by Lacey Black
“He’s a cat. You know that, right? He can sleep anywhere.”
“He isn’t going to sleep just anywhere. He’s going to sleep somewhere wonderful,” she replies as the kitten burrows closer to her chest. A chest that is now covered in my old New York Yankees t-shirt.
Hey, Boots! Back off. Those are mine. I glare at the offending cat.
Climbing between the sheets, I swear he gives me the stink eye once more. It’s as if he’s keeping tabs on me, making sure I don’t move in on his mama. Well, get in line, cat. She was mine first.
Lying on my side, I find my gaze locked on hers. Neither of us speaks, but we don’t have to. Contentment and happiness radiates from her beautiful face, etched in each feature and around her upturned mouth. Happiness is the only thing I ever want to see on her gorgeous face. Never tears. Tears gut me, especially hers. I don’t give a shit if I have to spend the rest of my life ensuring it, but my only goal is to make her happy. Whatever she wants, I will give her. Whatever she needs, it’s hers.
Boots starts to snore. We both gaze down, and I can’t help but smile. He’s curled up against Jaime, mouth hanging open, and snoring like Grandpa after Sunday dinner.
“Look at us. Our first night in our new home and we’re spending it together as a little family.”
Even though I would much rather be balls deep between her legs, something settles deep in my chest when she says the word family. It spreads through my bloodstream, warming me as it passes, unhurried and systematic. Peacefulness fills the room and wraps around me like a worn blanket. Comfort. Ease. Home. All the things I’ve come to feel since Jaime stepped into my life. Maybe stepped isn’t the right word, but whatever. Since Jaime appeared into my life.
“Thank you,” I whisper, taking in the way her long brown hair fans across the soft blue pillowcase she picked out last week.
“For what?” she asks. Even in the darkness, I can see faint lines appearing between her brows.
Swallowing over the lump that rapidly developed in my throat, I keep my eyes plastered to hers and give her the most honest answer I can give. “For picking me. For loving me.”
Jaime smiles that radiating smile that causes a fluttering in my stomach and reaches for my hand. “I believe you might have picked me,” she chuckles.
“I might have spotted you and then pursued you like a cop chasing a law breaker, but you picked me, sweetheart. When you took a chance on a dirty carpenter who wears work boots with just about anything, you gave me the truest gift anyone ever could: Your heart. I know it wasn’t easy or without fear, and I promise to treasure it–and you–the way you deserve. Because nothing is more precious to me than you.”
“When you say things like that it makes me wonder what you see that no one else has before.”
“I see everything, Jaime. You’re everything. It doesn’t matter who saw what before, because you were made for me. Plain and simple.”
She smiles that soft little smile that I fucking adore. “I love you.”
“I love you, too.”
Without another word, I lean in and kiss her still-swollen lips. It’s a tender kiss filled with adoration and compassion. One that will surely lead to bed-shaking, name screaming sex, if we let it. But it doesn’t feel like the right time now.
Instead, I pull her in close, wrapping my larger body around her much smaller one. Boots is cradled between us, purring softly and batting his tiny paw in the air; probably dreaming about ripping my back apart in my sleep.
I watch as she starts to doze off, content to sleep in my arms. There’s no better feeling. When I finally can’t keep my eyes open any longer, I allow slumber to take hold and pull me under. My last conscious thought is of my green-eyed brown haired beauty curled up beside me in bed.
My love.
My forever.
Epilogue
Jaime
It’s a Summer sister tradition that on the first Saturday of each month, the six of us get together. We take turns picking the location or activity, anything from margaritas and a movie to wine and painting classes at the small gallery uptown. One thing, though, is as certain as the sun rising over the Chesapeake Bay every morning; there will be alcohol involved.
Always.
We’re gathered around the poker table at Abby’s apartment, each of us with various stacks of chips before us. My stack is just a little shorter than the rest of my sisters. Okay, fine. My stack is non-existent. I’m one hand away from losing the twenty-five bucks I came with.
Empty glasses and chip crumbles litter the top of Levi’s table that he brought over for us to use tonight. Since it was Abby’s night to pick, she chose an activity she’s been boning up on in her spare time: Five-card draw.
“Levi plays cards a lot at the fire station when he’s working, so he’s been teaching me to play,” Abby says coyly as she pulls in another pile of chips from the center of the table.
“Teaching you to play? I’d say you’ve successfully hustled away just about everyone’s chips, Miss Sweet and Innocent,” Payton says.
“I call a hustle, hustler. You’re hustling your own sisters for sport, hussy,” Meghan adds while licking the salt off the rim of her empty margarita glass.
“You taught her to hustle, Levi! You should be ashamed of yourself,” I holler into the kitchen where Levi sits with Josh and Ryan. They’ve been out of sight most of the night, but still close by for when we’re ready to head home.
“I had no clue she’d be so good. I’m planning on taking my little ace to Vegas and see what kinda trouble we can get into,” Levi says with a wink directed at Abby. Of course, no one misses the massive blush as she tries to ignore the implication made by her best friend. Implication that they’d get into some trouble or implication that he staked a claim by using a cute little nickname.
Take your pick.
What’s even more interesting is that my dear eldest sister has received no less than six text messages that she refuses to acknowledge to any of us. Oh, she tried to be all sly and return a message under the table, but we caught her. Every time.
Right now she’s leaning over her phone and the slightest of smiles plays at the corner of her mouth. Deep down, I’m hoping it’s some guy who’s working on swooping in and sweeping her off her tired feet. She works twenty-four seven at Blossoms and Blooms. The only adult interaction she gets (besides her deliveries) is Rachel, her employee, and her accountant. And from what I’ve gathered, he’s been less than cooperative when it comes to scheduling her appointments after work hours and has been a complete thorn in her side since he took her on a few months back when her previous accountant retired.
“You about ready?” Ryan whispers in my ear before kissing the top of my head.
“I think so. I’m half drunk.”
“Only half?” Ryan asks, amused.
“Yep, only half. I’m pretty sure it’s my right side that’s drunk, so we’ll be good to go with the road head on the way home.”
“Gross. At least wait until you drop me off,” AJ chimes in, breaking my pre-blowjob, half-drunk, completely lost in lust haze.
“I’m riding with Josh and Meg now,” Lexi says as she gathers up the empty glasses and takes them into the kitchen.
“You lost all of your money.” Ryan helps me stand, but quickly pulls me into his strong arms. My favorite place to be.
“Yep. Hustled by the hustler.”
“At least you didn’t call me a hussy,” Abby says, blushing all over again.
“You’re not a hussy, sweet girl. You haven’t been around the block nearly as much as AJ,” Payton adds with a snort.
“Hey!” AJ crosses her arms and glares at the oldest sister. “At least I’m getting out and living my life.”
“I live my life, thank you very much.”
“Says the woman who practically sleeps in her office,” Lexi retorts.
“Anyway, I think we’re going to head out. Anyone need a lift?” I
ask as Levi and Abby clean up the crumbs from the table.
“Not if you’re giving road head,” Lexi says.
“I’m good. Josh and Meg are only a few blocks from me so I’ll catch a ride with them,” AJ says.
“Me, too. I’m good,” Lexi adds.
“I’m in if you promise to keep it zipped up until I’m out of the truck.” Payton grabs her coat and follows me as we hug each of our sisters. Of course, with the added effects of the alcohol, the hugs last a little longer than normal.
Ryan escorts me to his truck, one hand on my lower back and the other holding the key fob. His touch sends warmth rapidly coursing through my veins and a fire to light in the pit of my belly. Is it bad that the first thing I think of is how quickly we can get rid of the pesky older sister? How is it that after six months of knowing him–being with him–I can still feel this way? Every. Time.
Heading towards Payton’s place, I turn my attention towards my sister. “You know what you need?” I ask.
“I’m sure you’re going to tell me, aren’t you.” It’s a statement, not a question.
“I am going to tell you. You need a date. Someone who will pick you up at your house and take you to dinner. Maybe bowling or for a walk through the Botanical Gardens.”
“We don’t have a Botanical Gardens,” she quips.
“No, but we should.” Turning to face Ryan. “We should have a Botanical Gardens, babe. Don’t you think so?”
Ryan glances at me with a smile before answering. “I agree.”
“Of course he agrees. He wants to get laid. You could tell him your hair is blonde and the sky is red. Or maybe that OneRepublic is a good band, and he’d agree with you because you teased him with road head tonight and he wants to get lucky.”
“I do want to get lucky,” Ryan replies with a broad smile.
“See.”
“Annnnnyway,” I interrupt, drawing out the word as if I were intoxicated. Wait. Anyway. Anyway? That’s a funny word, isn’t it? Any. Way. Innnnywayyyyy. “My point is, you’re not getting any older.”
“You mean younger,” Ryan whispers with a chuckle.
“What. Ever. You’re getting old, Pay. And I don’t want you to die alone with your cats.”
“I don’t have any cats. You’re the one with the cat.”
“Isn’t Boots the cutest cat in the whole world? I mean, the way he scrunches up his face in disdain when Ryan kisses me is so stinking cute. Isn’t it cute, Ryan?” I ask.
“Cute isn’t the word I was going to say, but that’ll work.”
“Annnnnnyway, you need a date. Ryan, what’s the name of that guy you worked with on that one job the last time?”
Ryan pulls his eyes away from the road only long enough to give me a curious look. “You mean Jimmy?”
“No, not Jimmy. The other guy.”
“Chase?”
“YES! Chase! That’s him! You should date him!” I yell. Why am I yelling?
“Um, babe, Chase is married,” Ryan says as he pulls up in front of Payton’s house.
“The fuck?! He’s cheating on his wife?” I holler.
“No, babe. He’s not cheating on anyone. You’re the one who suggested Payton should date him. But he’s married.”
“Oh, Payton, he’s married. Never mind.”
“Anyway, this ride was super fun and completely educational. I’ll see you both later,” Payton says before throwing a kiss on my cheek and climbing out.
We wait at the street while she unlocks her door and lets herself in. When the light turns on and she gives a little wave through the curtain, we pull away, heading towards our house.
“He’s really married?” I ask, completely stuck on that fact for some reason.
Ryan chuckles again. “Yes, babe. He’s really married.”
“Damn. I wanted to hook Pay up with him. He’s cute with those gorgeous blue eyes and those dimples that make me want to lick them.”
Ryan glances over again, a shocked expression on his face. “You want to lick his face?”
“No, I want to lick his dimples.”
“Which are on his face.”
“Why are you trying to start a fight? Do you not want road head?”
“I always want road head, but I kinda want to make sure that the next time you see Chase you aren’t going to lick his dimples.”
“I would never do that sober, sweetums. I prefer to lick only one head.” And then, because alcohol makes me bold, I glance down and stare at his crotch so there’s no question about what head I’m referring to.
Ryan pulls into our driveway and shuts off his truck. “Promise me you won’t lick any of my employees, sober or intoxicated. Just the thought makes me want to rip off his dimples and beat him to death with them.”
“That sounds…weird…but I promise to never lick another man. I was only teasing you, honestly. I really only want to ever lick you,” I say, unbuckling my belt and climbing over the seat towards him, very ungraceful like.
His big hands slide beneath my coat as I move sideways across his lap, my neck at an awkward angle because of the roof. Ignoring the growing pain in my neck, I go in for a kiss. Ryan’s lips are warm and perfect. It only takes a few seconds before he takes control of the kiss and works his hands beneath the layers of clothing I’m wearing to accommodate the early November night.
After several seconds that result in the steaming up of all the truck windows, he finally pulls away, breathlessly. My hands instantly dive for his buckle, a task that proves to be more difficult considering my lack of coordination and our positions.
“You do realize the last time we were in this situation we were both arrested?”
“Technically, you were arrested. I was perfectly decent when I stepped out of the truck to help you with the cop.”
“True, but I believe you were very indecent moments before that cop arrived.”
“True. We should give it another shot. I mean, we’re in our own driveway so it’s not like the owners are going to press charges,” I coax by rubbing my hand across his erection.
“How about I take you inside and make love to you in our bed?”
“What about Boots?”
“Boots gets the boot for a bit.”
“You can’t make our baby sleep on the floor in the hallway.”
“Yes I can. I can, and I will. Because getting you naked in bed without the voyeuristic cat watching is my solitary goal in life right now.”
“I like your list of goals,” I reply while he runs his hand up my side and pushes my top up as he goes. “Know what’s on my list of goals for tonight?” I ask, teasing his earlobe with my tongue.
“What’s that?” he whispers, his voice raspy and deep.
“Road head. As long as we’re in the vehicle, it still counts.”
“I love your list.” His lips punctuate his words. They’re hard and hot, and yet full of love.
His love.
Us.
Together.
Another Epilogue
Payton
I wave goodbye to my sister and her boyfriend. If they manage to make it home without ripping their clothes off I’ll be surprised. I kick off my shoes and drop my coat on the chair. Sure, I should probably hang it up in the closet, but I’m too tired and a little too drunk to care tonight.
Besides, a few text exchanges have me a bit more preoccupied than normal.
Making sure the lights are off–all except the one above the sink–I slip back into my bedroom and rid myself of every piece of clothing I’m wearing. My favorite pair of soft, flannel pajama bottoms are sitting on the edge of my bed where I left them this morning, right next to the white button up shirt I’ve worn to bed the last three nights.
The shirt still carries his scent, one that’s musky with a deep woodsy base. A scent that wraps around me in the night, comforting me with its familiarity and reminding me of the man who carried it.
A man
who warmed my bed just a few short nights ago.
Nights that contained little sleep, but when it did finally come, vivid dreams replaying of our short time together.
I slip on the shirt and forego the flannel pants this evening. Maybe it’s the alcohol. Maybe it’s a way to get closer to him, to sleep in the exact same garments I slept in that night. Either way, it’s comforting to wear his shirt, and only his shirt.
Climbing beneath the blankets, I snuggle into the pillow. It’s not my pillow, but the one his head touched for a brief moment in time. I sigh deeply, one that signifies my exhaustion from working too many hours, as well as the onslaught of memories to come.
I reach for my cell phone, careful not to unplug it. His last text message still shows as a new, unread text. I haven’t been able to talk myself into reading it, because as much as I’ve enjoyed the “I had a great time” and the “I’d love to see you again” messages, I just don’t know where this could possibly go from here.
Truth is, it can’t go anywhere.
So, for tonight, I’ll curl up against the pillow, wearing the shirt he left behind, and not look at the message. I’ll walk away before either of us has to because, sometimes, there’s no other choice.
THE END
Stay tuned for Payton’s story, My Kinda Night, coming spring 2017.
Acknowledgements
As always, this entire process wouldn’t be possible without the love and support of so many!
Thank you…All of the bloggers who share reveals, release information, and take the time to read and review; Nazarea and the entire InkSlinger PR team; Sara Eirew for another amazing cover; Brenda Wright, the formatting queen; Kara Hildebrand, for your editing expertise; Sandra Shipman, Amanda Lanclos, Joanne Thompson, Holly Ward-Collins, my family and friends, Lacey’s Ladies, for EVERYTHING you all do; My husband and our two beautiful kids, thank you doesn’t seem like enough. I love you.
And to all of the readers, THANK YOU for reading!