Текст книги "Shaken, Not Stirred"
Автор книги: Sawyer Bennett
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Текущая страница: 14 (всего у книги 19 страниц)
When he finally pulls away, I almost whimper at the loss of his mouth against mine. I loosen my fingers, which I find had somehow unknowingly fisted hard onto his t-shirt, and blow a huff of breath out.
“At the risk of getting attacked again,” I say as I smooth my hand over my hair in an effort to appear calmer, “are you saying you want to live together?”
“Yeah, Goldie,” he says with a small smile, reaching a hand up to absently tug on a lock of my hair. “I want to be in your bed every night.”
“But you’d probably be there anyway if we had separate places,” I point out matter-of-factly.
“And I want to be in your bed in the morning and on the couch when you get home from work. I want to eat breakfast and dinner together, and lunch when we can. I want to share closet space with you and figure out our bills together. I want to fight for space on the bathroom sink, and I want you to yell at me for leaving my clothes all over the floor. I want to know that when I think of the word home, it’s the place where your ass resides with me. I want the words “home” and “Casey” to mean the same thing to me.”
I reach my hands back to steady myself against the rail, because the feeling seems to have gone out of my legs. My voice is shaky… foreign sounding. “That may have been the sweetest, most romantic thing I think I’ve ever heard in my life.”
Tenn’s blue eyes lighten up and start to sparkle. He prowls forward and steps into my body, hands going to my hips. He dips his face to look at me and says softly, “So romantic we can move in together?”
My arms smooth up the hard lines of Tenn’s chest, grazing softly around to the back of his neck where my fingers disappear into his black hair. “Don’t you think this is awful fast?”
“No.”
“No?” I ask incredulously. “Just… no?”
“What more do you want me to say, Casey?” he asks affably. “I’m crazy about you. I want to be around you as much as possible. You didn’t mind me staying with you these last several weeks. We cohabitate quite nicely together, if I do say so myself. So, no… I don’t think it’s too fast.”
I pull back from our embrace and turn to face the ocean. He comes up behind me, wraps his arms around my waist, and rests his chin on my head. We both gaze out over the beauty of the ocean, and I wonder out loud, “What will my friends say? My family?”
A small rumble of laughter from Tenn’s chest vibrates up my back. “Do you really care? The woman who hasn’t cared a damn bit what people think of her for the last eight years?”
That’s true enough. I’ve never cared what anyone’s thought of me… well, except maybe my parents. I mean… I didn’t like when they’ve been disappointed in me but hell, even their most disappointed looks are filled with so much love, it really doesn’t pack much of a punch.
My friends will understand. The adventurous ones like Gabby and Andrea will pat me on the back and say, “Shack up, girl.”
The romantic ones like Savannah and Alyssa will just give me knowing smiles and silent approval with dreamy sighs.
Now my brothers… that might present a problem, but only in an overprotective kind of way. The good thing is that I at least know they like Tenn already, and they both moved in pretty fast with Gabby and Alyssa.
My parents… I really have no clue what they’d think.
So, there’s really only one thing to do.
Turning back around to face Tenn, I tell him, “I want you to come to dinner at my parents’ house so they can meet you.”
His eyes light up and those sexy lips quirk. “Want them to check me out first, huh? Get their stamp of approval?”
“No,” I tell him candidly and with my chin raised up. “I don’t need their approval. I say we can give this a try… at my house… for a while and see how it goes. I just want you to meet my parents so they can finally see that I’ve got my head out of my ass when it comes to relationships.”
Tenn throws his head back, and I get a flash of white straight teeth as he starts laughing. When he looks back at me, he says, “Fuck Casey… I adore you so much.”
I adore you too, I say with my inside voice, and hope that one day I can say that with my outside voice too.
Chapter 22
Tenn
I wasn’t nervous about the prospect of dinner with Casey’s parents. She, however, assumed I was and gave me a knee-buckling blow job not long before we left, I suppose in an effort to relax me. I wanted to tell the sweet minx that I didn’t need it but damn… with her on her knees before me, wrapping those lips around my dick. Yeah, well, I wasn’t about to tell her I didn’t need it. Sure as fuck wanted it, but didn’t need it.
Casey has babbled the entire way as she directs me to her parents’ house in Avon, which is about an hour south of Nags Head. We decided to take her Jeep since rain was forecasted for the early evening, but as has become our ritual, I’m driving.
Over the last few weeks, I’ve come to learn a lot about her family. While I know we spend an inordinate amount of time having sex, we spend a good amount of time before and after talking.
Once she got past the emotional block of sharing herself with a man on an intellectual and emotional level, she sort of blossomed. This specifically came on the heels of her ditching Jeff Parkhurst in the restaurant and seeing me waiting on my bike for her. It doesn’t mean she tells me all her secrets, and I can tell she’s still holding back a bit, but she’s definitely more open and free with herself. Definitely not guarded the way she used to be.
She’s pretty much an open book when it comes to her family, and I believe that comes from absolute and unconditional love between everyone. I’ve come to learn a lot about her mom, Lillian, who is a nurse, and her dad, Butch, who is a fisherman. Despite what Jeff Parkhurst thought, Casey didn’t exactly grow up poor. She wasn’t rich, but her parents provided a nice, middle-class upbringing for her and her brothers. They had enough money to support Hunter’s fledgling surfing career as he grew up, and with it looking like Brody was on his way to medical school being the brainiac in the family, they had plenty of money set aside in savings for him. Sadly, they ended up using that for his legal fees, but nothing could derail the disaster of him getting convicted and sent to prison for the drunk-driving accident that claimed a man’s life.
Casey and I had stayed up late one night, sitting out on the back deck and drinking decaf coffee. The moon was bright and lit the entire ocean up to our right as we looked at it between the roofs of the other houses. We sat in some low-slung, Adirondack chairs with our feet propped up on her railing.
I asked her to tell me what happened to Brody.
And she did… starting way back when she was in high school and what it felt like to find out your beloved older brother who had a bright future ahead of him as a doctor ended up being convicted of Felony Death by Vehicle and put behind bars for five years. She glossed over Jeff Parkhurst and how he took advantage of her emotional frailty in order to get her virginity, but I didn’t need to hear that. I knew that story and besides… it pissed me off way too much to hear it again.
But she did tell me more about what Brody was like when he came home.
How emotionally unavailable he was to everyone… and how much that impacted her, especially being a woman that withheld herself emotionally from other men. It was weird, ironic, and eye opening for her. It made her feel worse about herself, seeing Brody act the way she acted. She wanted Brody to snap out of it… let the past go… be a part of regular life again. And yet, she couldn’t do the same herself.
It was a fascinating dynamic, and I was even more intrigued by her continued story when she told me that Brody wasn’t the one driving the vehicle during that tragic accident. It was Brody’s then girlfriend and being an overprotective, if not foolhardy man, he took the fall for her. While Casey didn’t say as much, I think it had to affect her more than the other family members to watch someone who proclaimed to love her brother take advantage of him in such a sinister way. I’m sure she felt the pain of that on Brody’s behalf all the way down to the marrow in her bones.
When we reach Avon, which is a blip on the map, Casey has me make just two turns off the main highway and we are sitting in front of a small, classically stilted cottage that sits a few blocks from the ocean. Like Casey, her parents don’t have beachfront, but I can tell by the way their house is situated and the fact that there are fewer homes, that it means they have a better view of both the ocean and the sound.
We get out of the Jeep and round the front. At the base of the stairs that lead up, I hold my hand out to her. She looks down and then back up to me, slipping her warm palm against mine. I curl my fingers tight around her, and we walk up together.
As we reach the top step, the front door swings open wide and I’m staring at either Brody or Hunter. I really can’t tell without their respective women with them as they are indeed identical and even wear their hair about the same.
Leaning to the side, I whisper, “Which one?”
Casey giggles and whispers, “Brody,” just before she lets my hand go and steps into a hug with her brother.
Brody gives her a tight squeeze and looks at me over her shoulder, giving a jerk up of his chin. “What’s up?”
“Not much, man,” I say in response and our male greeting ritual is complete.
“What are you doing here?” Casey asks as Brody steps back into the house and we all walk in together.
“Alyssa had to head over to Manteo to pick up a dog that’s set to be euthanized in the morning, so I figured I’d come and partake of Mom’s cooking tonight.”
“And to make me squirm as I introduce Tenn to the family,” Casey guesses sagely.
“Yeah, something like that,” Brody says with a sly grin.
Casey just levels him with a look that dares him to make this difficult on her, reaches back to grab my hand, and then leads me through the living room. It’s small and cozy, with plush, beachy-looking furniture in blue and white striped cotton, bleached wood tables, and tile flooring covered by a shaggy, blue rug. Framed photos are everywhere. Walls, tables, corner curio. A brief glance and I see several of Casey and her brothers, and I can’t wait to look at them in a bit more detail. I want to study them, knowing that I’ll see something different in her eyes in those photos that are pre and post Jeff Parkhurst.
Just as I know I’d see something different now if I were to snap a picture of her.
“We’re here,” Casey calls out.
Brody says, “They’re on the back deck. Dad’s cooking up some steaks.”
“Steaks?” Casey asks in surprise. “I thought Mom said she was going to make some shrimp and grits tonight. I was looking forward to that.”
We head into a surprisingly large kitchen for the moderately sized house with whitewashed cabinets and cheery yellow paint on the walls, and just beyond, the sliding glass doors that lead out to the deck.
Casey releases my hand, opens the door, and steps out. I’m on her heels but momentarily forgotten as she hugs her mom first, who is leaning back against the deck rail with a glass of red wine in her hand while watching as her husband flips some steaks.
Casey and her brothers both take after their mother in coloring but you can tell they get their height from their dad, who I’m guessing is almost eye to eye with me.
Lillian Markham turns to me and with her wine in her left hand, reaches her right arm up in a clear indication that she prefers hugging as her primary method of introduction. I step forward, bend down, and she loops that arm over my shoulders. I wrap my arms around her lightly and accept her embrace.
“It’s so good to meet you, Tenn,” she says in an accent that is far more southern than Casey’s.
“Thanks for having me,” I say as she releases me, and then I look over to her father. He quickly switches his grilling tongs from right to left hand and leans past the grill. We shake hands, and he gives me a warm smile.
“Great to meet you, Mr. Markham,” I say.
He shakes his head as he turns his attention back to the grill. “It’s Butch and Lillian. None of that formal crap here.”
I chuckle and step up to the grill to take a peek at what he’s cooking. Five nice-sized rib-eyed steaks with perfectly charred hatch marks. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Casey and her mother step back into the kitchen, presumably to get other stuff ready, and then it’s just me, Brody, and Butch out on the deck.
“Beer is over there in the cooler,” Butch says with a nod of his head.
I see frosty bottles of Budweiser and bottles of water. I know Brody doesn’t drink anymore after the accident. Even though he wasn’t driving, he takes alcohol consumption so seriously that he refuses to touch a drop, so I grab two beers for Butch and me, and a bottle of water for Brody.
When I stand up and pass the bottles, I can see surprise on Brody’s face that I would know he doesn’t drink. I suppose that tells them something about how their daughter and sister must feel about me… to trust me with that information.
“Casey said that you’re relocating to the area and are going to move in with her,” Butch says quietly as he flips the steaks and shuts the grill lid.
I’d expected this but not so soon in the conversation. I thought he’d might take a bit of time to check me out first. “Yes, sir,” I answer, but I don’t provide any explanation or argument about the saneness of our actions.
“Ordinarily,” Butch says after he takes a healthy swig of his beer, “I’d say it’s too soon, but I have to be honest… Brody here says he’s seen some amazing changes in Casey since you two have been together.”
I cut a surprised look over at Brody, and he shrugs his shoulders at me like he really didn’t say much of anything. When I look back at Butch, I say, “I’m not responsible for her changing. That’s all on Casey.”
The respect in Butch’s eyes increases further. “Yeah… Casey’s a strong girl. She can do anything she sets her mind to. But I expect you may have been the catalyst to make her want to change.”
Turning to Brody, Butch says, “Will you go get me a platter or something to put these steaks on?”
With a nod, Brody turns around and heads back inside, and then I’m alone with Casey’s father.
He flips off the grill burners, reaches under, and turns the gas off the tank. When he stands back up, he levels me with a stare. “There was a time that our family was a bit broken. Brody went to prison, Casey was a wild child, and Hunter was off trotting the globe. Then it started coming back together. Hunter moved back home and bought the bar. Brody came home and we found out the bitter truth that he went away for a crime he didn’t commit, but after Brody revealed that to us, I really felt us start to get close again. Both my boys settled down with good women.”
He pauses and takes a sip of beer before continuing. “But Casey… she was a bit lost, and we didn’t know how to reach her. Her mother and I love her very much, as do her brothers, but she always held a piece of herself away from us. Had been that way since Brody got sent away.”
I don’t disabuse him of thinking this all had to do with Brody. It’s Casey’s story to tell her parents if she wants them to know what Jeff did to her and how it made her so jaded. How it formed and directed her actions… her choices… the way in which she viewed the opposite sex.
“She’s different,” Butch says contemplatively. “A good different and it makes me happy.”
That seems to be the end of his soliloquy, and I heard the hidden message in there. He’s grateful for this. He’s happy for his daughter and he’s telling me that whatever has caused this change in Casey, it’s affected not only her, but her family as well.
“I love her,” I tell Butch bluntly, my gaze holding his.
His eyes start to crinkle in a grateful smile that doesn’t reach completion before I hear the small gasp behind me. Turning my head slowly, I see Casey standing there with an empty platter in her hands, her eyes pinned to mine. Wide, uncertain… possibly filled with alarm.
But then it’s gone. Acting as if she didn’t hear me, she smiles at me softly before walking up to her dad to hand him the platter. “Mom said everything else is ready.”
My eyes follow Casey like a hawk, wondering what the hell is going on in her head at this moment. She heard my declaration… no doubt. But the variant emotions that filtered over her face in just the breadth of a nanosecond didn’t reveal anything to me. If her dad wasn’t standing right there, I’d grab her by the shoulders, kiss her hard first, and then demand she tell me what was going on in that sexy head of hers.
Instead, I take another casual sip of my beer and intercept the platter from Casey. My fingers graze against her hand just before she releases it into my control.
Butch opens the grill lid and starts grabbing the steaks with his tongs and layering them on the platter. Casey turns around without a word and heads back inside.
“I’m assuming you haven’t told her yet,” Butch says as his lips tip upward, his eyes intent on his work.
With a sigh, I look back through the sliding glass door and see Casey helping her mom set bowls of food on the table. She’s laughing at something her mom says and then Brody walks into the kitchen and grabs her in a headlock, rubbing his knuckles over her head. I can hear her squeal through the closed glass door, and I can’t fight the grin on my face.
Turning back to Butch, I say with frustration, “Just never seems to be the right time.”
Placing the last steak on the platter, Butch closes the grill lid and looks at me with solemnity. “Son… I’d propose it never seems to be the right time until it is the right time. You’ll know when it’s right.”
I nod at Butch, his simple words making a fuck of a lot of sense to me.
Butch grabs the platter. I grab the sliding glass door and open it, motioning for him to precede me in. He goes through. I follow and slide it closed behind me.
“Everyone, sit down,” Lillian says as she flits back and forth grabbing condiments and one more bowl of food… pasta salad by the looks of it. Butch leans over and sets the steaks in the middle of the table.
Casey and Brody immediately fight for a chair, not because I believe it holds any special importance, but because the noogie he bestowed upon her earlier has seemed to waken up her inner brat. I shake my head with an amused smile and wait to see how it all shakes out. Casey manages to win by putting her butt on the seat, pushing hard to dislodge him, and then reaching up under his armpit and viciously twisting what I’m guessing was a chunk of skin and hair. Brody yelps and jumps from the seat, and Casey gloats.
My girl. The woman who shut herself away. Who curled into herself when her brother got ripped away from the family and another man shattered her heart and her trust. Now opening her arms to me as surely as her heart, and doing so with almost a blind faith in my ability not to hurt her.
I walk around the table and take the seat next to the one she claimed. Brody walks to the opposite side and sits down. Finally, Lillian and Butch take seats opposite each other at the ends of the table.
“Eat, eat,” Lillian says, motioning to the food on the table. Brody doesn’t wait and pounces, grabbing a steak first and then a baked potato. Butch and Lillian start filling their plates, and Casey starts to lean forward to grab a steak of her own
A quick glance at her and I see a warm, relaxed smile on her face. She gives Brody’s hand a little slap when he tries to grab the butter from her, and her dad laughs at them. Lillian tells Casey to quit picking on her brother, and Casey gives her mom an eye roll that would rival Zoey’s.
It’s at this moment that I get overwhelmed with the sudden desire to tell Casey that I love her. That no matter how she feels in this moment, I just need her to know how I feel, and I don’t give a fuck that her family is sitting here witnessing it.
My phone buzzes in my pocket and I pull it out to make sure it’s not Zoey calling. I’m surprised to see it’s my brother, Woolf, because he never calls me. I hit the side button to decline the call, start to put in back in my pocket, and it immediately starts ringing again.
“Sorry,” I mutter to everyone at the table and hit the decline button again.
“You can answer it if you need to,” Casey says as she slices her potato open. “We’re not formal or anything at dinner.”
“It’s alright,” I assure her, but then a ding alerts me to a text. I glance down and it’s from Woolf.
Call me. Emergency.
Immediately, a zap of electric fear penetrates the center of my chest and my skin starts to tingle in apprehension.
I stand from the table and mumble, “Excuse me. I need to make a call.”
Clumsily, I step out from my chair and manage to bump into Casey’s hard. She looks up at me as my hand goes to her shoulder to steady myself a moment.
“Tenn… are you alright?”
I try to give her a reassuring smile, but I’m not sure if I’m all right or not. I’ll know as soon as I call Woolf back.
