Yearning For Her Curves: (A BWWM Interracial Romance)

by Stone, Nora

  “Jacinta, I know that you don’t mean that. Don’t run away from me now, babe. I don’t want our relationship to die because we’re afraid to talk about things that are going on between us.” His eyes were pleading with me. Oh hell. I swallowed my heart and nodded.

  “Right, me neither,” I said at almost a whisper.

  “I’m not unhappy and I’m not bored. I hope that you can still say the same about us. I just want to find that excitement that we seem to have lost along the way,” he said. I opened my mouth to spout another status quo response, but stopped and closed my mouth, thinking first.

  “I agree. I don’t want to separate or anything like that, but we need to do something different with the time that we have together,” I said. Patrick’s grin lit up his entire face.

  “Thank you,” he said. I grinned, a bit confused.

  “For what?”

  “For being honest with me about your feelings, even though this is something that you’d normally run from talking about,” he said. I laughed.

  “I think you know me better than I thought you did, up until this very moment,” I said, getting up and settling myself on his lap.

  “I think you know how well I know you, but it freaks you out,” he said with a wink. I laughed.

  “Look, I love being together and all of that. But between how fast my life has gone from girl who works in the clothing store to girl who’s engaged to Patrick McCloud, I don’t think I’ve adjusted yet. Hell, I don’t think I’ve had time to. Every time I step outside of that door, all I can hear is Coach talking about how I have to watch it and ‘be the adult’. I’m terrified that I’m going to lose my temper and do something that’s going to ruin your career.” I finished with a huge sigh. That was a lot of honesty in one sitting.

  “Don’t you worry about that. Yes, watch your temper because it does make life a bit easier. It’s something that I have to do too, you aren’t alone in your annoyance over that, I promise. But everything else, we can get through together, okay?” He said, wrapping his arms tightly around my waist.

  “Okay,” I said as he leaned his chin on my chest.

  “If you find something new and exciting that you want to do, let me know and we will plan a trip together. If you want to have a house party or something, I’ll get the guys rallied and we’ll pack this house with people we love. If you want a quiet night of drinking wine, naked in the hot tub, we can do that too,” he said. I giggled.

  “So if I want to invite Char and hopefully Isobel over for lunch one day, I can do that?” I asked. Patrick nodded against me with a grin.

  “Jacinta, this isn’t my house anymore. This is ‘OUR’ house. You don’t have to ask my permission to be with your friends, but if it’s something like a dinner party or something, just let me know. And I will of course do the same. We’re sharing a life, and a house together. Just because I moved in before you doesn’t make this place any less yours,” he said. Crap, I was starting to feel all girly and emotional.

  “I’ve really been wanting to try and get Isobel talking to us again. Maybe go grab some groceries and invite them both over.”

  “That sounds like a great idea. I hope Isobel will come too, I know you two miss her. Is she talking to Charlotte?” Patrick asked. I loved it when he showed an interest in things that were a bit more a part of my life than his. It was how I knew that he really cared, and I always did my best to return the favor. He just had a lot more interesting stuff going on than I did, so it was harder for him to have something to ask me about.

  “No, she says Izzy hasn’t said 5 words to her, even when it’s about work. She’ll email and then wander off so Char can’t come talk to her about it,” I said with a sigh. Patrick sighed with me.

  “Crap,” he said gently.

  “Yeah.”

  “I wish I could make it better.”

  I smiled. He really was the sweetest man I’d ever met. “I know what would make me feel better.”

  “Name it,” he replied without any hesitation. I grinned.

  “I want to go skinny dipping with the man that I love,” I said. He gave me a surprised look.

  “Really?”

  I stood and whipped my shirt off. “Really.”

  Chapter 24

  That Friday, the front door closing brought me from a nap that I hadn’t really planned on taking, but had apparently taken me as I lay on the couch reading earlier. I’d closed at the store the night before, and had to set up a few new displays, since the owner of the store didn’t trust anyone else to do it the way she wanted. I’d been there hours after everything had closed, but had still gotten up with Patrick that morning. I thought I’d be able to make it through the day, but sitting still had done me in. I’d gotten through maybe ten pages, judging by where the book sat open.

  “Jacinta, are you here?” Patrick said, his footfalls echoing as he walked through the house.

  “I’m back here, in the den,” I said, getting up and straightening myself a bit. Patrick came into the room and stopped when he caught sight of me. Then he snickered, ducking his head a bit.

  “Did I wake you?” he asked through his laughter. I narrowed my eyes at him.

  “You know I was working late last night,” I said.

  “That I do, honey. Your hair just looks a little insane right now, I’m sorry,” he said, trying to subdue his laughter. I glanced up and put my hands on my head.

  “Oh my goodness, it is sticking straight up!” I squealed, running into the bedroom to get to the mirror and my brush. Patrick’s laughter followed me, and I rolled my eyes, trying not to laugh myself.

  “I’m sorry, sweetheart. I didn’t mean to laugh, I swear,” he said, finally coming into the room after me right around the time that I got my hair together.

  “Jerk,” I said, although the huge grin on my face gave away the fact that I wasn’t really mad. Patrick walked over and hugged me from behind, smiling at me in the mirror.

  “I really am sorry, but you always look so put together. For months, I was convinced that you were somehow waking up before me and making yourself look beautiful so that you didn’t look like most people do in the mornings, but you don’t. I’ve never, ever seen you look even slightly disheveled,” he said. I turned and looked at him, shocked.

  “I look a mess in the morning!” I squealed. Patrick grinned and shook his head.

  “You look the complete opposite of a mess in the morning. It’s intimidating, I felt like I was waking up next to a goddess but you were waking up next to a troll,” he said. I snickered.

  “Patrick, other than that righteous morning breath of yours, you look just fine in the morning.” I turned in his arms.

  “Your breath doesn’t exactly smell like roses in the morning either, you know. You look great, but your breath is horrid.”

  I stuck out my tongue at him and he laughed. “What are you doing home anyway? I thought you and the guys were going out tonight.”

  He’d told me a few nights prior, that the team planned to go to one of the really nice bars out by the practice fields that night. Coach thought it was a good idea, as a family and team building thing, getting together outside of practice all together, not just the guys who’d been on the Bullets for years. He’d said that he thought it was funny that all of the team, even the new ones looked to Joey before they agreed. Once he’d said yes, everyone else chimed in as well. I thought it was excellent; I didn’t think Joey ever wanted to be away from the field. He could go into coaching without any issues, if the entire NFL was already looking up to him anyway. Patrick had agreed, saying that Joey was starting to get up there in age, as was he, but that neither of them were ready to give up playing just yet.

  “One of the guy’s wives went into labor and another one’s Dad had a mild stroke in another state. We decided to cancel and do it another night, when things are calmer for everyone,” he said.

  “Oh, I hope everyone is okay.”

  “Me too. In the meantime, go get dressed,” P
atrick said, with a sneaky grin. I eyed him hesitantly.

  “Get dressed for what?”

  “For our night. Dress nice, too. Like, not formal, but nice.” He turned and walked out of the room.

  “What? Where are you going?”

  “I have to shower too, so I’m going to go use one of the other bathrooms. Get dressed, or you’ll have to go naked.”

  “You would not!” I said after him. He poked his head back into the room and smirked.

  “I would so, and you know it.”

  I took a step towards the bathroom. Actually, he was right, he probably would. I needed to get dressed.

  ~~~

  Once I was all cocktail dressed up and had put on what little make up I was willing to wear for a night that I knew nothing about, I sashayed my sexy behind out into the living room and slipped into one of the stools along the breakfast bar, listening to Patrick hum as he got ready. I grinned to myself; he always hummed while he was getting ready. He didn’t even notice that he did it until I’d pointed it out to him. It was actually a great way to tell when he was ready, because he’d fall silent when he was putting on his shoes. I thought it was cute.

  “Are you dressed?” Patrick yelled. I smirked.

  “Dressed and waiting,” I yelled back.

  Patrick walked out of the bedroom and made me stop and stare. He was always handsome, but tonight was different. Tonight, it seemed like he’d gone out of his way to accentuate every bit of him that I found the most attractive. His shoes made that expensive tap across the hardwood floors that gave away the fact that they were well made and probably cost a small fortune, but were so worth it. His pants were slacks, a good, breathable fabric in a charcoal gray with a rather classy matching button down top. He’d wisely chosen no tie, which to me would have seemed a bit dressier than he was looking to go, and the gray made his eyes pop even more than they normally did. I melted a little inside.

  “Ready?” he asked, holding his hand out to me.

  Have you ever had one of those moments where you think to yourself that you must be dreaming, and that if someone wakes you up, you’ll kill them? That it has to be a dream, because there is no way that someone as wonderful and handsome as this man is in love with you. This was my moment. I nodded slowly, and took his hand.

  Chapter 25

  Our first stop in our night of mystery for apparently no one but me, was a small wine bar that was pretty close to the house. They sold good wine at excellent prices, and I could buy bottles for the house when I wasn’t in the mood to sit there and act polite for the masses that wanted to know what it was like to be dating a football player.

  Tonight, it was dimly lit and romantic, so we didn’t draw a lot of attention as we stepped inside and were directed to a booth in the corner. The wine bar served a pretty well stocked menu for a place that seemed to want its focus to be the wine, but I wasn’t going to complain. Their chef was excellent.

  Patrick ordered a glass of wine for me, but said that he didn’t want anything to drink, and then ordered us a crab cake appetizer that I’d never noticed on the menu before and two steaks. His, a large T-Bone, rare and mine, a smaller but no less tender cut, medium. The meals came with large salads, steamed vegetables and potatoes to round it out.

  “Drink the wine, Jacinta. I promise, it’s alright. But I plan on taking you a few places tonight, so I have no intention of drinking anything,” he said. I sighed.

  “Alright, but only because you already ordered it. After this glass, I get soda with you, okay?”

  Patrick grinned. “Fair enough.”

  “So what brought on this desire to have a super secret night together?” I asked.

  “I just wanted to surprise you. I want to keep things spontaneous.” He grinned as he took my hand. My mind flashed back to our conversation from earlier in the week, about things having cooled a little and nodded.

  “Oh. I’m already enjoying myself.”

  “We haven’t done anything yet,” Patrick said, laughing.

  “Sure we have! We got dressed up, we left the house on our way to a secret location that turned out to be a place that I love, and now we’re going to have good food, which will include steak and makes both of us happy. And we’re together, what else is there?”

  “You do look really good in that dress. Have you worn that for me before? Because you look fantastic,” he said, looking me over. I snickered.

  “I’ve had it for a few weeks, but I haven’t had a reason to wear it until tonight,” I said. Patrick stopped for a moment.

  “You’re right, I don’t take you out enough,” he said. My eyes widened and I held up my hands.

  “Wait a second, that is not what I said!”

  “I know it isn’t, but it’s true. We don’t go out nearly as much as we used to, and we should. We should make time to spend together, doing something fun when we can. I’m out of town a lot, I want to spend my time at home enjoying you and this city.”

  “Okay, we can go out more. Char usually knows the places that are new around town. We can always check in with her.”

  “I feel kind of bad about that, since she and Joey aren’t going out as much either since Al was born,” he said. I smiled.

  “They aren’t, but they aren’t upset about it. Those two love being at home and watching Al discover new things.”

  “Joey is such a doting Dad. It’s really sweet, but you know, in a manly way,” Patrick said. I snorted.

  “In a manly way?”

  “Yeah, because we’re men,” he said. There was a massive laugh threatening to spill out of my lips, but I managed to keep it at bay.

  “So if we decide to have kids, you won’t be completely obsessed with the new little person that we create?” I asked. Patrick thought about it for a moment.

  “I plead the fifth,” he said, then promptly shoved a forkful of food into his mouth. I snorted.

  The food for the evening was amazing, and Patrick and I began discussing the future. Not too far into the future, mind you. Neither of us was interested in taking away the time that we’d need to do something fun and spontaneous. We talked about how that was something that we both needed and wanted in our life together. And we made a date night twice a month. That wasn’t really very spontaneous, but it did make sure that we had time to spend together which seemed more important. We agreed to sit down at the beginning of the month with his travel schedule, and pick the two nights. Then I could inform the store not to schedule me to close those nights. Nothing would keep us from those nights together, out on the town. Oh, and I would plan one while he planned the other. That way we had an entire month to plan something amazing.

  We talked about what we wanted in the future. I found out that he did want to be a father, but not until a few years from now. He still wanted more freedom than being a father allowed, and he was honest enough with himself to admit that. He wanted to get dogs, but because he wasn’t home to be with them, he hadn’t. We decided that since I was at home daily to spend time with them, we would go puppy shopping at the shelter nearby over the next few days.

  The conversation we shared that evening, over dinner at our first mystery night stop was one of the most open and honest conversations that we’d ever allowed ourselves to have. By the time we were ready to leave, our fingers were tightly intertwined and we had the attention of the whole place.

  Stop two in Patrick’s mystery night was the art gallery where Char and Izzy’s Pinks dinner party had taken place. There was a wide red carpet in front of the main entrance, and the entrance was flanked by hired security and photographers.

  “What’s going on?” I asked, looking around as the car pulled to a stop.

  “One of New York’s most famous graffiti artists moved his work all the way down here to Texas simply because he wanted to be in this museum,” he said. “They tried to keep it a secret so that tonight wouldn’t be insane, so they didn’t put out any publicity for the event, but everyone found out somehow.” Patrick op
ened his door and got out, handing his keys to a valet driver and opening the passenger side door before holding his hand out to me.

  “Geez, how many people would have shown up if they’d advertised,” I said, stepping out with my hand tightly holding his. He put my hand in the bend of his arm.

  “I don’t think Keith would have been able to handle the crowd,” Patrick said, as we moved up to the carpet, blinking against the repeated bright flashes of the cameras.

  This particular Keith was nothing like the cheater college boyfriend. This Keith was the owner of the gallery, and someone who had become a friend since Charlotte had done that piece on the gallery, back when it first opened. She’d wanted to give him some exposure, because he catered to the not-so-traditional art lovers and artists, and ran on donations and investors. It had worked. He’d expanded a few times, and now had artist exhibits booked up through the next 12 months. He was also one of Alton’s many uncles, though his profession meant that he wasn’t around as often as the others were.