Undeniably Perfect (Perfectly Imperfect Love Series Book 1)

by S. E. Rose

I grin. “My grandparents liked to watch old television shows.”

  “Mine, too. But Rockville is nice,” he points out.

  I nod. “It’s just a larger town. It’s not like this,” I say swirling around with my arms up. “I mean, we used to ride our bikes to the metro station and go into D.C. But, hell, I didn’t even know everyone on my grandparents’ street.”

  “Well, things are different out here, slower, more personal, I guess.”

  “I guess. I mean, I suppose you are like what, a celebrity in these parts?” I suggest.

  He rolls his eyes. “Hardly. These folks have known me my whole life. I’m just KJ to them.”

  “KJ?”

  “Yeah, Kent Jason.”

  “Oh. Still, it’s cute.”

  “It’s not cute. It’s manly and neighborhoody.”

  I give him a look. “Neighborhoody isn’t a word.”

  “It is now.”

  “Nope.”

  “Yep, just called dibs on it. It’s a word and it’s mine.”

  “You can’t call dibs on a word.”

  “Wanna bet?”

  I sigh. “Whatever, still not a word.”

  He chuckles and takes my arm in his, looping it through as we stroll down Main Street, motherfucking Main Street. I shake my head as I wait for Mister Rogers to come out of a building or Big Bird. A place like this just can’t be for real.

  “All I have to say is if a giant yellow bird or green monster in a trash can pop out, I’m so done with this town.”

  His chuckle turns into a full-blown laugh. “What’s wrong with Sesame Street?”

  “Nothing, I love it, but your town is like entering the Twilight Zone.”

  “Come on, let’s go get some ice cream. I need to indoctrinate you into small-town living.”

  I shake my head at him, but he drags me into an ice cream shop and walks up to a counter.

  “Hey, Mr. Moore,” a kid says.

  “Frankie, come on, you can call me Kent. Mr. Moore is my dad.”

  The kid turns red. “OK, Kent. How can I help you?”

  “Can we get two waffle cones with your chocolate fudge peanut butter ripple surprise?”

  “Sure thing.”

  The kid expertly scoops two cones for us, and Kent pays.

  “Have a great day!” he says to us with a wave.

  Kent raises his cone at him. “You, too.”

  I follow him out to a bistro set in front of the ice cream shop. There are four of them and a bench. We sit down, and I take a lick of my ice cream.

  “Oh my god, this is really good!” I exclaim with a mouthful of ice cream.

  Kent grins. “I know. It’s my fave. They get their cream from a local dairy.”

  I almost choke on my ice cream. “Of course, they do.”

  He laughs as he takes a bite of ice cream.

  “You eat your ice cream?” I ask in shock.

  “Uh, yeah.”

  “Nope, you lick ice cream.”

  Kent gets a devious look on his face. Fuck. I just opened the door for inappropriate comments, but he’s faster than me.

  “I prefer to lick other things,” he says with a waggle of his eyebrows, and I know that my face is redder than the ice cream shop’s sign, which is bright red.

  “Come on, we can walk down Main Street to the pub and get some burgers, and then we’ll go to my parents’ later. You do eat meat, right?”

  “Uh, nope. I’m a vegetarian,” I say with a straight face.

  “Ohhhh…well…” He trails off unsure of what to say.

  I burst out laughing. “Yes, I eat meat. You should see your face. Is being a vegetarian that big of a deal?”

  He shakes his head. “No, I was honestly trying to remember what vegetarian things the pub has on their menu.”

  We walk in silence with our ice cream as more people say hi to Kent. Fucking Mayberry.

  Chapter Thirteen

  The house is so Hollywood suburbia that for a moment, I look around and wonder if I’m on candid camera. It looks like every sitcom neighborhood. My grandparents lived in a tiny Cape Cod house in a neighborhood that had once been ideal but now wasn’t a place to walk around at night. This house though is perfect. It’s a white colonial with dark gray shutters and a burgundy front door. The yard is manicured with neatly trimmed shrubs and flowers lining a walkway to the front door. The houses in the neighborhood all look different but they are also all perfectly painted with grass that looks like it’s not even real because I don’t see one single weed. Seriously, it’s like dandelions have been banned by the homeowner’s association. The streets are tree-lined, and I swear I’m on a movie set.

  I want to run away because this Leave It to Beaver vibe is more than freaking me out, but Kent takes my hand and leads me up the path to the side of the house. That’s when I realize just how colossal it is. There’s a wing that goes back with a second entrance and the garage and rooms above it. Kent opens the side door, and I step into a small entryway with several doors and stairs down to what I presume is a garage and stairs up to another room. I start to follow him into a large eating area when out of nowhere a Great Dane and mastiff run across the room. I freeze. It’s not the dogs or even their enormous size that has me wondering if I’ve entered the Twilight Zone. No, it would be the small children riding the dogs. Two little girls cling to the dogs’ backs as they happily run after each other barking. I look up at Kent, and he laughs.

  “Girls, you shouldn’t do that. Lacy and Frito aren’t horses,” he scolds.

  The girls who can’t be over five years old and who are most definitely twins climb down from the dogs.

  “They don’t mind,” says the one with her hands on her hips.

  “You’re a party pooper, Kent,” says the other and sticks out her tongue before dashing off. I hear them thunder down some more steps and assume there must be a basement staircase somewhere nearby.

  I glance toward the kitchen and see Kathy and a young woman busy making food. There are people out on the deck. There are more people in the family room. In the yard, I can see several more people playing volleyball.

  “Hey!” a man about our age says as he walks into the room and pulls Kent into one of those back-thumping man hugs.

  “Hey, Mark. I swear the girls have grown over the past few weeks,” he says with a grin as one of them runs by and Kent scoops her up.

  She squeals and giggles. “Put me down!”

  “Oh, no, not until you do Superwoman,” he says.

  She laughs and puts her hands out in front of her as Kent spins her around.

  “Me, me, me!” her sister yelps as she grabs on to Kent’s leg.

  “OK, your turn, Magpie.”

  He places her sister down. “I’m not done,” she pouts.

  “Lizzie-bee, you already had a turn,” her father says with a chuckle as a woman who I assume is his wife comes to wrap an arm around him.

  “Hey, Crissy,” Kent says as he puts down the second twin and they take off running again, this time with two giant dogs in tow.

  I’m completely out of my element, yet I don’t feel overwhelmed by the chaos surrounding us. It’s like family and love personified.

  “Hi, I’m Crissy and this is my husband, Mark. And I think you already met our daughters, Maggie and Lizzy,” the woman says, holding out her hand to me. I shake it.

  “This is Tabitha,” Kent interjects before I have a moment to speak.

  “Hi,” I add shyly. I’m not totally sure why I’m feeling shy.

  “Nice to—”

  “Little bro!” a beautiful woman says as she runs up and wraps her arms around Kent. He lifts her up and they shake side to side before he plants a kiss on her cheek.

  “Di, this is Tabitha.”

  The woman draws her attention away from her brother and looks at me. She doesn’t even hesitate before pulling me into a big hug. “So nice to meet you, Kent has told us all about you. I’m so sorry about your studio.”

  �
�Uh, thanks.” I don’t even know what to say.

  “Come on, I’ll show you around,” she says, pulling me by my hand. I look up at Kent who just shrugs.

  “This is Lanie. And you met Mom already, right?” she says cheerfully as she leads me into the kitchen.

  “Hi,” I manage to say.

  “Well, hello there. I’m so glad you could make it,” Mrs. Moore says, wiping her hands on her apron and pulling me into a giant hug.

  Lanie holds out a hand to me, and I shake it. She seems more reserved than Di. They definitely aren’t identical twins, but I notice some similarities between them.

  “Nice to meet you.”

  “You too,” I squeak.

  “Mom, is Kyles around here?” Di asks as she steals a grape out of a fruit salad sitting on the island.

  “Di!” Mrs. Moore chides. “She just sent a text that she’ll be here in a little bit.”

  Di rolls her eyes and grabs my hand again. “Come on, C-Dog should be around here somewhere, and K-pop will show up in like another hour.”

  “K-pop?” I ask her.

  She grins as we walk through a bunch of people in the family room and head out to the deck. “We’re big on nicknames. You thirsty?”

  I nod.

  “Wine, beer, or soda?” she asks as she lifts up the lid on a cooler.

  “Beer is fine,” I tell her. She hands me a beer and sits down at a giant table, patting the seat next to her. I sit.

  “We can be a little…overwhelming. Let me give you the lay of the land. Lanie is the oldest by a whopping three minutes. We call her Mother Hen or Lanie-painy. She’s a lawyer. I’m next. Everyone usually calls me Di or DC because those are my initials. Kent…well, you know him. We call him KJ or Ken doll. Kylie comes next. Kyles or K-pop or Ky-ky because C-Dog couldn’t pronounce her name. And then there’s the oops baby, Clark, but we almost always call him C-Dog. Sometimes Mom and Lanie call him Clarky. And then there’s Mom or Mothership and Dad. Have you met Dad?”

  I try to digest everything she’s saying as I slowly shake my head.

  She leans in. “We kids call him the Tedinator. His name is Ted. He works for NASA and he’s the brains of this operation. Mom is…the glue. And I guess that’s about it.” She looks around. “Dad was out here. He must have gone inside.”

  I follow her gaze inside where I see Kent swinging one of the twins around again.

  “Are there always so many people here?” I ask.

  Di laughs. “Yep. Mom and Dad bought this place when Lanie and I were babies. They know all the neighbors, so between that and our extended family, there’s always at least fifteen people milling around here at any given time.”

  “Bathroom?” I ask.

  “Back hallway, first door on the right,” she says, pointing to the hallway where Kent and I came in.

  I nod and head inside. Kent is now running around the family room with Maggie over his head and Lizzy following behind.

  I turn toward the hallway. Shit. Was it the first door or the second door? I turn back but Mrs. Moore and Lanie are no longer in the kitchen. Both doors are shut. Second, I think she said second. I go to open the door and there are muffled noises. I peek around the door and…oh god. Mr. and Mrs. Moore are…uh…being intimate. Oh god.

  “Sorry,” I yelp and shut the door before running right back out to the deck.

  “What’s wrong?” Di asks as Lanie takes a seat next to her.

  “I…uh…I…” My mouth keeps opening and closing but I can’t seem to form a sentence. I’m so embarrassed that I know my face must look like a fire engine.

  Lanie takes one look at me and bursts out laughing.

  “You opened the wrong door, didn’t you?”

  I look at her, my embarrassment fading into shock. How the hell did she know this?

  I nod.

  She sighs and rolls her eyes. “Mom and Dad have a thing for hanky-panky in the laundry room. Sorry, KJ should have warned you.”

  Di giggles. “Yeah, uh, Mom and Dad are like embarrassingly affectionate. They also have this thing where they love doing it in places where they know they will get caught. There isn’t a single person in this house who hasn’t walked in on them at some point. Some of us more than others. Le sigh. The scars of childhood run deep.”

  “Did they see you?” Lanie asks.

  I shake my head. “I don’t think so.”

  She grins. “Well, then, your secret is safe with us.” She raises her glass, and we clink our drinks together.

  “Guys, I’m sort of mortified. What if they saw me?” I whisper.

  “What if who saw you?” Kent’s voice booms from behind me. I feel the color that was dissipating creep right back up my neck.

  Di and Lanie lose it and start laughing hysterically. Tears stream down their faces and my inner child wants to punch them.

  “Uh, no one,” I mumble as I chug my beer so that I can’t say anything incriminating.

  I feel a hand on my shoulder and a squeeze. Then Kent chuckles.

  He leans down and I feel his hot breath on my ear. “Welcome to the Moore family,” he whispers as he laughs.

  Fuck. My. Life. He knows. And I also really like his hand on me. I push that thought aside because now is not the time to explore that strange emotion.

  “Where’s C-Dog?” Kent says as he stands back up behind me.

  Di manages to wipe the tears from her face and shrugs.

  “Incoming!” a voice yells from the yard.

  I’m not sure what occurs in the next two seconds but I’m suddenly on the ground with Kent over me and a football in his hand.

  I look up to find a very pissed-off Kent.

  “What the fuck, C-Dog! You could have hurt someone,” he growls. His free hand is still on my belly keeping me down.

  “Kent…I’m OK,” I murmur.

  He looks down at me. I see a range of emotions flash across his face before he removes his hand and stands up, offering me his hand. I take it, and he pulls me up like I weigh absolutely nothing.

  “Sorry about that. C-Dog is a good kid. He just is a…kid,” Kent says. I look around and see a young man bounding up the steps toward us. He looks from me to Kent in confusion and also a little guilt.

  “Uh, sorry about that,” he mutters to me before reaching out to shake my hand while giving me a sheepish grin. “I’m Clark, by the way.”

  As he pulls back, Kent grabs him and twists him into a headlock while ruffling his hair.

  “Ken doll, stop it!” Clark yells as he tries to get out of his brother’s grasp.

  “You deserve it. Trying to pummel our guests with footballs,” Kent grumbles but his smile gives away that he isn’t actually mad.

  “Boys, behave,” Mrs. Moore scolds from the family room. I look over at her, my face turning red yet again. She looks perfectly put together and quite frankly I’m shocked.

  I look back at Di and Lanie. “She’s well-practiced at the art of public nookie. Never has a hair out of place afterward. It’s a god damn mystery, but you gotta give her props for her mad hook-up skills,” Di says with a shrug as she finishes her drink. “You want another?” she asks as she walks over to the cooler. I shake my head, deciding that I need to keep my senses about me while I’m here.

  Chapter Fourteen

  The party is winding down. The neighbors have left and now it’s just me and the Moores. Half of us are in the kitchen grazing on the leftover food and the other half have settled into the oversized sectional in the family room to watch a baseball game.

  “OK, explain this game to me,” I say as I look at the television screen.

  “Are you sure you want to learn?” Kent asks.

  I nod. “Yes. I mean, I think so. Should I not want to learn?”

  Kent laughs. “No, it’s just, you don’t have to learn on my account.”

  “Well, I don’t need a graduate-level course. Just give me like baseball one-oh-one.”

  Clark walks by and drops a baseball in my lap.


  “That’s a baseball,” he says with a smirk as he sits down on the other side of me.

  “Thanks, that is so helpful,” I reply sardonically as I pick it up and drop it in his lap.

  “Oh, and that’s a bat,” he adds pointing to the screen.

  I roll my eyes. “Well, I’ve now learned all I need to know to play. Let’s go.”

  Kent presses pause on the television. “Wait, that’s not a bad idea. Let’s play.”

  “What? Are you serious?” I ask.

  “Heck yeah.”

  I look at the night sky outside.

  “Uh, Kent. It’s dark out.”

  “Night game!” he yells as he stands up. All seven Moores turn to me.

  Di huffs. “Can’t we just do a Midnight Moore’s Marshmallow Dodgeball game instead?”

  “Nope. Tabby here doesn’t know how to play ball.”

  Everyone stares at me with their mouths gaping open except Kent and Mrs. Moore who know that I don’t have a clue.

  “Wait, you don’t know how to play baseball?” Kylie asks.

  “Uh, nope.”

  “Like, at all?” she prods.

  I shake my head and shrug.

  “I wasn’t into sports as a kid and yeah…my brother was five years older than me, so by the time he cared about sports, I was into art stuff and I never learned. I mean I know you use a ball and a bat, and someone throws it and someone hits and if you get around the bases it’s a goal.” There’s total silence before Kylie bursts out laughing followed by everyone else.

  “What?”

  “Oh, sweetie, we aren’t laughing at you, I promise. It’s a home run, not a goal,” Mrs. Moore says, coming over to pat my arm.

  “Oh…right.”

  “Well, that settles it. We have to play a night game now,” Kylie says. “You can’t be dating someone who knows nothing about ball.”

  “Whoa!” “Uh, noooo,” Kent and I both say simultaneously.

  Everyone looks between us.

  “We’re just friends, guys,” Kent says. “Just friends.”

  I don’t know why that statement hurts my feelings. It’s not like I want more. I mean, shit, we are so different, how would that even work? Sure, Kent looks like a golden god carved from stone, but he’s a jock and I never date jocks. Hell, I’m not even interested in dating anyone at the moment.