by Tracy Ellen
I saw the initial wince of horror flash over Luke’s face that I could be one of those alternative, horoscope-reading females—and this on top of a risk-taking, shit-kicking loose cannon. I barely kept my worshipful expression in place. Then his flash of horror was instantly replaced by a donned mask of careful interest to humor my cute, if nutty beliefs. I bit my tongue--hard.
“Uh…my birthday is November 16th. I haven’t thought about it much, but I guess I believe in spiritual destiny.”
I couldn’t hold back. At my peal of delighted laughter, Luke’s whole body stilled. Then he smiled and it was wicked. “Clearly you don’t have a soul, Anabel, so that’s a pointless question.”
“Valid point, Dark Prince, but I couldn’t resist! Hey, now where are you taking me?”
“Horoscopes aside, we need to talk in private.”
Not liking the sound of that, I reluctantly followed as he ushered me down the hallway with a firm arm. This time it was back towards the living room. Luke didn’t take me to join the crowd in the smoky dining area, but turned right.
At the front door, he stopped. His voice was serious. “Listen, I know how you value keeping your personal life private. I respect you. I wasn’t going to take you openly out to my truck to the only place it seems we can be uninterrupted.”
Opening the door, he checked out the porch and then turned back to me. His forehead wrinkled in concern. “But clearly we need to talk about a few things. These issues are too important to ignore. Your privacy and my respect will have to take a back seat because they need to be addressed immediately.”
“What issues do you mean?” I asked cautiously, nervous at his serious tone. I wondered if he was still mad over me not calling about The Hammer incident tonight.
Luke cupped my shoulders and looked into my eyes. “Anabel, you’ve got me completely confused with some other Prince if you think my codpiece would be ‘teeny-tiny’.”
I bubbled over with surprised laughter, pushing at the chest of the broadly grinning man in front of me. We didn’t get a chance to take another step before several voices called to us, halting us in our tracks on the threshold of the front door.
“Where are you two going? Anabel, shouldn’t you stay here under our protection?” Tre yelled the loudest.
A few of the other men sang this chorus, catcalling and giving Luke good-natured crap to get back to the poker game instead of chasing after me.
Sam Sheedy’s distinctive voice was starting to slur from too many beers. “Drake, come on, we’ve been waiting. Get your ass in here so I can win my money back.”
Luke and I shared a smirk over those ridiculous words. I didn’t feel like smirking any longer when Jazy, with Reg a step behind her, walked into the living room. Their bodies blocked us from view of the rowdy, shouting bunch in the dining room.
Luke’s mouth twitched at hearing my little sigh of frustrated exasperation at being denied our escape when we were so close. His hand behind me privately soothed over the curve of my ass and squeezed lightly. This did not help.
“Tre’s right.” After shooting Luke a dismissively scathing glance, Jazy ignored him and spoke directly to me. “It’s the smart choice to stay here tonight with us to be safe, not off with one man. We’ve all decided the best operating plan is for us to know where you are at all times. No more taking off on your own, okay? We’re not leaving you alone and unprotected until this killer is caught.”
Luke face was expressionless at Jazy’s attitude. His lack of reaction spoke loudly to me. In defense of my sister’s plain speaking; she knew nothing about him and didn’t assume he could protect me like my own family would. Although, I must admit, even if she knew more about Luke’s abilities she still wouldn’t trust him with my life.
Jasmyn goes through men like tissues. She has no concerns if they are single or married. She doesn’t let the minor detail men are involved in committed relationships get in her way when she sets her sights on them. If she can sway them to cheat; that is their lack of character problem and not hers. It was understandable Jaz doesn’t have the highest opinion of a man’s reasoning and reliability capabilities. She causes them too regularly to lose their heads and make poor decisions. It was one of those vicious circle scenarios.
Plus, we Axelrod’s have a slight tendency to stick together and depend only on ourselves at crunch times.
I don’t know if Luke planned on responding to Jazy’s implication he was some random idiot that couldn’t find his ass with two hands, or protect me if I was alone with him, but Reggie hurriedly jumped in.
He looked curiously from me to Luke. “Where were you two going?”
I glanced quickly at Luke. His eyes were glowing with malicious amusement against the bronzed skin of his face. His slight shrug told me he was leaving it up to me to tell my family members what I wanted them to know. As an only child, and a grown man in his thirties, it had probably been a long time since Luke had to answer to anybody over his actions. He was enjoying my predicament.
I sighed again, this time in defeat. The habit was too ingrained in me to keep my private life private, and besides, I shouldn’t take stupid risks. I’d be endangering Luke, too, and not just myself. The measurements needed to settle the important dispute of the codpiece dimensions would have to wait.
I answered my brother truthfully. “We were not leaving. We were just going out to Luke’s truck to check out a little something.” Luke snorted, and I quickly changed the subject. “I haven’t even had a chance to tell him what happened earlier tonight.”
Reggie cast Luke a quizzical look, as if he was also starting to question Luke’s smarts. “Why don’t you wait for Luke inside and let him go check his truck by himself? You probably don’t even have a coat, do you?” He shook his blonde head in exasperation and held out an arm. “Come into the kitchen and I’ll fix you a drink. Then we can get back to the game.” He brought out the big guns. “I have brownies, Junior. Frosted brownies.”
“What color frosting?” I asked, taking a small step towards my brother.
“Hell, they’re brownies--black, of course.”
Jazy’s relief at my easy capitulation was evident. “See Bel, doesn’t that sound good? You love chocolate frosted brownies. Do you want to play poker, too?” She added snidely, “I know all the boys are waiting for Luke to remember why he came over here tonight.”
Hearing Luke’s low snigger at our well-intentioned, interfering gatekeepers, I hoped his dark amusement meant he wasn’t too offended at my sibling’s aspersions on his lack of character and choices. Actually, I was plenty offended enough for the both of us. They were treating me like I needed to be talked down from the ledge.
Giving her a warning nudge, Reggie interrupted Jaz again. “Yeah, they do want Luke to come back and play. He’s got all their cash.” He snapped his fingers. “I know, the guys will get started playing cards again, and I’ll tell Luke all about what happened earlier tonight. You and Jazy can get drinks.”
“Why would you be the one to tell Luke about what happened tonight when you weren’t even there?” Seeing Jazy’s elaborate eye roll, the truth dawned. I glared at my brother. “You don’t care if I go off anywhere and get killed by a crazy rapist. You only want Luke to get back to playing poker!”
Reggie held up his hands in denial and laughed, dimples flashing. “Now, Junior, that’s just not true! You did tell me the pertinent facts, and I wouldn’t be an Axelrod if I couldn’t easily make up the rest.”
Feeling like a crabby preschooler for the second time in an hour, I irritably suggested to the grinning Luke that he go play freaking cards. I informed them all I needed to use the bathroom—alone. I snatched my purse up off the floor by the dining room. I started walking back past the trio of grinning baboons, but not before I used my gift and had the last word.
I opened a door in the living room near the hall. “Luke didn’t know this door led upstairs to your big, uncluttered bedroom area. He really wants a tour to see how much privacy
you get up there, Reg.”
As I walked away down the hall, my bat-like hearing caught my confused brother saying dubiously, “Okay…uh…do you want a tour of my bedroom now, Luke?”
Chuckling soullessly while relieving my bladder with the utmost relief, one voice was still doing back flips and high kicks like a deranged cheerleader in my mind.
‘Yippee! Hooray! Luke hadn’t betrayed me! I hadn’t misjudged him!’
There was much cheering and rejoicing in this vein until the measured voice of the practical accountant piped in to put a stop to any more emotional nonsense.
This calm voice was saying that while all of the above was accurate, I needed to slow down, add things up, and study the bottom line. Was the farce with Candy a wakeup call I needed to answer?
On the left hand, was I ready for the first time in a decade to make a decision to keep going forward with a man at this level of intensity?
On the right hand, should I use tonight’s misery as a lesson and protect myself by backing up a giant step and ending things between Luke and me on a good note? Before one of us does hurt the other?
Somewhat disheartened I was having a dreaded relationship discussion, if only with myself, I finished my business. Washing my hands, I had a brilliant thought that had me grinning at my messy, windblown image in the mirror.
While I fixed my pony tail and then reapplied my lip gloss, I mulled over an amazingly simple concept. I could do all my thinking with that favorite area between my legs. I could keep my interaction with Prince Muscles all about the S-E-X.
After all, this was an area where our compatibility together required no calculation and was as combustible as a Fourth of July fireworks finale.
When Fate didn’t constantly cock block us, that is.
Chapter XVI
“Giving Him Something He Can Feel” by En Vogue
Sunday, 11/18/12
6:00 AM
Somebody had left on the lamp all night that sat on the end table in the corner between the two sofas. Except for this soft glow above me, the living room was draped in shadows when I opened my eyes. It was still dark outside. Sunrise wasn’t for another hour.
I’d definitely woken up on the wrong side of the couch. I felt testy and not my usual sunny self. I was finally horizontal with Luke. Too bad it was in my brother’s living room. Tre and Jazy were snoozing away on the other sofa. Their heads were at opposite ends, and Jazy appeared to have commandeered their shared blankets. She had them clutched up possessively to her chin. She lay on her side, perched precariously close to the edge to accommodate Tre’s larger bulk. It seemed like a fair trade in discomfort.
I was half lying on my back, partially on top of Luke behind me. His arms were loosely around my waist. My legs were stretched out between both of his, and my head rested on a small pillow nestled in the crook of his neck and shoulder. It was very comfortable. I still felt snappish.
I peered over the edge of the cushion to figure out what the loud racket was coming from that direction. It was that blasted Sam Sheedy. He was zipped to the neck in a sleeping bag directly along the sofa below me, and snoring up a storm. The noises he was making sounded like a wild animal caught in a trap. His wide-open, slack mouth was not the most attractive sight to see at any time, but definitely not before my first cup of coffee. If I had any change on me, it’d be tempting to drop a penny down the well of his gaping maw and wish him to shut the hell up. I laid my head back down in annoyance.
I’d gone from never having sleepovers in years to waking up two days in a row next to the same man--this second time appearing to be a veritable pajama party.
Last I remembered was listening to the girls debating the perfect crime disposal method of a butchered body (namely Cheryl Crookston) while I was industriously licking chocolate frosting off my fingers. We were sprawled on the sofas after getting smoked out of the dining room. I had no desire to play poker last night and, after sitting restlessly for a few minutes with the boys, forced the girls to come with me into the living room. They wanted to protect me and keep me indoors; they could damn well follow where I lead.
We’d raided Reggie’s closet for T shirts to sleep in. The girls also borrowed boxers that I hoped were jokey gifts Reg had received. I didn’t want to think my brother would seriously wear a pair of undies that said, “Here pussy, pussy” across the front. My borrowed shirt hit my knees, so I skipped the boxers. We’d arranged pillows and blankets on the sofas. We found a fan to drown out the poker playing noise and cracked a window to get some fresh air. After arming ourselves with beers for Tre and Jazz, a hard cider for me, filling a bowl full of potato chips, and snagging the whole pan of black frosted brownies--we were ready for a slumber party.
I must have been more exhausted from all the fun events of the day than I realized. I didn’t move a muscle when Luke joined me on my makeshift bed. I missed knowing I was horizontal with him all night. I couldn’t believe he didn’t wake me up. Also, several people had to know he thought he had the right to sleep with me. That was part of the reason I wasn’t my usual chipper self.
Another reason was thinking over the text I’d received last night from Mike McClain. I had no idea what could be so important that he needed five minutes of my time. We’ve had no contact for years, so what could possibly be of any significance between us at this point? I wasn’t happy with the cryptic drama of his message, but I figured I’d hear him out if it didn’t inconvenience me. I didn’t want the man in my life, but I was way over any feelings for him other than indifference.
I was also ornery knowing I had to deal with Candy on my weekend off. I don’t go looking for confrontations, but I won’t back down from one either. She wasn’t getting away with stealing the gun from my apartment, fortuitous or not. She’d probably continue trying to avoid seeing me, yellow-bellied coward that she was, but I didn’t want to put it off. Since I wasn’t chasing her down; I had to orchestrate a meet. It made sense it would need to be at the family dinner tonight. She’d smugly think there was safety in such numbers, and that I’d be too busy being hostess with the mostest to get her.
This made me think about her hook-up at Luke’s last night. Again, not an enticing image anytime, but especially bad before the morning caffeine. Maybe I’d ask Luke to bring his weekend guest, John the Fuck-and-Runner, to liven things up tonight. I’d sic Jaz and Tre on him.
That thought alleviated a little of my crabbiness.
Then thinking about The Hammer possibly hunting me even as I lay here spiked the cranky levels back up again.
I carefully turned around in Luke’s arms and faced my sneaky prince. I propped up my head with my left arm and studied his sleeping form in the soft light from the lamp. Our blanket was pulled partially up to his waist, but one muscular leg stuck out over both of mine. He had on a T shirt and undecorated boxers. The white shirt was in stark contrast to his dark skin and the light trail of silky black chest hair revealed by the V neckline. I could see the brown, flat discs of his nipples clearly through the thin fabric. Even in repose, his biceps were cut with muscle. I clutched the bottom hem of my shirt to stop myself from reaching my free hand up to trace their outline.
I know being infatuated can be explained as an actual biochemical reaction occurring in the body. But if I found out I also suffered from the ongoing, extreme reactions the psycho-babblers termed Limerence; it would be the last straw. I’d commit the Hokey-Pokey, Hari-Kari hands down versus mooning endlessly over Luke the way I was right now. Even his short beard was a turn on to me, and I hate beards.
“What are you looking at, Princess?” Luke asked softly without opening his eyes. I smiled at his use of my royal title, so in tune with my own thoughts of him a moment ago.
“Please, it’s Princess Ruffles.” I whispered in correction.
On the floor behind me were wild thrashing noises. Sam Sheedy gasped, choked, and snorted like a huge pig at the trough before groaning and falling back asleep.
Eyes still closed,
Luke swore succinctly. “That prick kept me up all night.”
I smiled and leaned back. I gave in and trailed my hand up his arm. “So, you can see with your eyes closed? What else do you have? X-ray vision?”
Luke opened one eye and squinted down the length of my body. His hands tightened on my hips, squeezing. “Yes, Princess Muffles, I can see through your shirt. It’s useless as cover. Take it off.”
I didn’t take it off, but I did slowly lift the thin material up high in the front so that I wasn’t the only one doing some endless, infatuated mooning.
“It’s Ruffles, Princess Pink Ruffles, to be precise.” I then answered his original question. “I was just looking at you. I like you in a beard and longer hair.”
I left my shirt hiked up while I trailed my fingers lazily down from his arm and over my exposed bare breasts. My thumb lightly brushed over a soft nipple and I felt the tip hardening. “I’ve been wondering why you are looking so…drug dealerish since I saw you last.”
Luke’s focus was concentrated solely on watching my wandering, plucking fingers when he murmured absently, “I needed to look like a dirtbag for a couple of weeks.” He took his left hand off my hip and rested it on his thigh. “Have I told you lately how much I love how you mind me, Princess Fink Ruffles?”