Read Two Bar Mitzvahs Online

Authors: Kat Bastion with Stone Bastion

Tags: #Romance

Two Bar Mitzvahs (21 page)

“She’s having a hard time adjusting to normal life again. One of her boyfriends in Europe put her in the hospital. From what Shirley had said, he’d beaten her pretty badly.”

My heart sank. “Damn. I didn’t know that.” I paused and took a deep breath. “Madison shared a heavy secret with me. She is recovering from sexual addiction.”

“Shirley didn’t mention that. Apparently, the incident in Europe was instigated because he found out Madison was cheating on him. She said Madison isn’t quite right from the whole ordeal. Madison always came to you when you were kids to help her solve her problems. Perhaps that’s what she’s doing now.”

I blew out a fast breath. “Sometime later, you and I can have a talk about what happened between Madison and me.” Now wasn’t the time.

Inside of a few minutes, my empathy for the little girl I remembered from childhood multiplied. It wasn’t only the people at the party who needed to escape.

Even those who caused problems had them.

21
Closets and Cars

The party had been going for hours. Women in bikini tops and gauzy pants paraded beside others who wore sundresses, like Hannah. Many who were clad in swimsuits stretched out on the chaise lounges under the shade of the umbrellas. A few lay in the full sun, taking advantage of the clear, warm day. A brave few women had joined a handful of men and splashed around in the pool, unconcerned with how their hair or makeup fared.

About half the men had dressed in casual linen, like Dad and me, but many were shirtless in swim trunks. I would’ve been among them had I not been a host tonight. Gone were the reckless days where I didn’t care about responsibilities.

More vital to me, though, was that Mom and Dad were pleased with the event.

As predicted, many of the women got a little drunk and a lot bold with our man-candy waiters, but Zach and his team kept matters all under control, handling issues with professionalism. But Bertrande surprised me. He didn’t chase after a single soul. Instead, he’d brought a date. And the two men only seemed to have eyes for each other. Good for Bertrande.

My other priority was making sure Hannah had a good time, distracted by the party or me—nothing else. And nervous excitement buzzed through me now that the party had gone autopilot enough for us to escape for a while.

After searching, I spotted her up on the patio. She sat slumped on a stool at the bar.

I slipped in behind her. “How you holding up?”

She straightened and turned into my arms, smiling wide. “I’m great. The cake was a hit. My feet? Not so much. These new shoes broke me in, not the other way around.” She dangled the four-inch heels by their ankle straps.

I watched Lisa fill up a tray with drink orders, dropping a colorful umbrella into the top of each glass. “Everything going smoothly? Need anything?”

She shook her head. “Nope. I’m good.”

A quick scan of the party confirmed all the guests had a drink or food. The tropical sound of steel drums played in the background. My parents and sisters were spread throughout the party, mingling with guests or relaxing.

Sunset was about an hour away, and I glanced down at Hannah. “Want to sneak away for a bit? I’ve got a surprise I want to show you.” Plus I needed some one-on-one connection time. My gut told me she did too. Slipping away at the home stretch of our parties had become an addictive habit of ours.

Her eyes widened, and she smiled. “That’s right. I forgot about that.”

I helped her off the barstool, but furrowed my brow as I stared at her bare feet. “Maybe we should run you upstairs for a change of shoes.”

“Nah, I can be barefoot for a while.”

I ushered her back into the abandoned kitchen, and she deposited her shoes under a chair in the corner. Her gaze locked onto the Viking gas stove. She gravitated toward it, then ran her fingers along the edge of the gleaming stainless steel.

“Nice stove.” Her voice held a breathy reverence.

“You act like you haven’t been in this kitchen before. You were in here yesterday afternoon and most of today.” The kitchen was almost quiet, the sounds of laughter and music muted. I smiled and leaned back on the far counter, bracing my hands on the edge as she swept her gaze around the kitchen.

She shrugged. “I know. But I didn’t have a spare moment to stop and admire anything, which was fine. I’m glad I spent the time bonding with your sisters and Mom.”

“And now?”

“Now that we’ve snuck away, I’m enjoying the scenery.” She gave me a slow smile. “The kitchen’s nice to look at too.”


You’re
the best thing to look at in here,” I retorted. “Gorgeous.” It took every ounce of willpower I had to remain rooted where I stood. Especially when my mind wandered, my gaze dropping down to the bottom of her dress, to the edge of those sexy-as-fuck petticoats.

Her head tilted as she stepped closer. “You look a bit mischievous.”

I took a deep breath, tamping down the mischief. Then I shook my head and ushered her through the butler pantry. “Only looking forward to showing you my favorite parts of this house,” I hedged, lowering my voice. “Besides my bedroom, of course. Which after last night’s fireworks, has now rocketed to the top of the list.”

She blushed as we reached two doors at the end. I wrapped one arm around her waist and reached the other around her, opening the door on the left. I released my hold as a warm gust of humid air flowed against us.

She took two steps into the bright room and stopped. “Oh, how cool!”

I smiled at her instant reaction. “Thought you’d like this space.”

“What’s not to like?” she voiced under her breath.

Safety glass spanned up the walls and formed the vaulted ceiling of a large greenhouse.

Hannah walked forward. After a few steps, she spun in a slow circle, eyes wide as she took in every detail. “Who’s the gardener, your mom or dad?”

“Both.”

“Really? What a great treasure to share with each other.” Hannah glanced up at the glass ceiling, then down toward the tinted concrete floor. “What about winter and snow?”

“The glass is designed to withstand any type of weather. The room stays moderate all year with the constant flow of geothermal water through pipes imbedded into the concrete floor.” While she scanned the room, I gently placed my hands on her waist and steered her toward the far wall of the greenhouse.

We passed Mom’s colorful orchid collection as we approached a door at the end. Hannah glanced back and commented in the softest tone, “What a beautiful place.”

“Care for a tour of Dad’s toy collection?”

She nodded, her smile widening. “Absolutely.” As I reached for the doorknob, she pressed closer to me and brushed a kiss onto my cheek, “Thank you for being my tour guide.”

“Tour guide with benefits?”

Her cheeks flushed pink again, and I winked.

Clearing my throat, I opened the door and commented in my mimicked tour guide tone, “For a rare treat, you will find the toy collection of Mr. Garrett Michaelson. Please watch your step and keep your hands inside the ride at all times—unless, of course, you want to touch your tour guide.”

“If I do, we may never make it back to the party.”

“Ahhh, I’ve been found out.” I reached along the wall and flicked on the light switch.

As we entered the large garage, Hannah jolted to a stop a couple of steps in, and for a moment, I thought she took my comment of “watch your step” too seriously.

“Your dad has a
serious
toy collection.”

I nodded. “Everybody needs a hobby; this is Dad’s.”

I grabbed her hand and led her down the center of the garage. Along both sides stretched a row of vehicles. In a perfect line, they were backed toward the walls, their chrome grills facing forward toward the center aisle. Each line held ten vehicles, reminding me of purebred horses in the stalls of their barn.

“It feels comfortable in here.” She looked down, appreciating the polished concrete floor.

“The same heated water pipes run through this floor too,” I explained.

“Amazing,” she uttered under her breath.

“What part?” I asked.

“All of it, the planning, the way they thought of every little thing for their comfort and to protect the things they love. The plants in the greenhouse, these beautiful cars, and all the effort they went through to look after them gives me a stronger understanding of why you are the way you are.”

“What? You mean my over-analysis, my OCD, my…”

Hannah interrupted my list with a gentle finger on my lips. “You mean your diligence in thinking through all possibilities, always protecting those you care about, forever looking after everything and everyone, even at the cost to yourself at times? Yes, the way you are.
That
is what I mean.”

Uncomfortable with her comments, I changed the topic. “Which is your favorite?”

“My favorite what? Character trait about you?” Her brow furrowed.

I snorted. “Favorite car, Maestro.” My matter-of-fact tone mocked her misunderstanding.

She shook her head on an eye-roll. Then she turned and walked down the centerline and was drawn straight toward a dark green convertible. I kept quiet, but followed until I stood beside her.

After admiring the front, walking along the driver’s side, and looking into the passenger compartment upholstered in tan leather, she spoke, her voice low. “Breathtaking lines.”

“And the car’s beautiful too...” I struggled to tear my gaze away from Hannah’s breathtaking lines, my thoughts racing toward curves hidden by petticoats.

Oblivious to my guttered thoughts, she glanced at me with an innocent smile, then rounded the rear and walked along the passenger side before standing next to me again. “Okay, I see it says Jaguar. What model is it?”

“She’s a 1959 Jaguar XK150S.”

“That’s it, tour guide?” she asked with a smartass tone.

“What would you like to know?”

“Everything. I think I’m in love,” she whispered.

Chuckling, I glanced at the car. “She started life in England of course, then came to the States and was sold to a gentleman bootlegger in the South. He was the sole owner until my parents stumbled across her.”

“A bootlegger? You’re kidding.”

“Nope. She has quite the sordid history of running high-quality, homemade moonshine. Gives her a pretty cool and sultry provenance, I think.

“I like it. She’s beautiful with a tough background.” Hannah nodded.

“She had a complete frame-off restoration, made better with all stainless steel connectors and screws, and many other details only Dad could list from memory. Both my parents fell in love with her and thought she deserved to be brought back with an amazing restoration.”

“Amazing is right. I can’t take my eyes off her.”

“Her name is Moon. My parents name their cars, like your Granpop with Josephine. A habit they started years ago. The name is in respect for her surviving through her moonshine-running life.”

“Love the name.” She tilted her head. “Hello Moon, very happy to meet you.”

I wrapped an arm around her shoulder. “Ready to continue?”

“Lead on, tour guide.”

I led her back to the center aisle, and we walked toward the rear wall of the garage.

She glanced up, her lips curving into a smile. “Does your dad work on all these himself?”

“He plays with them when he has a rare moment but has a trusted mechanic to keep them healthy and in shape. As you’ve probably noticed, Dad’s a bit of a neat freak, but in a good way. He considers each one of these vehicles a work of art and created this protective space for them.”

As we approached the lounge area at the back of the garage, Hannah stopped, tugging me to a halt. “Okay, this is seriously cool too.”

I released her hand and dropped down into my favorite black leather chair.

She took in the inviting man-cave space, her gaze starting on the oversized leather chairs in the corner where I sat, drifting to the large plasma TV suspended on the wall, then sweeping across the three chrome barstools lined up along a small bar as she stepped onto the black rug. “Safe to assume no oil or grease is allowed in this area?”

I snorted. “Hell, no. Part of that neat-freak thing. This is where he relaxes with friends or clients that come to hang out in the garage to talk car stuff or solve the world’s problems…”

She sat on a barstool, her bare feet dangling. “I could hang out here.”

“Me too. One of my favorite places in the house.” And seeing her sitting on the barstool, curves tempting me, luscious lips sending my thoughts under that pristine white sundress, it became favorite for one more reason. I had to take a deep breath to calm my reacting body. Almost…
later
. I vowed to remain patient just a little longer.

Hannah blinked, carrying on the conversation, again clueless about my sidetracked thoughts. “That’s right, this vast space and the greenhouse beyond the door are still connected to the house. We seem like a world away.”

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