“Mancrib?” Janet asks, coming out of her stupor.
“You creative little devil,” Sam tells her, releasing her hand, giving her shoulder a gentle slug. “I wish I’d thought of it. We all know how men like to be coddled,” she says, giving me a knowing wink over her shoulder. “Men are all just big babies in man clothing, after all. Right?”
“Well… I…” Janet stutters.
Sam puts a hand on her shoulder, towering over her petite form. “Please tell me, girlfriend,” she dramatically pleads, “that you’re in the process of manufacturing more?”
I took note of her use of a hard O on process, and smile.
“What? Manufacturing?”
“Oh, I see,” Sam says and performs an over-the-top pinching of her lips, locking-them-up and throwing the key over her shoulder. “Everything is hush-hush. I don’t blame you. It’s such an awesome idea.”
Janet’s brow furrows. “What? I don’t understand?”
Sam pinches her cheeks. “Oh, my gawd! Are you not the cutest little designer, ever?”
Janet rubs her cheeks as Sam releases them and walks toward the door.
“Sam,” I call, as she opens it.
She slides on her sandals and pulls on a sweater she’d hung on a hook just outside the door.
I speed-walk toward her, not wanting her to leave “Sam, I—”
She picks up her handbag and gifts me with a quick kiss on the cheek. “See you later, neighbor,” she whispers in my ear.
“Angel,” is all I can manage, stunned into my own Sam-induced stupor.
“Janet,” she says, giving her a wave. “It was a pleasure. You be sure to let me know when I can get my hands on a mancrib. I know a lot of manbabies,” she says, and lifts her brow.
“Um. I… Okay,” Janet stammers.
Sam steps off the small entry porch and onto the sandy walkway.
I step out the door, holding up my hand. “Sam, wait up. I’ll walk you home.”
She dangles a set of keys. “No need, I drove.” She winks and walks down the sandy walkway that leads to the front of the house and driveway.
I step to the edge of the porch and watch her get into a sun-yellow VW Bug and drive away.
Janet stands next to me. “What the hell? Who was that?”
I laugh. “That was my angel.”
I pour another cup of coffee, grab a blanket off the back of a chair, and walk out onto the deck. Draping the blanket over my shoulders, I sink my ass onto an Adirondack chair. Where it will stay until my running man makes his way down the beach. A smile plants itself on my lips as I think about last night. It didn’t turn out how I’d hoped but I still had a good time. I’d hoped it would have ended with Logan and me eating homemade apple-peach pie, whipped cream optional—in bed.
I look at my watch. 7:35 a.m. He’s late and I begin to wonder if he’s going to show at all. Maybe he’s mad at me for leaving like I did. I’d like to believe he understood why. I shudder despite the warmth of the coffee and blanket. Ex-girlfriends and wives aren’t something I’m good at. Or I should say they’re not good with me.
I took control of the situation with Janet before she got a chance to run her rather long rhinestone-studded gels down any part of my anatomy. No way was I going to stick around and find out how they felt as they penetrated my flesh. I’ve had a few confrontations with jealous ex-girlfriends and wives, and I’ve learned it’s best to take control of the situation then hightail it out of there.
I look at my watch again. 7:45. Disappointment and doubt begin to rear their ugly heads. I was disappointed when Logan didn’t find his way to my door last night. Maybe he and Janet got into it, and then participated in wild monkey make-up sex. She is a very pretty woman—nothing like me, of course. She’s much shorter, shoulder-length brown hair, ta-tas big and erect enough to poke your eyes out. What Lex and Jules call bionic tits. I look down at my small chest and long-ass legs. Dang, girl. If he’s into big and erect short brunettes, you are one tall, small-chested chica out of lucka.
In general, I’m not a jealous person, but I do tend to be possessive. I don’t like sharing. If I stake a claim, it’s mine. But the thing is I’m not staking a claim on Logan. I don’t want more than a fling. So what’s my friggin’ problem? Why am I dwelling on something—someone—I shouldn’t even care about? My friggin’ problem is that I want him. I mean like really want him. We have some major voodoo chemistry. Voodoo chemistry is rare and it can’t be faked. It’s been so long since I’ve felt any kind of chemistry that I was beginning to wonder if I’d ever feel it again. And to know it was within my reach and now—poof. Well, that just fuckin’ sucks.
I look at my watch. 8:06. Dammit! This is crazy. Me waiting on a guy, a guy I don’t even know. But I can’t help it. I keep thinking about him in bed with Janet and it feels so… wrong. Before I know it, tears cloud my vision, and I don’t need a visit to a shrink to get why this is bothering me so much.
You see, I don’t share. It’s just not in my DNA. And Lane, well… he wanted to share me. We were living in London at the time, and I’d had a long day dealing with womanizing asshole contractors. Needless to say, I was in a horrible mood. All I wanted to do when I got home was pour a glass of pinot, take a long hot bath, and go to bed. When I walked into our flat, I heard laugher. I thought it was the TV. But to my surprise and chagrin, Lane was entertaining a couple he’d met at the pub, just down the street. He introduced us and I didn’t think any of it. But as I was handing the man a glass of wine, he ran his hand up my skirted thigh. When I finally got Lane’s attention away from the woman, I dragged him to our bedroom. “What the hell is going on?” I asked him.
He gave me his signature cheeky dimpled grin. “I wanted to surprise you.”
“Surprise me?” I asked, not liking the look in his eyes.
“Remember we talked about hooking up with another couple?”
I remember feeling horrified and utterly dejected. “Yes, I remember. And I also remember telling you it wasn’t a fantasy I could fulfill.”
He’d just laughed it off, thinking I was just fooling with him, or he could change my mind. But he couldn’t have been more wrong, and I couldn’t have been more hurt.
“Come on, baby,” he said. “It will be fun. I had Lee check them out. They’re sexy and hot. Don’t you think?” he said, trailing his lips down my neck.
I was wrong, thinking I’d reached my hurt plateau. “You had Lee check them out?” I asked, feeling my body shake and flush with anger and embarrassment. “What the fuck, Lane? I don’t want to hook-up with another couple. Just the thought of another woman’s hands on you makes me ill.”
He frowned. “You’re serious.”
“Couldn’t be more.”
The look of utter disappointment that flashed across his eyes wrecked me.
“I’m sorry,” he said, but it clearly wasn’t heartfelt. “My bad.”
I looked into the eyes of the man who’d been my lover and best friend for three years. A man whom I cherished, a man I’d never share. “Lane, I can’t believe you’d want to share me. I would never share you, ever.”
“Okay, I got it. My bad,” he said and walked away, and out of our flat, the hot, sexy hook-up trailing behind.
Something happened to me that night, something fractured deep within me. I wanted to forget about the whole thing, tried to let it go, telling myself I was being small, petty, and silly even. After all, nothing happened. But I couldn’t let it go, couldn’t stop thinking about it. It made me feel used, cheap, generic, when I wanted to feel cherished, unique, and claimed. Two days later, he’d gotten down on his knee and proposed. I knew the proposal was true and he loved me. However, we’d talked about marriage and agreed we weren’t ready. He knew he’d hurt me and I knew his proposal was his way of trying to mend us, bandage up the open wound he’d created between us. Knowing that I truly loved him, and being a coward, I opened up my heart and said yes, even though I knew things between us would never be t
he same. The next day I received a call from my grandmother; my sister had been gravely injured in a horse-riding accident. Months later, Lane was dead and the guilt I felt was overwhelming, consuming me alive. I hadn’t been truthful with him, hadn’t loved him in a way he deserved. Thinking about him and us is something that festers and eats away at my soul, a bit each day.
Wiping my useless tears away, I get up and walk back into the house. I need to move on from my past and from these stupid and unwarranted feelings I have for a man I barely know. You have tons of work to do anyway, girlfriend, I tell myself.
I set my coffee down and turn on my laptop. As I wait for it to boot up, my iPhone rings. I pick it up off the counter and look at the screen. “Hey, girlfriend.”
“Hey, yourself,” Jules says.
“What’s up?”
“You sound funny. Have you been crying?”
“Crying? Of course not,” I lie.
There’s a long pause and I know she doesn’t believe me, but thankfully, she lets it go.
“I’m at the courthouse waiting for the judge to show.”
“The judge? Does that happen often?”
“No. But it happens. I’m going to cut to the skinny because she could show at any time.”
“Okay,” I say, a little worried about the skinny.
“Your sister. My good God, Sam. As soon as I get back to New York, I’m going to cut Jax’s balls off. Neuter the motherfuckerwad. Triplets!” she screeches.
I hold my iPhone away from my now ringing ear. I wanted to giggle but manage to hold it in, because I know she’s serious. And if I were Jaxson, I’d be watching my back and my balls. “I don’t think Jax can cause or has any control over the… situation, Jules. Even if he came, came, came.”
“Good God. Let’s not go down the come joke road again.”
“Sorry, I couldn’t resist.”
“I don’t give a fat fuck if he’s responsible or not. He wasn’t around when she was pregnant with the boys. It was hell.”
“I remember. But a lot of the hell was because she missed him so much.”
“I just can’t do triplets,” she whines.
What? “You’re not the one doing triplets.”
“I know that. It’s just… I worry about her as it is. And now….”
“I get it. You know my sister means the world to me.”
“This conversation is depressing the shit out of me. Let’s move on to your skinny. Tell me about this hottie hockey player.”
“Lex told you?”
“Of course she did. Now spill it. Have you slapped his stick, sucked his puck, creamed on his ice?”
“Yuck.”
She laughs. “Oh, for shit sakes. You know you want to.”
“Okay, I so do, but I haven’t. We had dinner at his place last night.”
“And…?”
“And nothing. His ex-girlfriend showed up looking for a fight, I think.”
“Well, fuck that. Did you take her down?”
“No. I controlled the situation and split.”
“I’ve taught you well, young grasshopper.”
“Yes, you have.”
“So, what’s the deal with the ex?”
“I don’t know. Well, I know more than I probably should. I… well, I googled him last night.”
“You, google a guy? My good God, you’re so going to hell,” she teases.
“Ha, ha. We’ve agreed to a don’t-ask-don’t-tell hook-up.”
“In other words, you want a covert fuck.”
“Well… I guess you could use those words.”
“So what did you find out?”
“That he’s a major player on and off the ice.”
“He’s a single, hot professional athlete. Women stick to that shit like bee-paper. Major honey for the cooch.”
Bee-paper? I laugh.
“I dated a professional basketball player a few years back.”
In other words, you fucked a basketball player a few years back. “So then you know all about the honey cooch.”
“Yeah, I know all about the cooch.” I can all but see her roll her eyes. “I expected him to be a manwhore, but…”
“What happened?”
“I was leaving his apartment and bumped into his next hook-up exiting the elevator. I was the eight o’clock, she was the eight-thirty.”
“Ew!”
“Ew is right. I’m not sayin’ hottie puckerwad is like that. I’m just sayin’ it is what it is.”
“He told me this Janet was an ex-girlfriend, but apparently they were engaged.”
“You of all people know the majority of the shit you read online isn’t true. How many times have you been engaged or married in the last three years?”
“I lost count.”
“You sound kind of pissy about his past. You have no right to be, if he’s only a hook-up.”
“I know. I shouldn’t even care and I’m not playing fair. He doesn’t even know my last name.”
“Well, if you googled the guy, Sam, you must like him. Don’t let yourself do the Grant thing.”
“The Grant thing?”
“Overanalyzing everything. Picking it apart until there’s nothing left.”
“I hear ya.”
“How long are you staying?”
“Maybe another week, not long.”
“I had hoped to be moving back to New York soon. But it looks like Nick and I will be stuck in Miami for a while. He just landed a big consulting job.”
“You don’t sound happy about it.”
“I’m not. The consulting job is for a company Nick’s college girlfriend slash fuck buddy owns.”
“College? That’s a long time ago.”
“Yeah, well… he told me last night they were engaged. Apparently, she broke it off; and by the melancholy sound of his voice and look on his face, I don’t think he’s gotten over it. I think he still has feelings for her.”
“Not possible, Jules.”
“I thought so too, until I spoke with her.”
“You spoke with her?”
“She invited me to lunch. She wanted to ‘lay all her cards on the table,’ she said. So I’d know what was going on; and I wouldn’t have a problem with her and Nick working together. I didn’t have a problem until she told me I shouldn’t have a problem.”
“What did Nick say about it?”
“He said that’s just the way Kimber is. She likes everything open.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“I haven’t a clue. Damn. Looks like the judge finally made it. I have to go. I’ll call you later.”
“You better. And, Jules, don’t worry about this Kimber. Nick loves you.”
“I know he does.”
“Hang in there.”
“I will. Love you.”
“Love you back.”
We disconnect.
I set my phone down and it rings. Looking at the screen, I smile. You are one popular bitch, Samantha Grant—not!
“Please tell me you’re not calling me from yet another booty-call’s bed?”
He laughs. “No, my dear niece. I’m calling from my own bed.”
“And it’s not empty, is it?”
He chuckles. “Not yet, but it will be.”
I roll my eyes at my Uncle Dino. The friggin’ man is a bitch in heat. “One of these days dear old uncle, you’ll find the one and you’ll be kicking yourself in the nuts for all your manwhoring ways.”
He laughs. “Not going to happen, dear young niece. This man will never settle for just one woman warming his bed.”
“Keep telling yourself that. But one day the mighty Dr. Dino Coletti will fall. And when you do, it will be hard and brutal.”
He belly laughs. “You sound just like your sister.”
“Well, we are the wise and all-knowing Grant sisters.”
“Well, wise and all-knowing sister, I have indeed called you for some of your knowledge.”
“The answe
r is yes. You should change your sheets more often.”
“Ha.”
“So what’s up, Uncle Dino?”
“I know you went to college in Oregon, and I wanted to ask if you’d been to or knew of the small town of Pineville?”
“I went to school in Eugene and lived in Portland. Can’t say I’ve heard of it. Why?”
“I’m going to be moving there for two years.”
“Wow! How did this come about?”
“A friend I went to med school with is the head of ER at a small community hospital there. He’s going to Africa for two years and needed someone to fill in, and well… I told him I would.”
“Okay. I would be lying if I didn’t say… I’m just not seeing it.”
He laughs. “Me either …but I’m ready for a change.”
Running out of pussy in Manhattan, Uncle Dino? “Do you have a place to stay?”
“Yeah, I contacted a realtor. He found me a nice place on a lake. Whisper Lake, population three thousand.”
“It sounds… quaint.”
“Is that your way of saying, boring?”
“No. I happen to like small towns. Oregon is beautiful, Dino. I think you’ll like it.”
“I hope so. I signed a contract so I’m there for two years regardless.”
“When are you leaving?”
“In two days.”
“Damn. I would have liked to see you before you left.”
“You can always visit.”
“I just might. What did your family say about all of this?”
“They’re your family too, Sam.”
Big sigh. “I know.” I’ve gotten close to my long-lost uncles, Carlo and Dino, and have grown to love them. Carlo is no longer working with the FBI, but our true connection to him and the Collettis remains hidden. Lex, Jax and Gram aren’t ready for it to be public knowledge. I’m not sure they will ever be ready.
“Carlo thinks it’s great. He’s the one who found me the realtor. When I get there, I’ll send you some pics.”
“Please do. And if you go into Portland, I’ve got several single friends who live there.”
He laughs. “You all but call me a manwhore, but you don’t have any problem setting me up with your friends.”
Beyond Layers: Layer Series Book Four (Layers Series 4) Page 5
