by S. M. Shade
How does he make something so ridiculously mortifying sound so whimsical and refreshing?
After checking the traffic, he pulls back onto the road, grinning unstoppably.
“You aren’t freaked out? I mean… that didn’t turn you off?” I ask, then grimace. Gah, that sounds so freaking weird.
“I’m not in any mood to strip you naked right now, but that was already decided after seeing Davis’s swinging boys this morning. As for your dad… Definitely the most insane introduction ever, but hey, chicks buy vibrators. A guy gets tired of his hand, and I imagine it’s been a while for him.”
“Vibrators and blowup dolls are nothing alike.”
“Double standard,” he points out, smirking.
“Vibrators don’t have faces!”
He shrugs, still grinning.
“This is officially the weirdest conversation ever,” I grumble to myself.
“Most interesting,” he says, acting as though he’s correcting me.
“Our definitions of interesting are not in alignment.”
“Because your life is far more interesting than mine,” he repeats.
Rolling my eyes, I try not to grin. That shouldn’t be a compliment, but it feels like one. And I’m not sure how I feel about being complimented for these reasons.
“Where are we going?” I ask as we pass the road for the house.
“There’s this quiet, private lake on your parents’ property that’s great for ‘chilling,’ which is what I said I wanted to do earlier. Maybe you can take some time to tell me what it was like growing up as Kasha Jensen.”
“There aren’t any other blowup doll fiascos, if that’s what you’re asking. That was a first.”
He laughs under his breath while taking a road I haven’t noticed before. I haven’t been here in years, and when I was here, I spent the entire time sulking or doing typical rebellious teenager things.
My eyes take in my surroundings, and I smile when I see what has to be the most picturesque, if not somewhat cliché, lake setting ever. It’s actually more of a pond, but I don’t shatter the illusion for Roman as he steps out.
There’s a massive hill on one side, and he takes my hand to guide me toward it, heading for the gazebo that rests at the peak. Our fingers stay locked, and I ignore all the girly feelings unfurling in my core.
Definite butterflies going on.
As soon as we reach the gazebo, he gestures for me to sit, and I do, unsure of what to say. He sits beside me and drops his arm around my shoulders like it’s the most natural thing in the world.
A warmth blooms across my chest, slithering throughout the rest of my body with its calming effect.
A few swans glide gracefully around the pond—er, I mean lake. A small family of ducks seems to be peacefully coexisting with them, although they stay on the opposite end.
“I can’t believe I didn’t know this existed,” I say softly, scared to break the tranquil spell around us.
I lean against him, and he kisses the top of my head. It’s not a ‘fling’ gesture either.
Okay, so maybe long distance can work? I mean, if we’re both interested in seeing where we can go from here, that is.
Not that I voice my crazy girl thoughts aloud. It could freak him out if he thinks I’m the type who is already planning our wedding or something.
“They actually haven’t owned this part of the property for very long,” Roman tells me in a smooth, relaxing tone. It’s as though this place just washes out all the tension someone could have.
I totally get zen now!
Always wondered what all that fuss was about.
As a boneless calm washes over me, I start wondering if meditating gets the same results. If so, I’m in.
Sighing happily, I burrow into Roman’s side a little more, watching the cute little ducks as they shake their little tail feathers and quack to a melody only they can hear. His phone buzzes, cracking our little fortress of perfection with the annoying sound, but he ignores the text.
“You need to get that?” I ask.
“Nah. It’s just Anderson letting me know the wedding party pictures will be starting soon. They’re going to play the shots on a slide with some other pictures while the wedding is going on.”
“Where are the pictures being taken?”
“Don’t know. Don’t care. I’m not moving from this spot, so they can do them without me. I’m sure they won’t notice I’m missing,” he says, lifting my actual hand and kissing it.
“This is nice.” Maybe I say that with a dreamy sigh.
“Mmm,” Roman says. “Thought you were going to tell me more about being Kasha Jensen.”
“Telling that story would harsh the mellow we’re feeling right now. Tell me more about what it’s like to be Roman Hunt.”
He snickers softly, and I absorb the sound like I can bottle it up for later when I need a smile. Gah, I’m getting cheesy.
“I go to work, then I go home, then I eat, go over some work files, sleep, then start all over again.”
I frown while gazing up at him as he stares thoughtfully over the lake.
“What about girls? I know there are lots of girls.”
Yes, I’m doing the coy thing where I pretend like I’m totally cool with that, while secretly waiting to make a mental list of other women to kill and get out of my way. Hiding bodies is the most important part of plotting a murder. This zen ground would be an excellent burial ground.
No, no. I’m not really going to kill anyone. I’m not that crazy.
“I’ve been working where I am now since three days after I graduated college. In order to get promoted to my current position, I never took a vacation day in all those years. So the girls fell few and far between. This was the first time I’ve taken any time off, and I honestly don’t know that I would have made it for the entire week if you hadn’t stumbled into my room and accused me of being a perv.”
A small smile curves my lips, but it dies as I think about what he’s really saying.
“That’s kind of harshing the mellow too. It sounds like you have no life.”
He shrugs a shoulder, still staring out over the water that rests pretty far down below.
“It seemed fulfilling.”
“Seemed? As in past tense? What changed?”
He clears his throat. “You going to the rehearsal dinner? I sort of have to, since I’m in the wedding, but… Are you coming with?” he asks me.
I know the signs of deflection, but I let it go.
“Depends on how much my mother wants me dead at this point. The bachelorette party already had me on her bad side. I’m sure by now she’s heard of the bachelor party. And add that in with Davis showing his junk to everyone after my bestie shocked his balls… Well, I’m kind of killing the sophistication trajectory she was aiming for.”
He smothers his laughter while groaning. “I’ve never seen so much chaos squeezed into a week.”
“Hell, this has been tame compared to some things I’ve seen.”
“You’ve seen more chaos than this week? Bullshit.”
I lean back and hold up Jill, raising both eyebrows at him. “Yeah. I stumbled into a machine and my hip turned it on. Trust me. This girl knows chaos.”
Why does it sound like I’m bragging right now? Because I’m crazy. That’s why.
His grin spreads surprisingly, and I lean forward, unable to stop myself from kissing him. When his hand slips into my hair, I press into him more. When Jill lands on his thigh, he breaks the kiss.
“Fuck no. Take Jill off. We’re all alone up here, and—”
“Say no more,” I announce, immediately reaching up and unclipping the harness that’s laced together under my shirt.
After the events of earlier, I never expected us to get our mojo back too soon, and I’m in a hurry to make sure it doesn’t go away.
I start struggling, so Roman—the sweetheart he is—tears my shirt over my head to give me better access. After darting a quick gaze
around to make sure we’re actually alone, I finish unsnapping Jill, remove her, and toss her aside like she isn’t worth a small fortune.
But… Jill doesn’t stay where I toss her. Nope. Jill starts rolling down the massive hill, and hurrying toward the lake.
“Shit!” Roman hisses just as I start chasing after Jill, stumbling to a halt midway down when I see her stop right in front of the water’s edge. She’s waterproof, but I still don’t want her dunked in a pond where ducks shit.
Blowing out a breath, I turn to see Roman doubled over, laughing so hard he can’t stop.
“My prosthetic arm rolling downhill has you in a fit of giggles? You really need to get out more.”
He shakes his head, straightening as he gets ahold of himself. “It’s just…your arm’s name is Jill… And Jill just went tumbling down a hill.”
“But at least she wasn’t chasing Jack! Now that would have been funny.”
He laughs while I roll my eyes. I turn and hurry the rest of the way down. Just as I bend down to grab it, there’s suddenly a loud squawking, and my gaze snaps up as the crazy duck from hell comes after me.
I scream and stumble backwards, and Duck McBeasty comes at me harder, those wings flapping like harbingers of death. The wooshing sound they make is disturbingly terrifying as I try to run away, only to get yanked back. That demon freak has me by the hair!
“Get the fuck off me!” I yell.
“Son of a bitch!” I hear Roman roar, and I struggle as the crazed, rabid duck pulls my hair, forcing me to the ground as it tries to drag me out into the water.
I look over to see Roman fighting three ducks, getting beaked all over. Yes, beaked is totally a verb.
With one burst of energy, I grab the duck attacking me by the throat and sling it as hard as I can into the water. It makes some loud, angry noise that sends chills up my spine, and I dive for Jill, grabbing her up and rushing toward Roman who is still fighting, even though he’s been brought to his knees by the merciless, feathered fiends.
I start to put my robo arm on, but one of the rabid ducks charges me, and I barely kick it away in time. Instead, I use my good hand to swing Jill like a bat.
“Oh, you’ve gone and pissed me off now,” I tell them as I start swinging Jill wildly, connecting with one that is on Roman.
He rolls away just before I almost accidentally hit him in the process, and I curse the next duck that attacks me, beaking my robo arm. Yes, I said beaking! What the hell else do you call it? It’s far more vicious than pecking.
Roman curses, fighting his own two ducks now, as I take on the other two. They turn ducktail and run when I let out my banshee scream that comes straight from something dark and wild inside me, probably that handicapped villain I’ve been suppressing.
I chase them, waving my arm like a battle axe, and I stop right before running into the water.
My eyes lift across the pond, and staring back at me are several familiar faces, my mother’s included. Her eyes are wide as Roman finally makes his ducks retreat. We’re both panting heavily, and I’ve probably never been a bigger mess.
Well, other than the day I lost my arm. Lots of blood. Or the day that firework went off in my cake and made it explode. Or… You know what, I’ve been a mess plenty of times, so I’ll stop there.
Anderson turns away as his body shakes with silent laughter, and I take a full moment to truly appreciate what they’re seeing.
A one-armed girl who’s coated in a few layers of dirt, standing in a bra and some shorts that used to be white, and holding her robo arm high in the air with her good hand. My hair is a twisted, tangled mess, complements of the rabid ducks. Roman looks just as flushed and mussed as I do, with his shirt torn in some spots and his hair sticking up in all directions. Dirt smudges are all over him.
It’s not fair that disheveled is a sexy look on him.
I’m sure I look like something akin to the lake monster right now. Or Sasquatch’s daughter.
Roman comes up, wrapping his hands around me, and actually tries to cover my bra-clad breasts with his hands. It just looks like he’s groping me in front of everyone.
As if he decides this is the best moment in time to be captured, the photographer snaps a picture of us.
Lovely.
I could curl into a ball and let the embarrassment wash over me, or I could handle this the same way I handle all the humiliating incidents in life.
I cock my robo arm over my shoulder, holding it there like a bat, while posing as a slugger who just hit a homerun. Roman lowers his hands from my dirty ladies when he realizes he’s not really covering much.
“Take my shirt,” Roman hisses, reaching down to take it off.
“No,” I whisper-yell. “It’s too late for that. Show no weakness! Act cool.”
The photographer snaps another picture.
Does he really think this is what Monica wants to have in the family albums?
“What?” I ask loudly, snorting derisively. “Never seen a topless, one-armed girl be a badass? We’re not all villains!”
With that, I start strutting toward the car, keeping a wide berth from the demons who’ve possessed ducks. It’s an excellent disguise. Sam and Dean will never look for them in those duck bodies… Unless they visit this pond and the ducks reveal their evil selves the way they did to us.
“We need to start carrying salt,” I tell Roman, ignoring all the whispers as he snakes an arm around my waist like he’s proud to stand next to me right now.
Awww.
“I agree,” he says, not even questioning my random anymore.
I grin over at him. It doesn’t go unnoticed that he’s on the side where Jill isn’t propped up on my arm. He doesn’t seem to mind the fact I’m all pressed up against him either.
“What about pictures?” I hear someone calling out to Roman.
“I doubt they want me looking like this in their wedding photos,” he says back, but he’s grinning as though it’s the greatest thing in the world.
He’s not embarrassed. Everyone is embarrassed of me, except my girls and my dad. But not Roman.
“No one is going to believe me when I tell them about this week,” he says on a long breath, still grinning.
“You can’t make up this kind of crazy,” I point out.
A loud squawking sounds from behind us, and screams pierce the air. Roman starts running, dragging me with him, but I don’t need the urging to race toward the cars.
The demons are attacking again, and no one has a salt circle! Or is that for ghosts? Damn it! More head space has been stolen!
Several other screams and more angry quacks mixed with squawks have us both diving in the car and locking the doors like the ducks are going to open them. We both burst out laughing as we see the wedding party being picked apart by the same ducks.
They really don’t like people around their pond. Looks like the swans have joined in on the ambush too.
That’s going to leave a mark, I think, as Gretchen gets tackled by one of the massive swans.
“I bet they wish they had me out there batting ducks down right now,” I say, turning to face Roman, who grabs my face, surprising me with a kiss.
My eyes widen until they close, and I relax into the kiss, savoring it, and melting against him. As chaos rages on outside, we stay in our little bubble, kissing, forgetting the rest of the world.
When he breaks the kiss, my lips are swollen, and I want so much more. My eyes feel heavy as I open them to see him staring at me with an intense look I wasn’t expecting.
“I really like the crazy,” he says, thumbing my lips.
A small shiver runs through me.
“The crazy really likes you too,” I whisper.
Chapter Thirteen
Henley
Davis holds my hand as we walk down to the beach where a roaring bonfire burns. He’s forgiven me for the shocking underwear incident, but promised to get revenge. I’m going to have to watch my back. Especially since he isn’
t exactly thrilled with my T-shirt choice for him.
“Don’t worry,” I smack him on the chest as we approach the fire. “Dolphins are totally manly.”
“Just keep poking me, Hen. See what happens.”
“You’ll poke me?” I ask hopefully. “Or is Little Davis too sore?”
“First, never call him that again. Big Dave will be insulted. And the worst of the… erm, discomfort was from the rear device.”
“Oh no, I singed your little brown berry!”
“Oh, God, please forget I said anything,” he groans.
“What? You don’t like that term? How about balloon knot? Poop chute? Don’t worry, I’ll think of a good one.”
“If you don’t want me to throw you into the ocean, you’ll stop right now.” Davis pulls me down onto one of the long wooden benches placed around the fire, waving at a few guests he recognizes. God forbid people actually have to sit in the sand. Everyone looks different dressed in jeans and hoodies for a night on the beach.
“Stop what?” Kasha asks, as she and Roman sit beside us.
“Nothing,” he replies, at the same time I say, “Finding an appropriate way to describe his crispy man purse.”
Kasha laughs, and Roman grins at him. “Ouch, the thought of getting nuts shocked is bad enough. You can’t do damage to a man’s shit winker. That’s just wrong. Here, take the edge off,” he laughs, handing Davis a bottle of bourbon.
Davis accepts and takes a long pull before handing it back.
“How did the rehearsal dinner go?” I ask Kasha.
“I’ll tell you later,” she promises.
Lydia is making her way down the beach, a man walking beside her. “Is that Simon Carr?” I ask.
“Sure is. They’ve been hanging out a lot. She swears she isn’t fucking him, though. He’s bulked up a lot since high school. I wonder what he’s packing.”
Davis looks at Roman, shaking his head as Kasha and I discuss what may be hiding in Simon’s jeans. “I never want to hear that men are pigs again. Women are just as bad.”
