She snorted. She couldn’t help it.
Leslie wished he was giving her a hard time.
Her brother seemed to relax and his voice became less sharp. “Okay. Let me know if he steps out of line though, you hear?”
“I’m a grown woman. I can handle my own life.” Her conscience nipped at her, pointing out that given her current situation it wasn’t so apparent that she could handle it. And
He must have heard the mounting tension in her voice because he replied, “I know. It’s just that I know Pete too.”
“I hear you. Thanks for the concern, but I’ll be fine.” It felt good to know that somebody cared.
She and Mark talked for another minute as she backed out of the garage and pulled onto the road. Then they hung up and she was left with a quiet, cozy car and the open road. For the next half hour she cruised out of Denver and then hopped on Highway 287, which would take her the rest of the way to Lafayette, where Mark and Lorelei now resided.
Just north of the town, tons of open land sprawled, with the Rockies standing sentry to the West. It was beautiful, all the gently rolling hills. She could see why they’d fallen in love with the location. So much breathing room.
Coming to her turnoff, Leslie slowed her Mini and whipped around the turn, grinning. Her baby cornered like a golf cart. Slinging it around corners was just so much fun.
Slowing as another smaller, tighter turn appeared before her, Leslie scanned the directions again very briefly and took the hard left. Alpine Road. She’d found it. Downshifting, she took that corner at a conservative speed and smiled happily as she passed a pasture full of horses.
Leslie turned down the gravel road to her brother’s new place, enjoying the way the house came into view through the trees, their bold autumn colors framing the huge farmhouse beautifully. About twenty or so cars were already parked here and there, most just pulled off into the grass by the side of the drive. Scanning the vehicles, Leslie released a tense breath, unaware that she’d even been holding it.
There was no yellow FJ Cruiser.
Trying to ignore the relief that coursed through her, because if she acknowledged it, it would mean that there was something she had been stressing about, Leslie found a place to park in front of a big, old-fashioned red barn. She grinned and felt warm fuzzies fill her when a small, fluffy, white-and-gray kitten waddled out of the cracked-open door and meowed at her. Instantly in love, she climbed out and grabbed the gift bag, eyes locked on the furry little heart-stealer.
“What’s your name, sweetie?” she crooned and crouched down, crooking her finger at the kitten.
The fat little thing let out a tiny cry and hurried over to her, obviously a little lonely and in need of some affection. “You’ve found the right girl,” she said and ran a finger down the kitten’s downy-soft head.
She was so completely, hopelessly infatuated with her new acquaintance that she didn’t hear the door to the barn creak open. She was lost in the feel of the kitten’s soft, round belly as she gave it a good rub, so she jumped when a boy’s voice cut through her bubble of love. “Isn’t she the most adorable kitten ever in the whole entire world?”
It was Charlie, in a gray hoodie and jeans.
“I saw that somebody had put out a ton of food for them. There’s two more inside, but they’re still scared and hiding behind the hay bales.” Sweet, blue eyes turned to her and Charlie bent his head to the side and asked, “Do you want one of them? Lorelei said that I could have one if Mom agrees, and I bet she’d give you one too if you want.”
“No thanks,” she said instantly. When would she have time to take care of a kitten? Her life was so busy as it was. “Oh don’t you look at me like that, missy,” she chided down at the kitten, feeling guilty. What was the use?
She was such a sucker. Little miss was going home with her. The decision made, Leslie gently set the kitten on the ground and stood up. Then she grabbed the gift bag full of baking goodies for Lorelei and said, “Let’s leave them for now and we’ll come back later. How’s that sound, Charlie?”
The boy gave her a sunny smile and nodded, his blue eyes sparkling. “I knew you couldn’t resist.”
It was the story of her life.
Charlie put his kitten down on the ground next to hers and wiped his hands on the front of his jeans. “Wanna go inside?” he asked, his gaze turning to the big blue-gray two-story house with the wraparound porch.
She tossed her arm over his shoulders and replied, “Sure, kid. Let’s go see if there’s anything good to eat.” Mark had promised to grill up a couple tri-tips and she had a hankering.
He grinned up at her happily. “My mom made her homemade apple pie. It’s world famous.”
Leslie felt her stomach growl and said, “Sounds awesome.”
They had just stepped across the gravel drive to the huge expanse of front lawn when the sound of a vehicle grabbed their attention. They turned around together to look, her arm still slung over the kids’ shoulder and her smile froze on her lips.
Coming down the drive, making its way toward them, was a bright yellow FJ Cruiser. Fantastic. Awesome.
Peter had arrived.
PETER STEERED HIS SUV around the bend, enjoying the view until he spotted Leslie on the front lawn. Then his smile of appreciation turned into a frown and his good mood immediately plummeted. Now that he knew that
Humiliation, embarrassment, a slap to his manhood—call it whatever, he didn’t care. He felt unmanned. Like he’d plucked off his balls and just handed them to her with a big dumb frigging smile on his face.
What kind of dumb-shit guy couldn’t do the nasty when he had the hottest woman on the planet naked and begging for it underneath him? It still grated. After all these years it grated every frigging bit as much as it did the night the whole damn thing had happened.
She was his fantasy. He just didn’t get it. It should have gone down in the record books as the best night of his life, not the most degrading.
Peter climbed out of his Cruiser just in time to see Leslie turn with Charlie and walk up the front steps into the house. Which was just fine with him. He’d rather not have to talk to her until he’d regained some shred of masculinity back.
Carl Brexler and Jose Caldera came around the side of the house just then carrying a Wiffle bat and ball. When they spotted Peter, Carl hollered, “Hey, Walskie. You up for a game of Wiffle ball? Mark’s got a diamond set up out back and a bunch of us are playing.”
Sounded fun, like a great way to keep up this whole
“I’m in. Just let me take this inside.” He held up the bamboo plant he was carrying. He’d brought it for the new homeowners because it was supposed to bring good luck. “Who’s manning the grill today?”
Usually get-togethers like this happened at his place, and he got to put on his chef’s hat and play grill- master. It was kind of his thing. The last two soirees had been way memorable though, and not in the best way. There’d been more drama than a Greek play. He’d been thinking that he should maybe lay off the party-hosting for a while, so this was great.
