Per the house rules, West, Ridge, and I do the cleanup. His grandpa helps to clear the table, but Curtis doesn’t lift a finger, which is typical.
I’m in the kitchen alone, scrubbing the last pot, when Kendall walks in. I guess sending out juju vibes to the universe worked after all. I finish washing the pot and set it on the drainboard, before turning around. “I was hoping to catch you alone,” she says, smiling as she removes something from one of the drawers. “This is for you.” She hands me a gold-wrapped package.
“What is it?”
“Open it and see.” Her tinkling laughter is music to my ears. I eagerly tear at the paper, extracting the two cookbooks. “I was going to loan you mine, but I figured you could use your own set. Those are the two most recent Keaton Kennedy releases. I skimmed through them, and there are some great recipes in there.”
I can hardly speak over the messy ball of emotion clogging my throat. “Thank you,” I croak, setting the books down on the counter.
“Hey.” She casts a quick glance over her shoulder at the closed door before stepping up to me. Her fingers brush against my cheek. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” I hold her hand against my face. “Absolutely nothing. I’m just overwhelmed you got these for me.” Her features soften, and if I’m not mistaken, that’s adoration I see written on her face.
“It’s only a couple of books.”
“It’s the thought behind the purchase that counts most.” God, I want to kiss her so badly in this moment. She has no idea how much she means to me because the words don’t exist to adequately describe it. “You listen to me. You see me. You support my passions. You make my life better.”
“Vander.” Her breathy tone sends all the blood rushing south in my body, and I’m already semi-hard. Tears glisten in her eyes. “I could say the same of you.”
We stare at one another, conveying everything we can’t say with our eyes. The craving to hold her is almost more than I can bear. Every part of me strains to connect with her. I don’t know how much longer I can restrain myself. Not when every cell in my body is screaming for her touch. “You belong with me,” I whisper, clasping her hand tight to my face, unwilling to let her go.
“You belong with someone your own age,” she counters after a few intense beats. She pulls her hand away from my face and averts her gaze. “You deserve to find someone young and pretty without any complications. I want you to be happy. I want that for you so much.”
“My happy place is you.” I reel her into my body, clamping my hands on her lower back to stop her from wriggling free. “You make me happy. I don’t want any other girl. I never have, and I never will. I only want you.”
“Vander, please.” Tipping her chin up, she stares at me with tears in her eyes. “Please forget about me and find someone else.”
I shake my head. “It won’t happen. I can’t tell my heart how to feel.” Taking her hand, I place it over my chest, hoping she can feel the steady thrumming of my heart. “This is yours, Kendall, whether you want it or not. It doesn’t matter if you don’t claim it, it will always beat only for you.”
“I wish so many things were different,” she whispers as a tear rolls down her face. “I wish I could be everything you want me to be, but I don’t see how it’s possible.” She shucks out of my hold, circling her arms around herself.
“Let’s not set any parameters. Let’s just see where things take us. I’m here for you. As your friend or more. You call the shots, and I’m right here.” I slide the keyring out of my pocket. “I have something for you too.” Taking her hand, I place the keyring on her palm and curl her fingers around it. “That’s a key fob to open the back gate and a key to the carriage house. I want you to be able to come and go freely. If you need a place to escape to, come to me.”
She stares at me intently, worrying her lower lip between her teeth before releasing it. She opens her mouth to say something when the door swings open, and I instantly remove my hand from hers. Curtis steps into the room, his gaze narrowing suspiciously as he looks from me to her. “Why is the door closed?”
“We were just finishing the cleanup,” Kendall says, spinning around to face her husband. “If you were finally getting your lazy ass in gear, you’re too late to help. It’s all done now.”
I see red when he walks up and slides his arm around her shoulder, pulling her into his side. “I love this newfound sense of humor.” He swats her ass, and I’m seconds away from punching his lights out. Pressing his mouth to her ear, he says in a tone that’s clearly audible, “It turns me on like you wouldn’t believe.”
“Curtis!” Shock mixes with rage as she steps out from under her husband’s arm. “We have company. Behave yourself.”
I can’t watch this shit go down. I need to get out of here. Ignoring Curtis, I smile at his wife as I grab the cookbooks from the counter. “Thanks for the books and for dinner, Kendall. It was delicious, like always.”
“Thank you for coming, and thanks again for the gifts.”
“It’s the least we could do after all the effort you went to.” I stare pointedly at Curtis, who has yet to offer one word of gratitude to his wife for everything she did to ensure we all had a great Thanksgiving. “I’ll get Mom, and we’ll be on our way.”
“I’d offer to give you a bottle of wine to take home,” Curtis says, “but your mom drank us dry.” A sneering laugh accompanies his spiteful words, but I ignore him and stride out of the kitchen, needing to put as much distance between us before I do something I’ll regret.
“What are you doing here?” I ask later that night when my bedroom door swings open and my father steps inside my room. He said he was spending the holidays in Denver, so we weren’t expecting to see him at all this weekend. I planned on sleeping at the main house, to keep an eye on Mom, and now I’m glad I did. I don’t trust my father in the same house as my mother. It’s not like he has any real incentive to keep her alive. Why else does he support her addiction by keeping a fully stocked liquor cabinet and a doctor on call to fill repeat prescriptions when needed? It’s like he wants her to drink herself into an early grave or OD on prescription meds.
“Need I remind you I live here every time I set foot in my own goddamn house?” he barks.
Setting my sketch pad aside, I climb to my feet and stand, loving that I’m taller than him by a few inches. It always makes me feel superior to look down at him, and I know it irritates him to no end that I’m taller, broader, stronger, and hotter. “What do you want?”
“Miles Turner phoned to invite us to dinner at his house tomorrow night. I told him we’d be there at eight.”
Ah, so that’s why he came home. “I’m not going.” I would rather remove all my teeth with pliers than subject myself to Gayle Turner and her pompous parents.
“Where is your mother?” he asks, purposely cracking his knuckles as he drills me with a pointed look.
And there’s the reminder as to why he keeps Mom alive. If she dies or he divorces her, he has nothing to hold over me. Familiar helplessness thunders through my veins. I badly need to hit something or someone. It seems I’m truly being tested today. “Fine,” I grit out. “I’ll go.”