Wish Come True (The Blogger Diaries Trilogy Book 3)

by KD Robichaux

  “Oh, no thanks. I’m like you. I can’t handle spicy. I craved spicy chicken sandwiches from Chick Fil A a couple times while I was pregnant, but let’s just say that didn’t end well,” I tell her, shaking my head.

  I end up scarfing down two giant bowls full of the Cajun dish, Steve chuckling when I asked if I could have seconds. “No one can ever resist Momma’s shrimp creole. Have all you want.”

  Jason also goes up for seconds, adding a little bit of hot sauce to his. Even without the added heat, I’ve gone through a couple tissues, my nose running and the back of my neck sweating, making me giggle. “I guess I’m not much of a masochist.” At Jason’s questioning smile, I explain, “I learned in my college course that liking spicy food is psychological. People who love it actually get pleasure from the pain.”

  We both laugh when we glance over at his dad as he shakes a ridiculous amount of hot sauce onto the top of his freshly filled bowl. When he looks up, continuing to cover the food in red sauce, he quips, “Oh, I’ve always enjoyed a good spanking,” and I nearly fall out of my seat from laughing so hard.

  Suddenly I hear Josalyn start to make little dinosaur noises as she wakes up from her nap, and as I stand to go clean out my bowl, Jason rests his hand on my wrist, telling me he’ll take care of it while I go get the baby. I catch a glimpse of his mom’s pride-filled face before I leave the kitchen.

  I walk into his room just as Josalyn tries to sit up in the middle of the bed, but it’s so soft that she topples back over, making her grunt in frustration. I reach out and pick her up, placing her on my hip and kissing her when she looks up at me with a sleepy smile.

  Carrying her into the kitchen and sitting back in my chair, when she sees Jason next to us, she reaches out and makes grabby hands, and my heart swells when he hurriedly takes our bowls to the sink then comes back to us, picking her up off my lap and folding his arms around her. She lets out a dramatic sigh and lays her head on his shoulder, blinking down at me, not quite fully awake yet. He turns his head to press his nose into her hair, and I hear him breathe deeply. I lock gazes with his mom, and I can tell she’s feeling as deeply moved by the scene as I am. This has got to feel just as surreal to her, seeing her bad boy son melt into a puddle at the feet of an eight-month-old. She doesn’t say anything, probably not wanting to break the moment, but she reaches out and pats my cheek before standing to take her own bowl to the sink.

  About an hour later, I think it’s probably safe for me to make my way back across town to my brother’s house. We make plans for Jason to come pick me up tomorrow after he gets out of class, but he refuses to tell me what we’re going to go do. He tells me to just dress in jeans, nothing fancy, but that’s the only clue I get.

  After strapping Josalyn into the back seat of my rental, Jason kisses me before I get into the driver seat. He tells me to call him as soon as I get to my brother’s house to let him know I made it.

  Forty-five minutes later, I pull into Tony’s driveway. I call Jason as promised, tell him I can’t wait until tomorrow, and then we hang up. It was much different spending time with him with Josalyn present. She seemed to help tame the crazy sexual tension between the two of us, keeping us in check. But God only knows what it’ll be like tomorrow, when I’m baby free and all his for an entire afternoon and evening.

  My heart pounds when I see his Altima pull into the driveway outside my brother’s house. Not only am I excited-slash-terrified of this evening’s activities, but this is a big moment in itself. Jason is about to meet part of my family.

  I watch from the living room as he exits his car and passes by the front windows, and then hear him knock on the door. I jump up to let him in, not able to make him wait, anticipation be damned. When I pull open the door, I take in all his Texan badass glory, from his scuffed and broken-in brown cowboy boots, up his dark blue jeans barely containing the muscled thighs beneath the rough fabric, over the soft-looking red plaid shirt that wraps snuggly around his tattooed biceps, and finally land on his scruff-covered handsome face.

  Clench.

  “Um, babe. Can I come in? Kinda chilly out here,” he says through a smirk.

  “Oh! Yeah, sorry. You just look… yeah.” I step back and open the door wider, allowing him into the foyer before I close it behind him. When I turn around, he wraps his arm around my lower back, pulling me to him.

  He sighs into my neck, “Mmm, you’re warm. And you smell good.”

  I don’t care what anyone says. It’s way hotter getting complimented on your scent than on the way you look. There’s something so carnal about someone liking your aroma so much that they take the time to comment on it. Maybe I’m weird. Wait… that’s already established.

  “Thank you. Now, c’mere. I can’t wait for you to meet my mom!” I pry him off of me, giggling when he tries to wrap himself back around me, but then he gives in and lets me take his hand to lead him into the kitchen, where Mom, Tony, and Buffy are sitting at the dining table nibbling on some fresh fruit. It was seriously the first time I’d seen an actual pineapple get cut up before. Buffy laughed at me while my mouth hung open in fascination as it went from giant spiky fruit to little yellow chunks of tangy deliciousness. I always just had the canned kind.

  When we enter, Mom turns around in her seat and looks up at us, a smile splitting her face. She stands and comes to wrap Jason up in a tight hug, pulling back to tell him, “It’s so nice to finally meet you.” Then she rears back and punches him in the arm, making me yelp, “Mom!” as Jason rubs at the spot on his bicep.

  “That’s for breaking my baby’s heart, you devil,” she growls with narrowed eyes, poking her finger into his chest that’s at her eye-level. And then she gives him another hug, conceding, “But I’ve never seen her happier than in the past couple of months. So I guess I forgive you.”

  “Wow, that was the strangest meeting of The Mom I’ve ever been through,” Jason says with a chuckle then reaches out to shake Tony’s proffered hand.

  “Good to meet you, man. My sis talked about you all the time when she lived here,” Tony tells him then turns to the blonde next to him. “This is my girlfriend Buffy.” Jason shakes her hand and then they all sit back down in their seats.

  “Where is Josalyn?” Jason asks, glancing around the kitchen.

  “She’s in the playpen in the living room,” I reply, hitching my thumb over my shoulder in her direction, and I smile when he immediately heads that way. I follow him, my heart thumping as he walks up to the Pack 'n Play and gets down on his haunches to be face-to-face with my babbling baby girl. When she sees him, she crawls the short space over to the side, reaches up to grip the top, and pulls herself up to stand right in front of him.

  “Hey, pretty girl,” I hear him tell her, and I laugh when she starts bouncing, bending her knees and standing up straight over and over again as she lets out a shrill squeal before plopping down on her diaper-cushioned butt.

  “Well, alrighty then. Does that mean you’re happy to see me?” he asks her, standing and reaching in to pick her up. And just like yesterday, she grips the collar of his plaid shirt, leans back to get a good look at him, and then reaches up to latch onto his nose. He laughs and then makes a loud elephant sound with his mouth, making her jump. I brace myself, waiting to see which direction she’ll go, either bursting out into tears or laughter, and I grin when she chooses the latter.

  I come to stand next to them and lift up on my tiptoes, leaning in to give her kisses on her cheeks and mouth, using the back of my hand to wipe off the drool left on my lips. “You be a good girl for MomMom, okay? Mommy will see you for your 3:00 a.m. feeding,” I coo at her, and she answers with, “Ma-ma-ma-ma-ma-ma,” while flapping her hands, settling down enough to grasp ahold of Jason’s nose again.

  He sets her on her feet inside the playpen and waves at her, and she does her backward wave in return, saying, “Baaaa-ba. Baaaa-ba.”

  “That’s right, Tooty. Bye-bye,” I say, and we go back into the kitchen to let everyone know
we’re leaving. Tony gives me a key to get back in the house in case they’re already in bed when I get home tonight, and then we head out the door.

  “So now will you tell me where we’re going?” I ask Jason, tucking one leg up underneath me in the leather bucket seat.

  “First, we’re going out to eat. Then we’re going to our old haunt and playing a couple games of pool. But the rest is a surprise,” he teases, and I shake my head, giving him a mock-pout. I look at the time, seeing it’s only 2:30 p.m.

  “It’s kind of an odd time to eat. Do you want to kill some time before dinner?” I ask.

  “What did you have in mind?” he rumbles, lifting his eyebrow and cutting his eye over to me briefly as he merges onto 59 South.

  “I don’t know. Maybe watch a movie at your house or something until around five-ish?” I suggest.

  “If I take you back to my house to watch a movie, it’s going to end up like every other time we tried back in the day. I’ll end up pulling the ‘just the tip’ trick, and then after you’ve had about five orgasms and gain your composure, I’ll get blamed for making you miss the movie.” He smirks.

  “But it is your fault I miss the movie. If you would keep those talented idle hands of yours to yourself, we wouldn’t have to play it twice in order to watch it once!” I scoff. When he looks over at me, I grin, letting him know I never minded one bit when showtime went from meaning when the film would begin, to when a whole different kind of action started. “Okay, probably bad timing for that, being in the middle of the afternoon and all. Sooo… how about we go see one, like at a theater?”

  “And what happened last time we tried to see a movie in a theater, babe?” He chuckles.

  I narrow my eyes, boring a hole into the side of his handsome face. “I ended up missing that one too, because we made out like teenagers in the back row the whole movie.”

  “So the lesson of the story is…?” he prompts.

  “It’s pointless for us to try to watch movies together?” I fill in.

  “Ding-ding-ding! So, what else do you want to do?”

  “Ugh! Well, I guess let’s just stick to your original plan and go eat, and then go play pool super early. It’s going to be weird getting there at like six. Are they even open then?” I question.

  “Babe. Calm. Just relax. You don’t have to plan everything out. Let’s just have a good time and see where the night leads us,” he drawls deeply, reaching over to rest his hand in the crook of my folded leg.

  I sit back in my seat and let out a huff of air. I hate it when people tell me that. I don’t have it in me not to try to schedule everything. I might be able to control not voicing it, but my brain doesn’t know how to just ‘go with the flow’. In my head, if there are things I definitely want to do, if I don’t set up allotted times to do them, then I could miss getting them done. Like on vacation, I like to have an itinerary. If we’re at the beach, but this place is only open for certain hours, I’m going to be pissed if I miss getting to go there, just because I was being forced to relax and not plan things out. But for Jason, I will let him take the lead. It doesn’t sound like we’re doing anything that needs to be put on a tight schedule, and I’m baby free for the rest of the day, so I decide to do my best and relax.

  We pull into Chili’s right across the highway from Legend’s Billiards in Webster about half an hour later, and after a few drinks, some salsa and tortilla chips, and a bacon cheeseburger later, we head to our favorite pool hall.

  It’s still light outside, so it’s very strange when Jason opens the big wooden door and we walk in, seeing it looks exactly the same inside as it does late at night. A couple things have changed, but not much. There is a new arcade game when you first walk in, and to the right, they’ve added a new big-screen TV. Looking at the tables, I have a flashback of Jason and me sitting at one, talking about his doctor appointment he’d had that day, long before we had taken our friendship to the next level. The PA had hit on him, asking him for his number. I played it cool, asking if he thought she was cute and if he had given it to her. I sniff out a silent laugh remembering his answer. “Nah, too skinny. You know me. I like my girls thick.”

  The fucker.

  I didn’t have a clue. He had me going for so long, believing I never stood a chance, that he’d never find me attractive, because I’d never be the body type he was attracted to. Until he finally confessed it was all bullshit, lies he fed me so he wouldn’t steal me from his best friend. And little did he know at the time that he had stolen my attention the moment I met him.

  Jason laces his fingers through mine, pulling me back to the present and toward the bar. “What do you want, baby?”

  “I think I’ll stick to what I was having at Chili’s, if they can make it,” I reply in front of the bartender.

  “What were you drinking over there? I can pretty much duplicate anything if you know what was in it,” the bartender offers.

  “I was having the Tropical—”

  “Tropical Sunrise? On it. It’s my girlfriend’s favorite, so I had to figure it out for her,” he says, already three ingredients into making my drink before he finished his sentence. A few seconds later, he shakes it up and pours it into a large glass, topping it off with a straw and a slice of orange. “Try that. See what you think.”

  I take a sip and moan, “Nailed it,” nodding and taking another swig.

  The bartender smiles and slaps the top of the counter in triumph. “What about you, Jason. Same as always?”

  “Yup, I’ll take my Seven, please, and a rack of balls,” he responds, and with his drink in one hand and the tray of colorful pool balls in the other, we make our way to the left side of the bar, sitting everything next to a pool table I’ve never played on before. We always used to play on the right side of the bar for some reason.

  “God, I haven’t played in forever,” I confess, chalking up the end of the cue Jason hands me.

  “Yeah, me neither,” Jason says dryly.

  “Psh! I know your games, you hustler. Plus, the bartender knows you by name.” If I have any chance of winning, I’m going to have to break out my old tricks of distraction; otherwise, there’s no way he’ll miss a shot unless he does it on purpose, which he knows makes me crazy.

  I swish my ass as I round the pool table, and when I turn to face him, propping my hip next to one of the corner pockets, it’s my turn to smirk when his eyes lift from my tight destructed blue jeans to my face, heat sizzling in their chocolaty depths.

  Momma’s still got it.

  He keeps his stare locked with mine as he bends forward and lines up his cue, landing the shot blindly, never once glancing away from me. I bite my lip, remembering the times he used the Drive-and-Stare on me. Dear Lord, he’s sexy as fuck. And right when I put a score mark under my name in this silent little game we’re playing, Jason one-ups me yet again.

  “Oh, yeah, you’re so rusty. Maybe you should take a couple practice shots,” I snark, rolling my eyes and trying to look cooler than I feel, because on the inside, I feel my temperature rising to a level I can’t ignore.

  With my back to him as I take a sip of my drink at the small bistro table against the wall while he takes his next shot, I reach down into my pretty pink bra and lift my boobs up inside the cups, making cleavage, showing off the little bit larger-than-normal tatas I’ve had since breastfeeding. They’re not nearly as big as they were when I was pregnant, but they’re a full cup larger than what I had before that though, so I plan to use them to my advantage while I still have them.

  I turn back around to face him, arching my back and not making eye contact with him as I pull my long dark hair high up into a ponytail, feeling the heat of his stare the whole time, and then a volcano blast of sexual tension as I tug my V-neck heather-grey T-shirt back into place. I toy with my necklace as an excuse to look down and make sure the tops of my girls are in plain sight, smiling to myself when I see they are in perfect position.

  You’re going down, Robichaux.r />
  Just then, he tries a bank shot that narrowly misses going into a side pocket, and the cue ball rolls until it stops right in front of Jason.

  Perfect, I think smugly, and I stroll over to him, my stick in hand, slide between the pool table and his front, and bend over, using my ass to back him up so I can line up my shot. I feel his hand come up to squeeze my left hip and hear him groan, making the little devil on my shoulder smile with glee, but then he moves away, going over to take a sip of his mixed drink. I sink one of my solids, but miss the next shot. I’ve always sucked at side pockets.

  I walk over to where Jason still stands by the table holding our drinks, and that’s when I notice the pack of cigarettes in his hand. Groaning, I sink down into one of the chairs. I saw this standup show once, where comedian Rob White talks about drinking and smoking. He made the perfect analogy. He said it was just like pooping and peeing. You can pee without pooping, but you can’t poop without peeing. Just like you can smoke without drinking, but you can’t drink without smoking. Vulgar, but oh so very true.

  With the tequila running through my veins at the moment, his cigarettes are looking mighty nice. I haven’t had one since I found out I was pregnant with Josalyn, but as he lifts one to his sexy lips and lights it, blowing out a stream of smoke toward the ceiling, I have absolutely no willpower to fight the urge. I reach out and steal the cigarette from between his fingers, placing it to my lips. Dear God, it’s exquisite.

  Hello, old friend. How I’ve missed you.

  “Sorry, babe. I tried. But the drinkin’ we’re doing… I can’t not smoke,” he tells me regretfully.

  “It’s no big deal. I have friends who only smoke when they drink. I’m gonna have to scrub every inch of myself before I hold Josalyn, but I’m sure I’m going to need a shower after tonight anyways,” I allude, lifting a brow in his direction.

  “Oh, yeah? Why’s that?” he coaxes, lighting himself another cigarette since I’m not giving him this one back.

  “Because I plan on getting very dirty with you,” I breathe, and I manage to hold a straight face for a full ten seconds before I burst out laughing. “Oh, my God. That was so fucking corny. I should be ashamed of myself. I need another drink.” I swallow the last of my fruity drink, making a loud sucking sound when my straw hits nothing but ice and air. He chuckles and lifts my glass out of my hand, leaving me long enough to return with it freshly filled.