Dating Trouble (Grover Beach Team Book 5) (16 page)

At lightning-speed, I smeared myself a peanut butter and jam sandwich and sneaked upstairs, the noise of their argument following me. With my headphones on, I read for a couple of hours and hoped the worst would be over by the time I went to bed. But the truth was, their fight when I’d come home had only been the opening round.

Shortly after nine, I had enough of their shouts. Sighing, I leaned out the window and closed my eyes in relief when I saw the lights were still on in my grandpa’s bedroom. He loved to read as much as anyone else in my family. If I went over there now, he might even make me a cup of hot chocolate before going to bed. Right, I needed to be in a loving and peaceful place, and Grandpa gave that to me.

Pillow stuffed under my arm and my phone shoved into the pocket of my PJ bottoms, I padded downstairs. “Good night!” I yelled into the living room but didn’t wait for one of my parents to come after me and bribe me into staying. Their promises to stop fighting when I left never kept up, so why would they now?

The grass of our small front yard was cold, but slippers had never been my thing. At a quick push of the doorbell, a shrill sound like an old alarm rang out. It went on for as long as you pressed the button.

Light went on downstairs and fell through the frosty glass in the door. Gramps opened it. He didn’t look surprised, just very sad. “One of those nights, hm?”

“Days, nights, who pays attention?” I answered. “Can I come in?”

“Sweetheart, you know you don’t have to ask.” But only then he seemed to realize that he was blocking the door. Stepping aside, he let me in and flipped the key in the lock again. “Do you want anything before you go to sleep?”

A grin stretched my mouth to a half moon. “Hot chocolate would be awesome.”

“With cream?”

“Mm-hm.” I nodded, tossing my pillow onto the couch. Five minutes later, a cup of sweet, steaming cocoa sat in front of me on the coffee table. Gramps got one kiss on the cheek for that and another for good night.

He stroked my hair, which I’d tied into a messy bun. “One day, things will get better between them, you’ll see,” he said in a soft, deep, encouraging rumble. I liked his voice. It was the only soothing thing on such nights.

“I hope so. Sleep well, Gramps.”

After he left and went upstairs to his room, I switched on the small lamp behind the couch and turned off the main lights. The hot cup warmed my frozen fingers as I sipped my cocoa.

My phone vibrated on the coffee table with a brief beep. Half past nine. Why did the prospect of this message being from Chris make me smile in the midst of all of tonight’s misery?

I opened the text.
What are you doing?

Okay, someone was seriously bored.
Just moved in with my grandfather
, I typed back.

Want to explain?

No, I didn’t want to.
Long story.

You have three and a half hours. If I get less than six hours of sleep, I’m grumpy in the morning.

Ha ha
—and I wrote that because it really made me laugh—
so we better make sure you go to bed early.

I’m in bed now. I always am when I text you. Why aren’t you?

Fine, since he was begging for the facts:
My parents are having a rather noisy argument. My grandpa lives next door, and I came here to sleep on the couch.

Wow. You do that often?

Funnily enough, I’d expected him to reply with an offer that I could sleep on his couch, or better yet in his room, if my house wasn’t good enough anymore. After all, that would fit right into his usual assortment of answers. If his message would have been anything of that kind, it would have guaranteed him a night full of silence from my end. But because he seemed seriously concerned, I typed another reply.

Sometimes. I’m used to it. So you go to bed this early every day, so you can text me?
Drinking the rest of my hot chocolate, I waited for his next text, and a part of me was getting impatient when it took him more than six minutes.

Yeah. I don’t like being disturbed when I talk to you. ;-) How’s the hickey doing?

Absently, I rubbed the spot on my neck.
Turning violet. How’s your black eye doing?

Turning yellow-ish. Makes me a whole lot more attractive, doesn’t it? ^^

I like flawless. :P

I like ponytails.

I gulped.

Was that a reference to how I had my hair up when we were playing soccer? For some reason, that last text gave me a warm tingle that crept all over my body, right down to my toes. Feeling bold after that rush of adrenaline, I replied:
I like charming Chris.

I like kissing your neck. You taste like coconut cream.

Oh my freaking Jesus! Was he serious? I had to stop this conversation. It was getting out of control. Even though I knew his last couple of messages wouldn’t let me rest for a long time. I pulled my knees to my chest and hid them under the thick wool blanket, keying in with slightly shaking fingers:
Body butter. I’ll get you some if you like it so much. :P It’s late. Have to go to sleep now, or I’ll be grumpy in the morning.

My heart beat a little faster than average-weekday-night pounding, and I wished I had a way to stop it. It finally managed to relax when Chris’s final text arrived.
Sleep tight, sweetness.

“You, too,” I whispered and turned off the light.

THE FOLLOWING NIGHT, I found myself texting back and forth with both Donovan guys, which kept me busy until twenty minutes to midnight. While Chris wanted to know how things were going at my house and if I was back in my own bed again—yes, I was—Ethan complained that we hadn’t been hanging out at all these past two days. He must have grown used to us spending time together just as much as I had, which made me smile.

He demanded I meet up with him in town tomorrow afternoon. I was fine with that. And since it was Friday, he might even get to see Ted at Charlie’s.

However, no such luck for him. Tony had taken over Ted’s shift and served us the hazelnut latte and cappuccino we ordered. He didn’t stop to chat with us because, as was usual for a Friday afternoon, the place was brimming with customers.

Ethan and I talked the hours away with topics like Obamacare and how far one would have to go to find the end of a rainbow. He also told me why he really quit playing basketball. Hunter was right, it had to do with William Davis, but in a way I wouldn’t have guessed. Apparently, Ethan had been crushing on the guy for a while, and though he never made a pass, Will must have noticed. He didn’t react well to it.

Obviously, Chris had threatened to drop off the team, too, if Will kept spilling crap about Ethan—which we now knew wasn’t such crap after all. However, the threat kept the guy from starting serious rumors about Ethan being gay. That was really adorable of Chris, but talking about him didn’t feel right at the moment, so I dipped my lip into the warm milk foam of my latte and after another sip, I said, “How’s soccer practice going?”

Ethan leveled me a long look. Obviously, he’d gotten the hint and didn’t bring his brother up again all afternoon.

When he drove me home later and stopped in front of my house, he turned off the engine and shifted in his seat to face me. “Shall I come pick you up tomorrow? I think we’ll start cooking at three, so dinner will be around five. If you still want to watch the show, I can be here at two forty-five.” He smiled. “Or earlier, if you want to play some video games before.”

“Yeah, about that… Maybe it’s not such a good idea right now. It’s probably better if we cancel that dinner.” I should have brought this up earlier, but I just didn’t know how. Sending him a message later tonight had been my original plan.

Opening the door, I put one foot out, but Ethan grabbed my hand, stopping me. Interesting, how normal his touch already felt to me—like when my other friends took my hand and not at all like when an angel was caressing my skin.

“What’s the matter, Susan?” he demanded. His frown warned me he wouldn’t let me get away before he got an answer.

The problem was, there wasn’t an easy explanation. Heaving a sigh, I shrugged. “I don’t know. Things are just getting a little weird with your brother at the moment.”

And I didn’t only mean the sweet texts he kept sending me. Mostly, I meant my strange reactions to them. I hadn’t smiled as much as these past few nights in a long time, and ninety-five percent of the time it was when I glanced at my cell and read another message from Chris. It was because of him that I’d grown my own personal hoard of butterflies in my stomach. And they felt so wrong there.

Logically, I knew he was a playboy that made about seventeen hundred and then some other girls pant after him. But in my heart, there was a small spot growing fond of Chris.

“Weird…” Ethan nodded. “He told me that he brushed off Lauren because of you the other day. He must be pretty hung up on you, if he stopped seeing that bombshell.”

“Well thanks, Ethan!” I smacked him playfully on his arm.

He chuckled and tilted his head, casting me a stern glance. “You know that I think you look a hundred times better than her.” He shrugged. “But she was sort of my brother’s go-to girl for quite some time. I never thought they’d stop seeing each other for fun until one of them was in a serious relationship.”

“And Lauren is still single?” I murmured.

“As far as I know.”

I wrinkled my nose. “I don’t want to become Chris’s go-to girl.”

“I didn’t think that suit fit you anyway. Do you want me to talk to him about it? Tell him to lay off?”

“Thanks, but I guess I have to deal with him myself.”

He nodded and let go of my hand. We said goodbye and I walked inside, kneading my temples to get the thoughts of Chris sending Lauren off because of me out of my head.

Reading some sixty pages in the bathtub after dinner helped ease the stress about Chris a little. I smelled like gingerbread when I came out of the bath and walked to my room, wrapped in a fluffy, white robe.

At five minutes past eight, it was far too early for a good-night text from Chris, but I checked my cell anyway. Bad habit, whatever.

My heart did a little flip in my chest when there actually was a message from him. Just one word.
Please.

Please what?
I typed and sent back without thinking too much about it. He always started conversations with cryptic things like that.

Please come tomorrow.

Oh no… A groan slipped past my lips. Ethan must have told him I cancelled the cooking show and dinner. Of course, I was going to tell Chris tonight, but I wanted to think of the right words first.

Five minutes of silent staring at the screen obviously exceeded the limits of his patience, because after that time, my phone went off.
Dream Guy Material
was calling. My heart began to flutter with panic. I realized we hadn’t really talked since Tuesday and the thought of actually discussing my cancellation of what he liked to call our first date now turned my knees wobbly. Sitting on the edge of my bed, I stared at the screen until the ringing stopped.

Seconds later, another text arrived.
Pick up the phone!
Then it rang again.

Sucking in a deep breath, I swiped my thumb across the display and answered, “Hey.” Crap, that came out a bit raspy.

Without wasting any time on a
hi
or
hello
, Chris demanded, “What’s up?”

“Nothing.”

“Yeah, sure. And my brother moved into the Playboy Mansion.”

Damn Chris for making me laugh. He did it so easily these days.

“Come on, Sue. What’s the problem?” he continued. “Why don’t you want to come over tomorrow? And don’t think I didn’t notice that you haven’t been at my house most of this week.”

Okay, so he smelled that something was off. But how could I explain my reluctance to him? No way would he get the truth out of me—that I was scared of how his strange behavior this past week was affecting me. His charm, actually.

If he found out that his little messages caused happy butterflies to flutter in my stomach, he’d totally think he’d gotten me where he wanted me in the first place. Chances were, this was true. He might even kiss me. And then…?

He’d break my heart.

“Things have been a little stressful with my family this week,” I fibbed, hoping he’d catch the hook.

“Oh.” The pause that followed was long enough to make it clear he didn’t quite believe me. But my alibi was cast in iron. “I’m sorry about that,” he finally said. “But that’s even more reason for you to come tomorrow.”

“Is it? How so?”

“Because it’ll take your mind off the trouble at home for a while.”

From his point of view, it even made sense. The real problem was, however, that he was the trouble that concerned me, not my parents’ everlasting fights. And spending time with him might make matters worse instead of better. But how could I argue? I’d led myself into this trap. Terrific.

“Come on, Sue,” he pleaded after a couple of seconds. “Let me cook for you. It’ll be fun and it’ll taste good.”

What could I say to that? After a deep sigh, I relented. “All right. Tell Ethan he can pick me up at two.” If I was going over to their place, I could just as well give Ethan a run for his money at Wii Sports. “But you better not put any peaches in that meal,” I teased Chris, said goodbye and quickly hung up with the ring of his chuckle in my ear.

His bandana still lay on my nightstand. I grabbed it and pressed it to my chest. Yeah, this was some deep shit I’d maneuvered myself into… Now, where was a lifeline when you needed one?

*

Ethan was dead on time on Saturday afternoon. He honked in front of my house and waited like a chauffeur to open the car door for me. “I’m glad you’re coming after all,” he told me when he got in on the other side and drove off.

“In the end, Chris’s arguments were smoother than mine,” I admitted with a grin. “It’s hard to say no when someone is begging.” And begging he’d been. There were seven messages on my phone this morning, all reading the same.
Please don’t change your mind!

He only stopped sending them after I wrote back:
Calm down, tiger. I’m coming, I’m coming…

When we arrived at Ethan’s house, Beverly welcomed me with a beam, but a second later she excused herself, because a difficult client wanted to see a house out of town. “Don’t wait with dinner for me,” she said and kissed Ethan on the forehead.

We headed to his room, but crashed into Chris on the way. Well, not both of us, only me.

Chris had come out of the bathroom, dragging a steamy cloud that smelled of shower gel with him. His hair was perfectly styled in a chaotic stand-up mess and he’d dressed in a white tee with a graphite-gray, button-down shirt thrown casually over it. The moment he caught my elbow to steady me after the bump, his mouth widened to a happy smile. “Hey now, look who found the way to our house again.”

I let him hold my arm longer than necessary, fighting against a hoard of little fluttery fellows in my gut. It’d been too long since the last time we’d met, and facing him instead of reading a text made me all too aware of how much I’d actually missed his smile.

Pull yourself together, Susan. Now!

“Look who’s dressed up for cooking,” I teased back, glad I sounded normal and not squeaky or hoarse.

“It’s how I dress up for a date, actually.”

“Well, then you dress up nicely.”

“Right back at you.” He gave me a once-over, his eyes returning to the deep V-neck of my snug-fit, soft green t-shirt. “I see there’s no need for a turtleneck any longer.”

He was right, the hickey was gone, as was his black eye. Almost. The softest layer of yellowish violet adorned his right cheekbone. It would be gone in another day or two, but it still reminded me of how he’d fought a battle for his brother. Tempted to reach up and brush the spot with my fingers, I resisted the urge and clamped down on my teeth instead. This moment was all but magical, and Chris found my staring very amusing.

“Bowling or baseball, what do you want to play, Susan?”

Glad for Ethan’s distraction, I detached myself from his brother and headed to Ethan’s room, clearing my throat. “How about golf for a change?”

He set up the game, but we didn’t stay alone for long. Not ten seconds, in fact. Chris came in and flopped on Ethan’s bed beside me. “Three players?” he suggested.

Ethan sent me a questioning look. I rolled my eyes but nodded—as if I could say no to his brother joining us—and a smile appeared with that…on my lips, not his.

All three of us played virtual golf for quite some time, and it turned out that Ethan and I didn’t stand a chance against his brother. When it was my turn again and I took up my position, Chris stepped behind me and reached around my body, placing his hands over mine on the controller. “You’re holding it wrong. It’ll never work with that shot.”

Whoa, his embrace made me shiver.

He blew my hair out of his face, reminding me of how he’d told me he liked ponytails. Maybe that was one of the reasons I’d tied my hair into one this morning.

Afraid he’d notice my pounding heart standing so close, I raced through seven different comebacks in my mind to make him go away. The one that made it was, “Please, this is so cliché, Chris.” I waggled my shoulders to shake him off.

Laughing, Chris backed off. When he came around, I gave him a hard stare then shot. My ball landed in the pond between the two virtual islands. “Told you so,” he taunted. “Anyway, it’s time to stop playing and get to work or we’ll be eating at ten tonight.”

Ethan and I followed him into the kitchen, where several utensils were already placed in a nice order around the stove. The boys got some things from the fridge and cupboards, added oil to a pan and flour to a bowl.

I didn’t know what was coming at me. Somehow, I’d expected them to dress up as chefs with huge hats and white aprons. Well, they didn’t. Dressed like they were, they started chopping veggies and Ethan seasoned some steaks. What their mother found so special about that escaped me.

Until Chris turned on the radio.

A catchy song blasted through the kitchen with some Italian or Spanish lyrics I didn’t understand, but the rhythm was infectious. The twins twisted from one end of the room to the other, getting what they needed, sometimes tossing things at each other and showing off how they could juggle veggies or the salt and pepper mills. My heart stopped when Chris tossed a vinegar bottle in the air, but he caught it behind his back like he was a trained cocktail bartender and this was a whiskey bottle.