We decide to save on water and take a communal shower. I’ve always thought my shower was a bit small for a master, but you would be surprised what two people can do in such a small space. Being pressed against the cold tile while working up to orgasm number three is definitely going to ruin me for any future showers I take.
Water running cold, we finish and get out. Dressing in a pair of my white lacy cheekies and Trent’s shirt, I make my way out to the kitchen to start Trent’s award winning breakfast—by golly gee, he’s earned it.
“Come on, Jakie baby, let’s go potty.” I walk Jake to the back door and let him out. Jake and I have a good thing going and I don’t have to worry about him running off. I leave the door cracked so he can come on in when’s he’s done. I’m a strong believer in privacy while morning dumping.
Trent strolls in wearing only his jeans—no shirt, since I’ve taken up residence in it.
“What did you just call my dog?”
“What? Jakie baby?”
“Yeah, babe, he’s a male dog. I’m not sure he enjoys the girly nickname.”
“Listen up, pal, Jake and I have a great thing going on. If you’re lucky, I will continue to allow you visitation.”
“Is that so?” he says and smacks me in the rear.
“Sit.” I order him toward the island; he does as he’s told and takes a seat at a bar stool.
I go in search of all my ingredients and plop them all down on the counter. Waffle maker is next. I reach up and grab the machine with two hands so it doesn’t pummel me in the head.
“Jesus Christ,” I hear behind me.
“Something wrong?” I place the magical machine on the counter and turn to Trent.
“Yeah, babe, if you reach up for something like that again, hiking up my shirt that looks fucking sexy on you and showing me that cheeky little ass you have, I’m not gonna be responsible for what I do to you.”
I blush. News alert. I’m blushing.
I look at him and I see that glimmer in his eyes. It’s the look of someone who’s happy and it makes me giddy knowing I’m the one responsible for that. I wish I wasn’t such a chicken and could admit to him that I did miss him. But I’ve never been down with corny sentiments, so of course, I take the coward’s route out and don’t say a thing.
“Behave, or no breakfast,” I say instead and am thankfully rewarded with that signature smile that melts my heart.
It’s time to make my man breakfast.
Wait. I just said my man. Is he mine? I’m not sure whether to blush or barf right now. I mentally coach myself to go with the flow. This could be a good thing. I get my brain and emotions back on the same track.
Let’s try this again. It’s time to make MY man breakfast.
Chapter 19
“So, what sort of concoction do you have going on here?” he asks me while I measure and dump all the ingredients to my cupcake waffles into my mixing bowl. Now, I know it is almost sacrilegious to alter a perfectly good Belgium waffle recipe, but when you mate a cupcake recipe with a waffle recipe, you can only come out on top.
“This is my special cupcake waffle recipe. I only make it for special occasions. The fact that you have been such a giving participant this morning sounds like the perfect occasion.” I finish dumping all my ingredients for the batter and move onto the icing. Once I’m done I grab both bowls and move toward the island. I set the bowls down, take a leap and jump up on the counter. I adjust my body so my legs fall on either side of Trent’s seated waist.
“Is this part of the recipe?” he asks with that smile.
“Oh, yeah. It’s one of the most important parts.” I pick up the icing bowl and hand it him. He takes it willingly. “Your job is to stir the icing and make sure it gets all creamy.” In return, I get the ‘you did not just go there’ look.
Trent grips the spatula and starts to slowly churn the icing, raising his eyebrow at me. Unsure whether we are even going to get through making breakfast, I grab for my bowl and start mixing the batter. We stay quiet for a few minutes, but the thick air surrounding us is screaming sexual tension. Trent is making good work on the icing and I’m…well…I am successfully working up a slow burn between my thighs. This, of course, does not go unnoticed, and Trent takes the bowl out of my hands and sets it to the side.
“Hey, what are you doing? It’s not done!” I whine.
His voice dips to that low perfection. “I know, but I think mine is and I need to make sure it’s creamy enough for you.” My lips part and he sets the bowl in his lap. He picks up his oversized shirt which is blanketing my skin and lifts it to expose my hard and ready nipple. He takes the spatula and dips it into the thick icing covering the spoon fully. He lifts it from the bowl and proceeds to drip icing all over my breast and nipple. I hear the spatula fall into the bowl and his mouth is on me, tasting and licking off the perfected, creamed icing.
So, when I say that cupcakes and waffles make the perfect mates, I decide to add icing and Trent’s giving mouth to that list. I am dying to throw my hands into his hair and press his mouth closer, but if I move my hands from the counter—which are holding me up—I might tumble backwards.
Trent stands all too quickly, dropping the icing to the floor. He lifts my shirt straight off me, faster than humanly possible, and kisses me. Just kisses me, ravaging my mouth. We go head for head, or should I say tongue for tongue. “I think we’re gonna have to wait a little longer for breakfast,” he says and grabs my ass, bringing me to the edge of the counter where he shoves his groin right into my clit.
“Oh, screw the waffles,” I moan into his mouth.
He pulls away and gives a look of satisfaction at my response. He is just about to swipe the batter off the counter to lay me down when the banging on the door begins.
Fuck!
“Fuck!” we both say in unison. Whoever is at my door is going to die. And by one of our hands. We stay frozen, hoping the knocker just goes away. Moments later, it happens again.
“You expecting anyone?”
“No, you?”
“Don’t know too many people in this town, babe. So unless that’s the pizza kid or Mrs. Humphries stalking me again, then no, it ain’t for me.”
I laugh. Mrs. Humphries definitely has her eye on the neighbor. She has called twice since last week requesting that I bake something for the neighbor.
Giving in to the inevitable, Trent lets me up and helps me off the counter. I grab his shirt and throw it back on, watching him adjust himself in his pants. Well, at least we’re in it together as we prepare to suffer through the next couple of minutes of getting rid of our unwanted visitor. I can only assume it is Mrs. Humphries. Mr. Crawford has probably already checked in on the arrival and entrance of Trent into my house late last night and nosy pants wants to confirm it.
Trent lingers in the kitchen a bit longer, most likely waiting to be able to walk out without a bulge in his pants. That, and maybe clean up the spilled icing that’s all over the floor. I pass by the coffee table and grab my phone which seems to be going berserk. It’s Katie. She’s going to have to wait.
I give her the ignore button and prepare to open the door. I figure it will be a nice touch to answer the door in Trent’s shirt and my cheekies. Really give Mrs. Humphries a run for her money. I whip the door open and it is most certainly not Mrs. Humphries.
Fuuuck…
“Jesus, Priscilla, you answer the door like that? People can see you!”
Definitely didn’t expect this one.
“What are you doing here, Jeff?”
“Well, you won’t take my calls or show an ounce of maturity, so I’ve had no choice but to come over here.” I definitely don’t invite him in, but since I’m a bit in shock right now, he just walks past me into the house. My phone blows up again in my hand. Katie. I ignore her again and trail Jeff into the house.
He looks around, probably not admiring what I’ve done with the place. “So, I see you have been spending my money wisely. Give me the car
d, Priscilla. Where is it?”
“Jeff, you can’t just walk in here any time you want. This is not your house anymore.”
“As far as I know, my name is still on the mortgage until the lawyers clear it so I can walk in this house any time I damn well please.”
Ugh. True fact. But what the heck! “Priscilla, don’t be difficult. Just give me the card. You’re lucky I’m not going to bring any legal action against you for the charges you have made. We settled fairly. Now, give me the card.”
“I threw it out, just cancel it. Surely you didn’t have to make the trip all the way over here just to get the card.”
“I can’t cancel it, Priscilla. The account is funding other important things, and if I cancel it, I will have to set up all the tuition payments elsewhere. It’s simply a headache I want to avoid.”
“Wait, tuition? Come again?” I’m going to add some background music to this thought right now. And it goes like this, ‘The wheel in the sky keeps on turning’. Right about now, I’m going to go ahead and jump the gun here and make some pretty strong assumptions. Considering his child bride is still young enough to probably be in school, I put two and two together.
I screech out, “You’re paying for her schoooool?!”
Jeff seems to find my dead on assessment of the situation annoying and lets out a frustrated sigh. “That is none of your concern anymore. Seriously, why can’t we just be adults about this?”
Enter cartoon explosion. The fire now under my ass is officially a roaring blaze. “Because you weren’t an adult WHEN YOU DECIDED TO CHEAT ON ME WITH THE NEIGHBOR!” I belt out. I literally have spit splatter on my chin from screaming with such force.
“What the fuck?” I hear from behind me.
Oh shit. I forgot about him.
I turn to look at Trent, but Jeff is already moving me out of the way. “What is he doing here?”
I go to answer, but Trent is already in close proximity and steps in. “Excuse me, pal?” He moves even closer to Jeff and I try to step between them. Jeff grabs at my forearm, attempting to pull me back. “Priscilla, why is he in our house?” He takes in Trent’s appearance and the t-shirt I’m wearing, which is obviously on the wrong body.
“Do not tell me you’re sleeping with him.”
“That is NONE of your business, Jeff, and this is NOT YOUR HOUSE!”
“Your house?” That’s from Trent. Yep, definitely confused.
“Listen, I don’t know why you’re here, but if you can leave, so I can talk to my wife…”
Yep, that also definitely sideswipes Trent. Not skipping a beat, Trent steps closer and places his grip around my other arm. “I suggest you take your fuckin’ hands off her or you’re going to have a lot more than her to deal with, my man.”
Yikes, his voice is chilling and it’s hard not to miss the angry possessiveness in his tone. Hot.
I’ve had enough of this tug of war. I turn, whipping my hair all over the place, and I prepare for battle. “I am NOT your wife anymore, Jeff, and this is NOT your house. I am going to give you two seconds to get the fuck out or I swear to God, I’m going to go bat shit crazy on your ASS!”
Jeff looks at me, stunned. He’s never seen me so dramatic, and I’m pretty sure my outburst shocks him. He lets go of my arm and turns to Trent.
“Do you even know who he is, Priscilla?” Jeff asks, speaking to me but never taking his eyes off Trent.
“Get out, Jeff.”
“Priscilla—”
Trent cuts him off. “I think she just said to get the fuck out. You deaf?” Both men look like they are going to go head to head sooner rather than later. I’m sure they would be chest-bumping if I wasn’t sandwiched in the middle.
Jeff’s accusing eyes turn back to Trent. “I’m going to assume you haven’t told her—” At this point I have had it. I cut off whatever he is saying and scream.
“STOP!”
I push at both their chests to free myself. I’ve had enough. And for the love of…my damn phone keeps shaking in my hands. I look at the Caller ID. Katie again. Geesh, get a clue.
I answer quickly. “Katie, seriously, I can’t talk. I have to call you back.”
Her words come through the phone in slow motion.
The fight I was ready to have seeps out of me, along with all color in my face.
“What…? When?”
Both guys must sense my sudden tension because they cease their stand-off. Trent approaches me and stands in front of me, deciphering the emotions covering my face.
“Oh my God.” I put my free hand over my mouth.
“Okay…thank you for calling me…yeah…I’ll make some calls…meet you there shortly. I’m so sorry, Katie…okay…bye.”
I hit the end button, and in slow motion drop the phone from my ear. I feel my world shifting. The words Katie just spoke are ringing in my ears like a bad dream. I lift my eyes to Trent.
“That was Katie… May died this morning.”
Chapter 20
Life. It’s a fickle thing. You go through it as if tomorrow is promised, and rarely do we take the time to stop and appreciate things. May died Saturday morning in a hospital bed. She was diagnosed with stage-five lung cancer less than a month ago and knew she wouldn’t make it through the month. She didn’t tell anyone. Not even Katie.
I try to remember the last time I had a real conversation with May, other than the horrible text message I sent; it was rude and will haunt me till the end of time. She knew she was dying. She came into work, bossed everyone around and didn’t think to confide in me. She never bothered to stop me and simply say, “Oh, CeCe, by the way, I’m dying. So if you want to hug me or say anything that’s on your mind, please do so now.” She just kept it to herself.
She let me be so mad at her the last weeks of her life for shutting me out. She wasn’t paying attention to her business because she was all alone in a hospital bed, dying. I can’t help but be selfish and so angry at her, but also so ashamed of myself. I try to wrack my brain for any signs that I would have seen. Did she ever hint? Did she look sick? Why didn’t she reach out to me? I would have been there day and night by her bedside.
May always told me I was like the brilliant, pain-in-the-ass child she never had. Never one to wear her heart on her sleeve, she was always too proud to show her softer side. But I know she loved me. I loved her back. She was my mentor. She gave me so much and asked for so little in return. From the moment I stepped foot in her shop, she practically threw the keys at me and said, “Enjoy.” If it wasn’t for May, I wouldn’t have been able to make my own dreams grow into a reality.
I just can’t believe she is gone. My mournful thoughts are disrupted by the ending sermon. I hear shuffling and it’s Katie and some remaining relatives walking up to place roses on her casket. Trent is beside me, being my strength, because right now I am not sure I have any. The preacher asks if anyone has anything that they would like to say, so I step forward. It only seems right to give the last words about May before she is laid to rest.
Trent checks that I am steady on my feet and releases me. I walk with trembling legs to the podium and set my little piece of paper in front of me. I am thankful to the sun for allowing me to wear shades and cover my forlorn eyes. The feeling of everyone else’s eyes on me is discomforting. I raise my head and focus on Trent. I know he will get me through this.
I’m not sure I can do this, so I keep it short and sweet. When I finish my speech, I look up to see everyone with tears flowing down their grief-stricken faces. I look at Katie who smiles sadly at me while she wipes at her wet cheeks. I leave the podium and Trent meets me halfway. I lean into his embrace, using his strength as my comfort blanket. He guides me down the hill toward his Jeep and gets me settled inside.
There is a gathering at the bakery after the service for people to come and pay their respects. The evening before, I worked through the night to bake and prepare anything May had ever created. I knew Trent was a little worried about me and how I shut
down. I haven’t cried and I don’t know why or if I will. Feeling unsettled about leaving me alone at the shop through the night, Trent stayed and helped where he could. Around midnight, we heard the bell and Katie walked in. She didn’t look any better than I did and without any words spoken, she simply stepped alongside Trent and I and we worked silently until the morning, making everything that May had ever taught us.
It’s late Sunday evening when we make it back to the house. I can’t imagine opening up the shop on Monday because it just feels wrong, but in the back of my mind, I can almost hear May yelling at me to get a hold of myself; she always said, “Pastries don’t wait for anyone.” Trent guides me up my porch stairs, takes the keys and unlocks the door. I see I missed the delivery guy and my monthly wine club box is sitting on the swing.
I go and pick it up and follow Trent into the house. I wish the world was a fairer place. But it’s not, and when I walk into the house my heel gets caught on the floor rug and I trip. My box of French wines goes flying. My box of limited-edition French wines goes flying into the ground, and the only sound I hear is bottle hitting bottle and glass shattering. Like I said, we live in a very unfair world.
I’m not sure what really happens at this point or what triggers the emotions I didn’t know I had in me, but at this precise moment, I drop to my knees and place my hands over my face. I cry. The wetness spilling down my face is an unfamiliar sensation and I know I couldn’t stop the waterworks if I tried. I feel Trent pick me up off the ground and set me on his lap as his sits on the couch.
“Shhh, baby, it’s okay.”
That, of course, makes me cry harder.
He rubs at my back and presses soft kisses into my hair. “Let it out. It’s good to cry.”
I try to speak through my hiccupping sobs. “It...it...”
Life Next Door (Love Not Included Series Book 2) Page 10
