by T. K. Leigh
“I love it! Thank you, Miss Londyn.” She wraps her arms around my neck, squeezing me before darting away and exploring all the toys I couldn’t help but buy for her.
I sense a warmth approach and glance over my shoulder to see Wes looking down at me, his eyes overflowing with affection. He drapes an arm around me, and I melt into him, my heart bursting as I watch Imogene drag Julia throughout the space, picking up a toy to play with, only to find something else that catches her attention seconds later.
“The house looks incredible. And I’m not only saying that because I barely saw you this week and really need to get laid.”
I playfully swat him, and he chuckles, causing the butterflies to erupt in my stomach. It doesn’t matter how often I hear him laugh or taste his kisses. The butterflies don’t seem to tire of him. I doubt they ever will.
“I mean it.” He turns me so I’m facing him, linking his fingers together at the small of my back. “You’re incredible.” He brings his lips toward mine. “And I’ll forever be grateful that one day, you made the horrible decision to try to cross the street wearing fuck-me heels during a downpour.”
I brush my mouth against his. “And I’ll forever be grateful that one day, you braved a torrential downpour to peel my ass off the pavement. Then asked for my number in a very busy coffee shop.”
“Best decision of my life.”
“You’re the best decision of my life,” I sigh, touching my lips to his.
When he pulls back, he holds his hand out toward me. “Come on. There’s something I want to show you.”
I scrunch my brows. “What is it?”
“Patience, honeybee. All will be revealed in due time.” He grins, hand still extended.
Unable to reel in my smile, I place my hand in his. I half expect him to drag me into the master bedroom for a quickie before dinner. Instead, he leads me downstairs and out to the back porch that’s now a welcoming space for entertaining, complete with wet bar and built-in gas grill.
“Where are we going?” I ask as he tugs me down the steps and along the dirt path lined with pebbles.
“I told you. You’ll find out soon.” He beams down at me as we meander around the lake, making our way out to the old horse pasture. A breeze picks up, the chilly fall air refreshing as I inhale a deep breath.
Finally, we come to a stop outside the stables. Wes turns to me, his hand on the door handle. “Ready for your surprise?”
“I’m not sure. I have no idea what this could be.”
“Trust me. You’ll love it.” He places a kiss on my temple, then pushes the door open. A light automatically flicks on, illuminating the huge space.
What was once home to a dozen horse stalls is now one large area, all evidence it was once a stable nowhere to be found. In its place is what I can only describe as a workshop on steroids. The walls are lined with storage cabinets similar to the ones I had installed in the kitchen, the countertops of poured cement in front of a pegboard backsplash.
“I had no idea what kind of stuff you’d want here, so I asked Nash to construct the type of workshop that would give him wet dreams, and he rolled with it.”
“Pretty sure this is the workshop of my wet dreams, too.” I choke out a laugh through my amazement, still taken aback by my surroundings.
This place is easily ten times the size of my current workspace in my garage. I can only imagine the kind of restorations I’ll be able to do now that I’ll no longer be limited by space.
“I don’t think I know what half these saws do, but I can’t wait to find out.”
“You’re a brilliant woman.” He pulls me into his embrace. “I’m sure you’ll figure it out.”
I shake my head, peering into his vivid azure eyes that are alight with excitement as he studies my reaction. “How did you do this? When did you do this?”
“It was easier than I thought, actually. You know that week you were busy doing that kitchen remodel back in the city?”
I nod.
“We did it then. You were distracted working on that, so you didn’t even notice when we didn’t get together for coffee or lunch. Do you like it?”
“Like it?” I clutch his cheeks in my hands. “I love it.” I cover his mouth with mine, that same charge shooting through me that did the very first time I felt his lips. One I have a feeling I’ll always experience whenever we kiss.
“I love you,” he murmurs. “So much.”
“So much,” I repeat as he steers me back against one of the large workbenches in the middle of the space. When he grabs my ass and places me on the surface in one swift move, I gasp. “And what do you think you’re doing, Mr. Bradford?” I ask coyly, batting my lashes.
His eyes flame as he reaches for my blouse, slowly unbuttoning it. “What I’ve fantasized about since Nash told me this workbench could take a beating and still be standing. I guess I want to test out his claim. You know. Strictly for research purposes.”
“Is that right?” I chew on my lower lip as my blouse falls open, exposing the white, lacy bra underneath. Wes inhales a sharp breath.
“Oh, honeybee.” He traces a line along my face, causing my teeth to chatter. Then he treats me to a soft kiss that leaves me desperate for more. “That’s so right. You are so right.”
He hooks an arm around my waist, lowering my back flush against the workbench. With a devilish glint in his eyes, he unzips each of my knee-high boots and tosses them onto the floor before reaching for the button on my jeans. My breathing increases as he unfastens it, then lowers the zipper, inching them down my legs.
“Now for something I’ve been wanting to do for a long time.” He reaches into the back pocket of his jeans, withdrawing the black eye mask I’d used as a blindfold on him earlier. My gaze widens as I stare at it, my pulse skyrocketing. “If you’re okay with it.”
After what I went through all those years ago, I didn’t think I’d ever like the idea of being blindfolded or restrained, the loss of control enough to cause a panic attack. But as Wes and I have explored this undeniable connection over the past several weeks, I’ve learned I can trust him. With my body. With my fears. With my heart.
All I ever wanted out of my first marriage was someone I connected with, someone with whom I could explore these cravings and desires without being judged. Now I finally have that. If these past several months have taught me anything, it’s that Wes will do anything for me. That he’ll never hurt me.
Grabbing a fistful of his shirt, I pull him toward me, wrapping my legs around his midsection.
“Put it on,” I order huskily.
“Yes, ma’am.”
He slips it over my head, shrouding my world in darkness. With the loss of my sight, all my other senses are heightened.
My sense of hearing, the sound of my racing heart seeming to thunder all around us.
My sense of smell, Wes’ spicy and earthy scent overwhelming me.
My sense of touch, Wes pushing my panties aside, his mouth covering my center.
“Oh god,” I moan, my body fusing to the surface below me.
One thing is certain. We will definitely be putting this blindfold to more use in the future.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Weston
Excited conversation echoes against the high ceilings as I glance around the dining room of Meemaw and Gampy’s house, the chairs filled with friends and family, both old and new. It’s surreal to celebrate Thanksgiving in this house again after all these years. I didn’t think I’d ever do this again, thought all I’d have to cling to were memories from the past. But now I get to make new memories in this house. Memories with my new family.
Julia rushes back into the dining room from the kitchen and rearranges a few of the dishes, setting the last bowl on the table. “I always forget the cranberry sauce,” she remarks breathily, plopping down onto her chair beside Imogene.
“Everything looks great, Jules,” I say with a smile. “You didn’t have to do all of this. I told you we could
just keep things simple.”
She narrows her gaze on me. “And in the spirit of Meemaw, I did keep things simple.” She waves at the table that’s filled with nearly a dozen different types of food. “At least according to her.”
We laugh at the inside joke. Meemaw’s idea of a simple meal would feed a small army for days afterward. She loved cooking for anyone who walked through the doors of this house. I’m thrilled her favorite room, the kitchen, is now put back to good use whenever we’re here.
“I suppose you did.” I smile, then look at everyone assembled around the table, Londyn at my side. She’d invited her neighbors, Hazel and Diego, to join our Thanksgiving celebration, as well, and I’m grateful they made the trip out here from the city. We’re a mishmash of people from all different walks of life — white, black, Hispanic. Exactly how Gampy and Meemaw celebrated the holidays. The only person missing is Julia’s husband, Nick, who got stuck in a snowstorm up north, where he’d been for work. But he’s hoping to get here before the end of the weekend.
Clearing my throat, I grab my wine glass and rise to my feet, feeling almost like an imposter as I stand at the head of the table where Gampy once did during large holiday meals.
“Over the years, my sister, Julia, and I have started a tradition, thanks to our gampy. Whenever we’d sit down to a big meal, he’d always start with a toast. Now, whenever Julia and I get together, we do the same thing, although thanks to our competitive natures, it’s become a bit of a contest to see who can come up with the best one.” I wink. “So, Jules, on this very special first Thanksgiving back here, I yield the floor to you.”
I return to my seat, brushing my fingers along Londyn’s thigh. It’s impossible to keep my hands off her, even more so tonight since she’s wearing a wrap dress that falls to her mid-thigh paired with her knee-high boots. I’ve already told her I have plans for her tonight, and they include her in those boots. And nothing else.
Julia stands, looking at our guests. “I debated what to toast to today, since I feel like I have so much to be thankful for this year. Not only is my daughter turning into such a kind and compassionate little lady…” She glances to her side, meeting Imogene’s smile before returning her attention to the rest of the table, “but I’m also able to celebrate my favorite holiday in this house of so many memories with not only the woman my brother loves more than I think he’s ever loved anyone, but also with her family.” She gestures to Hazel and Diego, who share a look. “And that’s the thing I’ve learned over the years.” She brings her eyes to mine. “Blood doesn’t make you family. Love. Devotion. Commitment. That’s what binds you together. And I’m blessed to call all of you my family. So, in the spirit of family, here’s one of Gampy’s favorite toasts.”
She raises her glass. “May the roof above these friends never fall in, and the friends below this roof never fall out.”
“I’ll drink to that,” Hazel says, about to bring her glass to her lips, but Londyn places her hand on her arm, stopping her.
“Not yet. There are a few more, including one I think you’ll like.”
“Do you want to go next, honeybee?” I ask. “I’d prefer to go last, if you don’t mind.”
“Of course not.”
Smiling, she pushes back from her chair and stands, raising her glass. She closes her eyes and clears her throat before refocusing her attention on everyone. “A drink to those who do and those who don’t,” Londyn begins.
Hazel bursts out laughing. I assume it’s an inside joke between the two of them. She jumps up, standing beside Londyn, her glass also raised.
“But not to those who say they will but later decide they won’t,” Hazel continues, then glances at her husband, who happily stands, as well.
“For the ones I’ll toast from the dawning of the day to the darkness of the night,” Diego states before looking back to Londyn.
“Are the ones who say I never have…,” she finishes, returning her attention to me. “But for you, I just might.”
Retaking her chair, she curves toward me, her mouth brushing mine, sending a shiver through me. I might be misreading the signs, but I can’t shake the feeling this is Londyn’s way of declaring in front of all the important people in her life that she’s finally made peace with her past. That she’s finally willing to only look forward to a future…with me.
“For you, I just might,” I repeat, momentarily forgetting we’re not alone as I swipe my tongue against the seam of her lips, begging for a quick taste of her.
“You two kiss a lot,” Imogene comments, breaking through our moment.
We reluctantly pull away from each other, and Londyn averts her eyes, as she always does when embarrassed.
“You go, girl,” Hazel remarks, nudging her.
“It’s what two people do when they’re in love,” Julia tells Imogene.
She frowns. “Then why don’t you kiss Daddy?”
Julia swallows hard, darting her nervous gaze to me, as if worried about how I’ll respond to this news. But I won’t press. I’ve been through relationship troubles myself. I hope they can work out whatever they’re going through. For Imogene’s sake.
“We do, sweet pea.” She smiles, but it wavers.
“Okay then,” Londyn interjects, obviously sensing Julia’s unease. “I believe we have one toast left.”
I lift myself to my feet once more. “I’ll admit, I took some artistic license with one of Gampy’s favorite toasts. Made it more fitting for the occasion.”
Drawing in a deep breath, I raise my glass. This time, everyone joins me, knowing this will be the final toast of the evening. Then I shift my attention to Londyn, as if speaking only to her. In a way, I am.
“Here’s to roses and lilies in bloom. You in my arms and me in your room. A door that is locked, a key that is lost. Honeybees, and Ferris wheels, and a bed that is tossed. Smiles, and laughter, and a place to get away. And a love that lasts forever and a day.”
I allow my words to sink in for a moment, unshed tears glistening in her eyes. Then I turn my attention back to the rest of the guests.
“Here’s to a wonderful meal amongst good friends. Memories made together that time transcends. A bottomless glass and a cup that runs over. Hearts filled with love that never sobers. Smiles, and laughter, and a place to get away. And friendships that last forever and a day.”
“I’ll drink to that,” Julia says as we all clink glasses.
When I lower myself back to my chair, Londyn squeezes my thigh. I look at her, and she lifts her lips to meet mine.
“I love you. Forever and a day.”
“Promise?” I murmur in a low voice so no one can hear.
“Absolutely.”
“Good. I’m going to hold you to it. Because I love you. Forever and a day.”
She kisses me sweetly before pulling back and scanning over the ridiculous amount of food she and my sister had busied themselves preparing the past few days. Turkey. Baked ham. Cornbread dressing. Mashed potatoes. Buttermilk biscuits. Sautéed green beans with mushrooms. Fried okra. Sweet potato casserole. Deviled eggs. Homemade cranberry sauce. Macaroni and cheese, which Julia claimed she made for Imogene. But I notice her steal a healthy portion of it.
“I have to say,” Julia begins once everyone has filled every inch of their plates with food. “That may be your best toast yet, dear brother. You should have saved it for the masquerade ball on New Year’s Eve. Your midnight toast there is always epic.”
I feel Londyn tense beside me, and I give her a smile that’s a mixture of reassuring and apologetic.
“True.” I push my food around my plate, not looking directly at Julia. “But I won’t be attending this year.”
She scrunches her brow, taken aback by this news. “Why not?”
I’d intended to wait until after the holiday to share this with her and ask her to fill in for me, considering she’s on the board of my Homes for the Homeless charity. We’ve both been so busy — her with an offer to expand her bak
ery chain to the West Coast, as well as preparing for Thanksgiving, and me with breaking ground on a new hotel in Miami the firm is overseeing — I haven’t had time to bring it up.
I reach beside me, squeezing Londyn’s thigh, wordlessly telling her it’s okay. “The last thing I want to do is spend my first New Year’s Eve with Londyn at a masquerade ball.”
“You didn’t mind taking Brooklyn,” she reminds me. “Hell, we even moved it up to Boston that year.”
“This year’s different,” I respond firmly, hoping she picks up on my tone. But thanks to all the wine she drank while cooking today, she doesn’t, turning her attention to Londyn.
“You’d love it. And when I say that, I don’t do so lightly. I usually avoid these kinds of things like the plague. But the New Year’s Eve Masquerade Ball is the one social function I actually look forward to attending. Not to mention it’s a huge money-maker for the charity. We easily get over half our yearly donations at it.”
“That’s true. But like I said, I won’t be attending this year. I’m sure you’ll be a much more charming host than I’ve been anyway. With you being the Master of Ceremonies, I think we’ll raise even more money, since you’re much prettier to look at than I am.”
“Well, I certainly can’t argue with that.” She shrugs, then focuses her attention on Diego.
“So, Londyn tells me you’re a firefighter.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he responds in a thick New York accent. “In Atlanta.”
“Fascinating,” she exhales, no longer concerned about the masquerade ball.
But I can tell Londyn is.
“Is it true?” Londyn asks later that night when I step out of the ensuite bathroom and walk toward the bed where she lies on her side.
“What? That I’m about to do very naughty things to you?” I crawl under the duvet, snaking an arm around her waist and tugging her close, peppering kisses along her jawline.
“No.” She swats at me, her giggles echoing in the stillness.
Imogene went to sleep hours ago, and I’m pretty sure Julia is passed out after all the wine she drank, leaving just Londyn and me.
