Chapter 11
BECK
“You’re home early.”
“You’re up late,” I responded, not expecting to see Pia at the kitchen island, drinking tea. Decaffeinated, I assumed.
She checked her phone. “Eleven thirty. Yeah, Mace conked an hour ago. Has he ever actually finished a movie at night that you know of?”
“Good question. That’s the problem when you’re programmed to wake up when it’s dark like a maniac.”
Grabbing a water from the fridge, I sat across from her.
“Jenn closing tonight?”
“Yep. Whatcha reading?”
“Big Magic by Elizabeth Gilbert. My friend Madeline gave it to me.”
“Trying to manifest some five-star Yelp reviews?”
“Funny.”
“Thanks.”
My phone dinged.
Apologies for going MIA.
I shot back:
Again.
Lol when your life falls apart it doesn’t count.
That’s your one pass.
While Mae typed, I looked up. “Does it suck, missing things like the girls’ weekend?” I wondered.
Pia’s hand moved to her stomach, probably without her realizing it. “It does. I could have gone but… I’m not feeling the best. I honestly don’t get people who say they love being pregnant. It’s damn uncomfortable.”
Alarm bells went off in my head. “Are you alright?”
Pia’s soft smile was reassuring. “I’m fine. Relax. Just normal ‘growing a human in my stomach’ things. Nothing to worry about.”
Thank God.
Mae texted:
Anyway, take a guess what I’m doing?
“Is that Mae?” Pia asked.
“Yep,” I said as Pia went back to reading her book.
Let me guess. You and Jules started a wine flight war and now the bar’s on fire?
Nope.
Writing my name on a bathroom wall?
Lol, no.
I paused. And decided to push the envelope a bit.
Thinking about me and trying not to admit it?
You wish.
Yes, actually. I did. Teasing Mae over the years about a pretend crush on me that she didn’t have was nothing new. Neither were her comebacks. They just never bothered me as much in the past.
Deciding not to push my luck any more, I texted back.
I give up.
Just got a TATTOO!
“Holy hell,” I said. Pia looked up.
“What is it?”
“Mae got a tattoo.”
“Are you serious?”
“I think so.”
I texted back:
Didn’t see that one coming.
Actually, all three of us are getting them.
There’s a tattoo shop next to the bar and one thing led to another…
the owner of Boots and Brews brought us over to meet the owner.
We were going to get it tomorrow morning but the owner said let’s just do it now since we’re not inebriated.
Apparently he won’t do tattoos on you if you’re drunk. Anyway. Can you believe it?
I fucking loved Mae’s paragraph texts. She teased me about my short, one-word ones, and I teased her back for writing dissertations over text message. But I could literally feel her excitement through the phone.
Also, an impromptu tattoo was not Mae. Which I loved for her.
Spread your wings, girl.
Sounds like fun! Show me?
Pia’s phone buzzed. She picked it up, laughing.
“Guess they’re getting matching ones?”
“Who texted you?” I asked.
“Delaney. She just showed me hers and informed me we’re all heading to Kitchi Falls after the baby so I can get one too. They’re cracking me up.”
“Maybe it’s good you didn’t go with them,” I teased. “What did they get?”
“Fearless. Delaney’s is on her forearm. It’s red as hell but looks amazing.”
Pia showed me her phone.
“Nice.”
Mae’s pic came through.
Catching my breath, I reminded myself it wasn’t my first time seeing her bare back.
She was in a bathroom, presumably in the tattoo studio.
No shirt, or bra. Just Mae’s bare shoulders with a dainty “fearless” in cursive starting at the top of her neck and running down her spine.
The ink looked fresh, slightly raised, reddened, and covered in a thin layer of clear film, the edges secured with medical tape. Still, it was sexy as hell.
“You okay?” Pia asked.
Shit. No. I wasn’t.
Swallowing, I gathered myself back together and showed Pia the picture.
“Oh, wow, that’s hot.”
Tell me about it.
I texted Mae back those exact words to which she replied:
Thanks.
Then:
TTYL, Jules is almost done.
“I can’t believe they got tattoos.”
“Especially Mae,” I said. “Does Delaney have any?”
“Not before tonight.” Pia closed her book. “But she’s talked about it.”
I couldn’t get that image out of my mind. Even after Pia went to bed. Or after I headed up myself. Or undressed and stepped into the shower.
Don’t do it, Beck.
Mae, sliding behind me at the bar. Her fingers brushing mine as we washed glasses. Her laughing, drinking a margarita. Mae’s sidelong gaze, sitting in the passenger seat of my truck.
The picture of her new ink.
She’d be standing in my bedroom as I approached from behind.
Wearing her white, short puffy-sleeve top with red polka dots and buttons all the way down the front, cutoff jean shorts and cowboy boots, and her hair would be in two loose braids.
I would unbutton her shirt. Slowly. Methodically.
Tension building with every slip of a button through its hole.
I reached for the soap, lathering it in my hands while pushing aside the promise I made to myself to not get off thinking of a woman I could never have.
As I slip the shirt from her shoulders, Mae’s bare neck gives way to her new tattoo, no longer raw but healed, the delicate black line unfolding down her spine.
I trace it with my fingertip, relishing the way her body shivers as I arrive at the bottom, not stopping but dipping below the waistline of her shorts.
Mae tries to turn around, and I want to see her face.
I want to kiss her, feel her breasts press against me for the first time. But not yet.
I pumped my hand, faster and faster, the vision so clear in my mind it could have been real. I could see her, smell her.
Taste her.
I lean down, letting my tongue tease the delicate flesh of her lower back, Mae’s bold new ink a guidepost for my exploration.
Moving upward, inch by inch, her soft moans encourage me to move ever so slowly even though I want to pick Mae up and toss her onto the bed.
My hands hold her waist steady, fingers gripping soft flesh as she calls my name.
I was so damn close. The vision just real enough, if elusive, for the pressure that continued to build to find its natural end.
With a few last pumps, the money shot came as quickly as if Mae was standing in the shower with me.
Holding myself upright, water raining onto my head and down my back, I relished its aftermath, reluctant for the sensation to end…
for the throbbing to ebb and the reality of the situation to sink in.
She wasn’t here.
Wasn’t in my bedroom.
Mae would never be in either place, not like that.
She wasn’t the kind of woman you fucked around with, not that I’d risk our friendship by trying.
But damn, it had been a long time since I let myself come, thinking of her.
Knowing it was a bad idea, like playing the slot machine despite the fact that the odds were stacked against you… but that picture of her… damn.
Mae.
She’d be the death of me.