Free Pucker Up by Valerie Seimas Page A

mind.
     “So,
what are you doing here?” Peter asked as he steered her towards the house. 
    “Exactly
what I was about to ask.  What are you doing here?”  Dustin’s tone
couldn’t have been more different than his brother’s.
    “Oh,
uh, just passing through,” she murmured, casting a glance back at the lemon
tree where her car sat.
    “Just
our luck then,” Peter said.
    “Liar,”
Dustin murmured at the exact same time.
    “Coward
and liar in the first five minutes.  Maturity looks so good on you, Dustin.”
    “Ignore
him.  I usually do.  I have learned how to tune things out exceptionally well,”
Peter said.  “It’s the only way you can deal with all the teenagers.”
    “Well,
I know you’re not a pop singer, Mr. Tone Deaf, so what’s bringing all the
teenagers to your yard?”
    “My
milkshakes, of course.”  He winked at her, and she laughed again, this time not
from nervousness.  “Actually, I teach over at the high school.  Use sarcasm to educate
about bloody rebellions and dead white guys.”
    “You
became a teacher?  Really?”  Faith never would have guessed, but it made
perfect sense.  He’d always loved telling people what to do.
    “Yes,
really.  I may even oversee the debate team.”  He shook his head in amusement
as he opened the kitchen door for her to enter.  “I swear, only a world-famous
singer would think history teacher is a suspect career choice.”
    There
was a retort on Faith’s lips, but it vanished the minute she entered the
house.  Memories assaulted her again, ghosts of her past refusing to stay laid
to rest.  The furniture and appliances were different, but that inscrutable
sense of community and home still clung to them.  And the old oak table, a
wedding present from one lovesick teenager to another, dating all the way back
to the turn of the century, still greeting everyone that entered.  She used to
worry that her lemon tree paled in comparison.  “Just as I remembered.”
    Dustin
snorted behind her, and she jumped, forgetting anyone was there.  When she
allowed herself to remember, to feel, she was always alone.  The possible intimacy
of the day frightened her.  How the hell was she going to survive this?
    “Can
I offer you something to drink?” Peter asked, ever the host.
    She
hugged her purse to her side – she didn’t want to be hosted.  She felt Dustin’s
gaze on her and fought back the memories of this as her home, a place where she
could get her own damn drink.  “Lemonade would be lovely, thank you.”
    “That’s
something we don’t have,” Dustin growled.  He stalked past her and leaned
against the wall.
    “But
we do have some nice raspberry iced tea.  Would you like some of that?” Peter
asked, his smile tight as he glared at his brother.
    “Sure.”
    “Sit,
sit,” Peter commanded as he opened the fridge.  Faith ran her hands over the
back of the wood chair.  Sitting felt dangerous; prey never turned their back
to the predator, and leaving Dustin behind her seemed just as foolhardy.
    Peter
rolled his eyes at her still standing as he poured her drink.  “If you sit, you
can have one of the world-famous Andrews Apple Tarts.  Which, I know, go
absolutely perfectly with raspberry iced tea.  Just a thought.”
    Faith’s
mouth started salivating at his words; she remembered exactly how good those
tarts were.  She took a seat.  “So you use sarcasm and bribery to get
people to listen to you then, Mr. Andrews?”
    Peter
smirked.  “I have a few other secrets too.”  He placed the dishes in front of
her then took a seat across the table.
    Faith
took a bite and smiled.  “Your mother has not lost her touch.”
    “Mom
isn’t around to make them anymore,” Peter said, his smile a bit wistful. 
    “I’m
so sorry,” Faith said, meeting Peter’s eyes and then turning to catch Dustin’s.
    Dustin
held her gaze for the briefest moment before pushing off the wall and stalking
across the floor.  “I have to get