Rusty Nailed
Page 41
I exploded once more as he drove himself into me a final time, his hands digging into my skin as he rode out his orgasm deep within me.
We fell onto the bed into a heap of sweaty skin and heavy breathing. After I regained use of my limbs, I struggled to roll us both over, pushing the mass of my hair out of my face as I rested my chin on his chest. “If I get a cheerleading uniform, can we play Homecoming King again sometime?”
“As long as you wear the boots, babe,” he replied, kissing me thoroughly.
We didn’t play Homecoming King again that night, but we did play Reverse Cowgirl meets the Student Council President.
chapter thirteen
Once we flew back to the West Coast, holiday planning was in full swing. I was as busy as ever, trying to get as much done as I could before work crews began taking breaks for Christmas. We worked on Christmas decorating at a few key homes and hotels around town, and the Sausalito project kept trucking along. We were ahead of schedule, and Mr. Camden seemed very pleased with not only the construction but the interest that was being generated around town.
Mimi and Ryan were planning their holiday party for a week before Christmas and it promised to be a fabulous evening. Hosting in their new apartment, they’d invited friends and work colleagues on both sides. And Sophia and Neil would both be attendance. Of course they were both bringing dates. I was hoping the lack of Pictionary would keep them a little more in line. Wishful Thinking: Party of One.
And Simon? Well, I don’t know how to describe what Simon was. He was . . . around. I can’t explain it any better than that. He just seemed to always be—around. He’d canceled a trip he’d planned to Vancouver; he’d canceled a trip he’d had planned to Honduras. He was supposed to be gone almost the entire month of December, but now the only thing on his books was our trip to Rio. He hadn’t had downtime like this in, well, I don’t know when. Not since I’d known him. He biked most mornings, then spent most afternoons poring over old disks of his pictures, cataloging and dating them.
He was . . . around.
The thing was, I wasn’t. I thought I should feel bad for working so much, but the thing was, I wasn’t. I mean, this was my busy season, and if he was traveling like he usually did, he wouldn’t be around so much to notice it. Should I feel bad?
He said he understood. He brought me lunch most days, tried once again coaxing me back into bed in the morning with promises of dirty things..
And my God, I loved him, but I’d almost be glad when . . .
Okay, I’m going to say the thing you’re not supposed to say.
I’d be glad when I had the bed to myself again.
I hate to say it, but sometimes I slept better when he was on the road. But you’re not supposed to say that, right? You’re supposed to curl up each and every night for eight solid hours of spooning and cuddling . . . But the truth? I needed my own bed occasionally. I liked some alone time. Is that bad?
But he knew I had work to get done. There was no way I’d be able to get away for our Christmas trip unless I got all my work done now. And there was no way I was missing that: This girl was going to Ipanema.
The morning of Mimi’s Christmas party, I had planned on a little quality alone time with my KitchenAid. Mimi had asked me to bake some cookies for her party and I’d jumped at the chance, even though I was stupid busy.
Every woman needed a little self-love once in a while. Am I right? And my self-love machine was stainless steel, powerful, and came with an optional sausage attachment. Ahem.
I was almost finished for the day when Jillian called. When I answered, I almost didn’t hear her at first with all the sneezing and nose blowing.
“What the hell, Jillian. Is the bubonic plague making a comeback?”
“Ugh, don’t ever get sick in Europe; you’ll spend hours just trying to explain your symptoms. But never mind that—what have you got for me?”
“What do you mean?” I asked, flipping through my planner. I needed to have Monica run over to a client’s house in Pacific Heights and drop off a wreath, and there were two more deliveries after that, and—
“Caroline. Hey, Caroline, did you hear what I said?”
“Sorry, just a busy day. What’s up?”
“I asked what you had for me—your list? Don’t you have any questions? Any fires to put out? I’m all ears; whatcha got?”
“Oh, I’m sorry. Um, let’s see. Actually, things are pretty well under control. I’m taking off soon; Mimi and Ryan are hosting a holiday party tonight, and that should be fun,” I said, looking at my watch under the desk. I really needed to get Monica going on her errands so she could leave on time. “Things are running pretty smoothly.”
“Oh. Oh, well that’s good. I just thought I’d check in and see if you needed anything, but it sounds like—”
“Sorry, Jillian,” I interrupted as Monica walked by the door. “Hey, Monica, can you run this by the Nelson’s on your way to drop off the place settings? Thanks!” I waved a good-bye. “Okay, where were we?”
“You’re having an intern drop setup Christmas decorations to one of our most important clients?”
“No, I’m having Monica drop off a wreath. She helped me to design their entire living and dining room this year, and they love her. Mrs. Nelson practically adopted her last time we were over there. Why, is there a problem?” I asked, confused. She’d put me in charge, right?
“No, no problem; just surprised you’ve got an intern doing that. But I suppose everyone has their way of doing things, right?”
I squeezed my fists under the table. We were both silent. I breathed in, hating this tension. “Anyway, how’s the world tour? Where are you spending Christmas?”
“Benjamin has some friends in Munich who wanted us to spend the holidays with them, so we’re heading there tomorrow.”
“That sounds nice.”
“Yes, it should be. So sorry to hear about Rio—maybe you guys can go next year.”
“Yes, me too—wait. What?”
“Rio. Benjamin said it fell through, that you guys were spending Christmas in San Francisco? That’s kind of a big deal, isn’t it? Way to go, Simon! That’s a first for him.”
“Whuh?”
Monica appeared at the door again, and I whispered to her that I’d just be a minute.
Jillian caught it. “Sounds like you’ve got your hands full, so I’ll let you go. Have fun at your party tonight!”
We fell onto the bed into a heap of sweaty skin and heavy breathing. After I regained use of my limbs, I struggled to roll us both over, pushing the mass of my hair out of my face as I rested my chin on his chest. “If I get a cheerleading uniform, can we play Homecoming King again sometime?”
“As long as you wear the boots, babe,” he replied, kissing me thoroughly.
We didn’t play Homecoming King again that night, but we did play Reverse Cowgirl meets the Student Council President.
chapter thirteen
Once we flew back to the West Coast, holiday planning was in full swing. I was as busy as ever, trying to get as much done as I could before work crews began taking breaks for Christmas. We worked on Christmas decorating at a few key homes and hotels around town, and the Sausalito project kept trucking along. We were ahead of schedule, and Mr. Camden seemed very pleased with not only the construction but the interest that was being generated around town.
Mimi and Ryan were planning their holiday party for a week before Christmas and it promised to be a fabulous evening. Hosting in their new apartment, they’d invited friends and work colleagues on both sides. And Sophia and Neil would both be attendance. Of course they were both bringing dates. I was hoping the lack of Pictionary would keep them a little more in line. Wishful Thinking: Party of One.
And Simon? Well, I don’t know how to describe what Simon was. He was . . . around. I can’t explain it any better than that. He just seemed to always be—around. He’d canceled a trip he’d planned to Vancouver; he’d canceled a trip he’d had planned to Honduras. He was supposed to be gone almost the entire month of December, but now the only thing on his books was our trip to Rio. He hadn’t had downtime like this in, well, I don’t know when. Not since I’d known him. He biked most mornings, then spent most afternoons poring over old disks of his pictures, cataloging and dating them.
He was . . . around.
The thing was, I wasn’t. I thought I should feel bad for working so much, but the thing was, I wasn’t. I mean, this was my busy season, and if he was traveling like he usually did, he wouldn’t be around so much to notice it. Should I feel bad?
He said he understood. He brought me lunch most days, tried once again coaxing me back into bed in the morning with promises of dirty things..
And my God, I loved him, but I’d almost be glad when . . .
Okay, I’m going to say the thing you’re not supposed to say.
I’d be glad when I had the bed to myself again.
I hate to say it, but sometimes I slept better when he was on the road. But you’re not supposed to say that, right? You’re supposed to curl up each and every night for eight solid hours of spooning and cuddling . . . But the truth? I needed my own bed occasionally. I liked some alone time. Is that bad?
But he knew I had work to get done. There was no way I’d be able to get away for our Christmas trip unless I got all my work done now. And there was no way I was missing that: This girl was going to Ipanema.
The morning of Mimi’s Christmas party, I had planned on a little quality alone time with my KitchenAid. Mimi had asked me to bake some cookies for her party and I’d jumped at the chance, even though I was stupid busy.
Every woman needed a little self-love once in a while. Am I right? And my self-love machine was stainless steel, powerful, and came with an optional sausage attachment. Ahem.
I was almost finished for the day when Jillian called. When I answered, I almost didn’t hear her at first with all the sneezing and nose blowing.
“What the hell, Jillian. Is the bubonic plague making a comeback?”
“Ugh, don’t ever get sick in Europe; you’ll spend hours just trying to explain your symptoms. But never mind that—what have you got for me?”
“What do you mean?” I asked, flipping through my planner. I needed to have Monica run over to a client’s house in Pacific Heights and drop off a wreath, and there were two more deliveries after that, and—
“Caroline. Hey, Caroline, did you hear what I said?”
“Sorry, just a busy day. What’s up?”
“I asked what you had for me—your list? Don’t you have any questions? Any fires to put out? I’m all ears; whatcha got?”
“Oh, I’m sorry. Um, let’s see. Actually, things are pretty well under control. I’m taking off soon; Mimi and Ryan are hosting a holiday party tonight, and that should be fun,” I said, looking at my watch under the desk. I really needed to get Monica going on her errands so she could leave on time. “Things are running pretty smoothly.”
“Oh. Oh, well that’s good. I just thought I’d check in and see if you needed anything, but it sounds like—”
“Sorry, Jillian,” I interrupted as Monica walked by the door. “Hey, Monica, can you run this by the Nelson’s on your way to drop off the place settings? Thanks!” I waved a good-bye. “Okay, where were we?”
“You’re having an intern drop setup Christmas decorations to one of our most important clients?”
“No, I’m having Monica drop off a wreath. She helped me to design their entire living and dining room this year, and they love her. Mrs. Nelson practically adopted her last time we were over there. Why, is there a problem?” I asked, confused. She’d put me in charge, right?
“No, no problem; just surprised you’ve got an intern doing that. But I suppose everyone has their way of doing things, right?”
I squeezed my fists under the table. We were both silent. I breathed in, hating this tension. “Anyway, how’s the world tour? Where are you spending Christmas?”
“Benjamin has some friends in Munich who wanted us to spend the holidays with them, so we’re heading there tomorrow.”
“That sounds nice.”
“Yes, it should be. So sorry to hear about Rio—maybe you guys can go next year.”
“Yes, me too—wait. What?”
“Rio. Benjamin said it fell through, that you guys were spending Christmas in San Francisco? That’s kind of a big deal, isn’t it? Way to go, Simon! That’s a first for him.”
“Whuh?”
Monica appeared at the door again, and I whispered to her that I’d just be a minute.
Jillian caught it. “Sounds like you’ve got your hands full, so I’ll let you go. Have fun at your party tonight!”
