by BJ Bentley
I sat back in my well-worn desk chair with the patent leather seat covering. The relic from the nineteen-eighties should have been replaced two decades ago, but budget constraints barely allowed for glue sticks and pencils, so if that meant I had to develop a herniated disc in the name of Elmer and Ticonderoga, then so be it. We were only on day three of the new school year, and the lower back ache was starting to set in.
I pushed up from my chair to stretch the knots out and vowed to go back to yoga with April. My sister had become somewhat of a fitness fanatic lately, and I was somehow always maneuvered into attending classes with her. I wouldn’t say she manipulated me, necessarily, but I always did find it hard to tell her no. Even when she talked me into learning Krav Maga, where I got my ass kicked several times per week. Or the mud run she convinced me would be fun, and it was, until I face-planted in one of the mud pits and ingested half of it. Yoga, though...yoga was something I actually had enjoyed but gave up when I convinced myself I didn’t have time for it once the school year began.
The rattling din of the janitor’s cart as it traveled down the hallway brought my gaze to the clock. Four o’clock. Shit. There was no real reason for me to still be there, other than I didn’t feel like going home. With my lesson plans for the next several weeks already completed and art supplies stocked, I didn’t have anything left to aid in my procrastination. Heaving a resigned sigh, I grabbed my oversized tote and abandoned my classroom.
My dark gray Kia Sorento sat alone at the far end of the faculty parking lot in the shade of a gargantuan Douglas Fir. Climbing in, I tossed my tote in the passenger seat just as my cell phone chimed with an incoming text message.
April: Come over for dinner.
I produced a sound that was somewhere between a groan and a sigh. My sister was, hands down, my favorite person in the whole world. Except for when she insisted on putting me in the same room as Damon Hatch. And dinner at my sister’s almost always included Damon Hatch. I learned that painful lesson the hard way. Since Damon was my new brother-in-law’s best friend, he was often at April and Johnny’s house. I’d done my best to avoid him since our wedding night disaster six weeks ago, and I’d never told April about what happened, but I’m sure she was suspicious of my constant avoidance game. When I had managed to find myself in the same room as the biggest dick in Dickville, I managed to keep both my emotional and physical distance with curt, one word responses to any attempted conversation and making my excuses as soon as the meal was over. Usually, though, I just declined my sister’s invitations.
Me: Sorry, not tonight.
April: Are you avoiding me?
Me: Of course not.
April: Then come to dinner. Damon wasn’t invited.
Okay, so maybe she was more than suspicious. I tapped out a quick response letting her know I was going home to change first, then I’d be over.
The trip to my house, on the southeastern side of Portland, was a relatively short one. I purchased the craftsman style bungalow two years ago. It was the exterior that spoke to me more than anything else. The warm beige and salmon color scheme gave the small home a romantic air that spoke to my more feminine sensibilities. The interior boasted traditional craftsman design with lots of light, warm-toned wood. I added frilly decor to enhance the softness factor.
After a quick shower and change of clothes, I was back in my car and on my way to my sister’s. I stopped to pick up my usual bottle of wine and something for dessert per the agreement April and I have. She cooks dinner, and I bring the sweet stuff. It was an unspoken agreement, but it had always been that way with us.
April and John lived in a large white colonial with dark blue shutters. It was far too big for just the two of them, but they had plans to fill it with a gaggle of children someday soon, so they needed the space. I pulled my SUV into the drive and gathered up the wine, triple chocolate cake, and purse before letting myself into the house without knocking.
“Honey, I’m home!” I called out, my voice echoing through the foyer.
“Hey,” April greeted me with a smile, rushing forward to take the cake out of my hands. “Let me get that.”
“Thanks. Whatever you’re making smells awesome. I hope there’s leftovers.”
April shot me another smile as we walked into the kitchen. “I will make sure you go home with leftovers. Wouldn’t want you to go hungry since I’m not there to take care of you.”
“You’re the best sister, ever.”
“I know.” She gave me a saucy wink before picking up a wooden spoon and stirring whatever was in the pot on the stove.
“Hey, sister,” John called from the living room.
I couldn’t see him from where I was standing, but I imagined he was parked in front of the T.V. in his favorite brown leather recliner, the one with the worn arms. He had a habit of gripping the leather while he was armchair quarterbacking, and I was pretty sure he’d had that chair since his freshman year of college. It had certainly seen better days.
“Hey, John-Boy!” I called back. “How’s the game?”
I heard him groan. “Seattle is down by twenty-one. Marshall has alligator arms and Baldwin couldn’t find the end zone if he was standing in it.”
I gave April a perplexed look.
“I’d be surprised if Wilson doesn’t butt fumble next,” I heard him grumble.
“I didn’t understand any of that,” I said to my sister.
“Don’t worry about it. He doesn’t really want you to participate in the conversation, he just wants someone to listen to him bitch.”
John was still grumbling when we put the food on the table. The aroma of herb-roasted chicken, asparagus, and glazed carrots made my mouth water, and I was courting April’s wrath by trying to sneak bites when she wasn’t looking.
“Can’t you at least wait until we’re all seated and ready to eat?” she asked, exasperated with both my impatience and complete disregard for etiquette.
“Nope.”
She rolled her eyes even as she fought her grin. I’d always been that way, impatient and impetuous, and not only when it came to food.
Once the three of us were seated, Johnny and I descended on the meal like vultures. April was, apparently, the only one who didn’t lack decorum. I had a forkful of chicken three-quarters of the way to my mouth when the front door swung open.
“Ahh, looks like I’m just in time for dinner.”
I shot a glare in April’s direction. She’d told me Damon wouldn’t be there. And, yet, there he was, souring my mood as well as the food in my stomach.
Chapter 2
Sophie
“And, then there was the time-”
“April, I think maybe that’s enough,” John gently cut April off before she could utter yet another mortifying anecdote of my time at the University of Oregon.
“Please take her wine away,” I muttered.
April had just finished regaling John and Damon with the story of how I entered a wet t-shirt contest because the grand prize was a thousand dollars and a case of Heineken, who sponsored the contest. She had also told them about my senior year of high school when I’d dared Jason Larkman, the biggest tool in high school, to skinny dip in the school’s pool and then ran his boxers up the flagpole for everyone to see. Jason, ever so full of himself, never could resist a dare, and he’d broken Kelly Landry’s heart by making out with Sierra Patterson at the homecoming game. I have no regrets. Thankfully, April hadn’t yet gotten around to spilling the beans on who really stole that piglet destined for the butcher in Cabo during spring break, resulting in a two AM foot chase through the back alleys of the resort town.
My lips were sealed.
“Well,” Damon drawled, leaning back and stretching his arm along the back of my chair. “Sounds like there’s far more to Sophie than meets the eye. How very interesting.”
“Not that interesting,” I insisted, hoping for a change of topic.
“I don’t know. I think you have layers, and I’m i
ntrigued.”
Well, crap. The last thing I wanted was another battle with Damon’s attentions, especially since the last time ended so catastrophically.
“Well, it’s getting late. April, let me help you clean up before I go.” I hastily swept plates and utensils from everywhere I could reach and hustled into the kitchen.
“Hey, what’s the rush?” April asked. “You’re not mad at me, are you? For telling those stories?”
“No,” I sighed. “I’m not mad. You’re still my favorite sister. Loose lips and all,” I added, bumping shoulders with her.
“Is it because Damon’s here? I swear I didn’t know he was coming, and I promise to box John’s ears later if it’ll make you feel better,” she said, drawing an X over her heart.
“It’s fine, April, honestly.” I didn’t want to explicitly state my distaste for Damon’s presence because then I’d be expected to explain myself, and that was most certainly something I was going to avoid at all costs.
“Okay. ‘Cause, you know, he’s not that bad.”
I narrowed my eyes at her sheepish tone. “I said it was fine,” I said between my gritted teeth.
“I think he really likes you, you know. Maybe you could just-”
Something gave me away. Maybe it was my shifty eyes or the fact that I was intently scrubbing imaginary caked on food from the plate in my hands.
“Oh. My. God. You slept with him, didn’t you?” she hissed.
“What? No!” I scrubbed harder.
“You’re totally lying to me right now,” she accused with smug satisfaction. “When was it? Was it at my wedding?”
“No.” I gave up on the plate and went to town on the baking dish, putting my back into it.
“It was!” she crowed. “I can’t believe it. This is great!”
“What? This is not great, April!”
“How was it? Was it amazing? Tell me it was amazing.”
“Oh, my God, please shut up,” I muttered.
“Is he...you know, well-endowed?” She held her hands up, palms about a foot apart as if I actually needed the visual to comprehend her meaning.
“I hate you right now. You’re a terrible sister.”
“What? I’m a phenomenal sister. And you’re a terrible liar. And a poor sport.”
Giving in, because I knew she’d only continue to harp on me, I told her the truth. “We had sex. I got off, he got off, then I got out. He was a dick, so I left.”
“What happened? Why did you leave?”
“Because, April, it was a means to an end. It’s not like it was a love connection. Besides, he told me I was like a robot,” I mumbled, still feeling the sting of his words months later.
April gasped. “He did not! I’ll kill him,” she swore.
“You’ll do no such thing, because you’re going to forget that we ever had this conversation. Please.”
“No wonder you’ve been avoiding him,” she said, her tone thoughtful.
I sighed, lifting my gaze to the ceiling in the hopes that someone somewhere would answer my prayer and end this conversation.
My sister did, thankfully, drop the subject as we worked side by side to finish up the dishes. When John popped his head in the kitchen to tell us he and Damon were moving to the den to catch the end of whatever football game was on, April shooed him out and made it obvious to me that I wasn’t off the hook after all.
“You know, his company gave a million dollars to the children’s hospital last year, and he matched it with a personal donation, too.”
“Wow, I didn’t realize John had that kind of money,” I said, deliberately misunderstanding.
April swatted my shoulder. “I’m talking about Damon, you dolt.”
“Why are you telling me this?”
“I just think, you know, he can’t be all bad, that’s all. Besides,” she continued, ignoring my huff, “he’s John’s best friend, and you’re my sister. If you two can’t at least be in the same room together, things are going to get awkward.”
“Things are already awkward,” I said, giving my sister wide eyes.
“I know, but I don’t want things to get more awkward. John and I need our besties to get along. For our sake. Please,” she whined.
“Wow, with the guilt trip. You’re going to make an excellent mother someday.”
“Thanks!” April gave me a saucy wink.
“Alright,” I sighed. “I can’t promise we’re going to be best friends or anything, but I can at least be civil. Assuming he can promise to do the same.” I had serious doubts about Damon’s ability to play by the rules, but I could put my best foot forward for my sister’s sake and try not to be the harpy that Damon’s presence inevitably turns me into.
“I’m sure that won’t be a problem. You wanna help me finish off this blueberry cobbler that John’s mom made before you go?”
“Sister, dear, you do know the way to my heart.”
We grabbed spoons and set the pan of cobbler on the counter between us, taking turns scooping up heaping spoonfuls of blueberry and brown sugar crumble while we talked about work. I told April about some of the students I had this year, and she told me about her scintillating work as an insurance agent.
“Truth is, I’m not sure this is what I want to be doing.” She shrugged. “I mean, the pay is decent, and I’m good at it. But, it just doesn’t fire me up, ya know?”
I nodded in understanding. “No, I totally get it.” I couldn’t imagine anything exciting about selling insurance.
“I’m not like you. You’ve always known you wanted to be a teacher, right?”
I knew her question was rhetorical. We both knew teaching was the only thing I’d ever wanted to do.
“I never had that...sense of purpose, I guess.”
“Well, if you don’t want to sell insurance, then what do you want to do?”
“That’s just it, I don’t know.” She chewed her top lip the way she always did when she was considering what to say next. “I think maybe I want to get into real estate.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. I mean, I don’t know, but I’d at least like to explore the possibility.”
“I think you should. Won’t know unless you try, right?”
“I suppose,” she semi-agreed.
“Hey, if you really want to explore other options, I have an in with the guidance counselor. I could get you some pamphlets.” I gave her my cheekiest grin.
“Shut up. Eat that last bite of cobbler for me. At this rate, I’ll be too bloated for yoga tomorrow.”
Once the cobbler was gone and the pan in the sink to soak, I said my goodbyes to April and John. Before I could be an adult and bid farewell to Damon, he approached me.
“Sophie. Let me walk you out,” he said, waltzing toward me with that sex-on-two-legs walk he had.
“Oh, that’s not necessary. Enjoy your game,” I said, nodding toward the T.V.
“I’ve actually got to get home, so it’s no trouble.”
Seeing my sister’s pleading expression in my peripheral vision sealed my fate. “Fine.”
Damon walked me to the door and escorted me down the sidewalk to the driveway where I was blocked in by a cherry red Ferrari.
“A Ferrari? Who are you? Magnum PI?” I muttered.
“What was that?”
“I said, you’re blocking me in.” I turned to glare at him more out of habit than anything else before remembering the sisterly pact I’d just made and smoothing out my features. “I’ll just wait for you to pull out first.”
Damon tilted his head slightly. “Am I really so distasteful to be around?”
“I don’t find you distasteful, Damon.”
“Really?” he asked, hitching his brow in disbelief.
“Okay, look, we didn’t exactly part on the best of terms the last time we spent any amount of time together, so I’m not sure why you insist on orchestrating these little tête-à-têtes.”
“I find you utterly fascinating.”
Unable to resist, I asked, “How’s that?”
“You’re cold and prickly with me despite the fact that we have sizzling chemistry.”
I rolled my eyes at the phrase ‘sizzling chemistry.’
“Yet, when you’re with your sister and Johnny, you become this entirely different person. That Sophie is warm and funny and caring. And she apparently has a pretty wild past I’d love to learn more about.”
“Don’t hold your breath,” I muttered. “My past is exactly that. My past.”
“I don’t know, doll. I think maybe we need to revisit that.”
“I don’t,” I sighed. “And I really do have to get going, so if you could just…” I trailed off, waving a hand in the direction of his ridiculously pretentious sports car that I would never admit out loud to him or anyone else that I found incredibly cool. There was a time in my ‘wild past,’ as he put it, that that Ferrari would have been my dream car. Instead, I was a responsible adult driving a practical SUV that had been rated in the top of its class for its safety features.
“Alright. For now. It was lovely to see you.”
I made a noncommittal sound as he backed away from me and toward his car.
“Oh, Sophie,” Damon called. “When you’re done avoiding me, I look forward to peeling back all those layers.”
That’s exactly what I was afraid of.
Chapter 3
Sophie
A hot bath was a surefire way to ease the tension that Damon roused in my body. I lounged languidly in the hot water, lazily watching the steam as it billowed from the rose-scented water. Pulling my legs up, I crossed them at the knees and mindlessly tapped a toe against the porcelain of the clawfoot tub. I really loved my tub. I worked hard for it too, haggling with a crotchety old lady at an estate sale. Apparently, it had been her sister’s ‘most prized possession,’ and she was loath to part with it for anything less than what she felt it was worth, which was to the tune of five hundred dollars. I got her down to three, and now it was my most prized possession.
