“Hmmm, well me likie. We should do that again sometime, maybe this time in a bed so I don’t get couch bang on my hipbones.”
Her squeal when I dig my fingers into her tickle spot is like a homecoming in and of itself, and I lift my head to kiss her softly, sweetly, savoring her taste and the sigh she breathes into my mouth.
“I missed you, McGee. Never thought I’d say this, but I was bored to tears the whole time. No one called me an asshole that whole time.”
“Oh, they must all be brainwashed or braindead if they don’t think you’re an ass.”
I pinch her nipple and grin when she yelps and wiggles off, jumping to her feet with a scowl.
“They know I’m an ass and they say nothing because I’m the boss. You should watch your step too, you know, since I’m always the boss when it comes to you.”
“Oh someone’s either delusional or smoking crack. You’re back early, butthead, what’s up?”
I lever myself up and follow her to the kitchen, tucking and reclosing my pants as she scoops her panties up and tosses them into the trash.
“I got done sooner than expected and flew back on the jet. Besides, I didn’t want to get back late and not have time to get ready to meet Laura. I’m actually looking forward to this date.”
Her back seems to stiffen for a moment and I blink to clear my vision, getting her bland stare when I open my eyes again.
“Yeah, well, I’m sure she’d have been devastated and all if you aren’t wearing your fancy matching wardrobe.”
“You okay, babe?” I ask when I go to take her hand and she pulls away, pulling open the fridge and burying her head in it.
“Fine, Jones, just fine. Why wouldn’t I be? Don’t forget to call Betty before you get ready. She wanted to talk to you about a party or something.”
“The Whitaker wedding. I have to go to it next week and they want my RSVP. I sure hope this date goes well so I can ask her to go with me or I’ll be dateless for one of these things again,” I mutter, hating this crap.
Weddings, besides the ones my friends have, are never great for me. They take forever and just serve to remind me that I’ve gone through another year alone and playing the field without luck.
I’m so lost in thought that I don’t see Indie turn and walk away before she’s halfway down the hall and turning into the guest room. I’m perplexed by her mood change and hoping to at least get some company while I change for my date, but when I hear the lock click I feel my mind blank.
“Indie?”
I knock on the door a few times and get dead air before trying the handle again and confirming that it’s still locked.
“Ind? Babe? You okay?”
“Fuck off! Don’t you have somewhere to be, Jones?”
“Yeah and I wanted some company while I get ready.”
“Go play with your dick, fuck face. I’m not in the mood for your shit right now and I need some sleep,” she yells back, throwing something at the door when I knock again.
“What the hell? Indiana, open the door and get your ass out here right now! Why are you in the guest room if you’re tired? You have a bed to sleep in,” I yell, banging a hand into the wood.
“Go away, Jones, just go away and leave me alone!”
Just like that the mellow mood I’ve been sporting vanishes and I feel my temper rise swiftly. This woman’s moods are mercurial. Happy one moment and mad as hell the next. It’s got so bad lately I don’t know my own name half the time and my damn neck aches from her constant three sixties.
“Fine! Christ, are you on the fucking rag or something?”
That earns me an enraged scream and I wince when something else hits the door and shatters, shaking the wood enough that I jump back with a curse.
“Screw you, asshole. I am not on the freaking rag and you should know that since I told you I went and got the shot since we started having sex. I don’t get my period!”
Dammit.
“We’ll talk later, I have to go get ready.”
I walk away after she yells a few more curses at the door and even tells me what to do with my dick.
Damn woman.
***
Indie
“He said that?” Thursday gasps as the rest of the table goes silent, all five Days staring at me in shock as I gulp the remainder of my wine and grab the beer Monday got me when I walked in the door.
After that suck fest of an argument, which I take my share of blame for, by the way, I waited for the insensitive jerk to leave before sneaking out like a thief in the night.
“He did,” I answer eventually, downing half of my beer and signalling to the waitress to bring another round.
“Well hell, honey, that just plain sucks,” Tuesday snarls, making me giggle.
“Yeah, I did that too. I did suck. I do suck. Why did I have to go and fall for the one man who doesn’t want me, huh?” I moan, slapping my forehead to emphasize what a colossal idiot I am.
“Aw come on now, honey, don’t beat yourself up too much over this. We can’t help who we love now, can we?” Friday says, his blue eyes going dark with whatever memories he still battles.
Now I may not be the girl who’s a crier or that in touch with my emotions but I love these guys, I really do. They’re always here for me when I need them and I know that if I need to be carried out of here tonight, I’m in good hands. Besides, they’re better company and cheaper than any therapist around, and tonight I need someone to look at me and remind me why I am the naughtiest and baddest of the Naughties.
“No, I suppose we can’t, Fri, but we sure as shit can see the writing on the wall and remember what went before when we make any decisions that will play a part in the future, and I made a mistake. Again. You’d think that after the limo I’d have been wise to how insensitive he can be. And the absolute worst fucking part of all this, guys? He doesn’t even know it so I can’t be all that angry with him, can I? He just doesn’t get it.” I groan, chugging more beer and waving at Barb for a round of shots.
Tonight I am officially breaking my booze fast, and as in my usual take-no-prisoners style, I’m going to rip this bitch a new one and go out in a blaze of drunken glory.
Because I’m hurt and angry at myself for being so fucking foolish. How could I have done this to myself and believed like a moron that Jones would get the hint and maybe, just maybe fall for me like I have for him?
I think I may have watched one or a million too many sappy romances, because I think I was pretending to be all cool with all this when in reality I was hoping he’d have all this sex and realize I was his.
That movie night and cooking together and playing freaking Monopoly would foster this need in him for all the comforts and the badass thrills that we can have together.
But I can’t keep dreaming like this anymore, and watching him wine and dine women while I wait for him in his bed and let him trample what’s left of my heart. I need to move the hell on and just cut him loose.
I just need to figure out how I’m going to do that because I never go back on a deal and I made that deal with him. I promised him that I’d be his exclusively for the duration of this…
“I need to make him a match he can’t refuse unless he’s blind, deaf, and stupid,” I say suddenly, catching their attention again as I shoot my shot of bourbon and cough around my teary eyes.
“What?”
“I need to break the deal I made with Jones and the only way for me to do that is to make him a match that he can’t refuse, guys. I need to find him the woman that fits all the criteria he seems so set on. Someone smart, with a sense of humor, good moral fiber, beauty, and a need for family and being a socialite housewife. I need to find him his ideal so he can’t refuse this one.”
The Days all share a look before turning back to me with resigned sighs.
“Do you think Woody is really going to go for this if it means losing you?”
“Oh, Thursday, you’re such an ass. Thanks so much for pointing that out
since it just adds another dagger to my already oozing heart. Of course he’ll go for it. He stated categorically that once he found his perfect match I was off the hook and we would go our separate ways. He wants this as much as I now need it.”
“I hate it when they don’t see.”
“Yeah, me too.”
“Me five.”
“Monday, bro, you are really wasted. Maybe you should catch some shuteye and we’ll wake you.” Friday laughs as the man tilts and sways before falling facedown on the table and passing out.
I’m already well on my way to a good buzz, and I sit and contemplate Monday’s blond head while plotting my course. Having a plan always makes me feel better and puts me back on an even playing field.
“Now then, who knows a hot, smart, lazy-ass shopper who wouldn’t mind popping out a few brats to earn that lifestyle Jones has in mind for his woman?”
I’m watching them all with an eagle eye, and bless their hearts they try not to react at all but I see Wednesday dart a glance at Friday and I’ve got them.
“Aha! Friday, who you got for me?”
“No one. I don’t—”
“I will YouTube that video I have of you running into the bathroom naked. And then I’ll call Marks and tell him what you were giving his wife before they got back together,” I warn, going all Indie on his ass for good measure.
“Jesus, fine, but don’t cry to me when your man falls for her because I am warning you, she’s a keeper.”
“Gimme the name.”
“Her name is Irmina Shakle and she’s friends with my aunt’s stepdaughter. She’s blonde, sweet, and she has no need for a job because she has a trust fund. She’s also lonely and looking for a hookup but she’s shy so she doesn’t play the field.”
“Bingo! Her number. I need her number and a photo.”
I’m yelling at the poor man and snapping my fingers at him manically but I can’t help myself. I need to get out of this mess before I lose what’s left of my mind, and I will do anything to save myself no matter how much it hurts to take the number from his shaking fingers.
No matter how much I want to run home to Jones’s place and pretend today never happened. I’m done being beavered by a man who can’t see the woman for the snatch.
I have a life to live and some happiness to find, and if I have to rip my own heart out to do it so be it.
Indie’s back, baby.
Chapter Fourteen
“Time marches on, and sooner or later you realize it is marching across your face.”
Indie
I don’t get to go home—the Days brought me to Jones’s place after we all got so toasted I feel numb. The minute I step through the door Woody is on me like a beaver at a honey trap. Har-har.
“Where the fuck have you been? It’s one in the Goddamned morning, you weren’t answering your phone and you didn’t bother to leave a note,” he roars, grabbing me and shaking me once before letting me go and stalking away.
“Shorry, Jone, Iwen out en got a foo drins with a boys,” I slurr, giggling when I attempt to step around him and end up sidestepping into the wall.
Everything on me is working at cross purposes, and if I didn’t know those sexy pins were mine I’d swear I took someone else’s legs home with me when we all stumbled out of the bar.
That snarl sounds again and a sputter with mirth when he curses and grabs me, saving me from an inglorious sprawl across the black marble beneath my feet.
I feel light and airy, so fluid right now that all I can seem to do is giggle and try to see past the blurred vision of male rage and snarling contempt. What I see has my hoo-hoo trying to raise her head from the table where she passed out hours ago. Jones is dressed in nothing but his pants, and man oh man does he look good enough to eat. Too bad I decided somewhere between that first sip of wine and the seventh shot that I wasn’t eating anything he’s offering anymore. Not even his penis, no matter how much I like that bastard.
“How much did you drink, Goddammit? Do you need to puke?”
“Naaaah, I’m all goooood. Just wanna partay all nigh long. Alnigh, alnigh long, alnigh…doanyoo love Lionel Richie? So cool. Wanna dance, Jones? I wanna dance,” I mumble, doing a little drunken shuffle before he loses what’s left of his patience and just scoops me up.
“I was worried. Why didn’t you call or let me know you were going out?”
I almost puke when I feel him lay me down on the bed, but I swallow the urge and clear my throat, blinking and trying to get some semblance of sobriety back.
I want to talk to Jones right now. I need him to understand what’s happening and why I feel that he needs to let me book it home earlier than we agreed on.
“None of your biness. Not my man, so I can do wha I want and doanafta splain m’self.”
That’s all I manage before I pass out, and thank God for that because I was actually wanting to confess my love and drunk cry while he explained to me why he can’t love me.
Chapter Fifteen
“Whenever I’m caught between two evils, I take the one I never tried.”
Indie
The smell of the grass and clean air is having a very good effect on me as I sit back on Dot’s porch swing and look out into the distance, breathing deep of the summer air, just letting all my worries fade away.
I’m feeling a little guilty right now, but not all that much as I think about how I lied a little to my friends to get them off my back. I have come here to Dot and Paul’s place in Wyoming for perspective, but that in no way means I’ve halted all of my plans.
No, I set them in motion before I even went home to pack and call Jones. The match is on as of tonight at six thirty when Jones will meet Irmina for dinner and be utterly dazzled by her poise and elegance. I know this since I spent an hour on the phone with her this morning after I left Percy and Marks.
I’m here now simply because I don’t want to be there when he realizes that I did the impossible. I made him a match he can’t refuse and one that is all wrong for him.
For that reason I won’t accept his fee. My morals are too strong for that, no matter how the greedy part of me whines and bitches. I know she’s not his perfect match, because I am his perfect match. He’s just too fucking stupid and blind to see it.
Asshole.
“You look just about ready to kill someone, so I take it you’re thinking about Woody.”
I look up and grimace as Paul falls into the swing beside me and hands me a glass of wine that makes my stomach turn.
“Drink it. I watered it down and put some fruit juice in it. You need to relax a little and talk to me, kid.”
“I don’t want to talk anymore. I’m all talked out. All I want to do is sit here and pretend I’m not fuming mad at Jones and then go on with my life as it was before he brought his big dick into my equation.”
The shaking of the swing tells me he’s laughing at my snarled insults, and for just a second I feel a spark of mirth before that too fizzles and dies beneath the anger that keeps building and building like a boil on my ass!
“So the girls are calling it their equations now, huh?”
“Shut up, Paul, you know what I meant, you handsome ass. I just want to sit here and not talk. Please.”
“I get that, so I won’t sit here and pry it out of you. I respect how you feel too much to shove my opinion down your throat. All I will say before we sit here quietly and catch a nap together is that sometimes what you see and want so badly may not always be what you need. Maybe you love him and maybe that’s a good thing, I can’t say. What I will tell you is that if a man looks at you and doesn’t see how great you are, babe, he’s not worth salt on a horse’s ass. You’re smart and funny and loyal and you’re damn near perfect to look at. He doesn’t see it, then I say you boot his ass and find someone worth your while.”
That’s all he says before he leans back, tips his hat over his eyes, and leaves me to think about what he said.
“Thanks.”
“You’re welcome, babe. Now drink your wine and get some shuteye, you look like something my cows trampled and you need to brush your hair.”
I do as he bids and drink the fruity concoction, settling back into the swing with a weary sigh as I feel my eyes droop and fall, sending me into a soft sleep that may not heal me now but makes me feel like I’m ten pounds lighter already.
I wake at least two hours later stretched out on the sofa, listening to Percy and Dot talking up a storm as my mind and body just take in the peace and stress-free situation for the next few minutes.
“No, Dotty, I don’t think that’s a good idea either. She’s fragile right now and forcing her to make a decision about this isn’t a good idea. I think we should just keep her here for the next week or so for some rest and thinking time. I’ll fly back home tomorrow afternoon and you can get her to stay here. She hasn’t had a vacation in five years. She can afford to let business rest for a few weeks and just relax.”
“But what about Woody, Perc? That man loves her. I’ve seen the way he looks at her when he thinks no one is looking, it’s apparent as the nose on your face how he feels. He just hasn’t realized it yet is all.”
“And if he never does?”
I lay completely still and keep my eyes closed, letting the words sink in and settle where the other hurt lies, deep inside. Percy and Dot don’t know I’m awake and I let them keep believing I’m asleep from whatever concoction Paul roofied me with as they keep whispering so loudly the cows outside could probably hear them.
“Then I say we kill him and send pieces of him to his parents as punishment for the terrible job they did. I just can’t believe this, Percy, he’s so sweet and kind. This isn’t Woody.”
I want to snort because just weeks ago I would never have looked at Jones and seen a sexual dominant who pins me and screws me half to death. It just goes to show you don’t really know anybody the way you think you do.
“I know and that’s what’s got me thinking that we need to stop Mata Hari before she does something she’ll regret. They belong together and I want her with him. He’s good for her. She isn’t in her head all the time when he’s around, and she hasn’t been so wild lately.”
THE NAUGHTY ONES: The Complete 5-Books Series Page 58
