Hope Entangles: A New Adult Romantic Comedy (Book 2 of 3) (13 page)

The girls exchanged a look and shrugged
in unison.

I was starting annoyed by them sharing
one brain. Obviously they were twins separated at birth by… oh,
about fifteen years.

They backtracked to the almost not
there panties and tried to get me to wear something far more
revealing than I’d ever be caught dead in. I finally met them part
way, with some French cut, black silk panties with some lace
decoration.

I put my foot down when they tried to
add in some more risqué variations to the shopping cart—if you
could call a hand held basket the size of a lunch box a shopping
cart.

I checked out and my eyes bugged when I
saw the total.

“
A hundred and ninety-seven
dollars!” I said, my jaw practically falling off my
face.

“
I know,” Darla said beside
me. “We hit one hell of a nice sale.”

Sale?!?!

I gritted my teeth and handed the sales
girl my credit card. The underwear had been more than the dress and
shoes combined. But at least they were new, I guess…

On the up side, I was buying all this
for a work related gathering, I could deduct it all from my
taxes.

We stopped for some Cinnabon cinnabuns
and mocha milkshakes when Bette and Darla tugged me into a
Spencers. Now, I’d been into one of these stores, so they didn’t
get the charge out of me that they’d gotten at Victoria’s Secret.
So they went off and browsed while I stayed over by the novelty mug
counter. I loved novelty mugs.

That reminded me that Raphael had only
perfectly matching white coffee mugs in his cupboards.

I had to get him something with a
little personality.

And besides, with the sleeve of tattoos
on his arm, it was strange that he had such boring dinner
wear.

I surveyed the glut of product they
had; all kinds of cute, mugs with naughty sayings, endless cartoon
logos and characters—I picked up a Hello Kitty mug I didn’t have
and considered getting a second one for Raphael; and of course
kittens and puppy dogs abounded. I thought about getting him some
of those too.

But then I saw the absolutely most
perfect novelty mug ever created. And it was perfect for
him!

I picked it up just as the girls made
their way over to me, arms laden with their items.

I held up the mug, their eyes went
wide, and we all broke out in raucous laughter.

“
Oh my god,” Darla wheezed
between laughs. “He’s going to have a cow!”

Bette winked at me approvingly. “You
can be so mean.”

I turned and headed to the sales
counter to make my purchase.

***

I opened the door and exited the party.
The room was small and unpopulated, and there was a roaring fire in
the fireplace, and one of those lovely fainting couches that no one
actually has in their homes. The room was lit with only a
smattering of flickering candles.

I dragged myself over to the couch and
gently lowered myself onto it. The chocolate silk dress had been a
hit, but the shoes were killing my feet. I leaned back and to the
side and raised my legs up on the couch, so my feet dangled over
the edge.

Closing my eyes I sighed as the
pressure on my poor, tortured feet let up.

“
May I help you take those
off, ma’am?” Brad Pitt said, his voice rough and husky.

Oh, this was a dream? A Brad
dream.

I sighed as he took hold of my ankle
and started to pull my left shoe off. I hadn’t had a Brad Pitt
dream in weeks. I was glad he was back.

Maybe I’d get a naked foot
massage?

I licked my lips as I felt Brad’s rough
hand slide up my leg and expertly snap the clips connecting my silk
stockings to my garter belt. God, he knew how to do
everything.

His hands rolled down my stocking, his
fingertips sliding down my thigh, over my knee, and then down my
calf.

I opened my eyes as he pressed his
thumbs into the now naked arch of my foot, and the ball of my foot
into the smooth, warm hairless flesh and muscle of his
chest.

I jumped in surprise: Jake knelt at my
feet, shirtless, gorgeous, his delicious bare skin glowing in the
candlelight. He stared up into my eyes and licked those pouty,
thick lips of his.

I stared into his milk chocolate eyes
for what seemed like a lifetime, and then finally pulled my gaze
away.

“
I’m sorry I pulled you into
my dream.” I felt my face flush from shame. “You can go
now.”

“
But I just got here,” he
said, and I looked back to him. “And I came on my own… couldn’t
stay away.”

Oh sweet baby Jesus, this was so
twisted. Jake would never even want to talk to me, not to mention
show up half-naked in one of my dreams.

I closed my eyes and leaned back,
hitting my head ineffectually against the padded back of the
fainting couch.

A pair of hands glided down my bare
neck—I must have my hair up. They were big and strong and they
found exactly where I was tense.

I opened my eyes and looked up… and
jumped again.

Raphael Morales stood over me, his
hands kneading the tight muscles of my neck and
shoulders.

He wasn’t shirtless, but his silky
dress shirt was open all the way and a tantalizing expanse of tan,
creamy skin and rippling muscles played over his chest as he
massaged me.

I tensed all the more as I realized
that both men were in my dream.

Shiiit…

“
Relax,” Jake drawled as he
kissed his way up my thigh.

“
Yes,
chica
,’ Raphael purred, his hand
smooth and warm as they pressed down over my chest and under my
dress. “Everything will be just fine.”

I arched as they two men hit their
mark.

Chapter 12: Jake

I used to love days off. I’d work on my
truck, fix something on the house, maybe mow the lawn or go help a
friend with something or other. Always busy—I like it like
that.

But today I’m off, and I can’t will
myself to get off the couch.

Hell, the TV’s not even on.

I’m just sitting here, moping like a
complete loser.

But I can’t stop thinking about
her…

Hope.

Maybe if I hadn’t had such a pathetic
crush on her in high school I wouldn’t be still swooning over her
now.

Like a love-sick teenager.

Sickening, really.

It’s like my mind is a broken record.
It starts with memories of her in high school, back when I was just
one of her brother Southie’s invisible friends; tall and gawky,
nothing like her big tough brother. I was so skinny I barely left a
shadow on the wall.

She was kind of the same way: thin and
delicate—but not. Always getting in trouble, rebelling against her
mother—lord, just the thought of her mother still made my flesh
crawl—and I thought I had the world’s worst mom. She made Norma
Leer look like June Cleaver.

Hope was a walking disaster. I’d never
seen a girl more accident prone. She probably held the world record
for dropping her books. I tried my best to be there to help her
pick them up as much as possible. Sometimes I’d get an absent
“Thanks,” sometimes half of a smile before she rushed
off.

But one time she looked me full in the
eyes, dazzling me to the point I almost fell over on my ass. It was
like I’d been struck by lightning, the current running through me
like a wild fire.

But she never really saw me. I was
invisible to her.

That was until she walked into Wal-Mart
and asked me to fix her car.

Hell, I could have lifted the hunk of
junk up over my head one handed just seeing her again.

And how she’d changed: so damn gorgeous
I was afraid I’d start drooling on my boots instead of being able
to talk to her. Curves where there had only been rail thin legs and
arms, creamy peach colored flesh where she’d been alabaster
white.

And the biggest change of all? She was
looking at me, and seeing me.

And flirting with me…

I couldn’t freaking believe
it.

Maybe that’s why I pushed so hard. All
those stupid, silly pseudo dates, all that food—I remembered that
even though she’d been a stick back then, she ate like a ravenous
rhino.

Maybe that had been the problem? I’d
pushed too hard, we’d gone too fast, and now look where we
were.

Nowhere, with three miles of mixed
messages, mistakes, and betrayal between us.

But when she got smacked in the head
with that giant beach ball at the Jimmy Buffet concert, I nearly
fell over myself helping her up. It was just like high school, and
I still had the biggest crush on her.

A tingling heat rose up in my chest,
and I had to rearrange myself in my jeans. Just thinking about
being in her bed, having her beneath me, made me hard as a concrete
wall, and got me thinking about driving over there to her house
and…

And what?

What the hell did I think I was going
to do?

I heard footsteps on my front porch,
but there was no knock. There was the slide of a key in the lock,
though.

I jerked up off the couch and headed
for the door, ready to grab the baseball bat I kept stashed in the
umbrella stand.

But when the door opened a familiar
face popped into view.

“
Paula?” What in the hell
was my sister doing here?

“
Hi Jake,” she
growled.

I shook my head. “You ever hear of
knocking?”

Paula waltzed in and a thin, impeccably
well dressed woman followed her in, a suitcase in each hand, a
bothered glower on her gaunt face. My mother, Norma Leer, stopped
and tilted her head as she scrutinized me.

“
Jacob Michael Troy, I don’t
need to knock when I’m entering my own house.”

Shiiit…

She dramatically set her luggage on the
floor and placed her hands on her nearly nonexistent hips. “Is that
any way to treat your mother, standing there with your mouth
hanging open?”

My mouth closed with a click, and
though I really, really wanted to run for the back door, I sucked
it up and walked forward and gave her a hug. She was so thin and
frail in my arms, but I knew she was forged out of iron.

She sighed and patted me on the back,
and then pushed herself away, holding me at arm’s length. “Your
sister tells me you’re dating that Jones girl.”

I shot Paula a filthy look. I was going
to kill her.

Chapter 13: Hope

I woke to the sound of my alarm
bleating like a dying parakeet. Covered in sweat and breathing like
I’d been running a marathon, I pulled my Hello Kitty covers closer.
I was in my usual pajamas—yes, Hello Kitty was the theme there
too—but I felt totally naked.

I could still feel them touching me,
Raphael’s strong, smooth hands rubbing my breasts, Jake’s soft,
soft lips and scratchy five o’clock shadow working over the space
between my legs.

Oh dear god, I’d had a sex dream about
two men… two men I knew in real life.

This was not happening.

Especially the Raphael part of the
dream.

Hell, I didn’t have any right to dream
about Jake either.

I tried to smother myself with my
pillow… a harder proposition than it sounds. Failing at that I sat
up in bed and shook off my lusty reverie.

I needed coffee.

I needed food.

I needed a cold, cold
shower.

I traipsed into my bathroom, pulled off
my sweat soaked pajamas and stepped into my shower. The cold part
of a cold shower only lasted five, six seconds tops. I decided that
that was enough time for the cold water to teach my libido and
roaming nocturnal thoughts to behave.

When I emerged from the shower pink and
wrinkly from water saturation, I wrapped myself up in a towel,
pulled my hair up in another towel, and padded barefooted into my
bedroom.

I’d set my alarm for eleven thirty, and
it was now a quarter past noon. I didn’t have anything
planned—besides searching frantically for a date for Janine’s
party.

I had… oh lord have mercy, less than
thirty-three hours before the party.

I could just throw myself on Bette’s
tender mercies. I’m sure she had a male friend that wasn’t a
complete pervert.

My little black book was more a list of
six guys I’d dated for approximately three weeks a piece. Not that
they were bad guys, I just had it in my rebellious head that if I
let a relationship last more than a month, I’d get sucked into
staying here forever…

And isn’t it funny that’s exactly what
happened, but pretty much because I left and found the world
outside of San Antonio just a tad too stimulating.