Finding Willow



  THIS book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are the product of the authors' imagination or are used factiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

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  Finding Willow

  Copyright ©2014 Michelle K. Pickett

  All rights reserved.

  Cover Design by: Marya Heiman

  Typography by: Courtney Nuckels

  Editing by: Cynthia Shepp

  Serendipity (noun): ˌser-ən-ˈdi-pə-tē

  Luck that takes the form of finding valuable or

  pleasant things that are not looked for.

  They found each other by pure serendipity.

  One

  Two

  Three

  Beginning of Junior Year—Wisconsin

  I leaned against a boulder where the dim light of the fire licked at my feet and cast long shadows on the shore. The sound of waves hitting the rocks almost drown out the drunken conversations and squeals of teenage girls when boys picked them up and trudged into the icy waters of Lake Michigan, soaking them both. Almost. Not enough.

  This was the one place I could relax. Calm myself after a particular shitty week. I’d lay on the sand and look at the never-ending black wall of sky and the stars sprinkled over it, while the rhythm of the waves lapped against the shore. But there’d be no relaxing that night.

  They weren’t supposed to be there. They usually partied down at Nolan’s, with his beachfront property, eternity pool, Jet Skis, two speed boats, and all the liquor they could suck down. I wondered why his parents never missed the booze. Maybe they were too sloshed from their own partying. Maybe they just didn’t care. Sad thought either way.

  Pushing off the boulder, with one last glance at the party I wasn’t invited to, I started to my car. I hesitated when I thought I heard my name. When I heard it a second time, I turned. Peyton hurried after me, a plastic cocktail glass in one hand and her sandals dangling from the other.

  “Brody!” She smiled her megawatt, over-bleached, perfectly straight-toothed smile. She was pretty. Some guys even thought she was hot. I guess I could see it. But I felt nothing. Nada. Zip. Zilch. “I didn’t think you heard me. I called you a few times before you turned.”

  “Hi, Peyton.” I nodded my head toward her sandals. “You really should wear those. The beach is full of debris.”

  She giggled and shrugged. “They make walking in the sand so much harder. But they look killer when I’m standing around the bonfire. Hey, you’re not leaving, are you? I didn’t even get to see you.”

  I tilted my head to the side and tried to remember the last time she talked to me at school, but I couldn’t. She ran in a different social circle than I did. “What do you want, Peyton? We don’t talk at school. What’s so important that you want to now?”

  She put her cocktail down on a tree stump and ran her fingertips along my forearm. “Well, um, it’s not like I don’t want to talk to you. You’re just not very… approachable at school. You’re a little closed off.” She gave me a small, shy smile and looked at me through her long, mascara-coated lashes. I wondered if she practiced that look in the mirror to get it just right to lure unsuspecting guys… Come to my web, said the spider to the fly.

  “I hardly see you. Sometimes, you show up at a football game. But usually, I only see you in class.” She smiled and winked at me. “You don’t think you’re better than us do you, Brody Victor?” she teased in a singsong voice.

  “Ah.” I nodded and took a step back to break the contact with her fingers. “It’s not like that. My family moves around a lot and, sometimes, it’s better not to get too attached to any one place, you know?”

  She bounced on her feet and gave me a wide smile. Yeah, she definitely practiced those in front of a mirror. “Good. Let’s go talk for a while by the lake.”

  Damn it. It’s not like I said I wanted to stay and talk to you.

  “Um,” I sighed, “let me throw my stuff in my car.”

  We sat together on the rocks lining the shore. The waves sprayed us with a fine mist when they rolled in. For a long while, we sat silent and looked at the autumn moon hanging over the black, glassy lake.

  Peyton reached over and threaded her fingers through the ends of my hair. “Is there anyone at school you’re interested in?” Her soft voice was barely audible over the noise of the water and the beach party that had slowly grown more out of control.

  Oh, holy hell. I don’t know what’s going on, but it sure isn’t going to be that.

  I turned to face her, my gaze finding hers. “No.”

  She scooted closer to me, until the length of our bodies were pressed together. Her hand travelled from my neck, across my shoulder, down my arm, until it reached my inner thigh. “Is there anything I can do to change that?” she whispered in my ear.

  Pulling back, with my gaze locked on hers—I didn’t want there to be any misunderstanding—I said, “Absolutely not.”

  She nearly bounced to the rock beside me and grinned widely. “Good! That’s what I hoped you’d say. You’re perfect. Just what we need.”

  What is this girl snorting?

  “Need for what?” I picked up a stone and skimmed it across the water. The lake was too dark to see how many jumps I got off it.

  “Nolan and I, and some others,” she flicked her hand over her shoulder, “have a bet. You know Annabelle Price? The girl in the library who wears the horrible glasses?”

  “Yeah, I know her.” I waved my hand in the air for her to continue.

  “Anyway, we need you to ask her out on a date. That’s all.” Peyton shoved some of her dark blonde waves back into the bun thing she had on top of her head.

  “Hmm.” Picking up another stone, I weighed it in my hand before I threw it across the water. “Somehow, I don’t think taking her on a date is all I’ll be doing.”

  “Well, mostly. You just have to pick her up, take her to a movie, and then out to dinner. We’ll pay you two hundred dollars and all expenses of the date, of course.”

  “And what’s in it for you? What’s the bet, Peyton?”

  She waved me off with a flick of her wrist. “You don’t need to know the details of the bet.” She tapped her polished fingernail against her teeth before smoothing out her shorts and taking a breath. “There is one other small thing you need to do. When you get to the restaurant, order the biggest, most expensive lobster. When the meals are served, excuse yourself to use the restroom. And leave the restaurant. That’s it.” Giggling, she shrugged, as if it were all a big game. I guess to her it was.

  I stared at her, my mouth open. The stone I held slipped from my fingers. I couldn’t believe what they were planning. Worse, I couldn’t believe they thought I’d go along with it.

  “You want me to strand her at the restaurant? What if she can’t pay?”

  Peyton smirked and twirled a piece of hair around her finger. “Well, that really isn’t my problem, is it?”

  I didn’t acknowledge her. Instead, I stood, walked to my car, slipped in the driver’s seat, and drove away.

  Wednesday. It’d been four days since Peyton’s announcement of her and Nolan’s bet, and that had been all I’d thought about. Not that I was going to do it. No way in hell.

  But I was thinking about a date. A real date with Annabelle. And that was why I walked to the library between sixth and seventh periods. I wanted to talk to Annabelle before her seventh-period library elective.

/>   Getting there before she did, I leaned against the wall next to the library doors to wait. I saw her as soon as she turned into the hall from the science wing. She wore some kind of black skirt that was so long it almost touched the floor and was so tight that she walked like a Geisha. Her top was yellow and had big, flouncy ruffles on every conceivable inch. She wore turquoise, horned-rimmed glasses, complete with rhinestones, and turquoise heels that looked more like torture devices than shoes. If Peyton and her circle of friends had been there, I was sure they’d have rolled on the floor laughing.

  Call me weird, but I liked it. An involuntary grin pulled at my lips.

  When Annabelle reached the library doors, I stepped in front of her. She was looking down at a book and only gave me a cursory glance. “Excuse me, please.”

  She sidestepped to the other door. I moved in front of her. She sighed and her hand fell, the book slapping against her thigh. “Brody Victor. What do you want?”

  Huh. She knows who I am.

  “Annabelle Price. I’d like to ask you a question.” She lifted an eyebrow at me, and I pressed on. “Would you please go out to dinner and a movie with me Friday?”

  “No.” She tried to push past me. “Would you move? I have class and don’t want to be late.”

  I scratched my eyebrow with my thumb and inhaled through my teeth. “Well, that’s going to be a problem. See, I’m not moving until I get the answer I want. And ‘no’ isn’t it.”

  She sighed and her warm, chocolate gaze caught mine. “And do you always get what you want?”

  “No. But I hope this is one time I do. Friday at six? Please?”

  “Fine.” Smiling, I stepped out of her way. She pushed through the door and was halfway inside the library when she stopped and looked over her shoulder. “Do you need directions to my house?”

  “No. I’m good. See you Friday.”

  I turned and walked toward my class, not looking back. But she watched me. I could feel it. And I liked it. Yeah. I liked it a lot. Because, damn, I really wanted to look back at her.

  ****

  Friday. I rang Annabelle’s doorbell at precisely six o’clock. The door opened, and my mouth went dry. Like I swallowed the Sahara Desert dry. A man stood in the doorway. A huge man. He must have topped six-five compared to my six-two. Around the sides of his head, he was graying, but on top, his hair was jet black, the same as Annabelle’s. And he was big. Like, the Incredible Hulk big.

  “Brody Victor?” He sounded like a military general.

  I swallowed hard. “Yes, sir.”

  “Annabelle’s curfew is ten o’clock. Do you have a problem with that?” He leaned over me.

  “No, sir. I do not.” I felt like I should salute… or drop and give him twenty.

  “You listen to me, boy, and you listen good.” He pointed a thick, calloused finger at my face, and my heart tried to beat out of my chest and run screaming down the street. “If this is some kind of game you’re playing, if you’re planning on hurting my daughter, I will hunt you down. Is that understood?”

  I nodded and licked my lips. “Sir, it’s not a game. I like your daughter very much.”

  He stood to his full height, which was freakin’ tall, and squared his shoulders. With one last grunt, he moved from the door and was replaced with the most beautiful vision I’d ever seen.

  Annabelle stood in front of me. Her long, black ringlets, which she usually wore up, framed her face and tumbled down her back. She had some kind of pink shirt on and a thin, pink sweater over it. I didn’t know anything about girl clothes, but whatever the hell it was, she looked amazing. Her jeans were fitted, not like the oversized clothes she wore to school. They showed off her tiny waist and, when she turned to get her purse, they framed her…

  Think of the father! Think of the father! If he knew you were looking at her ass, he’d snap you in two. Oh, I just thought of her ass. Think of grandmas. White, wrinkly grandma asses. Don’t want to look at those. Yeah. I got this.

  I held my hand out to help her down the walk and to my car. Opening the passenger door for her, I held it while she got in, before jogging around and sliding into the driver’s seat.

  “So, where to?” I glanced at her and smiled.

  “I thought you’d have everything planned out.” She watched as she wrapped her purse strap around her fingers in her lap.

  “Annabelle?” She looked up and pulled her bottom lip between her teeth. It was just a little too thin to be called beautiful, but their light pink color combined with the natural curve of a Mona Lisa smile made it uniquely beautiful to me. And I was watching her teeth worry it, wishing they were my teeth. I wanted to know what her lips tasted like…

  The father! The father, dude. Remember the freakin-hulk-commando father. Get your mind off her lips and her ass.

  “I think I remember telling you it was lady’s choice.” I rubbed my hands up and down my thighs.

  “Oh, but won’t that interfere…? I mean, never mind.” She turned her face from me.

  I glanced at the house. When I didn’t see anyone spying out the window, or sniping in the bushes, I brushed her hair away from her face so I could see her. “That would what?”

  She shook her head and turned to me with a bright smile. It was forced. Annabelle had an easy smile. This one was stiff. “Um, what if you pick the restaurant and I pick the movie?”

  I turned the key in the ignition and watched her. “If you want. Do you like seafood?”

  Her face paled and she swallowed hard, but gave me a small nod.

  I ran my hand around the steering wheel. “Um, that doesn’t look like a face that likes seafood. Okay, Italian?”

  Her eyebrows furrowed, and she tilted her head. “I love Italian.”

  “Good. I know this great little place called The Pasta Kitchen. It doesn’t look like much on the outside. In fact, I’ll warn you, it looks like a dump. But it’s super clean on the inside and the food is awesome, especially the calzones.”

  She let out a breath, and the tension slowly eased. We spent dinner talking about everything. Anything. And I didn’t want to stop. At some point, she let me hold her hand. I felt like I was twelve again and just had my first kiss with Tracey Mulroney. Annabelle was awesome, and the night ended way too soon.

  ****

  I got out of the car and jogged around to open the door for her. She gave me a small smile, but she wouldn’t make eye contact.

  “I had a nice time tonight.” I ducked my head to see her face.

  “I did too,” she whispered. “Thank you.” Her gaze darted to mine before falling to the ground.

  We climbed the stairs of her porch and stood in front of the door. She immediately reached for the door handle. My hand encircled her wrist and pulled her gently toward me.

  “Wait. I wanted to ask you something before you went inside. Will you go out with me again? Maybe next weekend?”

  She shook her head before I’d even stopped speaking. When she raised her head and her eyes meet mine, tears balanced on her long lashes.

  “I know about the bet, Brody. You don’t have to pretend anymore. Next weekend just happens to be Homecoming. You’re asking me out but, at the last minute, you’ll call with some lame excuse and cancel. Or maybe you won’t cancel at all. You’ll just stand me up, and I’ll find out later that you went with someone else.” She sniffed and straightened her shoulders. “It’s fine. I only went out with you tonight because I wanted to know what it felt like to date someone like you. To have other girls jealous of me for once. But I knew it wasn’t real.” She shrugged her shoulder and turned to the door.

  “Annabelle, look at me.” I turned her gently by her shoulders. “Tonight had nothing to do with a bet. I went out with you because I wanted to, not because of some damn bet. I’m here. On a real date. With you. Do you understand?”

  “Yes. But, I’m—”

  “Beautiful, smart, funny, and someone I like spending time with. And I’d like to kiss you, so if it’s
not all right, tell me now.

  “But I’ve never…” she whispered. Her cheeks turned a beautiful shade of pink, and she dropped her head, fiddling with the zipper on my jacket.

  I cupped the side of her face with my hand, my thumb under her chin, guiding her face up to mine. “Annabelle, look at me,” I murmured, tilting her head with my thumb. “Just relax.”

  I grazed my lips across hers. Barely a touch, but enough to make her suck in a breath. The next kiss was a little harder, longer. Annabelle sighed, wrapping her hand around my bicep, and I nearly came undone.

  I wanted to grab her, squeeze her tightly against me, and kiss her deeply until neither of us could see straight. Until she couldn’t remember her name. A kiss to judge all kisses against and find them lacking. But I didn’t. She was shy and nervous. So I covered her mouth with mine, sweeping my tongue over the seam of her lips. She hesitated before opening just a crack. I outlined her lips with my tongue, and her grip on my arm was so tight I knew I’d have marks the next day.

  I lifted my head and took a small step back. “So? Will you?”

  She gazed at me with a befuddled look. “Will I what?”

  I grinned, because, let’s be honest, every guy wanted to kiss a girl senseless. “Go to Homecoming with me?”

  Nodding, she opened the door. She was halfway in the house when she looked over her shoulder and smiled a genuine, happy smile. And it did something to my insides. As a guy, I wasn’t supposed to feel all that girly shit. But something fluttered, or flittered, or whatever. And I smiled back when she said, “Yes, I’ll go to Homecoming with you. Thank you for tonight. It was wonderful.”

  I waited until she was safely inside, and I heard the lock click into place before I jogged to my car—with the damn girly, fluttery, flippy stuff still in my chest.

  ****

  I picked Annabelle up for the Homecoming dance the next Friday. She looked amazing in a soft blue, backless dress, with her hair down again. And when we walked into the dance, more than one guy looked twice when she walked by.

  “Are you wearing contacts?” I asked her.

  Her cheeks pinked, and she gave me a small smile. “No, I don’t really need glasses. I just find old frames and put clear lenses in them because I like wearing them.”