“You’re still in college?” Chelsea asked, surprised because she thought he was older than that.
Used to distracting herself while she did her dreaded chores, she continued stacking glasses and plates in the dishwasher as she waited for Shane’s answer.
“Yes,” Shane told her. “I’m working on a doctorate in research psychology.”
“You’re a psychiatrist?” she asked, trying to understand.
Shane shook his head, watching her proficiently load the dishwasher. “No—not a psychiatrist. I could be a counselor if I wanted. I like research, and I’m writing a book about divorce.”
“You don’t look like a doctor,” Chelsea said, trying to pretend she wasn’t checking out his jeans and old T-shirt.
Shane laughed and sighed. “So I keep hearing. Maybe I need to think about fixing my appearance.”
Chelsea giggled, and the sound had Shane remembering Reesa giggling earlier when he’d been all wet. He thought it would be pretty easy to get used to hearing females giggling at everything he said. Funny how he’d never really liked that until now.
“That’s a pretty good job loading the dishwasher. It usually takes me several tries. Of course, I only do dishes every couple of weeks. Maybe it’s a lack of practice,” Shane confessed, grinning at the face Chelsea made. His mother often made the same one when she visited.
“Every couple of weeks!” Chelsea exclaimed, laughing and mock shivering at the idea of two-week-old dirty dishes. “That’s just gross, Shane. Are you one of those lonely bachelor guys who never cleans his house?”
Shane grinned. “Well—I was until I met your Aunt Teresa.”
“Yeah right—that’s a good story,” Chelsea said, complete disbelief in her tone.
Shane laughed loudly at her cynicism, drawing a glare from her for his disrespect. “You look a lot like your Aunt Jillian right now.”
Chelsea blushed at his compliment, hoping it was true. She thought her Aunt Jillian was beautiful. “I’m not stupid you know. Even at fourteen, I know enough about guys to know when they’re lying to me.”
“Actually, what I told you is absolutely true,” Shane said seriously. “Several months ago, my father made me feel completely guilty about my bad dating habits. Reesa was my first date in several months. She was irresistible, and here I am.”
“What did you like so much about her?” Chelsea asked quietly. Maybe Shane would clue her in on what guys really thought. Zack just laughed at her questions. “Was it her clothes?”
Shane laughed. “Clothes? No. Reesa looked nice enough, but it wasn’t that.”
Chelsea stopped loading and waited for him to get to the point.
“I think it was Reesa’s smile. She looked at me like she saw who I really was despite how I look to most everyone else. It was a lot of things that kind of hit me all at the same time,” Shane said carefully.
He saw Chelsea had gone back to stacking dishes. It was very hard to explain how he enjoyed Reesa’s lack of self-consciousness to a teenager who thought of little other than the image she projected. Chelsea and Zack were two of the most talkative, friendly teenagers he’d ever met, but that didn’t mean they didn’t have insecurities.
“Don’t get me wrong,” Shane said sincerely. “Pretty clothes are nice, and some guys really go for women like your Aunt Jillian who are always put together well. What a person likes is a very individual thing. Everybody is attracted to a person who is physically fit, but some look for other things, like a perfect smile or a great sense of humor. I’ve known a lot of beautiful women, but I don’t remember much about them. On the other hand, I remember every single thing your Aunt Teresa said and did on our first date. She had the right combination for me. You’re going to be the right combination for some guy some day.”
Chelsea nodded. “You must be a mind-reader or something. My Dad used to say my Mom was the perfect combination of everything wonderful. You could tell he meant it.”
“Is that their picture on the shelf in the living room?” Shane asked. He’d seen the attractive couple, arms wrapped around each other, smiles lighting their faces. It wasn’t surprising to him that incredible children came from that love.
Chelsea nodded, trying not to be too sad when she talked about them. She and Zack had made a pact to be strong for the other two.
“My father would sing to my mother when he was trying to be romantic. I guess that would be corny to some people, but it worked for them,” she said.
And for you,
Shane thought.
“That’s better than what my parents did. My mother is very proper and often would be snooty when she got mad. My father used to football tackle her wherever she was. He’d drag to the floor squealing until she said she was sorry,” Shane told her.
“That’s definitely not as romantic as singing,” Chelsea said, arching her brow.
Her scornful look was so much like Jillian’s that Shane couldn’t help laughing. “Some men are romantic heroes. Some are just big dumb guys,” he conceded.
“Which are you?” Chelsea asked, laughing as Shane grinned and shrugged.
Shane shoved up his sleeve and turned it toward Chelsea. “Tattoos hurt to get. Don’t let anybody tell you differently. This is a very painful remainder for me to shoot for being a hero instead of just being a big dumb guy. My father is actually the best of both. I want to be just like him when I grow up.”
Chelsea laughed. “Well—you did run the dweeb off. That might not be romantic to Aunt Teresa, but it helped the rest of us. Now you need to think of something romantic to do for her. Then
you’ll
be both.”
Reesa walked back into the kitchen in time to see Shane sliding his sleeve back down.
“Chelsea and I are talking about romantic gestures. My area of specialty in my studies was courtships and bonding relationships, but I told Chelsea those preferences are very specific to the individual. What do you consider romantic, Reesa?” Shane asked, hearing Chelsea giggle across the room at his nerve.
“I don’t know. Romance makes me nervous. I guess I don’t trust it. I prefer a guy to just be himself with me,” Reesa said, sneaking a look at Chelsea and wondering what her smile meant.
“You mean you prefer big, dumb guys over smooth, polished ones?” Shane asked.
“I guess,” Reesa answered, not sure what was safe to say.
Shane lifted a squealing Reesa by her waist, put his mouth on hers, stole a kiss, and then tossed her down and away before shock could set in. “Okay. Big, dumb guy I can do. See you tomorrow. Good-night Chelsea. I enjoyed our talk.”
Chelsea stood giggling at the outraged look on her aunt’s face as she watched Shane walk away. They heard him say good-bye to Zack and close the door as he left.
Reesa looked at Chelsea, fire in her eyes. “Just what the heck did you two talk about?”
“Shane told me he’s stuck on you because of the way you smiled at him and that he remembers everything about your first date,” Chelsea repeated.
The blush climbed Reesa’s face like a brush fire across the desert. “What did he tell you about our—date?”
“Nothing much,” she said, shrugging. “Why? Was it lame? I can so see Shane being lame.”
Reesa laughed at the sympathetic gaze Chelsea gave her, relieved that Shane had apparently told the right story. “No—it definitely wasn’t lame. It was one of the best dates I’ve ever had. He made me laugh over and over all night—
evening
, I mean. I guess I remember pretty much everything he said or did too.”
“So is Shane like your perfect guy then?” Chelsea asked.
Reesa gave her a knowing female look. “There is no such human animal, honey. Sorry to destroy your illusions before you start officially dating, but you might as well lower your standards now.”
“Well, Shane’s better than Mr. Addison—I mean, at least he seems to like us,” Chelsea said, closing the dishwasher and turning it on. “He’s not the best looking guy you’ve dated, but he’s the nicest I think.”
Reesa snorted at Chelsea’s lack of appreciation for Shane’s physical appeal. She was glad the girl had no idea how prime a male like Shane Larson was. She was going to let Jillian explain the nuances of various men when Chelsea started to date. Reesa had always had an eye for real men instead of pretty ones. Brent had actually been the least rugged man she’d dated. Shane was the best of both once you got past the piercings and tattoos.
“Yes—Shane does like you all, and he’s told me so. I guess that does make him better in many ways than Brent. I just wish he wasn’t so freaking tall,” Reesa said honestly.
Chelsea walked over and gave Reesa a reassuring hug, surprising her into a laugh.
“Maybe you need to give up your illusions and lower your standards,” she heard Chelsea say smartly, tossing Reesa’s words back to her with a sarcastic aplomb only teenagers could pull off so perfectly.
Reesa rolled her eyes and laughed as Chelsea headed out of the kitchen and off to her bedroom.
Shane would be back, and she would decide then what to do about him.
She was all about sleeping with him again.
It was just the love stuff he kept spouting that bothered her.
Chapter 6
“Dad said they found a house. It’s actually two streets away from Jessica’s current house. It has a double garage and giant backyard, tucked into the curve of a cul-de-sac, and it backs to a railroad,” Michael said. “They’re hoping to hear back about their offer on it today.”
“Are they any closer to setting a date for the wedding?” Shane asked, sipping coffee and looking at the clock on the wall.
Michael was an early riser and had only laughed a little when Shane asked his brother if he could come by for coffee at seven-thirty. Not a habitual early riser, Shane had been too wound up to sit at home alone, but it was too early to head over to Reesa’s yet. He had learned Sara didn’t leave for school until eight-thirty and he was determined not to disrupt any more routines than he could help. He figured if he left for her house at eight-twenty, he’d make it there in time to catch Reesa on her second cup of coffee for the day. Maybe she wouldn’t even have gotten dressed yet. Maybe he could talk her into staying undressed for a couple of hours.
“Shane! Where the hell did you drift off to?” Michael demanded, laughing at his brother staring off into space. Shane tended to be spacey at times, but this was excessive—even for him.
“What’s wrong?” Shane asked, bringing his attention back to Michael who was rolling his eyes at him.
The doorbell had Michael looking at the clock himself. “Hell, it’s Grand Central Station around here this morning. I’d be mad if I was still in bed.”
“I got it,” Carrie called, yawning as she passed the kitchen on her way to answer the door. “You have got to start letting me get more than five hours sleep a night, Michael.”
Michael laughed and took a sip of coffee. “I let you sleep in and didn’t wake you up when I wanted to this morning. I think I’m doing good. We’re still technically on our honeymoon, you know—despite the fact that family keeps stopping by every damn day.”
Carrie sighed and pulled open the door to find both Jessica and Brooke on her doorstep.
“Good morning,” she said.
“Great. You’re awake. We’ve got to talk,” Jessica said, walking into the hallway. “Brooke found a gallery spot on the edge of campus. It’s right between UK and Transy. It will cost dear, but the chair of the art department is interested in spotlighting his seniors there. He thinks he can get UK to cut a deal for that privilege, which would defray some of the costs. Are you interested?”
“Who is the art chair now? Is it Fillmore still?” Carrie asked, closing the door behind them and heading to the kitchen.
Her body was still sated from last night. Her brain wasn’t awake yet. When she walked into the kitchen Michael stopped talking to Shane to look at Carrie. The impact of his lusty gaze on her had her instantly wishing he’d woken her up.
Her question and her company forgotten momentarily, Carrie walked to her husband, sat down on his leg, and put her mouth on his, tasting coffee and shock simultaneously on his lips. The rightness of their kiss rippled through both of them. When she left his mouth, she trailed a kiss across his unshaven jaw to his ear.
“Wake me up next time,” she whispered, roughly pulling away, her voice husky with memories of last night.
“Good morning to you too,” Michael said roughly back, running a hand up her back in a possessive stroke. This was the second time in a week that Carrie had come to him without reservations and just kissed him hello. It was the first time in front of a surprised audience that she seemed to be ignoring completely. He would definitely wake her up next time he felt so inclined.
“Want some coffee, beautiful?” he asked, kneading her lower back, knowing the gentle aches there were partly his fault from what they did last night.
“I want a whole pot,” Carrie told him sweetly. “You may want something stronger in your next cup. I may be spending my faux-divorce settlement today. Brooke and Jessica have some hot gallery space I’m going to look at this morning.”
“Spend it. You need something to do so I can get some work done around here. It’s too distracting to work with you home all the time,” Michael teased.