Chapter 41 #2
“Settle down, Bay.” He halts me by putting his hands on my shoulders.
He’s looking at my face. He doesn’t look angry.
“You’re not mad?” I ask.
He frowns. “No, of course not. You’re okay?”
“How are you not mad?”
“Please answer the question. Are. You. Okay?”
I nod, tears welling up. “No! I’m not okay! That’s an almost new truck! And I’ve crashed into it.”
“It’s okay.”
“How can it be okay? And look what I did to my flippin’ car!” I throw my hands up.
“We’ll get ‘em fixed.”
“I need coffee!”
And alcohol.
“Let’s go inside and get you some coffee.”
“And a cigarette,” I mutter.
“Nope. No Eggos in my freezer, baby.” He flashes a smile and at the sign of Jase’s dimples, I burst into tears.
His face melts into an expression like he thinks I’m cute or something. He lifts me up into his arms, carries me inside, and sets me on the couch.
I’m such a moron.
Leaning over, he lifts my glasses up and pushes them into headband position, using his thumbs to swipe the tears away.
After he moves my glasses back into place with a gentle expression on his face, he says, “You’re okay.”
I nod. If you don’t count being ridiculously embarrassed, I guess…
“What do you need?”
“A coffee and a smoke.”
“No smoking,” He pokes my nose with his index finger. “But I’ll get you coffee. One sec, okay? Gonna get the car turned off, grab your stuff.”
First, I smash my vagina on him and now I smash his truck. I’m a disaster.
***
“How do you want your coffee?” he asks, putting my stuff down.
“An Irish coffee with a double shot of Bailey’s Irish Cream, a dollop of whipped cream, a little drizzle of caramel syrup, and a Marlboro Black 100 on the side.”
“Let’s start the day with regular old coffee. You take cream and sugar?”
“I take it the same as you do,” I whine.
“Can’t believe you still don’t know that.
I take my coffee like you. My corndog like you.
My burger. I taught myself to tolerate hot sauce because I watched you with it at that competition at a pack carnival and, believe me, it took a while for me to get the taste for it but I burned my face off a hundred times until I started to like it.
I tried to take my steak rare like you but gag…
blech. I can’t so I don’t ever eat it. I’ve made you such a huge part of my personality, for fuck’s sake, so we could have stuff in common, and you never even noticed. Ack, I’m such a doofus dork loser.”
“Baby…” he says, eyes warm and totally fucking beautiful.
My rant is evidently endless because I keep going. “I can’t wear the gold dress because it smells like a pheromone perfume I bought online to try to get you to notice me. And that smell will forever remind me of how much of an epic failure that night was.”
“Bailey…” he says softly, looking like he likes that.
“Are you enjoying this?” I demand.
“Fuck, yeah, I am.”
“Asshole!” I shout, but I’m crying instead of angry.
He takes a step toward me.
“No!” I demand, throwing a hand up. “Please give me a minute. Let me get myself together. Or try, anyway. It’s probably hopeless.”
I need fresh clothes. I need a Kleenex. I also need a lobotomy, I think.
I grab my bags from where he dropped them and cart them upstairs with me into the bathroom.
At a glimpse of my reflection and seeing just how much of a disaster I am, I decide on a quick shower to see if I can somehow scrub away some of my shame.
I’ve got a strong nose and can smell the results of my moon-drunk escapades last night, so I can just imagine how strong the mess of me is to his super alpha nose.
I show my face after a quick but thorough head-to-toe scrubbing.
I’m wearing a pair of black denim shorts and a drapey big t-shirt while pulling a brush through my hair.
He’s in the living room with two steaming mugs of coffee on the table.
I have no idea what I’ll say to him. If I’ll play it cool or fall apart.
Or if I’m capable of playing anything cool, for that matter.
“Why’d you run off this morning?” he asks and gestures to the seat beside him.
“Isn’t it obvious?” I ask, stopping several feet away.
“Humor me.” He pats the cushion beside himself.
“This is embarrassing,” I mutter, staring at my toes.
Suddenly I’m plucked up in the air and gasping as he sits down, planting me sideways on his lap.
“Jason!” I gasp.
“Talk to me,” he says, but he doesn’t seem impatient, angry, or annoyed. He’s looking at me with concern.
And I feel relief that he’s not indifferent, but beyond that I’m not sure how to handle the range of emotions I’m currently dealing with.
“Hey?” he tries.
One of his arms is wrapped around me, the other is on my thigh. He hugs me and presses a kiss to my forehead.
My heart is beating super-fast.
“Baby?”
I blurt, “That was embarrassing. And I woke up feeling mortified and I made an escape before I had to face you. And then you obviously followed me and got your truck crunched for it.”
“Why was that embarrassing?” he asks gently.
“You want me to feel more embarrassed? Is this revenge?”
“Revenge?” he asks, looking shocked.
“Duh…”
His hand grips the back of my neck and he moves in closer until the tips of our noses are touching.
“Please talk to me.”
I gulp down a swallow. “It was so embarrassing, Jase.”
“Bailey, it was unbearably fucking beautiful to have you rubbing yourself on me, hearing those sounds from your lips, smelling you while getting the chance to hold you while you came. And then you falling asleep on me afterwards? That sleep on that old couch, us all cramped up like that? Best sleep I’ve had in weeks. ”
I blink a couple times as I absorb his words.
“I made a mess on you,” I say, gesturing to him. He’s still in the jeans and t-shirt he wore last night.
“Twice,” I add, feeling my face heat up.
He smiles wide, with dimples. “I made a mess of my own.”
I frown. What?
“You did?”
“Oh yeah,” he says low and seductively. “That was fire, baby.”
“It was?”
He made a mess, too?
“And I didn’t get to watch? I had my face buried in your neck and I missed it?”
He laughs, and before I get a chance to be offended by the laughter, he’s kissing me.
Jason is kissing me!
He’s still laughing a little while his mouth moves over mine. His phone is ringing and he’s ignoring it.
I’m just about to start kissing him back, but the phone has started up again and now he’s pulling back.
Well, that was highly effective in rendering me speechless.
My lips are tingling as he moves me to the cushion beside him before rising to fish his phone out of his jeans.
“Sorry, I can feel something. This is urgent.” He taps his chest to illustrate it’s his council connection as he answers his phone, greeting, “Hey Joel.”
He’s immediately pacing while listening to Joel.
“You’re fuckin’ kidding me,” he says, concerned. “I didn’t feel it. I’m on my way.”
He stuffs his phone into his pocket and says, “Sherry’s hurt. Gotta get to the clinic.”
“What happened?” I ask.
“She jumped from the back of the falls and hit the rocks.”
“Is she okay?”
“She’s unconscious. We’ll continue this conversation, but you understand where I was at last night?”
I shrug.
He leans over and tips my jaw up. “Don’t wanna think you believe for a second what you said about revenge. Tell me you know I wasn’t about revenge last night.”
I manage a bit of a nod.
He continues. “Bottom line: I want you. I want you more today than I did yesterday. Doesn’t bode well for me for tomorrow but I’m in it to win it with you, okay? Don’t be embarrassed. I just didn’t want us doing something you weren’t ready for. Make sense?”
“Okay,” I say, finding it difficult to maintain eye contact.
He plants a sweet little kiss on my mouth and then the tip of my nose before he goes.
But the minute he leaves, I hear an aggressive-sounding yelp.
“I know…” I whisper. “Bet you’re wishing you weren’t destined to be stuck with me, don’t you? Is that why you keep hollering at me?”
There’s a single, loud yip in response.