“Max, we don’t need anything that big or expensive. I’m sorry. I….” my voice cracked a little.
He pushed off his car and closed the distance between us like lightning. He gently pried my hands from my pockets, and laid them against his hard abs. His big hands grasped my hips, and he tugged me forward. I kept his eyes as best I could, my eyes skirting around every couple of seconds from his intense gaze, but I finally gave in and leaned my head against his chest.
“I’ll cancel the order,” I said, my words muffled against his body.
“No, you’re not. I have my home entertainment system, and you have your dining room.” His words were gentle and warm against my temple. “We have to really budget from now on, though, but I love the table and I want us to have it. I just don’t want to talk about how much money we just dropped.” I turned my head and nodded against his shoulder. “And not because I don’t think it worth it, but because, well, it was a lot of money,” he explained. “But, I love it. I can’t wait to see our family sitting around it.” His words drifted through me, calming me. He leaned down, and gave me a chaste kiss then guided me to his car. “Let’s go home.” True to our agreement, we’ve never spoke of the cost again.
I glance back at Abigail and she seems to be close to finishing up her call, so I walk back over to the counter, pick up the tub of beer, and gaze out the window. Above my large country sink is a huge multi-paned picture window that allows a beautiful view of the back of the property, and in the daytime sunlight streams through brightening up the entire room.
The antique white cabinets with vintage, black iron knobs, look amazing against the dark wood floor. Aunt Paige and I stenciled a delicate flower pattern in black, along the front facing cabinet doors. The beautiful gray and white granite countertops are veined with black and a touch of pink, and they were another extra Dad added. Max and I had picked out a very nice laminate pattern similar to this, but when we showed my dad, he cringed. The next day he pulled us aside and showed us these. He said another customer purchased them, but changed their mind. He then offered them to us for the same cost as the laminate. Max and I knew he wasn’t telling the entire truth, but when Acer showed up on the site with brand new appliances, a white wood-paneled French door refrigerator, matching dishwasher and front facing washer and dryers, he backed my dad. No, they backed each other. I wondered why Acer picked such a style and color for the appliances, but boy did I like it. I never considered appliances being defined as elegant and beautiful, but these were.
Max and I appreciated everything they were doing, but we still felt guilty over all the money they were spending. Ana put it in perspective for us though. She saw our concern and pulled us aside and asked, “What would you give your children? Would you give them your very heart if they needed it? What’s a washer and dryer, or floors and windows? It’s the least we can do to give our children a good start in life. The very least,” she said softly with a gentle smile. Max and I then understood, although with a bit of reluctance still. But in true Dad form, he still managed to outdo himself, when not a week later he and Violet showed up with a delivery truck trailing behind them. When the men in that truck unloaded the most breathtaking vintage stove, my knees grew weak and then I knew why Acer picked the style of appliances he did, because they matched perfectly with the stove.
“Sorry. China was going on and on about your wedding pattern. She loves it. So do I,” Abigail gushes as she walks up behind me, surprising me.
“Really?” I ask and blush. China’s home is amazing and decorated beautifully. She has great taste, so it means a lot that she likes the pattern.
“Really. I love what you picked, sissy,” she agrees.
Picking our china pattern was another must Max and I had to do to, but he didn’t want to do, either. I was worried about pushing him after the dining room table incident. I figured he deserved at least a year off from department stores, so he could recover. I confessed my concern to Kaitlin and Bernice one afternoon while on break in our kitchen at work, when Noralee overheard. She called out from her office, “Jaycee, you don’t have to go to any stores.” And this got my attention. She walked out of her office holding some paperwork, then strolled past us while explaining, “All you have to do is go online and register. Pick the patterns and let your guests know,” she scoffed and kept walking, leaving Kaitlin, Bernice and me to exchange a glance of surprise.
“Thanks,” I called out, and her reply was all Noralee.
“Girls, do you see me working and talking? It can be done. Get back to work, and send the next couple back for their break,” she scolded. There was a bit of humor in her voice, and we got back to work.
To say Max was uninterested in the process of picking a pattern, would be the understatement of the century. He sat chewing on a piece of cherry licorice, which I had no idea he liked but now I keep stocked at all times, while watching NASCAR on the television. I doubt he could even hear a word I was saying over the sound of the cars’ engines racing around the track, as well as our floor that vibrated underneath us with each lap. But I was on a mission, so I kept on him. I had narrowed it down to two patterns, and I really wanted his input. A blue and white pattern, that reminded me of something created by a spirograph, was really nice, but the other; a simple ivory, with raised red vein pattern along the rim, was elegant and gave off a country feel. Secretly this was the one I wanted, but I needed Max confirm it. When I finally got his attention, he didn’t study the patterns on the monitor, he regarded me.
“Jayc, I swear to you, whatever you choose will be fine,” he assured me. “Sheets, curtains, and all the area rugs you bought, I love them, so I know I’ll love this too,” he promised absently, as his eyes darted back and forth between the races.
“Please,” I begged. His eyes came back to mine and he kept them for a moment, before he paused the race then studied the choices. I saw the corners of his lips turn up into a soft smile before he looked back at me. “This one.” He pointed to the elegant ivory pattern. I smiled, then leaned and kissed him deeply.
I didn’t register our pattern online that day, and Max didn’t finish the watching the race, because he picked me up and carried me up the stairs to our bedroom, where he reminded me that he knows his girl and what she likes. And, oh boy, does he ever. The next morning, along with the elegant china, I picked the mansion hall pattern for our silver setting, and for our crystal, a Bennington pattern.
Abigail and I walk up the stairs and down the landing to the large guest room with ensuite, where she and Nick are staying. I loved the furniture my family gave me when they remodeled after the fire, but I wanted Max and me to have our own that we picked out together. The bedroom furniture from Grandma’s now furnishes this room. We have two more bedrooms and bathroom upstairs, and a half-bath downstairs. One of the bedrooms is vacant, but the other holds a treadmill and weight set, along with a few other pieces of exercise equipment. My kitchen is my favorite room most of the time, but when Max works out–which is almost every day–that room becomes my favorite room. When he uses his dip station, it gets me so riled up I can’t speak because my mouth goes dry. Yes, definitely one of my most favorite rooms.
Abigail rushes over to the closet and pulls down over half a dozen dresses from the rack, then brings them back and places them on the bed.
“Abigail, that’s a lot of dresses,” I almost shout.
“I put some back. Nick would have bought every single dress in the store if I wanted him to. Sissy, each day I’m with him, I fall more and more in love,” she gushes. “He’s such a hard worker. He gets up before the sun every day of the week, and doesn’t take weekends off. Papa Ronan has pretty much turned all the running’s of the ranch over to him. Told all the ranch hands to report to Nick from now on. If Nick isn’t available, Red. He and China took a seven-day Alaskan cruise last month. First time they’d taken a vacation outside of Texas, in years. It means a lot to Nick that his daddy trusts him. I’m guessing Papa Ronan wants to retire
soon. Nick will then become Lubbock’s king of cattle,” her voice is one of pride.
“And you’re his queen,” I remind her smiling.
“I want to do right by him and his legacy. I wake up with him, make him breakfast and see him off. I clean house, go to classes, come back, make dinner and wait for him to come home. The way I feel when he walks in the door and pulls off his cowboy hat and smiles at me….” she flops back on the bed without finishing and sighs.
“I love that for you, Abigail. How are classes?” I flop back next to her.
“Acing them all,” she says, grinning.
“I figured as much. That was so wrong, the peacock and hen thing at Jesse’s house. Allie told me what you did.” I burst into laughter and so does she.
“Dad’s reaction was priceless.” She grins, and we both crack up even harder.
“Wish I could have seen it. Heard Nick wasn’t much better.” I laugh, and Abigail almost falls off the bed she’s laughing so hard.
“Should have seen Nick’s face when I asked him if we were supposed to milk the chickens too,” she howls, gasping for air. “If only I would have had a camera to capture the moment.” She grabs her stomach and rolls over laughing. This time she does fall off the bed with a loud thump, and cries out, “I’m okay,” through her hysteria.
“You didn’t,” I cry out, laughing so hard I’m crying.
“He wouldn’t let me around the animals for over a week. Said they weren’t safe,” she says breathlessly between laughs.
After a few more minutes, we pull ourselves together, and I begin to sort through the dresses. They’re all gorgeous and perfect for summer.
“Fashion show time,” she instructs, and hands me a dress.
This was something we did after back-to-school shopping when we were younger. Abigail and I wear the same size these days, even though our body types are different. I have more of a retro hourglass figure, where Abigail rocks a modern-day, Victoria’s Secret fashion model figure.
Without thought, we undress and change into the dresses. I pull on one dress, then study myself in the mirror. It’s a beautiful white lace dress, with low V-neck, and bell sleeves. It sits a couple of inches above the knee and fits perfect.
“Wow, that’s pretty,” I say to Abigail and smile, as she twirls in a little black number with flared skirt.
“That dress is yours!” she exclaims, and points at me.
“I’m not even going to turn you down. I love it. Thank you. I think this is what I’ll change into at the reception,” I reply.
“That would be perfect, and it will go great with your boots,” Abigail agrees as she comes and stands behind me. Our eyes meet in the reflection; hers bright, mine grateful.
I stay in the same dress–my wedding reception dress–while Abigail models the remaining few. When we reach the final dress for Abigail, I smile. She is stunning. It’s a soft pink, halter top, with a thin satin bow that rests along the waist, and the hem rests about two inches above the knee.
“That’s the one,” I proclaim, and she smiles.
“I agree. It will go perfect with yours,” she replies.
“Wow!” Nick’s voice sounds from the doorway.
Abigail and I both turn, and there stand our men.
“You like it, honeysuckle?” she murmurs while batting her eyes.
“I do.” Nick growls his approval.
I smile at them, then glance at Max. His gaze travels up and down my body, and I become flushed. His eyes eventually come to mine, and they’re intense. He crooks his finger at me, so go to him.
“You’re ready for bed,” he leans down and whispers in my ear.
“I am,” I echo. I glance back at Abigail, and she’s hanging the dresses back on the hangers.
“So, this is what you girls were doing in here?” Nick inquires as he takes the dresses from Abigail, and walks into the nearby closet and hangs them.
Abigail watches him, and a sneaky smile forms on her lips.
“Yes,” she replies, then leans against the wall about the time Nick strides back into the room. “Well, that and Jaycee and I talked about going down the Harley dealership tomorrow. I want to buy a couple of things.” She pushes off the wall and walks over to Nick.
“I can take you. You want to get some more gear or something?” he questions, and Abigail lays her hands on his chest.
“No. Well, yes, I’d love to do that too, but…” She bites the corner of her lip, possibly rethinking her tease, but decides not to heed her own warning. “Jaycee and I want our own bikes,” she rushes out, and leans against Nick with a huge smile on her face.
“Goddammit, woman. There is no way,” he growls so deep, I think the foundation of our home will crumble to pieces.
“Nick,” Abigail gasps in faux shock and stands up straight.
“Abigail, absolutely not. You walked off a cliff…” He jabs a finger at her when he says the word, walked, and simulates walking with two of his fingers before dropping them off the imaginary cliff in demonstration, then backs up then hangs his head. “Not giving you a powerful machine. God only knows the trouble you’d get in,” he mumbles. He glares back at her, puts his hands on his hips, and shakes his head. “Don’t!” he demands.
“Honeysuckle, I slipped. Because there was ice and someone was chasing me,” she hisses, with her hands on her hips as well.
Nick and Max both growl at the memory of Andres Vargas going after Linc and Abigail, while seeking revenge against me and Daniel.
“I have those thingies for my boots now.” She drops her arms and tries to reason.
“Thingies?” Nick tilts his head and stares at her in disbelief. “Spikes? You mean spikes?”
“Yes. Those thingies, honeysuckle,” Abigail agrees with a nod.
“Come here!” he snaps.
I’m trying not to laugh, but I feel Max behind me and his entire body shakes with his chuckles, so I can’t hold mine in.
“Don’t you honeysuckle me, woman. You ever talk that nonsense again, and you will get the spanking of your life,” he says matter-of-fact, throwing in a head nod.
On that, Max’s strong arm wraps around my waist and my feet are off the ground. I’m turned towards the hallway, as he pulls the door shut and carries me to our room, both of us laughing. Once in our room, he stands me at the foot of our bed.
The bedroom furniture we ended up picking for our bedroom is country style, with a beautiful, tall, Queen Ann headboard. Mixed in with the dark wood is slate stone, that almost appears turquoise. My dresser sits near the window and stands almost as tall as I do. A large chest-of-drawers, rests near the arch that leads to our walk-in-shower, sunken tub, bathroom and closets.
Max turns me away from him, and I feel his breath on my neck causing me to shiver. “Cold?” he murmurs, then one of his hands gathers my hair in a ponytail and uses it to slant my head to the side, so his lips can trail down my neck.
“No. I’m actually hot,” I confess. I reach back and wrap my hand around Max’s neck, and hold on.
“Very hot,” he agrees, and turns me to face him. “You found your dress?”
“I found your dress.” I smile up at him. “And this dress.” I gesture down. “I’m going to make this my reception dress.” I place my hands on his chest, slide them up, and wrap them around his neck. Then I go up on my tiptoes and press my lips to his.
“Good.” His words are muffled against my lips. He walks us towards the bed and pushes me down, then follows me. His heavy muscled body cocoons me, just the way I love.
He groans into our kiss, while sliding the skirt of my dress up around my hips. He tugs me to stand briefly, as he unzips my dress and pulls it up and over my head, then carefully lays it across our chase leaving me in a lacy, pale-yellow bra and matching panties. After he unhooks my bra and slides it from my arms, he lays me back down on the bed, then pulls my panties down my legs, before working to undo his belt and jeans, pushing them down just enough to set himself free. No time t
o undress fully for him, I guess, and that’s okay with me. I reach between us to take him in my hand, and I whimper when I feel how hard he is. He moans and pushes into my hand, as he lowers his fingers to touch me, and when he realizes how wet I am, he growls.
“Is this for me,” he asks, sliding a finger deep inside of me, causing my back to arch from the bed.
“Yes. Only for you,” I moan and lift my hips. My reply gets me a second finger and a harsh kiss.
Wasting no more time, I lift my legs and push his hand from me. I position him at my entrance, and he begins gentle, short thrusts, teasing me, and it’s driving me crazy. I grasp at him while squirming, in hopes to encourage him to go faster and deeper, but he’s too strong to be affected by my efforts. Only when I dig my nails into his biceps, does he groan and pick up the pace. Finally, he fills me completely, and I let out a sigh. I rest my head against the mattress, but when he circles his hips, I gasp and push back into him. His head descends to take my breast in his mouth. His tongue and teeth toy my nipples, and I cry out.
“Max, please,” I plead. He knows I’ve had enough, because he brings his mouth back to mine and kisses me hard. Our tongues frantically taste each other as we move, slow and hard. When he releases my mouth, he drops his head on my shoulder, never changing our rhythm that is causing such delicious friction.
“Any other loose ends we need to settle?” he whispers against my ear.
“Um, what?” I can’t think clearly, so I don’t give him more than that. He slides his hand down my one of legs, then yanks it up to hitch on his hip before taking my mouth again.
“Song,” I blurt out in between our kisses. What made me think of that, I don’t know but we have to have a song to dance to. Our song.
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