“You look good enough to eat, honey. I heard you bought the house across the street, but haven’t seen you around,” she coos at Mercer releasing his hand in favor of air kissing both of his cheeks. Mercer looks confused for a second but goes along with my cousin who seems to just have remembered her Southern manners. “When did you graduate Greenton High?” she asks, stepping away from him when I walk up.
He takes my hand. “Same year as Clover. Yes, I bought it, but I’m deployed most of the time. Or have been, I should say.”
She nods, lips pulling down in the corners, face lined and weary. “Spring chickens you are,” she rasps, honing in on our ages once again. “I confess I wasn’t expecting to see the both of you here like this. Doing...work. I could have called someone to get it done. There’s really no need to waste your time with menial tasks. I want Clover to be comfortable.” Goldie lifts her head higher. “It’s not going to be easy for her to adjust, so any comfort I can help her with is a win in my book.”
Anger burns in my chest, but my heart wonders if she’s right. Mercer looks at me. “Ah, I think we’re having fun. It was Clover’s idea here to get it done as soon as possible.”
“Your mama called me. She said you didn’t want to video chat and she is wondering if you were living in a third world country brothel. You really should just open the flood gates and let them know that this is it.” Goldie pauses, eyes flicking over my face. “Speaking from experience, of course. It’s easier for you and for everyone else the sooner they get used to the idea that you’re serious about this.”
“I know,” I say, feeling scolded. “I wanted to get a few touches put on the house before I gave her the tour, you know? Make her feel good about where I’m living. We just got in this morning. If I wait a few days, I think she’ll live.”
Goldie nods, moving into the kitchen. I notice the way her eyes roved over Mercer’s body the moment before. This time, he notices too. He smirks at my irritation. “This is one of my rental properties, so your neighbor has been screened. He is a good guy, works as a cop in town. If you need anything, you know since Mercer is deployed most of the time, he’d be a good person to ask.”
“Oh,” I say, gaze sliding to Mercer who is standing next to me. His back is straight, and his face takes on a stoicism that I imagine is his way of hiding what he’s feeling about that cop next door. “That’s good to know.”
“She can call me if she needs anything,” Mercer adds. It’s a weak sentiment, but it pains me he feels the need to add it in. What is the possibility of him helping me with a problem or issue from wherever in the world he’ll be? Time zones aside, Mercer might as well be trapped in a well for how much he’ll be able to be there for me once he leaves.
I squeeze his arm. “I’ll be fine on my own. Don’t worry.”
Goldie laughs, as she opens and closes cabinets double-checking to make sure I’ll have everything I need. She rattles off a few things, adding them to the mental list she’s making. “Clover, I love you, baby, but you can’t be naïve. You will need help.” Her eyes flick to the hole in the wall.
“I’m going to fix that,” Mercer chimes in, shaking his head. “My elbow went through it. Sort of stumbled back after painting the bottom of the wall.” His gaze slides to me. “Must be tired from that drive.”
I laugh and go up on my tiptoes to peck him on his lips. He tightens his hold on my waist and my mouth waters, dying for more. Goldie clears her throat, and we pull apart. “Well, aren’t you two just the picture of young love.”
Mercer breathes out noisily and replies. “We’re thirty, not teenagers.”
“Well you look like teenagers,” Goldie fires back, hands perched on her hips. “Might as well be.” Her brown eyes fix on Mercer’s hand on my body. “This fling that you both are entertaining is great, but you are going back to war. Have you turned on the news lately, Clover?”
I’ve been so wrapped up in my new relationship with Mercer that I have neglected news headlines. That’s not a new occurrence. When there’s so much evil and bad happening in our world, it’s easy for me to turn a blind eye, but now it affects me more than it ever has. I remember the terrorist attack that happened here in Cape Cod, at the Harbour Point SEAL base and my stomach flips. “There’s always war. That’s just the world we live in.”
“Now you’re holding hands with the front line,” Goldie deadpans. Automatically, my gaze slides to our hands and my pulse begins to pound in my ears.
I calm my breath. “I know.”
“There’s no need to upset Clover,” Mercer adds. “I’ll be fine. I’m always fine. Nothing is going to happen to me.”
“Why does that sound like a lie to placate a young child?” I say, trying to disentangle our entwined fingers. He doesn’t let me.
“I didn’t mean to upset you. I want you to understand how different life is going to be for you here. Without him. Without your family. Without everything you’ve grown accustomed to. It would be easier for you if you started this off alone. Figured it all out before making life more complicated with a relationship.”
“That’s not any of your business, ma’am,” Mercer inserts, posture straightening. “Clover doesn’t need me or her family, but she could use a bit of positivity from the person who will be here with her.”
I squeeze his hand before I release him. “I can handle this. Let’s talk outside,” I say, approaching my cousin. There’s a sliding glass door next to the kitchen that leads outside, and I have to push trucking hard to get it to slide open. When we’re outside, I look up to the sky and breathe in fresh air.
“Thank you, Goldie. For getting me out of Greenton. This means a lot to me. I want you to know that.”
“I didn’t mean to upset you or Mercer. It’s just I follow the news closely and I see what the SEAL teams are doing here and there and everywhere, and I don’t want you to get hurt.”
Lightly, I grab one of her hands. “Nothing can possibly hurt me more than living a life that isn’t my own. I’d rather take my chances at something scary than live a lie for another second. I want to paint walls.” I nod at the door beside us. “I want to wear a man’s t-shirt.” I pinch the fabric on my chest. “I want to cut and dye hair. Have Sunday dinner each week. Make a dessert and actually eat it. Love a man because I fell for him, not because he’ll garner influence for the Wellsley family. My reasons and my life.”
She sighs. “I get it. I was you once. I’m older,” Goldie says. “I have experience you don’t. Not trying to force my old lady knowledge on you, it’s hard to keep my mouth shut sometimes.”
“I appreciate the wisdom, I do, and you are not an old lady. But I need to mess up and find balance on my own.”
Goldie picks paint out of my hair, heavily mascaraed eyes wincing as she plucks. “I’m sorry. I’ll do better at helping without inserting my own opinions. Okay?”
“Thank you,” I reply.
“You love him?” Her face registers shock and awe. It’s obvious she truly did assume this was a fling.
Blowing out a breath, I flex my fingers by my sides. “So much, it terrifies me. I’ll tell you what, it’s been a crazy two weeks.”
“Two weeks? You can’t fall in love in two weeks!” Goldie exclaims, then covers her mouth when she realizes she shouted. “That doesn’t happen in the real world. That’s the kind of tall tale the town mystic talks about, sweetie.”
I laugh and hold my arms out. “I’m living it. It’s one of those inexplicable things. Like the craft room in old Bette Mueller’s house. I can’t explain it, but I’ve never been surer of anything in my life. It’s real. It feels like it would have happened no matter what I wanted. It’s been a cosmic pain in the rear. Imagine the look on Mama’s face. I wouldn’t tell you unless I was sure.” That brings a snarl of a smile to her lips.
Goldie and I speak for a few more minutes. Mostly about the salon and when I can stop by and begin my training, but we do talk a bit more about Greenton and who is still there and who is d
oing what with whom. The mood shifts after I stand up to her in my own way. We’ve come to an unspoken agreement about Mercer and my choices. If she thinks I’m going to follow any more rules, she’s mistaken. When we enter the house, Mercer has resumed painting, and he pretends he’s not listening as I walk Goldie out. He does shout a polite goodbye because feelings be darned, manners matter.
“Let me know if you need anything. I’ll get you the kitchen items you’re missing, and maybe you need something to wear to the salon?” Goldie asks, eyes roving my outfit once again. “All black, remember?”
“That’s such a dreadful, boring color. Can’t we have flamboyant Friday or something?”
Goldie quirks a brow. “There’s no taffeta and lace in the North, honey. You might be able to find it in black if you search online,” she says. It’s a joke, but she notices my eyes light up because she shakes her head once and pats me on the head before heading down the walk to her car parked on the street.
“Nice car, by the way,” Goldie, says over her shoulder. “Very inconspicuous.”
I roll my eyes, thinking I might have to sell it to blend in. My eyes catch on Mercer’s house across the street and I narrow my eyes trying to see in the open windows.
Opening the front door, I shout. “Can we take a break? I want a tour of your house.”
That stoic, pale face Mercer donned when Goldie spoke to him is still there. “Sure, if that’s what you’d like to do. Listen though,” he says, swallowing hard, jaw sliding back and forth. “She’s not wrong. I’m angry at what she said, but she’s not wrong.”
“Are you an attorney now with that false positive? Can’t you say she’s right?”
His lips twitch. “It’s dangerous. I will complicate things. You’ll be waiting for me to come home and…maybe your cousin is right.” I think of the worst-case scenario and know she can’t be right. There’s no possible way.
I lift my chin. “Mercer Ballentine, you are not suggesting what I think you’re suggesting. I am a grown woman and if I want to wait for you, I will. I won’t ask the cop for any help if that’s what you’re worrying over.”
“It’s more than the guy next door, but if you say you’re ready for the long-distance and the lonely nights, I’ll trust you.” I don’t believe him. He’s hiding something behind the smile and warm embrace he wraps around my body. My place is small so we’re nearly through painting, with only a section of the bathroom and the hole in the wall to attend to. I change the subject to his house to avoid any more uncomfortable conversations today.
“I don’t really recall how I left the place,” Mercer says, clearing his throat as he grabs his big bag out of my trunk. “It might be tornado status over there.”
“How much stuff can you have in there? You haven’t lived there very long,” I ask, as we cross the street and walk up the narrow brick path leading to his front door.
He turns the key and pushes the door open. “You’d be surprised how much stuff you can accumulate when you have the space for it.” It’s dusty inside, the motes floating around searching for somewhere to land. The house has been shuttered for a long time and it shows. I’m immediately struck with how tidy it is. It’s not a tornado at all. He said that in denial or at the very least to manage my expectations.
“It’s nice, Mercer,” I admit, nodding, walking deeper into the entrance. The kitchen is modern, and it opens to the living room. “Why did you say it would be a mess?”
“It’s not what you’re used to. Not at all. Didn’t want you expecting a palace.” If I thought the mood called for a joke, I’d tell him I knew it wasn’t a palace from the outside, but I can tell he wouldn’t want to hear that. “I can’t offer you what your typical suitors can. I know that means something to you. Just a lowly government employee.” He smirks. There’s nothing lowly about him and he knows it.
There’s nothing I’d change about his place. The wooden floors are dusty, albeit beautiful, the colors are bright and cheery, and the setting sun streams in from double-paned rounded windows filling the home with light. “You’re right,” I say, turning to face him. His hands are in the pockets of his jeans, and unlike me, he doesn’t have a splatter of paint anywhere on his body. It’s unnerving. “You offer more than my typical suitors because you have my whole heart.” A ray of burnt sun cuts a path across his face. His blue eyes are illuminated, and I see the emotion behind his spoken words. “I love you, and I’ve never been in a place I’d rather be more.”
“That a fact, darlin’?” Mercer’s drawl thickens and my panties flood with wetness. It’s embarrassing that’s all it takes, but my mind flicks to sex, his body, what he can do with it, immediately. “Well how about you get washed up at your house, then come back over to mine? I’ll clean up a bit and we can christen the upstairs.” He juts his chin to the chairs behind his shoulder. He said christen, so that means I’m the first here. The insecure woman rears and flips her hair off her shoulder. Yeah, girl. That’s a victory. It has to be with a man like Mercer. Even my only family member here made goo-goo eyes at the man. I get to have him all to myself.
“You mean, finally?” I shout. “Finally?” I clap my hands, and then an awful realization hits and I furrow my brow and look down at my shoes while I do the math.
“It’s up to you now. You tell me your ready, I’m game,” Mercer says, licking his lips. “We don’t have to,” he adds when I don’t respond. “There’s no rush.”
“I want to,” I say, sucking my bottom lip into my mouth. “My monthly. It’s due. What if, you know, it comes while we’re happening,” I say, motioning between our bodies. “And I ruin it, and oh my goodness I’d die of embarrassment if my first time resembled something out of a bloody action film. Can you imagine?”
Mercer shuts me up with a kiss, his tongue separating my lips and filling my mouth. The warmth and wetness forces me to moan out a haphazard cry. There hasn’t been nearly enough of this lately. When I’m good and quiet, he pulls away, that lazy, turned on gleam in his eye. “Permission to speak frankly about the female body, ma’am?”
“Don’t ma’am me, Mercer. Yes. Always speak freely with me,” I return, gaze on his lips.
“If you think I’m put off by a little blood, well, uh, you’re wrong. That said, I want your first time to be everything you want it to be. We’re not in our parents’ houses, or in a vehicle. We have all that seclusion I’m so fond of now, so it’s your call.” He’s not saying what we’re both thinking. He’s leaving for war in a week or less and our time together is dwindling.
How did I envision losing my virginity? Before falling in love with Mercer, I’d say on my wedding night with a man who I didn’t feel a fraction of what I feel right now. It would be commerce. “Just like this is what I envisioned,” I say, mind mending my previous assumptions. “Like this is what I want. I want real, Mercer. Maybe real is messy and wild and nothing what I thought it would be. I’m leading with my heart here, and I want you to have all of it. All of me. We don’t have a lot of time and I think if you’re not afraid of blood, neither am I.”
His grin twists into something humorous, but I can tell he’s excited. “Alright then. Plans stand. Meet me back here with your game face. I’ll bring the tarp.”
“Tarp?” I rasp, arms stilling by my sides.
He holds out his hands. “It was a joke.” Mercer laughs. “You should have seen your face. Do you really think I’d break out a tarp? I’m intent on making this perfect, not a scene from a triple-x film.”
“Not funny. Maybe I changed my mind now that you’re making jokes,” I proclaim, stepping away. He steps toward me, dipping his head into my neck. He doesn’t kiss me, he just breathes, exhaling, sending waves of goosebumps glossing across every inch of my skin. “Or maybe not,” I sigh. I can feel and hear his chuckle and it drives a ragged breath from my mouth.
“Go get ready, Clover,” he says my name like it’s an order. One I want to take. The ache is growing every second that passes.
I
nod, cast my eyes forward and take myself back home in a lust-filled haze of longing.
There are self-served pep talks and weak promises as I shower and shave my legs. There are also nerves and foreboding as I think about calling Tannie for tips and tricks. That’s the logical thing to do, yet I know my body will tell me exactly what to do. What it has wanted to do since the moment he kissed me. Everything about my life is changing. Might as well start with this.
When I’m dressed in a teal dress that flounces against my knees, and coated in lotion, I take my shaking hands and trembling legs to my front door. While I blow dried my hair, I sent a few texts back and forth with Winnie and Tannie about trivial things to calm my nerves. I open my door and lock it, tossing my keyring into my tote bag. Turning to face Mercer’s house, I notice all of the vehicles. They’re lining the street, parked in his driveway—some are even on my side of the street. I was too distracted to notice before they popped up right under my nose.
“Bitty varmint,” I hiss under my breath, glancing at my watch. I left two and a half hours ago and now his house is chock full of people. I consider calling him, but that would make me look stupid, I’m right here, might as well join the party and ask questions later.
It’s raucous, there must be several Bluetooth speakers blowing out music at top volume. Sliding into the door, I hesitantly glance around. The dining room table is now a beer pong table, three men on each side. I went to a few parties back in my early twenties when my friends in college coerced me into it, and I determined quickly they weren’t for me. Not in any way, shape or form. Some big, burly dude who reeks of alcohol bumps into me on his way out and splashes beer down my well-moisturized chest.
He grabs my wrist. “Sorry, sorry. Wasn’t watching where I was going,” he says, Northern accent thick. His eyes flick over me in an appraisal and he quirks a brow. “Okay,” he adds, swallowing hard. “I must have had way too much to drink and drive. Uber it is.”
Almost Had You Page 15
