Make Me a Match

by Goode, Ella

  Gant

  The phone keeps ringing even though I’ve intentionally ignored it for the last five minutes. I’m in the middle of beating the shit out of my punching bag, pretending that it’s me hanging from the ceiling. I couldn’t have ended the night in a worse way if I’d tried. Caro has always said I needed to get out more, get my feet wet so to speak, or I’d end up slamming my face in the door. She wasn’t wrong—not that I plan on telling her that any time soon.

  At the umpteenth call, I throw off the gloves and snarl into the receiver. “What?”

  “You should read my texts, man. You got a whole emergency here, and I’m trying to do you a solid.” Petersburg’s voice is half laughter, half annoyance.

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Read the messages.” He hangs up.

  I swipe the back of my taped hand against my forehead and read the message.

  You better get over to Gastronomique. The whole family’s swarming over your girl. It looks dire.

  “Shit.”

  The whole family? My whole family? Her whole family? I type out these questions but get no response from Petersburg. The three dots don’t even make an appearance. He’s punishing me for missing four calls. I deserve it, but not now. Dammit.

  I strip off my sweaty clothes, take the fastest shower known to man, and am on my way in under eight minutes. That has to be some kind of record. What can they do in eight minutes? It takes Caro that long to decide what she wants to eat.

  Gastro is fifteen minutes away, but I make it in ten by ignoring the traffic signals. At this point, they’re suggestions rather than mandates. The valet isn’t out fast enough for me, so I just leave the keys in the car and speed into the restaurant. Someone will take care of the car—move it, tow it—I don’t really give a damn.

  “Sir, can I—”

  I hold up a hand and wave them off. Over in the corner I spot Petersburg hemmed in by his family, and two tables over is my mother, my sister, Paislee, and her grandmother. From the teapots and the three-tiered plate racks, it looks like they ordered afternoon tea. My stomach rumbles at the sight of the food. I can’t remember the last time I ate. I grab a passing waiter. “Give me a bloody steak and a baked potato. Keep the veggies in the kitchen. Deliver it to that table.” I point to the ladies.

  “Of course, sir. Anything to drink?”

  “Is it too early for bourbon?”

  The waiter earnestly shakes his head no.

  “Great. Get me a bottle.”

  “A whole bottle?”

  “Yup.” I point to the ladies again. “That’s my mom, my sister, my soon-to-be fiancée, and her grandmother.”

  “Oh. Okay. A whole bottle.” He nods with understanding and takes off.

  No one notices me until I get to the table. “There must’ve been some miscommunication, and one of you forgot to give me a call.” I drag a chair away from a nearby table and wedge myself in between Caro and Paislee. Paislee looks confused, and Caro looks like she’s about to burst with joy. I shoot her a scowl and silently promise to visit some kind of revenge on her at a later date. She’s unfazed by my threats and mixes me up a mimosa.

  “I was going to call you, but I saw Petersburg spying on us—” She gives my friend a wave. He clears his throat and glances away. “So I figured he would do it but gosh, you’re late.”

  “I didn’t pick up right away,” I explain, flipping the napkin on my lap. “You’re looking beautiful, Paislee. Pearls suit you.” She’s wearing a set of fat nacre around her neck that looks to be worth more than my car.

  “Morning,” she says. Her tone is grumpy, suggesting that my mess-up last night still lingers.

  “Mr. Fréres? Is that you?” a syrupy voice intrudes from over my shoulder.

  I lean back in my chair and spot one of my former students tripping over her feet to get to our table.

  “Jessamyn, good to see you. You home for the weekend?” Jessamyn graduated a couple of years ago. She must be home from college.

  “Sure am.” She beams. “Classes are going well. I took that world religion course you recommended. It’s real interesting. If you don’t mind, I’ve got a book you might be interested in. I can stop by your house and drop it off.”

  “Well, I—”

  “He’s busy this afternoon,” Paislee interrupts.

  I arch my eyebrows, but she refuses to look my way. Instead, she tips her chin up as if to indicate that she said what she said.

  “I’m busy this afternoon,” I repeat.

  “I can bring it by tomorrow,” Jessamyn offers. “I don’t go back until Tuesday.”

  A small growl rumbles through Paislee’s chest. On my left, Caro smothers a giggle with her hand. Jessamyn looks confused. Me? I’m thrilled. I stretch out an arm behind Paislee’s chair. “You can drop it off at my mom’s house tomorrow. You’ll be home, won’t you?” Mom nods over the top of her teacup. “I won’t be around, though, because Paislee and I are picking out wedding rings.”

  “We’re what?” Paislee nearly shouts.

  “Whoa. Is that what you two were fighting about? Did she turn you down? Here I’d thought you’d done something wrong,” Caro says.

  “He had to do something wrong if she’s surprised,” Mom points out.

  “What’d you do wrong, my boy?” This is from Marguerite.

  “Just dumb men things,” I say, not wanting to dredge up the past. I squeeze Paislee’s shoulders. “But from the sounds of it, we’ve worked it all out. Paislee needs a custom dress.”

  “Of course. I’ll design it myself.” Mom is ready to bust out her sketchpad between the scones and the teapots.

  “I never agreed—”

  “Marguerite, we can hold the wedding at Belle Époque, right?”

  “It would be my pleasure.” The older woman’s eyes are glowing.

  “You’re getting married, Mr. Fréres?” laments my former student. Disappointment drags the corners of her mouth down.

  “Sure am. To Paislee Rhodes.”

  “You’re Paislee Rhodes?” Jessamyn must’ve read the same tabloid article as the rest of this city. “But your dad—”

  “Is an asshole, but that doesn’t affect Paislee. She’s her own person,” I interject. “Well, and soon to be my person.” I give my love a wink.

  She’s still shell-shocked by all of this, but she’ll come around. After all, she was growling at the poor coed, and if that doesn’t say wedding proposal to me, I don’t know what does. “I’m hungry. Where’s my steak?”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Paislee

  How have I gone from not being sure if I should give Gant another chance to us now getting married? I’m not sure if everyone is teasing or not, but they don’t look to be. I want to protest more, but this Jessamyn chick keeps sneaking glances our way. In fact, I lean over toward Gant, wanting to make it clear that he’s with me. Even if he’s not.

  “I missed you,” Gant says next to my ear as he brushes my hair off my shoulder. I bite the inside of my cheek to keep from smiling at his words. I’m supposed to be mad. He and his family make it hard to hold on to anger.

  Since the moment we all sat down at the table, everyone has been trying to talk Gant up. When they finally got out of me why I was mad at him they found it hilarious. They were shocked that Gant had used his words wrong, which is something he never does. They insisted it was because I have him all twisted up inside. That he was merely trying to get me to let him show me around. They kept slipping in little comments about how they’ve never seen him act like this before.

  “I might have missed you a little,” I dip my head to say.

  “What was that?” Grandma asks.

  “Nothing,” I rush to say.

  “She missed me.” Gant fills her in, giving her a wink before taking another bite of his steak. I elbow him in the side. “See, we’re already having silent fights like an old married couple.”

  Everyone laughs. Even I can’t fight the smile. I have to
admit that being around everyone feels nice. Maybe I judged Gant a little unfairly, but I’m still not ready to fully let my guard down. Never mind marry a man that I barely know. Yet, the thought of being his wife causes my heart to do a little flutter. It makes me want things that I’m not sure I should.

  “I’m going to use the bathroom,” I say. I start to stand, and Gant does the same, pulling out my chair for me.

  “That way, dear,” Gant’s mom Dotty tells me.

  “Thanks.” I give her a smile as I make an escape to break free for a few moments, needing to gather myself and my thoughts together. I could have sworn everyone was staring our way as we sat at the table. It’s strange to be in such a big city but at the same time it seems as though everyone knows everyone. At least in these circles they do. The girl's words about my father stuck with me.

  Will I always be seen as the bastard child by everyone that runs in those circles if I decide to stay here? If I wasn't already feeling out of place, that would have knocked me over. I run my finger along the pearls, admiring them in the mirror. I don’t think I’ll ever get used to wearing such exquisite pieces of jewelry.

  “They can dress you up all they want, but we know what you are.” My head snaps up to meet the eyes of the girl from earlier in the mirror. The same one that had tried desperately to get herself into Gant’s house. The one that I’ve already growled at.

  “I know who I am.” I hold my chin up.

  “Do you?” She cocks her head to the side. “The bastard child of David. The one Marguerite Abbott dug up to try and save the Abbot name and stick it to her son.”

  “Me being here does nothing to my father but annoy him.” I turn around to face the girl. The sweet tone she had out in front of everyone else is long gone. Around here they all have claws. I hate it. I don’t understand why everyone wants to rip each other down here. It’s so foreign to me, and I want no part of it. I decide that I’ll be the bigger person in this situation.

  I go to step around her to leave the bathroom, but she blocks my way. “Are you sure about that? I think Marguerite needs you. That’s how this world works. If you don’t want to get eaten alive and used, you should run back to where you came from.”

  “You don’t know what you’re talking about. Please move.” My grandma loves me. She has been so good too. I won’t sit here and listen to anyone say otherwise. She’s jealous because Gant didn’t pay her any attention.

  “Okay.” She puts her hands up, stepping out of my way. “You’ll see.” I open the bathroom door. “Why else is she trying to marry you off so quickly?” I ignore her words and leave the bathroom. I don’t make it far before I’m grabbed by the arm and pulled into a back office.

  “I’ve been dying to kiss you,” Gant says before his mouth comes down onto mine. I let myself get lost in him for a few moments. His mouth is gentle but possessive at the same time. It’s crazy, but my words from earlier were true: I did miss him. More than I should for someone I barely know. “Let me take you out again,” he asks, breaking the kiss. The look in his eyes is desperate. He wants me. The man that everyone keeps telling me never wants anyone. It makes me feel special.

  “I guess it only makes sense since according to our family we’re going to be married pretty soon.” I don’t know why, but it feels good to tease him. When I’m with him I feel myself the most. Even more so than my own grandma. I don’t know what it is about him, but I’m drawn to him.

  I also wonder if he knows what my grandma is up to. I try to forget the girl's words. I did for a moment when Gant was kissing me. Still they linger no matter how many times I tell myself she is a liar.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Gant

  “The marriage thing took you by surprise?”

  “A little.” Paislee picks at the grass just off the edge of the picnic blanket that is serving as the table for our dinner date. The velvet box in my pocket feels like it weighs 10 pounds. Mom presented it to me when we got home from lunch. It was an heirloom piece from her grandmother. The old pear-shaped two-carat champagne-colored diamond is rare enough that if Paislee gets tired of my ass, she could pawn the thing and live out her life on the proceeds.

  I don’t know if I should tell her this, because it might give her the wrong idea that she can leave me, but she seems a little lost in this world, and I want her to know she has choices. Not about me, of course. Our coupling is a done deal. For everything else, though, she is the captain of her own boat.

  “You’ve got a lot of new things happening in your life. I get that. So I wanted to provide you one sure thing.”

  “And that’s you?”

  “Yup. I wanted you the moment I saw you. Couldn’t imagine being bought by anybody else. The truth is, Paislee, you bought me and now you own me. You don’t wanna throw me away. Imagine what that would do to my ego.” I pat my chest dramatically.

  She snorts. “I think you are going to be just fine.”

  “It’s a good thing I’m not a debate teacher because I’m not doing a very good job of convincing you of my honest intentions—or maybe it’s that you don’t want me.” I don’t believe that to be true. I might be inexperienced, but I’m not blind. I can see how she looks at me. And even though I work out to stay healthy, I’m glad that my body turns her on. She wants me, even if she doesn’t want to admit it. When we’ve kissed, she doesn’t want to let go, and she’s just as eager as I am.

  Earlier at the restaurant she was trying to climb me like a tree. If our families hadn’t been feet away and we weren’t in a crowded restaurant, I wouldn’t have put a stop to things. I would’ve let her peel away my shirt, unzip my pants, and shove my cock inside her steamy cunt. Sadly, there were too many people around for that to happen.

  We’re alone now, sitting at the edge of my small lawn under a shaded arbor. No one can see us, and so she is free to molest me in whatever way she sees fit. Unfortunately, she hasn’t been moved to do so. Instead, she ate sparingly and is now moodily destroying the grass.

  “Tell me what’s the real problem. We can wait on the rings until after we’ve dated for some time. We can run off to Las Vegas and tie the knot. I’ll have to lie to my mother, though. She would probably take my balls if I deprived her of a chance to throw a wedding. You’ll have to defend me.”

  She heaves a sigh and throws herself back on the blanket to stare at the ivy curling through the trellis. “The real problem is that I don’t belong here in this world. My father abandoned me, and my mom was great. I never really wanted for anything, but she worked very hard for that. She was obviously not good enough for him or his world.”

  “I hope you don’t think I’m anything like Old Man Abbott. No offense to your father, but he’s an asshole.”

  “Maybe so, but him being a terrible person doesn’t mean that I fit into the Abbott family. Marguerite is wonderful, but I always feel like I’m on the verge of making some huge social mistake, and I won’t even realize that I’ve made the mistake because I don’t know enough about the rules here. And don’t tell me that you live in a small house and that you’re a schoolteacher because you were raised in a house like Belle Époque while I didn’t even know that houses had names.”

  “The best way to fit into this world is to believe that you own it. I think that’s the difference. My student believes that she has every right to have a relationship with me even though in my eyes she’ll always be that snot-nosed girl with the pimples on her chin who got the Pledge of Allegiance and the Constitution mixed up.”

  The sad example of ignorance sends Paislee’s eyebrows into her forehead. “You’ve got to be kidding.”

  I shake my head solemnly. “How could I kid about something that shows what an abject failure at teaching I am?”

  “She did get into college, so you’re not that terrible,” Paislee tries to reassure me.

  “That and her daddy’s fat donation check, but enough about the girl. I want to talk about you.” I shift so I’m lying next to her, our bodies scant in
ches apart. Her hands rest on her tummy. I take one and lace my fingers through it. “I do want you, Paislee. Let me show you how much.”

  “And then what?”

  “And then whatever you want. Vegas, this garden here, my life. It’s all yours.” I lean down and press my lips against hers. She melts softly, parting her lips and welcoming my tongue. She tastes like wild honey from the forest. It’s addicting and intoxicating. I lower our joined fingers to the juncture of her legs and press against her pubis.

  Her legs open, and I take that invitation to ruck up her skirt and delve between her thighs. I rub her fingers and mine against her cotton-covered cunt lips. Her hand and mine grow wet with her desire. I push the fabric away and stroke the tender flesh, spreading her moisture around until she’s soaked and ready.

  She gasps when I push inside the tight entrance.

  “It’s okay, baby. Just relax. You feel so good. So soft. So hot.” I find the patch of skin just a few inches in and press upward. I swallow her shriek of surprise and throw my leg over hers to keep her still. “Yeah, that’s the spot, isn’t it?”

  She whimpers and shudders and tries to wriggle free when I add another finger. The invasion shocks her at first. Her small virgin canal resists the intrusion, her muscles pushing back, but I thrust deeper, stoking the fire that is spiraling through her. Her hands come up to grip my biceps. Her mouth falls away from mine.

  The orgasm possesses her. She throws her head back, arches her spine, and a wail erupts from her mouth, a keening cry of need. I want to tear my jeans off and thrust into her honeyed walls and hammer until my seed floods her womb. I keep pounding her with my fingers until the shuddering stomps and the cries turn to whimpers. I pull out, my hand flooded with her cum.

  “Eyes on me, Paislee,” I order.

  Her lids fly open at my command, and her gaze fixates on my now-exposed cock. I slap my cum-drenched hand around my shaft and work it hard and fierce. It doesn’t take long for my own orgasm to shoot out my rod. I gather up the cum and shove my fingers back inside of her cunt, mixing my seed with her juice.