Ready For You

by J. L. Berg

  “What is this all about, Garrett?”

  I told him everything. I told him about Mia and my love for her. I explained the pregnancy and our shock but elation.

  “Becoming teenage parents hadn’t been our plan, but we were going to make it work—together.” I explained. Declan silently listened as I finally came clean about my past. I told him about the note that had destroyed me and how conflicted I’d been since Mia’s return.

  “And now?” he asked.

  “I don’t know, but I can’t lose her again.”

  “Then, you’ve got to let it go, man. Love is pure. Don’t let something like doubt or anger work its way in and taint it from the beginning. You’ll never recover.”

  “I want to, more than anything. It’s always been her. I just can’t seem to find a way to get past it.”

  Lily chose this moment to bang on the tray of her high chair, sending Cheerios everywhere. A few landed in my hair, and Declan laughed.

  With a light smack to the head, he gave me my answer. “Stop looking behind you, moron.”

  Chapter Twenty

  ~Mia~

  Liv had spent the entire day making me laugh, reminding me what an amazing friend she was. I’d had other friends along the way since I left home, but none had been like Liv. She could read my mood with a single glance, hear my thoughts through my expressions, and know what my heart was saying even if I didn’t.

  After the great breakfast debacle, I convinced her that a walk would be nice. If we happened to find some edible lunch along the way, it would be even better.

  We picked up sandwiches at a small cafe and spent the rest of the afternoon meandering through different stores. I picked up a new skirt and a pretty pair of earrings. Liv tried on practically everything her eyes saw, but she walked away only with a scarf. When I asked her what she was going to do with a scarf in the middle of August, she just smiled.

  I suddenly didn’t want to know.

  After we walked back to my house, she said her good-byes, and then I ran upstairs and changed into my new skirt. For once, I wanted to look nice when Garrett showed up. Whenever he had come knocking on my door, I had answered it in cutoff shorts or yoga pants. I was feeling kind of slobby.

  Barely fifteen minutes past five, Garrett came barreling through my front door—no knocking this time—lugging plastic bags from the home improvement store. Dressed in worn jeans and a dark T-shirt that tightly hugged his body, I wondered just how long he’d been away from work.

  Before I got the chance to ask, he dropped the bags in the middle of the living room and swept me up into his arms. His mouth took mine in a fierce kiss as he dug his hands into my hair and pulled me closer.

  When we finally broke apart, I was breathless.

  My voice was ragged as I asked, “What was that for?”

  “I missed you,” he answered with a grin.

  “You just saw me this morning!”

  “Mmm…I know, but I have lost time to make up for, and you look amazing.”

  This time, when his lips touched mine, they were gentle. His mouth moved with mine, slowly tracing the soft fullness of my lips with his tongue. He pulled back, only to reach up and place a tender kiss on my forehead, and I melted. It was such a small thing but so significant in its symbolism.

  “Why do you always kiss me on my forehead?” I asked, feeling a little silly every time he did so.

  “I like to remind myself how perfect we are together,” he answered with a shy smile.

  “And kissing me on my forehead reminds you of this?”

  “When we stand face-to-face and I pull you into my arms, you fit perfectly, like you are meant to be there, and I’ve found my missing puzzle piece. I remember the first time I held you and I bent down to kiss your forehead, I thought, Perfect.”

  His green eyes found mine, and in them, I saw the boy I’d left coming back to me. The anger he’d become so accustomed to was starting to bleed away, and I only hoped I wouldn’t hurt him again.

  Then, you should tell him now, a voice in my head urged.

  I quickly dismissed it, too swept up in my newfound bliss.

  “Thank you for sending Liv over today. It was nice not to spend the day alone even if she did make me eat rabbit food.”

  He chuckled, and I poked his ribs.

  “Ouch! It couldn’t have been that bad.”

  “No? There are still some baseball muffins in the kitchen if you’re hungry. Why don’t you go try one?”

  “No, I’m good.”

  “Wuss,” I muttered.

  “No, I’m just smarter than you.”

  I poked him in the ribs again, and he laughed.

  “So, what’s with all the bags? I don’t see any food this time.”

  His exuberant grin sent my pulse racing as he reached down and picked up the bags he’d dropped on the floor. He motioned me over to the couch, and we sat down. He started pulling out paint swatches and tile samples.

  “You’re remodeling a house?” I asked.

  “No, we are. I couldn’t focus at work today, so I took a half day and went shopping.”

  I merely stared at him, completely tongue-tied.

  He let out a nervous breath. “I wasn’t here to help you with the floors, and I hate that my anger got in the way of that. I’m sick of looking in the past when it comes to us. Wherever we’re going, we need to be headed there together, and I can’t do that if I’m constantly thinking about all the what-ifs and lost moments we could have had.”

  My lips parted, and I tried to interrupt him, but he stopped me, placing his finger on my lips.

  “Let me finish. I know there are obstacles and roadblocks in our future, but the point to all of this is that we are creating a future, right?”

  I nodded, unable to speak. A future with Garrett was all I’d ever wished for, and my heart ached in want from hearing the words.

  “So, let’s start doing it. We always wanted to fix up a house, and yours could definitely use it.”

  “Hey! I love my house.” I pouted.

  Chuckling, he touched my fingers, weaving our hands together. “I love your house, too, but it’s definitely a fixer-upper. With a bit of work, it could be great.” His eyes softened, and he smiled. “It just needs a bit of time and love, like us.”

  Yes! I wanted to scream it, but I held it together. He wasn’t asking me to marry him. He just wanted permission to throw some paint on the walls.

  “Okay, so where do we start?”

  “Wherever you want. We can paint the walls and retile the bathrooms. Hell, we can even give you a new backsplash in the kitchen, if you want.”

  I looked around my house. I’d been living within these walls for two months, yet it didn’t feel like home yet. There were no pictures on the white walls, and I had very little furniture. Nothing made it feel mine.

  “I want to paint…every single wall.”

  He pulled out a huge metal ring that had every color imaginable hanging from it. Dangling it in front of me, he said, “Pick a room and a color!”

  We ordered a pizza and spent the rest of the evening hunched over the rainbow of colors, pointing out all the various shades we loved and hated.

  “Orange for the bedroom?” I asked with a bit of amusement.

  “Yes, it’s perfect.”

  “And why is it more perfect than this tranquil blue I picked out?”

  “Because that room always has a lingering hint of orange leftover from your lotion, and I’ve always thought orange looks good on you.”

  “I’m not going to be wearing the bedroom,” I reminded him.

  “No, but I plan on you being naked in there most of the time, so it will be the closest thing to clothes your skin sees in there.”

  My breath caught at his smoldering words, and I suddenly didn’t care if the room was hot pink with purple polka dots.

  “Orange it is,” I said quickly.

  His face broke out into a smug grin. “I think we’re done for tonigh
t.”

  I nodded in agreement. “Yes, definitely.”

  “Race you to the bedroom?” he challenged.

  “Deal!” I yelled, taking off in a run toward the steps.

  By the time we got to the top of the stairs, neither of us cared who would win.

  ~Garrett~

  For the last three weeks, Mia and I had done nothing but paint. Mia had wanted every room a different color, and at first, I’d had serious doubts about her plan. But as we’d finished each room, the paint seemed to bring more and more vibrancy to the old house, resurrecting new life into the drab walls and bringing a renewed, fresh energy with every hue.

  The house hadn’t been the only thing benefiting from the color enhancements. With every flick of the paintbrush, I’d found myself falling deeply and permanently in love with Mia. I’d never stopped loving her, even when I wanted to hate her. As the anger had melted, I had been able to turn away from the past, and I had fallen harder.

  During our epic paint project, we’d painted the master bedroom a burnt orange. As soon as the paint had dried, I’d shown Mia just how serious I was about keeping her naked. I’d stripped her bare and kept her occupied in bed for almost an entire weekend.

  Next, we had tackled the other two bedrooms. We’d painted them various shades of tan since Mia hadn’t decided what she wanted to do with them. The house was massive. It was the perfect size for a family, but it almost swallowed Mia whole. She had more space than she knew what to do with.

  We’d moved downstairs after that, painting the kitchen a rich golden yellow that brought sunshine to the old cabinets and appliances. I couldn’t wait to take a sledgehammer to some of these walls and make her a kitchen she’d be proud of. I’d mentioned that we needed to do some major repairs in there, but she had just shaken her head and said something about one step at a time.

  She’d be singing a different tune if she was the one actually cooking in there.

  After the kitchen, we’d moved into the office. To protect the brand-new floor, we’d laid down wall-to-wall plastic and taped it to the floorboards. Mia was not the neatest painter, and after watching her wield her paint roller like a psychopath, I didn’t trust her not to ruin the floor.

  As I stretched my aching back and yawned from the lack of sleep, I found myself grinning. I was physically exhausted from the marathon painting, but I’d never felt better.

  “What are you grinning about?” Mia asked, catching me mid thought.

  “Just thinking how I feel like an eighty-year-old man, but I couldn’t be happier about it.”

  A tender smile touched her lips. “I don’t know why we keep staying up so late. It’s not like we’re under a deadline.”

  I nodded in agreement, but I knew why we’d stayed up into the wee hours of the night, painting and talking, when we both had jobs and responsibilities the next day. We couldn’t get enough of each other.

  Every new minute I had with her felt like I was erasing one I’d lost.

  I hadn’t put a single hour of overtime in at work for a month. I’d managed to get my head back in the game, and I’d started getting shit done, but I wouldn’t do more than I was required to anymore. I was now officially a retired workaholic. I’d reformed to a full-time minimalist. As soon as it reached five o’clock each day, I would practically fly out of the office. I’d cook a meal for us, or we’d run out for something down the street, and then we’d be back at the house, painting. I’d edge the walls with a paintbrush and listen as she spoke. She’d roll the paint up and down the wall, paint flying everywhere, and finally talk about her life.

  At last, I had a rough outline of the life she’d had after me. I could at least picture her sitting in a classroom at the small private college she’d attended in Oregon. I had a vision now of her graduating and moving to Atlanta to begin her career.

  She’d told me about some of her friends and how much she missed them. I’d suggested we take a trip there and visit, but she’d immediately turned me down.

  Excitedly, she’d said, It’s okay. I’d rather go do something else. We should go to the beach!

  She’d opened up to me, yet I still felt she was hiding pieces of her life, and I didn’t know why.

  I looked around the half-painted room with boxes piled high and a small desk in the center.

  “What are you going to do with this room?” I asked.

  Mia surveyed the space as she turned. “I think I’m going to finally set up that clunker of a computer I have and use it to enroll in a few courses.”

  “As in college courses?”

  She smiled and nodded.

  “What are you going to take?” I asked, full of happy anticipation for her.

  “I don’t know yet, but I know I don’t want to work in the hospital for the rest of my life, and I definitely don’t want to go back to accounting.”

  “Get your teaching credential,” I said suddenly.

  “What?”

  “It was always your dream to teach. Don’t give up on that,” I urged.

  “But what would I teach?” she asked.

  “Teach music. You’d be great at that.”

  “I don’t know,” she answered quietly.

  She would be an amazing teacher. She was patient, encouraging, and loving. I knew the past kept her from doing what she loved, but we were learning to move on, and I wanted to see her happy.

  “Oh, I’m supposed to ask you,” she said moments later. “Leah and Declan are hosting an end-of-the-summer party at their house next weekend. They wanted to know if we could go?”

  I turned with my brush in hand and asked in an amused tone, “So, now that you two are chummy, I don’t even get a call?”

  “Did you just use the word chummy? Maybe you weren’t too far off with that eighty-year-old comment!”

  “You better take that back,” I warned, holding my paintbrush out toward her as I advanced.

  She backed away and laughed. “You wouldn’t!”

  “Oh, don’t tempt me, Mia.”

  I could see the mischief in her eyes seconds before she turned to dart away from me. I reached a hand out to pull her into my grasp, catching her easily.

  “No!” she squealed as I dangled the paintbrush over her.

  “Take it back.” I laughed.

  She looked at the brush and squirmed in my grip. “Sam will attack you. He’ll defend me.”

  I looked over at Sam, who was looking at us with upturned ears and a waggling tail.

  “Yep, he looks ferocious.”

  I thought about giving her a last chance, but now that I’d started the game, I really wanted to finish it. Taking my brush that was covered in a lovely shade of steel gray, I ran it down the length of her arm.

  “No, Garrett!” she yelled, trying to get a hold of the brush.

  My strength was no match for hers, and no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t get me to let go of her.

  Suddenly, my hand went slack around the brush as her hand found its way to the front of my shorts. She palmed me, rubbing her fingers up and down, and I grew harder with each touch. As her hand reached around to grip me properly, I let go of the brush, splashing paint all over my legs. Mia yelled in triumph. I’d been duped, and now, I was covered in paint while sporting a rock-hard boner.

  “You’ll pay for that!”

  She laughed and shouted as we both dove for control of the brush which had landed somewhere around my ankles. In the end, I was the victor and had Mia pinned to the ground. . Straddling her, I dangled the brush in the air above her while trying to decide the best punishment.

  “Now, where shall I begin?”

  “You’re seriously not going to paint me, are you?” She wiggled beneath me, still hoping to win back the brush.

  “Keep squirming, baby. I like it. Yes, I think I am going to paint you…but not with a brush.”

  I dropped the brush on the ground and reached for the tray of paint Mia had been using. I pulled it closer and dipped my index finger
into the gray liquid. I lifted her shirt.

  “Take it off,” I instructed.

  A little less resistant now, she complied. With a flick of my fingers, I unsnapped the front of her bra, exposing her breasts.

  “You’re not going to paint on my boobs, are you?” She laughed.

  I gave her a wolfish grin but said nothing. I wasn’t going to paint that specific area. I just enjoyed the view.

  Her stomach sucked in as the cool paint made contact with her skin. I trailed my finger down to make a straight line. I got more paint and repeated this process until I spelled the word mine across her abdomen.

  Her lips quirked up as her eyes raked over my creation. “Possessive much?”

  “Fuck yes. I’d tattoo that on your ass if you’d let me.”

  “I’m not sure my ass would be the best place. No one would ever see it but you, so it wouldn’t do much good.”

  “Good point.” I grinned. “Let’s just get it tattooed across your forehead. I’m sure it won’t be weird.”

  She snorted, which gave way to a full-out laughing attack. The sound was infectious, and I couldn’t help but join her.

  “So, do I get to paint you?” she asked.

  “Only if you stay half-naked.”

  “Deal, but you have to lose your shirt, too.”

  I let her up as I removed my shirt, and we switched positions. Her legs straddled my hips, and I groaned as her body made contact with the part of me that was aching for her. Her delicate fingers dipped into the paint, and she studied me as if she were looking at a canvas. She bent forward, and I felt her breasts brush against my chest as she kissed a path down my body. She worked her way back up my stomach, tracing the lines of my abs with the back of her hand. She left traces of paint everywhere her hand touched. It was like a Mia roadmap.

  Her eyes settled on my chest, and the paint made contact with my skin. I watched her trace the letters of her name over my heart. As soon as her finger lifted after the last curl of the A, I fisted my hands in her hair and devoured her in a fiery kiss. She instantly responded, moaning into my mouth, as our tongues moved together.