Just What I Needed

by Lorelei James

  “Can we talk about the installation?”

  A petulant look darkened his eyes. “Now?”

  “Do you have everything on the list I gave you?”

  “Yep.” He started nibbling on my jaw.

  “Who’s helping you?”

  “Thought I’d hang around the railroad tracks on Saturday morning. See if any vagrants need work.”

  “Walker. I’m serious.”

  “I am too. It’s six days away. You’ll add twenty things to the list by then. So can we please focus on what’s important right now?”

  “Us having sex in the yard?”

  “Us having sex in the yard and then you making me lunch.”

  He deserved it when I pushed him in the pool.

  Eighteen

  WALKER

  I pulled up to Trinity’s house in my ’57 Chevy Bel Air. She’d made an offhand comment earlier during the installation about cleaning my truck out so she wouldn’t get her dress dirty. For an event like this I had no intention of driving my work truck. I had some class.

  Cars hadn’t been a topic in any of our conversations. Most women’s eyes glazed over when talk turned to engine size and speed-to-horsepower ratios. We Lund boys had been born with a love for cars. Brady preferred vehicles on the high end. Jensen’s requirement was the car went fast. Ash chose unique and rare models. Jaxson had traded in his Corvette for “the safest family car on the road” since he had Mimi. Nolan and I preferred muscle cars. In our pre-driving days, we spent hours compiling lists of our must-haves when we could finally purchase the classics of our dreams.

  This baby was the first thing I’d bought after I’d returned from Sweden. Just because I hadn’t rebuilt the motor myself or lovingly sanded down each panel prior to painting didn’t mean I wasn’t in love with this car. Not that it was the only one in my collection, but it was my favorite.

  The tie was choking me and I loosened it as I walked up the sidewalk. I’d dropped Trinity off four hours ago after we’d finished the installation. She’d insisted on being home to get ready, which I’d understood meant she needed to get in the right mind-set more than figuring out what she was going to wear.

  Today I’d witnessed a different side of her. Over the past few weeks I’d seen her in many scenarios—some good, some bad—but I’d never seen her in professional mode. She’d been clear that she expected her instructions to be followed to the letter. Any deviations were to be cleared with her first. I’d had no problem taking orders from her. In this case, she was the expert. Just because I had more muscles didn’t put me in charge by default, as so many men I knew assumed. I’d made sure the guys I’d asked to help weren’t of that boneheaded mentality.

  Trinity flung the door open before I knocked. As I stood on the step trying to roll my tongue back in my mouth—because she looked like a freakin’ goddess—her mouth ran at full speed.

  “You’re late—not really late, but late enough. I didn’t realize until I had this dress on that I can’t even zip it up by myself. Now I don’t know whatever possessed me to buy it. To be honest, I don’t remember when I bought it. I probably should’ve gotten something new, but I just don’t have the shopping gene and if I can’t get it online and have it dropped at my door then I don’t need it.” She grabbed my sleeve and tugged. “Come in. I can’t stand here half undressed. And we were supposed to leave like five minutes ago.”

  Once I was in the entryway with the door shut, she gave me her back and lifted her hair up. She peered at me over her shoulder and said, “Zip.”

  I’d zip her up. But first I wanted to trail my fingers down that slice of exposed skin. I loved her softness, her scent and the way she shivered at my touch.

  “Walker, please hurry up. We’re running behind.”

  I pulled the zipper up slowly, letting my lips brush the back of her neck. Then I wrapped my arms around her middle and nuzzled her ear. “Breathe.”

  “Walker—”

  “Come on, sweetheart. You’re all wound up and we haven’t left the house yet. Take a moment and just breathe.”

  She rested her body against mine, raising her left arm to twine behind my neck, allowing her to rifle her fingers through my hair. Turning her head so the bridge of her nose bumped the bottom of my jaw, she slowly and steadily breathed me in.

  I couldn’t wait to take her this way, with her on her knees as I pushed into her from behind, freeing my hands to be all over her.

  “You’re thinking about sex, aren’t you?”

  “It’s always the first place my mind goes when we’re body-to-body like this.” I kissed her temple. “You’d rather I was thinking about golf?”

  “You golf?”

  “Not well. Nolan always whips my ass.”

  Sighing, she lowered her arm. “I’d say something funny about a ‘hole in one,’ but I’m trying to cut down on sports analogies.”

  I laughed. I kissed her again and murmured, “Turn around, babe, so I can get a good look at you.”

  Trinity took three steps forward and faced me.

  She’d worn a lace dress the color of ripe peaches. It was more modest than I’d typically seen from her, high necked, with a heart-shaped cutout above her breasts that was covered with sheer fabric the same color as the lace. The material molded to her ribs, her hips, her belly and her ass, showcasing those mouthwatering curves, the hem ending just above the knee. Her shoes weren’t strappy stilettos, but closed-toe platforms, sexy in an understated way. My gaze zigzagged back up her body to her face. She’d chosen dramatic makeup, giving her a more polished flair, but it wasn’t overly done. Her glossy hair was tamed, sleek with the ends in a soft curl.

  I touched her cheek. “You are stunning. People will be looking at you as much as your incredible art.”

  She smiled. “Thanks.”

  “You’re ready?”

  “Yep. But first I want to gawk at you since I’ve never witnessed the glory of you in a suit.” She gestured for me to turn around.

  I felt ridiculous but I did it anyway. Then the heat in her eyes as I slowly spun around to face her was worth it.

  “I think I just had a mini O. Damn, Walker Lund. You can wear a suit. A custom suit, no less.”

  “Brady, Nolan and Ash have the same tailor, so he’s my tailor by default, the poor SOB.”

  Trinity’s hand skimmed my shoulder and across my chest. Her fingers started at the knot in my tie. She slipped the silk between her thumb and index finger in a loose fist, stroking the fabric the way she stroked my shaft.

  I groaned and snatched her hand away. “Have mercy, sweetheart. I can only take so much with you looking hot and sexy and touching me that way.”

  Rising on her toes, she kissed me. “I can’t wait to peel these clothes off you later.”

  “Same goes.” I stepped back and heard a hiss. “Jesus.” I glanced down and Buttons glared at me. “You need a bell for that damn cat. She’s always sneaking up on me.”

  “I think that’s her way of showing she likes you.” Trinity draped a purse on a thin gold chain over her shoulder. “Ready.”

  When Trinity noticed the car parked at the curb, she grinned at me. “Keeping secrets, Mr. Lund? Why didn’t I know you had a bright red hot rod?”

  “You didn’t ask.” I opened the door for her and she slid in.

  Once we were on the way, she said, “This goes fast?”

  “Very. But I won’t demonstrate tonight.” I picked up her hand. “We’ll take it to the racetrack sometime and I’ll let you drive.”

  “Cool. I’ve never driven a performance car. I’ve always been focused on gas mileage and reliability.”

  “Nothing wrong with that.”

  She was quiet for several miles. She kept twisting the chain of her purse around her fingers, unwrapping them and doing it again.

  “What’s going on in that head of yours?”

  “This should be the moment I enjoy the most. The hard work is done, I’m satisfied with how the piece turned out,
my client is thrilled and she gets to spring a surprise on the man she’s loved for almost fifty years.”

  “But?”

  “But thinking about the guests at the party judging me gives me anxiety. Esther wants me to give a speech. If there’s anything I hate worse than defending what I do, it’s explaining what I do. And no, they’re not the same thing, but I will be doing both tonight and that makes my lungs seize up.”

  I stroked her hand to let her know I was listening.

  “When you say ‘art,’ most people think of oil paintings, watercolors, charcoal, pen and ink. They see mixed-media pieces like mine and don’t consider them art. They consider me a hack. Because if I was a real artist, I’d be creating still life paintings like the masters. They either admit they don’t ‘get’ my kind of art and mention the time they saw the Jackson Pollock exhibit at MoMA or Maurizio Cattelan’s catastrophic mobile at the Guggenheim, neither of which is anything like my art. Or they nod at me, grim set to their mouths. It’s apparent they’re silently judging me. Silently judging the Stephenses too, thinking they have too much money if they choose to spend it on trashy artwork. And it’s not my paranoia talking. I’ve seen this time and time again.”

  I didn’t respond because I’d been that sneering guy—and I’d grown up in a family that regularly attended art events. I’d silently scoffed at anything that didn’t fit into the little box I’d been taught in school had the right to be called art. I couldn’t even admit that, up until a few weeks ago when we’d started dating, I’d been stuck in that same mind-set.

  “And to top it all off tonight, I’m a cliché. Falling into the brooding stereotype and swearing no one understands me because I’m a sensitive artist.” She sighed. “So tell me about this Lund party that’s going on at the same time.”

  No surprise she’d deflected back to me. “It’s to celebrate an acquisition.”

  “Will all the LI board members be there?”

  Except for you? went unsaid.

  “It doesn’t matter if they are because I’m with you tonight. Period.”

  “But if you have to step away—”

  “I’ll do it when you’re surrounded by a throng of admirers.”

  “Okay. That makes me feel better.”

  I pulled up to the members-only valet parking stand. Immediately a valet appeared as I climbed out. “Keys are in the ignition. Be warned, I’ll know if you hot-rod this. Any rubber that’s off those tires? I’ll take the same amount off your skin. Understand?”

  “Yes, sir, Mr. Lund.”

  I skirted the back end of the car and took Trinity’s elbow, leading her up the limestone walkway. As we passed groups of people, I wasn’t surprised I didn’t recognize anyone. I only showed up here when I had no other choice. The admiring looks some of the guys bestowed on Trinity earned them a back-the-fuck-off glare from me.

  “You always so possessive with your car?” she asked.

  “Yes. Some assholes want what other men have and I will fuck them up if they don’t stop eyeballing you.”

  “I thought we were talking about the car.”

  “We’re talking about what belongs to me.”

  Trinity stopped just inside the door to the club. “Walker. Take it down a notch.”

  “Nope.” I curled my hand beneath her jaw and tilted her head back for a kiss.

  She wiggled out of my grip. “Can we leave this for another night?”

  “Leave what?”

  “Talking about these feelings and crap.”

  “Crap?”

  She kept her focus behind me. “You know what I mean. How would you like it if I just announced that you belonged to me?”

  “I’d consider myself the luckiest man in the world.”

  “Oh.”

  “Trinity. Look at me.”

  I watched her inhale a deep breath before she tipped her face up.

  What I saw in those green depths staggered me. She loved me. If I hadn’t known it in the way she touched me, listened to me and gave me importance in her world, it was right there. But fear also lurked on the edges. And it almost eclipsed the look of love.

  Holy shit. Was she scared of me? Of this? Why?

  “I can’t do this right now. I have to see where they are with the party.” She sidestepped me and hustled down the wide hallway teeming with people.

  I followed her at as discreet a distance as I could manage. Instead of focusing on trying to place her fear, I focused on the pair of dudes who’d turned around to leer at her ass. Felt good to knock into each of them with a hard shoulder. The next group of guys giving her a head-to-toe once-over earned a scowl. And the men my father’s age—those perverts deserved my low-pitched warning growl.

  Trinity stopped outside the banquet room. A long glass panel ran down the side of the door, allowing her to peer in.

  “Can you see anything?” I said, covering her body with mine.

  “It looks like it’s still cocktail hour. He just started opening his presents. There’s a pile of them.”

  “What’s that mean for your time frame?”

  “We’re out here until Esther gives me the signal.” She glanced at me over her shoulder. “If you want to go say hi to your family—”

  “Trin, are you trying to get rid of me?”

  “Well. You are hovering.”

  “You asked me to hover, remember? Social anxiety and free champagne not a good mix?”

  She sighed. “I could use a shot of something to loosen me up.”

  “The LI party has an open bar. I could get us both a drink.”

  “One drink. But if your relatives catch you?” She patted my cheek and ruffled my beard. “You’re on your own. I’m booking it back here.”

  “Deal.” I took her hand and weaved through the crowd until we reached the last banquet room.

  “This is a crappy location.”

  “Actually, it’s the preferred location since it has great soundproofing.” I spun her around and pushed her against the wall. “What shot, sweetheart?”

  “Tequila.”

  “Coming up.”

  I didn’t go in the main door. I ducked around to the employee entrance and cut to the prep room. Maxwell, the head of catering, rolled his eyes when he saw me. “What you up to now, Walker?”

  “I need two shots of tequila. My girlfriend and I are splitting our time between this and the Stephens party. If I go in there . . . you know my family won’t let me leave. And we have to get back.”

  “It is a brotherly trait tonight. Jensen said hello and vanished to the club bar.”

  Jens didn’t like these corporate events either. But I was surprised he was here.

  Maxwell spoke in Spanish to a server and she hustled away. With as many people as I’d seen milling around, Maxwell had to be slammed so I didn’t expect he’d talk to me.

  But he said, “Stephens party, eh? That one’s not as fancy as the Lund party or the bigwig party next door.”

  “Who are the bigwigs?”

  “Political guys. Campaigning for funds.”

  “That’s why there are so many people here?”

  “Partially. There’s a big wedding in the ballroom too.”

  I withheld a shudder. Brady had tied the knot the right way.

  The server returned with two shot glasses and limes. I said,