Acting Up (19 page)

“I took over, didn't I?” his mother said. “I'm sorry.”

Rather than be offended, like the diva everyone assumed she had to be, Addison chuckled. “You think I mind? I started to hyperventilate when I first walked in here. If you can look at this and not go into a full-fledged panic, you get to be in charge.”

Everyone else joined in the laughter, and the work began. Ethan hesitated for a moment, his eyes lingering on Addison. Today she wore faded jeans and a light blue shirt with the ends tied in a knot at her waist. As she stretched to reach some figurines on a shelf, the shirt rode up to reveal taut abs and the slight dip of her belly button.

His tongue lodged against the roof of his mouth and his hands twitched, the urge to reach out and touch the soft patch of exposed skin almost overwhelming.

Jake slapped him on the back, jolting Ethan out of a potent fantasy.

“Eyes back in your head, bro,” Jake said under his breath. “You can ogle the lady after we've taken the bed apart.”

“Don't mention beds,” Ethan said on a strangled groan.

The older brother who'd held him as he'd sobbed on the bathroom floor the day they'd buried Jenny treated him to a long, searching look. For a moment Jake's expression went soft, as if he were remembering that hellish night.

Then he grinned. “Nice to have you back, man.”

Jake turned and trudged up the stairs. Ethan hesitated long enough to take in one more glimpse of Addison. This time she was bent over to pick up a pile of magazines off the floor, presenting him with a fantastic view of her…

He blinked and shut off a dangerous train of thought. He needed to go upstairs, away from temptation.

Before he could escape, Aaron barreled down the hallway, waving a sheet of paper. “Are you for real?” he asked, shoving the note under Addison's nose.

Ethan paused to see how she'd handle her stepson. He hadn't seen Aaron since the night at the sheriff's office. A good thing on one hand, since it meant the teenager hadn't gotten into any more trouble. At least not trouble Ethan knew about.

“I'm very for real,” Addison said, rising from the floor with a stack of magazines.

Aaron started reading off the list. “Mop the kitchen floor, dust the furniture, clean the bathrooms, vacuum. I don't know how to do any of this stuff.”

“Admitting you've never dirtied your hands cleaning isn't going to win you any fans around here,” Addison said, dropping the magazines on the desk. “You're a smart boy. I'm sure you can figure it out.”

Aaron shook his head and turned to Ethan in an obvious bid to gain a male ally.

Ethan put his hands up in the air
I surrender
style. “You'd better get to work.”

Aaron snorted in disgust but went to find the supplies needed to mop floors. “This is child slavery, you know,” he called out as he stomped away. “I could turn you in to the labor department.”

“When you do, make sure I'm referred to as
Master
on the report,” Addison yelled after him.

Ethan let loose the grin he'd been holding back.

“What?” she asked, her cheeks coloring.

“You've developed an interesting relationship with him.”

Addison bit her lip. “I should be more stern or something, right?”

“Not if sarcasm works for you. He seems happy, and considering what went down a couple nights ago, I'd say that's progress.”

“I'm not a very motherly person,” she said, a frown forming between her eyes.

Ethan wanted to reach out and touch her, reassure her, but he didn't trust himself to stop there. “You're doing fine,” he said instead. “I might worry about the state of the house when he's done, but you seem to have turned a corner.”

A soft smile eased the anxious expression in her eyes. “Thank you.”

He would have said more, except his idiot older brother stuck his head over the upstairs banister. “Bro, you coming or not?”

“Yeah,” he called back. He focused on Addison again. “I'd better get up there before those two do too much damage.”

The smile transformed to a mischievous grin. “Right.”

Ethan climbed the stairs and found his brothers in the master bedroom. The mattress had already been removed and propped up against the wall. Jake had taken position at one end to dissemble the headboard. Matt had the foot of the bed.

“Nice of you to show up,” Matt said.

“He's got an excuse,” Jake said. “He had to say goodbye to his girlfriend.”

“I don't have a girlfriend.”

Jake wagged one brow up and down. “Do too.”

“Do not.”

“Do too. It's our resident movie star, by the way,” Jake informed the youngest Thomas brother like a gossipy little girl.

Matt straightened and then a sweet smile lit up his face. “Cool… it's about time, man.”

Nothing more needed to be said. They went to work on the bed. Jake made pretty quick work of the headboard, but Matt had more trouble.

“Whoever put these screws in must have used an industrial strength machine,” Matt said, grunting as he worked.

“Give me that,” Ethan said, grabbing the screwdriver. “You've gone soft since you got a desk job.”

“Like you don't work at a desk?” Matt said.

Jake turned toward them, a frown on his face. “Don't make me come over there and straighten you two out,” he said, using his best big-brother tone.

Ethan and Matt threw dirty rags at him.

“Okay, now you're asking for it,” Jake said, coming around the bed.

A soft, sultry chuckle drifted from the doorway. They all turned to find Addison standing in the opening with a large box. A strand of hair had come loose from her ponytail to touch her cheek.

“Hello, boys,” she said, channeling Mae West. “How's the demolition going?”

Jake struck a he-man pose. “Fine.”

“It would be fine if Matty Two-Thumbs wasn't getting in the way,” Ethan said, whacking his younger brother in the back.

Addison laughed. “Be nice, boys.”

Jake indicated the box in her hand. “That looks heavy. Ethan, go help her take it up to the attic.”

“Yes, go with her,” Matt said. “She might throw out her back or something.”

“It's not very heavy,” Addison protested.

“Are you kidding? That box is bigger than you,” Jake said. “Ethan can handle it. Get to it, bro.”

This last part was delivered with a firm shove. Ethan stumbled forward, almost colliding with Addison. Laughter danced behind her eyes as she handed over her box. Ethan took it, but not before turning to glare at his interfering older brother, who screwed up his lips and silently kissed the air.

Note to self… kill older brother.

Second note to self… don't trip over your own feet while watching Addison's backside in those jeans.

Ethan tried to concentrate on anything other than the gentle sway of her hips as he followed her. He shook his head, wondering when he'd lost control of his senses. He'd grown so used to feeling dead inside that the sudden attack of hormones almost freaked him out. He felt like a giant papa bear that had awakened from hibernation and now had the overwhelming urge to… well… make baby bears. And, oh boy, was Addison Covington just right.

At the end of the hall, she opened a door to reveal a narrow staircase leading up to the attic. A musty, mothball smell assaulted his nose the moment they reached the landing. It was the middle of the day, but the small gabled window only allowed in a small amount of light. Still, Ethan knew this space like the back of his hand, even though he'd never been up here before today. Every angle was reflected in the attic of his childhood home next door. He and his brothers had spent hours in theirs, especially on rainy days. They'd built forts and staged mock battles. A couple times they'd brought up sleeping bags and spent the night telling ghost stories.

Those days seemed like another lifetime ago. Before his dad had taken a job requiring him to be away half the time, leaving his sons to be the men of the house. Before Ethan and his brothers married. Before Jenny left him forever.

Addison pulled on a string hanging from the ceiling. The bare light bulb did little to cut through the gloom. He could see the space was packed with boxes and furniture. Several old steamer trunks lined the wall.

“Where do you want this?” Ethan asked, shifting the box.

A startled “oh” erupted, as if Addison had almost forgotten he was there. “Sorry, I was lost in time for a minute, remembering how much fun I used to have here,” she said in obvious chagrin. “Just drop it anywhere for now. We may have to shift some things around.”

The box landed on the floor with a soft thud. “I know how you feel. Every attic I've ever been in looks like this. Makes me feel like a kid again.”

A soft smile lit her face. “Fantasyland.”

Ethan gestured to a stack of smaller boxes. “We can probably push those further back into the eaves. They're small enough to fit in tight spaces.”

“Okay.”

The first box caused him to stop. “Hey, this has your name on it.” He read the labels on the next couple boxes. “They all do.”

Addison moved closer. “These must be from my old room,” she said, tracing the pen markings. “When my mom finally came to get me, we were in and out in a flash. I ended up leaving a lot of things here. I had no idea Aunt Ruth kept all this.”

“You want to look?”

Addison stared at the container like it was Pandora's Box. A mixture of curiosity and dread came over her face as she stared down at her given name.

“It's all right if you don't,” Ethan said.

She put out a hand to stop him. “No. Open it. It's only memories, right?”

The first box held mostly paperback books. Addison had been quite the fan of teen romances back in the day, judging by the number of dog-eared copies.

“Oh, look here,” Ethan said, reaching for the pink, leather-bound book with the distinctive gold lock.

“No way,” she said, snatching the diary away and holding it to her chest like it contained state secrets. “This is private, girl stuff.”

He waggled his brow. “Am I in it?”

“Get real,” she said, in her best haughty manner.

Ethan kept staring until a soft rush of guilty color spread up her cheeks. His chest puffed out. “You did write about me,” he teased. “Was it good?”

“You lived next door. Of course I recorded things I saw,” she said, refusing to meet his eyes.

He grinned. “Must have been good then.”

“Moving on now,” she said, tossing the diary back in the box.

While it might have been fun to keep tormenting her, Ethan relented and pulled out another leather-bound book. This one much bigger and heavier.

“It's my yearbook,” Addison said in surprise. “I've never seen this. I'd already ordered it, but my mom arrived before it did.”

Ethan flipped the book open to the freshman class and started leafing through the pages until he found the Js.

“Oh, no don't—” Her hand shot out to cover the page.

Too late. He'd already found the entry. Ethan stared down at the picture of the girl he'd once known. Alice Faye Jones sported long brown hair and straight arrow bangs hanging over her forehead. She'd been vulnerable and sweet. Lost. So different from the woman she'd become. He wondered if Alice still existed at all underneath the golden hair and practiced smile.

“You were pretty cute,” Ethan said.

A sound close to disgust erupted from her lips as she rolled her eyes. “I was homely. Plain Jane. Boring. Invisible.”

“You weren't invisible.”

“But I was plain and boring.” She flipped the page to where a young, god-like Ethan resided. “A golden boy like him would never notice her.”

“Is that why you went all glamour girl?” he asked, indicating her post-Alice transformation.

“Blondes have more fun, didn't you know? Beautiful blondes get noticed by casting directors, so I bought the look.”

“Bought it?”

“My grandmother's jewelry paid for my transformation from Plain Jane to
this
,
”
she said, sweeping a hand from head to toe. “The hair, the smile, the nose… and other things.”

There was no way Ethan could resist taking in all of
that
. “Thank you, Grandma,” he breathed.

The charged comment registered in his brain at the same time her eyes widened. Ethan felt rather than heard her quick indrawn breath. Tension filled the attic. Temptation drew his gaze to her lips, and the urge to taste became overwhelming. He leaned toward her and her head tilted.

Thump.

They jumped as the yearbook hit the floor. Ethan jerked back with a start, blinking as he returned to earth. He didn't know whether to be grateful for the interruption… or fling the book out the window. On the one hand, he wanted a taste. On the other, in his newly awakened papa bear state, one taste would never be enough.