Текст книги "The Redhead Revealed"

Автор книги: Alice Clayton

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Текущая страница: 3 (всего у книги 18 страниц)

Chapter 3

Now that Jack was in New York, things felt right. They felt good. I know my oonie felt good for sure…

After the town car incident, we headed to Jack’s hotel. I’m sure the driver was mildly curious about why we didn’t spend any time at Grant’s Tomb once we got all the way up there, but no matter.

We pulled up to the Four Seasons on Fifty-Seventh, and as we climbed out I suddenly remembered we weren’t supposed to be seen in public. Especially checking into a hotel. Bad idea.

“Hey, why don’t you get checked in, then call me and let me know what room you’re in, and I’ll come up,” I said quietly, beginning to move off in the direction of Madison.

“Grace, that’s silly. Hey, Grace…” he protested as the bellman took his bag inside, and I walked away toward the avenue.

I pointed at my cell and mouthed the words, “Call me.”

He grimaced, shook his head, and went inside. I walked around the block, waiting for his call. I knew he thought I was being stupid, but based on the press coverage he was now getting—ugh. I didn’t want the scrutiny that would surely accompany another “unidentified redhead” sighting. I was taking no chances.

His premiere was coming up so quickly, and he was about to start a huge press junket. Then he’d be traveling all over the country to make personal appearances. He wasn’t sure how many people would actually show up to see him. I didn’t want to tease him, but I had a feeling it was going to blow his mind. He was going to be freaking swarmed.

And speaking of the premiere, nothing had been said about whether I was invited or not. I’d mentioned it to Michael just in case I would maybe need to head back to L.A. for a weekend. It would be tricky because our rehearsal time was so limited—the show was set to go up the first week of December. We’d locked in three weeks of performances initially, and then we’d wait and see what kind of response we got.

I was almost around the block entirely when I got a text from the Brit:

Get your sweet ass back here. Room 2104.

Don’t make me come looking for you—

I will make a scene.

I will identify this motherfucking redhead.

I thought I was being all subtle and shit. Dammit, he knew me too well.

You are never subtle.

Good point.

I finished my loop, made my way through the front entrance into the beautiful lobby, then found the bank of elevators. I thought fondly of our hotel in Santa Barbara, and the fact that the hotel sex had been unfathomably great. Hmm…We might have to sleep here tonight, instead of my place.

I approached his door and knocked lightly. I could hear him on the phone, and when he opened the door, he smiled and pulled me in, but continued his conversation. I admired the room. It was well appointed and had a great view of the park. I checked out the bathroom: huge. It also had a rain shower like the one in Santa Barbara. Yep, I was definitely staying here with him. I didn’t care if I had to enter the building separately every day wrapped in a giant poncho.

I went back into the main room and saw Jack standing by the window, still on the phone. He mouthed the words, “I’m sorry,” and I shook my head with a smile. “No problem,” I mouthed back.

With a running leap I vaulted myself onto the giant bed, landing smack in the middle with a belly flop. It was soft and inviting, covered in pillows and a silky duvet. I heard a snicker behind me and turned to see Jack looking amused at my acrobatic feat. I curled up on my side and waved at him. He smiled back and mouthed, “five minutes.”

I snickered, getting a delightful idea. I rose up on my knees, then sat on the on the side of the bed, within grasping distance of him. “It’s hot in here,” I mouthed.

“More AC?” he mouthed back, starting toward the thermostat.

“No, I’m going to get totally naked while you try to carry on your conversation,” I half mouthed, half whispered. I didn’t want him to miss that part.

His eyes widened as I proceeded to do exactly that. First the jacket and scarf came off, then the sneakers. My shirt came off next, followed quickly by the yoga pants of my usual uniform. I could see him beginning to have trouble following his conversation, and I knew my plan was working. I sat on the edge of the bed in my white panties and white lacy bra, and I beckoned him over with one finger. He stalled, trying to decide what to do.

In the end, the boy won out over the man, and he stood in front of me, still on the damn phone. “I’m sorry, love. It shouldn’t be much longer,” he mouthed.

I smiled sweetly up at him, snaking my hands around his waist and bringing him closer to me. “It’s okay. Take your time,” I whispered. “I’m just going to do things to you while you carry on,” I said, to his horror and delight all wrapped into one.

He attempted to back up, but I quickly unzipped him and had my hand around him through his boxers before he could move very far. His eyes closed quickly, and he hardened completely in my hand.

God, you really had to love a twenty-four year old.

Yep, and I really had to love this one in particular.

I stroked him firmly, watching his face contort. He was a little distracted, you see. I pumped him, both hands inside his pants now, and I could see he was really going to have some trouble soon.

“Mm-hmm, mm-hmm, so I would need to be there for the London premiere on which day? Oh, God…I mean, sorry. Oh, God, that’s fine. I can be there then…” He moaned, and I took pity. His eyes rolled back in his head as I stood up and pushed him gently away.

“Meet me in the shower when you’re through,” I whispered, removing my bra and throwing it over my shoulder as I walked toward the bathroom. I used to be so concerned about men seeing me naked—always worried about what was sticking out, what was jiggling, what was smushed. But with Jack? I knew all he wanted was me, and he preferred me naked. Totally liberating.

I stopped at the door and slowly slid my panties down, looking behind me to see Jack. He stood in the middle of the room, mouth hanging slightly open, with his pants around his ankles. He looked totally turned on and slightly mortified at the same time.

I stifled a giggle and twirled my panties around my finger, now totally exposed to him. His eyes traveled down my body and back up to my eyes. “Hurry up,” I mouthed, and slipped into the bathroom.

I’d barely gotten the water started and was adjusting the temperature when I heard the door open. I smiled as I let the water pour over me, steam filling up the large glass enclosure. I felt a very warm and very naked Jack press against my back, and my breath caught in my throat.

“You are diabolical,” he muttered, dragging his tongue up the side of my neck.

I shivered, as he spun me roughly around. “Next time, get off faster,” I said, pulling him under the spray with me.

“No one is getting off fast, love. Certainly not you,” he promised, dipping his head to kiss the hollow of my neck.

Oh, man, this was going to be a great weekend.

***

Waterlogged and weak-kneed, we left the shower about an hour later, having thoroughly enjoyed the hotel’s giant water heaters. I’d lost track of how many times the Brit made me see stars, and I was a little concerned that I now had an outline of shower tiles permanently etched into my bum.

We were punch drunk and slaphappy as we stumbled back into the bedroom, both laughing at the lunacy of our actions.

“Seriously, George, you haven’t been in New York more than a few hours, and we’re already working through our greatest hits!” I giggled, falling onto the bed and struggling to get under the covers. My hair was wound up in a towel, and I wore a plush Four Seasons robe. He walked around to his side of the bed, pulling the covers down as he went, and climbed in next to me.

“I’ve been working you in my mind for weeks now, love, and I have a whole set of newest hits for us to try this weekend.” He smirked dangerously. I was in for it. We might never leave this hotel. “Besides, I missed you like crazy!” he added. “Now that I have you in my clutches, I may not let you go again. And speaking of clutches, bring those fantastic tits over here,” he muttered, pulling open my robe as he pressed his body against me. He turned me on my side, his hands finding my breasts, and then…

Perfection. All was right with the world.

We were both asleep in minutes.

***

I woke up groggy and confused, as I often do when I nap in the afternoon. I felt Jack’s strong arms around me, and for a second I thought I was back in L.A. But the light was different, and when I looked around me, I remembered where we were. I felt my heart stutter a bit, reminding me we weren’t together all the time anymore, but then it started up again as I thought about the rest of the long weekend we still had.

Mmm…

I rolled away carefully, trying not to wake him. I made it to the edge of the bed before I felt his hands pull me back to him. I giggled.

“Where do you think you’re going, Nuts Girl?” he asked, his voice thick with sleep.

“Just to brush out my hair. I’m sure it’s quite lovely from falling asleep with it wet.” I attempted to run my fingers through it, and I could tell it was sticking out every which way. Charming.

“I think it looks cute—sort of a cross between finger-in-the-socket and homeless,” he said, pulling me back against him and pushing me into the pillows.

“Scoot, please,” he instructed, pressing me onto my back and laying his head on my chest. He nudged my neck up so he could snuggle into the nook. I let him wiggle about for a minute until he finally settled in.

“Comfortable?” I asked, with a quiet smile.

“Incredibly so, yes,” he said, wrapping his arms more tightly around my waist.

I chanced a quick look at the alarm clock and saw that it was already four-thirty. We’d effectively wasted the day on showers and naptime. Just then, my stomach let out a loud growl. Jack moved a little lower on my body, kissed my tummy, then looked sternly at my navel. Pointing a finger, he said, “Shhh, don’t be rude.”

I giggled when seconds later my stomach growled again. Jack rolled his eyes, then poked at me. “I said quiet down,” he ordered, kissing my tummy once more.

“Sweetie, I need to eat something. How are you not hungry? We both skipped lunch, and you flew all night!” I said.

“Actually, I’m starving now that you mention it. Fancy a snack?”

“I fancy a snack,” I affirmed, removing his arms from my waist and snatching the room service menu from the nightstand.

“Are we going out for dinner tonight?” I asked, flipping through the menu to the snacky stuff.

“That’s entirely your call. I made no plans other than an interview I have to do Saturday morning,” he answered, scratching my back.

“Are we in a salty mood or a dessert-y mood?” I asked, chewing my lip thoughtfully.

“Both. Just order what sounds good to you, and I’ll eat whatever,” he said, looking at me carefully.

“What’re you looking at? Don’t make another comment about my hair. I’ll fix it before we leave this room.” I frowned, trying again to run my fingers through it.

“No, it’s just…well…it’s just really fucking great to see you, Gracie.” He smiled gently at me, his eyes bright green.

“Aw, I missed you too, George. I really did,” I whispered, kissing him softly, breathing in his warm S’more-y smell. There was really no way I would ever eat a S’more again without wanting to have sex with it.

If the marshmallow just came off the flames, that could hurt…

I was drawn back from my marshmallow contemplation by his lips pressing more urgently against mine, and my tummy growling again.

“Okay, I’m calling in this order, and then we’re going to plan our evening. And we are leaving this room, Hamilton. We’re in Manhattan! We aren’t staying in all night,” I warned, picking up the phone.

“Sheridan, if I wanted to make you stay in all night with me, all I’d have to do is wave some candy in front of you and then kiss on your sweet boobies. You’d be putty in my hands.”  He grinned sexily.

“There’s candy?” I asked, looking around wildly.

Jack laughed so hard he fell off the bed.

I never did find that candy.

Chapter 4

We finally left the hotel around eight. We decided to go to my place so I could show him where I was living and pick up some things. I did want him to sleep at my place. I wanted him in my bed and in my shower and on my couch, even if this was all rented furniture. But sweet damn—I wanted another round in that giant shower, and we had all weekend for me to have him S’more up my place.

Enough with the freaking s’mores.

This distance thing was making me a little insane.

We caught a cab in front of the hotel, and it was so quick I didn’t even have time to worry about anyone seeing us. Quite frankly, maybe I did need to relax a little. New York was really different than L.A., and in his ratty jeans and ball cap he looked more college student than famous, so I doubted anyone would recognize him. And he wasn’t worried about being seen with me, so, eh, what the hell?

We made out like teenagers in the cab on the way to my apartment, although I made him stop when we were in front of my doorman.

“Lou.” I nodded as we walked inside.

“Evening, Lou.” Jack nodded as well, and Lou nodded back.

I kept him at arm’s length in the elevator, and when we finally made it into my apartment, he was like an octopus, arms everywhere. He finally settled in behind me, hands clasped firmly over my tummy, chin planted on my shoulder.

“Okay, give me the grand tour,” he said.

“Well, this is pretty much it. It’s not big. I don’t need a lot of space, and it’s close to the rehearsal studio. Kitchen, living room, bathroom down the hall, and bedroom is the last door on the right,” I said.

“It’s nice,” he said, looking over my shoulder.

“Eh, it’s okay. It’s no Laurel Canyon. That’s home to me,” I said, leaning back against him.

“But you haven’t even lived there. How can it be your home when you’ve only slept one night there?” he questioned, kissing my neck right under my ear.

“Mmm, and what a night it was,” I said as I giggled, leaning into his kiss and turning to wrap my arms around his waist. His hands came to my face and traced tiny patterns on my forehead and temples, bringing me forward into another soft kiss.

“Yes, yes, it was. But really, how can that be home? I mean, do you really consider L.A. home?” he asked, looking at me with questions in his eyes.

“Oh, God, yes. It does feel like home. I can’t explain it, but when I first found my house, I knew how much work it was going to be, but I knew it was my home. I could see myself living there, and even though I had to leave, wherever I go, that house is home,” I said. I closed my eyes, thinking of the warm California sun, and I could almost smell the lemon trees on my front porch and the honeysuckle in the backyard.

I opened my eyes to see Jack studying me carefully.

“What’s that look for?” I asked, stealing another kiss before he could answer me.

“So, you are planning on moving back, right?” he asked, running one hand through his hair.

“Hell yes, ya goofball! I didn’t spend all my savings on a house just to sell it again! I mean, I don’t know how long I’ll be out here, and I love New York, but when this is over? I’ll be back home, for sure.” I laughed, pulling him tightly against me again.

“What about you?” I asked, my face pressed into his shirt.

“What about me?” he asked, his breath warm and sweet in my hair.

“I mean, where are you going to live when all this is over? Will you go back to London after the premiere, or are you planning on staying in L.A.?” I asked, a little afraid to hear the answer.

“Well, I don’t know, to be honest. That was the plan—London is my home, that’s for sure—but there’s a film we’re in negotiations with that would be filming in L.A. in January.”

“Wait, so you’re thinking about moving back to London?” I asked, surprised.

“That’s where I live, Grace. Who knows what’s going to happen after this movie comes out. This could be my swan song. I could peak at twenty-four.”

“Oh, please. The world is going to need some more Joshua,” I said. Just thinking about Super Sexy Scientist Guy made me giggle, even in the arms of Jack Fucking Hamilton.

London?

Shhh.

“Hmm, we’ll see. Maybe no one’ll come and see it. Maybe they’ll think it’s rubbish,” he muttered.

“George, please. It will be amazing. And if nothing else, you’re so pretty, they’ll pay just to see you romping around half-naked in your period clothing,” I teased, striking a chord with this one. I knew how much Jack wanted to be taken seriously as an actor, and I was forever telling him how pretty he was, just to mess with him.

“And I’m sure the men who will be coming to see your show will only be coming to see your acting chops, not your fantastic tits,” he teased back, earning him a very grown-up tongue stick-out.

“Oh, love, if you’re going to show me your tongue, I may have to give you something to lick,” he continued nastily, wiggling his eyebrows like a villain in an old-timey movie.

“You’re sick, Hamilton. Truly sick.” I laughed, pulling away from him.

“So, we’re going to see a movie, yes?” he asked, tooling around my apartment.

“Yes, there’s a theater about six blocks from here. I’ll check and see what’s playing. Then we can grab something after that, sound good?” I pulled my laptop from my bag and settled in on the couch.

“Oh, I’ll be grabbing something after the movie, that’s for certain,” he said, sticking his head back around the corner and winking at me.

“Dirty bird,” I muttered as he disappeared down the hall toward the bedroom.

“You love it,” he shouted over his shoulder.

I laughed quietly to myself and signed on. My TMZ homepage came up immediately because I was a sucker for all things celebrity gossip. I could hear Jack putzing in the bedroom, so I figured I could indulge in a few minutes of celeb surfing. Guilty pleasure. I scrolled through the pictures of the latest buzz: An actor checking into rehab, another actor leaving rehab. A singer who’d been threatening to retire for twenty years heading back out on tour. I skipped ahead—not a lot of celebrity news. I was about to zip over to the movie times site when an interesting snippet caught my eye:

Jack Hamilton seen out on the town with actress Marcia Veracruz. Are these two on again?

Wait a minute. Back up.

What?

Once Time comes out, maybe he can afford to buy a new car! The two were spotted having lunch in Venice a few days ago before climbing into Jack’s old, beat-up MG.

I felt sick.

Breathe, just breathe.

Ever since he was cast as Joshua, women everywhere have been wondering whether this Brit Boy is single. Well, ladies, it appears this time-traveler is spoken for! Just two nights ago, Jack Hamilton was spotted driving away from an L.A. nightclub with his latest gal pal, actress Marcia Veracruz. The two were previously in a confirmed relationship, and although they took a break, it appears things are still hot and heavy between them.

I really felt sick. I tried to close the laptop, but I couldn’t make my hands move. They were clenched too tightly into fists.

Ask him. Don’t flip out. Ask him.

Oh, hell yes, I was gonna ask him.

I stared at the pictures, really looking at the two of them together. I examined his face: smiling, ball cap pulled securely down over curly hair. I forced myself to look at her, really look at her. She was smiling too, her face inclined toward his as they left some club in L.A. together.

She was pretty.

She was really pretty.

Not good…

I heard Jack coming down the hallway, and although part of me wanted to clear the screen, pull up Mr. Movie Phone, and shove this whole Marcia thing in my famous mental drawer—The Drawer where everything unpleasant goes to be avoided—but we were past that. We were way past that. And if I’d been honest with myself, not such a chickenshit, we would’ve dealt with this months ago when I saw her text that night in the dark.

Of course, true to form, I’d refused to deal, letting this build to the point of full meltdown before acknowledging it. Why? A battle raged constantly between the cool, tough Grace exterior and the sad, frightened, still-sees-herself-as-the-fat-girl Grace on the inside. Jack had taken a tiny peek or two at Inside Grace, but he had yet to experience the mess that was actually in there. Come on, why deal with things expediently when they can fester and become an emotional storm of epic proportions? I never claimed to be the mature one in this relationship, that’s for sure.

I second that.

“Hey, Gracie, I think we should skip the movie and just stay in and have a shag, what do you say?” he deadpanned, stopping in the archway to the living room. His hands were pressed to either side of the archway, his hair raked back and crazy, his lower lip sucked in between his teeth, and his eyes blazing deep green. He smirked at me, taking my lack of speech as proof that his seduction was working.

He sauntered closer, coming up behind me on the couch and leaning over my shoulder. “What do you say we close this thing and talk more about this while I take these pesky clothes off of you…” he started. Then he saw the pictures on the computer.

He froze.

“Explain this, please,” I said in a low voice. When I was mad, I was dangerously quiet.

“Shit, Grace, I was going to tell you about this. I know how bad it looks, but really, it’s nothing,” he said.

“Explain this now, please,” I asked again, my voice even quieter. I was beginning to shake I was so angry, but beneath the anger was a profound sadness. This is what I’d been afraid of since the beginning.

“Grace, really, just listen. Marcia—she’s just a friend. I swear. You can even ask Holly,” he said, walking around to the front of the couch and moving the laptop away. He sat on the coffee table in front of me, watching my eyes. I think my expression told him to tread lightly.

Holly knows?

“Holly knows about this?” I asked, closing my eyes and feeling prickling behind my eyelids.

“Well, yes, she does. We talked about it earlier this week when these pictures first came out. I know this looks bad, Grace, but truly, she is just a friend. And Holly actually thinks we can make this work in our favor, since the pictures are already out there,” he started to explain.

This was just sounding worse.

“I know you used to date her, Jack. Don’t try to tell me you didn’t. I know better. What are you doing going out with your ex-girlfriend? I know I must sound like some crazy bitch, but right now I’m feeling all kinds of crazy, so start talking,” I said, my voice finally getting a little louder.

“Okay, yes, we used to date. But we’re just friends now. I promise you there’s nothing going on! She knows all about you. I talk about you all the time. That’s actually one of the reasons we’ve been hanging out so much lately. Her boyfriend travels a lot, and she never sees him. So we hang out sometimes. It’s harmless. I swear, Grace.”

“Ya know, it’s not so much that you’re hanging out with her, which I can overlook. Hey, man, we have no claims on each other. You can hang out with whoever you want. But the fact that no one bothered to tell me, and that you and Holly even discussed this? I feel sick. I really feel sick,” I said, my voice getting louder still.

Jack was quiet, looking at the floor.

I went on, the twists and turns of my stomach somehow giving me the push I needed to keep going. “Do you have any idea how this makes me feel? I feel like an old fool. Maybe this is the kind of person you should be with—someone who fits with you better than I ever could. And I’m sorry, Jack, but a girl does not text you in the middle of the night if all she wants is friendship,” I finished, the tears beginning to creep down my face. I wiped them angrily away.

Jack’s face had grown angry as well, but it flashed confusion when I mentioned the text. “What text? What are you talking about?” he asked.

“She texted you in the middle of the night weeks and weeks ago, before I even left L.A. You were asleep, and I picked it up to shut it off. Yes, I read it. I shouldn’t have, but I fucking did. I would say I’m sorry, but you know what? I’m not really even sorry. I wanted to see who was texting the man asleep in my bed, with his hands all over my body, at three in the morning. And looky what we have here! The same girl you’ve been photographed with all over town. Shocking, really,” I said sarcastically, getting up from the couch and pushing past him to stand in the kitchen.

I was still crying, but these were angry tears, pissed-off tears. All that shit I’d been pushing away for so long was coming home to roost now, and all I could do was hang on and let it come out.

Jack was quiet, still sitting on the coffee table. He finally rose and stood in front of me, face stormy.

“Gracie, I am going to say this once. Was I wrong not to tell you I was hanging out with my ex-girlfriend? Yes, probably. Was I wrong to not tell you sooner about the conversation I had with Holly? Yes, definitely. I’ve never done this before—had a relationship with someone who lives across the country while I’m going through the biggest thing professionally I’ve ever, or probably will ever, go through. And you know what? There will probably be more pictures of Marcia and me together. In fact, I can guarantee it. She has a movie she’s promoting, and our managers are milking this thing for all it’s worth. Even if you don’t trust me, which you clearly don’t, you know Holly would never do anything to hurt you. She was bloody well pissed when she saw these, as she should be. I really have my head up my ass sometimes, and I didn’t think about what these pictures would look like, or how they might make you feel,” he said, breathing heavily.

“Well, I think—” I started, and he put his finger over my lips.

“I’m not finished. You seem to think I’m going to fuck around on you. I admit that these pictures look terrible if you’re thinking about it in that way. You’re here, I’m there, and it sucks. But there has to be some trust between us. Would you agree?” he asked, removing his finger.

I glared at him. “Yes, I agree, but—”

“Grace, you either agree or you don’t. Yes or no?”

“Yes, I agree, and I do trust you,” I said, a fresh wave of tears starting.

“I trust you too. Otherwise I’d be asking you why there are a pair of men’s trainers by the front door. A less-trusting boyfriend would wonder about that…” He trailed off, arching an eyebrow at me and looking over my shoulder.

I turned and followed his gaze, and I saw Michael’s sneakers. He’d left them here the other night, changing into boots when it started raining.

Touché.

Shit.

I looked back at Jack. He seemed curious, and a little…apprehensive?

“Grace, you’re a beautiful woman. I see how men look at you. I know there are other men who want to be with you. Whose shoes are those?” he asked.

I grabbed a box of Kleenex and blew my nose loudly, getting control again. “Michael’s. They’re Michael’s,” I said. “He was here earlier in the week. We were working on a scene, and he changed shoes. He never took those with him, and frankly, I didn’t even notice they were here until now.”

Jack had nothing to worry about. Michael and I were just friends. Just friends.

Friends that used to have feelings for each other.

But Jack doesn’t know about that.

“Did you and Michael ever date, Gracie?” he asked.

“Date? No,” I answered quickly. That was true. We never dated.

“Are you sure? You two seem to have more than friendship in your past. I noticed that right away. And when I said I see how other men look at you? He looks at you that way,” Jack added, his face going dark and his eyes turning that stormy-sea green I saw at the airport when I left L.A.

“No, we never dated. But yes, there were feelings there—years and years ago. That’s all over, though. We truly are just friends,” I assured him, breathing a little more easily now.

“Friends. Like me and Marcia are just friends.”

“Ugh,” I said, rubbing my eyes.

“Do you see how much easier this is if we just tell each other what’s going on?” he asked, reaching out his hand to me. I hesitated for a second, then took it.

“How the hell did you get so mature at twenty-four? Seriously, man. I’m like a basket case next to you,” I said, breaking the tension a little.

“I’m British. We’re born more mature,” he said with the sexy half smile that always turned me to mush.

“Feeling better now?” he asked as I blew my nose again.

“Yes, but don’t ever let me find out something like that courtesy of TMZ again, okay? I can’t take another surprise like that,” I said fiercely, as he crushed me against his chest.

“I promise. That was a shitty thing to do. And don’t let Michael get too comfortable over here. I don’t want to have to piss in the corners to mark my territory, but I will if I need to,” he said.

I laughed in spite of myself. “Well, you tell that Marcia I’ll be very glad to meet her next time I’m in L.A. And make sure to tell her I said to keep her hands to herself in the meantime. I can go along with seeing pictures of you two together for publicity’s sake, but the second I see her hand on your ass, the bitch is going down.” I grabbed his collar and pulled him closer to me.

“Fucking Nuts Girl, how could I love anyone but you? You’re insane,” he said, lowering his mouth to mine.

I let my hand slip down to his buns and gave him a squeeze. “This sweet ass is mine, and don’t you forget it. Now come give mama some sugar,” I said, and kissed him hard.

We never made it to the movie. We made it through another potential shitstorm, and we kept our shit intact. We were an odd couple to say the least, but for now, all was well in Jack-and-Grace Land. And we were off to the Four Seasons.

That night we did the crossword puzzle, and I made him clean up his room. Honestly, it was messy already. We watched the Golden Girls, and then he made love to me slowly and sweetly. The rest would work itself out another day.

Interesting. Shoving shit to the side again already, are we?

Sigh.