“It might occur to me to be grateful that she likes to keep our private life private. Now why don’t you go round everyone up so Lacy and I can do what we need to do. And, for the record, Lacy looks awesome in that dress. Frankly, I don’t think you have the curves to pull it off. These match.” He handed her a pair of Lacy’s ballet flats. “Good luck trying to fill your sister’s shoes.”
This time the expression on Riley’s face was honest, and it was angry. She stalked out of the room and slammed the door.
“Oooh, you are going to pay for that remark,” Lacy said.
“I’m not afraid of her,” Jason said.
“I wasn’t talking about her,” Lacy said. She tugged him closer and slipped her arms around his neck. “Do you know that you are the first person in my entire life who has ever stood up to Riley for me?”
“I find that hard to believe,” he said. “What about your parents?”
“Riley is Mom’s favorite, and Dad just wants to keep the peace.”
“What about your grandparents?”
“Grandma and Grandpa didn’t want to take sides, and you know how things went with Robert. He thought Riley was delightful and all her cutting remarks amusing. No, you are definitely the first. And I find that I’m truly grateful.”
She finished the last in a soft whisper as she inched closer and pressed her lips to his. Jason watched in fascination as if he couldn’t quite believe Lacy was the one making the first move, which she rarely did. The kiss began to take off when Lacy’s phone rang. Jason had been with her enough times to know Tosh’s ringtone by heart.
“I’m sorry,” Lacy muttered, pulling away so she could set her phone to vibrate as Tosh’s call went to voicemail.
“I’m beginning to really hate that guy,” Jason said.
Lacy pressed her palm to his chest and stuffed the phone in her pocket. “Don’t. How do you think it makes me feel to have two people I care about at odds with each other this way?”
“If you’re going to ask if we can all just get along, then the answer is no,” Jason said.
“Can we at least agree to disagree in silence? I get it; you two have issues.”
“We have one issue and she’s standing right here. You know how to end it, Lacy. Why won’t you just do it? Why won’t you just say the words and put one of us out of our misery? Because it seems to me that if you don’t know by now, then you’re never going to know.”
“It’s not that simple,” Lacy said.
“It really is,” Jason argued. “You have some misguided notion that drawing out the process is going to make things easier, but you’re wrong. Quick and clean, like ripping off a bandage. That’s the best way.”
“We should get started. You made Riley so angry that she’ll probably send everyone to their rooms, just for giggles.”
Jason sighed. “And now you’re changing the subject. I never thought of myself as a patient person before you. Then again, I never understood that some things were worth waiting for, either.” He held the door open and stood aside, closing it behind them.
They started with Chuck and Sue’s room because it was closest to theirs. The first thing they noticed was a mannequin head on the stand beside the bed.
“What’s that for?” Lacy asked.
“I think it’s for a wig,” Jason answered. They crept closer and saw a lace bustier lying on one side of the bed, the side opposite the dummy head.
“First of all, ew. I don’t want to imagine Sue in this,” she said, holding it up by one finger. It had more strings than material. “Who brings this to their maiden aunt’s house for the weekend? Second, if this is Sue’s side of the bed, then what’s the wig rest doing over there?”
“I’m thinking Chuck’s hair might not all be his own.”
“That guy wear’s a toupee?” Lacy asked. If so, it was a good one. “Do you think Hildy found out, and that’s why he killed her?”
“Before I met the man, I never would have thought anyone would be crazy enough to kill someone over a rug, but then I would never have believed there was anyone who insisted on singing the theme song from
Walker, Texas Ranger
as an addendum to Aunt Enid’s prayer at supper.”
They made quick work of the room, sorting through the closet, bathroom, and dresser. There was only the nightstand left. Lacy stood behind Jason as he opened the drawer and quickly shut it again. Turning his back to it, he pressed it closed.
“What? What is it?” Lacy asked.
“Nothing. Let’s go.”
“Now I’m curious,” Lacy said. She reached for the drawer, but Jason grabbed her hand, pulling it back.
“Trust me, Red, if you were disgusted by the bustier, you do not want to open that drawer. I wish I could unsee what I just saw. In fact, let’s go so I can wash my hands and my eyes.” He grasped her hand, leading her from the room. Lacy gave one more look at the drawer, her flaming curiosity getting the better of her so that when Jason’s grasp slackened, she dodged away and flung it open, yelping in surprise.
“Bah!” She stared, horrified at the contents until Jason came to close the drawer and retrieve her again.
“I told you not to look,” he said, exasperated.
“You should know me well enough by now to know that means I have to look,” she said. “Gross. My eyes, they’re burning.” She squeezed them tightly closed and allowed Jason to lead her from the room.
“Just forget what you saw, and we’ll never speak of it again,” he said.
“Speak of what again?” she said.
“Good girl,” he replied as he opened the next room and stepped inside.
Lacy wasn’t paying attention to whose room they were entering, but when she saw the twin beds she knew: Bob and Rita. “Sad,” she commented. “How does a couple get to this point in their lives?”
“They start letting other things come between them: friends, family, work, chocolate.” He squeezed her hand, and she gave his arm a shove.
“I’m serious,” she said.
“So am I. If you want to be with someone, then you be with them, regardless of what else life tries to throw at you, regardless of who else stands in the way.”
Lacy had the sinking feeling that they were no longer talking about Bob and Rita, so she shook free and began her search in awkward silence while Jason gave one of his oh-so-expressive sighs and began his own search.
“Are you finding anything?” she asked after a few minutes.
“No. It’s like Ward and June Cleaver are staying here, as opposed to the freaks across the hall,” Jason said.
“And yet Chuck and Sue are the ones with the happy marriage,” Lacy said.
“Or so it seems. No one ever knows what goes on behind closed doors.”
Lacy wondered if he was referring to his own family, and she felt a little bit sad, as she always did whenever he referenced his childhood.
“Jason, can I ask you a serious and personal question?” she said.
“We have no secrets anymore, Red. Fire away.”
“Do you really believe that forever and happily-ever-after are possible? And, if so, how? After everything you went through as a kid, doesn’t it make you sort of cynical?”
“Well, first of all, I am not my parents. My parents were happy until grief and alcohol took over their lives. You’ll notice I don’t drink, so I’ll never have at least one of their issues. And then there’s the fact that even though they went through a few years of horror, they’re together and actually in love. It’s a different kind of love, sort of subdued, but strong and deep. Even though my parents and I don’t get along, I admire them for toughing it out, for forging a new relationship from the ashes of their old one. Now it’s my turn to ask you a question.”
She braced herself. “Fire away.”
“How can you not believe in forever and happily-ever-after with the life you’ve had? Your parents have always seemed happy, and your grandparents have found love at their advanced age. I would think you would be the poster girl for a fantasy trip down the aisle.”
“I was,” Lacy said. “But everything about me changed after Robert. I was broken.”
“My parents were broken, and they emerged stronger,” Jason pointed out.
“This is an odd topic to be having while rifling through other people’s underwear drawers,” Lacy said.
“This is the perfect time because you can’t run away. Usually when I bring up the prospect of commitment, you bolt like a skittish foal at the first strike of lightning.”
“I guess maybe being near Robert makes me remember what I was like before and question what I want in the future,” she said.
“Are you finding any answers?” he asked, leaning against the bedpost smiling. When he looked at her like that, she had trouble remembering to breathe, let alone form coherent thoughts.
Before she could frame a reply, voices in the hall and a hand on the knob alerted them to the fact that someone was coming. Lacy would have continued to stare at the entrance in mute shock, but Jason was a man of quick action. He hustled her under one of the twin beds, scooting in close beside her, their bodies smashed tightly together to avoid detection. The proximity gave her a close-up view of his face, and she stared unabashed.
Usually when she looked at him, she stole glances, both because looking at him was like trying to stare directly at the sun and because she didn’t want to be caught giving him longing looks like a lovesick teenager. The irony was that when they were teenagers, she hadn’t cared a whit about him. Other girls had. Lacy had been in the minority because she had not been in the I-heart-Jason-Cantor fan club. Instead she’d had a secret crush on the geekiest guy at school, Chester Campbell. And so low had been her status that not even
Chester
had returned the sentiment.
So it was with some dismay that she now found herself pressed against the length of Jason, staring at those eyes that could turn green or blue or amber depending on his mood or outfit.
Overhead, Bob and Rita were talking. From Jason’s intent expression, he thought they were saying something important. Lacy should listen, but she couldn’t seem to make herself focus an anything but Jason. And—for just this once—she didn’t chastise herself over it. Instead she simply enjoyed the opportunity for girlish delight, enjoyed the fact that she was lying inches away from the most beautiful man she had ever seen.
He arched an eyebrow at her, an expression of
Did you hear that?
You’re pretty.
She gave him a sheepish, cheesy smile that he could in no way interpret, so his eyebrows lowered into a perplexed frown as he ripped his attention from her and began listening again.
His lips were so full that they cast a shadow on his chin. If his face were a painting, she would spend her inheritance to own it, so perfect was its outline. Strange how her feelings about him were changing. At first, she had been intimidated and put off by his beauty. Being handsome had been a strike against him. But now that she knew him, now that she understood he was the total package, she found that his extreme good looks didn’t bother her so much anymore. They were mesmerizing, but not as intimidating as she once found them. Now she could enjoy his perfect composition without a piercing stab of inequality. Jason was a real person with real hurts, wounds, baggage, and even a few bad habits. Such as his propensity to eavesdrop when what he should be doing was staring at her with as much devotion as she was giving him. She was having a moment here, and he was missing it completely.
Snatches of Bob and Rita’s conversation drifted down to her, grabbing her attention. “Not sure how much longer I can keep up this tiresome façade,” Rita was saying. Of course she pronounced it fa-cade with a long A and hard C that grated on Lacy’s ears. Somewhere Rita’s former French teacher was crying, and she didn’t know why.
“Just a little while longer, and it will be over,” Bob assured her.
Jason shifted slightly, just enough to relieve the pressure on his hip. Lacy’s hand brushed his stomach, and thoughts of Bob and Rita flew out the window again. Her knuckles were pressed to the ridges in his abs, and she resisted the urge to roll her eyes. How was it possible that this man had the face of a model and an amazing body, too? She had never been with anyone who actually had a six pack, never included it on the list of things that were important to her. She would never presume to judge a man over his physique when hers was so far from perfect. She carried a few too many pounds to be fashionably thin, and her hourglass figure hadn’t been in style since the fifties. But now that she was beginning to relax around Jason, to trust the fact that he wasn’t toying with her, to believe that what was between them might be more than just a strange, chemical reaction, she found that she rather enjoyed his body. So much so that she forgot time and place, eased her fingers under his shirt, and trailed her index finger over those abs.
For Lacy, it was a bold move at the best of times. Perhaps the fact that he was helpless to reciprocate gave her courage, but she couldn’t seem to help herself. He was as tempting as any treat from her grandmother’s oven, and if she couldn’t have sugar, then she might as well have him.
But Jason was having none of it. He sucked in a hard breath, pressed his lips together to muffle the sound, and flattened his palm on Lacy’s hand, grinding it into his stomach. And Lacy realized she had discovered another little flaw—Jason was ticklish. She smiled what was probably an impish, evil little grin. He shook his head at her, trying and failing to look severe.
“Come on, then,” Bob said. The bed across from them creaked as he stood up. “Let’s get back to it.” He and Rita shuffled out of the room and closed the door. They waited a moment to make sure the coast was really clear, but instead of scooting out from under the bed, Jason leaned close and kissed her, cupping her cheek as he applied his lips softly to hers. It wasn’t the kiss she would have chosen, caught up in her attraction for him as she was just then. But when he broke away and smiled at her, she failed to care that the kiss had been more tender than passionate. And then she caught up with his agenda and gave his chest a little shove.
“I won’t forget you’re ticklish no matter how many times you kiss me,” she said.
“It was worth a try,” he said. He scooted out and stood in one of those fluid motions that Lacy could never hope to duplicate, especially because her pants were hooked on a bedspring. Jason had to come back, unfasten her and then watch as she attempted to wriggle out. He looked as pristine as when he went under while she was covered in fuzz as if the dust bunnies of the world had decided to unite and attack, bypassing Jason’s perfection and settling for her. She brushed at herself, but the dust clung relentlessly to her hair and clothes.