Love on the Lifts (4 page)

T
he next morning, while I took my shower, I tried really hard not to think about two things:

1. I never heard Brad come home.
   
2. Joe's parting words before I returned to bed.
   

And sometimes I found myself thinking harder and longer about Joe's words than about Brad's failure to return from next door. I was pretty sure that Joes's comment had been innocent with no innuendo, but then I'd think about the fact that he seemed embarrassed to have noticed me when I didn't notice him. Gosh, had he been in the dorm hallway? Had I looked right at him and not noticed him or remembered him?

Geez, what an insult to him if that was the
case. But he wasn't forgettable, so maybe he'd seen me from a distance—while I was walking with Sam and my parents across campus or something.

And he liked me more than he liked his sisters because that's just the way guys were. I mean, honestly, Sam liked Allie and Leah more than he liked me. He'd talked to them almost nonstop at the Pile It On, and he
never
talked to me that much.

So Joe's was a typical guy statement. It didn't mean anything.

I had myself convinced that's the way it was by the time I walked into the living room, dressed in jeans and a sweater. The drapes were drawn, so the room was in shadows.

I peered over at the couch. Joe was sprawled on it, a quilt draped over him, a pillow beneath his head, his bare feet hanging off one end. I resisted the urge to tug the quilt down and cover up those feet. They had to be cold, and he had to be uncomfortable. It didn't seem fair that he'd have to sleep there for three weeks. Maybe the guys would rotate sharing the beds.

But that was their problem. I wasn't giving
up my bed. Not even for a guy who liked me more than he liked his sisters.

I crept into the kitchen and turned on the light. I walked to the sink, reached over it, and opened the blinds. Through the window, I could see Cynthia's condo. I realized that I could have just come in here last night and kept an eye out instead of trying to get to the deck. Not that I still wouldn't have had to walk by Joe, but I could have made the excuse of needing a drink of water. Coming up with a reason for wanting to go out to the deck at midnight had proven a bit of a problem—not that I'd gotten far enough to make an excuse. Besides, Joe had pretty much guessed my intentions. I had a feeling that he wasn't quite as clueless as Sam.

I went to the refrigerator and took out a carton of eggs and a package of bacon. I would start cooking breakfast. I needed to focus on anything except the real reason that Brad hadn't returned—the very real possibility that he'd slept with Cynthia. So who was being clueless now?

I set everything on the counter and took a
couple of pans out of the cabinet. Brad wasn't my boyfriend, so he had the right to do whatever he wanted with whomever he wanted. But I didn't like the idea that he might have. And if he had, then should I give up on
us
completely?

Only there was no
us
, not really. So the question was, did I want an
us
with Brad if he had slept with “Cyn”?

“You broke the rules.”

With a tiny screech, I spun around. Joe was lounging in the doorway, his shoulder pressed against the wall, his arms crossed over his chest, his biceps clearly visible. In the light of the kitchen I could read the T-shirt that I'd been unable to read the night before in the dark. It read,
THESE GUNS DON'T COME WITH SAFETIES
.

Ah, man! He had an amazing set of guns, which were also more visible in the light. He definitely worked out.

“What?” I snapped. If I'd said more than one word, I would have stammered. He had me totally rattled. Did Brad's arms look that strong? I crazily wondered what it might feel
like to be held in Joe's arms, to look into those hazel eyes at close range.

“According to the rules, the guys are supposed to shower first,” Joe said. “I wonder what punishment I should administer to you.”

His gaze slowly roamed over me, stealing my breath as it went.

“Punishment?” I squeaked.

“It was decided yesterday that I would be the enforcer of the rules.”

“Only for Sam.”

“You sure?”

I nodded jerkily. “Besides, I didn't know anyone was already up.”

And actually he hadn't been when I'd walked by.

“No big deal, Freckles.”

“Why'd you call me that?”

“I don't know. Maybe because you remind me of Kate on
Lost
.”

That was a major compliment. Kate was strong and confident, repeatedly kicking guys' butts. I hardly ever did that. I thought about telling him, but what the heck. Let him have his fantasy.

“Who's your favorite character on the show?” he asked.

I took a minute to respond to his change in direction.

“I liked Jack in the beginning, but Sawyer really grew on me.”

“Yeah, I've always heard girls go for the bad boys. I guess that's the reason Brad has such a following.”

I had a vision of Brad surrounded by maniacal, screaming women. I hoped Joe wasn't putting me in that category. It was insulting.

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“I mean wherever we go, girls are attracted to him. Like the snow bunny last night.”

The reminder of our neighbor—and my failure to hold Brad's attention—hurt. “I didn't hear him come in.”

“I'm not surprised.”

“So he was really quiet when he came home?” I was pitiful. My voice sounded so hopeful and fearful at the same time. Like I was putting off facing the truth—Brad had done more than fix a stupid garbage disposal.

Joe just shook his head.

“Maybe he knocked—”

“I left the door unlocked.”

As if on cue, I heard the front door open. My stomach tightened and my heart started pounding.

“Hey, Joe!” It was Brad. I'd recognize his voice anywhere and the way it shimmered through me. “Good news, man. Cyn is going to hang around with us on the slopes today.”

His good news was my bad news.

Brad came around the corner, into the kitchen, and stopped short at the sight of me. I figured I probably looked the way our snowman would come summer: melting, melting, melting. Why couldn't he be as excited about me as he was about Cynthia?

He gave me a broad grin that for the span of a heartbeat offered me hope that maybe…

“Hey, Allie.”

And the hope was gone, buried beneath an avalanche of disappointment. He was never going to get together with me. He didn't even remember my freaking name!

“She's Kate,” Joe said quietly.

Brad shook a finger at me like I was the one
who got my name wrong. “That's right. Kate is the sister, Allie is the friend. Sam talked about them so much on the drive here, I got them confused. No big deal. I'm off to take a shower. I'll catch you guys later.”

I stood there mute and devastated. Sam talked about me and Allie? Why would he do that? Why did I care? It was probably all bad. My brother must have turned him against me, revealing the most embarrassing moments of my childhood.

“Hey, Kate, don't let him get to you. He's not good with names.” Joe's voice held pity and he was so wrong. Brad didn't have any trouble at all remembering Cyn.

I hated Joe at that moment. He knew,
knew
I liked Brad. I was wearing my heart on my sleeve. Something Aunt Sue always said, but I'd never really understood what it meant until now. It meant everyone—except stupid, dumb Brad—knew that I liked him.

I sprung into action and started to walk past Joe. He grabbed my arm. “Kate—”

“I have to go.”

“Where are you going?”

“To Aunt Sue's for our morning meditation session.”

He gave me a grin like he thought that was all I needed to make my world right again. “Thought the girls were supposed to cook breakfast.”

I had to get out of there. Pronto. The last thing I wanted him to see were the tears burning the back of my eyes as they moved to the front and rolled over onto my cheeks. “Later.”

I sounded like I was choking on those very tears. I broke away from his hold and grabbed my jacket from the coat rack by the door. I was stuffing my arms into the sleeves when I heard Sam announce, “Hey, Kate, I want my eggs over easy and my bacon crisp.”

I hadn't seen him come into the living room, but I wasn't going to look back at him. He'd know something was wrong. Or maybe he wouldn't. Like I said, he was pretty clueless most of the time.

“Leave her alone, Sam,” Joe said.

I was on the front porch, zipping my jacket, the door slammed shut behind me before Sam could say something else equally stupid. My
brother was such an idiot.

Then I was running, running hard, down the hill, toward the village, toward Aunt Sue's, toward a haven away from the embarrassment I'd just suffered.

Joe knew what I felt for Brad. I'd seen it in his hazel eyes.

And he knew what Brad felt for me.

Absolutely nothing.

 

“Clear your mind and focus on your breathing, Katie,” Aunt Sue said. “Release the negative energy.”

I was sitting on an exercise mat on the carpeted floor in Aunt Sue's apartment, my back straight, my hands limp in my lap, my eyes closed.

In a panic I'd arrived at her apartment above the bookstore and pounded on her door. When she opened it, I'd rushed inside and burst into tears. Not so much because Brad had broken my heart. He hadn't. Not really. I mean, to break something you have to touch it, right? And he hadn't touched my heart yet.

I was simply majorly embarrassed that Joe
had witnessed my humiliation, and it had occurred to me during my mad dash over to Aunt Sue's that Sam might know what was going on as well. The last person, other than Joe, I wanted to know the affairs of my heart.

“Focus, Kate,” Aunt Sue commanded in a soft, singsong voice. “Feel the air filling and expanding your lungs. Now, release…release…release…”

That was how meditation worked. You concentrated on your breathing, focused all your energy there—

“There's no place like home. There's no place like home. There's no place…” Aunt Sue's voice trailed off.

Once your focus was pinpointed on your breathing, you began running your own personal mantra through your head. Something that guided you, brought pleasant memories. Something that would take you to the next state of being. For Aunt Sue, it was
The Wizard of Oz
. Go figure.

That morning, mine was something that would bring me a great deal of satisfaction: Break a leg. Break a leg. Break a leg.

I was directing it toward Cynthia, which really isn't how meditation works. It's not like voodoo or something, where you try to throw a curse on someone, and, okay, it was a mean thought that I didn't really want to come true. And it wasn't exactly releasing negative energy….

“I can't think of anything, Aunt Sue,” I finally said.

“Then use mine.”

Only I couldn't. I didn't want images of the good witch of the north who looked too much like Cynthia or a crazy wizard who could be my brother. Or perfect Dorothy holding perfect Toto. I bet Brad wouldn't have forgotten her name.

I opened my eyes and stretched out on the floor, inhaled the sweet fragrance of the candles burning around us. Aunt Sue didn't go with plain candle scents like vanilla or cinnamon. I was breathing in moonlight mist and secret garden and midnight passion.

I was breathing in a spicy and tangy scent. Brad.

No, it wasn't Brad. It was Joe. Last night
when we were sitting together on the couch. He didn't smell at all like Brad. Lemony was a better description. Lemony with his hair mussed and his feet bare. And the way he smiled whenever he looked at me. Not a big hey-am-I-a-stud-or-what smile like Brad gave me, but more of a I-like-looking-at-you smile. Like the smile was a gift to me or something. My presence was a gift to him.

Where did that thought come from?

“I see you finally relaxed,” Aunt Sue said.

She had her arms lifted high over her head and was stretching at the waist from side to side. For a woman with gray hair, she was awfully limber.

“Not really. I was just thinking.” I shrugged, which was a strange feeling with my back on the floor. “Nothing important.”

“Everything's important.”

I knew Aunt Sue dated. Over the years, she'd introduced me to several guys. They were always good-looking and fun. She never took her trips alone, but I never had a sense that she was totally serious about any of the guys.

“Why didn't you ever get married?” I asked.

“I almost did once,” she said. A dreamy expression came over her face. “Loved him something fierce.”

“So why didn't you marry him?”

“It just wasn't meant to be.”

She rose to her feet, and I sat up. “You can't just leave it like that without giving me a real answer.”

“Sure I can.” She laughed and walked into the kitchen. A bar with stools separated it from the living room, so I could still see and hear her clearly. “Besides, the history of my love life isn't going to help you figure out yours. And isn't that the reason you're here this morning?”

“I'm here because we always meditate together,” I lied.

“When you're staying with me, sure. But you're not going to traipse over here every morning, are you?”

Didn't anyone want me around?

“Would it bother you if I did?”

“Of course not. But I figured you'd want to spend time with your friends. Isn't that the reason you brought them?”

Without answering her, I got up and walked
over to the bar and sat on a stool. I watched as Aunt Sue prepared her morning shake. She put all kinds of healthy stuff in it. Whey protein, fruit…