LoveLines

by S. Walden

  “Erica!”

  “Well, if she’s working for me, I need to know these things.”

  “You do a background check on her?”

  “Oh, yeah. Clean as a whistle. It’s not like a legal thing with her. It’s something else entirely. I’ll figure it out.”

  “By asking her point blank?”

  “No. I have other ways of extracting info,” Erica replied.

  “That poor girl,” I said, shaking my head.

  “You’re talking about me, right?” she asked. “‘Cause I feel like pure sh— crap.”

  I frowned. “What can I do for you?”

  “You can leave here promptly at six,” she said.

  “Why?”

  “Because that’s when I promised I’d send you home,” Erica said.

  I watched her carefully. “How much do you know?”

  She sighed pleasantly. “Oh, everything.”

  ***

  Reece sat at the table on the patio, heel tapping with fearful anticipation. What if she didn’t like the back yard? What if she didn’t like the ring? What if she wasn’t ready to get married? Yes, she had agreed in the past, but that relationship fell apart. What if the pain she experienced from that broken engagement scarred her permanently? What if it made her afraid of marriage?

  No. That’s not right. She was so upset that her sister walked down the aisle first. The girl wanted to get married. But what if she didn’t want to marry him? His mind spun, thinking of all the reasons she wouldn’t want to be bound to him for life.

  His socks smelled sometimes. He never loaded the dishwasher right, and she always had to come behind him and redo it. (Were these legitimate reasons?) He was bad about remembering to turn off lights when he’d leave a room. He wanted to hang all over her all the time, and she wasn’t a cuddler. Maybe that annoyed her.

  No no. Think positively, Reece.

  She loved when he chased her around the house. She said he cooked pasta and grilled burgers much better than she ever could. She liked to sit on the toilet and watch him shave. She told him every night how much she loved him, even after they’d argue. They bought a dog together, for Christ’s sake!

  He heard her open the front door. Poppy barked. Then silence. Then the back door knob turned. He heard her voice through the door.

  “Reece?”

  She emerged, the dog on her heels.

  “Reece? Ree . . .” She gasped. “Oh my God. Oh my God.”

  “Do you like it?” he asked, standing up tentatively.

  “Reece,” she whispered, and her feet moved automatically, in a daze—a dream. She seemed to float around the yard, taking in the details of his hard work. She reached up and fingered the twinkle lights on the pergola. She bent down to smell the new flowers he’d planted. She pointed to the candles floating in the fish pond.

  He smiled at her, absorbing her surprise—her expression that voiced the impossibility of this space.

  “How?” she asked.

  “How?” he repeated.

  “How did you do all this?”

  He walked toward her and took her hand.

  “I had lots of help,” he replied.

  “Who?”

  “Camden and Chris,” he said. “And Soledad.”

  She laughed, shaking her head, and the lights from the pergola caught her face, reflecting the tears that coursed her cheeks.

  “Don’t cry,” he said softly.

  “No one’s ever done anything . . .” Her voice broke, and she cried outright.

  “Bailey . . .”

  He wrapped her in his arms and let her cry on his chest.

  “It’s just so beautiful,” she said. “You brought back my oasis.”

  “Our oasis,” he said gently.

  She nodded against his shirt and hugged him tighter.

  “Happy birthday, doll baby,” he whispered. “I grilled steaks.”

  She pulled back. “Really?”

  He nodded. “You came home at the perfect time.”

  “I came home when Erica said,” she replied.

  Reece grinned. “Good ol’ reliable Erica.”

  Bailey scanned the yard once more. “Did she get sick on purpose? To keep me away?”

  “I think I just got really lucky,” Reece joked. He bent down and picked up Poppy, holding her face directly in front of his. “You, sweet thing, can stay for dinner. But afterward? You’re inside. Got it?”

  Poppy licked his nose, and he set her down.

  “You wanna eat?” he asked Bailey.

  She thought for a moment. “I need to shower first.”

  “Okay.”

  “I . . . y-you did all this,” she began, looking down at her clothes, “and I oughta dress nicely. Do my hair. My face.” She paused and stared at him. “But it’ll take forever.”

  “I don’t want you to wear make-up or even dry your hair, Bailey. I just want you to get out here as fast as you can.”

  She nodded and kissed his lips before rushing into the house. When she emerged, freshly showered and sporting a tank top, cotton shorts, and wet hair, Reece thought he’d never seen someone so beautiful. No fancy clothes. No curled hair. No great big eyes with shimmer and shine. She was just Bailey. Raw, bare Bailey, and she was more beautiful to him in that moment than she could ever be if she were dressed like a queen.

  I can’t wait. I won’t make it past the first bite, he thought, gazing at her.

  She shrugged her shoulders. “I should at least dry my hair,” she said. “I mean, you set the table.” She pointed to the patio table dressed in linen and glassware. There was a bottle of champagne chilling in one of her galvanized tin buckets. She laughed and asked him.

  “You don’t mind?” he asked. “That house is filled with all kinds of useful things.”

  “I know. That’s why I purchased them.”

  He breathed deeply and took her hand. He grabbed the champagne and walked her to the bench near the fish pond. He popped the cork and took a nice long satisfying gulp. It burned his throat and stung his eyes.

  “You okay?” she asked. “Not very romantic. You left the glasses on the table.”

  He took another swig then placed the bottle on the ground.

  “Okay,” he said, wringing his hands. He took another deep breath.

  “Reece?” Bailey asked quietly.

  “Bailey, I’m not good with stuff like this,” he began. “I mean, look at me. I’m sweating like a whore in church.”

  She giggled as she watched him wipe his forehead.

  “Usually I’m pretty cool and confident, huh?”

  “Yeah.”

  “I don’t feel very confident now,” he admitted. “Even though this back yard looks kickass.”

  What the hell kind of proposal is this? he thought.

  “It is kickass,” she agreed. “It’s perfect.”

  He dropped to his knee in front of her.

  “Oh my God,” she breathed.

  He clasped her hand in his. It was clammy with nerves and the nagging fear that she’d run. Why did he think she would? Who was this man kneeling here completely devoid of all his natural characteristics? He should be confident. Maybe a little cocky. He was, after all, about to whip out the prettiest engagement ring on the planet. Well, according to Erica.

  “Bailey,” he began. He inhaled sharply. “I’m having a hard time breathing.”

  “Reece?”

  His hand grew clammier, and she squeezed it, encouraging him to say it. Say it!

  “I love you,” he said. He looked into her eyes. “I love you. I’ve never loved anyone but you. Do you understand that? I thought I loved girls in the past, but I didn’t. I know that now because what I have with you is so different—so much better. Deeper. Fuller. It’s true love.”

  She bit her lower lip.

  “And I want to love you for the rest of my life. Will you let me?” He paused and watched as her head bobbed up and down. “Will you be my wife?”

  She didn’t h
esitate. She jumped into his arms, knocking him backward onto the small patch of grass bordering the pond.

  “Yes!” she squealed in his ear.

  “Really?”

  She burst out laughing. “Did you think I’d say no?”

  “I don’t know,” he said, sighing relief. “But I’m so glad you didn’t!”

  She kissed every square inch of his face, tickling him with the strands of her damp hair that hung forward in heavy clumps. He rolled her over and kissed her earlobe.

  “Wanna see the ring?” he whispered softly in her ear.

  “There’s a ring, too?!”

  He laughed and sat up. “Oh, Bailey. You crazy thing. What kind of dipshit proposes without a ring?”

  She sat up, too, and held out her hand.

  “I’ve no idea. But I’m glad you’re not a dipshit. Gimme gimme.”

  “Greedy thing, too,” he mumbled as he pulled the box from his pants pocket. “Turn that hand over.”

  She did, and then he instructed her to close her eyes. She complied, and he slid the ring on her finger. A little big, he thought with the tiniest disappointment. He was going for perfection, but then he remembered his actual proposal. Oh well.

  “Open your eyes,” he said.

  She hesitated a moment.

  “I’ll love whatever it is,” she said finally.

  He chuckled. “You better tell me if you don’t like it. I mean it, Bailey. I want you to have what you like.”

  She opened her eyes and gasped.

  “Reece!”

  “Hmm?”

  “Reece!” she squealed again.

  “You like?”

  “Oh my God! It’s the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen!”

  He nodded. Erica was right. Why did he ever doubt her? It was only for a mere second, but still. Should he tell her or take all the credit? He couldn’t help imagining what she’d do to him later in bed if she thought he was solely responsible for choosing that ring. But that’s deceptive, Reece, and you’re better than that. And anyway, she may do those things to you tonight regardless.

  “Erica helped,” he admitted.

  Bailey continued staring at the sparkly jewel on her finger. “Oh, I know she did.”

  Reece scowled. “How?”

  “Reece, I only told her a trillion times the kind of engagement ring I wanted. I’ve wanted a princess cut solitaire since I was ten.”

  “Ten, huh?” he asked. “I wanted baseball cards and bubblegum.”

  She laughed.

  “You girls are a mess,” he said. “A hot mess.”

  “You did not just say that,” Bailey replied. “You’re over thirty, hon. You can’t talk like that anymore.”

  “Whatever. You gonna give me something good tonight?”

  “Oh, you mean for the ring?” she asked.

  He nodded.

  “How about baseball cards and bubblegum?”

  “That’s cute. How about your pussy?”

  “Reece! That’s not very romantic!”

  “I can’t think of anything more romantic, actually,” he countered. He stood up and helped Bailey to her feet. He grabbed the champagne and headed for the patio.

  “I meant the way you said it,” she replied, following after.

  “What am I supposed to call it?” he asked. He pulled out her chair and poured her a glass of champagne.

  “I dunno,” she confessed.

  “Then pussy it is. And anyway, I like that word—pussy. I like to whisper it.” He bent low and kissed her cheek. “Bailey, I want your pussy,” he whispered.

  She held up her finger. “Steak first.”

  He laughed and stood up.

  “I see. Priorities,” he mumbled and served his first steak to his new fiancée.

  The steak was perfection. The champagne was perfection. The little cakes from that bakery I love were perfection. The ring . . . well, the ring was out of this world. I couldn’t stop staring at it throughout dinner, and I only half-listened to the things Reece said. He figured out how to get my full attention through other means, however.

  He led me to the pergola where dessert wine awaited us, nestled in another one of my tin buckets.

  “I’m already tipsy, Reece,” I said when he opened the bottle.

  “Oh, I know it,” he replied, wiggling his eyebrows.

  I collapsed on the couch and pulled up my bare feet.

  “Comfy?” he asked.

  I nodded.

  “It’s a little hot out here, isn’t it?”

  I nodded again.

  “You should maybe take your clothes off,” he suggested.

  I laughed. “I told you about Soledad.”

  “It’s dark. She can’t see anything,” Reece argued.

  “I dunno . . .”

  “For Christ’s sake, Bailey. I’m gonna make you live a little.”

  “Hey! Now wait just a minute, buster! I do live. I recall being the surfer in this relationship. Not you.”

  “Oh my God,” Reece replied, his face lighting up. “That’s perfect! Let’s fuck on your surfboard!”

  I stared at him.

  “Seriously. Let’s just—” He thrust his hips forward a few times. “—just fucking go at it on your surfboard.”

  “Oh my God,” I mumbled.

  “What? It’s totally hot.”

  “Do you have any idea what my custom board cost? Any clue at all?”

  Reece shook his head.

  “Too much to ruin it by fucking on it,” I said.

  “We’ll lay it on that patch of grass over there,” Reece explained.

  “We’ll crack it!”

  “Now that’s way hot.”

  “Reece . . .”

  “Fine. Take your pants off,” he ordered.

  “I’m not getting naked out here,” I argued.

  “Bailey, pants off. Now.”

  “No way, José.”

  Reece dropped the bottle back in the bucket and grabbed my wrist.

  “Honor and obey, missy,” he teased.

  “Very funny. And we’re not married yet,” I replied.

  “Engagements in some cultures are practically the same as marriage.” He tugged on my arm gently, but I resisted his pull.

  “Yeah? Well, this is American culture. And the two are totally different.”

  “Oh, stop teasing me already,” Reece said. “You know you like when I tell you what to do. Take those pants off and come sit on my face.”

  “Reece!”

  “Bailey!”

  I huffed.

  “I’m not giving you the option,” he said.

  And he didn’t. But I made him work for it. I broke free of his grasp and tore through the yard. I evaded him for a bit—I still knew all the little nuances of our back yard better than he did—but he eventually nabbed me. And he wasn’t delicate about it. He threw me over his shoulder and carried me to the small patch of grass in the middle of our yard. He set me on my feet and told me not to talk.

  “But Reece,” I began.

  “Bailey Mitchell, I swear to God . . .”

  And I closed my mouth.

  He disrobed me, piece by piece. Painfully slow. Painfully exposed. My face burned. My eyes darted all around. All I could think of was our neighbors.

  “You have a privacy fence,” he said softly. “All around.”

  “But Soledad,” I replied, watching him pull down my cotton shorts.

  “She can’t see. Trust me.”

  “But she can hear,” I said.

  “Then I guess you’ll just have to learn how to be quiet,” Reece replied. “Now, let’s talk about this no panty thing you’ve got going on. You do that a lot?”

  “When I wear these particular shorts,” I explained.

  He grunted. It was that sexual grunt he made when he was working hard to suppress something. What, I didn’t know. I didn’t want to know. It sounded like it would hurt.

  “Well, I’m diggin’ it. Hard,” he said.

 
; He stood back and observed me. I was stark naked, and my instinct was to place an arm over my breasts and a hand over my . . .

  “That pussy of yours,” Reece said, licking his lips.

  I covered it.

  “Move your hand.”

  I shook my head. “Why don’t we take this inside?”

  “Fat chance. Move your hand.”

  “I’m naked outside, Reece!” I hissed. “I’m feeling very uncomfortable right now!”

  “Would it help if I joined you?” he asked, stripping faster than I’d ever seen him strip.

  “And now you’re naked!” I cried. “I don’t think this is the best idea—”

  He came at me and kissed me hard, shutting me up, telling me he wanted me here and now. We collapsed on the ground together, and he rolled on top of me, spreading my legs with his knees while his mouth went to my neck. I squirmed under him, feeling the short blades of grass prick my skin.

  “No, Bailey. Let me love you,” Reece breathed, and I decided right there—right in the middle of our back yard, naked and vulnerable—to trust him.

  I let go.

  He kissed down my neck to my breasts. He ravaged them, tugging hard on my nipples with his teeth. The intensity was too much, and I moaned into the night air. I clapped a hand over my mouth, and he moved it. He trapped my hands on either side of my hips while he continued his assault on my breasts, and I bit my lower lip hard to keep from crying out. I didn’t fight him, though. I didn’t want to. The pleasure explosion was already building in my abdomen, and he hadn’t yet touched me between my legs.

  He rolled onto his back suddenly.

  “Sit on my face,” he said.

  I didn’t argue, but I was hesitant.

  “Sit on my face, Bailey,” he said again.

  I obeyed and climbed on top of him, straddling his head. It’s not the easiest position without a headboard. I had to hold my weight up by the strength in my thighs. There was no way I could come like this. This position was purely for him.

  I sank down on him slowly and felt him moan against my pussy. He held my ass, easing the pressure on my legs a little as his tongue plunged deep inside. I moaned again, this time completely oblivious to the existence of neighbors.

  He drank me in like a starving man, then rolled me over, pinning me to the ground with his swollen muscles. He was neither gentle nor forceful. His body simply said, “I’m coming inside,” and he slipped right in. No permission asked. He trapped my face in his hands as he thrust, long and slow, paying homage to me. Thanking me. Honoring me. It was all of those things, and it went on and on, driving deep into the secret night.