Chapter 3

CHAPTER THREE

Rush barely glanced at me as I opened the door to his truck. Nice dress.”

“Still waiting for my luggage. Mom left this for me to wear last night, claiming nothing Dylan owns is appropriate.” I hoisted myself into his truck, taking inventory of my outfit and checking for my purse. The dress was the antithesis of anything Dylan would’ve given me. It was a drab black if there was such a thing. No adornment, actually not much shape either, and because my mom is more voluptuous than me, it hung like a black potato sack.

“Nice dress.” We drove to the church in complete silence.

“Shut up,” I said as he put the truck in gear. He didn’t even smirk; he just stared straight ahead.

It was as if that kiss and the weakness I’d shown never happened. Breaking the silence, I said, “I could’ve driven myself.’

“Yeah, but then I would’ve missed all your delightful chatter.” He pulled into the parking lot across from the church. “And I didn’t want to miss your reaction to all the surprises your grandmother had planned for today.”

He opened his door as I opened mine and caught him straightening his suit jacket, buttoning it as he walked over to my side of the car. I tried to refuse his hand as I got out of the car, and he grabbed my forearm, steadying me and stepping down.

It took one look at Rush in a suit to realize I would be invisible standing beside him. With his hair perfectly mussed to accentuate his clean-shaven, strong jaw, he filled out a suit beautifully and carried himself as if he wore one daily.

And he smelled amazing. Cedar and sandalwood, and something else that made it woodsy and masculine. “You look nice.” I tried my hand at flattery.

He side-eyed me with a slight scowl and grunted, “Thank you.”

Mom’s shoes were a size too big and, even though they were only two inches, were foreign to my feet, causing me to slip while stepping off the curb.

Rush’s lighting fast reflexes caught me before I could even start to swear. “I got you.” We paused for a moment so I could gather my balance and my dignity. “You okay?”

“Yeah.” Familiar faces stared in our direction. People gathered outside the church for the Grammy’s service.

This was real. I swallowed hard; my throat burned with the need to hold in my grief. My knees shook, just standing still.

“I got you,” he repeated, this time with a bit more warmth as he captured my full attention and hooked my arm around his. His kindness and concern grounded me. “Ready?”

I nodded, afraid to speak. He put his hand on my lower back, guiding me and offering reassurance.

“Your Gram would also get a kick out of you and I showing up together.”

“Her and half the town.”

“Don’t worry, we will be an afterthought and not as memorable as what she has planned for her send-off.”

Everyone in town knew my Grammy had a warped sense of humor. When Pop died, she had a New Orleans Jazz band march us to his final resting place, leading with “Old Rugged Cross.” Pop Pop’s ashes weren’t in a traditional urn. He was in a rainbow-clad jar Grammy made at the local DIY ceramic studio a few years prior. Grammy marched him with the jazz band through town until she reached the mausoleum. When “The Saints Go Marching In” led us to the reception at his favorite pub, we were all treated to an all-you-can-eat Taco Bar and almond-frosted cupcakes.

When people politely commented about her reasoning behind the unorthodox arrangement, she’d said they were all of Pop’s favorite things, and what better way to celebrate him than to have the things he loved: his family, jazz music, Tacos, and cupcakes.

The fact that she had left the instructions with Rush and his family rather than my mom and me was also indicative of the kind of send-off she wanted. Grammy loved surprises, and what better way to have the last laugh than to be nontraditional?

As Rush escorted me up the aisle, my focus was on the portrait of Grammy caught in the moment of releasing one of her famous laughs. A tear fell down my face, and I quickly wiped it away, holding on tighter to his arm.

He sat me in the front pew next to my mom, who was already weeping loudly, dressed in a tight, black dress with a pill-box hat and a veil.

Instead of interacting with her and drawing out more of a spectacle, I admired the many flower arrangements that decorated the entire front of the church. My mother cried into her monogrammed handkerchief and held my hand as if it were the most natural thing. The truth was, the last time she’d done that was when I was too young to cross the street by myself. Mom wasn’t the touchy-feely type, which is why I gravitated to my grandparents. She also didn’t appreciate that I preferred overalls to dresses and hated almost anything that would make me look—or act—like a girl.

My Pop and Grammy let me be who I was, even if my mother—or boys like Matthew and Rush—couldn’t understand it.

Rush sat on my other side, touching my knee when it was time for me to get up and give the eulogy. I walked to the pulpit with my emotions locked down as I recounted Grammy’s life with light antidotes and highlights. I was able to get through the entire thing without breaking down.

As I returned to my seat, the organ started playing Ava Maria, and I collapsed. Sobbing. All control and masks were gone. My Grammy—the one person who knew me best—was gone, and I was left in the world practically orphaned.

When my silent tears grew into actual weeping, a hand wrapped around my shoulders, gently tugging me into the crook of his shoulder. He handed me a tissue from a box already set in the pew, and I silently cried.

An announcement was made for the mourners to gather at the town park following the service, and I tried to pull myself together before we had to walk out into a sea of people waiting to greet us. My mother went first and diverted most of the attention. “We should go back and change into more comfortable clothing,” Rush suggested.

I side-eyed him. “Why?”

“Well, Dylan said she had something better than what your mother dressed you in.” He winked at me, and I slapped his stomach. But I couldn’t resist smiling. “See, that smile may be hard won, but damn is it worth it.” He lightly dried a stray tear from beneath my eye with his thumb, and I couldn’t breathe.

“Why are you being so nice to me?”

“I told you, I?—”

“Andy! Hey!” A hand broke through our bubble and turned me around.

Sandy blond hair, artfully mussed and dancing, soulful brown eyes paralyzed me. “Hey there! I’m sorry I was late, but my flight was delayed. I hadn’t heard about your grandmother’s passing until yesterday. Your mom contacted—oh, hey, Rush.” He turned and clapped Rush on the shoulder and stepped between us. “Why didn’t you call me? You know I would’ve wanted to come pay my respects.” Matthew grabbed my hand and held it in both of his, sincerity and sweetness in his eyes. “I’m so sorry for your loss, Andy.” Shock had me mute once again, so I nodded.

Rush stared at where my hand was newly tangled with Matthew’s. “Figured you were too busy.”

“I’m not too busy to offer my condolences. God, Dorothy was like family to us.” He turned and wrapped his arm around me, but it was in a big brother’s way.

Nevertheless, a darkness fell over Rush’s expression as he bit out the words, “Well, you’re here now, aren’t you?”

Matthew paused before he stepped slowly back, his gaze traveling back and forth between Rush and me. “Oh…OH!” He said, his hand covering his mouth to hide a smile. He nodded. “Okay…right. Well, this is great!” He slugged his cousin’s shoulder. “I mean, it’s not great about Dorothy and being at her funeral and everything, but it’s great that you two?—”

The two cousins had grown up more like brothers, even having secret looks that communicated private conversations without words.

Many looks were being thrown between them, and I would have given my remodeled 1990 Mustang to have the dictionary. I ran my hand through my hair and took a deep breath.

Rush stepped around his cousin, placed his hand on my back, and guided me away from Matthew. “We got to get going. Annalise needs to change, and we need to get to the park.”

I looked over my shoulder as Rush continued directing me to his truck. “It was great to see you, Matthew,” I called.

Matthew’s smile rivaled the sun that was peeking out from the clouds. He rocked back on his feet, his arms crossed over his travel-wrinkled suit. “It was really great seeing you too, Andy—I mean, Annalise.” The rich tone of his voice was what fantasies were made of. “I’ll catch up with you later.”

Rush stepped behind me, cutting off my view of Matthew as he opened the door to his truck. “Get in.”

Rush was silent on the way back and excused himself to get changed at his house next door. Once I was in my grandmother’s house alone, I sat on the steps, trying to get my feet back under me. My mind was reeling. First, there was Rush and all the weirdness that was developing between us. And now Matthew was here. Who’d called him?

He was as handsome as always, barely aging, except for filling out his suit very well. Yet, my heart didn’t beat as fast as it used to when I was around Matthew, and I didn’t have trouble remembering to breathe—all things that had led me to do stupid things in the past. Like being unable to hold a conversation with him past a curt “Hi.” Or my legs not working and falling down the steps if I saw him looking at me. Or, my favorite—almost fainting in his arms after holding my stomach in for so long that I couldn’t breathe.

But there was good news—my luggage was on the front porch. I opened the front door and was hit with the scent of tea roses that permeated Grammy’s home. The carpet on the wood stairs was threadbare from years of use. The furniture was practically as old as I was, and a multitude of photos took up every available space around the perimeter. One, in particular, caught my attention. I picked it up and sat on the stairs, studying it. It was a rare photo of just me, Matthew, and Rush outside by the big maple in the front yard.

Matthew had said something that had made me giggle. He’d never had to try very hard; I was constantly giggling like an idiot around him. My adoration for him was evident to anyone who set eyes on the photo, but that wasn’t what made me pause and sit back on the step.

It was Rush. In the picture, I was staring at Matthew…and Rush was staring at me.

Just then, Rush walked in the back door—this time unannounced--and found me on the steps, still in my mother’s dress. “Hey, are you ready? We have to get?—”

I wasn't prepared for the impact of seeing him in his jeans and flannel shirt. I was questioning everything.

Between the surge of grief the service had dragged out of me, the kiss we’d shared, and Matthew’s arrival, my brain was short-circuiting. Was that why I wanted him to hold me again?

A crease formed between his brows, and he stepped in front of me. “Is everything okay?” He stared at the photo I held for a minute and then at me. He exhaled through his nose in annoyance. “Well, I guess some things don’t change.” He flipped his keys around in his hands, grabbed his phone from his back pocket, and fidgeted with it. “We need to get going.”

“Rush?” I reached for him.

And he stepped out of reach. “Go. Get. Changed.”

I did as he said, which should’ve indicated I wasn’t in my right mind. In the time it took to freshen up, I tried to break down all the changes there’d been since I’d been back in town. It was like an alternative universe.

I found Rush’s forearms sexy, his kisses addictive, and his touch intriguing. But his moodiness and cold shoulder were contrary to what had happened between us earlier.

I slowly descended the stairs, dressed in skinny jeans, a green pullover sweater, and sneakers. I brushed out my ponytail, leaving my hair down.

“Grab a jacket. It will be cold later,” he said as he placed the frame back in its place. His mouth was so thin and tight, I couldn’t even see the lips that had deliciously kissed the hell out of me before.

He strode to the backdoor. “I already locked up the front.”

“Wait.” I caught him by the arm, digging in my heels to get him to stop. “What is going on?”

He took in a deep breath and huffed, “I am fulfilling your grandmother’s wish in escorting you to?—”

“You’re making my head spin; can we just stand still and talk for a moment?”

“Matthew called. He didn’t have your number, but he’s very eager to catch up with you. So, I know you don’t want to wait?—”

“Rush, I’m not talking about Matthew. I am talking about you and me and everything that’s happened between us.”

He shrugged and tossed his keys in his hand. “What can I say? I gave it my best shot. If I’d known he was showing up, I wouldn’t have wasted my time.” He shrugged out of my grasp and opened the door. “Here’s your chance. He’s single, by the way.” I shook my head, trying to get a few words in. “You look good in the green. That color will captivate him. Yes, he said you’re captivating. That was his word—captivating.” Impatient with me not leaving the house, he stepped out, letting the storm door slam behind him.

I grabbed my jacket and ran after him.

The fact that Matthew thought I was captivating didn’t register. Rush had told me yesterday that I was beautiful, and that was all that mattered. I could still feel his hands as he cradled my face and the color of his eyes when they widened after breaking from our kiss. I ran to the truck as he started it.

“Rush, please?—”

“Don’t.” He held out his hand, “Just don’t.” He rubbed his hand over his face and put the truck in drive. “This is your Gram’s shindig. Let’s…let’s just not overanalyze anything. Let’s just honor her life. Okay?”

He was right. I didn’t want to drag drama out in front of everyone like my mom.

I sat back and shifted, ensuring I was as far away from Rush as possible. But when we pulled into the town’s park parking lot, I couldn’t leave without saying anything. “I was happy to see Matthew. But—” He parked and gave a forced, sarcastic chuckle.

“Of course you were.” He jumped out of the truck.

“Goddamit, Rush.” I chased him awkwardly through the parking lot—one of his long strides was equal to two of mine. I managed to reach him; my arms braced against his chest and blocked him from moving. “Stop pissing me off at my grandmother’s funeral. Stop assuming that you know everything I’m thinking and?—”

“What? What do you want to say?”

“That I liked kissing you. That I want to do it again. I don’t know who the hell you are anymore or what the hell is going on, but I want to kiss you again, more than…more than—” Unable to find a word to convey how much I liked him, I scanned the area for inspiration. Only what I saw was half the town staring at us. A tent was set up with a line of people waiting their turn at a buffet table. A bounce house full of kids, a packed dance floor, stalls with fair games, and a band was even playing. “What the ever-loving… I thought you said we were having a reception for my grandmother here?”

“We are. This is it.” His voice was soft. He flung his hand out and said, “She wanted a party—one to rival the town’s Fourth of July celebration.”

Matthew’s voice came from deep within the food line. “Rush, the woman’s telling you to kiss her. So, kiss her!”

He ignored his cousin and everything else, pulling me further into the park. My mom came rushing at me, wailing.

“Mom? What is it?”

“I can’t believe she did this—it’s so embarrassing!” She scowled at Rush, pointing an accusing finger at him. “This was your doing?”

“Guilty,” he said. My mother ran off, swearing Rush had no decency and complaining to anyone who would listen. A crowd circled the gazebo, pointing, smiling, and chuckling.

“What did you do?”

We stepped up the stairs to see a statue surrounded by flowers and a hand-painted urn covered in hearts and flowers. “Only what she asked.”

It was Grammy.

“She had a statue made of herself. It’s not marble—she just painted it to look that way. He leaned over and whispered, “Actually, I think she just wanted the town to know she was the host of this party and not your mother.”

The band played the end of “Free Bird” as we walked side-by-side, passing by the booth where people tried to toss balls in a can, another one where you lob ping-pong balls in a fish bowl, and even another one where people lined up to take their turn with a sledgehammer in a strong-man contest.

I burst out laughing, and tears accompanied my laughter. I stood in front of Grammy’s statue, which was positioned like the Statue of Liberty, her urn tucked in the crook of her arm and a fake glowing torch in her other hand.

Since my heart was unsure whether to laugh or cry, my giggle sounded borderline maniacal.

Everyone was staring at me, especially Rush, who was a step behind me. He leaned forward, and his breath tickled my ear. “Dance with me,” he said, making it more of a command than a request, not giving me a chance to refuse. He twirled me and two-stepped around the dance floor the way Grammy had shown us when we were young. She’d always paired him up with me for lessons.

“So, you want to kiss me again?” Rush said, the side of his mouth tilted up. He lowered his gaze to mine, sweeping me up in the moment.

I moved close enough to hear the hitch in his breathing. “Do you want to kiss me again?”

“Aw, come on, Rush!” Matthew bellowed from the side of the dance floor, with his mouthful of funnel cakes and his face coated in confectioner sugar. “You’ve been in love with this girl for as long as I can remember.” He chewed some more funnel cake and said, “Do I need to come over and show you what to do next?”

The growl that came out of Rush, the tinge of pink on his cheeks, and the shit-eating grin on Matthews’s sugar-covered face were all the validation I needed.

Before I could take matters into my own hands, he kissed me, his hands wandering and settling on my lower back. My knees grew weak. When I kissed him back, his smile grew, making it almost hard to kiss him how I wanted to. Then again, our whole town was watching, so I probably should save that kind of kiss for a less public moment.

He took a deep breath, let it out slowly, shifted his feet, and lowered his voice so only I could hear him, “Well, now it’s time to grant your grandmother’s final wish. The one thing she asked of me.”

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“She wanted me to grow a pair of balls and tell you how I feel about you.” He traced the side of my face with his thumb.

He left the opening, so I had to say, “So you still have your balls? I thought I shoved them back inside with a well-placed kick back in 8 th grade.”

He rolled his eyes at the predictable taunt but didn’t take the bait. “She said you could be as dense as cement?—”

I smacked his shoulder, and he grabbed my hand and laughed. “She said I needed to lay it out for you.”

He lowered his forehead to mine. “All the teasing, poking, and trouble I gave you were because I was frustrated. You always wanted Matthew’s attention, and no matter how hard I tried, I could never get you to see me.”

He kissed the tip of my nose, catching me off guard with the sweetness. “I was an immature asshole, and I can’t promise that I’ve completely grown out of it, but I am standing in front of half the town and before you, under the eight-foot effigy of your grandmother and…” He sighed and let his shoulders drop. “I’m in love with you. I’ve always been in love with you.”

I ran my hands over his rough stubble and felt my eyes burning again. The kiss I gave him was a bit more scandalous.

Hoots and hollering came from the crowd behind us.

His cousin yelled, “Okay, now that you’ve kissed her, take her home. Do I need to give you further instructions on what to do next?”

“Shut up, Matthew,” Rush said.

“I’m sure we can both figure it out,” I said, smiling so wide my cheeks hurt. We walked swiftly, and he turned me around and leaned me up against the side of his car, his body flush with mine. “Well, at least I can tell all the kicks to your groin didn’t have any lasting effect.”

“Get in the car, and I’ll prove it to you,” he said, kissing me again. “God, I don’t think I will ever get used to that,” he said in a low, rumbly voice.

“I hope you don’t,” I said, glancing over to the party now in full swing for my Grammy. “Maybe we should stick around for a while?”

“Sullivan, what are you still doing here? Take that woman home, get down on your knees and?—”

“Shut up, Vic!” he yelled before Vic could finish that sentence. His face pinkened up again. “This is a family event, for heaven’s sake.”

“I meant…” He slowed his words. “Get down on your knees and apologize for every rotten thing you’ve ever said about her.”

Rush lifted his eyebrow. “I could be down there for a while.”

“That’s okay; I’m sure I can think of a way for you to make it up to me,” I added.

That husky tone was back in his voice as his hands splayed over my ass. “Get. In. The truck.”

And…son-of-a-bitch, I did as he said.

We both had a lot of demands that night—bold, delicious, oh-so-wicked demands. And we had even more every night after that.

The End.