by CM Foss
Ivy’s face turned red, her hands coming up to cover her mouth as she swallowed her laughter. “Cougar juice?”
“Just you wait. You’ll get to see it in action here any minute.”
“I honestly can’t wait.”
Like magic, a not-so-elusive cougar, bottle-blond with an enormous chest, took that moment to approach Sean. By the way she draped herself over him, it wasn’t the first time they’d met.
“Good evening, Ms. Amy. Can I do something for you?”
She bent down and whispered in his ear. Sean’s eyebrows rose slightly. I smirked to myself. I could only imagine what she was saying to him. If he spoke the truth, and he usually did, he got some pretty impressive offers on a regular basis.
“All right, sweetheart. How ’bout I send you over a glass of wine, and maybe we’ll talk a bit later? Right now I’m gonna stick with my friends here.”
She pouted slightly and returned to her friends. I was fully amused watching it play out.
“See?” He tilted his glass toward Ivy. “Works every time.”
“Wow.” She nodded. “What do you drink when you want them to leave you alone?”
“Chocolate milk.”
I started to laugh, shaking my head. He wasn’t lying.
“What?” Ivy asked.
“No woman approaches a man drinking chocolate milk. Ever. Would you?”
She shook her head, choking slightly on her laughter. “No. Never.”
The rest of the evening continued with easy banter and Sean entertaining us with… well with himself. It felt good to have my favorite people together with me. I only wished it would stay that way, but I could feel Ivy fading as the events of the day overtook her. So with a bump to the fist, we said good-bye to my friend. Well, he didn’t fist bump Ivy. Instead he hugged her longer than was strictly necessary and whispered something in her ear.
Once we were driving back to my parents’, I asked her what he said.
“He said you were more fun now without the stick up your ass.”
“He really said that?”
She shrugged and nodded.
“I did not have a stick up my ass.”
“You kind of did.”
“You fell for it.”
She snorted and shoved at my shoulder.
“I kind of did.”
Ivy
I woke the following morning with a leisurely stretch and yawn. It was the first morning in so long that I didn’t actually have to do anything. And pitch darkness surrounded me. Silence throughout the house was layered on top of that.
So much for a lazy morning sleeping in. This is what sucks about staying in a strange house. What time do these people wake up? How do I make coffee? What do I do? I didn’t even bring a book because some asshole dragged me from my home on a moment’s notice. He should entertain me at—I looked at my watch with squinted eyes—five in the morning. It was his fault I was here in the first place.
I stood and walked to poke my head out the door, peering into the hallway to make sure it was quiet. It was five, so of course it was. Who traipsed around this early? Except me.
I glanced down at what I was wearing to make sure it wouldn’t be horrible if I was caught. Just loose pajama pants and a thin shirt. Not horrible. Better if I wasn’t caught.
Chancing it, I tiptoed down to Patrick’s door. His parents’ room was on the other side of the condo, so there was no real reason for anyone to be around, but I was still nervous. I glanced side to side as I twisted the handle to his room, gasping when it was ripped from my hand and swung away from me.
Standing before me was a bleary-eyed, shirtless, boxer-clad Patrick. My mouth watered at the sight of him. He rubbed a hand over his face to clear it, but his gaze raked me head to toe.
“What time is it?” he asked.
“Five.”
“Why are you awake?”
“Internal clock. You complaining?”
He grinned and opened the door farther, stepping aside to let me in. “Not at all.”
I bypassed him, letting my fingers trail along the ridges defined on his abs as I passed. I felt his eyes on me with every step.
I didn’t say anything more, just stripped off my shirt, tossing it aside, and stepped out of my pants, leaving them in a pile on the floor. Then I climbed naked into his bed and curled under the covers.
“Lonely?” he asked as he moved toward me from across the room.
“Mmmm,” I murmured.
I knew he’d stripped as well when he climbed in behind me, skin to skin. I wriggled into his heat and his arm wrapped around me, enveloping me and pulling me back into his chest. For a few minutes, we just lay there, content. It was nice to be held. I didn’t know what I was missing before. My breathing slowed and I began to drift off to sleep again. But when his hand started roaming, I started breathing faster and my senses came alive.
He paused over my belly, letting his hand rest over the bump. I looked down and watched it splayed across me lovingly. Something about it felt really intimate, poignant. It made my chest tighten and goose bumps break out over my body, so I squirmed a little, teasing him into continuing on his path… lower. My eyes fell shut, and he smoothed his hand down my thigh, lifting it and hitching it back over his. Soon my discomfort melted away as he tormented me with his fingers, spreading me wide and thrusting into me smoothly. His teeth nipped along my neck and shoulder, his hands alternated between massaging my breasts and sliding between my legs, circling and playing.
His touches were light, almost lazy; he moved slowly and languidly. The only indications I had that he wasn’t as casual as he seemed were his soft groans and the pressure of his teeth on my skin as he tried to remain controlled. But with every nip and with every sound that escaped his lips, I lost more and more control and needed more… everything. My hips writhed, encouraging him to speed his movements. I grabbed his hand in mine and pressed it firmly against me as I ground into him. His teeth held firm on my shoulder, sure to leave a mark and surely not by accident. I held harder, moved faster until every muscle in my body went taut. He shifted to find an angle that allowed him to plunge deeper, and I let the fury in his motions carry us over the edge together.
We stayed in that somewhat-awkward position until we regained our senses, damp with sweat and tangled. Patrick gently kissed my shoulder, soothing the bite mark. I could feel his grin.
“Proud of yourself?” I looked over my shoulder at his cocky smile.
“I am, actually. I’ve never had the desire to mark someone before, but you? You, I want to.”
I averted my eyes, snuggling into him once more. “You already knocked me up. How much more branding do we need?”
He was quiet for a moment, lips on my hair as his hand splayed across my belly. “Well… maybe a little bit more.”
Chapter 22
Patrick
We tiptoed into the kitchen, up hours before my parents would be. Up a good bit before I normally would be too. But Ivy couldn’t lay still and cuddle. I had plenty of other alternatives in mind, but apparently the baby needed food. Since the baby was roughly the size of an orange, I was pretty sure Ivy just wanted to eat.
I busied myself making coffee, watching her with her head stuck in the refrigerator, looking for something to make. She was bent over, her ass poking out, encased in the soft flannel of her pajamas. Her T-shirt was riding up in the back, giving me a glimpse of skin. I’d seen all her skin, obviously, but the tease was causing me some discomfort. I couldn’t get enough, so I kept torturing myself with the sight of her hips swaying back and forth.
My desire morphed into amusement as I started to notice her huffing and pushing things around, getting a little too noisy for the early morning hour. I walked up behind her and placed my hands on the
hips I’d been staring at. She started at my touch, jumping and smacking her head on a shelf inside the fridge.
“Ow!” she whisper-yelled and jumped backward, almost knocking me over in the process. She spun around and poked me in the chest with one finger. “What are you doing?”
I backed away, trying not to laugh. “I didn’t know your head was all the way inside the refrigerator. How did you even get it in that far?”
“I was looking for real food.” She huffed and set her hands on her hips.
She was haughty and rumpled and I was about to cart her back to one of our bedrooms. Instead I looked over her shoulder. “There’s a ton of food in there.”
She leveled a stare at me. “There are white eggs in there. Grocery store white eggs.”
“Oh my gosh. The horror,” I teased. “Why didn’t you bring your own eggs?”
“Too much liquid. TSA won’t let you carry them on.” She swung the fridge door shut with her foot and grabbed my arm. “Come on. Get dressed. We’re going to a farmers’ market.”
“What? Why? …and where?” I stuttered.
“I think you know the answer to the first two questions. I’m not even gracing them with a response,” she said over her shoulder as I followed her down the hall. “The where you can figure out on your phone while I get dressed.”
With that she slammed the door to her room in my face. I blinked a few times in response, then turned to my own room, shaking my head. Note to self: never mess with this girl and her food.
Within a few minutes, we met back up in the hallway. Her hair was swept up in a messy knot on top of her head, a few golden tendrils already escaping. Her green eyes were bright and clear, standing out even more than usual with a little makeup swept on. She’d pulled on a dark green, long-sleeved henley that hugged her curves, and I smiled at the bump in the middle, moving to place my hand over it again. It would never cease to amaze me.
Ivy’s eyes traveled over me approvingly as well. She reached out a hand to pluck at the shirt I’d kept from our road-stand meeting.
“Nice shirt, city.” She grinned up at me.
“I’m learning.”
“To play with your food?”
“Maybe I can show you later.” I waggled my eyebrows.
She snorted and shoved at my chest. “Come on. Where are we going?”
I sighed heavily. “I have some directions. It’s about ten minutes away.”
“Oh gosh. So far.”
“It’s far in the city.”
She patted my chest as she walked away. “In the country, it only gets you to the next mailbox. Man up.”
I followed her for the next hour. I followed her to the car, I followed her directions, I parked where she said, and I watched her. I watched her smooth her fingers over different colored eggshells. The colors were what Easter must have intended: blues, browns, yellows, pinks, and whites. Even some black ones.
I watched her inhale the scents of fresh herbs and flowers, her eyes fluttering shut when she enjoyed it. I watched her tongue dart out to lick the taste of something off her soft lips, and I watched her dance around when it was something really good. I watched her interact with farmers and artists, asking them about their practices and sharing information. And I watched each of them fall a little bit in love with her, just like I did.
Love?
Yeah. I may be an asshole. But I knew what it was. And I knew when I saw it. Feeling it was new, but there was no mistake.
Ivy
I remember when I was a kid, going to the farmer’s market with my mom. She didn’t really cook, but we would gather artsy items, eat crepes and kettle corn, and sometimes get creepy chair massages. It was like a farm fair surrounded by concrete. Even in a somewhat dismal atmosphere, it was fun and jovial, carefree and colorful. Roped off from traffic, it was its own sort of haven.
The Dallas market was in a parking lot, rather than the middle of the street. It was a little smaller than what I grew up around, a little more subdued. But the energy was there. The same energy that drew me to start The Green House.
It always came back to the people. They were the best part. They were different and I respected that. Such characters. Everyone had a story to tell, but in today’s day and age, no one asked what it was. A simple smile and maybe asking a question could open your mind to a life you’d never even thought about.
I think Patrick got a kick out of the experience. I felt his eyes on me the entire time, and every time I looked over, he had a funny, knowing smirk on his face.
We were playing with fire, and I knew it. We were going to ruin our friendship or somehow end up together. Which I suppose, in essence, was dating. But I wasn’t ready to admit that.
Every touch and every look was melting my heart and my resolve, but all I could do was enjoy the time we spent together and push the thoughts aside when we parted. Which we inevitably would.
For now though, I was enjoying our time in the kitchen, even sky high and surrounded by other people’s windows that I couldn’t help but peer in. I wondered if anyone was looking in ours. And what they’d think.
They’d see a young… couple. From the touches and teasing glances we shared, along with my belly bump, they’d probably think we were newlyweds, expecting our first baby, still in the honeymoon stages. Totally in love and sharing a rare weekday morning off together. They would be just a little bit right.
Patrick tipped his chin over my shoulder, brushing his lips across my ear as he wrapped his arms around me.
“What’s next, boss?” he asked.
I set my knife down and looked over my shoulder.
“I’m pretty sure we just need people to wake up around here. How late do your parents sleep?”
He smirked and shrugged. “I have no idea. They’re retired. They can do whatever they want.”
“I think even when I’m retired I’ll be up and doing something,” I mused.
“Hopefully you’ll be up and doing me,” he retorted, turning away to pour more coffee, getting some decaf for my mug.
I pretended not to hear or acknowledge his last comment. I knew he was teasing.
He let me take a cautious sip of my seriously unsatisfactory brew before taking my cup and setting it aside. I was drawn into his arms, and he started swaying back and forth to some music only in his head. Amused at his playful side, I rested my head on his chest and allowed him to guide me around the kitchen. He was humming a Sinatra song in my ear and gently massaging my lower back as our feet moved together, never fumbling because his lead was so strong and sure.
“When did you get so romantic?” I mumbled into his shirt.
He kissed the top of my head. “I don’t know. I think you’re making me soft.”
“Hmm.” I pressed my hips against him and wiggled slightly.
He chuckled softly in my hair. “Not that kind of soft. And quit it ’cause my parents are going to walk in and you’ll have to explain my raging hard-on.”
I lifted my head to look him in the eye. “Why would I have to explain?”
“Because I would turn tail and leave you here.” He nodded solemnly.
“Really?” My eyebrows drew together.
“All’s fair in love, war, and hiding boners from one’s parents.”
I let out a bark of laughter and buried my face back in his chest to stifle it. “You’re so eloquent.”
We fell into silence, standing there in the middle of his parents’ kitchen. In a few hours we’d be getting ready to leave, hopping on different flights to return to our different homes. The weight of it settled over me, killing the lighthearted mood.
“I’m scared,” I confessed in a whisper.
“Of what?” he asked.
My shoulders rose and fell in a shrug. “
Leaving. Going home. All of it.”
I felt him sigh, his chest rising and falling. “You’re the bravest person I’ve ever met. And you’re not alone. You know that.”
“I know. Kind of. This is just… also kind of fucked up, right? I’m not alone in thinking that either.”
“No, it’s pretty fucked up. I’ll give you that. But… I’m happy. I’m not happy to be separated from you, and we are going to work on that, like it or not. But if I’m going to be in this crazy, fucked-up situation, I’m glad it’s with you.”
I nodded, absorbing his words. “That’s very romantic.”
He pressed another kiss to the top of my head and pinched my rear. “I know.”
Chapter 23
Patrick
“You should get to your gate,” she said quietly, her head tiredly resting on my shoulder.
“Nope.” I kissed the top of her head. “I’ll wait until you get on your flight.”
“You’ll be late.”
“No I won’t. I’m a fast runner.”
She chuckled and fell silent. There was probably a lot more we could have said and should have said. But in those final moments before they called for boarding, we sat quietly. When her group number was called, we stood in line together, Ivy leaning into me the whole time. I fidgeted with the ends of her hair, breathing her in.
Just before we reached the front of the line, I pulled her aside, gesturing for the other passengers to go ahead. She wrapped her arms around my waist, and I cupped her face in my hands, caressing her cheeks with my thumbs, tracing the contours and memorizing each one. Never before had I felt such an ache at being separated from someone.
“I’ll miss you,” I said, trying to convey all I meant and felt in those three little words.
I knew it made her uncomfortable. She didn’t trust how I felt, and I couldn’t say I blamed her. Her eyes were downcast, and I waited until she raised them to mine before leaning down to place a brief but gentle kiss on her lips.
