"His name is James Ballou, but I call him Jimmy." I hugged his arm.
"Go and relax in the living room. I'll bring in coffee." Mom disappeared back into the kitchen.
"Where are Tony and Angelina? I thought they were coming?" I yelled to her, guiding Indigo to the sofa, where I sat close beside him, whispering, "Don't worry. My older sister is married and doesn't stare, and neither does my father."
Indigo let out a laugh I was sure he'd been restraining since we'd first walked in my front door.
"Where's your puppy?" I asked Teresa. She motioned out the rear window, her face grumpy.
When I peeked through the lacy curtains, I noticed the doghouse and pen, which was built right beside our weathered jungle gym. "Oh, he's adorable! Why the segregation?"
Mom must have heard, because she yelled in, "That dog doesn't know how to bark when he needs to go out."
Teresa scrunched her mouth. "He pees all over if we're not watching him every second." She rolled her eyes. "Dad quarantines him when we have guests."
"So, I'm a guest?"
She giggled and sat beside me, sandwiching me between her and Indigo. Now and then she'd poke out her head to steal a peek at him.
"I like your studded jeans, Jewel, a lot. And your purple sweater. Can I borrow them sometime?" Her eyes were wide.
I ruffled her hair. "Sure, squirt. At the rate you seem to be growing, it might be sooner than Mom would like." I chuckled.
My mother carried in a tray of coffee and freshly stuffed donuts powdered with sugar. "Angelina will try to be here later. David has some kind of business meeting." She tossed her hands. "With those two, you can't know for sure about anything."
After my mother dragged Teresa back into the kitchen to help her cook, I asked Indigo if he'd like to see my room. Of course, he said yes and followed me up the stairs, pinching my butt as I double-timed the steps, swatting his hand away.
When we reached the landing, I put my arm around his waist, guiding him down the hall and to my room. Once inside, he took me in his arms and began kissing me. I kicked the door closed with my foot, reached behind me and locked it.
When we came up for air, Indigo make a quick survey of my room, grinning, saying, "So this is the place, huh?" He walked around, dragging me behind him as he picked up odds and ends, examining books, figurines, even a doll which he held out before me, pointing, "You played with dolls?"
"It must be Teresa's. I played with balls."
He laughed. "Now you tell me."
I giggled, "Baseballs, basketballs, you know, those kind of balls."
He stood before my dresser, fumbling with some empty perfume bottles, bringing one to his nose. "Strawberries .." I watched his reflection in the mirror drop from a smile to a frown.
"What's wrong?" I asked, pulling him around to face me.
"I have a problem." Looking anguished, he ran his hands through his hair, then backed me into the wall.
My eyes were wide. "What kind of problem?"
His palm came down heavily beside my head, and his face was inches from mine. "You." His lips broke into a grin, and his free hand ran across the front of my shirt.
"I might be able to solve that problem ..." I backed him into my bed, pushed him down, and fell on top of him. He pulled my shirt over my head, ran his hands over the silky cups of my bra and began kissing me with passion. Not another stitch of clothing was removed as we made out feverishly, until my mother started calling my name.
Before heading downstairs, I pushed Indigo into the powder room adjoining my room, where I splashed water on his face, dabbed him dry, then went to work on my own complexion.
We joined my mom downstairs, and talked about the weather, the bakery, my job and school, until my dad came in, with Tony and Shannon tagging along. Indigo shook Dad's hand, then he and Tony exchanged clasps and "bros" again. Everyone came to the table, and Teresa grabbed the chair beside Indigo. She couldn't seem to take her eyes off him. Was she honestly flirting?
Gathering around the table, we joined hands and with Dad in the lead, recited Grace with bowed heads. Bowls changed hands. Dishes clattered, utensils clinked, and in thirty minutes we finished the meal that had taken Mom hours to prepare.
"Dinner was fantastic, Mom," I said.
Indigo complimented her too, saying he'd never tasted Spanish rice like hers before, and he absolutely loved her tacos. He even sat back and patted his tummy, which I thought was adorable.
"I'm sending a container home with you for Emma," said Mom, who never forgot a soul. "How is she?"
"She's great, Mom. Maybe on her way to the altar."
My mother's face it up and she wrung her hands. Indigo shot me a look of surprise. Apparently Bill didn't speak about their relationship as openly as Emma had been doing.
Everyone remained at the table, drinking wine, chatting, while Mom and I cleared for dessert and talked more about Emma. Since we were all stuffed with tacos and yummy rice, and Indigo and I couldn't consume another gram of sugar, we declined. That's when the photo albums came out, and I held in my breath.
I gave Indigo an apologetic look, mouthing, "Sorry," while stretching my bottom lip with an 'oops' expression.
"Where'd the squirt disappear to? I gathered the photographs were her idea."
Mom rolled her eyes. "You'll see soon enough."
After flipping through pages of family photos for longer than I would have liked, I heard footsteps on the stairs. In seconds, Teresa posed in the doorway, wearing red and blue veils over her pink leggings, and a jeweled band around her forehead. The next thing I knew, she was belly dancing around the dining room table. She had some excellent moves. I was impressed ... after the shock wore off. Her abs rippled through her leotard as her body snaked.
Dad's eyeballs all but flew out of his head, and he cleared his throat while shooting a demanding look at my mother.
"A school project. Dance your way to fitness. Teresa chose belly dancing." Mom shrugged.
"That's an amazing idea," said Indigo, obviously impressed as well. Leaning in close, he whispered, "she's a small version of you," with the strangest look on his face.
I beamed.
Teresa put on quite a show for Indigo, who shook his head, whispering again that she was something else, a lot like her big sister. He squeezed my hand under the table.
"What do you think, Jimmy? Have you ever tried belly dancing?" breathless, she asked. "Want to dance with me?"
His chuckling, "No," was definitive.
Tony cheered her on, saying, "You've got to teach Shannon." Nudging his silent but striking blonde companion. "Come on, girl, get up there and groove with my sista."
The girl looked like she wanted to slug him, and I wouldn't have blamed her if she had. Rolling her eyes, jabbing him in the ribs, she declined.
When the dance was over, Teresa took her seat and poured through her school photos, shoving them under Indigo's nose. He appeared entertained, as if he enjoyed being with her, with my entire family. He fit right in, smiling, joking, drinking Dad's special occasion red wine.
Then Teresa shocked my dad more than me or my other siblings had ever done; she brought up the subject of a hot boy in her class.
"She's been talking like this for almost a year, Antonio. You've had your head in buns so you never noticed."
Indigo and I exchanged eye rolls, then Mom caught on as to why everyone at the table was laughing.
"Bakery buns." She burst out laughing and threw her arms into the air, knocking over her wine glass.
Dad quickly swabbed it with a handful of napkins before it reached the carpet.
"Kids grow up faster now than when you were you were a little girl, Jewelia," said Mom, and then the reverie began as she and Teresa started pulling photos out of a box.
"Mom," I implored. "The albums are embarrassing enough. Not the boxes, please."
"No boy was a match for Jewelia." Dad looked so proud. "Climbing trees. Wrestling, scrapping with anyone who looked at
her the wrong way.
I finally called it a day when Teresa reached into the bottom of the box and pulled out a pair of plastic handcuffs. She started dancing around the room again, chanting. "Stop or I'll shoot."
"Jewelie tried to arrest everyone. Once, she even handcuffed me to my playpen."
"She always wanted to catch the bad men." Love in his eyes, Dad chuckled.
"Teresa, enough." Mom must have sensed my panic. "And you too, Antonio. You have her blushing."
Indigo looked like he was having the time of his life while I was cringing, worrying whether or not the next photo would flash my body parts ... and what might come out of my little sister's mouth next. I shot her the eye, but as she wasn't looking at me, my silent threat was of no use.
"So I hated gangsters and bad people," scrunching my mouth, I defended. "Thanks to you, Dad, and all of the true crime dramas you subjected us to."
Recalling how he'd commandeered the television, Dad howled. "I wanted to prepare you for the outside world," he defended, wiping tears from his eyes.
Then Mom elbowed him, saying enough teasing of Jewelia, and to act his age. She added, "She'll probably never come back to Poughkeepsie," which made everyone laugh harder.
The chandelier glistened above the table, and I realized it was lighting the room more than the sun, which was setting in brilliant reds and violet blues behind the treed backyard. I checked my watch. "It's been a wonderful day," I said, "but we better get going or we'll miss the last train."
"Good. You and Jimmy can stay over then," said Teresa, who bounced up and down, clapping her hands.
Teresa sat between Indigo and me in the back of the Jeep as Dad drove us to the train station, with Mom seated beside him, rambling on about it being the best day in a long time, welcoming Indigo back anytime. Teresa kept cutting in, "Can you come back next week, Jimmy?"
WHEELS ON A HOT TRACK
Our visit to Poughkeepsie must have been overwhelming for Indigo, because it had been borderline nerve-wracking for me. The moment the train left the station, he pulled me into his arms with an urgent kiss. "I've been waiting all day to do that," he whispered the moment our lips unlocked.
His passion triggered goose bumps that even reached my scalp. "Wow. What was that about?"
"Watching you ... not being able to touch you ... is difficult." His eyes confirmed his sentiment.
"You should suppress your emotions more often," I started to tease, but the look on his face stopped me. I stroked the shadow of beard spreading from his sideburn to his chin. "I feel the same."
"I like your family, Jewelia. They're generous, warmhearted folks. Now I know why you're you."
For a breath-stealing moment, I thought he was about to say, "Now I know why I love you." But of course, he didn't. I had to remind myself we were keeping things light.
"Oh, thank you, Jimmy." My lips swept his cheek. "They are the best." I grinned. "I'm happy you enjoyed yourself. I know they like you too ... especially Teresa." I giggled. "She came on pretty strong."
"Like her sis?"
Brows lifted, I stared. "Do I?"
"Without even realizing, which is even more disarming." I wasn't sure which was stronger, the softness or desire in his eyes.
Wrapping my arm around his, I sank against him.
With the train car to ourselves, we stretched our legs, shoeless feet resting on the opposing seat, toes wiggling. Weary, I felt recklessly giddy. Indigo appeared to feel the same as we recounted the events of the day.
A throaty laugh burst through his lips. "I especially liked the photo of you under the Christmas tree, wearing your flannel pajamas with the sheriff's badge pinned to your lapel. So, you always liked guns, huh? Remind me not to look at you the wrong way when you're on the force. Maybe I should start now." He shielded his face with his arms.
I tugged him free, then pressed my elbow into his hard abs. "Hey. When am I gonna get to see your baby pictures." I lifted a brow.
"In due time, tamale." Knowing it was one of my weak spots, he squeezed my kneecap. I screamed.
"Hey. I didn't know you speak Spanish. How come you never told me?" I gave his abs another nudge.
"Why didn't you tell me you speak Spanish?" Eyes innocent, he grinned, pushing my elbow away, pinning my hand to my thigh. "Keep your paws to yourself. My ribs are getting sore."
"I'll have to start telling you that." I shot him a sarcastic look. "And who could feel a rib through that muscle." When I tried to pinch his side, he grabbed my hand.
"Since we've been speaking fluent English, I guess I didn't find the need to mention I speak one or two other languages." His tickling fingers tortured my sensitive ribcage.
I screeched, hopping around in the seat, panting, "What other languages?"
"Russian. Learning Chinese."
"What are you gonna do? Work for the United Nations?"
He turned serious. "Jewel. I'll be practicing ..." he hesitated.
I'd often stumbled with my words, so I brushed off his trepidation. I angled my head. "Yes, I know you'll be practicing ... go on."
"I'll be working with children from a variety of countries. I plan on learning the languages, backgrounds, traits, histories, likes and dislikes of each and every child who walks, or is wheeled through the doors of the hospital."
I'd never witnessed such degree of dedication. All I could say was a breathless, "Oh."
"No child is going to slip between the cracks if I have anything to say about it."
"Oh." Again, I felt the need for an extra gulp of air.
"There's a lot of work to be done ..."
"You're such a humanitarian ..." I wrapped both of my arms around one of his and squeezed.
"You're little sister's a charmer. I got a kick out of her." He nuzzled my cheek, running his hand up and down my thigh, unaware of how his touch made me want to go further than we had in his Wrangler.
"I didn't." I chuckled. "She's mouthy and headstrong. You need a bulldozer to get through to her sometimes."
"Hmm. And who does that remind me of?"
I laughed.
"You're family's so close. You must have had wonderful times growing up." He turned pensive, sounding far too serious. His ability to change gears in split seconds was disconcerting.
"Didn't you?" With my head resting on his shoulder, I squinted up at him.
He frowned. "Nothing like yours."
He looked forlorn. My heart went out to him. I threw my arms around his neck, and a leg over his thigh, and started kissing him, compassionately at first, then something deep inside me snapped like a fragile spring stretched beyond its capacity.
We'd left sunset behind in Poughkeepsie, and dusk was settling over the river, colliding with mist. A moon on the rise projected a glow on our surroundings, but it was far too subtle to invade the dimness that had befallen the interior of our car.
When I straddled him, I knew I was asking for trouble. I was mindless. I was floating. I was trembling with passion. Nothing could have torn me away from Indigo's arms other than a train crash, perhaps.
I felt as if the car we were on unlatched and barreled on its own track, swaying, tumbling, and I was thrust headfirst into a tunnel from which I never wanted to emerge. Life was Indigo and me. There was no such thing as tomorrow, because if I had my way we'd be locked in that moment, in each other's arms forever.
If the Surgeon General himself had strode down the aisle distributing condoms, I would have gratefully accepted. My hips were rolling faster than Metro North's wheels. My hands roamed his chest, rounded his pecs, traced his abs. My fingertips swept his neck, stroked his cheeks, tousled his hair, while my mouth occupied his. It didn't matter if I could barely breathe, because I never wanted to come up for air. As my fingers dug into his flesh, the grip of my lips grew firmer. I heard Indigo gasp, felt him stiffen, then he seemed to be carried away with the tide. His arms tightened around me so fiercely, the air in our lungs was shared.
"Jewel ... people will ..." h
e managed to free his lips, but only for a moment.
"There's no one here but us," my whisper assured.
From our position, we were shielded by the opposing seat, encased in a cubicle of privacy. I felt his craving, and longed for him to find the snaps on my jeans, confess that he loved me, smother me until our final breaths were drawn as one.
His hands slipped under my sweater, hungrily running the length of my back, the soft pads of his fingers unclasping my bra, drifting up and down my sides.
Moaning, I locked my fingers around his neck, pulling his lips to mine, unable to bring myself close enough to the man who was driving me insane.
Dinner with my parents had been a love fest; they adored him and I knew the feeling was mutual. Maybe it was the necessary permission I had unconsciously sought, the affirmation I needed.
Indigo smelled fresh, like an ocean breeze, his warm lips sweetened by gum. His hair feathered through my fingers, and as thoughts of tomorrow swirled through my mind, everything inside me began to explode. I angled my head every which way, teasing his lips, then sucked in his tongue until it almost touched the back of my throat.
His palms grazed the side mounds of my breasts, each scathing caress capturing more of me. He drew in a heavy breath, ragged and indecisive, as if struggling to reconcile the attraction between us, that it was so much stronger than he was capable of handling ... acknowledging he was about to succumb.
Suddenly his hands were beneath me, pressing, urging, until the only thing between us were my breasts and his hardness. My body climbed his, rocked without mercy, then slowed, eased, again and again, the friction heating the clothing we wore.
My hips danced, rolling faster than the wheels that carried us home, until I was brought to a screeching halt by my panting partner, who gently pried my fingers from their death grip on the back of his neck, peeled my undulating body off his, and set me onto the seat beside him, his hoarse voice whispering, "If we don't stop now ... I can't be held accountable." His chest rose and fell as if recovering from a five mile run. His face was flushed, his hairline dotted with perspiration.
He shocked me to my senses. I struggled to catch my breath, to throttle my emotions: my racing heart, the tingling ache inside that solicited more and more from me ... from Indigo.
Head Over Wheels (Spicy Young Romance) Page 21
