The Lemon Sisters Read online

  Garrett was sprawled out on his bed, hands behind his head, boots crossed.

  She held on to her towel and stared at him. “What the actual hell?”

  “Right back at you, Goldilocks.”

  “I needed hot water.” She grimaced. “I’m sorry. I should’ve asked.”

  He waved a hand, like, Mi casa es su casa . . .

  So she could use his house, but not his body. Or his heart. Check. “What made you come back?”

  “I was looking out Mindy and Linc’s bathroom window when you did your cat burglar imitation.”

  So much for stealth. “Go back to work,” she said. “I’ve got to get dressed, and then I’ll get out of your space.” She dropped her duffel bag on the bed, but he didn’t move. She raised a brow.

  “I won’t look,” he said, and closed his eyes.

  She did some mental knuckle cracking. He’d seen it all before, of course, but she hadn’t been mad at them both at the time. And she was mad at them both. She was mad at herself for caring and at him for making her care. But screw it. If he wasn’t into her, it didn’t matter, right? So she dropped the towel.

  At a low, rough male sound, she glanced up and found Garrett’s eyes open and on her. “Hey,” she said, scrambling to wrap the towel around herself. “You said you wouldn’t look!”

  “I lied.” His gaze wandered down her body and then slowly back to her eyes, his own dark with heat. “I learned from the best.”

  “Not funny.”

  “I wasn’t going for funny.” He rose from the bed with an effortless grace she couldn’t have managed on her best day—which this clearly wasn’t. Not sure what he was planning, she let out a squeak at his approach, and with as much dignity as she could, given that all she was wearing was a towel, she grabbed her duffel bag and ran.

  Back in the guesthouse, she rushed to get dressed, half braced for Garrett to follow her.

  He didn’t.

  Telling herself that’s what she wanted, she went through the rest of the duffel bag, more from curiosity than anything else.

  Her sister had thrown in plenty of clothes, and . . . indeed, her cameras. She pulled out her favorite, an older Nikon that had never failed her.

  The minute she had it in her hands, the ache inside her deepened. Great. Now she needed sex and to get outside and take pictures. She put the strap around her neck and hopped into her car without saying a word to anyone. She went back to the bluffs and hit the stairs. At the top, she stood back so far from the edge of the bluffs that she couldn’t see anything. But she needed forward progress on something, so, rolling her eyes at herself, she took two baby steps off the trail and gulped in air.

  “You’re being ridiculous,” she said out loud.

  No one cared, especially her feet, which refused to take her any farther. “Dammit.” Slinging her camera from her front to her back, she dropped to her knees and then sort of shuffled another few inches toward the edge. One, two, three, four . . .

  “You okay, ma’am?”

  She nearly leapt out of her skin as she craned her neck to look behind her. A teenage kid had come down the trail. Ma’am? Was he kidding? Did she look old enough to be a damn ma’am? “I’m fine.”

  “You need help down?”

  “No!” She took a deep breath and added a hopefully normal smile. “I’m okay, thanks.”

  He shrugged and ambled away, continuing down.

  “Ma’am,” she muttered. “I’m not a damn ma’am.” She forced herself to shift another few feet toward the edge. She still had like twenty feet to go and was sweating in places that shouldn’t be sweating as she moved inch by inch. One, two, three, four. One, two, three, four . . . Her initial goal had been to hang her feet over the edge, but just the thought made her want to throw up.

  Baby steps, the therapist she’d seen after the helicopter crash had told her.

  Right. Baby steps. That worked, as long as they came in even numbers. She did eventually get there, but she did not hang her feet over. She sat and concentrated on breathing. When she no longer felt like she was an impending stroke victim, she spent an hour there taking pictures and almost forgetting she’d left that world behind.

  Going down was very slightly easier, and afterward, she sat on the beach awhile, until the sound of the surf and the feel of it vibrating beneath her soothed her soul. She’d done what she’d come here to do. She’d set Linc straight. She’d helped Mindy. She’d talked to Garrett and made things as right as she could. That meant she could go.

  But oddly enough, she wasn’t quite ready to leave.

  It was the end of the day before she walked in the back door to Mindy and Linc’s, needing food and possibly alcohol.

  Her sister was in the pantry, rearranging the shelves.

  “I thought you were at the shop today,” Brooke said, knowing Mindy had gotten up early to bake a bunch of goods for the front display and to cover for Xena, who’d taken the week off now that Mindy was back.

  “Was at the shop,” Mindy said. “Just got back.”

  “So you got up at the crack of dawn and baked for the shop, then you worked the shop, and now you’re cleaning?” Brooke asked.

  “It’s a little thing called my life.”

  “I know,” Brooke said. “But I bet Brittney would do some of it for you.”

  “I know, but . . . I like doing it.” Mindy shook her head. “She’s upstairs with the kids, who are home from camp. I apologized to her.”

  “For treating her like crap, you mean?”

  Mindy winced. “Yes. She said not to worry about it. So she’s playing with the kids and I’m cleaning.”

  “Proof positive that one of us was switched at birth.”

  Mindy smiled. “Garrett just said the same thing to me. It’s so nice to have him next door again. He’s happy there, though he’s not home much. He works with the rec center and soccer league for at-risk kids, and he even does some emergency fostering when the need arises, but he’s also been really in demand with work, so—”

  “Why are we talking about Garrett?”

  Mindy looked surprised. “I don’t know. Because we were all close friends? And I guess I wanted you to know how great he’s been to me. So great that . . .” She grimaced. “So this part’s actually kind of embarrassing.”

  “You could just stop talking.”

  But apparently Mindy couldn’t. “Once Linc and I went into our rut, I started crushing on any guy who smiled at me.”

  Brooke slid her a look. “Including Garrett?”

  Mindy grimaced again. “You know what? Forget it.”

  Brooke wanted to, but it was a little late now. “You’re married, Min. And he’s your neighbor.” And he had his tongue down my throat, so . . .

  “Well, it’s not like he’s an old geezer with a spare tire and false teeth,” Mindy said, clearly defensive now. “He’s smart and funny and . . . well, hot. I mean, if you could see him in the mornings after his run—”

  “Jeez, Min.”

  “What? Let’s be honest, it’s not like I’m the only Lemon sister who ever crushed on him. You had a big, fat crush on him in high school. You know you did.”

  That’s when they both heard a noise behind them. Hoping it was Ketchup, but knowing her luck didn’t run in that direction, Brooke turned to find, yep, both Linc and Garrett in the doorway. Awesome. Linc was in a suit, Garrett in battered jeans, battered boots, and a T-shirt that had some sawdust still sticking to it, both men clearly coming in from work.

  Linc glanced at Garrett, then back to Mindy. “Tell me there’s dinner.”

  Mindy blinked. “That’s what you want to talk about?” she asked. “Not my crush on the sexy guy who lives right next door?”

  “I skipped lunch,” Linc said. “My stomach’s eating my other organs.”

  Garrett raised his hand. “I want to talk about the fact that you think I’m sexy.”

  “I hope it’s steak,” Linc said, sticking his head in the fridge.