Chapter 7

 

My favorite thing to do when I get home from the motorcycle shop every night is to scrub off all the dirt and grime that accumulates on my skin and sticks to my clothing throughout the wear and tear of the day. The steam billows into little foggy clouds in the bathroom and it smells like suds in here as I lather myself up to achieve that clean feeling that I relish at the end of each day.

Dusk is on the rapid approach during this early spring afternoon. It’s a little after five o’clock in the evening. I can’t wait to kick back with a cold beer and maybe see if a baseball game is on TV tonight.

I stand under the water for a few more minutes, unable to move a single muscle because it’s so relaxing and warm. The water pelts against my back in massaging movements before trickling and sliding off down the rest of my torso. I have an awesome shower. Its huge, made of marble, and fit for a king.

Not that I consider myself to be anything remotely close to royalty or anything, but it’s nice to have something grand to come home to every once in a while, and my shower definitely fits that description. There’s a huge rain forest type of nozzle that hangs from the middle of the ceiling which brings both style and comfort.

Knowing I can’t stand here under this blissful habitat of warmth to hide away and dwell forever, I twist the nozzle and the water disappears, back into the pipes in the wall. I grab a towel off the rack on the wall just outside the glass shower double doors and pat myself dry, rubbing the towel with rough force on my wet hair that’s always a bit longer and unruly at the top.

As a rule, I’m not one to fuss over my appearance, but even I have to admit that my hair is one of my best features. Let’s just say that I probably won’t have to be buying out the shelves of Rogaine or hair thinning products anytime soon, unlike some of my unfortunate friends.

I run a comb through my hair and toss on some aftershave. My face is still relatively smooth since shaving yesterday, but I enjoy the masculine fragrance of the stuff, so I slap a generous amount on my cheeks anyway.

I throw on a white t-shirt and a clean pair of jeans, ready to relax for the remainder of the evening. I don’t mind being out here at the lake mansion by myself. Girls are the furthest thing from my mind right now, and I relish in the quality alone time I get to enjoy here out in the seclusion of the woods. Sure, I have neighbors, but their houses are far enough away that I’m never bothered by them.

When I step out of my bedroom, a sweet aroma fills the air around me, and it’s definitely not that of my aftershave. It’s the unmistakable scent of chocolate chip cookies, and perhaps the smell of snickerdoodles as well.

I walk out to the hallway and glance down over my second story open foyer, placing my elbows over the wooden guard railings. As I glance over the balcony, my memory suddenly jolts me back to reality.

Shit. I completely forgot all about offering up my house to my cousin Alexa tonight so that she can hold her book club in a decent venue.

I groan internally, but know it’s too late to protest now because Alexa is as sweet as the baked goods she prepares. Not to mention, her tiny apartment won’t fit five people comfortably, much less a whole crowd.

I continue to glance down the balcony to the open concept kitchen and living room below. My kitchen is off to the left side of the house, and only partially visible from up here, unlike my living room in the center of the first floor.

Observing Alexa work, I can hear her humming an unfamiliar tune as she happily bakes. Her natural joy and charisma brings a smile to my face. Just like me, she’s found a career she loves.

She is wearing her trademark apron, white with a single red rose in the center. Alexa loves floral print, and every time I see her it seems like she’s wearing a different, trendy style dress that’s always long in length and fits her curvy shape perfectly. 

Tonight is no different, and her long dark hair ends with feathering just above her waist. She’s carefully arranging a platter of fresh baked cookies which she places down on the counter.

Several bottles of wine sit in the corner of the breakfast bar overlooking the living room and there are two food trays containing cold cut sandwiches with the cases open for easily accessible grabbing.

Plastic cups and plates decorate the rest of the white and grey swirled marble countertops and it looks like a charming and welcoming feast in the making.

Leave it to Alexa to throw a knock out type of party. She’s better with people than I am. Me, I’ve been burned too many times in my life to take off my heart shield at this point, but I have to love her for the way she cares for people and brings them together with food.

She’s like the Martha Stewart of Mable Falls, Texas. She honestly should have her own baking show. I’d vouch for her one hundred percent. I watch as she picks up one remaining dining room chair, with its plush red velvet seat that is so comfortable I had to buy it when I saw it in the furniture store showroom. Then, she carries the chair to accompany the rest into the living room where it looks like she’s formed a little half circle around the couch and the loveseat.

Now, there is an offering of ample seating, looking to house roughly about twelve people or so. The dining room furniture set was the first thing I bought for myself when I moved into the lake house, anticipating that one day maybe I’d host huge dinner parties where friends and family gathered around it.

I haven’t hosted a formal dinner parry to date yet, but judging by the grand scale of a book club that Alexa is putting on for her friends, at least the chairs will get some decent use tonight. I decide that I should walk downstairs and offer Alexa some help, if she needs it. At least I should say hello to her before retreating back to my master bedroom. I’m not interested in listening to a bunch of girl chat, but I should be friendly enough to at least say hi to my cousin before the chaos begins and everyone starts to arrive.

It’s not exactly the marvelous evening I’d planned for myself, but I take it all in stride as I jog down the stairs while planting an enthusiastic smile on my face.

“Hey Alexa,” I greet her with a little wave and stand awkwardly by my subzero stainless steel refrigerator.

My kitchen has a very rustic feel with splashes of industrial design, an acquired taste that I’ve come to know and love. The kitchen is the heart of the home and I hope that Alexa and her friends can make themselves comfortable without me getting involved.

“Hey Mason!” Alexa inevitably squeals with delight and reaches over to grab me for a bear hug. She pats my back and stares up into my eyes as if I’m a sight for sore eyes.

“I just got out of the shower and smelled your delicious cookies,” I chuckle and prop my hand on the counter.

“Oh, right,” Alexa nods and gestures to the tray of chocolate chip delights. “Do you want one?”

It’s hard for me to resist the temptation, even though I know I should decline so that her guests can enjoy them first.

“Do you have enough?” I ask and peer over the counter where the cookies taunt and beckon me.

“Absolutely!” Alexa playfully swats at my chest as if I’m crazy for even assuming there wouldn’t be enough to go around.

“Well I suppose your guests won’t miss just one,” I laugh and carefully retrieve the softest looking one on the top.

“Honey, please,” Alexa states with enough sass to set off a round of fireworks. “Alexa always makes sure to double the recipes,” she confesses.

I take a sizable bite of the cookie and the buttery goodness melts into pure bliss on my tongue.

“Wow,” I mumble with a mouthful. “These are incredible.”

“I know.” Alexa plants a hand on her hip and tosses me a wink.

“Do you need any help getting the food set out?” I ask the question, but as I glance around I realize just how ridiculous I sound. Alexa has everything under control just like always.

“I don’t need any help,” she affirms with a wide grin. “I am just so thankful that you let me borrow your cool digs for the night!”

I chuckle. “My cool digs?”

“Yeah!” Alexa chimes. “I’m going to be the hit of the book club hosting at a luxury lake retreat like this.”

“Well, it’s my pleasure,” I tell her, feeling reassured that my house will be in good hands. “If you ask me though, the real hit of the party will be your food.”

Alexa places a humbled hand to her heart. “Thank you cuz. You know I’ve got mad love for you.”

“Right back at you,” I tell her, attempting to sound cool but I’m not sure how convincing that’s going.

A few seconds later, the doorbell rings, announcing the first guest to arrive. I toss an apprehensive glance at Alexa. “Hey, um…do you mind if I take off? I’m just going to be in my room upstairs.”

“You don’t want to stay and hang out?” Alexa asks but I can tell by the twinkle in her eyes that she’s probably kidding, knowing full well this type of company won’t be my cup of tea.

“Maybe another time,” I joke and turn around to start trucking my way back up the stairs. I turn around at the last second before Alexa walks to the door to let her friends in. “Hey Alexa?” I call out.

“Yeah?” She back tracks a few paces and stares up at me.

“Have fun tonight,” I wink at her and then head up to my room where I’ll be under the safety of four walls to avoid the women downstairs…at all costs.

The last thing I need is to find one that’s attractive and then it’d be all downhill from there.