by Magan Vernon
Dave gave me a knowing look, which I don’t know if it said he knew Jordan and I broke those boards or if this was the moment he planned to take my mom for a romantic walk to propose.
“Oh. Yeah. We can totally do that, Mom.” I sprang up and grabbed her plate.
“What? I’m too full to move. Can I just watch you?” Jordan grumbled.
I rolled my eyes. “Come on. You ate most of the brisket, so you can help.”
He let out a fake sigh and grabbed his plate and mine. “Fineeeee.”
A large doorway connected our dining room to the kitchen, which used to be a huge eyesore with dingy yellow metal cabinets and peeling linoleum. But as soon as Dad left, Mom took out her aggression by remodeling and redecorating with the help of some contractors. Now we had nice new wooden cupboards, granite countertops, and a farmer’s sink that she thought was way better than a dishwasher.
“Where’s the dishwasher?” Jordan asked, holding a stack of plates.
“I’m looking at him.”
“We have to wash all these by hand?” Jordan stared at me wide-eyed
“What, are you afraid of a little water?” I turned on the long faucet and grabbed the hose, squirting his hand.
He gasped slightly and stepped back, setting the plates on the buffet behind him.
“You don’t like that? Or was that a good gasp?” I raised my eyebrows playfully “Maybe you need more.” I pointed the nozzle right at his chest, soaking through his shirt, so it clung to his hard muscles underneath.
“Hey, stop it!” He wrung out his shirt.
“Stop what, this?” I asked and held out the hose. Jordan was definitely stronger than I was and grabbed my hand, forcing the hose to face me. He sprayed a large stream of water that soaked through my dress down to my bra, and I screeched as he laughed.
“Jordan!” He pulled the hose back, so it was just out of my reach, and I lunged for it. He caught me, wrapping his free arm around my waist and pressing my wet chest against him.
I licked my lips. His eyes flitted from my eyes to my lips. He leaned in, pressing his mouth to mine. I gasped when he nipped at my bottom lip before licking it and then his tongue met mine. I wanted him. I couldn’t deny that, but before I could melt into him, I pulled back, staring into his icy blue eyes.
He didn’t say anything, just ran his thumb along my bottom lip. The way my lip trembled from his touch, and more than just my dress was wet, was proof enough I couldn’t stop what was going to happen. And if Mom and Dave were going to be gone a while …
I fisted his hair, pulling his mouth back to mine. He dropped the hose and brought his other arm around my waist as I molded my body to his.
“How long do you think your mom will be gone?” Jordan whispered into my ear. He trailed kisses down my jaw, and his hands roamed over the wet fabric of my dress.
“Long enough,” I murmured, leaning back and peeling my wet dress off to give him better access to my body.
“Damn, I’ve missed this curves…and they’ve gotten better since high school,” Jordan growled, kissing a trail down my neck to my breast then he knelt in front of me, yanking down my panties. He kept his eyes on me as he flattened his tongue against my core. He moved his hands to my thighs, spreading them as he swirled his tongue inside me.
I held the counter, ready for an orgasm to take hold. But instead of feeling the shivers, a sharp, almost burning sensation hit me.
“Ow! Did you just bite me?” I shrieked.
Jordan barely stopped moving his tongue to pull out and look up at me, raising an eyebrow. “What? No. Do you want me to?”
I stared wide-eyed at his face that usually I’d love nothing more than to sit on, but now his mouth and chin were bright red. “Oh, my God! Jordan! Are you okay?”
He stood. “What? I’m fine. Actually … well … a little itchy …”
He rubbed his jaw, and his eyes trailed down to my exposed self. “Holy shit, Abbey, did you know your stuff is red? Like seriously red. I thought it was a little pinkish, but I hadn’t seen a fully shaved one, especially not on you, and thought maybe it was just irritation. But you’re red!”
“Like your face is?” I asked, staring down at what looked like a blotchy red tomato between my legs.
“Holy shit! What is this? An STD? An infection?” I asked, pulling up my underwear and searching the ground for my discarded dress.
“I don’t know. It might be some kind of an allergic reaction. Or something,” Jordan mumbled, scratching his face.
I put my dress over my head just as the front door slammed.
“Abbey? Jordan? Are you still washing dishes?” Mom practically sang.
Mom and Dave came into the kitchen hand in hand and all smiles. Their faces fell when they saw us.
“Jordan? Are you okay? That looks like one hell of an allergic reaction. Do you have an EpiPen? Oh, my God! You aren’t gluten intolerant, are you? Is this my fault?” Mom asked, putting her hands on her face. A sparkly diamond ring glittered back at me.
So Dave had popped the question. I wanted to congratulate her, but I needed a huge dose of Benadryl, and so did Jordan. Stat.
“I’m fine. Really,” Jordan muttered, still scratching.
Mom shook her head. “Sweetie, you need to get to a hospital. Dave and I can drive you!”
“I’ll drive him, Mom. Don’t worry. We’ll be okay,” I said, wanting to get the hell out of the kitchen and by myself or at least around the corner so I could scratch as much as Jordan was.
“Are you sure? Let me get you some Benadryl too,” Mom said, rushing upstairs to the bathroom.
“Should I say congrats?” I asked Dave, trying to think of a way to rub my really itchy and sore lady bits on the counter without him noticing.
Dave laughed. “Maybe when y’all get back from the hospital.”
***
After hours in the emergency room and walking away with a lot of shots of some sort of antibiotic, Jordan and I finally got into my car just as the sun was rising.
“I hope you don’t have to work in an hour,” Jordan said with a yawn.
I smiled. “No, I can sleep in, but that still doesn’t make me feel any better. I gave us both an allergic reaction to perfume that I thought would be a good idea to spray on my hoo-ha.”
Jordan laughed. “Well, at least it’s a good story.”
“Or a really embarrassing one.”
Jordan took my hand on the console between us and brought it to his lips before kissing each one of my knuckles. “You know this means you’re stuck with me, right? After we’ve been bonded by an allergic reaction. That’s forever right there.”
I looked at him out of the corner of my eye. “You still sure you want to be with me? After I almost killed you with my downstairs?”
He laughed. “I didn’t die. Just an allergic reaction. A burning rash is all. I’ve had worse things happen when I’m soldering iron.”
“Well, maybe you’ll let me make it up to you. I can buy you a slice of pizza or something when we get to New York.”
“What?” Jordan yelled so loud I almost veered my car off FM 6.
“Geez, Jordan!”
“Are you saying you’re going to do it? You’re going to go to New York? No excuses.”
I glanced at him and smiled. “Like you said, we’re stuck together now, and I kind of owe it to you.”
“I’d kiss you so hard right now, but my lips are still really swollen, and I’m afraid of what they put on me,” he said, squeezing my hand.
“This is all that I need. Knowing it’s you and me. Together. For however long that’ll be.”
Chapter 12
By the time Jordan and I kissed goodbye, and I walked into my house, the upstairs lights were already on. I wasn’t sure what time it was, but if I had to guess, I’d say after five at least if Mom was up and moving.
“Abbey? Is that you?” she yelled from the top of the stairs. Her heels clicked on the hardwood floor as she rushed out of her be
droom, looking at me over the landing. It might have been early, but she was already dressed in a crisp black suit with her long hair twisted in a fashionable little knot.
“Yeah, Mom. Back and exhausted,” I muttered.
Mom started down the stairs, her hand grazing the railing. “So coffee and breakfast or straight to bed?”
I raised an eyebrow as she stood in front of me at the bottom of the stairs. “Depends on what you’re offering me for breakfast.”
Mom smiled. “For you, I can make waffles.”
“I can stay up for some waffles,” I said, nodding as I followed Mom down the short hallway to the kitchen.
“Now, tell me what on earth happened to Jordan,” Mom asked as she got out the mixing bowl and flour.
“An allergic reaction. They don’t know what to exactly, but they sent him home with some Benadryl after giving him some shots. They thought I might have it too, so they gave me a shot as well,” I said, thinking of the best excuse as I could as to why Mom would probably see an emergency room bill. It was mostly the truth.
“Oh, no! Honey, are you okay? You should be lying down too. I’m sorry. I can save waffles for another time.” Mom shook her head, the butter already in her hand and halfway out of the fridge.
“No, I’m totally fine, Mom. Fine enough for some of your homemade waffles at least.” I sat down on the stool at the breakfast bar. After the Benadryl and time, my lady bits didn’t feel like they were on fire anymore, but I did think I could sleep forever if need be.
“If you’re sure, honey,” Mom said, setting the butter on the counter.
“Positive.”
“Since you’re positive about that and I have you sitting, are we going to discuss New York?” Mom asked over the mixing bowl.
I groaned. “Maybe I do want to go to bed.”
Mom rolled her eyes, pouring the flour and butter into the mixing bowl. “Don’t be such a drama queen, Abbey. You know we’re going to have to discuss this sooner or later.”
I blew out a breath, the exhaustion of the day hitting me emotionally and physically. “Jordan wants me to drive with him to New York so he can have a vehicle there. And he wants me to stay for longer than just the ride there. Like I think he wants me to stay forever.”
“And do you want to stay in New York?” Mom asked, pouring the batter in the waffle iron.
I shrugged. “I don’t know. It’s not as if I’ve ever been to the place. We weren’t exactly the vacationing family, and the most exotic place I think I’ve been is when we visited Grandma Dillinger in Arizona.”
Mom leaned her elbows on the breakfast bar across from me, putting her chin in her hands. “So what you’re telling me is that you’re afraid to be somewhere new?”
I sighed. “Not just that.”
“Then what?”
I let out a breath. Maybe it was a lack of sleep or all the medicine, but my mouth decided to go faster than my brain. “At first, I’ll admit it was because I was scared. When I was in high school, I knew I didn’t have the grades to get into some fancy school or art school but also feared that if I left, I could fail and then I’d have to come back to Friendship, Texas, a failure.”
“And do you still have that same fear now?” Mom asked, raising her eyebrows.
“Yes and no. I mean, yes, I could still seriously fail if I tried photography in New York, but going there with a guy? What if my relationship with Jordan fails? What if he decides I’m not enough or just annoying him in New York? What then? Then I’ll have nothing and have to come back here to losers like Joey Bianchi,” I grumbled.
Mom smirked. “There are other guys around than Joey Bianchi, and I know you better than to get back with that loser, which I’m still stumped as to why you were with him in the first place.”
“My track record shows I tend to get back with the guys who hurt me,” I muttered.
“Well, the way I see it, you have two choices, Abbey. You can go to New York with Jordan. Take the chance and do some research these next few weeks to see if you can use some of your savings for an apartment or find a photography school or an internship. Or you can stay here in Friendship, Texas, forever, wondering about the one that got away.”
“Mom ...” I started.
“Don’t ‘Mom’ me. You know I’m right. I may have stayed here because my family and your dad’s family were here and because I married your father young before even going to law school. It may be a huge leap of faith, but I’m telling you, honey; sometimes, you have to jump in with both feet. I’m not saying not to think about it and do your research, but I think you should take the chance.”
Mom raised an eyebrow. “Why are you giving me the stink face right now?”
I laughed. “It’s pronounced stank face, and it’s because, even though that was a great closing argument, I’m pretty sure you burned our waffles,” I said, pointing at the smoking waffle maker behind her.
“Shit,” Mom muttered, grabbing some oven mitts and opening the waffle maker to the blackened glob of dough.
“Well, I can either make another batch, or I can pour you a nice bowl of cereal and make a K-Cup of coffee,” Mom said, pouring the black goo in the trash bin and staring at the clock.
“It’s cool, Mom. I’ll just get something after a nap. I think I need sleep more than I realized,” I said, standing.
“Are you sure?”
I looked at the clock over her shoulder. It was six o’clock, and she usually left between six and six fifteen to get into the office by seven. If she stayed any longer, she’d hit rush hour traffic, and she didn’t need to do that for my benefit. Though I did appreciate it. I leaned in and kissed her cheek. “Thanks, Mom.”
“For what? Burning your waffles?”
I smiled. “For everything.”
***
I slept a few hours before my shift at the bakery. Afternoon shifts weren’t ever as crazy as the morning shifts, but I was still dragging ass and consuming copious amounts of espresso to get through the day.
By the time I got home, I was ready to go to bed. Jordan had been texting me all day, though, so I was pretty sure I’d only get a short nap in before he’d be at my door. For Mom’s dinner, and you know … as long as I promised not to spray perfume and if his mouth was fully healed.
It wasn’t a surprise to see a red truck in the driveway, figuring it was Jordan’s grandparents’ truck since it had a WWII license plate holder. But the other truck in the driveway with the confederate flag bumper sticker and custom plates that read ‘J-Track’ was the one that had me stopping dead in my tracks.
“What the hell is Joey Bianchi doing here?” I muttered to myself.
I walked into the house, expecting to see the two boys in some sort of a pissing match, but the house was silent.
I dropped my purse on the stairs and walked to the back of the house. The back door was open, so I stepped outside, seeing my mom and Dave on the back porch swing with a glass of sweet tea. But that wasn’t the weird part. They were watching Jordan and Joey, both on their hands and knees, fixing the white picket fence surrounding Mom’s garden.
“What the hell?” I said, glancing back and forth between the boys who were about fifty feet away and my mom and Dave.
Mom smiled, looking up at me. “Come sit with us and watch the show.”
“What’s going on?” I asked, quirking a brow.
“Hey, Abbey!” Jordan waved, lifting up his shirt and wiping the sweat from his brow, giving a nice view of his tanned stomach.
“Hey, Abs!” Joey waved as well and did the same move as Jordan, wiping his brow, but he fumbled, making him look more like a cartoon character.
“Did you ask them to come here?” I whispered, staring at Mom.
Dave laughed. “They both showed up, looking for you, so your mom decided if two boys were going to fight over her daughter, we’d put them to work. Johnny’s out of town at some swimming training thing, and I have a bad back, so why not get some free labor?”
; “This is one of the most fucked-up things I’ve ever come home to,” I whispered, shaking my head.
As if the guys knew I was talking about them, both came bounding up the steps to the back porch in a stampede, breathing hard as they stood in front of me.
“Did you get the fence fixed?” Mom asked, sipping her tea.
“Yes, ma’am. Should be all good, so those armadillos don’t get in and dig,” Jordan said with a big breathless smile. His white t-shirt clung to his muscles, and his hair pushed to the side, showing his tanned face. He looked like a sweaty model, and I had the urge to either get my camera and do a mini photo shoot or rip off his clothes. Neither were going to happen with my parents or Joey standing right there.
“The pickets may need a new coat of paint and an extra till in the mud, so I can come by this week if you need it, Mrs. D,” Joey said, lifting up his Texas Rangers ball cap and wiping his wet hair.
“I can come and do that too, ma’am. I only need to fix up and clean a few more things at my grandparents’,” Jordan offered, and Joey’s eyes narrowed.
Mom just smiled at them. “Well, thank you both for your generosity. Can I offer you some sweet tea?” She held up the pitcher.
Jordan nodded, but Joey reached in his back pocket for his phone with a groan. I was surprised it wasn’t already permanently attached to his hand, and he actually did manual labor. He might have worked for his parents’ landscaping company, but this was the first time I’d actually seen the guy do any work. And that included in the bedroom.
“Damn, Joe, can’t go two seconds without your phone? That thing’s been going off all day,” Jordan said with a laugh as he took a glass of sweet tea from Mom.
“Hey, some of us have lives and real jobs. We all can’t be artists,” Joey grumbled. Shoving his phone in his back pocket, he looked at my mom with a big cheesy grin on his face. “I’d love to stay and chat, Mrs. D, but I gotta go. Landscaping stuff. But call me if you need anything this week,” Joey said, handing Mom a business card like some sort of weird professional. Like Mom hadn’t known him her entire life.
