16. Chapter Sixteen #3
“Stuff for the grill mostly. Salmon, steak, potatoes, veggies… your father wants a cookout tonight.”
Aaron raises an eyebrow. “Really?”
Betsy huffs out an exasperated sigh. “Yes, really. Is that so hard to believe?”
Aaron shakes his head. “Yeah, fine, whatever. I’ll pick up some stuff.” His tone is dry, but not mean. He turns to look at me.
“I’ll be back soon, baby,” he whispers as he kisses me quickly once more and then heads for the door, leaving me alone with the ladies. I swallow harshly as he makes it to the door, and then I remember my request.
“Wait!” I call out. Aaron turns to look at me in question.
“Bubble bath,” I say, hurriedly. “Can you grab me some?”
Aaron smirks, licking his lips. “I think I can make that happen.”
I give him a smile. “Thanks.”
And with that, he leaves us for good, and the moment the door closes, I feel a whole new sort of anxiety.
“Can I help with anything?” I ask, needing to move, to keep myself busy, because I feel like I could jump out of my skin.
“You can cut the cheese if you like,” Betsy says as the teenager lets out a snort and a laugh.
“You said cut the cheese.” She giggles and Shannon shoves her lightly.
“Manners, ma’am. We have company.”
“Oh, where are my manners!” Betsy says with a laugh. “Shannon, Lola, this is Jake, Aaron’s new beau.” She looks back at me for a moment and covers her mouth, her eyes widening.
“Oh, I mean Jacob. Unless you prefer we call you Jake or—”
“Either’s fine,” I assure her.
Lola looks at me with stars in her big green eyes. Or mischief, I’m not sure which.
“Uncle Aaron has a boyfriend?” she squeals.
“Mhmm. How long have you two been together? Did you say?” Betsy asks.
I swallow harshly. “Um, no, I didn’t, but um… six months, I think.”
That’s a suitable time period. Serious enough, it’s not a fling, easy enough I can still fade into the ether. I pull all the cheese from the island and arrange it in front of me.
“Well, it’s nice to actually meet one of Uncle Aaron’s boyfriends,” Lola says as Shannon tutts her.
“Lola!”
“What do you mean?” I ask, my nerves getting the better of me.
“Aaron’s never brought a boyfriend to the beach house before,” Betsy says.
“Honestly, I think the last boyfriend Aaron brought around was before Lola was born, so that was… thirteen years ago.”
Lola’s mouth forms a smile as mine falls open in shock. Thirteen years? Aaron hasn’t had a boyfriend since he was in his twenties?
How the hell has he been single all this time? The man is hotter than sin itself! Who in their right mind would pass up a cut of filet like Aaron fucking Everett?
I close my mouth and shake off the surprise. Lola grins and looks at me curiously.
“How old are you?” she asks.
Shannon tutts her again. “Manners, Lola!”
I shake off her question, because honestly, in a way, she reminds me of Noah. Blunt, bubbly. Funny. Not sure what that says about my brother, though, being as I just likened him to a thirteen-year old girl.
“She’s fine,” I say with a smile as I clear my throat. “I don’t mind, really.” I look at her and hold her curious gaze. “I’m twenty-four.”
Shannon lets out a nervous laugh as Betsy giggles.
“Oh, my God!” Lola says, but it’s not judgmental. It’s giddy. Excited. Intrigued.
“That’s like a twenty-year age gap,” Lola squeals. “Holy crap!”
“Lola!” Shannon yells, and Lola jumps.
“Sorry,” she says as Shannon pinches the bridge of her nose.
“It’s eighteen, actually,” I say calmly. “Don’t age me that fast. I can’t even rent a car yet.” I joke and both Shannon and Betsy laugh.
Betsy smirks at me.
“Lo, baby can you please grab Jake a cutting board.”
Lola grunts in disdain and I move to dismiss the notion, but she’s thrusting a wooden board in front of me in seconds.
“Thanks,” I say, and she shrugs, going back to her perch and her device. My cheeks heat from the sudden tension in the air.
“Knives,” I say, trying to change the subject from my obvious age difference and the weird tension with Lola’s firing questions.
I spin around, looking for the utensils, and Betsy points me to the knives. Thankfully, I’ve been to enough events with Bella to know the different types of cheeses and what knives do what, so I don’t think twice about gathering them and starting my prep.
Two slices of sharp cheddar in and I’m stealing a bite because I really am hungry. Aaron was right. I should probably eat something.
“So tell me about your book,” Betsy says smoothly. Shit. I was prepared for questions about my fake relationship. Not my fake career.
“Oh, well, it’s a… contemporary gay romance with, um…”
“You’re writing a romance novel?” Lola perks up with interest.
I freeze.
“Um, yes.” I lie.
“Sweet! I love romance! What kind of tropes are you writing?”
I don’t have time to think about her question. I just answer on the fly, the words falling out of my mouth without warning.
“Age gap. One bed trope. Fake relationship.” Shannon giggles.
“Oh, that sounds soooo good!” Lola says. “Tell me more!”
She sets her phone down as I continue to slice all five blocks of cheese accordingly, and Betsy grins.
“Tell us all about your leading man,” she says, batting her eyes at me.
I focus on my current Fontina cheese block as I attempt to try my best at creating an MC in my head. Partly from experience, but also from my wide collection of romance novels I own, as well as my own dreams. My own fantasies.
Fantasies about a particular dark-haired man whose kiss really does leave me breathless.
I know enough about the romance genre to be able to generalize my fictional fictitious character, at least right now.
I tell them he’s a rich older man who owns a chain of clubs—a nod to Sarah Cate’s Praise.
I tell them that my MC doesn’t believe he has time for a relationship—like Bella.
And I tell them that he falls for one of the dancers in his club, a young male with a big heart who’s an old soul and is only dancing to pay his way through college—like some twisted mash up of both Cassie Lein’s Sin Wagon and My Soul For Sale.
And suddenly, I realize the story might be more truthful than I mean it to be.
“He sounds dreamy,” Lola says as Shannon starts to arrange an array of fruit on the board. “What’s his name?”
“Who?” I ask if only to keep from passing out.
“The old man.” She giggles.
“Arthur,” I say, the name falling out of my mouth with ease.
Betsy giggles. “Cute. Using your boyfriend’s middle name as your lead.”
My blood chills.
“Huh?”
She narrows her gaze at me. “Aaron. His middle name is Arthur. Aaron Arthur Everett.” She raises an eyebrow. “Didn’t he tell you that’s his middle name?”
I blink, trying to recover. “I mean, yeah, of course he did, I jus,t uh… picked the name before I met him,” I say softly, my heart beating like a freight train.
Shit. What are the odds?
Lola awws as she looks up from her phone. “It’s like fate!” she says.
“Now that I can agree with,” Shannon says as she starts to clean up the empty containers and packaging on the table.
“Yes, it kind of does seem that way, doesn’t it?” Betsy says with a wink and I can’t help but blush.
“So, where are you in the book?” Shannon asks as she washes her hands and carefully starts to arrange the strawberries on her board.
I work on laying out the cheese slices on my board. “Oh, um… I guess I’m in the middle.”
“What happens next?” Lola asks as she comes by me to steal a piece of cheese.
“Lola!” Betsy smacks her hand. “Don’t eat all the cheese before it's even done, missy!”
Lola whines, and Betsy turns to grab something from the fridge. I offer her two slices of the Fontina she’d stolen. She grins at me as I wink at her.
“I, uh… don’t know,” I say, figuring it’s the truest thing I’ve said yet.
“Just got to the point in the book where they kissed, and things are weird, so not quite sure where they’re going to go from there.”
Shannon starts arranging bowls on the board among the fruit.
“Who kissed who?” Betsy asks. I tense.
“Um, does that matter?” I raise an eyebrow.
Lola nods, stealing a strawberry from her mom’s board.
“Of course it matters!” she says dramatically. “It’s about the intent, duh.”
Intent?
“She’s right,” Shannon says with a shrug. “What are you trying to say with the kiss? Are you trying to show something in particular? Is the attraction one sided or—”
“Is it a lead up to the big bang?” Lola asks and her mother yelps.
“Lola!”
“What? I’m just saying, usually it starts with a kiss and—”
The air around me thins, and suddenly I feel very on the spot.
“I—I’m not sure. I don’t think it’s going to get…” I clear my throat. “Steamy. Jackson is…”
Trying to keep his head above water and not make the same mistake twice.
“He’s trying to be the good guy and not live up to the stereotype.”
Betsy hums beside me as she starts to arrange her vegetables on her tray.
“Jackson sounds skittish.”
I look at her with furrowed brows. “No, not skittish, just… nervous.” I chew my bottom lip before I say, “He’s never met anyone like Arthur before and he’s his boss , so you know… that’s a little stressful for Jackson to think about.”
Lola cocks her head to the side. “Why is that stressful? What is Jackson afraid will happen?”
Betsy glances at me, then at Lola. “My guess is he’s afraid of losing his job if things don’t work out. Is that right, Jake?”
I catch her gaze, all humor gone. She’s serious, and I almost feel like she can see right through me. Through my rouse. But then I remember there’s no way she could know that.
It’s just paranoia, anxiety.
“Something like that.”
Lola groans. “Wow. I guess when you put it that way, no wonder you're stuck.”
I sigh. “Yeah. Tell me about it. But, um… if it matters, Arthur kissed Jackson,” I say calmly, focusing back on my cheese. I steal a piece of Manchego and Betsy doesn’t smack my hand, and I’m more than grateful.
“Did Jackson kiss him back?” Lola presses. “Because that definitely matters.”
Shannon shakes her head.
“I’m sure Jake will work it out, Lo. He’s the one writing the book after all,” Betsy says.
I let out a nervous laugh. “Writing isn’t always that simple.” I admit.
Writing. Relationships. Lies. None of it is as simple as you think it’s going to be.
“Well, you’re the author. Don’t you know how the story progresses and ends?” Shannon asks.
I purse my lips. “Um… not really. Sometimes you think you can predict how a story will end, but then the story takes on a life of its own.”
I don’t actually know, but I’ve heard a few authors say this, so it seems like a suitable tidbit to lean on.
“Mmm. That is true.” Betsy hums. “True love is like that, too,” Betsy says with a soft smirk, looking at me and then at Lola. “It’s unpredictable.”
Lola goes back to her phone. “Just saying it matters,” she murmurs.
The door opens, and I look up to see Aaron, carrying three bags of groceries, his dark hair blown about, and my heart stops.
“Yeah, I guess it is,” I say as he saunters over and drops off the groceries. He pulls out two bottles and sets them on the counter in front of me.
“Didn’t know which one you’d want, so I made the executive decision and got you both.”
Shannon grins. “Smart man.”
Lola peers over my shoulder and he looks up at her. “Don’t even think about it, Lo.”
I glance at the bottles. One looks like it says bergamot and jasmine and the other says vanilla and caramel. I look at the bottles, then at Lola and gently turn them to face her so she can read the labels.
“Which one do you want?”
Her face lights up like the Fourth of July, and her grin is contagious. I can’t help but smile, too.
She grabs the vanilla one with excitement.
“Thanks, Jake!” she says as she takes off with her bubble bath and her phone. Shannon smiles at me.
“You didn’t have to do that.”
I catch Aaron staring at me with a wistful expression, and can’t resist the heat that rises in my cheeks.
“Sharing is caring, right?” I say as I finish arranging my cheese slices.
Betsy sets some bowls on my board, filled with spreads and toppings. Sundried tomatoes, nuts, honey. Olives. My stomach growls on cue.
“Speaking of sharing; you boys want to drag these out to the deck for me while I prep the grill pans?” Betsy asks. Aaron nods as he reaches for my board.
“Sure.” The motion puts him closer to me, close enough I can smell his cologne. Close enough, I could lean in and kiss his neck if I wanted to.
“Sure,” I say as I turn abruptly to grab Betsy’s tray, while Shannon picks hers up.
I follow Aaron outside onto the deck and nearly drop my tray.
Deck doesn’t even begin to describe it. It’s a huge wrap-around porch, and the view is absolutely stunning.
It overlooks the water, but there’s a ramp that runs off the porch over the water to a covered gazebo decked out with furniture and tables, where Chris, Mr. Everett, and a few other men are seated.
One looks our way, and waves at Shannon, and I assume that’s her husband, but my blood stops when the second man turns to look our way.
No. There is absolutely no way I’m seeing who I think I am seeing.
“Who’s that?” I ask as I lean closer to Aaron.
“Who?” he asks.
“The guy staring at us,” I drawl, my voice bordering shaky.
Aaron lets out a heavy breath when he sees him.
“Fuck, I didn’t think he was here yet,” he says.
My heart beats fast in my chest as he says the words that render me fucked.
“That’s Garrett Tempest. Son of Robert Tempest, heir to Tempest Hotels .” He breathes out a heavy sigh. “My ex.”