Chapter 36 Jude
JUDE
Itrim my beard in the bathroom mirror while Olena gets dressed in my room. I just got out of the shower, having taken extra care to wash off the work grime so I look presentable for her parents.
“So, where’d Marchmas come from, anyway? Christmas in March, right?” I call out to her over the buzzing sound of my clippers.
She appears in the doorway to my right wearing only a bra and thong, running a wide-toothed comb through her wet hair.
I shut off the clippers, taking in her beautiful figure in the mirror. My eyes linger on her breasts.
“Yeah, kind of. Winter is so cold and wet here, plus there aren’t any good holidays this time of year.
So we made one up. Well, I did,” she explains, throwing her hair over one shoulder as she looks in the mirror.
“It’s sort of like a Christmas in July thing, but earlier.
I came up with the idea when I was little and we just…
kept doing it.” She shrugs, putting down the comb. “It kind of turned into a whole thing.”
I turn to her, unable to stop my eyes from roving over her body.
“You’re going to…” I trail off, exhaling, then force myself to shake it off and meet her eyes.
I clear my throat. “You’re going to have to put some clothes on, or I’m not going to be able to hear a thing you say.
” I arch my eyebrow and tilt my chin at the door.
“Um, the same goes for you.” She quirks an eyebrow at me, looking for a long moment at my bare chest. She catches herself and wags a finger at me, making a throaty noise and shaking her head like she’s trying to shake off temptation.
I know the feeling.
She turns to leave and I smile, returning to look in the mirror. I’m about to start the clippers again when she reappears, wearing a short black dress.
Christ. My willpower is fading fast.
She turns her back to me and lifts her damp hair away from her neck. “Zip me up?”
I put the clippers down and shake my head ruefully.
I slide my hands around her waist, dipping down to kiss her neck.
“See, now you’ve got me touching you again.
Very dangerous.” I pull her between me and the sink, meeting her eyes in the mirror.
She leans back against my chest and her eyelids flutter slightly as she sucks in a breath.
“We’re going to be late,” she chastises me gently, arching an eyebrow. With visible effort, she pulls away from my chest. My hands slide down to her hips. “Come on, zip me up.” She leans forward slightly over the sink, eyeing me suggestively in the mirror.
I curse softly to myself. “You should know you are making this very difficult for me.” I pull up the zipper, snugging the dress tight against her chest, then run a hand up the back of her thigh, under her skirt, as I watch her reflection.
She lets her hair fall, bracing both hands against the edge of the counter as she exhales.
I slide my fingers up between her legs, grazing the tip of my middle finger over that small triangle of fabric separating us, and hear her breath hitch.
Her eyes close and she arches her back, lifting her hips.
The feeling of her, warm and damp, through the fabric of her thong, almost has me taking her right then and there.
But I stop myself. I blow out a breath as I pull my hand away, finding willpower in some distant recess of my mind.
Her eyes open and she inhales, as if suddenly snapping back to the same reality.
I force myself to pick up the clippers again, shaking my head.
She turns, smiling, and kisses my cheek, making my breath catch. She’s so fucking tempting, but—no. Being late would make a shitty first impression. She walks out of the room, slightly flushed, and I adjust myself in my jeans, heaving a deep sigh at my reflection.
Dear God, this woman does things to me.
“Jude, darling, you’re so tall… Can you reach to attach this corner?
” Lynn hands me a strand of twisted silver garland and gestures to one corner of the kitchen ceiling.
“You’ll save me from having to get the stepladder out.
” She smooths down her chin-length gray hair; the salt and pepper color still carries a hint of dark brown.
My eyes shift between the two MacMillan women and I smile.
Lynn looks like an older, shorter version of Olena.
“Sure, no problem,” I say, easily reaching up to tack the decoration in place.
Olena watches from Lynn’s side with a smirk, waiting to hand me a paper flamingo decoration next.
“Sorry we didn’t get these up ahead of time, sweetheart,” Lynn says to Olena. “I’ve been running around all day trying to get the food ready, and your dad lost track of time fixing the back fence all afternoon.”
“Well, you’ve pulled it off, Lynn,” I say. “The food smells amazing.”
She waves a dismissive hand at the compliment. “Ah, it’s nothing fancy.”
“So, what’s the deal with all the flamingos, anyway?” I ask, securing the pink paper bird to the corner of the ceiling where the garland ends.
“I know they’re really kitschy,” Olena explains, wrinkling her nose.
“But when I was little, I went through this phase of being obsessed with flamingos. I can’t remember which came first—Marchmas or the flamingos—but eventually they were just…
part of the holiday.” She shrugs. “Like a mascot, I guess.”
“I think they’re fun!” Lynn exclaims, smoothing her hands over the front of her novelty apron, on which a pair of flamingos pose with heads bent together in a heart shape.
Olena’s father, David, opens the back door onto the patio and looks up at the sky, squinting at the fading evening light.
“You know, I think it might rain on us,” he says, stepping back into the kitchen and running a hand over his graying beard.
“Jude, do you mind handing me the meat and veg there?” He gestures at the counter next to me.
I pass him the tray of skewered chicken and vegetables, then return to my decorating duties.
“Shoot, really?” Lynn asks. “Do you think we should cook them in the oven instead?” She places her hands on her hips and frowns, considering the options.
“Nah, Lynn. What kind of West Coast wimp would I be to shy away from a little sprinkle?” David grins proudly. “The show must go on!” He winks at his wife and heads outside to the barbecue.
This is nice. I’ve missed the organized chaos of family get-togethers. It feels good to help out—and to be included. And I’m definitely not complaining about getting a home-cooked meal that I don’t have to prepare myself.
Standing near the kitchen sink, Olena untangles another strand of garland and rolls her eyes at her father. “Dad takes his barbecue duties very seriously,” she explains quietly, handing it to me to hang up.
I chuckle to myself, remembering that my dad was the same way. I bet Dad would have gotten along with David. Damn, I miss him.
“They’ll taste better barbecued anyway,” Wyatt chimes in from the stove, where he’s whisking a sauce in a small pan. He fell right into step with Olena’s parents the moment he’d arrived, joining them in the kitchen to get the food ready.
I tack up another flamingo, then move to Olena’s side and jerk my head toward the door. “So, does the rain thing run in the family or…?” I ask under my breath so only she can hear me. I quirk an eyebrow at her as I reach for another flamingo from the counter beside her.
“Jude!” She gives me a gentle swat on the arm, and I recoil with a quiet laugh.
“Is there anything else I can help with?” I offer, turning to Lynn as I tack up the last of the decorations.
“Not at all, darling!” she replies with a kind smile. “Just relax and enjoy.”
“You sure? Because I can chop a mean potato, and I’m not afraid to do it.” I rub my hands together and she laughs.
“Oh? Well, I’m glad to hear that,” Lynn says, her eyebrows rising above the frames of her dark-rimmed glasses. “Someone’s got to feed this girl.” She gestures with a serving spoon in Olena’s direction.
“Mom!” Olena laughs and flushes slightly.
I smile and reach for my beer on the counter behind her, then lean against the sink, my arm brushing against hers.
The evening has been going smoothly so far.
Being here with Olena’s parents is soothing in a way I didn’t know I needed.
I’ve missed this—feeling like part of a family.
The only slightly awkward moment was seeing Wyatt again after our encounter at the deli.
After a stoic handshake, he now seems to have settled into a cautiously optimistic opinion of me. I’ll take it.
My eyes drift to the dining room where Natalie and her boyfriend, Graham, are sitting at the table drinking wine with Wyatt’s boyfriend, Sam.
The couple evidently just arrived back from a week in Portland.
They look both rested and tired, somehow.
They show Sam their vacation photos on Nat’s phone, laughing.
Graham squeezes Nat’s shoulder as he gets up and walks into the kitchen to grab a beer from the fridge.
“I’m glad you could make it, Graham.” Lynn pauses as she removes a stack of plates from the cupboard to raise her eyebrows at him. “I guess that office of yours finally let you escape?”
“Hey, Lynn, I haven’t given you a proper hug yet,” he says to her warmly as he closes the fridge, beer in hand.
Graham crosses the kitchen to slip an arm around Lynn’s shoulders.
She pats his hand and looks up at him, smiling; he’s probably half a foot taller than she is, with red hair and freckles.
“Graham works too much,” Lynn explains to me and then ducks away to continue setting the table.
“What do you do for work?” I ask him.
“I’m an accountant.”
“He works at that big property management company in town,” Olena explains.
“Sitka Properties, yeah,” he says, popping the lid off his beer with a bottle opener. “We just got this big contract with a new developer and we’ve been slammed lately.”
I nod.
David pokes his head in from the patio and asks Lynn for his raincoat, which she retrieves for him from the front hall. Watching him zip it up, I can see raindrops have already collected on his glasses.
“How’s the big landscaping project going?” Graham asks. “Up on Dogwood, right?” He takes a sip of his beer. “Nat told me a bit about it. Sounds like quite the place.”
“Yeah, we’re almost finished, actually,” I say. “And it’s looking great. Olena’s design was perfect for the property.” I extend a finger from around the beer bottle and brush it against her upper arm, smiling down at her.
“Well, it’s been a team effort,” Olena hedges, blushing slightly.
I give her a look.
She straightens. “I mean… thank you.”
I smile and pull her in to kiss her cheek. That’s right.
Despite the rain, the food is soon declared ready and we all move to the dining room to eat. Alongside the barbecued skewers, there’s a bowl of steaming rice, an enormous green salad, roasted potatoes, spicy garlic green beans, fried mushrooms, and fresh bread rolls.
“Everything looks so good,” Olena says. “Thanks for having us, Mom and Dad.”
Murmurs from around the table confirm everyone agrees.
“Oh my goodness,” Lynn says. “Our pleasure. We’re just so glad you’re back from Seattle, Olena.” She takes a sip of her wine.
Olena gives a small smile at the mention of Seattle.
“Yes, honey, we are so happy to have you home safe and sound,” David adds, reaching for the potatoes. “Marchmas wouldn’t be the same without you.”
“Thanks, Dad,” she replies quietly, her eyes lingering on her plate as she sets down a chicken skewer.
Knowing what happened to her before she left, I’m inclined to agree with her parents, but I can’t help but notice she looks uncomfortable.
I put a hand on her thigh under the table, hoping to reassure her.
She gives me a quick, brave smile, then reaches for the salad.
“I tell you, I never liked that Sean,” David goes on, oblivious to her reaction. He drops a spoonful of mushrooms over the small pile of rice on his plate.
“Dad.” Olena gives him a wide-eyed stare.
Nat pauses as she puts down the bowl of green beans. She shifts uncomfortably in her seat, smiling at the others. The silence hangs.
Wyatt’s eyes are wide, his fork hovering midair. He gives Sam a loaded look.
David continues, apparently picking up on the pregnant pause. “What? It’s true! There was always something a bit off about him. So I’m glad he’s out of your life now. Onto better times, I say.” He pries open a bread roll to butter it.
“David.” Lynn gives him a serious look. He misses it.
“Best to cut those ties, I think. Start fresh.” David smiles, oblivious to the reaction of his daughter and, increasingly, everyone else. He looks at Olena, finally noticing her unease at what he’s said. “What, you’re not still in touch with him, are you?”
“No, Dad, of course not!” Olena looks bewildered at being put on the spot.
Nat makes a face at Olena that I can’t discern. I frown slightly, not sure what’s happening.
“These rolls are amazing. Have you tried them?” Wyatt’s sudden change of topic is jarring, but we all turn our gaze to him. He chews, wide-eyed, and holds out the basket of buns.
I pull my hand away from Olena’s leg and nod politely at Wyatt, taking one.