Chapter 9

Two days later, Lara woke up to the scent of cinnamon pancakes enveloping her.

She kept her eyes closed, burrowing further into her pillow and enjoying the sounds of sizzling oil and softly clinking pans on the stovetop—until she remembered she was in her own apartment, where the stove was only used for making grilled cheese sandwiches.

Her eyes flew open, and she sprang up from the couch where she had been sleeping. In the kitchen, Lara’s mother was whipping up what smelled like the best damn breakfast Lara would have had in weeks.

“Mmm, smells good,” Lara said, her voice scratchy and garbled with sleep.

Her mother glanced over her shoulder, laughing and wielding her spatula like the expert she was. “Good morning, sweetheart. Did you sleep all right?”

Lara gathered her blanket around her and shuffled over to her mother, peeking at the smoking pans on the stove. She didn’t even remember having more than one pan. “You should have woken me up to help.” She reached for a piece of bacon hanging off the draining rack.

Her mother’s raised eyebrow was offensively skeptical as she shooed Lara’s hand away. “You need your rest. All those long hours at the hospital and then driving your father and me around yesterday—”

“It wasn’t a big deal, Ma. We just went to the park and then out for ice cream,” Lara said, rolling her eyes and making another attempt at that piece of bacon. “You guys are the ones who drove four hundred kilometers.”

Her mother swatted her hand. “Don’t you sass me.” She hip-checked Lara away. “Go wash up. Your daddy should be back soon.”

“Where’d he go?” Lara poked her head into the bedroom to see her bed empty—and made far neater than she could ever manage.

“Bakery over across the street for some fresh bread,” her mother explained as she tossed the final pancake onto the platter with the others.

“But I have bread and bagels in the freezer—”

“Well, I wanted something special,” her mother said, mimicking Lara’s tone with a teasing smile and hands on her hips.

Lara would be lying if she said it wasn’t like looking in a mirror. “I could have gone,” she countered, taking the same battle stance her mother had. “You guys are my guests.”

“We are not your guests; we are your parents.” Her tone was inarguably definitive as she turned off all the burners. “And what did I say about sassing me?”

Giving her mother her best puppy dog pout, Lara padded to the washroom, muttering a demure, “Yes, Mama.” Next thing she knew, a kitchen towel had snapped loudly against her backside, and she was forced to brush her teeth to the tune of her mother’s laughter.

It was strange having her parents in her little apartment, where she had been trying to learn what it meant to be independent. She was fighting like hell to keep from slipping back into the role of their little girl, but they made standing on her own two feet damn near impossible.

Lara had intended to host them, though she had never been the Suzie Homemaker her mother naturally was. Yet, her mother seemed determined to undermine that at every opportunity—like now, whipping up a perfect meal after being here for all of fifteen minutes.

Then there was her father, a full-time Mr. Fix-It. The doors on the cupboard she had built with her own blood, sweat, and tears hung unevenly, so he re-screwed them all. The bathroom faucet she had replaced dripped once every two hours, so he completely redid her repairs.

And no matter how loudly Lara protested, the two of them went on trying to take care of her, as if she would never be anything other than their little girl—always their responsibility.

Having them around made her realize how much she had been missing them, but there had to be some kind of balance.

Wherever that was, Lara could not seem to get a handle on it.

***

“Y’all ready to go?” Lara’s father had his large, calloused hands over his eyes as he stuck his head into her bedroom. “I’m ready to dip my toes into some city water.” He grinned wide and wiggled his digits in his flip-flops.

“Sure am,” her mother said, bouncing her hip against his as she shuffled past him to get into the bedroom. “Just need a little perfume.”

“It’s a pool, Mama, you don’t need—”

If anyone had mastered a look that screamed, “Shut up,” it was her mother; Lara had been well and truly silenced.

As her mother sashayed past her father in a black halter-style one-piece and a ridiculous sun hat, he whistled appreciatively. Lara wasn’t sure if she found it cute or gross—probably a mix of the two.

“Ready!” Lara announced, shoving her sunscreen in a big tote bag.

Her parents followed her into the hall like little ducklings until they broke loose while she locked up.

“Good afternoon,” her mother said in her most polite voice, no doubt trying to charm a “city slicker.”

Lara smiled to herself; her parents still had a heavy twang to their words that she missed hearing. It sounded so comforting amid the flat accents of most people in the city.

“Hello.”

At the familiar sound of that deep, smooth voice, Lara’s spine went ramrod straight. Slowly, terrified of what she would see, she turned her head to witness the handshake between Zavien, the absolute bane of her existence and constant thorn in her side, and her mother.

Lara’s focus then jumped up to his eyes and—

~Oh, shit, he’s hot.~

Zavien’s face was fully exposed, and Lara had not been prepared for it.

“You must be Lara’s sister,” he said to her mother, his smile lopsided and easy as his full lips stretched over pearly whites. His gaze slid from her mother’s face down the hall to Lara. He winked at her, and her knees nearly buckled.

It seemed her mother was having a similar reaction, looking two seconds away from swooning. “Oh, well, you know, flattery will get you everywhere,” she teased, being the absolute ham that she was. “I’m Lara’s mother, Melinda. This is my husband, Kirk.”

“Pleasure to meet you, sir.” Zavien dipped his head as he shook her father’s hand.

Two firm shakes—the key to a good impression with her father—and he had nailed it.

~What the hell is going on here?~

“You two friends?” her father asked gruffly.

Zavien’s oh-so-charming smile turned toward Lara.

She was suddenly very aware of her green triangle bikini top with little daisies embroidered all over it and really wished she had chosen one of her more mature suits.

“Neighbors,” he corrected. “We’re still getting to know one another. She’s a very busy woman, your daughter.”

Lara’s mother cooed under the praise. “That’s our Lara-Bean.”

Lara wanted to crawl under a rock. “We should get going,” she blurted, trying to corral her parents toward the elevators.

“Oh, yes,” her mother said, smoothing her hands over the long black skirt she was wearing. “It was lovely meeting you…”

“Zavien Crane. The pleasure was all mine,” he said. “I hope we’ll meet again.”

“Why, thank you, Mr. Crane. You as well.” Her mother preened under Zavien’s attention, and Lara couldn’t even blame her.

She hadn’t known he could be so charming. Lord knew he never aimed those charms at her.

“Well, you take care, now,” her father said curtly, with a polite but firm nod goodbye, taking her mother by the waist and leading her away.

Lara trailed after them, eyeing Zavien suspiciously as she passed him.

His smile widened as his head domed toward her. “Green suits you,” he said softly, just loud enough for her to hear.

Between his lobotomizing smile and the complete one-eighty in his personality, Lara was too dumbfounded to speak.

Then, louder, before she turned the corner behind her parents, he called, “See you soon, Miss Hendry,” sending a shiver down her spine.

~Why did that sound like a threat?~