Page 16 of QB Keeper
Meet me at the cul-de-sac in fifteen minutes. Tell your parents you’re staying at a friend’s tonight.
GRACE:
You want me to lie to my parents, Mr. Lake? *gasp* What a terrible influence you are on my young, innocent mind.
TANNER:
If you want to tell them you’ll be spending the evening riding my fingers, face, and cock…by all means, Bunny. Go ahead.
GRACE:
*wide eyed emoji* *sweating emoji*
I’ll see you in a few.
Twenty-five minutes later, Grace comes running down the sidewalk toward my car with a white hoodie draped over her arm and an overnight bag on her shoulder. She’s wearing a short, pink sundress with a pair of silver glitter Chucks. Her blonde hair falls in waves over her shoulders, and I realize then just how fucking breathtaking she is.
All my life, I put her in this box. I couldn’t think of her in any way that wasn’t completely platonic, so my brain never even registered how beautiful she got as the years went by. It wasn’t until a couple of days ago when I accidentally barged into her room that I saw her as anything more than my best friend’s little sister. But now that I’m seeing her in this new light, my head is all over the place.
I’m still on board with helping her explore her sexuality this summer, but I’d be lying if I said that the last two days haven’t muddied the way I’m feeling about things. I thought I could separate the physical part of this from the emotional part. I honestly had my head on straight about what this was…until I was getting ready to push myself into her. For just a split second, she looked up at me and it was like we were connected. She was handing me the keys to her mind and body, trusting me fully to take care of her.
I need to remember why we’re here. That I proposed this whole arrangement to keep her safe. There’s no room for me to fuck around and mess things up by thinking what happens between us could ever be more than it is.
“Sorry,” she says breathlessly as she throws herself into my passenger seat. “My mom had to ask me fifty questions about what I was doing tonight before she’d let me leave. I thought the inquisition would stop when I turned into a legal adult, but I was wrong.” I chuckle as she closes the door and fastens her seatbelt before I pull around and head toward Main Street.
“Where are we going?” she asks, looking out the window.
“Somewhere we won’t have to worry about being interrupted,” I reply. “I want you all to myself tonight.”
She smiles before exhaling contentedly, relaxing into the seat. We spend the ten-minute drive listening to Bella Simon, who Grace is ridiculously obsessed with. Last summer, she spent two hours waiting in a virtual queue to get concert tickets to see Bella on tour, but they ended up selling outbefore she even got a chance to get onto the actual website. I tried buying them from a resale site but couldn’t find them for less than five grand apiece. Instead, we parked as close as we could to Blizzard stadium, or as the fans call it,The Igloo, on the night the tour came to Boston and listened from the front seat of my car with the windows down. Riggs and I were not into it at all since it’s not really our type of music, but we’d have done anything to make Grace happy that night.
I turn down the gravel road toward our destination and look over at her, gauging her reaction.
“What are we doing at the lighthouse?” she asks, brows pinched together in confusion.
“Well,” I begin, pulling into the driveway and putting the car in park. “My parents bought it about a year ago as an investment property, but it needed to be updated, so they’ve been renovating it. It’s pretty much done, but they’re waiting until the market is better before they put it up for sale. The actual lighthouse doesn’t work anymore, but the house is really nice, and the view is amazing.”
When I was trying to make my plan earlier, I considered a few options. First, I thought I’d just book a hotel room in Boston for the night. Then, I thought we could go find somewhere to park by the water and set out some blankets. But neither of those ideas felt right for Grace’s first time. When I looked out of the corner of my eye and spotted the lighthouse key sitting on the shelf in our kitchen, I knew it would be the perfect place to bring her. My parents wouldn’t even notice it was gone and we can be sure nobody will come in and ruin the night. Plus, I won’t have to risk breaking both legs sneaking out a window in the morning.
“I’ve always wanted to see the inside of this place,” she says, opening the door and hopping out. I laugh at her eagerness, watching as she skips to the door and waits for me to catch up. I pull the key from my pocket, putting it into thelock and turning the knob. I don’t even get a chance to open the door before Grace pushes through, flipping the light switch and looking around the main living area.
When my parents bought the place, it was outdated and unkept. The original lighthouse keeper lived here until he was physically unable to care for the house or himself, and when he passed away, his kids didn’t want to go through the hassle of preparing it to be sold. Since my parents knew them personally, they offered them a fair price and took it off their hands. It’s weird because, as real estate agents, they normally only buy and sell commercial properties. But they said after they got this place fixed up, they could make some good money off of it.
“What do you think?” I say, watching Grace as her eyes ping-pong around the room like she’s not sure what to look at first.
“It’s way prettier than I expected,” she says, sitting in the plush armchair and immediately standing and skipping across the room before flopping onto the couch like she couldn’t wait to test everything out. “Your parents did such a good job.”
I chuckle, putting my hands into the pockets of my sweatpants. “I think my mom secretly loves interior design. She doesn’t get to do a lot, so when my dad gives her free rein to bring a vision to life, she goes all out.” The whole place is bright and airy, with hints of tan and blue. The old, unfinished maple flooring was ripped out and replaced with European white oak. All of the outdated furniture and lighting fixtures were upgraded, and brand-new stainless-steel appliances were installed. It’s modern, but still has a beachy vibe, which is perfect for where we are in New England.
“Well, she’s really good at it,” she says, kicking off her shoes and putting her feet up on the coffee table. “I’ve been here five minutes, and it already feels like home.” She looks atme, eyes twinkling, and my heart squeezes in my chest. She’s so fucking beautiful, and making her happy has always been one of my favorite things to do. The feeling of being rewarded by her sweet smile is reason enough to want to give her the world. I just hope whoever gets to own her heart forever knows what he has and never takes it for granted.
I’m pulled back to reality when the doorbell rings, making Grace’s eyes widen in panic.
“It’s just a food delivery,” I tell her, easing her worries that we’re about to be busted again. “I didn’t have time to pick up dinner and snacks earlier, so I made an order.” She relaxes as I make my way to the door, grabbing the food and giving the driver an extra tip for going to three different places for everything. I wanted to be able to stay here as long as we could, so I got dinner for tonight, snacks for later, and ingredients to make breakfast in the morning.
She stands, following me to the kitchen as I unpack the bags, putting the contents into the cupboards and refrigerator. “What smells good?” she asks, looking at the black bag I set aside on the island as she hoists herself up onto one of the barstools.
I smirk. “I thought you’d like to try something besides Sour Patch Kids tonight. So, I ordered from that new Italian place in Boston. I got you the Shrimp Carbonara and a cannoli.” I played it safe, ordering things I’ve seen her eat before, but I’ve heard Donatello’s blows every other restaurant out of the water. “And if that doesn’t hit the spot,” I say, reaching into the bag from the grocery store and tossing the small pack of Sour Patch Kids into her lap, “I brought backup.”
