All I Want: A Valentine Family Novella (The Valentine Family Book 1) Read online

  Myra started laughing again when Marilyn drew back and looked at her with a scrunched face. "What were you doing? Rubbing yourself all over them?”

  "I'll go take a shower!" Myra exclaimed, throwing her hands up.

  "I don't care if you smell like cow." Myra spun at the rich sound of her father's voice. "Daddy!" She threw her arms around his neck while he pulled her off the ground in the bear-hug style he was known for.

  "Hi pumpkin." He set her back on her feet with a twinkle in his dark eyes. "You really do smell like cow."

  "Daddy!" She gasped, slapping his arm playfully.

  "Go shower sweetie." He smiled kindly at her. "We'll be ready to eat when you're done."

  "So, I have an announcement." Marilyn smiled shyly at everyone seated around the dinner table.

  Marilyn and Rhonda were the older sisters every girl wanted. Kind, supportive, loving, generous, beautiful. Rhonda took after their father with her dark eyes and hair. While Marilyn and Myra took after their mother with blonde hair and blue eyes. Of course, Rhonda and Marilyn were both tall, while Myra had to stretch to hit a solid five-two.

  Myra was the baby by more than a few years, but she tried as hard as she could to be a mature, sophisticated woman like her sisters. Most of the time though, she just felt like the baby sister who smelled like cows.

  The family stopped eating to look at Marilyn who grinned from ear to ear, practically vibrating in her seat. "I'm engaged!" She squealed loudly, thrusting her left hand into the air with unbridled enthusiasm. She moved her hand around so everyone could get a good look at the massive rock that her boyfriend - Fiancé, had claimed her with. Myra was thrilled for Marilyn. She was an amazing person who deserved every happiness. Her now fiancé, Joshua, made her happy, anyone could see that. But as the family crowded around with their oohs and aahs, Myra felt her heart sinking. Marilyn's announcement drove Myra's feelings of inadequacy even deeper. She wouldn't dare tell a soul that she felt like the screw-up of the family. No, she would keep grinning and laughing and being Myra. She was the happy-go-lucky one, the one who wasn't bothered by life, was always positive, always upbeat.

  For the most part, she genuinely was a happy person, but somewhere deep inside, where her deepest feelings only came out to play under the cover of darkness, she knew they loved her because she was lovable and cute, not because she made any great contribution to the family. She wanted to make contributions. She tried to make each of her siblings and their significant others feel appreciated. She tried to show her parents how much they meant to her. But Marilyn was twenty-five, on track to become a cardio surgeon. Rhonda was twenty-eight, married to a pilot, and had already given her parents two beautiful grandkids.

  Then there was Keegan. He and Liam were the same age at thirty-three, had started a software company together in college, and they were rich. No one knew exactly how rich, because they were both extremely modest, but they were listed in Who’s Who as two of San Diego's most eligible bachelors. So yeah, pretty rich.

  Bringing up the rear of this party was adorable little Myra. The one who needed an eye kept on her because she was accident-prone. She could draw and paint and thrift-store shop like a pro, but sophisticated she was not. She decided a while ago, she would just keep doing what she did best until she could figure out a way to do better, but the better part seemed to be taking a while.

  She pasted a happy grin on her face, made her eyes twinkle with delight, and hopped up to offer her own congratulations to Marilyn.

  "Mar, I'm so happy for you." She gave her sister a tight squeeze and blinked to keep her eyes from bugging out at the sight of Marilyn's ring. "Mar, you won't be able to get that thing through airport security!"

  Marilyn laughed, still grinning like a schoolgirl. "I know, right!" She sighed with a dreamy look. "Joshua gets a little carried away sometimes, but I love it."

  Myra gave Marilyn one more squeeze, then moved back to her own seat. When she looked up, she caught Liam staring at her and quickly averted her eyes. He did that sometimes, she'd noticed, stared at her with that laser intense focus that made her squirm. It made her feel self-conscious, the way he seemed to be studying her, assessing her.

  When she looked back up from taking a few bites to find his eyes still trained on her, she offered a small smile. One he returned, showing one of those dimples that made her knees go weak. Liam held her eyes for one heartbeat, then turned to say something to Keegan. Myra sighed. Liam was her fantasy man come to life, but he thought she was the cute baby sister, just like everyone else. Besides, he was thirty-three, twelve years her senior. If you looked up sophisticated in the dictionary, his picture would be there, hers would be under weirdo. He would obviously never be interested in an adorable misfit who smelled like cows.

  Chapter 4

  "Myra, what are you baking this year?" Her mom inquired curiously.

  It was Thursday morning, Thanksgiving day, and Myra was once again in charge of dessert. No one wanted her involved in cooking activities requiring sharp utensils, so she'd become quite adept in the baking department. Pecan Pie with a bottom layer of chocolate was a family favorite, so she always did that, but this year, she had a surprise for everyone.

  "I'm doing pecan and pumpkin pies because you guys love them, but I have a surprise too. I know that you, mom, will especially like it."

  Myra ginned at the excited look on her mom's face.

  "I'm looking forward to whatever it is. You make the best desserts, Myra."

  "Ok, now get out of here so I can work!" Myra shooed her mom out of the kitchen with a wave of her hands.

  Laughing, Brenda scurried away, calling back over her shoulder, "Don't forget we need to start the other food by noon!”

  As her mom disappeared around the corner, Myra pulled her apron over her head with a smile. She loved baking for her family because they loved the things she baked. Making them happy made her happy. Three hours. She thought. Plenty of time.

  "Liam, you're wearing us out!" Paul Valentine exclaimed, dropping his tennis racket on the court bench.

  "I keep telling Keegan to come play with me," Liam teased, grinning at his best friend. "But he tells me tennis is a rich man's sport and he has wobbly ankles."

  Liam regarded Paul with a held-back grin, pointing his tennis racket at him. "Maybe you could check those out, Dr. Valentine? Maybe check his head too, because last I checked, your son is a rich man."

  Paul laughed and patted Keegan on the back. "Ah, this one's never been big on physical activity. Unless there's a lady involved." He amended with a wink, and Liam bit down on his molars to keep from saying something about Keegan’s physical activities where women were involved.

  "Liam, since you're so fit, why don't you climb those stairs and get us out-of-shapes some water." Keegan nodded toward the flight of stairs leading back to the main house, licking his lips like a man dying of thirst.

  "No worries," Liam laughed as he turned in the direction of the house. "I've got you."

  He was still smiling when he entered the back door and made his way to the kitchen, thinking how lucky he was to have the Valentines as a surrogate family. He missed his parents every day, holidays even more so, but being with this, his second family, made the ache a little more bearable. Turning the corner to the kitchen, he stopped abruptly at the sight that greeted him.

  Myra.

  Myra on all fours, that perfectly round ass inviting his eyes to have their fill. She was head-first in a lower cabinet, searching for something, humming a Christmas tune and wagging that delicious ass of hers side to side, mesmerizing him. Apparently finding what she'd been after, she started to scoot backward when he blinked, clearing his throat. His intention was to collect himself, but the noise startled her and up came her head to meet the top of the cabinet with a thud.

  "OUCH!" Myra squealed, her hand going to the back of her head, rubbing it as she sat back on her heels with a wince.

  Liam rushed to her side and knelt next to her, brushing her hand
away to replace it with his own.

  "I'm sorry, Myra. I didn't mean to startle you." He felt the small bump on the back of her head and swallowed back the awful feeling of being the one to put it there.

  "It's ok." She consoled him. "I shouldn't have been startled like that."

  Myra didn't look at him, just picked up the bowls that had fallen from her grasp and pushed herself to her feet.

  "I need to get some water." He explained. "I wore your dad and Keegan out." He grinned at her, trying to elicit that smile that always lightened him.

  It worked. She smiled at him with a rueful grin, her blue eyes twinkling like diamonds. "Keegan is terribly out of shape for a thirty-three year-old." She agreed, laughing more to herself than him. She reached to a high cupboard, groping around for some glasses, and Liam had to bite his lip to stifle the sound that almost escaped him. A sliver of perfectly tan skin peeked at him from the place where her tank top rode up. He clenched his fist against the desire to reach for her, imagining how soft that skin would feel beneath his fingertips.

  "I'll get you a pitcher to take to them."

  He came back to himself as she set a pitcher and two glasses on the counter. "I can fill it." He volunteered.

  "Sure." She handed the pitcher to him, then turned to grab one more glass.

  Crossing to the refrigerator, he noticed the kitchen as a whole for the first time and burst out laughing. "You're really going all out, aren't you?"

  The center island was covered in flower, sugar, wrappers, measuring utensils, and some things he wasn't even going to try to guess at. He looked up at her just in time to see a hurt expression cross her face before being replaced by a self-depreciating smile. "I do make a mess." She shrugged with her arms outstretched. "I'll have it cleaned up before the others come in to make the real food. Don't worry."

  Myra covered her emotions with smiles. Liam had known that about her since he came home with Keegan for the first time ten years ago. With all the innocence of an eleven year-old girl, she'd been the one to hold him in the darkness of the Valentine barn as he'd sobbed into her hair. At the time, he'd blamed his loss of control on an inability to reconcile his parents' deaths, but through the years, he'd learned that Myra had a special ability to give comfort. There was something about her sweet nature, her caring heart, that put people at ease and encouraged them to unload their emotional burdens to her. On that night, he’d been the one apologizing, embarrassed by his overwhelming outburst. Myra had smiled through her own tears and told him it was ok to cry, told him he could cry on her shoulder anytime he needed to and she wouldn't tell. He hadn't done it again, and she never mentioned it, even though she always made him feel like her shoulder was his if he needed it. Now, he wondered whose shoulder she cried on.

  "Myra."

  She turned those sapphire eyes on him, still working that smile, but faltering slightly under the weight of his gaze. "It's ok. I didn't say that to chastise the beautiful mess you've made."

  She blinked, a confused look crossing her lovely face. Liam set the pitcher down and moved to stand in front of her. He shoved his hands into his pockets, the way he did so often to keep from touching her the way he wanted to, when she looked up at him, eyes wide, uncertainty etched all over her delicate features.

  "I said that because I know you're pouring your heart out here. I, for one, am grateful that you prepare our thanksgiving desserts each year with so much love." He allowed the smile he'd been holding back to play on his lips, noticed the way her eyes darted there, then quickly moved back to his eyes. Noted.

  "Thank you, Liam. That's kind of you to say."

  Myra took a small step back and he turned to grab the pitcher and glasses. "Thank you for the water." He called over his shoulder, exiting the kitchen, heading back to Keegan and Paul.

  For years, Liam had worked with difficulty to keep his distance and his head when it came to Myra, but that was a task that proved more difficult, not less, with the passage of time. There was no denying the way she'd looked at him, there in the kitchen. Maybe it's time to test those waters, he thought. He would talk to her brother and father before he made any moves, but if there was any chance in the world that Myra felt something, anything for him, he would take that chance and run with it, even if he had to be vanilla for the rest of his life. Because if there was one thing Liam learned from his parents' too soon passing, it was that life should be lived while it was livable, and Myra was the one he wanted to live it with, if she’d have him.

  Chapter 5

  Myra looked around the crowded dining room and smiled with a contented sigh. She loved this time of year. Christmas was her absolute favorite, but Thanksgiving she loved because it was the time when the most people showed up.

  This year was a record. Her father's new partner with his wife and two kids, Joshua and Marilyn, Rhonda and James with Brody and Adrian, three ladies from her mom's tea circle, along with their husbands and kids, plus Liam and Keegan, were all in attendance. She glanced across the room to the kids’ table and snickered to herself. Brody and Adrian were showing the other kids how to make “monster hands” by putting black olives on all their fingers. Every youngster looked satisfactorily entertained and Myra had the thought that she missed being at the kids’ table. With a sigh and a smile, she reminisced about all the great times she and her sisters had had at that very table with other kids through the years.

  She sighed again on the thought that she'd better hurry up, or her sisters' kids would all be older, and her own poor children would have to sit alone at the kids' table. Maybe Marilyn and Joshua would wait a few years and give her a chance to catch up.

  She picked up her cup of hot chocolate, complete with two huge marshmallows, took a thoughtful sip, then closed her eyes as she let the smooth chocolatey sweetness melt across her tongue, then swallowed with a sigh. When she opened her eyes, Liam was staring at her. Again. He seemed to be doing that more and more lately. The dark look in those beautiful chocolate pools made her squirm in her seat. She set down her mug and went back to picking at the deliciously fluffy mashed potatoes, hoping Liam's heavy gaze would be directed someplace else when she looked up. The incident, that's what she called it, because she was unsure how else to reference what had happened in the kitchen today, had thrown her off-balance. She was unsure how to act with him right now. For a moment, she'd thought he would touch her the way she longed for him to. Instead, he'd just slipped his hands into his pockets. She'd felt the emptiness of the space between them when he strode from the kitchen, thanking her for water she hadn't poured. She wondered, while swirling food around on her plate, if there was anything she could do that would cause Liam to notice her as more than his best friend's baby sister. What would she do if he did? That thought stopped her. She didn't know. Maybe it was for the best that he was nothing more than the lead in her fantasies.

  Chapter 6

  The Monday after Thanksgiving was always difficult, but Myra was in good spirits as she walked into work. The warm San Diego weather held strong all weekend and she'd taken full advantage, spending a few good hours at the beach on Saturday and Sunday. On land, Myra was clumsy, she readily admitted this, but in the water, with the waves and her surfboard, she felt like a different person – strong, capable, in control. All the Valentine siblings enjoyed the beach and surfing, but Myra and Rhonda were the two dubbed “surfer-chicks”, even though neither of them looked it from the outside. “Undercover surfers” is what her father called them.

  She plopped down in her chair, hung her purse on the hook she'd installed under her desk, and leaned back with a sigh. The rows of cubicles that were usually full at the busy Whitfield Designs, were remarkably empty. She was wondering if she'd missed a memo when Adam, her coworker and one of three cube-mates, popped his head over their divider, startling her.

  "Thought I was working alone today." He smiled down at her.

  She laughed. "I was just thinking I'd missed a memo or something. This is kind of weird."

>   "Mr. Whitfield is here." Adam came around the cubical wall to stand by her chair.

  He was a nice guy, always acting gentlemanly and sweet, but he got a little too close, took up a little too much of her personal space. He'd never given her a reason to question his character and she took some comfort in the fact that he did the same thing with everyone, but she still didn't like how closely he hovered.

  "I should go check in with him." Myra turned her chair-back towards Adam to create some distance as she stood, making sure to keep her hips from swaying when she walked to the boss's office. Most people viewed her as naive, but she knew how she looked, and she knew men looked. Well, most men. Not the one man she actually wanted to look.

  In high-school, she'd adopted a shabby-chic dress style that allowed her to express creativity through clothing while keeping the important bits fully covered. Low-cut, short, and tight, were all off-the-table items. Some girls knew what they had and flaunted it. Myra was agonizingly uncomfortable flaunting anything. Her wardrobe consisted mostly of loose, colorful, full coverage options. And shoes.

  Lots of shoes.

  Shoes her dad bought for her because she wouldn't let him pay her rent. She would let him buy her shoes. And, because she couldn't buy shoes on her salary when she was paying her own rent and her own car note.

  She tapped her knuckles on David Whitfield's door, then waited for his summons before opening it and stepping inside.

  "Hello Myra." Her boss greeted her with a warm smile.

  "Hi, Mr. Whitfield." Myra returned his smile. "How was your thanksgiving?"

  He shuffled some papers on his desk. "It was hectic." He smiled at her again. "My wife and I spent Thursday with her family, Friday with mine, and Saturday we shopped all day for a Christmas tree we'd found within five minutes of being on the lot."