“He’s introduced you to his mama? Whoo-wee, we’ll be dress shopping in a hot minute at this rate. Hope to hell you’re easier to find a dress for than Violet. A little notice would be nice this time, ’kay?”
“It wasn’t like that. We’d gone running and his mom’s water heater broke,” I explain, going into the details. “Donna’s nice, really. I mean, she was doing the hard sell, but it was sweet.”
“And?” Abi prompts, still wanting more.
“We went on a date last night. The whole shebang. I got dressed up and he picked me up. He didn’t tell me where we were going—”
“You hate surprises,” she interrupts.
I glare and she hushes. “We went on a winery tour, had dinner and a tasting. It was so romantic and sweet.” I know I’m smiling hugely, enough that my cheeks are going to hurt later, but I haven’t even gotten to the best part yet. “And then when we got back to my apartment . . .” Abi is nodding like a bobblehead and I can’t wait to see her face when I say this next part. “He proposed.”
She squeals, falling back on the couch and kicking her legs in the air.
“Shh,” I say, pushing her feet to the floor and pulling her back upright. “Abs. Calm down. It’s not . . . real.”
Cold water dashes over us both.
“Show me the ring,” Abi says, more sober now.
I hurry over to my purse, taking my ring out. I can’t wear it around the office, not unless I want Dad to know and the water cooler to blow up with gossip, but showing it to Abi, I want to wear it again. I slip it on, just for a minute.
Abi whistles, nodding. “That’s a rock. Rocks, really. And points to Kaede for remembering your birthstone. Are you sure it’s pretend? That’s a lot of ring for a fake engagement.”
I look down at the ring, remembering Kaede’s words as he proposed. His eyes had been dark and hopeful. But for me or for this crazy arrangement? Yes, we made love, but even that’s not particularly telling these days.
I shrug, taking the ring back off and putting it safely away. “When I saw him on his knee, I couldn’t help myself, Abi. I had to . . . I wanted . . .” I almost confess how much I wanted it to be real, but I settle on, “I wanted him.”
“Ooh, now we’re getting to the good stuff. Tell me everything. Is he the whips and chains type? Handcuffs? Big bunny tail butt plug? Or fuck, if he’s a starfish, I will kill him myself.”
“A starfish?”
“You know, just lays there and lets you do all the work?” She demonstrates, flopping back on the couch and lying with limp noodle arms and legs, before sitting back up. “Sex is a two-person activity. No one gets to lie around and do nothing. If I have to do it all, I might as well do it to myself.” Her vehemence is surprising, but she shakes her head and waves her hands. “Sorry, my issue, not yours. Not yours?”
“No, definitely no starfish. Just good, really good . . . amazing sex.” Abi’s grin matches my own, and though I’m not a spill-all sort, I can’t help but add, “like the best of my life amazing.”
Abi claps, then plops her hands on my shoulders and shakes me. “Yes! Get him, Court! I’m so happy for you!”
I frown.
“Or . . . we’re not happy that you’re getting the best sex of your life? I’m confused here. Are we celebrating? Because orgasms that good deserve celebration.” She nods sagely.
“He’s nervous about Ross,” I admit. “Like, I had to be damn near naked and throwing myself at him to break past that. Even the next day, it took Ice Queen bitchiness, nudity, and coffee to get him to put Ross aside.”
She goes silent, her eyes falling closed.
“What are you doing?”
Eyes still closed, she whispers, “Picturing you naked . . . hang on, not in a weird way . . . you naked and giving Kaede a Courtney Andrews-worthy talking to. ‘Take me to bed or lose me forever’ style. Oh, and then . . . nope, won’t go there.”
I laugh. “That’s actually fairly accurate. I think my words were ‘do I look like a woman who gives a single solitary fuck about what my brother thinks about my sex life?’ My head might’ve spun a little when I answered my own question with a resounding no.”
Abi’s eyes pop open. “Oh, my gosh, I would pay to see that. Well, if you had clothes on, of course.” She laughs too, but when the chuckles taper, she admits, “He should be worried, though. Ross is going to lose his shit if he finds out.”
“It’ll be fine,” I argue. “I’m not entitled to much, but I’m damn sure entitled to a love life and a sex life of my own choosing. This isn’t the medieval ages where the menfolk get to choose for me.”
“It’ll be fine,” she parrots, unconvinced. “Eventually. Probably. Maybe. The good thing is, Ross obviously thinks Kaede is a stand-up guy or he wouldn’t do business with him and have him as a best friend. Ross probably knows Kaede better than anyone.” We go quiet, both of us lost in thoughts. Abi picks flower dirt from under her nail, a constant issue for her, and quietly says, “Maybe that’s why Ross has always said we’re off limits to Kaede? Kaede’s always been a little quiet, more reserved. Maybe Ross knows something we don’t?”
“No . . . no, I don’t think it’s that,” I reply with a shake of my head. “Yeah, Kaede’s quiet, but he’s a great guy—respectful, smart, polite, strong. Abi, I’ve known Kaede for over half my life without ever really knowing him. But we have crammed months of dating into a couple of weeks. I could win a Newlywed Game show quiz about him at this point.”
“That’s kinda the point with Jeffrey, though, right?”
I shift around, shrugging. “I’m just saying it’s not just that . . . it’s . . . more. If there were anything wrong with Kaede, I’d know.”
“You’d know?” Abi says, looking at me carefully. “Well, let me tell you what I know. I know you’re falling for him. Hell, you fell for him a long time ago, but you’ve fallen harder, deeper. And that’s not even a sex joke, so I’d like sister points for that.”
“Five to Abigail,” I concede.
“My advice is still the same, though I won’t even throw the reverse psychology spin on it this time. Have sex, fuck each other’s brains out . . . literally and figuratively, since that seems to be your thing, but be careful with the rest of you. Especially your heart. For all your frosty bitchiness, you’re a softie way, way, way down deep inside. And as your big sister, it’s my job to keep that heart unbroken or break the kneecaps of whoever breaks your heart. And let’s be honest, breaking Kaede’s kneecaps is gonna be hella difficult for me. So help me to help you. No broken hearts, no broken kneecaps, and no jail for me.”
She smiles as though that’s all an easy agenda.
“I hear you. I’ll be careful, I’ll promise. Speaking of sisterly duties, are you ready for Mom and Dad’s anniversary?”
“What? When is it?” she says, her eyes going wide as she smacks her cheeks Kevin McAllister style.
“Abigail,” I say threateningly.
She waves me off. “Of course I’m ready. I’ll have you know it’s been on my calendar for ages, and I already special ordered the flowers to duplicate Mom’s original bridal bouquet.”
I smile. My sister is crazy and more than a bit of a wild child, but she’s also so very kind and secretly sentimental. “Mom will love that. Just remember that we have to be up front to greet guests at seven sharp, clean and dressed up, with no flower bits in your hair or dirt under your nails.” I hold her hand up, seeing that there is a dark line under each nail and small tears around her cuticles, probably from working so hard to make my bouquet absolutely stunning.
“Yes, Mom 2.0,” she says with a long-suffering sigh. She’s not wrong, but I was Dad’s assistant for so long that I do these things by second nature now. I can’t help it. I’m the planner. “I’ll be there doing the centerpiece placements too, so there’s no way I’ll be late.”
“Exactly my point. You need to switch from Flower Girl Abi to Dutiful Daughter Abi. Did you get them something yet?”
&nb
sp; “The flowers aren’t enough?” she teases, one corner of her lips quirked up.
“No.”
“What about a handmade clay coffee cup? It worked when I was six.” She bats her lashes as if that would make that gift work now like it did then.
“You mean that ugly ass lumpy thing that’s sitting on the corner of Dad’s desk, filled with more paper clips than he could possibly go through in ten years?”
“Oh, is that where it is?” Abi asks, knowing exactly where it is since it’s been there for over a decade. “What did you get them, anyway? Something lame?”
“Silver-framed digital photo frame filled with family portraits and vacation snapshots that I hunted down and curated.”
“Like I said, tasteful but boring,” Abi says, knowing as well as I do that it’s an awesome gift that our parents will love. “Guess that’ll have to do compared to what I got them.” She’s grinning wide and can’t even wait for me to ask before she spills the beans. “I commissioned a friend, who is an amazing calligrapher and watercolor artist, to do a custom design. She wrote out Mom and Dad’s vows on handmade paper and hand-drew and colored the flowers from Mom’s bouquet around the border. It’s a whole bouquet theme this year.”
“Holy shit, Abs. Mom is going to bawl like a big ol’ baby at that.” We high-five, knowing we’ve done well. “I need to remind Ross to get something too, but he’s never going to top our gifts.”
“Boys,” Abi says sadly as if poor Ross never had a chance against the two of us. She might be right. We’re that good, but he’s got Vi on his side now. Luckily, the true winners are Mom and Dad when they see just how loved they are.
“I gotta get to work,” Abi says, opening her arms for a hug. “Glad you liked the flowers, and think about what I said.”
I hug her back. “Thank you for the flowers. They’re truly gorgeous. Love ya.”
* * *
I feel good coming out of the locker room, ready to get my swexy on, a little bit of sweat and a whole lotta sexy.
Kaede is over by the treadmills, and I bounce over, giving him a kiss on the cheek before he knows what’s happening.
“Hey, honey,” I greet him, giggling when he jerks his head around, and I see the moment his face goes from ‘what the fuck?’ to the grin I’m starting to think of as mine. “Got class with Stacylynne, but I’ll see you after? We can grab dinner and go home together.”
I tell myself this is all part of the show, that I’m playing things up in case there are prying eyes and ears, but the truth is, this feels perfectly natural. His eyes blaze and then darken, his nostrils flaring as he reads something much less innocent into what I said.
“I’ll be waiting,” Kaede assures me, a sexy growl in his voice that promises more sex and less smoothies tonight. But shit, I might need one of those fancy monster shakes of his to keep my energy up if his plans are anything like mine.
I thought about what Abi said, her advice to be careful with my heart. And I am. Careful, thoughtful, analytical, methodical . . . they’re all basically synonyms for my middle name. It’s who I am. It’s who Kaede is too. But I think we can do this, pull off this crazy scheme and . . . more, without everything falling to pieces. If anyone can do it, it’s us. And I intend to try my damnedest.
I can barely wait, and when I get into class, for the first time, I actually feel the ‘flow’ that Stacylynne is always talking about. My moves have gone from robotically, methodically thought out, step by step, to something much more organic.
Maybe Kaede’s dick did loosen up something in my hips.
I can feel the beat, the flow, the romance in the strings, the sex in the throbbing, heavy bass, all of it, pumping through my blood and moving my body.
“Drop it like it’s hawwwt!” Stacylynne calls, and we dip it to the floor, an abomination of a squat that I’d never do with a barbell but feels sexy as fuck in just my shorts and tank top.
“Now work those hips like you’re controlling a joystick! Clockwise!” Stacylynne calls, rolling her hips, and I get with it quickly. I’m a seductress, a sexy, powerful woman. Yeah, it sounds silly, but it’s true. There’s power in the pussy, and as I let my power flow, I think of Kaede and roll it just a little harder. “Reverse!” she calls, and I do that too, though it’s trickier.
Through the glass wall, I see Kaede across the way. He’s hard at work and not even looking at me, but I pretend I’m putting on a show for him, giving my ‘Crossfit’ ass a good bounce.
As if he’s heard my thoughts, he turns around and meets my eyes through the glass. I see his mouthed curse, “Shit.” It only makes me try harder.
I feel like the goddess Stacylynne is always telling us we have inside, and as she tells us once again to ‘work it’, I drop to the floor in a plié no ballerina has ever done, with my knees spread wide in a move Stacylynne calls ‘Hello Kitty’, and pat my thighs in time to the music.
Here, Kaede . . . right here.
I can’t wait for tonight.
Chapter 19
Kaede
My body aches, my muscles are constantly flushed, and I’m running on coffee and testosterone.
It’s been a week of utter madness, and I can’t wait to keep going. My daily routine has become wake up, work, eat, sex, sleep. Without fail. Courtney and I meet every night for dinner, either at the gym after she works out or we grab whatever we can get as fast as possible on the way to her place or mine.
Meals are consumed quickly, sometimes even in the car to save time, chatting about our days in between bites of whatever we’ve picked up before falling into bed to fuck like a couple of teenagers who just discovered sex, orgasms, and Viagra. Basically, nonstop and repeatedly.
Except it’s so much better than that. It’s the best I’ve ever had by a landslide. It feels like we were made for each other. When she wants it rough, hard, and fast, I’m there too, pounding her so hard the headboard bangs into the wall from the force of my thrusts. When she wants it slow and tender, I want it that way too, enjoying hours of soft kisses, nibbles, sighs of pleasure, and soft whispers before we fall together in exhausted oblivion.
And somehow, I feel like I’ve gotten to know more of Courtney beyond all the fronts she puts up. I thought I knew her before, but the depths that she’s let me enter sometimes make me stop in blissed-out awe.
I thought she was impressive before, but there’s more to her than I think even her family knows. She’s serious, no doubt about that, but there’s humor there, a silliness I think I helped reawaken and draw out of her. I know I’d been surprised as hell when I tickled her and she’d dissolved into girlish giggles. I want to find as many ways as possible to bring that sound out of her again. And starting a water war? I would’ve thought that was so unlike her, but I think it is her . . . the real her.
She’s brilliant too, more brilliant than I thought possible. She helped me look over the contract with Sanders and discuss our expansion plans, pointing out opportunities in a thoughtful and insightful way that would allow us to gain even further leverage in our markets.
We’ve talked about her dreams too. I’ve learned what drives her, why she’s putting everything she has into her role as VP, with sights on the CEO role when her father retires. It’s not just a desire to prove herself, but she truly does love her father and her family. She wants the Andrews name to live on for another generation. And she’s known that her sister and brother aren’t the people to do that. She is.
Morgan still has some time on the throne, but just as a championship team isn’t built the week before the Super Bowl, she’s ‘putting in the reps’ now to make sure that when Morgan does step aside, it’ll be not so much a changing of the guard but an evolution. In the meantime, she feels like she’s still got a lot to prove, a lot of business muscle to build. I can definitely understand that.
But tonight’s our first real test.
The dinner is really ramping up the pressure, tightening a noose around both of us. I wake up early on Saturday, lovi
ng that I can roll over in my bed and snuggle Court like lazy sloths until the sun rises.
Or until Court wakes up, which she does all too soon. She’s not a slow-roll kinda girl. Her eyes pop open, she does a couple of stretches, and then it’s tackle the day time.
“Let’s go,” she says.
“Go? Go where?” I groan, pulling her to my side. “Actually, just no. I’m not even moving for coffee yet.”
She pushes at my chest, not letting me doze off for even a second. “I’m buzzy with all these nerves. Let’s go for a run before you go to work.”
I peek through one half-closed lid. “I have a better idea to burn off jitters.”
She hops onto me, straddling me to place a quick smack to my lips, and I think I’ve won. But she continues over me, getting up and heading to the bathroom even as I lift up and reach for her. “Be ready in five!”
Shit. But I’m damn sure up and getting dressed because when she says five, she really means three. Maybe less.
Eight minutes later—the delay was my fault because I tried to seduce her back to bed once more—we’re out and pacing each other around the nearby park for a leisurely jog. As I take in the quiet stillness of the sunrise, I’ll admit that maybe she was right. I do feel more at ease, even peaceful about tonight.
We can do this. We’re ready.
Still, we quiz each other because we’re creatures of habit and tonight is the final exam of our lives.
We cover favorite colors, life goals, TV shows, side of the bed, and more.
“What color’s my toothbrush?”
“White. Oral-B Genius X,” I reply, humble bragging a bit. That’s a pretty specific one that I bet most people don’t know.
Courtney nods, telling me ‘good job’, and then it’s my turn.
We move on to birthmarks—a freckle on her right shoulder, tattoos—only me, and she knows them all intimately, and even favorite sex positions, though I’m mostly using that to talk dirty and make her blush.
My Big Fat Fake Engagement Page 22