by Peyton Banks
* * *
A bark of laughter escapes and a few people on the train glance my way. I type in my reply, a smiley face. The train screeches to a halt and I hop off and head up to the ground level. I pick up an apple at Westside Market.
“There’s my girl.”
I turn and wave. “Hi’ya, Frank.”
He moves closer and hands me a peach too. “Take this one. It’s on the house. By the way, I saw six women wearing your clothes today. You’re taking over the city.”
My cheeks heat a little. “It’s good right now, but people change their minds.”
“That they do. Have a good weekend.”
“You too.”
The apple crunches when I bite into the flesh. The sweet taste covers my tongue, and I'm reminded of a time in college when Baxter came to me crying because his parents had done something evil. I'd just made an apple strudel and we demolished the whole thing while we drank wine and chowed down. If we'd had a joint, I'm sure we would have shared it.
It was just another night where Baxter revealed his pain and I opened my arms, accepting him fully. Why hadn’t we ever kissed?
I texted Marci one last time, telling her to have a good weekend and to call me if anything came up. I stare at my clothes and for a second I think about complying with Lucinda’s wishes for me to wear toned-down clothing, then I laugh. I wasn’t going to be someone else, not for her, not for anyone.
After packing enough clothes for the weekend, I also grab something to sleep in. A raunchy lacy thing I’d been given as a gag gift at a party peeks out from the back of my drawer. I reach for it and my fingers play over the satin and lace. Before I can stop myself, I drop the lingerie into my bag. I wasn’t going to wear it for Baxter, I tell myself. I just want to put it on in one of those huge houses the ultra-wealthy own, just to be a rebel.
I laugh at how ridiculous I’m being. Wearing raunchy lingerie in someone’s posh house makes my belly flutter. I know my act of rebellion is silly, and not really rebelling, but I want to do it anyway.
My phone rings and I see Baxter’s name on the display. My insides twist. “Yes?”
“I’m outside. I’ll come up.”
“No need. I’m headed down.”
I check my place, making sure the lights are off and I unplug the toaster on the way out. My heartbeat quickens. A weekend away. It had been ages since I’ve done anything at all like take a weekend with a guy. Maybe this will be fun.
When I step outside, a set of car lights flash. The door on the car opens and Baxter steps out looking mighty fine. He’s wearing slacks and a white button-down shirt, a black tie, and dark sunglasses. My breath hitches. I like to dress funky but give me a guy in a white dress shirt, and I’m toast.
He takes my suitcase before going around to open my door. I slide into the car and glance up, catching the thin line of his mouth. I shiver at the cold shoulder he’s giving me. Maybe this won’t be a fun trip. Or maybe he’s just stressed because of the traffic. Horns honk all around us and people zoom by. It is stressful. I’ve judged him too quickly.
He shuts the door and places my bag in the trunk. We’re on our way, zooming out of the city in traffic that is much lighter than I expect. I guess most of the residents were headed to Long Island and the beach while we were going to the country.
“Did you have a good day?” I ask after a while. He hasn’t said anything since getting in the car. It’s a little weird.
“Eh, it was okay,” Baxter says as he looks to change lanes. He’s distracted, no question.
I decide to stare out my window and take in the landscape. I loved the way the trees take over as we leave the city. The scenery inspires me. Maybe this weekend would be better for me than I’d thought.
Thirty or so minutes into the drive Baxter loosens his tie and sighs so heavily I turn to look at him. Stress lines mar his forehead.
“Bad day?”
“Fuck.” He draws out the word as he tugs off his sunglasses.
I chuckle and reach over, rubbing his shoulder. “You don’t have to tell me about it.”
“Oh God, I can’t get into it right now. We’re nearly at the house and my day was too shitty to make it quick.”
I remove my hand from his shoulder, wishing I could really pull him close and hold him. But that Heather was gone. I’d been hurt too many times trying to take care of other people. Actually, Baxter had hurt me the most. He’d left California and never looked back. The next thing I knew some trashy website featured him with a girl on his arm. Though we’d been close, he’d never once called me again. I’d thought we’d had something between us, but I’d been wrong.
Less than five minutes later we pull up to a huge colonial with a broad porch. Baxter cuts the engine and turns to face me. His lips curve up in a real smile. He reaches across the divide and squeezes my arm.
“Let’s do this.”
I chuckle as I reach for the door. “I like your attitude.”
We hop out of the car and he grabs our bags from the trunk. When I try to take mine, he shakes his head.
“First off, I’m a gentleman. Secondly, if my dad sees me allowing you to carry your bag, I’ll be roasted for years to come. Third—”
The door opens and Baxter never gets to finish his point. A short man with broad shoulders and a small pot belly comes out and waves, the smile on his face is huge.
“Master Andrew, it’s good to see you. Though I shouldn’t be calling you master any longer since that’s reserved for children, and you aren’t a child. I hear you’re getting married. You must be his fiancée. You’ve done well, Master Andrew. Oh, there I go again. What should I call you? I call your father, Mr. Scott. I guess I could call you Mr. Scott too, but it doesn't really fit you."
“Hello, David. This is Heather. She’s my fiancée. I think you’ll like her. And no, please don’t call me Mr. anything. How about you call me Baxter.”
David glances over his shoulder and then turns back to face us, his lips turn down in a frown. “If they catch me calling you anything other than Mr. or Master, they’ll fire me. I can call you Mr. Baxter if that’s the name you’re going by.”
Baxter nods and flashes a devastating smile. “It is, I can’t go by Andrew. Everyone calls him that and it feels wrong.”
“Sure, then it’s Mr. Baxter. And you, young lady, you’re lovely. How did you get hooked up with this guy?”
I laugh and my cheeks heat. “We met a long time ago.”
Baxter tosses an arm over my shoulder and pulls me close. It feels right to be so close to him. Sadness fills me because this isn’t real.
“In college, we met in college,” Baxter says.
“Well, what may I call you? You’re not married yet so I can’t go with Mrs. How about we just call you Miss Heather?”
“I’d like that, David.”
“Good, good. Now then, if you need anything, I’ve written my number on a card and it’s in your room. Text me and I’ll take care of whatever it is you need.”
"Oh, thank you," I say, dismissing his use of the word room. He must have meant rooms, or maybe Baxter already had David's phone number. That had to be it.
“I’m serious, day or night. I live in a house just past the woods, on the left, so I’ll be on the property most nights.”
I nod, wondering how weird it would be to have a full-time employee waiting on my every need.
David takes our bags and we head into the house. Baxter’s mother and father greet us along with another couple. They’re sitting in a front room with a bar setup that is way fancier than almost any restaurant bar I've ever seen.
“Baxter, it’s good to see you,” a gentleman who was maybe in his late fifties or early sixties says.
“William, it’s nice to see you. This is Heather, my fiancée.”
William turns to face me, his smile broad. “Well, aren’t you a pretty one. We wondered if Baxter would really ever find someone. Honestly, I thought you were fake since he wouldn’t share an
ything about you with his parents.”
I sputter and Baxter has to pop me on the back a few times. It takes a few seconds but I recover. I loop my arms around Baxter’s closest arm and kiss his cheek.
“I’m very much real.”
“What would you like to drink?” a woman who looks to be a near replica of Lucinda asks. “I’m Alisha, William’s wife. Lucinda is my cousin. That’s why we look alike though people have always confused us for twins.”
I’m a little surprised. They do look like twins, not cousins, but I don’t say anything. “I’ll have wine.”
“Oh drats, I was hoping I could impress you with my mixology skills. I’m taking a couple of classes. I’ve gotten very good at making a mojito.”
“Oh, what type of mojito?” I move to the bar and Alisha pulls down a few bottles and a tall glass.
“I have raspberries.”
“Sure, I’ll have a raspberry mojito.”
Alisha looks pleased. Lucinda steps close and shakes her head. “You shouldn’t encourage her. Bartending is a vile profession.”
Alisha’s lips curve up and she winks at me. “Darling, you may consider it vile and beneath you, but it doesn’t stop you from getting smashed each night.”
“Bartenders are servants,” Lucinda says.
Horror washes over me. Alisha shakes her head and Lucinda rolls her eyes. She reaches for a glass. “Since you’re playing the servant, get me something to drink.”
If I knew anything about pouring fancy drinks, I would have hopped over the bar and made something just to show support for Alisha. Andrew comes over, his frown deepening as he stares at me.
With a snort, he turns to Alisha. “Whiskey neat, none of those girly drinks for me.”
“You’ve already had three,” Alisha chides.
“I need more if I have to endure this meal.”
I won’t lie, if I had a car, I would leave. Baxter moves to stand behind me, one hand on my waist, the other on the bar. He kisses the side of my head then moves closer. He was baiting his parents. They hate me, it’s obvious. They hate my clothes and probably made assumptions about me based on how I looked the first day I met them. Had I known I was going to meet his parents that evening, I would have changed clothes. Of course, if I’d known the reason Baxter wanted me to meet him that first night, I wouldn’t have shown up.
I hadn’t said anything to Baxter about what I did for a living, and I wasn’t going to. I wouldn’t tell any of them I design clothes. I didn’t want Baxter’s mother to develop a false face just because she thinks I might be someone famous. I almost laugh at my thoughts. I’m not famous at all. I’m lucky that I’m known to a few faithful followers who purchase my clothes. Those people are my base, and I’m forever grateful for them.
Alisha sets my drink in front of me, and I smile, hoping it doesn’t look too fake as I wish I were anywhere but here. “Thank you.”
“Take a sip and tell me what you think.” Alisha begins working on another drink, and she pours Andrew his whiskey, setting it down in front of him.
“Fix Baxter one of these. It’s a real man’s drink, not one of those sissy things you’re making.”
I suck in a quick breath as I lift my glass. Don’t say a word, not one, whispers through my thoughts. But I can’t keep my mouth shut.
“Actually, Baxter wants a beer,” I say as I turn to him and brush my lips over his cheek.
“That’s not a drink for a powerful man,” Andrew spits out as he gets up and stumbles out of the room, drink in hand.
“Baxter, what would you really like?” Alisha asks.
Baxter stiffens, the pressure of his hand on my waist increases. I say nothing. I've already gotten involved, and if any of this were real, they would be my in-laws. But it wasn't real and I'd never see them again after this week. I shouldn't make Baxter's life more difficult.
“I’ll take a beer, bottle if you have one.”
Alisha smiles. “I sure do. Let me get you one from this refrigerator. See, William, having beer stocked is wise. He said no one would drink it, but we have guests every weekend. It was a great buy.” Alisha opens the beer and hands it to Baxter. He takes a long draw and I can see him relax.
“Thank you, Alisha. It’s just the perfect temperature.”
“You’re welcome. So how’s your job going?”
While Alisha and Baxter chat, I steal a glance at Lucinda and William. They’ve moved to a set of chairs across the room. Lucinda’s lips are turned down in a frown and William has his finger out, shaking it at her. Their voices are low, so I don’t catch the conversation, but I wonder why William and Lucinda are arguing. Maybe it’s about Andrew and his drinking. The man seems to have issues. Heck, both of Baxter’s parents seem to have issues.
“You ready?” Baxter asks.
I look up at him, unsure where the conversation had gone. “Sorry, I wasn’t listening.”
“We need to dress for dinner.”
“Sure. Thank you, for the drink.”
Alisha flashes me a brilliant smile. “I love serving drinks. Take it up with you. We’ll be eating appetizers on the back porch in thirty minutes. Dinner will be served in an hour so I won’t be mixing any more drinks until dessert. You might as well enjoy it while you can. Oh, and I put you two in the same room. The other guest room is being redecorated and as you well know, Baxter, Lucinda and Andrew won’t sleep in the same room. But since you two are engaged, I figured it would be okay.”
I almost drop my drink, but Baxter covers for me and takes it from my hand before he flashes Alisha a toothy grin.
“Of course we don’t mind,” Baxter says before he steps away.
I follow, unsure what else I can do. As we climb the stairs to the second floor my eyes fall to the way Baxter’s pants fit his butt ever so nicely. My throat dries out, and I wish I had my drink in my hand, but climbing the stairs while drinking was dangerous. Besides, I would need a lot more than one mojito to be okay with this cluster of a mess.
Baxter opens the door to a room, and I pause. “How did you know this was the room we’d be in?”
“I’ve been coming to their home for years. This is always my room when I’m here.”
I nod absently. “Oh, okay.”
I step in, and Baxter places our drinks on a table in the corner. He turns and shakes his head.
“I’m sorry.”
Panic races through me. I don’t want him to know I snore, if I do snore. My God, I snore, I know I do.
“Did you know we would be sleeping together?”
“No, I had no idea. They have enough rooms, but my parents, they don’t like to sleep together.”
“That’s odd, I mean, if we were married I’d be—” I blow out a breath before moving to the table to grab my mojito. I slam it back like it’s water on a hot summer day.
Baxter chuckles and pulls a pair of slacks from the closet. I crane my neck, seeing my clothes hanging beside his.
“Why are my clothes in there?”
Baxter shrugs. “David always unpacks for me.”
“Oh God, my underwear.”
Baxter lifts his brows, and the corners of his lips tilt up.
Panic fills me. “Shut up.” I roll my eyes and stomp into the bathroom then turn back to face him. “Good Lord, I need my clothes.”
“Do you want me to step out into the hall?”
I was being ridiculous. I hadn’t seen Baxter in years, and we weren’t dating. After one week, I would never see him again. He didn’t like me, not in that way. I had nothing to worry about.
“No, you don’t have to step into the hall, but face the other way so I can grab my underwear and put it somewhere else.”
Baxter's chuckle turns to full-blown laughter. My face heats as I open the dresser drawer and see my pale pink, black, and cream underwear mixed in with his boxer briefs. Then realization dawns. The naughty lingerie which had been sitting in my suitcase was somewhere. Horror washes over me and my brain buzzes.
&
nbsp; “Are you okay?” Baxter is facing me, his arm outstretched. I shove the underwear into the drawer and let out a squeak. Baxter grabs my arm and pulls me to him. “Heather, what’s wrong?”
I shake my head and my face heats. “Nothing.”
“Something is wrong, I can see it on your face. Tell me, maybe I can help.”
A bark of laughter escapes. He pulls me close which makes it worse.
“I want to help you.”
“You’ve always wanted to help me, but you missed the—never mind.”
Baxter pulls away and narrows his gaze. “What?”
“Nothing. Forget I said anything. Like really.”
He shakes his head. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what’s wrong, but you made a weird noise then looked like you were about to pass out.”
I draw in a shaky breath. “It’s embarrassing.”
“Tell me.”
I shake my head. I can’t tell him. It’s impossible.
“Please.”
My breath comes out in a whoosh. “I had no clue anyone would unpack my things.”
“Did you pack a vibrator?”
I slap his arm as my body heats even more. “No, of course not.”
“Why not? I think it would be sexy.”
A volcano would be cooler than I am. “Oh my God. Shut up.”
“What’s the big deal?”
I shake my head and try to hide my face. “Now I’m truly embarrassed.”
“Just spill.”
I press my lips together. “I didn’t know. And your parents have been such assholes. Anyway. They’ve been so mean to you, and it was an act of rebellion or something stupid like that.”
“What did you do?” Baxter’s voice is low, his eyelids narrow.
“It’s nothing. I just, I packed some lingerie. It’s stupid, and I shouldn’t have.”
Baxter freezes. “Wait, why did you pack sexy lingerie?”
“I didn’t say it was sexy.”
“Okay, why did you pack your oh so non-sexy lingerie?”
“Like I said, your parents have been so mean. I was just going to put it on in private. I had no clue you would be in the same room as me. I had no freaking idea anyone else would unpack my luggage other than me.”
