The Lyons Next Door (A Lyons' Heart Book 1)

by Inda Herwood

  The Lyons Den is painted in large white letters beneath the step leading onto it.

  I chuckle, asking him, “Who came up with the name?”

  He snorts. “Who do you think?”

  We both say “Catcher” at the same time, making us laugh again.

  “Konnichiwa,” a voice calls out behind us, cutting above the chatter from the crew working next door, and we both turn around. A guy who looks like Beck’s age with black hair and beautiful brown eyes walks toward us, his hands resting in his pockets. He wears a dark gray T-shirt with dark wash jeans, his hair swooping low across his forehead and into his eyes. He has a soft smile on his lips, contrasting with his sharp jawline and high cheekbones. One of his arms is covered in a sleeve of tattoos, adding to his edgy look.

  I instantly want to draw him.

  After the familiar urge passes, I realize this must be the guy Leigha was running away from.

  I can’t possibly see why. He’s gorgeous. And there’s nothing Leigha likes more than a hot guy.

  “Hey, glad you made it,” Beckham says in greeting, giving him one of those bro hugs you always see guys giving each other. “Kaito, this is Blaire. Blaire, this is Okura Kaito. He and his family are visiting from Tokyo for the summer.”

  “It’s nice to meet you,” I say, memorizing how Beck said Kaito like Ky-toe.

  “You too. Thanks for letting me come along,” he says in slightly accented English, wearing a smile as endearing as his eyes.

  “They were out of turkey, I hope you’re happy,” Leigha grumbles, walking down the dock toward us, her attention centered on her phone while she texts away. She holds a small white bag in her right hand and her massive beach bag on her shoulder.

  “And in three, two, one…” Beckham drawls, and on “one”, Leigha finally looks up, her eyes going straight to Kaito and his tall frame. She pales in an instant.

  Kaito’s expression doesn’t change. He doesn’t even seem surprised to see her though I’m sure Beck didn’t tell him she was coming. She’s supposed to be sick, after all.

  After a moment, he gives her a slight bow of his head, saying, “Ningyo,” a half smirk on his lips when he stands up straight again.

  She sucks in a breath, opens her mouth to speak, and then shuts it again. She does this at least five times until Beckham tells him, “My cousin had a remarkable recovery from her food poisoning this morning and decided to join us after all. I hope you don’t mind.”

  Kaito shakes his head with a slight grin. “Not at all.”

  “Wait, is this the real reason why you told me to get more food?” Leigha asks once she unsticks her tongue, her glare aimed at Beckham.

  “I bet on you getting a footlong. You two can share.” He smiles, looking like the cat that ate the canary.

  I can see the hurricane churning in Leigha’s eyes, the pain she wants to inflict on her cousin. In about three seconds she’s going to unleash verbal hell on him.

  I mentally mimic Beck when he said, three, two, one…

  “You are such a backstabber, Beckham Lyons,” she growls, slamming her free hand into his shoulder, slightly throwing him off balance. “Why would you do this to me? Is making my life a laughing stock a hobby for you? Gah, and to think someone as sweet as Blaire is interested in you. You don’t deserve her.” Done with her speech, Leigha storms off down the dock, her bags swinging so hard from her movements that it’s a miracle they don’t fall off her.

  There’s an uncomfortable silence that follows her exit, making my skin heat like a bad sunburn. I feel embarrassed, and I wasn’t even the one her wrath was meant for. But I feel even worse for Kaito. What Leigha just did was rude and uncalled for, no matter what their history is with each other.

  “Kaito, I’m so sorry,” Beck apologizes, looking flabbergasted. “I thought she’d be mad, but not a complete psycho about it.”

  “Please don’t apologize. Her reaction wasn’t your fault.” He looks back at where Leigha walked off, a sad smile on his lips. “If you don’t mind, I think I might head back as well. But thank you for the invitation.”

  He and Beck shake hands, Beckham telling him, “The offer still stands for next time. Don’t let my cousin scare you off, okay?”

  He nods. “I’ll try not to.” With that, he walks back down the dock and out of sight.

  “Well that was…interesting,” I comment, not knowing what else there is to say.

  “That’s one way to put it. I’m sure I’m gonna face hell when I get home, though. That definitely wasn’t the end of it.”

  “What do you think happened between them that caused such a problem?” I wonder, Beckham helping me step onto The Lyons Den.

  “I don’t know. Leigha never told me, and Catcher said Kaito never mentioned it to him. It’s a mystery to everyone else but them, and it’s probably going to stay that way if I know my cousin like I think I do.” Stepping around the deck, he checks a bunch of ropes and has a few crew men help him unlatch the boat from the dock before he stands behind the wheel, clicking buttons here and there on a panel positioned next to it. I stand on his right side and watch all that he’s doing, amazed at how complicated it seems. Here and there he’ll tell me facts about the workings of a sailboat that I know I won’t remember, but find it entertaining all the same. He seems to be really passionate about it, kind of like he is when he talks about music.

  “All I have to do is turn on the engine and we’re free to go,” he says, hitting a few levers before a bustling noise comes from the back of the boat.

  “An engine? I thought this was a sailboat?” Is that a stupid thing to say? I hope not.

  “It is, but an engine is awfully handy when the wind decides not to blow in a certain direction, and when you want to pull away from the dock without taking a few other boats down with you. We’ll put the sails up when we’re out a ways from the marina. You can get the basket out if you want, though,” he says, nodding towards his picnic for us.

  “Okay. Where do you want to have it?” I ask, looking at the back seating area where we boarded the boat, but seeing no table to eat on.

  “There’s a slide out table in the back, but I thought we could have it on the bow.” He points to the front of the boat, and I peek around him to see it better.

  Situated in front of the cabin is a flat area of the boat with a small metal railing around it, perfect for laying out and tanning. I smile at it, agreeing that it’s a perfect spot.

  Stepping around Beckham, I take his basket and my tote bag with me, setting everything out on a couple of blankets for us. Fifteen or so minutes later when everything is ready, he says, “The sails are going up, watch your head.”

  I look up in time to see two great white sails roll out on their own, smiling when I notice the sunburst on the largest one, instantly catching the wind. After that, the noise of the engine cuts off, and it’s just the two of us floating on the waves, maybe a half mile or so from shore.

  The quiet atmosphere combined with the view is breathtaking.

  “This is incredible,” I tell him, closing my eyes and letting the cool breeze drift over my face, relieving it from the hot sun.

  “I knew you’d like it. I still can’t believe you’ve never gone sailing before.” He takes his seat next to me, a pair of sunglasses hiding his eyes. He then decides to ditch his shirt, and I forget what he had said only a second ago.

  Catching me staring, he says with a grin that’s so male is irritating, “Getting flashbacks of our ocean cuddles, Kahlo?”

  I blink a few times, reminding myself that he’s just a guy. A really hot one, but still just a guy, and I shouldn’t feel intimidated by his perfect looks. “No. I was just remembering how many wrinkles your face made when you were trying not to swear in front of your mother.” I grin, leaning back on my elbows, enjoying his rather embarrassed expression.

  “Can we just forget that ever happened?” he says under his breath, opening the basket and taking out the food he made.

  “Why?
Will it destroy your spotless record of impressing girls or something?”

  “As a matter of fact, yes. And I’d rather you not remember me convulsing on the beach. Here.”

  He hands me a juice box.

  A JUICE BOX.

  I bust up in laughter before I can think twice about it, feeling tears come to my eyes.

  I distantly hear him ask, “What?”

  I wheeze some more.

  “Okay, that’s it.”

  I feel two strong arms wrap around me, keeping me from rolling over in my giggles. I stare up through blurry eyes to see Beck looking down at me, his face only inches away from mine. Though I can’t see them, I feel his eyes roam over my face, one of his fingers pushing a piece of hair out of my eyes. “Am I really that funny to you?” he asks, voice quiet, like the wind through the sails.

  “You gave me a juice box,” I tell him, sobering up the longer he stays this close, breathing in my air.

  He sighs, tickling the baby hairs around my face. “I know it’s lame, but Mom accidentally bought the one kind that Theo doesn’t like and asked Catcher, Leigha, and I to use them up for her. I didn’t think you’d mind.”

  “I don’t,” I say around a tight throat, sore from laughing. “I just thought it was funny. Peanut butter and jelly with juice boxes. It made me feel like I was in middle school again.”

  “Does this make you feel like you’re in middle school?” he asks before leaving a hot, lingering kiss on my cheek.

  I swallow harder than I probably should when he pulls away. “Uh, no.”

  “Good.” Sitting back up, his arms bring me with him. “Because even though everything that has happened up to this moment has proven otherwise, this is still a date. And I want you to enjoy it.”

  “What part of you getting reamed out by your cousin did you not think I would enjoy?” I ask, unwrapping the plastic from around my PB and J.

  “You just love busting my balls, don’t you?” he complains, grabbing his own sandwich.

  “It’s becoming a fun pastime, I’ll admit.” I smile before taking a bite of his creation, instantly flooded with memories from childhood. “This is surprisingly good. Is that crunchy peanut butter I’m tasting?”

  “Mm-hmm. I went gourmet just for you,” he says, smiling around his own bite.

  Beckham

  We finish our lunch while I let the boat drift, taking us up the coast, almost to the point where we can see our houses in the distance. When we get close, I point them out for Blaire. “Think we could see your Nana giving me the finger from here?” I ask her, getting a hearty laugh in response.

  “I don’t think she hates you. She’s just never seen me like someone like this before. It’s unfamiliar territory for her,” she explains, her eyes widening the moment she realizes what she just confessed. Turning to look at me, expression still anxious, she tries to backtrack. “I mean not like like, and it’s not that I’ve never dated before, it’s just –”

  I place a finger over her lips, silencing her adorable babbling. “You don’t have to be embarrassed about admitting that you’re head over heels for me.”

  “I never said head over heels,” she corrects around my finger with a scowl, her words coming out garbled.

  “But you implied it, and that’s the same thing.” Taking away my finger, I tell her, “I like you, too. A lot. So much in fact that I brought dessert.” Pulling out my secret weapon, I show her the bag of white chocolate macadamia nut cookies her mom recommended I get her.

  Staring at them, her mouth slightly drops before she can catch herself. “How…how did you know they’re my favorite?”

  I shrug, admitting, “I may have called your mom this morning to ask if I could take you out, and to ask what treat I could get you that you’d be sure to like. I love these, too.” I open the bag and take out two cookies, handing her one of them and eating half of the other in one bite.

  She still looks shocked. “Wait. You got my mother’s permission? Meaning I didn’t have to tell my Nana and go through that whole ridiculous scene of her berating us in her curlers? Why didn’t you text me that she’d said it was okay?”

  “Because I figured she’d tell you this morning. Your grandmother stomping down the driveway was not planned, trust me.”

  “Oh, my gosh,” she says to herself, like a huge realization just hit her. “My mom probably told her about our date, and she still decided to do that to me. How could she be so…so…?”

  “So Nana?” I finish for her.

  She deflates. “Yeah.”

  “Here, eat a cookie. It’ll make the anger pass quicker.” I push her hand to her mouth with the cookie, and she begrudgingly takes a bite, staring off into the horizon with a pinched expression. She takes another bite and then another.

  “Okay, maybe that did help,” she admits after she’s done, giving me a hesitant smile. “I’m sorry my family is so nuts. I don’t know why you even asked me out when you know I come with them as baggage – Nana specifically.”

  “Because you’re worth a few crazy relatives. I have a few of my own, if you’re forgetting.”

  She nods, looking thoughtful. “That’s true.”

  I chuckle.

  For the next hour or so we lay out and enjoy the sun, side by side. We talk on and off, and I share an earbud with her so we can listen to music together while she draws in her sketchbook. I find it relaxing, just lying next to her, my fingers messing with her hair while she hums along to the song playing in her ear. It doesn’t feel like any other first date I’ve ever been on. In fact, it feels like the tenth date where you both know each other well enough to be comfortable just being together, not needing to fill every moment with conversation or things to do. It’s natural, like we’ve been doing this all along.

  I wish we have.

  CHAPTER 15

  Blaire

  It’s one of the nicest afternoons that I can remember spending with someone, and I really hate to see it end. But when I check my watch a few hours later, I see that it’s almost four o’clock, and my parents are most likely going to expect me home by dinner. And even if they don’t, Nana would somehow find a dingy and come looking for me anyway. When I tell Beckham this, his look of disappointment perfectly matches my own.

  “I can’t wait until you turn eighteen,” he says, sitting up next to me where I’ve been reading Pride and Prejudice, his smile small and prideful (no pun intended) when he saw me take it out of my bag.

  “And why is that?”

  “Because,” he says, wrapping a blonde strand around his finger. Earlier he asked me if I could let it down. It didn’t take me long to see that he only wanted me to do it so he could play with it while I drew. “When I take you out, I don’t want waiting parents to cut it short. And they can’t do that if you’re an adult.”

  “You’re going to be waiting for a while then. I don’t turn eighteen until November.” Not able to resist any longer, I gently remove his sunglasses, feeling happy when I can see those sky blue eyes again. “That’s better.” I run one of my fingers under his eye, thinking about how they looked at me after I kissed him.

  He moves faster than I can comprehend, reaching his arms out to pick me up and place me in his lap, my arms instinctually going around his neck. My nose momentarily bumps his, sending a shockwave through me. When I look at him for the answer, he says impishly, “Our time is short, and I’ve been wanting to do this all day, so I thought I would. Is this okay?” Again, he pushes my hair back, his eyes scanning my face for approval.

  “Very okay,” I confirm, loving the feel of his curls in my fingers. Since he’s playing with my hair, I’m giving myself permission to do the same with his.

  He closes his eyes, letting his cheek rest against mine. His skin feels like fire, and his hands around my waist even more so. “Tell me we’ll get to do this again,” he whispers in my ear, voice hopeful.

  “We definitely will. But next time, let’s not tell everyone what we’re doing,” I say with a s
mall laugh, thinking about all the obstacles we faced today because we had.

  “You’re right, that was our biggest mistake by far.”

  Curious, I ask, still messing with his hair, wondering how he keeps it so soft. Do guys use conditioner? “What was one of our other mistakes?”

  He pulls back just enough to see my eyes, his breath rushing over my lips when he speaks. “That I didn’t do this sooner.”

  He moves forward an inch and kisses me, just a hairsbreadth at first, and it feels like he’s asking for permission rather than giving me an actual kiss. Finding it incredibly sweet, not just this, but everything he’s done for me today – from making me lunch to calling my mom to ask her what my favorite dessert is – I give him a tiny nod, and he proceeds to give me a real kiss this time. It reminds me of our one on the beach, the way it took me a moment to find a pattern that fit us both, but when we do, it’s amazing. Long, sweet kisses that leave me lightheaded and wanting to stay with him in this moment for as long as possible.

  “Mm, that was nice,” he says against my lips, spreading them with his smile. “Much better when pain doesn’t accompany it.”

  “I told you I was trying to distract you,” I remind him.

  “It worked. And if you ever want to distract me again, go right ahead.”

  I laugh, and he captures my lips with another kiss, making me sink into his arms again. The only thing that could ruin this moment is –

  My phone rings in my bag, as if I had summoned it.

  We both groan, pulling away to glare at my tote.

  “That was really unfortunate,” he says, giving me one last peck before standing us up. “I’ll go turn us around while you tell your grandma not to send out the coast guard.”

  “Do I have to?” I whine, and he chuckles. As he goes towards the back of the boat, I answer my stupid phone. “Hello?”

  “Hi, hon. How’s your day going?” Mom asks, and I’m grateful that it’s her that called and not Nan.