Chapter Twenty-Two

I stayed up half the night trying to come up with some grand scheme of making Aubrey trust me again. It had been two long years, and I wanted back in so badly—both figuratively and literally—I felt like I could explode. But in the end, I knew there was no grand scheme. It needed to happen the way we happened. Just us being us, a little at a time.

Now, that didn’t mean I wasn’t going to try to use every available advantage I could come up with. It just meant that I’d have to sprinkle those advantages around lightly over time.

In the shower, I thought back to the things that made Aubrey’s eyes sparkle. The first time I saw her eyes glaze over, we were in a diner, and I’d fed her from my plate. The greasy eggs and sausage were dripping with Sriracha, and all I could think about was how I could never enjoy a meal again alone after watching her eat from my hands. I was also quite certain she had an affinity for my accent. With these two small things in my mind, my shower might have taken a bit longer than I anticipated. But I was ready for my breakfast date. And damn was I hungry for Aubrey.

I stopped by a local deli and picked up some things, prepping for my Australian breakfast. Before I left my place, I’d swiped some of my favorites from my sister’s food stash. I headed over to Starbucks early with a large brown bag, wanting to clear my bringing breakfast in with Melanie before Aubrey arrived.

“You’re late this morning.” Melanie pulled out a cup and began to write on it with a marker for the barista behind her.

“Could you make it two of those? I’m meeting someone for breakfast.” My cocky smile was enough to tell Melanie who that someone was.

Melanie’s eyes widened. She truly looked excited for me. “You mean you’ll be sharing coffee with her this morning, instead of just picking up the tab?”

“I will.”

She clapped her hands together. “I knew it! Richard’s a nice guy and all. But it’s not the same. You’ve brought out a side of Aubrey we’ve never seen.”

I hoped that side was the real Aubrey, and she’d still kept it hidden for me. I wondered if good ‘ole Dick knew my girl liked to fight and had a dirty streak in her. I was banking on the fact that he was fucking clueless. “Listen, Melanie. Do you mind if I bring in some breakfast this morning? I picked up some things to share with Aubrey.”

“Of course not. By all means. Do whatever is necessary.”

“Thanks, Melanie.”

I picked the coziest seats I could find. They were in the corner, two brown distressed leather chairs with a small table between them. I pulled the chairs closer together before I set out our breakfast. Aubrey showed right at nine.

I stood when she arrived at our table. There was an awkward moment at first. I wanted to lean in and kiss her, even if it was only on her cheek. But her body language was rigid—almost nervous. “Morning.” I nodded.

She forced a timid smile. “Hi.”

I gestured to the table behind me. “I already got us coffee and picked us up some breakfast.”

She sat. “What is all this?”

“It’s an Australian breakfast.”

“An Australian breakfast? Here at Starbucks?”

“I sort of brought it in. Melanie was good with it.”

Aubrey looked back over her shoulder at the register. Melanie and two others were blatantly watching us with huge smiles on their faces. She rolled her eyes when she looked back at me. “Tell me what you’re feeding me?”

I smirked. She frowned. “We need to set some ground rules.”

“You’re setting me up to fail then.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You know if you set up rules, I won’t be able to help myself. I’ll need to break them.”

“Rule number one. No breaking the rules.”

“That’s a little extreme isn’t it? If I break rule number four then I’ve gone and broken two rules. You’re being difficult already.”

“I could leave.”

“Why would you do that? I like you best when you’re difficult.”

“You would.”

“Why don’t we get something in you? I think you’re extra cranky because you haven’t eaten yet.”

“Fine.” She looked at the food on the table and licked her lips.

Fuck me. This was going to be harder than I thought.

I lifted the toast to show it to her. “This is Vegemite. It’s an Aussie favorite.” My sister and I might have left Australia behind, but there were certain things we couldn’t part with.

“It sounds sort of…gross.”

“If you eat it alone, it could be. But when you slather it with butter, it’s fan-fucking-tastic.”

I offered her a bite of the toast. She attempted to take it from my hand. I pulled the offering back from her reach. “Australian tradition, you feed each other the Vegemite. It’s sort of a peace offering between new friends.” Okay, so that part, I totally made up. But I’d skipped the hello kiss, so I needed something.

She shook her head, but looked amused. “Fine.” Aubrey opened her mouth and closed her eyes.

Jesus Christ. This woman was going to be the death of me. Two years. Now I had to look at the woman I’d been dreaming about for all that time with her painted lips opened and eyes shut waiting for me. And I thought prison was a test of restraint.

Unlike most Americans, Aubrey liked the Vegemite. For some odd reason, I knew she would. Together we devoured everything I brought as we danced around real conversation with small talk. I knew in order to start to win back her trust, she needed to see what Adele meant to me. I also wanted to open myself up to her—transparency invites trust. Dr. Phil was one of the approved shows in prison.

“When Adele and I were kids, I used to like to play practical jokes on her. Saran wrap her body to the bed while she slept. Saran wrap the toilet bowl so she would pee on the floor. Hide under her bed until she got into it and turned the light off. Then I’d jump out and scare the crap out of her.”

“And I used to feel deprived for not having a sibling.”

“Yeah, well. She got even with me once.” I offered her the last bite of the toast, and she didn’t hesitate to open. Why did I love that she ordered salads with Dick and let me fill her with carbohydrates and empty calories?

“What did she do?”

“She was maybe eight or nine, so I was probably ten or soon to be eleven. I’d just found both soccer and girls. There was a girl I’d taken notice of, and she seemed to have noticed me, too. Izzy. She was on the sidelines of my practice one day, and I was showing off…bouncing the ball all over my knee and my head. Izzy was impressed. I had her just where I wanted her. Until I turned around.”

“What did Adele do?”

“She’d painted the back of my white soccer uniform with Vegemite. You ate it between two pieces of toast. But it’s not a pretty sight.”

She laughed. “I’m glad you told me that after we finished eating.”

“Izzy lost interest, and I became Chance dirty pants.”

We both cracked up. “And to think, years later, that dirty pants ass would become famous.”

“You know, that poster has my face on it, too. It’s only a little of my arse showing.”

“Trust me. It’s the ass that sold it.”

“Are you saying you like my ass better than my face?”

She shook her head and didn’t answer, but her cheeks pinked up a bit. “So how did you get even with Adele?”

“I didn’t.” I shrugged. “I was proud of her, actually.”

We talked for two more hours. About nothing. About everything. I could have sat there for days. When Aubrey’s phone buzzed on the table, both our eyes caught the name flashing before our gazes locked. Richard. Dick.

“I should go. I can’t believe we’ve been sitting here for close to two and a half hours. I didn’t even tell my office I was going to be late.” She stood, and I joined her. “What are your plans for today?”

“Go walk some mutts, weed a flower bed for my lawyer. The usual.”

She dug into her pocketbook and pulled out a set of keys. Slipping one off her key ring, she offered it to me. “Here. In case you need to use the bathroom or anything while you’re working.”

It meant so much more than just a place to relieve myself. I took the key from her hand, then linked my fingers with hers. “Thank you.”

I took a step closer. Fuck, she smelled good. “Private Collection Tuberose Gardenia,” I mumbled. Pavlov himself would have drooled at how the smell had conditioned me. It brought me back to the first night in our hotel rooms. The smell permeated her bathroom, and those black lacy underwear were on the counter. Shit. Taking care of myself did nothing to quench the thirst I had around her. My pants were growing snug.

“You remembered the name of my perfume.”

I couldn’t help myself this time. I wrapped my arm around her neck and pulled her against me tightly for a hug. “I remember everything about you,” I whispered in her ear.

She was flush when we separated, but her face grew crimson when she looked down to escape my stare and caught sight of the obvious bulge in my jeans.

“It’s been more than two years,” I offered quietly as an explanation.

“You haven’t—”

“Been inside a woman in two years.” Then I thought better of my phrasing. “I haven’t touched another women since I met you. And I don’t plan on it.”

I watched her throat swallow before she spoke. “Thank you for breakfast.”

“When will I see you again, Princess?”

“I have to go out of town tomorrow morning. I’ll probably be getting on the road early and back late. I’ll text you the day after tomorrow, maybe.”

I hated that answer. But I took it. “Have a safe trip.”

I walked some dogs, went to the gym and decided to skip Aubrey’s for today. After my time with her this morning, I didn’t want to screw things up by being inside stalking when she arrived back home. And there was no doubt once I walked inside her house, I’d be doing a full investigation. So instead, I showered and headed for some quality time with my favorite bartender. The place was always empty at this time.

“You look particularly gorgeous today, Carla Babes.” She had on a red shirt with large white polka dots that was tied just under her ample tits, revealing a shitload of smooth skin. Her pinup girl style hair was done up with a red scarf.

She poured me a drink. “You’re in a good mood today. Finally grow some balls and go after that woman?”

“I’m working on it.”

“You’ve been working on it for two weeks now.”

“It’s a marathon, not a sprint.” I sucked back a mouthful of my drink.

“What are you, the Dalai Lama?”

“I’m starting to feel like a Buddhist Monk. They don’t get laid either, do they?”

“Let me ask you something. Why don’t you go to a bar and pick up a willing woman and get the dirty deed over with? It’s been a long time. Just have sex. Sweaty, body slapping, meaningless, dirty sex. It might make you feel better.”

Honestly, I’d noticed a few women lately. I’d have to be dead not to. Yet my body didn’t have the desire to be with anyone else. “I would feel like I was cheating.”

“Even though she’s screwing someone else?”

That fucking hurt. “Thanks, Carla.”

“Sorry.” She grinned. “But let me know if you change your mind.”

I looked down at the ring on my finger. They may have been vows spoken in front of Elvis with a buzz on, but I was committed all the same. It made me wonder if she remembered our vows, now that I was back in her life again.