“Look, a massage is sensual, I totally get that, but you’re not in a good place right now.”
“I’m in a perfectly good place.”
“You’ve been through a lot.”
“So that’s the only reason?”
There are a gazillion reasons. None that my hard dick is listening to, though. “You’re still burying and avoiding. You want an escape and I get that. But I’m not a guy who takes advantage of a situation.”
“It’s not advantage if I’m doing the inviting.
“Yes. It is.” Maybe she doesn’t realize it, but later, tomorrow or even next week, she might have regrets. “It kills me to turn you down because I want more than anything to crawl into bed with you, but it’s not the right time.”
She studies me like she’s not sure what to make of this.
“Not now anyway,” I add and try to figure out how to explain. “Noelle, you have been dealing with too much, and you’re still dealing. I don’t want to be escape guy. If and when we do this, it will be after you’ve dealt with everything.”
“You think I’m that messed up?”
“Not at all,” I assure her and I’m pretty sure she’s getting pissed or insulted, but I can’t back down from this. Sleeping with her right now would just be wrong. “I think you’ve had a hell of an upheaval in your life and a lot of things aren’t back in place yet. Even if it was, you’d need time to settle and center and be you. Come into your new normal.”
“That might not be for ten years,” she whines.
“I don’t think it will be that long.” I chuckle.
“That’s how long I will be a mother instead of a sister.”
There’s sadness in her voice but not resentment, which I’m glad. Though I wouldn’t blame her if there wasn’t some resentment, considering what’s happened.
I walk over and pull her into my arms. “Just for now. I’m here and I’m not going anywhere unless you want me to. But let’s take it a day at a time. You’re still dealing with stuff.”
He is so wrong, but I’m not sure if that is what he really thinks or if he’s just being nice and trying not to hurt my feelings.
It’s so fucking humiliating to be standing in his bedroom, wrapped in a sheet, wearing nothing but my panties and being shot down. “I should probably go.”
“Water, rest and dinner,” he says.
Has Sean decided to be my caretaker? Is that what this is about? Not a potential something, where I would finally have sex, but a someone to be taken care of instead?
I don’t need that. I can take care of myself. I’ve been fine on my own and I’ll continue to be fine.
What the hell haven’t I dealt with? I think I’ve done pretty well. I haven’t had a fucking choice.
“So, did you want that shower or just to relax and rest?”
“I think I’ll just get dressed.” I have to get out of here so I can deal with my humiliation in private.
He pulls back and looks down at me, concern in his eyes.
Why can’t he be an ass? This would be so much easier to just get dressed and walk out. Instead, he has that look of concern, like he pities me or something, which is worse than the rejection.
I need wine, lots of it. Especially if it will work quicker because of massage circulation and all of that. I have enough in my account that I can head down to the corner store, get a bottle and then hide out in my room tonight.
“Are you okay?”
No. I just found out the guy I have the hots for doesn’t want to have any physical contact with me other than a massage. “Of course,” I answer instead.
“No you aren’t.” He’s grinning at me.
I want to wipe it off his face. He’s probably used to women coming on to him being all big and Adonis-like. He probably can’t go out to a bar without having to shut down a dozen women before the night is over.
“Yes. I am.” I start to pull away.
“Maybe, but I think you misunderstood.”
“Oh, I’m pretty sure I understand.”
He just shakes his head and then puts his finger beneath my chin to lift my face right before he kisses me. It’s gentle, almost friendly, which is what I don’t want. And then, he increases the pressure. The tip of his tongue touches my lips and I open for him. In an instant, he pulls me against him and gives me the most bone-melting, knee-quivering kiss I’ve ever experienced in my life. When he pulls back, all I can do is stare at him.
“Now do you understand?”
I’m not sure I understand anything anymore.
“I want you. Don’t doubt that for a second and it’s killing me not to pick you up and carry you to that bed right now. But, when it happens, the timing is going to be right for both of us.” Then, he kisses me again. This time I need to cling to him because I’m not sure my legs aren’t going to give out.
He does want me. I can feel his rigid cock pressed against my abdomen, which only makes me hotter, but Sean is doing nothing but kissing me. When he pulls back again, his breathing is as labored as mine. “Now, you had better get dressed or all of my convictions will be out the window and I don’t want to do anything that either of us might regret.”
“I wouldn’t.”
“I’d rather be cautious.” He steps away. “No matter how much it’s killing me to do so.” He heads for the door. “See you downstairs or are you going to rest?”
Like I could rest now. “I’ll be down.”
He nods. “Drink the water.”
After he closes the door, I sink down on his bed.
I don’t know what to think. He wants me but he shut me down.
Because he thinks I’m messed up.
I’ll just need to prove to him that I’m not.
With determination, I stand and get dressed.
Dressing is a problem. The energy is almost gone from my body and I pretty much don’t want to do anything which is why when I get downstairs I just find the corner of the couch and sink into it. Sean hands me a bottle of water.
“Crap. I left mine upstairs.”
“I noticed.” He laughs, then heads back up. I’m assuming he’s going to retrieve it. This drinking water is really important to him.
I stifle a yawn and then twist off the top as the door opens.
Two of their female friends enter and I try to remember their names. One is Joy and the other is Zoe. One is a florist and the other a dog walker, if I remember correctly and that’s because I only heard their conversations as we were getting ice cream in the park after Kaden testified.
“Oh, I know that look,” Joy says with a grin. “Sean’s had you on the table.”
How the hell can they tell that?
“Yep,” Zoe agrees. “Lump in the corner of the couch, holding a bottle of water and a look that most people would interpret as you just had the best orgasmic experience of your life.”
My face starts to burn. That’s what I’d been hoping for but all I got was a massage.
Maybe I should get that put on a shirt, like the one about vacation and I all I got was the lousy t-shirt.
“What are you two doing here?” Sean asks when he comes back down.
“Well, I was hoping you could fit me in,” Zoe says. “New dog. New big dog.”
“Drag you around the city.” He laughs.
“Just the block but he needs some serious training. Zoe rolls her shoulder like she needs to stretch it out.
“I’m meeting Alex,” Joy answers.
His eyebrows rise. “What are you getting?”
“Not sure yet.” Joy shrugs.
I have no idea what Joy and Sean are talking about, but I figure that Zoe will be headed upstairs for a massage. Maybe I should just go but I’m just not sure I can get off the couch.
“Go ahead and get set,” he tells Zoe. “I’ll get the oil.”
With that, she grabs a dining room chair, turns the back toward me, pulls off her shirt and then straddles the chair.
At least she’s wearing so
mething like a sports bra underneath her shirt. They really are comfortable around each other.
Joy curls up at the corner of the couch and studies me like she wants to ask a question.
“Just ask?” Zoe says.
“What?”
“What’s your last name?” she finally says.
“Dubois.”
Her eyes brighten with her smile. “I knew it.”
I look from Joy to Zoe and back. “Knew what?”
“Did you apply to Rosetta’s today?”
“I applied to so many places today, I can’t remember all the names.” I blink at her. “How do you know?”
“I saw your application.”
“You work for a florist.” I know I didn’t apply for a job at a flower shop. I don’t know the first thing about flowers, except the edible ones, but I don’t grow them.
“That’s what it started off as, but after doing a bunch of weddings, and deciding that she wanted to be a wedding planner, Rosetta expanded the business. Now it’s a one stop shop for all your wedding needs. Except dresses.”
That makes sense. “I’m assuming she’s looking for catering staff.” That’s the only reason I would have applied.
“The head chef is. He just lost some of his staff. A few of his cooks didn’t like having to serve sometimes too. That only happens when they are short of staff.”
I hope those cooks don’t want their own restaurant some day because the front of the house is just as important as the kitchen.
“We don’t cater everything. Just the functions that don’t take place at a hotel or restaurant.” Joy frowns. “I thought she was going to call you.”
“I’m sure she’s gotten all kind of applicants.” I really don’t expect to get called on half of my applications.
“But yours stuck out.”
That’s good to know.
“Not only your education and experience but because you might be the answer to a particularly difficult bride.”
All brides are difficult. Not that I say that because I don’t want to lose what chance I have at this position. Joy might be the in I need. “Why is this one being difficult?”
“She wants a European feel to her wedding. She and her husband met during a college trip and he proposed in the most cliché way.”
“Top of the Eiffel Tower?” There is probably an engagement every day there.
“You got it. But she doesn’t like what’s been proposed. This morning she told my boss that if she doesn’t come up with something better than French-themed prom décor that she’ll take her business somewhere else.
“Ouch. That’s rough.”
“So, I’m here for inspiration.”
I know she isn’t talking about me because she’s here to see Alex.
“I just need to figure out what I want.” She frowns. “That’s a first, I usually know the exact flower when I walk in the door and I don’t even have that to help me out of this inspirational funk.”
I have no clue what she’s talking about so I just nod.
“You’re in charge of the flowers?” What else could it be?
“Rosetta’s trying to bring me in on the whole wedding planning thing when I really only signed up for the flowers.” Joy frowns. “But, this bride is so picky that we are all in on it to come up with something to keep her.”
“Is she that big of a deal?” Zoe asks.
“Her mother and father are and if we land this, the right people will be there, those people also have children who will be married—”
“—So you can’t screw this up and it needs to be the best wedding ever,” I finish for her.
“Pretty much.” Joy sighs.
“And, you need a flower?” Maybe she just needs a start on what the flowers should be.
“We’ll poppies are out, which I thought were perfect, but the bride doesn’t like red or orangy colors.”
“Which country? That would help narrow it down, or is it just France?”
“I don’t know.”
“Where did they go on this magical trip?” I’ve dealt with my share of brides in France. I don’t think it matters what country you are in, a bride is a bride is a bride and her day had better be perfect, special and unique or heads will roll. Luckily, all I’ve ever had to do is cook and bake for them and only a few times have I had to sit in on the consultation.
She grabs her phone and starts going through it. “I have details in an email.”
I sip my water and wait. “Let’s see, they started in Scotland, hit Dublin, but didn’t meet until London, then were together through Germany, Switzerland, France, Spain, and Italy.”
A few of these I know. “Well, the national flower of Italy is the Lily. It’s the carnation in Spain.”
“No carnations. She was very clear about that.”
“Okay, Switzerland is the Cornflower.”
Joy tilts her head in thought. “Lilies and Cornflowers. Those might work together.”
“Then in France it’s the Iris.”
She’s starting to nod. “That could be a good color theme. White and purple.”
“German is Edelweiss,” I offer. “Maybe you can bring in a family to sing.” I laugh.
Joy’s eyes widen like I’ve lost my mind.
“I’m kidding.” Geez, I hope she doesn’t think I’d really suggest something like that. That is worse than a prom theme.
“What’s England?” Joy asks.
That one, I don’t know and grab my phone from my back pocket and realize that it’s been on silent. Damn! I’ve missed five telephone calls but luckily none of them are from Kaden or the rest of the family.
I should probably listen to the messages but I’m trying to impress Joy enough that she tells her boss and their chef to give me a job.
After typing in the search I’m pleasantly surprised. “It’s the Tudor rose.”
“What color is that?” she asks.
“Well, red or white depending on who you are siding with,” I joke. “But, in this case, I’d go with white because red would clash.”
“Hasn’t the bride picked her colors already?” Zoe asks as Sean starts working on her shoulder.
“Not yet. That is all up to us. Just no red, orange or carnations.”
“On a list of don’ts, that’s pretty easy.” I’ve seen lists of objectionable three times as long as the list of must haves, which makes it damn hard to plan a wedding of a bride’s dreams. Thank goodness, I only needed to worry about food.
“So, lavender, purple and white.” She gets up from the couch and heads into the kitchen. “Dylan, do you have a notebook I can borrow. Noelle and I are going to plan a wedding.”
15
By the time that I’m done massaging Zoe’s shoulder, arm and hand, and we’ve all eaten chicken stew, Noelle and Joy have planned a wedding, menu and décor including options for the demanding, picky bride. Noelle didn’t have much to offer on tradition for the other countries, but she knew the customs in France, though I doubt this bride and groom would be able to get the mayor of New York to marry them before they go to the church. Then again, if the families are political, he just might. I guess it would depend on who they are.
Joy didn’t get a tattoo either. I’m not surprised. Usually she needs to add to the garden on her back when she’s in her head and the past is bothering her. Trying to please a bride didn’t fall into that. Instead, Noelle was able to assist.
Those two would work well together and I hope that Noelle gets the job at Rosetta’s because it will be one less worry on her mind and a step toward her new normal. And, I am really anxious for her to arrive at that normal.
“Stew for your grandparents,” Dylan says as he comes in from the kitchen carrying a bag. “It’s not my normal night and if they’ve already eaten they can always put it in the refrigerator and microwave for lunch.”
“Thanks.” She takes the sack and heads to the door. “Let me know what the bride thinks,” she says to Joy.
�
��Wait up.” She’s not leaving alone.
Noelle turns to me. “What?”
“I’m walking you home.”
“It’s across the street and this isn’t exactly a dangerous part of town.”
“You can’t be too careful these days.” I try my best imitation of her Gramps.
She just laughs and heads out. I like seeing how relaxed she is for a change and I know that I have a lot to do with that, plus maybe the wedding planning because she really seemed in her element, especially when discussing menu choices that would incorporate most of the European countries. I’m still worried about earlier though because I’m not sure if I hurt her. I hope I didn’t, but she did feel like I rejected her, which was so not my intention and I hope she gets that. But, just in case, I need to make sure she knows exactly what my intentions are.
I grab her hand as we head across. “Hey, want to go out tomorrow?”
“Look at you getting better at asking a girl out.”
My face warms. “Hey, you’re supposed to be on my side.”
“I am.” She nudges me with her shoulder. “But it will depend on Kaden. Tonight is the first night he’s been away from me and I want to make sure he’s okay with staying with Tink.”
Noelle isn’t the only one still healing and it’s not like she’s spoiling the kid. He’s had to deal with a lot.
“We can always take him with us, if he needs to be with you.”
“Ah, so not a date,” she says.
“Oh, it is so a date,” I argue.
“Because, you know, every girl wants her eight-year-old brother tagging along.”
“Different circumstances and all of that.” I shrug. I’m not going to be the guy who says her brother can’t be around.
“Well, I need to convince you that I’m okay and don’t want you seeing me in mom mode.”
She laughs but I know that what happened upstairs is really bothering her and she has no idea how much I want her.
When we reach the back of the house I take the sack from her and put it on the table before tugging her into my arms.
Noelle looks up with me.
No words, because that won’t convince her of anything.
Instead, I kiss her. Deeply and long. Longer than I probably should. We’re closer than we should be too. As close as two people can be with their clothing still on. Her breasts are pressed against my chest and it’s all I can do not to slip my hand beneath her shirt.
Rattling Around: The Baxter Boys #5 (The Baxter Boys ~ Rattled) Page 12