Love Under Construction (Love By Design Book 1) Page 5

  “Yeah, don’t bother trying to understand these kids, they have a language all of their own.” Kristen snickered, and I let my head bow down to ignore him.

  Hunter’s foot nudged mine under the table and I huffed out the name, giving up. “Jeremy Dolan.”

  “Yeah, that kid was a total douchebag.” Hunter’s voice took an edge to it and I wondered what else I had missed back then while I was sporting a face that resembled a Japanese puffer fish.

  “Aw, come on, he was sweet while he lasted and he looked good in his soccer uniform.” My so-called relationship with Jeremy lasted about as long as the time it took my EpiPen to kick in.

  “Oh hey, yeah, he did!” Kristen chimed in as we recanted the story for what was probably the fiftieth time as friends over the last decade. Rekindling how Jeremy looked like a certain young English prince with copper hair and was so polite until you got him talking about soccer. Brittany rolled her eyes again, completely excluded from the commentary.

  “I can’t believe you tried that soup. What was that anyway?” Hunter tapped my hand, drawing a smile from me, and I made a feminine grunt.

  “Ugh. Some seafood gumbo at the diner.” I felt a little green around the gills thinking about that night. I didn’t think my body would have stopped its voodoo exorcism without Hunter’s help.

  “Ha! I found you outside throwing up behind my old truck and blowing up like a puffy red balloon.”

  Hunter and I laughed, tears pricking my eyes at the memory. My face swelled to twice its size and the idiot I was, I didn’t have my EpiPen with me. I gave him a kick, and he grabbed my foot at the ankle, holding me still under the table. A rough finger grazed up and down my thin ankle bone to rest on the back of my calf, massaging my leg before slowly letting go. Moving my foot away, Hunter caught it and kept on the seat under the table near the wall, effectively trapping me for the moment.

  “Hell of a night,” Kristen muttered.

  Hunter cleared his throat, adding, “I was so scared at the time it happened.” A pin could have dropped and echoed right then at Hunter’s admission. He’d never told me that before. It never occurred to me what might have been running through his mind at the time because I was a little busy hoping I wouldn’t stop breathing and die.

  “Gross.” Brittany shuddered in disgust, and I couldn’t blame her. The memory itself still made me queasy to this day.

  Kristen nudged me under the table and I looked at her, our eyes met and I silently asked her what. Brittany was rolling her eyes again, was something wrong with her? I got the message loud and clear she didn’t like me. Fine. There was no question in my mind that we wouldn’t be friends, but if she rolled her eyes one more time, I would wonder if she had marbles for brains inside her skull. I didn’t envision Hunter going for the silly bimbo type, but who knew what guys wanted any way. It obviously wasn’t me.

  My voice was on the verge of choking as I spoke, “I probably forgot to thank you for taking me to the ER and calling my dad that night.”

  “It’s all good, Taylor Jane, you baked me those burned cookies the next time I saw you and chocolate chip has never been the same for me since.” Our table laughed at the secret jokes except for his date, and we were given a reprieve when the food arrived, passing around plates.

  “Hey, hooker!” Damien Hart, Hunter’s first cousin through their dads, came over with the same damn swagger Hunter owned as an adult now.

  “Fucking Damien.” Kristen tipped back her drink, addressing Hunter. “Can’t you go anywhere without that asshole?” She signaled to Remi for another drink.

  Leaning over, Hunter eyed Kristen with a glint of mischief. “Aw, Kristen, you keep talking like that and I might think you’re interested in my cousin, horizontally of course.”

  “Blech, now that’s gross!” Kristen continued making her gagging sounds as Damien walked over to our table.

  “What’s her problem?” Damien thumbed in Kristen’s direction as he grabbed a chair from a nearby table and swung it around to sit on backward, resting his arms over the top of the back.

  “I think you need to give her the Heimlich maneuver.” Hunter grunted, and I knew Kristen tried to kick him back under the table.

  “Without tongue of course, she’s not drunk enough to put up with you even if you’re saving her life. Come back in two more drinks.” I winked at him.

  “Cute, Taylor, which by the way, how come I had to find out from this assclown you’re back in town? You don’t call, you don’t write, and now you’re buying real estate? Hello, fancy-pants, Shark Tank mogul.”

  “Did you really miss me, Damien?”

  “I’m wounded, Taylor. Deeply. Wounded.” Mocking me, Damien clutched his chest, wobbling in the chair he occupied. Ever the drama queen, he often rivaled Kristen for the Oscar. A big ass smile dimpled his already chiseled face while his hair kept that rakish flop.

  “I was under the impression that as long as we weren’t screwing I didn’t owe you a text back?”

  “Haha! That’s a zinger, Taylor.” Kristen gave me a high five, and we snickered.

  “Well, now I’m back, and Hunter can enlist your help on our little project.” I clapped my hands together and watched Hunter’s face fall into a grin just for Damien.

  “Oh fucking hell, I knew there was a catch. Yeah, okay, I’m not as butt hurt now that you didn’t write or call. I’d rather get a spider bite.” He stood from his seat when Kristen gripped his arm with a less than playful pinch.

  Kristen, who was now well into her second drink, snorted. “That can be arranged.”

  “Real nice, Pebbles. Remind me to keep walking next time you need a favor.” Damien snagged a boneless BBQ chicken tender and bit it in half, chewing as he sat back down scootching his chair away from my bestie, the new black widow.

  It seemed I missed a few things that had been going on since my sojourn downstate. I was glad to be back in the circle of my friends, surrounded by their unwavering if crazy support. I was going to need them now more than ever and I wasn’t sure yet how much to confide in them given I’d already roped them into my project without knowing exactly how bad things were on my end. I felt the guilt deep and shame deeper, but I pushed it down, focused on what I could control, and that was finishing this House of Horrors that Hunter dubbed it when he didn’t think I was listening.

  “Oh, so here’s something we can do.” An audible groan followed Kristen’s suggestion. I swore if she said bar hop I was out of there real quick.

  “Hit us, Miss Trouble.” Hunter finally let go of my ankle under the table before he squeezed it and leaned back. He took a swig of his beer, placing an arm around the back of the booth, which I noticed was behind his date. His fingers rubbed Brittany’s hair and for some reason it grated on my nerves when I knew it shouldn’t. We were friends. Best friends. He could rub whatever he wanted on Brittany, even if his hand had just been connected to my ankle like a thief under the table. The worst part was forcing myself to smile through it all.

  “So I was putting my makeup on this morning and thinking to myself—”

  “Perish the thought of two of her brain cells masturbating while she rolled on her eyeliner,” Damien muttered, taking a drink of his beer.

  Kristen rolled her eyes and continued, “What if the person you’re with really isn’t your soul mate?”

  “Well, seeing as how we’re all single except for Hunter here.” Nodding in his direction, I pointed at Kristen, willing her to shut up or pretend to choke on a loaded potato boat before I did the job for her.

  “What if it’s someone you already know?”

  “Oh God, where do you hear this shit, Pebbles? Cue the Hallmark channel.” Damien grabbed another chicken tender and signaled to Remi, who had a large margarita in her hands to cut off Kristen’s next round.

  “Please, I watch the Oprah channel and Dr. Phil like every good female,” Kristen said, popping a bite of food into her mouth.

  “Might prove a challenge for Damien here. He�
�s got quite the stable, you know.” Hunter chuckled.

  “I like to consider it my vast array of choices, thank you very much.” Damien wagged his eyebrows and I discretely moved Kristen’s fork on my side while she was busying chewing the bacon on her potato boat. I didn’t feel like a trip to the ER for a fork stabbing tonight.

  “Sure you do, cousin.” Hunter winked at me as we all glanced around the table.

  “You know I like chestnut, bay, palomino, black, sable.” Damien pointed around the bar at different women with the corresponding hair colors until he got to Kristen, rolling his eyes. “But not whatever the hell that is....”

  Kristen smacked his arm, and both Hunter and I grabbed them to stop further abuse of each other... so much for maintaining neutrality status.

  “Uh-huh.” Damien shrugged off the pony comments and continued picking on Kristen.

  “It’s not like KC here who hooked up with every cop in town.” He was scowling, looking every bit the namesake Kristen has bestowed on him.

  “Low blow Demon, it was only one cop and you’re mad because we’re still seeing each other recreationally.”

  I wondered if that was true. Kristen and Evan had been around the block but never committed to each other.

  “Is that what the kids are calling it these days? Recreationally?” Testing the word out, Hunter smiled at me between a bite of his mozzarella stick juicing down his chin when I handed him a napkin. We made an even exchange when he handed me the other half. Without thinking I took it, eating it and savoring the cheese while Brittany gave me the death glare. I was guessing that Miss Marbles didn’t like that either, oh well.

  “Whatever.” Damien tipped his drink back, but I knew he never liked Evan Rooney. They fought in high school and gave each other the stink-eye every chance they got. It probably didn’t help that Evan was the high school quarterback their senior year and went on to the police academy just upping the ante between them.

  “Don’t be such a snowflake about it,” Hunter teased him as Damien tossed a piece of bacon from the potato boat, hitting his shoulder. No one should waste bacon that carelessly in my opinion. Damien Hart was a Bacon Waster which was the equivalent of a felony in my mind.

  Sighing, I let my fork do the talking and speared a second mozzarella stick into the marinara sauce. “I’m willing to let things happen as they should in due time.”

  “Here’s to little Toolbox’s fine wisdom.” Damien raised a glass of beer, changing my name as usual.

  I picked mine up to clink our glasses.

  Hunter grunted, “Well, I’d be a little concerned for Taylor Jane seeing as how Jeremy Dolan almost killed her.”

  “Yeah, he’s probably not a good match and, besides, you keep my spare EpiPens in your truck anyway.” We hooted a little more uneasily now. Leave it to Kristen to sour the evening with her deep existential thoughts.

  “That reminds me to make sure they’re up to date.” Hunter sipped his beer again.

  “I haven’t gotten a script in ages being so careful. Thanks for the reminder.” I pulled out my agenda book and added that to my to-do list.

  “So that’s what that junk in your truck is for?” Brittany sneered and her face scrunched up, giving her a lemon looking pucker. At least her eyes weren’t rolling around, yet.

  Hunter broke the uneasy silence by grumbling and nudging his date out of the booth to stand. “Anyway, Brit and I were just stopping in before hitting the movies. Come on, Brit, let’s go.”

  I was sad to see them exit, or at least my best friend. The movies used to be our thing, the drive-in at Hyde Park across the river, but I guess now it was any girl’s thing with him. Hunter dropped a handful of twenties on the table that would more than cover the entire tab.

  “Hunter, what the heck?” I grabbed the money before it fell in the blue cheese dip.

  “I’m the accountant, thank you!” Kristen reached for the bills, and I handed them over to let her count them.

  “No worries, Taylor Jane, that’s for the tab Damien and Kristen are likely to rack up.” He tilted his head and gave me a sobering dad voice that made a shiver work its way down my spine. “My treat, and drive home safe.” Hunter placed a hand on the smirking Brittany and gave her behind the momentum to keep going by prodding her along.

  “Right, thanks, Hunter.”

  Kristen and Damien traded quips with Hunter before they left and I was staring into my drink that didn’t taste nearly as good as it did thirty minutes ago. Safe and soul mates… huh. I thought I knew what safe was; now I had a lot of things to think about watching my soul mate walk out of the bar with another woman gripping his hand tightly, leaving no room for me to squeeze in.

  Maybe I should ask my doctor for an anti-EpiPen and just stab Miss Marbles with it?

  It would seem my evenings were booked solid with whatever was up next on the Hallmark channel, sitting on the couch in my dad’s house listening to Kristen contemplate killing Demon repeatedly. Guess not much changed in ten years after all.

  7

  Hunter

  I was glad to leave the bar after the probing questions, propelling Brit out the door with a touch to her hip. Cool sprinkles of rain tapped against my head and neck, bringing with it the beginnings of a headache. Weather like this triggered the flashbacks I worked hard to keep buried along with my temper. I looked up at the moon that seemed to be winking at me conspiratorially. The asphalt of the parking lot, darkened with dampness, and I heaved a weighted sigh. Everything felt heavier in the rain. My friends were good people, even Kristen, who was just being Kristen ribbing Damien and his harem—except she got me thinking in ways I tried long and hard to avoid.

  Taylor Jane was off the table.

  Completely.

  She was never on the table—except when I wanted to fantasize about her and that was not happening. I hadn’t let that happen since prom, since my first deployment—shit, since the first night I knew she was back in town and hadn’t called me. It bruised my ego in ways I didn’t have words for, but it chaffed, honestly chaffed my ass because I wondered if I was the only one feeling this way all this time.

  “Come on, let’s go.” I took Brit’s hand a bit more roughly than I intended and pulled her toward my truck now wet in the parking lot helping her get inside the cab. I jogged around the front and got in, starting it up and pulling out onto the street.

  “In a hurry?” Her smirk irritated me but not enough to drive straight to her house. I headed for the movies close by instead of the drive-in I preferred in Poughkeepsie. That was my place with Taylor Jane and I wasn’t looking to encourage Brit any further tonight than a quick fuck if I could even manage that much interaction with her.

  She was going to kill me working on this project. I had to physically remove Brittany and myself before things got really weird and Kristen started down memory lane once again. I knew Brit felt threatened by my close friendship with Taylor Jane, but we were friends, and always would be. I wouldn’t give her up, not even if I was in the desert without water. She was my oasis. It didn’t matter if I couldn’t have her and quench my decade long thirst. Brittany, on the other hand, was a woman I liked to have sex with when the need arose, and it did quite often, especially when my best friend was back in town flipping a house barely dressed for the job site.

  Damn, that first day, though, would probably fuel my fantasies for a good long time. I never knew timberland boots came in a soft dusty blue color; the ones she wore matched her eyes and the frayed denim shorts she wore with them. Cotton cupped her lovely heart-shaped ass and her braid of blond hair tickled the top of her backside, creating the itch of attraction I worked so hard to beat down.

  Figuratively.

  Literally—in my shower, and often.

  It was hopeless.

  My dick stirred and I didn’t need that happening right now. Not while Brit was sliding her hands up my leg suggestively as I maneuvered my truck down the main drag in town. She continued her assault, tracking her fin
gers over my jeans and cupping my cock through the tight cotton.

  “Brit, come on, I’m driving.” My body hummed with tension. I didn’t think a mindless hop in the sac would help at this point.

  “Hunter….” Her voice purred and made me think of a shifty Siamese cat trying to get her lick of milk as she clicked her seatbelt, drawing my attention off the road a second. Another difference between her and Taylor Jane, one was selfish and self-serving while the other was selflessly giving. I turned the truck a little roughly, forcing her to part from me before she crawled back over. The moonlight casted her in a villainous glow I couldn’t shake from my mind. Think Margot Robbie from Suicide Squad… beautiful, but crazy.

  “Put your seatbelt on. Seriously, Brit, I’m not having an accident because you’re trying to cop a feel.” From the corner of my eye I spied her pouting and groaned, figuring this could be the start of another pointless fight. The last thing I wanted to do was fight—with anyone.

  “Hunter?”

  “Come here.” Rolling my eyes, I settled for touching Brit’s hair. It wasn’t nearly as soft as I thought it should be. Fake blond was never as nice as real blond. I would never touch genuine blond locks because Taylor Jane was off limits I reminded myself. Brit had enough to keep me entertained, but nothing I hadn’t enjoyed before. We had an understanding of sorts, though she liked to press the boundaries now and again. She was the type who left shit for me to find, a hairband, a random unworn thong like she was marking her territory. She was my right now girl, not my forever girl, and that was a long ways away, if ever as far as I was concerned.

  Visions of the last fight my parents had pounded the back of my skull and I rubbed my neck, trying to relieve the building tension. Brit seemed to sense my need for quiet and left my dick peacefully alone to move her fingers to my shoulders and neck, massaging them suggestively. I’m not going to lie; it felt pretty damn nice and distracted me from going too deep into the memories. After a minute or so she stopped and husked back into her seat, crossing her arms huffing.