Maybe I should’ve been offended, but instead I started laughing, pulled out my phone, and snapped a picture of it.
That was exactly why I loved this girl.
CHAPTER 7
Juliette
One night down, two more to go.
Today was a new day, and I planned on approaching it as such.
I stood in the en suite attached to the Cactus Suite, where I was staying, and stared at myself in the mirror, second-guessing the person I saw staring back at me. I’d gone to great lengths to create my professional persona. But somewhere along the line, I feared that I’d completely lost myself.
My badass alter ego had become my only ego.
“No. Stop,” I harshly instructed myself as I picked up the fine-tooth comb to smooth down my flyways and keep each hair in place.
Last night had messed with my head. One night with him and I was transported right back to my childhood. It was everything that I could do not to fall back into our natural rhythm of banter. I’d had to actively not answer him the way I’d wanted to. Instead, I’d focused on playing words that reminded me who he was and what he’d put me through.
And I did everything I could not to stare at the lips tattooed on his neck.
I wasn’t sure why they bothered me so much. Probably because I knew Romeo, and if he tattooed someone’s lips on his neck, they weren’t random. That person meant something to him. I’d seen him with a lot of girls, but never with one who he really cared about. All those years I’d been able to happily live in a state of total delusion. I’d created a fantasy where I was special. I was certain that I was the one he loved.
Had he ever said that? Nope. But that didn’t stop me from going right ahead and skipping my way through Delusionville.
If I were taking a fearless inventory, I’d have to say that I might never have truly known Romeo, just the version that I’d made him out to be. And even if I had known him at one point, I certainly didn’t know him now. We hadn’t spoken in over a decade. We were strangers.
So why did being with him feel so right?
Why did it feel like nothing had changed?
Why did it feel like we picked up exactly where we left off?
Those questions had been rolling around in my head all night and all morning. It was infuriating that so much time could pass and all he had to do was show up and my heart, and hormones forgot any time had passed at all. My head…that was all I had on my side at this point. Thankfully, I was good at being ruled by it.
After double-checking my makeup, I shot a couple of emails to Alexis. I was sure that she was going to do an amazing job today, but it was difficult for me to let go of the reins, even a little. I was a bit of a control freak but that was only because I knew that if I did it, it would be done right. And things that I was ultimately responsible for needed to be done right.
This wasn’t just any wedding, either. It was Liam’s friend. And I’d only had four days to plan the entire affair. I needed to check-in.
Once that was done, I took one last look in the mirror and made my way down the hall to the kitchen. Since there was no chef on hand, I’d had the kitchen staff stock the fridge. I didn’t cook much anymore, or really at all since my grandma passed, but I was actually looking forward to the opportunity.
Cooking with my yaya had been one of my favorite childhood activities. The moment that thought crossed my mind, I inhaled and smelled a familiar scent. Bacon. Memories flooded my mind.
From the time he was about twelve until he left for college at eighteen, Romeo would come over to my grandparents’ house every Saturday before the sun rose. Even if he had a game the night before or if he and Jared were out all night partying, which they had a tendency to do. No matter what, he’d walk through the back door of my grandparents’ modest farmhouse at six a.m. and he and Yaya would make breakfast.
The menu varied from week to week but it always included fresh-squeezed orange juice; the oranges handpicked from trees that lined my grandparents’ property. Some weeks there’d be waffles and hash browns, other weeks there’d be cinnamon rolls and sausage, or French toast and ham, or crepes and English muffins and, of course, eggs cooked every possible way you could imagine.
As delicious as everything always was, my favorite combo had always been the blueberry pancakes with homemade maple syrup and maple sausage.
I asked him once, why he got up early to do it, and he said that it was his favorite part of every week. He talked a lot about wishing he had a big family. His dad’s parents were gone before he was born and his mom took off when he was three, so he never knew her parents. He had his dad and his uncle and that was it.
Growing up, I’d imagined us getting married and continuing the Saturday morning tradition with our kids and grandkids. I pictured us all sitting around the table talking, laughing, and sharing stories. Then Romeo would reach over and give me a look that said a million words without having to say one. It hadn’t turned out that way.
As I approached the kitchen, I heard the vocal stylings of Otis Redding. “(Sittin’ On) The Dock of the Bay” was playing from the sound system. It was Yaya’s favorite song and if I hadn’t already felt like I’d just taken a ride in Bill and Ted’s phone booth back in time, I certainly would’ve now. The smells, the sounds, and as I rounded the corner, the sights were giving me major déjà vu.
Romeo stood at the stove with his back toward me. His broad shoulders filled out his white T-shirt nicely and the black sweats he wore hugged his ass. I hoped drool wasn’t forming on my lips as I unabashedly stared at his backside.
“Hey, Sleepyhead.”
I lifted my eyes and found him looking over his shoulder. He grinned and returned to flipping bacon in the skillet.
My cheeks grew warm after being caught ogling him. “I planned on cooking.”
“I’ve tasted your cooking, that’s okay.”
“That meatloaf was not my fault.” I heard the words fly from my mouth and there was nothing that I could do to stop them, even though I’d made a promise to myself that I wouldn’t let him bait me today, like he had last night. But here I was, chomping down on the worm he was dangling from the hook. “I set the timer but Jared turned it off.”
“I’m just saying, have you ever sat down at a table to inedible food when I was cooking?” His shoulders shrugged innocently, causing the thin material to pull taut along his shoulder blades and any irritation from his assassination of my culinary skills evaporated like dry ice at one of his concerts.
I’d always been a big fan of his shoulders. They were always so broad and solid looking.
Flashes of a recurring dream I’d had sprang to my mind. His bare shoulders pinned between my thighs, my fingers raking through his hair, his mouth devouring me. My inner walls pulsed as a tingling sensation raced down my spine. I’d only ever experienced oral sex in my dreams and I wondered what it would be like in real life.
“Hello?”
I blinked and saw that Romeo had made his way to the table with the plate of bacon and sausage, which I knew was the cue that breakfast was officially served.
“Where did you go?” he asked.
“Nowhere.” I joined him at the table and took the seat as far away from him as possible. I didn’t need any accidental brushes of arms and legs to mess with my head any further.
My mouth watered the moment I saw the large stack of blueberry pancakes. Beside the plate was a glass syrup dispenser.
“That’s not…” I pointed at the amber liquid. “You didn’t make—”
“Yaya’s homemade maple syrup. Damn right I did. I’d be an asshole to serve her blueberry pancakes with anything else.”
“You remember the recipe?”
“Of course I do. I remember everything.” He looked at me with the exact same expression I’d dreamed of when I’d imagined us as old and gray and sitting around a table with our kids and grandkids.
Tears sprung to my eyes and I wasn’t sure if the swell of emotion was cau
sed by the sentimental significance of him remembering my grandma’s recipe after all these years or if it was because of the way he looked at me.
Whatever the reason, I knew that I didn’t want him to see them. I didn’t want him to know he had any effect on me at all. As discreetly as possible, I sniffed, wiped my eyes, and began filling my plate.
Twelve hours down, thirty-six more to go. I could do this.
CHAPTER 8
Romeo
“Mmm,” Juliette moaned as she took her first bite of blueberry pancakes.
The sound traveled from the back of her throat directly to my groin. I watched as Juliette closed her eyes and made noises that had me thinking about what she’d sound like if I were buried deep inside of her. As she slid the fork from her mouth, a drop of maple syrup clung to the corner of her lip. Her tongue slipped out and she licked it off.
My dick swelled in my pants, making them uncomfortable.
I cleared my throat and her eyes opened.
“Sorry, I just don’t usually eat things like this.”
“Breakfast?” When we were kids it had been her favorite meal of the day.
“No, I eat breakfast.”
I stared, waiting for her to continue.
“I eat a piece of toast with avocado.”
“That’s it?”
“It has a perfect carb-to-fat ratio. It fills me up and gives me energy.”
“Yeah, but do you like eating it? Every day?”
“It’s fine.”
“Food shouldn’t be fine. Food should be pleasure.”
At my words, a flush rose on her cheeks and my pants grew even snugger.
“Food is fuel,” she countered. “I don’t have time to waste with sugar crashes or lulls in my energy because I inhale garbage.”
“Are you saying Yaya’s blueberry pancakes and maple syrup are garbage?”
She licked her lips once more. “I’m saying I couldn’t eat them on a regular basis and keep up with my schedule.”
“Fair enough.” I leaned forward and there was a gravelly quality to my voice as I asked, “But isn’t it nice to indulge every once in a while?”
“I don’t indulge in things.”
“It’s a shame. Life is pretty boring without indulgences.”
“Spoken like a true rock star,” she said under her breath.
That was the second time she’d made a comment like that. Last night I let it go, but today was a new day. And the time that she was obligated to spend with me was running out. “Okay, what’s your deal with this ‘rock star’ thing?”
“My deal?” she questioned, her left brow arching.
“Yes. Your deal.”
“I don’t have a deal.”
“Really?” I pressed.
“Really,” she maintained.
“Then what’s with the ‘rock star’ comments?”
“It’s just an observation of your behavior.” Her eyes met mine and they glistened with challenge.
“Do you speak like this to all of your guests?” I was teasing her but regretted it the second it came out of my mouth.
Her lips pursed and she straightened her shoulders. I could see the walls go back up as she lifted her fork, speared her sausage, then cut it with the knife in her other hand. I had a sneaking suspicion she was envisioning herself cutting the meat that was in my pants, not on her plate. The thought caused my semi-chub to deflate. But it inflated once more as she wrapped her lips around the piece hanging on her fork and pulled it between her pillowed lips.
Fuck. I’d had it bad for her when we were teenagers, but this was close to unbearable.
I stabbed my own fork into a pile of fluffy scrambled eggs and tried to get my mind on something other than the fact that I wanted to be the meat between her pillowed lips. I figured bringing up her brother might help. “Jared says you really love what you do.”
“I do.”
“And he says you love your boss.” He’d actually said that he thought something was going on between Juliette and Liam Sullivan, but I didn’t share that.
When he first told me that Jules was working for the ex-NFL player, I’d had a twinge of jealousy. The guy was known as much for his good looks as he’d been for being the quarterback of the L.A. Legends. I hadn’t liked the idea of her working so closely with him and that feeling had only grown. Whenever I asked Jared about Juliette, all he talked about was how much she loved her job and Liam.
“I love working for Liam.”
“So there’s nothing going on with you two…romantically?”
Juliette’s eyes narrowed. “Liam gave me a chance back when I had zero experience. He’s more than just my boss, he’s my mentor. I’ve learned so much more from him than I ever could’ve in a classroom. For you to assume that the only reason I have my position is because I’m sleeping with him—”
Shit. I was fucking this up bad. “That’s not what I meant.”
“Really? Because that’s sure what it sounded like to me.”
I looked directly into her eyes. “You know that’s not what I meant. I would never think anything like that.” I would think that no man would be able to work closely with you and not fall madly in love with you, I finished silently.
She stared for a beat before her chin dipped in an accepting nod and she returned her attention to her meal.
“Did you bring any normal clothes?” I figured a change of subject was for the best.
“Normal clothes?” She glanced down at herself. “These are normal clothes.”
“Casual clothes?” I corrected.
“Why?”
I hated that she distrusted me so much that she wouldn’t even answer a simple question. When we were kids, she’d never had her guard up, at least not with me. I was the one person that she’d been totally trusting of, besides her brother and grandparents, that is. I’d always thought it was special and cool that she trusted me, but I’d never truly appreciated the honor until I was on the other side of it.
“I have an activity planned that I don’t think that you can do in that skirt and those heels.”
“You’d be surprised what I can do in this skirt and these heels.”
Well now I definitely had X-rated fantasies playing out in my head. Her, bent over this breakfast table, with her skirt up around her waist and her legs spread apart. My hands rubbing the rounded globes of her cheeks as I thrust….
“Hello?”
Her voice snapped my brain back like a rubber band.
“Where did you go?” she volleyed my question back to me.
“Nowhere.” I cleared my throat, never happier that my lap was hidden beneath the tabletop.
“So…what’s this activity?”
“What?”
The only response to my question was a slight lift of her brows. I ran back what we’d been talking about before my brain had gone down X-Rated Lane.
“Um…horseback riding. I saw the stables.”
“You want to go horseback riding?”
“Yes.” I understood why she appeared so shocked. I was athletic growing up, but I hadn’t been the most outdoorsy kid. Growing up in Texas, people assumed that I’d tipped cows and rode horses, but I’d always been more interested in playing sports or music.
“Have you ever been on a horse?”
“Yes.”
“When?” she questioned in disbelief. “You’re scared of horses.”
Until that moment, I’d forgotten she was the only person I’d ever told about my fear of the majestic creatures. We’d been up late watching Mister Ed on Nick at Nite. I completely forgot about that conversation until now.
“I was scared of horses. But people can change. Grow up.” She didn’t seem all that convinced so I continued, “We recorded our third album in Montana at a working ranch.”
I wasn’t used to having to explain myself to people. I’d been surrounded by yes people for years and it was sort of refreshing to be questioned.
The iPad I hadn’t seen
her without since I got here lit up and she looked down and began typing furiously. I watched as she mouthed the words she typed and another organ swelled. This time it was my heart. She’d always done that.
Ever since she was little, she’d mouth the words that she was reading or writing. I’d always found it ridiculously cute and endearing. My heart ached in my chest thinking of all the years I’d missed her mouthing the words to things. It was a silly thing to be nostalgic about, but I was. The little things that had faded from my memory of her over the time we’d been apart.
In that moment, I made the decision that I’d never allow that to happen again. I wasn’t going to let weeks, months, much less years, go by and not see her. After spending only a few hours with her again, I was finding it incomprehensible that I’d ever allowed that much time to pass in the first place.
My phone buzzed and I pulled it out and saw that it was Jessie calling. Since Juliette was typing away on her iPad, I figured it wouldn’t be rude to take it. Besides, I knew that she wouldn’t be calling unless it was important, especially since she knew that this weekend wasn’t just about my creative process.
“Hey,” I answered.
“I got another offer from Big Lights—”
“I’m not available,” I cut her off. Big Lights was the production company that put on the Pop Music Awards show and there was no way I was cutting out of this weekend early.
Jessie was silent for a few beats. “You don’t want to hear the terms?”
“No.”
“Fine.” Jessie was silent for a few beats. “How are things going there?”
I glanced up at Juliette who was now staring directly at me. I had no idea how things were going. On one hand they could be going a hell of a lot better, but on the other hand, they could be going a hell of a lot worse.
“TBD,” I responded.
“I’ll touch base early next week.” With that promise, she disconnected the call.
I returned my phone to my pocket and when I did, Juliette looked down at her food and I think literally bit her tongue. I couldn’t prove that she was but I knew that it had to be driving her crazy that she had no idea who I was talking to.
Resisting Romeo (Steamy Weekends Book 3) Page 5
