Impulses (58 page)

Hayden rubs his hand rhythmically up and down the length of my spine in a vain attempt to appease me.

The lively, satisfied brunet slaps her hand on her thigh and squeals with laughter. With her hair piled high into a ponytail, the odd tresses framing her pale oval face and her bright emerald eyes silently conveying her sated and overindulged night of passion––for once––she actually looks her age…she actually looks relaxed and happy. And I can’t think of anyone more deserving.

“Merry Christmas, sweetie,” she beams, dragging me into the apartment, and encircles her arms around me as though she hasn’t seen me in weeks.

“Merry Christmas, Jess,” I strain my greeting, despite the fact that she is wringing all breath from my lungs in her vice-like embrace. I feel a nuance of liberation as she loosens her death grip.

Jessie may not be big, but damn has she got some killer strength behind her small frame.

She welcomes Hayden in the same fashion, and repeats her torture-like encirclement. As she relinquishes him, I notice his eyes and posture visibly relax.

“Jeez, Jess. I think you had better lay off the spinach,” he teases, and she frivolously swats his upper arm, while I snigger inwardly at the warmth and openness of my lover and best friend.

“Happy Holiday’s, all…” A voice from the entrance of the hallway that hold Jessie’s bedroom startles me. God, I am so jumpy today. I whip my head around like a prima ballerina to find the source of the deep, cheerful voice.

Jessie side-steps Hayden and with a Cheshire cat grin, she sashay’s passed the dining-table, to the tall muscular form in her doorway. He’s wearing dark, slouchy, denim pants and a tight, black, tank top, displaying his burly biceps. His hair is dark, mousy-blond and spiked. I am instantly drawn to his eyes…Jessie was right, he does have incredible, sapphire irises…nothing compared to Hayden, but they’re still intense yet friendly, and a smattering of stubble enhances his strong, squared-jawline.

Taking his hand in hers, she leads him out of the doorway and into the squared-arch that divides the living and dining areas. Hayden impulsively wraps his arm around my waist, pulling me clearly into his side. I sense his possessive intention, and it rouses something deep within knowing that he is claiming me as his woman in front of another man. I can’t suppress my smile of triumph.

“Sammy, Hayden, this is Matt. Matt, this is my roommate, Sammy, and her boyfriend, Hayden.”

The level of protectiveness that Hayden exudes warms me internally, not only the fortification he offers me, but the protection and wellbeing I sense that he has for Jessie as he whips question after question at poor Matt. I suppose that’s what happens when you date a lawyer…sorry, are engaged to a lawyer.

I feel a brief throbbing in my panties and sink my teeth into my lip as I contemplate the demeanor he must project in the courtroom.

Oh, my…

As Hayden and I take up the only two breakfast bar stools, Jessie and Matt find themselves leaning against the countertops while occupying the kitchen. With a powerful hand perched on my left thigh, I pull my attention away from my steaming coffee mug, and peek up into his dark, scorching eyes. His gaze flits down to my left hand, which is shielding his on my leg. He raises his brow.

I nod with a clear understanding of his silent question and Hayden follows by ‘accidentally’ spilling a little of the contents in his cup onto the counter.

“Hang on, I’ll get it.” Jessie turns to gather some paper towels on the furthest countertop.

Taking advantage of the moment, I wrap both of my hands around the steaming mug and take a generous sip. The bright light that streams through the room catches the diamond, expelling a rainbow of colors against the kitchen wall. Spotting the lightshow, Jessie stills and stares intently like a cat preparing to chase the spotlight from a torch as I slowly wriggle my finger.

“Ahem…” I clear my throat in a feeble attempt to capture her attention.

Matt’s already fixated on the rock adorning my finger, his arms folded across his chest. Hayden presses his finger to his mouth, urging the man to remain silent. He is recompensed with a conceded nod, his full, pouty-lips curling slowly in wry hilarity.

As Jessie spins around to face us, she freezes.

Finally
, my subconscious slumps back into her office chair and tips her head back against the rest.

Mouth agape, her eyes flare upon acknowledging the band, and then spontaneously dart towards mine. Jessie is actually speechless…that’s a first.

Dashing my tongue across my lower lip, I can no longer stifle my face-splitting grin.

“You’re…I mean, he…” she points at my ring finger, and then to Hayden as she attempts to string her sentence together.

Regaled, Hayden and I both offer a quick glance at each other, and quietly giggle at the gibbering-wreck, that is my best friend before peering back up at the woman who I think of as my sister, who I love dearly, and answer her with a simple nod of my head.

Before I know what has hit us, she shrieks, claps her hands repeatedly and bounces from foot-to-foot like a child on a sugar rush after eating too much cotton candy––sharing the same reaction my subconscious reveled in last night…that is, after she regained consciousness.

Bounding from her position, Matt swiftly moves aside to avoid being football tackled by his girlfriend, while Jess scurries around the kitchen curve to our side of the breakfast hatch.

Bypassing Hayden, she bounds me in a celebratory hug, and then offers Hayden the same level of affection.

“Congratulations,” she shrieks once again as she stands between us, her arms slung around both of our shoulder and places a quick, friendly kiss on each of our temples. “I am so happy for you both,” she sniffles and a tear rolls down her cheek.

“You okay, babe?” the husky voice from the opposite side of the bar echoes.

Nodding feverishly, she mutters, “Oh, yes,”––she draws an invisible line from one green eye to the other––“happy tears.”

Chortling at the exuberance, love and holiday cheer that surround us, I am suddenly aware of the wall of change before me…the change of events that not only stand for Hayden and I, and our engagement…but also for Jessie and the man who leans against my kitchen counter…maybe
he
is
her
future.

“I need all the details,” she beams.

I flash a conspiratorial look in her direction, before glancing at Matt, and then back at my best friend. “And so do I.”

HAYDEN

“Okay then, Mom…yes, there is no need to worry, I promise we will make it there on time…Okay, we will see you soon.” I abruptly press the little red button on the handset, fully aware that given half the chance my loving mother would keep me on the damn thing all day.

I sit on the red, leather couch, my elbows propped on my knees as I toy with my rock-climbing for two, gift certificate that Samantha gifted me. The uninvited memories of the events that transpired on our one-month anniversary invade my mind; we were to go together that very day. Having canceled, Samantha conceived her own assumptions when she read a text message reminding me to meet with Cassandra––my mother’s housekeeper and loyal friend––at the cemetery. Obviously the reason for the arranged meeting wasn’t stipulated on the message, but Samantha was convinced that I was unfaithful, and that led to a chain reaction of events which have been nothing but a hindrance for us since.

I cannot dispute the likelihood that I would have come to the same conclusion, had it been vice-versa.

I stand swiftly when Samantha appears from the small corridor. Her hair a glossy, straight waterfall, cascading over her breasts, and accentuates her oval face, high prominent cheekbones, and expressive, pale blue eyes. Her makeup is as natural as I have ever seen her wear before. And the black crepe, jersey bell-sleeved dress, which sits above her knee, showcases her long, shapely legs in her peep-toe, skyscraper heels.

I saunter across the room, closing the space between us. “You look amazing, Samantha.”

“Are you sure? My legs don’t look, too––”

“No,” I interject shaking my head as I recognize the question which is only moments away from being asked. “Your legs do not look fat, or bulky, or short, or blemished. You look nothing less than perfect, beautiful, as always.” I hold her gaze, my knuckles gliding down her cheek, before seizing her chin and placing a kiss on her glossy lips.

Hmm…she tastes of raspberry.

“Did I hear you on the phone?” she enquires, dropping her cell-phone into her black clutch purse.

“Yes, it was my mother. She’s very eager about meeting you. So you have nothing to be apprehensive about, okay.”

Peeking up from under her thick, black lashes, she briskly curves her mouth and offers a regardless-of-what-you-say-I-am-still-going-to-be-a-nervous-wreck grin, and then rechecks the contents of her purse.

“Okay, I think I have everything,” she mutters and I know she is attempting to diverge from the topic.

Veering her focus from the accessory to me, I tip her head back “I mean it, Samantha. Relax, please.”

She nods her head. “Okay.”

I bow to feel her lips against mine once more. Her hand sweeps through my hair and down the back of my head, before gliding across my neck, and up to my jawline. Pulling away, she scrapes her teeth across her lower lip while pressing her forehead along mine. “We had better leave otherwise we won’t be going anywhere, Mr. Wentworth.”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

The likelihood of finding crescent-shape indentations in my upper thigh is great, thanks to Samantha squeezing with brute force and her nails sinking into my flesh as we crossed Golden Gate Bridge. I make a mental note to keep her preoccupied next time we travel for a mile, while suspended over water. Nevertheless, we manage the drive to San Rafael in an hour, which, for the Holiday rush, doesn’t make bad timing.

“Oh, my…your mom lives here?” Her calming blue eyes flare with panic as we pull into the small enclave of luxury homes.

I can’t disguise my amusement at her countenance as I park in the paved bay beside the beige, villa-styled, detached property.

“It’s okay, beautiful. You’ll be fine. I’ll be right beside you.” Leaning over the console, I kiss her, then exit the car and stroll assertively around the hood of the DB9, to aide Samantha from the passenger side.

She stands immobilized, gawping up at the three-storey, sandstone property. Her mouth has fallen open. She instantly turns her attention towards me as I weave our fingers together.

“Stop worrying,” I smirk.

“Hayden, I have only ever seen photos of properties this grand.” She glances back up to the colossal building, scanning the array of square and circular windows, the light bouncing from each glass surface. “I’ve never…I’m totally… astounded.”

I snigger. “Oh, beautiful, it’s only a house.” I outstretch her arm as I make my way to the entrance. Still enrapture on the exterior she reluctantly begins to tread behind me. “Come on, we have an announcement to make.”

Leading her past the front, double-patio doors, we head towards the high-rise arch porch that shelters a set of heavy oak doors. I ring the bell twice and glance down at the beautiful, nervous-wreck beside me. Her hand clasps tighter around mine.

“Stop panicking, Samantha.”

“Hayden, I have never had to experience the ‘meet the parent’ scenario before. I don’t know what to expect, that is why I’m so bloody nervous.” She alternates her weight from foot-to-foot.

“Think of it this way,” I lean in. “Would you prefer to meet her now, on Christmas Day…or during the rehearsal dinner for the wedding?” I offer a shrewd smile as I observe the instant change in her demeanor, fully aware that I have just flicked on the metaphorical light in her head.

That was easy enough; I idly wonder why I didn’t express it in that context previously?

“Okay, you win,” she concedes while drawing a deep, cleansing breath and exhaling briskly.

Beaming, I graze my thumb over her knuckles. I barely even realize that the front door is being pulled open.

“Hello, Hayden,” Cassandra greets us, her sapphire eyes bright, her dark blond mane pulled back into a high, elegant chignon. She wears fitted navy, high-waist pants and a black, silk blouse.

I’m unexpectedly filled with conflicting emotions; anxious, yet also relief. The butterflies in my stomach are uncertain of how to react to my uprising quandary. Only a few weeks ago, Samantha believed that I was going to meet Cassandra for sexual relations. Although I made necessary information known, I still distinguish the look in her eye when I mention Cassandra’s name. Maybe Samantha meeting the woman behind the message may help alleviate the residual shard of hurt, uncertainty and betrayal that she must have felt at that time. Putting a face behind the text, I suppose.

Sucking in a breath, I swallow any form of apprehension that is feasting upon me, and bite the bullet.

“Hello, Cassandra.” In the periphery of my vision, I notice Samantha’s head turn with high velocity towards me, her lips discreetly parted. “Cassandra, this is, Samantha Kennedy,” I peek down at Samantha. “Samantha, this is Cassandra; my mother’s housekeeper, and a loyal, family friend.” I watch her icy glare thaw under the warmth of my introduction, and feel her tensing muscles begin to loosen and relax.
See, there’s nothing to be fretful about.

She offers a friendly smile, and I know fully well it’s because she no longer has to withstand her imagination concocting images of what she thinks she has to contend with. As silly as it sounds, that is something I can appreciate and understand.

They shake hands over the threshold.

“Is that them? Are they here?” a keen voice resonates from behind the door.

I subtly close what trivial space there is between our bodies, and mutter, “My mother; I told you she was enthusiastic about meeting you.”

She smiles brilliantly before biting down on the side of her lower lip.

Cassandra steps aside, pulling the door open to allow us entry.

Heels click across the hardwood flooring as we enter the foyer. Samantha begins her subtle perusal of the surroundings. Before us is the large, rectangular archway which sections the foyer and the living area. The spiral staircase with a metal, intricate detailed balustrade is to the right of the arch. The entrance to the right of us leads through to the kitchen. All of the surrounding walls are a light cream, making the already large area, appear even more-so. A decorative, cherry-wood cabinet stands against the left wall of the room, with family photographs scattered along the wall in a starburst effect; a photograph of my mother and father at the central-point.