Chapter 7
Chapter
Seven
TRICK
The days pass too fast. Spending every day on the beach with Laurelyn turns out to be better than I could’ve imagined.
We talk about the past and the future, we make love and we swim, and we count our lucky stars for the week we’re having.
Hopefully we’ll have more weeks like this as the years go by because life doesn’t get any sweeter.
Laurel finds a book on sand castle construction, and we spend a whole day building them.
It becomes a competition. She makes an elaborate castle from a picture in the book.
I build St. Mary’s from Coynston, complete with the statues and the cemetery.
She concedes that I won until part of my church falls down.
“I told you that you didn’t have the right water-to-sand ratio on those last few buckets,” she teases, pointing her finger at me. “And now…I win!”
My brow rises. “Careful. Gloating will get you in trouble.”
“I’m not gloating! I don’t gloat. That would be unsportsmanlike conduct, which is not allowed. My dad coached my softball team, and he drilled it into us. Gracious in victory, strong despite defeat.”
“Nice.” Her dad’s a good man. A part of me resents that he doesn’t think I’m good for her, but I can’t deny he’s got good reasons for his concerns. I’m still gonna prove him wrong, though.
She puckers her pretty pink lips, and I give her a kiss.
“So you won. What’d we bet again?” I ask.
“Come on,” she says, pressing my shoulder with a fingertip.
“Oh right. I promised to spend a whole weekend unplugged from technology at the lake house with you and our families. I wonder how that’s gonna go down. Ash and Monet together…” I whistle.
She smiles. “It’ll be fun. I’m glad they’re becoming friends, aren’t you?”
I nod, though deep down I’ve got reservations about it.
Monet needs some steady, sober friends with healthy habits.
Ash is a Patrick, which means wild is in her genes.
I think about the wedding and press my lips together to keep from frowning.
I told Ash it was all right to have a couple glasses of champagne at the reception, but to stick with soda the rest of the night.
Then partway through, I saw Ash drinking a whiskey sour.
I had a word with the bartender so she was cut off, but when I pointed her out, he knew her by name and was surprised to hear she wasn’t even eighteen yet.
A pretty charmer can be an unstoppable force right up until the moment she gets in over her head.
I pop my knuckles, feeling edgy when I think of it.
Our dad died when Ash was three, so I’m the guy who raised her.
She was my first baby, and I’m deeply invested in seeing her life play out with a minimum of strife.
When she was young, all I wanted to do was protect her from the harsh side of the world.
Lately though, I’ve come to terms with the fact that she’s going to be out there on her own soon, so I need to teach her to make smart choices.
It’s gonna be an education for both of us.
Protecting my mom and sisters is second nature.
Letting them make decisions without my input is extremely challenging for me.
“What?” Laurel asks, rubbing my forearm. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” I say, realizing I must have been frowning. “Just thinking about raising kids. It’s tough to figure out how much to tell them about the dark side of life. I don’t want to scare them, but I don’t want them so na?ve that someone could easily take advantage and hurt them. It’s tough.”
“I suppose.”
“It’s fun when they’re really little though. I’m looking forward to that again.”
“Again?” she says, confused.
I shrug, and she squeezes my arm, encouraging me to continue.
The sound of the surf is all we hear as I try to decide what to say. I’m doing my best to open up to Laurelyn about the important stuff from my personal life. Since we’re sharing a life now, that’s what I expect from her. It wouldn’t be right for things to be completely one-sided.
“When my dad died, there was a time when my mom was mostly in bed, drugged up because she couldn’t cope, and Kathleen was in Ireland.
It felt sometimes like it was just Ashling and me.
She was three. I was only thirteen myself, but we kept each others’ spirits up.
When I got home, she came running to the door to hug me.
That smiling little face helped get me through some dark days.
And my ‘playing toys’ with her was all it took to make her happy.
She talked and giggled nonstop. Life was pretty complicated just then, so lying on the floor and making fairy dolls pop out of psychedelic mushrooms was pretty much the highlight of my day.
Ash was hilarious. The mushrooms had a spring action platform inside, so I’d press the lever and the top popped up and a two-inch doll would go flying out and land on the floor.
The baby giggled uncontrollably every single time.
Finally, I got grim and said, ‘Berry Hair fell down hard. She looks hurt.’ Ash looks at me and then at the toy, all serious, and says, ‘Ouch.’ She picks the doll up, kisses its head, and then gives it back to me.
I don’t put it in the mushroom, figuring we’re done turning the fairies into projectiles, but no, Ash rams that little plastic body back into the mushroom launcher.
At her urging, I send them flying like a hundred more times.
Only now after the toy pops out and flies through the air with Ash laughing hysterically the whole time, she turns serious and says ouch and kisses the doll better before she gives it back.
I was like, baby logic is totally psycho… but what are you gonna do?”
Laurelyn chuckles. “You’re going to be a good dad.”
I stretch and shrug. “I’ll get some things right and some wrong, no doubt.
That’s life.” I glance out at the water.
“Can’t believe the baby’s graduation is in a couple weeks.
She’s earned the shiny new sports car her big brother promised her if she graduated with honors.
Here’s hoping she doesn’t crash. If she does, I’ll never hear the end of it from Kathleen.
She thinks giving Ash a classic Camaro is ‘just mad.’”
“Super expensive?”
“No, actually. I told the baby—I mean Ash. Gotta stop calling her the baby. I told Ash anything fifty grand or under was ok. She found this restored Camaro for thirty-six. It’s red with thin white stripes down the sides. I’m not into old cars, but it’s pretty cool.”
“You’re really great with her. Until recently, I had no idea how close you are to them.”
“Yeah, I keep it on the down low. Don’t want to paint targets on my sisters’ backs.”
“Monet looked so good at the wedding,” Laurel muses. “So healthy and so happy. I never thought I’d see that lightness in her again. That’s down to you, too.” She puts a hand against my face and kisses me. “Thank you.”
“Yeah, it’s good to see Monet doing so well. Talk to her about going back to design school, Laurel. Tell her we’ll pay for it.”
“Scott,” she says softly and shakes her head. “You don’t have to support everyone financially. Let her work for a little bit. There’s nothing like working a hard, low-paying job to help motivate someone.”
“That’s true. When I realized how much better crime pays than McDonald’s, I got right on it.”
She laughs.
“So we’re going back tonight,” I say. “You ready?”
“I think so. I’ll miss this though.”
“Yeah, me too.” My fingers stroke her hip. “But we’ll be together at home. It’s not like we’re going back to separate places.”
“Right, but I won’t have you to myself. You work long hours, and your phone buzzes nonstop. It may pay staggeringly well, but your work is a twenty-four-seven gig.”
“You’ll have me to yourself sometimes,” I say, thinking that when I get home I’ll change my phone’s evening settings to block calls from everyone except C and ‘Vil and my immediate family. That’ll cut way down on the distractions.
“Besides, you’re planning to keep working yourself. You sure you wanna do that?”
“Absolutely. What else would I do all day while you’re at C’s?”
“I don’t know. Go shopping? I ordered you a platinum card.”
She chuckles. “A platinum card? So the sky’s the limit, huh? If you keep throwing all your money at us, you may find yourself broke.”
“Betcha I won’t.”
“You’re sure, huh, that you can make it faster than we can spend it?”
“One hundred. But if you ever wanna race, let me know. We’ll make it a competition for a week.”
“No, thank you. Competing with you is not part of my ‘winning at marriage’ strategy.”
“What is? Letting me have sex with you on airplanes? Cuz that was unexpected and very successful at putting me in a ‘happily married’ mood.”
She just smiles.
“Hey, don’t forget you need to get the name on your driver’s license changed. So it’ll match your new credit card.”
Her head tips back as she laughs. “That is the fourth time this week you’ve mentioned the name change. That’s not a high priority or anything, is it?”
My smile widens. “I like all my stuff to have my name on it. House. Car. Wife. Babies.”
She sucks in a breath, and her eyes widen. “Your stuff? Trick, do not start that.”
“Start?” I shake my head. “That’s been a thing. Which you know.”
Her expression turns a little defiant.
“Hey, by the way, I got an email that the second wedding present I got you is ready. I’ll pick it up when we get back. It’s a present that cuts both ways actually. Partly it’s for me.”
“I thought you liked the cuff links I got you?”
“I do. I love them. Platinum Aces? Perfect for me. I plan to wear them every time I have to put on a suit.”
“So then what’s this about needing another present?”
“It’s for you, but I’m going to enjoy seeing you wear it. I had a custom necklace made for you. Gold with emeralds. It’s a good match for the bracelet I got you. The one you like.”
“You don’t need to buy me lots of expensive jewelry, Scott. Where will I even wear it?”
“You’ll be able to wear it when we go out to dinner or to a party.
Wherever, really. It’s not too flashy.” I grab the tablet and open the photos I have of the emerald-studded collar necklace.
It’s mainly yellow gold but diamond-cut white gold embellishes it to make a geometric diamond pattern.
Front and center is a thick open ring that’ll land on the hollow of her throat.
The incorporated loop is a subtle alternative to having a ring hanging from the collar as an attachment.
“That design…” She leans over the tablet. “First of all, it is quite flashy.”
“The emeralds are only half a carat each.”
“But look how many there are! And the way it sparkles. It’s not a casual piece of jewelry, Scott. It’s a statement piece for sure. And…” Her voice trails off as she pauses to study it. “Hey, Trick?”
The fact that she calls me Trick tells me she suspects what it is. “Yes, Laurelyn?”
“Is it a pet collar?”
“Not unless you’re going to play a pet for me.” I tap a button that shows the inside where it’s engraved with a letter O that has a triskelion inside. It’s an Irish Celtic symbol, and more.
Her brows pinch together, which means she recognizes the symbol’s nod to BDSM. “Is it a slave collar?”
“Is that what it looks like?” I counter, keeping my voice neutral. “If you saw it on someone else, would you jump to that conclusion? Try to forget for a minute what I’m like in bed.”
“That’s pretty hard to forget,” she says, a wry little smile playing at the corners of her mouth.“What if someone suspects what it is? I wouldn’t want to have to explain.” Her dark suntan almost hides her blush, but not quite.
“I don’t know why you think you need to explain yourself to anyone ever. The only people we answer to now are each other.”
She straightens and steps back. “It’s beautiful, but whether I wear it in public is something I want to think about.”
“Sure, you think about it.” I deliver the line casually, but we know each other too well now for her to buy that my feelings are as casual as my tone.
Her eyes narrow. “Do not start plotting, Trick.”
“Would I do that?” I tease.
“Of course you would, Mr. ‘Everything’s a Game.’ Try to remember how wonderful this week has been. There’s no need to revert to your bad boy ways with me.”
“Revert? Do you not remember your arms being tied to the headboard last night?”
“That was different.”
“How so?”
“It was just sexy fun. Pretty silk scarves wrapped around…I think a lot of couples probably do that kind of thing on their honeymoons.” She scoots away as she adds, “Anyway, I should finish packing.”
“You do that,” I say softly, the corners of my mouth curving up.
She’s on her way to the bedroom when she stops and turns back, trying to pin me with a look. “You said you’d give me a say in things.”
“Yeah, anything new we can talk about. Anything I’ve already done to you, whether you’ve considered it normal fun or not, is fair game.”
“Just because we did something once doesn’t mean I’ll let you continue to do it. Marriage is a partnership, right? So I may want to discuss certain things.”
I give her a dubious look. The day I wait for her permission to do my favorite things to her will be a cold day in hell, but I don’t say so. No need to toss stones into relatively calm waters. “You can give that a shot, babe,” I say mildly. “I don’t think it’s gonna work out for you.”
Her sigh is heavy as she walks away, which makes me smile. When I tied her up and blindfolded her last night, her body writhed with anticipation. And when I put my cock inside her, she was as wet as she’s ever been. Laurel can protest all she wants, but her body knows what it likes and so do I.