by Colet Abedi
“Crème and sugar, baby,” I reply quickly.
He closes his eyes and lifts his hands in gratitude.
He adds the appropriate ingredients, then hands me my coffee. It’s freaking delicious.
“This is so good,” I tell him and take another sip. “Seriously. From what I’ve tasted so far, seems like you should open a restaurant.”
“I have three.” His voice is nonchalant.
Of course he does.
“Nice,” I say. “Is there something you don’t do well? I’d really like to know.”
He slides a plate of pancakes toward me. I pour some maple syrup and go to town.
“Save me some,” he says with a smile.
“Take it while you can.” I hold out a fork stuffed with pancake.
He leans over and takes the whole bite. He closes his eyes in pleasure. “You’re right.”
“I am?” I ask curiously. “About what?”
“It just might be better than sex.” He winks at me, and my heart takes off. “Why are you smiling?” he asks with grin. “You should be as horrified as I was.”
“Your pancakes are kind of amazing.” I put my chin on my hand and hope to God I don’t have a goofy smile on my face.
“They are,” he whispers.
Our eyes lock.
And I swear to god I feel like we are speaking without verbalizing anything. I’m saying thank you, and he’s telling me you’re welcome. I just know it.
“So where are my clothes, Jamie?” I finally ask.
He continues to stare.
“Please tell me this isn’t about to turn into an episode of Naked and Afraid,” I say with a straight face.
“We would kill it on that show.”
“One hundred percent,” I say without hesitation.
“We’d win the entire cash prize and be the series champions.” He really believes it. “Only thing is I have a bit of a spider phobia.”
“I’m sorry?”
Jamie shrugs and pours the egg mixture on top of the sautéed tomatoes. He sprinkles on what looks to be goat cheese and thinly sliced mushrooms. Since I’m mostly full and no longer focused on putting food in my belly, I allow myself to focus on the way his arm muscles move when he moves the pans around.
It’s pretty flipping hot.
“I don’t really care for spiders.”
“All kinds?” I ask, wide-eyed.
Jamie moves his head from side to side as if he’s contemplating it for a serious second, then nods his head adamantly. “Yeah, pretty much all spiders.”
“Even tiny ones?”
“Yes, Wylder, even tiny ones,” Jamie says with a shy smile.
I state the obvious. “But you’re like the sci-fi guy.”
Jamie crosses his arms. “What does that have to do with spiders?”
“Aren’t there like giant spiders chasing people in every sci-fi movie?”
Jamie closes his eyes and shakes his head like he’s in acute misery. “I can’t believe you just said that.”
I take another bite of my pancake. “You said only five people would watch the movie I want to write.” I try not to sound butthurt, but I am.
“I said seven,” he confirms.
“Just because it’s not your thing… You don’t have to knock it.”
“I didn’t say it’s not my thing,” he says, then places eggs on my plate.
“I don’t know how I’m going to eat all this,” I argue.
“Eat as much as you can, and I’ll eat the rest,” he tells me with a wolfish smile.
Jamie Donovan. Human garbage disposal.
“Let me read what you have so far,” he says to my complete surprise.
“What?” I suddenly feel very nervous. “No, you don’t have to read anything.”
“How many pages do you have?”
“Thirty.”
“Let me take a look.” He grabs a fork, walks around the counter, and comes and sits next to me.
We share what he’s made. The thought of him reading my work makes me nervous as hell. I don’t know what I’d do if he told me he didn’t like it.
“What are you thinking?” Jamie asks, trying to read my face.
“I’m thinking okay,” I finally say. I have to stand by my work, right? If he doesn’t care for my writing, he’s just one person. One opinion. He’s not the be-all and end-all.
And you know what, it would be a freaking honor to have Jamie Donovan read my grocery list.
“I thought I was going to have to fight you for the right.”
I laugh. “I’m easy.” I sigh as I lean back in the chair. I can barely move. I’ve eaten so much food. “It’s too much, Jamie. We’re going to have food coma.”
“That’s the point,” he says and continues to eat. “Then we’re going to settle in and watch movies.”
“Until I have to leave,” I remind him.
Jamie gives me a slow smile. “Sure.”
I narrow my eyes at him. “Why do I have a feeling you’re not going to let me out the front door,” I say with a great deal of suspicion.
“Because you’re a smart woman.” He throws down his fork and picks me up.
I shriek when my sheet starts to fall off. I try to keep it together, but Jamie doesn’t let me, and soon I’m sitting naked in his lap.
He lifts a fork to my mouth and tries to feed me more food.
“I can’t!” I exclaim. “I really can’t.”
He sighs and eats the bite himself.
I wrap my arms around his neck and proceed to place kisses down the length of his tanned neck.
“Let’s go back to bed,” I tell him.
“I have a better plan.”
––––––––––
I loved Jamie’s better plan.
It consisted of sex on his kitchen countertop followed by sex in the Jacuzzi and then sex on the way up to take a shower and more sex in the shower.
After a few hours of our sexual marathon, we make our way in our robes to his movie room. Jamie’s got us covered with thick blankets and plenty of sustenance. We’re lying down, cuddled in each other’s arms, flipping through different options.
“Let’s watch Terminator.”
“How about The Princess Bride?” I say after catching a glimpse of it in the What’s Popular section.
“As you wish…” Jamie says in the same way Carey Elwes did in the movie.
“Oh my God, really?” I ask in excitement.
“Really.” Jamie settles back down. “Love that movie. I’m down for some Neverending Story after as well.”
“Shut the front door.”
Jamie shrugs and hits play on the movie. “Don’t tell anyone.”
“That you have a soft spot for sentimental eighties’ films?” I smile.
“Exactly,” Jamie says. “Might ruin my reputation.”
His reputation, I realize, is seemingly all wrong. Everything I’ve seen so far is opposite of a bad boy.
He is more of a good boy.
Hell, I’m way more of a wild child than he is, and I don’t have half the experience he does.
The movie begins, and Jamie pulls me into his arms.
I always loved the opening of the movie when the grandfather starts to read the book to his grandson. It’s so sweet. Jamie runs his hand down my back, momentarily distracting me.
“My grandfather used to read books to me like this growing up.” Jamie’s voice sounds nostalgic. “It was the best.”
“You’re lucky,” I tell him. “I never knew my grandparents.”
“On either side?”
“Either side,” I say, abruptly wishing I hadn’t brought it up. Just thinking about my childhood depresses me.
“I’m sorry,” he says tenderly as he rubs my head.
“I survived.”
He takes my hand and places a soft kiss on my palm. “Regardless, you turned out exceptionally well,” Jamie tells me softly.
“We’re missing the movie.”
I change the subject and point at the screen. “Westley and Buttercup are coming on screen.”
He pulls me up closer to him. “No drooling over Westley,” he says gruffly.
“I can’t make any promises,” I tell him. I laugh when he begins to tickle me. “He’s the Dread Pirate Roberts.”
“Take it back.” His body rolls over mine.
My robe seems to magically slide open. Jamie palms my breast.
“Never mind,” he whispers before leaning down to kiss me. “I’ll make you pay in a different way.”
And Lord.
Does he make me pay for the rest of the afternoon…
And the weekend.
All weekend.
I paid in the best possible way.
Yes, I totally flake on Halloween.
Yes, I stay with him until early Monday morning.
Yes, I am so screwed!
Jamie Donovan isn’t just super successful and beautiful to look at.
He’s kind of perfect.
Chapter Fourteen
It’s my birthday and Jamie is taking me out to dinner.
After spending a fairytale kind of weekend with him, Monday and Tuesday went by in a blissful blur. Jamie showered me with attention, sending text messages multiple times a day. He sent the most beautiful bouquet of flowers to work on Monday that raised quite a few eyebrows but I didn’t care because I was in a state of perpetual bliss. And he only kept getting better. When I got home that Monday night, he sent over a mouth- watering sushi dinner from Nobu for Kerri, Tony and I to enjoy.
Tony is now officially Jamie’s biggest fan. Seriously, he’s thinking about starting his own Jamie Donovan fan page.
And then on Tuesday, Jamie managed to one up himself.
This time he sent another arrangement of flowers to my house, along with a catalogue of sci-fi movies he insisted I watch. Tony really appreciated this gift. So far I’ve seen Alien and Aliens, Terminator, Close Encounters and my favorite so far, Blade Runner. I have a new appreciation for the genre and I can see why, and how Jamie became such a fan.
The best part?
For the past two nights we’ve talked on the phone until I couldn’t keep my eyes open. I’m embarrassed to admit I haven’t been able to stay up too late since my body is still recovering from the weekend sex marathon with Jamie, and not only, work has been non-stop.
“How’s my birthday girl feeling today?” Jamie asks as we speak on the phone during my lunch break. He emphasizes the my and in my mind I do a backflip.
I’m sitting outside the main cafe in the studio enjoying the unusually warm weather.
“She feels pretty great,” I tell him as I soak in the sun. “And super spoiled. You really shouldn’t have sent all those Krispy Kremes to the office! And the Snookies Cookies with the milk? It’s too much, Jamie. They’re going to have to roll me outta here tonight. And I’m not exaggerating.”
“How many have you had?”
“Four donuts and three cookies… so far.” I admit without a hint of embarrassment.
It’s greatest birthday gift ever. I almost had an orgasm when I dipped my peanut butter cookie in the milk.
I tell Jamie that.
“Now you’re making me regret my decision to send you the sweets,” Jamie practically growls.
“Don’t!” I laugh. “They’re seriously too good. I’ll save a cookie for you and I promise you’ll feel the same way.”
“I doubt that, Wylder,” Jamie says.
I smile in pleasure.
“Just be happy I’m enjoying your birthday present.”
“The cookies and donuts are not my birthday present to you,” he returns evenly. “They’re just one of your many appetizers to come.”
He throws back the words I used to him when he asked why I decided to give up my virginity to a random stranger. The man is relentless.
“Touché. But still.” I begin to argue. “I’m not going to accept anything else from you. It’s too much. And really unnecessary.”
“Let me decide what’s necessary and not.” He replies. “But I must say, I am appreciating this endless appetite of yours. Most women I’ve encountered have an aversion to carbs and sugar.”
“I’m not most.”
“Trust me, Wylder. I know that.”
The energy shifts between us and I find myself suddenly shy and uncharacteristically nervous. I wait for him to speak.
“I’m happy you’re not a closet eater,” he teases me. “And I am anxiously looking forward to learning more about you down the line.”
“You’re terrible,” I whisper breathlessly, hating myself for loving his insinuation that there would be something between us down the line.
“I’ll show you just how terrible later tonight.” Heat flushes my cheeks. My heart rate picks up its pace. What is wrong with me? I’m like putty in this guy’s hands. Why can’t I just be cool and unaffected?
“I really wouldn’t mind that at all,” I say without thinking.
“It’s been too long,” he agrees, his voice low and sexy. Two and a half days does seem like forever, but I’d never admit it to him.
“So what’s the dress code?” I ask quickly, changing the subject to something safe.
“Cocktail attire,” he orders. “And I’m picking you up at seven pm sharp. That means you can’t do the typical female thing and be late.”
“Typical female?” I ask with a ghost of a smile.
“It’s an epidemic,” Jamie sounds disgusted. “I think it’s biological because you women are always at least twenty to thirty minutes.”
“You women?” I laugh. “First of all, I don’t know whether to be offended or not-“
“You shouldn’t be,” Jamie cuts in. “Embrace your truth.”
“It is so not the truth!” I laugh. “Men are just as guilty. And I am never ever late.”
“Ever?” Jamie doesn’t sound like he believes me.
“Unless I’m trying to make a point,” I admit. “But that doesn’t happen very often.”
“Good to know.”
“So is there anything else you want to tell me before we hang up?” I prompt him as I lean into the bench I’m sitting on and twist a piece of my hair around my finger like a silly schoolgirl.
“Happy birthday, Wylder.” Jamie says with a seductive laugh.
“I’ve lost track of the amount of times you’ve said that to me,” I know I have a goofy ass smile but I can’t help it.
“I’ll say it many more before the day is over,” He returns rather romantically. “Today is a special day… Wylder Alma Buchanan was born.”
My heart melts.
Seriously melts. Why do I want to say something just as sweet back to him? It would be way too easy to fall for this guy. Way too easy. I have to keep reminding myself why it would be dangerous for my heart and sanity...
“See you tonight, Jamie.” My voice is soft.
“Bye, baby.”
I click end on my phone and close my eyes, letting out the breath I hadn’t realized I was holding.
“You’re in serious trouble,” Kerri says as she takes a seat next to me on the bench and puts her sandwich, fries and iced tea down.
“I know,” I admit to her because there’s no way I can deny it. “I’m so screwed.”
“Yes,” she agrees. “Literally and figuratively.”
We both burst out laughing.
“So where is lover boy taking you tonight?” Her voice is curious.
“I have no idea,” I say. “He says it’s a surprise. He’s picking me up at seven and told me to dress in cocktail attire… which has now given me some anxiety, I’m not going to lie.”
“Why?”
“I don’t have your extensive wardrobe,” I point out the obvious. “Mine is scary small.”
“It’s not scary small,” Kerri says shaking her head. “It’s sad small.”
I throw a fry at her.
“Clothes never interested me,” I say with a shrug.
“Oh, I know,” Kerri returns and I burst out laughing. “Your wardrobe gives me anxiety. It’s like a bohemian, eclectic, mess that doesn’t really make any sense at all.”
My mouth drops open.
“And don’t even get me started on the décor in your room,” she continues on, holding up her hand. “I mean really, Wylder? You’re twenty-three now… you’re not a child anymore. You have to start embracing some sort of style.”
“What happened to the universal code of not picking on your friends on their birthday?” I say shaking my head, not the least bit insulted.
“I’m not picking,” Kerri says between a bite of a fry. “I’m just speaking the truth. And now that you’re dating one of Hollywood’s most famous director’s we’re going to have to up your game.”
I grab a handful of her fries and start eating.
“Let’s pretend I’m entertaining what you’re saying, which I’m not by the way,” I reply. “But just exactly how do you expect me to pay for this whole new wardrobe and the new furniture and I’m guessing art work, you want me to put up in my room? I don’t have a rich dad like you.”
I regret the words as soon as I say them.
“Ohmygod that was the stupidest comment ever,” I rush out. “Forget that came out of my mouth-“
“I’m not bothered by it at all,” Kerri shakes her head dismissively. “I do have a rich dad. And you don’t. But we can go to second hand stores and Goodwill and find some cool ass stuff. I will help you. It’ll be so fun… finding you- the style you like. I want to be part of this discovery.”
I realize Kerri is the best friend a girl could ask for.
“Do you know how much I appreciate and love you?” I say
She takes a bite of her sandwich and nods her head.
“I feel the same about you,” she says between chews.
“You’ve got your shit together way more than I do,” I say. “I don’t think you need my help.”
Which is true.
Everything about Kerri is practically perfect. She always looks beautiful. She never loses her shit. She has the patience of a saint. Has the best family- I’ve met people who’ve had some real assholes for parents and trust me, Kerri has the polar opposite.
And my favorite quality about her? She’s always smiling. And that smile of hers can lift up a room.
“I’ll come banging on your door one day,” Kerri assures me. “Don’t you worry, I’m bound to have a nervous breakdown at some point.”
