by Liz Crowe
“Shopping’s pretty much the last thing I want to do today.” I crossed my arms over my chest as best as I could with a busted shoulder and tried to look menacing.
“Too bad.” His eyes turned to look me up and down. “What, pray tell, do you plan on wearing to a formal social event? Aspen will be dressed in Versace. You can’t be a prince going to the ball dressed in Wranglers.”
“And why the hell not?” Who was this guy anyway? Just because he dressed my girl didn’t mean that rolled down the chain of command to dressing me now.
“Because you’ll embarrass her. Is that what you want?” His words ripped right through my heart. That was the absolute last thing I wanted to happen. I was certain that when I met her family I’d win them over with my Southern charm and chest full of party jokes. I had a good one planned for the evening, too. Either way, it was important that I impress her family tonight. Being from different worlds was hard on any relationship, but more so on women because they tended to have the innate need to please. Boy, did I want to please my angel.
“No, I don’t. Lead the way, Buddy.”
“Thank you.” He seemed to relax. Then he sized me up with a bright white smile. I wondered if he used those toothpaste strips that were meant to make your teeth so bright they could glow in the dark. “Now, I know exactly what designer we can have tailored to fit that broad chest and those massive biceps in a jam. Jeez, how much do you work out, anyway?”
I laughed aloud as he led me out of the apartment and into the elevator. Before long, we were pulling up to a store smack dab in the middle of Fifth Avenue, the heart of New York City. I looked over the building. Oliver was grinning so much I worried that his face would stick that way.
The building was gray stone with bars running down the first stories. Golden letters popped out of the building’s side, prominently displaying “ARMANI / 5TH AVENUE” in big block letters.
“Looks like a jail,” I said. Oliver looked like he’d forgotten I was with him.
“If that’s jail, then lock me up, honey, and throw away the key!” He grabbed onto my forearm and tugged me toward the entrance. He was obviously excited. Reminded me of when Butch was about to get a meaty bone. He’d wag his tail and turn around in furious circles landing in a heap at my feet when his excitement ebbed. Oliver was kind of like Butch but I feared I was the meaty bone in this scenario.
After trying on six suits, I’d about had it. I was at my boiling point. Aspen was going to pay dearly for this—preferably on her back with her thighs around my ears.
“Oh, Hank, this is the one. This is it!” Oliver screeched.
I stood on a raised circle facing three large mirrors. They were tilted so that one could see the clothes from every angle. A small, hairy looking fella was standing in front of me measuring my inseam. He gripped my balls and shoved them to the side.
“What the heck, partner?” I jumped back, covering my crown jewels. “This ain’t no doctor’s office. Touch me again and I’ll punch your teeth out!” The man rattled off something in a foreign language. Oliver went over and appeased the man.
Oliver rolled his eyes and came back over to me. “Hank, he’s a tailor. They have to measure your inseam or your, um, bits will be uncomfortable. He got what he needed on the pant, so can he finish with the shoulders, arms and waist? You going to be a good boy and keep your paws to yourself?” I squinted my eyes at him but got back on the circle. “We don’t have a lot of time as it is.” He sounded completely exasperated. The feeling was mutual.
“Sorry. Not used to this type of thing. Just get it done, then,” I told the man with the accent. He hemmed and hawed until he finished sizing me up. Lord knows what the hell he had to do. The suit fit just fine; a little tight in the chest and shoulders, but I could remedy that by leaving it unbuttoned. It was the largest size they had on hand. I could make do, but Oliver was not okay with that option. He said I had to look the part. Whatever that meant. It wasn’t like I was trying out for a Broadway show.
Oliver picked out several shirts, more than I needed for the evening. Instead I scrolled through my phone and texted Aspen.
To: Aspen Reynolds
Your boy is dressing me up nice for the evening. You owe me. Big time.
I watched Oliver grab several ties and match them up with the brightly colored dress shirts. I overheard him telling the sales girl that we wanted the same suit in black and a pinstriped pattern and to charge everything to Aspen Reynolds account. Before I could disagree my phone pinged.
From: Aspen Reynolds
Are you being nice to him? How shall I pay up?
Oh, she wanted to play. Very nice. It took me a few moments but I decided honesty was always the best policy.
To: Aspen Reynolds
You. Naked. I’ll handle the rest.
Without even a chance to put the cell phone into my pocket, it pinged once more.
From: Aspen Reynolds
Deal, Stud.
“Okay, Hank. Put your clothes back on. We’ll have lunch while the tailor alters the gray suit. The other two will be finished later.”
Time to get the hell out of there. I could pay Aspen back later for the clothes. It was a nice enough store, but nothin’ had price tags and there were very few things hanging on the racks. When you walked in you were met by someone who assessed your clothes, discussed your needs and such. Oliver called it a personal consultant.
If this was how the other half lived, I didn’t want any part of it. What I did want, though, was a tall blond angel with the most beautiful eyes I’d ever seen and a body that wouldn’t quit. God, she made my mouth water and my dick spring to attention. I couldn’t get enough of her. I’d had her every day for weeks and, if anything, the need for her got stronger as the days went on. It wasn’t possible to explain. She was just what I wanted, all the time.
My phone rang and I picked it up thinking it would be my girl. “Hello, Angel. I was just thinking ‘bout you.”
“Angel? That’s a new one, Punky,” Ma’s voice rang through the line loud and cheery as usual.
“Ma, it’s good to hear your voice.”
“Really? Is that so? ‘Cause you haven’t heard it in weeks!” Her tone was bitter with a hint of sarcasm.
“Oh, Ma, I’m sorry. Things got kinda crazy at the job. There was an accident and I got hurt.” Shit, she was going to be pissed when she realized this happened weeks ago.
“Oh my God! My baby. What happened? Tell me everything!” I laughed. She was going to tar and feather me.
“Now, Ma, I’m fine. Just got stuck with a pipe is all. Went straight into my shoulder. The doctors fixed me up real good. Now I’m almost three weeks out on recovery.”
“You had surgery? Hank!” she cried. Then she yelled over the receiver, “Henry, Henry my baby’s been hurt. Had to have surgery and everythin’!” I could hear mumbled words through the hand I knew she had held over the speaker while she updated Old Man Henry. My mother wasn’t typically a dramatic woman but the moment one of her children got hurt, she was like a mama bear with her cubs. All worked up and worried over nothin’ at all.
Oh, man. Now I’d done it. Telling my family about the accident slipped my mind. She was going on and on. I answered each of her questions, telling her every detail as I remembered it.
“Well I’ll be coming out there. I have to see my baby!” I could hear her tears and sniffles all the way across the states. When Julia Jensen got her mind set on something, there was no changing it.
“Okay, okay, Ma. I’ll buy you a ticket and make arrangements, but it’s really unnecessary. Aspen and her team of helpers really have been great. I’m healing up nicely.”
“Aspen?” Her tone was curious so I just plowed through and told her as much as I could while I threw on my clothes. I glazed over some parts and left her wondering about others. She’d hound me when she visited anyway. No need to go into it all now.
“Well, I’ll only believe you’re okay if I see it with my own eyes. Wai
t until your father sees you, Punky. He’s liable to blister your bum for not telling us sooner.”
I knew she was joking. Mom and Dad had never so much as laid a finger on us boys growin’ up, but the fear of my father busting out his belt or using his big hand on our rears had me and Heath running for the hills.
“I’m sorry, Ma. Really, I’m fine. You’ll see. I love you.”
“To the moon and back, Punky. I love you to the moon and back.”
Just hearing my ma’s voice made me homesick. Looks like I’d have news to share with Aspen. This ought to make for an interesting evening. I wondered how she would take it.
“Come on, Hank. I’m wasting away out here!” Oliver’s squeaky voice came from beyond the dressing room door. “How long could it possibly take to put on a pair of jeans?”
“Hold your horses, boy!” He was like an angry mosquito that you couldn’t shake.
I left the solace of the dressing room.
“You ready, Cowboy?”
“As ready as I’ll ever be.”
Chapter Nine
Oliver put the finishing touches on my hair. He had pulled it into a sleek bun with loose tendrils of hair framing my face delicately and a few dime-sized crystals pinned around the bun. They matched the earrings and bracelet he chose for the evening. The dress was new, but one of my favorites. It was simple: a strapless bodice and a hemline that hung just to my knees, deep royal blue, and, at the waist, a satin gray belt.
The look was definitely a newer trend, almost a play on a business suit but with a lux fabric and sheen. Oliver paired it with sky-high gray suede platforms. They had crystals capped at the back that continued along down the line of the heel. Sexy as hell.
After checking myself out in the mirror, Oliver and I both agreed that I looked hot. This was the first time in a long time that I’d dressed to please a man instead of the guest list. It made me feel young and girly—two ways I would have never described myself. Ever.
As I stepped out of my room, Hank was just leaving his.
“Damn, Angel. You’re the prettiest woman I’ve ever seen. C‘mere, let me look atcha’.”
He grabbed my hand and twirled me around slowly. I allowed it, captivated by the spell he had me under. Once I’d finished the spin he laid his big paws on my hips, encircling my waist. His hands could almost touch each other. He made me feel so small and dainty. Most men I’d dated were only an inch or two taller and I had to keep myself really lean in order to not look out of place standing in pictures next to them. The last thing I’d needed in the society pages was fat commentary. My mother would never let me live it down. Hank, though, he was enormous. I looked downright petite with him, and I loved it.
“You sure clean up nice, Stud.” I fingered his royal blue tie. He stood before me in a steel gray suit. His eyes bore more of the green than caramel hue this evening. His dress shirt was bright white and lightly lined with tiny blue pinstripes.
Oliver was damned good at his job. The overall effect was drop-dead gorgeous. With looks like these, I’d need to keep my eyes on him all night. Otherwise he’d be bombarded by all the slutty socialites with nothing to do but play Monopoly with their trust funds and squander away hot men.
“Oh, the two of you make the perfect couple. You two should be on the first cover of Bright Magazine!” Oliver gushed.
The doorbell rang and Hank held his arm out for me to take. I loved his old world charm. “If I had half a brain I’d blow off this event and take you back into that room and have my wicked way with ya,” he whispered in my ear. His breath made the hair on the back of my neck tingle.
I smiled coyly at him as we made our way to the foyer. Oliver was kissing Dean when we approached. When Hank saw the PDA between Oliver and Dean, he turned a tad pink. Oliver didn’t care who saw him with Dean. Never had. He’d only ever been in the closet long enough to kiss boys that were still in there.
Hank cleared his throat. Dean smiled and pulled away first. Oliver stared into Dean’s eyes, obviously love-struck. They made for a great team; I was thrilled that my Ollie had a mate. If only I was so lucky.
Dean held his hand out to Hank. “You must be the hunk I’ve heard so much about.” Dean gave him a sly grin.
He was tall, much taller than Oliver. He had a large enough build to tuck Oliver into his side to shake hands, but he was not quite as large as Hank. His thick black hair was slicked back into a sleek cut, and he had dazzling blue eyes that swirled with mirth as he held Oliver close.
It was obvious that Dean was the alpha male in this relationship, but the man was a complete dichotomy. Most of his career had been spent doing makeup and hair for the modeling industry. That’s how he and Oliver met. Then one day, he up and left it to become a firefighter. He was definitely one of the prettiest firemen I’d ever seen. He’d recently appeared in a sexy fireman’s calendar “showcasing his assets,” as Oliver put it.
“It’s Hank, but never hurts the ego to be called a hunk!” Hank shook Dean’s hand as they both laughed. “Hear you’re a firefighter? Back home I used to volunteer with the fire department to help out now and again.” Hank had never mentioned that. There was still so much we didn’t know about one another. I enjoyed finding out these little tidbits.
“Guilty. I love getting my hands dirty. Men’s work, you know?”
“Abso-fucking-lutely, bro!” Hank clapped a hand on Dean’s shoulder. He seemed to take to Dean so quickly. Made me wonder why he didn’t have the same ease with my Ollie.
The two continued their “men talk” as we entered the elevator. Oliver came to me and hugged me tight. “Our boyfriends are getting along. Isn’t this so exciting? Dean hated Grant with a passion.”
“Dean hates me with a passion, not Grant,” I reminded him.
“Oh yeah, I forgot about that,” he snickered. “He actually hated Grant, too.” He laughed louder, then turned to Dean. “Hey Baby, do you still hate Aspen?”
“Are you still working eighteen-hour days, not excluding weekends?”
“Yes, snookums,” Oliver said.
“Then yes.” But his face held a smile I knew all too well. We always joked that Dean hated me. It was part of our everyday conversation, though a small part of me believed that he did resent me a little for how much I needed Oliver’s attention. I knew since he made a firefighter’s wage and not the high salary he used to bring home working in the fashion industry, that he appreciated how much I paid Ollie in the end.
We made it to my parent’s estate on the outskirts of the city in good time, considering Friday rush hour traffic. The stretched limo pulled around the circular drive. My parents were standing at the threshold greeting everyone as they strolled up. A small get-together for my mother was around hundred and fifty people. As we approached I saw the Senator and her husband, previously the President of the United States, air-kiss my mother and shake hands with my father.
“Is that who I think it is?” Hank whispered in my ear.
“Yes.”
“Whoa, Nelly. When you said a bunch of fancy-dancy folks were going to be here tonight, I hadn’t expected one of our past presidents. I can’t wait to meet him!”
His joy made me smile. We approached my mother and Father, Dean and Oliver right on our heels. Hank immediately took my mother’s hands and kissed her knuckles then shook my father’s hand.
“Evenin’, Mr. and Mrs. Reynolds.”
“Mr. Jensen, it’s an honor to meet the man that saved my darling Pen. I owe you a great deal,” my father addressed Hank, smiling wide. My mother was an evil she-bitch, but I adored my father. He was the one person aside from London and Oliver who told me to reach for the stars and pursue my dreams.
“Hello, Daddy.” I kissed his cheek and he hugged me tightly. I turned to my mother. “Mother.” My mother gave me her standard double air-kiss. I tamped down the desire to make a jab at her.
We moved out of the line of guests and stood off to the side to wait for Dean and Oliver. I wanted Hank to f
eel comfortable tonight, so I’d made Oliver swear to stay close. Even if they weren’t the best of friends, at least Hank knew him and Ollie knew everyone. Though it didn’t look like it would matter one way or the other with the way Dean and Hank were carrying on as if they were long-lost brothers.
They’d moved from firefighting to sports teams and betting on who would make the playoffs this year. Of course Dean was on the side of the New York Giants, and Hank was a firm believer in the Dallas Cowboys.
We found a table out in the garden next to the pool where the four of us could sit; two chairs were left open. Large Japanese lanterns were hanging from invisible wires over the entire area. Twinkling candles sat on the tables next to a beautiful display of hydrangeas. The pool had floating lily pads with candles in the centers. Each of the trees were circled with twinkling white lights.
The entire theme was ethereal. Soft orchestral music played from a small quartet off to the side of the yard. Mother was a perfect party planner. No detail was left undone. Maybe if I paid her a huge compliment, let her plan an event for me, she’d lay off the marriage talk. It could work, but it was doubtful.
Ever since Grant and I broke up she’d been hounding me to get back with him. According to her, he was the perfect man—regardless of the fact that he’d cheated on me … twice! She believed cheating was to be expected from a man of his pedigree. I disagreed with her and that’s been at the crux of our dysfunctional relationship ever since.
We sat and enjoyed comfortable conversation before Hank and Dean took off to get us drinks from the bar.
“Oh, Princess, our princes are besties. Isn’t this great?” I couldn’t help but get caught up in his happiness.
“I know, Ollie. But what if mine turns out to be a frog?”
Oliver’s face snapped back to attention, his eyes squinting. “What do you mean? I thought you and Hank were getting along great. From what I saw in the bedroom a couple weeks ago he seemed to satisfy those needs.”
“Yes. He’s incredible in the bedroom.” I thought back to the other day when he surprised me in my dressing closet by sliding his cock into me from behind. We left quite a mess in the closet, clothes strewn everywhere. I almost felt bad for the maid. “Oh, Oliver. I just don’t know where this thing with him is going. We’re so different. Just because we’re compatible physically doesn’t mean we’re right for each other.”