Great. Another family function where we can all compare the Nixon sisters. Which one of these is not like the others?
Usually I looked forward to family dinners, but my mother’s words had cut deep. For the past couple weeks, I’d done a pretty good job avoiding the hard questions, but clearly I couldn’t go on like this forever. If only I had some kind of calling, like Jillian’s to be a doctor, or a dream that was achievable with hard work and dedication, like Natalie’s shop.
As I scraped off the old varnish, I tried to think of jobs I’d enjoy going to every day, something I could get excited about, something that would make me happy. My mother was right in that coffee shop employee wasn’t really on the list. And as much as I loved the farm, agriculture wasn’t really my thing either. I’d enjoyed the job at Rivard, but there was no way I’d get that position back. I was too ashamed to even ask for it. But maybe something like that…something fun, something that allowed me to work with people, something that allowed for creativity and spontaneity.
Christ. That is the vaguest fucking job description ever. You suck.
I did. I did suck.
By the time I’d taken off the varnish, eaten a quick lunch, and plugged my dad’s sander into the extension cord I’d run from the house, I was convinced I’d never be happy and I should just face the fact that I was a twenty-seven year old loser with a pretty face and not much else.
And even that wasn’t going to last forever. Thirty was around the corner, and then forty, and then fifty, and then sixty…decades of wrinkling and sagging. But would there even be anyone who cared? My romantic history was as crappy as my job history—I wasn’t even sure I’d ever been in love.
I was still brooding about it when Sebastian’s truck pulled into the driveway an hour later. Immediately my mood improved.
“Hey,” I said, telling myself to walk, not run, toward him as he got out. “What are you doing here?”
He shut the truck door and leaned back against it, hands in his pockets. The sunglasses on his face hid his eyes, but he was smiling. “I came to see you.”
My insides danced a little. “How’d you find me?”
“I went to the shop. Your sister told me it was your day off and said you might be here.” He glanced over to where I’d been working. “Am I interrupting?”
“Not at all. I need a distraction, actually.” The kind that happens without pants.
“Want to show me what you’re working on?”
“Sure.” Trying to keep my thoughts clean, I led him over to the bookcase and explained what I was doing. “It was my grandfather’s bookcase.”
“Even better. You have a connection to it.”
“Yes.” I clasped my hands together and rocked back on my heels. “What are you up to today?”
He shrugged, dropping his eyes to the ground a moment. “I had to go into town for a few things, but it’s such a nice day, I thought maybe I’d put together those chairs I bought last night and sit on the patio this afternoon.”
“Sounds nice. It is beautiful today, supposed to hit seventy-five.” Invite me. Invite me. Invite me.
“Yeah.” He ran a hand over his short hair. “You mentioned wanting to see the cabin. I thought maybe—”
“I’d love to! Just give me one minute, OK?” Turning around, I went to unplug the sander when I panicked. I faced him again, my lower lip caught between my teeth. “Wait. You were going to ask me to come over, right?”
He laughed, his face lighting up. He looked so different when he smiled! “Yes. I was. You saved me the trouble.”
“Whew. OK, good.” I put away the tools, and Sebastian helped me move the bookcase into the guest house, where I snuck away to quickly run a brush through my hair and rinse with mouthwash.
Not that I was planning on attackissing him again. But maybe he’d take the lead—I’d just do my best to let him know I was interested without being too forward.
“I like your house,” he said when I came out of the bathroom.
“Thanks. It’s my parents’ house, technically, but I’m living here for the time being.” Recalling the conversation with my mother, I frowned.
“You don’t like living in it?”
“No, it’s not that. I just don’t…you know what?” I sighed, shaking my head. “Let’s not talk about it.”
His mouth fell open. “You don’t want to talk about something?”
I slapped him lightly on the arm. “Haha. No, I don’t. So let’s go, I’m dying to see your place.”
“Yours is much fancier,” he said as we walked outside. “Mine’s going to look very bare to your eye.”
I’d like your ass bare to my eye, I thought as I followed him to his truck. “Hey, do you want me to drive myself? That way you won’t have to bring me back.”
He opened the passenger door for me. “I don’t mind bringing you back.”
“OK. Thanks.” I climbed into the truck, feeling his hand brush my lower back. My entire body jittered with excitement, and I felt like a kid who just learned school is canceled for the day. There was some kind of new current between us—I couldn’t put my finger on it exactly, but I thought it had to do with him…he was so much more relaxed than he’d been at the end of the date last night. Did this mean he was up for seeing where this might go?
I told him to take the long, winding drive around the orchard before heading back out on to the highway, and I pointed out all my favorite spots on the farm—the best trees to climb, my favorite shady spot for reading, the perfect hiding places for hide and seek or ducking chores.
“You must have missed all this when you moved away,” he said, turning onto the main road. “Sounds like you really love it.”
“Yeah, I do. And I did miss it.”
“Think you’ll stay here for good?”
“Probably,” I said, staring out the window at the familiar landscape—the rolling hills, the orchards and vineyards, the old red barns with their peeling paint, the new faux chateaux of stone and brick. “What about you?”
“I’m staying. At least, that’s the plan for now.”
I asked him if he’d liked living in New York, and we both agreed it was great in some ways and difficult in others. He confided that the pace of big city life and the demands of his job probably contributed to his relapse. “I like the outdoors a lot,” he said wistfully. “Hiking, fishing, camping. And I didn’t get the chance to do those kinds of things very often. Plus my ex-girlfriend wasn’t into them.”
I was surprised he mentioned her. “A city girl, huh?” I questioned, totally curious.
“Yes. All the way.” Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him rub one finger along the stubble beneath his lower lip. After a moment, he went on. “Actually she was my fiancée.”
I risked a sideways look at him. “Wow. It was pretty serious then, huh?
“Felt like it. For a while.”
“What happened?”
He shrugged, his jaw stiffening. “I fucked up.”
“How so?” I prodded. “Sorry, I’m being nosy. You don’t have to answer that.”
He didn’t say anything for a few minutes, and I hoped he wasn’t mad. For fuck’s sake, Skylar, he just told you last night he didn’t want to talk about it. But then he spoke up.
“I told her I wasn’t sure she was the one.”
“Ouch.” But I stifled a smile. Why did I feel so pleased about that?
“Actually, I said I wasn’t even sure I believed in the idea of the one, but even if I did, I wasn’t sure it was her.”
“Wow. And the ring was on her finger at this point?”
“Yeah. All two point five carats. Which she picked out and which I hated.”
“Why?”
“Because two point five is an annoying number. It seems like it should be even but it has a five in it.”
I blinked at him.
He glanced sideways at me. “I’m kidding, sort of. Like I said last night, I’m just not an easy person to be with. Sometimes
I’m surprised she lasted as long as she did.”
“Because of the OCD, you mean?”
“Yeah.” His tone had gone darker. “Or maybe I’m just bad at relationships. I’ve been told I don’t communicate well. Also that I’m stubborn, unpredictable, and a real dick when I want to be.”
My eyebrows shot up. “Wow. That’s quite a list. And she still said yes when you proposed, huh?” Feeling this moment could use some levity, I leaned over and gave his leg a smack. “You must be dynamite in the sack.”
He grinned, his shoulders relaxing. “That list wasn’t all from her,” he said, turning onto a gravel drive that led through the woods. “But come to think of it, I’ve never had any complaints about my sexual prowess.”
“Good to know.” I wanted to keep flirting, but just then the cabin appeared through a clearing, and I gasped. “Sebastian, it’s beautiful!”
“Thanks.” He parked on a gravel drive that looped in front of the house, and I got out of the truck and shut the door behind me. It was so quiet, all I heard were birds and the breeze rustling the leaves on the birch trees. I turned in a slow circle. The setting was gorgeous, but it was so remote—wasn’t he lonely all the way out here by himself?
“Ooh!” I squealed. “Look at your cute front porch!” Two wooden rocking chairs sat facing the woods. Two, I thought. Was he eventually thinking he’d share the place with someone? Or did he really just hate the odd number one?
“Yeah, I like to sit out there in the morning, watch the sun rise while I have coffee.” He went up the steps and unlocked the front door.
“Sunrise?” I winced, following him inside. “I’m more of a sunset sort of girl. The sun rises too early for me.”
He laughed. “Then you’ll like the patio in the back. You could watch the sun set over the bay.”
“Perfect. Show me.”
He took me through the cabin first, apologizing for its lack of furniture and decoration. True, it was a bit sparse, but it had a rustic, masculine beauty about it that just needed a little touch of feminine texture and color. I loved everything he’d done so far, from the floors to the counters to the bathroom tile, and it smelled amazing in there—like lemon and cedar. He probably cleaned it constantly because of his OCD. Was it wrong that it sort of turned me on?
“You’ve done a great job, Sebastian. You should be really proud. What’s up there?” I gestured to the ladder leaning on the wall between the kitchen and bath. “Bedroom?”
“Just a loft. But it’s nice. You’ve got to watch your head up there because of the sloping walls—well, I do,” he teased, looking down at me, “but one of them is almost all glass.”
“Like to give the birds a good view?” I poked him on the chest.
“Ha. Yeah.”
I started to climb, looking over my shoulder. “Mind if I go up?”
Thirteen
Sebastian
Good fucking god.
She was climbing the ladder to my bedroom and her ass was right in front of my face. My cock began to stiffen.
Sweet Jesus, could I please go ten minutes without getting an erection around her?
I’d woken up this morning (hard) thinking of her, and even though I’d told myself a million times not to go looking for her today, I hadn’t been able to resist. I just want to be around her, I told the doomsayer in me before he could go on the offensive. I won’t touch her. I just like seeing her smile, hearing her chattering bird voice, making her laugh.
“Go ahead,” I told her. “I’ll wait down here.”
She looked down at me, making my heart beat faster. “You can come up too, silly. I don’t think you’re going to try anything.”
Oh no? You should feel my dick right now. “It’s pretty small up there.”
“It’s not small, it’s cozy,” she said, reaching the top. “Get up here.” She moved deeper into the loft so I couldn’t see her anymore, and I quickly adjusted myself before climbing up after her.
When I reached the top, she was standing in front of the huge, sloping window opposite my bed. “You have a family of cardinals,” she said.
“I know. They’re noisy in the morning.” I stood next to her and looked out. Goddamn it, I could smell her. Mostly it was the varnish remover she’d been using, but there was a hint of something sweet and floral beneath it—I fucking loved that she was girlish and feminine but not afraid to work with her hands.
“I thought you were up before the sun, mister coffee-on-the-porch-before-dawn.” She poked me in the ribs, sending a jolt through my veins that seemed to go straight to my cock, and that part of my anatomy didn’t need any more encouragement right now. I moved away from her a little, and she giggled. “What, are you ticklish? Huh? Huh?” She started poking me over and over again, in the ribs, on my stomach, on my chest.
“Goddamit, Skylar, knock it off.” I tried to back away but she followed me, poking at me everywhere. “Quit touching me.”
“I know, I’m too handsy.” She stopped and held up her palms toward me. “But they’re clean, I swear.”
“That’s not what I meant,” I snapped. I knew she’d been joking but her comment was a good reminder that girls like her didn’t belong with creeps like me. I didn’t need the voice to tell me that.
“OK, OK. Relax.” She dropped her hands to her sides, the light leaving her eyes. “Sorry. I was just playing with you. Friends do that, you know.”
“I know what friends do,” I said angrily. “I have had friends before, Skylar, I’m not a total fucking loser.” But my tone was anything but friendly, and I hated myself for it. It wasn’t her I was mad at.
Shaking her head, she backed away from me. “Jeez, you can be an asshole out of nowhere.”
“I’ll add that to the list.” Now I was a sarcastic, sneering asshole. Fucking hell.
She climbed down the ladder without looking at me.
I let her go, sinking onto my bed. Knees splayed, I propped my elbows on my legs and took my head in my hands. Fuck. I was an asshole out of nowhere. But she didn’t understand what it felt like to want someone so badly and be terrified to touch her.
I heard the front door open and close and thought I wouldn’t blame her if she took off in the truck. Dragging my feet, I climbed down the ladder and went to find her.
She wasn’t on the porch or in the truck, and I stood still for a second, rubbing my face with my hands, weighed down by guilt and regret. Where had she gone? Had it been the back door I heard? I walked around the side of the cabin and looked around. She wasn’t on the patio or back steps, and I didn’t see her on the dock either. Frowning, I turned and looked back at the driveway, which snaked through the woods. I hoped she hadn’t taken off on foot. I was just about to get in the truck and go find her when I heard her voice.
“I’m over here. In the hammock.”
Relief washed over me. I looked over to my left and saw her sitting in the hammock, her feet dangling. Slowly, I made my way over to her. My heart ached when I saw the downtrodden expression on her face. “Hey.”
“Hey,” she repeated tonelessly, staring at the patio.
I nudged one of her sneakers. “Room for two on there?”
“I’ll get off.” She started to get up, but I put a hand on her shoulder.
“No, don’t. Can I sit with you?”
She shrugged, but she sat back and let me lower myself onto the thick woven ropes next to her. My heart beat quicker at her nearness, at the warmth of her leg against mine, at the scent of her hair. I wanted to touch her so badly, hold her close and apologize, ask for another chance. But I couldn’t.
We sat in silence for a moment, and I waited for the voice in my head to start in with all the horrible calamities that could befall her from sharing a hammock with me. But I heard nothing but the birds and the water. Apologize, asshole. You hurt her feelings.
“I’m sorry, Skylar,” I said, sliding my hands up and down the tops of my own legs to keep myself from touching hers. “I shouldn’t hav
e been short with you.”
“Whatever. It’s fine.” She still wouldn’t look at me.
“No, it’s not. I’m angry with myself and I took it out on you.”
“What are you angry about?”
“Lots of things, but mostly that I don’t trust myself around you.” I curled my fingers into fists.
“What? That’s silly.” Her tone had lightened a little.
“But it’s the truth. It’s my truth, anyway. And it makes me push you away. ”
“It doesn’t matter that I trust you?”
“It’s not that it doesn’t matter, Skylar. It does, and I appreciate it.” A warm breeze blew in off the water, and I closed my eyes a second. “What you did upstairs, make a joke…that’s actually good for me.”
“It is?”
“Yes. Ken, my therapist, would have taken your side and told me to lighten up.”
She frowned. “That doesn’t sound very nice. You can’t help the way you are.”
Now she was defending me. So fucking adorable. “No, I can’t. But I wish I could. I wish I were different.” I looked down at her, and those baby blue eyes pulled another truth from me. “Especially where you’re concerned.”
She shook her head. “I don’t want you to be different, Sebastian. I like you, even though you’re moody as fuck.”
I laughed—that was as apt a description of me as I’d ever heard.
“And I understand that you need time to feel comfortable around me.”
“Thank you.” I braved putting my hand on the top of her thigh. Her skin was warm and smooth beneath my palm.
She looked at my hand on her leg, started to say something, and stopped herself.
“What?” I asked.
“I’m just wondering…” She fidgeted uncomfortably under my gaze, looking up at me through her lashes. “I mean… God, this is so embarrassing. I guess I’m wondering if you’re even attracted to me. Half of me says not to flirt with you because you just need a friend right now, and the other half says I can’t help it because I’m really attracted to you.”
Happy Crazy Love Boxed Set Page 9
