I liked Ray’s parents. They didn’t have hidden agendas.
And it seemed that Ray had inherited her parents’ warmth and huge hearts. Except, she refused to open up a little of that heart to me.
RAY
I shivered as I awakened, a chill sweeping over me. The sun had moved behind the treetops, casting shadows in my room. My mouth felt dry, and my head heavy from the meds. Someone had pulled a throw over me, probably Ila, keeping most of the evening breeze away, and I huddled beneath it. But nature called.
Groaning, I pushed off the bed and stumbled to the bathroom. My mouth tasted like roadkill with fur—ugh. After using the facilities, I did a quick brush of teeth and a spot wash since a shower was out of the question, then pulled up my top. With a little grimace, I peeled back the gauze. At the neatly sewn lesion, I let out a resigned sigh. It still appeared raw, red, and puffy.
Jack had said the stitches would dissolve once the wound had healed. Maybe I should get some antibiotic cream or something to help it along.
After re-taping the dressing, I changed my top to a flowing, strappy one in faded turquoise, and glanced down at my navy cotton shorts. It would do for now. Slipping my feet into my flip-flops, I slapped my way downstairs and strolled into the tidy dining room that led to the living room.
“Hey, family. Sorry I slept the afternoon away…” I staggered to a halt, my gaze clashing with familiar ice-gray eyes, ones that didn’t smile, even though his mouth did.
Jack lounged on the two-seater couch, his fingers laced over his flat abs. Max and Ila had taken over the other sofa, while my parents relaxed in the single armchairs. The double doors leading to the porch were open, letting in the cool evening breeze.
“We have another visitor, sweetheart.” At Dad’s quiet voice, I forced my frozen limbs to take another step inside. All I could think about was those strong arms holding me against his warm, naked chest in his bed.
“Jack’s never been to a festival like this,” Dad continued, “so I invited him to stay.”
No, no! This wasn’t happening. My gaze ping-ponged between Jack and my family. “Good for him.”
“Food’s put away, love,” Mom said.
“That’s fine, Ma.” Reeling in my frustration, I spun away and headed back to the kitchen. Mom and Aunt Mary always cooked up a feast when we came home. I scooped some pasta onto my plate, added the creamy shrimp and some of the steamed pumpkin. Then I popped the plate into the microwave and waited, impatiently drumming my fingers on the top of the appliance, my mind in the living room.
Was Jack mad because I’d left? Well, too bad. I’d warned him I would.
A minute later, the microwave dinged. I removed the plate and, yeah, not going to eat in the living room now with him there. As I shoveled a forkful of pasta and shrimp into my mouth, I strolled outside to the sheltered porch.
A circular wrought-iron table with four chairs took up space near the lush potted plants along the iron balustrade, giving the place a restful ambiance. Approaching sunset cast long shadows over the garden. I settled on the padded couch-like swing.
First, I needed sustenance, and second, time to put these unstable feelings back to where they belonged—like in the frozen seas of Antarctica, never to ever be rereleased—before I faced Jack.
Halfway through my meal, voices reached me from the kitchen, followed by male laughter. Crap. The door opened, and I stilled, then exhaled a relieved breath when Ila walked out, a can of soda in her hand.
“Hey.” She gave me a little smile, her worried gaze skimming my face. “You should be more careful when training, Ray.”
“How come Jack’s staying over?” I countered, not wanting to talk about my bruised face.
She dragged out the wrought-iron chair with its bright, orange-flowered cushions and sat down. “Ray, he’s Max’s best friend and best man—andyourpartner at the wedding. Anyway, Dad wouldn’t hear of him staying at a B&B.”
B&B? I doubted the word even featured in the Griffins’ vocabulary.
I ate a shrimp, though I’d lost my appetite. Jack would be staying here with us. Awesome.
“So, if you were wondering, he didn’t weasel his way into anything,” she said. “Besides, he’s never been to a festival like this. And there’s usually a party afterward with fireworks. It’ll be fun…” Her expression took on a sharpened edge as she studied me.
I concentrated on my food.
After that incident at their loft, and Jack implying that I was involved with him, yeah, I couldn’t blame her for being curious and concerned.
“What party?” I deliberately kept the convo off Jack. “All we do is sit on grassy slopes, gossip, drink, and eat sinfully delicious food that is not good for us. All while watching the fireworks light up the sky, adding more carbon monoxide to hasten the greenhouse effect—I think I need to speak to Mrs. Watts and suggest that they have open-air dancing and singing or something—what?” I demanded, skidding to a halt at Ila’s smile.
“I was worried about you for a moment. You appeared so unlike yourself. I thought maybe it was Jack. But you’re still the same, going off on a tangent when a new issue crosses your mind. However, the committee won’t change the fireworks plans this late.”
“Yeah, I know.” I scrunched my nose and sighed. “But for the Fourth or any of the fundraisers that follow after this—they must.”
