Geek Groom (Forever Geek Trilogy #2) (4 page)

“Better bring a roll of dimes in case someone else decides to give it a go.”

The third option, play along, seems to work. He’s laughing now and pulling me down onto the bed.

“I don’t want anyone parading around naked in front of me other than you. How about a private show before I go?”

“What, and ruin all Phonse’s practice?”

“You’re a bad girl, Professor Carew.”

“That makes you a lucky man, Mr. Sharp.”

“Don’t I know it.”

There are times when his kisses are soft and full of love. And other times, they are pure sex on the mouth. Like now. Rough, probing and with an intensity that leaves me breathless and demanding more. I have friends who complain about husbands and boyfriends who don’t kiss them enough. What an awful way to live. Don’t get me wrong. I want sex too. But kissing Evan is one of my greatest joys. Sometimes it leads to more. Okay. Eighty percent of the time it gets out of hand and leads to much, much more. But these kisses, the ones that have fingers tangled in hair, bodies pressed to the point of fusion, lips in total synthesis, these are the kisses that bring a fulfillment all of their own.

“Hello? Anyone home?”

I push Evan off of me and make a poor effort to straighten my shirt.

It’s not entirely surprising to hear people rummaging around our place. While we own our house, we rent out the rooms on the first floor to some of Evan’s friends. Total nerds, but fun to have around. However, this isn’t Cory or James.

“Mom?” What the hell is she doing here? In our house? Precariously close to our bedroom door, which is wide open.

“Your mother has a key.” Evan groans.

“No, she doesn’t. I didn’t give her one.”

“I did. Gave it to your father, actually. So he could keep an eye on the house while we’re on our honeymoon.”

“Evan? Are you still here?” That’s not a townie accent. That’s pure Juniper Cove patois.

“That’s not my mother. That’s your mother!”

I can hear both of them talking. My mother and Mary.

“Go to the bathroom before you come out of here,” I tell Evan, eying his pants. And then, just because I can’t resist, I touch the rigid rise in his jeans.

Sure enough, our two mothers are there, mine looking out the bay window that overlooks downtown St. John’s and Mary pouring fresh water into the kettle.

“Ah, you are home. Were you napping? In the afternoon?”

“No, I was helping Evan pack.” I must be more disheveled than I thought.

A blush creeps across Mom’s face. “Oh, we thought Evan would be gone already.”

“Going now,” he says, strolling out of the bathroom looking like the cat who swallowed the canary. Or in this case, my lips. “How was your drive in, Mom?”

He knew she was coming? This is news to me.

“Rodney drove too fast, as normal. I swear, how he hasn’t lost his license in tickets yet is beyond me. His poor mother must say a million prayers every time he gets behind the wheel.” She reaches up and smoothes Evan’s cheek.

If actions could speak, this one says, “Praise the Lord I have such a good son.”

“No worries about me driving too fast,” Evan says and plants a kiss on her cheek. Liar, liar. Evan might not be a speed demon, but he’s a firm believer in the ten over the speed limit is legal train of thought.

Enough of this. I want to know why I’ve been invaded by mothers for some unknown reason. And I know he knows that I’m wondering what’s happening.

“You ladies have a fun weekend and don’t do anything to get Jillian in too much trouble.”

There’s a smile in his eyes that speaks volumes. It’s saying, “I’m complicit in something and you’re going to hate me for it.”

I get a quick kiss and a whispered, “Sorry, but I promised,” and he’s gone. Leaving me facing a mother and soon-to-be mother-in-law.

Ever the take charge woman, Mom claps her hands together the second the door closes. “We’re a little behind schedule, but that’s nothing. Ladies, let’s go.”

“Go where, Mom?”

“Don’t you worry about a thing. All you need to know is that we have a special weekend planned for us. Call it a pre-wedding de-stress weekend.”

A stress-free weekend that involves untold proximity to my mother? I’m not sure how accurate an assessment this is going to be. But I’ll give it a go.

Y
ou have to give credit where it’s due. So far, this weekend is nothing but relaxing and completely, unexpectedly, restfully indulgent. Last night we went to a luxury spa hotel complete with gourmet room service, a before bed massage and a suite of rooms that has me trying to ignore how much my parents shelled out for it. Mom and Mary are hitting it off famously, which I already knew they would based on their prior meetings. And best of all, for me at least, is that they invited Ingrid along. What’s ensued is a genuinely fun time.

Right now Ingrid and I are cocooned in thick terry-cloth robes awaiting our treatments. It’s a full day of pampering for the four of us, including hot stones, facials, body wraps, water treatments, mani-pedis, mimosas and glorious nibblets of food.

“Here’s to champagne for breakfast,” Ingrid says, raising her glass. “And to your mother for one of her best plans yet.”

“I can’t argue with you there. This is just what I needed, even if I didn’t realize it. When I decided to take the summer off, I didn’t imagine I’d get so bogged down in wedding-related stuff. But planning a wedding really does take the good out of you.”

“Your wedding is going to be spectacular. And I’m not just saying that because I’m your maid-of-honour. I love the way you and Evan have created something that’s so uniquely you.”

“It took a bit of convincing to get Evan to agree to a wedding at the Basilica, but once Monsignor Shea agreed to the swords, he was alright.”

“Forget Evan agreeing to a Catholic wedding,” Ingrid says, laughing. “I thought you were never going to have a church wedding?”

“It wasn’t worth the fight. Two devout Catholic families? I have to know which battles to choose. Besides, we’re not doing the full Mass or anything. And Ryan is a decent guy. As far as Shea cousins go, I like him. He gets me. And he understands our reservations.”

“He’s pretty good-looking, I’ll give him that.”

“Well, he learned the hard way at our engagement party that even at family events he should wear his collar.”

Ingrid throws her hands in the air in defence. “I didn’t do anything to him other than politely suggest that we could go out for drinks after the party.”

“Politely with your hand on his leg, as I recall. Or was that your tongue in his ear?”

Surprisingly, grapes hurt when they bounce off your head.

“Whatever. I have no problem looking him in the eye. And I bet he secretly enjoyed it.”

“Speaking of secretly enjoying things. Have you decided if you’re bringing anyone to the reception yet?”

“What? And ruin my chances of being the most sought-after single woman in the bridal party?”

“You’re the only single woman in the bridal party.”

“Exactly.” Her smile makes me laugh. I love Ingrid. I don’t know of many people who are still best friends with their childhood friend but I can’t imagine anyone else filling her role in my life. We’re as different as chalk and cheese in so many ways, from the way we look—Ingrid is all tall, blonde Nordic beauty while I’m more of the traditional English-Irish type of brunette so common around here—to the way we act (although she’s taken over the flirty role I once occupied).

When Evan insisted on having all six of his brothers in the wedding party, I nearly died. I don’t have that many close female friends. Hence, my side of the bridal party is made up of Ingrid, my friend Melanie, Dungeon Master extraordinaire, a couple of other friends who are married, and two of Evan’s sister-in-laws who I get along with really well.

I wish I could say I like all the Sharp women, but that’s sadly not true. Then again, it’s not likely they’ll be creating the Jillian Carew fan club anytime soon either. But Shona and Liz are super sweet. To the point that while I know they are not fans of the bridesmaid dresses, they’re grinning and bearing it. Ingrid and Mel might have had something to do with that. Regardless, if anyone in the bridal party has a problem participating in our Roman-themed wedding, they’re doing a great job of keeping it to themselves.

Oh. Haven’t I mentioned that yet? In all the wedding talk have I failed to share that we’re going all out with an ancient Rome-inspired wedding? Yup. And once I convinced Mom that it would be tasteful and lavish and the envy of all her friends, she was all for it. That was the surprise of the century, honestly.

Really it was Evan’s idea. He’d confessed that he’d always wanted a different kind of wedding. Something fantasy themed. There were a few arguments about that, and I was nearly ready to concede to a medieval theme when he started showing me pictures online of Roman-inspired weddings. The wedding gown potential sold me on it. I have two dresses in Ingrid’s closet because I can’t make up my mind.

Now let me set you straight on a few things before you start shaking your head and giving me up for one of those Live Action Role Playing people. The key word to keep in mind is
inspired.
It’s not a true-to-life reenactment. Although I do have worries about seven brothers equipped with swords. I might have Ingrid discreetly steal them while the guys sit down for supper and hide them until the night’s revelries are done.

I’d love to tell you all about it right now but I’m being called in to begin my day of pampering.

T
here’s no way I can even begin to explain to you everything that happened last night. We’d be here forever. Instead, here’s the text thread that Ingrid, Evan and I have poured over ever since he got home this evening. We’re all a bit more than hung-over. I suppose it’s a good thing we have text messages to help keep track of the night. It’s just a pity I can’t share the images that go along with this transcript with you. Nevertheless, here in its entirety is Saturday night, as experienced through texts. For your ease of reading, E stands for Evan, J for Jillian, and I for Ingrid (I used her phone a bit). As if you wouldn’t figure that out. My apologies for suggesting it.

7:53 pm

E: Heading to the shed now. Enjoy the rest of your supper. Dad says to keep Mom away from rum.

J: Have fun. Love you. And there’s no rum in sight. Just lots of wine and food.

J: And tell Phonse Whelan to keep his clothes on tonight.

E: Love you. xx

8:01

E: Last text, I swear. Just wanted you to see that there are two kegs here. One for the Labatt crowd and one for the Molson bunch.

J: Beer before liquor, never been sicker. Keep that in mind.

E: Okay.

8:12

J: evan this is mom tell dad to only let you and your brothers use the bathroom in the house and tell Shona the paper plates are in the downstairs pantry next to the Lysol

E: Wow Mom. Nothing like contaminating the plates with harsh cleaners. Thanks!

J: I am not sharing that message with your mother. Be nice.

E: Now that I know you let mothers near your phone I can’t send you the texts I had in mind for later.

J: I’m changing my password now. ;)

J: Oh. She also wants to tell you that there are boozy chocolates in her closet. Your father knows where they are. I think they’ve been there since the millennium. I’d stay away from them.

10:33

J: Sorry to bother you. We are at our house and I can’t find Apples to Apples. Did you lend it out?

10:51

J: Never mind. We’re going to play Cards Against Humanity with the boys downstairs.

11:19

E: You can’t let them play that!

11:34

E: You there?

11:56

E: Phonse still has his clothes on.

12:13

E: Dad and Peter doing an old fashioned waltz.

12:17

E: Dad wants to limbo.

12:29

E: Hya Jill. Your husband is some limber.  [Note: We have no idea who sent this text.]

1:39

E: Shhhh. Don’t tell Mom. The cops came and told us to keep it down.

1:41

E: I should stop texting you. I guess you’re gone to sleep. I love you Jillian. And even though I’m drunk I want you to know that I love you. And I love your body. And I love the smell of your hair.

E: I love that thing you do with your finger on my thigh.

E: I wish you were awake now.

E: I’m going back out to the shed now. Night my precious.

E: Sorry. Didn’t mean to get all LOTR on you.

E: My preciousssssss

E: heh heh

2:10

J: I left my phone upstairs. Did you get my texts from Ingrid’s phone?

[Note: Evan didn’t receive any of the messages I sent from Ingrid’s phone. We have no idea where they went.]

11:42

I: It’s Jill. I left my phone upstairs. Your mom is rocking Cards Against Humanity. Just had to show you this gem she played.

I: I drink to forget... Centaurs.

I: She refuses to play with “the bad cards.”

I: But I love her answer anyway.

I: Beats Mom’s answer. She said Menstrual Rage. I can’t believe we are playing this game.

12:11

I: Another gem, this from my mom.

I: When I am Prime Minister of Canada, I will create the Department of Vigilante Justice. Really, that doesn’t surprise me as much as it should.

I: Your mom came a close second with Alcoholism. Of which I’m suspecting both of our mothers of right about now.

12:54

I: I’m never playing a game with these women again. Never. Your mother’s “no bad card” answer mantra has disappeared somewhere between “Oh Canada, we stand on guard for my inner demons” and “I got 99 problems but erectile dysfunction ain’t one.”

[We now return to our own phones.]

2:17

E: I didn’t get anything from Ingrid. Are you in bed?

J: No. Waiting for food to come. We are getting fish & chips from Ches’s.

E: Late night drinking feed if I ever heard of one. Are you drunk?

J: Not as drunk as everyone else. The moms are looking at your swords for the wedding.