Chapter 2 #2
We newcomers lugged our bags inside the house, plopping them in the upstairs hallway for now, and then retreated into the family room at the rear side of the first floor.
It was a bright, wide-open space, with floor-to-ceiling windows on one wall, which nicely offset the exposed wooden beams, a stone fireplace, and a beautifully rich, dark brown leather sofa with matching chairs.
The house was truly gorgeous. It was large but not massive, having four bedrooms and five baths.
The hefty price tag was mainly due to the location, the view, and the quality of the build.
Garrett sat in one of the recliners with Maddie still in his arms, who by now was rubbing his hair between the fingers of one hand and had the thumb of her other hand in her mouth.
Her eyes were heavy as she drifted to sleep.
The rest of us enjoyed Bronwyn’s homemade sweet tea and cookies while discussing the plans for the week.
I was half excited about and half dreading the excursions we’d be taking.
I would at least be able to get some decent notes together for my article.
After several glasses of tea, I made a beeline for the hallway bathroom toward the front of the house. On my way back past the foyer to return to the family room, I heard a knock on the front door. Without giving it much thought, I walked up to it, unlocked the deadbolt, and opened the door.
On the other side stood someone taller than me, in dark jeans that hugged his thighs nicely, and a snug-fitting white T-shirt that he filled out with his shapely muscles.
On his head was a cream-colored cowboy hat.
Vibrant blue eyes met mine, lighting up in recognition.
My stomach fluttered and then plummeted in panic, and as he opened his mouth to speak, I slammed the door shut again and turned the deadbolt.
Turning to lean against it, I pressed my palms flat against the wood.
They started sweating as my heart pounded away in my chest.
Okay. That was a hugely massive overreaction on my part.
I would just open the door again calmly, and claim temporary insanity if need be.
Maybe, if I were lucky, he’d even have forgotten all about my little word-vomit situation that had occurred over the winter.
Many months had passed since then, after all.
Surely it was a long-forgotten memory. In fact, I’d probably been silly to skip the trip this past spring. It would have been fine.
Unfortunately, since I was the one feeding myself these bullshit lines, I knew they were likely all a crock of, well, shit. A person didn’t just spontaneously forget being word-vomited at and then ghosted.
There was another knock, a light tap-tap-tap this time. And then the voice from all my X-rated fantasies came through the heavy wooden door. “Uhh, Pickles? Ya mind letting me in? I don’t have a key with me.”
Pickles. Oh crap.
Reality came crashing down on my shoulders. Of course he’d immortalized the most embarrassing moment of my life by christening me with that nickname.
Brooklynn came wandering down the hallway and called out to me as she approached. “I thought I heard someone knock. Was there nobody there?” She stopped a few feet away and put her hands on her hips. “Why the heck are you standing like that, looking like you’re about to throw up?”
Louder knocking on the door followed. “Brookie? Is that you? Let me in.”
Brooklynn’s face lit up, and she elbowed me aside, giving me a curious glance in the process. She unlocked and yanked the door open, then stepped onto the porch and threw her arms around her brother in a headlock of a hug.
“What the hell, Phoenix!” She punched him on the arm. “I thought you weren’t gonna make it? Mom’s gonna freak the F out! She’ll be so psyched. How are you here? I mean, I’m glad you are, but why are you? And why are you wearing a cowboy hat?”
Phoenix chuckled as he hugged her. “I had a change of plans. Some time freed up. And the hat I got on a recent business trip to Dallas. Just trying something new. Looks good, right?”
It was definitely a good look—a very good look—but I kept that thought to myself. Brooklynn stepped back and pretended to size him up, propping a fist under her chin.
“Well, it’s a look, all right,” she said.
Phoenix scoffed in pretend indignation, and she smiled.
“Don’t just stand there all day.” She made a sweeping gesture, welcoming him inside the house.
He gave an after-you chin nod, so she entered first and headed down the hallway, calling out for their mom.
That left Phoenix and me alone. Fantastic. No, this was fine. I was perfectly capable of playing it cool and focusing on my article. The fact that Hottie McHotface decided to show up did not matter. And one reference to my past blunder did not a disaster make. Things would be fine.
With his duffel bag gripped in one hand, he nonchalantly tossed it over his shoulder and then stepped across the threshold.
I tried to shrink into the woodwork as he passed through, but he brushed against me, sending shivers scurrying along my spine.
I shut the door behind us and, turning around, found myself face-to-face with Phoenix.
His mouth pulled into a smirk that deepened into a smile as he gave me a once-over.
Ugh, his face was too freaking gorgeous.
And he was smiling at me like that. Me! It hit me in the chest, coming at me like a Phoenix-supernova, and I found myself lost in the blindingly bright whiteness of his teeth and the shimmer in his eyes.
The color always reminded me of polished abalone shells, which made me sound cheesy, but at least I wasn’t speaking nonsense right now.
Maybe things wouldn’t be so awkward after all this trip. I could do this.
Phoenix took a step toward me. “It’s good to see you, Pickles. It’s been too long.”
At this close distance, the subtle notes of his cologne wafted up to me, through my nose, and into my brain. He smelled like an apple orchard and a Christmas tree farm had smacked together, detoured through my grandma’s spice cupboard, and landed on his neck. In other words: perfection.
“Yeah, you’re long. I mean, too long. It’s good to see you too, Phoenix,” I mumbled, blushing as I stumbled through the words.
The hot flush creeping up my neck, more physical proof of my awkwardness, made me blush even harder.
I was a hot, blotchy mess right now, and that wasn’t a good look on anyone.
“So…” He leaned in even further, and my breath hitched in my chest. “Just curious. Had any more deep conversations with yourself about my dick lately?” he asked.
Heat crackled between us. Or maybe it was just sparking off me like crazy.
Because of my tomato-red cheeks, of course.
And the fact that I’d just been sucked into the bowels of Hell.
Because his question was torture. Pure torture.
The kind that one received after landing at the hooves of Lucifer himself.
Lord, have mercy.
I gulped. That was the extent of my response, all I could manage, before Mrs. Kennedy came rushing down the hall to save the day.
“Phoenix Logan Kennedy! You could have told your own mother you were coming!” she called out. I let out a ragged sigh of relief and stepped backward to put some space between us.
I had a few choice words to say to the universe, or karma, or whatever was ultimately responsible for my present state of awkward embarrassment and thrusting me into this situation with Phoenix before I’d come up with a game plan: Fuck you, too.