[2015] Just the Essentials Read online

  Contents

  Also by Shari L. Tapscott

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Note from Shari

  Sugar & Spice

  About the Author

  Also by Shari L. Tapscott

  Stand-alone Contemporary

  If the Summer Lasted Forever

  The Glitter and Sparkle Series

  Glitter & Sparkle

  Shine & Shimmer

  Sugar & Spice

  Silver & Orchids

  Moss Forest Orchid

  Greybrow Serpent

  Wildwood Larkwing

  Lily of the Desert

  The Eldentimber Series

  Pippa of Lauramore

  Anwen of Primewood

  Seirsha of Errinton

  Audette of Brookraven

  Elodie of the Sea

  Fairy Tale Kingdoms

  The Marquise and Her Cat

  The Queen of Gold and Straw

  Just the Essentials

  Copyright © 2018 by Shari L. Tapscott

  2nd Edition

  All rights reserved.

  This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  Editing by Jeni Chappelle, Donna Rich, & Z.A. Sunday

  Cover Design by Shari L. Tapscott

  For Dad

  It was a pheasant.

  Chapter One

  Precious coffee sloshes out of my mug and pools on the counter before it drips onto the floor.

  I frown at the mess. “So you’re sending me to summer camp?”

  My mother gives me “the look.” In the time it’s taken to raise three girls, she’s perfected it. Now it’s a flawless combination of disdain, irritation, and snarky amusement. It makes me feel like I’m twelve instead of twenty.

  “Kinsley, you’re the only one of us who doesn’t have a job.” She holds up her hand, cutting me off as I open my mouth to protest. “You know what I mean, so don’t pretend to be offended.”

  I wipe up the spilled coffee and then pour a healthy amount of cream in my cup. “Writing is a real job.”

  “Are you making money?”

  A smile plays on my lips as I meet her eyes. “No.”

  She shrugs, already knowing she’s won this argument. To appease me, she nudges the whipped cream my way.

  Since I didn’t jog this morning, I really shouldn’t. Well…maybe just a little. I add a dollop or four to the top of my mug.

  “I didn’t know Grandpa still owned the cabin.” I take a sip of my concoction and lick the whipped cream off my lip. “We haven’t been there since I was little.”

  Mom’s smile dims, and she stirs her coffee. “He didn’t want much to do with it after Grandma passed.”

  And now they’re both gone.

  “Okay,” I finally agree, just to ease the pain in her eyes. “I’ll do it.”

  She offers me a small smile. “It’s only for the summer. We just need you to check out the place and spruce it up a bit so we can get it on the market.”

  The idea of cleaning up an old cabin doesn’t do much for me. Especially one in the middle of nowhere. Why couldn’t it be somewhere closer, like Vail or Breckenridge?

  “Where exactly is this place, anyway?” I ask. “It’s mostly sagebrush over there, isn’t it?”

  My parents grew up in Grand Junction, Colorado. For some reason, Mom’s always wanted to move back. Because who wouldn’t want to leave the city for a desert valley on the edge of Utah? I know it’s my idea of paradise.

  “You’re thinking of Aunt Diane’s place. The cabin’s near Silverton, in the mountains.”

  I start to take another sip but pause to peer at Liv over my mountain of whipped cream. She’s just dragged herself out of bed and flopped on one of the stools. Her hair is everywhere, and her mascara is smudged. She sits with her cheek propped against her palm, looking like she’s about to fall back asleep. Despite all that, she’s still gorgeous. If she wasn't my baby sister, four years younger than me, I’d probably hate her.

  “Where’s Ginger?” Liv yawns and her sleepy, green eyes blink like a doe’s. “Isn’t she supposed to be here by now?”

  Just as she says it, the front door opens.

  “Good morning,” my older sister chimes. She flicks her designer sunglasses off as she enters the kitchen. With a toss of her glorious, golden hair, she narrows her eyes—which are also a bright summer green—at me. “You’re not wearing that, are you?”

  This sister I hate.

  Ignoring my glare, Ginger digs into her purse, producing a notebook. “You left this at Dan and Barb’s place last night. I picked it up before they could read it. I know how you are about your notes.”

  Did I mention I love Ginger?

  I snatch the notebook and hold it close to my chest. I have poetry in here—really awful poetry. Some of it may or may not be about my boyfriend’s parents, who also happen to be Ginger’s boyfriend’s parents. Dating brothers has its perks. The downside is I’m constantly being judged against my marketing-manager-in-training sister. I don’t even know what a marketing manager does, but apparently she’ll make a lot of money eventually.

  Good for her.

  In four years, she’ll be raking in a six-figure salary, and I’ll be eating canned soup and boxed macaroni and cheese. Actually, that’s not true. I’ll still be living with Mom and Dad, and there is no way Mom would allow either of those in her kitchen.

  Ginger boots me out of the way of the cabinet and reaches for her favorite mug. “I’ll have a cup of coffee before we go. There’s time for you to change and do your hair.”

  I glance down at my jeans and T-shirt and then at pajama-clad Liv. My baby sister smiles behind her coffee cup, and I turn to my mother, silently giving her my own look.

  “Kinsley is fine, Ginger.” Mom motions to Liv. “But you need to get dressed.”

  Liv slumps out of the room, taking her coffee with her. In fewer than five minutes, she walks back in with her hair pulled up and her makeup flawless. She also wears jeans and a T-shirt, but Ginger gives her an approving nod.

  As the oldest, Ginger slides into the passenger seat of Mom’s car. Liv and I scoot into the cramped backseat, which we share with Ginger’s purse. I love my older sister—I honestly do—but sometimes she’s a real pain in the tail.

  Ginger twists in her seat. “Mom says you’re spending the summer at Grandpa’s cabin?” She turns back to my mother. “What’s Kinsley supposed to do? Take her tool belt and do a little home repair?”

  I would like to point out I don’t own a tool belt, and the word “home repair” is about as foreign to me as “fast food”—excluding drive-thru coffee, of course. Everyone knows that’s perfectly acceptable.

  “The cabin doesn’t need repai
rs.” Mother sounds a little exasperated. “Grandpa had a friend keeping up the place, but a few months ago he moved into a nursing home. Kinsley just needs to give it a good shine.”

  Both Ginger and Liv grimace. What have I gotten myself into?

  Ginger turns back to me. “Do you remember the toilet paper holder that looked like a fishing reel?”

  I ignore the wicked glint in her eye but Liv cringes beside me.

  My little sister pauses, her lip gloss wand hovering over her bottom lip. “Seriously?”

  Ginger nods. “And the artificial grass rug on the deck?”

  Somehow I forgot about that.

  “I only remember the ice cream Grandpa used to buy us from the lodge.” Liv swipes the gloss over her lips and checks the results in her mirror. “Oh—and Grandma’s skillet pies.”

  I eye her. “How are you so skinny?”

  She shrugs and digs in her purse for gum.

  “It’s beautiful,” Mom says, cutting Ginger off before she can list anything else. “Your grandfather laid all the hardwood floors, and your grandmother sewed all the curtains. Diane even made the stained-glass window in the front door.”

  Despite her reassuring words, visions of fishing reels and artificial turf dance in my head.

  We pull into the mall and find a place to park. Ginger looks at clothes, Liv drags us to makeup—squirting samples of perfume on us all—and I drool over stationery.

  On our way out, we walk past a section of new swimwear.

  “Oh, this is cute, Kinsley!” Ginger holds up a skimpy, black bikini I wouldn’t be caught dead in.

  Judging from the look on Mom’s face, Ginger better not be caught in it either. Ginger laughs at the looks on our faces and hangs it back on the rack.

  “What about this?” She chooses a tankini that’s actually pretty cute. “You can stretch out by the lake. Hudson would be happy to work on his tan—though I’m afraid his is already better than yours.”

  Mom’s narrowed eyes dart to me. “Hudson will not be staying in the cabin with you.”

  She doesn’t have anything to worry about. Hudson’s hands like to stray a little too much on their own. I’m certainly not going to invite him for more.

  “Not an issue.”

  Ginger turns to me, the amusement in her voice gone. “You’re going to leave him for the summer?”

  In truth, I hadn’t thought about it. Of course I don’t want to leave my boyfriend. Or his parents…

  I glance at my mother. “Maybe he can visit?”

  Mom swipes the swimsuit out of Ginger’s hands and hangs it back on the rack. To the pile, she adds a one-piece my grandma would have been proud of. “He can stay at the lodge.”

  “You smell good,” Hudson says between kisses.

  Did I leave my curling iron on?

  “What is it?” His lips stray to my neck. “Is it new?”

  I think I did. Is that the one with an automatic shut-off? Maybe they all have them now—except that expensive one I bought last year.

  “I don’t know,” I say. “Liv sprayed me with something while we were shopping.”

  His kisses continue. “I like it. Let’s go back, and I’ll buy it for you.”

  “Okay.” I pull away from him.

  A wry expression crosses his face, and he tugs me back. “I didn’t mean right now.”

  He strays to my ear and whispers, “Come on, babe. You look hot and you smell so good. You’re killing me.”

  I definitely used that expensive curling iron. Dad’s gonna be ticked if I burn the house down.

  “You know what?” I sit up. “I need to call Liv.”

  Hudson gives me an exasperated look and runs his hand through his blond hair. Ignoring him, I pull my phone off the end table.

  “You need to call her right now?”

  “Yes.”

  He groans and sits back on the couch. It’s a nice couch. I helped him pick it out for his new house, but apparently he and I had different expectations for it. I thought we’d sit on it. He thought we’d…do other things.

  “Why are you calling me from your date?” Liv asks instead of greeting me.

  “Are you home?”

  “Unfortunately.”

  So I don’t have to look at Hudson, I turn away, but I can still feel his eyes boring into the back of my head.

  “Will you check to see if I left my curling iron on?”

  “Doesn’t it have an automatic shut-off?”

  “Will you just check?” I say, rolling my eyes.

  “Let me guess—Hudson’s pressuring you again?”

  “Liv!” I hiss and lower my voice.

  She snorts. “Your curling iron is off. Schnitzel has plenty of food and water. You made your bed, and you didn’t accidentally leave any lights on.”

  Well, that’s good. Such a relief.

  “Thanks.”

  “Tell him to back off.”

  “Goodbye, Liv.” I end the call before she can grace me with any more words of wisdom.

  I turn back just to find Hudson still staring at me, his brown eyes unflinching.

  His arms are crossed, making his gym-earned muscles bulge nicely through his polo shirt. “What’s wrong, Kinsley?”

  “I thought I left my—”

  “No. What’s really wrong?” He motions to my empty spot on the couch.

  “Nothing.” I sit next to him just to prove it. “I’m fine.”

  He reaches for me, and I shift away. He huffs, frustrated, and waves to the room. “Babe—this is what we’ve been waiting for.” He moves closer as he says it—as if he’s trying to remind me why I don’t want to sit alone on my side of the couch. “Privacy.”

  Is it stuffy in here? We should turn down the thermostat. Maybe the filters need to be replaced? I don’t think Hudson remembered to check them when he moved in.

  “Good grief, Kinsley,” Hudson growls in my ear, his voice more aggravated than sultry. “Would you stop moving away?”

  Somehow I’ve shifted all the way to the other arm of the couch.

  “I’m leaving for the summer,” I blurt out.

  I’ve taken Hudson enough by surprise that he backs off. “You’re leaving? For where?”

  “My grandparents had this cabin. I’m staying there for a few months, cleaning it up so my parents can sell it.”

  “Yeah?” He sounds intrigued, thoughts of romantic interludes shining in his eyes. “Where is it?”

  “Near Silverton.”

  He was inching closer, but now he sits back. “That’s over eight hours away—it’s clear on the other side of the state.”

  It’s not surprising he has a problem with that considering he doesn’t like me on the other side of the couch.

  “I’ll only be gone a few months,” I assure him. “It’s not a big deal.”

  “Not a big deal?” Hudson stands up. “Kinsley, I’ll start classes when you get back. I want to spend time with you.”

  And I know what he wants to spend that time doing.

  “I need to do this for my family. They ask very little of me.”

  It’s true. Mom could take off a few weeks and go clean the cabin, but it would be hard on her, and right now I don’t have anything better to do. There’s no reason I can’t take care of this.

  He shakes his head. “Is this place just off in the woods? Will you be near civilization?”

  Sifting through my purse, I look for my phone. “If I remember right, there’s a lodge nearby with a general store and a campground.”

  I type “Columbine Meadow Campground” into the search.

  “Whoa,” Hudson breathes when the website comes up.

  Whoa is right. The lodge either had a little face-lift or it’s seen a bulldozer. I’m leaning toward the latter. The first pictures are of the lobby. Huge, leather couches surround a massive stone fireplace. The walls are a muted tan. The floors are done in stone, as are the accents.

  It’s resort classy. The pictures of the rooms are equally go
rgeous, and the campground has definitely been updated. Stunning mountain photographs slide across the top of the page, luring people in.

  Just for fun, I click on the “book now” link to check out the prices.

  Hudson whistles. “Your cabin is tucked in there somewhere? Your parents are going to make a mint.”

  I browse through more pictures. Maybe my summer isn’t going to be so bad after all.

  “How about I come with you?” He nods to himself as if he likes the idea. “Dad won’t care if I take a few months off.”

  I shake my head. “Mom already shot that idea down.”

  He plays with the collar of my shirt. “It’s hours away. How are they going to know?” Thinking he’s going to convince me with his manly charms, he pulls the fabric aside and kisses my shoulder. “We’ll hike, bike, maybe try a little fishing. Then at night we’ll curl up by the fire and—”

  “Stop,” I say when his lips stray to my collar.

  Frustrated, he looks up. “We have the chance to be together,” he says, “and you’re acting like a skittish little girl.”

  “I’m not going to have sex with you,” I snap.

  Hudson says a word that makes me flinch and then shakes his head. “I can’t keep doing this.”

  Something cold settles in my stomach, and I push my phone aside. “Doing what?”

  “Exactly when do you think you’ll be ready?” He sits back, waiting for my answer. “Next month? Next year?” He narrows his eyes when I don’t answer. “Once you’re married?”

  I shrug, not wanting to have this conversation. Why does he make me feel so ridiculous? It’s my body. If I want to wait, who is he to tell me I shouldn’t?