by Jessie Evans
He wasn’t sure what his final test had been, but he must have passed, otherwise Kitty wouldn’t have stayed up until midnight playing Heavy Rain with him and then drifted off to sleep in his arms, making adorable little moans and smacking noises in her sleep that John fully intended to record and remix into her own personal ring tone once they were together a few more weeks.
He had passed, which meant Kitty was now his girlfriend, and it was time to deliver on those rights and privileges he’d promised.
With one last goofy grin in her direction, John slipped out of bed, grabbing his jeans from the floor and tiptoeing out of her bedroom.
Ten minutes later, he was at the donut shop down the street picking up a dozen donuts, two lattes with an extra shot of espresso—Kitty had said she was working from ten to six today and he figured she could use an extra shot of caffeine after their late night—and, at the last minute, a bottle of some kind of green juice in case she wanted something healthy with her sugar and caffeine.
He wandered back down the sundrenched street whistling, a bounce in his step that had never been there before. It felt kind of silly, but he liked it. He liked life this morning, and Kitty was the part he liked most of all.
He liked her so much that when he opened the door to her apartment to find her standing by the foosball table in the oversized blue t-shirt she’d slept in, hurling giant marshmallows from a bag in her hand at the kitchen island with all her strength, he felt her misery and anger like a punch in the gut.
“What happened?” John asked, frozen in the doorway, the box of donuts and cardboard tray of drinks suddenly feeling awkward in his hands.
Kitty spun to look at him, eyes flying open. Her hair hung in wild tangles around her shoulders and her cheeks were damp.
“What are you doing here?” she asked in a shocked voice.
“You asked me to stay last night, remember?”
“Of course I remember! I’m not crazy,” she said with a glare he didn’t understand as she grabbed another marshmallow and hurled it in his direction.
“Okay, sorry!” John sidestepped the marshmallow, mentally scrambling to figure out what the hell he’d done wrong “I just went out for donuts and coffee. I thought it would be nice.”
“Donuts and coffee?” she repeated, as if the words made no sense.
“I wanted to do something special for our first morning together,” John said, hating how dumb the words sounded out loud.
“Our first morning…” Her words trailed off and her arms went limp, the marshmallow bag falling to dangle near her bare knee.
“I don’t know,” John said, shifting from foot to foot, not certain whether he was welcome further inside the apartment. “It was romantic and tasty in my head, but maybe I’m an asshole.”
Kitty’s lips trembled. “You’re not an asshole.”
“Then why do you hate me?”
“I don’t hate you, I just…” She took a shaky breath. “It was our third date and I have the third date curse and I— I thought you’d left forever and I really, really like you!” Her expression crumpled and the marshmallow bag fell to the floor as she brought her hands to cover her face.
“Oh, shit,” John said, suddenly understanding what had happened.
He hurried into the apartment, setting the coffee and donuts on the island before rushing to gather Kitty into a big hug.
“I’m so sorry,” he mumbled into her hair as she leaned into him with a shudder that made him feel horrible for making her so upset. “I just wanted to get you a surprise, is all, babe. I thought you’d like some donuts, so I went to get some donuts. I didn’t even think about what you might think if you woke up while I was gone. I should have left a note or something. I am a big dumb man pig.”
She shuddered again, but he could feel her relaxing against him. “You’re not a big dumb man pig. You’re sweet. Just don’t ever leave without waking me up again, okay?”
“Okay,” John said, rubbing her back, wishing he could rewind the morning and do it over. “Next time I’ll kiss you awake first…though that might slow down my donut fetching considerably.”
“Why’s that?” she asked, tilting her head back to meet his eyes.
“You know how it is,” John said, brushing her hair from her face and smoothing the damp from her cheeks with his thumb. “One kiss leads to two, and then three, and then I’m giving you oral and you’re screaming that I give the best oral ever and climaxing again and again and begging me never to remove my tongue from your sweet lady parts and well…” He shrugged. “Time gets away from you, you know.”
Kitty nodded soberly. “And then I’ll have to give you oral and it will be so amazing you’ll start crying man tears and begging me never to stop kissing you where you pee and I’ll have to wipe your eyes with a pillow before I make you come with my mouth and then you’ll want to snuggle afterward…” She rolled her eyes and sighed. “It will be lunch time by then, and all the donuts will be gone.”
“Damn straight I’ll want to snuggle after,” John murmured around his grin, then added in a slightly shamed tone. “Is it okay that even hearing you joke about kissing me where I pee is enough to make me really, really hard?”
The smile that curved her lips was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.
She shook her head. “No. I think it’s really nice. I like making you hard.”
John let his fingers slip around to the back of her neck, loving how warm and soft her skin felt beneath his fingertips. “Does this mean I’m forgiven?”
“Forgiven.”
“And that I passed the last test?”
Kitty looped her arms around his neck. “Passed with flying, frosting-and-sprinkle-covered colors.”
John smiled. “I got three different kinds of sprinkle donuts. I had a feeling you’d be into sprinkles.”
“Why’s that?” Kitty asked.
“Because sprinkles are fun,” he said, “and so are you.”
She pressed a soft kiss to his chin. “I’m sorry I doubted you this morning. And that I threw a marshmallow at you.”
“I’m sorry I made you throw marshmallows at all,” he said, kissing her forehead.
“It’s okay.” She leaned closer, until her curves pressed against him and John’s pulse started to beat in lower places. “That’s why I throw marshmallows when I’m upset. No real damage done and easy clean up.”
“You’re pretty smart,” he said.
“Not really,” she said. “I should have known better than to think you were like the other guys. You’re John.”
The way she said it made it sound like something special. John stood up a little straighter, wanting to live up to the way she said his name, to take care of her and make her laugh and spend as much time together as absolutely possible.
“So, what was the last test?” John asked, curious about what he’d done right, and determined to keep doing it.
“You stayed until morning and didn’t get scared away,” Kitty said with a little shrug. “Kind of sad, I guess, but…you’re the first guy to make it past date three in a long, long time.”
“I have no idea why. You are the least scary girl I’ve ever met,” John said, truly mystified. “But whatever, I’m glad those other scrundles bailed. If they hadn’t, I wouldn’t have a sexy new girlfriend who can also change my muffler.”
“What’s a scrundle?” she asked, laughing. “I hope it’s something really gross.”
“Totally. It’s when you’re so obese your scrotum and your grundle conjoin into a nasty, sweaty, ass-cheesy piece of crotch real estate guaranteed to make girls puke.”
“Gross. But I like it.” Kitty nodded thoughtfully. “Is it wrong that I still want donuts after hearing that description?”
“No, it’s awesome,” John said, taking her hand and pulling her over to the island. He removed her coffee and the juice from the bag then flung open the donut box with a flourish.
“Oh, my.” Kitty touched two fingers to her li
ps. “This is a decadent selection.”
“Only the best for you, mama,” John said, grabbing a bear claw and taking a giant bite.
“I’ll have to go jogging on my lunch hour, but totally worth it,” she said, grabbing a chocolate sprinkle donut and moaning as she bit into one side.
“You even make eating a donut look sexy,” he said, openly admiring her as he devoured the rest of his claw in three bites. “So, you want to sleep over at my house tonight?” he asked, reaching for a pink sprinkle donut. “Nick and I are closing up shop at eight on Mondays and Tuesdays these days, and I make a killer bowl of late night Lucky Charms.”
Kitty’s brow furrowed. “I’d love to, but… You don’t think that’s moving too fast?”
“No way,” John said. “I told you, I’m introducing you to my parents next weekend. I wasn’t kidding. I never kid.”
She rolled her eyes. “You kid all the time.”
“Not about serious stuff,” he said, dropping his donut back into the box to reach for her hand. “I’ve caught a bad case of you, Kitty Nance, and I don’t intend to make any efforts to recover.”
“But you will make efforts to eat things other than Lucky Charms and donuts, right?” she asked. “I eat pretty healthy during the week. Could you be down with some grilled chicken and quinoa if I brought it over later?”
“I could be down with fried dog poop on a stick as long as I get to share it with you.”
Kitty grinned. “Well, as long as it’s fried. Almost anything tastes good fried.”
From there, the conversation turned to fried Twinkies at the county fair and fried pickles at Kitty’s favorite deli downtown and fried chocolate-covered potato chips, which they both agreed seemed gross and a waste of good chocolate. By the time they’d finished their coffee and made a serious dent in the donuts, any lingering tension had vanished, leaving John feeling as perfect as he had when he had awoken with Kitty by his side.
And the best part was that he was going do it again tomorrow. And–hopefully—the next day, and the next. As far as he was concerned, there was no reason to ever spend a night apart from this woman again, not when it felt so right to be with her.
“Hey, Kitty?” he asked as he closed up the donut box.
“What?” She wiped a morsel of icing from the corner of his mouth with her finger then promptly popped the finger into her mouth.
John smiled. “Nothing.” That moment had already solidified things in his mind. Kitty was his kind of girl, and he was her kind of guy. Whether they moved fast or decided to take it slow, their relationship would find its feet. Hell, it might even find wings.
“What’s wrong?” she asked with a giggle. “You just made a horrible face.”
“I had a horribly cheesy thought about you,” John confessed.
“Cool,” Kitty said, leaning in to kiss him and mumble against his lips. “Want a foosball rematch before I get dressed for work?”
“You’d better believe it, baby,” John said, kissing her again before heading for the table. “I’m going to beat the pants off of you.”
“I’m not wearing any pants.”
“So I noticed,” he said, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively. “So I noticed.”
Kitty laughed and John watched her with a smile, certain he’d caught the sexiest girl in Summerville, a woman he could share love and laughter with for a damn long time…maybe even for the rest of his life.
“Another cheesy thought?” Kitty asked, studying his face with a crooked grin.
“Totally,” John said. “Let’s play before I make myself toss my donuts.”
And they did.
And the morning was perfect, as were all the mornings after.
***
Did you enjoy Catching You?
Check out more sexy, contemporary romances by Jessie Evans:
Betting on You (Always a Bridesmaid 1)
Keeping You (Always a Bridesmaid 2)
Wild For You (Always a Bridesmaid 3)
Taking You (A Summerville Novella, Always a Bridesmaid 5)
Join Jessie’s newsletter to stay up-to-date on new releases and newsletter-only coupons: http://eepurl.com/FbwUb
Visit Jessie on Facebook or Twitter
…or keep reading to enjoy a short excerpt of Taking You, and see how the series concludes.
About the Author
Jessie Evans gave up a career as an international woman of mystery (and traditionally published author) to write the sexy, contemporary Southern romances she always wanted to read.
She's married to the man of her dreams, and together they're raising a few adorable, mischievous children in a tree house in the boonies. She grew up in rural Arkansas, spending summers running wild, being chewed by chiggers, and now appreciates her home in a chigger-free part of the world even more.
When she's not writing, Jessie enjoys playing her dulcimer (badly), sewing the worlds ugliest quilts to give to her friends, going for bike rides with her house full of boys, and wandering the woods, glass of wine and camera both in hand, on the lookout for Bigfoot.
A southern girl, born and bred, Jessie loves writing Southern romances with just the right amount of sizzle, and hopes you'll enjoy her stories set in the fictional town of Summerville, Georgia. Especially the "Always a Bridesmaid" series!
Please enjoy this excerpt of Taking You
By Jessie Evans
Chapter One
Gretchen “Nana” March
Monkeyshine. Gretchen Maryanne March didn’t tolerate it. Never had, never would.
She liked fun as much as the next person—she jitterbugged every Friday at the senior center, spent hours during the summer nursing her watermelons to prize-winning size, and was not averse to a little whiskey in her cider on a cold winter’s night—but there was a way things ought to be done. Tradition was a gift from the family that came before, a time-honored way of doing things meant to keep old folks on the straight and narrow and young folks out of trouble. Tradition was the opposite of monkeyshine.
But unfortunately, her favorite granddaughter’s wedding rehearsal was shaping up to be anything but traditional.
Narrowing her eyes, Gretchen swept her cool gaze over the assembled company.
Her granddaughters, Aria, Lark, and Melody, were at the front of the church, fussing over what time to bring in the flowers the next morning, even though Gretchen had told them, repeatedly, to hire some of those Mexican boys from the hardware store to put up the flowers instead of trying to do everything themselves. Thrift was well and good, but Lark’s soon-to-be-husband was a doctor. Certainly, he could afford a few Mexicans.
She’d said as much to Lark.
Judging by the face Lark had made, you would have thought Gretchen had suggested the bridesmaids carry stinkweed bouquets down the aisle.
Then Aria had started in on one of her lectures about how people are people and have names and identities and dignity and yap yap yap, as if Gretchen wasn’t a lifelong registered Democrat in spite of her late husband’s and son’s Republican leanings. She had been a firm believer in equal rights since the sixties.
But she had seen that look in the girls’ eyes, that “Oh no, Nana’s gone and shown her slip again,” look, and so she’d removed herself to the back of the church without another word, leaving them to work out the flower business on their own.
From the way the three of them were still squawking, it wasn’t going so well, and Aria was so wrapped up in their conversation she hadn’t noticed that Gretchen’s great-granddaughter was toddling all over the church. Allowing a teething toddler to run loose in a house of worship was disrespectful. Felicity was going to end up gumming on all the hymnals, and Pastor Daniels would know exactly who was to blame for the damage.
Gretchen’s mouth pruned as she watched Felicity’s red head disappear into another row of pews.
She turned to look for the baby’s step-daddy—to see if at least he might be paying attention—but the three men her granddaughters had hi
tched themselves to were all at the back of the church with the rest of the groomsmen, laughing too loud and passing around a flask the youngest one had brought.
Liquor in church. Gretchen’s mouth pruned tighter.
That flask alone would have been enough to make her disapprove of that Nick character, even if she hadn’t seen all the tattoos he thought he was hiding under those long-sleeved shirts he put on for family gatherings.
But she’d seen Nick Geary downtown last week and gotten a good long look at the nonsense scribbled all over his arms. He looked like a felon—a handsome felon who bore a striking resemblance to a darker-haired James Dean, but a felon nevertheless.
Melody could do much better. Gretchen intended to tell her so the next time Melody came over to help her thread her sewing machine.
There were so many nice, single boys Melody’s age in the church right now, and Gretchen knew all of their grandmothers. There was no reason for Melody to settle for a flask-toting troublemaker when she could settle down with a nice boy. And she needed to settle down soon, so she could start making babies at a reasonable age, instead of waiting until the change of life was practically on her the way these other girls seemed to be doing.
It was better to get babies out of the way when you were young, before you had too much time to get used to being single and childless. Idle hands are the devil’s playthings, after all, and nothing keeps a woman’s hands busier than a child.
As if summoned by her thoughts, there was a loud thud followed by a piercing shriek as the baby began to cry.
Aria jumped and turned to search for her daughter, only to end up crawling down the row of pews in her red dress, probably flashing her underwear to half the church, before she spotted the toddler and gathered Felicity into her arms.
“Is she okay?” Nash asked, hurrying down the aisle.