Pushing the Boundaries (Picking up the Pieces #3) (21 page)

When I walked in the front door from work, I followed the sound of the TV and found Trevor asleep on the couch. What was unexpected about it was that Mr. Bojangles was curled up on his chest and Trev’s arm was thrown over the fat cat, cuddling him tight into him. Yeah, he hated the cat all right. Nothing said enemies like a good ol’ afternoon cuddlefest.

As I watched on, Trevor stirred in his sleep, stretching his long limbs out and releasing a guttural groan. As he did that, Mr. Bojangles did the same, stretching with a loud purr before kneading at Trevor’s chest gently.

His arm fell back down over the cat to give him a scratch on the head as his eyes slowly fluttered open and he muttered, “Good kitty”. The minute he saw me standing there he jolted up, throwing the cat off him like he’d been burned.

“It’s not what it looked like.”

“Um-hmm. Too late to deny it now. I already saw everything I needed to see,” I told him, crossing my arms over my chest.

“It didn’t mean anything. I still hate the little fucker,” he grunted, looking away from Mr. Bojangles like it hurt him to make eye contact with the cat as he told me a blatant lie.

“Admit it, you
looooove
him,” I teased. “You love Mr. Bojangles. You’re cheating on Merle with him.”

“Am not!” Trevor insisted, standing from the couch. “It changes nothing. I still can’t stand the fat bastard; he’s just so damn soft and cuddly.”

“Whatever,” I said with a roll of my eyes. “Cat lover.”

I turned to head for the kitchen and the sight before me nearly brought me to my knees. “Nooooooo!” I screamed, scaring the living shit out of Trevor, Mr. Bojangles, and Merle, who I was charging after at that very moment, murder in my eyes.

“What the fuck?” Trevor rushed behind me into the kitchen, looking over my shoulder to see what I’d just made such a big deal out of. “Jesus Christ, Liz. It’s just a shoe. You damn near gave me a heart attack!”

Merle took off to hide his front end under a dining room chair, ass in the air like always, as I scooped up the shoe he’d been gnawing on like a damn rawhide bone.

“Just a shoe?” I asked in a deadly-quiet voice. “Just a shoe? This is a goddamned Manolo Blahnik! It cost four hundred and seventeen dollars!” I stared down at the ravaged shoe in my hand and felt a whimper bubble up from my chest. I swear to God, I was
this
close to crying as I looked down at my poor, ruined baby.

“Holy shit! You paid four hundred and seventeen dollars for a pair of friggin’ shoes?” Trevor asked in astonishment. “Are you insane!”

“Nooo, I said
this
shoe cost four hundred and seventeen dollars. As a pair, they cost eight thirty-five!” I shouted like the math made the situation more understandable.

“Fuck me,
cher
. It’s a shoe. You walk around with it on your foot; you don’t live in the damn thing! You’re telling me that ugly-ass thing cost more than I paid in rent for a month at my apartment?”

I sucked in an audible gasp. How dare he call my precious ugly. “Take it back,” I whispered.

“What?” Trevor looked at me like I was a crazy person.

“Take it back. This shoe is
not
ugly. It’s stunning,” I said, holding it to my chest and giving it a loving stroke.

He let out a sarcastic grunt and eyeballed the pump like it was garbage. “Not so stunning covered in dog slobber,” he laughed. And I was a second away from stabbing him with the chewed-up stiletto heel.

Those shoes deserved to be praised. They deserved to be worn to the most expensive restaurants and balls and red carpet premiers! And they deserved to be buried with dignity in the backyard under my pretty oak tree. And I didn’t think I was being ridiculous at all!

“I said take it back,” I seethed.

Trevor’s head cocked to the side with curiosity as his eyes narrowed. “You on your rag or somethin’?”

Wrong thing to say.

Dropping the shoe on the kitchen island, I turned my back to Trevor and bolted for the garage with him hot on my heels.

He skidded to a stop on the concrete floor when he saw what I was reaching for. “Now, Lizzy, just calm down. Let’s talk about this rationally.” I turned around to see him standing before me with his arms up, palms out in a placating gesture.

I lifted the neon beer sign over my head and smiled evilly. “Oh, I’m being completely rational,” I informed him very irrationally. “Your stupid dog destroyed my babies. It’s only fair you lose something, too.”

“For the love of…” he muttered under his breath, tipping his head to the ceiling in frustration before looking back at me. “They were just shoes, Liz. That’s a piece of art,” he insisted, pointing to the ugly-ass sign I held in the air.

“Art, my ass; this is a goddamned eyesore!”

His nostrils flared as he glared at me. “No more so than your ugly-ass shoes! I should give the other one to Merle just to do the world a favor. One less butt-ugly pair of stupid high heels taking up closet space!”

I threw the beer sign to the ground as hard as I could. The sound of the glass shattering and flying everywhere brought me back to reality and out of my designer-shoe-haze of anger.

Oh, shit
, I thought as I looked at Trevor’s stunned expression. His eyes were wide, his jaw hanging open as he took in the destruction all over the garage floor.

“Uh.” I wrung my hands in front of me and shifted from foot to foot uncomfortably. “I might have overreacted a little bit.”

“Ya think?!” he yelled at me with shock plastered across his face. His response put me back on the defensive.

“Well, it’s your stupid dog’s fault. He started it!”

“He’s just a puppy, Lizzy! And besides, who the hell buys a pair of almost-thousand-dollar shoes!”

I tried to stay mad, but as I looked at the chaos around me I couldn’t help it; I started laughing. It was a slow build-up until I was hunched over clutching my stomach. I could hear Trevor’s laughter echoing through the space, mixing with my own. And just like that, the fight was over. It was just us; we were both crazy as hell.

“There’s a slight possibility I might have a bit of PMS right now,” I admitted once I could breathe through my laughter. “But for future reference, a man should never ask a woman if she’s on her rag when she’s pissed. It’s grounds for an immediate junk-punch, even if it
is
the case.

“You’re lucky you’re so damn cute,” he told me with a shake of his head, but the smile was still on his face. “Because you’re certifiable,
cher
.”

“So are you!” I defended. “And it’s only you who brings out the crazy in me. It’s your damn fault.”

Glass crunched under the soles of his boots as he closed the distance between us and wrapped me in his arms. His lips met mine in a warm, soft kiss which made my knees buckle slightly.

“I’ll buy you a new sign,” I told him on a whisper.

“And I’ll buy you a pair of knockoffs.”

I scowled and leaned back to look at him. “I want the real thing. That’s the deal.”

“Then you better be prepared to give me the best head in the history of blowjobs!”

And there we went again.

Another fight, another opportunity for brilliant makeup sex. Being married to Trevor was turning out to be not so bad after all.

The longer Trevor and I went about the way we were, the more I fell for him, and the more scared I became that it wasn’t going to last. He hadn’t done anything since the start of it all to make me question whether or not he was in it with me, but I just couldn’t stop worrying. I was afraid that all it was going take was for him to realize he wasn’t ready to settle down and he’d go back to his old playboy ways.

“Where’d you go?” he leaned over and whispered in my ear, pulling me back into the present.

“Huh?” I looked around the table at Colt’s and saw that our friends were all focused on the conversations they were having and missed my internal struggling.

“You okay, baby?” he asked, his face growing concerned as he looked at me closely.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” I smiled reassuringly, determined to push my depressing thoughts out of my mind, at least for tonight. The fact of the matter was, I had Trevor right now, at least for the time being, and I was going to enjoy it, damn it. I craved having someone who would hold my hand in public or cuddle me close at night, someone who would look at me lovingly just because. And I had that with Trevor. Well, maybe not the loving part, but at least he looked at me adoringly. And I was going to cherish it for as long as it lasted. My heart may get smashed into itty-bitty pieces when it all ended, but I had it for now. That was enough.

Or at least that was what I was going to try and convince myself of.

“Trev, you mind if I take your girl for a spin on the dance floor?” Brett asked from across the table.

Trevor scowled at him, causing everyone to laugh. “You keep your hands inside the vehicle at all times and return her when you’re done.”

My head fell back in laughter at his gruff demands. “It’s just a dance, honey. And Brett’s harmless. You know that.”

The agitation disappeared and his expression warmed, making my breath stall in my lungs. When he looked at me like that my insides got all gooey.

“I love that,” he told me as he kissed the tip of my nose and gently pulled on one of my curls. With the more time that passed, I found myself wearing my hair naturally almost every day. Trevor loved my curls and because of that, I was beginning to love them myself. He was always finding a reason to run his fingers through them when I wore my hair loose and wild.

“Love what?” I asked in a whisper, leaning in so our lips were only a few centimeters apart.

“When you call me honey or baby. I love it.”

God, this man kills me
.

“Duly-noted,” I responded, standing from the table, “honey.” I turned and looped my arm through Brett’s, letting him lead me to the dance floor. When I looked over my shoulder, Trevor was still staring at me with that look.

It’s not love, Lizzy. It’s lust or adoration. Get your head outta your ass
, I scolded myself.

When we made it to the edge of the floor, Brett spun me around so I was facing him and took one of my hands in his, wrapping the other around my waist so it came to rest on the small of my back. He led me in a slow two-step to the country ballad band was playing.

“What’s on your mind, Lizzy-Lu?” he asked after we’d done a full loop of the dance floor.

“What makes you think something’s wrong?” I smiled, hoping he didn’t see through me.

“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe it’s the fact I’ve known you my whole life. Or how about because you’re one of my best friends, and because I love you so much I feel it when you’re upset?”

Damn it, stupid, perceptive man.

“It’s nothing. I’m just stuck in my own head. I’ll get over it.”

“Talk to me, babe. You know I’m here for you no matter what.”

“Anyone ever tell you you’re extremely irritating?” I asked jokingly.

“Every damn day,” he laughed. “Now talk.

“It’s Trevor—” I started. He interrupted before I could get any further.

“What’d that asshole do?” The look on Brett’s face was downright thunderous.

“What? Nothing! Geez, will you chill out? It’s nothing like that.”

“Then what is it?” His stormy expression calmed somewhat as I explained.

“I’m just worried that once the newness wears off, he’s gonna bail on me,” I blurted out. It was like ripping off a Band-Aid; I just needed to get the words out fast before I chickened out.

“Ah, sweetie. Why in the world would you think that?” I hated the pity I saw written all over his face. It made me feel weak and pathetic, like I was one of those whiny chicks I hated so much.

“Come on, Brett. You know the guy as well as I do. Monogamy isn’t really his forte; it’s only a matter of time before he gets bored. And let’s be realistic, every woman in Cloverleaf is just dying for a night with him. I’m not exactly model material here.”

He was quiet as we made another loop. The band had moved on to a song that was a little more fast-paced, but not too much so we couldn’t concentrate on our conversation as we moved.

When he finally spoke, what he said was the last thing I expected to hear. “How do you not know that you’re one of the most beautiful women in the world?” I scoffed and opened my mouth to argue, but he wasn’t having any of that. “Seriously, Liz. You have it all: the big curly hair that just screams to a guy to grab hold of it, curves that can fit a man’s hands perfectly, gorgeous bright-green eyes. Babe, you’re a fuckin’ knockout. Trust me. And if that wasn’t enough already, when you open your mouth and your personality comes out? Well, that just takes your stock through the roof.”

“You’re being nice,” I responded as a bright-red blush bloomed on my chest and face. I couldn’t look at him so I focused on the ground. When the hell did I suddenly become
shy
? It wasn’t like I beat myself down on a regular basis. My self-confidence could be lacking on some days, but it wasn’t in the gutter. But I’d never had a man tell me anything like what Brett was saying before. It was making me all kinds of flustered

“Just being real, sweetheart. Not blowing smoke up your ass; you know I’m not like that.”