All Messed Up: Windy City Kink, Book 2 (10 page)

“That’s my suitcase,” she said, pointing to the basic black case that she’d tied a bright purple ribbon to. Dad hauled it off the belt and led the way out to the parking garage. Outside, she breathed in gentle air, scented with exhaust fumes, so different than the sharp wind in Denver and the crisp fall air in Chicago. Brakes screeched as a shuttle bus came to a halt and she blinked as she watched Joe climb on. Her bottom lip pushed out as she followed her parents through the crosswalk, and she bumped against a man coming the other way because her head was turned to watch where Joe had gone.

Forget him. God!

Her dad navigated the way out of LAX and the freeway system to Anaheim. Mallory sat in the back seat, blindly staring out at the familiar sights, still struggling to pay attention as her mom chattered on with news of family members and friends and what was happening at the church.

Inside the home she’d grown up in, the bungalow near the church her father had been minister of for nearly fifteen years, she gratefully accepted her mom’s offer to lie down for a while. She stripped out of the clothes she’d worn too long and happily slipped on clean underwear, a pair of knee-length fleece shorts and a T-shirt. And she did lie down on the bed.

She looked around the room that hadn’t been hers since she’d left for college at age eighteen. Thankfully, her mother had completely redecorated it, maybe somehow understanding that Mallory didn’t want to be reminded of what a clusterfuck her teenage years had been. This wasn’t the room of a young girl, but rather a comfortable adult guest room with taupe walls, clean white trim and hardwood floors. White wooden blinds on the window kept out the bright sunshine. A duvet patterned in shades of cream, mocha and sand covered the queen-size bed and a beige armchair sat in the corner with a floor lamp beside it. A simple dark wood dresser sat against one wall, with a matching end table beside the bed. A small basket of potpourri on the dresser gave off a subtle scent of berries, with a few magazines stacked beside it.

Okay. She’d come here to relax, to spend time with her parents, to have time to think over the problems that awaited her back in Chicago and hopefully make a decision about what she was going to do. She needed to start relaxing now.

But Joe’s image drifted in front of her and she closed her eyes, letting memories of his touch fill her head, and when she drifted off to sleep her dreams were full of him.

Chapter Ten

Joe hadn’t planned much for this trip beyond booking the flight. He had his father’s address and that was as far as he’d gotten. Once he had the rental car and a map, he started driving to the address entered in his phone, Santa Ana Avenue in the Belmont Shore neighborhood of Long Beach.

Even though it was Sunday afternoon, traffic was heavy on the freeways. Joe had to discipline his mind to pay attention to his driving and block out everything else, something he was well trained to do in crisis situations. He kept an eye out for the exit he needed to take and left the 405 for the quieter streets of Long Beach.

He’d been to Los Angeles a few times on vacation trips, but never to Long Beach, so it was all new to him. He studied his surroundings with interest, pulling over once to check his GPS on his phone to make sure he was going the right way.

Soon he was driving down Santa Ana looking for the house. He slowed as he passed it, a modest-looking bungalow covered with vines, fronted by a small yard. The street itself was quiet and well kept, cars parked along the curb on one side. He found a spot and parked, then sat there.

Maybe it would be better to find a hotel and a meal first. Yeah.

He was totally procrastinating, but whatever. He put the Chevrolet Malibu in gear and headed back toward a commercial district. Maybe down by the water would be a good place to stay. There’d probably be hotels there and if he’d come all the way to California, he wanted to see the ocean.

He cruised around and found a funky-looking place right by the harbor and when he went in to ask about a room, they had one for the next week. The price was a little steeper than he’d hoped, but he liked the look of it and wasn’t in a mood for checking out twenty different places. So his Visa card would get a little spanking. Although he liked to spend his money, he did have a decent savings account.

His room overlooked the boats in the bay and even had a small balcony. He couldn’t help but remember checking into another hotel room last night—with Mallory. He dropped to sit on the edge of the bed and stared at the floor. He was bummed about leaving her, which was fucking stupid.

He was also antsy about seeing his father. Christ. He tipped his head back and looked at the ceiling. What the hell was he doing here?

Well, he’d come this far. He glanced at the time on the small clock next to the bed. He’d find dinner somewhere and then get his shit together and go back to his father’s place and see if he was home.

He changed into a clean pair of jeans and a blue-and-white checked shirt that he left loose, the cuffs turned back a couple of times, then grabbed wallet and phone and keys and headed back out. The restaurant in the hotel looked nice but he didn’t feel like sitting all alone in a formal dining room, so he left the hotel and wandered to the waterfront.

He found a little burger place called Blue’s Beach House and stepped inside. It was surfer cool and casual, with long boards on the wall and lots of marine artifacts. A big screen television blasted MTV.

He ordered a burger and fries and a Coke, and took the little numbered sign they gave him to a wooden table in a back corner. He watched the music videos while he waited, trying to keep his mind from going back to Mallory.

Her dad was a minister? Holy fuck. He had no idea why that freaked him out, but it kinda did when he thought about the kinky things they’d done. Although seriously, it had all been pretty mild kink. But it still made him gulp.

And still made him hard. Jesus.

A teenage girl brought him his Coke, and he flashed a smile as he reached for it, grateful for the icy beverage. She gave him a flirty smile back. God. He resisted the urge to roll his eyes. She was, like, sixteen.

When his food arrived and he started to eat, he paused in amazement. Holy shit, this was the best burger he’d ever had. He’d totally lucked out finding this place, but for sure he’d be back. He devoured the thick, juicy burger and crisp fries, and sucked back his Coke.

Time to roll.

He paused outside. The sun was setting now, lights coming on over the water. He could see the hulking shape of the Queen Mary lit up. Maybe he’d go check that out while he was here.

Hell, maybe he’d go to Disneyland.

He had no fucking clue what he was going to do there all week. His life felt all tossed up in the air and he wasn’t sure where all the pieces were going to land. He’d tried not to think too much about what it all meant, but he knew he was going to have to. Wasn’t that why he was there?

He slid into the car and lowered the window, the evening air fresh and cooler now, carrying the briny scent of the ocean. And once again he drove to Santa Ana Avenue and found his father’s house.

He parked on the street beneath a big palm tree. His palms grew damp and the food he’d just eaten turned to a rock in his gut. He swallowed. Okay. This was it.

He walked up the short sidewalk, climbed the three shallow cement steps to the front door and rang the bell. He heard it inside the house. A dog immediately began barking ferociously, the sound getting louder as the dog apparently charged at the door. His eyebrows rose. He wasn’t afraid, he loved dogs, but this one was definitely loud.

“Quiet, Kenny!” A male voice spoke with authority. “Sit!”

The door opened and Joe stared at the man he’d never before seen.

It was nice being home. Mallory had managed to sleep for a little while, then dragged herself out to the kitchen where her mom was making dinner.

“You’re awake,” Mom said, busy slicing up chicken breasts. “Feel better?”

“Sort of.”

Mom gave her a sideways look. “Have a seat.” She gestured at the stools beside the island.

Mallory slid onto one. “Can I help with something?”

“Sure. I’m making a stir fry. You can cut up some of the veggies.” She pushed a cutting board toward Mallory with a red pepper, a few large carrots and an onion on it. Mallory reached for a big knife.

“Have these been washed?”

“Yes, they have.”

Mallory began to work on the pepper. “Where’s Dad?”

“In his office. He got a call from one of the elders at the church.”

“Ah.”

“So,” Mom said. “When are you going to tell us what’s wrong?”

Mallory gave her mom a crooked smile. “What makes you think something’s wrong?”

Mom paused and smiled too. “You look like hell, sweetie. And you haven’t been to visit for quite a while. What’s prompted this?” Her eyes shadowed and her eyebrows pulled down. “Is this about a man?”

The question made Mallory’s insides cramp. Of course her mom would jump to that conclusion. After what she’d been like in high school and what had happened. The funny thing was, it wasn’t about a man. At all. Except when Mom asked that question, Mallory’s thoughts of course flew immediately to Joe.

She swallowed a sigh.

“No, Mom, it’s not about a man.” She tried to keep her voice from sounding snappish and defensive. “I’ve been kind of stressed at work, and I decided to take a week off and come home and relax a little. In sunny California.”

“Stressed at work.” Her mom’s eyes studied her face. “And it’s not…it’s got nothing to do with a man.”

“Jesus. Do you think I had an affair with my boss or something?”

“You’re taking the Lord’s name in vain.”

Mallory shook her head, smiling. Her mom could swear like a sailor, but somehow managed to control herself when she was talking to members of the church who wouldn’t appreciate that. Funnily enough, there were a lot of members who actually liked it that her parents were so down to earth—swearing, making dirty jokes and talking about sex. They were just people, after all. Her dad had spent half his life not even believing in God.

“And that’s not what I was thinking,” Mom added.

“Sure it was. It totally was.” Now Mallory did let the sigh escape her. “But that’s not it.”

“So no man in your life?”

“No.” Besides Joe. But he wasn’t in her life. He was just a crazy stuck-in-the-airport-when-your-flight-is-delayed fling.

“What happened with Michael? I thought you really liked him. He seemed perfect for you.” They’d met him once.

“I did like him. But…” It was hard to explain to her mother what had gone wrong with Michael when she wasn’t even sure herself. All she knew was that she was bored but she couldn’t even say why. “It just wasn’t working.”

“A lawyer would be a good husband.”

“Mom! How can you say something like that? A lawyer could also be a wife beater.”

Mom made a face. “True. Sorry. I just meant…never mind.”

“I know what you meant. I’m sorry too.”

Her parents wanted a nice, stable relationship for her, and she knew that they’d been disappointed when she broke up with Michael.

Mallory pushed aside the strips of red pepper she’d sliced up and reached for the onion. “How should I cut this? Rings?”

“Half rings.”

They chatted as they cooked, until dinner was nearly ready and Dad made an appearance in the kitchen. He’d changed into a pair of black sweat pants and gray sweatshirt, and Mallory smiled to think that earlier that day he’d been wearing a robe and standing in front of the congregation of St. Andrew Presbyterian Church delivering a sermon. Indeed, her father was just a man—a husband, a father, a man who had a job that involved looking after a lot of people. That was how it had always seemed to her. Like every father, he’d helped her with homework, come to her ballet and piano recitals and taken her to the beach. His job was his job and although he definitely felt a calling, he didn’t preach that to everyone in the world. He was smart and had a sense of humor and was known to tell the odd dirty joke. She loved him and when she thought about what she’d put him through as a teenager, her heart ached.

“I’m starving,” he said, opening the fridge. “Who wants a glass of wine?”

“I do,” Mallory said fervently.

“I’ll have one too, hon,” Mom said.

Dad found a bottle of wine and busied himself with a corkscrew opening it. “Did you sleep, sweetie?” he asked.

“I did.” Mallory accepted the glass of wine from him. “I’m still tired though.”

“She has problems at work,” Mom interjected. “We were waiting for you so she can tell us both.”

Dad nodded, unperturbed. While Mom was a worrier and let her mind jump ahead to worst-case scenarios, Dad was laid back and easygoing. What was beyond his control was not something he was going to get his ecclesiastical robes in a knot over. “She can tell us over dinner,” he said. “Or later, if she wants.” He shot her a shrewd but warm look, and she sent him a grateful smile.

“It’s nice to be home,” she murmured. “Maybe later, if that’s okay.”

Or maybe never. She still wasn’t sure if she was going to ask her parents for advice…or forgiveness.

Joe shoved his hands into his jeans pockets and strove for a casual smile when what he really wanted to do was turn and run. What the fuck was he doing there? “Hi,” he said. “Tim Hayden?”

“Yes.” The older man gave him a quizzical look. He was about the same height as Joe, maybe an inch shorter, with thinning, close-cropped gray hair and rectangular glasses. He wore a sweatshirt and cargo shorts.

Joe sucked in a breath. “I’m Joe Mason.” He waited.

Tim’s head tilted and his eyebrows pinched as he obviously tried to figure out what that meant. “I’m sorry…” he began.

Joe tightened his jaw. “I’m Jennifer Mason’s son.”

Tim’s eyes widened. “Jennifer’s…son.” He blinked. His eyes went narrow. Time stretched out into something thin and brittle, and Joe watched him processing. “What are you doing here? Is something…is Jennifer okay?”

“Yeah.” So Tim knew who he was talking about. “She’s fine. More or less.”

“I don’t understand…”

“Maybe I could come in?” Joe asked, still trying for casual, not liking how his voice was low and a little rough.

“Uh…sure. I guess.” Tim stepped aside. Joe walked into the house.

Inside it was much bigger than it appeared from the front. Hardwood floors reflected sun pouring in the windows. A cream leather couch sat in front of a fireplace flanked by built-in bookcases. The room was neat and clean, but through a set of French doors Joe could see another room where newspapers were spread out on a low table. To the right of the living room was a small dining room with a table and chairs, again tidy.

“Have a seat.” Tim gestured at the couch and Joe took a seat. He studied Tim, helplessly looking for anything that resembled…him.

“Thanks. I’m sorry to drop in on you out of the blue like this. I…” He cleared his throat.

“You’ll excuse me if I’m a little confused,” Tim said slowly. “I haven’t seen Jennifer for a long time.” He squinted a little as he sat on one of the chairs, not relaxing into it but remaining on the edge. “So you’re her son…she had two boys, right?”

“Three, actually. Mitch and Jamie are my two older brothers.” Joe watched Tim’s face carefully. “Jamie’s thirty-two, Mitch nearly thirty-four.”

Tim nodded, forehead still creased. “Did your mom tell you we were friends? Is that why you’re here?”

“Yeah. She told me.” Joe swallowed. “About a week ago. She actually told me you were…more than friends.”

Tim drew back. His mouth tightened a little. “Oh.”

Joe slicked his tongue over his bottom lip. “She told me…you two had an affair. Thirty years ago. A little over thirty years ago, I guess.”

Tim shook his head slowly, staring at Joe. “It wasn’t an affair.”

Joe’s jaw tightened. “No?” Was this guy going to deny it?

Tim looked down at his hands. “No. It wasn’t just an affair. I loved your mother.”

“She was married.” Joe’s tone went hard.

“Yes.” Joe caught the flicker of what might have been pain in the other man’s eyes. “How much did she tell you?”

Joe bent his head. He cleared his throat to ease the constriction. “She said the same thing. That you were the love of her life. That she married…” His esophagus closed up. “She married my dad because she thought things wouldn’t work between you two. You had some kind of falling out. But she never got over you. She said she came here to visit you once. That was when the affair happened.”