Dewey Belong Together

by Smartypants Romance

  She seemed to think on that and nodded. “Yeah, I get all that. I think I might have a dog, if I didn’t game so much. I work five days a week, and I either read or game pretty hardcore when I’m not working. And I have to take care of my mom too, to an extent. Getting her whatever she needs from the grocery or pharmacy, and spending time with her. Did I tell you she’s got agoraphobia?” I nodded, and she continued, “I think it’s a matter of priorities for me. Do I want to spend my time walking a dog and playing with it, or sitting in front of my computer talking with my friends and getting grouched at by my cats?”

  “Do you think they’re really our friends, though? I’ve been struggling with that question for the last few days. I mean, I thought we were friends, ever since Guilds of the Ages. And it turns out you hated me all that time. Who else might secretly hate either of us?”

  She lowered her fork and reached out, taking my hand in hers. “You can’t think like that, Jonathan. People in the guild love you. You’re funny, you’re a leader, you suck at duels, but you are generous with your time and materials. You give a lot to the guild, and people appreciate that. There was talk last year of making you an officer.”

  I reeled. “I call bullshit,” I blurted out, tact having fled me. “Why would the top guild in North America want me for an officer?”

  “You know how much you piss me off when you try to tweak my strategies during the actual fights or prefight planning, in front of everyone in the damn raid party?”

  I flushed. “Yes,” I mumbled.

  “Well, the truth is, your ideas are always, or almost always, good ones. Sometimes they’re brilliant. If we had you planning the strategy with me beforehand in private, we could present a united front to the guild and not confuse the members with last-minute changes, or piss everyone off by having yet another public argument. The only thing holding you back in joining the leadership of the guild is your attitude. You change up your behavior a bit, and I guarantee you'll be called up to join us. Think on it, okay?”

  I nodded. “Now, whatever are we going to do until my plane leaves?” I asked, trying to sound seductive and sexy. I’m sure my words came across as creepy and lame because she grinned wide and put her hand over her mouth.

  “The original itinerary for today was gaming—tabletop games, I mean—at the gaming shop in town. I was going to host it here, but since there’s only two of us, I suggest we head down there, grab a table, and see if anyone wants to join us.”

  “That does sound like a possibility,” I returned. “But I have a better idea of who could use our company today.”

  After a glorious shower where she had gotten down on her knees for me underneath the hot water and I'd made love to her standing up against the shower stall, it was a wonder I could even think, let alone execute a plan. We tumbled into the bed together, still partly wet, to kiss and roll around, touching every inch of each other. We spent about a half hour like that, until I said only partly in jest that if we didn’t get up both of our hair would be ruined, and I wanted to look my best for where we were going. Max reluctantly agreed, and let me have first crack at the hair dryer, while she picked out some appropriate games.

  When I emerged from the bathroom and made it into the gaming room to get dressed, I saw Scrabble, Yahtzee, Cribbage, and Trivial Pursuit laid out on the bed. Perfect. I put on my nicest clothes that I had brought with me and gathered up the games, meeting Max in the main room. Her hair was up in an attractive bun today, and she was wearing a black skirt with lots of that poofy ballerina stuff. She had on a tight red cardigan and bright red lipstick to match. The overall effect was one that made me want to put down the games, throw her over my shoulder and drag her back to the bedroom, but we had a plan, and I was determined we made it happen.

  “Did you call her?” I asked, leaning down to give Max a peck on the cheek so as not to ruin her lipstick.

  “And trigger her anxiety? No way. If I give her a heads-up that we’re coming, she’ll start cleaning the house like mad, try to bake, and will fuss forever about her wardrobe. Trust me, a straight-up ambush is best for her.”

  “Well, she’s your mother, you would know.” I smiled.

  This was it, my grand plan. I wanted to meet Max’s mom. I wanted to win her over, show her the type of man I was, and that I was very serious about her daughter and had every intention of doing something about it. And if we stopped at the Donner Bakery to pick up what Max assured me was the best banana cake in the state, well, I knew sweetening my suit couldn’t hurt.

  Stiles lurched to a halt in front of a nice-looking two-story house on the other side of town. I was momentarily shaken by the size of the house Maxine had grown up in, wondering what had compelled her to leave. She could probably save a bundle on mortgage payments and other bills if she had stayed home with her mother. But everyone wasn't like me and my big sister. Some people, like some flowers, needed room to grow and blossom. You plant them too close, and they withered and died.

  We climbed up the front steps. Max knocked, then rang the bell and went ahead and used a key on her chain. "Momma? It's me, Max."

  "Maxie!" A voice came shouting back. "I wasn't expecting you until Tuesday! Let me get my robe and—"

  "Momma, I brought a friend with me, a man. Is that okay?"

  Silence.

  "Maxie, you brought a gentleman caller? I ought to have expected this. Mrs. Howser stopped by with a casserole and said she saw a young man staying at your house, and Mrs. Potter has been telling anyone who would listen about your new suitor." Then I heard a familiar giggle. "Bring him in. I'll get dressed."

  Max smiled wide at me and managed to give me a thumbs-up while holding the banana cake. I had the stack of board games in my arms. We set down our things to remove our coats and shoes, and then headed down a long hall to the kitchen. Max unboxed the banana cake and put on the teakettle while I put the board games down in the middle of the kitchen table and looked around. On one wall in the hallway, visible from the kitchen, there was a large cross-stitch sampler that read, In this home, we believe magic is real, the answer is 42, Frodo lives, the Doctor is in their T.A.R.D.I.S., the cake is a lie, and the Force will be with us, always. I grinned wide and was about to ask Max about it when her mom entered the room. She looked me up and down, then turned to Max.

  “Momma,” she began, “this is one of my oldest friends. His name is Jonathan, and he lives in Florida. Jonathan, this is my mother, Rose.”

  I extended a hand toward the short, dark haired woman and she took it. I slowly made to kiss the back of her hand, giving her plenty of time to yank her hand away or smack me if she didn’t want me to. Instead, she smiled wide and giggled a little, that exact same giggle Max had given our waitress the other night.

  “It’s nice to meet you, ma’am,” I said, tipping my head.

  “Oh boy, here we go,” Max said, smacking me on the arm.

  “Maxie! What on earth?” her mother asked, sounding scandalized.

  “This is where he oozes charm and magically wins you over, and that’s before I even tell you he bought the banana cake.”

  “There’s banana cake?” she asked with interest.

  “Yes, Momma,” Max replied, smiling a bit.

  “You may call me Rose,” Max’s mom said to me, smiling wide. “But don’t think you’ve bought your way into my affections! I’m very particular over who I like, but I get feelings about some people. You, I like.”

  I wanted to do a victory lap around the room. “Thank you, Rose. I like you too. And I hope you’re prepared to get a bit competitive because we’ve brought games as well.”

  “So let me get this straight, Maxie. You brought home my favorite cake, a handsome man, and games. Is it my birthday?”

  "Nope, we wanted to include you in our weekend," Max said. “It was Jonathan's idea. He's heading back to Florida today, and he wanted to meet you before he left Green Valley."

  "Max!" I exclaimed, playing along. "That is confidential information you a
re handing out like free samples."

  "Ah, he wanted to meet the mother. So how long have y'all been sleeping together?" She poured some tea into a cup and spooned in some sugar, then made eyes at the banana cake. "Will that be three plates for cake?"

  Max hid her face behind a hand and mouthed “sorry” in my direction. I wasn't sorry. Rose was a hoot.

  "Rose, now you know it's not polite for a man to talk about a woman he wants to court. And I am serious about your daughter. Very serious. So yes, I wanted to meet you. I've known Max for ten years, and I can honestly say that I think we are well-suited to each other. And yes, three for cake."

  Rose plated up the cake while Max finished up the tea, and we took our places around the table.

  "That may be all well and good, but how suited are you and Florida? You know my Maxie has an excellent job at our local library."

  "Whoa, everyone take it down a notch! Momma, we just slept together last night, if you must know. We haven't talked about Florida, or being suited, or anything. And I don't want to have that talk for the first time in front of my mother, no offense."

  Max was breathing especially hard by the end of her speech, and I had to respect her for speaking up when she did. My mouth tended to have a mind of its own when strong feelings were involved.

  "Oh my," Rose said. "I had assumed things were far more advanced than that. I apologize for being nosy."

  Max snorted. I'm guessing this wasn't Rose's first time crossing a line.

  Speaking of lines. "I'm sorry too. I let my emotions take over where I should have let my brain stay in charge. Forgive me, Max?"

  Max looked me over, and smirked. "Yeah, yeah. Forgiven. You too, Momma. Now are we going to eat this cake and get to some Trivial Pursuit or what?"

  We spent three hours with Rose, and in that time she bloomed, like her name suggested. I saw so much of Max in her, and my heart ached that she had experienced the loss of her husband in such a traumatic way. She was so vivacious, it was hard to believe she lived almost entirely in this house all alone. I wondered if there was something I could do for her to help, but I knew I would be hard-pressed to do it from several states away.

  When we made ready to leave, Rose gave us each a tight hug and a kiss on the cheek. Then, just loud enough for Max to overhear, she said to me, "Take care of my Maxie. She acts tough, but she needs someone to lean on."

  Once we were belted in to Stiles again, Max turned to me and said with all seriousness, "You won't say it because you're not even allowed to think it." I wracked my brain for a minute, then realized what she meant.

  "Oh, come on, Maxi-Pad, there's no shame in having an embarrassing nickname from your parents."

  I should have anticipated the thwap that came at my arm, but for some reason it didn't seem playful to me today. Maybe visiting Rose had made me think of my own parents. I turned to Max and said quietly, "You're never going to hit me again, whether it's as a joke or not, okay? I spent too many years getting my ass beat to think that it's funny anymore." She held my eyes and nodded, then gently rubbed the spot she whacked. I appreciated the gesture.

  By the time we arrived back at Max's place, a weird, charged tension cracked in the air between us. We had less than two hours before we had to leave for the airport, and my lizard brain knew exactly what it wanted to do for as long as possible. As soon as we lurched to a stop, Max surprised me by leaning across the console, giving me a kiss on the mouth, then jumping out of the Jeep and running as fast as she could toward the front door. I scrambled to get my seat belt off, which appeared to have gained sentience and wasn’t about to let go of my body, then fought with the tricky door handle before leaping from the vehicle and running to the cottage, just as Max was about to slam the door in my face.

  “Ye shall never take me alive, ye scurvy knave!” she shouted, laughing.

  “And why should I want you, you shrieking shrew!” I hollered back, my foot now wedged firmly in the doorframe.

  “Because you love it when I shriek for you,” she retorted, still pushing on the door for all its worth.

  I grinned. She was right, I did love it.

  “Maxine Peters, is that man trying to break into your house?” The cry came from behind me. I turned and saw an elderly lady on the sidewalk armed with a cane and a cell phone.

  Well, damn. I moved my foot out as quickly as I could considering it was being squashed, and then Max got with the program. She stopped pushing on the door, opened it gently, and shouted, “No, no, Mrs. Howser. It’s my houseguest. We were playing a game.”

  I snickered. Well, I suppose foreplay is a kind of game, when it comes down to it.

  “You young people are so strange these days. Too young and full of vigor to come to the church socials, too old to be playing games on the front porch that terrorize your neighbors!”

  “We’re sorry for the disturbance, Mrs. Howser. Enjoy your day!” Max grabbed me by the front of my shirt and hauled me inside, slamming the door behind me.

  Chapter 16

  Maxine

  “Look, if you want patience, talk to your mother. If you want to get shit done, come to me.”

  ― Maximus_Damage

  After slamming the door metaphorically in Mrs. Howser’s face, I pushed Jonathan back against it, kissing the hell out of him while She-Ra and Catra buzzed around our feet and rubbed their heads against our legs. And okay, while the cats were cute as anything, I couldn’t make out in front of them. It felt … wrong somehow. Like they were silently passing judgment.

  I unlatched my mouth from his, and panting, managed to say, “Bedroom, now. Cats watching. Icky.”

  “Agreed,” he said, kissing and holding me as we made our way awkwardly toward my bedroom, me walking backward.

  He gave me a gentle push when we reached the end of the ginormous bed, and I flopped down, opening my arms wide to accept him on top of me. Only, he surprised me. He knelt on the floor beside my legs, and starting with the left foot, he took off my stocking. Then the right. Next, he reached up and undid the zipper on the side of my skirt, slid it and my panties off, and tossed them in a pile of black tulle. I had never felt so exposed since my sexual escapades as a teenager, and that was a long time ago—before cellulite. My legs involuntarily quivered with anticipation and nerves as he spread them slowly, then settled between them, bringing his mouth to my core.

  Let me say this: if I thought Jonathan was a good kisser, I knew nothing. Because what he was doing now with his mouth and tongue was like a man possessed, with one goal—to bring me to climax. I bucked my hips up and dug my hands into my quilt, fisting the fabric as the pleasure rolled over me, giving me one of the best orgasms of my life. Possibly the best. Oh, who was I kidding, it was definitely the best because it was Jonathan and because I had never wanted anyone so much in my life.

  I reached down to grab his hand and pull him up on the bed beside me, and I could see his erection tenting his pants.

  I grinned. “Reciprocation is a vocation any lover should indulge with exultation,” I said dreamily. “I’ll get to you as soon as I can catch my breath and my arms stop being limp noodles.”

  “I’m in no hurry, as long as I can play with your breasts while I wait,” he said cheekily.

  I groaned, wondering how his hands would feel on me―on top of the endorphins running through my body―but started pulling at my cardigan anyway. I let him unfasten my bra, and he sent that sailing in the same direction as my skirt and underwear. There was something decadent about being completely naked while he was clothed, as though I were laid out for him to worship.

  He kissed me hungrily, then wrapped both arms around me and urged me up to the pillows where we could stretch out without hanging halfway off the bed. I accidentally bit his tongue in the move, which turned his little moans of pleasure into a loud grunt of pain.

  “Okay, love, no more kissing for a few, at least until my tongue returns to its original size,” he said. I covered my face in my hands in embarrassment.


  “I’m so sorry!” I cried, unable to believe I had klutzed up a kiss.

  Actually, I could completely believe it. If it wasn’t lipstick on my teeth, it was almost biting off my lover’s tongue.

  He managed a chuckle, and gently peeled my hands from my face.

  “Hey, it’s okay. It’ll be a funny story one day.”

  I stiffened a bit. Would there be a “one day” for Jonathan and me? We’d been having such a good time, but could that hold up in the real world, outside this bubble of a charmed weekend with no real responsibilities and no one else getting in the way? My thoughts were interrupted by him promptly rolling me over from where I was on my side to flat on my back and climbing on top of me.

  “I can’t wait anymore. You’re too damn appealing all laid out for me like this.” He started to tear at his clothes like a man possessed, and once he had his pants and boxers down, he stopped and said, “Condom. Damn, I almost forgot.”

  “Me too,” I confessed. I’d never been irresponsible in that way before, but this explosive chemistry between us made me as dumb as a rock.

  He reached into the bedside table, fished around for the strip of condoms, and rolled one on. Next thing I knew, he was lifting my left leg and bending it at the knee, thrusting inside me so fast and hard, I gasped. And it was so, so good. As we joined our bodies, I had this sense of something bigger happening, something I had never felt before. Like I had been asleep, and now was awakening.

  As we lay tangled together in my sheets, the quilt long having gone the same route as our clothes, we felt each other everywhere, with fingers, lips, and—very carefully—with tongues. I felt warm and safe, and wanted to stay snuggled together for as long as humanly possible.