Pucker Up (7 page)

A
smirk appeared on Peter’s face.  “Expecting may be too strong of a word.  I am
not a psychic.”  He stood and peered down at her with intelligent eyes.  “But
only a fool would think a glance across a restaurant would be the end of this
story.” 

Faith
blanched.  She’d thought it was the end; she’d wanted it to be the end. 
Jackson had made it different.  Or was that just something that she told
herself, a lie to make her feel better?  Would she have been able to put his
face to rest, put him to rest, if Jackson hadn’t provided her with this excuse
to see him?  Her hands itched for a guitar to help her find the answer. 

“The
real mystery is what kind of ending we’re in store for.”

“I’m
not sure,” Faith replied with absolute honesty.  If possible, she was more
mixed up now than before.  Dustin’s face had clarified nothing.  And she still
had divorce papers in her purse.

Peter
smiled.  “Let’s take a walk and see if we can find out.”

Dustin
stared at his desk but wasn’t seeing anything on it, breathing labored like
he’d run a marathon.  His adrenaline was pumping, fight or flight activated. 
All he could do was stare straight ahead, trying to focus as memories assaulted
him.   Was this what a panic attack was like?

He
closed his eyes, but they immediately popped back open.  All he’d seen was her
– even more gorgeous than he remembered, beautiful laugh that made his heart
stand up and take notice.  And then when she looked at him, sincere concern in
her eyes, he could feel himself becoming undone.  He didn’t need this right now
– didn’t need her, didn’t need her concern, didn’t need her proximity.

For
the first time in ten years, he wished he wasn’t such a loner.  Maybe then his
crew would be helping him remodel the extra bedroom instead of being at the
other job site.  Maybe then he could get lost in the sea of people, and Faith
could get lost in all the commotion.  Who was he kidding?  Faith West, the
cheery girl next door, she didn’t blend.  She stuck out, bright like a ray of
sunshine breaking through the clouds on a dreary day. 

 What
the hell was she doing here?  Just passing through – not this time of year, not
this week.  He had seen it in her eyes.  She had been just as reluctant as him. 
She didn’t even think he lived here anymore.  Which meant she’d come out all
this way to see Peter.  What the hell did she want with Peter?

Anger
bubbled up inside him.  She did this to him – got him all riled up with nothing
to show for it, nothing to do about it.  He picked up a glass on the end of his
desk and threw it across the room – it hit near the window frame and
shattered.  Water dribbled down the wall, and he felt better.  The mess would
stay for a while; it made him feel better, more in control.

Dustin
took a deep breath and sat back down behind his desk.  He really did have work
to do, though not too much.  He always cleared his calendar this week so he
could get the solitude and exhaustion he needed, but the more successful he
got, the harder it was to disconnect from all of his responsibilities. 

He
pulled a ledger across the desk and started checking material costs and invoice
amounts.  One thought kept strumming in the back of his head, reluctant to
leave.  Why was Faith West really here?

“Have
you talked to Bea lately?” Faith asked, casting around for a safe subject as
they walked across the grounds.  The organic garden had surprised her, but only
that it was well-tended with his mom gone.  Neither of the boys used to have
green thumbs. 

Peter
smiled.  “I’m out there every few weeks since Mom died, hearing the stories of
those two hellions growing up, stirring up trouble and taking names.”

“Firecrackers,
the both of them,” she murmured.  If she didn’t only write sad songs, one about
a feisty friendship that spanned multiple decades, families and heartaches
would have been a slam dunk.

“They
were a lot alike.  Knew what they wanted and went after it, damn every single
consequence.”  Faith shifted uncomfortably at his words, knowing there was tons
more subtext there.  Someone definitely took after their mother and her
meddling best friend.

“Still
beautiful as always,” she murmured, turning out into the land and trying to
steer the conversation somewhere else.

“I
could say the same about you, couldn’t I?” 

Peter’s
grin had Faith laughing.  “Always the charmer, aren’t you?”

“Some
things you just don’t grow out of.”   

Faith
slanted him a sideways look, thankful for the gazebo.  Not only did they
provide a picturesque view of the house but a moment to catch her bearings
before replying to his leading comment.  “It’s still so peaceful here, right
here,” she said, sliding her hands over a well-worn section of railing.  Her
fingers found the small initials carved into the beam without even looking. 
She couldn’t look at them, afraid the emotions she was having a hard time
tamping down would have her bursting into tears

“It
can be.  The sunsets are still spectacular, as are the stars.”

“I
miss that,” Faith admitted.  “Not enough open space to see any kind of stars at
my house.”

“Well,
not the gaseous kind but the celebrity kind, sure.”

“Some
of those celebrity ones can be quite full of hot air, too.”

Peter
laughed.  “What, Miss Cheerful willingly calling someone a bag of hot air?  My,
times have changed.”

“I
stopped being Miss Cheerful a long time ago, Peter.”  That wasn’t entirely true
though.  She still wore that girl group persona more often than not.  Took
pride in it too, appearing hopeful and optimistic when the world got you down. 
A ray of sunshine on a cloudy day.  One of the reasons she never sang an Andy
Peters song, angst too discordant with the image she was still trying to
perfect.  But here, here she wanted to be a version of herself much closer to
the truth.

“People
change.  You don’t see Tara St. Clair still rocking the sad skater look, do
you?”

“That’s
a horrible example,” Peter said.  “Didn’t they put her on a psychiatric hold
for attempted suicide due to depression?” 

“How
do you know that?” Faith asked, her eyes narrowing.  “That never made the
tabloids.”

Now
it was Peter’s turn to look chagrined.  “Maya mentioned it.”

“Oh.” 
Faith looked away, off into the distance.  “You still talk to her.”

“And
you don’t.  She told me that you two had a falling out.”

Faith
let out a bark of laughter, not at all amused.  “Did she now?”  That happens,
Faith thought, when your best friend sells the movie script to your life. 
Attitunes bandmates, Urban Sista to her Girl Next Door, they had done
everything together.  She had known all of her secrets – and then sold them.

“Didn’t
tell me what it was about.”

“That’s
Maya, in love with mystery.”

“She
works around here,” Peter offered.  “Most well-respected large animal vet in
the area.”

“That’s
nice,” Faith said, thinking it was exactly the opposite.  She didn’t want to
think about all the people that had betrayed her.  “Can we talk about something
else please?”

“What?”
Peter asked.  “Because for someone who showed up on my doorstop, you’re
amazingly noncommittal.”

She
turned, meeting his honest gaze, and her brain sputtered to a halt.  She should
tell him, just get it out in the open so she could move past it.  That’s why
she’d come – not to see Dustin but to tell Peter, to make him do the dirty work
she couldn’t do.  Just spit it out, turn tail and run.

“I
…” she began, the word divorce on the tip of her tongue, when a shrill sound
scared her into silence.

“Sorry,”
Peter said, pulling his phone out of his pocket and hitting a button.

“What
is that?”

“Reminder
to put dinner in the oven.  It’s going off on my home computer, and if it’s not
stopped in two minutes, it alerts my phone.”

“Let’s
go take care of that,” Faith said.

“It
can wait.  You were saying?”

“I
wasn’t saying anything,” she backpedalled, kicking herself for losing her
nerve.  She slipped past him and barreled down the gazebo steps.  “Let’s go – I
don’t want to be an imposition or anything.  Don’t let me get in the way.”

“That’s
you, East, Miss Inconspicuous,” he murmured, joining her on the trudge back to
the house.  

“For
crying out loud, Peter, I’m trying to concentrate,” Dustin bellowed, finally
succumbing to the irritation of the alarm and exiting his office.  He made a
beeline for Peter’s computer in the corner.  Why the man had to use the kitchen
as his workstation when he had a perfectly fine desk in the library upstairs,
he’d never know.

Dustin
pulled the cords of the speakers out of the wall, blessed silence, before
noticing the message on the screen.  Reminder to start dinner – did he have to
do bloody everything?  He’d already made the lasagna; all Peter had to do was
heat the damn thing.

He
pulled the pan out of the fridge and set it down on the counter none too gently
before turning to preheat the oven.  And where was his interfering twin?  Off
somewhere with Faith, having a lovely little chat about lemons and lyrics and
lovesickness, he was sure.    

He
was breathing like a marathon runner again, his churlishness causing his blood
pressure to rise.  He looked out the kitchen window, trying to slow his
breathing, and saw them approaching the house.  He closed his eyes for strength
but felt only anger pushing against his skin.

“Thanks
for the interruption,” Dustin barked the minute the back door opened, before
either of them had even stepped into the house.

“Sorry
about that, Dust,” Peter apologized.

“That
is the most annoying noise known to man.  Why don’t you just make your alarm
sound nails on the chalkboard or squealing brakes?”

“If
I thought it would make me jump up any quicker, maybe I would.”

Dustin’s
eyes tracked over to Faith.  “You’re still here?”  His voice was dripping with
disdain.

“Man,
you’re being a prick today,” Peter mumbled, taking a step to block Faith from
his view as he opened the fridge.

“Just
today?  I must be slipping.”  Dustin reached past Peter and grabbed a beer,
popping the top and taking a long drag.  He could feel Peter’s eyes on him,
that chiding stare, but just kept staring straight ahead.  There was a mirror
on the wall, and he caught Faith’s reflection in it – her eyes unsteady when
she didn’t think anyone could see her.  His heart clenched, but he tried to
push that away – he did not want to feel anything for her but anger.

 “Figure
out why she’s here yet?” Dustin asked, his tone harsh.

“I
told you, I’m just passing through.”

“Yeah,
that sounds real.”  Dustin rolled his eyes and took another drink.

“Good
thing I haven’t stopped in before, hospitality is seriously lacking,” Faith
countered, stepping around Peter to lock eyes with Dustin.

“Oh,
I’m sorry?  Did you want us to roll out the red carpet?  The conquering
songstress returning home?”  He set down his beer and turned towards her. 
“Except this isn’t your home, is it?  You made damn sure it wasn’t.”

“Why
a field when you can have the French Riviera?” Faith said, hands tracking to
her hips.  It was something he used to ask her when they were together.  Her
usual response – fields, farms, or flophouses, the location didn’t matter as
long as he was alongside her – wasn’t in sight today.

“I
always knew that’s how you felt.”  The oven beeped twice, and Dustin turned,
grabbed a towel from the counter, and used it to put the pan of lasagna in the
oven.   

“Come
on,” Peter said with a look of incredulity.  “That’s insane, and you know it.”

“Really? 
And how would I know that?  Because it’s been so touchy-feely in here for the
last decade?”

“Since
when are you a touchy-feely person?  You hate talking about yourself or your
emotions, anything even closely resembling a feeling actually,” Faith said.

“How
would you know?  You think you still know me?  You don’t know anything about me
anymore,” Dustin spat.

“You’re
right, I don’t,” Faith said, throwing up her hands.  “And if this is the person
you are, I’m glad I don’t.” 

Dustin
opened his mouth to respond, his eyebrows drawn in resentment, but was
interrupted when the kitchen door opened wide with a loud thwack.

“Hello,
fabulous family!”  The cheerful voice was a well-timed interruption, slicing
through the palpable tension.  The smile never left the teenage face as she noticed
Faith.  There was interest there but no fawning celebrity reaction.  “You’re
new,” she said, dropping a backpack near the door and approaching Peter to wrap
her arms haphazardly around his torso.

“This
is my daughter Harmony,” Peter said.

Surprise
crossed Faith’s face, and the girl just laughed.  “My mother was a bit
granola.  My sister’s name is Melody, and Mom used to like to say we were a
family in perfect tune.”

“I
don’t think that’s why she’s surprised, Peaches.”  The girl looked confused for
a moment before she smiled.

“Sometimes
I forget,” Harmony said simply before crossing over to Dustin and giving him a
hug.  “Hi, Uncle Dust.”

“Hey,
Harm,” he murmured, eyes still watching Faith.

Harmony
turned in a small circle, surveying all of the adults in kind, before
laughing.  “What type of minefield did I just walk into?”

“A
dangerous one,” her uncle grunted.

The
girl waved that away.  “I don’t think I got your name?” she said.

“It’s
really not that important.  She was just leaving anyway.”

Faith
glared at Dustin before smiling at the teenager and responding.  “Faith.  My
name’s Faith.  My parents were a bit granola too.”