Heels of Love (G Street Chronicles Presents From Love to Loathe Series) (24 page)

BOOK: Heels of Love (G Street Chronicles Presents From Love to Loathe Series)
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I nodded, and he kissed my forehead. Jyme asked me to get only the bare necessities. He had the clothes, underwear, and shoes under control. I got a big purse and put everything I needed in it. I grabbed my laptop bag, and we were off.

We said nothing to each other in the truck, just held hands. We pulled up at a restaurant called, Buenos Aires. Jyme ordered me a glass of wine right off the bat. Then, he ordered a porterhouse, and I ordered a Caesar salad. Jyme stopped that order immediately. He ordered me filet mignon with mashed potatoes and sweet potato fries.

“Jyme? Two starches? Really?”

He and the waiter chuckled. Then he scratched the sweet potatoes and ordered grilled vegetables. I had two more glasses of wine during dinner.

We got back to the docks and boarded the loaner boat from before. I held onto Jyme the entire ride. We made it back to the dark safe house, and Jyme lit up every room with the soft lights. We went upstairs, and he pulled four garment bags from one of the spare bedrooms. He took them into the master bedroom and hung them in the big closet.

“You have sleepwear in there,” were the first words he had spoken directly to me since the condo.

I nodded and waited for him to exit the closet. I unzipped one of the bags, and it was filled with dresses. I unzipped the next one, and it was filled with blouses. I unzipped the next one, and it was filled with jeans and pants. I guess the fourth one would be the charm. I unzipped it, and there were nightgowns and sleep separates.

Jyme came back with two bags and three boxes of shoes. He set the bags on the floor and left the closet again. I changed into a sleep separate set and dug into the bags filled with underwear, leggings, tights, stockings, and bras. He had thought of absolutely everything. I unpacked everything and put it up into the closet drawers and cabinets. I put the three pairs of shoes in the shoe closet, and Jyme watched me from the bed.

“I picked those out for you a while ago,” he said.

I said nothing; I just put the shoes away. I walked back to the bedroom, searching for something to do.

“I need to stay busy.”

“Okay.” He watched me and started to get up off the bed.

“We could have sex all-night long, or I could clean all-night long. How many condoms do we have?”

Jyme’s faced dropped and then his head fell back.

“FUCK,” he yelled.

I knew then that I would be cleaning all fucking night.

“I need socks.”

“Babe, I could pull out like in the tub that morning.”

“SOCKS,” I shouted.

I had to hurry up and get away from him. He was my kryptonite, and if he got anywhere near my ear, I would be pregnant by the morning. He jumped up and got some socks out of his closet. Jyme stood awkwardly while I slid on the two long and too big socks.

“Shit my overnight bag.”

I knew exactly what he was thinking. He had condoms in his overnight bag in his truck at the docks, and there were also some at the condo. Jyme couldn’t just go to the quickest corner store to get a box. He had to order his special from Durex online. He twitched and then stopped, I glared at him.

“YOU ARE NOT LEAVING ME HERE BY MYSELF TO GO AND GET SOME FUCKING CONDOMS!”

“BABE,” he growled, tugging at his anaconda.

“NO,” I growled back.

I headed for downstairs to start my night of excessive cleaning. Jyme didn’t follow me, and I seriously didn’t want to know what he was up there doing to himself. He showed up after I placed everything back into the now pristine fridge. This was one of those big refrigerators with the freezer at the bottom.

I looked at him, and his face was all flushed.

“You are so disgusting.”

“So,” he snapped back.

“You could have at least let me watch.”

“Oh, there will be a round two, I promise you.”

I started laughing hysterically, and then he slid behind me and went straight for my ear. I didn’t have a chance in hell. I woke the next morning sore and sticky. Jyme had nutted everywhere but inside of me; we fucked until we couldn’t fuck anymore.

The view outside was breathtaking – the water and the boats and then more water and then more boats. I untwisted out from under Jyme and pulled one of the sheets with me. I went towards the window and stood there. The sun was peeking over the water, and it was so beautiful.

“Come back to bed,” he called out sleepily.

“No, you nympho.” I laughed.

He rubbed his eyes and stretched.

“This is beautiful.” I pointed outside.

“I knew you’d like it,” he said. “I’m starving.”

“I’ll make us some breakfast.”

“REALLY BABE?”

“My God, I can hear your heart beating all the way over here,” I told him.

“I just have this
MAJOR
fantasy of you cooking me breakfast in nothing but a white, long-sleeve, collar shirt.”

“Well, I can do breakfast, but I can’t get the twins in any of your shirts.

“I GOT ONE ALREADY. I ORDERED IT A LONG TIME AGO,” he said a little too loud and too fast.

“Okay, okay…calm down. Let me get a shower, and we will live out your breakfast fantasy.”

“I’ll go and get the shirt and leave it in the bathroom for you.”

I sent D’Artagnan and O a quick text that I would be working from home today. I went to get into the shower, and I heard Jyme when he came in.

“Babe?”

“Yeah?”

“No socks, okay?”

“Okay.” I laughed.

I fried a couple of pork chops, eggs, and potatoes with onions. I toasted some bread and cut up some fruit. Jyme walked in wearing nothing but a bare chest and very well stretched out boxers. He had really gotten himself excited with this breakfast fantasy.

I soon found out that Jyme’s so-called fantasy was not a fantasy at all. Jyme wanted a wife to wake up to and cook him breakfast every morning. He wanted to set up house and have babies to fill the rooms upstairs. Jyme wanted a son to take fishing, and he wanted his business of Samson and Son to be for him and his son. The one thing Jyme longed, dreamed, and ached for was something I didn’t have a clue about giving him.

Jyme sat on the kitchen island and ate everything I put on his plate. “I thought you said you couldn’t cook.”

“Babe, if you call this cooking, then I am a fucking gourmet chef.”

“Well, hello, chef.”

I went and collected his plate and poured him some orange juice. Jyme wrapped his arms around my waist and rested his head on my stomach.

“Please cook me breakfast every morning,” he begged.

“I didn’t know you liked breakfast so much. I hardly ever see you eat it.”

“That’s my favorite meal of the day. We just don’t ever make it or have time to eat it.”

“Okay it’s a deal.”

“I know you need to work today, but can you please order us some furniture and have it delivered TODAY?”

I stood there in utter shock. I didn’t know anything about the shit he was asking me to do.

“Jyme, I’m not that kind of girl. I don’t know the first thing about ordering furniture and stuff like that.”

“Cricket, you’re the best-dressed woman I know. Order whatever you like.”

“What pieces of furniture do you want me to order,” I frowned.

“Are you serious?”

I turned from him, trying to fight back the tears; he thought I was a freak because I didn’t know how to do this shit. I pulled away from him and went back to the sink. I started washing all the dishes. Once I was done with that, I cleaned the pots and skillets.

Jyme walked over to the sink and started rinsing the dishes.

“Why don’t you ever talk about your life before you moved here?”

I didn’t answer; I was so not ready for this conversation. It was too soon for all of this shit. I went up behind him and slid my wet hands in his boxers.

“Cricket.” He pulled away from me.

“Come on. You know you want it.” I slid in front of him and kissed him. He kissed me back.

“Cricket, we need to talk,” he said through kisses.

“I’ll make you feel real good, Daddy,” I said while kneeling to the floor.

“What?” he asked breathlessly.

“You can shove it down my throat till I choke.”

“Cricket what the fuck?” he asked in a high-pitched whisper.

“I might even let you try another hole if you’re a good boy.” I slid his anaconda out, and Jyme jumped back from me.

“What’s wrong?”

“Why the fuck are you talking to me like that?”

“Like what? Did I say something wrong?”

“You’re talking to me like a whore, and I don’t like that.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.” I put his anaconda back in his shorts for him.

He started right back rinsing, and I kept wiping everything down I could find. He put the dishes in the dish racks, and there was nothing else to do. I had wiped down the island and all the counters, and I was on my third wipe of the fridge.

Jyme pulled the dishrag out of my hand and turned me to face him. He pulled me close to him and rubbed both of my shoulders.

“Listen to me. I know you’re not ready to talk about your past, and I don’t want to pressure you, but we’re going to have to have this conversation eventually. Cricket, I want to wake up next to you every single day for the rest of my life. You promised you’d open up to me.”

I stood there looking down at the floor. Jyme released me, and I headed upstairs. I slipped back on what I wore at dinner last night. Jyme walked in, and I was pulling my purse on my shoulder. I bent over to pick up my laptop bag.

“I thought you were working from here,” he asked.

“I need to go home.”

“Cricket, are you coming back?”

“No.”

“Babe, why?” He walked over to me. “Cricket, please don’t leave me.”

I stood there looking at the floor.

“I won’t ask you anything else about your past, I swear,” he whispered.

“Don’t ever, or I’m out of here. I’m real good at disappearing,” I warned him.

“Cricket, please don’t disappear. If I were to ever lose you, I don’t know what I’d do. I’d go fucking crazy. Promise you won’t do that to me.”

“I promise,” I lied.

Jyme had to go and handle some business. He left the car keys, a stack of cash, and two credit cards. He reminded me to fill the house up with furniture and have it delivered today. He said he would be back around six. I promised a hot meal on the new table when he got back. He almost peed himself with excitement. He reminded me that no one was to know where we lived. The credit cards had Jamerson and Jamerson construction on them. He told me to sign everything Jamerson Jamerson. I answered emails, and then I called the one person I knew who would know what I needed.

O answered on the second ring, I told her I was helping a friend who just got a new house and that I needed a place that could do it all and deliver it today. She asked what kind of money they wanted to spend. I told her the sky was the limit. She told me that the only place I could get everything today would be IKEA. I could order everything online, and I would have to pay a hefty price if it needed same day delivery.

I went to the website and got started right away. O was right. They had absolutely everything. I ordered for each room in the house, and I bought what I thought was pretty. I called the store in Renton, and after I begged, pleaded, and paid an additional four thousand dollars, they agreed to have the furniture here by 3:00. I was checking a few more emails when my phone rang.

“We need to talk,” Chelle said in a dry voice.

“Okay, can you meet up for lunch?”

“Yes, where?”

“How about Maxwell’s in Tacoma?”

“That’s fine. See you then.” I wasn’t sure what that was all about, but I was sure I would find out soon.

I worked a little more on the laptop, and then Beyoncé was singing to me from my phone. I answered, and he just sat there. We both sat on the phone in silence. I refused to say anything before he did. He called me; I didn’t call him. I didn’t say anything. His fight he was having with himself would have to work itself out.

“I’m sorry about this morning.”

“Already forgotten” I assured him.

“How do you do that?”

“Do what?”

“Turn it on and off. You can be mad one minute, and then the next you don’t even care.”

“Some call it bipolar, but I think I’ve got a magic switch that I can control,” I answered.

“Cricket?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m in love with you, and if you ever leave me, I would go fucking crazy,” he said.

“I shouldn’t have threatened you like that this morning, and I’m sorry. But I felt like you were attacking me, and that’s the only coping mechanism I know.”

“Don’t apologize to me for anything that happened this morning. It was all my fault and I shouldn’t have said what I said.”

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