“Hey, Lila, long time. What’s new?” she returned, glancing up from the leg she was currently pounding on.
“Oh, not much,” I said airily, walking up to her with my hand outstretched.
I wiggled my fingers for effect, smiling when Clarice’s eyes got wide. She grabbed my hand, hers a bit greasy from the lotion she’d been rubbing on her client’s leg, and stood up quickly.
“Sweet Baby Jesus, is that what I think it is?” she asked.
“If you think it’s an engagement ring from a hot, badass, motorcycle man . . . then, yes!” I replied, jumping up and down.
The three teenaged girls sitting in the pedicure chairs were looking at us like we were nuts, but I didn’t care. There were few things in life that were jump worthy, and this engagement was definitely one of them.
After I’d gotten divorced from my ex, formerly known as The Douche, now just called Eric, I’d vowed never to fall in love and get married again. Even when I started seeing Cade, he’d been pretty clear that he wasn’t the type to settle down and get a white picket fence, but, to both of our surprise, here we were. Engaged, about to move in together and be married, and I had never been happier.
If that didn’t deserve a little booty shake in public, I didn’t know what did.
Once I was done jumping and shaking my booty with Clarice, who, although wasn’t one of my besties, was a cool chick, I struggled to catch my breath and shot a happy smile to the teens I was here to interrogate.
I mean . . . question.
“Wow, I can’t believe you got that man to settle down,” Clarice said, her voice filled with awe. “What is that?” she asked, her eyes on the stone.
“Sea glass, from Hawaii. Cade made the ring himself,” I replied, my heart getting all squishy. I didn’t tell her that he’d made it in class when he was in high school, and told his mother to save it for the woman he married. Or that he’d said when he met me and saw that my eyes matched the sea glass perfectly, he’d known I was the woman for him.
That was a tale for those closest to me.
“It’s beautiful. Congrats, Lila, you deserve a man like Cade, especially after that shit your asshole ex pulled.”
“Thanks. Now, I need a kick-ass manicure to show this baby off.”
“You’ve come to the right place,” she said. “Go ahead and pick your color, then have a seat and I’ll be with you shortly.”
I sat down next to one of the teenagers and pulled out my phone, checking social media as I listened to them chatter.
“She’s like, so crazy to do it at our age. We’re not even done with high school yet,” the girl farthest away was saying.
“Totally. I mean, I want to get out of here, go to college. I can’t believe she’s giving up and staying here.”
“I don’t know,” the girl closest to me said softly, probably not wanting to get the other two all stirred up by disagreeing with them. “I think it’s kind of romantic.”
“Romantic, ugh. I don’t know about you, but I want to play the field, see what’s out there, not tie myself down to one guy. Even if he is hot.”
Taking a stab in the dark, I asked, “You guys talking about Misty?”
Three shocked faces turned to me, before the loudest one narrowed her eyes and said, “Who are you?”
“Just someone concerned over a missing girl.”
Loud girl rolled her eyes.
“She’s not missing, she just left her mother’s house. Not that I blame her, that woman is a hot mess.”
“She ran away?” I pressed.
“She’s eighteen and an adult. She moved out.”
“Do you happen to know where I can find her?” I asked.
Loud girl rolled her eyes again, and I began to worry for the effect it would have on her face.
“She’s with Adrian. She’s always with Adrian. We barely even see her anymore, since he came along.”
“Do you know Adrian’s last name?” I asked.
The girl next to me gave me his name, and I looked to Clarice and said, “I’ll be back later for that mani.”
Clarice nodded, but shot me a look of disapproval.
I felt mildly guilty about coming in her place of business again, to get information for a client again, but it couldn’t be helped. Clarice’s was one of the hot spots in Greenswood. I couldn’t help it if criminals, perps, and suspects liked to get their nails done.
I made a mental note to actually come back this time and get my nails done. I didn’t want Clarice to think I was just using her and her salon for my own selfish purposes. Besides, I thought as I looked down at my ring finger, my engagement ring would pop if I had a French manicure.
I KNOCKED THREE times on the wood door, then stepped back and waited, my eyes surveying the street.
“Hello?”
I looked forward to see a pretty woman about my age standing in the doorway with a kitchen towel in her hands.
“Hi, I’m Delilah Horton, PI, and I’m looking for Misty.”
The woman nodded once, then stepped aside and said, “Come on in. We were expecting the cops, but I guess you’re close enough.”
“The cops?” I asked, walking past the woman and into her tidy living room.
“Yeah, Misty’s mom has made it no secret that she does not agree with her daughter dating our son, we figured it was only a matter of time before she did something crazy. God forbid she stand by her daughter and support her decisions.”
Why did it feel like everyone knew what was going on but me? And, why did it seem like being on the mother’s side was the wrong side of whatever this situation was?
“I was under the impression that Misty was missing. That perhaps she’d run away, or been taken against her will. Her mother hired me to find her, make sure she’s okay, and bring her home.”
“Well, you can talk to her, and see for yourself that she’s okay, but Misty isn’t going anywhere. I’ll go get her.”
I waited, my curiosity stronger than ever, as the woman went down the hallway to get Misty. A few moments later, she came back with a young woman, and a young man, whom I assumed were Misty and Adrian.
“Misty?” I asked, taking a step forward and offering my hand.
“Yeah,” she replied softly, taking my hand briefly before letting it go.
“Why don’t you have a seat? Can I get you anything? Coffee, water?”
“No, thank you,” I said.
“We’re fine, Mom,” Adrian said, and we all sat down.
There was a brief, uncomfortable silence, then Misty cleared her throat and said, “You can tell my mom that I’m fine. And, I only took a couple days off to get settled, but I will be going back to school tomorrow, so she doesn’t have to worry.”
“I will,” I replied, then asked. “Is there a reason why your mom would have thought you were missing?”
Misty sighed.
“Look, I’m sorry that my mom is lonely, and that I’m all she has, but I can’t live with her anymore. She doesn’t approve of Adrian because he’s black. I’ve been grounded for months, even though I haven’t done anything, just so she could keep us apart outside of school. She’s talked about sending me away, but then she’d be alone, so she couldn’t do it.”
Misty took a deep breath, then picked up a piece of paper and handed it to me.
“The day I turned eighteen, I left home and Adrian and I got married, here’s the certificate. We’re both going to stay in school and graduate and we’ll be here with his parents until we can save up enough to move out on our own. You can tell my mom I’m safe and I’m happy, and if she can accept Adrian as my husband, we can get together, but if not, I don’t want to see her.”
Misty’s eyes filled with tears, and Adrian put his arm around her. His eye swung to me.
“Is that all you need?” he asked.
I nodded and rose.
“Is this copy for your mother?” I asked.
They both said, “Yes,” and I moved to let myself out.
It would be terrible.
Still, it was apparent that Misty’s mother was in the wrong here, not Misty, although the thought of Lena getting married at eighteen sent me into panic mode.
Can Misty’s mother really let the color of a man’s skin affect her so much that she’s willing to lose what appears to be the only family she has left. Is she that ignorant? Obtuse? What year is it anyway? Do people still think and feel this way?
It was almost more than I could fathom, and I found myself not wanting to talk to the woman again, although I knew I needed to deliver the document for Misty and tell her the case was closed.
With a bad taste in my mouth, I drove back to Main Street, intent on Amy May’s bakery and another cupcake.
Yeah, I realize that would be three cupcakes and it isn’t even dinner time yet, but who’s counting?
I needed to see my friend and make sure she was okay, and I needed a little boost before going to see Misty’s mother.
When I parked, I shot a text to her number asking for her address, then sent another one to Cade, asking what he was going to pick up for dinner. Finally, I went to the group chat I shared with Bea, Carmen, and Amy May, and said we needed to plan a night out.
As I was walking, Misty’s mom replied that she would meet me at Applebee’s in thirty minutes. Guess she didn’t want me coming to her house . . . whatever.
Cade texted back, Kabobs.
But, the group chat stayed silent.
I needed to talk to Amy May and fix things with my girls.
I STOPPED BY Amy May’s Bakery, and her new right hand, Jordan, said she’d left to go check out the progress of the storefront at the mall.
I went to the mall, stopped by the storefront, which was still under construction but would be ready in a couple weeks, and the guys on site were packing up. They said Amy May had already been there and left.
It was time to head to Applebee's, so I went there, gave Misty's mom her report and headed back out to continue my Amy May search.
I tried to call her, but my calls went to voicemail. So, I sent her a text asking her to contact me, and was about to go to her house when Cade messaged me to say he was on his way home with food.
It was obvious to me that Amy May hadn’t cooled down and wasn’t ready to listen to my reasoning, so I decided to give her the space she wanted and headed home.
Amy May and I had been friends for over a decade. She’d left town for a while after she married Jason, but eventually came back, and we’d been inseparable. Our kids were friends, and although Jason and Eric hadn’t been buddies, they’d tolerated each other for our sake. Now, Jason was enamored with Cade and wanted to be him when he grew up, so we still hung out all the time.
I knew when she got mad, she wanted to be alone to stew, and then she’d calm down and things would work out.
I’d hoped she would have already gone through her process and been ready to talk, but her sending me to voicemail told me that was not the case. So, I’d find my patience and let her deal with things until she was ready for me to step up to the plate.
That was part of being friends, right, learning how we deal with things and giving each other room to do so.
I pulled my van in the driveway and took a moment to appreciate my house.
After Eric and I had divorced, Elin, Lena, and I had moved from our cushy neighborhood to an apartment in The Heights. It wasn’t a bad place to live, but I’d never been so grateful to have space enough for all of us, a yard for the kids and the dogs to play in, and to not share walls with neighbors.
Especially since Cade and I could get pretty loud when the kids were at their dad’s. The last thing I needed in my life was more noise complaints.
I let myself in and put my stuff on the table by the door, then braced myself for Rufus’s greeting. Sure enough, he came bounding toward me, CB close on his heels, and shoved his nose right in my crotch.
“I missed you too, Rufus,” I said wryly as I pushed his head gently and gave him a pat. “Hi, CB,” I added, rubbing behind CB’s ears.
Rufus was Cade’s black lab; they’d been together for years, and Rufus had quickly become a part of our family. He barely tolerated CB, who thought he was the best dog ever.
“Mom!” Elin yelled. “Lena’s being a butthead again.”
“Shut it, loser!” Lena shouted back.
I thought about quietly opening the door and going back out, then I heard Cade say evenly, “Quit being assholes and set the table.”
I clapped a hand over my mouth to stifle the laughter that was threatening to bubble up.
“Real nice,” Lena grumbled.
“Swear jar,” Elin added.
I walked into the kitchen, looked at my twins, and asked, “Can you guys please be nice to each other? At least through dinner?” Then I crossed to Cade and put my arms around his waist, tipping my head back for a kiss.
After he kissed me, I whispered, “Maybe you shouldn’t call the kids assholes.”
“If they stop acting like assholes, I won’t call them out on it,” he countered.
“Swear jar,” Elin said, and I turned to him with a sigh.
“Yeah, Elin, we got it.”
“Let’s eat,” Cade said and we all went to the table, where the kids had put out paper plates and plastic silverware, and the takeout containers of kabobs, shawarma, and falafel.
Classy, maybe not, but at least we were sitting down to eat as a family. Even Rufus and CB assumed their positions under the table, hoping Elin and Lena took pity on them and threw them some scraps.
Dinner was always a loud event, with Cade telling stories and the kids laughing manically. Tonight was no different when he shared stories of growing up in Hawaii. His parents were characters, and the twins loved them to pieces, so they always got the best reactions.
“And my mom said, ‘Cade, just go into the ocean and clean yourself up, it’ll be fine.’ I was like, ‘Ma, there’s a five-inch nail sticking out of the bottom of my foot, I think we should go to the emergency room.’ She put her hands on her hips and said, ‘Ku‘uipo, you are my Koa, quit whining and let the sea clean your wounds.’”
“What did you do?” Elin asked with a snort.
“I told Chris to pull it out, then I ran into the water, screaming and swearing enough to scare the fish. Then Pops superglued my foot and gave me a shot of whiskey.”
Lena’s eyes bugged.
“Pops gave you whiskey when you were a kid?”
Cade nodded. “Said it made me a man.”
“Mom, can I have a shot of whiskey?” Elin asked.
I glared at Cade and said, “No, son, you may not.”
Cade just grinned at me.
“When I’m sixteen?” Elin countered.
“Nope.”
“Eighteen?”
“Not on your life.”
“Twenty?”
“Keep going.”
“Gosh, you’re no fun. I’ll ask Pops when they get here.”
“Are you trying to drive me crazy?” I asked Cade, but he only chuckled in response.
“YOU KNOW, WE should probably have a conversation about the things you say to and around the kids . . . They’re very impressionable, and they really look up to you,” I began as we walked into the bedroom to start getting ready for bed.
I heard the door click and then lock.
“I have a better idea,” Cade said, his voice rough in that way that had my girly parts tingling.
I turned slowly, my legs already beginning to quiver, and asked, “What’s that?”
“I think you should take off all your clothes, go into the bathroom, turn on the shower, and bend over the counter.”
My throat began to close and my breasts got heavy.
“If I’m bending over the
counter, why do we need the shower on?” I asked softly. A little afraid and a lot excited.
Cade reached back and pulled his T-shirt over his head, then shook his head. His hair was longer now, and if fell with wild abandon down past his shoulders. He was broad shouldered, with delicious pecs and a body that never failed to make my palms itch.
“The shower’s on to cover the sounds of your screams as I take you from behind.”
Oh my.
“Goodie,” I managed, the word coming out muffled as I scrambled to rid myself of my clothes in record speed.
The look was probably not flattering as I bent and bobbed to try and get it all off quickly, but before you could say, who brought the lube, I was in position. The counter was cold against my skin, and I said a brief thanks that I’d just cleaned it that morning.
I turned my head so I could watch Cade strut in, magnificently naked, his thighs thick with a smattering of dark hair. And his cock, long, hard, and proud, ready to claim me.
“Push up a little, enough so you can see your tits in the mirror,” Cade ordered, and I complied. “Touch ‘em. Now pinch those nipples . . . fuck yeah.”
I felt the weight of my breasts and pinched my nipples as he said, but I was looking into the mirror behind me, at Cade. He stood tall, a good seven inches taller than me, and all beefy, hulking man.
His hand was on his cock and his eyes were on my tits. He stroked slowly as he watched me.
His free hand moved to my hip, his fingers digging in momentarily, letting me know that he was there, that he was getting ready to take me. He shifted to squeeze one cheek, then the other, before running his fingers along the seam of my ass until he found me wet and ready for him.
“Harder,” Cade demanded, as he slid his finger inside me and began to move it in and out.
“Cade,” I moaned, pushing back against his hand.
“Fuck, darlin’, you’re fucking perfect.”
When his second finger entered me, I bent lower, needing more.
“Brace,” was the only warning I got before he was sliding home.
Our moans mingled in the steam of the bathroom as he pulled out and thrust inside me. Over and over. I flattened my hands against the mirror, pushing back as I felt the orgasm building within me.
Cupcake Explosion Page 2
