“Oh,” I said. “How many years have you been together?”
“Two months today,” she said proudly.
“You’ve been dating for two months, and he got you that?” Whoever this Chad was, he was a certifiable idiot. Or whoever this ring girl was, she was rather talented at what she did.
“No, she got that because she’s been giving him BJs for two months,” the girl to my left said under her breath before snickering. “She’s obviously very good with her mouth.”
The girls all joined in with her snickering, even the girl who gave the best BJs on the block, apparently.
“Wow,” I said. “Good for you.” I had no other reply. Sybill was right: There was nothing going on up there.
“What about you?” a dark-haired girl across from me piped up. “Let’s see your ring.”
Holding out my hand, I couldn’t help the smile that formed. One always did when I looked at my engagement ring. It had a special way of reminding me of Jude’s and my past, as well as the promise of our future. There was powerful stuff in that ring.
“How big is that?” she asked.
Continuing to admire it, I said, “A third of a carat.”
A few sharp snickers, followed by a hush. When I looked up, I found the dark-haired girl fighting a smirk. “Oh,” she said, flashing her ring that was ten, if not twenty times bigger than mine. “I didn’t realize they made diamonds that small.”
Another round of snickers. And now I was pissed all over again. At least it wasn’t at Jude. He’d worked his ass off to save enough money to buy my engagement ring, and these self-righteous bitches who had likely never worked a day in their lives were going to take a piss on his hard work?
Yeah, not on my watch.
“They come in all shapes and sizes,” I said, meeting her stare with my glare. “Kind of like brains.” Quirking a brow, I spun on my heel and left. I couldn’t get away fast enough.
Looked like I was going to have one female friend in this crowd this year. One true friend was worth more than fifty frenemies who laughed at my engagement ring. Bitches.
After not-so-casually slipping away from the lionesses’ den, I wandered around the backyard. Since it was more like a park than a yard, it should have been easy to find a quiet spot.
I could still hear the dull roar of the party when my phone chimed in my purse. Assuming it was Jude, I was ready to hit ignore when a different but familiar phone number showed up on the screen. I wasn’t really in the mood for talking, but the caller on the other end wasn’t one for long conversations anyway.
“Hey, Dad,” I answered, as I continued to weave my way through the landscape. I was pretty sure there was yet another god-awful, overstated fountain waiting at the end of my path, so I switched directions.
“Hello, my Lucy in the Sky,” he greeted, sounding like the dad of my childhood. The dad who hadn’t become an emotional and physical shut-in for the entirety of my teen years. “I’m just calling to say hi and check in.”
I smiled the biggest smile I was capable of right now. Dad called every week, same day, same time. You could set a watch by Dad’s calls. “Hi, yourself, and thanks for the checkup. I’m in San Diego visiting Jude.”
I didn’t offer anything more. If I told my dad about Jude’s and my fight over the McMansion, there’d be no getting him off the phone in a few minutes.
“How’s the Jude man?” he asked eagerly. I wasn’t the only big fan of Jude Ryder in the Larson family. Dad was a close second in that department.
“Jude’s . . .” I searched for the right word: A shade past nuts and drinking the California Kool-Aid were probably phrases I should keep to myself. “He’s been really busy, Dad. I think all the sun, long hours on the field, and dollar signs are making him a little crazy.”
Dad chuckled to himself.
“Crazier than normal,” I clarified.
“Any updates on the nuptial front?” Dad asked, making a not-so-smooth segue.
I groaned. “Not you, too,” I whined. “If it’s not you, it’s Mom. If it’s not Mom, it’s Jude. If it’s not Jude, it’s somebody else. What is it with everyone wanting to know every little detail about our forthcoming or not-so-forthcoming wedding?” I didn’t mean to be so snappy with my dad. It was just a case of wrong question, wrong time.
“Lucy in the Sky,” Dad said, sounding the picture of calm, “I don’t want to just know every detail of your wedding, forthcoming or not. I want to know every detail of your whole life.” I could hear that fatherly smile in his voice. “But since you’re no longer a kindergartener, how about I just settle for knowing if you’re happy?”
I exhaled. Dad had a way of soothing me just with his voice alone. “That works for me.”
“I mean that, sweetie. Your happiness is all I care about,” he said. “If it makes you happy to stay engaged for the rest of your life, I’m fine with that.” I laughed sharply. Dad might be all right with that, but I knew another man who wouldn’t be too pleased. “If a shotgun wedding in Vegas makes you happy, so be it.”
“Thanks, Dad,” I said.
“Whatever you and Jude decide on, your mom and I are good with it,” he said. “Okay?”
It was a weight off my shoulders knowing that, but the problem was, I couldn’t decide what I wanted right now. I needed some time and a cup of tea to help me with my sea of indecision.
“Okay, Dad. Thanks, that means a lot to me,” I said.
“Well, you mean a lot to me, Lucy in the Sky.”
When I stepped out of the shower, I peeked out the bathroom window. The last party stragglers were gone. Today had been one hell of a day, and I knew that tomorrow would be, too. So tonight I wanted to forget about everything running around in my mind and get some sleep. I needed to close the door on this day and open a new one in the morning.
I’d left all the lights in the pool house off in hopes Jude would be too drunk or too tired to come looking for me. Of course, I knew that was wishful thinking. I knew he’d come. I just hoped that when he did, he would give me the space I’d tell him I needed. Jude wasn’t the biggest fan of “space,” given our past experience with it.
I was getting a cup from the cupboard when the knock sounded on the pool house door.
“Luce? Are you in there?” His voice was high pitched.
Before I had a chance to respond, the door opened and he stepped inside.
His face was as worried-looking as his voice had sounded. “I’ve been looking for you everywhere,” he said, taking a few more steps inside. “What are you doing out here?”
Hiding from you. Trying to get my thoughts together. “About to go to sleep,” I answered, setting the glass down. Water had sounded good until Jude had arrived. Now the only thing that sounded good was him. Especially with the way he was looking at me.
“You’re hiding from me,” he stated, stuffing his hands in his pockets.
“No,” I said, cinching the tie of my bathrobe tighter. “I’m hiding from that place.”
Jude’s jaw tightened. “That place is our home, Luce. It’s mine and yours.”
“No, Jude. That place belongs to you and the person you want me to be. Not the person I really am.”
Tapping the wall with his fist, he walked toward me. “Fine. That’s not the place that you want, we’ll get rid of it,” he said, staring at me like I was his whole world. He knew I melted under that look. It had been days, weeks, and he was using my failing restraint to his advantage.
I closed my eyes and sucked in a slow breath to calm myself down. I could already feel the blood rushing to certain parts of my body at having him alone and this close. I could not, I would not sleep with him until I’d worked through this crap in my head.
“Tell me what you want, Luce,” he said, stopping a few feet in front of me. I could smell him; I could almost taste him on my lips. I could nearly feel him. . . .
I shook my head, keeping my eyes closed. “I don’t know,” I admitted, sensing him stepping close
r.
“Tell me what you want,” he demanded, and now his body pressed into mine.
Dammit. My weakening resolve was officially about to be a lost cause.
Then his mouth moved outside my ear, and the heat of his breath broke across my neck. “What,” he whispered, “do you”—his teeth sank into my earlobe—“want?” His hips flexed into me, and when I felt him hard against me, that last bit of restraint I’d been clinging to slipped right through my fingers.
I opened my eyes. Now that I’d jumped, I was going to enjoy the fall.
I waited until he looked into my eyes. “I want you,” I said, my fingers moving for his zipper. I was long past the point of foreplay. “Here. Now.” Sliding his zipper down, I rested my mouth outside his ear. “And hard.”
Jude sucked in a sharp breath, but that was all the surprise he allowed himself. His hands made quick work of untying my robe. Grabbing my hips, he hoisted me up and carried me over to the table. His mouth found mine and he kissed me like he’d never kissed me before. It was desperate, and hungry, and almost painful.
But the pain felt good. I needed to feel it right now.
After unfastening the button of his pants, I tugged them down. Grabbing him in my hand, I lay back on the table. Jude stared down at me, his face a mix of emotions. My mind, for the first time since this afternoon, was clear. And content.
As I guided him toward me, he paused. “Are you sure you’re ready?” he said, his breath strained.
“Come and find out,” I replied, wrapping my legs around his waist to draw him closer.
His face creased as my hand moved up and down him, but he restrained himself.
“Jude,” I whispered, “please.” I lifted my hips until I could feel him right where he should be.
Moving just barely inside, he groaned. I groaned louder. The torture was insane, and if he was going to play it nice and slow, I’d just have to change his mind. Nice and slow wasn’t on the agenda for tonight.
At the same time I tightened my legs around him, I flexed my hips higher, effectively taking the rest of him inside me.
“Oh, God.” I sighed, feeling like I could come now that he was all the way inside me. When his hips flexed, I almost did.
“Shit, Luce,” he said, breathing heavily outside my ear. “You really were ready.”
Performing that hip swivel thing that drove him up the wall, I moved his hand from my hip until it was covering my breast. “Then what are you waiting for?”
His hands squeezed both my hip and my breast, and then he started moving his hips more. I’d wanted hard, and that was what I got.
Each time he thrust into me I was sure I was going to come, but I didn’t. This time I was the one waiting for him. The table started wobbling beneath me as he picked up his pace. My fingers drilled into his back; all I could do was hang on and enjoy the way he was making me feel.
I heard every low growl when he slid inside, along with every tortured groan when he slid out. “Come, baby,” he breathed, rocking into me faster. “I want to feel you come.”
His hand slid from my hip down lower, until his thumb was circling over my clit.
I knew I was close, but my orgasm came the next instant. Jude’s body touching me both inside and outside in every way sent me right over the big O edge so powerfully, I felt like I was being ripped apart from the inside. I shouted his name, feeling my muscles contract around him as he slammed into me a final time. He sighed my name so many times I lost count, before collapsing on top of me.
NINE
I could still smell Jude on my pillow, but his head wasn’t sharing it with mine like it had all night. Well, all night after our makeup tabletop sexcapade.
But he was close. His off-key singing to the song playing on the radio was a dead giveaway. As I rolled over, a smile was already in place.
When my eyes landed on a backside, a bare backside, manning the coffee machine, my smile stretched wider.
“Have I mentioned lately what a fine ass you have?” I said, propping up onto my elbows, because if Jude’s bare backside was on display for my ogling pleasure, I was going to enjoy the view.
He smirked at me as he poured coffee into a cup. “Only last night, when you were grabbing it while you screamed my name.”
“My. Someone woke up on the cocky side of the bed this morning.” I was tempted to check my phone for the time, but that would have meant looking away. The time could wait; a naked Jude making coffee couldn’t.
“I wake up on that side of the bed every morning, Luce,” he said, turning around.
Like the bad girl I was, my eyes zeroed in on a certain spot. “Yes, you most certainly do.” My smile could not possibly stretch further without hurting.
“Good morning,” he said, holding out the cup of coffee while I continued with my staring contest.
“Yes, it is,” I replied, sitting up.
“Okay, Luce, you gotta stop looking at me like that or else I’m going to be late to practice.” He waited until my gaze shifted to his before he handed me the coffee. That was probably for the best. Gawking women and steaming cups of liquid don’t go together well.
“If you don’t want me looking at you like that, you should have put some clothes on.” I raised an eyebrow at him as I took a sip. “Thanks for the coffee. Very domestic of you.”
Snatching his discarded boxers from last night, he hiked them into position before scooting next to me. “I like waiting on you hand and foot,” he said, his eyes traveling down my body. “And everywhere in between.”
I sighed into my cup. “Here’s a pointer. If you don’t want to be late to practice, you shouldn’t say those kinds of things either.”
His eyes cleared and returned to mine almost immediately. How he could go from dripping sex one moment to all business the next, I didn’t know, but it was something that I doubted I’d ever be able to master. “You didn’t exactly give me a chance to tell you last night, since you were busy ravaging me on that table that has now officially become my favorite piece of furniture”—he studied the table as a slow smile formed—“but I’m sorry for everything yesterday, Luce. I wanted the whole day to be perfect and it couldn’t have gone more wrong.”
No, it couldn’t have. Well, at least up until the night.
I grabbed his hand and squeezed it. “I’m sorry, too,” I said, so familiar with the words I could have been a certified expert by now. In the history of our relationship, “I’m sorry,” “Forgive me,” and “I messed up” came almost as frequently as “I love you.”
“If you don’t like the house, that’s fine. We’ll find another one,” he said, draping an arm over my shoulders. “I want you to be happy, Luce, and I never would have picked this place out if I thought it was going to upset you.”
I sighed in relief. Yesterday we’d battled this conversation out. Today we could talk about it calmly and constructively. Maybe this was how we needed to approach these kinds of land mines in the future: naked and in bed.
“I know that, Jude. It just took me by surprise. Everything’s coming at me so fast, and sometimes I feel like I don’t have a chance to catch my breath.” I paused to take another drink. “You know?”
“Believe me, I know,” he replied with a nod. “You don’t need to explain it to me, Luce. I get it, and I’m sorry I made this whole thing harder on you. I’ll call my real estate agent this afternoon and have him start looking for a different place. Okay?” He pulled me closer, tucking my head beneath his jaw.
“Will this real estate agent be looking at three-bedroom, two-bathroom houses?” I started telling myself to stay calm, so when and if this took a turn for the heated, I could better manage it.
Jude groaned, but it wasn’t his full-fledged one, like he was also trying to catch himself before either of our tempers could escalate. “You realize how much money I’m making this year? Right, Luce? And how much I’ll be making from now—”
“I know. I know,” I said, biting my tongue so my nex
t comments stayed inside. “But how does that change who you are? And who I am? And what we want?” Those were, at the core of it all, the questions I needed answered.
“It doesn’t change me, or you, or what we want at all, Luce,” he said calmly. “All it changes is our style of life. And how many sweet rides we have in our five-car garage.”
I set my coffee down on the nightstand. He wasn’t getting it, or I wasn’t being clear. I didn’t want more cars than I had fingers. I didn’t want more garages than I had hairs on my head. I wanted Jude. And a roof above us, along with a reliable car and food in the cupboards would be nice.
“I don’t want to change our style of life,” I said. “I thought our current style of life was pretty great.”
“It is pretty great, Luce. It’s pretty fucking great,” he said, keeping me close. This was the way to have a tough talk, held tightly against him. “But it could be that much better. All those times I wanted to go to the jewelry store and buy you the biggest, sparkliest damn thing I could, all those times I wanted to take you to some fancy restaurant and order the most expensive thing on the menu just because I wanted you to have the best. All those winters I wanted to get you an SUV that would laugh at winter driving.” He paused and leaned his head into the headboard. “I’m sick of not being able to get you the things you deserve.”
What he was saying was tugging on my heart, but it did nothing to alleviate the tension that built whenever he started talking about money. “I know you are, baby. I know you are,” I said. “But the thing is, all these years you think you’ve been giving me second-best—”
“More like fourth-best,” he muttered.
“Well, then, I must be a fourth-best kind of girl, because I’ve never felt cheated or that I was missing out.”
We were quiet for a moment, although our thoughts were so loud it wasn’t exactly silent.
“Luce? What is it about money that makes you so uncomfortable?”
Shit. He might as well have just laid me back out on that table, for how naked and vulnerable I felt with that question in the open. Jude had this uncanny ability to cut through the bullshit and see what was at the heart of what I was trying to hide. Some days I loved this gift of his. Some days I hated it.