Doing It for Love (All About Love #1) (3 page)
Read Doing It for Love (All About Love #1) Online
Authors: Cassie Mae
I stand in the kitchen, hands firm on my hips while I cluck my tongue. “Where in the hell?” I whisper, eyes skating over every surface in my apartment. The junk drawer is empty, contents strewn over the counter. Our card table is piled with Landon’s jeans, each one with the pockets outturned. The living room looks like it barfed Rubbermaid bins.
And still no sign of a ring!
The first ray of sunlight streams through the balcony blinds, and a leap goes through my tummy. “The balcony storage!” I all but holler, my stride dead set on that sliding glass door even though I’m only in my ugly (but totally comfortable and warm) orange pajama shorts and clashing green tank top with no bra. The chill in the September air makes my nipples instantly perk as I step outside.
We seriously need to put up a wind chime or maybe a chair or something out here. It’s so plain, just the wood that needs a coat of varnish and a door on the right that leads to storage. We only keep our bikes in there, but Landon could’ve put the ring on a hook or in his helmet, or something. Because if it’s inside, either it’s up his ass or imaginary.
The door slightly creaks as I pull it open, and I flick on the dusty light, careful about where I step in case there’s a giant spider in here. I check the helmets, the hooks along the wall, even inside the cobwebby water bottles attached to our bikes. Seriously…where did he hide—
“I’d put on a jacket if you’re going for a ride.”
My stomach leaps into my throat and my feet leave the ground. “Shit! Don’t do that!”
Landon scratches his bare abs, then settles his hand on the door frame. His dark hair is flattened on one side of his head, and there are pillow lines across his cheek.
“It’s not out here.” He grins.
I let my heart go down to normal beats per minute, then slide past him to get back inside. His hands latch onto my waist, and he hugs me from behind. His body is warm. It’s always warm. He’s like my own personal heater.
“Where is it?” I ask, linking my fingers through his over my bellybutton.
“What? No good morning, how’d you sleep?”
“Morning.” I tap his knuckles. “Where is it?”
His soft laughter tickles the small hairs on my neck. “I hid it.”
“Where?”
He sweeps my scraggly blond ponytail across my shoulders, placing playful kisses on my skin. Curse his power of distraction.
“I gotta get ready for work,” he says into my ear. I shiver like I’m still standing out on the balcony, and he chuckles and squeezes my hand twice. I squeeze back once.
“Oh, by all means, take your time getting the ring on my finger. You know how patient I am.”
“It’ll be on your hand before I leave today.”
He nips at my shoulder again, then weaves through the obstacle course I created in the living room. I pout behind his back, playing with my bare ring finger. I need a distraction, or I’ll tear this place apart even more.
After getting past the Rubbermaid bins and clearing off a space wide enough on the counter to fix myself some coffee, I start the pot and slouch on the couch with the laptop.
I pull up my Pinterest and go to my wedding board. Not that I have a ton of pins on here…or that I thought this would be happening anytime soon, but some people post the prettiest dresses or the cutest cakes and I needed a place for them. When I started the board a little less than four years ago, I gave Landon a heart attack. We’d only been dating a month. So of course I played it up, had some fun with him, and I thought he was joking when he asked me to move in with him just to get back at me. But he wasn’t. And I haven’t regretted that decision at all. Well, minus those darn socks he leaves everywhere. It’s still one of the Hurdles from my Moving In With Boyfriend List I have yet to clear.
Oh! My Hurdles List…I should make one for planning the wedding. I click over to Word and start typing:
1.
Get Landon on board with Operation Make Wedding Night Sex the Greatest Ever.
2.
Tell friends and family
3.
Actually meet the in-laws (bonus Hurdle…get them to like me!)
Some very angry wings beat in my stomach with the thought of meeting Landon’s parents, and I hurry and type more Hurdles so I don’t have to think about it right now.
4.
Find the perfect dress. (!)
5.
Find the perfect (i.e., sunny) honeymoon locale
6.
Book the perfect venue.
Oh, I know exactly which one, too. Landon and I made a pact on our two-year anniversary. He accidentally gave the cabdriver the wrong address and instead of going to the Pranna Restaurant, we ended up at the Boathouse in Central Park. After teasing him relentlessly that he was planning on marriage so soon, he said that the next time we were at the Boathouse, we really would be getting married.
I pull up their website and my bank account, patting myself on the back for being such a penny-pincher that we have a nice savings balance.
“Ugh…” I groan as I click through available dates, spanning out two or three years. Hell no. I cannot be sex free for that long. Just as I’m about to pass this Hurdle to my mom, I find a January date.
January…
perfect
. I can picture it now…winter wedding, snowflakes and hot chocolate fountains. Then we can take off to our honeymoon in the Bahamas. Bonus! I get a week of winter somewhere above thirty degrees.
And to top off the perfection, January is the month I met Landon.
I was lucky to get into an advanced theater program my freshman year of college. My first class was after Christmas Break. I did all the plays in high school, performed at a couple theaters as an extra a few times. I loved it. And when I waltzed into the class that’s usually reserved for upperclassmen, I held my back straight and smiled like I belonged there. Because I did. I’d earned it.
There weren’t many empty seats and they were organized in kind of a group fashion, chairs randomly around the room, and it looked like people would just grab one and drag it to their friends. My eyes swiveled around at my classmates, who all seemed to have people to talk to. No loners out there, and really, there aren’t many shy people in theater, so I took a deep breath, found an open seat in a pretty large group, and marched over.
“Hey, I’m Liz,” I announced when I got there. They all were polite, waving and saying “hey” back, so I let go of my nerves and went to sit. But my butt hit nothing but air, and a yelp flew past my lips while my stomach shot up to my throat. I landed with such a loud thud that everyone in the room looked over while my face went instant flush. My hand fell on someone’s foot, and I glanced up at ratty jeans, a graphic tee, and a wide-open jaw, to gray eyes and baseball cap. His mouth looked stuck open, until he finally said something.
“I. Am. So. Sorry.” He let go of the chair in his hand and reached down to help me off my ass. “I didn’t know…I thought that chair was free.”
The laughter around us died a bit as people went back to their conversations. My tailbone throbbed, but I managed to semi-smile and say, “It’s okay.”
His face looked as red as mine felt, and he scratched the back of his hat. “Uh, here, it’s all yours,” he said, handing the chair back. Not wanting to make things even more awkward, I took it and joined the large group, who let me know that I’d fit right in because I knew how to make an entrance.
I spent the whole class trying not to look over at gray-eyed hat guy, but my eyes wouldn’t stop flicking in his direction. He totally had the Luke Bryan thing going for him, and he was always looking at me when I looked at him, then we’d both shoot our gaze somewhere else. To this day, I have no clue what we learned in that first class.
After the teacher dismissed us, I made sure not to trip over my heels as I made my way to the parking lot. But someone tapped my arm right outside the quad, and he fell in step with me.
“Would you like an opportunity to embarrass me? So we’re even.”
His voice was gruff and cool-like, and a burst of laughter flew from my mouth.
“You worked on that line for the last hour and a half, didn’t you?”
“Did it work?”
I smiled. “Maybe.”
He moved in front of me, walking backward. “I’m a terrible singer. We could go to a karaoke bar.”
“Hmmm…no good. I’m eighteen and no fake ID.”
“All right.” He smiled, and I can still feel the leap my stomach took when he didn’t care about how young I was. “Something else, then.”
I stopped walking, tucking my hair behind my ear and clutching whatever book I had in my hand to my chest. “How about bowling?”
“Ah, see, that wouldn’t work,” he said with a tilt of his head. “The point is to embarrass
me
. Not embarrass you twice, Tumbles.”
“Think you’re that good, huh?”
“I know I am.”
“Then embarrassing you will be more fun than I thought.”
His grin did me in, and I felt like a melted pool of butterflies on the sidewalk when he asked, “You free tomorrow night?”
And because I had lost control over my tongue I said, “I’m free right now.”
The second he called me “Tumbles,” he had me. He didn’t know it, but I sure as hell did.
I blink to the present, let out a content sigh, and click on
BOOK NOW
. Then I almost drop half our savings on the
SAVE THE DATE
, but I better make sure Landon’s okay with me swiping the card.
The bedroom door opens down the hall, and I get a wave of Landon’s cologne before he pops into the room. He pours two mugs of coffee, dumping four spoonfuls of sugar in mine and five in his, then sets the steaming hot deliciousness into my hands.
“Already planning?” he asks, gesturing to the screen. I blow across my mug and nod.
“Do you think five months is long enough?”
His brow crinkles. “Long enough to what?”
“Plan a wedding.”
He lowers his mug, a smile on the edge of his lips. “You want to get married in five months.”
“If that’s okay.”
“Whatever you want.” He leans over to kiss my cheek. “I would’ve married you yesterday if you asked.”
Warmth fills me up—though that could be the coffee—and I smile behind my mug wondering how the hell I got so lucky. Maybe if he’s so agreeable, I don’t have to worry about convincing him on the no-sex deal.
Hurdle number one…you’re up.
Maybe I should do stretches.
“Hey, so…I wanted to talk to you about something.”
“Sure,” Landon jams his phone in his back pocket and guzzles his coffee, eyes moving wildly over the counter in search of his keys or wallet. “But I’m running late, so make it fast.”
I move the laptop to the coffee table and put on an excited grin. “I was thinking I wanted to make our wedding night really special.”
He stops fumbling around for his keys, gaze flicking up to me. “Oh?” His grin gets wicked. “I most definitely will be up for that.”
“Good, because here’s what I’m thinking…” I say, and he goes back to digging around the counter. Here goes nothing.
“No sex till we’re husband and wife.”
I feel like I’ve stepped into one of those movies where the main character presses pause, starts talking to the audience, and walks through all the frozen people around them. I purse my lips, holding back my laughter as Landon continues to stare, stare, stare at me like I’ve sprouted hair all over my chin.
“Um, babe?” I ask, waving my arm in front of me. “You still in there?”
He blinks. “I’m waiting for you to say ‘Bazinga.’ ”
“I’m serious. I think it’ll be fun.”
And get us out of our rut.
His eyebrow arches, and I wait for the inevitable “no,” but it doesn’t come. Instead, he unfreezes, swings his key ring around his finger, and says, “Okay.”
“Okay?”
“Yep.” He pulls his jacket on and grabs his weathered Sweeney Todd baseball cap. He doesn’t put it on just yet, walking over to me and pressing a quick kiss to my lips. “I’ll call you on my break.”
“Wait a second.” I snatch his jacket pocket. “That was
way
too easy.”
“You think it’ll be fun. So let’s do it.” He grins. “Or
not
do it.”
“You realize it’s five months.”
“Yeah.”
“No sex at all.”
“Okay.”
“No
form
of sex.”
“Yeah, I get it.”
“And you’re seriously just okay with no reason other than ‘It’ll be fun’?” I cross my arms. “I don’t buy it.”
He growls, sliding onto the couch next to me. “Okay…don’t get mad…but you do this a lot.”
My brows bunch in the middle of my forehead. “Do what?”
He runs a hand over his face, then around the back of his neck. “You get really excited about something, and then…well, the next day you just…aren’t as excited.”
Oh hell no. “You’re lucky I stayed excited about
you
.” I poke him in the chest, and he rubs the spot out with a laugh.
“You’re right. I’m sorry.”
Bull. He still thinks I’m going to flake out. He’s dead wrong. If anything, he just sealed it airtight. Even if he wasn’t going to go along with it, I’ve just shut my business down for…well, business.
“All right. Hands off until January.” I smile big and determined. But a flash of confusion runs across his face.
“January…”
“That’s five months, Landon.”
“But January is Sundance.”
Balls
. Sundance is Landon’s annual movie nerd orgy. He hasn’t missed one since he was seventeen. Normally I’d be okay with it, and I’d suggest going with him, but the thought of all that snow has me shivering already.
“Can you skip one year?” I ask, knowing the answer before he even opens his mouth.
“It’s Sundance, Lizzie.”
“But it’s our wedding now, too.”
He pats his hat against his leg. “Does it absolutely
need
to be?”
His eyes swivel back and forth between mine, studying and begging and pulling all that manipulative puppy dog shit, but I just give him the same look back. I face the computer toward him.
“It’s the only open date at the Boathouse for at least another year.”
“And you don’t want to wait till then.”
“Do
you
want to wait a year with no sex?”
He smiles, but then stops with the look I give him.
“So…it has to be January?”
“It was our meet-cute.”
A small laugh flits from his mouth. “What the hell is a meet-cute?”
“Well, in this case it was you dumping me on my ass and me wiping the bowling alley floor with you after.” I grab his hand and squeeze twice. He squeezes back once. “Our meet-cute.”
“That’s why you want it in January…”
I nod, smiling as I see his wall cracking.
“So,” he says, “honeymoon at Sundance?”
I wrinkle my nose. “Utah? Who the hell honeymoons in Utah?”
“Skiers,” he offers. “And wives who really love and support their wannabe director husbands.”
“Nice try.” I pick up his cap and set it on my head. “I want somewhere tropical. A beach and sand and water. You in those red and black board shorts.” I sigh, and he laughs at me. “Somewhere
warm
…please?”
“We can watch a movie about the beach…”
I growl, tossing my head back. “Landon!”
“Lizzie!” he mimics.
I kick him in the leg. “Can we fight about this later and get back to what we were talking about?”
“What? The no sex thing and how that somehow equals fun?”
“Yes, smart-ass. Sometimes delayed gratification gets my rocks off. You remember when you vacationed for a month?”
He grins a wicked grin and runs a hand up the inside of my shorts. “Mmhmm…”
“It’ll be like that,” I say as his fingers make a naughty trail across my underwear line, and I gulp so loud it echoes in my ears. “Only better because it’ll be months and months.”
“I told you,” he whispers as he leans in. “I’m okay with it. I just don’t think you’ll last.”
“I bet I’ll last longer than you.”
His eyebrows rise, and there’s a tilt of his lips that he always gets when he’s thinking “challenge accepted.” It’s one of the sexiest expressions he has, and I clench my jaw, refusing to look at his mouth and lose this thing before it starts.
“Okay.” He slips his hand out of my shorts.
“Okay what?”
“Okay, I’ll take that bet.” He takes his hat off my head and sets it on his. “And when I win, I get Sundance.”
I pull my feet under my butt and stare him down. His eyes flick to my lack of bra, and he gulps. Too easy.
“Then we should establish rules, right? Like hands off the ladies.” I gesture to my breasts, and he laughs. “And none of the lower lady touching either.”
“Then you can’t touch Lord Landon,” he fires back. Like that’ll be hard for me.
“Neither can you.”
He jerks back. “Wait…what?”
“The whole point of this is to get ourselves revved up. How can we do that if you spend the sex-free five months with a box of tissues?”
He purses his lips, like he’s thinking
what the hell have we started
, and I cross my arms, challenging him to give up a minute in. After a few seconds, he sighs and says, “You can’t touch yourself either.”
“Okay.”
Cake
. “And whoever breaks the rules loses.”
“You won’t last a week.”
I nearly snort. Yeah, I’m usually the instigator of sex, but I know him. I’ll be surprised if he lasts the day.
“Does that mean you’re in?”
Landon pauses, staring me down while I do the same. He playfully grins, and asks, “I can still kiss you?”
“Yes.”
“Anywhere that isn’t ‘the ladies,’ right?”
I tilt my head, considering. “Yeah.”
His smile grows, and he leans forward. “Then I’m in.”
He pushes his forehead against mine, gently giving me Eskimo kisses. I reach up to hold his face, give him a goodbye kiss since I’ve made him incredibly late for work, but he catches my hand. My eyes flick down as he slides the diamond on my ring finger.
“Did I do okay?” he asks, twisting the ring. My mouth splits open into a wide grin, and I throw my arms around his neck and leap into his lap.
“Where did you hide it?” I squeal, my hand stretched out behind his back as I stare at the beautiful diamond, eyes watering because it feels incredibly
real
now. I’m getting married!
“I’m going to keep that a secret in case I need to hide anything else.” He presses light kisses to my bare shoulder, slowly working his way up my neck to my mouth. I lean back to return the kiss, and after three seconds I have to push him away because I feel things happening behind his zipper, and I may grind without even thinking about it. I give myself an A+ in restraint.
“Hey, babe?” I say, playing with the ring and moving my gaze to his eyes. “When
I
win, we get the Bahamas.”
And I will have delicious Sex on the Beach.
The drink, and the deed.
