Page 20 of Your Two Lips
She stepped behind me and gave my shoulders the mom squeeze. “I do think he’ll come around,” she said.
I had to figure this out. I wanted the farm and the resort. What started as a way to prove myself had become more. I’d talk to him tonight. I wouldn’t let years go by on my dream while he figured things out.
The simple dinner of steak,Parmesan roasted potatoes, and Caprese salad was always what Mom requested for Mother’s Day. She said that was the meal for special occasions when she was little. I didn’t complain. The grilled steaks and fresh basil from the greenhouse tasted like spring, and the sharp parmesan bite of the baby Yukon potatoes balanced the creamy cheese and buttery meat. It was my favorite meal too.
It was still cloudy, but the rain had stopped, so we had dessert on the covered deck near the warmth of the outdoor fireplace. Rex, our farm dog—not guard dog, lay on the sisal rug, chewing his kong. He was a rescue mix with signs of German Shepard in the shape of his face and Labrador in his blond fur and love of chewing.
“Lucas, that almond cake was divine and topped with Chantilly cream like the chef recommended, perfect. Is the restaurant new?”
“I think it’s been open for a year or two,” Lucas said. “I just found it, though. The food is great. Southern fusion, they call it. I knew you would love this cake. I don’t think they make a habit of selling whole ones, so I made them an offer they didn’t want to refuse.”
“Well, thank you, Lucas. That was generous of you. Please tell them it was worth every penny you spent.” She rose with a wink. “I’m leaving the dishes to you big spenders and taking my wine up to the bath. Good night, all.” With hugs all around and a drive safely to Lucas, Mom headed inside.
“That’s my cue to follow my bride,” Dad said as he followed behind her.
“Don’t forget those papers, Dad. Summer is coming.”
“Yes, I know. Lucas says it’s financially solid. I’ll give it a read.” He closed the sliding door with a woosh.
Tess collected the remaining plates and walked to the door. “I’ll start putting the leftovers away and get it organized in there. You two can wash the dishes.”
I rolled my eyes at Lucas.
My brother rose and collected the glasses. “Give him time. It will happen.”
Sure. But when exactly? When Dad’s old and feeble? Or I am?
15
EMILY
We’d texteda bit this week and scheduled a Thursday afternoon road ride. I agreed to meet Finn at his house after a quick lunch with Carrie.
I was excited about the bike race. And the training time with Finn. I checked it out online, and it looked like fun. Plus, it raised money for The Hutch, which made it personal. I wanted to win more than I was proud of, if only to prove to the asshole voices in my head that I could. Good enough at sex to keep my fiancé from cheating? That needed work. Good enough at biking to shut up misogynistic asses on a trail? A race winner would be.
I double-checked the address when I arrived at Finn’s. This place was beautiful, like out of a storybook. I took it in as I stepped from my SUV parked by a 1950s craftsman-style bungalow. Many historic Seattle neighborhoods were filled with houses like it. A large, two-story farmhouse painted white with a wraparound porch, and huge covered deck sat across an open expanse of lawn to the left. Beyond that stood a couple of barns, wire fence rows, and a tractor parked under a tall cedar tree. All along the edges of both houses were the green and yellow leaves of tulip plants dying back. With the blooms off, the leaves bending toward the ground looked like bushy mustaches, adding to the magic.
To the right, a thick hedge in the distance buffered the view of an enormous industrial building with stacks of large plastic bins along the side and a truck parked nearby with the logo of an online flower delivery company. Directly behind the bungalow and the farmhouse stretched acres of neat rows filled with the same green and yellow plants.
For a moment, I was hypnotized until I felt the cool wetness of a nose brushing my hand. I looked down to an energetic greeting from a blond, mostly German Shepherd mix with a collar tag that said, Rex. He sniffed, and his tail wagged his entire backside. I liked him too and bent to give him a hard pat with an energeticwho’s a good boythat made his tail wag even harder.
“Where’s your sexy owner? Where’s Finn?” I whispered into his ear, and he gave a single bark toward the bungalow. Did that dog seriously understand me? So cute.
Together, we found Finn in the detached garage with the wide door rolled open and music playing. Multiple bikes leaned against the workbench and the far wall. He had a bike upside down on a stand and was working on the gears and chains with a tool in his hand. The bike was small and white, with pink streamers hanging from the handlebars.
“Nice streamers,” I yelled and nodded to the bike.
He looked up and grabbed his phone to shut off the music coming from speakers on a tall shelf.
“Hey. Yeah. I like pink. It brings out my eyes.” There were those mischievous dimples and the sparkling light blue pools I wanted to dive right into. His eyes changed colors; lighter when he was talking to his friends, deep blue when things were quiet, and could be fiery blue, like that night at The Boathouse.
“I see you met our guard dog, Rex.”
“Yes, he’s very intimidating,” I said, trying not to smile.
“What do you mean? His weapons are licking, tripping, and distraction,” Finn said.
“Ah, then, yes. He’s right on track.”
