by B. Cranford
“You’re welcome, Freckles.” He punctuated his words with a kiss to the end of her nose and she rewarded him with a small, sweet smile, which was followed by a long yawn.
She was so soft in that moment, it was hard for Declan to remember the spitfire that had tormented him, in one way or another, since the first day they met.
“Go to sleep, Jay,” he told her, watching her battle to keep her eyes open.
“Will you be here when I wake up, or do you have work?” The question was a shot to the heart, knowing as he did that she’d been left behind by others—by idiots and assholes—and he wanted to reassure her that all was well.
Except Sebastian’s words, which had been lost in the moment as he and Jade had been in the midst of something pretty heavy and fucking hot, came back to him.
Your phone was ringing in the living room. Which meant something had happened, some idiot had made a mistake and was counting on him to fix it.
So, instead of making a promise he wanted to keep but wasn’t sure he’d be able to, he gave her the truth. “I want to be here, sweetheart, but I need to check my phone. If I’m not here, I want to be—and I need you to know that.” He kissed her gently, because he wanted to, but also to give her a moment to process what he was saying.
“Okay,” was all she managed, before she pulled him back in for another longer kiss. Then, she surprised the hell out of him with her next words. “Can I see you tomorrow? If you’re not here?”
“Yes.” What else was there for him to say? He wanted to see her more than she wanted to see him, he was willing to bet.
“Okay,” she repeated, following with another yawn. “Tired.” Her eyes closed, and Declan laughed quietly. She was so tired she’d taken to talking in single words, but since the word told him she was okay, he didn’t mind at all.
He waited a beat or two, until Jade’s breathing evened out and her body sank into the mattress, before rising from the bed and pulling on his discarded pants. He was only going to grab his phone, since one awkward encounter with his best friend was enough for the night, and he wasn’t willing to chance it. His phone, when he grabbed it from where Seb had laid it on the floor next to the door leading into the spare room, lit up with several missed calls, messages and emails.
Fucking golfers.
It seemed that a second athlete of his had been trying to score a hole in one on multiple courses. And the fallout was unlikely to be pretty.
For his player, and for himself as he pictured the phone calls he’d be making to try and salvage not just the sponsorship deals he had in place, but the reputation of a man who should have fucking known better.
He was irate, but when he turned back to look at the sleeping woman in the bed he’d just vacated, some of the building anger ebbed. She was finally his. And if he wanted to have any chance of keeping her, he was going to have to get his work shit in order.
But first, since it was the middle of the night and he wasn’t about to fall over himself to help a grown man with a wayward dick, he dropped his pants and climbed back in beside Jade’s too-warm body.
The idiot could wait until morning because Declan had waited long enough.
He was going to hold her, until he had to stop—or until she told him to.
Jade woke to an empty bed, the sheets still holding a little warmth where Declan had lain beside her. She remembered the dip of the mattress as he climbed back into the bed. She remembered the press of his lips where he’d lifted her hair to expose the back of her neck. She remembered hearing his whispers but not the actual words.
Gone. He was gone.
But, before the demons within could try to use that to their advantage, she reminded herself of the words she did remember him saying.
If I’m not here, I want to be.
Suck on that, you jerks, she thought, a childish kind of glee erupting through her system. It was cut short, however, but the sound of the door opening, then the clinking sounds of tags and collars.
The animals were here for their wake-up call—and from the light footsteps that followed them into the room, Brighton was there too.
“Wake up, Freckles,” Brighton teased, flopping down onto the bed beside Jade. “Or are you too worn out from last night’s fun?” She turned her head and Jade narrowed her eyes at her friend’s teasing.
“I don’t know what you mean,” she lied, trying and failing to keep the smile from her face.
“Uh huh, that’s why Seb came back to bed at whatever the hell time it was and told me you two had been debating condoms. Happy to hear you’re engaging in safe sex though.”
Jade laughed, a feeling of . . . was it hope? . . . making itself known. “Yeah, okay. You caught me.”
“I didn’t. But Seb did.” Brighton bit her lip, her green eyes shining with curiosity.
“Just ask, I can see that you want to.” Jade knew that this talk was inevitable, and she was glad of it. Sharing wasn’t ever something she’d done easily before she’d met Brighton—and given the fact that she’d only just let her friend in on her I fooled around with your best friend in your fiancé’s supply closet secret, she was still a work in progress. But she found that she wanted to share this with Brighton.
She wanted to let her in, in the hopes that it would be harder for Bright to leave one day.
Stop, stop, stop. You can’t keep thinking like that.
*Snort* Like you can stop me.
“OhmyGodhowwasit?” Brighton’s question came as one long word, jumbled together and rushed out like the moment would pass before she got all the information she was seeking.
“Bright . . .” Jade paused, biting down on her lower lip as she tried to find the words.
“Just tell me, I’m dying over here.”
“Okay, drama queen, settle down. Jesus.” Jade smirked at her friend and then found the one and only word in her vocabulary that could even come close to doing her night with Declan justice. “Spectacular.”
Brighton’s mouth formed a little “o,” which was quickly replaced by a bed-shaking shimmy. “I knew it. I knew it.”
Jade just shrugged, not that Brighton seemed to notice. She was doing an odd kind of lying-down dance that bounced Jade on the mattress somewhat, and looked a little like she was trying to fight off invisible ninjas.
A few seconds ticked by as Brighton managed to get a hold of herself, asking the question Jade didn’t really know the answer to, but wanted to. Desperately. “So, now what?”
“To be honest, I don’t know. I guess we’re . . . dating?” It came out a question, her voice lilting upwards at the end, betraying her uncertainty. “When did he leave?”
“About thirty minutes ago. Another golfer”—Brighton rolled her eyes and waved a hand in a dismissive gesture—“was apparently not playing exclusively at his home course, if you know what I mean.”
“Golfers can’t keep it in their plaid pants. Who knew?” They both laughed, and as Jade rose to a sitting position, Brighton followed suit. They sat side by side on the bed, Jade in her oversized T-shirt, Brighton in yoga pants and tank top. No more words came, just a peaceful kind of silence that Jade didn’t feel the need to fill.
At least, not with words.
Jade snaked a hand over to where Brighton’s sat in her lap, and linked their palms, their fingers together. Brighton looked over and smiled before lowering her head to rest on Jade’s shoulder. She didn’t ask any more questions, didn’t bring up Jade’s panic attack of the night before. She simply held onto her friend’s hand.
And Jade held on right back.
Declan: Do you remember what I said?
Freckles: Yes.
Freckles: Wait. Are we talking about the same thing?
Declan: I’m not there, but I want to be.
Freckles: Oh. I was thinking about when you said you wanted to top me.
Declan: Yeah, that’s 100% going to happen.
Freckles: *smirk emoji*
Freckles: Have you eaten?
Freckles: Dec?
Declan: Sorry, it’s been busy here. No, I haven’t eaten.
Freckles: I want to bring you lunch. Is that okay?
Declan: You want to bring me lunch? What’s on the menu?
Declan: *crosses fingers* Please say you.
Freckles: Very funny, Jackass. Brighton and I made soup.
Declan: When you say Brighton and I, you mean . . . ?
Freckles: Mainly me. I distracted her from the stove at every opportunity.
Declan: You’re my hero. Heroine?
Declan: Whatever. Bring it.
Freckles: I’m no hero.
Freckles: It’s just . . .
Declan: It’s just what?
Freckles: My turn to be the white knight.
Three weeks, four days and about five hours.
That’s how long it had been since Jade had accepted the inevitable and decided to give him a chance. And for Declan, he could safely say it was the best three weeks, four days and five hours of his life.
Mostly.
She still had moments of doubt—questions about his past that she used to deter him from questions about her own past. Not to mention, more than a few snide comments for him, a reminder that his spitfire was still as sassy as ever. And that was okay—better than—because they were together and that was a good fucking start, as far as he was concerned.
“Mr. Young?” His assistant stood in the doorway of his office, a small smile on her face, and behind her, he could see the telltale signs of pink hair.
Jade.
“Ms. Miller is here to see you.” She stepped to the side, where his girl stood, shoulder to knee in black—black blouse, black skirt—with her head and toes in complementary shades of pink.
“Please call me Jade,” Jade offered, a friendly look in her hazel eyes that made Declan feel a rather unmanly tremble in his knees. For all that she’d spent the majority of their acquaintance showing him her prickly side, she was one of the kindest, funniest and most thoughtful people he knew.
And, since she herself was an assistant—of sorts—she always showed respect to people in similar positions.
She was also the most generous tipper he’d ever encountered. Which told him something about her that made him care all the more for her: she cared more about others than herself.
And she really likes good service, the dirty part of his mind offered, sending through memory after memory of her, head thrown back, neck exposed, body arching as he serviced her.
Sometime during his mental porno reel, his assistant had left, and Jade had moved to his side, propping herself on his desk like she owned it. “What are you thinking about, Jackass?”
He laughed at her use of his nickname. It had started as an insult, and sometime in recent weeks had become a term of affection. Odd, but he’d take it. He noted that she’d taken to calling him asshole if she was genuinely pissed about something, so, much like her pink hair was a signal to his cock to stand at attention, her use of Jackass was a sign to the rest of him that he was hers.
“You, spread across this desk, in nothing but these shoes,” he replied, his gaze dropping down to the heels that gave her extra height and extra sway and extra sex appeal.
Like she needs that.
“Hmm, interesting. What if I was thinking about me, on my knees, underneath your desk?”
“Both options should probably be explored to see which is better.”
“In the name of science?” She gave him a little wink, her eyes lighting up with desire.
“Fuck no, in the name of getting you off and me off as quickly as humanly possible.” He reached out for her, pulling her close enough that she could stand between his legs, his seated position affording him the chance to get up close and personal with her pretty tits. “Science schmience. In the name of orgasms, I beg you, Freckles, get on those knees.”
Jade leaned down enough to kiss him on the forehead, circling around his face until her lips landed on his. By the time their mouths melded together, Declan felt certain that he was 0.2 seconds away from blowing his load before she was even halfway to the carpet.
“I’d love to, but I can’t. I’m about to meet Brighton.” She pulled back from the kiss, an apologetic look on her face. “Girls’ night. Our first since she got back.”
“Yeah, but she’d totally understand if you were a little late. She’s a good friend, she’d want you to be satisfied before you got there.” He nodded along with his words, certain that his argument was solid, but instead of responding, Jade reached back to where she’d laid her purse on his desk—something else she must have done when he was watching mind porn—and grabbed her phone.
Tapping the screen a couple of times, she turned it around so Declan could see the last message she’d received. From Brighton.
Brighton: If you don’t get your sweet butt here soon, I’m going to eat all the apps I ordered *and* tell the new bartender to tell Travis that we were only pretending to be together.
Declan laughed at the words, knowing that his girl and his friend had a game they liked to play to keep men away from their girls’ nights. He’d been amused in the past by their antics, pleased to know that they were having fun and keeping away from the jerks that saw what they liked and knew what they wanted from two girls in a bar. But right at that minute, his laughter and amusement died a little.
It’s not as funny when it’s a cockblock for me, instead of those handsy idiots.
Jade raised one eyebrow at him, clearly waiting for a response, which he was trying to formulate. Saying something like “I’ll call her and let her know you’ll be late” would land him in the doghouse, but letting her go seemed stupid too.
“I could come along?” He thought his suggestion was excellent. More time with Jade, maybe a little under the table action. Yeah, that’d work. But judging by the face Jade made when he tried to invite himself to her girls’ night, she was not in agreement.
“It’s girls’ night, Dec. Are you a girl?” She asked her question with a pointed look at his erection, straining against his pants since she’d first walked into his office, and clearly ignoring the message that it wasn’t happening. “Nope, you’re not. But I wanted to know if I could stay at your place tonight, since I’ll be drinking.”
“Is Brighton driving?” He switched from horny boyfriend to concerned boyfriend in the blink of an eye.
“Well, she’s obviously not drinking, is she?” She patted her flat stomach as if to remind Declan of why Brighton was alcohol-free, and continued, “Yes, she said she could take me home, but . . .”
Declan’s heart and dick jerked simultaneously—his heart at her implication that, after spending time with her best friend, she wanted to spend time with him next; his dick at the sultry way she bit her lower lip and eyed him, like she was back to thinking about blowjobs and desk-clearing sex.
“But you want to come to me?” he asked, knowing the answer, knowing that they’d been spending as much time together as they could.
“And with you, of course.”
“Patrick.”
Brighton, mouth too full of some weird combination of kale, cauliflower and probably freshly-foraged-from-the-farm berries to answer, gave Jade a lengthy look, one which clearly said, “no.”
“What’s wrong with Patrick? Paying tribute to your creation would be completely adorable,” Jade justified, smiling as her best friend hurriedly finished chewing and swallowed her mouthful so she was free to answer.
“Yes, adorable. I agree. Completely.”
“I’m sensing some sarcasm here.”
“No, really?” Brighton gave Jade her best Taylor Swift shocked face, following up with an eye roll. “Strike Patrick from the list of potential baby names.”
“Sebastian Junior.” Jade nodded, straining to keep a straight face. She had no issue with naming a child after its parent, but she knew Brighton well enough to know that she wasn’t necessarily a fan.
“Jay . . .” Yep, that’s a no.
“Jade, if it’s a girl, then,” she offered, knowing that Brighton would probably have already socked away potential baby names for her child, but enjoying the game nonetheless.
“Jade is a beautiful name for a beautiful friend,” Brighton began, earning an ear-to-ear smile, “but no.”
“What? Why? I’m offended.”
“Yeah, that wouldn’t be at all confusing. My child, named after my best friend, her Godmother and the employee of her father. You’re right. Adding it to the list right now.” Brighton mimed writing on an imaginary notepad as the bartender approached.
“Another one, ladies?” The new bartender, Ashton, was a pretty woman, all blonde hair and blue eyes.
Brighton nodded, but Jade, knowing she was soon to be heading home—back to Declan’s place, actually—shook her head. “I’ll just have a water, no lemon, please.”
“You got it, I’ll be right back.” Ashton turned and walked to the other end of the bar, and Jade watched the way her body moved.
Stunning. The woman was stunning. And with her All-American good looks, she put Jade in mind of the man waiting for her at his place.
“She’s pretty, right?” Brighton asked her question with a sly look on her face, which, when it came to Bright, meant she was leading up to something. “Your type?”
“What do you mean, ‘my type’?” Jade tried to look even mildly offended, but the reality was, Ashton was her type. She’d always gone for blondes, male or female.
Declan was blond. Chris too. In fact, she struggled to come up with the name and face of any one of her former partners or hook-ups who hadn’t been. Not that Brighton should know that. She hadn’t been with anyone since they’d become friends and started hanging out regularly.
Well, except Declan.
Ah, I know what this is about.
Brighton snorted, an indelicate, unladylike sound that made Jade want to wrap her friend in a tight embrace. “Jade, I wasn’t born yesterday. I’ve seen the way you’ve eyed people when we’ve been out. And Declan? Blond. Clearly, you have a type.”