Combining Riches (Riches to Rags Book 2)

by Mairsile Leabhair

  Finally, I closed my eyes, visualizing my Valentine’s Day surprise for her, and with a smile on my face, I drifted off to sleep.

  Sleeping Beauty — Chris Livingston and Melinda Blackstone

  Why is it so light in here? I tend to wake up slowly and usually disoriented. Especially if it’s the middle of the day and I thought it should be the middle of the night. I felt a weight on my abdomen and saw that Melinda’s arm was stretched across my stomach. She did come back! I carefully turned on my side so I could look at her, sleeping so serenely. She was smiling in her sleep, and I had to suppress a giggle at how cute she looked. Melinda was drop dead gorgeous with her jet black hair, tan skin and onyx eyes that turn a smoky slate gray when she was aroused. I can’t wait to smoke those eyes again.

  While I watched Melinda sleep, arousal pulsed through me with the way her lower lip shivers when she exhales, and I couldn’t help but wonder what I’d gotten her into. I’m damaged goods. My own parents couldn’t take it anymore and kicked me out of their house, leaving me to seek refuge in the liquor bottle. What the hell? Why am I acting this way? It’s been a year and I’ve put all that behind me and moved on… haven’t I? Damn it. Now I’ve lost that twinge of titillation I was enjoying.

  I run my fingers over Melinda’s quivering lips, down her throat and across her collarbone. I feel calmer as I slowly, methodically, touch her slumbering body. I explored her anatomy with my fingers, stroking places I had yet to touch, to see how they responded to my probing, pleased when her skin grew hot under my touch. I blew my warm breath across the tip of her cold breast, and smiled when it caused Melinda’s breathing to change momentarily. I rested two fingers on the tip of her nipple and felt it melt beneath my touch. I smiled, pleased with my study of her body.

  I checked to make sure Melinda was still asleep, and then I began exploring further down. Her muscular abdomen, the elevations of her ribs, the soft underbelly, the taut thighs. I wasn’t trying to stimulate her, or myself for that matter, although my arousal was growing rapidly again anyway. I was trying to glean every response to my touch, like a farmer gleaning his crops, so that those touches would fill this need inside of me. To touch another person in such an intimate way gave me power and self-assuredness. And to know that the woman sleeping beside me knew almost everything about me and yet loved me anyway, gave me hope.

  I wanted to explore further, but feared I had reached the point of no return, so I withdrew my hand.

  “Don’t stop now, I was enjoying myself.”

  “Melinda? You’re awake?”

  She smiled, “Yes, my body told me to wake up before I missed everything. I’m glad it did.”

  “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you, just to feel you,” I said with a smile.

  “I’m not sorry. I can still feel your touch on my breast and wish that I could feel it again.”

  Instantly my hand cupped her breast, my thumb rubbing her nipple. Melinda arched her back to push into my hand.

  “I’m sorry I yelled at you this morning, sweetheart.” I kneaded deeper into her skin. “I wasn’t really angry with you.”

  “I knew…” Melinda gasped with pleasure, “that you weren’t.”

  I slid my hand across her abdomen and back up to her underarm, pulling her breast toward me. “So then, you forgive me?” I teasingly asked, as I took her nipple into my mouth.

  “Oh yes!” she shouted.

  Chapter Ten

  Breakfast for Supper — Chris Livingston, Norma Shelby, and Melinda Blackstone

  “Did you have a nice nap, Chris?” Norma asked from her seat in the nook room.

  “Oh yes. I slept like a rock, and emerged from my cocoon feeling like a queen,” I said, as I kissed Melinda’s hand and then let it go.

  “I did, too, Norma, in case you were wondering.” Melinda said jokingly.

  “I’m pleased to hear it, dear,” said Norma.

  “I’m starved. Is breakfast ready yet?”

  “Chris, breakfast was hours ago, it’s almost time for supper now,” Melinda explained.

  I looked at the wall clock and gasped. “Oh dear. I’ve slept half the day away.”

  “Here, sit down and I’ll see if Konani has some snacks in the kitchen,” Melinda said, not waiting for a reply.

  Norma smiled at me. “You look refreshed.”

  “I feel refreshed. I still get fleeting moments of self-doubt, but I think I can turn them aside now, thanks to you, Norma. You and Melinda and Meg and—”

  Melinda walked back in with a tray full of goodies, from finger sandwiches to mixed fruit, to chocolate chip scones drizzled with icing.

  I snatched up a scone, took a large bite, rolled my eyes in satisfaction and said, “Remind me to give our cook a raise, Melinda.”

  She laughed and, after taking a bite, agreed with me. “I’ll see that raise and raise it,” she said, wolfing down the scone and reaching for another one.

  Charlotte walked in and I offered her a scone, but she was all business, as usual.

  “Thank you, Madame, but no thank you. There’s a Ms. Meg Bumgartner to see you.”

  “Sure, Meg’s my friend, Charlotte, please show her in.”

  “She asked to see you alone, Madame.”

  “Oh. All right, show her to the living room please, and I’ll be right there. Oh, and Charlotte, do you have to call me Madame?”

  “Yes, Madame,” Charlotte said with a stone face, and then left the room.

  We looked at each other and laughed, but just as quickly, my laughter turned to concern. Meg must be here because she found the man I hit. Almost reluctantly, I turned to leave, when Melinda grabbed my hand and put the plate of scones in it. She smiled up at me, and my strength returned.

  Are You Ready for This? — Chris Livingston and Meg Bumgartner

  “Would you like a scone, Meg?” I held up the plate with the delicious, crispy scones on it.

  She shook her head and looked at me keenly “I found out his name and where he lives. Are you ready for this, Chrissie?”

  “Oh, I, um…” I sat the plate down before I dropped it. “I think I am.” It wasn’t that I was wavering so much as quaking inside. I wanted to know, but once I did, there would be no turning back for me. I would be compelled to seek out the man and make amends, which is what I had intended all along, but now, I was suddenly terrified.

  Meg handed me a folder with a single sheet of paper in it. The paper had a picture of a man in a wheelchair, surrounded by two small children, one of which sat in his lap, and a woman with her hand on his shoulder. Tears stung my eyes, and my hands shook so badly that I couldn’t read his name.

  “That’s… that’s him? That’s the man I hit?” I already knew the answer, but I needed to hear it out loud to accept it.

  “Yes, Chrissie. His name is Thomas Clemens. He goes by Tom. That picture was taken six months ago, according to the wife’s Facebook page.”

  “What else do you know about him? Does he have a job? Does he have medical bills? Does he need anything?” I was rambling, looking for instant solace by offering my last penny to help him forgive me.

  Melinda shook her head. “I’m sorry, I don’t know, but I am still checking into his background. I’ve got an informant who is checking some things out for me and I’ll let you know as soon as I hear from him. I found an old news article buried in the Memphis newspaper from the accident. By the looks of the pictures on her Facebook, it looks like the family is well off and living in a mansion not much smaller than this one.”

  “Really? That’s wonderful!” One large stone lifted from the pile of stones pressing on my heart.

  “So how do you want to proceed, Chrissie? Do you want to wait until I hear from my informant?”

  “Oh, um.” I swallowed back my fear, remembering what Norma had suggested. “No, I want to meet him, and his, um, his family, too.”

  “I can make a call and set it up for you, if you’d like?” Meg offered.

  “Yes, I’d like that a
lot. And Norma suggested that you accompany me, if you don’t mind?”

  She nodded. “I don’t mind, but might I suggest that you leave Blackie at home?”

  I couldn’t help but smile. “That was Norma’s thinking also. Melinda won’t like it, but I think you’re right. I’ll ask her to let me go alone.”

  “And Chrissie, have you spoken with your parents yet?”

  “Oh, no, not yet. I wasn’t sure until just now that I would go through with it.”

  “Well, I have time now, if you want to go over there. Remember, I wanted to be with you when you told them. Maybe I can carry some of the load for you.”

  My eyes misted over. “You deserve a better friend than I am to you, Meg, because I’d like that very much.”

  She pulled out her car keys. “All right then, let’s go.”

  “Would you mind giving me a few minutes first?”

  “Sure, I’ll just call my wife and let her know where I’ll be.”

  I picked up the plate and turned to leave, but Meg grabbed a scone first, before she pulled out her cellphone.

  Entering the nook again, I set the plate of scones on the table and looked at Norma. “Would you excuse us a minute. I need to speak with Melinda.”

  “Of course, dear. George will keep me company, won’t you, George?”

  George had just walked in the room and discovered the scones before he acknowledged anyone. With his mouth full, he nodded, and sat down beside her.

  I pulled Melinda outside the door and onto the porch.

  Please Don’t Be Mad at Me — Chris Livingston and Melinda Blackstone

  I sat down on the porch swing and patted the spot next to me. Melinda sat down and positioned herself sideways, with one leg tucked up under the other, so that she could look at me. But I wasn’t ready yet, so I stayed facing straight ahead, gathering my thoughts so that I wouldn’t just blurt it out.

  “So, um, Meg found out the name of the man who I hit with my car,” I said cautiously.

  Melinda nodded. “Yeah, I thought that was why she was here. What did she tell you about him?”

  I handed her the folder and gave her a moment to look at the photo. “He has a nice-looking family, don’t you think?”

  “Yeah, nice.” She handed the folder back to me and asked, “So, what’s the plan? When do we go meet him?”

  “I have to tell my parents first.”

  “Why?” Melinda asked. “What difference will it make if they know?”

  “Because, it was my father who paid him off with a signed statement, witnessed by Dad’s lawyer, that the man would never reveal who hit him.”

  “And he probably still won’t,” said Melinda. “But you weren’t bound by that settlement, so it’s your choice to make.”

  “I know, but I want to tell my parents. I owe them that.”

  “Okay then, let’s go tell your folks.”

  “Oh, um, that’s what I wanted to talk with you about.” I turned so that I was facing her, and I forced myself to look her in the eyes. “Meg is going with me to see my parents, and when I meet this man. Um, I think it would be a good idea if, um, you didn’t come with me.” Oh God, the hurt look on her face crushed me.

  “Okay, if that’s what you want,” she said and turned around, staring straight ahead.

  “Please, let me explain.”

  “What’s to explain? You’d rather go with Meg than with me. I get it.”

  “No, you don’t get it.” I picked up her hand, and she didn’t pull it away. I held it to my cheek for a moment. “I love you more than I ever thought I could love someone. I ache for you when you’re not with me. I just think that you are too, um, aggressive, sometimes. If this man needs to lash out at me, I need to let him do that. If he screams at me and spits in my face, I need to turn the other cheek. If you are there, my love, quite frankly, you would lose control, and try to take the punishment for me. I love that about you, but I need to be the one to take what’s coming, not you.”

  “Then why is Meg going with you?”

  “Remember when we first met? You were upset that I served you eggs that had the sticky egg whites? You called it egg snot.”

  “Yeah, I was being a bitch,” Melinda said halfheartedly.

  “Well, Meg was there, watching the exchange. Although she wanted to interrupt, she restrained herself instead. Meg was my protector when I didn’t know I had one. She watched over me, but didn’t interfere. She will only be there to assure I’m not hurt, but she won’t interfere if he becomes angry and yells at me. You understand, don’t you?” I held my breath, waiting on her reply.

  “Yeah, sure. I understand.” She wouldn’t meet my eyes, so I lifted her chin with my finger, and turned her head toward me. She finally looked at me, and said, “It’s okay, Chris. I do understand.”

  “Are you very hurt?” I probably should have just accepted that she understood, but I could feel a distance forming between us and it scared me.

  “Nah, not very much.” A smile crept across her lips. “Besides, I know how you can make it up to me.”

  “Tell me.”

  “You’ll have to wait until Valentine’s Day to find out,” she said teasingly.

  “Oh, okay. But I was hoping for something a little more immediate.” I placed my hand on her thigh and lightly dug my fingernails in.

  Melinda inhaled sharply. “I thought Meg was waiting on you?”

  “Let her wait. I need help with something that only you can provide for me.”

  “And that would be?” she asked.

  “An orgasm.”

  Melinda’s dark eyes lightened with arousal. “I will be very happy to help you out with that. Would you like one scream or two?”

  “Oh, definitely two please.”

  “Then we’d best go up to our bedroom first,” Melinda said, a smirk forming on her lips. “We wouldn’t want Meg to run out here with her gun and shoot me.”

  I grabbed Melinda’s hand and pull her up, and together we ran into the house, past Meg, and up the stairs, still holding hands. I yelled at Meg over my shoulder that I would be just a minute or two… or three.

  The Way Melinda Saw It — Melinda Blackstone

  So it’s come to this. I brought Chris to climax twice, as promised. And then she left with another woman. I trust her. It’s not that. It’s just that it should be me by her side instead of Meg. It should be me protecting her. It should be me comforting her during the most difficult time of her life. Why isn’t it me? Because I’m too aggressive? Well, fuck that. Am I supposed to give up every piece of myself to be with her? Hell, no. Rationally, if I rephrased that question, the answer would be different. Would I give up every piece of myself to be with her? Hell, yes.

  I’ll admit, like a pimply faced teenager, that her rejection cut me to the core. But again, if I rationalize it, she wasn’t rejecting me, she was protecting me. Yes, I like that thought. She was trying to protect me from… me. Aw fuck that, too. Damn it.

  I didn’t follow Chris down when she left, because I had no desire to see Meg grinning at me, knowing that she was probably enjoying my torment. Instead, I stayed in our room, pacing and sulking. Finally I came to the conclusion that I was missing something. Jealousy perhaps. Oh, hell, yeah. I’m jealous that I can’t share that part of Chris’s life with her, but Meg can. I’m jealous, and I’m pissed.

  I paced over to the window and looked out at the setting sun. The river is especially beautiful at this time of day. Where the sun’s orange rays scintillate across the ripples of the river and cheer my heart with its sparkling dance. That is until I look down and see Chris get into Meg’s car, and they drive off.

  I turned away from the window, fist clenched, teeth grinding, and made my way to the work-out room, so I could work some things out with my fists.

  But Daddy, I’m a Big Girl Now — Chris Livingston, Meg Bumgartner, and Carl & Felicia Livingston

  “Mom, Dad, I’m home!” I hadn’t been home since I was kicked out, so it was wi
th a mixture of excitement and trepidation when I crossed the threshold into the vestibule. The butler, whom I didn’t recognize, asked us to wait, and he would inform my father that I was here, so I guess I hadn’t quite made it all the way inside the house yet. It was probably fitting, considering what I had put my parents through.

  Mom came waltzing down the stairs in her signature tunic-length, jade, turquoise and lavender Kimono jacket that flowed effortlessly behind her as she descended. Her arms outstretched, she embraced me as if she hadn’t just seen me a few days ago. I didn’t want her to ever let go, but of course, she did, and gave Meg a quick hug before leading us into the study, where my father sat, reading the latest trends in the financials.

  “Dad, can I come into your home?” I asked him, irrationally frightened of his answer.

  “Of course, Chris. This is your home, too.”

  Dad had no idea how much I wanted to hear him say that. As tears instantly overflowed my eyes, I realized that I had just fulfilled my deepest longing. Ever since I had been asked to leave, I had dreamed of being asked to return. My father, for all his no-nonsense tough ways, was crying also, which made me cry even more. We embraced, and Dad held me close while I sobbed into his shoulder. Mom joined us, and together the mixture of our tears washed away the pain of the past and cultivated the growth of our future.

  Finally, when I had no more tears left to shed, we separated, each grabbing a tissue from the table to wipe our eyes. And then I remembered that Meg was standing there, and I looked over at her, but her back was turned to me. She was also wiping away her tears.

  “So, what brings you back home, Chris?” Dad blew his nose and then grunted with satisfaction. “Not that I’m not glad to see you, of course.”