He gave me that sexy blue-eyed smile. “I love you” suddenly and unexpectedly slipped from his mouth before he had time to think about it. We both froze and just stared at each other for several moments.
“Thank you,” I whispered back. He leaned forward placing a slow, gentle kiss on my lips. I reached up, gently pulling him back down onto me. I wanted to lie there with him just a bit longer. He obliged, gently laying himself beside me. My pent-up feelings of being an inadequate woman floated up and out of my now limp body. He had changed my perspective. I was so relaxed. This felt good and absolutely right.
The chirping sound coming from the bedroom floor startled us. Irish sat up now, “That’s my phone,” he said. He rolled off the bed and bent down to retrieve his pants. I stared at his bare backside. “Yeah, this is Irish,” he said, holding the phone to his ear. “Okay, I’m on my way.” He closed his phone and looked at me with an apologetic face. His voice was soft now as he climbed back into the bed next to me. “I have to go.”
I pulled the covers loosely over me and sat up on my elbows. “Who was that?”
“It was my dad,” he answered, looking at me.
“You work for your dad?” I asked.
“Yes,” he said, lifting himself to kiss my face. He paused above me for a long moment. “I really have to go.”
I reached my arms out for him and we lay there like limp washcloths, hugging each other in silence. With my face buried in his soft hairy chest, I whispered, “Thank you, Irish; you’ll never know what this meant to me.”
He remained still for a moment, then lifted himself up and looked at me. He didn’t act rushed, he just smiled and touched my nose lightly with his finger. “That was something that I’ll always remember, Jurnee.”
I looked deep into his eyes and I could see he meant it. “I love you, too, Irish.”
He crumpled his naked body back down gently onto me, burying his face in my neck. We lay there holding each other. In that moment, I hadn’t lied to him. In that space of time I really loved him back.
* * *
It was two o’clock and I’d polished every piece of furniture and vacuumed all of the carpeting in the townhouse. I was energized and made myself a sandwich, plopping down on the sofa to watch some mindless television show. As I sat there with the sound muted, I smiled. Irish was right. I was glad to be able to think about what’d happened between us as something special. I had no regrets. I couldn’t stop smiling when I played it all back in my head. I honestly couldn’t remember the last time I felt this genuinely happy. Was I in love or in lust? I wasn’t really sure.
I don’t think that I’d ever had more than a girl-crush on any guy before. I’d had sex twice in my life, both times when I was eighteen, but it wasn’t anything like the intimacy that happened with Irish today. I’d felt like a beautiful and desirable woman with him. I didn’t feel dirty or ashamed as I had my first two times. I’d been with Irish because I wanted it, not because I felt pressured or forced into it by guilt. This had been a totally different experience, I thought, a consensual one. I was absolutely sure of one thing and it was definitely going to happen again before I left for North Carolina.
When Judy finally got home, she told me all about her day and what the mechanic had done to her car. I followed her from room to room as she changed from her work clothes and put away things that she’d carried in with her. She didn’t come right out and ask me what had happened after she’d dropped me off at the bay with Irish yesterday.
After pouring us both a glass of wine, we headed for the patio and sat down. “So,” she finally said to me, “how was your day?”
I looked at her and smiled. “My day has been great, and I really missed you.”
She stared at my face as if waiting for me to continue. I sat there smiling back at her. For some odd reason I wanted her to ask me what’d happened with Irish. I continued looking at her but now I was sure that my smile had changed to a stupid grin.
“You didn’t,” she said. Her eyes grew large as she watched my face, waiting for an answer.
“Yes, we did,” I squealed. I could feel my body almost rising out of the chair.
“And?” she encouraged. “Are you going to tell me what happened or am I supposed to guess?”
I began by telling her everything that had happened at the bay and then at Irish’s house. She smiled and listened to me with anticipation. When I began telling her about what happened this morning, I watched her face change. Instead of looking excited and interested, she wore a concerned motherly expression. When she heard that Irish and I had exchanged the words I love you, she turned away and took a long sip of her wine. I watched her closely. Did she think that I’d done something wrong? I stopped sharing and sat there quietly.
After a few moments she turned to me, and with the sweetest, most caring face said, “Jurnee, I’m so afraid you’re going to get hurt.” I could feel my eyebrows rise and my lips press tightly together. We continued to look at each other, no words exchanged. I took a drink from my glass to break our stare. I could understand why she was worried, but getting hurt was the last thing I was thinking about.
“Judy, I leave Sunday,” and I looked at her so that she could see I’d be okay, “and Irish will go back to what Irish does and I’ll go back to being a city girl living in the country,” I leaned forward a little so that she could see my eyes. “For two years I’ve buried myself in love novels and read relationship articles in Cosmos, just to stay sane. If I love someone dangerously for nine or ten days, what’s the problem? My eyes are wide open here.”
She broke away from my stare and took another drink of her wine as if trying to find a way to agree with my words, a way to believe me. Still looking away from me, she said, “J.C., I’m not judging you, please believe me. When I called Irish yesterday, I’d watched you go through the loss of both parents. You were a rock.” She turned to me and I could see her eyes were red and brimming with tears. “I’m not sure I know the way to help you through this with your aunt. I’m so afraid I’m going to let you down.” A tear ran down her cheek. “I was a chicken shit for calling him,” she said in almost a whisper.
I stood up and opened my arms to her. We stood there and hugged. I felt like the adult in this friendship for the first time. “You made the right choice calling Irish. I’ve had more fun, excitement, and mystery in the last three days than I’ve had in the last two years.” She pulled away and smiled at me, smacking my shoulder before going to pour more wine.
We decided to order a pizza for dinner and watch a movie on television. I sat on the patio smoking a cigarette while Judy called in the order. Phone in hand, she came to the door and pointed toward the living room. I stood up and followed her finger. It was my phone chirping. I followed the sound to my room. It was Irish.
“Hello,” I said, trying not to act like an excited child on Christmas morning.
“I’m sorry I didn’t call sooner. I wanted to call hours ago, but there was no reception in that area.” I smiled, listening to his voice. “Jurnee, are you there?”
“I’m here,” I said. “I love hearing you say my name.” I could feel his warm smile coming from his end of the phone.
“Really,” he laughed.
“Yep, with that little Cali-drawl,” I said. Now I had that quirky smile on my face I’d been wearing all day.
“What’s up?” I asked.
“I guess you must have spoken to your brother today because he called me and said I was invited to dinner Saturday. He told me you didn’t know about the party yet, so thanks for that.”
“No problem, Irish, I meant to tell you I talked to him this morning, but something unexpectedly came up.”
He laughed. “Something came up, did it?”
“Yep, and it took all of my attention, that something, so my brother’s call just slipped my mind.”
“You have no idea how hard it was leaving you this morning. I meant what I said, Jurnee. I want to spend the entire night with yo
u. I want to wake up next to you. I still want to take you somewhere, if you’ll go with me.”
“Irish, I’d love to go anywhere with you,” I said in my sexiest voice.
“Well, pick a day. We only have five left before you return to your aunt in North Carolina. Any day is fine with me,” he said.
“Don’t you have to work?” I asked.
“When your family owns the company, you’re allowed to take days off, Jurnee. Just let me know what day works best for you.”
“Okay, let’s plan on tomorrow, and I’ll talk to Judy when we hang up. If that’s not good, I’ll call you right back.”
“That’d be great. And I get to keep you until at least noon on Wednesday, right?”
“I don’t see why not. You might want to bring me back before then, though. I’m pretty needy,” I laughed.
“I can handle that, Jurnee,” and he sounded kinda sexy. “Call me back either way, okay?”
“Okay, talk to you soon, Irish,” and I hung up.
Chapter Six
Judy and I sat on the patio eating our pizza. “John sent me a text today while I was at work,” she announced as if she’d just remembered.
“Really,” I acknowledged. “He called me today and invited me to a birthday dinner,” I sighed.
“He asked me to call him so I did on my way home from work.”
“What did he tell you? I asked.
“Well,” still chewing a bite of her pizza. “He asked me to be at George’s at seven sharp. He said to tell you that I had to be somewhere by that time.” She took another bite of her pizza.
“Hmm, he told me to be there by eight. This all seems a little elaborate for my brother, don’t you think? How does he think I’m going to get there?”
Waving her hand and chewing fiercely, she said, “He said he’d be sure you had a ride to the restaurant.”
I knew better than to say anything negative about John to Judy. She’d had a crush on him since we were sixth graders. John could do no wrong in her eyes. She’d justify anything he did, so I gave up years ago.
“He asked me if I wanted him to invite Irish to dinner and that really surprised me.”
“Well maybe he knows that you and Irish have been hanging out,” she said.
“I don’t know what he knows, Judy,” dropping it and returning to my pizza.
“Hey J.C., you had protection when you and Irish…you know?” She rolled her eyes.
“Yep, I’ve been on the pill since I was sixteen, remember? My mom took me to a specialist to regulate my monthly flow,” I reminded her.
She shook her head in approval.
“Hey, I almost forgot. Irish wants to take me somewhere tomorrow and I think that it’s going to be a sleepover.”
She looked curious now. “Where are you going?” she asked.
“I don’t know. He hasn’t said yet, but he’s mentioned this somewhere several times,” I grinned.
“Sure, call me if you need me. I have to work tomorrow and Wednesday, but I have Thursday and Friday off.”
“I will,” I said and we finished the whole pizza. I called my aunt before getting into my pajamas and heading to bed. Lying there under the covers, I called Irish to say goodnight and tell him we were on for tomorrow. After five rings his phone went to voicemail.
I left him a message: “Hey Irish, it’s Pepper,” I giggled, “I wanted to confirm our date for tomorrow. Call me when you can and let me know what I need to bring and what time you’ll be here so I can be ready. Later.” I punched the off button and lay there with the phone in my hand on my chest, waiting for his call. I must’ve fallen asleep.
I woke up to the sun shining in my window, my hand still clutching the phone. I squinted, looking to see if I had any missed calls. No calls. I lay there, listening to what sounded like music. I looked at my phone again, seven-thirty-five in the morning; Judy should be gone already, I thought. I rolled out of bed, deciding I’d call Irish again after I had coffee. The radio was playing in the bathroom, but no Judy. She must’ve forgotten to turn it off. Coffee and phone in hand, I headed for the patio. No notes from Judy this morning. That’s odd, I thought. I plopped down in a chair and punched in Irish’s number. It sent me straight to voicemail. I hung up. Could he have changed his mind? I thought he was excited about going to this somewhere he’d spoken of several times now. Just then my phone rang.
“Hello,” I said too loudly.
“Hey it’s me, sorry I missed your call, I was a little involved in something,” and his voice became a soft murmur.
“No problem, Irish,” I began…. He was quiet while he waited for me to continue.
“I wondered what to bring and when you’d be here,” I said.
“Go to the front door and I’ll be happy to answer your questions.”
I closed my phone, skipping to the front door, opening it and there stood Irish in a very tight tee shirt and jeans. No work uniform. He looked at me and I couldn’t help staring at his face. He had a huge swollen black-and-blue eye. I covered my mouth with my hand, trying to silence the scream. Without saying anything, I stepped back from the door so he could enter. I lowered my hand from my mouth, now offering it to him. He accepted it and we clung to each other in silence for several minutes. I finally broke away and leaned back to see his face. I touched his cheek lightly.
“What happened, Irish?”
“My face was in the wrong place at the wrong time,” was all he said. I pulled his hand, leading him to the sofa and we both sat down.
I asked one more time, “What happened?”
He just stared at me as if he were struggling with telling me the truth.
I stared back, “Spill it, and I want the truth.”
“You’re not going to like the truth, Jurnee,” he whispered.
“There’re many things I don’t like Irish, but I can deal with them,” I told him. “How’d you get the shiner?”
He sighed, “I got the black eye from John.”
“You got it from my brother?” I asked confused and surprised.
“Yes, that’s the John I’m talking about,” he scoffed.
“Why?”
“First he told me to stay away from you. Second, he found out that I went to the airport the day you arrived when he told me not to.” He looked down and continued... “And when you hear the whole story, I’m sure you’re going to be upset and probably not want to go anywhere with me today.” I felt my eyebrows wrinkle together and my lips press together tightly. I reached for his face and lifted his chin gently so he could look at me.
“What are you talking about?” I demanded. “Irish, why would I be angry at you? Stop worrying and spit it out.” I reached for both of his hands.
He reluctantly gave them to me. At least thirty seconds passed and he finally began, “Okay, John gave me the black eye last night when I got off work. Brandy, that girl you saw me with, had a ride to the airport, but when I found out it was the same day you were arriving, I called and offered to take her to get around John’s order.” He pulled his hands back from me and placed them on his thighs, like the bottom was falling out of his confession. “I guess he hadn’t known that I’d gone until yesterday.”
I suddenly got a sick feeling in my stomach. “He asked me yesterday when he called if I’d met you at the airport, Irish, and I told him I had. I’m so sorry. I didn’t know I wasn’t supposed to say anything.”
“It’s not your fault, Jurnee. It’s mine,” he said. “Anyway this all started a year ago when my father asked my brother Hayden and me what company we wanted to straighten out for him. He owns twelve construction companies, but he has three he’s concerned about. He’s been showing us both the ins and outs of the way he wanted things to be run and he asked us each to pick one. Hayden picked Virginia Beach. I knew that was just a six-hour drive from you in North Carolina, so I asked Hayden to let me have it, and he was more than happy to go to Colorado.” He seemed to be relaxing a little and I watched his face like it
held the answer to why the world was round.
“When John found out where I was going, he spoke to my dad and somehow convinced him to send someone else to Virginia Beach, so I stayed here.”
I looked at him and felt totally lost. “So what does this have to do with John hitting you?” I asked.
“Well, I’d told London that Virginia Beach was close to your aunt and uncle’s place and that I wanted to start spending time with you, and he told John.” He stopped and was studying my face. “Anyway, I should’ve known better than to say anything to London because he told your brother, and then John went to my father and said who knows what,” and he rolled his eyes.
Extremely puzzled, I asked, “So why does my brother have pull with your dad?”
He looked surprised that I’d even asked that question. As if I should’ve known the answer already. “Jurnee, after your parents passed away, John sold their house and now owns part of our family business. You didn’t know that?”
“No, well I mean, I knew John was going to sell the house, but I didn’t know where John worked or for whom. I don’t even know where John lives,” I admitted.
“John lives in a house on our property...where I took you on Sunday,” he said in a whisper. I sat back and tried to collect my thoughts and make sense of this information. I could feel Irish looking at me, so I looked back into his face.
“Why did John hit you, Irish?” I finally asked. “What reason did he have to hit you?” I raised my hand and touched his chin turning his swollen eye toward my face.
He looked at me directly. “He said he wanted me to stay away from you because I’d only end up hurting you, but I’m thinking that it was more than that,” he noted.
I Made You My First Page 8