Neutral Grounds

by Jiffy Kate

  Cami and I have been friends since she was in New Orleans for college and have remained friends ever since. Now that her brother-in-law, Micah, owns a restaurant in the French Quarter, we’ve all become great friends, including Micah’s wife, Dani, and Cami’s brother and sister-in-law, Tucker and Piper. Even Micah and Deacon’s parents, Sam and Annie Landry, make regular appearances. I love when my doorbell chimes at the shop and a Landry walks in.

  “Uh, for the most part, at least in the beginning. She’s hiring some bigwig from New York, a buyer from Sotheby’s, to manage the gallery.”

  “Wow,” I exclaim, in awe of my old friend and all that she’s accomplished. “Well, tell them coffee is on me, so they need to stop by.”

  He gives me that classic Landry smile, like his dad and brother, minus the deep dimples. “Will do,” he says with a deep nod. “Now, don’t let me keep you. Appetizers are already on their way to your table.”

  I catch a whiff of something cheesy and delicious passing by as one of the waiters nods in our direction.

  “CeCe…Jules, enjoy your evening.”

  Shep stands as we approach the table, pulling out the chair to his left, ever the gentleman.

  “Jules,” he greets, “didn’t expect you to be joining us tonight.”

  He’s not rattled or annoyed, just stating the obvious, getting it out in the open.

  “I’m her legal counsel,” Jules declares with a professional air as he straightens his tie. It’s a vibrant purple floral that coordinates well with his pink shirt, complimenting his light grey suit perfectly.

  To say I’m underdressed compared to the two impeccably dressed men at the table would be the understatement of the century, but I don’t care. I feel comfortable and like myself, which is all I can be. There’s no sense in putting on false pretenses.

  This marriage will be fake enough for everyone.

  “Legal counsel?” Shep asks, turning his attention to me. “Is that necessary?”

  I shrug, letting out a sigh. “I’m just protecting myself.” It’s not a lie, but it’s not the complete truth. Jules accompanying me to this…meeting…was Carys’s idea. After my pow-wow with her and Avery, which did not go smoothly, they both insisted I look at this from every angle and make sure I know exactly what I’m getting myself into, which is how Jules ended up here.

  “Fine,” Shep says with a curt nod. “That’s probably for the best.”

  There’s an odd expression that passes over his face and I wonder, not for the first time, what’s going through his mind.

  What does he honestly think about this situation?

  Is he really okay with his first attempt at marriage being a complete farce?

  He did say a traditional marriage wasn’t in the cards for him, but I’m not convinced. A good looking—no, great looking—guy like Shep, with all of his charm and wit and…assets. Any girl would be crazy not to jump at the chance to marry him. So, I find it hard to believe he never intends to do this for real.

  Just not with me.

  “Shall we get down to business?” I ask, needing something else to focus on besides Shep’s future.

  He smiles. It’s a thousand watts and so genuine. “That’s what I love about you, CeCe.”

  What?

  He loves something about me?

  How did I never know this?

  I’m sure it’s merely a figure of speech, but the fact that he put love and my name in the same sentence throws me for a loop.

  “Always thinking about the bottom line.”

  I smile back at him and then glance over to Jules, who seems to be watching a ping-pong match as he looks at me and then back at Shep…and then back to me.

  “Jules?” I prompt, drawing him into the conversation and hoping he’ll be the buffer I need.

  “Right,” he says, pulling out a leather portfolio that has a list of the demands we came up with together last night over a bottle of wine. “CeCe has some of her own stipulations.”

  Shep leans forward, resting an elbow, so casual and confident. “Let’s hear them.”

  I think Jules was right. I could’ve asked for the moon and Shep would probably give it to me. He obviously wants this inheritance pretty bad, so I’m not going to feel bad for asking for a few things I want.

  But first, I need some sustenance.

  Taking a piece of the flaky bread, I dip it in the ooey-gooey cheese and slowly consume a piece, settling my lingering nerves and my growling stomach. “Sorry, I forgot to eat today.”

  Coffee is a good filler, but it does not count as a meal.

  “You should eat,” Shep says, pushing the appetizer closer to me. “We have all night.”

  Jules motions to the waiter and asks for a bottle of wine.

  After I’ve had a few bites and the wine has been poured, I start. “Okay, now I’m ready to get down to business.”

  Shep takes a slow sip of his wine and it’s ridiculously erotic. I know he doesn’t mean to be, but it’s impossible to not notice. His face isn’t perfect, per se. There are just enough flaws to give him character and make him unique, not like some photoshopped GQ model. His nose is a tiny bit crooked and his teeth are straight except for his front two that set a little forward, which is surprising. A rich kid like him has all the dental care at his disposal, unlike a kid like me, who had to just pray genetics went in my favor.

  Then, there’s his blond hair, which is actually a few different shades, natural highlights, I’m assuming. As much as Shep comes off as a pretty boy, he doesn’t strike me as someone who’d dye his hair. Fork over thousands of dollars for a designer suit? Sure. Spend hundreds of dollars on skin care? Maybe. But I doubt he sits in a chair with foils on his hair.

  The thought makes me hold back a laugh.

  Clearing my throat, I decide it’s time to lay it all on the table and stop obsessing over…my future husband.

  “So, there are a few things I’d like to have decided before I agree to this…arrangement.”

  Shep nods. “Okay.”

  “First, I want to live in my apartment.” This is the first and most important. “Actually, I need to keep living in my apartment. My mornings are early and my nights are late. It wouldn’t make sense for me to live miles away and have to commute.”

  He thinks about this one for a moment, obviously having other ideas. I can see the wheels turning as he contemplates. “There will be times you’ll have to make it appear as if you are living with me. I have a townhouse not far from here, so it wouldn’t be a total inconvenience for you to stay with me…from time to time…” Drifting off, he thinks a little longer and I wait for his verdict. “Yeah, okay. I’ll agree to it, but only if you agree to be available when and if I need you.”

  What?

  Like a booty call?

  The question must be loud in my expression because he quickly continues to elaborate. “Not like that,” he says with a sly smile. “I mean, if my parents were to show up or a business colleague. We’ll need to put up a good front if we’re going to pull this off for a year. I have a feeling if my parents feel like this is a ploy to gain the inheritance, they’ll contest it somehow. Neither of them was pleased they were left out of the will. I wouldn’t put it past them to keep me from what’s mine.”

  I nod. And then I swallow, thinking about exactly what I’m considering agreeing to. It’s a lot. And I know there will be times I’ll have to play the part of the happy wife. I’ve thought a lot about what he said, including the part about sex. “I also don’t want you to sleep with other people.”

  His eyebrows shoot up. “Well, there is an alternative offer on the table where that’s concerned,” he counters.

  Clearing my throat, I glance around and remember that Micah set us at a table that’s secluded in the back of the restaurant. No doubt Shep requested this spot for privacy. God bless him. Thankfully, Jules already knows this little tidbit of information, so I’m free to discuss.

  “About that,” I start, picking up my wineg
lass and downing its continents. “Well, I’ll…uh…”

  “You can’t expect me to be celibate for a year,” he adds, cutting off my rambling, obviously thinking I’m going to turn down his offer. But what he does is piss me off and I don’t even know why.

  My face heats as I let his statement sink in. Celibate for a year. Try two fucking years.

  “Are you telling me you’ll be able to not have sex for an entire year?” he asks incredulously.

  Now my cheeks are on fire.

  Jules nudges me with his foot under the table and I shoot daggers in his direction.

  “Is there something I should know?” Shep asks, looking at me and then at Jules.

  “CeCe?” Jules prompts, folding his hands in front of him.

  “Well,” I start and then stop, swallowing. “I’m…I mean, I could—”

  “Ha.” Shep barks out a laugh, tilting his head back and drawing my attention to his chiseled jaw.

  Fuck.

  Fuck him.

  Damn it.

  “Are you some kind of nun?” Shep asks in disbelief. “Listen, I’m more than willing to be monogamous, if that’s what you want, but there is no way in hell I’ll be celibate. It’s one or the other. Unless, there’s something I don’t know about…someone.”

  His expression shifts and I see the moment his thoughts turn. He’s considering that there’s someone else in my life, a man…another relationship.

  “No, no one else…just me and the shop…andIhaven’thadsexintwoyears,” I mutter, getting it out in the open, even if it does come out as rambling gibberish.

  Shep’s eyes squint, focusing in on me and I direct my gaze at the white linen tablecloth. When he clears his throat, I look back up at him, briefly, in time for understanding to hit and his eyes go wide. “What?” he asks, shifting in his seat and moving his gaze to Jules. I suddenly get the feeling he wishes it was just the two of us as he leans toward me for his next statement, lowering his voice. “You haven’t had sex since…us?”

  “Yeah,” I confirm, wishing I could crawl into a hole under the table and disappear. “So, monogamy it is.”

  It’s a rash, spur-of-the-moment decision, but damn it, if I’m going to be married to Shep Rhys-Jones, I’m going to get every benefit I have coming.

  Pun fucking intended.

  He smiles and it’s so fucking smug, I want to smack it off his face, but it’s the hint of something else—Nostalgia? Desire? —that makes me press on with my final demands.

  “Also, I’ll only accept one million dollars.” I almost choke, because only? What the fuck and how is this my life? But after much contemplation last night, I decided that five million dollars was too much. With great reward comes great responsibility and I don’t want that kind of burden. It gives me hives to think about that amount of money.

  “And,” for my final request, I pause, taking a drink of my wine before continuing, “I want to elope.”

  Chapter 9

  Shep

  “You sure about this?” Maverick mutters under his breath as we wait in front of the courthouse.

  CeCe and I were just here a few days ago to get our marriage license.

  Marriage license.

  I had to let that sink in over a few glasses of whiskey last night. The thought crossed my mind to call Maverick over for one last night of bachelorhood, but thought better of it. I didn’t want to spend the night with him trying to talk me out of what I’m one hundred percent sure of. This is what I want. There’s no going back.

  Besides, in a year, I’ll be a bachelor again, so there’s no sense mourning that part of my life.

  This is temporary.

  “I’m sure,” I finally say, adjusting my tie. I went with a black Tom Ford suit. It’s my good luck suit that I’ve worn for several big business deals and they’ve all gone according to plan, so I put it on this morning in hopes it would bring me the same good luck in this endeavor.

  I wonder what CeCe will wear?

  Not that it matters. She could show up in her faded blue jeans for all I care…I do love the way her ass looks in those. And for the hundredth time since our talk the other night over dinner, about being monogamous, I’m imagining getting her out of whatever she’s wearing.

  Having CeCe to myself for an entire year might be more of a reward than a hundred million dollars…and the knowledge that my father got nothing. I have to admit, that’s almost as good as the money, but CeCe is better.

  CeCe, who hasn’t been with anyone since our weekend together.

  “What’s that smug ass grin for?” Maverick asks, eyeing me with the same calculated stare he’s used since I told him about my plan…our plan. I’m not alone in this. After the dinner at Lagniappe, it’s clear that CeCe has thought through this entire process and she’s also one hundred percent onboard.

  “What?” I turn to him and give him my biggest, most genuine smile. “A guy can’t be happy on his wedding day?”

  “You can drop the act with me,” Maverick says, still leveling me with his stare. “No feelings, remember? Happiness is a feeling.”

  Chuckling, I slap him on the shoulder and squeeze. “Loosen up, Mav. This is all going to work out, just you wait and see.”

  About that time, a car rolls up to the curb in front of us and out steps Carys…and then CeCe. Her dress is a pale-yellow lace—simple and understated—with a lower cut neckline. And she’s wearing these shoes that wrap up her ankle, accentuating her toned legs.

  Legs for days.

  Even though she’s shorter in stature, her legs seem to take up more than their fair share of real estate, which is not a bad thing. Quite the opposite, actually.

  “Ahem.” Maverick clears his throat and nudges me with his elbow. “I think you’ve got a little drool,” he mutters.

  “Shut up.”

  CeCe gives me a tight smile as she walks up the steps. “Ready?”

  “As I’ll ever be,” I tell her, making eye contact and hoping, somehow, I can convey how much I appreciate what she’s agreed to and also that she can relax. Just like I told Maverick the other day, this is all going to work out. I can feel it, and besides, I’m wearing my lucky suit and it hasn’t failed me yet. “You look beautiful,” I tell her.

  Her eyes travel to mine and for a moment, I think she’s going to bolt or tell me she’s changed her mind, which makes my stomach do a weird tightening maneuver. But I watch as the slight hesitation is erased and is replaced with a breathtaking smile. I’m not sure if it’s pure moxy or genuine confidence, but she looks completely calm…and downright gorgeous.

  “Thank you,” she finally says, exhaling.

  As soon as we walk into the waiting area, someone calls our names. Fortunately, the day we got our license, there had been a cancelation, so we were able to get an appointment with the judge on short notice.

  We stand in front of the judge and when he instructs me to, I hold CeCe’s hands. Her fingers feel small against my palm and I have an odd sensation come over me—something foreign that says I need to protect her. I don’t know where it’s from or what to do with it. Of course, I don’t want CeCe to get hurt, not physically or emotionally, but it’s uncharacteristic of me to feel so protective over someone, especially a woman.

  “Shepard Rhys-Jones and Cecilia Louise Calhoun,” the judge begins. “Today you celebrate one of life’s greatest moments and give recognition to the worth and beauty of love as you join together in the vows of marriage.”

  At the mention of love, I feel my neck heat and the button on my collar is suddenly tight. I want to pull at it and get a little more air flowing into my lungs, but I’m holding CeCe’s hands, so I can’t.

  When I glance over at Maverick, I expect to be met with a look of disapproval, but his focus is on Carys. It’s like the two of them are in a world of their own. If I’m being honest, the two of them almost make me believe in true love and soulmates and all that bullshit.

  Almost.

  “Shepard, do you take Cecilia t
o be your wife?”

  Oh, shit.

  My eyes flash back to CeCe’s and I’m met with something resembling challenge.

  Do I take her to be my wife?

  This is real.

  We’re really doing this.

  “I do.”

  “Do you promise to love, honor, and protect her, forsaking all others and holding only unto her?”

  CeCe continues to hold my gaze, trapping me with those deep brown eyes.

  “I do.”

  She swallows and I swear I can see her shoulders visibly relax.

  “Cecilia,” the judge says, turning his attention to her. “Do you take Shepard to be your husband?”

  “I do,” she replies quickly.

  After she repeats her vows, we spend the next five minutes listening to him talk about our wedding bands—some simple gold bands I picked up yesterday—being symbolic of our marriage…no beginning and no end.

  Oh, but there is…three hundred sixty-five days, to be exact.

  Finally, he congratulates us, announcing, “You may kiss the bride.”

  I think about opting for a chaste kiss to the side of her mouth, keeping it PG and without feelings. But that’s not me. Besides, I’ve thought about kissing CeCe again for the past two years. Her lips have haunted me as I’ve tried to erase her from my memory, replacing it with random women who never compared.

  So, I’m cashing in two years’ worth of denial.

  Wrapping one hand around her waist, I pull her flush against me, enjoying the way she inhales sharply in surprise, and then I cup her cheek with the other. For a split-second, I just enjoy the feel of CeCe against me, drinking in her sweet smell and quick breaths of anticipation, and then I go in for what I want, brushing my lips against hers. When she doesn’t pull back or slap me—which is totally plausible considering what a little spit-fire she can be—I take that as permission to commence with our first kiss as Mr. and Mrs. Rhys-Jones.

  Cecilia Louise Rhys-Jones.

  That’s quite a mouthful.

  CeCe Rhys-Jones.

  That’s better. I like the sound of that.

  Maverick interrupts the small bubble we’re wrapped in with a loud ahem. When I reluctantly pull away, I notice CeCe’s eyes are still closed and I can’t help the smug smirk. She was totally into it, into me, and it makes me want more.