by Cindi Madsen
It wasn’t actually Lucifer. Just a charming guy with devilish good looks, calling to ask me what I was doing tomorrow night.
Chapter Nineteen
When I heard knocking, I glanced at the clock.
He must be excited to get going, because he’s a few minutes early. Jake wanted me to help him pick out furniture for his place. First order of business was going to be finding a coffee table. He’d been eating at the restaurant or off his lap since he’d moved in.
I stuck in my hoop earrings and hurried to my door. Swinging it open, I said, “Hey, I—”
Instead of Jake, Stephanie stood there, tears streaming down her face.
“What’s wrong?”
“Anthony and I got into this huge fight,” Stephanie said. “I should’ve warned you I was coming. But I’m so mad and sad and argh! I just punched in the code and hurried up, hoping you were home. I decided that even if you weren’t, I’d hide out here for a while.”
“Come on in. You know you can always stay here, even if I’m gone.”
We walked across the room and sat down on the couch.
Stephanie rubbed her temples. “We never used to fight. But lately…everything’s just such a struggle. It’s like we don’t even speak the same language. He was such a jackhole tonight, then he tells me I’m overreacting.”
I put my hand on her back. “What happened?”
She shook her head and took a deep breath. “I didn’t know he was a chauvinistic pig. He expects me to be sitting at home like a fifties housewife, with the house all cleaned and dinner cooked and ready the instant he steps in the door. I work, too!”
“You do. I don’t know how you get so much done.”
“I know I’m not working as many hours right now, but that’s because I’m doing all the planning for the wedding. Any time I ask his opinion, he says he doesn’t care, but his mom cares about everything. And then there’s this typo I’m dealing with, and all he can say when he gets home is, ‘What’s for dinner?’ Like I’m his maid or cook.” Stephanie’s voice got higher and higher with each sentence. “Is this how it’s going to be the rest of my life? I should’ve never moved in with him. I wish I was still living with you.”
A loud knock sounded on my door.
“I’ll be right back.” I crossed the room and answered the door.
Jake leaned in and gave me a peck on the lips, his hand going to that spot on my hip that drove me crazy. “Ready, gorgeous?”
“Um…” I glanced back at Stephanie. “I’ve got a situation.”
“I’m sorry,” Stephanie said, wiping tears off her face. “I didn’t realize you were busy. You two go out. I’ll just hang here if that’s okay.”
“I’m not going to leave you like this,” I said.
Jake stepped into the room, looking from Steph to me, then back to Steph. “Is everything okay?”
Stephanie sniffed. “I’m sorry. I’m a big fan of you and the changes I’ve seen in Darby since you two have been dating—or whatever she’s allowing it to be called. Now here I am, ruining it all by coming and telling her how horrible men are. Even the ones you think are good.” A couple more tears escaped and ran down her cheeks. “It turns out she was right all along,” she said, her voice so high I could barely make out the words. She jerked her thumb toward the bathroom. “I’m going to go get a tissue.”
I turned to Jake and kept my voice low. “She and Anthony got into a fight. I’m not sure exactly what happened yet. You see, something happens to a girl when she gets engaged that makes everything seem like a bigger deal. I’ve learned that brides-to-be tend to get a little…dramatic.”
Jake nodded like he understood, although I doubted he did.
“Anyway. I’m thinking our furniture shopping is going to need to be postponed.”
Stephanie reentered the room, a wadded-up tissue in her hand, and flopped back down on the couch. “Hey, you’re a guy,” she said, looking up at Jake. “Maybe you can tell me why guys think it’s a woman’s job to take care of everything.”
I put a hand on Jake’s chest. “You might want to run while you can,” I whispered. “You don’t have to stay.”
Jake grabbed my hand and led me to the couch. He sat on the far end but angled his body to face Stephanie. “Tell me what happened, and I’ll try to clue you in on the guy perspective.”
Stephanie kicked off her shoes and tucked her legs under her. “All day long I’d been excited to see him. Then he finally comes home, and the first thing he does is ask me what’s for dinner.”
Both Jake and I stared, waiting for the rest.
“Like I’m supposed to serve him or something,” Stephanie said. “Why’s it my job to make dinner?”
“Guys just don’t think sometimes,” Jake said. “We say whatever pops into our heads. All he was probably thinking was that he was hungry. I bet if you would’ve said something like, ‘I don’t know. Where are you taking me?’ he would’ve been happy to go out.”
“But…” Stephanie’s eyebrows scrunched together.
“Do you take turns cooking dinner or do you usually cook or do you go out most nights?”
“Most nights I cook. I actually like cooking most of the time.” Stephanie leaned back into the cushions. “Great, now I feel like an idiot. This wedding stuff’s making me crazy. Just today, I got the thank-you cards in the mail and they spelled my name wrong, so thinking of what to do about that on top of what to make for dinner, it all seemed like too much.” She frowned. “And the more I explain it, the stupider I feel. I better call Anthony.” She grabbed her phone and disappeared down the hall.
I twisted to face Jake, still processing how easily that had gone. “You fixed that in record time. I probably would’ve just complained about guys all night with her until she calmed down. You come in, say a few words, and now she’s already calling Anthony to explain.” I narrowed my eyes. “You’re not secretly trained in counseling or something, are you?”
Jake put his arm over the back of the couch. His fingers grazed my shoulder, then he twisted them in the ends of my hair, sending a tingly sensation along my scalp “Nope. Just had some experience with stuff like this before.”
“You think you’ve got women all figured out, then, do you?”
Jake shook his head. “No way. Every time you think you do, they change the rules on you. Like they could love the way you were yesterday and hate it the next day.”
“Every now and then, we change our minds. It’s our prerogative. The big secret is”—I leaned in conspiratorially—“sometimes, even we don’t know why. There are times after we pick a fight where we’re as confused as you are. But there’s no way we’re admitting it.” I shrugged a shoulder. “That’s why we have boobs.”
Jake’s eyebrows shot up.
“See, after we’ve acted crazy, and the guy’s wondering what he’s doing with us, we use them to mesmerize him, so he forgets that we’re crazy.” I shot Jake my most seductive smile and leaned the assets in question against his arm. “And by the way, if you look at my cleavage right now, even though I’m the one talking about it, I’ll accuse you of not caring about what I say and of just treating me like an object.”
Jake swallowed hard, keeping eye contact with me, though I could tell he was fighting his impulse to look down. A mischievous glint flickered through his eyes. “And treating you like an object would be bad?”
“It depends on how big a deal you make about how smart, funny, talented, etcetera, etcetera I am first.”
Jake slid his hand behind my neck and swept his thumb along my jaw. “Have I told you how smart, funny, talented, and etcetera I think you are?”
“You think I’m going to fall for that when I just fed you the lines?” Before he could answer, I kissed him. Using his hand on my neck, he pulled me closer, forcing my lips open with his tongue. His other hand slid up my thigh, and even through jeans, my skin burned from his touch.
Stephanie’s voice got a little louder. I pulled away from Ja
ke, my breaths coming out shaky. I’d momentarily forgotten my best friend was even here. I only heard snippets of the conversation, but whatever she was saying, it sounded tense.
“Maybe I didn’t do such a great job of fixing things after all,” Jake said. “I’m assuming her fiancé isn’t a complete jerk.”
“He’s very nice, actually. They have small fights here and there, like all couples do.” I listened for a second and caught the word mother. “Sounds like they’re onto fighting about his mom now. Every relationship’s got a sore subject; theirs is his mother. It’s the kind of problem girls get together to complain about, but after a little venting it doesn’t seem like such a big deal. It’s the big stuff—like lying and cheating—that’s unforgivable.” I pulled my attention off Steph’s conversation and looked back at Jake. “You claim guys say whatever they’re thinking, like they’re honest all the time. I’ve been around too many liars to believe that.”
“The things we think will get us into trouble, we keep in,” Jake said. “That’s why when we say something we think is totally innocent, we’re so shocked and confused when you get mad. Then we use the classic, ‘You’re overreacting.’”
“Which, by the way, women really hate. If you want me to overreact or be grouchy, just tell me that I am.”
“Just like that?”
“Just like that.”
“Let’s try this out,” Jake said.
I raised an eyebrow, silently warning him he better be careful.
“You’re completely crazy…about me.” He leaned in, his lips near mine. “Did it work?”
I shook my head, but couldn’t help smiling. “See, this is the problem. You know how to spin everything to your advantage. In my experience, it’s the charming guys who are the most dangerous. They make you think they care, but they’ve got ulterior motives. In fact, you just told me that you’d keep in the things that would get you into trouble. So how am I supposed to trust you?”
He put his hand on my knee and ran his thumb across the top of it. “I guess my insisting that you can won’t change your mind if you don’t trust me in the first place.”
“Exactly.”
“I guess I’ll just have to prove it, then.” His eyes locked onto mine. “However long it takes.”
Chapter Twenty
Stephanie rinsed off her plate and stuck it in my dishwasher. “Last night was just what I needed. It felt good to relax and laugh and forget about everything else for a while.” She wiped her hands on the dishtowel hanging from my oven handle and spun to face me. “I still feel bad for messing up your date with Jake, though.”
I drained my glass of orange juice. “You didn’t mess it up. Jake’s lived without a coffee table for weeks. Another day’s not going to make a difference to him.”
“You know, back when I dated bad boys, I was always yelling and fighting with them—”
“Then making up with them and breaking up the next day.”
“Only to make up again.” She shook her head. “What a mess. But Anthony and I never fight. We occasionally disagree, sure, but not the yelling fight like we got into last night.” She leaned against the counter. “I thought that getting together with Anthony had made me mellow. Turns out, I can still get fired up.”
“Nothing wrong with that.” I stuck my glass in the dishwasher and closed it. “It’ll keep him on his toes.”
“I read this article that said the reason you fight more when you get engaged is because you’re more committed to the relationship. Since you’re working to stay together, the little things seem more important.”
The way Stephanie looked at me, I knew I was supposed to step in and make her feel better. “You know that your married friends would be better for this ‘everything’s going to be great’ pep talk.”
“I want to hear it from you,” she said. I could see the vulnerability in her eyes and hear it in her voice.
I thought of the things Karl had said about her and Anthony, how I could recite his opinion but knew it would come out insincere. I wanted to tell her that it was going to be difficult, but they could give it a fighting chance, and not to take it too hard if it didn’t work out. That wasn’t what she needed either, though. So I dug down deep, focused on the hope I was working on letting in, and said, “Anthony loves you, you love him, and your minor problems are ones that you can easily work through and live with. You two are going to make it.” I shot her a smile. “If only to prove me wrong.”
She pulled me into a hug. “Thanks. I needed to hear that.” She glanced at her watch and sighed. “I better get going. Thanks for the loaner outfit. Slumber parties are awesome. We should’ve never stopped having them.”
“I’m game anytime.”
“I should probably call first. You and Jake might want to have a few slumber parties of your own.”
“Okay, let’s not get carried away. I’ve barely been semi-dating him for a few weeks, and as you know, I have a strict rule about that.”
“Ah, yes,” Stephanie said. “The No-love, no-making-love rule. Now that’s one I agree with.”
“Yes and it’s a rule that no one, regardless of how hot or amazing he is, will convince me to break.”
A crease formed between Stephanie’s eyebrows. “I’m confused. If you follow all your rules, and make sure to not fall in love again, that means you’re planning on being celibate for the rest of your life.”
“Falling is the key word. You can care about someone, enough to have feelings of love, without being in love.”
“That doesn’t make sense.”
“What I mean is there’s a more realistic love than the love that you think is going to last forever.” I shook my head. “Look, I’ve already admitted I’m a little shaky on the details. You know, you don’t always have to point out the flaws with my plan.”
“Why not?” Stephanie asked. “You point out how flawed marriage is all the time.”
I wanted to argue, but she had me there. It couldn’t be easy to work so hard planning a wedding with me by her side, and she’d still stuck with me, the way she had since the day we met. “You’re right. And the truth is, I’m not sure what I’m going to do about the sex part of the relationship yet. I need to at least know the guy for a while, enough to care about him, but just realize that the love has an expiration date. Or something like that.” I blew out my breath, confused at my own logic, wishing it made more sense. “Until I figure out how to deal with the feelings that come along with sex, I’m not going to be crossing that line.
“Besides, this week I’ll be spending a lot of time with Barbara.” I grabbed my purse off the counter. “I doubt I’ll believe in anything resembling love after she’s done with me.”
…
On my shopping excursion with Barbara, I’d discovered a new furniture store on the west end of town. After we had wrapped up our day, I’d called Jake and asked him if he wanted to meet me at Odds and Ends Furniture Store.
I’d barely had enough time to eat a sandwich and get back to the store before Jake showed up. I led him toward the middle, where mini-living rooms surrounded us on all sides. Most of the rooms were monochromatic—not really how I liked to go—but they had several unique pieces.
“You said you wanted simple and modern. How do you feel about this set up?” I pointed to the black coffee table with chrome.
Jake stared at it, brow furrowed. “Why’s it so short?”
I tapped my finger to my lip as I studied it. “Hmm. It is a little short. There’s the three-tiered coffee table over there.” I motioned to the faux room to the right. “It’d be handy for hiding all your remotes. You can also twist it however you want, so think of the hours of entertainment. Or, if you like the futuristic, there’s a glossy white one…”
I searched around, trying to remember where I’d seen it. “Um, there. In that living room set up that looks like the North Pole. We wouldn’t go all white, but a little would work if we kept the other things more black than white.”
“How are you guys doing today?” a female voice asked.
I turned in search of the voice and saw a saleswoman with a red-lipped smile. Except for the black jacket—the jacket over her boob-squeezing corset top—she looked more like a stripper than a furniture saleswoman.
“We’re good,” I said. “We’re just looking around for living room furniture, seeing what hits us.”
She looked from me to Jake. “Oh, are you guys redecorating and working with what you have? Or are you moving into a new place?”
“Neither. We’re not living together. I’m his…” I wasn’t sure what to say. “I’m an interior designer. He’s got an empty bachelor pad, and I’m helping him decorate it. Our main focus is a coffee table so his dates don’t have to eat off their laps.”
The saleswoman ran a hand through her dark hair. “We can’t have that.” She put her hand on Jake’s elbow. “Come with me,” she purred. “I think I have just what you need.”
Rude! She’s totally flirting with him right in front of me.
I started to follow the two of them, but got distracted when I saw a lamp in the corner that would go great in my bedroom.
After a quick detour to get a closer look, I walked toward the back where I could see Jake and the saleswoman. Standing really close together.
“If you go with something like this, it’s more like a work of art than an ordinary table.” She leaned in, pressing up against him. “Girls like that.”
The coffee table was made up of clear cubes that flipped out every which way. “I think it looks pretentious,” I said. “Besides, it wouldn’t hide anything.”
Her eyes flicked to me, back to the coffee table, then landed on Jake. “I think it’s really hip. Some people can’t pull it off.” Those red lips of her curved into a flirtatious grin as she stared up at Jake. “But I think you could.”
I put my hand in the crook of Jake’s elbow—the one the salesgirl wasn’t plastered against. “I want to show you something.” I shot Miss Perky a tight smile. “Thanks for your help, but I think we’ll just wander around a bit. If we have any questions, we’ll let you know.”
