by Jewel E. Ann
“Yes.”
He wipes my tears. “Yes …” That smile, those white teeth, they’re for me!
Now he kisses me like I’m his, forever.
Logic wants in so bad, but I’m not ready to share this moment with anyone or anything other than Trick.
“Come.” He takes my hand and leads me out the door.
“Where are we going?” I ask as he pulls me in the opposite direction of his place.
“Grocery shopping. Wasn’t that the real reason for your visit?”
I suppose some guys might suggest a trip to Tiffany’s or to the nearest bed to celebrate, but my guy’s taking me grocery shopping. The perfect part … I wouldn’t have it any other way.
*
“I like linguine,” Trick announces as I grab a box of spaghetti.
I purse my lips to the side and exchange the box for fettuccine. Trick smirks. We spend the next forty-five minutes making compromises and learning about each other’s food preferences beyond eggs, strawberry jelly, and multigrain bread. We haven’t mentioned the words engagement, wedding, or marriage since leaving Rogue Seduction, yet our shopping says it all. We’re planning forever and sometimes forever starts with something as simple as pasta.
We walk back to his place, both hands loaded with sacks of food. Words are sparse, but the sidelong glances with sexy smiles are plentiful. Bliss. It’s pure bliss.
“I’m going to take a quick shower,” Trick announces as I put the salmon, that we agreed on, in the oven.
“Okay.”
“I’ll be about ten minutes if that helps you gauge the time.”
I wash my hands and grab a towel. “The salmon will take about twenty, so you should be fine.”
He shrugs off his shirt on the way to the bathroom. “I wasn’t talking about the fish. I just didn’t know if ten minutes would be enough time for you to do your thing while I’m in the shower.”
I squint in confusion. He attempts to hide his grin by biting his bottom lip. And then it hits me.
“Oh my God!” My skin flames with embarrassment and anger. “You watched that?”
I throw the towel at him, but it only makes it a couple feet. Then I grab my purse and stomp toward the elevator. He hooks his arm around my waist and hauls me over to the bed.
“Let me down!”
Tossing me on the bed he straddles me, pinning my flailing arms above my head. With my eyes squeezed shut, I thrash my head side to side. “Let me go! I trusted you!”
“Darby …”
“We’re over. Don’t Darby me!”
He holds me in place but doesn’t say anymore. After all my resistance siphons the last drop of energy from my body, I open my eyes. “I’m so embarrassed,” I whisper between labored breaths, averting my gaze.
“I’m so in love.”
Damn him!
I look at him and he kisses me. Our tongues slide against each other, soft moans vibrating between our mouths. Releasing my hands and my lips, he sits up and undresses me with hungry eyes but patient hands. My tongue eases out, wetting my lips as he stands to remove his pants.
“Never stop looking at me this way,” he says with vulnerable emotion in his deep voice.
I move my gaze up his body until I meet his eyes. “Never stop loving me this way.”
He takes my foot, pressing his lips to my arch. “Never,” he whispers.
*
It takes us both a few seconds to realize the smoke and fire alarm going off is not from our steamy lovemaking.
“Shit!” Trick jumps out of bed and runs to the kitchen.
With hot pads on his hands, he takes the salmon out of the oven, naked. You don’t see that every day. I wrap a blanket around myself and tiptoe behind him. “It was supposed to be lemon-pepper, but blackened is fine too.”
He gives me a wry look, then glances up to the ceiling. As if on cue, the alarm stops. He pulls off the hot pads then tugs my blanket away. “Where was I?”
I giggle and grab the blanket. Wrapping it around my back, I hold it open in the front. Trick hugs my naked body while hoisting me up and carrying me back to bed, blanket wrapped around both of us. He lays us down, me on top of him, our faces hidden under a curtain of unruly red hair.
“I can’t believe you said yes.”
Hours later, and here it is, the first acknowledgement that what I think happened wasn’t just a dream.
I smile. “I can’t believe you asked.”
For one rare moment, there’s translucency to his emotions; right now I feel his thoughts. They’re the ones that can’t imagine why I’d agree to marry someone after only a few months—someone with a troubled, unknown past.
“I know you’re wondering why I would say yes to the dark part of your life that you don’t even understand yourself.” I kiss the corner of his mouth. “But I don’t think you have any idea how honored I feel to be invited into the parts of you that can’t be seen. And tonight…” I tear up “…you chose me. Every time I hold my breath … hoping, praying, needing you to choose me … you do. You chose me and the last time someone chose me was the day I was born … and then she died.”
Trick kisses my tear-stained cheeks while his hand cups the back of my head—the loving gesture I’ve come to know, expect, and cherish. “I’ll always choose you.”
*
It’s after nine o’clock before we manage to separate long enough to make a new dinner—cold cereal with bananas. So much for showing off my culinary skills. I think his place is going to smell like burnt salmon for the next six months.
“Can we talk about the video?” Trick nudges my leg as we eat our cereal, sitting on the sofa at opposite ends, legs in the middle.
“No.” I scowl.
“It was when you still thought I was gay.”
I spoon around the last few floating wheat squares and bobbing bananas in my bowl, keeping my head down. What I’m not doing is engaging in this conversation.
“Want to know what I thought when I saw it?”
“No.”
“I was so fucking turned on.”
I roll my eyes. Apparently he doesn’t know what “no” means.
“Because you have to know I was thinking of you. God, since the first day I met you, it’s all I could do. Seeing you, touching you, smelling you, fucking sleeping with you and your hands all over me, face in my neck. If I wasn’t touching myself fantasizing about you, I was drowning in ice water.”
I risk a timid glance up, face still red. His impish grin does nothing to help my embarrassment.
“Okay…” I sit up and start to stand “…I think that’s enough.”
He grabs my waist, pulling me back to the sofa. “But…” he waits for me to look at him “…but then I felt guilty, like a complete asshole for ever letting you believe anything but the truth, because when it was over … when you had finished …”
I shake my head and try to pull away again, but his firm hold prevents my escape. “Look at me.”
I feel more exposed than I have ever felt in my life.
“After the fact, I saw the pain in your face—the shame, the guilt, the agony of probably thinking we would never be. And a little part of me died in that moment.” He sets our bowls down on the table and kneels in front of me, nose to nose. “I’m sorry, Darby. I’m just so fucking sorry.”
I nod and he kisses me. My hands frame his stubbly face. “So you erased the video?”
His head jerks back. “No fucking way! It may be sad, but it’s still the hottest fucking porn I’ve ever seen.”
My hand makes its way to slap the shit out of him, but he intercepts and pins me to the back of the couch. “God I love your feistiness.” He attacks my neck. “And I can’t wait for you to touch yourself for me.”
I wriggle in his grasp. “That will never happen.”
He bites my nipple through my T-shirt. “Oh … mark my word … it’ll happen.”
*
The girl who doesn’t trust men is marrying the bo
y who doesn’t trust women. What. Are. The. Chances?
There was no getting down on one knee and there was no ring, yet it was the most unexpected and beautiful proposal. I’m dying to tell someone. Jade is a possibility, but I know she’d never keep it to herself, and I’m not ready to tell the world. This is where that BFF since kindergarten that I never had would come in handy. Nana will find out as soon as I leave work, but it has to be in person; that’s why I can’t tell her yet.
I have to tell someone!
Me: I need to tell my BFF something. Can you be my BFF and ONLY my BFF for a few moments?
Trick: Yes, I can be your “friend” – what’s up?
Me: Last night the man that gives my heart complete purpose asked me to marry him. It was breathtakingly unexpected and utterly insane … but I said yes anyway because he’s the dream that all other dreams dream of being. Do you think I’m crazy?
Trick: Yes. But I think he’s one lucky bastard!
I text him back five heart and kiss Emojis—he doesn’t reply.
On the way to Nana’s it occurs to me that I have no idea how my father proposed to my mother. He, of course, has never talked about it and neither has Nana. I can imagine it being a big production in front of a lot of people, an expensive ring and scripted emotions. Maybe in another life I’ll be the girl who wants to marry someone just like her father, but it’s not this one.
“Hey, Nana it’s me, open up.”
The door buzzes and I bounce up the stairs with exuberance.
“Well, this is an unexpected surprise. I thought we were having lunch tomorrow.”
I hug her. “We are, but I have something to tell you and it can’t wait.”
She holds me at arm’s length, looking at me with narrowed eyes. “Rachel and your father are parting ways?”
“What? No! I mean, that would be some amazing news too, but no.”
She deflates a little and walks into her kitchen. “Wine?”
“No. I just need to say this, Nana!”
She grabs a wine glass and pours herself a generous serving of Merlot. “I’m all ears, dear.”
Warmth radiates through my body as my heart drums in my chest. “I’m getting married!”
Nana stops mid sip, swallows, and gasps. “What did you say?”
Internally, I laugh. I said those same words to Trick.
“I’m getting married. Trick proposed last night.”
“Oh, sweetie, that’s—” She hugs me.
“Crazy, insane, out of the blue, too soon, unexpected … I know, but I said yes anyway.”
“Wonderful … I was going to say wonderful.” She kisses my cheek and gestures for me to sit next to her at the table. “I assume you haven’t told your father? Or did Trick ask for his blessing.”
I snort. “No, I haven’t told anyone but you. And Trick’s still alive, so it’s safe to assume he didn’t’ ask for my father’s blessing.”
“So when are you going to tell him?”
I shrug. “I don’t know … never.”
“I hope you both have current passports because when he finds out you’re going to have to flee the country.” She wiggles her eyebrows while sipping her wine, then swallows, followed by a dreamy sigh. “But forbidden love is so romantic.”
“You make it sound so tragic.”
She grabs my left hand. “Where’s the ring?”
“He didn’t give me one. Honestly, I don’t think he planned it. It was as if in that exact moment he decided he wanted to marry me. I love that he didn’t even have to think about it; he just … knew. And I did too.”
Nana’s smile spread across her petite facial features. I’ve been waiting all day with impatient anticipation to share this with her and this is why—she’s genuinely happy for me.
“So when’s the big day going to be?”
I drum my fingers on the table. “I don’t know. I mean, one minute he’s proposing and the next we’re walking to the grocery store like any other ordinary day. We haven’t really talked about it. I don’t know if he’s thinking a month from now or a year. But it doesn’t matter. I just want to be with him. Hell, I’d go down to the Justice of Peace and marry him tomorrow.”
Truth.
I’d gamble on him and his unknown past without so much as a blink. I’m willing to say “screw it” and just figure it out as we go.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
“Grady, go.”
“My God you sure do try to sound important.” I shake my head, boots propped up on the counter, waiting for my next client.
“Says my swoon-worthy God of all things color. I’m shopping for suits. You never call me, what’s up?”
“I asked Darby to marry me and I think her stepmom fucked me.”
“Out, out … everyone out. This is an emergency.” Grady’s in panic mode, and everyone around him should be too. He’s unpredictable when he feels like he’s losing control over me. “Have you gone mad?”
“I’m not asking for your permission or even your advice. But you and Tamsen are the closest people I have to family, and I’ll never be able to repay you for what you’ve done, so out of respect I wanted to let you know.”
“I’ll be on the first flight out of LAX.”
“Grady! I don’t need you to come rescue me.”
“I’m not even ready to address you proposing to Senator Carmichael’s daughter. I’m sure no doubt without his consent, but her stepmom? Where did you ever come up with such a ridiculous accusation?”
“You told me the only information you found out about my past from so called ‘people on the street’ was that I was a junkie and screwed older women. Well Rachel Hart is older and she’s from New York—”
“Christ, Trick! That’s not a fucking connection that means anything—”
“I saw it … it was a look. The way she looked at me, she wasn’t seeing me for the first time. She was nervous with a subtle mix of pain and anger. I knew it that night, but I had to be sure so I called her.”
“You did what?”
“I had to know.”
“And did she confess some lurid affair to you?”
“Of course not, but she was on the defensive and warned me to stay away from both her and Darby. You said you suspected these ‘older women’ took advantage of me. She told me men never fuck her; she fucks them.”
“So your brilliant solution to all of this is to propose to Darby?” Grady’s voice takes on a soprano pitch.
“I love her.”
Grady laughs. “You love her. Well that’s great, Trick. Tell me, did she accept your proposal before or after your dick had this vague memory of being up her stepmom’s pussy?”
“Fuck you! I haven’t said anything to her. I don’t have any proof … yet.”
“So you’re going to start out your life with her while this epic epiphany that you fucked her stepmom weighs on your conscience?”
“Rachel’s scared that I might remember something. I can tell. She’s not going to say anything. Hell, she doesn’t want to admit it to me, why would she ever say anything to Darby?”
“Does she know you’ve proposed to the Senator’s daughter?”
“No.”
“And what are you going to do if you’re right. What if you were with her and someday she decides to tell Darby? Some people will slit their own throat in the name of revenge.”
“Darby loves me.”
Grady gives me another cynical laugh. “Well, there ya go, kid, I guess you two lovebirds have it all figured out. Good luck with that.”
I press End and swipe my arm across the counter, sending makeup flying everywhere. “Goddammit!”
Who. The. Fuck. Was. I?
Chapter Twenty-Eight
“Hey.”
Trick turns at the sound of my voice, clenched jaw, heaving chest, and a mess of makeup all over the floor.
Rubbing the back of his neck, he closes his eyes and dips his chin.
I tiptoe through the mess until I sta
nd in front of him, looking up at the last face I ever want to see. “So my day was good. How was yours?”
He opens his eyes. “I’ve had better.”
Biting the inside of my cheek, I nod. “I can see that. Want to talk about it?”
He searches my face with pain and intensity in his eyes. “Not really.”
I step back and manage to hop up on the stool without smashing anything under my feet. “Well, if you don’t want to tell your lover…” I shy away from fiancée for now “…maybe you should tell your BFF. It usually works for me.”
Planting his hands on his hips, he glances at me, and that lip twitches. He’s mine now.
“I would tell my friend that if I hadn’t already lost my mind, I’d swear it was happening now. I would tell my friend that all I know for sure about my past is that I was seriously fucked-up. I would tell my friend that all I want to do right now is take my lover to bed and fuck her until the world makes sense again, and then I want to pack our bags and get the hell out of here … and never return.”
Uhh …
All I can do is hold my breath. Just … no words.
Trick lifts his shoulders then drops them in defeat as he bends down, tossing some things in the garbage and others back on the counter. “But I would never tell my lover that because I wouldn’t want her running for the hills. So to her I would say that I had an argument with Grady and I let him crawl under my skin. Then I would suggest to her that we grab an early dinner and hang out … maybe play Battleship or Scrabble.”
His defeated tone takes all the humor out of those last words.
I slide off the stool. “Will you be okay for a little while? I need to do something. I’ll be back later.”
Trick nods without looking up from the mess in front of him.
*
In the car I call my supervising physician and then I call Nana. As the gates open I expect my heart to start racing in my chest, but it doesn’t. It’s as if I don’t care anymore. I’m not here for permission or approval.
“Ms. Carmichael, how nice to see you.”