Chapter Ten
Rhenn
This is weird in a completely domesticated sort of way.
I’m standing beside Marissa in her tiny kitchen as she prepares the extra dishes for dinner. She’s humming a song I don’t know, and from time to time, will add in a little hip shake. The woman is entirely in a zone as she whips through the hardboiled deviled egg salad by heart, without once looking at a recipe. That prospect alone completely blows my mind. My mom was an average cook, but she always had to look at a card or book for the instructions. But Marissa? It’s like she’s using some old family recipe that she keeps stored in a mental file.
It’s impressive as hell.
Without saying a word, she hands me a knife and points to the bag of cucumbers. “You want me to cut them? There’s no worse fate for a…cucumber.”
“You can handle it, big boy,” she sasses as she continues to dice the eggs.
So here I am, washing and cutting cucumbers for a salad. Like a homemade one. One I didn’t order from a deli or restaurant. Careful, the sky might fall.
I make my first cut and the tip flies across the counter. By the time I have my knife ready and my hand positioned so I don’t chop off a finger, Marissa has already cut another egg. She’s a magician with a blade, and for some crazy reason, it kinda turns me on. I keep at it, making slow and calculated cuts with my knife, until I’ve finally sliced the entire first vegetable. When I glance over, she has her egg and avocado salad completely put together and is reaching for the cantaloupe.
“I can’t believe how fast you are with that thing,” I say, using my knife to point at hers.
She offers me a small smile. “I use one a lot. I do a ton of cutting and chopping for the bed and breakfast.”
I keep one eye on what I’m doing and one eye on the beauty beside me. “You’re stunning, but when you’re working in the kitchen, in your element, you’re incredibly beautiful.” She doesn’t respond, but I can feel her eyes on me. When I glance her way, she’s giving me an incredulous look. “What? You don’t believe me?” I ask, setting my knife down and turning to face her.
“Uhh, no,” she replies with an uncomfortable chuckle, as if to blow off my statement. She turns back to her chopping, but not before I see the sexy blush creep up her cheeks.
Placing my hand on top of hers to keep from one of us losing a finger, I help her set the knife aside and turn her to face me. My fingers itch to touch her smooth skin, but I know as soon as I do, I won’t be able to stop. So instead, I place my hand on her hip and pull her close. A strand of hair falls forward, and I can’t stop myself from taking that strand in my hand. It feels smooth and silky and smells like flowers. “I don’t know who hurt you, but he deserves to have his ass kicked.”
I mean the words, even though they bite. They bite because I’ve been that asshole. I’m the guy who loves ’em and leaves ’em. That’s all I know. Well, that’s not technically true, but that’s all I’ve convinced myself I could have. Relationships lead to pain and regret, but if I were going to give up my bed-hopping ways, it would be for a woman just like Marissa.
“He’s not worth the energy,” she replies with a smile, making my own lips curl upward.
“You’ve got that right, Angel. Now, how about we finish off these dishes so I can throw the chicken on the grill?” I ask, placing a kiss on her forehead and taking a step back. I definitely need a little space.
“You grill?” she asks, glancing at me over her shoulder as she finishes cutting the fruit.
“I’m a man. Of course I grill. It’s in my DNA.”
“But I thought you didn’t cook.” She places the final bowl in the fridge, rearranging a few containers so that the last two will fit.
“I don’t, but that doesn’t mean I can’t throw a thick, juicy steak on the barbeque.”
“We’re having chicken,” she sasses, crossing her arms and resting her hip against the counter across from me.
“Easy peasy.”
Her eyebrow rises as she tries to decide if she believes me or not. The truth is, I’m a whiz on the grill. Hell, I’ve barely ever turned on the stove, but my grill gets regular use. Throw a slab of meat on, take one of the side dishes out of the fridge that I picked up at the deli, and you’ve got a meal. That’s the only way I eat, if it’s not ordered out. Well, that and cereal dinners. I hate to admit how many of those bad boys I’ve consumed since graduating high school, but it’s a lot. Lucky Charms are my favorite, and I only have to spend an extra ten minutes on the treadmill to make up for my lack of a nutritious dinner the night before.
Totally worth it though.
“Trust me, Angel. I got this,” I confirm, placing another kiss on her forehead as the door opens.
“Aww, did I catch you two neckin’ in the kitchen? You know, tabletop sex is some of the best sex around. There’s just something about doing the dirty where you ate your Cheerios this morning,” Emma says as she sweeps into the room.
“We’re not…”
“Well, not yet, darling. You’re both still clothed. And I do admit, I’m a little bummed I arrived too early at the party. I’ve been dying to see the bare ass on this one since that self-defense class he taught. My loins were burning for hours, if you know what I mean,” Emma coos to Marissa, making her cheeks fire-engine red.
I can practically feel the heat from Marissa’s blush from a foot away. While I’m used to Emma’s brand of sexual humor, her niece beside me isn’t, and I’m pretty sure she wants to crawl in a hole right now and hide. I, on the other hand, want to talk more about this table sex…
“I’ll go light the grill,” I reply, whistling as I head out the door Emma just entered through.
Outside, the sun is shining and the birds are chirping. Orval is over with his sister, son-in-law, and Cindy, Sawyer is playing catch with Max and Jensen, and Harper and AJ are deep in conversation. Samuel appears to be off by himself, his stoic and rigid posture just taking it all in. Who I don’t see is Meghan and Nick.
I’m pretty sure I don’t want to know what they’re off doing…
As soon as he arrived in my boat, I met him on the dock and went to check her out. Yes, I trust my friend, but yes, I needed to see with my own eyes that she was fine. Besides, his wife was anxious to get to him too, considering it had been a whole five hours since they last laid eyes on each other.
On the back deck of the bed and breakfast, I find two grills. A large pit-style charcoal grill and a massive gas grill. Since Marissa is almost ready with the sides, I opt to light the gas one. It’ll only take a fraction of the time to heat up and we’ll be eating before the coals would be ready with the charcoal unit.
“Need some help?” Samuel asks as he approaches me.
“Sure. Marissa’s working on the sides, so I thought I’d get this thing ready for the chicken,” I reply as I fire up all eight burners.
“She’s letting you grill?” Samuel asks, his face showing as much shock as I picked up in his voice.
“That’s surprising?” I ask, turning to face him.
“Well, yeah. She won’t let any of us cook, even to man the grill. She’s a bit territorial when it comes to the kitchen,” he says, the faintest smile crossing his lips. The man rarely smiles, so I’ll take this as a positive sign.
“Huh, she didn’t argue with me when I told her I was coming out to light the grill. Though, I did leave her in the kitchen with Emma. She probably wasn’t thinking straight with all the talk about table sex,” I add with a smile.
“That woman is nuts,” Samuel says, almost absently.
“That she is, but she’s also amazing and generous. Hell, the whole family is amazing. They’d do anything for anyone, without so much as a question. They all pretty much took me in as an additional family member when Meghan and Nick got together.”
Samuel seems to consider my words, his eyes watching and reading me. It’s a little unnerving, honestly, but I don’t let it show. I’ve always been a bit too confident and definitely a little cocky, but when I’m being stared down by Samuel – Marissa’s oldest brother – I feel my armor start to slip just a little. The truth is I want him to like me. I want him to approve of me, and that right there is a problem. I’ve never wanted or needed anyone’s approval for anything. I’m me, and if you don’t like it, tough shit.
He seems to relax just a little. Well, as much as an uptight man like him can relax. Hell, he’s still wearing a suit. To a cookout with his family. On a Saturday evening. I take that as a good sign as I turn my attention back to the grill. “So, you’re from Jupiter Bay?” he asks, keeping his arms crossed over his chest.
“Yep, born and raised. My mom still lives there.”
“Dad?” he asks, my insides twisting in a familiar pain.
Shrugging my shoulders casually, I reply, “Not sure. Haven’t seen him in years.”
He must sense there’s a hell of a lot there that I have no intention of getting into right now. “No siblings?”
“None,” I answer, scraping off the grill grates, even though they’re already spotless.
“Lucky,” he mumbles, turning to watch his brother throw his son in the air and spin him around like Superman.
“You don’t like having siblings?” I ask, closing the lid and giving Samuel my full attention.
“No, I do. We’re just so different. They do shit just to piss me off,” Samuel states, taking a drink from his water bottle.
I can’t help but laugh. “That’s what siblings are for. They’re supposed to be assholes.”
Samuel grunts his reply and I don’t miss the way his eyes light up with laughter as he watches his nephew giggle as he spins through the air. Even though he may complain about his younger siblings, something tells me Samuel wouldn’t trade his brother and sisters for the world. “So what’s going on with you and my sister?” he asks, causing me to drop the grate brush I was still holding in my hand.
“What do you mean?” I ask, suddenly feeling a little hot under the collar.
He shrugs. “I’ve noticed you looking at her.” He doesn’t say anymore and waits for me to pick up the conversation.
“She’s beautiful,” I state honestly. Shit, beautiful still doesn’t seem like a strong enough adjective to describe Marissa. “I enjoy hanging out with her,” I add, not wanting to get into too much detail with this man. Frankly, it’s none of his business what happens (if anything) between Marissa and me, but because I want this guy – this family – to like me, for some crazy, foreign reason, I don’t just tell him to fuck off like I normally would.
“You’re leaving in a few weeks.” It’s not a question, but a reminder.
“I am.”
He continues to stare at me, but I don’t back down. I keep my eyes locked on his and just wait to see what his next move is. We’re practically the same size heightwise, but I have him in muscle content. He’s a lean guy, but that doesn’t mean he’s not fit. In fact, I can tell the dude works out a bit, probably just not to my level.
We’re at a standoff, both of us sizing the other up, neither of us speaking. I still just can’t get over the fact that I care what he thinks of me.
What the hell?
Finally, Samuel looks away. I watch him watch his youngest sister as she comes out of her tiny little house, laughing at something Emma says. “Just don’t hurt her.” His words are quiet – almost so quiet that I don’t hear them – but the point is obvious.
“I won’t,” I find myself saying automatically.
The asshole in me usually doesn’t care much about that. Typically, I don’t stick around long enough to see if a woman is hurt or not. Hell, they know the score. I make it very clear what I’m offering before it even advances into the bedroom. I don’t want a relationship. I don’t want to cuddle or spoon. I want fun, between the sheets, and that’s it. Sometimes, if we both agree, there may be a few more rounds of fun, but for the most part, I’m out before there’s even a chance for emotions and feelings to get involved.
Fuck, I’m such an asshole.
My lifestyle slams into me like a fully loaded semi-truck, leaving me a whole lotta breathless and stunned. As I watch Samuel observe his siblings, I suddenly find myself sliding into his shoes. What the hell would I do if I found out some jackass was screwing my sister like that? One night of crazy sex and release. No chance of more afterward. No phone calls except to hook up. No compliments or accolades, except those that are said in the throes of passion.
It’s a bitter pill to swallow.
I hate it.
Damn you, Samuel Grayson, for making me feel shit I don’t want to feel, see things I don’t want to see.
But do you know what? A zebra doesn’t change its stripes. It is what it is, much like me. I am who I am and that has never been a problem before, so no reason to make it a problem now. Even though my gut burns with something that feels a bit like shame, I push it all aside.
I won’t change for anyone.
“Hey,” Nick joins the conversation, coming from the bed and breakfast with his wife. Her hair is delightfully mussed, a smug grin spread wide on my friend’s face, and I can’t help but laugh. “What?” he asks, the smile never leaving.
“Enjoy the tour?”
“Damn straight,” he states proudly. I swallow back something that tastes a little like jealousy and offer my knuckles to my friend.
“I really don’t want to know,” Samuel says, his voice and face void of any sort of humor. “Not only is the house a walking safety hazard, with nails, screws, and treated lumber all over the place, but there’s no conceivably soft or welcoming surface left in the place. What did you do? Take her against the wall?” He looks completely mortified.
“A cabinet, actually,” Nick replies with a grin.
“That’s barbaric,” Samuel adds, trying to act like it doesn’t bother him, but I can tell by the tightness around his eyes that he’s not impressed with random sex against hard objects. It’s as if the only way to bed a woman is in just that: a bed. He’s clearly dating the wrong kinda women.
“I just hope you cleaned up your own mess. I don’t want Marissa to find it and have to deal with it, since you’re unable to keep it in your pants,” I add, turning the grill temperature down.
“We’re in the honeymoon phase. We’re supposed to be screwing everywhere, all day long,” Nick boasts.
“Good thing she’s already knocked up, or it wouldn’t take long,” I say, watching his face contort to one of pure happiness. If I thought my friend was happy before, with just him and Meghan, that’s nothing compared to what I see in his eyes and written all over his face at the mention of their unborn child.
“That’s right, I heard you two were expecting. Congratulations,” Samuel adds, reaching out his hand before realization sets in and he quickly pulls it back. “Never mind.”
Nick and I both bust up laughing. “Yeah, I’m going to head inside and wash my hands,” he replies with a wink before heading off to Marissa’s place. They pass in the yard, her face lighting up with laughter as they exchange a few words before going about their business.
Marissa approaches with a large tray of chicken. She sets a jar of seasoning beside the grill and turns my way. “I can do it,” she says, nervousness on her face. I can tell she’s having a hard time relinquishing control of her barbeque, much like her brother said she would.
“I got it, Angel,” I reply, leaning forward and placing a kiss on her forehead, not even caring that Samuel is still standing beside me. “Go enjoy a few minutes with your family.”
She looks torn, but eventually nods her head. She gives her brother a smile before turning and walking over to where Harper and AJ are visiting. Marissa sits down beside them, the girls instantly pulling her into their conversation. It only takes a few seconds before she’s leaning over and talking to the baby. Nolan is sitting on his mom’s lap, wide awake and just taking it all in. When Marissa starts to speak, his arms start to wave wildly and his eyes light up with excitement.
I know the feeling.
Before long, AJ is passing the baby to her cousin, who gingerly holds the little boy. Her movements are a bit rigid at first, but it only takes her mere seconds to warm up to the baby in her arms. She’s a natural, and for some reason, that thought makes me smile. For her. I smile for her because I can tell that someday, Marissa will make a killer mom.
My heart starts to pound and an ache spreads through my chest, and even though my brain is screaming at me to look away, I can’t. I won’t. Because I don’t want to miss a single second of the happiness etched on her beautiful face. It only makes her glow that much more. She radiates sunshine and happiness, and for the life of me, I can’t figure out why she was put in my path, at this particular time in my life. I’m more of the fly by the seat of your pants kinda guy, yet here I am, feeling the need to stop and smell the roses.
Or smell Marissa.
I could definitely get on board with more of that.
Maybe a little more kissing…
Meghan joins their little group, bends down and kisses her nephew’s fuzzy little head, and takes an empty seat beside Harper. Now, she really is glowing. I’ve heard that pregnancy makes women glow, and I always thought that was the biggest pile of shit. You know, a way to say you’re still beautiful, even though you’ve been throwing up for days on end or have put on a little extra weight in the neck and cheeks. But looking at my best friend’s wife, I know what it means for a woman to glow. She’s stunning, and my best friend is a lucky bastard. He must agree, because when he comes back outside, he just stands there, off to the side, and watches her. He smiles softly, knowing that she’s his for the rest of his life.
Again, that ache I try to ignore.
I throw the chicken on the grill and lightly season the meat. There’s enough here to feed an army, which is good because I’ve seen the way the Summer family eats. Even though we’ve only got about half of them in attendance today, I know that a good chunk of food is going to be put away tonight.
While the meat begins to cook, my eyes return to Marissa – completely on their own, mind you. She’s taking the bottle from AJ, leaning the baby back in her arms, and placing the food to his mouth. The little guy immediately starts to go to town on his bottle, holding it with one hand as if he’s afraid she may pull it away. The other hand reaches up and grabs her hair. He doesn’t seem to pull it, just holds it in his tiny hand. She glances down and smiles sweetly, my heart thundering in my chest.
I have to look away.
When I do, my eyes collide with Samuel’s. They’re staring straight through me, as if reading every thought filtering through my brain. I need to look away. For some reason, I can’t stand the scrutiny, so I do, and instantly feel guilt. “Don’t hurt her,” he whispers again, just loud enough that I can hear him repeat his warning.
I open my mouth to confirm, once more, that I won’t, but nothing comes out. For the first time in my life, I know I can’t make that promise. I know that walking away from this woman won’t be as easy as it was with every woman before her. So, instead, I nod my head and turn to face the grill. I flip the chicken and ignore the rapid-fire beat of my heart and the way my breath is caught in my throat when I saw her hold the baby.
Instead, I focus on the weather and the food and push those pesky unwanted sensations (the ones that feel a lot like emotions) out of my mind. This isn’t me. It’s this place, this town. That’s gotta be it. Once I go back to Jupiter Bay, back to my life, I’ll be back in the swing of things, if you know what I mean.
In the meantime, there’s no reason why I shouldn’t enjoy a little extra free time with Marissa, right?
Completely untangled, uncomplicated.
Easy.