“So how is your investigation coming a long?”
“Good. Better than good.”
“Enough about me. I want details about you and Ken.”
“He’s so good to me, Lex. At first I thought it would be weird because I represented his ex-wife, and I really like her. But he has never brought it up.”
“You look happy, Jules.”
“I am. When I look at myself in the mirror. I don’t recognize myself. I’m a content and fulfilled person.”
“You’re in love, Jules. It’s written all over your face.”
“Yes I am. He’s the one, Lex.”
“Really? The one?”
“Yeah, if he ever asked me to marry him—I would.”
“From the girl that said she would never ever marry. Just goes to show you—never say never.”
“It scares the crap out of me, Lex.”
“Why?”
“Because we’ve only been dating for a few weeks and I already feel that I couldn’t live without him.”
“Yeah, relationships are scary. Not like I’m an expert or anything but you don’t need to be an expert to figure that one out. So how is the…” I raise a knowing brow.
“It’s fantastic.”
And speaking of sex—Jules phone rings. She answers it and grins earring to earring. She holds up a just-a-second finger. Her smile is infectious and I find myself smiling along with her as she talks with Mr. Cain.
I love Jules. We’re complete opposites but we seem to work well together. Jules is stunning. She’s always reminded me of a Barbie and yes, I find it ironic that Nick reminds me of Ken. She has the biggest blue eyes and a cute little Barbie nose. She’s curvy and proud of it.
Jules looks at the world in color and yeah, she’s different, even a little wacko. Her misadventures are legendary and, at times, just plain fucked up. But hey, that’s just Jules. I think our connection runs deep because we both had unusual and difficult childhoods. Okay, we have issues—parent issues, relationship issues, trust issues and so on and so on.
I watch Jules as she talks to her one. She’s in love and it looks good on her. Love is wonderful and scary. Okay, what the fuck do I know about it? Not much—I totally suck at it.
Gram says you know he’s the one when your heart skips a beat. When you look at him, it skips, when he looks at you, it skips. When you hear his voice, it skips. When he touches you on your shoulder or you feel his breath on your neck…skip, skip. When he breathes in your scent, skip. When you breathe in his…skippy-skip. When I look at Jaxson, hear him, feel him, my heart doesn’t just skip beats, it almost stops. Crazy right? What the hell am I going to do?
THE KING RETURNS TO HIS CASTLE
I’m lying in bed nestled in between my Beeb sheets. I feel something brush against my leg. It tickles and I kick it away. It returns and I kick at it again. Then it speaks but the words are muddled. It continues to muddle-speak and I tell it to shut the fuck up and go away. Then it laughs and tugs my hair. I swat at it. Then I hear it speak my name and I open one eye. It’s hot. Okay, damn hot but I’m damn tired.
I was up late playing poker, shooting whiskey and smoking cigars with my new friends. It pulls on my hair again and I open the other eye. “What the hell are you doing?”
“I’m sitting on your bed, poking your legs and pulling your hair.”
“Let me rephrase. What the fuck, are you doing in my room?”
“You have quite the potty mouth, Alexia.”
No shit, Sherlock! “You haven’t answered my question.”
He gives me The Brow.
“Don’t give me The Brow. I hate it and it’s way too early. Just go away.”
“Why?”
I open my eyes. “Why what?”
“Why do you hate The Brow?” He smirks.
“Really?”
“Really.”
“It bugs me and you’re going to have one hell of wrinkle—bump thing, right in between your brows.”
He rubs the space between his brows. Sorry man that’s not going to help.
“So…why are you here?” I ask again and sit up on my elbows.
“I just wanted to see you.”
“Why?”
“I’ve missed your beautiful face, your sarcasm and your potty mouth.”
I roll my tired eyes.
He smiles. “Okay, I didn’t miss the potty, just the mouth.”
I rub my eyes. “What time is it?”
“About five.”
“Five!?” I fall back down, grab my pillow and put it over my face. “Can we do this later, I’ve got a headache,” I mumble through my pillow.
“We haven’t even fucked and already you have a headache.” He laughs, I ignore him. “Serves you right; you’re a bad influence, Ms. Keith.”
“How so?”
“You’ve corrupted my entire house staff.”
“Corrupted?”
“Yes, corrupted.”
“Hey, It was Lester’s idea to play poker, Mary supplied the whiskey and Louie, the cigars. I just showed up.”
“And because you just showed up, Louie invited his crazy cousins who are passed out in my library. Lane got drunk and couldn’t pick me up at the airport. And that forced me to take a cab and stay in the city. Mary is MIA and Lester is too hung-over to make me breakfast.”
“That’s unfortunate, but not my fault. And FYI, your house staff is already corrupted.”
“Maybe. And FYI, it’s weird and rude talking to you while your head is buried underneath your pillow.”
“You’re not going to go away, are you?”
“No. I’ve missed you and we need to talk about things.”
“Okay, I’ll meet you in the kitchen. We can talk while I fix you some breakfast.”
“Go ahead and get dressed, I’ll wait.”
“No, I’ll meet you in the kitchen.”
“I’ll wait.”
“I need to pee, Jaxson, and would appreciate if you would kindly remove yourself from my bed and wait down in the kitchen.”
He doesn’t move. I kick at him through the covers. “So…if you”—kick—“don’t mind.” Kick. Kick.
“I don’t mind. Are you afraid I’ll see you in your jammies.”
“No! Please, just leave, I really need to pee.”
“I’m good.”
“For, hell’s sake, Jaxson!” I toss the pillow off my face and fling back the Beeb covers. I get up and march to the bathroom in all my jammie-less glory, and firmly shut the door.
“Fuck, Alexia!”
“Potty mouth!” I yell through the door.
I pee, brush my teeth, and then pull my wild bed–head, cigar-odorous hair into a pony. I reach for my robe that’s hanging by the door but change my mind. This is my room, for now anyway, and I sleep in the buff. And well, he’s already seen the merchandise.
I open the door and again in all my jammie-less glory march to the dresser. I pull out a bra, matching panties and socks then toss them on the bed. Then I pull out a tee and yoga pants and throw them on the bed. I walk to the closet and grab some runners then walk back to the bed.
I stand in front of Jaxson, whose ass hasn’t moved an inch. He stares at me with a cheeky-assed grin that takes up the entire bottom half of his face. I begin to dress, but very slowly.
“Christ, Alexia.”
“This is my space, asshat.”
“Hey, I wasn’t complaining.” He shuffles to the middle of the bed, grabs two pillows, shoves them behind his head and lies back.
“Are you comfy?”
“Very.”
I roll my eyes while I pull up my panties and pull down my bra. “If I’d known you were coming for the show I would have microwaved some popcorn,” I deadpan and he laughs.
“Hell, if I’d known there was going to be a show, I would have brought my own.”
“Next time I’ll text you the time and date of the show so you’ll have plenty of time to pop your corn.”
I finis
h dressing then sit on the bed and put on my runners.
He swings his lanky legs off the other side of the bed.
I stand and spy him adjusting himself. “You really did miss me.”
He turns. ”You have no idea.”
I can’t help but notice the ample lump that has turned his loose-fitting jeans into tight-fitting jeans. “Are you going to be able to walk with that thing?”
He adjusts himself again. “I think I might need a minute.”
“Or ten.” I say and wiggle my brows.
He looks down at his lump.
“I’ll meet you in the kitchen in ten. I stare at it again. “Or twenty.”
I walk to the door. “FYI, I missed you too.
THE SHINDIG
Two days later, Jaxson Ryan hosts a charity dinner for children with learning disabilities at the estate. From the guesthouse where Lane and Mary reside—Lane and I watch the formally-dressed diners arrive.
“Looks like it’s going to be quite the shindig,” I say and take a sip of Scotch.
“Yep, sure wish I’d been invited,” Lane says with a sarcastic grin.
“Yep, me too. Can’t get enough of black tie charity dinners. So Mr. Lane Gray, you have the night off. Are you going to Disney Land or on a hot date?”
“I was hoping we could just hang.”
I lift a brow. “Just hang, huh?”
“Yeah.”
We continue to watch the guests arrive.
“More Scotch?” I ask and grab the bottle.
“Are you trying to get me drunk, Ms. Alexia Keith, so you can take advantage of me?”
I laugh. “Do I have to get you drunk Mr. Lane Gray, to take advantage?”
“No. You can take advantage of me at any time and in any condition.”
“I’ll keep that in mind. So what does just ‘hanging’ consist of ? Other than drinking.”
“Anything you want” he purrs.
I roll my eyes.
“We could get high.” He raises a brow.
“Really?”
Thirty minutes later…
“Dude, this is some sick cannabis,” I say while exhaling. “Maybe we should open a window or go outside. I don’t think your mom would appreciate her house smelling like a marijuana bar.”
“Let’s go out to the garage,” Lane says.
We shuffle to one of the two garages and enter through a side door.
Lane flips on a light.
We walk around while passing a joint between us.
“How many cars does the Boss-man own?” I ask.
“Twenty cars and three bikes.”
“Who in the hell needs twenty cars?”
“A bored millionaire.”
“I know a bored billionaire that doesn’t have any.”
“Maybe it’s not a question of need. One doesn’t even need a vehicle.”
I laugh.
“What’s so funny?”
“I don’t know. I must be real high because you reminded me of ‘Kung Fu’.”
“The Carradine dude.
“Yeah.”
“Why do I remind you of him?”
“It’s not a question of need grasshopper because one doesn’t need a vehicle,” I say with my best Kung Fu-Master voice.
Lane starts to choke while inhaling. Or maybe he was exhaling. Whatever. I grab the joint and pat him on the back.
”You okay man?”
“You are so high and that was fucking hilarious.”
“Thank you, grasshopper.”
“Why was he called grasshopper?” He asks.
“It…He…I have no fucking clue.”
We continue to wander around the garage.
“Which car is your favorite?”
Lane meanders over to a cherry red Mustang convertible.
“This is,” he says as he runs his hand over the hood. “Mint condition—1966—all original parts.”
“I don’t know shit about cars so I’m assuming that’s good.”
He smiles. “Yeah, it’s good.”
We make our way over to a new Range Rover. “This is new.”
“Yeah, the Boss-man just got it. You like Rovers?”
“I guess, I learned how to drive in one.” I pull on the driver side door and I’m surprised when it opens. “Don’t you lock the doors?”
“Not usually.” I climb in and sit behind the wheel.
Lane joins me and sits in the passenger seat.
He makes himself comfortable then reaches into his shirt pocket and gets out another joint and lighter. He lights it, takes a hit, and hands it to me.
He laughs as he exhales. “Jaxson said that we needed to break it in.”
I laugh. “I’m sure he didn’t mean by replacing the new car smell with pot smell.”
We sit and smoke in silence for a minute.
“So you said you learned to drive in a Rover?”
“Yeah, my Grandmother taught me. The steering, of course, was on the other side.”
“The UK?” he asks.
“Yeah, Scotland.”
“No way dude. Is it weird on the other side?”
“It wasn’t weird until I came back to the states.” I smile mostly to myself. “My first stateside driving experience was driving a Winnebago.”
“Why a motor home?”
“Because I had a death wish,” I say sarcastically. “Marco, Jules and I went on a three month, cross-country trip a few years ago. Our starting point was Washington DC—ending in LA.”
“Dude! That sounds awesome.” He pauses. “But…three months with Jules in a Winnie, that had to be rough.”
“There were times we wanted to strangle her, but it turned out to be the best summer of our lives. Three months of driving, sightseeing, getting wasted and getting laid.”
“Getting laid huh?”
“Yeah, one conquest in every state.”
Lane gives me a disbelieving look. “No way. All lower forty-eight?”
“Hell yeah. Well okay, not every state. We skipped the Midwest, Utah, Idaho, Wyoming and a few others.”
The windows in the Rover begin to fog, so I open my door. As I take in the fresh air I get a little light-headed. ”Fuck. Dude I’m high” I say and hold my head.
“Are you okay?” Lane asks as he puts his hand on my shoulder.
“Yeah, just a little brain melt.”
He stares at me for a minute.
“What?” I ask.
“I was going to ask you something but I can’t remember.” He pauses for several seconds. “Oh yeah. I was going to ask you…crap I forgot again.” He wrinkles his brow in concentration. “Okay, now I remember. Why do you say dude and man when you’re high?”
I think for a minute. The more I think the more my head hurts. “Fuck, dude, man, I don’t know.”
Lane looks at me. “Fuck we’re high. We need fresh air.” Lane opens his door and hops out.
I follow. “What next, man?” I ask while handing him back the joint.
“Let’s go outside dude.” He grabs my hand and we exit the garage.
HIGH DIVING
We walk around the gardens for a few minutes. I rub my hands over my arms.
“Are you cold?”
“Yeah, a little” I say and continue to rub my arms. We stroll past the swimming pools.
Lane stops and gives me a cheeky grin.
“Okay, what’s going on?”
“That pool” he says as he points to the uncovered pool that’s closest to the house…“is heated.” He raises his brows. “What do you think dude?”
I bite my lip. “I don’t know man.”
“It will warm ya up.” He gives me a hopeful smile.
“Okay, dude. Let’s go for a swim.”
We make our way to the side of the garage, and Lane opens a lock box.
He gets out a key that says Pool Gate on it. “This opens the gate that surrounds the pools.”
“Really? I’ll be sure to remember.” I grin. Man, th
e dude is high.
We walk to the gate; he unlocks it and we trek out to the heated pool.
“Okay, you first” I whisper.
“Why are you whispering?” I cock my head. “I have no freakin’ idea man.”
“How warm is the water?” I ask.
“I haven’t a clue, dude. Take your shoe off and stick your toe in.”
I pull off a high top and a sock, then lean over and stick my foot in.
“Well?” he asks with his hands on his hips.
“I’m not sure, my foot is numb.”
He shrugs. “I’m just going to dive in.”
He strips down, and I have to watch. “Nice chubby you got going on there, Mr. Gray.”
“Shut up, Lex, you know you want some,” he says. Then he shakes his hips and gives me a cocky wave. Literally.
“In your dreams, big boy.”
He laughs and walks up onto the dive board then stops.
“Did I just strip down in front of you and wag my junk?”
“Yep, you sure did.” He puts his hands over his face and shakes his head.
“Hey don’t worry about it, we won’t remember any of this.”
“You think?”
“No, we’ll remember everything.”
“Fuck.”
“It’s rather impressive.”
He grins. “It is, isn’t it. I’ve got the junk all right.”
“Okay, enough of being cocky about your cock, just dive off the damn board. Do a front double gamer!”
“What? What the hell is a gamer?”
“I don’t know.”
“You’re so high, man.”
“Yep, I think we both are.”
He walks to the end of the dive board. He slaps his arms and legs. Like that’s going to help.
“Here goes nothing” he says, then face-plants into the pool. He surfaces and rubs his face. “Holy fuck that hurt!”
I laugh so hard I have to sit down. “Nice belly face flop—I’ll give you a three for making me laugh so hard.”
He gives me a dirty look. “Three, huh?” He continues to rub his face.
“Are you okay, dude?”
“Yeah, just making sure nothing’s broken.”
“Did you flatten Mr. Chubby?” I pout.
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