Текст книги "Doing It for Love"

Автор книги: Cassie Mae

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Текущая страница: 4 (всего у книги 19 страниц)

Chapter 6

When I fell in love with Landon, I was too afraid to tell him. We had just made love for the first time and there was this moment in his bed, staring at the moonlight across the ceiling, listening to his heartbeat and his heavy breathing when it almost fell out. But I didn’t want to say it first. It had only been a few weeks, and at the time, I had no idea if he was one of those guys who freaks out with the L-word or not.

But he squeezed my hand twice as I rested it on his chest. Out of instinct, I squeezed back once.

I started noticing the two-time hand squeeze after certain moments or looks he gave me. Once when I quoted Edward Scissorhands to him. Another when I stole one of his hats and wore it during our date. More squeezes when we’d say goodnight. One night I finally asked him about it.

“What?” he whispered in the dark. I tucked my cold toes up against his shin.

“You always squeeze my hand twice.”

“Yeah.” It’s all he said…at first. And we both drifted into sleep.

But at some point during the night, he woke me, hovering over me, looking as wide-awake as the moon. I asked what was wrong, and he took my face in his palms, rested his forehead against mine, and said, “Two squeezes mean I love you.”

His fingers snaked down my body, leaving chills in their wake. He grasped my hand and pumped it twice.

“I’ve been too afraid to say it,” he admitted with a small smile. “But I’ve been saying it to you for a long time now.”

I remember my heart pounding, my sleepy smile widening. And I squeezed back, saying, “I’ve been saying ‘I love you too’ for a long time now.”

It’s been our silent expression ever since. So when we’re in a crowded room, half asleep, or arguing, whenever he squeezes my hand twice I know he still loves me. I’ve always squeezed back.

I blink out of my daze, rubbing my hands under the shower stream. The paint mixture pours off my skin down to the drain, and I keep giving myself extra squeezes, imagining Landon’s hands around mine. Thank heavens I had the good sense to shower at Theresa’s. His wet body is tempting a few doors down; I can’t imagine what a hormonal mess I’d be if we washed off together.

After rinsing the neon from my nooks and crannies, I shut the shower off and grab at a ratty towel Theresa keeps under her sink. Her counter is completely cluttered with hair products, makeup, and perfumes. Long brown hair covers the floor, and I towel-dry my head, adding blond strands to the pile.

Landon takes longer showers than I do, so I take my time getting dressed, borrowing some of Theresa’s pajamas. She’s still at the club, probably completely wasted by now. She was maintaining a balanced buzz when I left, but that was an hour ago. I asked Jace to make sure she got a cab. Hopefully, he stays coherent enough to listen.

I make her bed because it drives me crazy that the comforter is hanging off the edge and the sheet is matted at the bottom. Just as I’m fluffing her pillows, I hear a key struggling to get in the lock.

Theresa giggles as the door creaks open. I tuck my phone in my back pocket with a laugh, ready to put her to bed and set some Advil on the nightstand for her in the morning, but a crash, thud, and low grunt stops me in the bedroom doorway.

My eyes bug out, staring at the hallway pictures, when I hear her say, “I want you in me.”

“Theresa,” a male voice answers. I think I know that voice. “You’re drunk.”

“Yep.” She attempts to purr. “Take advantage, because this won’t happen when I’m sober.”

Something shuffles across the floor, and I dive for the closet. I should’ve known she was going to bring someone home. Theresa has more bedpost notches than I’d like to know about.

As soon as I’ve confirmed “male voice” is long gone I’ll slide out. Unless he tries to take advantage while she’s passed out. Then I’ll grab a wire hanger and slice off his man jewels.

I keep the door open a crack, but I don’t catch anything but two very painted figures. The one covered in bright blue takes the towel I used and spreads it across the bed, fumbling with holding Theresa up at the same time. He finally huffs in defeat and ends up dropping her to the mattress.

“Wait,” she says.

“What?”

“It feels good. You on top of me.”

Oh, sweet mother. I hear kissing. Lots of it. And breathing and groaning, and as close as I am with the girl, I do not want to hear her drunken sex noises.

“Theresa…” Male Voice groans. He says something else, and I start singing “Itsy Bitsy Spider” under my breath, hoping to drown out the sloppy kissing sounds.

Slurp.

Went up the waterspout.

Thump.

Down came the rain.

Mmmmm.

And washed the spider out.

“Take them off.”

“Theresa…,” Male Voice says again.

“Stay,” she mumbles. I hear a zipper, and I reach for a hanger.

“You need…you need to sleep,” he argues back. I shoot upright, peeking out the crack because it’s clicked. I know who that voice belongs to.

He tucks another towel around her, and by the light snoring I know she’s passed out. I drop the hanger, knowing she won’t be fondled in her sleep with present company. I notice him tucking her pink stained hair behind her ear, looking at her like I’ve only seen Landon look at me. A small tug at the corner of his lips looks like both a smile and a frown. Like he’s gaining and losing something. It seems such a private moment I duck back into the closet. I’ll just wait till he leaves, but who knows how long that’ll be. So I take my phone out, make sure it’s on complete silent mode, and tap a text to Landon before my battery dies.

Theresa’s drunk. Might be a bit before I get back to you.

Landon responds so fast it’s like he had the joke saved on his phone.

Don’t get too friendly with the showerhead.

I am NOT a cheater, I tap back. Besides, I don’t need it ;)

Liar. I was sexy as hell tonight.

Not as sexy as me.

You are tough competition. But I look better in pink.

He sends me a picture of the two of us in the middle of our paint fight. I grin at the fact that he’s more covered than I am.

Who took that?

You were tagged on Facebook.

I raise my eyebrow and turn on my Wi-Fi. But before I can jump over to Facebook, my screen goes blank as my battery quits. Damn it. I just hope people had the sense not to announce my engagement yet.

Letting out a very bored sigh, I wiggle around the closet, shaking my head at the disorganization in here. Theresa needs to start putting her autumn clothes up front. It’s almost September, so I move the sundresses to the back of the walk-in and hang the cardigans up by color near the front. After that I slouch to the floor and rearrange her shoes. None of the pairs are together, just sort of tossed in. No wonder she’s always late.

After I’ve straightened every inch of her closet—she’ll pitch a fit about it, but I know she’ll secretly be grateful—I peer through the crack and let out a relieved sigh. Just Theresa, sound asleep with her mouth open and her painted hair stuck to the pillow.

I tiptoe across the carpet, startle at the shape on Theresa’s towel-covered couch, but he too is asleep, mouth wide open and painted hair mashed into a rolled towel. I allow myself a silent laugh, because I never ever considered these two together. Now it’s all I can think about.

Holding my breath, I slowly twist the doorknob and sneak into the hallway. Once it’s clicked shut I allow myself to breathe and race to my own door twenty feet down.

Landon’s leaning against our card table, laptop open, glasses sliding down his nose as he taps away. He’s got several windows open—movie footage, an Excel spreadsheet, iTunes, and an editing program. I smell his body wash and shampoo, and I absolutely love that fresh manly smell. Setting down my phone, I sneak up behind him and put my head on his shoulder.

“Bedtime,” I say. If I don’t, he’ll be up all night editing.

“Five more minutes.”

“Now, mister.”

He saves everything and shuts the laptop, encasing us in darkness. But I can still see the reflection of the moon in his glasses.

“Did you have fun?” he asks, taking my hand and leading us to the bedroom.

“Mmhmm. Can I have my ring back now?”

He nods and tucks me into our bed. He sets his glasses in their case, and when we get snuggled under the covers he pulls the ring from his wallet and reaches for my hand. It takes him one, two, three shots to finally get it on the right finger in the dark. I’m laughing at him when it slides into place.

“I’m blind. Give me a break.”

His body molds to mine, his belly button to the small of my back, leg tucked between my calves, chest pressed against my spine, and hot breath spreading on my neck. My heart thumps unevenly as he laces our fingers together and sets our hands on my hip.

I’m so tired I feel like I could sink through the mattress and stay there forever. But Landon’s lips start to graze over my neck, sending goose bumps up and down my sides. My grip tightens on his hand, and I press my knees together, trapping his leg. I feel his teeth against my skin when he smiles. Damn him.

I wiggle to the very edge of the bed, but like a smart-ass he follows. The scruff on his chin is driving me wild, and as tired as I was five seconds ago, that’s how not tired I am now.

“Lizzie?” he says in a deep voice. His sex voice. I squeeze my eyes shut and pretend I’m immune to his charm.

He pulls on my pajama top, uncovering my shoulder. He presses a warm kiss there. “You called me your fiancé tonight.”

“You bet your sweet ass I did.”

“I liked it.”

“Fiancé,” I say in a seductive lilt. His kisses trail across my shoulder and neck. I take a deep breath and lift my shoulder, cutting him off.

“You knock that off.”

“What?” he says, running his fingers over my arm. He squeezes my elbow twice.

I reach back and squeeze his thigh.

Oh, how easy it is to thwart Elizabeth Fanning when you have muscles like Landon Wangford. How can I forget how much I love the tone of his legs, the feel of his boxer shorts, the manly hair sprouting from his skin? I snatch my hand away before it squeezes his ass—his perfect ass—and before I dip my hand under his waistband, I dig my nails into his toned-as-hell flesh, let him thrust up against me, feeling just how hard he gets because of me.

Seriously…it hasn’t even been twenty-four hours since our bet and I’m ready to change my mind. I’m kind of relieved it’s proving to be difficult to keep my hands off him. After four years and the quickies and the meh times, I thought we’d lost that spark, but my screaming lady parts say otherwise.

Utah won’t be that bad. I mean, there’s skiing, and we won’t want to leave the hotel for long anyway.

Well, Landon will. He’ll be doing the film festival thing and talking “movie tech” stuff I don’t understand. I can handle it, but…it will be our honeymoon. How long is the festival? Will he have time for me if we’re there?

Doesn’t matter. He’ll love it, and that’s important. I go to wiggle my butt against his erection—because I’m sure he has one—but I stop.

He’d never let me live it down if I broke the rules first. I can hear him now. “See, Liz, you get excited about new ideas, then change your mind. It’s okay. I like that about you.”

Not this time, buddy.

Landon bites my earlobe, and I growl, roll out of bed, and snatch up my pillow.

“What’d I do?” he asks. I ignore him. He knows damn well what he’s doing.

“I’m going to the couch till you fall asleep.” I yank on the extra blanket, and he grabs it and pulls me forward.

“Don’t leave.”

“I have to.”

“Why?”

“Because if you keep kissing my neck, I’m going to lose.” A smile forms on my lips. “And that’s not going to happen.”

He gives me a victorious grin. “Stay.” His hand comes up to cup my face, his thumb runs over the apple of my cheek, and he leans in. My whole body buzzes and buzzes, and I know if he kisses me that’s it. I’ll jump on top of him and take it all the way.

“Good night, babe,” I say, lightly pushing his sexy face away.

He whines into the sheets while I bump the door with my hip on my way out. I can’t even walk straight.

A chill goes up my spine when I settle on the couch. I wiggle around and tuck a blanket under my legs to warm up. Then I turn the TV on and put it on the bloodiest channel I can find. After stopping on Saw number who-knows-what, and seeing a guy get doused in pig guts for twenty minutes, I’m completely turned off.

Light snores filter into the room, so I sneak back into the warm bed. Landon’s back is to me, rising and falling with deep breaths. I kiss his shoulder, then turn my back to him, cuddling with my pillow and our comforter. Oh, just imagine the rides I’ll get to experience on our wedding night. A victorious smile hits my lips now. I am the master of my own libido.

Chapter 7

My phone buzzes off my nightstand, waking me from my colorful dream filled with paint and Landon and music. I groan, dropping my arm from the mattress and feeling around for the thing.

“Hello?” I croak. What time is it?

“Are you engaged?”

“Mom?” I stifle a yawn, blinking up at the alarm clock: 7:42. Through my sleep-daze I hear the TV in the living room. Landon’s side of the bed is empty.

“Elizabeth Ann. Are. You. Engaged?”

Coherency catches up with me and I sit up, adjusting the pillows behind my back. “Hey, Mom. Guess what?”

“Give me a solid reason why I found out from Facebook and not you.”

“My friends don’t know how to keep quiet?”

It’s silent for the longest minute of my life, and I start to panic that she hung up or she’s booking a flight to New York just to give me the mommy look. I can picture her now, clicking her nails on the kitchen counter or cracking eggs into a bowl just for something to do. She always makes eggs when she’s angry.

“Are you pregnant?”

“No.”

“You swear it.”

“I swear on Nana Gomomo’s grave.”

It’s quiet, and I count twelve Mississippis before she talks again.

“Your father and I need to meet him.”

“I know.” I turn the phone on speaker and flick to my calendar, knowing she’s doing the same thing. “Landon’s booked with his movie for a couple of months, but he should be done by mid– to late October.”

She makes a clucking noise with her tongue, and I find myself involuntarily doing it with her. “I’m showing houses until after Halloween. Were you planning on coming home for Thanksgiving?”

“I don’t think we can afford it. Especially now that we’re going to save up for the honeymoon.”

“How soon are you planning the wedding?” she asks. My stomach gets a nasty twist in it because I know what her reaction will be.

“January.”

“This January?”

“Yeah.”

She does that pause again, getting my insides all jacked up. I hold on to Landon’s pillow so I don’t give in to whatever she has to say. This is my decision. I want to marry Landon, and I want to do it in January.

“Have you…I mean, you really want this right now? You’re so young.”

“I love him, Mom.”

“What about college? I thought you were planning on picking a backup this semester.”

I click off speaker and put the phone to my ear. “I’m not sure if college is for me.” I check the doorway, because I haven’t exactly told Landon this either.

“Why not?”

“I have no idea what I want to do, and it’s kind of a waste of money until I figure it out. We’re still paying off Landon’s loans, and we kind of need us both working right now.”

“You’re just going to drop what you want for what he wants? You’re prepared to keep doing that?”

“I want him to be successful. I have no idea what I want for myself yet.” It’s not completely untrue. What I want is Landon, but I know my mom will want me to have something other than a guy. I should be more than someone’s wife. I’m not up for the lecture.

She takes a deep breath. “Well, maybe your father and I should fly out there. I’ll help with wedding plans and save you some money.”

It’s probably the best I’m going to get. “Sounds good.”

“I’ll email you my calendar.” Her nails clack against what must be her keyboard. I yawn and sink farther into my sheets.

“Love you, Mom, but I was up late…”

“This conversation isn’t over.” She says it with a tone that’s half teasing, like she knows how trite she’s being. “And I love you, too. Talk soon.”

I hang up and toss my phone back onto the nightstand. Before I can overthink or worry about defending my decisions, I stuff my face into my pillow and drift back to sleep.

–

If I thought being sick made my apartment a complete hole, being a blissed-out, airheaded mess for the first week of my engagement made it a million times worse.

Landon’s been working all day every day. If not at his job that actually pays us, he’s on the movie set. He comes home totally beat after midnight, then crawls out of bed at six in the morning to head to work.

I think even if we didn’t bet on no sex, it wouldn’t be happening anyway. And forget my Hurdle List. I haven’t had time to jump over any of them.

I start up my vacuum after taking out the very full trash. Every dish is clean. Every item of clothing folded. The pictures from the engagement party are up on our collage wall—an entire wall in our living room full of pictures we actually got printed—and I pinned up our wristbands and one of Landon’s painted shoelaces. I shake my hips to “Backstreet’s Back” while I vacuum, really proud that I’m finally back to normal. If I don’t clean the apartment, no one does. What’s it going to be like when I’m really pregnant? Or when I have a kid? I’ll be cleaning up even more, I guess. Landon’s uncleanliness must be a test.

The door swings open and Landon rushes in, stripping out of his work clothes and leaving a trail on the way to the bedroom.

“You get your ass back here and pick those up!” I shout over the vacuum. Good grief.

“Sorry!” he calls from the room. “I got stuck on a call and I’ve gotta be on set in twenty.”

I sigh and turn the vacuum off. Grumbling a few choice words under my breath, I swipe up the laundry and stuff it in the hamper.

Half of Landon’s mouth lifts in the corner as he tugs on a fresh pair of jeans. “Did you just call me a manchild?”

“No,” I lie, but my phone’s going off in my pocket so I don’t want to start an argument. My brow furrows as I look at the bank notification on the screen. “Hey, did you spend money?”

“Yeah. We ran out of blood for the shoot yesterday.”

“Landon…it overdrafted the checking account.”

He pulls open his dresser drawer, unfolding everything I just folded as he digs for the one plain T-shirt he owns. “Sorry, babe. Can we cover it with savings?”

“I can’t keep doing that.” I sigh as I transfer the money. “ ’Cause you know, pretty soon that bet won’t mean a damn thing because we won’t have any money for a honeymoon.”

A long silence fills the room. I just watch him get ready, trying to pour cold water on the flames licking the back of my neck. This is argument three-thousand-eighty over our bank account. I took over finances when I moved in, because I’m anal about these things and it’ll be good for us—his words, not mine. And every few weeks it’s the same thing. He needs something, asks if we have the money. I say no, and he spends it anyway. In his defense, I’m frugal. I like a nice savings balance and a strict budget. But in my defense, we’re poor and we need a strict budget.

Not to mention I always talk about my purchases with him before I make them. I want the same courtesy.

Landon sighs and slips on his Beetlejuice cap. He turns around with a smile and kisses my nose.

“I’m sorry. I’ll work overtime. Make it up.”

I shake my head. “When? If you’re not at work you’re working on set.” I tuck my phone back in my pocket. “Maybe I can pick up some shifts.”

“I’ll do it.” He reaches out, rubs my arms, and even though I don’t believe him, I let him think I do. “I gotta run. I love you. We can fight about this when I get home.”

I roll my eyes, but a small laugh falls out. “Fine. But this conversation is not over.”

Sweet mother, I sound like my sweet mother.

He squeezes my arms and I hug him. We made a deal after our first argument that even if we’re mad, if the other person has somewhere to be, we put it on hold, say we love each other, and if the anger is still there when we’re together again, we deal with it. It’s hard sometimes, but my imagination always runs wild and I wonder what if he gets in an accident and I didn’t say I loved him?

He cups my face and pulls me in for a kiss I’m not sure I want, but after a hard press of his lips, a gentle stroke of his tongue, I don’t want it to end. A surprise kiss…wow. Haven’t had one of these in a while. It’s nice, and for a second I forget I’m mad. Well played, Mr. Wangford.

After he leaves, I pull out the laptop and start rearranging money in my budget plan folder. We have just over $1,500 in savings after I dropped a buttload on the venue, and if we keep spending money like we do it’s going to be long gone by January.

O-town plays in the background as I look at all the negative numbers. Four twenty-dollar overdraft fees in the past three months. Way too much money being spent at the gas station, but I have no idea how to avoid that. Maybe I can ask Alec to drive me to work so Landon doesn’t have to take more trips picking me up and dropping me off. I’m not exactly on the way, but he might be up for it.

And we eat out too much. Gotta break the habit.

I open up a new Excel spreadsheet and label it “To Get the Perfect Wedding.” Time to figure out how the heck we can afford everything I have on my Pinterest board.

A knock comes at my door, and I shout a “Come in, Alec!” because he’s the only one of our friends who knocks. He caught Landon and me in a pretty compromising position once. Walked in and walked right back out.

He’s in his Bed Bath & Beyond polo, dirty blond hair totally flat from the day’s work. He gives me a small grin and hands me an envelope. Ah! Answer to my prayers.

“Payday!” I shout, ripping into the check. Alec goes to close the door, but a foot stops him.

“Hey, Beth Ann,” Jace says, letting himself in. He’s covered in bloody makeup and shredded clothing and heads straight for my fridge.

“I don’t have any more hot dogs,” I tell him, my heart dropping a little at the very small amount on my paycheck. I forgot about taking a few sick days when I thought there was a bun in the oven. Damn it. I don’t think I can put anything into savings this time.

“Don’t need ’em,” Jace says, pulling out a carton of eggs. I sigh because I know he’s on a mission for gross products to pass off as body parts in Landon’s movie, but there goes my breakfast for the next week.

“Tell him thanks for not using the card, I guess.”

Jace nods and heads back out, nearly knocking over Theresa in the doorway. I’d wonder if I sent out party invitations, if this wasn’t a normal thing.

They share a really bizarre look and scoot around each other. When Jace is gone, Theresa’s smile spreads wide and she wiggles a case of wine coolers at me. “Is Alec going to help?”

“Huh?”

“Dress browsing, silly girl. You called me this morning…”

Oh right! Where is my brain? “Yes…sorry. Been…” cleaning all day, worried about money, stressed to the max, and Landon isn’t home. “I’ve been distracted.” I turn to Alec. “You can stay if you want.”

He wrinkles his nose. “And plan wedding stuff?”

“We’ll order pizza,” Theresa says. Man, I really hope she’s paying.

He shrugs and pulls his work polo over his head so he’s in just his white undershirt. I notice Theresa’s eyes linger on Alec’s stomach, but she shakes her head and pulls out her phone.

“Okay, someone turn on music from this decade and I’ll get the food.”