The Sweetest Scent Part 20

These precious shards of time crystallized within her memory, and she never wanted to forget.

But... all too soon their vacation time was at an end, and the long drive back home lay ahead. They checked out of the lodge just before three on Thursday afternoon and got home after eight, both tired from the journey-and two bouts of morning s.e.x, once in bed and once in the shower. So if they were worn out, it was their own fault, mostly anyway.

Jordan and Sebastian came out to greet them. Then Jordan saw the car and flipped out. Well, Lacey saw it more as internal combustion, with only a tiny visible tick on his jaw.

"Jordan, I'm so sorry," Bro whispered, his face ashen and all but crumbling.

Lacey stepped forward to try and explain. "There was a man at the park. He called me names and kept following us. Then he did this and attacked me-"

"What?" From Jordan's expression, a stormy one of an angel of retribution, it was clear he didn't give a rat's a.s.s about his car anymore.

"Bro, tell us everything," Sebastian asked, his face as grave as his fiance's.

And so Bro did, with Lacey providing additional information about Miles, the bigoted jerk. They both ended their story with swift a.s.surances that the man was injured and behind bars. Bro gave Jordan the official form. "TJ gave us this. It'll clear things with the insurance company, he said."

Jordan took the papers without so much as a glance at them. There was that tick again, and then he grabbed Bro into a fierce embrace, as if wanting to rea.s.sure himself Bro was safe and unharmed. Then he gestured for Lacey to approach, and once Lacey came closer, she too was yanked into a familial group hug, with Sebastian throwing his arms around all of them as well.

"Oh, is it group hug time already?" came a mock cooing baby voice from the doorway into the apartment building. Jack stared at them, amused, like they were all crazy, but when the huggers drew apart, the view to the car was unblocked. Jack inhaled sharply. "What the f.u.c.k?"

Bro repeated the story, and Jack's expressive face showed every nuance of the narrative in his emotional reactions, from curiosity and anger to frustration and fear, all the way to relief that the tale had a happy ending.

"Jesus f.u.c.king Christ, you people can't be left alone for two f.u.c.king seconds-"

"Shut up, brother, or I'll make you swallow those words," Jordan growled. Lacey was well versed enough in this blended family dynamic to know how protective they were of each other. They had all lost people from their so-called real families, for a variety of reasons, so they clung tight to the ones they had gathered around each other.

Jack apparently got the message loud and clear too, and he hung his head. "Sorry."

Lacey smiled to alleviate the tension and said, "If you think you just got a scolding, you should've been there when Bro chided me for not running away from Miles." She shuddered in an exaggerated manner and gave Bro a mock bashful look with a theatrical trembling of her lower lip, most repentant.

Bro burst into laughter. "That's true. You should see her red backside too."

Reddening up to her scalp, Lacey gulped hard. No spanking had occurred, but Bro was trying, like her, to bring levity to the grim expressions around them, so she understood. She winked salaciously and sent her guy an air kiss.

Bro snickered, and then his eyes darkened.

"Okay, let's take this show inside," Sebastian suggested, chuckling at the shift in the mood toward the erotic.

But Bro stopped in front of Jordan. "I'll pay you back for-"

"No, you won't. I'm gonna make that d.i.c.khead pay for this, mark my words." Jordan's green eyes glinted like emeralds, and even from the sidelines it was clear to Lacey the detective wasn't going to back down. If Bro had wanted to b.u.t.t heads, the two of them could easily have been at it all day, but thankfully Bro relented and nodded his quiet consent.

Hand in hand, their fingers interlaced, Lacey and Bro walked into their home.

NEXT day, Lacey drove up to Baltimore for orientation at the Peabody Conservatory. day, Lacey drove up to Baltimore for orientation at the Peabody Conservatory.

It was pointless to argue with Bro, who had decided to donate his personal college fun-and-emergency fund so Lacey could get a car. That boy could be so stubborn! Uselessly, Lacey had declared she could get a used car, but that was when the whole gang (read: blended family) joined forces against her and vetoed her suggestion. Instead, everyone added to the slush fund Bro had started acc.u.mulating since he hit thirteen, and lo and behold, Lacey had a new ride, a Toyota Land Cruiser Prado. And this midsize compact SUV was painted golden yellow because Bro knew it was her favorite color.

Though overwhelmed by the generosity of her new family, she accepted the offering and vowed to come up with a suitable return gift for all of them. She'd have to put her thinking cap on for this one. At least Bro didn't need a car since he already owned a used maroon Dodge Durango he had gotten a year ago for a couple of grand.

Though orientation didn't start until 10:00 a.m., Lacey started the trip at eight, just to be on the safe side. She hated being late for anything, least of all for something important. Though it was a busy working Friday, traffic was leisurely and steady on the Baltimore-Washington Parkway, with no sudden jerks from other vehicles to impede her or force her off the road.

And the company was delightful too.

Mr. Teasdale was Lacey's violin teacher and friend. Well, maybe not a close friend, but a friend nonetheless. After all, he was an adult, and Lacey wasn't always sure how to bridge the age gap. "Are you excited?" he asked. He was already bouncing on his seat, more than eager to see the famed conservatory.

"I'm trying not to throw up." Lacey felt nauseated, and all her anxieties were revving up her internal worry engine. "I know I got in, but I'm sick to my stomach. What if I'm not good enough? What if they kick me out? What if-?"

"Lacey, I a.s.sure you from the bottom of my heart you have nothing to worry about."

She wished she had her teacher's confidence. "Really?"

"Absolutely. Now stop fretting, and drive." Mr. Teasdale wiggled on his seat. "Gosh, I need to-" He stopped abruptly and reddened up to his eyeb.a.l.l.s. It wasn't difficult to tell what was wrong.

Lacey suppressed a snicker and felt at ease again. The simplest things calmed her. "It'll be a half an hour still. Can you hold it, or should I get off at the nearest exit and find a gas station, or something?"

"I'll be fine, thank you very much," Mr. Teasdale replied, straightening up on his high horse and lifting his chin defiantly. With his gla.s.ses and mussed-up hair, he epitomized a scholastic nerd, and Lacey burst into laughter.

After that, the half-hour ride was a piece of cake.

They had an un.o.bstructed view of the traffic circle around the Washington monument and museum as they parked in front of the tall, white building with big windows and an impressive facade. A promenade with tall trees added some greenery to two sides of the building. There was a two-hour parking limit, but Mr. Teasdale vowed to take care of any problems that might arise.

For a moment Lacey felt conflicted about all these people who weren't her flesh and blood, doing her favors and asking for nothing in return. It was a tad unsettling. But one stern look from her teacher, as if he were a mind reader, changed her mind about discussing it now.

Instead, they walked into the grandiose building in search of the admissions office.

Nervous once again, Lacey allowed Mr. Teasdale to lead and briefly considered the wisdom of having her high school violin teacher accompanying her. She doubted anyone else had a babysitter/chaperone with them. Yet as she walked down the halls, no one seemed to notice or take an extra gander at them. Perhaps they thought he was her father, if they thought about it at all.

There was a small line inside the admissions office, but after waiting ten minutes she got to speak to a nice, welcoming woman at the desk. Her nametag said Nancy Willows. Her hair was dyed far too bright red, while her lipstick was a bit too dark for her complexion, but Lacey took an instant liking to her.

Since most of the admissions process was taken care of online beforehand, right down to the first year's tuition-she'd gotten a full ride-there were only a few personal information checks and a couple of signatures. Nancy gave Lacey her student ID, and she was set to go.

Outside in the hallway, Lacey beamed. Now only orientation was ahead, and that she was to handle alone.

Mr. Teasdale studied her expectantly. "Everything all right? That wasn't so bad, now was it?"

"No. I guess I overreacted." Lacey blushed but smiled through the embarra.s.sment.

"All right, then." Mr. Teasdale nodded firmly and looked around. "I a.s.sume you're going to get the full tour of the place at orientation. The parking is only for two hours, and it's been half an hour already. Tell you what. You go to orientation, while I take the car for a spin. I'll be back early to take you to lunch afterward. That sound good to you? Unless you want to have a bite to eat with any new friends you make."

"No." Lacey was determined not to get sidetracked. She'd come here for orientation, and nothing else. All that stuff could wait until Monday next. It would be rude to ditch her traveling companion for people she just met, and she wasn't that kind of person. "You scour the place good, so we can go straight to lunch once I'm done. Making friends here, if I do, will keep until Monday."

"That's nice of you," Mr. Teasdale said. From his inconspicuous attire and appearance it was hard to see the master of music he was, having performed on the grand stages in Europe and the U.S. "Now, if you don't mind, I'll have to, um...." He flushed red and glanced toward the restroom sign.

Lacey chuckled and nodded. It was curious how even men who knew her regarded her differently when she was wearing a dress. It was as if they forgot she was actually a he he, and treated her as such. Talking about peeing and toilets in front of a girl was a no-no, and Mr. Teasdale was no exception.

When Mr. Teasdale ducked into the lavatory, Lacey meandered around the hallway, checking out the bulletin board. There were notes of all sorts: advertis.e.m.e.nts for roommates, couches, used cars, keggers and frat/sorority parties, lost kittens, music and vocal lessons, etc. Lacey smiled at the diversity of it all, and yet a sense of predictability came over her. Bulletin boards like these were commonplace. Still, she'd never seen it here here, which gave it some l.u.s.ter.

Suddenly someone b.u.mped into her from behind.

"Oh dear, a thousand pardons, my lady," a posh voice said, apologetically.

Lacey swerved around, not seriously injured, though with a bruise or two forming on her shoulder. "I beg your pardon?"

"No, no. It is I I who must beg who must beg your your pardon, dear lady." pardon, dear lady."

Lacey stared. From the antiquated speech and the British accent, she had expected an adult, perhaps a teacher or a professor.

What she got instead, however, was a whip-thin young man, probably her own age. With white tennis shoes, a sea blue blazer, tight black pants, and a lighter blue sweater with a V-neckline and a silk cravat-a cravat? Really? Who wore those?-the young man brushed invisible specks of dust off his clothes. His thick, bleached silvery-blond hair pointed upward in airy waves at least three inches high in a mainstream hipster hairstyle, and his gray eyes sparkled behind clear plastic-rimmed, round gla.s.ses that stood in stark contrast to his sleek, angular features. He smiled a half-amused, half-downright-lecherous grin.

"Oh. Oh." He sounded surprised as his gaze raked over Lacey.

For her first day she had planned on wearing something una.s.suming and conservative, but Bro had effectively torpedoed that design right out of the water. He'd told her anything other than a dress was uncharacteristic and false of her, and it was an artsy college, so people must wear weird bohemian things daily. They were good arguments, and Lacey had felt confident enough to put on long stockings, a tight long-sleeved shirt, and an equally body-hugging tunic on top, all muted earth tones of brown and green. They were among her favorite autumn wear.

Now she wondered what this new arrival saw in her.

"Oh," he said again, his smile so wide his white teeth gleamed. His look was friendly and appreciative. "I was about to curse the G.o.ds for making me such a hopeless klutz, but now I see they had a plan. Oh yes, a design of epic proportions to introduce me to the loveliest girl in the world." He took her hand and bussed the skin like a gentleman, barely gracing it with his lips. "Oh, my sweet, aren't you the very picture of Aphrodite. I am enamored." He placed his palm over his heart in a theatrical manner, and his expressive face depicted the deep (feigned) longing of a lover missing his one and only.

Lacey was still staring. Then she burst into hopeless snickers. "Thank you. I think."

"I, my naughty nymphet, am Parker Endicott, a gentleman of leisure, at your service." He bowed in a gauche, exaggerated manner and added a large wave of hand through the air.

Lacey covered her mouth to prevent any more giggles. "h.e.l.lo. I'm Lacey Adair."

Parker quirked an eyebrow. "New?"

Lacey pursed her lips and said challengingly, "I wasn't born yesterday, no."

Parker chuckled. "Touche." He glanced at her hands, apparently searching for a sign of her instrument and finding none. "Vocal?"

"Violin. Left it at home. You?"

"Piano. Came here for the jazz focus. How about you?"

"Violin performance. And... this school is close to home." It was an admission, but she didn't felt like it was anything to hide.

"Ah. And where might thou wondrous realm be, dear lady?"

Lacey rolled her eyes, sensing these antics were just that, theater for an audience. "DC. You?"

"Baltimore boy, born and raised, from the original, not the new, Northwood."

Lacey tilted her head in contemplation. "I'm sorry. I don't know the area well. Or at all, to be precise."

Parker grinned. "Northwood is one of the wealthier neighborhoods in town."

"Oh? So, you're a rich hometown boy. Is that what you're so delicately trying to hint at?" Lacey teased, not really caring either way.

Parker's tone lowered to husky, seductive. "You like rich boys?"

Lacey snorted. "Makes little difference to me. But I already have a boyfriend."

"Oh, what a shame!" Parker exclaimed miserably, looking utterly crushed, but Lacey had a feeling it was mostly pomp and circ.u.mstance. "Just when I find the cutest boy on campus, and one that looks so pretty in a dress, I have to contend with the worst rival of them all: a high school sweetheart! I sure hope he appreciates the gift that is you, milady."

Well, no secret decoder rings needed for that remark, Lacey thought. Parker was gay and had seen through Lacey's feminine appearance right from the start. "Oh, Bro and I, we keep giving each other the gift the gift every day and night." every day and night."

Now Parker looked decidedly wicked, like an age-old satyr, promising dirty fun with every fiber of his being. "Oh, do tell, girlfriend!"

Lacey laughed. "Do you always talk like that? Really?"

Parker waved a dismissive hand about, taking on a faux sn.o.bbish expression. "I have a style, dear lady. I shall not compromise my sense of self for anyone." Then he looked down at her and couldn't keep the smile off his face. "Well, I'd do it for you, beautiful."

"That's sweet... sort of. But I'm not looking to shift boyfriends. I could use a friend, though, if that idea is not too pedestrian for someone of your social status." Lacey was surprised how easy it was to flirt with and needle a guy she had just met, but Parker made it effortless and natural. She had an inkling he wasn't truly trying to get between her and Bro, which would help to facilitate a friendship. And he was kind of growing on her.

Parker c.o.c.ked his head, pensive. "A friend, eh? I'm a.s.suming you don't mean a friends-with-benefits type of arrangement?" Lacey pursed her lips in silent chiding, and Parker just grinned. "Sounds... intriguing. I must warn you, though. You might experience serious difficulties resisting my raw animal magnetism."

Lacey laughed again. If nothing else, the guy was funny and certainly not boring, if way over the top. "I'll be sure to keep a taser in my pocket just for you."

Parker growled like a big cat on purpose, showing off his white teeth.

"Um, am I interrupting...?" Mr. Teasdale asked, having returned from the men's room, and his look was completely flummoxed as it shifted between Lacey and Parker.

Lacey hurried to explain, "No, not at all. This is Parker Endicott, a new friend. Parker, this is Mr. Teasdale, my violin teacher."

Parker's plucked and bleached eyebrows rose as he measured the man whose hand he was shaking. "From this conservatory? I don't think I've seen you around before."

"No. I'm Lacey's high school teacher-"

"You do look kind of familiar though...," Parker continued, as if he hadn't been cut off at all, and his eyes narrowed in sharp inspection.

Mr. Teasdale looked sick and pale, so Lacey asked, "You're second year, then?"

Parker's attention returned to Lacey, and he smiled. "Yes. I can be your mentor into the many facets of college life, party central away from home, as it were."

Lacey resisted the temptation to once again roll her eyes. "I'm not really into parties. I always end up being the pinata."

Though she had tried to be flippant and humorous, Parker grew serious, and even his eyes darkened. "That's not how I roll, milady."

Now Lacey was confused. "Are you a gentleman gangster now?"

Parker took a step closer, almost invading Lacey's personal s.p.a.ce. "I have many facets, my dear, most of them conflicting. Does that make me a fashionable schizophrenic? Maybe. I must state, however, that I will never do wrong by you, nor will I allow anyone to harm you in any way, shape, or form. Consider that my credo." He thumped his fist to his chest in a vow.

Lacey was quite moved by the gesture. "Thank you, Parker."

"Are you headed for orientation?"