by Tessa Bailey
One of their newer members, a single mother with a short black bob, raised her hand. “I joined a dating site,” she said, blushing. “I haven’t been on a date in nine years, but . . . I’m meeting someone for coffee on Monday night.”
On cue, everyone launched four hundred questions in her direction, wanting to know his name, profession, eye color, and astrological sign. With amusement curving her lips, Bethany wrote “hot date” on the whiteboard and waited for the hubbub to die down. “That’s amazing. Congratulations.” She winked at the single mom. “Let me know if you want to borrow shoes.”
“I’m not turning down that offer,” the woman replied, still beautifully rosy from all the attention she was getting. “I’ll be the envy of the club. We’re all dying to get a peek at that collection.”
What if it’s not as amazing as they hoped?
What if they move something out of place?
“Really?” Bethany tucked some hair behind her ear and leaned into the rising tension in her midsection. “Well, go have a look, everyone. I-if you want.”
The entire room went eerily still, before they all scrambled at once. They were up the stairs before Bethany could descend into a panic funnel. She waited with the marker clutched in her hand, telling herself it was stupid to worry what people thought about her shoe collection. But it wasn’t really about the shoe collection, was it? It was any extension of herself. Project Doomsday, a tea party, her wall of shoes. How long had she been basing her value on how perfect she could make things appear?
The laces in Bethany’s chest loosened when awed gasps traveled down the stairs. Her shoulders slumped in relief and only then did she realize Rosie was watching her with concern from the kitchen. Of course Rosie hadn’t gone upstairs because she’d already seen Bethany’s collection several times. And wow, there was nothing quite as effective as seeing yourself reflected back in a friend’s eyes.
She couldn’t allow herself to be like this forever. Now that she’d made a little progress, she was desperate for more.
Time to cut herself some slack.
Time to start taking more leaps without knowing where she would land.
Starting tonight.
With Wes.
Bethany opened her mouth to call out to Rosie, but was cut off when her front door shot wide open. Framed in the doorway was Georgie.
In a gondolier costume and a mustache.
“Buongiorno!”
With Bethany’s and Rosie’s laughter bouncing off the walls of the living room, the Just Us League members came careening back down the stairs at a pace that had Bethany mentally reviewing the details of her homeowner’s insurance. Georgie was wrapped in hugs from members, one by one, as if she’d been gone for a year, instead of two weeks. Georgie wasn’t quite finished with her gondolier role-playing, however.
With a thick Italian accent, she waved a dismissive hand at Bethany, demanding an Aperol Spritz and a selection of cheese, dissolving the room into laughter.
“Get over here,” Bethany said, pulling her sister into a hug. “How dare you make me miss you so much.”
“I missed you, too,” Georgie responded, squeezing her tight for a few seconds and then stepping back, a suspicious glimmer in her eyes. “There’s something different about you, but I can’t quite put my finger on it. Has someone else been putting their finger on it?”
“Georgette Castle.” Bethany gave Rosie a stern look over her sister’s shoulder. “You said you would intercept her.”
“I did!”
“Come on. Me and Ro didn’t get an ounce of privacy while we were dealing with our man woes. It’s your turn, sister friend.”
“What is she talking about?” Trinisha wanted to know. “Is it the cowboy?”
“Of course it’s the cowboy,” someone called. “He won’t let it be anyone else.”
A collective chant went up. “Details! Details! Details!”
Bethany’s instinct was to shut down the interest. She’d only just allowed herself to board the relationship train, but . . . she wanted to share the silly flip-flop in her stomach. She wanted to be the one making a blushing confession because it would be an honest one. A rarity for her, but hopefully not for long.
Leaps. They were a-coming.
She shrugged and studied her fingernails. “The man hiatus is over.”
The crowd went wild.
Chapter Twenty
Wes tried to rub the blurred vision from his eyes and focus back on the laptop screen, on which he had approximately fifty browser tabs open. He’d gone from sitting at the kitchen table to lying against the headboard of his bed, hoping comfort might make sense of the legal terminology crowding his brain. In between bouts of reading through New York State’s legal requirements for guardianship, he was apartment hunting.
He had a decent amount of money in the bank, but he needed a place fast and didn’t want to rush into a house. Apartment it was. Although there were precious little of them in Port Jefferson. Most of the apartments were inside larger private residences or located over commercial stores. If they were nearer to the beginning of summer, he might have had better luck, but apartments were in short supply right now. He’d have to call Stephen in the morning on the off chance he knew of something that wasn’t listed on the market yet.
Ordering himself to focus, Wes picked up the laptop and cradled it on his forearm, getting up to pace back and forth at the foot of his bed. If he understood the legalese correctly, he and Becky would need to file a Petition for Guardianship that could be approved or denied. If approved, someone would be appointed to inspect their living situation before they ever went before a judge for final approval, so he needed to get a place for them fast. And how the hell was he going to explain the sudden move to Laura? Or the fact that her mother wouldn’t be coming back . . . indefinitely? Distraction wasn’t going to work this time around.
A soft knock on the window brought Wes’s rapid-fire thoughts to a screeching halt. Bethany stared back at him from the other side.
His feet moved of their own accord, carrying him toward the gorgeous image she made in a billowing silver dress, her light hair blowing in the wind.
Hi, she mouthed, her gaze raking his shirtless torso with interest.
Move, idiot.
Wes turned only long enough to drop his open laptop on the bed and lunged to open the window. Good Lord, without the pane of glass between them, she stole his damn breath faster than getting tossed off a bucking mustang. His cock turned full and hard behind the zipper of his jeans so quickly he almost got lightheaded. “Hey there, darlin’,” Wes said, sticking his head out the window. “You forget how to find the front door?”
“No, I just saw the light on and I was worried knocking would wake up Laura.” She looked down at her feet. Her bare feet. “Is this a bad time?”
“It’s never a bad time for you. I’m just trying to wrap my head around Bethany Castle showing up at my window for a booty call.”
She snorted. “This is not a booty call.”
It was definitely a booty call, but he’d play her game. “Fine, then. You want to come in here and talk a while?”
“Sure,” she said primly, reaching up to take his hand. A zing of electricity raced from wrist to elbow when their skin met and held, giving both of them a moment of breathless pause. Lord have mercy.
It was one of the greatest unexpected pleasures of his life to wrap an arm around Bethany and haul her through his window, carrying her into the room with the cold night air still clinging to her skin and clothes. The tips of her bare toes brushed the tops of his feet and they sunk into the feel of each other with drawn-out sighs humming in their throats.
“You have a few sips at your meeting tonight, baby?”
Her nose and mouth nuzzled the skin behind his ear and he pulled her higher, tighter, so she’d give him more. “Not enough to impair my judgment.”
Wes caught their reflection in the top half of the mirror, watched himself breathing in this woman, and knew his
life was here. In this room. In this town. All roads had led here—and to her. “How did you get here? Don’t tell me you walked in the dark.”
“Rosie dropped me off.” She seemed to brace herself, tension stiffening her back. “I, um . . . told the club about us.”
His heart grew ten sizes that day.
Couldn’t she feel it testing the confines of his rib cage?
“If that bothers you, I’ll tell them I had too much champagne,” she said quickly. “People say silly things all the time at meetings—”
“What exactly did you say?”
Her swallow was audible. “That my man hiatus was over.”
“I don’t like the sound of that.”
“You don’t?” she wheezed, looking up at him.
“It makes me sound like the opening ceremonies to the man Olympics.” He snuck his hand up the back of her dress and palmed her tight ass. “But I’ll be the only one competing in the events from here on out.”
She tucked her fingers into the waistband of his jeans, tugging just enough to make his life flash in front of his eyes. “Well. Your . . . javelin is definitely ready.” She trailed a single finger down his distended fly and then danced away. “But like I said, this isn’t a booty call.”
He followed in her tracks like a hungry dog, tugging her hips back up against his lap and growling into her neck. “If that’s true, it was evil to show up here looking so beautiful.”
“Don’t blame me,” she murmured, rubbing her butt side to side against his groin. “You haven’t even put sex back on the table yet.”
Wait. What? Huh? Surely they’d moved past that initial agreement they’d made outside Project Doomsday. Felt like he’d laid down that regrettable gauntlet a decade ago. “What were my conditions for putting it back on the table?”
“When I stopped doubting your honorable intentions.”
“Right.” He traveled his open mouth up the side of her exposed neck. “You thought I Zellweger’d so we could sleep together.”
“Yes,” she rasped. “I did.”
“And now?”
“I . . . don’t.”
Victory tunneling through his bloodstream—she trusts me—Wes bunched the hem of her dress in his hands and groaned over the arousing picture she made, her thong-bedecked ass pressed to his bulge. “It’s back on the table, Bethany.”
She wiggled away. “Good to know.” His low growl of frustration was followed by her tinkling laugh. And hell, the lightness in her tonight was kind of worth the pain, wasn’t it? Who would have ever thought he’d have this incredible woman showing up at his window without shoes in the middle of the night, primed to tease him into begging? Not him. He sure as shit wasn’t going to let a little—okay, a lot—of sexual frustration take away from how far they’d come. How far . . . she’d come.
Wes adjusted his erection and took a seat on the corner of the bed. “What else happened at your meeting tonight?”
She sauntered past, slowly plowing her fingers into his hair and taking them out. Fuck, Bethany was a queen every day of her life, but tonight she’d been transformed into a goddess, almost defying description with her sexual confidence. The last time they’d been intimate, she’d tried to run off before he could satisfy her. He couldn’t see this woman trying to do the same. Naw, she looked ready to relish whatever came her way. “I let the tag on my throw pillow show. And . . . I just let the flowers fall however they wanted. I let everyone go into my closet without me there to make sure they got the optimal effect. This probably all sounds totally ridiculous to you.”
His heart turned over. “It doesn’t,” he said firmly. “But I want to know where this started, baby. What made you think everything you touched had to turn to gold?”
Bethany let a breath out. “It’s hard to remember a time when I didn’t operate this way. Stephen was the carrier of the legacy, but he made mistakes. Normal kid mistakes. I guess I thought that in these small ways, like dressing impeccably, getting straight As, or having my room organized, I could excel where he couldn’t. He was top dog of everything else. Dad’s affection. Mom’s first-born.” She paused, hands wringing at her waist. “It was always a competition, but I couldn’t win at sports—I don’t do sports. Or construction, because he was always learning at Dad’s knee and I was never included. I just overcompensated more and more over time and it got out of control. It spread to everything.”
He could see her as a young girl, studying late into the night, hoping a good grade would buy her more attention. Stressing until she got the test back. How easily that might have become a pattern if it wasn’t corrected. “I did the opposite. Everything I did was an attempt to prove I didn’t care if I got attention from my foster parents. Or anyone. I could go out and get it on the back of a bull. It only ever left me empty, though. Or landed me in the ER.”
She dropped her hands. “I have great parents. I was so fortunate. I’m sure I sound so whiny to you—”
“Bethany, stop worrying how you sound or how you’re coming across to me. If you’re being honest, it’s always good.”
“That sounds so nice. Someone just knowing you mean well at all times.”
“You can always assume that with me.” He let that sink in. “And I’m proud of you for fucking with your pillows.”
She huffed a bemused laugh. “I notice you didn’t deny my whininess.”
“You’re not whiny, baby.”
Pink stained her cheeks, her attention sliding toward the open laptop. “If you were watching porn, it’s seriously going to detract from the poignancy of this conversation.”
Wes reached for the computer and closed the lid, knowing full well he wouldn’t be able to concentrate on anything but her for the rest of the night. He slid it under the bed, assured his browser tabs would be ready and waiting for him tomorrow. “Becky called me during the week. She’s agreed to let me become Laura’s guardian.”
Her hands flew to her face. “Wes. Oh my God. That’s wonderful.”
He nodded, a little flustered by the wringing sensation in his sternum. “It’s going to be a process. I don’t even know if I can make it happen. She’s selling the house right when I need to prove I can provide a stable environment. It’s—” He cut himself off with a blown-out breath. “She’s worth the trouble.”
“Of course she is.” A line formed between her brows. “Why didn’t you tell me Becky had agreed to the guardianship?”
Truth was, he didn’t want to overload her now, when everything between them was so new. But he kept that to himself, worried his reasons might hurt her feelings. “I just wanted to sound like I knew what the hell I was talking about first.”
Bethany seemed happy but not quite convinced by his explanation. “I’ll help. I’ll help any way I can.”
His lips ticked up at the corner. “You’re going to be my Zellweger now?”
“It’s my turn.” She swayed closer until she was standing between his outstretched thighs, her fingernails scratching slow paths into his hair. “You’re a good man, Wes. Every time I think I’m finally giving you enough credit, you go beyond it.”
This was heaven. Right here. This woman playing with his hair, his mouth on level with her lush tits. Listening to her say words he’d been totally unaware of craving. Even with so much hanging in the balance, he’d never been more whole in his life. He leaned in and kissed the slopes of her cleavage, whispering, “How do I make you stay the night with me, Bethany?”
A shudder traveled through her body. “Oh, I don’t think I’ll need that much convincing.”
Wes massaged his way up the backs of her thighs until they disappeared beneath her dress and clutched her butt, urging her closer until she climbed onto the bed. Straddling him. Their mouths clung during the whole maneuver, not kissing, just accepting and gifting breaths to each other until her pussy pressed down in agonizing degrees onto his erection and they moaned brokenly.
“Wes?”
He drew her into a breathless kiss, r
ocking her on his lap with shaking hands. “Anything, baby.”
“I want you to make hard, messy love to me. I don’t want to think.”
She’d hardly finished issuing the request when Wes turned and threw her down onto the bed with enough force to make her gasp. Was he forceful because she’d asked him to be? Or because hearing the L word on her lips had been like shock paddles to his entire being? He didn’t know. But her excited eyes stopped him from asking if she was all right. She was more than all right and wanted more.
“Our first time was always going to be hard and messy, darlin’.” He reached up under her dress and ripped the thong down her legs, leaving the skirt bunched up around her waist—and God help him, he almost came seeing her pussy for the first time. It was blond and groomed like the rest of her, like he’d known it would be. But her obvious wetness was what made him hot. “Kind of assumed when we finally got here, it would be hate-fucking at its finest, but that’s not what this is at all, is it, baby?” He gripped her sex and squeezed, making her back arch. “What I feel for you is the furthest thing from hate. But you might have a hard time believing that when I’m holding you down pumping like I blame you for this hurting dick.”
Wes whipped the belt out of his jeans and tossed it on the floor, the resulting clang creating an army of goosebumps along her inner thighs, her neck. There was a part of him that wanted to make slow, sweet love to this perfect creature, but she needed to be overwhelmed into blanking her mind. He needed to give her that. Needed her to know it was possible. Then he’d prove to her he could do it every time, no matter how fast, slow, or rough they got.
He flipped open the snap of his jeans, lowered the zipper to give himself some breathing room and got down on his belly, appeasing his greed by pressing her thighs open wide. “All those eye rolls and insults. All those fights. I would have gotten down on my knees to lick this pussy in the middle of them all. One word out of your smart mouth and I’d have been panting and lapping between your thighs.”
“Wes.” She pulled down the bodice of her dress and palmed her tits, pinching her nipples, her hips writhing in front of him on the mattress. “The way you talk. I should smack you, but I love it. I love it.”