by Mae Wood
“Nope. Nothing out of the ordinary. Just tying up a few loose ends before the end of the week.”
“Is that a hint?”
What?
I quickly pondered my spoken words before it clicked. “No,” I ever-so-gracefully snorted while blushing and becoming aroused at the thought.
He totally fucks with my thoughts.
“That was not a hint. I meant to say I’m wrapping things up.”
“That isn’t any better, Miss Tanner.”
“Trip, will you let me finish the few work-related tasks I really want to get off of my plate so I can see you tonight without any distractions?”
“Now that is better, but you still said ‘get off.’ Your place or mine?”
“Um, how about we, you know, have a date?”
“Have I been neglecting you?”
“No. Not at all,” I sighed. “I’m probably just. . . I don’t know.”
“Wanting to see me outside of our little sex bubble?”
“Trip,” I began, not knowing where to start.
“So, we’re going out. Like really out. Don’t worry. You didn’t pressure me into anything. We have tickets for a performance tonight at the Orpheum. “
“Cool,” I replied, scrolling through my head, trying to remember what was going on at the 1920s movie-house-turned-theater. “What are we going to see?”
“The ballet. Swan Lake, I think.”
“The ballet?” Oh, this is like the sparkly streaming grips for my bike. He’s trying to take the piss out of me. No way we’re actually going to the ballet.
“Yes.”
“Do you like the ballet?”
“Sure. I like the music more than the dance, though.”
Wait, he’s serious. We’re going to the ballet tonight? I was just asking for dinner or at least a drink at a bar before we ended up screwing each other’s brains out. Now I’ve got culture. The pendulum is swinging too far. “Okay, the ballet sounds nice.”
“And here’s the other part. It’s with my parents.” What? “I said I’d go a long time ago. I don’t really put this stuff on my calendar. I just tell my mom yes and then if I’m in town I go, and if I’m out of town I don’t go. She reminded me today. You hate me?”
“No.”
“Okay, good. Anything you want to do tomorrow night, just say it and it’s done.”
Well, this will be a fun. “Anything?”
“Anything. Absolutely anything.”
“Okay, dinner tomorrow night.”
“Done.”
“Mr. Brannon, once again, you agree too quickly to deals without hearing all the terms. Aren’t you the one with the MBA?”
“I am and I know a good deal when I hear it.”
“Oh, this a great deal. Me, you, a lovely restaurant, a nice bottle of wine.”
“See, I told you. No hardship here.”
“And my parents.”
“What?”
“Yup. So, it sounds like we’ve got back to back double dates with our parents this weekend.”
“Christ,” Trip swore. I could hear him scrub a hand across his face. “Really?”
“Oh, come on. How bad can it be?”
“You do realize that you’ve just jinxed us? So, should I pick you up at six? There is a donors’ reception before the ballet at the theater. Cocktails, heavy hors d’oeuvres, get to meet a few of the performers, shake some hands.”
“Wow, a networking event. Just what every woman wants to do after her boyfriend returns home following a week apart.”
“It won’t be bad. I promise.”
“Oh, we’ll have a great time. No doubt. We always have a good time. I was just giving you a hard time.” I realized my mistake as soon as the words left my mouth.
“You’re giving me a hard time right now,” he growled.
“That is the worst innuendo I think I’ve ever heard.”
Trip laughed. “Okay, going to get on this flight. I’ll see you at six at your place.”
“Great. Bye.” I looked at my watch. Okay, two hours until he’s back. Yeah, I can make this work.
Chapter Twenty-two
Using my opener, I parked my car inside Trip’s garage. I knew he’d see it and know I was at his place, but it wouldn’t totally ruin the surprise. I closed the garage door and walked into his quiet home. As much as I wanted a date with him and to have some sort of life with him outside of what he called our “little sex bubble,” I knew we needed some one-on-one time before the ballet with his parents if we were going to keep from pawing each other like hormonal teenagers. I checked my watch again. A few minutes before five. He should be here soon.
I headed upstairs, set my tote on the floor of the master bedroom, and hung my go-to little black dress in Trip’s closet. I stripped out of my work clothes and pawed through Trip’s clothes. White? Too stark. Black candy stripes? Nah. Plaid? Country cabin. Tattersall? Ah ha. Light blue windowpane. I slipped into one of Trip’s dress shirts. I rolled the sleeves up on the blue and white shirt, leaving it unbuttoned to showcase my black lace bra and panties. After a quick primp session in the bathroom, I was ready to rock both of our worlds. I’ve seriously lost my mind. We are like bunny rabbits. Enjoy it while it lasts, right? I gave myself a final once-over and headed downstairs.
I was opening a bottle of wine in the kitchen when I heard the garage door open. All right. Game on. I hopped up on the island, crossed my legs, and leaned back slightly, making sure my breasts were on full display. I really hope this looks sexy because it is sure as hell not comfortable. The back door opened and Bitsy walked into the kitchen.
“Oh my God!” I screamed and yanked the shirt closed around my body.
“Oh, oh, oh!” She turned around to face the back door, completely avoiding me. Oh, dear God, please let this be a terrible nightmare. “I just was dropping off breakfast things. I’m sorry. I saw the car, but didn’t think. I just didn’t think. I’m going to leave this sack of groceries.” She bent down to set the brown paper bag on the tile.
I hurriedly buttoned up the shirt. Maybe I can play this off as some sort of fashion statement? Like a cross between a shirtdress and the boyfriend jean trends? Who am I kidding. This is a disaster. I’m now a slut. “Um, I’ll leave.”
“No, you stay put. He’s not twelve anymore. I should probably ask first. I just didn’t think.”
“Bitsy,” I began, not knowing what words to use next.
“No, no,” she continued with her back to me. “I’ll see you at the Orpheum?”
“Yes.”
“Good. Cute shoes.”
My mouth fell open as I watched her leave after complimenting the four-inch strappy gold fuck-me shoes on my feet. I hopped down from the countertop and tore the shoes from my feet. After I scooped up the groceries and put them away, I poured myself an overly generous glass of wine, and curled up in a ball on Trip’s plush white sofa.
Shit. That was pretty much straight out of a horror movie. I’m now the sex-crazed woman who is taking her son away from her. Fuck.
I was nearing the end of my glass when I heard the garage door open again. If it’s Jimmy, I’m just going to start crying and then move far, far away. Maybe Vermont. I don’t think Branco has any interests there.
“Hello? Marisa?”
Trip. Thank you, God. “In the living room,” I called, not bothering to get up.
I heard his suitcase wheels click across the kitchen tiles and stop. “Hey, you. I really am going to keep leaving if I get to keep coming home to scenes like this, Daisy.” He shrugged off his hound’s-tooth sport coat and kicked off his penny loafers. “I could so crash right now. Might I be able to talk you into joining me for a nice hot shower?”
“Trip, your mom was here.”
“And?” He stalked over towards me.
“And I was here.”
“And?” He lowered himself onto the sofa, curling around me.
Like ripping off a Band-Aid. “And I was virtually naked in y
our kitchen. I was sitting up on the island, planning on surprising you.”
“Were you wearing this shirt?” he asked, fingering the hem of his shirt that sat on my thighs.
“Sort of.”
“Sort of?”
“Well, I was in my bra, panties, my shoes, and your shirt was open. It was pretty ridiculous.”
“Doesn’t sound so ridiculous.”
“Trip, your mom saw me posing like a centerfold in your kitchen.”
“Are you sure?”
“Pretty damn sure. She complimented me on my shoes.”
Trip began laughing. “I’m really sorry I missed this. But you’re right. This is pretty awful.”
“Pretty sure it would have been just as bad as if she’d walked in on us, you know”
“Having sex?” he finished my thought. “Hey, don’t be bashful about this.” He pulled me into a fierce embrace. “Really, it’s my house. You’re my girlfriend. I’ve invited you to spend as much time as you want to here. I’m an adult and I swear of all of the things in my life that my mom could have walked in on, I’m not ashamed of this, I’m not ashamed of you, and you shouldn’t be either.”
“I’ll survive.”
“But I’m guessing you’re not exactly in the mood to join me for a shower.”
“I’m in the mood to get completely plastered, so I can forget the past twenty minutes ever happened.”
“You know the old saying right? About the fastest way to get over something is to get under someone?” He resumed toying with the hem of the shirt, grazing the tops of my thighs with his fingers.
“Trip, one, that is not how that saying goes. Two, I really feel like a total slut and I’ll feel like even more of one following a quickie before we see your parents. And, three, I just can’t do a quickie with you right now,” I confessed into his chest, rubbing my face into his shirt and breathing his smell deeply. My muscles relaxed and I sank into him. Perfectly content.
“We can skip the ballet,” he offered in a whisper.
“No,” I said, lifting my head and looking into his kind blue eyes, burning with need for me. “That would just be worse. Okay, so you shower and I’ll get dressed.”
***
“Well, hello, Miss Tanner. I will say that as pretty as you look now, I greatly preferred the other outfit.”
“No doubt,” I replied with a laugh, twisting my hair into a low chignon.
“And now you taunt me with your hair all pulled up like that.” He leaned in and ran open-mouthed kisses down my neck, licking down my shoulders, exposed in the black bateau dress.
Fuck. Maybe we should have just fooled around. I’m dying for him now. A hand pressed against my thigh and grazed to my hipbone, pushing up the skirt.
“Trip,” I whined, leaning into him while simultaneously swatting him away. “After earlier this evening, we cannot be late. Your mother will think that I’m some sort of sex fiend.”
“And that is somehow an inaccurate view of you?” He smiled and waltzed into his walk-in closet with a blue towel tied around his hips.
I stiffened. Yes, yes, it is. I turned away from the mirror and stared at the closet doorway. “Um, yeah, so,” I began not quite sure how to tell him that perhaps he has the wrong impression of me. “Hey, I want to drop by my place on the way. Pick up some shoes.”
“Forgot shoes?”
“No, just don’t want to wear the ones I brought with me. You know, the ones your mom complimented me on earlier. That’s just.” I couldn’t even finish the thought. I waved my hands over my head and danced on my tiptoes from being uncomfortable. “It’s just so weird.”
“Hey,” he soothed, emerging from the closet in his boxers and buttoning up a fresh white shirt. “Just stop thinking about it. She doesn’t think you’re a sex fiend, if that’s what you’re worried about. She’s just happy I’m dating someone. Want to help me pick out a tie?”
I raised my eyebrow. Unbelievable.
He paused at the top button and let out a full-body laugh. “That isn’t what I meant. Sometimes a tie is just a tie.” I shook my head at him and he retreated into his closet while I finished my makeup, swiping on a bold red lip. He emerged fully dressed in a navy suit with a faint purple pinstripe, white pinpoint shirt and violet tie. Our eyes met in the mirror.
Holy shit, my boyfriend is hot.
“Aw, fuck, Marisa. You look like one of the women in the ‘Addicted to Love’ video. Are you trying to torture me?”
He wrapped his body around mine and I simultaneously felt comforted and entirely aroused. “Ballet,” I spoke sternly, reminding us both that we had to be grownups, at least for a few hours. “With your parents.”
***
As we walked into the Orpheum, Trip placed his hand on the small of my back, softly humming ‘Addicted to Love,’ and guiding me up the stairs to the reception area. The donors’ reception was standard. A black-skirted table functioning as a bar with a waist-coated man standing at attention. A long table of bite-sized savories and sweets pushed against the far wall. A quiet buzz of friendly conversation, sprinkled with a few hearty male chuckles and tinkles of polite women’s laughter, filled the room.
There she is. I spotted Bitsy across the room, standing with a group of her contemporaries. I glanced at my feet and looked at the modest black peep toes I’d picked up from my condo on the way. I’m so glad I changed my shoes.
“Here’s our play,” Trip whispered in my ear, steering me away from his mother and toward the bar. “First, bar. Second, my mom. Third, my father. Fourth, get the hell out as soon as we can.” I nodded in complete agreement.
We reached the bar and Trip ordered a bourbon on the rocks for himself and a glass of red wine for me. “Thanks,” I said, taking the glass from his hand.
“Yeah, after the last time I saw you holding a glass of bourbon, it’s all I’ve been thinking about. You with a glass of wine in hand gives me no such problems, but seriously this outfit is killing me.”
“Want me to find a guitar to strap on and do the dance from the video?” I offered, stepping from side to side with my face blank and robot-like.
“I’m so digging out my Stratocaster when I get home and living all of my teenage fantasies.”
“How old are you? Didn’t that song come out in the eighties?”
“Good music never dies and hot girls with their hair pulled back and kissable red lips are timeless.” He cupped his free hand around my jaw and then ran his fingers down my neck. I shivered under his touch. I felt my cheeks warm and I glanced around, hoping no one else would have noticed his very intimate caress.
“Marisa, great to see you.” I spun around and found myself face to face with Laney. He leaned in and kissed my cheek. “It’s been too long.”
“Laney!” I automatically passed Trip my wine glass and grabbed Laney’s hands, taking in the warm smile that danced on his fashionably scruffy face. “So good to see you! We should get lunch or dinner or, even better, drinks soon.”
“Definitely drinks,” he said. “You’re looking good.”
“Thanks. So are you.” Trip cleared his throat. “Oh, I’m sorry. Trip, Lane. Lane, Trip.” I took back my wine glass. The men shook hands with a nod and Trip pulled me into his side. Oh, hello, Mr. Jealous. Should I tell him or no? The devil and angel on my shoulders battled it out for less than a full second. Yup, let’s see how he does.
“How do you two know each other?” asked Trip, trying to appear nonchalant while sussing out the situation.
“Oh, I’ve known Marisa for years. She was actually my senior prom date.”
I nodded. “Yeah, I had a serious secret crush on Laney in high school.”
Trip stiffened. “And you guys are friends?”
Laney nodded and ran his fingers through his close-cropped brown hair. “We keep in touch. I moved back to Memphis about three years ago. Haven’t seen her as much as I’d like. We really do need to set up drinks and make a night out of it.”
“Absolut
ely. I’ll email you.”
“I’ve got to make the rounds before the performance starts, but really, it is good to see you.”
After a brief hug for me and another nod in Trip’s direction, we were alone in the middle of the reception.
“What was that?”
“I do have friends, Trip.”
“You have friends who are guys and who tell you how hot you are and then ask you out for drinks in front of me?”
“Possessive much?”
“Absolutely. Mine.” He kissed the top of my head.
“Okay, fine. Don’t piss on me. I like this dress.”
“You haven’t been seeing anyone else while I’ve been out of town?”
“Definitely not. And Laney really is a friend. And he’s not interested in me.”
“Oh, he was interested.”
“Trip, if you want to join us for karaoke night at AJ’s, you’re more than welcome.”
“AJ’s? The gay bar in Midtown?”
“One and the same. Okay? So if anyone needs to be worried here, it is me.”
Trip laughed and relaxed. “Deal, but you don’t need to worry about that.”
“No, based upon the off-key version of that Robert Palmer song you keep humming, I don’t think I’ve got to worry about you karaokeing.”
“That isn’t what I meant.”
“I know,” I said. I love teasing this man. “Let’s go pay homage to your parents.”
As we approached Bitsy, she excused herself from her friends and greeted us. Please no hug. Please don’t reference this afternoon.
“Trip, Marisa, I’m so glad you could come tonight.”
“Thank you for inviting me,” I replied formally, thankful for the physical distance she was affording me.
“Marisa, do you like the ballet?”
“I’ll be honest, I’m not a huge fan of dance, but the athleticism of the dancers is always impressive.”
“Well, for some ballet is an acquired taste.”
Is that a slap about my taste or sophistication? I mean, I know I’m not in her circles, but I’m not a troglodyte.
“I hope it will keep your interest and you two won’t try to skulk off. We haven’t seen Trip in a while and were hoping we could all go for dinner following the performance. I made us reservations in the dining room.”