My heart hammered in my chest at the thought of going back to her place, first with excitement, then with nerves.
Is she expecting more than dessert after dinner? Are we ready for that? Am I?
Not only had I never kissed anyone other than Julie, I’d never been with anyone other than her, and it had been well over a year since we’d had sex . . . since I’d had sex. I was a little rusty, and had never felt more inexperienced than I did in that moment just thinking about being alone with Millie in her apartment.
It’s only the first date, I assured myself. There was no way Millie was thinking about taking things that far.
But when I looked at her pretty pink cheeks, and the way her lips were slightly parted as she watched my reaction play over my face, I wondered if I was not only being old-fashioned, but naïve.
“It’s just dessert,” Millie assured me softly, placing her soft, warm hand on my thigh in what she meant to be a reassuring gesture, but made me jump in me seat. She pulled her hand away quickly, as if she’d been burned and muttered, “Sorry.”
I immediately felt guilty and reached for her hand, putting it back on my leg.
“No, I’m sorry, I’m overreacting and all you’re doing is being sweet. I got nervous,” I admitted, squeezing her hand slightly in mine. “I freaked out at the thought of what you might be expecting at the end of this date, which is unfair to you. As I’ve said, I’m out of practice with all of this stuff, and it’s making me a bit of the mess.”
“Hey,” she said, leaning in to bump my arm with her shoulder. “I just thought it would be nice to have some dessert, with wine . . . or coffee, at my place so that we could have some privacy and get to know each other better. That’s it.” Her face lit up as she smiled a bit wickedly, then added, “I won’t jump your bones, promise.”
I chuckled, embarrassed, and had no control over my body’s reaction to Millie’s words. As my body tightened and a yearning filled me, I wondered whether I actually wanted to her keep that promise, or not.
Millie
“DOES IT FEEL LIKE YOU never get a break, working and living in the same building?” Jackson asked as we walked across the street.
Dinner had been perfect. Delicious food, easy conversation, and no more weird run-ins with Jericho. Now, we were on our way to my place for dessert and all of my earlier bravado had left me. I thought it was terribly sweet that Jackson was nervous about being alone in my apartment and what my expectations may be, and at first, I’d assured him easily that there was nothing to be nervous about.
Then, over the course of dinner, my mind kept circling back to our conversation, and my nerves had grown. It wasn’t that I was worried that he was anticipating a certain ending, I knew he wasn’t, but my fear had grown from something else . . . Him. I liked him so much, and everything about him, about us, seemed to fit so perfectly, what if I somehow ruined it?
Maybe I should cut the night off now, before I have the chance to screw things up. End on a happy note . . .
But, as I looked from our swinging hands to Jackson’s open, friendly face, I knew I didn’t want to cut our time short. In fact, I wanted to lock him away in my apartment and never let him go.
Okay, maybe that is too far, but still.
“Um, no, not really,” I replied, finally answering his question. “It’s nice to be close to my sisters again, but still have my own space to disappear to when I need to be alone. Plus, it made our lives easier, starting out, to be so close to work.”
“I bet,” Jackson conceded as I opened the door. “But, what about now? Now that your business is up and running? Do you think you’ll stay here?”
“Yeah, sure, at least for now.” I locked up behind us, then led him up the stairs to the living areas. “I mean, that may change when one of us gets serious with someone, decides to start a family, or gets tired of apartment life. This isn’t where any of us plan to live forever, but it’s worked our perfectly so far.”
We passed Dru’s door, then Tasha’s, before we came to mine, which was across from the empty apartment we used for storage.
“This is it,” I said unnecessarily, my hands shaking slightly as I put the key in and turned. I opened the door, then stepped back and gestured for him to go inside.
As Jackson walked in, I stepped in behind him and closed the door, then followed his gaze, seeing my apartment through his eyes.
I’d made an effort to clean before I got dressed, so it looked tidy, if not sparkling. My gray sofa was made up with throw pillows and a blanket that I liked to snuggle under when watching TV. I had two mirrors over the couch as accent pieces, in an effort to make the small space seem bigger. My kitchen was small, but cute, with a shelf over the sink that held some of my favorite display cases, with my pans hanging on hooks underneath.
I’d mostly decorated in pinks, grays, and white, and liked my décor on the feminine side. I thought it suited me, and I loved coming home to it every night.
“Uh . . .” Jackson began, and I tore my gaze from my throw pillows to see him standing in front of the built-ins that surrounded my TV. “Is there something you want to tell me?”
I flushed slightly, but kept my tone free of embarrassment when I said sternly, “No, why? Don’t you like The King of Rock ‘n Roll?”
Jackson shifted toward me, eyes mockingly wide, then turned back and flung his arm out at my Elvis collection.
“I like Elvis as much as the next guy, but I’m guessing you’re not the next guy. There seems to be a bit of an obsession going on here.”
My built-ins displayed my most prized possessions. Elvis plates, dolls, pez dispensers, metal wall hangings, video tapes, DVDs, original magazines, posters, and the crowning jewel, a guitar with case.
“I’ve loved Elvis ever since I saw Blue Hawaii with my mom as a little girl. I’ve seen all of his movies, numerous times, his concerts . . . on video, of course, and have all of his records. It’s become a running joke in my family. Every birthday, Christmas, shoot, any holiday, everyone gets me Elvis-themed gifts. These,” I said, holding my hand out to my built-ins, “are just some of my favorite pieces. I have boxes and boxes full of stuff.”
Not to mention the poodle skirt in my drawer and the Elvis canvas shoes in my closet . . .
“So, any guy that gets serious with you, has to be prepared to accept Elvis into their lives?” Jackson joked, stepping close and putting his arms around me.
I tilted my head back as he pulled me close, the smile playing on his lips doing funny things to my insides.
“That is correct,” I replied, then snuggled in even closer and whispered against his lips, “And maybe wear a Hawaiian shirt and tight board shorts once in a while.”
“I think I can handle that,” he murmured, then lowered his mouth to mine.
I sighed into the kiss, happy to be in Jackson’s arms again. It was like we had all the time in the world; there was no fervor or impatience to this kiss, only time, attention, and plenty of thoroughness.
By the time Jackson broke the kiss and straightened, I was practically boneless in his arms, ready to say and do anything he wanted. Of course, after our discussion at dinner, I knew he wanted to take things slow; my body, however, was warring with my mind after that kiss.
Maybe if I offer to give him a tour of my bedroom, he’ll take the hint, I thought. Instead, I tiptoed up to brush my lips against his one more time, before asking, “Would you like wine or coffee with your Crème Brule?”
“Wine,” Jackson replied, his eyes just a bit mischievous, which I hoped would lead to at least some making out on my couch later.
Jackson
IT MAY NOT BE MANLY to admit, although I’ve never been afraid of my softer side, but after my evening with Millie, I was floating on a cloud.
The date had gone better than I imagined. Aside from Jericho’s bizarre behavior, the evening had been perfect.
I loved getting to know Millie better. Her close relationship with her sisters, her random Elvis obs
ession, and the way her lips met mine eagerly after a delicious helping of Lemon Crème Brule and a glass of wine, all only further fueled my desire to spend time with her.
I was in danger of acting like my students. Utterly lovesick and impossible to be around. And, I loved it.
After a night of deep, soundless sleep, I awoke feeling refreshed and excited, already counting the minutes until I’d get to see Millie again. Only one black cloud overshadowed my happiness, the fact that today was the day I started the search for Julie.
Would it take days, weeks, or God forbid months? I had no idea, all I knew was that it was time to sever the tie that held me to what had become a destructive force in my life.
With Kayla safely tucked away with her grandparents, I spent my morning straightening up, then made my way out of town to the neighboring county, where the P.I. my buddy Rob had recommended set up business.
I pulled up to the nondescript building just shy of noon, my appointment time, and took a deep breath before going inside.
I was about to change the course of our lives forever, mine and Kayla’s. Or, at least, I was about to complete the changes that Julie had initiated when she walked out. It felt like a defining moment, while at the same time like realizing the inevitable.
There was no jingle when the door opened, no secretary waiting to greet me and offer me coffee, and no charming, quaintly decorated office waiting to welcome new clients.
No, Michael “Mick” O’Donnelly’s office looked more like a man cave than an office.
With dark, rich leather sofas and a recliner facing a large, flat-screen TV, a mini fridge on the wall next to a fully stocked bar, and a dartboard in the corner, I almost turned around and went out to check the address on the building, sure I’d just walked into someone’s house, rather than an office.
But, past the kick-ass lounge area, there was an office. Huge oak desk, three filing cabinets, five bookshelves, and a large, Irish guy sitting behind a computer, typing away.
“You Heeler?” the man asked without looking up from his task. His voice was deep and gruff, and as I crossed through the living space to get to one of the empty chairs sitting in front of the desk, I was surprised to see that he was around my age.
I guess I read too many books, watched too many movies, because nothing about this private investigator was what I’d been expecting.
“Yeah, Jackson,” I replied, and once I was in reaching distance, I stuck out my hand in greeting. “You can call me Jacks.”
“Mick,” he said, giving my hand one quick, firm shake, before resuming his typing. “Have a seat. I just gotta finish up this summary while things are fresh in my mind. There’s water and beer in the fridge, if you want.”
“I’m good.”
I sat in the chair closest to me, immediately thinking that I needed to find out where Mick had bought it and get one for my classroom. It was that comfortable.
My eyes darted around the office space as I tried not to awkwardly stare at the man in front of me. He was big; like, even sitting, I could tell the dude was mammoth. Probably did that CrossFit workout, which I would totally do if I had time, and didn’t have the upper body strength of a ten-year-old.
He was a contrast of light and dark. Pale skin, with dark hair and eyebrows, but when his eyes had met mine, I’d been startled by how light green they were. I’d never seen eyes that color, they were pretty cool.
Of course, I wouldn’t tell him that . . . The guy would probably toss me like a tire if I commented on his cool eye color.
The typing stopped and Mick started talking.
“Right, so on the phone you stated this is a missing persons case. Can you give me more details?”
Mick leaned back in his chair, it was the kind that moved when you reclined, and crossed his hands over his stomach, those light-green eyes pinning me in place.
It was a little unnerving.
“Uh, yeah, well, not missing so much as walked out and left. My wife walked out almost a year ago, saying she needed to not be a wife and mother anymore. We were smothering her, holding her back, and she needed to go find herself. I haven’t heard from her since.”
“What about her family?”
I shook my head.
“No, they said they haven’t heard from her either, and I believe them. We’re close. They’re close with my parents, and we see each other all the time. My daughter is with them right now, in fact, and my mother-in-law asked me to let them know if you find Julie.”
“Are you sure they’re telling the truth, not just keeping a promise to their daughter?”
“Yeah, no, I know they’re telling the truth. Ruth, my mother-in-law, had not only lost weight in the past year, she’s lost a bit of her shine, ya know? Julie’s disappearing act had taken a toll on her . . . She doesn’t know where she is.”
Mick gave one sharp nod and sat up, reaching for a pad of paper and sliding it toward me. He laid a pen on top and ordered, “Write down the names of everyone you can think of who knew her, don’t leave anyone out. Co-workers, friends, family, the guy who mowed your lawn . . . everyone. I’ll start there, then follow the trail.”
“You think you can find her?” I looked at the man who could finally put this Chapter of my life to rest, and realized I believed he actually could.
“Never failed before,” Mick claimed. “Don’t plan on it now.”
And that is good enough for me.
Millie
“WE TOTALLY ROCKED THAT RECEPTION,” Dru said happily as she leaned her head back and closed her eyes, champagne flute in hand.
We’d had one of the rare events where all hands were needed on deck, so the three of us, along with all of our staff, had spent all day and all evening on Sunday pulling off our biggest wedding reception yet.
A lot of blood, sweat, and tears had gone into making it come off seamlessly. But it was all worth it.
Now that everything had been cleaned up and torn down, my sisters and I were back at our building, sitting in the quiet dining area out front. The shutters were drawn, so no one could see in, and it was blissfully peaceful.
“Yeah, we did,” Tasha replied, raising her glass and nudging Dru with her knee to get her to sit up and open her eyes. “To Three Sisters, us, and the business, for becoming more than I ever imagined. Great job tonight.”
My feet were throbbing and my lower back niggled, but I wore a huge smile as I clinked my glass to theirs.
“To Three Sisters.”
I sipped my champagne with a happy sigh, enjoying the feel of the bubbles sliding down my throat.
“It was a successful day,” I said as I moved my head back and forth to get the kinks out of my neck. “But, I sure am glad we’re off tomorrow.”
“Amen,” Dru replied, then narrowed her eyes at me and said, “We’ve been so busy, I haven’t had a chance to get the deets from Friday night.”
“Oh, yeah,” Tasha cooed as she scooted her chair closer and leaned over the table toward me, resting her chin in her hands and blinking slowly at me.
“Stop,” I said with a laugh as I gently pushed at her head.
Tasha slapped at my hand and ordered, “Spill. Now. You know we are living vicariously through you. Don’t leave anything out . . . Is he rough or gentle? Bottom or top? Does he talk dirty, or recite lines from one of his romance novels? C’mon, tell all.”
“Geez,” Dru said with a snort. “I don’t really want that much information about Millie’s sex life, I just want to know which base they hit. You need a night out, Tash.”
“I know,” Tasha sighed dramatically, and we all laughed. “But seriously, Mills, how did it go?”
“Dinner was delicious, and so was dessert,” I began coyly, then I remembered the incident at Prime Beef and decided it was time to turn the tables on them for once. “To answer your question, Dru, we got to second . . . and all I’ll say, Tasha, is yes, to everything you asked.”
“Oh,” Tasha said, her eyes wide and her mouth forming an
O.
“Now, I have a question for you guys,” I said, sharpening my gaze on both my sisters as I looked to each of them to catch their reactions. “Jericho Smythe.”
I watched the blood drain from Tasha’s face. Bingo.
After a beat, Dru said, “Ah, that’s not a question, it’s a name . . . Who’s Jericho Smythe?”
“Ask Tasha,” I said, my eyes never leaving our younger sister’s face.
Dru turned her head toward Tasha and asked, “Who’s Jericho Smythe?”
When Tasha didn’t answer, I said, “The owner of Prime Beef. Apparently, there’s some history between our brooding neighbor and our little sis.”
“What?” Dru practically screeched. I could understand her shock, we had been working across from Jericho for well over a year, commenting on how grumpy he always seemed and wondering why he seemed to hate us, and all this time, Tasha had been the reason.
It was too bizarre.
“Apparently,” I started when it appeared Tasha was going to remain mute. “They were together and it ended badly. Like, together, together.”
“What?” Dru screeched again, obviously unable to form complete sentences.
“The question I had was, when, but after thinking about it, it became obvious,” I stated, watching as pain flitted across Tasha’s face. I gentled my voice and asked, “It was when you were at college, wasn’t it? Before Mom got sick.”
Tasha nodded slowly, and my heart hurt when a tear slid down her cheek.
“Oh my gosh, it was serious,” Dru said, finally finding her words and scooting over to put her arm around Tasha. “What happened?”
“We were in love,” Tasha said softly, her voice rough as if she’d been crying for hours.
I reached my hand out over the table to place it over hers and squeeze gently.
She took a deep breath and added, “When I met Jericho, it was like being hit by lightning. He was so . . . everything. Handsome, confident, sexy. He was in my accounting class, a few years ahead of me in school, and seemed to have it all together. I was young, it was my first time out on my own, and I felt like a total fish out of water. I kept wondering what I was doing there, and even had the urge to drop out and come home, then he asked me out for coffee.”