Running Away With You (Running #3) (10 page)

I bring my lips to his ear and whisper in the smallest voice I can muster, “Good morning, future husband.”

In one swift motion, Evan flips me onto my back and hovers over me, brushing kisses up my neck and stopping when he reaches my ear.  My skin burns from his touch.  Eager to feel more of his sweet torture, I arch my neck to give him greater access to the tender flesh beneath my ear.  Evan whispers sweetly, “Mrs. Evan McGuire.”  He nibbles my ear.  “Juliette McGuire.”  He nuzzles my hair.  “Juliette Evangeline McGuire.” 

I grin as my name leaves his lips.  It sounds right.  I think I will like wearing his name and leaving mine behind.  The thought of him wearing my ring makes me glow with hope and joy.

The longer I allow Evan to play, the more difficult it will be to tear myself away.  So I do the only thing I know that will make him stop dead in his tracks.  With both hands, I run my fingers through his hair and softly drag my nails along his scalp.  He yields immediately, tipping his head so I can reach even further back while he hums in satisfaction.  “I love the noise you make when I do this,” I tell him.

When I slow to a halt, he complains, “Don’t stop.”  He wiggles his hips and looks down at me with a salacious grin.  “The turkey can wait,” he growls. 

Screw dinner.  Who can think about food when you've got the most beautiful man in the world looking at you with lustful, heavy eyes that make you melt?

S
tanding at the kitchen counter, I fill the turkey cavity with the stuffing Reese and I prepared yesterday at work.  Evan walks up behind me, pinning me in place with his long arms.  He brushes the hair off my shoulder and runs the tip of his nose up and down my neck.  I plant my arms firmly on the counter to balance my wobbly legs.  This is the effect he has on me.  “I need your help,” he drones in my ear.

“I’m a little busy, Chief,” I complain, holding up my hands covered in turkey dressing.  “What do you need?”

“I can’t find my shoes,” he whines.

“Seriously?  They’re in the laundry room drying off.  You got them all wet when it rained on Monday.” 

With a chuckle, he kisses me on the cheek and heads toward the laundry room to retrieve his shoes.  “See, we already sound like an old married couple,” he calls to me as he walks away.  I can’t help but smile, mostly because he’s right.

Now that the turkey is properly dressed and placed in the oven, I begin to gather the ingredients for my mother’s green bean casserole.  It’s far from gourmet, made completely with frozen and canned ingredients, but for me, it wouldn’t be Thanksgiving without this special treat.

I grab the lid of a can at just the wrong angle and it slices the flesh on the tip of my finger in a deep, clean cut. “Ow!  Dammit,” I curse under my breath.  I don’t have time for this.  Evan has me all distracted today.  It’s a big day and I need to be on my game.

Evan comes rushing back into the kitchen.  “What’s wrong?  Are you okay?”

I look down at my hand as tiny droplets of blood trickle down and fall into the sink.  “I cut my hand on this damned can of soup.”

“Let me see,” Evan demands.  He runs my finger under the cold water to remove any residue and a tiny cut appears, still oozing blood.

I pull it away and wrap a paper towel around it.  “It’ll be fine.  I don’t have time for this,” I grunt.

“Juliette, stop.  Look at me.”  He takes my chin in his hand and tilts my head back so I have no choice but to look directly into his eyes.  He places a soft kiss on my lips and releases me. “What’s wrong?”

“This is our first Thanksgiving together and I want everything to be perfect, Evan.  I’ve never done this before.”  I wrap my hands around his waist and squeeze.  “Suppose I screw up?  Have you thought about that?  It’s not like we can just order a pizza or something.  We have guests coming.”

“Let me ask you something.”  Evan releases me and steps back.  “Isn’t Thanksgiving about being thankful for what you have?  Isn’t being with the people you love enough?  So what if you screw it up,  as long as we’re all together?”

He’s right.  So what.  I know my pies will be perfect and my cheesecake is to die for, so the worst possible outcome is that we drink lots of wine and eat nothing but dessert.  I grab Evan’s shirt and pull him down to my level, kissing him with everything I’ve got.  He immediately responds by placing his hands roughly on my ass and lifting me off my feet.  Gently, he places me on the counter as his tongue invades my mouth.  I twist my fingers in his hair as his tongue swirls with mine. 

Slowly, we break apart.  Evan sweetly demands, “Stay right there.  Don’t move.”  He walks toward the bathroom, checking over his shoulder to make sure I’m not budging.

He comes back holding a bottle of Neosporin and a fingertip Band-Aid for my injury.  He places a sweet kiss on my finger, and then treats it and wraps it expertly.  “Does this remind you of anything?” he teases.

“Like what?” I ask, stumped.

“When we first met.  You hurt your ankle and I took care of you, even then.  I’ll always take care of you, Juliette.  Forever.”  He brings my hand up to his lips and kisses my engagement ring.

I repeat, “Forever.”  Evan helps me off the counter, swats me playfully on the ass and demands that I finish making him his special dinner.  With a smirk on his face, he retreats to his office before our guests begin to arrive.

At noon there’s a knock on the door.  Rather than wait for an answer, Reese swings it open and walks in, calling, “Evan?  Jette?  I’m here.  Put your clothes back on and come help me with my bags.”

I call out to Evan, “Baby, come help, please,” as I take the bag from Reese.

“There’s more in the car,” she tells him as he comes bustling from his office.  Evan dutifully runs outside and grabs the bags.  Reese brought all sorts of fresh vegetables and appetizers.  She heads directly to the oven for inspection.  She checks her watch and the temperature of the meat thermometer, making calculations in her head.  She gives a simple nod, seeming pleased with the progress.  I breathe a sigh of relief.

Now that Reese is here, I can focus my attention on the table settings.  Last night Adam stopped by to help Evan move our kitchen table into the garage.  We rented a farm table and bistro chairs for today.  Evan wanted to buy a table, but I talked him out of it.  Where would we store an eight-foot-long wooden farm table?

Again the door swings open, and in strolls Derek, carrying a case of beer and several bags of ice.  Evan takes the beer and ice out to the cooler on the deck while I welcome Derek.  He’s nearly as tall as Evan, and when I wrap my arms around his waist, my head barely reaches his shoulder.  He returns my hug and gives me a friendly pat on the head.  “Thanks for having me over today, Jette.  I haven’t had a real Thanksgiving meal in a very long time.”  My heart melts.  “Anyone else here yet?”

“Just Reese.  She’s right there.” I point toward the kitchen.  “You should go say hello.”

I watch as Derek confidently strolls into the kitchen and pulls Reese into a friendly hug.  They are obviously very familiar with the feel of the other’s bodies.  She’s a few inches taller than me, and I notice how his lips nearly brush her forehead. Reese closes her eyes and takes a slow, deep breath as she returns his greeting.  He releases her nonchalantly and peeks under the lid of a few pots and offers compliments to the chef. 

Evan returns with two cold beers and tosses one to Derek.  He reminds Derek that it’s nearly kick-off time, and the two wander off into the living room to watch the first game of the day.  The Lions are playing at Green Bay today.  Evan’s played both teams already this season.  He beat the Lions in preseason and barely squeaked out a victory against the Packers a few weeks ago. 

Watching football with Evan is like watching a movie with someone who’s read the book.  He can predict what’s about to happen because he knows the plays and the players so well.  Evan says it’s like being a professional poker player.  You have to know your opponent and be able to read their tells.  And he’s rarely wrong.

I open up a bottle of sparking Prosecco and pour myself a glass.  I walk toward Reese with the bottle in hand.  “Can I pour you a glass?”

She shakes her head. “I can’t,” she gripes.

“No tannins or sulfites this time, Reese.  What gives?”

She stops what she’s doing, grabs me by the hand, and drags me into my bedroom.  She shuts the door and plops down on my bed.  Whatever she’s about to tell me is serious. 

“Listen, every time I drink too much, I wind up calling Derek to come over for a quickie.  I can’t keep doing that.” She sighs.

“That’s it?  That’s the only reason you won’t drink with me?” I question her.

“I think it’s a pretty damn good reason, don’t you?  You’re the one who’s always ragging on me to do the right thing with Derek, and I’m trying.  I’m really trying, Jette, but it’s hard.”  She’s upset and near tears. 

I move closer and wrap my arms around her and hug her tightly.  “Are you sure you don’t want to give it another try with Derek?  You obviously still have feelings for him.” 

She shakes her head.  “I want it all, Jette.  I want what you have.  You have someone who loves you and takes care of you in every possible way.  Derek could never do that.  Look around.  Do you think in a million years Derek could ever afford a home like this?  We would live paycheck to paycheck, hoarding nickels and dimes, hoping to save enough for a vacation once every two or three years.  I grew up like that.  I won’t do that to my own child.”

Her child?  Was that her admission to me that she’s going to have a baby?  I stare at her in momentary disbelief.  Eyes wide, I open my mouth to ask, but nothing comes out.

She looks up and sees the shock clearly registered on my face, “Oh, my God!  You think I’m ... ?”  I nod.  “No!  No way.  I may be stupid when it comes to Derek, but I’m not reckless.  There’s a way to make sure that doesn’t happen, you know.”

I exhale a deep breath I didn’t realize I was holding.  Relief washes over me.  “I’m sorry, honey.  So what are you going to do?” 

“I’m going to learn how to be by myself for a change.  No men and definitely no boys.  For the next six months, I’m going to concentrate on my friends, work, and myself.  I have to learn how to be self-reliant.  It’s time to grow up.”

I hold her at arm’s length and look directly in her gray eyes and say, “Okay.  I can help you do that.  Now let’s get back out there before they notice we’re missing.”

As we return to the kitchen, I hear Evan’s ringing phone.  He answers with a sarcastic, “Hey, Sparky,” and I immediately know it’s Adam calling.  Now even Evan’s started calling him Sparky.  I wonder how much longer Adam will put up with us calling him that.  “Where the hell are you ... sure, man ... no  problem.  You’re missing the game, though.  Yeah, yeah.  Okay.  See you later.”  Evan hollers to us, informing us that Adam and Emmy are running late.  They’ll be here by dinner.  Auggie and Lucas should be here shortly. 

I pass the time by putting the finishing touches on the table settings.  Auggie will be proud when he sees my masterpiece.  I want my guests to feel welcome and special.  I want them to remember this Thanksgiving as one of their favorites.  I know it will be mine.  It’s the first holiday Evan and I are hosting as a couple.

The table is complete, with a wine glass, water glass, five pieces of flatware, a charger plate, and a dinner plate for each place setting.  There are pillar candles of various heights placed around the table, leaving plenty of room for serving dishes.  As I’m folding the last of my citron napkins into fleurs de lis, Auggie and Lucas make their grand entrance.

The boys walk directly over to my table and hand me a large floral centerpiece.  “This is for you, Jepetto.”  It’s a stunning wooden flowerbox filled with white, orange, and green flowers with bunches of cranberries scattered throughout.  It matches my farm table and linens perfectly.  It’s low enough that we can appreciate it but still see across the table.

Evan is the perfect host.  He abandons his game to welcome Auggie and Lucas.  He takes their jackets and pours them glasses of wine before returning for the second half of the game.

They are both styled handsomely today, each dressed very J. Crew.  Their slim-fitting, brightly colored chinos and button-down shirts make them look like they’re ready to start their own boy band.  Auggie takes me by the hand, lifts it over my head, and I do my obligatory spin for inspection.  “Jette, my pet, you look positively gorgeous.” 

“I don’t know if plum is her color,” Lucas interjects, clearly mocking me.

“Of course it is!” Auggie insists.  “Look how it draws attention to her green eyes.”  He gives me a kiss on the cheek. “Don’t listen to Lucas.  He’s had someone dressing him on the set every damn day and now he thinks he knows what he’s talking about.”  It’s adorable to watch them tease each other. 

The kitchen is a flurry of activity as Reese and I cook while Auggie and Lucas entertain us.  Lucas has such funny stories about filming a movie with a lot of CGI.  He talks about running away from invisible robots and androids while protecting Empire City with his robotic dog, Blitz. 

Lucas tells a story about filming some of the scenes on set in Vancouver for the city shots.  The shoot ran long and all the actors were getting hungry, so they ordered a few pizzas to be delivered.  He explains, “When the pizza guy showed up we were filming a SWAT scene, and when he saw all the guys running into the building with flak jackets and guns, he got back in his car and refused to come back with our pizza.”