by Misti Murphy
“Yes. I don’t want to take it. Well, I do, but only if you go with me. I don’t want a long-distance relationship. I want to sleep in the same bed with you, every single night. I don’t want to have phone sex. I want to have real sex, anytime I crave it. Which seems to be all the time these days. If you don’t want to go, I’ll turn it down. I—”
“Chloe, I really appreciate this revelation—seriously, I do. But I have to be honest here. I’d really, really rather have this talk when we’re both down there.” He nods at the floor.
I adjust my grip on the brass ring and glance down. “This was clearly not one of my better ideas.”
“Nope, it really wasn’t.”
“You don’t have to agree quite so readily.”
“Sweetheart, if the shoe fits...”
“Seriously? You’re calling me ‘sweetheart’ now? When we’re hanging twelve feet in the air and you’re calling me an idiot again?”
“I didn’t say you were an idiot.”
“You agreed this was an idiotic idea.”
“It was. But that doesn’t mean I love you any less. Probably more, actually. Assuming we figure out how to get down from here without breaking something.”
Letting it go—for the moment—I glance down again. “Okay, what do we do now?”
He nods at the railing running along the second story hallway overlooking the foyer. “If we can get enough momentum going, we should be able to swing it far enough that you can jump and make it over there. Then go downstairs and grab the ladder to get me down.”
“You’re insane.”
“Do you have a better idea?”
“Don’t you have your phone in your pocket? Can’t you call someone?”
“No, it’s not in my pocket, and besides, I’m not sure I want to let even one hand go at this point. How about if you climb down my body? That should get you close enough to jump to the ground without injuring yourself.”
Climbing his body sounds like a marvellous idea, although I’m certain we are not thinking on the same wavelength at the moment. “I’m way too heavy. You won’t be able to hold on.”
“Stop being so goddamn contrary and do as I say!”
Arching my brows, I say, “You’re kidding, right?”
He rolls his eyes. “Come on, Chloe. Work with me here. I’ve got a firm grip on this thing. You need to climb down my body. And you need to hurry, because I’m not confident it’s going to hold much longer. It’s not meant to carry all this weight, and I’ve already cut part of the chain.”
I don’t like his idea, but I don’t have any better ones and my arms are getting tired. Clearly I need to work on strengthening my upper body next time I make it to the gym. Sucking in a deep breath, I shift my hands sideways along the brass bar I’m clinging to, moving painstakingly slow to Paynter. This is not how I envisioned this afternoon would go. I was certain we would be naked by now, celebrating the beginning of what hopefully will be a forever happily ever after. Never would it have crossed my mind that we’d be hanging from a chandelier, far enough from the ground to be concerned about serious injury or even death should we fall.
There is an ominous sound, one of those scary, dark noises that only happens in the movies, and the chandelier shudders. I let out a shriek as the side Paynt and I are hanging from abruptly droops lower than the rest while dust and chunks of plaster rain down on us.
“Fuck. It’s coming out of the ceiling,” Paynter says. “Get over here, Chloe. We need to get the hell off this thing.”
“I’m moving as fast as I can.”
“That’s not fast enough.”
“Are you always this damn bossy?”
“Normally you don’t complain.”
“Normally we aren’t hanging from a chandelier. But seriously, what about other important situations? Are you going to act like this? Because we’re likely to run into a few bumps in this road of life, and I want to know what I’ll be dealing with.”
“Can we get the hell down before starting this conversation?”
“I suppose, but—”
The door swings open and James steps into the foyer. “Holy Christ, you really are hanging from the chandelier.”
“How the hell did you know that?” Paynt asks.
James points at my phone, perched on the bannister. “Chloe never disconnected the call. I’ve been driving like a bat out of hell, listening to you two the whole damn time, hoping I made it here before you killed yourselves.”
“Well, hurry the hell up and get the ladder,” Paynter says, shaking his head, which causes the chandelier to shudder again.
James must sense the danger of the situation—hell, we’re hanging from a chandelier, so I suppose it doesn’t take much to get the impression we might be in a tad bit of trouble. Within seconds he’s righted the ladder and holding it steady while I climb down first and then Paynter. As soon as his feet touch the ground, Paynt stretches out his arms and herds both of us out the front door.
And then the glass and brass monstrosity of a giant penis hanging from his ceiling comes crashing to the floor, sending shards of shrapnel every which way.
“Spot,” I yell.
“It’s okay,” Paynt says, gripping my arm. “The vet said she’d be out for hours.”
My legs start shaking, from the adrenaline rush, I guess, and I sink to the grass with a shudder. Paynt drops to the ground next to me.
James stands there and stares at the mess we can see through the open front door. “Well, Garrett can now no longer say Queen B has the biggest dick he’s ever seen.” He glances at Paynter. “Are you going to sweep it all up and ship it to her?”
Paynter shakes his head. “It’s going in the trash. Along with every other thing that might possibly tie me back to our relationship.” He rolls over and splays his hand on my chest, pushing me back against the grass. And then he’s hovering over me, his hands pressed to the ground on either side of my head. “Did you mean it?” he demands.
I glance at James, who is pretending to inspect his suit coat for lint or wrinkles.
“Maybe.”
“Not good enough. Say it again.”
“Wait, what are you talking about?”
“You told me you love me.”
“Oh. That. Yes, I meant it.”
“Then say it again.”
I glance at James again. Paynter shakes his head.
“This isn’t business. You’re off the clock. I want to hear it. I nearly died a minute ago. I think I deserve a heartfelt admission, even in front of my brother.”
“If you’re referring to being in love,” James says, “I already figured it out weeks ago.”
“Then why the hell are you trying to send her to Kansas?” Paynt demands.
James shrugs. “Chloe would be great running that location. Although, actually, the more I think about it, I may want to keep her here after all. She has a stellar reputation in Chicago, and I think it pulls in clients I might not otherwise secure.”
“I don’t want to go,” I blurt, watching Paynter and refusing to look at my boss. Probably, eventually, my brother-in-law.
“If that’s the way to your promotion, you’re going,” Paynter says. He glances at James. “She’s taking it.”
“No,” I insist. “I want to be here with you.”
“I can work from anywhere, and this promotion is what you’ve been working for, for what? Your entire adult life?”
“Yes, but I now realize that isn’t what’s most important. Love, happiness, finding my soul mate. You. That’s what’s important to me. The rest is just necessary to survive. Well, so are you. I don’t think I can live without you. I don’t want to try.”
“I just said I’ll go with you. If you’ll have me.”
I twist my hand into the front of his shirt. “I want you. Anyway I can get you. Anywhere I can have you.”
“Excuse me while I go barf,” James says, making gagging noises for emphasis.
Paynt chuckles. “You go
do that. Meanwhile, I’m going to ravish the woman I love, right here on the front lawn.”
“That sounds divine,” I say, throwing my arms around his neck.
“Before you do that, Chloe, do you want the promotion?” James asks.
I stare into Paynter’s eyes while I respond to my boss. “I need some time to think about it.”
“Well, if it helps, I’d rather you stay here. And I’m willing to make you partner.”
Cupping my face, Paynter dips down for a kiss, licking his way into my mouth, his tongue dancing with mine.
“Is that a yes?” James asks.
“Yes,” I say, the word muffled by Paynter’s lips.
“Good. My work here is done. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’d really rather not watch this display.”
I’m pretty sure he walked away at that point. Distantly, I hear the sound of a car motor revving, but I’m too focused on my man to pay much attention.
I cling to Paynter, wrapping my legs around his waist and twisting my ankles behind his back. I hear a yip yip and I’m sure it’s Jersey housewife, taking her damn dog for a walk. For once, I don’t care that she’s witnessing Paynter and I practically having sex on the front lawn. Her condemnation means nothing to me. All I care about is what Paynt thinks. And judging by how swiftly his hand snakes under my shirt to cup my breast, I have a crystal clear idea what he’s thinking right now.
“The only disappointing thing about not moving to Kansas,” he says, interrupting my thoughts as I try to determine if there’s a piece of furniture we haven’t yet christened, “is that for a minute, I was really looking forward to seeing you in a pair of sexy red heels. And nothing else.”
“We don’t need to go to Kansas for that to happen.”
EPILOGUE
PAYNTER
Chloe stands in the entry to the kitchen, her phone in one hand, a smile spread from ear to ear, when I look up from the vegetables I’m preparing. It’s been a couple of weeks since the chandelier came crashing down, and Chloe and I finally came to an agreement on what this thing between us is. It’s not perfect by any means, but it is real and so far shifting from neighbors with benefits to a relationship that even Chloe’s colleagues know about has only made it clear that I’m in love with her. And that her first instinct is no longer to bolt. Though I admit I enjoyed the chase, I much prefer her toned legs wrapped around me, instead of running away.
“What’s got you so happy?” I ask, moving to the sink to wash my hands.
“That was the vice president of the homeowners’ association.” She glides toward me barefoot. “It seems your ex decided this neighborhood wasn’t for her after all.”
“That is good news,” I say. About a week ago, Bernadette contacted me to console me over my break-up with Chloe. She was irritated when I told her that her gossip was wrong, which led to some remark about Marcus Newal and how men these days always left something to be desired. That was the last of our conversation.
“Her house is up for sale.” Chloe is practically buzzing with excitement. “And the board needs a new president.”
“And you volunteered?”
“Of course. It’s about time someone changed the bylaws to include goats as pets, don’t you think? We went to all the trouble to buy her from that goat farm. We don’t want Spot thinking she isn’t welcome in this community.”
“You bought her. Hell knows, you wouldn’t let me get between you and acquiring our goat.” She refused to give me an inch, though I’d tried to talk her into letting me buy Spot, since I was the one who initially planned to keep her.
“I’m sorry. It’s natural for me want to beat out competitors.”
“She’s a goat, not property.”
“Our goat. Our little mischief maker.” Chloe doesn’t stop smiling. It’s hard to believe the woman who couldn’t handle the idea of a goat in her yard just two months ago now looks at one as her pet. It’s fucking adorable, actually.
“Mischief maker is right. She chewed up another pair of your heels this morning.”
“She what? Oh no.” Chloe covers her mouth with her fingertips. “Which ones?”
“The black and silver spiked heels.”
“Damn it, Spot.” Her eyes get a little watery over the lost shoes.
“Yeah, but I got you something.” I leave her to go to my office and come back with a box.
“Louis Vuitton?” She reverently runs her hand over the top of the box while she eyeballs the insignia. “You didn’t.”
“Open it.”
She places the box on the countertop and opens it to find a pair of sparkly red heels. “They’re gorgeous.” She pulls one shoe out of the tissue paper and cradles it. “Exquisite, but I don’t need them.”
My chest swells with warmth over the awe on her face. “Oh, I think you do. I’ve been fantasizing about you in those heels and nothing else all damn day.”
“But they’re too much.” She slips her feet into them. “You have no idea how many times I tried on Louis Vuitton and put them back because they cost too much. And I have a decent salary.”
“Remember those apps you asked about when I first told you what I did for a living? The ones you said you might know? I created them for the corporate sector. I made a few million from the sales on two of them. Just because I don’t like people who make their whole lives about showing off how important and wealthy they are doesn’t mean I don’t have the ability to buy you a pair of shoes if I want to.”
“Well, I love them.” She sidles up to me, slipping her hand in the back pocket of my jeans. “And I love you.”
“What did you say?” I rest my cheek against her hair. I know what she said, but I enjoy hearing it.
“I love you, Paynter.” She rises on tiptoe and winds one arm around my neck. “Want to christen the counter again? I’ll leave the shoes on.”
I groan deeply. She might hate cooking, but she loves, loves, loves the kitchen. “We can’t. James and Garrett are coming for dinner, remember?”
“After?” She glances longingly at the surface.
“We can start there.” I slowly rasp my lips over hers. “And move onto the dining table.”
“And against the banister.” She deepens the kiss.
“On the deck.” I grasp her ass in the navy pencil skirt she’s still wearing, and she winds her legs around my waist.
“Your office.” Her fingers pluck at the buttons on my flannel shirt until each one comes undone.
“Finish up by getting clean in the shower?” I murmur against her mouth.
“Only if we can get dirty again in bed.” She yanks the material off my shoulders.
With a sweep of my hand I send vegetables rolling across the counter and seat her in their place. Then I undo the necktie on her silk blouse. “I changed my mind. I don’t think I can wait.”
***
A little while later, we’re showered, changed, have disinfected the counter, and we’re back in the kitchen getting ready for dinner with James and Garrett. It’s the first time we’ve done something like this with James, which makes me believe she might be coming around to the idea that she doesn’t always have to be on when it comes to her career. Or her boss. Our relationship is all about baby steps, just like teaching her to cook.
“Are you certain you want me to do that?” Chloe turns her nose up at the tenderloins spread out on a tray. “After I burned potatoes boiling them, last time I tried to help cook, I’m not sure this is a good idea. Your brother is still my boss. What if I give him food poisoning?”
I grin as I slide the salad vegetables I’ve cut up into a glass bowl. She’s so cute when she wrinkles her nose like that. “You’ve got this. The marinade’s already mixed. You just have to baste the meat. You’re not going to ruin the meat by painting it with flavor.”
“You never know. I might.” She picks up the basting brush and the jar of my special BBQ mix. “And then I’d lose my job and my house and—”
“Enough of that.” I c
ircle the counter to stand behind her. Clamping my hands on her shoulders, I use my thumbs to massage the knots along her neck, and she tilts her head to the side with a murmur. “James isn’t going to care that you can’t cook. In fact, he’s not much of a cook himself. He never quite got the hang of it the way the rest of us did. You’ll see. He’s bringing desert. I bet it’s something he picks up from a patisserie.”
“He can’t cook?” She glances over her shoulder at me in surprise.
“Now I didn’t say that. He’s great at making toast, but other than that, I don’t think I’ve seen him cook anything in years.”
“He’s a very busy man.”
“With a maid and a catering service that keeps his fridge stocked.” I drop a kiss onto her shoulder. “And you are not going to lose your job. Not now, not ever. He sure as hell isn’t going to care if you don’t put the marinade on thick enough.”
“That’s true. I’m incredible at my job.” She focuses on the marinade. “What about Ronnie? Is she coming tonight?”
“Ronnie’s based in New York. She doesn’t make it home much and she was just in town for my birthday, but next time she visits we’ll have dinner again.” I love how easily Chloe fell into place with my family. Where they all hated Queen B, each one of them was in Chloe’s corner before they even knew her.
“I’d like that,” she says.
“It looks so much better in here without that horrendous chandelier,” Garrett yells out, announcing himself before entering the kitchen.
“You know you could knock on the front door,” I tell Garrett.
“And miss catching you two in a potentially embarrassing situation?” He chuckles as Abby sprints toward me and latches onto my leg. “Yeah, I probably should have.”
“Uncle P, where’s Spot?” Abby asks, looking up at me with wide eyes.
“Outside in her pen.” I crouch down to her level and hug my niece. “Do you want me to bring her in for you? I’ll put her on a leash and you two can play.”
“Please.” She scampers to the deck door and presses her nose flat to the glass. “I want a Spot at my house, too, but Daddy says we can’t have one.”