24. Jensen
TWENTY-FOUR
JENSEN
Getting the map of the booths solidified took a little longer than I was expecting. Lyric and I spent days getting it correct.
The candy store side of things was getting busier since Valentine’s Day was coming like a freight train.
I wanted to do something special for Lyric, but between the shifts I was working in A Place for All and my regular restaurant jobs, I was pulling fourteen hour days. And unfortunately, working Valentine’s Day was a foregone conclusion.
I just had to figure out which place I would end up at.
The Mason Jar was a big dinner place. I’d make awesome tips there. The Spinning Wheel would be just as busy with people trolling for a date if they didn’t already have one. Both would be moneymakers, but I was hoping for the waterfront The Mason Jar.
It was a lot less of a meat market than Crescent Cove’s favorite pool hall and bar.
But that left me unavailable for Lyric, which sucked. I knew she’d understand. Lyric wasn’t exactly the type to get worked up about a dating holiday, but I still wanted to make it special for her.
I was sketching as I waited for the wall along the right side of A Place for All’s space to dry. The original paint for the walls was industrial grade and my illustrations would chip off in ugly layers if I continued to cover it in new artwork when the vendors changed. I decided to use a chalk base paint with a matching chalk medium for my illustrations.
It was a good solution to the transient nature of the vendors. Some would be long-term, but a lot of them would be more seasonal. Tatum, the marketing whiz, was also leaning into special guest spots for book releases from a chef or home bakers turned celebrities on social media.
My creative brain appreciated Lyric and Tatum’s open mind about all sorts of local artisans. Crescent Cove was growing exponentially, thanks to a new industrial park on the edge of town which meant lots more middle and upper class pockets. Add in the summer and fall tourist season, and I was pretty sure Lyric was sitting on a great idea.
A Place for All, along with Trick or Treat’s notoriety due to Nolan’s artwork, would bring plenty of visitors and buyers. Now I just had to make her vision come to life the rest of the way.
No pressure.
I had an array of liquid and stick chalk littered across my table. The pigments in chalk had come a long way and by the time I was done, it would look just like a permanent illustration.
I’d do the main wall facing the doors last, after I finally figured out exactly what style all the drawings would ultimately have. When I’d done my main order, I had added a new large blackout sketchbook to the list of supplies.
Drawing white on black was much different than traditional black on white. The stark line work needed to be thick enough to be seen and delicate enough to give me the chance to bring a lot of details to the illustrations.
I’d been spending every waking moment with dozens of starter packs of chalk until I found the right blend and consistency. I liked the wash of a watercolor aspect for the liquid chalk I’d use for the logos. At least that was what I was leaning toward. Then the graphic element would be the stark white.
I tapped the chalk pen against my book, then I glanced at the big, blank wall.
Maybe I could make use of it for a little something special for Lyric. Then I’d prep for the final artwork before the opening.
Arms slid around my waist and Lyric’s pear and amber scent floated forward just before she pressed her cheek into my back. I’d stolen one of the stools from the office and had made a makeshift drawing table from one of the counters that had been installed.
I covered her hand. “Everything okay?”
She sighed. “Yes. Just arguing with a distributor. I almost broke my phone when I hung up on him.”
I turned on my stool to pull her between my legs. “My badass girlfriend.”
She only stiffened for a second before relaxing into my arms. She was getting used to the fact we were advancing in our relationship. “I want to eat tacos and watch Dexter .”
We’d been making use of my projector on the ceiling of her bedroom each night. I’d even gone as far as packing a bag and keeping it in my truck. Her king-sized bed was definitely more appealing than my sagging mattress. And I’d found that I didn’t miss the fiery painted studio apartment.
Being with Lyric was as healing for me as it was for her.
I just needed to make the time to scrape down the walls and repaint them. I didn’t need to live in that past anymore. I much preferred the future we were slowly building.
I’d even taken to creating new protein shake recipes with her sister. Getting a workout jammed into my already packed schedule was hard, but I didn’t want to lose any of the muscle mass I’d gained over the last year. Staying an extra hour in bed with Lyric wouldn’t get me ready for my tryouts at CCFD. Which meant I had to leave my very warm and adorably grumpy girlfriend at the ass crack of dawn to go to the gym.
Oddly enough, CJ and I had fallen into our own little routine. We had a quick breakfast, squabbled over protein powders, and went to our individual morning workouts. She preferred her standing desk with a treadmill and I needed something more substantial like the weight room at the fitness center in their apartment complex. I already had access to it thanks to my grandmother.
And thinking about my grandmother had me swearing. “Shit, is it Sunday?”
“All day.” She toyed with the collar of my faded denim button-down shirt.
“I have an idea. How about we do spaghetti and meatballs with my brother and grandmother then we can go home and watch Dexter ?”
Her golden eyes went wide. “Grandmother?”
“And my brother. It’s Sunday and I’ve missed a few family dinners with everything we’ve had going on.”
“Oh, well, you can just go.” I could feel her pulling away before she backed up.
I caught her hands, pressing them to my chest. “You don’t want to meet my gram?”
“Of course I do.” She looked away, then down to the floor, then just over my shoulder. “You just didn’t give me any warning. I’m a mess.”
I glanced down at her dark gray trousers and peacock blue sweater. “You’re perfect.”
“Why didn’t you tell me earlier? I could have dressed more appropriately.”
“It’s Sunday dinner, not Mass.”
Her eyebrows shot up. “You go to Mass?”
I shrugged. “I’ve been a time or two. When we first moved here my gram wanted me to take her. Thankfully, she found a church group that suited her and kicked me to the curb in favor of gossip and knitting.” I tucked one of her wild curls behind her ear. “Besides, you said you like churches.”
That cold winter walk in the park seemed like a million years ago, instead of a few weeks.
“I do.”
“And in all honesty.” I glanced over her shoulder to make sure a lookie loo hadn’t come over to check out the space, then slid my hand down to cup her ass. “This is pretty much the perfect outfit for church. But what do you have underneath these very business-like pants?”
“You know very well what I have under here. You bought them for me.”
I laughed and dragged her even closer. The ladies at the new lingerie shop on Main Street were more than happy to offload a few hundred dollars from my bank account. “Underneath was having a sale.” I nudged her chin up so I could get to her neck. “Blue looks amazing against your golden skin.” She gave a little shiver, and I dragged my lips up to her ear. “Much as I’d rather take you home and peel you out of your work clothes, I want you to meet my family.”
She sighed. “Mothers don’t like me.”
“Handily, she’s my grandmother.”
“Yes, but she sounds like she’s as important as a mom from what you’ve told me.”
“Fair. Who you really need to worry about is Elijah.”
“Great, that makes me feel way better.”
I chuckled and skimmed my hand up her back soothingly. “He’s a lawyer. His default is argumentative asshole. But you’re a badass, remember?”
“I’m a badass,” she parroted back.
“See? We got this. Let me just go wash up.”
She nodded. “Meet me in my office. I just need to wrap up a few things.”
I watched her go, enjoying the sway of her supreme ass before I headed for the bathrooms. I pulled out my phone on the way and texted my brother to make sure he was going to dinner.
Dinner tonight?
Elijah
Of course there is. Does this mean you’re going to grace us with your presence?
Jackass. Yes, I’m bringing Lyric.
Elijah
Ahh, the beautiful Lyric. About time.
Yeah, yeah. I’ll see you in a few.
I cleaned up, grateful that I hadn’t worn one of my holey painting shirts. If I went back to my place, or Lyric’s, it would give her too much room to say no.
I slipped into the office space and crossed to Lyric’s door. I found her leaning forward in her chair, her head between her legs.
“Hey, hey.” I hurried inside and crouched in front of her. “Lyric?”
“I’m okay.”
“You don’t sound okay. We really don’t have to go.”
“I’m fine, I just got a little overwhelmed. I always say the wrong thing. I don’t want your family to hate me.”
“You’ve never said the wrong thing to anyone. You’re a badass and you have handled all these vendors plus still help out with Trick or Treat. There’s nothing you can’t do.” I rubbed her back in slow strokes.
She drew in a long breath and held it. Then she did an even longer exhale. It reminded me of some of the tricks I’d read about online. I’d never had panic attacks after the fire, but I had gotten lost in my head. My version of control included a helluva lot of hours spent painting and drawing during the late nights.
“Lyric, you’re the most amazing woman I’ve ever known. It’s more likely my brother will try to steal you than hate you.”
She laughed in between wheezes. “Stop.”
“I’m serious. He’s a brilliant lawyer and is leagues more deserving than me, but I don’t care. You’re mine.”
She straightened and cupped my face. “I’m yours? My feminist side should be raging.”
“But its not because you know I’d never hold you back. I am busting my ass for A Place for All because I want nothing but for you to succeed.”
“How are you even real?”
I laughed. “Baby, I’m going to do nothing but piss you off for the rest of our lives, but one thing I’ll never do is hold you down. Well, unless you’re coming your brains out and trying to buck me off like you did last night.”
She flushed, but she reached for me and wrapped her arms around me. I hugged her, making sure to crush her tightly until I heard that little giggle. It didn’t come out all that often, but when I had extra long shifts, once I finally made it back to her, we’d have a hug off.
I always won.
I couldn’t believe I was lucky enough to have her. I didn’t care if it made me a sap. I was hanging on and making sure she knew there was nowhere else I wanted to be.
“If you hate it, we’ll just go home. My gram actually lives in your complex.”
She pushed me back. “And you never told me?”
“I was a little preoccupied. I didn’t want to share you with anyone.”
She sighed. “Unfair.”
“Actually, the unfair part will come after dinner. You’ll be looking for a pillow, not to get naked with me.”
“That good?”
“That good. Turner might be British in origin, but my grandmother cooks with the soul of an Italian.”
“You said spaghetti and meatballs?”
“I sure did.”
“I suppose that’s worth a mini panic attack.”
“Do you want to stop and get Sheba?”
Her golden eyes softened. “No, I think I’ll be okay.”
“Probably for the best. Grams has a little tyrant of a beastie named Roxy.”
She laughed. “Can’t wait to meet her.”
I backed up so she could stand, then I reached for her coat on the back of her chair. “That’s what I like to hear.” I nuzzled into her curls for a moment and soaked in her scent before flipping her hair out of the collar of her coat. “We can take my truck. I’ll bring you in tomorrow morning. I’ll be working on the first illustration tomorrow.”
“Really?” She wrapped her arm around mine. “You finally settled on a style?”
“I think so. I’ll know better when it’s in mural form. You have to promise not to come in there until it’s ready.”
“It’s kind of a wide open space, Jensen.”
“I know. I’m going to tarp up so no one can see. Just in case I fuck it up, and then I can wash it away.”
“You’re not going to fuck it up.”
I ushered her into the main area of A Place for All to grab my jacket then we sneaked out the atrium doors. Nova was closing so we didn’t need to worry about alarms. The drive was quick, and I glanced at my apartment building as we drove by. I barely stayed there these days.
I didn’t miss it, but I also didn’t want Lyric to think I was rushing her. We’d only been together a handful of weeks, but I honestly couldn’t see a future without her or the firehouse. I just needed to keep my eye on the prize.
Being patient sucked.
I pulled into Cove Meadows, but instead of heading to the back of the complex, I took a left toward the larger buildings. My brother’s jet black Audi was parked in front. My grandmother didn’t drive anymore, so he took her spot. I managed to find a visitor space and hopped out to run around the truck to open the door for Lyric.
She was patting her face with some of the powder stuff she used every morning, then she tossed the compact into her bag and gave me a bright smile. It was much better than the pale and fragile Lyric.
I helped her down since she was wearing a pair of her skyscraper heeled boots, then I lifted her onto the sidewalk, avoiding the ice.
“I swear you’ve gotten bigger since the first day we got together.”
I laughed. “Your sister has been loading me up with carbs to go with the protein. If I don’t want it to turn to fat, I gotta lift more.”
She rolled her eyes. “You both are ridiculous.”
“How come CJ doesn’t gain anything?”
“She’s actually always been prone to being thin. She started working out to keep weight on. Afraid I didn’t get that genetic defect,” she said dryly.
I hauled her into my side and cupped her curvy ass. “I happen to love this body.”
“Good thing.”
“When my grandmother offers you a second plate of pasta, say no if you don’t want another. I’m going to show you just how much I appreciate every curve,” I said into her ear.
“I’ll attempt to control myself.”
“Good luck,” I muttered as I opened the door.
She gave me a quizzical look. “You haven’t had her food yet.”
I pointed Lyric toward the first floor apartments. Jean Turner liked to be in the middle of all the action. I could hear her television in the hallway. My brother would be subjected to BritBox and our grandmother’s endless love for British true crime.
Before I could knock, the door swung open.My brother had shed his suit jacket, rolling up his two hundred dollar dress shirt sleeves to the elbow. “Grams have you helping?”
“Because you came just in time for the meal.”
I slapped his arm. “Don’t worry, I’ll do the dishes, Dad.”
“Showing your guest your infinite manners, I see.”
“Lyric, meet Elijah Turner, my older, crotchety brother.”
She pressed her lips together against a laugh, but she held out her hand. “Pleased to meet you.”
Eli shook her hand, gently pulling her inside. “Our grandmother is in the kitchen. She’s positively vibrating to meet you.”
I groaned. “Don’t make this a thing.”
“How can we not, you’ve never brought a girl home since we moved to the Cove.”
“Let me take your coat.” Gently, Eli swept off her coat and hung it in the closet. Ignoring me when I handed him mine.
Evidently, it was going to be that kind of evening.
“Would you like a glass of wine, Lyric?” Eli steered her into the living room.
“That would be lovely.”
“Red all right?”
She nodded and glanced over her shoulder at me.
“I’m just going to check on Gram. I’ll be right back.”
She shot me a nervous look, but I just smiled reassuringly. I crossed the small living room to the kitchen. It had a half wall that looked out over the dining area.
“There’s my boy.” She turned with a wooden spoon in her hand, a floral apron over soft black pants and a fetching yellow shirt.
“Hi, Gram.” I bent down to kiss her soft cheek. Jean Turner was a trim woman who was well into her seventies but looked at least a decade younger. Her short white hair curved just under her ears showing off a pair of pearl earrings. She smelled of sauce, and the powdery perfume she’d worn all her life.
“Where’s your girl?”
“She’s in the living room. Do you want to come meet her?”
“Yes, yes.” She put the big wooden spoon in the large crock pot to do another stir before tapping the side, putting it in the sauce-splattered spoon rest. “You’re always just in time for food.”
“Things have been crazy, but I couldn’t pass up your sauce, Gram.”
“You say that about all my food.”
“Because it’s all delicious.”
She patted my chest. “You’re such a charmer.” She untied her apron and hung it on the hook by the doorway. Suddenly, a torrent of chirpy, annoying barks came from the living room. “Roxy must have finally noticed we have company. I swear, she’s getting more deaf by the day.”
I followed her out into the living room. The mad barking quieted as she stood on Lyric’s lap, her little tail whipping so fast she was going to take off.
Lyric looked up. “I think we’re becoming friends. I’m afraid to stand, though.”
My grandmother waved her off. “No worries, dear. Roxy isn’t taken by many people.”
“Took me three years,” Eli muttered.
“Because she can tell you don’t like her, Elijah.”
“She would be correct.” He sat on the other end of the couch, his arms crossed.
I snickered. “Lyric, meet my grandmother, Jean Turner. Gram, this is Lyric.”
Lyric tried to turn, but Roxy, in her infinite devil status, started hopping and barking. She automatically gathered the twitchy little mutt into her arms and let her perch on her shoulder like a baby. The dog instantly stopped and snuggled in. I didn’t blame her.
“She’s quite taken with you.” Gram looked at me, then to Lyric with a soft smile. “Anyone who can win over Roxy is all right with me.”
Lyric smiled. “I have one myself. A good deal bigger, but Sheba is a lovebug.”
Gram patted Roxy’s head and the dog pushed her little head into her hand, torn between her new friend and her mistress. Instead of making Roxy choose, Gram sat down next to Lyric. “We’re so glad you came. The last time Jensen brought a girl home, it was for the prom.”
Lyric swiveled her head to look up at me. “Is that so?”
I ducked my head. “I feel this could go bad for me.”
Lyric patted Roxy’s back. “I don’t suppose you have photos of baby Jensen, do you?”
Gram’s face lit up. “Do I ever.” She hopped up and went to the entertainment center where a half dozen albums were tucked in beside her collection of Agatha Christie novels.
Eli sagged against the cushion of the couch. “Save me.”
I kissed Lyric’s forehead. “Please be kind.”
“No promises.”
Gram pushed me aside. “You can take your brother and cook the pasta. The garlic bread will be ready in fifteen minutes.”
The two women already had their heads together. I had a feeling they’d be fine—at the expense of my ego, but it was worth it.
Eli levered himself up and pushed me toward the kitchen. He pitched his voice low. “Does the fair Lyric have a sister?”
I laughed. “She does, but I’m pretty sure she’d eat you for lunch.”
“I’m all right with that.”
I snickered and opened the pantry where the pasta was neatly organized. I set a pot of water to boil, then I grabbed a beer out of the fridge and leaned on the counter. “How’s your case?”
“Never mind that. How did your test go?”
I lowered my voice. “I sent you a text about that.”
Eli arched a brow. “Is this a secret?”
“No.” I let out a low growl. “Sort of. I don’t want to jinx it.”
“Since when were you superstitious?”
“Since I was one of over forty cadets who want to join the various fire stations in the area. CCFD is one of the top firehouses and it’s going to be a bitch to get in.”
“Ahh, I see. Top honors?”
“It’s not college, idiot.”
Eli gave me a bland stare. “It’s always about the numbers, little brother.”
I sighed. “I was in the top three percent of my class.”
“Is that right? I can’t remember you ever getting above a C in school.”
“That’s because high school was boring. This isn’t.”
“Nice to see you interested in something other than your paints, Jensen.”
“Yeah, well, if you could not say anything about it until after my interview, I’d appreciate it.”
“Fine. Are you sure you want this?”
“Nothing’s changed since we talked, Eli. I have the woman of my dreams, and now all I need is the job of my dreams.”
“And you’re sure you want to keep it from her?”
For the first time, my stomach churned at the question. Was I keeping it from her for me? Or because I was worried she would be upset?
The water started to boil, and I pushed that thought aside.
Lyric was supportive of everything I did. This would be no different. I dumped in the spaghetti. “She’ll be happy for me, I’m sure of it.”
Eli sipped his wine, but he didn’t reply.
I was sure of it. Mostly.