by Scott, S. L.
I sit down while Mallory walks him to the doorway, thanking him for stopping by and for the cupcake. I don’t hear it all because I’m too caught in my own swirling emotions regarding his presence in my girlfriend’s life. But then I swear I hear a whispered apology though I don’t know what she would be apologizing for.
As soon as she closes the door, I can tell she’s pissed. Majorly pissed. She turns to face me, hands on hips, looking incredibly sexy, and demands, “What was that all about?”
And she says I’m the one who gets all protective and shit. “Need I remind you of your own jealous nature, Mrs. Ashford?” Yeah, it’s a low blow, reminding her of her jealous antics in Kauai, but she’s cute as hell when she’s like this and I just like calling her that.
She huffs. “Fine! I get it.”
“I thought you’d see it my way, baby. Now, come over here.”
Two deadbolts are locked and then she turns, narrowing her eyes at me. She may be pissed at my behavior, but I know she’ll forgive me or I have other ways of distracting her and making her forget. Which reminds me of what I tucked into the cushion earlier… “You want your birthday present?”
She straddles my lap, with her arms around my neck and a big smile on her face. “You already bought me the laptop and then flew out here. There’s nothing more I want.”
Slipping my arms around her waist, I say, “I wanted to buy it for you.”
“Was it expensive?”
I know what she’s doing. She going to justify not accepting it based on money like she always does. A gold-digger—she is not. “It doesn’t matter if it was expensive or not, I bought you what I wanted to give you. Everything else is irrelevant.”
“Because you’re being evasive about it, I can tell you spent too much. You don’t have to do that.”
“I know I don’t, but I like to. And if you’re so against pricey presents, I’ll just add it to my collection instead.”
“Wait! Collection?” she asks as if it all dawns on her all at once. “Is this a book, Evan?”
“Yes,” I say, nodding.
She takes the present and carefully opens the wrapping. While she stares at the spine, stunned, I clarify, “It’s only a 3rd edition. I couldn’t find a first or second edition in my price range.”
“Your price range? A third edition shouldn’t be in your price range either, babe. You spent too much,” she says, handing the book back to me.
“You love ‘Great Expectations’ and I wanted to give you something you love,” I state, pushing the book toward her.
She runs her fingertips over the leather embossed cover and spine, appreciating the artistry in the detail. “How’d you know I love this book so much?”
“Sunny.”
“Mmmm.” She’s shaking her head and then looks at me. “I can’t…” she starts with tears in her eyes.
“Yes, you can. It’s done. Please accept it.”
She sets it on the couch beside us and leans down to kiss me, her lips lingering a moment against mine. “Thank you for the book. It was very thoughtful of you, Evan.” She sighs and leans her forehead against mine. “You’ve given me the best birthday ever. Not because of the amazing gift but because you’re here when I needed you most.”
60
Evan
“Stop worrying about it. They’re very normal,” Mallory says, looking at me over her shoulder from the closet.
I watch as she sets her dress on the bed, and I say, “Your dad works for the government. If you didn’t realize it in Hawaii, I don’t usually get along well with authority figures.”
“He doesn’t work for the CIA,” she replies, rolling her eyes. Picking the dress up she slips it on.
“But Mallory, I break a lot of laws—”
“You drive a Maserati. Breaking a speed limit every now and again is kind of expected, but you’re not exactly on the FBI’s Most Wanted list, Evan, so don’t worry.” She puts her hands on my chest and rubs gently. “They’re going to love you, I promise. You know I’ve already told my mom about you, and as for my dad, he’s more a meet and judge for himself kind of guy. He trusts his first impressions, so with him, that’s your key to success.”
She turns away to spray perfume on her neck and watching her tilt her head back like that does things to me, serious things down in my pants.
She claps her hands and says, “Okay, I’m ready.”
“I’m not.”
“I’ve never seen you like this. It will be fine. I won’t let my big bad parents hurt wittle Evan.”
“Okay, really,” I say, shaking my head. “And no baby talk.”
She hits me on the back and says, “Then buck up and let’s go.”
We take a cab to the restaurant because I plan on having a drink or five to get me through this dinner. When we arrive, I begin sweating as I pay the driver. The taxi leaves and I stand there, gathering my nerve and try to relax. I tug at the tie I bought today when Mallory was in class, and sheepishly ask, “What’s his Achilles heel?”
She looks at me with a raised eyebrow. “I’m not giving you ammo against my dad. This will be just like meeting any other girls’ parents. I’m sure you’ve done this a million times, Romeo.”
“No, I haven’t.”
“Okay, so I exaggerated. But I’m sure it went smoother than you expected when you did meet them.”
“I’ve never met a girl’s parents before.”
She turns abruptly, staring at me. “Never?”
“No, never. My family was usually already friends with their families or they were just… a thing… you know, not important enough for that.”
A devious grin slides across her mouth, and she says, “In that case…he loves bird-watching and a good lager.”
Okay, this I can work with. “I knew I loved you.”
Too perky and snarky for her own good, she says, “Because I give you inside information to win my dad over? Not because I’m smart, beautiful, and tenacious?”
“You being smart and beautiful is obvious, but you saving my ass was unexpected.” I smile, feeling more confident going into this dinner.
“My dad has nothing on the shit your mother put me through, so I’m gonna need a proper thank you later.”
“You don’t even have to ask. I have lots of plans to thank you properly when we get back to your place.” I smack her ass making her yelp, and add, “And I’ll be testing that tenacity later tonight.”
I open the door to the Palace Arms restaurant and the cool air hits my face and in a blur of commotion, Mallory is grabbed from my side. A man, I assume is her dad, hugs her so tight she can’t escape, but with his eyes narrowed on me trying to intimidate. “How is my baby girl?”
She grabs at his arms and hoarsely says, “I’m good, dad. I mean, I can’t breathe so I might not be good for long.”
“Oh, sorry. I’m happy to see you,” he says, still staring me down while talking over her shoulder.
“Happy birthday, honey,” her mom says with open arms.
As Mallory hugs her mom, her dad stands there, arms crossed, staring at me.
After their greeting, her mother steps around Mallory. “Evan, I’m Elise, it’s so nice to meet you. I’ve heard a lot of wonderful things about you.” I stick my hand out, but she comes in and says, “Sorry, I’m a hugger.”
I return the hug, politely and a little caught off guard, but in a good way.
Her dad watches the interaction, then says, “You must be the new boyfriend.”
“Hopefully better than the old boyfriend.” I inwardly roll my eyes at how stupid that was, my nerves taking over. Mallory elbows me, keeping a smile on her face for the family.
“Guess that remains to be seen.” He glares, but I know he can’t be that bad. Mallory has always talked about how great her parents are.
But I’m not winning any points here, so I formally introduce myself. Stepping forward, I reach my hand out to greet him. “I’m Evan Ashford. It’s very nice to meet you, Sir. Mal
lory has told me lots of good things about you.”
“I’m not a hugger.” He shakes my hand—firm and domineering—trying to control who’s boss around here. “I’ve heard the cliff notes version about you, so I’m curious what parts have been left out. Should make for an interesting dinner.”
“Stop it. You’re scaring him,” her mother says, hitting her husband on the chest, which reminds me a lot of Mallory.
“Elise, that’s the point.” She gives him a look that I wouldn’t want to be on the receiving end of. He clears his throat, and says, “I’m Clay Wray. Nice to meet you.”
Clay Wray?
My eyes meet Mallory’s and she shakes her head once, meaning don’t even go there. She knows I want to laugh over that name, but I’ll restrain myself… for now.
Mallory squeezes between us with her hands up like she’s breaking up a fight. “I think we’re late for our reservation. We should check in. Dad?”
Her mother says, “Our table is ready, and please call me Elise.”
“You can call me Mr. Wray.”
The ladies laugh and I gulp. Mallory hits me on the chest, and says, “He’s kidding, Evan.”
“Yeah… I’m kidding, Evan. You can call me Clay.” I note his dry humor. Tonight is gonna be a long night.
As we follow the maître d’, Mallory giggles. “See. No big deal.” Taking me by the hand, she pulls me behind her parents.
We’re seated at a booth in the corner and as Mallory and Elise ooh and ahh over the restaurant, I slip the maitre d’ a tip before he leaves.
Everything about her and her parents at dinner is fascinating. The way Mallory and her parents interact, their appreciation over little things like when Elise is offered a taste of the wine for approval, and that the food is presented instead of delivered to our table. They’re very endearing and refreshing, grateful and kind, compared to what I’m used to in Manhattan. They’re real. They share their feelings and thoughts openly not worried about being judged or having that used against them. They have a zest for life that isn’t manufactured.
When we finish our entrees, I rest my hand on Mallory’s thigh. She’s engrossed in a conversation with her mother about a book she just finished reading. I take a sip of my beer, which I ordered to match her father’s taste since I’m seeking his approval. When my eyes meet Clay’s, his eyes dart from mine to the table in front of Mallory, giving a clear warning to remove my hand from his daughter. I do, immediately, and he gives me a half-hearted smile.
Her parents ask about my family and my time in New York and how I’m liking it. I’m honest with them. I miss their daughter and it’s been hard to be apart. Elise smiles while taking her daughter’s hand and giving it a little squeeze. Her father grumbles.
Mallory tells them about the places I took her sightseeing back in Hawaii, saying she wants to return one day. Maybe even to earn her master’s degree. I catalog that tidbit to talk about later, in private.
After sharing Mallory’s chocolate dessert, the bill arrives. I know with drinks and food that the bill will be close to $400. I quickly reach across the table and take the little black folder out from under Clay’s hand before he has a chance to view it.
“If you wouldn’t mind, I’d like to treat your family to dinner tonight in honor of Mallory’s birthday. You were very kind to let me ruin your plans, so I’d like to make it up to you.”
Elise reaches across the table and tries to take the folder. “That won’t be necessary, Evan. It’s a very nice gesture, but we’re thrilled you flew here to celebrate with her and that we got to meet you. Right, Clay?”
Her father leans back in his chair and with both hands, rubs his stomach. “Elise, let the boy pay if he’s so eager.”
She whispers, “This is a very expensive restaurant. We should pay.”
I take Mallory’s hand and justify, “I can easily cover the bill and like I said, I’d be honored.”
“See?” Clay says, pointing at me, “He’d be honored.”
Mallory leans forward and says, “Evan told me last night he’d like to buy dinner as a gift to me, so no more arguing please.”
As we stand outside waiting for the valet, her father has a toothpick in his mouth, and is eyeing me up. “Normally, I’d question where a young person such as yourself got a hold of that kind of money, but it sounds like you have your parents’ permission to pay on their credit card, so I’m going to let that line of questioning drop.” He looks between me and Mallory then adds, “For now.”
After many thank you’s, nice to meet you, and hugs, Elise elbows him. They look at each other and since he’s doesn’t understand what she wants, he asks, “What?”
“Goooo oonn,” she says, expressing her displeasure with him.
“OH!” He turns to me and says, “It was good to meet you. We’d like to invite you to our home sometime in the future since this,” he points between me and Mallory, “is looking pretty serious. I can take you bird-watching and we can talk…”
It seems like he wanted to say more, but doesn’t. “I’d like that very much, Sir.”
“Okay, well, alright. That’s settled.”
Our cab pulls up to the curb, and after our goodbyes, we get in and go back to Mallory’s small apartment.
“I’m glad we didn’t drive. Now we can just relax,” she says, snuggling into my side on the ride home.
“I’m glad we didn’t drive either. I tried keeping up with your dad, but he out drank me by two beers.”
“My mom kept topping off my wine. She loved it, by the way. Thank you for suggesting it.”
“It’s one my parent’s like a lot. I was glad they had it there.”
“It was expensive, wasn’t it?”
I don’t answer.
“Whatever. I don’t really want to know anyway.” She turns toward me and kisses me sweetly on the cheek. “Thank you for dinner and meeting my parents and all that. It means a lot that you’ve met them.”
“I think they’re pretty great, even Clay Wray.”
“Oh, don’t even go there.”
“How can I not? That’s gold right there.”
“It’s old and worn out is what it is. I’ve had to hear people making fun of it my whole life.”
I pull her closer and kiss the top of her head. As much as I want to push that joke further, I’ll respect her wishes.
“You’re laughing, aren’t you?” she asks, looking up at me.
“Only on the inside.”
She hasn’t entirely lost her sense of humor on the subject, and laughs.
Too tired to mess around once we’re back in Boulder, we kiss for a few minutes, but end it before it gets too heated.
Just as I’m starting to doze off, I hear her mumble, “Wish come true.”
I smile, opening my eyes once again to look at the stunning girl next to me. She’s asleep, falling fast tonight. After sneaking a kiss onto her forehead, careful not to wake her, I whisper, “Wish come true indeed.” All my wishes and future are wrapped up in the beauty sleeping next to me.
61
Mallory
I’m hot and smothered, but I like it. Lying in my dark room with my surfer wrapped around me, holding me so tight that it wakes me up. But when I peek over my shoulder, he seems at peace in his sleep.
Evan wiggles and his erection presses against my hip. I find it remarkable how hard a guy can get in his sleep. I wiggle back and his breathing changes as he stirs, pushing himself further against me, if that’s even possible.
Hot breath covers my neck and he whispers, “Baby, you do things to me.”
“Correction,” I whisper. “I want to do things to you.”
“Well, mission accomplished. This,” he says, moving his cock against me again, “is getting painful.”
Making love to him is never a chore and I love sex in the middle of the night in this dreamy state—it’s freeing from my daily worries and is easy to focus on the good sensations.
He wraps his arm around
me and we spoon before falling back asleep, tired from the middle of the night sexcapades.
I like to think morning brings bluebirds singing, the smell of fresh coffee brewing, and sleeping in since Evan is here and it is Saturday. But, to my disappointment, it doesn’t. My alarm blares, startling both of us awake.
Evan reaches over me and slams down on the clock so hard that it falls off the nightstand and bounces across the floor. “Remind me to get you a new alarm clock,” he mumbles, snuggling his face into the pillow.
The sun peeks through the cracks of the curtains and I huff knowing I have to leave this safe, cozy haven to meet my parents.
I try to slide out from his secure grip. Without opening his eyes, he squeezes me tighter, and states, “No.”
“I have to get up. I promised them.”
“No, I’m not ready for you to leave.”
“A planned weekend turned into only a dinner. I can at least have breakfast with them. I’ll only be a few hours. You’ll probably still be asleep when I get back anyway.”
His arms loosen, still keeping his eyes closed, and I slip out of bed. Making my way to the bathroom, I quietly shut the door and start the shower. I walk back out and pull my standard jeans and school sweatshirt from the closet shelf.
I close the door behind me when I return to the bathroom and grab a towel from the rack. Reaching into the shower to check the temperature of the water, I turn around and jump when I see Evan standing there—all sleepy-eyed, mussed hair, and bare chest. He’s perfection come to life—naked and smirking.
“You didn’t say you were going to take a shower,” he says, a sly grin playing on his lips.
Feigning coy, I put my hand under the warming water, and reply, “I figured I should probably not meet my parents for breakfast smelling like I’ve been doing naughty things all night.”
