Chapter 14 - Austin

I like to think my life is like a romantic comedy . . . minus the romance, and I tend to be the only one laughing at my jokes.

~ Mac, the peen tickler

I tried to smother a laugh as I watched Bee shift for the hundredth time on the picnic blanket I had spread out. Mavis had been kind enough to lend it to me, along with a few pillows that Bee was currently beating into submission. She hardly looked happy to be here, and although I should probably take offense, I couldn’t. I knew it wasn’t my company she was reluctant to enjoy but rather the movie that would soon begin.

Dressed in tight, white capris and a modest peasant style beige top, she looked fresh and comfortable, completely at odds with the unease she obviously felt sitting on a picnic blanket in a park about to watch a dreaded rom-com. I couldn’t stop the smile on my face as I watched her battle with the pillows. When she glanced up and noticed me staring, her eye brows dipped in confusion.

“What?” she asked.

I raised my hands in defense and shook my head.  “Nothing at all, Sugar. Just want to make sure you’re comfortable.”

Bee still looked utterly confused. “Why do you call me Sugar?”

It wasn’t a question I had been expecting her to ask, and it took me a moment to put my thoughts together and find an actual answer.

“You smell sweet,” I finally admitted.

It wasn’t any one particular scent that I could put my finger on. Not quite cinnamon, not quite candy, not citrus, not vanilla, but a combination of all those and more. It was fresh, wild, and innocent all that the same time. 

When Bee dipped her nose to discreetly sniff herself, I held back a chuckle and proceeded to pour her champagne then expertly twisted the top off a bottle of Coors for myself.

“I take it you’ve never seen Pretty Woman before?”

Bee rolled her eyes. “Hell, no. I’m more of a Stephen King kind of girl. Kathy Bates outdid herself in Misery.”

I had to admit I liked a good horror, especially when a woman was watching with me, which led to her tucking into my body, which more often than not led to the movie being completely disregarded while I took liberties with said woman. I got the impression Bee liked those movies for a whole other reason, though. Leaning back on the picnic blanket, I rolled to my side so I could watch Bee squirm. My need to know this woman better was quickly moving from a casual interest to something deeper and more compelling.

“I’ll let you in on a little secret, Sugar. I kind of prefer horror, too, and I think Johnny outshone Kathy in The Shining, but watching you struggle through this movie is going to be worth every second.”

Bee pulled one of the pillows free and slapped me across the head with it. It took some swift, careful maneuvering to save my drink from spilling. Laughing, I sat back and enjoyed the smile that tugged at the corners of Bee’s lips. I liked to see her smile. Whenever I said or did something to make her smile or laugh, I felt like the king of the fucking world. I wondered how many other men had put that smile on her lips, because something told me there weren’t many.

Her long blonde hair was down and curled at the ends. It looked so soft I couldn’t help but reach out and tug on a strand, imagining it wound around my fist as I fucked her.

“I like this,” I said, my voice low and husky with lust.

Bee’s eyes softened as her gaze landed on mine.

“You play your cards right and I’ll let you tug on it a little more.”

My dick quickly thickened. I was getting used to PHOs—public hard-ons—around this woman.

“I intend to. Just don’t forget, I’m playing for keeps. I don’t share, and I won’t accept anything less.”

Bee rolled her eyes. “You could so be getting epically laid tonight if you just loosened up those boundaries a little.”

I’d made it perfectly clear to Bee that I was giving this thing between us a go, and it was about more than sex, although my dick was fast to disagree. She had yet to make any kind of similar commitment, and whenever I steered the conversation in that direction, she’d deflect with sarcasm.

“You don’t get bored with the monotony of casual encounters, lonely even?” I wondered out loud.

When Bee opened her mouth to answer, she seemed to think better of whatever she was going to say and paused before putting her thoughts together.

“Bored, no. Lonely . . . sometimes.” Tucking a strand of hair behind one ear, she turned to face me, her body language open as if she had nothing to hide. “The thing is, I’m cautious about love and relationships because in my line of work I see it crumble and disappear every single day,” she murmured, taking a sip of champagne.

“Surely in a dating agency you get to see the excitement of a new relationship.”

“Occasionally, I guess,” she confessed. “But many of those looking for something new and exciting have come from awful and unfulfilling relationships. We also try to touch base with our clients down the road, and many of them don’t last; they sometimes throw away what they have over the pettiest reasons.” She sighed. “I guess you could say I’m a cynical romantic.” I raised a brow and just stared, encouraging her with silence to continue. “I have seen love, real love, the unbreakable, for all eternity, nothing will tear us apart kind of love. I know it exists, and not just because INXS sang about it. It’s proof that it does exist and is attainable, for some. The truth of the matter is, the aftermath of broken love is ugly. I’ve seen how it can take a beautiful soul and taint it with misery. I’ve seen the anguish and pain of what losing love looks like. So, I protect myself, and I have strict rules when it comes to men. I never spend time with them outside the bedroom, and I never become attached. I breeze in and out of lives without leaving an impact, and in doing so I save myself the possibility of heartache.”

I had never really thought of relationships that way; my own previous determination to dodge commitment at every turn had more to do with not wanting to settle down than with having a fear of it.

“You don’t think the act of falling in love itself is worth the chance of it failing?”

“Falling hurts, Austin, because you always have to land somewhere, and more often than not, it’s flat on your rear end. You look stupid, and it hurts.”

I nodded, because I totally got that, but the exhilaration of meeting someone new was what drove me. The idea that I might find someone completely unique and unlike anyone I had ever met made the possibility of that white-knuckled fall all the more exciting. Watching Bee fidget under my silence brought a smile to my lips. She was a glorious, intelligent being, and I wanted her to fall for me, hard, just like I knew I was going to for her.

“And what if there was someone there to catch you?”

Opening her mouth to reply, Bee again hesitated. Her eyes narrowed as she stared at me, and now it was my turn to squirm as her gaze, which was filled with anxious curiosity, roamed my body, starting at my feet and ending at my head. When the color from her cheeks seemed to drain, I wondered what she had seen to put that look on her face. Before I could ask what the problem was, a familiar voice from over Bee’s shoulder interrupted our conversation.

“How-diddly-do, people!”

The interruption made me groan and smile at the same time, and Bee’s dramatic eye roll made that smile slip into laughter as Mac all but strutted toward our picnic blanket, making herself comfortable beside Bee. Walker maneuvered himself closer to the bag with the drinks.

“Did we miss anything?” Walker asked as he helped himself to a beer. “Bubbles, babe?” he asked, holding up the extra champagne glass I had brought. Mac shook her head and snuggled into Bee’s side in a way that was completely at odds with the tough persona these two girls wore. They were like two kittens seeking each other out for affection.

“Movie is about to start,” I said, wondering why in the hell these two were even here. I sure as hell hadn’t invited them. In fact, I hadn’t seen Walker or Mac for a few days and assumed they were caught up in the obsessive faze of their new relationship. It would wear off after a few weeks, but until then, I expected to see my best friend less and less, which was weird. Neither of us had been in a committed relationship for the last seventeen years; it was unusual to go more than forty-eight hours without at least a phone call from Walker.

“Great, because I’d really hate to miss even one teeny tiny second of this legendary movie,” Walker remarked with more than a small dose of sarcasm.

“I love Julia’s hooker boots. They are smokin’,” Mac purred, sharing a sip of Bee’s champagne.

“What are we talking about? You ladies seemed awfully serious when we found you.” Walker asked, and Bee’s face morphed into one of horror.

I tried not to laugh at her discomfort as I casually said, “Bee was sharing her views about romance and dating.”

“Ohhh, that is a serious topic,” Mac whispered conspiratorially. “Did you know her favorite day of the year is February 15th? That’s when chocolates go on sale after Valentine’s Day.”

Walker looked shocked, but I simply smiled. I didn’t doubt that at all, and for some reason it endeared Bee to me even more. Valentine’s Day was a marketing tool to boost the economy after Christmas as far as I was concerned. I liked the fact my girl didn’t care for such a material holiday. And yes, she was definitely my girl and she’d realize it soon enough.

“What? Nothing tastes better than half price chocolate,” Bee balked a little defensively.

“She also thinks flowers are a metaphor for relationships: they’ll all die eventually.”

I almost spat my Coors clear across the picnic rug with laughter, Walker following right behind me.

Bee looked pissed, and I decided I liked that fierce look just as much as the serious expression she so often wore.  “Thanks for over-sharing, frenemy,” she hissed at Mac.

“She also thinks little girls shouldn’t watch Disney movies because it fills them with white-knight syndrome and unrealistic expectations.”

Noting Bee’s quickly escalating fury, I tried to bury my laughter, but it was a challenge. This woman was so different to women I was normally attracted to. Rather than the princesses I usually indulged in, who would have loved to be in their very own Disney movie, Bee was a bold contradiction.

“Since we’re sharing, perhaps I should tell Walker how you spent three months in the same underwear in front of the TV because of a small addiction to The Housewives of Beverly Hills?”

Walker snickered, and Mac’s eyes narrowed. “What about that time you started wearing men’s briefs because they were ‘comfortable’ and allowed you to ‘breathe’?”

“You know how much I hate air punctuation, it’s childish, and what about that time I busted you buying a cucumber and lube?”

Mac’s cheeks reddened and I glanced at Walker for his reaction, which I knew would be down-right genuine interest.

“Babe, I don’t have a problem with food play,” Walker said with a large grin in place. “Please, do continue,” he prompted Bee.

“The cucumber was for my eyes, the lube was for . . .”

“Riding the flag pole?” Walker added helpfully.

Mac huffed; her own temper had risen quickly and appeared to match Bee’s.

“Can’t forget the time you sneezed while you were mouth milking Javan. You just about bit his d—”

Bee slammed her hand over Mac’s mouth. She looked like a bottled up fizzy drink ready to explode. Her cheeks were filled with red; her nostrils flared; and her hand that wasn’t currently pressed against her best friend’s mouth was curled into a fist, and damn if that fist didn’t look like it was ready to go to war with Mac. Both the girls had become silent, their chests rising and falling rapidly, their heated glares on each other. It was hot as hell, and I had all but forgotten the movie which had already started. The wild passion I saw in these girls utterly intrigued me.

Bee dropped her hand and closed her eyes, followed quickly by Mac as they both took a moment to compose themselves.

“Do you think they’re gonna fight?” Walker whispered from over my shoulder.  “Because I’d like to see them go at it, in lingerie,” he added.

My lip twitched as I tried to stop my smile. Trust Walker to find humor in the girls’ argument.

“You’re wearing my cap,” Bee finally whispered, and my eyes were drawn to Mac’s hat. Since I’d first met Mac, I’d never seen her without a cap on her head. I didn’t know if she was hiding something under there or just liked trucker hats. I’d have to ask Walker if she kept them on all the time.

Mac fiddled with the cap. “Of course I did, it’s lucky, and I wanted to bring you some luck.” Mac glanced at me and Walker. “I bought her this cap for her birthday last year. I wear it as a legacy to Bee.”

The front panel of the hat depicted a wicked looking cupid with a bow and arrow, ready to shoot a cute, curvaceous cartoon cupid in the ass.

“Thank you,” Bee murmured, “and, I’m sorry.” The words seemed to be squeezed off her lips with great effort.

“I’m sorry, too,” Mac whispered, forcing the words out with as much difficulty as Bee had.  “I flove you,” she added. ‘I fucking love you’, and I only knew flove meant this because my sister, Savannah, used the term regularly. Bee’s answering smile was dazzling.

“I flove you, too.”

“What just happened here?” I wondered out loud.

“Dude, don’t ruin the moment. They’re about to kiss and make up!” Walker growled, slapping me on the back of the head.

“Like I told you,” Mac gave Walker a pointed stare, “I no longer swing that way, and the movie has started. We don’t want Bee to miss a single moment,” she continued, stuffing a few pillows behind her back and nestling into Bee’s side.

“This is going to hurt,” Bee moaned.

“Maybe later Austin can kiss it better,” Walker added with his token wink.

I grinned, and my veins filled with heated lust. The idea of kissing any part of her beautiful body was a craving like I’d never felt before. I just bet those plump lips were as sweet as the candy she smelled like.