Abandoned Chapter One
Lee
There’s not much I despise more than wearing soggy, wet socks. A year on the streets as a kid, some twenty-five years ago, humbled me to the benefits of basic, properly fitted footwear. Something I could kick my own ass for neglecting as I stand in an inch of water at the foot of my stairs first thing on Monday morning. Not like a pair of house shoes would spare me from this shit. I need some rubber boots.
“Son of a bitch.”
I drop the olive-green-and-beige tackle box in my left hand to the bottom step. I meant to go to the lake today and enjoy some quiet fishing, but the lake apparently found its way to the main level of my home. Slopping my way through the mess, I dig my phone out of my back pocket and text my brother, Corjan, to meet me at Mary’s Diner in an hour for breakfast instead. The peaceful day I had planned will have to wait until after I clean up this mess.
The culprit to my sideways morning, a very obviously burst pipe, resides in my laundry room just off the kitchen. Remnants of soggy drywall litter the floor, and the gaping hole in the ceiling is more than a neon sign. Sometimes I wonder why I stay in this old, collapsing rambler when I have more than enough money to afford a brand-new, custom build on a private plot of land. As I’ve argued with my six family members over the years, this place suits me just fine.
Suited.
After this rude morning mess? I’m damn near about to torch the place to the ground and start fresh on a plot of land far away from here.
I call the local plumber, only half listening while he informs me he can’t make it until this afternoon. After shutting off the main water line, I lay out damn near every towel I own, turn on a couple of fans, and change into fresh socks before hitting the road. My place is only fifteen miles out of town, but with my mood, the drive feels like an hour with nothing but my bitter thoughts.
The tinkling bell above the door to the diner heralds my arrival. As does Corjan’s booming laughter, where he sits at the counter flirting with a couple of mature ladies. The wide smile stretched across his scruffy face is genuine. Despite his wife ripping his heart straight from his chest with her departure only a year into their marriage. Ten years later and indefinitely single, he’s managed to remain Mr. Sunshine around the opposite sex.
“Hey, about time! Any longer and Stella was about to take me home for lunch.” Corjan winks.
“You scoundrel!” Stella swipes her brown suede bag at him with a laugh and a light blush on her wrinkled cheeks. “Lee, take your brother before he earns what I’m about to give him.”
“He’d probably like it,” I grumble and jerk my head at the door to the patio since Minnesota decided to finally grace us residents with her summer temperatures. “Got time for a bite, or am I too late?”
The mask never leaves his face, but the moment Corjan clocks my mood is obvious. We might not be blood related, but I spent enough time learning how his mind works to know the thoughts disguised behind the smile in his eyes.
“Ladies, thank you for the company. Lunch is on me.” He swipes their check and tucks the paper into the breast pocket of his plain black cotton tee.
I fold my frame behind the red and white checkered table in the warm sunshine and turn back in time to see Dora appraise Corjan’s backside before it disappears out the door. “You have admirers everywhere.”
He palms the table and slides in with his attention on my face. “What’s wrong?”
“What do you think?” I pin my younger brother with a hard stare. The guy wears rose-colored glasses most of the time, but even he can understand what might have me a little irked this fine morning.
“You’re always so uptight.” He flags down a server from behind the counter with a wave. “It’ll work itself out.”
“My main floor is flooded.”
“So we can skip fishing, and I’ll bring over a wet vac.”
I grit my teeth. A steady throb begins in my temples.
“What can I get for you?” A woman with reddish hair wearing a rolled apron tight around her curvy hips hinders my response.
My brother gives her a slow once-over. Not sure if I want to roll my eyes, laugh, or slap him for being such a dog, I resolve to simply observe the exchange.
“A black coffee, three eggs, medium, six slabs of bacon, and toast, please, darlin’.”
An elongated pause follows his order.
“And for you?”
“Same.” I grunt with hardly a glance. Corjan’s undivided attention is probably more than enough testosterone for the poor girl. The quick peek upon her arrival spoke of her allure and also to the fact she’s young. Way too young for an old man like me to be checking out while she’s just trying to earn a paycheck.
But in the privacy of my own thoughts, I can admit she’s downright gorgeous. Beautiful, and soft, and supple in all the places women complain about. Hips and thighs and ass . Full, pouty lips. Lightly freckled skin. And dark eyes the color of my morning cup of coffee.
“I’ll be right back with your drinks,” she says sweetly and departs.
Corjan snorts with derision and smacks his palm against the wooden table. “What’s really crawled up your ass this morning? And don’t say fishing. We both know you don’t like it that much.”
I give my brother my eyes. His playful exterior doesn’t fool me. Only a few of us are privy to his hidden pain, which is reason enough for me to share. He’s one of the few people in this world I trust. Even then, I keep him at a smart distance.
“Nancy.”
“What’s Mom got to do with this?”
The server returns to drop our coffees and scampers off.
“She’s always harping on me to relax.” I wrap my palm around the hot ceramic. “Ever since I received the call last year my biological brother died of a sudden heart attack at forty-five, she thinks I’m knocking on death’s door and I work too hard. If she finds out I didn’t make it to the lake today... I cannot handle another conversation about my impending doom.”
Corjan runs his hand through his short, dark curls. “She’s just worried about you.”
“She shouldn’t be.”
“Good luck telling her that. She didn’t take in six unrelated kids off the street to not give a fuck about them.”
White tendrils of steam curl in the space between us. A welcome sip disguises my need to confirm he’s right. “I’m nearing my forties. She’s not raising a wild, angry teenager anymore. I can take care of myself. Hell, at her age, I should be taking care of her.”
“You’ve worked hard your entire life.” Corjan cuts me off, his face a mask of seriousness. “After Dad passed away, you helped her raise us. You stuck around long after you needed to so Aiden and I didn’t grow up missing what it was like to have a dad. We all think you need to take a break.”
When our adoptive dad passed away, Corjan and Aiden were barely preteens and new to our mismatched family. They didn’t really get to know Terrance before we lost him. I put my college plans on hold in order to take half the load from Nancy, and finished my degree in business a few years later than I had originally planned, which I ultimately used to help launch our family run dog rescue, Powell Sanctuary, not long after.
“This morning feels like a bad omen,” I grumble, lowering my tone so the pretty server approaching our table doesn’t hear how miserable I am.
“When’s the plumber coming?” Corjan slides his mug to the side to make room for his breakfast platter.
I answer over the waitress's arm. “A couple of hours. He has a pretty cozy gig being the only plumber for miles surrounding Fairview Valley. I envy his workload, except when I’m the one in need.”
“Can I get you two anything else?” our server asks.
Her sweet voice lures my attention away from the greasy plate waiting to be devoured. She reminds me of Nancy when she first took me in. Young and overworked but full of determination. The tired expression on her young face prompts a twitch to my lips. “We’re all good here. Thank you.”
“Great. Here’s your check, and if you need anything else, holler.”
“Slipper!” Corjan snaps and leaps to his feet. The stray white husky we’ve been tracking for weeks dashes onto the patio with a high-pitched bark, her elevated nose pursuing the smell of food. With hunger driving her senses, the dog races straight for our table and the fresh breakfast plates waiting to be consumed.
“Watch out!” I shout.
One moment our waitress is beside the table, arm extended forward with our receipt. The next, chaos ensues.
She doesn’t have time to dodge before the dog’s front paws land on her back. She gasps as her feet fly out from under her, and her fist slams into my junk in order to brace against her fall.
I wince and grunt, blinking back real tears as my balls crawl inside my abdomen for protection. The first time a woman literally falls in my lap, and I can’t even appreciate her softness spread across my thighs.
“I am so sorry!” Her muffled cry sounds somewhere beneath the table near my aching dick.
“First day with your land legs, little mermaid?” I gasp. I attempt to lighten the mood despite the throbbing in my balls.
Her weight shifts, and the heat from her body starts to leave me. “I’m sorry,” she mutters again.
Corjan’s quick movement rattles our plates against the aged table. In one effortless tug, he helps slide her from the awkward position. Once she’s on her feet, he makes a grab for the dog, who manages to slip right out of his grasp.
“Fucking hell, Slipper,” Corjan groans and watches the animal sneak away with a piece of toast.
As if my morning misfortune just had to prove it wasn’t through with me yet, the hand she sets on the table to steady herself lands perfectly on the edge of my plate. The dish executes a single flip. Creamy egg yolks and glistening, greasy bacon take no prisoners and land in the spot she just vacated.
My lap.
Fucking hell.
“Shit!” She claps a hand on her mouth as if she remembered she’s on the job.
Not that I care about the blunder. A string of expletives dance on the tip of my tongue. I muster the remaining ounce of my willpower to lock it down and release a measured breath. She made a mistake.
“I’ll get a towel.” Corjan takes off, leaving the two of us stranded in an awkward hell.
“I’m—”
I pinch the bridge of my nose and cut her off. “If you say sorry one more time…” The unspoken threat trails into an awkward silence. I flip the plate over and start tossing breakfast items back onto the ceramic dish.
“I’ll put in a fresh order right away.”
“Don’t worry about it,” I grunt, angrier than my unfed stomach. Once I scrape my jeans off the best I can get them, I return the plate to the table and glance up, half expecting her to be gone.
A red hue covers her unblemished cheeks and the pinch between her eyebrows hasn’t lessened. Concern wars with embarrassment as the dominant emotion.
Helping Nancy raise a couple of displaced kids more than prepared me to deal with the minor inconvenience of spilled breakfast. But the look on the pretty server’s face reveals I must have forgotten how to use a gentle hand in the ten plus years since my youngest brothers grew up.
I sigh. “Hey. It’s fine.” I wave my palms at her. Fuck, I don’t do tears. She better not cry. “No harm done. Go ahead and get back to work. Don’t let this ruin your day.”
“I can comp your meal.” She shuffles from foot to foot while massaging her side.
My brow furrows, zeroing in on her hand. “Are you hurt?”
“I’m fine. I just bumped it a little on the table,” she rasps. I bet she has an incredible laugh.
“Juniper.” I read her name on the white tag pinned to her chest, testing out how it feels on my tongue.