Chapter 25 – Jordie #3
“Then what were you doing with him tonight?” she asks indignantly, adjusting her hairband and raising her eyebrows at me.
“Oh, uh…” Phoenix told me about the dance lessons in confidence. He hasn’t even told his own family, so I don’t want to blab his secrets to these two. “I can’t tell you.”
Carrie’s eyes narrow, and I chew my bottom lip nervously as her gaze shifts around the room, finally landing on…
Dammit. The shoe box.
“And what do we have here?” She picks it up and inspects the brand before removing the lid. “These are dance shoes. Ballroom dance shoes.” She sticks her finger inside one, feeling the sole, and gives me an a-ha look. “Still a little damp, so they’ve been worn recently.”
“Ooh, the plot thickens,” Sabrina adds, looking delighted as she continues to shovel popcorn into her mouth.
Carrie leans closer to me before lifting my arm and sticking her nose right in my pit. I yank away from her, but she simply laughs.
“You smell like you’ve been sweating.” She lifts one finger like Sherlock fucking Holmes. “I deduce that he took you dancing, which in my book, sounds a whole lot like a date.” Her face beams with pride, and I turn my face to look at Sabrina.
“CBI,” she states matter-of-factly, shaking her head in wonder, causing the beads on her braids to click softly.
“Yep,” I reply, my tone wry. “The Carrie Bureau of Investigation strikes again.”
“I’m right, aren’t I?” Carrie crows. “You went on a date with Phoenix Hale.”
“It wasn’t a date.” Slumping with resignation, I polish off the rest of my beer and set the empty on the coffee table. “Look, y’all can’t tell anyone this because he doesn’t want anyone to know.”
“Who the hell are we going to tell?” Sabrina asks. “It’s not like we hang around with billionaires.” She eyes me dubiously and purses her burgundy-coated lips. “Well, most of us don’t.”
“We didn’t go on a date. I told him my favorite show is Celebrity Ballroom, so he invited me to go to a class with him. He goes every Tuesday night.”
Carrie bounces in her seat and smacks my leg. “Oh, that reminds me. Guess what?”
Her eyes dart between mine and Sabrina’s until we ask, “What?”
“My dad got invited to be on Celebrity Ballroom for the upcoming season.”
“No shit!” I practically yell. “Is he going to do it?”
She nods. “I think so, but that’s top-secret info since they haven’t announced the cast for this year yet.”
“Do you get to go for any of the filming?” I ask excitedly.
“If I do, I’ll see if I can get tickets for you two.”
We fall into a discussion about which professional dancer we hope Axel gets paired with for the show, and the topic eventually turns back to Carrie’s phenomenal investigation skills.
My friend buffs her nails on the shoulder of her pink top. “I used to work summers with my Uncle Beau. He owns a security company in Dallas, and they did all kinds of investigative work.”
“Oh, that’s where Tank works, right? The big dude who was security at that sporting goods store event?”
“Yep, he works there.”
Sabrina holds up a hand. “Wait, why do they call him Tank?”
Carrie fishes her phone from the pocket of her denim shorts and searches for a picture. “Here. The big blond one is Uncle Tank. The rest are my other uncles.”
“Dayum,” Sabrina coos, eyes scanning the group of six extremely large men with Carrie in the middle. “You’ve got some superior genetics in your fam.”
“Only this one is my uncle by blood,” Carrie says, pointing at a sandy-brown-haired man beside her. “That’s Uncle Beau, my mom’s brother. The rest are his Navy SEAL buddies, but they all adopted me as their niece when I was born.”
“They could adopt me any time they wanted to,” Sabrina mutters. “Who’s the tall one with the man bun?”
“Uncle Bode. He and Uncle Woody are the funny ones.” She points to a brawny Latino man with a full beard who I know is Woody because he and his wife had dinner with us once when we were in college.
“Then we have Uncle Cam and Uncle Hawk. Cam is the one who got me into martial arts. He’s one of the best in the country, and he started teaching me by the time I could barely walk. ”
The one she indicates as Cam has dark hair and brilliant blue eyes. He reminds me a lot of Phoenix.
But Sabrina’s eyes zero in on the massive man with a dark beard and eyes the color of coal. “This Hawk guy looks intense.”
“Oh, he is, but he’s got a heart of gold.” Carrie giggles and lowers her voice like we’re not sitting in the privacy of my living room. “I overheard my uncles talking once when I was a teenager. Apparently, they call Uncle Hawk’s bedroom The Den of Sin.”
Sabrina’s grin creeps over her face. “Please tell me he’s single.”
Carrie shakes her head. “Nope. All of them are married.” With a flick of her finger, she switches to a photo of her and six women, pointing out which woman is married to which of her uncles. I recognize Bristol Hanford, of course, since she did my makeup at Hale Cosmetics. And Woody’s wife, Taz.
“Does that lady have a fake leg?” Sabrina asks, pointing at Taz, a gorgeous Native American woman with the hint of a prosthetic peeking from beneath her yellow dress.
“Yep. She was in the Army and lost her leg below the knee in a roadside bomb explosion,” Carrie explains.
“Taz is really funny,” I add. “She makes fake leg jokes that you really want to laugh at, but you’re not sure if it’s appropriate.”
Carrie grins. “She would be offended if you didn’t laugh. She’s the only female agent that works at the security company with the guys. Oh, and she was a sniper in the Army.”
“Badass,” Sabrina comments before pointing at a petite blonde with the body of a ballerina. “This is the one married to the Den of Sin guy?”
“Yes, that’s Aunt Mallori.”
“And they’re happily married?”
Carrie’s expression turns flat. “Yes, you dork. They’re very happy together and have kids.”
“Yeah, but…” Sabrina’s wicked smile makes a reappearance. “Can she fight?”
Carrie and I burst into laughter, and Sabrina joins in. I loop my arms around their necks for a big group hug.
“Thanks for coming over and being nosy bitches,” I tell them. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
Once I have my crazy friends out the door—Carrie to her place across the hall and Sabrina to her apartment a few doors down—I hop in the shower to wash the dance sweat off me. As I’m rinsing my long hair, my eyes fall on the rose toy sitting on the corner shelf of my shower.
Ah, fuck it, I think, grabbing the sucky little thing and wetting it beneath the spray. Then I sit on the short bench seat and spread my legs as the water streams down my back.
It takes a second to get it in the spot that makes my hips jerk, but when I do, I tilt my head back against the wall, the water now hitting my stomach and dripping down between my legs.
“Oh god, Phoenix,” I moan, drawing the most filthy images from my memories. I close my eyes and imagine it’s him, on his knees, turning me into his own personal ice cream cone.
My orgasm builds, not as quickly as if I had the real thing in my shower right now, but my fantasies are the next best thing. With my hand jiggling the toy between my legs, I finally come, cursing and calling out Phoenix’s name as that blissful, sated feeling washes over me.
“God, I’m a mess,” I groan as my breaths heave in and out of my lungs. Because while the orgasm took the edge off, I’m not sure any toy could ever satisfy me as well as Phoenix Hale.