“I can only fan your flames for so long here, my friend.” Her reluctant comment halted my pity party.
“I know, I know. And that’s not what I’m expecting from you. Really, it’s not. This wasn’t meant to be a pity party. It was meant to be me apologizing to you and really making a commitment to get better at this whole ‘adulting’ thing.”
She looked at me sideways while taking a bite of her pancakes.
“What?” I hated that look more than any of her others.
“No, you what?” She paused a minute while I sat silent, having nothing more to add. And then abruptly said, “Exactly.”
“I hate when you do that,” I said with utter frustration.
“Do what?” Now she feigned innocence.
“Have an argument with yourself.” I felt like I was stating the obvious.
“I’m not having an argument with myself, Oliver.” And judging by her tone, she felt the exact same way about her point.
“Basically, you are.” This would not be the hill I died on.
“Nooooo.” She drew out the vowel sound in the word, either to make a point or be extra annoying; the jury was still out on which. “It’s just my Grandma Lilian had a saying: Guilty minds need no accusers.”
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Yep…extra annoying.
“Exactly what it sounds like. Think about it.”
I mulled the words over in my head. She was hinting at the idea if you let someone stew in their own guilt long enough, they incriminated themselves with their behavior. I guess she was also implying, then, that by me insisting I wasn’t looking for a pity party from her all the time that I was in fact driving the waaambulance right into the town square myself.
Fine.
Guilty as charged.
“Goddamnit, Skye. Why are you always right?”
“I’m not always right, Ollie.”
I gave her the best imitation of her “Oh really” look I could muster, and she burst out laughing, cutting through the tension that had built up in the room.
“Okay, I’m right a heck of a lot of the time. There, I said it.”
“And really super humble about it too.”
Suddenly she sobered. “Do you know what?”
“Hmmm?” I had just stuffed the last forkful of my breakfast into my mouth when she asked the question, so that was the best she was going to get in the way of an answer.
“I love you. With all of my heart. I know you have your reasons for doing what you’re doing. I just think you’re better than this. I think there’s more waiting out there for you and you need to figure out what that is and not settle for entertaining Mrs. Robinsons day in and day out to make a quick buck.”
“It’s just until I get back on my feet. I’ve already saved a bunch.”
“That’s great.” But she didn’t look impressed, and her tone wasn’t genuine either, so I felt like I needed to defend myself again.
“Really, I’ve come up with a long-range plan, with goals and everything. I have no intention of dating lonely women for the rest of my life. I just needed a way to make money so I don’t feel like a leech. I can’t handle becoming all the things my old man said I would.”
“Is that what this is all about? I mean, when all is said and done, is that what this is, Oll? A good ole-fashioned Daddy issue?”
I shrugged. “Not completely, but a large part, yeah, I guess it is. He really did a number on me, Skye. I don’t think you understand.”
“Actually, I do. I just wish there were some way I could get through to you that you don’t need to believe those things about yourself. No one thinks them, and you’re putting yourself at risk for no reason.”
“And you,” I said quietly but knew she heard me.
“What?”
“I’m putting you at risk. And I feel horrible about that.”
“It’s not that bad. I’m sure I overreacted. No one even cares about me, Ollie. I was being dramatic and self-important. Forget all that nonsense, okay?”
“I won’t. I’m going to take extra care to make sure I don’t compromise your integrity with my behavior. I would never forgive myself. I know how hard you’ve worked to climb the steps at city hall. I know how much it all means to you.”
“Well, maybe it shouldn’t. Maybe I’m putting my energy in the wrong place.”
“What do you mean? You love that shit.” It was so rare to hear Skye question her decisions, let alone her life’s path.
“Do I?”
“Whoa. What’s going on? Who are you, and what have you done with Skye Delaney?”
“Hey, I get to have an identity crisis too once in a while, don’t I?” She drew in the syrup left behind on her plate with the tines of her fork.
“You get to do whatever you want. You’re the level-headed one around here.”
“Let’s not get carried away now. But if I don’t get ready for work, I’m going to be in the line at the Unemployment Office tomorrow morning. Hardin would love to have a reason to give me the boot.”
“He wouldn’t know what to do without you. He’d be so lost, it would be sad and hilarious all at the same time.”
“True. But it’s not a theory I’m willing to test. Thank you for the amazing and greasy start to my day. I’m so glad we talked.” She slid off her stool and started clearing her plate.
“Just leave it. I’ll clean up. Go so you’re not late.” I batted her hands away from the dirty dishes.
“Are you sure? You did all the cooking. I should do the cleanup.”
“Yeah, but this is a special day. It’s part of the apology package.” We both knew she sucked at cleaning up too. It was a little game we played: she offered, I refused, and so it went.
“Oh! I think I like the apology package, then! Because just between you and me, I hate cleaning up as much as I hate cooking.”
“I know, baby. But we can’t let you be too much of a princess, or no one will ever want you.” I smacked her on the ass just before she moved out of reach.
She stuck her tongue out and skipped off toward her room. At the last moment, with her hand resting on the handle of her bedroom door, she turned back toward me.
“Oh my God! Oliver, I almost forgot! Don’t forget the Auxiliary Charity Ball for the hospital is in two weeks and you promised to be my date.”
“Oh shit! I’m so glad you reminded me. I better make sure my tux is here. I think it may still be at the cleaners.”
“Nope, I picked it up yesterday. It’s in your closet—right on the end. I took it out of the bag so it could breathe.”
“You are the perfect woman, Skye Delaney. I’ve said it before, I’ll say it again. Why you haven’t let some man sweep you off your feet is beyond me.”
“Oh please! As I’ve told you before, I don’t need a man to ride in here on his white horse and save me. Who has time for all that bullshit anyway? And who says I wouldn’t be doing the saving? Hmmm?”
“Go. To. Work, Wonder Woman.”
While I cleaned up the dishes, Skye got ready in record-breaking time. I couldn’t help but think to myself that she really would make an excellent wife. But she would be one hell of a ballbuster of a spouse too. I don’t think a man alive could live up to her expectations and demands. She was a great roommate and the perfect best friend, but I knew for certain I hadn’t come across a man yet who could go toe-to-toe with that woman and come out on top.
Chapter Eight
“I’m so glad you were able to make it tonight.” I poured a glass of Chardonnay for Bailey, handed it to her, and then poured one for myself. She waited to take a sip until I had mine in hand.
“So am I,” she said as she held her glass up to mine in a toast offering.
We clinked glasses together and enjoyed a sip, although I couldn’t take my eyes off her long enough to hear another word she said along with it. She moved around the living space of our condo, looking at the paintings Skye had hung and a few of the portfolio pictures I had
around the house. When she caught me watching her looking at a particular shot a little longer than the others, she turned a stunning shade of fuchsia that made her cheekbones even more pronounced.
“I know I shouldn’t say this…but I’ve been thinking about you a lot.” I crowded into her personal space while telling her my confession.
“Why is that something you shouldn’t say?” She looked up at me, our height difference more pronounced because we were both just wearing socks. Skye’s germaphobe rules for inside the house—no shoes.
“I don’t know. Maybe it makes me look like I’m a sap or something?” Or in way over my head?
Or a Stage-Five Clinger? Red alert! Red alert!
“A sap? I don’t think I’ve heard that word in a really long time.” She turned and went to sit on the sofa, putting distance between us again.
“I grew up in the Midwest. I probably can blame a lot on that. It’s my go-to excuse for a lot of things, now that I think of it.” I went for the boyish grin.
“I think it’s charming.”
Bingo!
Grabbing the popcorn off the breakfast bar, I went to join her on the sofa. “Then sap it is. But I still can’t believe you’ve never seen Spaceballs before. It’s a classic.”
“No, Oliver.” She let out a big sigh but was grinning. “Classics are things like Gone with the Wind and A Streetcar Named Desire. Not a Mel Brooks movie.”
“I think you should reserve judgment until it’s over. If you laugh at least twice, you can never dis Mel Brooks again.”
“Fair enough. Pass the popcorn, though. If I’m going to endure a movie featuring John Candy dressed like a dog, I’m going to require salty snacks. Possibly chocolate.”
I handed her the bowl of popcorn I made before she came over. “Deal!”
Skye was out for the night with her girlfriends from her old sorority. They usually got together a few times a year, and when they did, it was an all-night affair. I had gone out on a limb and invited Bailey over to watch a few movies and just chill at our place. By the grace of God, she’d said yes, and I was the happiest I had been all week.
Three dates as the Book Boyfriend in the past week had nearly sucked the life out of me. I wasn’t sure how much longer I could keep it up. There was a friend of mine from the modeling circuit I was considering bringing into the fold to help take up some of the overflow. Word was spreading like wildfire about the service, and I just couldn’t keep up with the demand. If I brought a second man into the mix, I could satisfy the client demand and also take a cut of what he brought in.
I never intended for the business to expand beyond a one-man operation, but suddenly it was something to consider. Skye would be the perfect person to run some ideas by, but I wasn’t convinced she could remain objective. I’d already talked to Janine about it, and she thought the idea was fantastic. In fact, I’d had to push her out the door midsentence before Bailey arrived, fearing she’d still be plotting our world domination.
Spending the evening with Bailey cuddled on our sofa, watching movies from the eighties, was exactly what my head and heart needed. We laughed at all the ridiculous bits in the Star Wars spoof, and I think she enjoyed it more than she let on. In a fair, best two-out-of-three thumb wrestling match, Bailey won the right to pick the second movie. So we watched Sixteen Candles—a John Hughes flick from 1984 that every teenager from that era had seen at least twice.
“Are you crying?” I sat forward so I could get a better look at her beautiful, tear-streaked face.
She quickly swiped at her cheek with the back of her hand “No, I’m not crying. Don’t be ridiculous!” A second swipe to the other cheek then.
“You were crying! This is over that Jake Ryan guy, admit it!” I teased her about the handsome young character from the movie.
“I was not crying. And besides, every girl loves Jake Ryan. He’s perfect. I mean look! He’s waiting for her. He’s just standing there waiting for her.” She looked back to the television wistfully. “Everyone else forgot. And he’s there waiting. The Porsche doesn’t hurt, let’s be honest.” Another tear slid down her cheek, and this time I wiped it away with my thumb.
“I don’t think there’s anything wrong with believing in love,” I said quietly.
“Well, in real life there is. I’m not so sure such a thing really exists.” She shrugged.
“Awww, don’t be so cynical.” I hugged her closer to my side as we snuggled on the sofa.
“Says the incarnation of Jake Ryan himself. And may I point out, I’m not being cynical. I’m being realistic. I’m an unhappily married woman lying in another man’s arms. I’d say waxing poetic about love would be a bit hypocritical, wouldn’t you?”
“I guess you’re right. But I have to speak to your first point. I’m way better looking than that Ryan guy. I’m just saying.” I gave her a playful wink so she knew I was teasing and didn’t think I was really that conceited.
“I was thinking more about the born romantic inside of you being like Jake.”
“Oh? You think it’s romantic that I invited you over to make out on my couch?” I tried to give a wolfish waggle of my eyebrows, but her laughter convinced me I’d failed in looking sinister at all.
“Who said anything about making out?” She tried to feign offense.
“Well, we’re definitely going to. It’s a total given.” I moved so I was positioned above her, pressing her back into the cushions of the sofa.
“How do you figure?” Her slender fingers sifted through my hair until her nails scraped my scalp, instantly igniting my nerve endings.
“I made popcorn and everything. It’s totally a sure thing. And, since you got to choose a chick flick, I totally think second base is in order. At a minimum.” I tugged on the zipper of her sweatshirt. She had shown up to my condo under the guise of having an appointment with her trainer, and I had a million thoughts of how to give her body a thorough workout as she lay beneath me.
Her laugh was so low and husky, it felt as if there were actual fingers strangling my dick. This relaxed, easy side of her was so enjoyable and carefree compared to the measured, sophisticated woman I had dinner with the other night at the Kimpton. While also very enchanting and pleasant, kicking back and watching movies at home showed an altogether different side of Bailey.
I couldn’t wait any longer to kiss her. I’d been wanting to do so all night, and my restraint had met its limit. Since we weren’t in public, I really had the chance to explore her this time. Her body was tight and toned. The swell of her ass fit perfectly in my palm as I caressed and kneaded her through the thin material of the yoga pants she wore. I turned my body so I could press more of her beneath me, settling between her legs with the bulk of my weight so I wouldn’t crush her, simultaneously pressing my erection into the vee where her legs came together.
“Oh. Wow! That feels…urgent.” She chuckled against my lips.
“I’ve been thinking about you a lot lately.” I circled my hips against her mound another time to let her feel just how urgent things really were.
“Oh. Mmmm.” She moaned. “I see. But I would think this occupation of yours would have a lot of other ladies around to ease your urgencies as well.”
Thinking the statement was more of a fishing expedition, I wasn’t sure how far to go in the way of explanation of what went on during most of the dates. What did I owe her, really? I was totally into her, but she was married, for starters, and had made it very clear she wasn’t interested in being a thing beyond an occasional date. I half expected her to push me away at any second.
Kissing a path down her neck, I was careful not to leave a mark, even though I was overwhelmed with a desire to sink my teeth into her flesh. Some women just had the type of skin that begged you to bite or suck, and Bailey definitely did. Perfectly white, pale from every angle, as if never kissed by the sun’s rays. I nibbled on her ear, and she moaned, lifting closer for more, and smiled.
“I could get used to you, Oliver. I
think I like the way you move.”
“You haven’t seen me move, Bailey. Not yet anyway.”
“Oh, you know what I mean, though. There are just things a woman can tell about a man.”
Leaning back, I was tempted to break away completely to hear more of this theory. “Is that right?” I grinned, knowing I couldn’t really keep away from her taste now that I was this close. I kissed down her neck and down into her cleavage, cupping her breasts roughly through her hoodie. Her praise was inspiring me to show her just how much I could please her. I licked her roughly, raking my fingers through her hair and tugging her head back when I had a handful of her tresses. Her moans made my cock swell thicker.
“Oliver. God. Yes, so good.”
I covered her moans with an openmouthed kiss, coiling my tongue roughly with hers. Our breaths were hot and heavy, mixing as we panted against one another, the tempo of our make-out session increasing in an uneven pattern. When I yanked the zipper open on her sweatshirt, she stared up at me with glassy eyes. Chest heaving with labored breaths, her eyes closed.
“We need to settle down. This is getting intense.” She pushed to sit up but couldn’t really get far with me on top of her.
With timing worse than an alarm clock ringing in the middle of the best sex dream ever, her cell phone started playing “Hail to the Chief” from where she’d left it sitting on the end table near the sofa.
“I can imagine who that must be,” I mumbled like a bratty teenager, unable to hide my pissy attitude about being interrupted. But seriously, “Hail to the Chief”? She had said he was in local politics, hadn’t she?
“Hey there. Oh, I’m sorry. Who’s this?” There was a pause, and Bailey sat forward, zipping her sweatshirt all the way up to her neck.
I listened to her greet her husband, dick deflating faster than if I had taken part in the New Year’s traditional Polar Bear Plunge back home in Iowa. But after only a few more seconds, I began to realize something was wrong.
Misadventures with a Book Boyfriend Page 8
