by Magan Vernon
Couples around us got into cars or zoomed off in the back of convertibles, kissing or drinking champagne, but we just stood there on the sidewalk, his arm still around me while we stared at everyone around us.
“So ... what happens next?” I managed to squeak out, knowing exactly what happened on a honeymoon and exactly how badly I wanted to feel him.
But this could have also been the point where he laughed it off, called a cab or Lyft, and headed back to the hotel. Then I’d be stuck married to him, he’d tell my dad, and demand the ranch in a divorce.
Instead of doing any of that, he looked down at me with a huge grin.
“Well, I know what I’d like to happen ...” His words trailed as he tipped my chin, leaning in so his words were a whisper away from my lips.
Of course, my stomach betrayed me at that moment, grumbling loudly.
He laughed, pressing his forehead against mine. “How about we grab a bite, then head back to the room? There’s gotta be something around here open late. And if this is a wedding, we need cake.”
I hadn’t eaten carbs since I was a toddler. Mom had a deep hatred for starches and couldn’t cook anyway, so we had a lot of kale. Too much kale.
“Where are we going to get cake? Do they have a bakery open this late? Because cake ... cake sounds fucking fantastic.”
He laughed, his entire body vibrating against me as he pulled back and slipped his phone out of his pocket.
Pulling up an app, he pressed his head against mine while we scrolled through the different restaurants to see what was open.
“There’s an Italian place near here that’s open twenty-four seven and has chocolate lava cake. Sounds like a good reception place to me. Whaddya say, wifey?”
I met his wide green eyes and that damn smile, knowing I was a goner for anything he said. Not just because I was still as high as a kite.
But I’d always felt something for this guy, and now that we were married, what was stopping me?
Nothing.
Chapter 21
Clay
I HAD ONE NIGHT OFF work until Christmas.
One night to try to make things at least sort of right with Christy.
Or fuck up everything.
Either way, I figured I was crazy enough to keep going forward, so why not keep going until it either blew up or went spectacularly right?
“So what are you doing tonight?” I asked, sidling up to her as she leaned against the back patio, tapping on her phone.
She raised an eyebrow. “Um, is this a trick question?”
I smiled, sensing the waitresses and other employees eyeing us. The last thing she would want was anyone to know we were together. If that was what we were.
Not like I had the best reputation in the place, and I was sure the other employees would talk, and word would get back to her parents. Who knew what they actually thought of me? Or what the employees would tell them, for that matter.
“How about you come over to my mom’s place tonight? You can help me finish wrapping my gifts and bake cookies. It’s sort of a family tradition.”
“You want me to do something with your family?” I wasn’t sure her eyebrows could rise any higher, but they practically hit her hairline.
“Why not?”
“Because ... because ...” She opened her mouth and then shut it again. Surely, she wouldn’t bring up the whole thing in the inner tube and Vegas for that matter. Both would have been good excuses in their own right.
Instead, she sighed and then nodded. “Yeah. I guess I can come by. Need me to bring anything?”
I widened my eyes, my heart beating rapidly in my chest.
Why?
I asked her, didn’t I?
I guess I just wasn’t expecting her to agree without a fight, and maybe I was growing on her as more than a side piece. Maybe.
“Just your pretty little self will be fine.”
THE CARRINGTONS AND Jaheeds usually got together right after Thanksgiving for Christmas baking. Or more like the women baked and drank a lot of wine while the men BSed and watched some kind of game on the couch.
Then Dad passed, and Eddie came back, so the tradition continued but moved back a little. Now, with Eddie’s tour schedule, Mom tried to end it altogether. But the woman was a saint who had been through too damn much to give up the things she enjoyed. And Brooke was a sucker for tradition, so the party was moved to Brooke and Eddie’s place and a week before Christmas.
At the last minute, of course. So, when I had planned an easy escape from Mom’s, complaining of a long drive home, now I couldn’t do that.
Since the happy couple was my neighbors now with about forty acres give or take separating us, I had Christy meet at my place to walk on over.
“What are you getting so dressed up for? I thought you were baking at Brooke’s?” Noah asked, looking at my reflection in the bathroom mirror.
I glanced at my pearl snap plaid shirt and jeans, then raised an eyebrow at Noah. “Wearing clean clothes is dressing up?”
I turned to face him as he leaned against the doorway, arms crossed across his chest with a smirk on his face. “Normally to go to Brooke’s place, you’d just throw on a T-shirt. Usually, one that insults country music to give Eddie shit. But I’m thinking showing up in the pearl snaps means you’re trying to impress someone there. You and Christy over and you’ve moved on to one of Brooke’s friends? Does she even have any friends around here she still hangs with? If so, can you hook me up?”
I shook my head. “No. Brooke isn’t inviting any friends over that I know of. All her author friends are in Dallas and older, married, and shit. Not your scene.”
He raised an eyebrow. “That doesn’t answer the question about Christy. Are you two still together? Ever talk to that lawyer or what’s going on there?”
All the air felt like it was whooshed from my lungs as I sucked in a breath; my total tell and why I could never play poker.
And just as if the little dark-haired vixen knew her name was brought up, the doorbell rang.
Noah laughed, shaking his head, and was already starting toward the door. “I’ll get it.”
I couldn’t respond since he wasn’t looking at me, but I tried to sprint out of the bathroom. But instead of sliding past him, I just slipped on the wood floor in my sock-clad feet and wiped out on my ass in the middle of the living room.
Of course, Noah would open the door for Christy to see me at that exact moment. Wincing in pain, I was sprawled on the floor like a broken doll.
Slowly, I got up, trying to pretend I didn’t just almost die, and caught Christy’s wide eyes.
“Dude, are you okay?” Noah asked, offering me a hand.
Way to add to my embarrassment, buddy.
Snogs, of course, waited until now to come padding in through the doggy door, snorting at me as if I disturbed her. Then her beady little black stare caught Christy.
Her tail started thwapping, and I knew she was going in for the pounce.
“Snogs, calm the fuck down,” I yelled, but it was too late, and the muddy paws had grazed Christy’s sweater enough to leave a nice brown mark.
At least I hoped that was mud.
“Snogs. No. Outside,” I called, clapping my hands.
She looked up and snorted at me, then padded over to the door, just staring at me.
I looked back and forth between the dog and the girl with the muddy sweater.
“Shit. I’m sorry. Want me to get you something else to wear? I hope that’s mud ... I can wash it, though.” I was already closing the space between us.
She smelled amazing, like something fresh and vanilla. I had to ignore the urge to rip the sweater off and say fuck baking.
No. No. I would not do that. I would get to know her. Not just screw her.
She laughed hesitantly. “Don’t worry. This is an old sweater, and I have a T-shirt on underneath.
Slowly, she peeled off the offending garment, flashing the bare skin of her stomach befo
re she pulled down the plain blue t-shirt underneath.
Dammit. Now I was at half-mast, imagining me taking that shirt off and being the one to let my hands trail where her bare skin didn’t meet her jeans.
“Um, are you two okay, or should I get the first-aid kit? Tide pen? Punish the dog?” Noah asked.
I swallowed hard, letting out a nervous laugh that broke my trance before I looked at my roommate. “Naw. I think we’re okay. Think you can make sure Snogs doesn’t muddy anything else up while we’re at Brooke’s, though?”
“The two of you at Brooke’s?” Noah asked, raising an eyebrow.
“Yeah, if I didn’t break my ass bone,” I muttered, lifting up my shirt and looking at the lovely blue welt forming right above my jeans.
Christy inhaled a sharp breath. The same one I had moments ago.
Dammit, this pretending she would not affect me would be harder than I thought.
“We’re good. Hopefully. As long as we don’t run into any mud or wood floors on the way there,” I said, pulling my shirt down before grabbing my shoes by the door and sliding them on.
“Ready?” I asked Christy with the faraway look in her eyes.
She didn’t say anything but nodded and followed me into the crisp night air.
I stopped on the front porch and held up a finger. “One sec.”
I didn’t wait for her response and ran inside, grabbing one of my zip-up hoodies that I tossed to her before closing the door behind us.
“I told you I didn’t need this,” she muttered but put on the black fleece that fell almost to her knees.
I glanced over my shoulder to see Noah and Snogs peeking through the front blinds like two eager puppies.
Dammit, he would give me hell for this later. But I couldn’t worry about that now. I had to worry about how much more my crazy ass could fuck this up.
“Yeah, but I got it anyway,” I said, putting my hand on her lower back and trying to ignore the zing that went straight from my fingertips to my already half-mast member.
“So ... we’re not going to your car?” she asked, stopping at the end of my driveway near my beat-up truck.
I shook my head. “We’re just gonna hop the fence and walk over to Brooke’s.”
“Did you just seriously just say what I think you did?” Even in the dim light of the moon, I could see her eyes widening as she slowly followed me to the fence separating our properties.
I smiled, loving watching this girl get riled up. As long as it wasn’t at my expense.
Hitching one leg up, I sat on a post, holding my hand out. “Never jumped a fence before? I thought that was a Friendship rite of passage.”
“Are you saying I’m not a real Friendship, Texan?” She put her hands on her hips, wearing a ghost of a smile on her lips.
“If you can put your fancy cowgirl boots where your mouth is and get on this fence, then maybe you can prove me wrong,” I dared.
She scrunched her nose, and her gaze trailed the full height of the fence.
“Here, I’ll even give you a hand, shorty.” I held my palm out to her, expecting her to bat me away and do it herself. Or just go to the gate.
But my breath caught in my throat when she slipped her hand in mine and then hoisted her tiny body in the air. Since the next post was about six feet away, instead of sitting on that one, or the wire fence between, she landed right in my lap with a small, “Oof.”
Maybe it was an accident. Maybe it was on purpose.
Either way, my dick didn’t care, begging for its release as I put my hands on her hips, her legs straddling mine.
I tried to concentrate on my breathing, but all I could do was stare at her bottom lip catching between her teeth and the way she steadied her hands on my shoulders as though I was her lifeline.
“You all right?” I asked, barely able to get the words out.
She nodded. “Yeah. Fine.”
But her words were as shaky as her hands. I might have turned down her advances before, but sitting there, watching her eyes dance in the moonlight, had me thinking maybe it was time to stop ignoring what I wanted. I mean, we were married, after all, so what was wrong with a little fun?
“Clay, is that you sitting on the fence post? If you two are getting it on, can you please take it inside? We can still see you,” Brooke’s exaggerated accent called from the front porch, literally still hundreds of yards away toward the back of their land where the long driveway ended.
She probably couldn’t see anything more than our shadows, but that didn’t stop Christy from scrambling off my lap and hopping down to her feet on the other side of the fence.
I smirked, moseying on down next to her. I guess it was one thing when we were in the corner of a pool or in a place where no one knew us, but out in the open, she wanted nothing to do with me.
Whatever. I got the hint.
“You ready to see the kitchen I don’t think Brooke’s used a day in her life?” I asked.
Christy nodded, and we made our way through the field to the white house with a wraparound porch where Eddie and Brooke had made their home.
All the lights were on, with the large windows looking into their open living room and kitchen and straight through to the backyard surrounded by trees and the new pool and patio they’d put in. Something about having a wedding for the youngest Conti girl and her swimmer fiancé there. The swimmer paid for the pool and terrace, saying it was better to spend the money there than renting a hall, and Eddie agreed to let him use it whenever he wanted. Though who knew how much that would be since, from what I heard, the couple had a place in California.
Another Friendship girl who got the hell out and would never come back.
The thought in and of itself stirred in my gut.
Christy would have been one of those girls, yet here she was, back with me.
And now my wife.
I guess the Contis never heard of all-night Vegas chapels and specials for under a hundred bucks, but what did I know? My current wife was still hiding that fact from the world and standing beyond an arm’s distance of me. My big sister, Brooke, sat on the front porch step and looked back and forth between us as if we just got in trouble at school and she was the mama to reprimand us.
“You two behaving?” she asked, raising her eyebrow as we stepped onto the porch, and she stood up.
“Always.” I grinned, hugging the girl in her bright red apron that she only wore for this occasion.
We all had matching ones that had ‘Merry Christmas, y’all’ embroidered inside a patterned state of Texas. I conveniently lost mine sometime after my first tour in Afghanistan. Or it went in the trash.
One or the other.
Brooke leaned into me, glancing behind me as she whispered, “Mom know about this yet?”
“Of course not,” I muttered.
She pinched my side, and I backed up, rubbing the now sore spot. I might have been a tough Army grunt with a bruise on my back, but damn my sister for knowing all my soft spots.
“Come on in, Christy. Mom, Vi, and Lydia have just started unwrapping my pans, and Eddie and Tameem are on the couch.”
I thought maybe Christy would fangirl or at least rattle seeing my sister’s country star boyfriend with his pearly white smile and dimples, but when he stood, sauntering to her and shaking her hand, she just smiled the same as she did to his dad. Like nothing was out of the ordinary.
Maybe she remembered the geek he was growing up too.
The one who lived next door to me with gangly arms and a bad haircut. Of course, he was nothing like that now, and a surge of jealousy ran through me. Even if the guy was with my sister.
I wanted to put my arm around Christy to claim she was there with me. But she was always just one step ahead of me as if she didn’t want to be seen with me. Couldn’t blame her, I guess. Yet it still felt like a kick to the groin.
I slowly followed her into the kitchen where Mom and Lydia stood behind the large granite island, unwrapping Brooke’s
pans that she probably bought today.
“Ma, Lydia, Vi, this is my friend Christy.”
“Hi, Christy,” Violet said, barely looking up from her phone. Damn, when did my ten-year-old sister with braided pigtails get a phone? And was she wearing lip gloss?
“It’s nice to meet you,” Mom said, giving me a questioning look over the frames of her glasses.
“So, what are we making?” I asked, putting my hands on the cool tops of the counter.
“You’re cooking with us?” Brooke asked, making her way to the walk-in pantry and pulling out a few bags of chocolate chips.
“Why not? Guys can bake too.”
“You hear that, Eddie?” she called.
Eddie laughed and slowly approached the kitchen. “Trying to make me look bad in front of my girl?”
I rubbed the back of my neck, feeling the heat of everyone’s eyes on me. “Hey, I’m just saying, maybe I don’t want to sit, drink Shiner, and watch whatever shit we can find on TV. Maybe I want to actually eat some of the crack before Violet scarfs it all down.”
“Hey!” Violet yelled, finally looking up from her phone, which caused everyone to laugh.
“Um ... crack?” Christy raised an eyebrow.
Mom smiled. “Not that street kind of crack. Christmas crack. Your mother never make it?”
She shook her head. “Mom’s not much of a cook.”
“Well, then, tonight you’ll get some famous Carrington Crack.” Mom put her arm around Christy’s shoulder. “Just don’t let Clay have any before it’s cooked.”
I put my arms up and huffed but couldn’t hide my smile. She might not have agreed that she was my girl but seeing her bond with my mom just proved something was there.
Now if only I could convince her of that, we’d be set.
Chapter 22
Christy
We sat in a corner booth in the restaurant that looked like an updated version of Conti’s restaurant back in Friendship. Or like Italy threw up on it.
Photos decorating the wall of who I assumed was the Italian owner with her thick glasses, along with different older movie stars. And the brick walls that weren’t covered in photos had similar murals of old Hollywood stars.