Burning Down the Spouse (35 page)

Read Burning Down the Spouse Online

Authors: Dakota Cassidy

Tags: #Separated Women, #Greek Americans, #Humorous, #Contemporary, #Women Cooks, #General, #Romance, #Humorous Fiction, #Fiction, #Cultural Heritage, #Love Stories

BOOK: Burning Down the Spouse
8.4Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
That she was taking the sensible approach to a new relationship venture left her feeling very proud of herself. Nikos had a way about him, one that could distract her from almost anything with his delicious kisses and disarming grin. Yet, she couldn’t afford to budge. No, she wouldn’t budge. The instant she’d made her demands clear to Nikos was the instant she knew trust and honesty were two things she wouldn’t go without again.
Frankie rubbed her aunt’s shoulder with an affectionate hand, in need of some time to herself to think. “You go to bed, Aunt Gail, and get some sleep. I’m cooking tomorrow. Oh, and you’ll be tickled all shades of the rainbow to know, I invited Nikos over for dessert. How’s that pin-curl your hair?”
Gail chuckled, cupping Frankie’s jaw, sweeping a kiss over her cheek. “You’re a good girl, Frankie. A good girl who’s moving on. Your mother’d be so proud.”
The long events of the night, the turmoil over Mitch, making spectacular love with Nikos, topped with Christmas, made her long to talk with her mother. “I hope so, Aunt Gail. I hope that’s true.”
“You can bet your bippy on it. I’m off to bed now. Night, honey, and Merry Christmas.” She gave Frankie a squeeze before treading off to her room.
Frankie flopped back on the edge of the couch in front of the small Christmas tree, staring at the lights draped over gold and silver ornaments, and kicked off her shoes.
Tired. Euphoric. Afraid. Excited.
Afraid.
She was back in the dating pool—a pool she’d spent not nearly enough time swimming in to begin with before she’d committed her life to a man she outgrew.
Yet, here she was, hot-man nabber of the year, all getting involved and setting records straight like she knew what she was doing.
Frankie smiled secretively.
Yeah. She didn’t just have a fantasy man, she’d scored one.
And she was terrified.
 
“Merry Christmas, crabby,” Simon crowed. Pleased with himself and the gift he’d bought Jasmine.
He heard the crinkle of the envelope as Jasmine took his gift. He also knew the look that flashed across her face was akin to what one might expect had he given her something he’d dug out of a Jersey landfill. The breeze of her waving it under his nose sent her perfume to settle in his nostrils. He grinned. She was pissed. He loved when she was pissed because it gave him the opportunity to prove her wrong.
He loved proving Jasmine wrong because it only strengthened his case that they should be a couple. Permanently. “So go on, open it.”
“I thought we weren’t exchanging Christmas gifts. In fact, I remember expressly telling you no gifts. I can’t afford gifts. I can barely afford to pay my rent and keep you in Cheetos.”
He rubbed his chest with the palm of his hand, preparing for battle. “I offered to buy my own game-time snacks. You refused, Independent Woman of the World. Just open the damned thing and quit complaining, honey.” He’d never tell her, but he loved to hear her complain. He loved to hear her, period. Simonides Rhadamanthus Jones was in love. Whether Jasmine liked it or not.
She shifted in the bed, moving away from him. “Didn’t your mother teach you any manners at all? Giving someone a gift who can’t afford to give you one back makes that someone uncomfortable.”
“My mother is too busy enjoying marriage number two in Saint Moritz to teach me anything. Didn’t your mother teach you to be gracious?”
“My mother was a tough broad who didn’t take any crap from anyone right up until the day she died. You leave my mother out of this.”
Simon let his hand stray along the sheets until he located her knee, giving it an affectionate squeeze. “Well, at least now I know where you got your balls. Now open the present, honey.”
Jasmine flicked his hand away with one of her pretend irritated gestures, but he knew her vibe, and while she was playing like he’d given her the gift of chlamydia, she was actually pleased. He sensed it in the unbidden sigh escaping her full, soft lips. He sensed it in the way she leaned toward him and in her overall body language.
“Fine. I’m opening, but if you think you can buy me with jewelry and trips to exotic locales, you’re wrong. I’ve been everywhere, and I’ve had all the trinkets I can pawn. So don’t go thinking . . .”
The way she drifted off in the midst of her hundredth saucy rant told him she’d sliced open the envelope.
“Oh, Simon.”
Yeah.
Simon folded his arms behind his head, pleased when he heard Jasmine sniffle.
“You bought me a six-month supply of cat food and a year’s worth of veterinary care for Gary . . .”
“Yeah, because I’m like that. I know how much you love Gary and worry you won’t be able to afford his shots. A healthy Gary’s a happy Jasmine. But there’s more,” he prompted.
She giggled, the sound warm and slipping into his ears like soothing oil being poured over him. The rustle of the envelope indicated she was still digging into it. “Gift certificates to McDonald’s. You’re determined to find a way to make me let you pay for dinner, aren’t you?”
“I wouldn’t want you to have to cook.” Actually, after the can of SpaghettiOs she’d burned, he’d prefer she never touch another utensil again. “So how can you be mad at that? Because if there’s a way, you’ll find it,” he teased.
She was silent for a moment, and he knew when he slid a hand to her cheek, it would be moist from the tears she was trying not to shed. “No one’s . . . no man’s . . . ever given me a gift so . . . so thoughtful.”
No man better ever give her a gift, thoughtful or otherwise, Simon thought.
Climbing over him, Jasmine straddled him, leaning down, her long hair brushing against his cheek. “Thank you,” she whispered, pressing her lips to his.
His chuckle was deep, and for the first time since his accident, he wished he could see, so his eyes could meet hers. So she’d know what he was sure she wasn’t ready to hear. “What, no beat down? No protests? No refusals? Who are you?” he joked softly against her mouth.
Her response was almost inaudible. “I don’t know, but thank you.” She settled on top of him then, curling her hand under her chin, nestling her head against his shoulder.
That tight feeling that never failed to constrict his gut sat deep in his belly. The feeling that told him all he needed to do was wait this out. It was happening whether Jasmine wanted it to or not, Simon thought with satisfaction. She would fall in love with him if it killed him. He wouldn’t accept less.
Yet, Win was in his head in an instant, admonishing him for not telling Jasmine everything.
Everything.
Resting his head against the top of hers, Simon shoved away the eventual mess he was bound to make in favor of the woman he held in his arms. The woman who, after spending so much time with him, had managed to turn his childish grudge into something he’d never expected.
The woman he’d originally set out to hurt because her ex-husband was a pig, and now only wanted to love.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
 
From the journal of ex-trophy wife Frankie Bennett: Sorry it’s been a while, but props to Maxine. I gotta give it up to her. She was right about more than just the thrill of being self-sufficient and the boost to your self-esteem when you learn to stand on your own two feet. Sex, when your ass is less than perfect, and your thighs cramp at the mere mention of the position doggy style, can still be awesome. In fact, now that I’ve sort of adjusted to dim lighting—very dim—okay, really dim, it’s begun to rock my socks off. It almost beats getting my own place to live. Wait. No it doesn’t. Making love on Nikos’s bed, couch, sunken tub, shower, wherever, beats sex at my new place on a cold tiled floor where if we move an inch in the wrong direction, we’ll end up having to call the paramedics. But it’s a real close second.
 
Nikos dumped a small box on Frankie’s kitchen counter, Kiki under his arm, gazing lovingly at him, while Gail arranged her cutlery drawer. A drawer that held nothing more than three forks and one large serving spoon, but they were hers and they were in
her
drawer, in her studio apartment. “You have no knives, sassafras. How will you cut those big pieces of steak you’re going to cook for you and the hunk here?” Gail asked, thumbing over her shoulder in Nikos’s direction.
Frankie laughed, draping an arm around Gail’s shoulder. “I hate to cook, and you know it. And it’ll probably be a while before I can afford much, but at least I’m out of your hair, and you and Garner can . . . you know . . . in peace.” She winked with a conspiratorial smile.
Gail gave her hand a squeeze. “You know I loved having you, and I’m sure gonna miss that coffee you make, but I’m real proud of ya for getting your own apartment.”
Frankie smiled at the blank walls and empty space. Yeah. She was proud, too.
“There goes the neighborhood,” Jasmine teased, dropping a large gift bag on the kitchen counter.
Frankie laughed, giving her a quick hug. “You have no one to blame but yourself for the state of your neighborhood. If it wasn’t for you, I wouldn’t have gotten away with not having to give that shark of a landlord of ours a deposit.” Jasmine had charmed the pants right off of Rocco, their landlord and an all-around ladies’ man. By the time she was done, Frankie had the corner apartment, lower level, two parking spaces, and was located right across the way from Jasmine.
“Did my woman use those pesky feminine wiles she’s always complaining are the death of her to get you your own crib, Frankie?” Simon teased, close behind Jasmine, his hand on her waist.
“She did,” Gail confirmed with a shake of her silvery head. “Hoo boy. I ain’t never seen anything like it ’cept in the movies either. She’s one smooth talker, this sexy cookie is. I think he’d have agreed to let Frankie have an elephant for a pet by the time Jasmine was done with him.”
Jasmine threw up her hands with a grin. “I figure I may as well use all of this for something—even if it’s for evil.” She poked at the bag on the counter, shoving it in Frankie’s direction. “Open it.”
Her cell phone rang, interrupting her excitement over Jasmine’s gift. She held up one finger in a gesture for Jasmine to wait and whispered into the phone, “I told you I’d have it for you, didn’t I, Mitch? I’m in the middle of something, but I’ll call you back later.” She flipped the phone shut and returned her attention to Jasmine, briefly wondering why Simon had such an odd expression.
“Well, hurry up and open it!” Jasmine encouraged.
Frankie stuck her hand inside the big lavender foil bag and pulled out several items wrapped in blue tissue paper. “It’s a shower curtain and towels. Oh my God, I forgot about towels! Ohhh, and a toothbrush and soap holder, and wait—Scrubbing Bubbles and a sponge.”
“That’s because you’re now officially the maid, but don’t worry. I’ll teach you how to scrub the toilets so there’s no nasty ring,” Jasmine taunted good-naturedly.
Nikos laughed, unfolding the lone plastic chair she’d gotten free from the bank when she’d opened up a savings account, and setting it in the middle of her small living room-slash-bedroom. He set Kiki on it, scratching her ears. “Look at you. The only thing you need to make the old homestead complete is a velvet Elvis portrait for the wall.”
Frankie giggled, her heart skipping a beat when she caught Nikos’s gaze from across the room. “Hey, I had to start somewhere, right? And once I get my tax return, I’ll pick up some more essentials, funny man.” Thankfully, she’d remembered she was owed one of those due to her job at Bon Appetit last year, and she’d filed an early return. A definite bright spot when she and Nikos discovered her quest to get out of Gail’s hair wouldn’t have to be thwarted quite as long as Frankie had originally thought.
And here she was. The walls were cracked, the crazy blue and green bathroom was uglier than a boil on your ass, the kitchen was the size of a shoebox, and the front door sagged, but it said “Frankie Bennett” on the rental agreement.
There was no two ways about it, she’d have to stick to a strict budget, one she’d learned how to create with Jasmine and Maxine and the girls at Trophy, but if she was careful, and barring any unforeseen tragedies, she was going to do this.

Other books

The Prince of Punk Rock by Jenna Galicki
Blood Riders by Michael P. Spradlin
Legal Beagle by Cynthia Sax
A Shiver At Twilight by Quinn, Erin
Annabelle's Angel by Therese M. Travis
Geek Girl by Holly Smale
Storm Season by Nessa L. Warin