Conception (The Wellingtons, #4) Read online

  So maybe Sunny’s right. Perhaps a summer fling is just what the doctor ordered.

  “Enough about me. Tell me how you and Joe happened. Last thing I remember is you cursing his name after he stole our clothes that night we went skinny-dipping.”

  A faint blush creeps onto her cheeks. I’ve never in my life seen Sunny Mayfield blush, so I turn around, wincing as she yanks on my hair, and grin at my best friend.

  “Are you blushing?” I tease.

  She lets out a groan. “Ugh, he’s so annoying! Why’d you have to remind me of that night? Remember how terrified we were that your dad was going to catch us not only sneaking in, but naked?” She immediately shuts her mouth; then her expression falls. “I’m sorry, Amelia, I wasn’t thinking.”

  I take her hand and squeeze it tight. “It’s fine. I promise. It gets a little easier every year. I’m sorry for abandoning you the past four summers. I thought it would be better to stay away. Thought it’d hurt too much coming back here, but the truth is tonight has already been one of the best nights, and I have you to thank for it.”

  “I’d throw my arms around you and hug you to pieces, but I don’t want to mess up your hair. So I’ll just smile and say I know it’s not just me you have to thank. Also the gorgeous James Dean lookalike whose eyes were feasting on you all night.”

  Now it’s my turn to blush. “James Dean? See, I was thinking more of a young Clint Eastwood. Same piercing eyes, just without the mole.”

  “We’re as bad as the guys,” Sunny says, and I burst into a fit of giggles.

  “I wonder what Bond girl Joe would say you remind him of. I’ll have to ask. Speaking of, you still haven’t told me how you two got together. Spill!”

  Her eyes soften, her fingers toying with the edge of her nightgown. “It was the first summer after the accident. Grandma sprained her wrist, so I took over cleaning for about a month or so. The first time I walked into the house, I don’t know. It was eerie. The walls seemed to close in on me, so I rushed outside for some fresh air only to find Joe standing on the porch. Apparently, he overheard Grandma telling his mom that I was here, and he came to check on me. It surprised me to see him standing there, all big and handsome and annoying. He came to see if I was okay. And that’s when it clicked. That’s when I knew I loved Joe—and probably had my entire life. So I immediately burst into tears. I don’t know if it was from being at the house or the sudden overwhelming things I was feeling. But Joe took me into his arms, wiped my tears away, and told me he loved me.”

  She pauses, sucking in her lower lip and nibbling. “And then we had sex in your bed.”

  My mouth drops open, and I imagine that my eyes are as wide as saucers. That sweet story took a left turn pretty damn fast. “You had sex in my bed? The first time you slept with Joe?!”

  “I’m sorry! One thing led to another and then it just kind of happened.” She’s all starry-eyed, as if she’s picturing the moment right now. “It was amazing. The best. And well, we’ve been together ever since.”

  “Did you at least wash my sheets?”

  “Of course! Or, well, maybe Grandma did,” she says, her expression sheepish.

  I grab a pillow and hit her with it. “Sunny Mayfield, you did not make your grandma wash your sex sheets!”

  “I’m kidding! And I promise, after that one time, we never did it here again.”

  “You know what? If I fool around with Knox this summer, I’m going to find a way to do it in your bed,” I tease.

  She gives me a coy smile. “Yeah, but Joe and I have already done it there plenty of times… And I’ll let you in a little secret. Carpet burns from the felt on a pool table are so worth it. Screwing in the lake? Not so much. On the shore is a toss-up depending on how you feel about washing sand out of your vagina for days on end. The best place though? The back of Joe’s pickup. Underneath the stars, a couple of wine coolers, and a blanket are all you need to have the most romantic night of your life.”

  “Good lord, Sunny! Is there any place in Crystal Cove that’s not been spoiled by the two of you?”

  “I’m sure there’s a cave somewhere out in the mountains we’ve left untouched,” she says, giving me a wink that probably means that, no, there isn’t a single place in the county she and Joe haven’t christened.

  Here’s to hoping Knox has a pickup of his own.

  We banter back and forth a bit more until we’re both yawning. Then I switch the light off and stare up at the ceiling, a bead of sweat rolling down my forehead.

  “How long do you think this heat wave’s going to last?” I ask.

  “They’re saying it could last for weeks. Who knows. I’m only glad some genius somewhere had the foresight to invent air-conditioning.”

  “No kiddin’.”

  Sunny’s hand finds mine in the dark, and she squeezes it twice. “I’m glad you’re home, Meems.”

  I almost have to laugh, because for the first time in four years, I remember how much this place felt like home, and I’m wishing I hadn’t stayed away so long.

  “Me, too, Sunny. Me too.”

  Joe and Sam show up for breakfast at the ungodly hour of nine o’clock. Sunny and I are still in bed, so naturally, we’re awakened by a 180-pound adult teddy bear jumping on top of us.

  I’m about to freak out when I hear Sunny’s amused voice mixed with both laughter and annoyance.

  “Joe! What are you doing?” she squeals.

  What he does next is shower her face with kisses, telling her sleepy head to wake up. I roll out of bed and place my hand on my hips, glowering down at the both of them now tangled in my sheets.

  “You are not having sex in my bed again!” I shriek.

  The movement in the bed instantly stops, and Sam’s face peeks around the corner. “Dude, you guys had sex in her bed? Not cool. Not cool at all.”

  Joe’s head comes out from under the sheet. “Damn, Sunny. Why’d you have to tell her?”

  “Girl talk. Alcohol. It just came out,” she grumbles. “Why are you here so early?”

  “I missed my morning sunrise.”

  Sam and I groan in unison.

  “You know what?” I say. “You can have sex in my bed if it’ll get you to stop being such a cheese ball.”

  When I glance towards Sam, I realize he’s staring at me. Not at my face, but at the nearly sheen peach nightgown I went to bed in. The one with nothing underneath.

  “Lookin’ good, Amelia. Bangin’ for sure. You’ve filled out since high school. In all the right places,” he emphasizes, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively.

  “Sam!” Sunny and I screech collectively.

  “God dammit, Sam. Why ya gotta go and make it creepy? Plus, did you see the dude she was makin’ eyes at last night? You don’t stand a chance.”

  Sam holds his hands up, his gaze rising to finally meet my eyes. “Hey, man. No offense intended. Just sayin’. Can’t a guy compliment a lady?”

  Well, since he practically saw me naked, I might as well embrace it. “Thank you, Sam. I’ve recently taken up Pilates.”

  His nose wrinkles. “What the hell are Pilates?”

  Sunny groans and pushes Joe off the bed. “Both of you out while we make ourselves decent.”

  “But, Sunnybear, you know I hate it when you’re decent.”

  “Ugh, Joe, get out of my room before I kick you in the nads!” I threaten.

  He grins, placing his hands over his balls. “Gotta keep these bad boys safe so I can have little balls of sunshine running around some day.”

  Before Sunny can throw a pillow at him, he hightails it out of the room, with Sam close behind.

  “He’s so annoying. And handsome. And sweet.”

  “Please, Sunny, gush some more about your annoyingly sweet, handsome boyfriend. You poor, poor thing.” My sarcasm does nothing to remove the dreamy expression from her face, so I snap my fingers, bringing her out of it.

  Her eyes blink before she refocuses her gaze on me. “All right, Amelia. I don’t
have to be at the bar until six tonight. What do you say we round up some breakfast, put on tiny bikinis, and spend the day trying not to melt in the summer sun? Perhaps we’ll meet a new friend along the way.”

  “It’s not like he knows where I live,” I retort.

  Except I realize it’s a lie. He knows exactly where to find me. Not that I tell Sunny that.

  “Honey, Crystal Cove isn’t that big. He wants to find you? He will. And something tells me the boy really, really wants to find you.” Her eyes light up in a way that kind of scares me. “And if he comes callin’, you’ve got to make him drool. What kind of suit did you bring?”

  I cross to my dresser drawers and remove one of several modest one-piece bathing suits.

  Sunny groans when she sees them. “Amelia, darlin’, I love you, but trust me on this. That city hunk is miles above Robert. Not that you can’t on your own, but girl, you gotta knock him off his ass. Wow his socks off. Make his pleasure pump stand at attention and salute at the sight of you.”

  I roll my eyes. “Oh my god, I get it. What’s wrong with those suits? He liked me well enough in my Daisys last night.”

  She’s shaking her head, and I already know I’m going to lose this one. “Joe took me shopping in the city a couple of weeks ago and I got a few new suits for the summer. One is this gorgeous teal-colored suit with high-waisted bottoms and a to-die-for tube top. We’re the same cup size, and I’ll have you know Joe really liked what he saw.”

  “First of all, if you want to convince me to wear one of your suits, you probably shouldn’t emphasize Joe’s reaction. Secondly, a bikini? Sunny, I don’t know…” I protest, because in all of my life, I’ve never worn a two-piece. Sure, Grams told me to have fun. If she saw me in a teeny bikini, she’d probably get the vapors.

  “Amelia, it’s a heat wave. It’s going to be bad enough out there with the hot temperatures. You’ll be more comfortable this way. Come on. Trust me. Would I steer you in the wrong direction?”

  She absolutely would.

  And I find I’m totally cool with that.

  I should always trust my best friend not to steer me wrong. After nourishing our minor hangovers and appeasing the boys with promised breakfast, we put on our suits—if you can call them that. Sunny’s matches the one she gave me, just in a peach color instead of teal. Instead of going to the dock, we walk about half a mile to a private shore that’s still relatively hidden from most out-of-towners. Considering the sweltering temperatures, I’m not surprised that the four of us have the beach all to ourselves.

  Once our towels are spread out, I hesitate to strip down to my suit.

  Sunny whips her T-shirt off and throws it at me. “Come on, chicken. It’s just the four of us, and if you recall, Sam already saw your nipples this morning.”

  I look to Sam, whose head swivels around in every which way except for mine. Considering he seems more embarrassed about it than I am, I decide c’est la vie. I drag my top off and shimmy out of my shorts, feeling practically naked. But Sunny was right. As sweat droplets race down my back, the breeze is welcome against my bare skin.

  Joe lets out a low whistle. “Damn, babe, you had to let her borrow that one?”

  “Can I look yet?” Sam yells.

  “Sure, Sam. Soak it all in,” I tell him.

  Sam’s fisherman’s hat nearly falls off his head with how fast he swivels it towards me. He echoes Joe’s whistle. “Killer, babe. Fuckin’ killer. Sure you don’t want to forget the city slicker you met yesterday and repeat the glory of the summer of ’75 with me?”

  Ah, the summer of ’75. Before I can reminisce, Sunny chimes in.

  “Wait a minute. The summer of ’75? Was that the summer I was grounded for the whole month of June—”

  “—for hitchhiking to Johnson City with Patti Hartsock to see Kiss in concert,” I finish for her. “Not my fault you weren’t around to tell.”

  “It was Gene Simmons! And you know what, for one month’s grounding, it was sooo worth it,” she says, sighing with a wistful smile.

  Joe rolls his eyes, and Sam sticks his tongue out in perfect Kiss fashion.

  “Sunny, you should have been grounded till you were eighteen! Do you know how many girls go missing when hitchhiking? You can’t get into cars with complete and total strangers.”

  “Oh, Lord. Not the serial killer spiel again.” She drops Joe’s hand and inches towards Sam, a sickeningly coy smile crossing her lips. “So, Samuel, what did you mean about revisiting the past in 1975?”

  He coughs, casting me a pleading look. But I have no shame from it, so I shrug, keeping silent, and letting him field this one.

  “Uhh, well, umm…” He places a hand on the back on his neck, rubbing, and stalling as he tries to figure out how truthful he wants to be. “Well, you were grounded, Joe was always working at Mickey’s, and I happened to run into Amelia on the way to the movies.”

  Sunny looks back and forth between the two of us. “You guys went on a date in ’75? And you never told me?”

  “Hey, you’re the one who decided Gene Simmons was worth risking your life for.”

  “He was! Still is, too.”

  I roll my eyes and ignore her Gene Simmons obsession. “Anyways, Jaws had just come out and you know how much I was dying to see that. I just didn’t want to go alone. So, when I saw Sam, I asked him if he wanted to come. If you remember, sixteen-year-old Sam was totally cute.”

  Sam grins. Then his nose scrunches up as he processes my words. “Hey, what do you mean sixteen-year-old me? What about twenty-one-year-old me?”

  I cross to him and pat his cheek. “You’re still adorable, Sammy. But I’m quite sure that night we both realized we’re better off as friends.”

  “Hey, that was my first kiss! I’m a lot better now,” he says. “I’ll prove it!”

  “I think you’ve been proving it ever since with Tanya, Brittany, Brooke, Meredith, and who was the last girl? Oh yeah, Bridget,” Joe chimes in.

  “Helpful, man. Real helpful,” Sam mutters.

  Sunny’s still a step or so back. “Wait, wait, wait. You were the girl Sam couldn’t stop talking about?”

  “Sunny…” Joe warns just as my eyes widen.

  I thought this was playful banter, but now, I’m wondering if it’s more, and if so, I really don’t want to give Sam the wrong impression.

  “Sam, it was just a movie…nothing more. You know that.” I stare at him.

  He takes his hat off, shakes out his hair, then sets it back on top of his head. “Yeah, Sunny, Amelia here was lucky enough to be my first kiss.”

  “But you said that girl—”

  “Sunny,” Joe warns again, and I’m starting to wonder if the sun is affecting us all, because I have no idea what’s going on.

  “How can Amelia be the girl with the fish lips?!”

  My mouth pops open. “Samuel Mackenzie! You did not say I have fish lips!”

  At this point, he’s howling, nearly doubled over in laughter. I firmly set my hands on my hips and wait for him to calm down. When he finally does, his face is red, either from the heat or the exertion, but either way, he looks ridiculous.

  “I’m sorry, Meems. So, so sorry. I was a dumb sixteen-year-old boy who’d just had his first kiss with a smokin’-hot girl, and I practically swallowed your face. So, when I accidently let it slip to Joe that I’d had a hot date, it just kind of came out. Don’t go havin’ a cow about it.”

  I place both hands on his chest and push him with enough force to knock him back a step. “You are such a dick!”

  His hands encircle my wrist and he draws me into his chest. Bright-blue eyes full of mischief stare down at me. “I said I’m sorry. Hell, till Sunny brought it up, I completely forgot about it.” His gaze falls to my lips then goes back to my eyes. “Trust me when I say your lips are the things wet dreams are for. Especially when you’re toying with a straw.”

  Now I’m confused. “Sam, I wasn’t… That wasn’t me trying anything with you… I’m n
ot—”

  Sam’s chuckle stops me. “Babe, I know that show wasn’t for me. Glad it wasn’t for me, ’cause as bangin’ as you are—and damn, girl, you fuckin’ are—we both know we have no chemistry.”

  Relief swells over me. Phew. “You’re not so bad yourself, Sammy. A lot cuter than you were at sixteen. And I’ll trust you’re a better kisser, too.” I step back, out of his arms and hold out a hand. “Still just friends?”

  His hand takes mine. “Damn right. Don’t think you could handle all this, anyhow,” he teases with a grin.

  When he retreats, flinging his arms wide and shimmying his hips as he belts out some Donna Summer surprisingly on key, I just shake my head, knowing he’s right.

  “Earth to Amelia.”

  Thoroughly engrossed in my book, I don’t register that Sunny’s talking to me until I feel a thong hit me on the ass. I sigh, placing my bookmark between the pages of my book, and look up at her.

  She’s standing here, her things gathered, her clothes on. “I’ve only been trying to get your attention for five minutes now,” she says.

  I grin sheepishly at her and hold my book up. “Sorry, Sun. I picked up this paperback before I came to town and can’t seem to get enough of it.”

  Her nose wrinkles as she reads that title then laughs. “Really, Amelia? The Gloryhole Killer?”

  I’m not embarrassed in the least. Sunny’s no stranger to my obsession with all things B-horror and true crime. I open my mouth to tell her about the book, but she reads me correctly, holding a hand up and stopping me.

  “Nope. Don’t want to know. I don’t need to be put off truck stops for the rest of my life because of whatever sick fuckery is written in that piece of fiction.”

  “But, Sunny, it’s terrific! Or, I guess, really bad. However you want to look at it. It’s like half trashy crime novel and super terrible seventies porno all rolled into one story. You see, there’s a psycho killer going around what they think are garden shears and—”