The Set Up (80 page)

Gently, I run my fingers down his chest. “I knew you were nervous, but I also knew there was no way what we shared could ever be jaded.”

To my surprise he doesn’t have a smartass comeback. “You were right to think that. What we have is something nothing can ever change.”

My left hand slides lower, my ring feeling perfect on my finger. “I love you, JJ Storm.”

“I love you, Charlie Lane,” he breathes.

Filled with so much joy, my fingers graze along the outside of the fabric—he is long and full and I have to see him. With a prowess I know he loves, I push him onto the bench and ease off those Calvin Kleins.

He groans. “I love when the kitten turns into a tiger.”

A seductive knowing smile curves my lips, but this time I don’t tell him I know that. Some things are more fun unsaid.

I’ve grown into a woman I am secure to be.

Because of him.

I’ve accepted my past.

Because of him.

I’ve found love in him.

Because of him.

Tiny blue flowers spread before me like bunches of small wild fires, but all I see when I look at them is the beauty they hold. Not the sad memories they once represented.

Because I know he will never forget me.

Emotion filling me, I cast my eyes down and admire the leanness of his body. It doesn’t reflect the fullness of his cock—but then again, it’s beautiful, just like him. And when I glance up and he looks at me with those languid brown eyes, my stomach flutters. I think it will be fluttering forever.

Yes, this man is model material, but it’s not only his looks that put me in a constant state of utter arousal—it’s everything he is. And when I look at him there’s only one thing I want—and that’s him.

All of him.

Now and forever.

NO TRAFFIC

Jasper

IF ANYONE WOULD
have told me I’d turn out to be that guy, I would not have only sucker punched him to the jaw, but I probably would have made certain he swallowed his teeth too.

You know the guy.

The one in the commercial who’s fucking every chick in town and then looks at a couple making googly eyes at each other and says, “I’m never falling in love.” And then in the next frame he’s looking hopelessly into a girl’s eyes.

Soon enough the couple is walking down the street and they pass a family with a screaming kid, and the guy says, “We’re never having kids,” and his girl turns to him and says, “We’re pregnant.”

Then the three of them are sitting around a table in a very cool urban apartment, and the guy says, “We’re never moving to the suburbs,” and then poof, he buys a house in suburbia.

Notice I left the minivan out—that is never happening, that I can guarantee you. Anyway, I could go on and on, but I think you get my drift. My story can’t be told quite in that order, but pretty damn close.

The fire crackles behind me, the lights of the Christmas tree twinkle in the reflection of the window that overlooks the lake, and the smell of turkey wafts through the air. Sipping my drink, I look around at the house Charlotte and I are slowly making a home, and smile.

Furniture, dishes, and rugs surround us, but those are just things. What makes this house a home is the love we are filling it with.

We’ve been through a lot, but I think things are finally going to go our way. Sure, I carry a heavy guilt around with me every day that Alex hasn’t had to pay for his sins, yet I know, at the same time, this city would have never have survived another corruption scandal. Maybe the ends don’t justify the means—but maybe, just maybe, they do.

“Who’s going to say grace?” Drew’s mom, Mrs. Kates, asks looking toward her son, pulling me from my dark thoughts.

I shove Alex out of my head.

“Don’t look at me,” Drew says to his mother.

“I’ll do it,” Jake pipes up.

Mrs. Crown pats Jake’s hand.

He stands up, Shannon looking at him with a look I know all too well in her eyes. Somehow, Pretty Boy let go of his dirty boy issues and is giving the relationship thing a try. I’m kind of proud of him. He clinks his glass with a spoon.

“Hey, Pretty Boy, Mrs. Kates said grace, not a toast,” Will mumbles.

Will’s mother leans over and whispers something into his ear. Using Alex’s contacts, Whitney was able to get her into one of the rehabilitation centers. She’s doing really well, so well in fact, that she was allowed a pass to join us for Christmas.

When his mother sits back, Will clears his throat. “Sorry, Jake, go on,” he mutters and takes Whitney’s hand in his and then his mother’s too.

I laugh so hard I can’t help myself.

My mother’s looming stare and tightening grip tell me I should shut up because I might be the next one to get scolded.

It seems the four women of Cass Corridor, who didn’t bond when their boys were younger, have now decided to jump on the bandwagon and join forces to try to control their grown sons’ antics.

Funny thing is—they’re doing it.

While Jake gives thanks for everything we have, I look over to my wife who is sitting beside me.

Beautiful.

Vibrant.

Fucking amazing.

Forgoing a long engagement, we got married a couple of weeks after I proposed. I didn’t want to wait and neither did she. She wore white. I wore a tux. Yes a tux. I even bought new dress shoes. We had a small ceremony and celebrated with everyone we care about. Even after we exchanged vows, nothing has really changed between Charlotte and I because the truth is—we’ve always belonged to each other.

Charlotte’s belly is now noticeably round and her breasts equally so. Dirty thoughts cross my mind. They’re on how much I love to suck those round tits, caress them, and cradle them in my hands. Then my mind goes clean when I look at her belly. At our unborn son. And I can’t help but think about what Charlotte has done to me. How she has made me a better man.

As if she knows I’m thinking about her, she catches my gaze and smiles.

Filled so much happiness, I squeeze her hand, and mouth, “I love you.”

In an instant, she mouths it back.

There’s absolutely no hesitation. We love each other. Now. And forever.

And as I look around my table, in the house I share with Charlotte, filled with all the people we both love, I can’t help but think how good it feels to be on the inside.

I may not know what the future has in store for all of us . . . but the one thing I do know is that never again in my life will I be the outsider looking in.

CHECKERED FLAG

Jasper

THE FIRST RAYS
of sunshine break through the clouds.

I stare up at the sky. My eyelids flicker. Thinking. Pondering. Wrestling with the important decisions that are out of my control, and I wonder, “Will the race be canceled?”

Fingers crossed.

Engines scream to life as drivers start their cars.

Guess not.

An official walks through the rows of cars, checking that all safety procedures are being adhered to.

Searching, I finally find the blue helmet.

He looks in his mirror to see me staring at him. He gives me a nod.

He’s got this.

Jerking his head forward, he looks straight ahead.

Pulls his visor down.

The ten-second board is held up.

He grips the wheel.

Ready to do this.

He selects second gear for the wet track and revs the engine.
Good choice
. The dashboard needle climbs through the RPMs.

I grin.

The flag is waved.

He gives me the thumbs up.

My heart is a caged animal.

His foot hits the floor, and his engine screams that deafening, stomach-rearranging high-pitch scream that drowns out the roar of the crowd.

The car catapults forward violently, the wheels spin, leaving livid black scars on the asphalt.

My pulse is pounding.

He gets away first.
A good start!
He’s gaining speed right out of the gate. But within seconds, there’s a roadrat directly behind him, breathing down his neck. He starts to move faster.

Fuck.

Slow down.

As the roadrat roars past him, my heart beats out of my chest. He’s pushing it. Moving faster and faster still.

I can’t take it.

Slow down.

I’m breathing so hard my frame is shaking.

Over my shoulder, soft lips kiss my neck and whisper in my ear, “Lucas is doing great. Don’t be so nervous. Nothing is going to happen to him.”

“I know that,” I say defensively, although with a shaky voice.

I can feel her smile on my neck as she wraps her arms around me. Then I say again, softer, gentler this time, “I know that,” and put my hands over hers as I watch what has to be the longest quarter mile race of my life.

Lucas is ten and so much like me it scares the hell out of me. He walks fast. Talks fast. Moves fast. Go-karting is his passion and when he asked me if he could participate in this quarter mile race, I said no at first. It was Charlotte who talked me into letting him do it. “He’s safe with you by his side,” she told me. “You’d never let anything happen to him.”

She was right.

So I helped him prepare, but it’s me who isn’t prepared.

As he weaves in and out of the small lanes, my stomach twists and turns. Every engine that revs in the distance, causing my pulse to race faster and faster.

Slow down!

Sweat coats my brow as he comes into sight mere feet from the finish line. He’s neck and neck with the roadrat, but somehow he inches ahead, and as the checkered flag is lowered, the announcer declares, “Lucas Storm is the winner.”

I turn to Charlotte and lift her off her feet, twirling her in circles. “Did you see that? He won. He won!”

“I did,” she cries, holding me tight.

When I set her down, I gaze into her bright eyes.

She is still my light. My love. My best friend. My life.

And although the years have passed, nothing between us has changed.

Even with three kids, a mortgage, and a booming automotive factory . . . all I see when I look at her is the little girl who lived next door to me with the shining blue eyes the color of the summer sky and mounds of curly blond hair, who called me JJ.

The End!

I hope you have enjoyed Jasper and Charlotte’s journey as much as I did. ☺