by CL Rowell
“Your fi—I see.” If looks could kill, the daggers shooting from her chilly blue eyes would have dropped me in my tracks. “Follow me.”
She attempted to place us right by the kitchen where waiters and busboys passed in and out of the swinging doors like clockwork, but he wasn’t having it.
“This is unacceptable.”
She pouted at him, batting her obviously fake and heavily made up lashes. “Sorry, doll, but it’s all we have available at the moment for a party of two.”
“Where’s the manager? Is Paul still working evening shift? I’m sure he can find us a better table.”
“Oh, he’s busy. I’ll—”
“Geoff!” Speak of the devil. I watched the hostess’s face fall as the manager showed up. “Is Jasmine treating you well?”
“Of course, I—” she tried to interject, but Geoff cut her off.
“She claims this table in the middle of a high traffic area is the only available spot for me and my fiancée to be seated. We won’t be able to converse at anything less than a shout sitting here. Can you find us something better or should we go elsewhere? 2Johns is fifteen or twenty minutes from here depending on traffic—perhaps they’ll be more accommodating.”
“No, no, that won’t be necessary. I’m sure we can find a more acceptable table for you.” He pursed his lips in disapproval as he eyed the hostess. “Return to your station and I’ll seat these two. We’ll speak later.” We followed him to a private table in a much quieter area. “Will this be more to your liking?”
“Much better.” Geoff slipped him a folded bill of undetermined denomination—but knowing him, it was probably a hundred. “The perfect spot to celebrate our engagement with my future bride.”
He beamed, delighted, “Ah, so congratulations are in order! I’ll send over a complimentary bottle of champagne with your waitress! Enjoy your meal.”
We tried to follow his suggestion but everyone in the restaurant—or so it seemed—stopped by to either congratulate us or, in more than a few cases, flirt with my fake fiancé. I felt inexplicably perturbed by the parade of willing females ranging in age from eighteen to their mid-forties—and he was right when he said not all of them were single. I knew for a fact that two or three of the ones we saw were very much married. What a bunch of brazen hussies!
My meal tasted like sawdust in my mouth after the constant parade of wannabe future Mrs. Blanxarts but I knew it wasn’t the food. It was the green monster swirling in my chest clawing to get out.
Geoff frowned at my barely touched plate. “You feeling okay?”
“Yeah, I just lost my appetite. I’m sure it’ll come roaring back after we leave.”
Understanding dawned in his eyes, “Want a to go plate?”
“Yes!”
“Dessert, too?”
Drool pooled in my mouth. “Bourbon pecan pie?”
“You got it.” He flagged our waitress down, “Ticket, please, and bring two containers for our leftovers and toss in two big pieces of Bourbon pecan pie, please.”
“Right away, sir.”
We emptied our plates into the Styrofoam containers and placed them in the bag with our pie while she ran his card. I drained my champagne flute and eyed the mostly full bottle with a sad sigh.
“Seems like such a waste to leave a perfectly good bottle of champagne behind to go to waste.”
“Who says we have to?” He crammed the cork back inside the mouth of the bottle and tilted it experimentally. When it didn’t leak, he slipped it inside the bag with our food.
I scanned the tables around us and hissed, “Can we do that?”
“If we don’t get caught.” He shrugged. “Just act natural.”
Just act natural. Ha! “You’re going to put that bag in the trunk, right?”
“Will it make you more comfortable?”
“It will.”
“Then of course I’m putting it in the trunk.” And he did. After the waitress brought his card back, we walked out arm in arm with the bag gently swinging on the wrist of the arm I held. No one said a word, and after we reached the car, he opened the trunk and securely stashed everything, placing it so the bottle wouldn’t tip over and roll around, jostling the volatile liquid inside. “Better?”
“Much.” I giggled when he opened my door for me, wondering what they’d think when they couldn’t find the empty bottle.
He cocked his head to the side. “What?”
“I think we’re breaking the law…”
“Nah, we’re good.” He shook his head. “We’re fine.”
“Then why have bars always made me toss my drink before leaving?”
“Because it was an open container—daiquiri huts sell closed cups of alcohol and it’s legal as long as you don’t break the seal.”
I sniffed and rolled my eyes, “You have an answer for everything don’t you?”
“Well, not everything.” Turning the key in the ignition, he winked at me. “Almost everything, maybe.”
“Haha.” We rode back to my building in a comfortable silence.
“Can I walk you to your door?”
I shook my head, not having to pretend to feel regretful. “The RA is real strict about not letting us have guys in our rooms at night.”
“I know. I had to ask, though. What if I walk you to the elevator?”
“You can do that.” I climbed out and we rescued the bag from the trunk. “Don’t forget to take out your leftovers and your pie,” I reminded him.
We walked in and the RA, Anna, peeked out. “Hi, Geoff. Liz, you know the rules. No men in the building after nine—and it’s nine-thirty.”
“I know. He’s just walking me to the elevator.”
I knew the instant she saw the ring on my finger. Her eyes got round, her mouth dropped into an ‘o’ of surprise, and she almost fell over. “Is that what I think it is?”
I held my hand out, beaming proudly, “If you think it’s an engagement ring, then yeah.”
“No shit—you two are engaged?” She rushed over and dragged my hand closer so she could inspect the ring.
He nodded, “We are.”
“Prove it.”
We exchanged glances and I wiggled my fingers, making the diamonds flash. “Proof.”
“Not good enough.”
“What would be good enough?”
“Kiss him.”
My lips parted and I blinked. Kiss him. “H-how does that prove more than the ring does?”
“It just does. I can put on a ring and call myself engaged, but it doesn’t mean I am. A kiss will tell me if it’s really real.”
Will it? Can she really tell if we’re lying by a kiss? What if our cover’s blown right here in the first-floor hallway of my building?
Geoff stepped in, “I was planning on kissing her goodnight anyway. If watching gives you your jollies, fine—watch and learn.”
Watch and learn? Did you seriously say that? I mouthed the words, but no sound came out because right then it hit me that he was actually going to kiss me for real. Oh my god, raced through my mind, he’s really fixing to kiss me! I opened my mouth to say…something…anything…though I didn’t know what to say—but he brought his free hand up to cup my jaw, raising my chin to bring my lips higher, and words wouldn’t come. I watched as his head lowered and his lips came closer…and closer…and closer to mine. My eyes drifted closed against my will as I felt the first brush of his warm breath across the sensitive skin of my quivering mouth. All I could think is oh my god, Geoff is going to give me my very first kiss. Should I tell him?
Before I could come to a decision it was too late. His lips settled on mine, brushing back and forth as if he was molding them to his preferred shape. With every brush of skin on skin my lips softened and parted a little more in anticipation. I wanted that kiss. I wanted it badly. Without thinking, I went up on tiptoe, sliding my hands up over his chest and his shoulders to clasp around his neck. My tongue ventured out to lick across his lower lip before slippin
g inside to engage his in play. I could still taste the tanginess of the champagne as our tongues explored and fluttered, flirted and tangled together. My heart pounded in my ears, echoing as loud as a bass drum. I gasped for breath, but I didn’t want to come up for air. That kiss was amazing. Chills chased up and down my body. My nipples hardened into tight sensitive pebbles. Something in my lower belly tightened and an ache built between my legs. I couldn’t get enough of him—
“Okay, okay, you’ve made your point. That’s enough.” Her tone was curt.
Cool air chilled my damp lips as he pulled away, and I blinked, wondering what had just happened—wondering when my crush had turned to love, as my whole world tilted on its axis. Shit.
Chapter Seven
Geoff
∞∞∞
Kiss him. Did she really just say that? I locked eyes with Juliet. Dare we? Without thinking, I opened my mouth to speak, unsure of what I was going to say until I said it. “I was planning on kissing her goodnight anyway. If watching gives you your jollies, fine—watch and learn.”
I watched Juliet’s lips move as she mouthed my last words in disbelief, then asked—silently—if I really said that. Making my mind up, I cupped her face in my hand, lifting her lips to mine. Not wanting to rush her, I brushed my mouth back and forth across hers and marveled at the way her lips softened under mine. I felt them part and then, to my surprise, she rose up onto her toes and her arms slipped around my neck. Her tongue glided across my lips and into my mouth, tangling with mine. She tasted sweet, like honey, but with a hint of tartness from the champagne we had with dinner.
I pulled her closer, hoping she couldn’t feel how hard I’d become in just those last few seconds. Would my desire and excitement shock her? I could feel her heart racing against the skin of my chest through my shirt and wondered if she could feel mine, too. My movements were awkward, like the fumblings of a novice, and I winced. I was no man-whore, but I was no innocent either. I didn’t want her to think I was some young pup, still wet behind the ears. I’ve been around the block a few times—but there was something about her. There always has been, from day one. There’s something about her that wraps around me and makes me want to be perfect—but when she seemed to only want my friendship, I vowed to be the perfect friend instead. However, this was no friendly peck. This was a kiss of desire and passion—a kiss full of emotion. Could she possibly—
“Okay, okay, you’ve made your point. That’s enough.”
No, it’s not. It can never be enough. But I didn’t want to get Juliet, my Juliet, in any trouble with her RA so I pulled away.
“I should head up.” Her face was flushed, and I wondered how much was from the kiss and how much was from embarrassment.
“I’ll walk you to the elevator.” As the doors opened, I handed her the bag with the food and champagne inside. “Don’t forget this. See you tomorrow?”
She nodded and swallowed, licking her lips. “See you tomorrow.”
I waited until the doors closed before heading out.
“Hey.” I looked back and the RA, a cute girl with perky teacup tits and a black pixie, winked. “If it doesn’t work out, call me.”
I just shook my head and walked out the door. Foreboding filled me. What had I gotten myself into? We still had over a month of pretending ahead of us and a wedding to get through. It suddenly occurred to me that others would expect the same behavior that girl had. Newly engaged lovebirds kiss and touch—a lot. How would I be able to kiss and touch her for several weeks and walk away unscathed? The answer? I wouldn’t be able to.
My phone vibrated in my pocket as I reached my Mustang. It was Juliet.
Everyone is going to expect us to act like that, aren’t they?
Brilliant minds think alike. I smiled. Yeah, probably.
How do you feel about that?
My dick grew harder as I thought about it. Unsure about how to respond, I lobbed the question back at her. How do you feel about it?
I asked you first.
I asked you second. I snickered as I pressed send.
I guess I could do it if you could. It wasn’t bad as far as kisses go.
Wasn’t bad? That stung! Have you had better?
Several minutes passed and I was beginning to think she wouldn’t answer.
I didn’t say that.
That wasn’t what I asked.
There was another long pause and again I wondered if she would just not respond and what I’d do if that was the case. I knew I couldn’t let it go. Had she kissed someone who kissed better than me? If so, who?
No.
No, what?
No, I haven’t had better.
My heart swelled in my chest and a permanent grin tattooed itself across my lower face. Oh.
That’s all you can say? I could practically hear the ire in her text. Have you?
Have I what? I grinned, knowing full well what she was asking.
Have you had better?
No.
Oh.
Grinning, I started the car and pointed it in the direction of my condo, not in the mood to socialize with the guys at the frat house, or any random females that might show up unannounced looking for me, either. I wanted to be alone, to think about the new and unexpected turn of events that had flipped my whole life upside-down. If anyone had told me even a week prior to that day that I’d be engaged to my best friend within a week I’d have laughed my ass off. If they’d told me we’d kiss and fireworks would fill the sky, I’d…well, no…I always knew it would be fireworks with her. I just didn’t think I’d get the chance to show her until—well, until her RA ordered us to lock lips.
As I pulled into the garage at the condo and hit the remote to close the door my phone buzzed again. It was my mom. She never called so late at night. My mind immediately jumped to the worst-case scenario I could imagine. Had something happened to Dad or Grandpa? Ready to panic, I answered.
“Hello? Is everything okay?”
“You tell me?”
“Huh?” My fingers relaxed their grip on the phone and on the steering wheel. “I’m fine. You scared the crap out of me, though. I thought something happened to Dad or Grandpa.”
“No, no, they’re fine. I just got an interesting phone call, though.”
“Really?” I was immediately on guard. “From who?”
“Whom, Geoff—it’s whom. You aren’t an owl.”
“Fine.” I gritted my teeth. “From whom did you receive this mysterious call?”
“Remember Judith Verdone, Jasmine’s mother?”
“Vaguely.”
“Well, she called with some rather interesting news.”
I remained noncommittal. “Really? What did she have to say?”
She turned the tables, “Is there something you want to tell me?”
But I remained stubbornly, purposely, obtuse. “She called to ask you if there was something you wanted to tell her? Did she have any reason to think you had something you wanted to tell her?”
“No! Gah!” The frustration was thick in her voice. “That wasn’t what I meant. I was asking you if you had something you wanted to tell me.”
“Oh. Oooohhh! Well, you weren’t very clear about it. You said Mrs. Verdone called you so of course I thought—and understandably so—you were still talking about her. I hope you don’t drive like you talk, jumping from lane to lane without signaling your intent. If you are, somebody is going to hit you one of these days and—”
“Geoff Jonathon Blanxart, are you and that sweet girl, Juliet Palomas, engaged or not?”
“Yes, we are.”
“And why did I, your loving mother, who labored for thirty-six long hours to bring you into this world, forever ruining her pelvic floor in the process, have to find out second hand from a busybody, that her only son was engaged to be married?”
“Sorry, Mom.”
“Sorry, Mom? That’s all you have to say? Sorry, Mom?”
“Well, it isn’t like I planned for it to
happen that way,” I lied. “We only got engaged earlier tonight. Jasmine was working up front as hostess and showed us to a table. I guess she called her mother to tell her about our engagement—but it isn’t like I planned it that way. I didn’t say hey Jasmine, have your mom call my mom and tell her I proposed to Juliet tonight, totally ruining the announcement we’re making tomorrow.”
“You’re making an announcement tomorrow?”
“Well, we were going to, but I don’t know about now. Jasmine and her mother totally ruined the surprise. Juliet will be so disappointed, too.” I forced myself to remember how sad I was last year when my Rottweiler, Cuddles, (don’t judge me) passed away at the age of seventeen, so my voice would convey the appropriate sadness. An unexpected flood of tears blurred my vision, letting me know I overdid it a bit, but it couldn’t be helped. I still missed that dog and time hadn’t softened the blow one iota. I did feel a twinge of remorse for using his memory in that way, but I knew he’d understand. It was for a good cause.
Chapter Eight
Juliet
∞∞∞
I had finished the last of my filet mignon and the marinated crab claws appetizer and was working my way through the double slice of pecan pie the waitress had dished up, along with the last of the bottle of champagne, when my phone screen lit up.
Mom knows…the screen went dark. Mom knows what? My stomach churned, threatening to return everything I’d just gorged myself with as butterflies fluttered, attempting to escape. I reluctantly woke my phone and tapped his message.
Mom knows about us getting engaged.
So soon? How? I swallowed, praying for my stomach to settle. I expected it to be tomorrow at the earliest.
She’s frenemies with the hostess’s mother.
The little redheaded tart? I read my words and horror added to the swirling maelstrom in my belly, but it was too late. I’d already pressed send.
Yeah (laugh emoji) that’s the one.
She called you?
My mom? Yeah.
Was she mad?
More hurt than anything, but I explained.
What did you say?
