6 – Star of the Sea
Casey
“What do you call that?” JJ’s deep soothing voice trails over my shoulder as I sit, trying to paint a replica of Van Gogh’s Starry Night, except I think my interpretation might be off.
“It’s the village.” I tilt my head and analyze the yellow and blue blobs on my canvas.
Jessie just harrumphs from behind me, standing so close I get a whiff of his scent, something that reminds me of the fresh smell of a new book mixed with something like vanilla or sandalwood. Something so very him that it skitters across my skin, leaving goosebumps everywhere.
You said you would be my person.
“Maybe if you pull up a chair and have a go yourself, you’ll see how not very easy this is.” I swing my head over my shoulder to give him a glare and notice how close he is standing behind me, bent over, resting his hands on his knees. Our lips are barely a breath apart and it makes me pause. The blue of his eyes is more intense from this close, but with tiny speckles of gold scattered throughout that it creates a mix. Maybe that’s where the slight green comes in. He takes a beat, but he eventually realizes he has invaded some of my personal space–not that I was all that worried about it. He stands quickly and rubs the back of his neck, walking back behind the counter. Forcing a swallow, I take a deep breath to slow my heart rate, which, for some reason, decided to nearly beat out of my chest. He needs a friend right now. Not some idiot lusting over him. I chastise myself and try to wrangle my hormones.
Looking back at the canvas, I suddenly can’t concentrate. “Everyone good for drinks?” I ask the girls, who are happily painting, giggling, and nibbling on hot food from the plate in the middle of the room. I notice a few empty glasses, so I get up and make myself busy at the drinks table when Elle approaches.
“Umm… who is the sexy brood who keeps looking at you like his next meal?” I almost drop the glasses from my hands.
“Who are you talking about?” I ask, completely in denial that she is talking about Jessie. He is sexy. Like a rugged lumberjack who retired and tried to carve out his own bit of quiet peace within the heart of the city. Except I try to pretend that I don’t notice this because he is my best friend’s older brother, and I’m almost certain he still sees me as the annoying kid who used to run around his childhood home. Even if he didn’t, it’s Jessie. He isn’t looking like I’m his next meal, he just looks like that. Permanently frowning. It only looks like hunger because his eyes are so intense, between the blue, gold, and green, all framed with dark lashes. Besides, the guy wouldn’t know emotions if they walked right up to him and introduced themselves.
Elle gestures over her shoulder toward said lumberjack.
“Oh, that’s Jessie. He is the owner.”
“I know that much. What’s he to you? You guys seem close?” She bumps my shoulder with hers, her tone teasing as though she knows something I don’t.
“Oh, we kind of grew up together. He is my best friend’s older brother.”
“Girrrrl, that is like the ultimate trope. The hot older brother? I can’t imagine going through my hormonal teenage years with that kind of eye candy. How did you handle it?” It was very difficult. I bite back the retort as I remember being sixteen and standing in the corner of the hallway facing JJ’s room. I wasn’t being a stalker or anything. I had just stepped out of Addy’s room and was on the way to the bathroom. JJ was back from college for the weekend. His room was next to the bathroom, opposite Addy’s room, and he had just gotten out of the shower. His door was ajar, his dirty blonde hair a damp and messy mop on top of his head, with droplets of water dripping down through the ridges of the muscles that lined his abdomen. I was frozen in time, imagining what it’d be like now, as adults. If he caught me, would he open the door wider? Would he drop the towel around his waist and let me lick the droplets from his skin?
Oh my god! I shake my head and snap myself out of that ridiculous sentiment. It is just the little break I’ve had from sex and the lack of meditation this week. My hormones are on fire, and I can feel my cheeks heat as I try to pull myself out of the stupor, coughing to clear my throat, and shrug like I didn’t just have a wet dream while completely awake.
“Oh, no. It was fine. I barely even knew he was around,” I lie and turn to deliver the drinks we just poured to the rest of the group.
The party was a hit, and I finish drying the remaining wine glasses as JJ packs away the chairs to their usual setting. “You know, you didn’t have to stay back and help me clean up,” he says, almost mumbling.
“And you didn’t have to let me host here on such short notice.” I keep the lightness under my tone, despite sleep pulling at my bones. I only managed one glass of wine amongst organizing everyone, making sure they had what they needed, were fed, drinking, and enjoying themselves. Grace, of course, had no qualms settling in for a drink and letting me manage our staff.
“Your staff seem quite happy. They enjoyed themselves. You and Grace are good to them.”
I shrug. “I mean, it’s the least I could do for them. They are the most amazing staff, and Grace and I wouldn’t be where we are without them.”
“You pay them,” he says, as though it answered a question.
“Of course?”
“No, I mean, you pay them, so of course they do their job. You don’t have to…” he turns to me then, waving his hand around the room, “do all of this, too. They’ll keep coming to work without the flare, Case.” Ugh, grump.
I roll my eyes and stifle a laugh.
“What?” he asks, his usual scowl in place.
“What do you mean what?”
“Did I say something funny?” When I look up in his direction, I find his eyes locked on me. Confusion marring his handsome face as though he missed the joke but understands he’s the butt of it.
“You know that you can be kind to people just because?”
He shrugs. “Not everyone deserves kindness,” he says deeply and under his breath. I nod my head and put the last glass away, turning back and walking in his direction.
“No, they don’t. But these girls do.” I walk past him and wander to the bookshelves at his back. I feel him turn; his gaze trained on me.
“Do you think I deserve kindness?” he asks, except it feels like he didn’t mean to, like he hated every word as it left his mouth. The rawness of the question, the vulnerability I haven’t heard from him in a while, has me twirling in his direction with speed. His brows are furrowed, but his eyes hold so much pain it makes my chest clench. I take a step toward him and rest a hand on his chest, reminding him there is a heart in there, even if he refuses to use it.
“Of course. One of the most deserving.” His eyes search mine for a moment, neither of us breathe, both of us aware of where my hand currently warms his chest and I feel his heart beating rapidly under his skin. The zap of energy reminds me that this is Jessie Jenkins, and I am Casey Baker, and this is inappropriate.
Clearing my throat, I give him a gentle smile and go back to the shelves. “Did you find a book for Rosie?” He takes a moment, but he finally answers, the tension in the room dropping, the air cooling slightly.
“Ah… yeah. I couldn’t get any Elle Kennedy that I’d heard of, but I found this other one that was about a different Ice Hockey player, and apparently that sends the girls feral, so I’m hoping my mortification wins me points.” He grunts the words out as he walks to the coffee machine, putting a lot of distance and objects between us.
I laugh softly and turn to him, leaning my back against the shelves. “Dirty one?”
“Apparently so. I refuse to find out for myself.”
“You never know, maybe you’ll learn something.”
His eyes meet mine, but they seem a bit darker. “Nothing I don’t already know, Ace.” And the words skitter across my skin like a dirty promise. I think my eyes bug out of my head and any retort dies on my tongue, brain empty of words and instead replaced by dirty images. Not dissimilar to the awake wet-dream I had earlier today.
He averts his gaze, and thank the Lord, he continues so that I don’t have to, “The Book Club girls said there was something about an Uber and Taylor Swift singing Cruel Summer. That was enough for me to grab it and leave the conversation. I’m sure it’ll do.”
I shake myself and pretend his previous statement was in my head and didn’t actually happen as I stumble on something that might be a laugh, commencing the thumbnail biting like a child. “I’m sure it will.”
Sensing that this little bit of openness, this tiny slither of friendship I seem to have been able to pull from him is as much as I’m getting tonight, I grab my bag and walk to the opposite side of the coffee counter. “I guess I’ll be on my way. Feel like making me that Turkish delight special to go?”
“What’s the M?” He ignores my question and I follow his gaze to the lettering on my purse. The C.M.B. my parents had personalized on the last gift they brought back from their travels. “Oh, Moira. My middle name.” I look back up to his eyes, and they are assessing, his lips pulled slightly to the side as he huffs a breath, almost like it was a laugh?
“Something funny?” I smile at him, enjoying this soft, relaxed version of the grouch.
“Just… it makes sense.” He looks back to me, his slight smile still firmly in place. I tilt my head as he continues, “The star of the sea. Guiding lost sailors home. It’s just fitting for you.” I have no idea what he means or what he is saying, but I smile and nod. “You have Scottish family?” he asks suddenly, and I have to think before I answer.
“Ah, yeah, I think so. Distant on Mom’s side. I think Moira was like a great grandmother or something. How do you know all that?”
He looks around the shop as though the answer is obvious before he answers. “I read. A lot.” He places the Turkish Delight deliciousness on the counter in front of me. “Your strange concoction. To go.” He pushes it forward at the same time that I grab it and I brush his fingers gently, a zap of energy again coursing over my skin. I quickly pull my hand and the drink away and take several steps back toward the door, making a mental note to do something about my body’s constant reaction to this guy. “Thanks, JJ. For tonight, and for this. You do deserve kindness, you know. Maybe you’d get more if you gave some yourself.” I sigh, biting my bottom lip to stop a laugh from tumbling out at his expression. He looks both constipated and amused all at once, and it’s refreshing. To finally see a range of emotions on someone who I haven’t seen express anything other than anger in the last few years.
I don’t wait for his response before I turn and leave the shop, rapidly breathing in the fresh air and heading toward my pre-ordered Uber.