Suddenly in Love (Lake Haven#1) (20 page)

“That’s great,” he said.

“No, it’s not. Look, I’ve lived in East Beach all my life. I know how it is.”

“How what is?” he asked, confused.

She groaned to the ceiling and sighed. “Summer people.”

“Who is that?”

“That is
you
,” she said. “Summer people is what we year-rounders”—she gestured to herself—“call people like you. People who come up to Lake Haven for the summer and live in big fancy homes that are much nicer than anything we live in. They—
you
—are generally rich, and generally just passing through.”

“Wow,” he said, sinking down onto a barstool.

“Please don’t be offended,” she pleaded. “I mean, I’m right, aren’t I? It’s not like you’re moving to East Beach. Maybe I’m wrong, but I can’t help thinking that this,” she said, gesturing between the two of them, “is a temporary thing. You’re going to leave eventually. And without a miracle, I may never leave.”

Brennan wanted desperately to argue. But how could he? She was looking at him so hopefully, so clearly wanting him to say that it wasn’t so, that he wouldn’t leave, or that he’d take her with him, and Brennan knew he had to tell her.

He was going to tell her then and there, but her phone rang.

“Oh. Sorry,” she said, and held up a finger as she picked up the phone and answered, turning her back to him. “I can’t talk right now,” she said into the phone, and smiled furtively over her shoulder at him. “Because I’m
busy
,” she said, and grabbed up her wine and moved into the kitchen. As if that helped—the apartment was so small there was no place she could go for a private conversation. “I can’t come to the bistro tonight, Skylar, I don’t care who is there. I have plans tonight . . . none of your business!”

She paused, drank wine. Then put the glass down.

“I don’t know what he meant because I wasn’t there, obviously. Seriously, don’t you have better things to do than keep tabs on my social life? No, that’s not what I am doing . . . ohmigod, I have to go. Bye. Tell Mom I’ll call her later.”

Mia hung up the phone with a snort of exasperation and threw the phone onto a chair. She looked sheepishly at Brennan. “That was my cousin. She’s very nosy.”

“I gathered.”

“The whole world wants to live my life for me,” she said, and put her hands on her hips, obviously frustrated.

That statement resonated with Brennan and opened his eyes to just how improbably connected to her he was. They shared so many of the same experiences, just on different scales. And knowing that gave him a surge of desire so strong that he abruptly put down his wine, crossed the room to her, and took her in his arms, cupping her face with his hand, kissing her long and hard and with all the doubts and desires that were brewing violently inside of him. When he lifted his head, she blinked with surprise. “What was
that
for?”

“Because I’ve missed you,” he said. “Because I want—”

Screw that. He suddenly hoisted Mia up onto the table. She made a little cry of alarm and grabbed the wine before it toppled, but Brennan didn’t care if it did. He grabbed her skirt and lifted it up, then pushed in between her legs as he kissed her, his tongue seeking hers, his hands seeking her flesh.

Mia responded quickly; she was suddenly fumbling with the belt of his pants. They worked feverishly together, kissing and caressing, clearing the barriers of clothing between them, desperate for the connection of flesh. In a moment he was freed, and he slipped his hand between her legs. Good God, the woman wasn’t wearing panties, and she was slick. Mia wrapped her legs around his waist, her arms around his neck, and then bit his lower lip.

Brennan lost all reason—he plunged into her, sighing with contentment as he sank into her body, the sensation of it so electrifying and satisfying. He pumped into her as she clawed madly at his shoulders, trying to draw him closer, trying to press as much of her body to his as she could. And just as quickly, her head fell back with the bliss of her release.

His release happened just after hers.

He dropped his head to her shoulder, dragging air into his lungs, his mind flitting around all the things he was in this moment. Elated. Spent. Emotional.

“Wow,” she said breathlessly, and with her hand, pushed his head from her shoulder. She stared into his eyes, caressed his cheek, brushed his hair from his face. She kissed his lips softly. Mia didn’t say anything, but she didn’t have to—she was a master at reading his expression. Or maybe it was the artist in her that could sense a man’s vulnerability. If she could read his conflicting emotions, if she could see that he was torn between her and the world beyond East Beach, she didn’t say. If she could see that his feelings for her had gone well beyond sex, beyond general curiosity, and were drifting into uncharted waters of love, she didn’t give any hint. She suddenly smiled and said, “Are you trying to avoid my chicken? Because that’s definitely the way to do it.”

“Not your chicken.
Never
your chicken,” he promised her, and ignored the voice in his head that roared at him to admit the truth.

Nineteen

Mia was in a fabulous mood. After months of watching everything she thought she’d worked hard to achieve crumble around her, things were finally happening for her.

Her creative juices were flowing at last, but interestingly, not in the usual direction. Lately, she’d been making so many clothes that she hadn’t had time to paint. What surprised her was that she really enjoyed it. She’d found a creative outlet that had piqued her interest.

And, for the first time in her life, she was having above-average sex. Way above average. Knock-your-socks-off sex. And, bonus, there were
two
men flirting with her on a daily basis. She’d had lunch with Jesse yesterday while Brennan was out and had let him flirt with her. It was fun! This had never happened in her life, and Mia had to admit, she liked it. She liked it a lot. She walked around giddy and giggly and so damn happy to be alive it was amazing she didn’t float to work every morning on a balloon of her happiness.

Last, but not least, while Aunt Bev could be a pain in the neck to work for, she paid well, and Mia was actually earning a little bit of
money for once in her life.

Mia annoyed Wallace with her bubbly demeanor when she asked to borrow the shop van the next night. She wanted to drive over to Grandma’s
house to meet Emily and Skylar and deliver the dresses she’d made.

Grandma met her at the door and swung it open. “There she is! Skylar informs me you’re dating Jesse Fisher. Is that true?”

“Ohmi
god
,” Mia said cheerfully. “Hello, Nosey Parker.” She dipped down to kiss her grandmother’s cheek. “And no, I’m not
dating
him. I’m going to a wedding with him. That’s not a date, that’s a favor.”

“Sounds like a date to me,” Grandma said, eyeing her shrewdly.

“Nope. Not a date. Skylar needs to stay out of my business. Where is the big blabbermouth, anyway?”

“She and Emily are out on the porch with the boys,” Grandma said. “Hope you like cabbage soup. We’re having it for dinner.”

“Are you on a diet?”

“Diet! Why would I need to diet at my age? I happen to
like
cabbage soup, and so does your Grandpa.”

Mia wrinkled her nose.

“Go out there with your cousins. They don’t have any sense, either. I’ll call you when it’s ready.” Grandma retreated to the kitchen.

Mia walked out onto the back porch and was met with shrieks of joy from her cousins, which, for a brief moment, she was foolish enough to believe were for her. But the shrieks were for the dresses, which they snatched out of her hands. Little Ethan joined them in the screeching, and Elijah slept through the ruckus.

“I can’t
wait
,” Emily said, holding her dress up to peer at it. “It’s gorgeous, Mia. Remember that picture I took of it? I put it on Pinterest and now one of my friends is dying to meet you,” she said excitedly.

“Emily,” Mia groaned. “Why did you do that?”

“Well? Think about it, you could make a little money on the side.”

Mia hesitated. “I could?”

“Of course you could, silly,” Skylar said, holding her dress up to admire it. “I
love
it,” she said. “
So
much better than the first one.”

“According to you. I like the first one better.”

“Then you can wear it on your date with Jesse this weekend,” Skylar said, and waggled her eyebrows at Mia.

“Skylar, butt out of my life,” Mia said cheerfully, and fell into a wicker chair.

“How can I?” Skylar asked. She hung her dress from a hook for a potted plant. “I work at Mom’s shop where there is nothing to do but gossip. Wallace has a lot of gossip, by the way. About everyone.” She looked slyly at Mia. “A
lot
, if you know what I’m saying.”

“I don’t.”

“And then Jesse came in to get a check and totally volunteered the wedding this weekend. Which, frankly, surprised me. Because according to Dalton, you’ve got all kinds of stuff going on.”

Mia sat up and pinned her cousin with a look. “Wallace, too? Seriously, butt
out
,” Mia warned her. “I’m having a good time, okay? I don’t need anyone messing things up for me.”

Skylar giggled, clearly unperturbed.

“Wait, what’s going on at your apartment? Aren’t you dating Jesse?” Emily asked as she lifted her dress high out of Ethan’s reach.

“No! We went out for drinks, and I’m his plus one at a wedding. That’s it.”

“He’s a great guy,” Emily pointed out.

“I know, I know, Jesse is a great guy. But I’m not looking for a relationship—”

“Of course not,” Skylar said. “You’re playing the field!” she added grandly. “But here’s what I don’t get. Why would you play the field with that odious summer guy from Ross house?”

“What?”
Emily cried so loudly that she awakened Elijah.

“It’s true! She’s blushing!” Skylar cried, pointing at Mia. “Wallace was right. Mia, for God’s sake, not a
summer
guy. Especially not one living with his mother.”

“Okay, all right,” Mia said, waving her hand at her cousin. “You’re reading way too much into it. I’m not sixteen, you know. I know what I’m doing and I’m just having fun.” That was so not true, but Mia wasn’t about to tell Skylar the truth. “You of all people should get that.”

“Oh, I get it,” Skylar said as she dipped down to pick up the baby, “but when I have fun, it’s with
fun people
. Not summer people with psychological problems.”

“He doesn’t have psychological problems,” Mia sighed.

“Skylar, leave her alone,” Emily said. “You are the last person to give relationship advice. Mia can see who she wants to see, and if Little Lord Fauntleroy is as weird as she said he is, it won’t last.” She smiled at Mia. “Just don’t blow it with Jesse. We love him.”

“Oh, great, you too?”

“So
anyway
,” Emily said, holding up a hand to silence Mia’s protests, “you could get three hundred bucks for one of these dresses, easy. You should really think about it.”

Mia forgot her irritation with Skylar for a moment. “Really?” she asked doubtfully.

“Yes, really,” Emily said, and began to extol the benefits of making clothes for other people as a side job. Mia was interested, and she listened. She didn’t think more about Skylar’s meddling, because Grandma called them to a dinner of tasteless cabbage soup, and the talk turned to other things in East Beach.

When Mia left that night, she had agreed to let Emily bring her friend up to her apartment to talk about another dress. She was nervous and excited about it. It was one thing to make clothes for herself or her cousins, but it was another thing entirely to make something for a stranger. It was a challenge she was looking forward to.

The next day, Mia was so busy with work and the dress she was making to wear to the wedding, she could scarcely carve out the time to meet Emily’s friend. So naturally Emily showed up with not one friend, but three, all of them wanting dresses. It was amazing to Mia how she saw colors and shapes when she looked at these women. It was as if each of them presented a different canvas upon which she could create something beautiful and special. She was creating art for them. Up until now, she’d never thought of creating anything other than paintings for others. It was a new and stimulating way to look at her art.

The day quickly bumped into evening, and Mia made herself stop sewing to get ready for Brennan. He never let a day pass without coming down to see her and chat about her day, but it had been two days since they’d had any quality alone time.

He arrived at her apartment after Emily and her friends had left and made love to her like she was the last person on earth.

Jesus, the sex was fantastic. But that’s not what drew Mia to him—what drew her was their conversations. He admired the fabrics she was creating, the sketches of dresses she was going to sew for extra cash. He talked about how creating music was such a fickle thing, how it always started with a chord, but grew from there.

“I’d love to hear your music sometime,” she said.

“You will,” he promised. “When I finish this song, I’ll play it for you.”

They also talked about things that Mia never really discussed with other people, topics that didn’t really come up in casual settings. Gender equality. The plight of the hungry in Africa. The drought in the West. Mia loved it; she loved expressing her thoughts and opinions and not having them shot down. Brennan never shot her down. He listened to everything she said and just
discussed
it.

Her life was beginning to feel very full.

But there was a part of Mia that knew she was feeling things for Brennan that were going to hurt in the end. She didn’t really care at present—the inevitable end seemed very far away, something she could worry about when the time came. It was too early to broach the subject of where it was going between them, to assume anything. The only thing Mia knew with all certainty was that her heart swelled with happiness when she saw Brennan. She told herself it was okay for the moment. She told herself she could handle what would come. She told herself she was being cosmopolitan and experiencing life. What could be wrong with that?

And then there was Jesse.

Jesse made her laugh. Jesse spoke her language. When the gold-plated fixtures were delivered to the Ross house, Mia and Jesse stood side by side, wide-eyed and aghast that someone would spend
that
kind of money on a light fixture for a closet that no one was going to see. They had grown up in the same town, had experienced the same sort of life. They were surprisingly compatible.

Mia liked Jesse well enough . . . but he didn’t make her heart pitter-patter. Thoughts of Jesse didn’t wake her up at night. He was handsome and he was fun . . .

But there was that niggling memory in the back of her mind when she thought of him. He’d asked her to tone down. She could imagine, if she were to seriously date him, how many times that would happen. She could imagine, if their relationship progressed, that it would become an issue. Maybe she wasn’t being fair. Maybe she ought to give him the benefit of the doubt. Maybe.

Brennan had never been anything but complimentary of her look.

Oh God, who was she kidding? Was it really so wrong to daydream about a relationship with Brennan? Was it foolish to walk around Ross house and imagine them together at Thanksgiving or Christmas? Or to envision a shared apartment in the city? He would work on his music, and she would work on her art, and they would go for coffee, arm in arm, and talk about the world.

It was just a fantasy; Mia knew in her heart that it was only that. Brennan had never mentioned the possibility of staying. She just wished her hope wasn’t so large.

Late Friday afternoon, Mia was packing up to go home. She heard Brennan walking down the hall to the kitchen as he normally did, but was surprised to see him with his guitar case and a duffel bag, dressed in jeans, boots, and a leather bomber jacket. “Hey, handsome,” she said.

He glanced around as he set the items down. “Where’s Mom?” he asked.

“Tennis, I think.”

“Good. I might need to ravage you here on the kitchen island.” Mia laughed as he gathered her in his arms and kissed her. He lifted his head and said, “Listen, I’m taking off for a few days.”

“Oh.” She tried not to appear as surprised as she felt. He’d been at her apartment last night and hadn’t mentioned anything. “Where?”

“California. There are some people I need to talk to.”

“What people? About what? About your music?”

“Hopefully.” He glanced at his watch. “You’re going to a wedding this weekend, right?”

She colored. It felt odd to mention that now. It felt odd to think of Jesse now. “That’s the plan.”

He glanced up from his watch and his gaze flicked over her. He smiled and averted his gaze again. “You should go and have fun.”

“Are you . . . you’re okay with that?”

“Yeah,” Brennan said, and drew a breath. “More than okay. You should go.”

Why
should she go? Mia pressed her lips together. She wanted him to tell her not to go, to take her in his arms and ask her not to go out with Jesse. Just a few days ago he was asking what was between her and Jesse. Now he was telling her to go out with Jesse and have fun. “I mean, if you’d rather I not,” she said uncertainly.

Brennan didn’t take her in his arms or ask her not to go. In fact, he did the opposite. “I can’t tell you what to do. I don’t have any claim to you.”

Mia was stunned into silence. Of course he had no claim to her . . . but was he not even going to try? Didn’t he
want
to claim her? Jesus, just claim her already! Claim her caveman style, say she was his, and that was that!

He frowned. “What?”

“I don’t know,” she said. Her stomach was suddenly churning. “I just thought you might—”

“Hello! Mia?” The sound of Skylar’s voice startled her. The dogs leapt from their pillows and, barking with their miniature ferociousness, raced down the entry hall. “Oh no,” Mia said.

“What?” Brennan asked, glancing over his shoulder.