Sisters Like Us Page 9

  “You’re not listening,” Jordan complained.

  “I was thinking about the homework I have to do. I need to write a paper for European History and we have that chem test next week. I can’t believe how much math there is in that class.”

  “I know. I thought we’d be doing more fun stuff in the lab, but nooo. There’s equations.” Jordan flipped her long hair over her shoulder. “I wonder when Nathan will get here. He had a meeting after swim practice. You know he got a scholarship to UCLA to play water polo, right?”

  “Uh-huh.” No point in mentioning that Jordan had already told her eight times. Yes, Nathan was a water polo god and the world stood in awe of his talent.

  Which was something she could have joked about, but not anymore. Jordan was convinced that Becca couldn’t get past her jealousy when it came to her friend’s new sex life, and Becca couldn’t figure out how to convince her otherwise. Possibly because she really didn’t know how she felt.

  Yes, she would like a boyfriend, someone who thought she was special, but sex? There was so much going on already, and to be honest, the thought of it was both exciting and scary. Most of the time, though, scary won.

  There was a knock at the front door. Jordan flew across the family room to the foyer and disappeared from view. Becca sat up, uneasy at the thought of reclining with Nathan around. Not that she could say why, but sometimes he made her uncomfortable.

  She told herself he wasn’t the problem, she was. Maybe Jordan was right and she was jealous of the whole sex thing, although she really didn’t think it was that.

  She heard the happy couple murmur something. They stepped into view as Nathan pulled Jordan close and kissed her like they were halfway to doing it right there.

  Becca looked away, but not before she saw Nathan’s hand settle on her friend’s ass. He squeezed really hard. Becca tried not to shudder. Whatever they were doing, it should be, you know, special, or at least in private.

  She unzipped her backpack and pretended to be looking for something as the kiss went on and on. When they finally drew apart, she looked up. Nathan, six feet two inches of blond, blue-eyed handsomeness, winked at her.

  “Hey, Becca.”

  “Hey.”

  Jordan wrapped her arms around Nathan’s narrow waist for a second, then jumped back. “Okay, I’m going to go upstairs and put on more lip gloss. Becca, get out some snacks from the freezer and put them in the oven. I’ll be right back.”

  Becca got up and walked into the kitchen. The giant Sub-Zero refrigerator nearly filled one wall. The freezer was filled with all kinds of prepared foods—mostly from Whole Foods or Trader Joe’s, but still. Becca’s grandmother would have a fit if she ever saw them.

  She reviewed the selection, picking mini quiches that were always good. She set the temperature on the oven, then put the quiches on a cookie sheet. In the refrigerator she found prepared ranch dip and a plate of cut-up vegetables. There were chips in the pantry.

  Nathan leaned against the bar-height counter and watched her work. “You know your way around Jordan’s kitchen,” he said.

  “We’ve been friends a long time and I’m here a lot. Her mom always makes sure there’s plenty of food for us.”

  She had the need to keep moving, although she couldn’t say why. She’d been in the same room with Nathan dozens of times. He was perfectly fine. In fact, he mostly ignored her, which sometimes she preferred. But today he seemed to be watching her.

  “Jordan tell you about Mexico?” he asked.

  “That you went with her family?”

  He moved toward her. “No, Becca. The other part.”

  Somehow she found herself backed against a corner of the counter. Nathan stood in front of her and there was nowhere to move. He put his hands on her waist and leaned close. For one horrifying second, she thought he was going to kiss her, but instead he whispered, “I can do that for you, too, if you want.”

  He smelled faintly of chlorine and too much cologne and she didn’t like the way his fingers squeezed ever so slightly.

  “I d-don’t know what that means,” she whispered, wishing he would move back and give her more room.

  He kissed the side of her neck. “The virgin thing. I’m good with virgins. I take things slow and easy. You’ll like it.”

  She shoved him hard and glared at him. “What are you talking about? You didn’t just say that. Jordan’s your girlfriend. You’re supposed to be in love with her.”

  “I told her I loved her,” he said with a shrug. “There’s a difference.”

  What? That didn’t make any—She felt her eyes widen. “You lied? You lied to get her to sleep with you? That’s disgusting.”

  “Whatever gets the job done. So what about you?”

  He started toward her again. She had no idea what he was going to do, but she was sure she didn’t want any part of it. She shoved him again, as hard as she could, then pushed past him. She grabbed her backpack, then raced out the front door. She was still running when she reached the end of the block.

  Halfway home, she slowed enough to catch her breath. Her whole body hurt, her head felt funny and her stomach was a mess. She tried to slow her breathing only to have to turn toward some bushes and throw up. She vomited until there was nothing left, then started to cry.

  What had just happened? Why had Nathan acted like that? Becca couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe. She started running again, not stopping until she made it to her house.

  Her mom was on the phone with a client. Becca hurried past her mom’s office, toward her own room. When she got there, she collapsed on the bed and gave in to more tears. She was scared and confused and sick.

  A few minutes later, she felt a weight on the bed. She raised her head. “Oh, Mom...” But it wasn’t her mother. Jazz had come into the room and jumped up on her bed. Thor stood close by, as if standing guard. Becca threw her arms around her dog and hung on. Jazz snuggled close.

  “It was so horrible,” Becca whispered. “He scared me. I didn’t think he was going to do anything bad, but what he said... I thought he and Jordan were in love.”

  Jazz watched her attentively. Thor lay down on the floor, but kept his attention on her. Becca swallowed. “He’s her boyfriend. What is he thinking?”

  She had a bad feeling he was thinking that he could use Jordan’s friends the way he used Jordan.

  Her phone chirped. She reached for it and saw a text from Jordan.

  Nathan says ur mom told u to get home but I know the truth. U have 2 get over it, B. Don’t be jealous of me. Ur my friend.

  Becca stared at her phone, then tossed it on the floor and rolled onto her back. She had no idea what to do or think or say. All she knew for sure was that Nathan was a jerk, Jordan was blind and none of this was going to end well.

  Chapter Eight

  THE LANDSCAPING COMPANY pushed Harper over the edge. She’d been prepared to do all the work herself, to stay up nights and give up sleep, but an unexpected call from a landscaper who needed her to do the billing for him was one job too far.

  The money was good and the work relatively easy. There was an existing database. All Harper had to do was enter the amount for the month, print out the invoices, stuff them in envelopes and pop them in the mail. Easy-peasy—except for the fact that there were nearly five hundred clients and the invoicing had to be done in less than two days.

  Between that new job, her regular clients, the additional brochure work she had for the city and a flower shop client who wanted a “spruce” on content for her website, Harper was slammed. She’d been forced to hire help.

  Rather than go through the trouble of placing an ad online or interviewing people, she heard about Morgan Wolfenbarger, a friend of a friend, who was looking for part-time work.

  In the “oh goody” column, Morgan showed up right on time. She was tall and curvy, with long,
curly dark hair. Under items that would be considered less fortunate, Morgan was a talker.

  “Your house is really nice,” she said as Harper showed her to the small office where she would input the information on Harper’s only computer. Note to self—if she was going to continue to use extra help, she would need a second computer.

  “We need to remodel our kitchen,” Morgan continued, as she settled in the chair. “It’s a disaster, but with the kids and everything, when would we find the time? And what would we do while it was torn up? I guess I could freeze a bunch of meals, but who wants to do that? Trust me, after running Supper’s in the Bag all those years, the last thing I want to do is prep meals.”

  Harper remembered the cute storefront in town. “Was that your company? I heard good things about it.” Not that she would ever have used the service. Supper’s in the Bag provided ingredients and recipes for easy meals. You went in and prepped a handful of meals, then took them home and cooked them when you needed them. A time saver for the busy mom—or at least one who wasn’t expected to make every single thing from scratch.

  “My husband bought the franchise for me. We both thought it was a great idea, but then it turned out to be way more work than I expected. I lost my best employee.” Morgan rolled her eyes. “Don’t ever hire family. It’s a disaster. Anyway, after that, I had to put in more hours, which was a mess and in the end, we sold the franchise.” She sighed. “I’d really rather stay home, but Brent says I need to bring in some money for the kids’ college funds. Oh, speaking of money, you’re going to pay me under the table, right?”

  “What? No. I’ll be reporting your income.” If she didn’t, Harper wouldn’t be able to claim the deduction, which she needed to reduce her own taxes. Oh, yeah, and it was illegal.

  “I thought you said you would.” Morgan’s mouth formed a pout. “You said I would have to be contract labor, so what does that mean? I have to keep track of my own income and report it and stuff?”

  “Yes, that’s what it means. I don’t want to hire you as an employee until we both know this is going to work out.”

  “That sucks.” Morgan turned back to the computer and sighed. “Fine. What do you want me to do?”

  Harper showed her how to pull up the individual landscaping invoices and enter the amount to be billed.

  “I get it, I get it,” she grumbled halfway through the explanation. “I was hoping the work would be more interesting. I told Brent getting a job like this was going to be a drag. Maybe I should try something in sales.”

  “Until then,” Harper murmured, trying not to snap at the other woman. If Morgan worked as hard as she complained, everything would be fine. She left her to do the billing and went into her craft room to start on the next set of bags she had to make for Cathy.

  Four hours later, Harper thought longingly of the book of instructions Great-Aunt Cheryl had left. Maybe there was a command that would have the dogs stalking Morgan without actually hurting her. Her so-called helper had been anything but helpful. Morgan had found twenty excuses to stop billing and start talking. She’d taken three breaks, had spent time on her cell phone, both talking and texting. At the end of her scheduled time, she’d hadn’t entered even a quarter of the invoices.

  “I know I said I could come tomorrow,” Morgan said as she walked to the front door. “But I just don’t know. Can I text you later?”

  Harper gritted her teeth. “Sure. Let me know.” Because as annoying and inefficient as Morgan had been, Harper needed help.

  “Okay, and you’ll pay me on Friday?”

  Harper wanted to ask, “Pay you for what?” but instead forced herself to smile and said, “Of course.”

  “Great. It was fun today. Bye.”

  Morgan drove away. Harper went into the living room and screamed out loud. Both dogs stared at her as if concerned about the state of her being.

  “I’m fine,” she told them before sinking onto the sofa and covering her face with her hands.

  “That doesn’t bode well,” Lucas said as he let himself into the house and bent down to pet an enthused Thor. “What happened?”

  She raised her head. “I hired someone.”

  “Good for you.”

  “She was a disaster.”

  “Did you check her references?”

  Lucas looked good, as he always did. Jeans, boots, long-sleeved shirt and blazer. There was an air of competence about him. He was a gentleman who knew how to handle himself. He turned to Jazz and greeted her before sitting across from the sofa.

  Harper groaned. “I didn’t ask for references. She’s a friend of a friend and I was desperate. I thought it would be fine, but it wasn’t. She never shut up. When she wasn’t talking to me, she was on the phone. She took three breaks in four hours and she wanted to be paid under the table. She barely did any work, so I’ll be up late tonight finishing the invoices.”

  She held up her hand. “Don’t say it. I know. I’m the boss. I should have told her to shut up and do the work.” Only that wasn’t her style. She didn’t want to have to manage her help—she wanted them to show up and do their job for the time paid.

  She waited, but Lucas didn’t speak. Finally she groaned. “What? Just say it.”

  “You told me not to say it.”

  “I take it back.”

  “Your business isn’t going to be what you want it to be until you take it seriously and treat it with respect. You’re only playing at being a business owner, Harper, and it shows.”

  She winced. “That’s harsh.”

  “What do you want from all this? You’re more than capable. Set some goals, then follow through. Until then, you’re only five minutes away from everything crashing down on you.”

  She’d thought she was closer to ten minutes from disaster, but his point was a good one. Brutal but honest. Maybe it was time to listen to what she already knew was true.

  * * *

  Stacey found herself wanting to bounce in her seat as they drove to the airport. She didn’t know why she was so excited to see Ashton again, but she was. A voice in her head whispered it might be because he would be a distraction from worrying about the impending baby, but she ignored that. She enjoyed spending time with Kit’s nephew.

  “What are you thinking?” her husband asked as they headed north on Pacific Coast Highway.

  “That I hope Ashton enjoys his time with us.”

  “I do, too. He’s been through a lot.”

  He had, dealing with his mother and getting moved around so much. “I’m glad he’s going to be with us until he heads to college.” She looked at Kit. “He’s going to need a car to drive. Instead of trading in yours for the SUV you want, let’s keep it and he can use it. Do you think he’ll need a car when he goes to MIT? Maybe we could keep it here for him to use on break.”

  Kit had been researching the safest SUVs so they could have it before the baby was born. Yet one more area where she was woefully unprepared to be a parent—she hadn’t even thought about things like safe cars or babyproofing the house. Ashton would be easier. He could mostly take care of himself.

  Kit glanced at her again and shook his head. “You won’t mind?”

  She struggled to figure out what he was talking about. Her being a bad mother was unlikely to be the topic at hand.

  “Mind what?”

  “Not trading in my car? It’s worth about six or seven grand.”

  “We can afford a new car without it. Don’t you want Ashton to have a car?”

  “Yes, I want him to have a car. I just don’t want you to think I’m spoiling him or...” He drew in a breath. “He’s my problem, Stacey, not yours.”

  “I thought he was our family. Was I wrong?”

  Kit grabbed her hand and kissed her knuckles. “You’re not wrong and I’m one lucky guy.”

  She was grateful he thought that. F
rom her perspective, she was riddled with flaws and the good fortune was all hers.

  “Then it’s settled,” she told him. “You’ll go get the SUV in the next week or so and Ashton will drive your Escort. I’ll keep the Accord. Everyone is happy.”

  “Everyone is.”

  Before they could pull into the cell phone lot, Ashton texted that he had his bag and would be waiting for them on the lower level. Stacey watched for him, then waved when she spotted him.

  “Over there.”

  Kit maneuvered through the crush of cars. Stacey jumped out when he came to a stop.

  “You’re here,” she said, hugging him. “How was your trip?”

  “Good. Both flights were on time. I had an aisle seat and the flight attendant gave me extra peanuts.”

  He grinned as he spoke, which made her chest tighten just a little. Ashton had Kit’s smile. The continuity between the generations gave her an odd sense of comfort. Unlike his uncle, Ashton had hazel eyes that were almost gray. Ashton’s hair was a little darker, and as much in need of a cut as Kit’s. He was about six feet tall and still had the lanky build of a growing teen.

  Kit got out of the car and approached. “Good to see you.”

  “Hey, Kit.”

  They grasped hands, then did that kind of semihug, backslap that men seemed to favor these days. Ashton tossed his battered suitcase in the trunk and grabbed his backpack before sliding into the back seat.

  “The baby still a secret?” Ashton asked as they drove toward the exit. “In case I see Bunny.”

  “Oh, you’ll see her,” Kit said cheerfully. “Stacey, honey, want to share the good news?”

  Stacey glanced back at Ashton. “My mother still doesn’t know.”

  “Okay, how far along are you?”

  “One hundred and ninety-seven days.”