Just Like That: Chapter 9

“Now remember”—I crouched to straighten Teddy’s already perfectly straight tie, a bolo tie this time—“just be polite, and if the food sucks, I’ll get you something later . . . you don’t have to tell someone their cooking is trash.”

Teddy’s lips twisted. “That was one time.”

I squeezed his shoulder and stood tall. Some deep yet untapped maternal instinct inside me wanted to ruffle his hair and pull him in for a hug, but I held back. My relationship with Teddy was still finding its footing, and I didn’t want to push him too hard or make him think that I was trying to replace his mother in any way.

Like when you kissed the father of her child.

Guilt racked me. I still hadn’t figured out what came over me. Maybe it was the way he quietly listened to me talk about Olive. Maybe it was remembering the sweet interaction he’d had with Teddy. Hell, maybe it was as simple as how ridiculously hot he looked without a shirt on.

Whatever it was, I’d officially lost my damn mind. I could hardly think about anything other than how, instead of pushing me away, he’d leaned in and fisted my nightgown as he deepened the kiss. He’d taken control in a way that was wholly unexpected and brutally hot.

I squeezed my thighs together and shoved the memory into a little box in my mind where I could take it out and use it to get off when I was sad and lonely.

Again.

I squinted up at the house numbers that matched the address Lark had given me for her aunt Tootie’s place. My knuckles rapped at the front door of the large farmhouse. The massive wraparound porch was stylishly decorated with plush seating and cozy nooks for enjoying iced tea on hot summer days. The large windows with tall shutters gleamed, and I sighed at how gorgeous the home was.

As a fellow influencer, I’d watched Kate Miller renovate her aunt’s farmhouse with her now-husband. It truly was a work of art. During the renovation, Kate’s Instagram had blown up, and she and her husband, Beckett, even had their own television show now. A flutter of nervous butterflies tickled my belly.

Keep it cool. Casual.

The front door to the farmhouse opened, and Sylvie answered with a smile and an adorable little boy on her hip.

“Hi! Come on in.” She shifted, allowing space for us to enter. “Lark mentioned you might stop by. We’re glad you could make it!”

Inside, the farmhouse was an open concept with the living room to the left and a gorgeous kitchen with a huge island to the right. From the back of the kitchen, a man walked through a doorway. He was tall and imposing with dark brows and a scowl. The little boy on Sylvie’s hip lit up as soon as he walked in, and the man’s face softened.

“I can take him,” the man said, already reaching for the little boy.

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Sylvie smiled, handing the young boy over. “Thank you. Duke, this is Hazel. Hazel, my husband, Duke, and our son, Gus.”

I offered a polite wave and smile. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. This is my nephew Teddy.”

Duke nodded. “Nice to meet you. I’m going to head down unless you need anything?”

Sylvie beamed at her husband. “All good here.” She turned to Teddy. “Duke is going down to the speakeasy. Would you like to go with and see the secret entrance? Penny is already down there.”

Teddy looked up at me.

I nodded and smiled. “Go on if you want to.”

With a shy smile, Teddy followed Duke to the back of the house. As they disappeared around a corner, I heard Duke say, “I like that tie, man.” I bit back a smile.

“I should formally introduce myself.” She stuck out her hand. “I’m Sylvie Sullivan, formally King. I’m JP’s sister.”

I shook her hand and smiled. “Nice to officially meet you. I never had the chance to thank you for your help when Teddy wandered off.”

She swatted the air between us. “Oh, it’s nothing.” She turned to follow Duke. “Come on. We’re having drinks in the speakeasy, and then we’ll enjoy dinner out on the back patio if the weather cooperates.”

Through the gloriously renovated home, I soaked in every detail. The doorway opened to a large mudroom at the back of the house. The floors were made of a weathered brick, and there was a bench just inside the door. There were hooks for hanging jackets and beautifully painted cabinets. It amazed me that no amount of television or pictures could truly show the craftsmanship of the house.

In the floor, a trapdoor was propped open. We walked to the edge and I peered in. Voices and jazzy music floated up the stairs.

“Pretty cool, right?” Sylvie could practically read my mind. “When Kate and Beckett were renovating this place for Tootie, they found it. We don’t know how long it had been forgotten, but it’s strange to think it had been there all the time.”

In awe, I followed Sylvie down. Sconces illuminated the path downstairs, and though the stairwell was narrow, it opened to a large space beneath the house. A huge oak bar was along one wall. An ornate mirror was behind the bar, and several framed photographs were beside it.

Teddy and Penny were sipping fizzy drinks with maraschino cherries while Duke propped Gus higher on his hip. At one of the stools, Lark smiled at the man mixing drinks behind the bar.

She turned to me. “Glad you could make it!” She gestured to the man who had held her attention. “Wyatt is mixing up bourbon lemonades if you want one. Regular lemonade for us lightweights.” She ran a hand over her belly with a laugh.

I stepped forward. “I guess I’ll try the bourbon one.”

“Coming up.” Wyatt smiled and started mixing. I turned in a circle to take in the speakeasy. Beneath the earth, it should have felt cramped and dingy, but instead it was rustic and spacious. In my bones, I could feel the presence of everyone who’d come before me. It was a place steeped in history, where secrets were whispered and plans were conspired.

I leaned in to look at the framed photographs on the wall. One in particular caught my eye. It was a picture of two men and a woman. All three were smiling and dressed to the nines in clothes that reminded me of the 1920s. The two men wore dark pants and dress shoes. One had on a dark tie, loosened at the neck, while the other wore a light, collared knit shirt with the top two buttons undone. The woman was in a dainty floral print dress and heels. Her hands were on her hips, and she was captured mid-laugh.

Lark sighed next to me. “I love that photograph.”

“Who were they?” I asked. My eyes were pinned to the man on the right. If you squinted hard enough, he’d be a dead ringer for JP.

“That’s Philo Sullivan, Helen Sinclair, and James King.” When I glanced at her, Lark’s eyebrows waggled. “They were all bootleggers together. Philo and Helen married and left the business. James took it hard, and he teamed up with Helen’s brother to stir up trouble.”

“More than trouble,” Wyatt scoffed as he slid a drink in front of me.

I picked it up and saluted him in thanks before taking a tiny sip. It was sweet and tart with just the right amount of kick from the bourbon.

Wyatt wiped down the bar top. “A long-standing feud. Years and years of Sullivans and Kings being rivals.”

“And it started with these three?” I asked, utterly intrigued.

“It’s where it started,” Sylvie said as she climbed onto a stool next to Lark. She lifted a shoulder. “But, unfortunately, my dad made it infinitely worse.”

Duke clamped a hand at the base of her neck in a show of affection and solemn support. He gazed down at his wife. “But it ended with us.”

Pride and love were evident in his voice. Poets could write epic tomes based on how Duke looked at his wife, and they still wouldn’t measure up. A lump formed in my throat.

“And now look at us.” Lark raised her lemonade. “Sullivans and Kings celebrating the end of summer with a barbecue and babies. Speaking of Kings”—Lark looked at me—“did JP decide not to show?”

My mouth opened and closed.

Was I supposed to know? Did parking in his driveway and accidentally kissing him mean I was supposed to keep tabs on him?

Sylvie snorted. “Oh, I doubt he’ll come. JP doesn’t really do family.”

My brows scrunched. “What do you mean he doesn’t do family?”

Sylvie’s smile slowly melted. She swallowed and tried to smooth things over. “Well”—she gestured toward Teddy, who was giggling with Penny—“maybe things have changed.”

My molars pressed together, and I swallowed past the burn in my throat.

Even his siblings didn’t think very highly of him.

Fantastic.

An awkward silence yawned and filled the room.

A nervous laugh tittered from my throat as I suddenly felt like a fool for accepting Lark’s invitation. “The speakeasy really is very cool. You’d never know something with so much character was down here.”

Thankfully Lark understood my sudden turn in conversation. Her hands tapped a rhythm on the smooth oak bar top. “Kate and Beckett spruced it up. We have no idea how long it had been hidden away, but it was forgotten for a long time.”

Sylvie’s brown eyes locked with mine in a soft, knowing look. “It’s amazing what you can uncover if you look beneath the surface.” She turned to the kids. “Okay, who’s hungry?”

By the time dinner was served, voices overlapped and my head was spinning. On the back patio of the farmhouse, two long tables were nestled under a wood pergola. More of JP’s siblings showed up. I was introduced to his oldest brother Abel, his wife, and their twins. Royal and his girlfriend, Veda, had arrived just in time to eat. Burgers and hot dogs were cooked on the grill, and after everyone had eaten, the kids took to chasing Tootie’s chickens in the yard.

Despite the feud everyone loved to talk about, Kings and Sullivans were intermixed at the tables, reaching over one another and generally having a relaxed and pleasant time.

I stood in awe on the outskirts, a quiet onlooker soaking it all in. I’d never been a part of a large family, let alone one as big as that one. From the corner of my eye, a huge rooster pecked at the grass.

“Watch out for that one,” Beckett called to me. He pointed a long skewer with a marshmallow at the tip in the rooster’s direction. “That one’s a son of a bitch.”

Kate’s laugh rang out, and they were folded into the conversation about the perfect marshmallow toastiness. Movement at the corner of the yard, near the driveway, caught my attention.

My heart pounded as I saw JP standing at the edge of the lawn. He was frowning, because of course he was, but he also looked a little lost. He was dressed in jeans and a fitted navy T-shirt. The fabric strained against his muscular chest and hung closely to his trim hips. My jaw went slack at the way he effortlessly pulled off the casual look.

In his hands was a pie box. His eyes scanned the crowd, but JP didn’t attempt to join the group. Instead, he clung to the outskirts, quietly observing and seemingly unsure of himself. It was jarring to see his cocky facade falter.

It dawned on me that he was an outsider amid his own family, and my heart ached for him.

Our eyes locked, and when the corner of his mouth lifted, my heart flopped over. His subtle shrug was enough to melt my insides to goo. I shook my head and hid my smile behind a sip of lemonade before starting off in his direction.

I stood in front of him and looked up. “Hi.”

His eyes flicked to my mouth and back up again. “Hi.”

“What are you doing here?” I asked.

His eyes narrowed. “I could ask you the same thing. It’s my family after all.”

I playfully shrugged and took an exaggerated sip of my drink. “I was invited. Were you?”

He chuckled. “Ouch.”

I leaned over to look through the clear plastic top of the box in his hands. “Cherry? Classic choice.”

He tsked. “Strawberry rhubarb. It’s MJ’s favorite.” He flicked his finger through the bottom strands of my long hair. “It also kind of looks like a certain strawberry blonde I know too.”

A flutter danced across my chest. It was surprising to hear that JP might be considerate after all.

Had he lost as much sleep as I had last night?

“Is Teddy having fun?” he asked as he watched the kids squeal across the far end of the lawn.

I laughed. “A ball. More kids showed up too. Apparently Penny was telling them about how a chicken named Henrietta and something called a Beakface had a little romance. There are new chicks in the henhouse. I think he’s half in love with Penny already.”

JP chuckled. “He needs to be careful with the wild ones. They’ll put you under a spell.”

His eyes glittered, and I wondered if his spell reference was intentional after he’d called me a witch.

Unsure of what to say, I cleared my throat. Behind me, I heard Royal call out: “Look who decided to grace us with his presence!”

JP scoffed and shook his head. As he walked past me, he lowered his voice. “Wish me luck.”

I watched in awe as he sauntered up to the group. Gone was the unsure boy on the outskirts, and in his place stood a man full of swagger and confidence. He greeted his siblings and their spouses along with the rest of the Sullivans.

JP offered a polite nod to the Sullivans’ aunt Tootie, then bent down and placed a soft kiss on his aunt Bug’s cheek.

“Don’t wait around for us to start playing trumpets, sit down already.” Bug fussed with her napkin, but when he pulled back a chair to sit next to her, she smiled.

It comforted me to know I wasn’t the only one there who felt like a bit of an interloper. There was something fascinating about the Sullivans and the Kings, and the mystery only deepened when Duke leaned forward.

He looked over his shoulder, seemingly content that the kids were out of earshot. “We’ve got news about the lake.”

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