by Jiffy Kate
“I’m sorry I said you were clueless earlier in the car.” I’ve been wanting to apologize since the words first left my mouth but haven’t been able to find the right time. Not that this is the right time, necessarily, but I know I won’t be able to sleep until I get this off my chest. “Just because we come from different backgrounds, doesn’t mean you’re any more clueless than I am. It just means we’ve had different experiences and that’s okay. It was wrong of me to lash out like that.”
Shep watches me closely. Maybe he’s trying to decide if I’m sincere or not, I’m not sure, but I hope he sees I am. It wasn’t a nice thing for me to say and, honestly, I didn’t mean it. Shep’s actually a very capable person, probably one of the least clueless people I know.
Finally, he leans toward me and places his lips on my forehead. He kisses me twice there before resting his forehead against mine. “Thank you for apologizing, but it’s not necessary.”
“I hurt your feelings.”
“My feelings recovered. I’m more resilient than my upbringing may suggest, but I do really appreciate your apology.”
He moves to the side and motions for me to get into the bed, so I do. When we’re both settled under the covers, I try to force myself to relax but it’s too damn hard. You know how it feels, the first time you share a bed with someone that’s not a family member, like a friend at a slumber party and you’re so aware of every movement you make because you don’t want to accidentally kick your bed partner or push them out of bed? Multiply that by, like, a million and you might be where I am right now.
I’m sharing a bed with Shepard Rhys-Jones. The man who is hotter than sin and who I also married for money. And even worse, I’ve seen him naked and allowed him to do very dirty, albeit amazing, things to my body and I can’t have a repeat performance. Not right now. So, yeah, relaxing is not in my wheelhouse at the moment.
Oh, god, what if I snore?
“Come here.”
“What?” I look over and find Shep watching me with his arm stretched out toward me.
“Move your body over here.” He points to where his shoulder and chest meet, like that’s where he wants me to be and that can’t happen.
Can it?
“You’re thinking again and it’s keeping me from falling asleep, so get your ass over here so we can snuggle. Surely, then, we’ll both be able to settle down enough to sleep.”
I’m not sure what comes over me but I actually do what he says and snuggle into his chest. In an instant, I feel as though I’ve been transported back two years and Shep and I are in his room at Blue Bayou. I’ll never forget the way his skin tastes, the sounds he makes, or how it feels when he moves inside of me.
Damn him for making me remember.
Damn him for giving me something worth remembering.
And, damn him for making me want it again.
Chapter 13
Shep
When I wake from the best sleep I’ve had in ages, I immediately feel like something’s amiss.
Squinting against the early morning light, I recall what it is: CeCe’s no longer tucked into my side, where she slept all night.
Just a few hours ago, sometime around three-thirty, I woke up and needed to go to the bathroom, but there she was, sleeping so peacefully. I couldn’t bring myself to wake her, so I ignored the urge and went back to sleep.
And now, I need to pee like a fucking racehorse.
As I pull myself out of bed, I look around for a sign that would lead me to CeCe’s whereabouts. Surely, she didn’t go downstairs and face my parents alone.
She’s way smarter than that.
“CeCe?” I call out on my way to the bathroom. When I don’t hear a response, I pop the toilet seat up and relieve myself. Mid-stream, I’m startled when the bathroom door flies open and CeCe’s surprised shriek fills the room.
“What the hell?” she asks.
Turning around, I see one of her earbuds dangling in her hand, the other still lodged in her ear. “I could ask you the same thing? Where were you hiding?”
“Closet,” she mutters, throwing a thumb over her shoulder. “Have you seen how huge that thing is? My entire apartment could fit in there.” Her eyes are no longer on my face. They’ve traveled down…below my waist.
Smirking, I finish peeing.
She’s the one that walked in on me. It’s not my fault she didn’t hear me when I called out and that she’s now getting a front-row seat to the show.
“Enjoying the view?” I ask, when I sense her still standing frozen in the doorway.
She huffs, turning around. “Ew, no!” I don’t believe her. You want to know why? When CeCe lies, her voice goes up an octave. The bigger the lie, the higher the pitch. And she’s at choir boy level right now.
When I return to the bedroom, she’s walking around mumbling to herself. I think I catch a men are so gross and hasn’t he ever heard of locking the door when you’re peeing.
“You know, I did hear about that one time at prep school. I think it was in my Marriage 101 class, but of course, since I never intended to be married, I kinda fucked off the entire class.”
She laughs, shaking her head. “You probably failed.”
“Big time.”
“You’re so stupid.”
Now I’m the one laughing. When I outwit her, she always shoots back with grade school comebacks.
“Really?” I taunt. “Pretty sure you didn’t think I was so stupid the last time we were together.”
CeCe’s back straightens and her beautiful smile drops.
“No, you’re right,” she says, leaning over to pick up her toiletry bag. “I was the stupid one then.”
Brushing past me, she makes her way to the bathroom but before I can go after her, the door shuts and I hear the lock slide into place.
Apparently, she didn’t miss the lesson about locking the bathroom door when it’s occupied.
Also, we’re going to need to air this shit out before it explodes. Between her off-handed comment about me ghosting her last night on the flight here and now this, there’s obviously some underlying issues.
Call me ignorant. Actually, call me stunted, because I am, especially when it comes to relationships, but I assumed our one weekend together was just that…a weekend. And, yes, she’s the one woman I’ve never been able to totally forget about, but I didn’t think the feeling was mutual. The few times I’ve been around her over the last two years, she’s always acted so aloof, like my presence meant nothing to her…like she barely remembered my name.
She even got it wrong once and called me Seth or something like that.
I’m not going to lie. It stung.
But I needed that. It was a nice wake-up call that she wasn’t pining away for me, so I should forget about her.
Now, I’m wondering if it was all a coping mechanism. Maybe she was struggling to forget me as much as I was her? Maybe the private details from our time together still haunt her dreams like they do mine?
Fuck.
Gripping the ends of my hair, I walk down the hallway and listen closely at the door. I expect to hear the shower running, or at least water from the sink, but it’s quiet.
When I tap lightly, something falls to the floor.
“CeCe?”
There’s some shuffling around and it sounds as though she’s down on the floor, maybe picking up whatever fell. “Uh, just a second…I’ll be out in a minute.”
“Okay.”
I should suggest we talk, but I’m hoping we’ll get an opportunity later today. Maverick asked me to check in on a piece of property we’re in the process of flipping. Most of our properties are in the New Orleans, southern Louisiana area, but we still have a few investments in Dallas.
“We’re going to go for a drive,” I tell the closed door. “Dress casually.”
“Okay,” she calls back after a few seconds.
“Also,” I hesitate for a second, not wanting her to take this the wrong way. She’s been a little t
ouchy this morning. Maybe she didn’t sleep as well as I did. “About tonight…do you need something to wear?”
“No,” she says, but thankfully, it doesn’t sound like she’s mad. “I brought something with me…borrowed it from Carys. I’m good.”
“Great,” I say, shoving down the slight disappointment I feel at her answer. There was part of me that wanted to take CeCe shopping. I want to give her all kinds of things, but that also scares the shit out of me. I’m glad she is who she is, and who she is, is someone who takes care of herself. I can’t fault her for that. Of course, she brought something.
That’s CeCe.
She’s not a woman who can be bought. It’ll serve me well to remember that.
Thankfully, my mother and father are both nowhere to be found when we make our way downstairs. Stopping by the kitchen, we find Maggie putting the finishing touches on a delicious looking cake.
“Mr. Shepard,” she greets with a wide smile.
“Maggie, this is CeCe,” I say, placing my hand on CeCe’s lower back. “CeCe, this is Maggie.”
“So nice to meet you,” CeCe says, leaning forward to shake her hand. Maggie wipes hers off on her apron and accepts the greeting, patting CeCe’s hand vigorously.
“So lovely to meet you.” When she glances over at me, there’s an unspoken conversation—I like her—followed by a wink. “I hear congratulations are in order.”
CeCe glances over her shoulder at me and there’s a faint blush on her cheeks, but she handles it beautifully. “Thank you so much. It’s been such a…whirlwind.” Her laugh sounds more like a newlywed who still can’t wrap her mind around her windfall of happiness and less like someone who thinks she might have lost her damn mind.
She’s good.
Of course, I already knew that.
“We’re headed out for a drive,” I tell Maggie, pulling CeCe back to me. Sure, I’m playing the part, but I also feel better when she’s close.
Maggie walks quickly around the island and begins pouring coffee in to-go cups. “At least take some breakfast with you.”
With our still-warm croissants and coffees in hand, we make our way down the long hall that leads to the garage. When I open the door, I swear CeCe’s mouth drops to her toes. She turns to me, eyes wide in wonder. “What the hell?”
I shrug, punching a few numbers into the keypad on the wall, raising the garage door behind the Porsche 911. “What?”
“Please tell me this is some kind of car museum that just so happens to be attached to your parents’ house.”
“Or the garage,” I say, hitting the auto start on the cherry red dream. I will admit, she’s a beauty. When I open the passenger door, I turn to see CeCe still standing in shock—wide-eyed and adorable.
“Careful or you’re going to spill your coffee.”
That jolts her out of her car-induced stupor. She laughs, shaking her head and then taking a sip of her coffee. “Uh, are you sure I can take this in there?”
I glance back to the car and the smooth black leather. “You can do whatever you want in this car.” There’s a shit-ton of sexual innuendo laced in those words and I mean every bit of it.
Huffing another laugh, she averts her eyes, looking around at the twenty or so cars that are parked, just waiting on their turn to hit the road. Some rarely see the light of day. Others, like the Porsche, are treated to drives on the regular. “I bet your father might—”
“It’s mine,” I assure her, cutting off her train of thought and leaving my father out of it. I meant what I said last night, I don’t want any part of him touching any part of her. “And what’s mine is yours, remember?”
She swallows and hesitates for a few more seconds, but thankfully, finally acquiesces and climbs in the car, albeit gingerly, careful to not spill a drop of coffee or a crumb of croissant.
When I stuff my face with the last two bites of my own croissant and brush the crumbs into the floorboard of the car, CeCe’s eyes widen. “What are you doing?”
“It’s a fucking car, CeCe, not a museum exhibit,” I admonish.
“And it probably costs more than my life,” she says, exasperated with my lack of care.
Pushing the pedal down, I accelerate, whipping the car out of the garage and into the drive with ease and precision, but stop on a dime to look her in the eyes. “Nothing is worth that.”
That shuts her up for a few minutes, until her curiosity gets the best of her. “Where are we going?”
“Mav and I have a piece of property we’re flipping. He wanted me to stop by and check on the progress. It’s good to make your presence known from time to time. Keeps people on their toes.”
She nods and takes a dainty bite of her croissant. “For fuck’s sake, just eat the damn thing.”
“Shut up,” she mutters, shoving a bigger piece in her mouth.
“What?” I ask in mock astonishment. “You’re not going to call me stupid?”
When she laughs, I gun the engine and enjoy the way my body molds into the seat and CeCe’s hand grips my arm. I miss this car. Maybe it needs to move to New Orleans with me.
“Wow.” CeCe’s eyes are glued to the window. “You and Maverick own this?”
I put the car in park and turn off the engine. “Yep, one of the few houses like this we’ve purchased. Typically, we opt to invest in things that are more multi-purpose, like dilapidated buildings on the verge of being demolished. We really love making something out of nothing and breathing new life into it. Mav is definitely the visionary where that’s concerned, but he’s teaching me how to have a good eye, seeing things for what they can be, rather than what they are.”
“That’s amazing.” Her gaze shifts to me and I suddenly feel uncomfortable under her scrutiny.
Opening the door, I blow off her compliment. “It’s business,” I tell her, hoping she’ll drop it. Normally, I eat that shit up, but coming from CeCe, someone I admire, it makes me want to bolt.
I’m glad there’s no one in my head to psychoanalyze that shit.
“Can we go inside?” she asks.
Walking up the drive, I look around to see if the progress they’ve documented is actually happening. “Sure,” I tell her, sliding my shades up to check out the roof, which looks like it’s been replaced. The beams of the old front porch have also been replaced and have a fresh coat of paint.
“How old is this place?” she asks, running a hand along the banister. “Reminds me of a ranch you’d see on television…like Dallas…you can’t tell me you’re not asking yourself who shot JR every time you come here.”
“What?” I ask, humored by her rambling.
“Big white ranch…80’s television show…JR Ewing?” Her eyes go wide as her hands stretch out in question and then she slaps them down to her sides when I don’t respond. “For fuck’s sake, Shep. You grew up in Dallas and you don’t know who JR is?”
Finally, I crack a smile and laugh. I love fucking with her.
“You’re so stupid,” she says, stomping around me and trying the door, which is locked…which makes her cross her arms over her chest and let out a frustrated huff.
“Excuse me,” I say cockily, using the key in my pocket to unlock the door. “After you.”
No thank you, she just walks around me and into the house, like she owns the place.
God, I love her.
Whoa.
Yeah, that…well, I just meant I love the things she does…not her. I mean, sure, I like her. I mean, I did marry her for God’s sake…for an inheritance. But let’s not get carried away.
“I’m going to have a house one of these days,” CeCe muses, her head tilted back as she takes in the grandiose foyer.
I’ll give you one. It’s right on the tip of my tongue, but I swallow it back down.
“Wanna see the bedroom?” I ask, waggling my eyes.
She rolls hers in response and balance is restored once again.
After I do a thorough investigation—of the house, not CeCe—and she takes in
ventory of every room and characteristic of the house, continuing to compare it to Southfork, we make our way back out to the Porsche.
“Ready for another ride?”
She twists her lips to the side, squinting up at me. “Can I drive?”
I’m not prepared for the way my heart leaps into my chest. Sure, I said what’s mine is hers, but I didn’t intend for her to cash in on the Porsche. “Uh…well, I—”
“Kidding,” she says, punching my shoulder lightly and laughing her ass off as she leaves me behind on the sidewalk. “But it sure was fun to see you swallow your tongue.”
“I didn’t swallow my tongue.”
CeCe nods, reaching for the handle, but I beat her to it, opening the door for her. Her teasing smile turns soft as she gazes up at me. “That’s really nice of you.”
“What?”
“This,” she says, sliding into her seat. “Opening my door for me. You did it earlier too. I didn’t take you for someone who’s so chivalrous.”
Funny thing is I hadn’t even thought about it, and it’s definitely not something I learned from my father. He and my mother barely ride in the same vehicle together and when they do, someone is usually driving them.
So, don’t ask me where I picked it up.
After I climb into the driver’s seat and start the car, I look over at her. “Maybe you don’t know me as well as you think you do.”
Maybe I don’t know myself as well as I thought I did?
CeCe brings out things in me I didn’t even know existed.
Which is probably why I make the split-second decision to take her one more place before we head back to my parents’ house and face the reception from hell.
“I’ve got one more place I want to take you,” I tell her, backing out of the drive. “Feel like grabbing a cup of coffee?”
She turns, her eyes going wide with delight. “Are you kidding me? I love going to other coffee shops. It’s my absolute favorite thing to do, on the rare chance I get to.” The pure joy at the thought is so evident on her face, making her even more beautiful.
