Page 7

7

LAFRENIéRE

“It didn’t work,” Dustin hissed into the phone angrily, feeling helpless, lost and confused. “I took your advice on the car, having the place ready, and it blew up in my face, Madeline…”

“That doesn’t make sense,” his sister began and hesitated. “Where are Kendall and Laurel now?”

“Kendall is in her room plotting my death – or my arrest – and Laurel told me to get away from her and…”

“Whoa!” his sister exclaimed in disbelief. “Hold the phone – what exactly happened?”

“Weren’t you listening? I set up the house, surprised her with a fancy SUV, and I even ordered vanity plates to make it look sweet and romantic, but it all fell apart. Kendall started yelling at me, and then I yelled back…”

“No – what did Kendall say?” his sister interrupted bluntly.

“She asked what I did to Laurel.”

“And what did you do?”

“Nothing – and why are you taking the kid’s side?”

“Kendall is extremely protective of Laurel because that is all the child has left,” Madeline said tersely. “If she thought something was wrong, then let me tell you, that child is broken deep down inside from losing her parents. She will do anything to keep from losing Laurel – which makes you a threat.”

“How am I a threat?”

“You could take her sister’s attention away…”

“But I wouldn’t,” he interrupted swiftly.

“You’ll have to show her that,” Madeline said gently, almost like she was speaking to a child. “And it’s not going to happen overnight. Children are mini-adults with all of the feelings, yet none of the skills to handle them. Treat her like an adult, be considerate, and focus on doing things together as a family – no matter how hard it feels sometimes. You aren’t her father, you aren’t even her stepfather. You’re her brother-in-law, which is in a whole different category. She’s not going to listen to you, but she might take advice if you can relate to her.”

“I see.”

“Now, what happened with Laurel to make Kendall blow up?”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Well, we should because you’ve done a bang-up job on your own so far.”

“You know, I didn’t call you for the verbal abuse.”

“Why did you call?”

“Because I’m lost, scared, and I don’t want to screw this up, Madeline. She’s your friend and…”

“She’s your wife first.”

“I know – and I’m terrified I’m letting her down by wanting to take things slow between us…” he whispered painfully, admitting the words aloud. “I know she’s your friend, but I like her… and I’m ruining it.”

“Hang up the phone, Dustin.”

A voice said in the distance as Dustin heard his sister’s maniacal laugh through the earpiece, followed by a ‘ You’re welcome’ just as Madeline hung up on him.

Dustin turned slowly, feeling a knot of dread pool in his stomach as he saw Laurel’s pale face standing in the doorway of the bedroom where he’d retreated to hide.

“Laurel,” he began nervously, unsure what to say or do.

“I got a text message from Madeline telling me to find you – and keep an open mind,” Laurel began quietly, standing there looking so bereft and alone. To his surprise, she stepped forward and moved to the side, shutting the door behind her. “We have privacy. You have my undivided attention. What did you want to discuss earlier before everything imploded?”

“Us,” he admitted hoarsely. “I wanted to discuss us.”

“I’m listening.”

“Look, I don’t know how to be a husband – and everyone seems on edge, but I just want to help and for us to figure out how to handle a life together.”

“What does that life look like to you?”

“Game night, family dinners, hanging out and watching movies, or going to the zoo together. I want to see you both in the arena, seeing you cheer me on because it would be nice to have someone here for me – and I want to be here for you, too.”

“As friends.”

“As spouses who are starting out and doing everything backward,” he began softly. “I was happy it was a two-bedroom because that meant I could have space and time alone with you – here.”

“In twin beds.”

“Yes,” he answered honestly, watching her face for reaction. “I got twin beds for us, just like the matching cars, because I want to give this a ‘go’ between us the right way. I don’t want to sleep with you, but rather, I would like us to grow into something deeper between us. If I wanted just sex with someone, I wouldn’t have married someone as kind and sweet as you. Do you know how hard it was to marry my little sister’s best friend?”

“You’re not helping your case.”

“I know,” he sighed heavily and sat down on one of the beds. “How do I explain it? I look at you and see those pajama parties when you two were so darn annoying, always shrieking and laughing, and Kendall looks just like you did at her age,” he tossed a wry smile in her direction as she gingerly sat on the other twin bed.

“You should tell her that.”

“I would, if I could get past the whole ‘I hate him’ part,” he began. “She looks like you but is so different. You were always smiling and laughing – and she looks like a rabid dog ready to attack.”

“She’s lost everything.”

“I know – and I want to give it back.”

“But it’s not material things, Dustin.”

“I know that too.”

They both sat there quietly, both staring at the floor when he finally admitted what was bothering him deep down inside.

“I know you want us to be married, but I look at you and still see that little girl… and it’s hard to kiss the woman when I see the girl. It kills the desire, the intensity because it feels so wrong – even though we’re not family and we’re both adults. I’m struggling with it… with this.”

“Thank you for telling me.”

“I feel awful because I want you here – I need a friend beside me. I’m just torn. I never pictured myself as getting married, and for the last few weeks, it’s felt good to know you were there if I needed you, even though I screwed things up.”

“You didn’t screw things up, but your communication skills do suck,” Laurel said pointedly giving him a small moue before they shared a nervous laugh. “If we’re going to be friends, then talk to me… just like this.”

“I was trying to be open about this… because I know how bad this looks.”

“It looks like you want a very separate, sterile marriage.”

“I don’t,” he replied quickly and tugged at his collar. “I want anything but that… but I need time.”

“Then you have it,” she answered softly, causing him to look up. “I’m not in a rush either, and I would rather have this sort of connection with you than being used to slake your charging lust-filled body.”

“My whaaaat ,” he chuckled in shock, eyes wide. “Where did you hear that?”

“I just used it in a book.”

“You write?”

“Uh yeah,” she began shyly, chuckling. “I thought you knew that. I write romance books under a pen name – and don’t worry – it can never get tied back to you.”

“I had no idea.”

“How do you think I could afford the condo – and I was able to become Kendall’s guardian? I had to prove I was financially able to care for her.”

“Then why marry me if you didn’t need the money?”

“Because I needed something different, too,” she admitted, looking away. “Now, let’s go find Kendall and coerce her to join us for dinner. Maybe we can play a game and let her win.”

“Laurel?” he began, standing and holding out a hand to her – unsure if she would take it or not. To his relief, she did, slipping her hand in his, and he marveled at the feeling of ‘home’ that came with such a simple gentle touch. His eyes met her warm hazel ones, and that clenched feeling in his chest relaxed slightly. “I’m glad you are here.”

“I hope so.”

As they walked out of the bedroom, he looked up to see Kendall sitting beside the stairs, her knobby knees sticking out between the spindles and feet dangling over the kitchen.

“Hey, are you hungry?”

“Why – are you adding ‘poisoning’ to your list of ways to harm me?”

“I don’t want to hurt you. You’re family. I thought maybe you could help us make dinner – and if you wanted to poison me, it gives you the perfect chance to slip something into my plate,” he teased and was rewarded with a slight slap on his arm from Laurel. “Oww. Did you see that? She whacked me.”

“She should have done it harder,” Kendall retorted glumly, not moving from her spot, and Dustin swallowed, trying to think how to encourage the little girl to join them.

“Let’s make stir-fry,” Laurel suggested, and he nodded.

“I’m in your hands because I’ve never made stir fry at home. I usually order in.”

“You’re missing out,” Kendall retorted from above, causing him to chance a glance at Laurel as she smirked, hiding her face.

Laurel was clever, he marveled, realizing exactly what she was doing to draw her sister out. “Let me think – and obviously, someone went to the grocery before we flew in.”

“I did. I hope that I ordered enough stuff to be delivered.”

“Probably not,” Kendall interjected again. “Bet you don’t have fish sauce…”

Dustin turned and opened the refrigerator. He plucked a bottle from the door of the fridge and put it on the counter without a word as Laurel reached past him and put some green onions beside it. She then plucked two carrots out of a bag that was lying in a clear drawer. He watched as Laurel then removed two eggs from the carton and paused, looking at her sister and then sighed heavily.

“What?” Kendall asked quickly.

“Oh, nothing.”

“Then what’s wrong? What’s missing?”

“Is something the matter?” Dustin began, hesitating as he put the bag of jasmine rice on the counter.

“I just… well… this was a thing that we used to do, you know?” Laurel whispered loudly to him. “It was a girls thing and…”

“Yeah!” Kendall hopped on. “And you’re not a girl, dork. In fact, you shouldn’t be in our kitchen.”

“Well, considering your sister’s cooking partner is up there pouting, I thought I’d help out,” he began and had barely turned around from getting the rice maker off the shelf in the pantry – only to hear pounding down the stairs within seconds as he turned to see Kendall had arrived behind him, now standing there, and glaring at him. “Oh hey. You’re here.”

“I am.”

“What do you normally do?”

“I grate the carrots.”

“Could I make the rice while you grate the carrots?”

“Are you gonna burn it?”

“I hope not – but I make no promises,” he smiled easily, pulling out the drawer between them where a peeler and grater lay.

“Are you giving me a knife?”

“I’m giving you a chance to show up my cooking skills to your sister before you trounce me completely in a game of Monopoly,” he whispered quietly, pretending to hide it from Laurel even though he knew she was listening. “I’m the banker.”

“So you can cheat? Everyone knows the banker cheats.”

“Fine. You be the banker, so you can trust that I won’t cheat.”

“Darn straight, I’m the banker – and you’re gonna lose.”

“Bring it,” he taunted and heard the girl’s chuckle.

“Consider it ‘brought,’ Septic …”

“Hey, I showered.”

“And you bathed in that smelly cologne.”

“No, I didn’t.”

“You smell.”

“Some people like the smell of cologne,” he countered, glancing at Laurel to see if he indeed smelled. This little girl was getting under his skin, and his ego was taking a beating like no other. “Laurel, you are the deciding factor. Does my cologne stink?”

And to his surprise, Laurel took a step toward him and leaned in near his throat, causing something to flicker in the back of his consciousness as she inhaled deeply and sighed. Oh man, that sigh was one for the record books, he thought and stared at her in awareness.

Her eyes were closed behind her glasses, her face peaceful, and her full lips parted like she was in heaven. If he could have stopped time, it would have been in that very moment, savoring it for a moment for a decade longer, just before she backed away and smiled softly.

“I like it,” she mumbled shyly, going back to cutting up the chicken.

“It stays,” he announced hoarsely, staring at the back of Laurel’s head where she stood facing the stove. Kendall was watching the two of them carefully and shook her head, frowning.

“I’m the thimble,” Kendall tried again to get a rise out of him – and that was when he realized it was working. Madeline’s suggestion was working, and things were starting to seem a little different between the trio.

“No problem – Laurel, what do you want to be in the game?”

“I’m the shoe.”

“Which means you’re the dog,” Kendall told him, arching an eyebrow and looking at him. “Especially since there are no septic tanks or toilets.”

“I could be the hat, and you could pretend it’s a toilet.”

Kendall rolled her eyes at him – and smiled.

“ S he cheated – didn’t she?”

Hours later, Dustin was lying on his bed in a T-shirt and shorts, his hands curled behind his head. He replayed the game in his mind as Laurel stepped into the bedroom nervously, shutting the door behind her.

“Shhh. She’ll hear you.”

“She’s upstairs.”

“Kendall has an uncanny ability to know exactly what is being said, done, written, or even thought. I think it's that magic-teenager-hormone that should be kicking in anytime now.”

“Newsflash – that girl is going to be a scary teenager.”

“Dustin!” she hissed, chuckling. “Be nice. She’s pretty wonderful, and I’m lucky to have her.”

“I’m not arguing about that,” he smiled, watching her move around the room curiously as she plucked a few things from her drawer and picked up her travel bag of toiletries, moving toward the bathroom. “It’s the hormones, the way her mind works, and the fearlessness that she has makes her wicked scary. That child is terrified of nothing.”

“She’s not,” she agreed, nodding. “And has no filter.”

“Don’t I know it,” he sighed as she disappeared to change. He couldn’t help but listen to her moving around and then heard the water running followed by the sounds of her brushing her teeth. Smiling, he could practically hear his sister’s giggling from so long ago at one of their sleepovers and closed his eyes.

This was going to be okay.

They could take their time, develop a friendship that would last forever, and maybe someday, they could eventually find themselves getting closer. It was a good thing he was in no hurry because right now, he needed to focus on hockey, stretching, and how he was going to handle practicing with that arrogant little twerp, Matthieu Larsson.

He met him yesterday and the man was practically fresh out of college, the youngest on the team, and thought he was hot stuff. Unfortunately, when compared to his own stiff movements – Matthieu probably was…

The bathroom door creaked open, and Dustin felt the air hitch in his throat as all conscious thought froze in that split second.

Laurel stood there, bathed in the soft glow of the bedside lamp, wearing his old Coyotes team shirt. His number was emblazoned across the front, the fabric slightly oversized on her slender frame, hanging just a little too perfectly against her curves. Paired with green-and-black plaid flannel pajama pants, she should have looked cozy, comfortable… and completely innocent.

Instead, she looked like every dream he’d ever had and never admitted.His fingers curled painfully at his sides, his palms itching with the desperate urge to unravel the thick braid draped over her shoulder and to run his fingers through the silken strands until they tumbled free.She shifted hesitantly, her hands brushing against the hem of the shirt as if she suddenly felt self-conscious.

“Hey…” he rasped, his voice betraying him.

“I hope this is okay,” she murmured, hovering in the doorway. “I wanted to be covered up, and I didn’t think a chemise…”

Dustin’s stomach clenched.

His brain short-circuited.

Please don’t bite your lip.

Oh, heck—what was he even thinking?

And then she bit her lip.

A low, involuntary sound threatened to escape his throat, and in a last-ditch effort to save himself, he dropped his gaze to the blankets pooled around his waist. His body was already betraying him, but at least if she didn’t see the evidence, he could pretend to have some semblance of control.

“…Would be appropriate with the little straps and lace,” she finished softly.

Dustin nearly choked.

Little straps? Lace?

Have mercy…

He was dying.

Keep it calm. You are in control. You are sooo in control you have a plan…

His mind raced, struggling to focus on anything—anything—other than the image her words had just burned into his brain. His throat felt like sandpaper, his heart hammering against his ribs. And she was still standing there. Still watching him. Still in his darn shirt.

“Yep! Great!” he blurted, his voice cracking like a rookie in his first game.

With all the grace of a man about to lose every ounce of self-restraint he possessed, he flopped over, shoving his face into his pillow like an absolute coward.

“Good night!”

There was a pause—one where he swore he could feel her amusement, hear the hint of a smile in the way she lingered before answering.

“Good night,” she finally said, her voice soft, warm, far too intimate in the quiet of the room.

Dustin clenched his eyes shut as tightly as possible, willing himself not to look. He listened instead to the sound of the mattress giving as she crawled into bed, the soft rustle of sheets as she settled, the faint click as she turned off the lamp between them.

Darkness settled around them.

“Good night, Dustin,” she whispered again.

His heart gave a hard, traitorous thud.

“Thank you for everything, you know,” she continued. “I appreciate the way we were able to include Kendall—making dinner, and playing the Monopoly game. The car was over the top, but it’s definitely a thoughtful gesture.”

“That’s me… thoughtful,” he forced out, his hands fisting in the blankets. “It’s gonna be a long day tomorrow. Get some sleep.”

“Oh yeah, I’ve gotta go by the school, get a few things, and maybe we can meet up for dinner or something?”

“Let’s play it by ear.”

“Of course. I need to start plotting and working on my next book, so yeah—let’s play it by ear.”

Dustin almost asked her about it. Almost . But romance novels were the last thing he needed on his mind right now. No, he needed silence. Peace and — wait .

Peach?

No — peace and quiet . Not peaches.

What am I thinking?

He needed peace and quiet in his life.

… And peaches.

His nose twitched.

Something smelled like peaches. Not just any peaches—warm, cinnamon-dusted, fresh-out-of-the-oven peaches. Juicy, caramelized, decadent peaches that he could picture in his mind and swallowed.

Oh my gosh… is that - peach cobbler?

“Did you put on lotion or something?” he blurted, desperate to focus on anything that wasn’t the way she looked in his darn Coyotes shirt. “I smell something.”

“Oh, is it okay?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper. “I love the stuff and how soft it makes…”

Nope. Nope. Nope.

“Great. Yeah. Good night.”

Before she could say another word, he rolled over, yanking the blankets up to his chin, curling into a ball of pure agony and frustration.

Happiness and torture.

He was going to die.

Dustin could fight it all he wanted, but there was no denying it. His interest was piqued by the one person he shouldn’t be looking at. And for someone who was determined not to be interested in Laurel and to keep things amicable and friendly… falling for Laurel was going to be the sweetest torture imaginable.