Текст книги "Doing It for Love"

Автор книги: Cassie Mae

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Текущая страница: 9 (всего у книги 19 страниц)

Chapter 16

“Hey, all you Bed Bath & Beyond shoppers. Doors close in T-minus fifteen seconds. And I’m so beat I’ll lock you in here. Don’t worry…there are display beds for your convenience. But if you sleep in it, you buy it.”

Alec grins from across the store where he’s mopping invisible dirt from our invisible customers. “You’re fired!”

“No, I’m not. You love me,” I say into the intercom. Olivia laughs from the plunger section as I swing my legs over the register counter and tread lightly on the mopped floor to lock up. We’ve had probably two people all night, since most are out at parties or trick-or-treating with their kids. Olivia and I strapped pillows to our bellies and ran into each other for about an hour.

I go to twist the lock, but there’s a woman jogging through the rain, straight for the doors. When she lifts her head, I throw the doors open and meet her.

“Mom!” I squeal, and toss my arms around her neck.

“Hi, sweetie!”

“I thought you weren’t coming till next week.”

“My last open house fell through, so I caught an earlier flight.”

I pull her inside so we’re not shouting over the rain, and then I hug her again. She smells like home. Like lemon meringue pie. Man I could go for a slice of that.

“Uh, Liz?” Alec asks as he looks at his freshly mopped floor that my mom and I just puddled.

“Oh, sorry! I’ll clean it up.” I walk around him to the mop bucket. “Alec, this is my mom. Mom, this is Alec. He’s Landon’s best man.”

They shake hands, and then Mom fixes her blond wavy hair under her hood. Her cheeks splash pink and I laugh under my breath. Yes, Alec is adorably hot. Dirty blond hair, lean and tall, and one dimple in his cheek.

And yes, that is Mom’s type, even if she is twenty-five years his senior and married.

“You’ve known Landon and Liz awhile?” she asks awkwardly. I push her foot with the mop and she bats at me.

“I met Liz when Landon introduced us a few years ago. Landon I’ve known since I was four.”

“They grew up across the street from each other,” I add, nudging Alec with the mop now. “Alec hired me when I was basically living on Theresa’s couch.”

“I’m also her personal chauffeur right now.” He winks to let me know he’s not really bothered by giving me a ride to and from work every day. “So I’d let her off early if she had a way to get you both home. Unless you want to use your cab?” He nods out the window.

I can’t afford a cab, and I’d hate for Mom to pay. But Landon’s last check was stretched to its limit, and we’re living on mac and cheese and SpaghettiOs.

And chocolate for me, which I need to stop. My jeans have been a bit snug of late due to the frosting, candy bars, chocolate chips, instant brownies, and fudge bingeing nearly every night before Landon and I go to sleep. Or I should say, before we go to bed. Both of us are still tossing and turning, and Landon’s pillow is so beaten up the feathers are starting to poke out.

“We can take my cab,” Mom says, already holding a finger up to the cabdriver. “If you’re sure you don’t need her to stay and close up.”

Alec shakes his head, and I hand him the mop. “Sweet. I’ll see you tomorrow, then.”

“You’re not coming to Jace’s party?”

“I’m going to hang out with my momma.” I give Mom another squeeze and get my side soaked. “Landon might stop by, though.”

“ ’Kay. Head out there before your driver takes off. I’ll clock out for you.”

I tell him thanks, and Mom gets all flustered again as she waves goodbye. I’m laughing as we run through the downpour and slide into the backseat.

“Where’s Dad?” I ask after we tell the driver my address.

“It’s just me this time around. He thought he’d save his visit for Christmas.”

I raise my eyebrows. “What about meeting Landon?”

“Apparently…he’s already met him.”

“What?”

“Landon called your father about a week after your engagement. They spoke on the phone for nearly an hour.”

“About what?”

“He apologized for not asking Dad for your hand, then he officially asked, and then they talked about the horror stories from working at a call center…who are you talking to?”

“I’m texting Landon a death threat. He doesn’t tell me anything!”

Mom chuckles as she watches me type: You’re in trouble. Then I add a flaming red-faced emoticon and hit send.

We catch up on the rest of the drive. Mom’s client list is so packed she hardly has any time to herself anymore, but she loves putting people in new homes, and they’ve been thinking about buying property and building their own house. I frown a little at her because that means they’ll sell the one I grew up in, and she grabs my lip and says, “I’ll put a hook in it,” just like she always does when I give her the pout.

Mom pays for the cab, knocking my hand away when I reach for my purse. I’m glad, because I couldn’t even pay for half of it, but I’m also upset, because I should be able to take care of myself if I’m trying to prove I’m ready for marriage. So instead of focusing on my feather-light pocketbook, I drive all attention to Landon.

“I hope you like him,” I tell her as we get out of the elevator.

“Well, if he’s anything like his best friend, I say his chances are pretty good.”

I laugh and put the key in the door. Alec and Landon are similar, yet so different. Alec’s quieter, but get him with the guys and he comes out of his shell. Whereas Landon is kind of out there, but get him with the guys and he keeps to himself. He’s not a big fan of crowds. But he is great one-on-one. Maybe I should let him take Mom out for dinner or something and I’ll pretend I’m sick.

No, that’d be evil.

“Just a warning, Landon’s been home a lot lately and I have no clue what the place looks like.”

Surprisingly, the apartment is pretty clean. Landon’s damn socks are on the floor, but at least there aren’t any dishes in the sink or on the coffee table.

“That you, Tumbles?” Landon calls from the room.

“Yep!”

“Come check out the costume I got.”

My mom shuts the door behind her and takes off her jacket. “Tumbles?”

“Long story,” I say, setting my keys down. “Give me a second to warn him you’re here?”

Her head moves, but she stops mid-nod. Eyes wide, she stares over my shoulder as booming “Old Time Rock and Roll” plays from down the hall. Landon bursts from the bedroom, landing feet apart, arm pointing straight at me. He’s in nothing but a white button-down, briefs, and sunglasses. His lips sync the words for about two seconds, until he sees my mom.

He shoots upright, hands covering his crotch and red splashing all up and down his neck.

“Uh…,” he mutters, completely dumbfounded. I can feel my mom shaking with laughter.

“Mom, Landon. Landon, Mom.”

Landon’s jaw drops slightly. He quickly takes his sunglasses off, sort of waddles down the hall, and awkwardly reaches around me for Mom’s hand.

“Well, this is just how I wanted to meet you,” he jokes. I’m so embarrassed for him I want to hide my face, but Mom laughs and shakes his hand.

“Nice legs.”

“Nice hands. Very soft.” He pulls back with a smile. “I’m gonna go put on some pants.”

His face is still red as he walks backward into the room and shuts the door. I turn to apologize to my mom, wondering who wins the parental meet and greet fail, but when I lock eyes with her, she’s grinning from ear to ear.

“I like him.”

Chapter 17

“What’s this from?” Mom asks, taking the painted shoelace of Landon’s between her fingers. She’s been admiring our collage wall since Landon left for the party. He didn’t want to go, but I wanted some alone time with Mom to go over wedding details.

“My engagement party.”

“You dipped your shoelaces in pink paint?”

“Those are actually Landon’s. Paint war. Whatever he says…I won.”

She laughs and lets her fingertips trail over the pictures, movie ticket stubs, and the bowling score sheet from our first date. She pauses at one of me and Theresa backstage at the first play Landon directed. Well…assistant directed. Alec got the lead because it was a musical, but Jace probably would’ve snagged it if it hadn’t been.

“Your hair looks really pretty in this one,” she says. “Maybe we could do that for the wedding.”

A hopeful smile twitches my lips. Maybe we can plan this thing without her reminding me how young I am and without any “Are you sure you aren’t pregnant?” speeches.

“I was thinking we could put red flowers in it,” I say. “Maybe some jewels to make it look like snowflakes?”

“That would be pretty, too.” She takes one last glance at the wall before easing on the couch and patting her leg. I instantly plop my butt on the cushion and lay my head in her lap, squeezing her knee.

“Have you picked a hall?” she asks. “We want to make sure it’s available for the weekend you want.”

“On top of it. Put down a deposit and nearly wiped my savings clean.”

“Completely clean? Or it’s just not as big as you’d like it?”

I wrinkle my nose at her, and she starts stroking my hair. “I’m worried we won’t have enough. I looked online and the average wedding costs are—”

“Do you think that you’re paying for the entire wedding?”

“Well, yeah. I didn’t want to assume…”

“Your father and I have been saving for your wedding since you were a baby. We could’ve used more time,” she teases, tugging on my earlobe. I wiggle away from her. “But here’s what I want you and Landon to worry about.”

She brings up her fingers, and I know she’s going into planning mode. Something I definitely picked up from her. I sit up and get ready to make a new wedding budget plan.

“Your honeymoon.”

I wait for her to tick off more, but she doesn’t. “And…?”

She pulls me back to her lap with a laugh. “And nothing.”

“So the hall?”

“We’ll pay for the rest of it.”

“The cake? The reception? The food? What about decorations? My bouquet? Invitations?”

“Yes, all of that.”

I twist so I’m looking right up at her. “My…my dress?”

She tucks a blond lock behind my ear and nods.

“Mom,” I say, letting my eyes fall closed. “That’s so expensive. I can’t let you and Dad…”

“Well, we’re hoping Landon’s family will take care of the flowers and tuxes. Do you think they’re in a position to help out?”

What did she just ask? I’m temporarily thoughtless as warmth cocoons me in a sense of relief and love and such overwhelming gratitude that I’m left completely speechless. I’m trying to think, trying to figure out what else there is that I need to save up for. Theresa is paying for her dress. Landon’s already paid off the ring on my hand—he piggy-banked that cash for a year without me knowing. Kudos for him being able to keep that a secret—and now the hall, the reception…all of it…how can my parents take care of all of it?

“Lizzie?”

“This isn’t going to bankrupt you, is it?”

She laughs. “No. We’re doing this sensibly, okay? I need you to be mindful of our budget. You won’t get everything on that Pinterest board of yours, and we can’t buy everything for you on New York’s prices, but I promise we’ll make this a good day for you and Lando—oof!”

My arms swing around Mom’s shoulders, and I know I’m squeezing too hard, but I can’t stop myself. The reality of Landon’s cut-back hours, my minimum-wage job, our overworking and paycheck-to-paycheck way of living hits me hard, and I realize that there is no way I could’ve afforded this on my own, and Mom and Dad are offering me a wedding.

There is something to be said about chanting.

“Thank you,” I say, knowing the words do not do my feelings justice. Mom taps on my shoulders to get me to ease up, and when I do she lets out a long breath like the ability to breathe has finally returned.

“After your shift tomorrow we’ll shop. Dresses, cakes, decorations, invitations, you name it.”

“I’ve already found the perfect dress,” I say, settling back in her lap. “I’m waiting for it to go on sale.”

“You can show me tomorrow, then.” She starts lazily stroking my head again. “And you never answered me.”

“About what?”

“Landon’s family. Do you think they’re able to help out with the flowers and tuxedos?”

“Oh…um…I don’t know.” I drum my fingers along her knee. “I suppose I could…I could ask.”

That conversation is bound to go smoothly. “Hey, Mr. and Mrs. Wangford, I know I completely ran my mouth at you, but let’s let bygones be bygones and give me some money.”

Mom tugs on my chin, eyebrows meeting in the middle of her forehead. And my frown that follows is completely involuntary.

“Landon’s mom hates me.”

Mom’s brows relax and she pinches my lip. “Of course she does. That’s what mother-in-laws do.”

“So you hate Landon? Peachy.”

She chuckles, smoothing my lengthy blond hair. “Why do you think she hates you?”

“I drank too much wine and I don’t know what I said to her, but it pissed her off enough to basically kick us out the next morning.”

“Oh, Lizzie…”

“First impressions are not my forte.”

“Something you and Landon have in common?”

She gets a snort out of me. “One of many things.”

“What else?”

“We’re both pretty competitive.”

“You found someone to butt heads with.” She pinches my nose. “Just what you need.”

“We like the theater. Broadway would be our weekly date if it weren’t so expensive. We’re both Leos. He has a great work ethic. He can’t cook, but he can sure order a mean takeout. We both have tattoos we’re not very proud of. Our favorite TV shows are The Walking Dead, The Big Bang Theory, and Survivor. He’s well-rounded, exciting, fun…And, of course, we’re both hilarious.”

I twist around since Mom’s stopped her soothing strokes. There’s a slight glisten in her eyes.

“You have a tattoo? New York Lizzie is different from Georgia Lizzie.”

“Not really. I’m still picky about my vegetables. I still keep everything in Rubbermaid bins, my toes are always painted, and I have a Hurdle List for every life-changing event.”

She smiles, taps my arm so I move from her lap, and she pulls out her tablet.

The Hurdles for Planning Your Daughter’s Wedding

I pull my feet up on the couch and cuddle closer. The first one on the list gives my heart a warm squeeze.

1. Learn to let my Lizzie go…again.

“I don’t know why I put the biggest Hurdle first.” She laughs, squeezing me into her side. “I’ll never be able to get to the other ones.”

I bite my lip and push into her hold for a second, then reach to my laptop and pull up my own Hurdle List. I meant for her to see the one about telling her about the engagement, and how nervous I was, but she points to the top one on the list and raises an amused eyebrow.

“Operation Great Sex, huh?”

“That is not the one you’re supposed to be looking at.”

She flicks a loose curl out of her eyes. “Did you convince him?”

“I did. That one was easier than I thought. It’s the…execution that’s the hard part.”

I explain to her the no-sex deal, what’s at stake, and then I’m suddenly babbling about how we’re both trying to get each other to give in. Mom’s equal parts laughing and blushing.

“That explains Mr. Risky Business.”

“Yeah, probably.”

“I have a question, though.”

“Okay.”

“Why cut yourselves off in the first place?”

“You really want to hear this?” I twist my fingers in my lap, wondering how open I should be here. Mom’ll probably have some good insight on making that part of the relationship continually hot over the course of several years. I had to block memories of banging headboards from when I was a kid.

Mom puts her tablet down next to my computer and smiles. “You can talk to me about anything. I’m sure we’ll talk about a lot more when you get pregnant and your body starts doing things you never thought it would.”

“Okay…Landon’s good at, um, satisfying me…?” Lawdy, I’m talking satisfied sex with my mother. She gives an encouraging nod, so I let my chest sort of unknot and keep going. “But, well, the night we got engaged was kind of…meh.”

“So you cut him off sex till the wedding? Seems a bit harsh.” Her shoulders shake with silent laughter. I push on her leg.

“No. It was a weird day that day. My mind was elsewhere and it would’ve taken me a long time to…anyway, I just…my wedding night…it should be perfect. So even after the long day, tired feet and tired minds, I want to be able to…I want to…”

“Orgasm?”

I put my hands over my fiery red cheeks. My mom just said orgasm.

“Was that night the first time you didn’t orgasm? Because I’d say, lucky you!”

“No…but ugh, I don’t want to make Landon sound lame, Mom.” But I find it equally mortifying to talk about what a good lover he is too.,

“I’m not going to think that. In fact, I’ll probably try not to think about it at all.”

I let out a sigh and drop my hands. “The first couple times we had sex were a little awkward, but we found out more about each other’s, you know, desires and it was wow. For a long time, wow. But then our lives got…for lack of a better word, busy. And so our hot sessions sort of morphed into…”

“Commercial break sex?”

My eyes widen. “Yes, exactly.”

“That happens to every relationship. It’s okay. When you two are together it’s still intimate and nice, right?”

I slowly nod. “I mean, it’s good between us, mainly because we know what’s what on who and what makes who go ‘OH!’ Even the times I don’t orgasm, it’s been…fun.” Just short.

“That’s good. It should always be fun.”

It is always fun. I like fun. I like when he teases me while kissing my neck. I love the smile on his face and the playful bites he gives to my shoulders. The way he always makes me laugh first, then turns those laughs into something else entirely. I miss it…but not nearly as much as something new, exciting, and for our wedding night, the first time with him as my husband, I crave something different. No…not different…more.

“I want passionate.”

“It should be that, too. You love him, right?”

I roll my eyes. “Of course.”

“Then, when it comes to making love, just…love him.” She pats my leg. “That being said, I completely understand wanting to wait. It could help bring back the spark you want.”

“You think?”

“To paraphrase, absence makes the clitoris grow fonder.”

I jolt back. “What did you just say?”

She starts laughing, making me laugh and cover my cheeks again. If my right-winged, conservative mother spouts off any more medically correct words I’m going to have to surgically hinge my jaw back on.

Then again, I’d rather hear “clitoris” than “pussy.” Let’s leave that word only in Landon’s vocabulary.

Chapter 18

NOVEMBER

It’s been three months to the day since Landon’s proposal. Mom went back to Georgia, I’ve been working like a dog, and Landon’s been editing every night when I get home. So even though it’s 9:30, we’re both immobile in our bed.

“Liz, you still awake?” Landon asks.

“Mihimiflagon.”

“Do you remember when I…when it…slipped?”

“Hrmmmh?”

“You know, that time we got a little rough and I came out and accidentally thrust back into your—”

“What in the world…?” I mumble in my half-sleep. We haven’t talked about the accidental slip since its occurrence. It hurt like hell, for one, and for two, it was embarrassing. We’d only been intimate a few times, but that time it was humphumphumphumphump, shit, ouch, holy mother of pearl, sorrysorrysorry, then we slept on polar opposites of the mattress.

“Well…” I hear him scratch something. “We were pretty cautious after that. For a while. But then we fell back into our rhythm.”

He’s right. It was probably two months of slow hump…hump…hump. But it’s the dead of night, and I actually want to sleep and not toss and turn with thought of any humping.

“Do you have a point, Landon?”

“I just thought it was interesting.”

“Hmm…” I’m so tired. Lack of rest and too much work equals automatic sleep. I curl into the sheets, ignoring the cold and the bizarre “slip” question, and start to drift away. Landon’s breathing turns heavy and sleepy not ten minutes in.

I’m cold. November’s temperature is quickly dropping, and nights are the worst because Landon’s next to me, warm and comforting, and he’s even warmer when his shirt rises above his abs and I can press against his skin. So I turn around in the bed and give him the butt. Landon’s hand plops on my hip. Funny…I thought he finally fell asleep. And I don’t have the energy to push it off, so I let him keep it there.

Then it moves to my stomach and pulls me flush against him.

“Mmmm…” I involuntarily moan. He presses a kiss under my ear.

“I love you,” he whispers, and it sends chills up and down my entire body, making me shiver against him in a way that makes him want to spin me around. He kisses me hard, then soft, then hard again. He’s warm. So warm. I feel a sweat coming on as he lifts on his arms and rains kisses up and down, down and up, all over my neck and chest. I arch my back, wanting to press against him, feel his heat and my heat and our heat.

“Landon…” I whimper, nearly at the point of begging. This is torture. He’s revving me up, only to leave me dry.

“I’m not teasing you, Tumbles,” he says, and when I open my eyes I see that he means it.

“You’re…you’re going to…”

His hand rakes up my ribs and purposely rests on my breast. There’s the slightest smile in the corner of his mouth, and I let out a deep groan as he massages my nipple, pulls and tweaks and sends hyperactive beads to Miss Liz. She’s swimming in Chocolateville, waving a plane ticket to the Bahamas. We have won! And I didn’t even have to pretend to work out this time.

Landon reaches up with his other hand so neither breast is forgotten. His lips capture mine, swallowing my moans. I start rocking my hips, needing relief, but I can’t quite get it enough to satisfy. I rub harder, push harder, but it’s not working.

“Landon…”

“Yeah, baby?”

“I need…I want you to…”

I’m so deep in chocolate that I don’t notice that his kisses feel weird. The tongue that traces the valley of my lips is too soft. Squishy. Actually, his whole body is. I open my eyes and it’s Landon. It’s him, but it doesn’t feel like him.

“Come here,” he says, flipping me over. His hands grab my ass, igniting a fire low in my belly as he guides me on top of him. He feels harder now. He’s much harder now that I’m on top. I grind into him, finally relieving some of the pleasure pains.

“Oh my—”

“Liz…”

“Yes. Yes!”

“Liz…”

“Landon…”

“Liz…you need to wake up.”

I am awake. Oh my, am I awake.

“Damn it, Liz!”

My eyes snap open. The room is dark, the bedspread a crumpled heap between my legs. Once my eyes adjust I notice the way I’m wrapped around Landon, clutching at his shirt, breathing hard into the crook of his neck.

He gives me a strained grin. “Even your unconscious mind wants me.”

I drop my gaze to his boxers, a wet bead near the push of his erection against the material. Slowly, I shift my legs, gently peel my sweaty body away from his, and let out a large breath.

“I’m…I’m going to sleep in the spare room.”

I sit up and grab at a pillow, but a hand locks around my wrist.

“What? You can’t leave me like this.”

“I have to.”

He sits up, too. His eyebrows knit together like I’m joking. “Then stay and talk him down. It’s your fault he’s awake.”

“It’s your fault I woke him up.”

“How the hell is this my fault?”

“You know exactly why it’s your fault.” I rip my hand away, flustered and hot and needing space before I leap on him and ride out the stress. “You were all hump talking before.”

“Hump talking?”

“About the accidental slip. And the humping.”

“I didn’t say anything about humping.”

Yes he did! “You said the word ‘thrust.’ ”

He grabs at his hair, and I can’t look at him because even that is turning me on.

“You’re seriously leaving?” he asks.

“If you don’t want me to, then stop me.” I drop the pillow, knowing full well that the nips are up and ready. He pulls at his hair again.

“Damn it, you’re not playing fair!”

“You’re not either!” Him and his cleaning the house and rocking the risky business and talking about thrusting, so much thrusting, and never wearing a shirt or wearing the shirts that are completely awesome on his body, and I can’t look at him without getting frustrated.

“It’s different and you know it,” he says.

“Why? Because you’re a guy?”

“Well, yeah!”

“I’m going through hell, too. I was just humping our bedsheets!”

“I’ve been hard for three months.”

“I’ve been wet for three months.”

“Urgh, stop saying shit like that. You’re doing it on purpose.”

“Then just give in.”

“I can’t.”

“Because of Sundance?”

“Yeah.”

“You go every year, Landon. Why not skip one for our wedding?”

“You don’t get it. It’s inspiring, gets the creative juices flowing. I see what’s out there, who’s out there, get to chat with people who understand. Every year is another step toward directing. I don’t want to miss it.” He rubs his eyes. “Can’t we move the date?”

“I’ve already booked the hall. Our hall. I told you it was the only weekend available unless you wanted to wait a year. But then, a year is still around Sundance, so either way I lose.”

“You’re damn near winning this thing.”

“I’m not talking about the bet!” I chuck my pillow at him. “I’m talking about how you care more about Sundance than our wedding.”

“I’m not saying that. I’m just saying our wedding date is more flexible than Sundance.”

“I just told you about the hall—”

“I don’t care about the hall. We could get married in a McDonald’s and it wouldn’t matter.”

“It doesn’t matter to you?”

He narrows his eyes, and damn him for looking good doing it. “Stop twisting it. That’s not what I meant.”

“Then what did you mean?”

“That I don’t care where we get married. I just want to get married.”

“For sex? Or for Sundance.”

“Shit, I’m not gonna talk to you right now. You’re just gonna take everything the wrong way.”

“Fine.” I snatch the pillow back and march to the door.

“Congratulations,” he calls out. “You talked him down!”

“Good, because I won’t need him for another two months. Maybe more!”

Then I slam the door, stuff my face in the pillow, and scream.