I touched the pendant, then ran my hands over my hips, imagining Jimmy’s palms following the trail, strong and sure. He went crazy for my legs, an attribute this outfit played up.
“It will set me back,” I said, “but it’s worth it. And FYI, I’ll be on a serious budget soon.” I faced the girls, needing to share my news, get it out and make it real. “I’m going back to school.”
Ainsley surveyed the store. Gwen wrapped her new scarf around her neck.
Neither acknowledged my comment.
I cleared my throat and tried again. “I’m going back to school.”
“What’s on tap this time?” Gwen asked. “Window washer? Dog trainer?”
Ainsley adjusted my skirt, smoothing out a side seam. “I saw online that a girl critiques dick pics. Like, breaks them down and analyzes the positives and negatives. You should do that. With our help, of course.”
Gwen scrunched her nose. “I’m all for hot guy pics, but peen shots? Not sure.”
That was a no for me. There was only one male specimen I cared to look at. One I’d swirled my tongue around last night until Jimmy had grunted my name and spilled into my mouth. I licked my lips. “If Jimmy’s is the last I see, I’ll die a happy girl.”
“Is he big?” Gwen asked, nudging me. “He looks like he’d be big. And good.”
The girls hadn’t ceased prodding me, trolling for bits of information, trying to get me to share juicy gossip. I glanced around, worried the store owner could hear us. “I’m not talking about my boyfriend’s dick.”
“What else do friends talk about?” Ainsley piped in. “Since neither of us have men in our lives, we need to live vicariously through you.”
“Not happening.”
My friends, of course, started talking to each other, as though I’d vanished.
Ainsley tapped her chin. “I bet he’s small.”
“Or maybe he’s all about himself,” Gwen said, “and doesn’t know how to please her.”
“That would explain why she hasn’t dished about him.”
“Right? If he were good, she’d be all gushy.”
Tired of their taunting, my harsh whisper rushed out. “He’s the perfect size and rocks my world and knows exactly what to do, and he’s pierced, which is ridiculously hot, and that’s the last we’re talking about my sex life.”
Gwen held up a hand. “Back up, buttercup. Did you say pierced?”
Oh, crap.
Ainsley sighed. “Does he have a twin?”
Two women entered the store, browsing through the quiet space. Before my friends could grill me on details or my cheeks burned any hotter, I shoved the conversation back on track. “Like I said, I’m going back to school. Not to add another useless diploma to my collection. This time”—I inhaled deeply, memories of my phone call earlier today speeding my pulse—“I’m enrolling in the Napa Viticulture program. Not sure I can get in for the fall, but I talked to admissions and there’s a chance. I can probably finish the course in two years, then I’d apprentice, so I’ll be, like, thirty before I dive into the field, but I’m going for it.”
Gwen looked ready to launch an attack hug. “Are you for real?” When I nodded, she flung her arms around me and squeezed. “This is the best news! But I thought the school thing was a hard no. What changed?”
She released me, both of us grinning like loons. “A bunch of things, really. The contest reminded me how much I love wine, but the service stuff wasn’t for me. And Jimmy’s been talking a lot about his family vineyard, what it was like being involved. I think not going for it would haunt me. I’d always wonder.”
I didn’t mention my birthday wish, still worried speaking it aloud would thwart my efforts. That my forward momentum was truly a result of that one fateful night. Everything with Jimmy was falling into place. Even my mother was on board with my plans.
After the Mitch and Cora bomb—the revelation bittersweet, knowing my father would never meet his grandchild—I figured returning to school wouldn’t shock her. I explained how long it had taken to figure out my path. That my fear of failing again and delaying my life had held me back. She didn’t cave right away, but she offered her support in the end. I may have pointed out my father was the reason I loved wine—a low blow, which made her cry—but she got behind my plan.
Sometimes a girl had to fight dirty.
“Does this mean you won’t get to dress dead people?” Ainsley asked.
I shuddered. “My mother tried to force the funeral home issue, but she came around. Even offered to pay my tuition, which feels wrong at twenty-seven, but I’m done being stubborn. If she wants to help, I’ll take it.” Which meant she’d hold it over me every time she asked a favor. More Maternal Guilt in her arsenal. Painful, but worth it.
Gwen pointed to the fitting rooms. “Go change. I’m buying your outfit as a congratulations you’re moving on with your life gift.”
Ainsley clapped. “I’m buying the shoes and necklace. Jimmy will die when he sees you in that. And Rachel,” she called as I turned, “that pierced conversation isn’t over.”
“Yeah,” Gwen chimed in, “I have questions. We can have a whole sex ed night. You’ll use your dildo to show us exactly how his jewelry affects your pleasure.”
Damn them and their needling selves. But the thought of Jimmy seeing me in this mini-skirt put a bounce in my step. I hadn’t told him about my school plans yet. As much as he’d pushed me to consider viticulture, the choice needed to be mine. No outside influence. I had to make sure it was what I wanted this time.
The second I decided, though, I knew. I’d also bet my father was smiling down on me, pleased I’d taken the risk.
Suddenly I was desperate to share my news with Jimmy, and finally tell him I loved him. I’d been waiting, thinking we’d celebrate after tonight’s final contest round. He and the Schnozinator would be serving top wine critics, both vying for the coveted sommelier position. Jimmy was sure to win, and I wanted the moment I shared those three words to be special, but I knew better than to delay important milestones. Losing my father had taught me that. The where or when or how of spilling my heart to Jimmy didn’t matter.
Living without regrets mattered.
I had to drop by the gym to pick up my paycheck, then I’d run to his apartment and catch him before the contest. Tell him I was going back to school and that I loved him so much it turned me inside out. I’d give him the best good luck kiss in the history of good luck kisses. Maybe we’d have a quickie, too. My smile nearly split my face.
* * *
I reached the gym at four. Normally George and I would be on our treadmills by now, walking in time, him asking me about my “boy.” I hated skipping our forty minutes together, time I’d grown fond of, but shopping with the girls and seeing Jimmy took priority. What I didn’t expect was to hurry through the doors and practically walk into 911 himself.
I cringed, guilty for having ditched him. “Sorry I missed our workout. I hope you weren’t waiting for me.”
Instead of offering a signature gruff response, he touched the woman beside him. Her figure was slight next to his bulk. She turned and studied me, critical at first, a warm smile following. “Rachel?”
This woman was much younger than George. Thick black hair spilled over her shoulders, a turquoise pantsuit accentuating her trim frame. Something in her full lips tugged at me, the slope of her cheekbones and dimple in her chin subtle in their familiarity. She reminded me of a celebrity, maybe. Catherine Zeta Jones? Either way, she was gorgeous.
I smiled. “Yep, I’m Rachel. And you are?”
Her gold necklace rose as she inhaled. “I’m Alena—George’s wife and”—her arms shook slightly—“Jimmy’s mother.”
“Jimmy’s…my Jimmy’s mother?” My hand shot to my mouth, and I stepped back, my gaze flitting between this stunning woman and the old man I thought I knew. George. 911. The grumpy father figure I’d confided in. The man who’d asked me questions about my boyfriend, never letting on w
ho he was, stealing information about his son. A violent storm set sail in my stomach. “I don’t understand.”
“Jimmy is my son,” George confirmed, and my mind reeled.
Was there a hidden camera? Was I being punked? Maybe I’d slipped in those stilettos at the store, had hit my head, and was in a coma, the swelling in my brain causing hallucinations. I bit my cheek, tasting blood. Not a coma.
Somehow I found my voice. “You lied to me.” And he was so old to be Jimmy’s father.
“I did no such thing,” George said, his snarkiness ever present. “If you had asked, I’d have told you.”
“Excuse me?” The harshness of my tone had his watery eyes widening. “You said you only had one son.”
His face hardened. “Family matters are complicated.”
“Complicated?” My volume rose, but I didn’t abate. This was the man who’d torn Jimmy down and ruined his life. A man who’d abused my trust. “We’ve spent hours together and you never, not once, mentioned who you were. But you had no problem asking me about my ‘boy.’ So you could what? Spy on him? On us?” My voice dropped, disappointment and sadness seeping through me. “I’d hoped Jimmy was wrong, that he could mend things with his family. Looks like I was being naïve.”
Jimmy would also potentially lose his shit. I’d been hanging out with his freaking father. For weeks. How would I explain that? Suddenly ill, I sat on the nearby couch. Guests often sat here and picked through fitness magazines, killing time. I wanted to curl into a ball and block out this reality.
“What I did,” George said, “I did for my family.”
Alena said something to him about giving us space. I didn’t watch him go, barely noticed her sit beside me. I was in khaki shorts, the black leather cool under my thighs. I fought the urge to press my forehead to the armrest, instead squeezing my eyes. His freaking father.
“I’ve been trying to reach Jimmy for a while, as you know.” Alena’s voice was soft but strong, the same as it had been on the phone. The day Jimmy and I had nearly broken up.
What was even happening?
“I found out where he lived,” she went on, “and I stopped by a few times, but never knocked on his door. It was one thing for him to ignore my calls. If he’d looked at me with hate…it would have crushed me. But I’d watch him, from time to time. Not often, but when missing him became too much, I’d follow him awhile, to gauge if he was happy. That’s when I saw you.”
Lines creased Alena’s forehead, sorrow in the depths of her eyes. Her despair was potent. “My husband is a good man,” she said, “but even good men do bad things. What happened with Jimmy was wrong. What George said was potentially unforgivable, and my silence was equally as harmful.”
When I didn’t comment, resignation laced her tone. “At the time, I thought my interference would make things worse. I decided to give them space to heal. Then everything happened with Sophia, and it spiraled out of control. I gave Jimmy six months, hoping his anger would lessen. By the time I contacted him, he wouldn’t speak with me.”
I’d nearly chewed my cheek raw. “And you thought stalking him through me was the answer?”
She massaged her knuckles. “This family is on a thin wire. One more fight, and there would be no hope of patching things up. George can be difficult. He’s fiercely stubborn and couldn’t admit he’d been wrong. He also saw Sophia for what she was and believed losing Jimmy was worth saving our son from that woman. I’m glad Sophia is out of Jimmy’s life, but things were said in the heat of anger that weren’t true. I was wrong. George was wrong. We need the chance to make things right.”
The night of the rainstorm, when Jimmy and I had shed our clothing and our walls, he’d admitted how hurt he still was. How deeply his family’s actions had cut. That wasn’t just a man needing to heal. That was a little boy who missed his mother and father and wanted to reverse time. And Sophia had had her hooks in my man—conniving woman that she was. It’s possible George’s interference had saved his son a lifetime of heartache, but underhanded deception would get them nowhere.
“It’s not for me to judge what happened in your family. I wasn’t there. I don’t know the details. But this? Sneaking into our lives? It’s not okay.”
She nodded slowly. “You’re right. It’s not. But when I saw Jimmy with you, and the way my boy smiled? I realized you were making him happy. He wasn’t going to let us in, and I was running out of options. It was wrong to send George here, but my husband had to work things out for himself. See you and understand his son was building a life, one we wouldn’t be a part of. I’d also hoped he’d get a window into the damage he’d done. Without that, any meeting with the two of them would have turned ugly. I’d have lost Jimmy, once and for all. I’m not willing to let that happen.”
It felt as though I’d swallowed a brick, my body unbearably heavy. Before this epic disaster, I’d grown to like George. He was straightforward—or so I'd thought—and filled a void in my life, and George’s fondness for his son wasn’t contrived. Our last conversation, after I’d confessed Jimmy was scarred by his family’s actions, George’s emotions had run high. That was also the day I’d realized how much I loved my bad boy.
And I did. A sweeping love. The kind where you’d overlook being wronged if it meant seeing your lover happy. Although I wouldn’t forgive his parents’ deception easily, they weren’t trying to hurt us. They were fighting to save their family, something Jimmy needed as badly as them. More, even. How could I deny him that?
I rubbed my chest, as though the movement would soothe my erratic heart. “It will take a while to get my head around this, but if I can help your family, I will. For Jimmy. But I can’t guarantee he’ll listen to me.”
She exhaled and stopped fidgeting. “George was right when he said you were special. No matter what happens, I’m glad Jimmy found you.”
Now I wanted to cry and…hug her? Which was strange. This whole mess was odd and unfathomable, my emotions pulling me in a thousand directions.
George joined us, but I wouldn’t let him sit until he apologized for lying to me. He hemmed and hawed, but I shot him my best scowl, and he conceded. A first step forward. They then explained their plan, minimal though it was. They wanted Jimmy to join his brother and run the winery, give him everything they’d taken away. It would begin with a meeting, with George admitting the errors of his ways. I was to pave the road and convince Jimmy to hear him out.
Total piece of cake. Right.
That coma/head trauma scenario was sounding better and better.
After goodbyes and promises to be in touch, I made my way to Jimmy’s place. This visit was supposed to be about telling him I loved him and sharing my school news. Now I was contemplating dropping this parental atomic bomb, but heaping him with stress when he needed to be on his A-game for the contest didn’t feel right. It would have to wait until after.
But I couldn’t delay seeing him now. I had to remind myself of what we had and staunch my panic that this would turn into another picnic disaster, with him blowing up at me.
My heart wouldn’t survive the fallout.
Full of trepidation, I hurried to his apartment. I started opening his door, when I noticed a tall man inside. Probably Owen. We’d yet to meet, but Jimmy had mentioned seeing him today, at a soccer game or something. He was happy to have his old friend in town and said it was because of me, that I’d made him realize all he’d been missing. Maybe I’d affected his life as much as he’d changed mine. Maybe he’d understand why I wanted him to give his parents another chance, despite their underhanded meddling. Or maybe he wouldn’t.
My stomach lurched.
The two of them were in the kitchen and hadn’t noticed me. Owen was in shorts and a tank top, a soccer ball under his foot. The back of his neck was sweaty. I placed my hand on the door to open it fully, when Owen said, “I still think fucking with your family winery is trouble. Once you do it, there’s no going back.”
I snatched my hand away, uneas
e prickling up my spine. Instead of going in, I squished out of sight, like a creeper. Like some girl who eavesdropped on her boyfriend. This day was spiraling from bad to worse.
Jimmy’s voice drifted out, his words adding to my dread. “If I don’t do it, I’m just as bad as them. And every time one of them gets involved in my life, something goes to shit. Rachel accidentally answered a call from my mother, and I turned into an asshole. We also fought over other stuff, but I nearly lost her, and it’s not okay. Once this is done, they’ll leave us alone. It’s not like they thought twice when they ripped the winery from me.”
“You told Rachel yet?”
My ears burned. I was humiliated at how desperate I was to hear Jimmy’s answer, that I was still eavesdropping.
“No. But I will. Tonight. I’ve been scared she’d freak out, but she needs to know.”
My mind spun, attempting to piece together the meaning behind his words, but standing in the shadows felt as wrong as what George had done—lurking around, hoping for information.
I wiped my damp palms on my shorts, then shoved the door fully open. “What do I need to know?” I forced brightness into my voice.
Jimmy was downing a Gatorade and stopped mid-swallow. He and Owen shared a look, probably wondering what I’d overheard. Too much and not enough.
Even though I harbored a secret big enough to fill the Pentagon, and he clearly had one of his own, I couldn’t help but look. And look. Jimmy’s brow was slick with sweat. He’d tossed his shirt on the couch, and his workout shorts hung low on his hips. His chest and abs rippled with his deep breaths. If Owen weren’t here, if our lives hadn’t gotten irrevocably complicated, I’d lick a path over Jimmy’s pierced nipples and down his happy trail, not stopping until he was hard and in my mouth.
But Owen was here, and there was something Jimmy hadn’t shared with me. Something important enough that he was scared.
One foot on his soccer ball, Owen spun to offer his hand, but he pulled it back. “I’m Owen, but I doubt you want to touch my sweaty hand.”
Legs (One Wild Wish, #1) Page 20
