Chapter 7
The trouble was, Remy couldn’t get what she’d said out of his head.
But it mingled with the images of her, wet and in his arms, in the shower. What a foolish, idiotic, stupid move he’d made, pulling her in and . . .
She was a virgin.
He’d seen her bra.
He’d felt her shape pressed all up against him when he’d . . .
God Almighty.
He was trying. He had plenty to do. Animals to feed, and he was working on a new game, which gave him a packed schedule for pretty much every hour of the day that he was awake.
But he kept replaying it, over and over again.
I need to lose my virginity.
The truth was, he had never given much thought to what all Lydia got up to in her spare time. Romantically.
She was Lydia Clay. She was an enigma. A special sort of creature who seemed to exist outside and above the base sorts of nonsense that other human beings got up to. At least, that was how he had always chosen to see her.
The truth was, she was beautiful. He had known that for years.
But he thought of her as something like a fairy. Not a woman you could actually reach out and touch. God, no.
He didn’t think of her that way.
Oh no? How about when you just suddenly realized that she was a woman?
How about when you gave Hank a bath and got a good look at her figure and chose to touch her like the asshole you are?
He’d been messing with her. That was all. Like she was a sister ...
Liar. You wanted to touch her.
He winced and shoved that thought to the side. He didn’t need to go having thoughts like that. But then he’d asked that question about who she wanted to lose her virginity with.
She said she didn’t have anyone in mind. But he wondered.
Yeah. He did wonder.
And because he was marinating on the issue with Lydia, he was uncertain how he felt when Matthew called and invited him to dinner at his parents’ place.
Eating at the Clays’ was a regular thing.
It wasn’t formal or anything, and often the invites came last minute.
But he ended up having dinner there once a month at a minimum.
Tom Clay would barbecue, while Nancy Clay would make macaroni and cheese and dinner rolls that were to die for, and typically a cream pie of some kind.
The kind of domestic bliss that had been completely foreign to Remy when he was a child.
He had been convinced, actually, that the happy family was all a lie made up by media.
Until he had started spending time with this family.
Whose members clearly loved each other, and actually took part in these sorts of rituals. Family dinners, quality time.
They didn’t just do it, they did it joyfully.
They continued to do it, even with their children well into adulthood. They continued to invite him, as if he was actually part of the family, and not only because he was a sad child they felt sorry for.
That was the thing.
They didn’t need to include him in their get-togethers. They just did.
And it was an amazing thing.
So even with inappropriate thoughts about touching Lydia pinging around in his brain, he said yes to the dinner invitation.
Nancy texted him and asked him to bring his new dog.
Of course, the Clay household was animal friendly.
So that was how he and Hank found themselves loading up in the truck on Sunday night for family dinner. His stomach growled.
He had great food at home. But there was just something about a home-cooked meal from . . .
Nancy wasn’t his mom. But the truth was, she was the closest thing he had. And it was special to have her cook for him. It reminded him of when he was fifteen, completely blown away that an adult might care about him to the degree that she seemed to. His own parents couldn’t seem to be bothered.
The past had seemed so much closer the last few weeks. Ever since his dad had died.
He wasn’t sad. There was nothing to be sad about. His father was a prick. The end.
But death sure made a man go over old ground he thought he’d long ago left behind.
His confused thoughts made him ache when he drove up to the Clay house. When he saw the porch light on, that porch light that had always been on for him even though it didn’t have to be.
He scowled, parked his truck and got out, taking the time to go to the passenger seat and lift Hank out gently.
He never wanted to make the old dog jump out on his own.
It didn’t seem right.
Hank followed him right up to the front door, and Nancy opened it before he could knock.
“Come in, come in,” she said, pulling him in for a hug before pushing him into the house.
Her love was aggressive. And appreciated.
Then she stepped away from him and looked down at Hank. “And who is this distinguished gentleman?”
“This is Hank,” he said.
She looked up at him. “Lydia said that he belonged to your dad.”
“Yeah,” he said, his voice rough for some reason now.
“How are you doing with that, Remy?”
“Just fine. He didn’t have any impact on my life.”
She looked at him as if she felt sadness, but not pity.
She rubbed his shoulder. “Well. If you ever need to talk, you know you can talk to me.”
He nodded.
When he stepped deeper into the house, he could smell the aromas of all his favorites. “Thanks for having me over.”
“Of course. It’s not a family dinner if you’re not here.”
He believed her. That was the amazing thing. He really did believe it.
“Matthew and Jackson are on their way. They said it took forever to get Wesley into the car.”
He chuckled. “Better them than me.”
“You would be a wonderful father,” she said.
The words hit him oddly. “Well, that’s a nice thing to . . . to say. But I can’t actually imagine . . .”
Right then, Lydia came down the stairs, wearing a floaty white dress, the kind of thing he rarely saw her in, because she was usually dressed for the shelter or to take care of her animals.
She stopped and looked at him, her cheeks going pink, and everything in him went quiet.
That moment back at his place replayed in his head. And he had to wonder . . .
What would have happened if he’d kissed her then?
If he’d pressed her against the wall of the shower and . . .
For God’s sake. He had to get his head on straight.
“It fits,” she said, her cheeks getting even pinker.
“So it does,” said Nancy. “I won’t get rid of it then.”
“What’s this?” he asked.
“Oh, Mom wanted me to try on a couple of her old dresses.”
“Looks good,” he said.
The moment stretched between them, and it was as if no one else was there.
He hadn’t meant to pay her the compliment, and yet, it was true, and she more than deserved it.
Because she looked absolutely beautiful.
Her blond hair was down around her shoulders, and the delicate fabric conformed to her figure beautifully.
Historically, he hadn’t spent a lot of time thinking about Lydia’s figure. Lately, though, it was on his mind a lot.
And no one has ever touched her.
That thought came straight from hell. And he rebuked it and sent it right back.
“Thank you,” she said, the word coming out slightly breathless.
“Wear it for dinner,” her mom said, looking between the two of them.
He straightened as if he had been called out by a drill sergeant.
“Oh, I might get something on it.”
“I was going to throw it away, so there’s no use hoarding it and never wearing it because you might get it dirty.”
Nancy smiled at him and then turned to walk into the kitchen. Leaving him and Lydia by themselves in the living room.
“I never wear dresses,” she said. “It feels a little bit silly.”
“It doesn’t look silly.”
She was a virgin.
She wanted to change that.
She was dressed, at this moment, slightly like a virgin sacrifice.
Hank began to whine, and then the front door opened again, and they were saved by the arrival of Matthew, Jackson and baby Wesley, who was perched on Matthew’s hip wearing a dinosaur costume.
Lydia’s face lit up as she crossed in front of him, straight to the entry, where she plucked Wesley from her brother’s arms. “There’s my favorite nephew in the whole world. ”
“Your only nephew in the whole world,” Matthew pointed out.
“Don’t get too technical, because then that makes your being my favorite brother null and void. And also Jackson’s being my favorite brother-in-law.”
Remy stepped forward and took Matthew’s hand, brought him in for a brief hug, clapped him on the back twice, then did the same with Jackson.
Lydia took Wesley and twirled with him into the kitchen, growling like a dinosaur. Remy looked down at Hank. “I don’t actually have a clue how Hank is around little kids.”
Matthew smiled. “I doubt that Wesley is in any danger of being put down here. Between my sister and Grandma and Grandpa, that kid may actually never learn to walk.”
They all filtered into the kitchen, Hank cautiously sniffing the newcomers. He walked over to Lydia and lifted his nose, sniffing around Wesley’s foot.
He doubted the poor old dog had ever been included in a family gathering. And he had never related to an animal more—sniffing around this warm, civilized house, that was so unlike anywhere he had ever been before.
Yeah, he related to that hard.
Tom came into the house carrying a tray stacked with ribs, and Lydia recoiled. “Mom,” she said. “You didn’t say Dad was serving ribs when you told me to keep the white dress on.”
“I’ll get you a lobster bib,” she said.
“Mom!”
But Nancy was already at the drawer, pulling out one of those plastic bibs that actually had a lobster on it, and Lydia looked horrified.
“And you can put one in your lap too.”
Her dad set the ribs down in the center of the table, and then took Wesley from her while her mom accosted her with bibs.
“Once the baby of the family, always the baby of the family,” Matthew said. “Even when there’s a literal baby.”
Lydia looked flat as she sat down at the table, but once all the food was laid out in front of her, she couldn’t look grumpy anymore. And her frown gave him something to focus on other than how pretty she looked, even with the lobster bib.