Overflow: The Carpino Series (7 page)

Well, now what do I do?  I have no idea what to say, so of
course I start rambling, “Um…do you need a toothbrush?  I have a guestroom, you
really don’t need to sleep on the sofa.  Can I get you something to drink? 
Water, a beer….”

“Gabby,” he interrupts me so I stop rambling and he brings
himself close to me, really close to me. “A toothbrush would be good.  But you
take the guestroom, you shouldn’t sleep in your room with that door busted.  If
you can get me a pillow and blanket, I’ll be fine.”

“Okay.  You probably wouldn’t like the guest room anyway, I
haven’t redecorated it yet.  It’s my old room and it’s pink.  It’s not very
manly with all the stuffed animals.  There are some bad boy band posters on the
walls from when I was a teenager, I really should have taken those down by
now.  But that will just leave holes in the walls which would be worse than the
boy band posters.  Well, maybe holes would be better than bad boy band
posters…”

He takes another step closing the microscopic distance that
was separating us, his chest brushing up against my breasts and one arm snakes
around my lower back.  He pulls me in the rest of the way, the other hand doing
the hair in back of my head thing again.  I lift my hands and place them instinctively
on his chest.  His chest, by the way, that feels rock hard through his thin
t-shirt and I can’t help but press my fingers in slightly, fascinated by how he
feels under my hands.  All the while, his latest maneuver brings us to full on
frontal touching.  Although this surprises me, I can’t help think about how
good it all feels while it’s freaking me out at the same time!

He dips his head closer, pulling me out of my fascination
fog, whispering low and raspy, “I don’t know Gabby, I might really like to
experience your pink room with stuffed animals and boy band posters.”  I gasp
again, as he pulls my head up the rest of the way, tilts his head and his mouth
hits mine, gentle, but fully in control.  His lips are full, strong, amazing
and I can’t help but lean into him to give him my weight.  I close my eyes,
tilt my head the other way, his tongue sneaking out to swipe my lower lip and I
open my mouth instantly.  He takes full advantage, dipping his tongue in my
mouth.  I can’t help but come up on my toes to wrap one arm around his neck and
one up the back of his head in his hair that’s as lush and as thick as I
imagined.  His hand at my back lowers to my ass and pulls me in tight and his
control starts to ebb as he deepens the kiss and it feels amazing, I’m giving
whatever he wants to take.  This continues for a minute, maybe thirty.  Who can
keep track?  Then, all too soon he starts to slow down and his mouth makes his
way down my jaw to under my ear, but he doesn’t let me go.  With his face in my
hair, he whispers, “Fuck.  That was better than I imagined.”  He pulls his head
up enough to look at me but keeps me tucked tight, me still up on my toes and
keeps on, “And I’ve got a real good imagination, sugar.”

“You do?” was all I could muster.

He grins and says, “Yeah.”

“Ohmygoodness,” I say, still at a lack for words. 

His hand tightens on my ass and he gives me a full body
squeeze saying, “Toothbrush, Gabby.  You need to get to bed.  You were wiped
earlier.”

“Right, toothbrush,” I whisper, but instead of letting me
go, he pulls me up one more time for a quick touch of our lips, then loosens
his hold.  I head to the guest bath and linen closet for Jude’s sleepover
essentials, still in a fog from my yummy Jude kiss.  Trying to get my wits
about me, I walk back into the room and start rambling again, “There’s another
room down the hall, but the bed was old and I got rid of it thinking I was
going to start on these rooms next.  I have two more bedrooms in the basement,
but I’m sure you won’t want to sleep down there with those fans going all
night.  I brought you a pillow, sheet and blanket.  Oh, and a new toothbrush,
there’s toothpaste in the drawer of the guest bath.  I feel really bad about
you sleeping on the sofa.”

“I don’t mind, Gabby,” he says, a new look coming from his
melty eyes.  “Go get ready for bed, I’ll be fine.”

“Okay,” I whisper and head quickly to my room.  I grab some
sleep shorts and a cami from my armoire.  I go to my bathroom to change my
clothes, wash, moisturize my face and brush my teeth.  All through this,
thinking about how good Jude’s lips felt on me.  Oh shit!  I have to walk back
across the house in front of Jude to get to my old room.  I go to my closet and
grab a short, thin summer robe.  Trying to think of anything else besides me in
my pj’s and Jude’s lips on me, I look into the mirror giving myself a pep talk,
“You’re a big girl.  Just walk across the house, Gabby.”  With no other words
of wisdom to offer myself, I move out. 

Jude has the cushions removed from the back of the sofa and
the sheet spread out.  He’s standing with his back to me facing my bookshelves
that flank the limestone fireplace.  Not really knowing what to say now, I ask,
“Do you need anything else?  An extra pillow or blanket?”

What I’m learning quickly is typical Jude fashion, he turns,
changes the subject and asks me a question out of the blue but it comes out as
a statement, “You’re close to your grandfather.”

“What?”

“Your grandfather, you seem close to him when you were
around him tonight.  He’s protective of you.”

“Well yes, I’m close to all my family.  I mean, you
witnessed a lot of Carpino madness tonight, did you not?”

“Yeah,” he lets out on a small chuckle and continues, “But
it seems different with your grandfather.”

“Well, my family is super close, it’s plain to see.  My
grandmother has been gone for about 5 years now, she had lung cancer even
though she never smoked a day in her life, but she grew up around second hand
smoke.  When we lost my parents, my Pop was alone and I was renting an apartment
at the time, so I moved in with my Pop for a few months.  Not that it wasn’t
tragic losing my parents, but you never expect to lose a child, no matter what
age they are.  And my Pop loves all four of his daughter in laws, so it was
like he lost a son and a daughter at the same time.”  Jude keeps looking at me
but doesn’t say anything so I keep going, “So yeah, I guess you can say we have
a bond because we sort of got through that together.  I’m probably closer to
him than the other grandkids because of it.” 

Jude walks over to me again, but barely touching me this
time.  His hand comes up to my face and he says, “I’m glad you had that Gabby. 
I’m glad you weren’t alone.”  There’s something working in his eyes that I
can’t put my finger on, but before I can search them out even more, he bends,
kisses me softly and instructs, “Go set your alarm and get to bed, sugar.” 

“Okay,” I whisper and head to the alarm panel, arm the
system and make kissy noises for Mia to follow me, which she of course does. 

“See ya in the morning, Gabby,” Jude calls softly as I head
to my childhood bedroom. 

“Goodnight, Jude.”  Mia and I head to my old double bed and
climb in.  Mia prances around the bed about three times wondering what’s up
with the change in location.  “Lay down, baby,” I coo at her and she curls into
me instantly.  Thinking there’s no possible way I will fall asleep after one of
the longest days of my life, a day that ended with Jude kissing me and sleeping
in the next room, I snuggle closer to my dog and close my eyes.  Minutes later
with my mind on all things Jude, sleep takes over instantly. 

“Girl, when I saw you walk into church with that man, whip
me with a feather, shocked the hell out of me!  He is lush!”

“Don’t you mean ‘strike me down with a feather,’ Reagan?” I
ask, as I sit on my friend’s kitchen floor prepping her island for its last
treatment.  Reagan Ford and I met in college, but we are pretty sure we
were BFF’s at birth and were somehow separated by an evil curse, wandering our hometown
of Omaha aimlessly until we found each other again in college.  That’s how
much we ‘get’ each other.  Reagan is a teacher, but just recently quit to
stay home with their first baby, Ben.  Two days ago when I was
experiencing my post-sleepover-morning with Jude, I told him I was going to
church at ten thirty and he insisted on coming with me.  So when I walked
through the front doors of my church with Jude holding my hand, yes, that’s
right!  Holding.  My.  Hand.  Well, Reagan saw and she flipped out.  And
she didn’t flip out quietly, she flipped out rather dramatically. 

“Stop correcting me, Gab, you know I’m sleep deprived! 
John was on call all weekend.  Between Ben waking up every two hours to
nurse because he’s going through a growth spurt and the answering service
calling, I’m a walking zombie.”  John is Reagan’s husband, a couple years
older than us, a pediatrician and all around great guy.  He’s an amazing
husband to my best friend and is proving to be that kind of dad as well. 
But he’s recently out of Fellowship, is new to his practice, so he’s on call a
lot and works pretty long hours.  Reagan and John have a great house not
far from mine, it’s about fifteen years old and we’ve just semi-renovated their
kitchen.  Reagan has many house projects she wants to tackle so they are
on a budget.  We decided to reface the perimeter cabinets, gutting just a
couple above the new range to open that area for a super cool stainless steel
range hood.  Now, their old oak cabinets are a warm white with clean lines,
but not quite contemporary, showcasing all new cabinet doors and drawer fronts. 
After the granite was installed, the wood floors were hand scraped and refinished
to a dark warm brown.  Now it looks like the entire room has been gutted. 
Because her kitchen is so spacious, we were able to use the dinky little island
that was there, adding two legs with corbels on each side for support which
extended it another three feet.  This made the island huge and now houses
four barstools providing another area for seating, a place they will use daily
with their growing family.  The island helped the room look completely
transformed, but the paint treatment Reagan wanted was going to be
expensive.  I knew Reagan had her eye on a new farmhouse kitchen table and
I knew how much that table cost, so by doing the paint treatment for her and
cutting a few corners here and there on the project, she will get her kitchen
table and the room will be perfect!  Early last week, we painted the
island a grey but with subtle blue undertones then lightly glazed it with a
smoky brown that gives it interest and depth, pulling out the greys and browns
from the granite.  Now all I have to do is apply two to three coats of
furniture wax to protect the treatment to give it a furniture quality sheen
that you can’t get from polyurethane. 

“Maybe you should go and take a nap while I’m doing
this.  I can watch Ben and you can catch up on some sleep!” I say, knowing
full and well there is no way Reagan will give up when she wants to know
something.

“Uh-huh!  I cannot believe my best friend in the whole
wide world can just waltz into church holding hands with some shit hot guy and
me not know anything about it!  How do you think that made me feel?”

“Quit talking so loud, you’re going to scare your son.”

“Gabby,” she said with mock warning in her voice. 

I sigh and decide I owe her some answers.  I was her maid of
honor after all, there has to be some sort of ‘know all’ stipulation that comes
with that.  “I met him Friday at Megan’s.  That’s a whole different
story altogether that I absolutely cannot get into, so do not ask!” I give her
my stern look and she gives me a glare in return.  “Anyway, he had to stop
by my house for something Saturday morning right after I found water all over
my basement.  He helped move furniture, Tony asked him to join the Fantasy
Football league and he insisted on coming with me, which you know what that
means.”  Reagan gasps, because she ‘gets me’ and knows my family
well.  “I know, right? You can imagine how that went for me and the pile
of shit I got from my family.  Jude, on the other hand, seemed to think it
was all hunky dory!  Then I got a call that my bedroom deck door had been
broken into tripping my alarm, new drama all around and Jude insisted on staying
the night with me so I wouldn't be alone.”

Reagan gasps again and asks, “Holy smokes!  Did he spend the
night with you?”

“Yes!  That’s the thing!  I can’t seem to shake
this guy or say no to him!”

“Why on God’s Green Earth would you want to say no to him?”
she asks, appalled.

“Well, I don’t know.  I haven’t been with anyone in
forever.  Not since James and we both know how well that ended,” I say.  Reagan
gives her head a knowing tip to the side in agreement. 

“So, you met him Friday?” she asks.

“Yeah.”

“And he spent the night Saturday?” she asks further, with
big eyes this time.  Her big eyes asking way more than her words.

“On my sofa, Reagan!  He made me sleep in my old room since
the door was busted out.  Well, and he stayed again Sunday night…” I go on and
she just glares at me so I continue on a whisper, “and last night, too.”

“Holy shit,” she whispers back.

I start working on the island and I peek over at Reagan
holding her sweet sleeping baby boy as she is deep in thought.  So I ask,
“What?”

“What else?  He might be sleeping on your sofa, but what
else?”

My eyes go back to my work on the island and offer, “Well,
we’ve eaten dinner together the last two nights.  Although he’s being really
nice, I’m not sure he eats as much salad as I do.  Last night when I started
making dinner, he just grinned and shook his head.”

“Gabby, a salad is not considered dinner for 99.9% of the
population, no one eats as much salad as you do.  That man needs some carbohydrates
and some red meat!  Are you trying to scare him away?  Plus, that’s crap intel,
I’m talkin what
else
!”

My eyes go back to my project, but my mind goes back to last
night.  After we ate taco salads (I did put grilled chicken on them!) Jude and
I headed to the basement to make some semblance of order since the fans were
gone.  My insurance company came earlier that day to check out the basement and
the door in my bedroom, killing two birds with one stone. 

Lucky me. 

I learned that I will receive a check for carpet, paint, baseboards
and the glass for my bedroom door.  We caught the water soon enough and didn’t have
any damage to my furniture.  I’m super grateful for this silver lining because
some of the pieces are antiques that my mom had collected over the years and
are sentimental to me.  I also had a glass company come out and ordered glass
for my bedroom door that should be in by the end of the week.  I managed to
‘tone it down’ Sunday and Monday without any further catastrophes or visits
from the police, so I’m considering that a plus.  However, Jude insisted on
staying both nights so I wasn’t by myself.  He has worked his way into my life
in a weird way, and if I’m honest with myself, this gives me warm fuzzies while
scaring the shit out of me.  He continues to be sweet and thoughtful but at the
same time bossy as hell.  How does he pull that off so well?  

Last night while moving furniture around, he was asking me
more about my family and that led to me talking about my parents. 

“So if you and Tony are about the same age, how long has he
been practicing law?” Jude asks.

“He joined our practice right after he passed the Bar about
two and a half years ago.  He interned every summer as well.”

“Our practice?” he asks looking confused.

“Well, I mean Carpino Law Partners.  It’s a habit to say
‘our’ because my dad was a partner.  My uncles Gino and Tony are now the only
partners, they took on Tony as an associate, of course.  He’ll make partner
someday and not just because he’s a Carpino.  He’s a hard worker, specializes
in Business Law and has brought a lot of clients to the firm over the last
year.  He’s really making a name for himself.”  Jude looks at me, so of course
I go on, “I guess I’m a silent investor, if you want to call it that.  My
uncles wanted to sell my dad’s portion of the firm to me after he died, but I
wouldn’t let them.  I don’t need it, my parents left me plenty but they drew up
all kinds of papers and whatnots, so I guess I’m part something or other.”

“What about your mom?  What was she like?”

“My mom was amazing,” I say with a small smile.  Jude comes
closer to me as I go on, “She taught math at my high school, I guess that’s why
I’m good with numbers.  She was always quizzing me on something.  She was
petite, light blonde and fair but I have her eyes.  She grew up in Georgia and
was southern through and through.  She made sure she instilled all her southern
manners and hospitality in me, that’s for sure.  My parents met at Baylor in
Waco and the way my mom always explained it, they fell in love instantly.  She
said she had to love him to leave the south.  She always gave him a hard time
about winters in Nebraska, but she would have moved anywhere for him.”

“She was pretty,” he simply said. 

“I think so,” what else was there to say?

“I’ve seen pictures around your house.  You look like your
mom, but you got your dad’s coloring.  Your mom’s pretty, Gabby, but you got
the best of both your parents, which makes you fucking beautiful.” 

“What?” I whisper.

“And it’s not just your hair or bright eyes or your gorgeous
face,” he says and my eyes get big as I try and take a small step back, but he
grabs my waist and pulls me into him tight, both of his arms going around my
back, one high and the other low.  “It’s the way you are with your family, the
little kids and your parents stuff.  It’s that you’re so funny it’s cute
because you don’t mean to be funny.  It’s that you’re an accountant, but you’re
not, you’re a decorator and that’s just ridiculous.  It’s the way you talk
about the people you care about, especially your parents and how you’re strong
and manage what life has handed you by yourself.”

“I’m not by myself, Jude,” I lie.  I feel so alone some days
I’m overflowing with it.

“No.  You’re not,” he affirms with a squeeze of his arms and
a meaning so deep I can’t even think about how many ways he means it.  “But
what you are is beautiful and it’s a beauty I haven’t experienced in a really
long time.”

And with that, he pulls me up to him, his mouth is on mine
with his tongue plunging instantly into my mouth and my arms quickly round his
shoulders trying to get as close as I can.  There had been kisses since our
first, but this felt different.  It was out of control instantly and his hands
go to my ass, hefting me up so I immediately wrap my legs around his waist letting
my hands tangle in his hair.  With my head tilted down now, I hope I’m giving
as good as I’m getting.  I feel him moving and then all of a sudden we’re going
down.  Jude sits on a piece of my sectional that is taken apart and strewn
across the basement, me in his lap straddling his waist.  His big warm hands
dip under the back of my Baylor Bears green tank and move up the bare skin of
my back.  Losing all control I’ve been holding onto the last couple days, forgetting
that I’m scared and freaked out by Jude’s invasion in my life, I grab the hem
of his t-shirt giving it a pull.  He lets go of me to round his back putting
his arms up for me to yank his shirt off.  I toss the tee aside, sit back and
look down at him and my eyes go straight to a tattoo over his left peck. 

“Holy shit,” I mutter.  My fingers reach out and I finally
get to touch his big muscular chest, skin to skin, he’s warm and he feels so
good.  He has a smattering of chest hair, but not too much and I can feel solid
muscles under smooth skin.  I run my fingers over his tat, some type of wings,
like airplane wings with a crest in the middle.  My eyes go back to his face
and he’s staring at me, heated, his eyes almost searing into me.  I find myself
breathing hard, but also at a loss for words, so of course I say the first
thing that comes to my mind, “It’s not ridiculous that I’m a decorator.”

His eyes flare at me and his mouth barely tips up at the
corners and he mutters, “Fuck.”  Then he grabs the hem of my ribbed tank and
it’s gone before I know it.  His hands go to my armpits and we are both up, off
the sofa, turned and I’m down on my back in mere seconds, his mouth on mine
again.  Returning his kiss, my hands roam his strong hard back and I spread my
legs for his hips to fall between.  I can feel him excited and hard pressing,
no, grinding between my legs where it feels amazing.  I haven’t had this in a
long time, but even when I had this with James, I don’t remember it feeling
this exciting and good.  His lips leave my mouth and move down my jaw and neck,
heading straight for the swell of my breasts above my pink lace bra.  I start
getting lost in it all feeling the wetness between my legs, I arch my back in
hopes to get even closer to him as his tongue snakes out and traces my breasts
above my bra.  His hand comes up to cup my other breast and he runs the pad of
his thumb over the lace covering my nipple making me gasp.  Then I feel a thumb
and a finger come together with just enough pressure for a delicious roll.  It
feels so good I lift my hips to get more contact between my legs where I want
it most. 

But cutting into all the goodness, a voice yells, “Gabby!”
from upstairs.  His head comes up to look down at me and we both still
immediately.  “Gabby!” I hear Tony yelling for me again.