by Em Taylor
David nodded.
“Umm, not to rain on your parade here, Rory, but is Lacey on board with this little claiming ceremony?” Olivia asked.
I huffed and spun on my heel, leaving them to their dry humping. I slammed the door and stomped down the short hallway to my bedroom. Bloody women and their details.
Grabbing a towel from my bottom drawer, I headed for the shower.
I undressed and stepped under the lukewarm spray. We needed to talk to the landlord about the shower. It was crap.
Taking myself in hand, images of Lacey filled my mind. Me and her against the lamp post. Me slipping my hand up her skirt, right on the busy four-lane Great Western Road. My fingers sliding into her tights and knickers, finding her wet and ready for me. Making her gasp. Claiming those lips as I pushed my fingers into her wet heat.
That was all it took.
I didn’t even get to the good part before an orgasm barrelled down my spine, and I shot my load all over the frosted glass of the shower stall. I leaned against the cool tiles, my breath coming in gasps as I pumped the last few drops of cum out of my dick.
Lacey Kendrick was very much still in my system, and I was going to have to do something about it.
Chapter 6
Lacey
“SO BABY GIRL, WHAT’S new in the big city?” said my mum.
I laughed as I moved around the kitchen island and grabbed an apple, selecting a knife to chop it into slices.
“Nothing much. The hounds of Glasgow are in good health, the cats are still looking at me as if they wish me a slow and cruel death, and the budgerigars are ambivalent.”
“Are you seeing anyone? What about the nice vet you met at the conference?”
“It turned out he was married. He wasn’t my type, so I didn’t mind nothing happening.”
“That’s a shame. Any other men on the horizon?”
“Not really.”
“Not really? Does that mean there is someone you might consider?”
“No. I mean, absolutely not.” I sighed. “I ran into Rory Thompson the other night in a bar in Byres Road.”
“That boy!” The loudspeaker crackled, protesting at the force of her words. “You stay away from him Lacey Marie Kendrick. He’s bad news.”
“I know. I will. Although, he’s not a boy anymore. He’s thirty-one and a man.”
Definitely all man. Sheesh, I thought I was going to combust when he leaned in close, and if I shut my eyes, I could still feel his big rod sandwiched between us. I had missed his dick. I’d been tempted to reach my hand down and stroke it—to squeeze it and hear him groan my name the way he used to.
“Are you listening to me, Lacey?” my mother asked.
I pulled myself from my thoughts before I crossed a line I couldn’t come back from. Mum was back to chuntering about how Rory broke my heart even though I’d taken him in and given him everything—including a family. Hurt and disappointment still rang in her voice. Even now, it affected her.
“I know, Mum. Of course I’m not getting back with him. We were kids, and it’s all in the past. I won’t make that mistake again. Once bitten, twice shy and all that.”
“Indeed. You can’t tame a rabid dog. You should know that as a vet.”
I winced. “He’s not rabid, Mum. More of an easily spooked horse.”
“I prefer my analogy, thank you very much. Don’t you go soft on him. I know you and strays, you’re too soft-hearted.”
“I’m not going to go soft on him. I’m never putting myself in that situation again. I became someone I’m not after he left, and I’ll never let a guy turn me into someone else.”
“How so?”
I shook my head, even though Mum couldn’t see it down the phone. “Let’s say I wasn’t a nice person for a while. I’m fine now, but I don’t trust anyone, and I certainly don’t trust Rory Thompson. I doubt I’ll see him again anyway, so it’s fine. You go back to your knitting, and I need to get back to this series I’m watching on Netflix.”
“Okay, pet. Speak next week. Dad sends his love.”
“Tell him I said hi and I send my love back.”
“Will do.”
I reckoned I had reassured her. But even if I hadn’t, I was right. I was unlikely to see Rory again. It would probably be another six years before our paths crossed.
Thank goodness.
Chapter 7
Rory
I GOT TO THE PUB AND looked around for David. He and Olivia were sitting in the corner, and I started over towards them. As I rounded the horseshoe-shaped bar, more of the table came into view. A woman with auburn hair sat opposite them with her back to me. I’d recognise that hair anywhere. Lacey.
“Um, hi?” I said, glowering at David.
Lacey turned and her face paled. I glanced down at her and gave her a tight smile.
“Okay, this is not a set up.” Olivia said. “We’re not trying to get you two back together because God knows that would be a terrible idea.”
I flicked my gaze from the love of my life to Olivia.
Olivia looked from me to her own best friend with a pleading look. “David asked me to marry him last night.”
Lacey’s eyebrows rose and her eyes widened, then she leapt out of her chair and tried to hug her friend over the table while avoiding the full pint glasses.
“Oh my God, Liv, that’s amazing. Congratulations. I’m so pleased for you.” She withdrew and frowned. “You said yes, didn’t you?”
“Of course, you eejit.”
“Phew. That could have been embarrassing.” Her immediate excitement over, Lacey scowled at me then moved more carefully around the table to give David a less exuberant hug, leaving me the chance to lean over and congratulate Olivia in a friendly embrace.
“I hope you’ll both be very happy.” I pulled David to his feet and wrapped an arm around his shoulder. He did likewise and we patted each other’s backs just long enough that it didn’t get awkward.
“She’s the one. When you know, you know.”
I swallowed hard as I stepped back and smiled at my friend. He had no idea how much he’d just stabbed me through the heart. I’d had what he had, and I threw it away.
Lacey and Olivia were in a huddle discussing rings, frocks, and God knows what else.
David nudged his fiancée. When she turned back to him, he gestured to me and Lacey.
“Oh yeah,” she said. “We asked you both here so you can bury the hatchet because, Lacey, I want you to be my maid of honour, and Rory ...”
She turned to David and smiled.
“Yeah man, you’ll be my best man, right?” he asked.
I rolled my eyes. “Only because you asked me so eloquently.”
“Oh, forgive me ... wait. Voulez-vous est mon homme ... err best.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Not bad for someone who last did French in second year at secondary school. I take it you got voulez-vous from the song ‘Voulez-vous coucher avec moi ce soir.’”
He grinned. “The very one.”
“In case you get married again, it should be ‘veux tu être mon garçon d’honneur?”
“I’ll remember that if I ever need it again.”
Olivia slapped him on the arm.
“Bet you’re glad you never married him,” Olivia said to Lacey.
Lacey skewered me with a look, then turned to her friend. “He never asked.”
“His loss.”
“Indeed.”
I couldn’t have put it better myself.
“It’s going to be a relatively low-key event, but our families will be there,” Olivia said. “Lacey, I’d like your Mum and Dad there if they can. It’s in three weeks, which is as quickly as the registry office will let us arrange it. We have the City Chambers booked. There was a cancellation.”
“Why so quick?” Lacey asked.
Olivia gazed at the table, a delicate shade of pink radiating over her cheeks as she pressed her hand to her belly. David wrapped his arm around her shoulders an
d covered her hand.
“We’re expecting,” he said.
“A baby?” I asked.
“No, a fucking dragon, you moron.” Lacey said, elbowing me in the ribs. She lifted Olivia’s pint of Coke. “It’s all making sense now. The queasiness you told me was a three-day hangover, the lack of alcohol, and the glow in your skin.”
“Glow, my arse. I look like death—I feel like death. This wee shite better play for Partick Thistle when it’s older.”
“Aw, come on, give the bairn something to aim for. You should instil some ambition into it. If he can’t play for Real Madrid, he can at least play for Rangers,” I said.
“Eh, my son will play for Celtic,” David put in. David and I agreed on most things but not on which of Glasgow’s two biggest football teams was the best.
“My godson will play for Rangers,” I insisted.
“I hope for your sake you have a wee girl and we can take her to ballet and gymnastics,” Lacey said.
“Fuck that, she’s going to Hogwarts,” said Olivia, patting her flat belly.
We all laughed and raised our drinks.
Lacey stood to make the toast. “To Hogwarts in just under twelve years’ time.”
Chapter 8
Lacey
“WHAT’S THE PLAN THIS evening?” I asked Olivia, as I met her for a burger in McDonalds in Anniesland, about a mile from where I lived.
I had driven there since she’d asked if I could give her a lift to the cake testing in a town a few miles out of the city. Olivia was still very much a student at heart. She’d dyed her natural brown hair black with pink highlights; wore copious amounts of black liquid eyeliner, too pale a foundation, and sported eyebrow and lip rings; and she worked in a small independent chain of bakeries. “Mrs Grodzicki is keeping the shop in Paisley open late. We’re meeting David and Rory there to taste cakes and decide which one she’s going to donate to the reception as our wedding present.” She grinned.
“Okaaaay ... but Rory must have a car, so why do you need me?”
Her mouth fell open, then she closed it. Hurt flashed through her gaze. “You like cake. I want you to be part of organising my wedding.”
“Number eighty-six,” called the young girl behind the counter.
“That’s me,” I muttered and hurried away to collect my order. When I returned, Olivia frowned over her Big Mac as she munched into it. I ignored her as I stuck my straw into my drink and unwrapped my sandwich.
“I need ketchup,” I said.
“Got you some,” she said, holding out a sachet. “Look, Lace ...”
“Don’t call me that. Only Rory called me that.”
She sat back and sighed. “It’s been six years—six fucking years. You see him once and we’re back to this?”
“Back to what?” I hissed.
“Moping and brooding. Are you going to start screwing half of Glasgow again too?”
I rolled my eyes. “Hardly.”
“Look, he’s a grown up. You were kids when you were together before.”
“He was twenty-five when he dumped me. That’s not a kid, it’s a grown-assed man.”
“You know guys take longer to mature than women.”
I picked at the wrapper of my sandwich, not meeting her gaze. “Rubbish. There are guys who are great fathers at that age. Men who are happily married. He was a goddamn teacher with responsibilities.”
“Sure, but he wasn’t ready for that step yet.”
“He’s a dick. He’ll never be ready for that step.” I took another bite of my sandwich.
“He’s maturing. He’s applying for Head of Department jobs. His career is on track and he’s happy. He needs someone special in his life.”
“I can assure you, that someone special, isn’t going to be me. Can we stop talking about this?”
She nodded and took another big bite of her sandwich.
WHEN OLIVIA AND I WALKED into the bakery, David and Rory were already there. Large photos of what the finished cakes would look like rested on the table next to each sample of cake. Rory, who had a terrible sweet tooth, was grinning from ear to ear.
“Hey,” he said, his gaze roaming up and down my body.
“It seems all your Christmases have come at once,” I said.
“This is nirvana for me.”
“I remember.”
He leaned in close. “What else do you remember, Lacey?”
A shiver ran through me. However, I needed to stay strong. This man broke me, and I wouldn’t let it happen again. “I remember you walking away from my car that night without even looking back.”
He grimaced. “I was a dickhead.”
“Yes, you were.”
Mrs Grodzicki bustled into the room, nodding a greeting to me and Olivia. She handed us each a plate for us to taste the cake. “This is the lemon.”
I scooped up a small forkful and lifted it to my lips. The second the light and airy sponge touched my tongue, tingles of lemon burst in my mouth, not too sour or sweet. My moan was almost obscene, and Rory raised an eyebrow.
“What?” I asked. “It’s nice.”
“Nothing. It’s just you used to make that noise when I put my tongue on your ...”
“Shhh!”
His smile was wicked, and he slid a mouthful of cake between his lips. “It is delicious ...just like your pussy.”
I tried to ignore him and focus on the cake, but as each sweet treat was given to us, his noises became sexier and more profane. At first they turned me on, then they made me giggle, and by the end, I was struggling not to pee myself laughing. I’d forgotten what good company he was.
“The red velvet is the best, and the chocolate is the second best. If you want to go more traditional, lemon drizzle would be a hit,” he told Olivia.
I nodded my agreement. “The man knows his cakes.”
“I know everything beginning with c,” said Rory.
No doubt, with his filthy mind, he meant something sexual, but I feigned ignorance. “You mean chats, chiens, châteaux.”
“I see your French accent hasn’t improved.”
“But my French kissing has,” I sniped.
“You can’t be the judge of a skill like that. Only someone who has kissed you in the past can judge.”
“Hmm, I need to ask my mum if Anthony is still working in the local grocers. He was the first boy I French kissed. He can tell me if I improved.” I sat back slightly, and raised an eyebrow, satisfied I’d bested him.
“I can assure you, you improved in the six years you were with me. That tongue became wicked—in more ways than one.” His tongue darted out to lick his lips.
I was glad everyone else was ignoring us and discussing cakes. I shook my head, hoping he didn’t notice my involuntary shudder as memories of using my tongue all over his lean body flooded my mind. He’d been athletic at university, playing for the university’s field hockey team. He’d even kept it up after university, finding a men’s team in Glasgow. It was how he and David had connected since they’d been on different courses. He’d even been in with a chance of playing in the Scottish national team, except a ligament injury stopped him playing that year. Poor thing had been frustrated as hell, and looking back, that was the year it all started going south in our relationship.
“Do you still play hockey?” I asked.
He raised an eyebrow. “Not with my tongue.”
I giggled. “Sorry, I was thinking of something else.”
“Care to share.”
Heat suffused my cheeks.
“No. I don’t think so.”
“I see.” He pointed at my face and circled his finger, gesturing to it all. “You have your ‘I’ve been caught thinking naughty thoughts’ look on your face. I can live with that.”
I pursed my lips and scowled. “I do not.”
“Lacey, honey, you haven’t changed at all. I can read you like a book.”
“Then you’ll be able to read that I still think you’re an immature fuckwit
who runs about with a stick after a ball. You’re such a man-child.”
“Yeah, I run about with a stick teaching twelve-year olds discipline and teamwork, Lace. All skills they’ll need in life. I’m such a terrible person for giving a shit about kids who live in one of the most deprived parts of our city. That said, I’m still in an adult team because it’s fun. Do you remember what that is? You should try it sometime.”
He got up and walked over to Olivia. “I gotta dash, Liv. For what it’s worth, they’re all delish. My favourite is the lemon, but pick your favourite. It’s your wedding.”
Olivia beamed at him and gave him a big hug, raising her eyebrows at me over his shoulder. I shrugged. I was not explaining what had happened. I had every right not to be taken in by his crap. He’d devastated me before, and I wouldn’t be that person again, even if he did keep showing me the good parts of him were still there—the parts I fell in love with, and the parts I would probably always love.
Chapter 9
Twelve Years Earlier
Lacey
“THAT GUY THERE IS CHECKING you out,” Olivia said, leaning close to be heard over the music in the Queen Margaret Union of Glasgow University and pointing to the opposite end of the bar. We’d chosen to join this union because we were told it was trendier than the Glasgow University Union, and they were definitely our people.
I glanced over to where two guys stood, both looking in our general direction. They were cute but turned away when they saw us looking. One was black with short hair, red glasses, and a slim frame. The other one was white and more muscular. He had hair that was slightly too long and a cheeky grin as he peered over his pint glass.
“Which one was checking me out?” I asked.
“The white dude.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah. Deffo the one on the right.”
“I didn’t mean are you sure it wasn’t his pal checking me out, I meant are you sure he was checking me out?” I said, leaning back on my bar stool and having another look at the two guys.
