by Karigan Hale
...was walking away from him. He reached out and gently grabbed her arm ignoring the sizzle shooting through him at the skin-on-skin contact. She turned towards him with an eyebrow raised.
"It's really good to see you again, Lizzie," he said and hoped he sounded as sincere as he felt.
"You, too, Zee," she said softening her face into a smile. "I'll see you tomorrow, okay? We can catch-up better when I'm not working."
"Yeah. I look forward to it," he said quietly, but she had already moved away and didn't hear him.
CHAPTER FOUR
A thump from upstairs alerted Lizzie that Nick and Zander were already at her parents' house when she arrived the following day. She glanced at her watch—11:50am—and frowned. She honestly didn't expect the boys to be here on time, much less early. She'd hoped to be hiding in her room with the door shut when they arrived. After last night, she didn't trust herself around Zander. He made several innuendos that she struggled not to take him up on. Especially after seeing his abs and a delicious V heading straight for his...
"Lizzie? Is that you?" She heard her brother's voice call out.
"Yup. Heading to my room," she called back.
Nick poked his head out of his bedroom which was adjacent to hers on the same floor. She had to pass it to get to her room. "Can you help us for a minute?"
"With what?" she asked skeptically.
"We're trying to move a dresser out of here and need someone to hold open the door so we can maneuver it," Nick explained.
"Sure," she said stepping into the room behind him. Zander's flash of a smile had her lady bits all tingly in an instant. Damn them. And him. She smiled back, to be polite, and pulled the door open as far as it would go.
"Hey, Lizzie," Zander said still looking at her. "Long time no see."
"Did you get settled into Xavier's apartment okay?" Lizzie asked.
"Sure. Sleeping on his little couch did wonders for my back," he joked.
"How long are you in town for?" Lizzie asked trying to sound nonchalant.
"Not long enough," he said with a wink. She just stared at him, trying to ignore his attractiveness. He cleared his throat when she didn't take the bait. "A little less than two weeks. I'm helping Nick and also scouting some business for my company," Zander explained.
"Speaking of helping Nick," Nick said. "Can we do that, please. I've got better things to do than sit around and watch you flirt with my sister."
Zander said, "That's not—" at the same time Lizzie said, "Don't be ridiculous—".
Nick squinted at one red face then the other and said, "Riiiight. Zee, pick up your end. Let's go."
The boys hefted the heavy wooden dresser and carefully maneuvered it out the open door. Lizzie could hear them grunting on the stairs as she turned towards her room. Should she tell them the movers were going to take care of the heavy furniture and all Nick really had to do was empty it?
Nah. Exercise would do them good.
Today she wanted to tackle her closet. She had to figure out a way to donate all her fancy dresses without her mother finding out. Those hideous things weren't about to touch her body again if she had any say about it. She clearly didn't need them for her job. And she didn't go to fancy dinners or cocktail parties or galas or openings or wherever else her mother constantly thought she might go.
Although, since she did have Brendan's wedding coming up, she should probably save at least one.
She began pulling hangers off the line and making piles. Pink chiffon lacy tulle thing she wore for her cousin's wedding as a junior bridesmaid? Trash pile. She wasn't even going to donate it. No one should be subjected to that tragedy ever again.
Purple power suit her mother bought her for Speech and Debate club in high school? Donate. Not a bad cut, but she wasn't going to fit into it again even if she wanted to. Thankfully the breast fairy had finally found her in college. They weren't much, but they were more than the Almost A cup she had in high school. And smaller boobs meant they stayed perkier longer, right?
The more Lizzie pulled from the closet, the more she began to seriously doubt her mother's taste. And whether people had been laughing at her at these fancy shindigs her entire life. Some of the patterns on these things were suspect at best. The trash pile and give-away pile were surprisingly even by the time she finished. She didn't have the heart to donate some of the things for fear someone else's mother would make them wear it. Just because it had a designer label did not make it fashion.
A few things she did decide to keep. A sequined black tank top that would look nice when she tended the outside bar at McConnell's on Saturday nights. A pair of leather pants from her college clubbing days. She could wear them riding now. She also tried to decide between two rather nice dresses—a navy and a green—each had potential to wear for the wedding. She'd have to try them on to be sure.
She threw them both in the keep pile for now and went to search for a few boxes. She ran into Zander on the steps.
Like literally ran right into him. With her elbow into his nose.
"Oof," he grunted throwing up his hands to ward off any other attacks.
"Oh shit! I'm so sorry!" Lizzie said grabbing his hands away from his face so she could see. His nose was a little red but wasn't bleeding or swollen. Yet.
"We've got to stop meeting like this," he teased tenderly pinching the bridge of his nose. "I don't think it's broken."
Lizzie laughed. "Of course it isn't broken. I didn't hit you that hard."
"I know a way you can make it up to me," he said and flashed his dangerous half-smile.
She frowned. "I'm not sleeping with you."
He laughed. "Not what I was going to say. But now that you mention it..."
"No chance," she said firmly.
He laughed. "Fine. Then come to a bonfire with Nick and I this week. We're reliving our glory days while I'm in town."
She relaxed. "A bonfire, huh? It would have to be a weeknight since weekends are all hands on deck at McConnell's. Hey," she said, just realizing something. "If we make it Thursday, then Xavier and I could both come! That's our night off together this week."
"Yeah," Zander said with less enthusiasm than she expected. "Great."
"What's going on with you two?" she asked.
"Nothing. I just didn't expect to have my little brother tagging along," he said.
She laughed again. "You can't be serious. We aren't teenagers. Plus, Nick will have his little sister tagging along. What's the difference?"
Zander shrugged. "It's just... Are you and Zay together?"
"What do you mean together?" Lizzie asked warily knowing full well what he meant, but not wanting to think too deeply about why Zander wanted to know.
"Like dating or almost dating or interested in dating," Zander said. His eyes kept flicking from her face to the wall to the ceiling and behind him and back again.
"No," she said, then paused. "Although, when he first started working at the bar, I thought maybe there might be a possibility of something," she started.
"But..." he prompted.
"But then nothing happened." Lizzie shrugged. "I guess I read into some things more than I should have. He mostly goes for the girly-girls like his brother," she said tapping him on his chest—his hard, muscular chest. She tapped it again and mumbled a surprised, "shit."
He smirked and flexed his pecs. "I like all types of girls." He stepped up so they were now practically chest to chest on the same step. She had to tip her head back to look up at him.
"I'm sure you do," she said snarkily. At least she hoped it sounded snarky and not as breathless as she felt.
"So, about the bonfire," Zander said. "You'll come if we go on Thursday?"
"Yeah. Sounds fun. Just make sure Nick keeps his clothes on this time," she said moving past him and down the steps.
"Only Nick?" he said quietly. Lizzie almost fell down the steps.
"I'm not dignifying that with a response," she called over her shoulder without turning
around. She heard him chuckle as she walked toward the garage.
She wasn't dumb enough to fall for his lines—lines he most definitely used a lot given how quickly and effortlessly they fell off his tongue. Coupled with his dimpled smirk and those damn tiger eyes, she was sure those lines full of sexual innuendo worked more often than not on half-drunk bimbos at bars or clubs. But she was neither half-drunk nor a bimbo, so they were lost on her.
Mostly lost anyway.
She put a hand on her chest to steady her heavily beating heart then laughed softly at herself. Guess old crushes die hard. If she could go back and tell her high school self that one day Zander Drake would be flirting with her, she wouldn't even believe it. Of course, he was obviously just looking for a quick hook-up while he was in town. According to Xavier and Nick, his usual MO with relationships was quick in and quick out with lots of sex in between.
She pushed off the wall and headed to the garage to grab those boxes.
As she passed Nick's room on the way back to her own, she heard the low murmur of their voices. Well, color her surprised. She would have bet her high school poetry journal Nick would call moving the dresser a monumental success and be done for the day.
Then she heard her name and stopped just beyond the door to listen.
"...wants to invite Xavier," Zander was saying.
"Cool. I haven't hung out with him in ages," Nick replied.
"Hey, is anything going on between them?" Zander asked.
"Who?"
"Lizzie and Xavier."
"I don't think so, but I don't talk to my little sister about her love life," Nick laughed. Then stopped abruptly. "Wait. Why do you care?"
"No reason. Just curious."
"How long are you in town?" Nick asked. "Because don't start anything with Lizzie if it's only for a minute."
"I'm not trying to start anything with Lizzie. I just like making her blush," Zander said. Lizzie felt her face go hot again. Damn him. He was good at it, too. "I need to wait until the Tiffany thing blows over."
"You always have a Tiffany thing," Nick teased. "Or a Becca thing. Or a Crystal thing. Or a—"
"Okay!" Zander laughed. "I get it. I know. I seem to attract crazy. What can I say?"
"I'm sure it is such a hardship," Nick said sarcastically.
"It has its ups and downs," Zander laughed emphasizing the last phrase. Lizzie rolled her eyes and walked away. If they were going to start on the penis jokes, she'd heard enough.
She did wonder about the Tiffany thing, though. Interesting he didn't mention Tiffany to her when she asked why he came back. She'd have to do some digging online later.
For now, she concentrated on packing up the clothes in her room and figuring out a way to hide them from her mom.
CHAPTER FIVE
Lizzie awoke on Monday with some pressure in her chest. She groaned hoping she wasn't getting sick. But the pressure wasn't so much in her chest as it was on her chest. She peeked one eye open a slit to see a pink nose inches away from her face.
"Peabody," Lizzie groaned again. "Today is my day off, buddy. I get to sleep in," she told the cat, but stroked a hand down his back anyway. He purred and started to knead her chest.
"Okay. That's enough," she said, pushing him gently to the side. He rubbed his face against hers leaving hair in his drool. She wiped the spot with the back of her hand and rolled over determined to get at least a few more minutes of sleep. Peabody wasn't having it. He climbed on her side and meowed loudly in her ear.
"Fine. Fine. I give up," she said and threw the covers off. She picked up her phone to check the time as she went into her adjoining bathroom. Peabody followed closely on her heels. 9:30am. Wow, later than she expected. Usually Peabody was whining for his breakfast by eight.
After feeding the cat, who shot her derisive looks over his shoulder as he ate like she starved him, she decided to head back to her parents' place to pick up the boxes of clothes and things she left there. The sooner she could get these boxes to the donation center, the less likely her mother would be to look through the boxes and insist she keep it all. She gave Peabody one more scratch on his head, grabbed her car keys, gave her motorcycle a longing glance, and made the twentyish minute drive back to her childhood home. She'd been here more often in the past few days than she had in the past year. Luckily, she'd almost finished her room.
As her car autopiloted to the Potomac house, she wondered why she didn't feel nostalgic about her parents selling it. She'd grown up there. She'd learned to ride her bike—both bikes, motorized and not—in the driveway. She'd skinned her knees playing street hockey out front and sprained a wrist falling out of the tree out back. But she didn't really feel any connection to the big, sprawling house now coming into view in front of her. Maybe because it had always felt like a house and not a home. Her parents worked hard for their money and to provide a privileged lifestyle for the family, but that also meant they weren't home very often. And the house had to be kept immaculate, by order of her mother, in case of guests.
In fact, all her fondest memories were made outside not inside the house. She never really thought she fit in with her parents' immaculate world anyway. She certainly wasn't as dainty as her mother hoped she'd be. Lizzie didn't consciously set out to be the opposite of her mother's expectations for her only daughter but working at a bar and driving a motorcycle pretty much hit that nail on the head. At least her mom had stopped nagging her about "finding a nice young man and settling down".
Lizzie grabbed the few donation boxes she had and then fit whatever else from the keep pile she could into her car. Dammit, she'd have to make another trip at some point. She should have asked Zay to use his truck. Smug and smiling, she left the donation boxes at the Salvation Army drop-off location on her way home. No more pink taffeta or white lace in her immediate future, thank Christ.
Peabody greeted her by the garage door when she got home. Now, this place felt like home. She didn't like to flaunt her money, mostly because she didn't earn the majority of it herself, but she did splurge and buy a single-family home in a nice neighborhood—nothing too fancy, but a few steps up from the apartments most of her friends had. Not many people even knew she lived in this neighborhood; she didn't have guests often. She didn't want to explain how she could afford this place.
She plopped the fat cat in his window seat so she could bring in the other boxes without worrying about him running out. Not that his fat fluffy butt would get very far but chasing him around the neighborhood while trying to cajole him with treats wasn't on her list of things to do today.
At the top of her list was searching Zander Drake to see what she could find out about the Tiffany thing. Not in a stalkery kind of way; just a curious about an old friend way. Maybe she could help him by offering some female perspective.
She snorted. Yeah right. Advice from her vast dating experience. Which lately consisted of one half-hearted dinner with a patron that ended when he revealed he was "separated" from his wife. Lizzie felt bad for the guy but wanted nothing to do with being in the middle of someone's marriage regardless of its current status.
She easily found his social media accounts—most of which were set to private. Although he'd probably accept if she requested to follow him, she wasn't ready to commit to that level of "I care" just yet. She did find a series of pictures from a benefit reception his company hosted a few months back. In almost all of the pictures of Zander, a big breasted fake blonde with far too much make-up and not enough skirt stood close beside him. Lizzie wondered if her boobs were as fake as her eyelashes clearly were. Then scolded herself for being a petty bitch. Underneath all the shellac, the girl was pretty and just the type she figured Zander Drake would go for. This had to be Tiffany, right? The benefit happened only a few months ago; surely Zee didn't go through woman faster than that. So, what was the "thing" associated with Ms. Titsalicious that forced Zander to travel out of state to get away from her?
Zander did look pretty damn good in a suit
, though. In most pictures he was smiling in the center of different groups of people. No surprise there. He'd always been the popular kid. In one photo, though, he was just barely visible in the background of the shot. Slightly out of focus and still his body language suggested he wasn't smiling. He was leaning against the wall with one hand on his forehead and his shoulders hunched forward. He exuded a trace of fatigue or sadness or frustration. Must've been taken at the end of the night. She'd be tired, too, after smiling for hours and having to make small talk with god knows how many people. She was tired just thinking about it. Although small talk and forced smiles was pretty much what she did for her career at the bar, the addition of fancy dresses and small finger sandwiches made her itch with unpleasant memories from her past. Memories of being drug to similar fancy parties and forced to smile demurely at her parents' friends and associates. She shivered involuntarily. Yuck.
She couldn't help but feel like that one brief moment, a moment where he didn't think anyone could see him, was the real Zander Drake. Or she could be projecting her own feelings onto him. She squinted at the picture to try to see any more detail in his expression.
Then jumped out of her skin when someone knocked on the door. "Jesus, Joseph, and Mary," she shrieked. Peabody scrambled under the couch at her outburst. "Sorry, buddy," she said to the cat. "Are you expecting someone?" Because she wasn't.
The knock came again. "I'm coming!" she shouted.
She peeked through the curtains on the side of the door. Well, color her surprised: Zander stood there holding a box. She opened the door.
"What're you doing here?" she asked.
"You keep asking me that," he said. "I'm beginning to think you don't want me around. Maybe next time try hello."
"Hello," she said. "What are you doing here?"
He laughed. "I thought I'd drop off the rest of your boxes. Plus, I wanted to see your house," he said trying to peek around her.
