Jock Royal
Page 29
Twenty-nine days more…
“Jack, can you get the door?”
I listen for the sound of his footfalls, but there are none.
“Jack?”
I know he’s here; he stuck his head in the bathroom this morning when I was on the loo taking a dump and asked if I wanted a coffee while he was running errands, but it’s been hours and he should have been back long ago.
I’ve been seated at his kitchen table for a while now, paperwork from the office printed and scattered, along with a real estate sampler of housing and flat rentals.
The pen in my hand has been busy circling proper places to let.
I set it down when the doorknocker gives another metallic clank.
No signs of my brother.
Fine.
I’ll get the door myself, not that it was a problem to begin with, but it’s his flat and probably his delivery—assuming that’s what it is since we’re not expecting company.
Armed with a budget, I’ve been trolling for a place of my own so I can get out from under Jack—it’s impossible having phone sex with my girlfriend whilst sleeping on the couch with my blasted brother in the next room.
His favorite thing to do? Bust out of his bedroom with absolutely no warning whatsoever and try to catch me with my hand down my pants.
No thank you.
I get up from the table and shuffle through the house. Parlor, hallway, front entry, hardly checking to see who’s outside before unlatching the lock and pulling the door open.
Georgia is standing on the veranda.
Down on the pavement stands my brother with three giant suitcases in his hands and a stupid smile plastered on his face.
Georgia.
Suitcases.
Georgia.
Suitcases.
It takes me half a second longer to gather my wits, stepping outside to grab her and lift her up.
“I missed you,” she says, face buried in my neck, lips kissing below my ear.
“I missed you, too,” I reply breathlessly, emotions I didn’t know I had welling up inside me. “I can’t believe you’re here. I was getting annoyed at my brother for not getting the door. Bloody irritating it was.” I kiss her lips. “But it was you.”
“I wanted to surprise you.”
The sky is dark and threatening rain, so I usher her inside. “Get inside, let’s…” I glance down at Jack on the pavement. “Hold on, let me help him—you go in.” Bounding down the steps, I embrace my brother. “You arse! How long have you known she was coming?”
He shrugs, hefting two of Georgia’s bags. “Couple weeks. I wager she has loads to tell you.”
I nod, grabbing the third suitcase and having Jack go up the stairs first.
She doesn’t travel light, this one.
My brother and I get her things inside, setting everything by the door. When I find Georgia, she’s on the couch with her shoes off, rising again when I walk into the room.
I turn to my brother.
“Mate, can we use your room for a bit?”
He grunts. “No shagging.”
My girlfriend laughs. “We’re not going to shag, I promise you!”
“We’re not?” I tease, knowing full well we have to talk. I have a million questions in my mind at the same time. I do want to kiss her so bad, but not with an audience.
Soon we’re settled on his bed, facing each other, holding hands and kissing. She puts her arms around my neck and leans in, pressing her forehead to mine.
“I missed you so much.” She sighs, emotion lacing her voice. “I can’t believe I’m here.”
Speaking of which…
“What are you doing here, Georgia? Not that I’m not excited by the surprise, but did something happen? What’s going on?”
Her head bows. “My parents…ugh. I don’t want to make them sound like assholes because it’s my fault, but they basically kicked me out.”
“What?” I exclaim. “Why?”
“The three of us—well, mainly my parents—have done a lot of soul searching the past month, and they really want me to find myself and figure out what I want to do. They want…” She clears her throat. “Me to grow up. Them ‘kicking me out’ of the house was them kicking me out of the nest so I could ‘fly.’”
Georgia keeps using air quotes.
“It’s actually really embarrassing. I told them about us.”
I can feel my eyes get wider at her pronouncement. “You did?”
“Yes, and it didn’t go as great as I’d hoped. Or maybe it went exactly as I thought it would—I don’t know. It was horrible, I was so embarrassed, everything was so awkward.”
“What do you mean?”
“They started treating me different—my mom mostly. Dad does what Mom wants, so he was avoiding me. Pushing for the annulment. Pushing me to get a better job.”
“Is this why you’ve been pretending the conversation between us never happened?”
The one where I said I would move there for six months so we could figure things out.
“Yes. After our call that day…I eventually told my parents, and that’s when things went south, and honestly, Ashley…” Her head dips and she avoids my gaze. “I couldn’t ask you to do that. To give up everything and come to America when I was being foolish and immature. It would have been selfish. Everything you have is here.”
That’s where she’s wrong.
“Everything I had was in the States.”
She lifts her head to look at me. “What do you mean?”
“You. Georgia, you know I don’t give a fuck about the job and the money and everything else.”
My girlfriend lifts her chin. “There is no way in hell I was going to ask you to leave your job, your supportive family, your legacy, to come hold my hand while I had my head up my ass.” She pats me on the cheek. “But nice try.”
I let out a breath. “In any case, you’re here.”
“I am here.”
Which begs the question, “How? How are you here? I’m so glad, but…”
She’s broke.
“I’m not proud of it, but…I was able to get ahold of your mother and told her what’s been going on. And I told her about the conversation you and I had. Then the one I had with my own parents.” Georgia nervously brushes some errant hair behind her ears. “Then we talked a few days later, then again. Your mom is very caring and eager to…make this work for us in any way she can. So she flew me out here.” A blush forms on her cheeks. “I quit my job and I packed up my things and—I’m here until we work this out. For a month or for three, or six. However long it takes.”
“What about the annulment—doesn’t that have to be filed in the county where you were married?”
“Yes, but we can do all that online if that’s what we choose to do.”
“What are you saying? That you aren’t sure it’s what you want to do?”
“I’m saying…we rushed into this marriage because we were drunk, but maybe we don’t have to…rush out of it.”
I almost tackle my girlfriend-wife onto my brother’s bed, her back on the mattress, hair now fanning out all over the place. Our mouths meet, tongues mingling for the first time in a million weeks.
“You taste so good,” I moan, hand grazing her boob through her clothes.
Georgia laughs. “No I don’t—I taste like airplane and airport.”
“You can’t taste like airport. That’s not a thing.”
“Well I’m gross—hardly fresh and minty. Jack didn’t have any gum in his car when he picked me up.”
He wouldn’t.
My brother is neat as a pin and wouldn’t want a gum wrapper lying about.
There’s a knock on the door, followed by a cheeky, “Yoohoo, kids, your time is up!”
I groan. “By the end of today, we’re going to have found a new place to live. Come on.”
I stand, grab her hand, and lead her to the kitchen.
* * *
Georgia
&n
bsp; Another month later…
My fingers race across the keyboard of my laptop and I pause to look out the window, seeing nothing but the other identical row houses on the street where we now live.
It’s an incredible place, not far from Jack’s—way above the pay grade of anything I’ll be able to afford in this lifetime, but this is what Ashley wanted and who am I to object?
I have an office. We have a dining room—it’s empty, but it’s a dining room just the same—a den with the TV, two bedrooms upstairs, and a bright and airy kitchen.
I’ve adjusted well and have begun speaking to my parents—we video-chat regularly, and they’re happier knowing I finally have more focus.
Right now, I’m working for the Dryden-Jones family, with Ashley’s cousin Emily in the marketing department. I was hesitant to take advantage of the nepotism, but no one seemed to mind and everyone seemed to expect it.
Until I find my dream job, I’m at least making some money and contributing to the household.
And as for Ashley and me?
Well.
For now, we’re just boyfriend-girlfriend, although legally we’re technically husband and wife.
The rings are put away, but every so often, I like to take mine out of the safe and wear it, the big, shiny stone making my heart skip a beat every time.
It’s so beautiful.
Lady Talbot—Ashley’s mother—on the other hand, loves referring to me as her daughter-in-law, introducing me to her friends and such, and although it’s not a lie, it still feels strange. And wrong.
I still feel too young.
Even so.
Ashley and I are still married.
Downstairs, I hear a door open and close. Stretch in my desk chair and smile when my boyfriend comes bounding up the stairs.
He’s been jogging—has a pick-up game today with a bunch of his old mates from boarding school, and he’s always conditioning. They will be playing rugby in the park, the same one he does his runs around.
That’s Hyde Park, if you were wondering, and I still pinch myself that I live so close by.
He smooches me on the mouth, and I taste a bit of sweat.
“I’m going to shower, and then I want…”
He’s in the mood.
I can see it in his eyes, but then again—when isn’t he?
“Why wait until you shower?”
“Babe, I’m gross.”
“So?”
He pulls at my hands until I’m standing, and I laugh when he begins tugging at the hem of my old, ratty track t-shirt from high school.
Gently pulls me until we’re in the hall and in the bathroom, leaning to start the water in the shower with its see-through glass walls and white tile.
I tug at his running shorts.
He pushes down my pants.
I lift his tank top.
He grapples with my thong.
Our mouths meet and we kiss as if it’s the first time—every time. I get a shiver up my spine the second his lips touch mine.
Still have dreams about him.
And my heart still races when he says my name, or when I see his name on my phone. Or…or…
“I missed you,” he moans when my hand circles his shaft.
“You’ve only been gone an hour.” And we had sex before he left. “What time is your game today?”
“Noon.”
That’s in an hour.
“Wouldn’t you know it? We have plenty of time.”
The End
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About the Author
Sara Ney is the USA Today Bestselling Author of the How to Date a Douchebag series and is best known for her sexy, laugh-out-loud New Adult romances.
Among her favorite vices, she includes: iced lattes, historical architecture, and well-placed sarcasm. She lives colorfully, collects vintage books, art, loves flea markets, and fancies herself British.
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For more information about Sara Ney and her books, visit: https://authorsaraney.com
Also by Sara Ney
The Kiss & Make Up Series
Kissing in Cars
He Kissed Me First
A Kiss Like This
#ThreeLittleLies Series
Things Liars Say
Things Liars Hide
Things Liars Fake
How to Date a Douchebag Series
The Studying Hours
The Failing Hours
The Learning Hours
The Coaching Hours
The Lying Hours
The Teaching Hours
Jock Hard Series
Switch Hitter
Jock Row
Jock Rule
Switch Bidder
Jock Road
The Bachelors Club Series
Bachelor Society
Bachelor Boss
Trophy Boyfriends Series
Hard Pass
Hard Fall
Hard Love
Hard Luck
The Bachelor Society Duet: The Bachelors Club
Jock Hard Box Set: Books 1-3