Under Contract (The GEG Series) (9 page)

His fingers slid down my neck to my breast, a barely there touch as he circled my nipple. It hardened so fast—painfully fast. He took it in his mouth, sucking long and hard before biting it. My hips wasted no time moving obsequiously. He had me right there, ready for the taking, but he didn’t take me. He was patient and attentive to every inch of my skin. After half an hour or so, I was shivering. And not because I was cold. It was adrenaline ... the anticipation was killing me. I wanted him to fuck me like the dirty whore I was aspiring to be (well, not really, but you know what I’m getting at).

He flipped me onto my belly. I thought surely he’d make me get on my knees and bang the shit out of me, but no! His hands began to worship my backside. Oh, the way he bit my ass! Oh, the way his hands felt. Oh, the sexy way he told me he would have me there, too. I shamelessly pushed my ass hard into his hands.
“Oh, baby ... soon ... when you’re ready to take me there.”
Christ—damn him and his sexy voice! He had me so riled up; I wanted him inside me. I didn’t care where. He could’ve tried to fuck my ear and I would’ve been all,
Hell yes, Mitch!

“Oh ... God!” I yell out. Good Lord ... I just Kegeled my way to an orgasm on I-93 North exit 36. How the hell did he make Kitty purr for him without being remotely close to me? I pull over and grab my phone.

Kitty just purred for you at exit 36. Damn you and your sexy voice and seducing hands!

I get back on the highway. After a few minutes, my phone pings.

Tell Kitty when I see her, she is so FUCKED! And you think my voice is sexy?
:)

Don’t text and drive!

Okay :)

My phone rings. I answer.

“I said don’t text and drive!” Mitch yells.

“Not so sexy now, are we?” I ask, a hint of smile in my voice.

“Kitty purred, baby?” Sexy voice ... damn him!

“Oh, did Kitty purr.”
I’ll give you sexy, bitch.

“Why, baby?” Even sexier.
He’s killing me.

“Mitch ... stop.” The ache in me is unbearable.

“Morale is down ... he misses Kitty. We need to have a staff meeting, stat.”

“Hey, you haven’t yelled at me for calling you
Mitch
.” I have a way with impeccably timing what I mention.

“I’m picking my battles.”

“Oh yeah? What battle are you picking next?” I smile as I switch lanes.

“I’m going to have a huge battle with Kitty tonight,” he says.

“How come?”
Oh, the aching ...

“She’s getting out of line.”

“You gonna put her in her place, baby?” My sexy, seductive voice beams in all its glory.

“Jesus, Charlotte ... I’m gonna fuck you so hard, you might split into two.” There’s urgency in his voice.

“Don’t worry, baby—I have nine lives.” I give him a smooch sound and hang up. After a beat, my phone rings. It’s Mitch. I hit ignore and smile.

Within no time, I’m getting off exit three in New Hampshire. It’s like every neuron in my body can sense that we’re almost home. I feel calmer, clearer. Everything’s back in its place, surrounded by an invisible safety net—my comfort zone. I pull up to my brick-red Colonial and smile as the kids wave to me from the window. I navigate around the bikes in the driveway and pull up to the garage. Turning off the car, I take a deep breath before grabbing my bag and heading in.

“There’s my little girl!” Dad barks out his standard greeting for me.

“Hi, Daddy, how’s the fort holding up?” I smile as I walk into his arms.

“Well, we’ve got ‘Giggles’ dancing to The Wiggles in the living room. No fever today. Brogan was a champ and got his homework done straight away. He’s setting the table now. And Bennett is assisting Gramma in the kitchen. Charley ... his speech is improving every time I see him, I swear. It’s because you’re a great mom. I’m so proud of you.” He kisses my cheek and hugs me a little harder. I suddenly feel the urge to cry. If he only knew what I’ve done, it would break his heart for sure.

“Thank you, Daddy. Lucky for them, I have wonderful parents who I still learn from every day.” I take his arm as he leads me into the house from the mudroom. “Mmm ... Mom, smells good!” I kiss her on the cheek, then turn to Bennett. “Wutcha makin’, bacon?” I ask and sign to him.

“I’m nont bacon! I’m Bennint!” He smiles up at me with his huge dimples.

“Ben—net,” I say slowly.

“Ben—nint,” he replies.

“Getting there, buddy!” I kiss him again.

Brogan walks into the kitchen. “Hey, Mom, can I sleep over Colby’s house on Friday?”

“Hi to you too, pal!” I tap the bill of his cap. “Hats off in the house. Where are your glasses?”

“Uh,” he says, taking his hat off. “They broke, like, into smithereens. I’m sorry, Mom.” He looks down and my heart aches. At nine years old, he looks like he has the weight of the world on his shoulders. Too many nights this guy has snuck up on me when I was having a good cry. He rubs my back and tells me everything’s going to be okay. What nine-year-old boy does that?

“It’s okay Broge, we’ll go tomorrow and get you a new pair.” I pull him to me for a hug and kiss his messy, dirty-blond hair.

“But, Mom,” he whispers, “how can we do that?”

“Well, I guess I’ll make my announcement now,” I say.

“You got the job!” Dad throws his hands up in the air.

“I did, and with an advancement, so go ahead, Happy, and give us a jig!” I laugh because Happy is already ten steps into the little jig he does when he hears great news, or just gets excited about something. Everybody’s laughing at him as he twirls me around. God, I love my dad!

I started calling him “Happy” when I was around Brogan’s age because he just always was! He’s always laughing, singing, and dancing. Everybody loves to be around “Happy” Jack O’Brien—I swear most of my boyfriends loved hanging out with him more than me! He’s an insightful man who’s always ready with a good piece of advice, and he comes up with the best damn metaphors.

One day when I was feeling particularly pissy about things, I turned to his humming self as we raked leaves on this very lawn and said,
“Dad ... how the hell do you stay happy all of the time?”

“Charley ... you okay, babydoll?”

“Yes, I just don’t know how you do it—through the lemons and all!”
I threw my arms up in defeat.

“Come, let’s sit on the stoop and take a break.” He gestured and I followed.

“Charley,” he started after a moment of sitting.
“I want you to think of nice big pot of beef stew.”
Dad loves him some beef stew!
“Let’s talk about what we got in that stew. You got your carrots ... they help you to see. You got your onions ... they bring you to tears. You got your potatoes ... they give you comfort. You got your peas ... they give you sustenance. You’ve got your beef ... that’s your strength. Salt and pepper ... your balance. All of these ingredients work together to bring a well-blended flavor to your broth. Only you have control over the flour to make that broth rich and hearty. You know what the key is to keeping your stew in a well-blended, hearty condition?”
He shook a finger out at no one.

“What’s the key, Dad?”

“To not let anyone come along and piss in your stew.”

“Dad,” I laughed. “Who would want to piss in a perfectly good stew?”

“The people who can’t get their own stew right, honey.” He patted my back.

“People really do that? Intentionally, I mean?”

“Honey ... the world is filled with wicked pissas.” Dad was so straight-faced when he said that—until we started laughing our asses off, of course.

“Were you afraid you wouldn’t get that in?”

“I was ... I was!” he gasped between his laughter.

“Dad, you want me to make you some beef stew now that you got your mouth watering?”

“Jesus, honey, would ya? Your mother’s stew is okay, but nothing compares to yours,” he whispered, even though Mom wasn’t around that day.

“Anything for my dear old pops. I am a little concerned, though,”
I said.

“About what, honey?”

“Do you think someone’s pissing in mom’s stew?”
I asked, and he swatted at my knee for teasing him.

“So tell us about the job,” Mom says after rolling her eyes at Dad and chuckling—her usual reaction to his “Happy” jig. She grabs her mashed-potato casserole to bring to the dining room but almost drops it.

“Mom, are you okay?” I stare straight into her eyes as I hold the dish with her. She stares back too long before answering, which always gives her away.

“I’m fine. Just slipped.” She shakes her head, then stops and looks down to her left, avoiding my eyes. Second sign that something’s wrong.

“I’ll take this, Mom.” I gently pull it from her hands.

“I’m not an invalid, goddamn it,” she says, then sighs.

“No, you’re not, so stop standing there and grab the squash, will ya?” I tease her and grab the potatoes.

This, thankfully, lightens her mood. Mom only gets snippy when she has no control over situations, mainly when she’s affected by her—no, she’s in remission, it’s not that! I eye Dad as I walk into the dining room. He glances away. Fuck, this is not good! This is sooner than last time. Dad brings the oven-roasted chicken legs in while I go to pull Brooklynn (a.k.a. Giggles) away from The Wiggles.

There she is, dancing and giggling to the music. She finally takes notice of me and gives me a face of pure delight, like I’m a puppy she’s unwrapped at Christmas.

“Hi, honey!” I hold my arms out for her.

“I, on-nee!” She sort of repeats me and runs into my arms. She’s the only one with my dark brown hair and green eyes.

“Ready to eat, mama?” I kiss her little chubby cheek and turn off the TV. Brooklynn gives the best little hugs and I’m smack-dab in the middle of one. Sometimes they make me sad because I know she’s my last. I always thought I’d have a couple more. I always wanted a big family. It feels odd, though, that I am the only one out of us five girls that wanted to have a large family. Maybe it’s because I’m the baby. Who knows?

Grace is immediately followed by awkward silence at the table. The O’Briens and the McKendricks don’t normally
do
awkward silence. We’re certainly not going to start tonight!

“So my new job,” I start. Oh boy. I wonder if these two can still tell when I’m lying—not that I’ve had a huge history of it.

“Yes, tell us!” Mom looks happy to be focusing on someone other than herself.

“I’ve been hired by Colton Technologies. You know that company, Dad, you have stock with them?”

“Very profitable stock, thanks to my daughter.” He winks.

“Well, they have a lot of large meetings that need to be catered, and they wanted someone with a flair for comfort food to be responsible for them. They are marketing this whole ‘Welcome Home’ campaign for their customers, so they want the food to reflect that.” I’d like to say that I’m impressed with how quickly that flew out of my mouth, but truth be told, I just described the dream job scenario that I’ve secretly thought about for a year! I have a Bachelor’s in Education, but cooking has always been my passion. I especially love comfort food—from everywhere!

And while I’m thinking about it—all hail Paula Deen, queen of all things buttery and delicious! Ahh ... if I didn’t love my mama so much, I would totally fantasize about Paula being my mother. She’d knock on my door, and when I’d open it, her beautiful blue eyes would be glistening, her silver hair perfectly in place. And she’d say, “Baby girl ... I’m your long-lost mama, and I’m so sorry I had to give you up, baby. I was poor and wanted you to have a good life.” I’d go right into her arms and cry that I always knew she was my mama. “Don’t cry, Charley, I’m here now. We gonna fix ourselves a nice treat and catch up on things.” Eh ... okay, so I’ve daydreamed about that a little.
Sorry, Mom.

“That’s amazing, Charlotte! What an opportunity! How did this all come about?” Uh ... um ... think, Charley!

“Oh, an acquaintance of mine had a little barbeque last week. I don’t know if her husband is friends with him, or where the connection was, but ... Mitch Colton, the owner and CEO, was there. Somehow we got to talking, and when I told him what I do, he said they were looking for someone. I told him that I wasn’t officially set up as a catering company, that I only catered friends’ parties. That seemed to convince him I’d probably be the best candidate.” Holy hell
—
I could totally be an undercover detective!

“See that, Charley?! He tried to piss in your stew, but he missed!” Dad slaps the table, and I know he’s talking about Josh.

“He’s a wicked missah,” I say, and we both laugh.

“Oh, would you two stop speaking in code!” Mom snaps. We do this often.

“Be nice, Shannon, or we won’t teach you our secret handshake.” Dad wiggles a finger at her. She rolls her eyes.

“So, Mitch,” Mom says. “Single?” She mouths the last part. I immediately feel myself blush as I nod.

“Well, from the look on your face, not for much longer.” She smiles.

“Mom!”

“Oh, honey, your face lit up from the moment you mentioned his name.” She winks. Huh? It did? I try to shrug it off and put more focus into eating my dinner.

Everyone’s focus breaks when we hear a ruckus at the front door.

I look around. “Hey, where are the dogs?”

“With me, dipshit.” CiCi sighs and comes in, my two Dobermans, Loxy and Vader, following behind her. They immediately attack me with their puppy kisses, although they are not so puppyish anymore.

“Nice to see you too, Ceese.”

“That’s some greeting, Carissa Catherine!” Mom snaps.

“What can I tell ya, Mom? Nothing but first-class behavior from me,” she says playfully, giving our parents a kiss.

CiCi is older than me by eighteen months, and she’s the sister I’ve been closest to my whole life. We’ve always traveled in the same circles, and while we don’t always have similar interests, we like to compare notes. Funny thing is, our sister Caroline is her twin, and they love each other solely because they’re supposed to. Other than that, they are polar opposites with completely no understanding of each other.