’t stop laughing over them. Lanie was going to chuck them all, but Di insisted we keep them as a symbol of family lore.”

  “I bet it was fun growing up with so many siblings,” I say with a laugh imagining a little girl ripping off all her dolls’ heads.

  Kent shrugs as he walks over to the ski ball. Picking up a ball and tossing it in the air, he catches it and holds it up to me. “Fancy a game?”

  I giggle. “Sure.”

  Kent hits a button and the game lights up as he turns it on. I walk over to stand in front of one lane. The balls roll down and I pick one up as the game starts counting down. I only get the twenty points on my first try but after two more, I start getting the hang of hitting the one hundred holes. I look over and curse under my breath as Kent’s score is fifty more than mine.

  I see the timer has three seconds left. I grab a ball and release it, holding my breath as it rolls down the lane, bounces, and flies into the one-hundred-point pocket. I scream and jump up and down like a little kid, punching my fists in the air.

  Kent laughs.

  I stop and turn beet red. “Sorry...I might be a little competitive,” I say with a sheepish smile.

  “A little?”

  “OK, I’m very, very competitive.” I shrug, but I can’t contain my grin.

  “Come on. I’ll show you the backyard.”

  Kent

  We walk out back, and she stops in her tracks.

  “It’s official.”

  “What’s official?”

  “You're like LifeStyles of the Rich and Famous rich, like MTV cribs rich, like Christian Grey rich,” she announces.

  “I think you’re being a little dramatic. It’s a pool, not a beach.”

  “It might as well be the Taj Mahal. This is legit crazy.”

  “I told you, I sort of overspent at first. Thus, the pool house and pool and hot tub and outdoor kitchen.”

  She rolls her eyes. “Your parents didn’t yell at you?”

  “Yeah, they did but I was a hotheaded twenty-three-year-old who thought he knew everything.”

  “I believe it. Don’t get me wrong, this is super nice, but it’s also a lot for one guy. Do you like throw massive parties here or something?”

  I shake my head. “Only a few times. Mostly, this is my sanctuary. I own three acres and I like to just be able to get away from it all, you know what
I mean?”

  “I get it.”

  “How about I take you into town? We can get some ice cream and lunch, in that order.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Tabitha

  “Hey, Kent,” says an older man sitting on a bench outside of a barbershop. I almost laugh because the barbershop has one of those spinning tubes with white, red, and blue just like in the movies.

  “Hey, Gordy. How’s the missus?” Kent asks.

  “Oh, she’s doin’ OK,” he says with a smile. “Good to see you, kiddo. You gonna stop in for a trim?”

  “Maybe after playoffs,” Kent says.

  The old guy nods, and we continue walking down the street.

  “Kent, sweetie, how are you? How’s your mom?” a middle-aged woman asks as she sees us approach.

  “Good, Miss Michelle. We’re going over there tomorrow,” he says.

  “Oh, is it Saturday already? Oh my, time does fly,” she says with a wink and quick once-over of me.

  “See you later,” Kent says as she heads off.

  “Tell her I said ‘hi,’” she adds as she walks to a car parked in one of the spots in front of a little market.

  I can no longer hold it in.

  “Oh my god! You live in Mayberry. Like is this even real? Are we on candid camera? Towns like this don’t really exist except in Hallmark movies,” I exclaim as we walk down the street.

  Kent chuckles. “Nope, this is Banneker.”

  “And this is where you grew up?”

  “Yep.”

  “I can’t believe places like this actually exist and that they are less than thirty minutes from where I grew up.”

  “I admit, I was super lucky to be raised here. It really is a great community.”

  “We could make people saying hi to you a drinking game, you know,” I point out as another woman approaches us and says hi.

  Kent starts laughing. “That’s very un-Mayberry of you.”

  I shrug. “I wasn’t raised in Mayberry, that’s for sure.”

  “How do you even know about Mayberry? That show was way before our time.”