Mother of the Bride (42 page)

“I don't think Fletch will let her.”

She cocked her head at him over her shoulder, a curious arch in one tomato-caked brow. “What did you and my father talk about today?”

Gus smiled. “Oh this and that.”

“Are you taking me to my bedroom?”

“Yep. You need a shower and I need to ravish you.”

“Oh goody.”

Gus put her down at the top of the stairs. She drew him into her bedroom, shut and locked the door and turned into his arms, wrapped hers around his waist and snuggled her head into his chest. He felt the shiver in her, the tremble of reaction in her muscles, buried his nose in her hair and smelled
mozzarella and Windex, like he had last Monday night when he'd shown up unannounced at her house.

“I'm sorry about the rug, Gus.”

“Forget it. I'd give every rug in this house to see that again.”

“I don't know what came over me. No—yes, I do know. Every rotten, high-handed thing Gwen had ever done to me and Bebe and my mother. The wedding decorations and kicking Louella and Mamie and Sarah and Cloris and her sisters out of Tall Pines.” She pressed her palms to her face, a triple-time adrenaline pulse beating in her throat. “I was so angry I could hardly breathe. The pizza was there and I just grabbed it and—” She blinked up at him. “Did I make a fool of myself?”

“You were magnificent. A real little Uzi. Got me pumped.”

“Well, as long as you're pumped.” She laughed, her eyes shining, stretched up and kissed his chin. “Get naked. I'll be right back.”

She went into the bathroom and shut the door. When the shower cranked on, Gus sat down at the desk and laughed. My God, his life had been dreary. Maybe he'd been depressed, but he sure as hell wasn't now. As Aunt Phoebe used to say, he was having more fun than a barrel of monkeys. He had no intention of letting that end or letting Cydney go. He'd found her, he was keeping her and that's all there was to it.

She was smart and funny, adorable and sincere. She was a great cook, so he'd eat well. He grinned at that. She lived a sensible, prudent and well-planned life, except when her loony family upset her apple cart. A little bit of all the Par-rishes together in one place went a long way, but he could live with that. He'd be nice to Bebe. He'd even try to like her. He'd sell Tall Pines if Cydney hated it. He'd knock it down and build her a palace in its place if that's what she wanted. He'd do anything.

“Cydney?” Fletch called, knocking on the door.

Gus got up, unlocked and opened the door.

“She okay?” Fletch asked.

“She's in the shower. When she gets out I'm going to make love to her, so if you could keep the rest of the inmates away from here for a while I'd appreciate it.”

“Well, that was direct,” Fletch said with a startled laugh.

“I've gone about this all wrong.” Gus stepped into the hall, pulled the door shut and kept his voice low. “I took her to bed before I courted her, so I'm working on that. I'd call Elvin—he's a justice of the peace as well as the sheriff—and have him marry us as soon as Cydney gets out of the shower, but I want her to be the center of attention for something besides throwing a pizza in her sister's face. If she wants a big wedding, great. If she wants Elvin here in twenty, even better. Whatever she wants I intend to give her. I love her and if she'll have me, I'm keeping her.”

“This is what I wanted to hear from you Sunday. When I didn't, I baited you. Cydney is one of the few good things I've done in my life. I've been a lousy father and I regret that, but this makes me very happy.”

He offered his hand and Gus shook it.

“Take all the time you need. I'll see that you get it.”

Gus stepped back in the bedroom and locked the door.

“Hey, old poop!” Cydney hollered. “Are you out there?”

“I'm here.” Gus opened the bathroom door, leaned past it into the steam cloud fogging the mirror and saw Cydney, her wet head stuck past the partially open shower door. “Wanna wash my back?”

“You bet.” Gus kicked the bathroom door shut behind him and peeled off his sweater. “Your front, too.”

God she was lovely, sleek and glistening as a seal under the spray. His own precious little water nymph. Gus stepped into the shower, scooped his arms around her and lifted her against his naked chest to kiss her, a hot, deep, openmouthed kiss that made her whimper and wrap her legs around his waist. He groaned and gripped her bottom, backed her against the shower wall and took her hard and fast, catching the cry she made in his mouth. When he sagged against her, his arms trembling and hands spread on the wall, she sighed and stroked the wet back of his head with her fingers.

“I didn't mean to do that in here,” he said, breathing raggedly in her ear. “I meant to take you to bed and take my time.”

“You can still do that.” She smiled when he drew away from her.

“It won't bother you that the rest of your family is downstairs?”

“My name will be mud for the rest of today. Maybe even tomorrow. It'll be a long time before anybody comes looking for me.”

He considered telling her Fletch had stopped by, but she kissed him and he forgot. He washed her back and massaged her shoulders, felt the tension seep out of her and her muscles relax. He held her against him while he soaped her breasts and then her thighs, slid a finger inside her and teased until she moaned and he felt her bones melt.

Gus rinsed her and shut the water off, wrapped her in a towel, carried her to bed and told her how much he loved her with his mouth and his hands. The second the last Parrish but Cydney walked out of Tall Pines, he'd lock the front door, tell her he loved her and ask her to marry him. He wanted it to be just the two of them. He didn't want Georgette's nose in it or Bebe's nose or anybody else's nose.

How perfect, Cydney thought as she fell asleep on Gus' chest. The last time was the best time. She didn't feel the least bit sad. Just content and loved, even though she wasn't.

It was dark outside when she woke up with her face turned toward the window. A pool of light streamed over her shoulder. From the desk lamp, Cydney thought and yawned. She didn't realize Gus had gotten out of bed until she heard the tap of her laptop keys. She pushed up on her hands, peered over her suitcase and saw him sitting in the desk chair, his bare, smoothly muscled back gleaming in the lamplight.

“Hi there,” she said, scratching her head groggily. Oh no. She'd fallen asleep with a wet head. Her hair was going to look like a Brillo pad run through the microwave. “What are you doing?”

“Shhh. Almost finished.”

“Genius at work.” She plumped her pillow against the headboard, sat up with the quilt around her and looped her arms around her knees.

“There. Done and save.” Gus took off his glasses and straddled the chair to face her with his elbows folded on the back. He'd put on a pair of teal green boxers. “I left you a present.”

“You wrote chapter six, didn't you?”

“And seven. Looked like you were shooting for my point of view in that chapter, too.” He smiled and swept a hand through his hair. Eek. He'd done the same thing she had, gone to bed with a wet head. “I got bored watching you sleep so I snooped and gave you a hand. If you don't like what I wrote, delete it. Otherwise, it's yours with my blessing.”

If he kept this up, she'd have to put his name on the book. Cydney Parrish Munroe. The name leapt unbidden into her head and sprang tears in her eyes. Cydney blinked them away, watched Gus smile at her and take another swipe at his hair.

“You should re-wet your hair and dry it.” She leaned an elbow on her knee and her chin on her hand. “You look like a startled squirrel.”

“Nice phrase.” Gus laughed and pushed out of the chair. “Ever thought of being a writer?”

“A time or two.” She smiled at him as he flopped down on the bed beside her and rubbed his nose in her hair.

“You should talk about
my
hair,” he said, and she elbowed him in the ribs, then scooted over to share her pillow. Gus leaned against it and looped his arm around her shoulders. “Here's what your father and I talked about today. As Mamie would phrase it, there ain't a dang thing wrong with his patoot.”

“I thought the word
patoot
refers to a horse's derriere.”

“It does. Except when it comes out of Mamie's mouth.”

“I don't even
want
to know how this came up in conversation.”

“Careful. You'll get me excited.” She wrinkled her nose
and he kissed it. “Seems the only time Fletch has trouble with his patoot is around Domino.”

“Really? Boy.” She shook her head. “Around Domino, I'd think most men would have the opposite problem.”

“You'd think, wouldn't you?”

She cocked an eyebrow and tipped her head at him. “Do you?”

“No. My patoot is very happy where it is, thank you.” He kissed her lightly and she smiled, almost but not quite purred in her throat. “I told your father I thought his patoot was trying to tell him something.”

“I shudder to think what.”

“I told you to watch that kind of talk. Clyde is getting very excited.”

Cydney blinked at him. “Clyde?”

“My patoot. That's his name.”

“Clyde?”
She blinked again, then burst out laughing, so hard she shrieked and keeled over on her side, the quilt tangling around her.

“I don't think this is the least bit funny,” Gus said, doing his best to sound indignant around the grin on his face. “Neither does Clyde.”

“Clyde!”
She howled, laughing so hard she gasped. She slapped a hand over her mouth and rolled toward him, spread her fingers and said, “Is that why Sheriff Cantwell calls you hoss?”

“MissParrish!”

“Oh my God,
it is!”
She shrieked again and doubled over, howling with laughter. “I don't want to know how that came up, either!”

“Come over here and I'll show you.”

Gus dove at her, gnawing her ear with his whiskers, making her laugh until she cried and could hardly draw a breath. He settled down beside her then, chuckling and spooning her against his chest, her heart thudding beneath his hand cupped over her breast.

“Wonder if there's any pizza left.” She sighed.

“Let's go find out.” Gus slapped her rump and rolled to his feet.

When she came out of the bathroom in her green p.j.'s, her terry cloth robe and a pair of red socks, Gus had donned a Missouri Tigers T-shirt and navy sweatpants. Cydney stopped finger-combing her hair.

“Where'dyougetthe duds, bub?”

“I made a foray to my room while you were asleep.”

“Whattimeisit?”

“Almost ten-thirty.” Gus turned away from her travel alarm, unlocked and opened the door. “After you, killer.”

Stepping out into the alcove was like stepping into a tomb. It was eerily quiet. Cydney peered around the corner into the hall. The brass sconces on the walls, like the ones in the dining room, were lit, but she didn't hear a sound. Not a peep. Gus took her elbow as they went down the back stairs. She peered from the dining room into the living room, listened but heard nothing, frowned and followed Gus into the kitchen.

He was bent inside the fridge, then turned around as she hopped up on a stool at the island with a pizza box and two cans of Pepsi in his hands.

“Canadian bacon.” He winked at her and flipped the lid back. “I knew it was wise to stop you. You want this hot or cold?”

“This is perfect.” Cydney peeled a slice off the cardboard and munched. So did Gus, popping the tops on the Pepsis. When the grandfather clock by the R&R room doors chimed the half hour, she almost fell off her stool.

“You okay?” Gus asked around a mouthful.

“It's too quiet in here. Where the heck is everybody?”

“Dunno.” Gus shrugged. “Wanna do a bed check?”

“No,” Cydney said firmly. If her parents were doing something they shouldn't, she didn't want to know about it.

“When you smacked Gwen with the pizza, Domino jumped right into the arms of the prince.” Gus wagged his eyebrows. “Wonder where his patoot is tonight.”

“Gus.” Cydney laughed at him and took a swig of Pepsi,
folded her wrists on the island and leaned toward him. “Mother told me today that Domino and Misha, that's the Prince's name, are old chums. He's a well-known photographer in Europe, did a lot of work in Paris before Domino married Dad. That's how Gwen met him. She went to Cannes for a weekend of R and R and there was Misha visiting Dad and Domino.”

“Never mind.” Gus slugged his Pepsi. “I know where his patootis.”

“For such an old poop, you have a really filthy mind.”

“Honey, I write this stuff. Come to think of it, so does Fletch.” Gus bit off a chunk of pizza and frowned as he chewed, swallowed and wiped his mouth and hopped off his stool. “Come on. We're doing a bed check.”

“No.” Cydney slapped her hand over his. “We are not.”

“You aren't worried about Domino and the Prince, are you? You're worried about your mother and father.”

Cydney winced. “Is it that obvious?”

“That they still got the hots for each other? Oh yeah.”

“When I was fifteen, I cried myself to sleep praying Dad would come home.” She slid her elbow on the island and her fingers into her hair, sighed and lifted a rueful smile to him. “My mother was just down the hall doing the same thing every night. It was awful.”

“That was then, babe. This is now.”

“He broke my mother's heart. If he does it again I'll kill him.”

“Ooh, Uzi talk,” he teased her. “You're making me hot.”

She laughed a little, flattened her palms on the bar and pushed herself straight up on her stool. “It's none of my business, is it?”

“Nope.” Gus stretched across the bar and kissed her. “Wanna sleep with me tonight?”

“Yes.” Tonight and tomorrow night and every night for the rest of my life, Cydney thought. “But I'm going back to my room.”

“Just don't sleep on the floor outside Georgette's door.”

“I won't. I promise.”

But she crept down the hall and pressed her ear to the door. Held her breath and listened until it was suck air into her lungs or turn blue and faint, but she didn't hear a thing. She thought about listening at her father's door, but she had no idea which room was his. She'd ask Gus.