Cruise touches his nose to mine for a moment before pulling back. His jaw redefines itself and he hesitates, like he’s reconsidering what he’s about to say.
“He caught up to me one day in the gym and told me to start treating you right. That if I really cared about you, I wouldn’t be having a good time with you anywhere but our bedroom.”
“I’m going to kill him.” I start to head off, but Cruise reels me in like a fish.
“Don’t.” He gives a kind smile, and my heart melts. “I think I finally figured out that he was just doing what any big brother would do. And I’m sorry I bought into it—but not entirely. Kenny, if you ever think I’m going too far, don’t hesitate to say so. You’ll never hurt my feelings. My only concern is what makes you happy.”
“So you’re reinstating our out-of-the-bedroom relationship again?” A burst of heated adrenaline spirals through me, right down to that sweet spot between my thighs.
“Ready and willing. Name the time and place, or better yet, surprise me. I’ll be there—aiming to please.”
“Perfect.” God knows I’m amped up and ready to go. “Right now, me and you—the tower. I want to make love to you right here at Garrison.”
Cruise
I swallow hard. Kenny wants to reinstate our out-of-the-bedroom relations posthaste right here at Garrison, when less than a couple of hours ago I promised Professor Bradshaw I’d keep my nose clean—and, essentially, my pants on.
Kenny says a quick good-bye to Lauren and Ally before pulling me out into the cool, crisp air. She zips us through campus as if she has a fire to put out, and seeing how enthused she is to get this private party started, I’d say she does. We walk up to the tower and take the elevator to the top, with my arms wrapped around her the entire way. Kenny and I step out, greeted by a harsh wind that needles us with its icy fingers.
The tower is the tallest structure on campus, and from this vantage point the world looks small as a thimble. All of Garrison glitters at our feet. The gray day bleeds to evening while the students scuttle below us like a small army of ants.
I wrap my arms around her again, and clasp her left hand.
“You’re still wearing it.” I kiss my grandmother’s ring on her finger.
“I never want to take it off.”
“And I never want you to.” I pull her in tight, and Kenny starts in with my zipper. “About that.” I tip my head back in frustration.
“I thought you said—”
“I did, and I meant it.” I tell her about my encounter with Professor Bradshaw.
“Cruise!” She jumps up onto my hips; her legs wrap around me, and I spin her in a circle. The world below sways for a moment as I start to lose my balance.
“Um, maybe we should get off the roof¸” she whispers while slipping off my body. “I don’t want to jeopardize your chances in any way.”
“Sounds good. But only after I do this.” I lean in and crash my lips to hers. Selfishly, I want to kiss Kenny right here, on top of Garrison—on top of the world, because that’s exactly how I’m feeling . . . on top of the entire freaking universe.
Kenny and I are back, and this time it’s forever.
A week slips by and it’s the Wednesday before Thanksgiving. The kitchen has been overrun by the women in my life, and the cabin is lit up like a pumpkin pie factory. I had to come clean with both Mom and my dad regarding the eternal Plague that has taken over the B and B. It wasn’t easy, but they both seemed to understand how things went to shit so quickly once I mentioned Cal was involved.
Kenny and Molly break out in a fit of giggles, and my entire being fills with a warmth I have never known. It’s nice to see them getting along, Mom and Karen, too, for that matter. Kenny feels every bit like family, and something about this preholiday madness makes the cabin feel a lot more like home than it ever has before.
“My boys!” Dad slaps both Pen and me on the back before landing on the sofa next to us. “Tomorrow is going to be one of the best Thanksgivings we’ve had in a long time. It’s been ages since we’ve spent it together.”
Ages is right. In fact, outside of Christmas, I had a habit of not seeing my father much during the year. A lot has changed in my life over the course of twelve months.
“Tomorrow is all about the food.” Pen plucks at his Levis as if he’s putting his waistline on notice.
“Tomorrow is all about family.” Dad leans forward and touches his hand to my knee, his bright-blue eyes settling on mine. “I can never apologize enough for not being there for you, son.” He presses out a bleak smile. “I want you to feel free to come to me with anything. I’m your father, and I plan on overcompensating in any way I can for letting other people get in the way of that role. I guess I had a lot of growing of my own to do. I hope you can forgive me.”
Kenny gazes over at me with heavy eyes before returning her attention to the mixing bowl. She looks back up and nods, urging me to accept his apology.
“There’s nothing to forgive.” I lean over and pull him into a half hug. “It’s water under the bridge. I know you’re there for me.” My stomach pinches because it’s been on my mind just how much I might need from him by way of currency since I got the first letter of default from the bank two days ago. Not that I intend on following through with that groveling session. I’m pretty sure I would eat my shoes for dinner before I took our relationship to that level.
The door bursts open as Morgan and Ally stride in.
“I knocked, I swear.” He holds up a hand. Kenny runs over to him and offers him a big hug, assuring him he never has to knock. I wouldn’t go that far, but for the most part, she’s right.
“All right. Jordan’s here.” I motion for Dad and Pen to get up. “I’ve got a little project I need your help with.”
I rally the menfolk outside, and Morgan is reluctant to follow. The bed-and-breakfast is rocking and rolling with the windows vibrating in sync with the electric guitar. A smattering of cars have parked haphazard in the lot, and already there’s a steady stream of people from Garrison meandering in and out.
“What’s up?” Morgan growls, no doubt distressed because we’ve drifted from the food.
I pull back the blue tarp on the far end of the porch, revealing the pet project I’ve been working on the past two days.
“Boys”—I kick at the small arsenal—“we’re about to serve an eviction notice.”
A silver Range Rover pulls up to the cabin, and Cal and Lauren get out.
“What the hell?” Lauren balks at the mass of rifles, magazines, paint tanks, the rounds and rounds of colorful ammunition.
“You saw nothing,” I say.
“This night better not end in a police detention center.” Before heading into the house, she shoots Cal a look that says, I’ll have your balls on a spit if it does.
Cal steps forward. “This night better not end with felony assault charges, Elton.”
“Man up,” I say, passing out paintball rifles like candy at Halloween. “It’s time we teach some squatters a lesson. I need every room cleared. Every last person removed from the premises.”
“Then what?” Morgan is the last to gleefully embrace his weapon of quasi destruction.
“Then I change the locks.” I hold up a small bag of tools I’ve put together to do just that.
Pen glances back at the B and B and shakes his head. “Dude, you know if just one of those pussies says you hurt ’em, they’re going to own the freaking thing and you’ll be the one being evicted.”
“With real guns,” Morgan is quick to chime in. “By the feds.”
A piercing guitar solo that sounds like it could be heard on Jupiter cuts through the evening air and grates on every one of my last fucking nerves.
“Who’s in?” I ask, taking up my weaponry and tool bag.
Dad follows right alongside me. “I’m with you every step of the way, son.”
“Sorry in advance if we get arrested,” I say as we traverse the minefield of expensive vehic
les laid out in front.
“Don’t worry.” He wraps an arm around my shoulders. “I’ve got an entire legal team ready to pull us out of just about any kind of jam. Try not to maim anyone, would you?”
“Got it.”
We hit the porch and to my surprise we’re joined from behind by Pen, Morgan, and Cal.
Cal kicks his way inside and shouts, “Everybody out! This is a raid!”
The entire place lights up with the sound of girls screaming. Cal’s got his shirt off and his muscles are bulging in the menacing way that only they know how to do, and he fucking looks like Rambo, like a nut off the sidewalk who’s ready and willing to shoot the place up.
“Out!” Morgan shouts as he and Pen head upstairs.
Dad and I bust into the living room, where the band comes screeching to a halt, and we fire off round after round, dotting every member of the Plague with bright-pink splotches. The bodies in the room refuse to clear out and the squatters’ elation only seems to grow, what with the fist pumping, the incessant laughter, the outright cheering. The band stops playing and decides to go old-school by way of destroying everything in the vicinity while wielding their guitars like baseball bats.
Holy shit. My grandfather’s bookshelf splinters right before my eyes. Bodies are flying into one another as the entire downstairs spontaneously turns into a mosh pit, and jetting from the ceiling an oversized tube starts pumping out . . . snow?
“What the hell?” Dad goes over and sticks his hand under it, then brings it up to his nose. “It’s foam.”
By the time I trek over, the room is brimming with suds.
The band starts up again. “It’s time for the big finish, everyone!” the lead moron shouts into the microphone. He and the drummer proceed to carry out a racket so loud my ears mercifully begin to bleed just to tone down the crap they’re trying to shove down my throat.
Morgan and Pen stumble into the room, covered with soapy residue from head to foot.
“They’ve got the fucking place rigged.” Morgan looks shocked by the carnage.
I shake my head in defeat and cast down my weapon.
It’s done. I wish I could say that I was shocked that the bed-and-breakfast is morphing into one giant spin cycle, that it surprised the fuck out of me that the one thing entrusted to me was going down the drain by way of laundry detergent, but it didn’t.
“It’s a foam party, dude!” Pen belts out a hoot as if he’s simply one of the revelers. “This is exactly how the Plague ends each of their concerts! This is fucking epic.”
“It’s not epic. It’s over.” I push the nose of Pen’s gun to the floor. “We lost this one.”
The doors to the entry burst open and Kenny charges in with a look of fire in her eyes. She doesn’t even blink at the bodies covered in white slime—she simply lets out a roar and makes a beeline for the lead singer.
I jump back as she passes me by and jumps on the makeshift stage. Kenny doesn’t think twice before snatching the microphone right out of his hand.
Ally and Lauren are quick to join her onstage.
“That’s it!” Kenny screams so loudly that half the foam-covered bodies slap their hands over their ears. “The party is over! Do you hear me? Everybody out right fucking now!”
The foam continues to rise, and at this point it looks like the place has been overrun by a bunch of abominable snowmen, disgruntled ones at that because, by God, they’re all headed for the door.
“Hey”—Morgan jabs me in the ribs with the tip of his weapon—“why didn’t you think of that?”
I rattle his assault rifle just as the foam rises to our waists. “Because my way was a lot more fun. And for your information, I’ll be running my relationship by my rules, too. I get that you’re her brother, but you need to back off when it comes to Kenny and me. I got this, dude.”
He frowns a little as the room clears, mostly from the fear of drowning.
“I got it.” He offers me a knuckle bump and I’m slow to comply, but I do. “Be good to her, man. I’m watching you.”
“I know you are.”
Kenny comes over, and I help her and everyone else out of the room as the entire crowd drains to the front of the property.
We watch helplessly from the front lawn as white billows of foam ooze out of every orifice of the bed-and-breakfast.
“And there she goes,” I sigh, pulling Kenny in tightly by the waist.
A siren wails in our direction as Lauren leans into Cal. “Is this the part where we all get arrested?”
“We can only hope someone gets arrested.” Cal shakes his head.
“And with my luck”—I blow out a slow breath—“it’s bound to be me.” Hell, I’m probably looking at life for giving the whole damn place “the spells.” Maybe a prison term isn’t such a bad thing. Maybe that’s exactly what will ensure Kenny will have a long and prosperous future—me in an eight-by-ten cell far, far away from her.
“That was fantabulous!” A short blonde runs over, and it takes a minute for it to register that the fresh-scrubbed petite girl is in fact the Skin.
“Little Lisa!” Cal swings her around like he hasn’t seen her in decades. “You look fantabulous yourself. Have the spells cleared?”
“Nicely.” She nods. “I just wanted to thank you.” She steps over toward me. Without her requisite sky-high heels, she looks all of twelve. “The Plague says it hasn’t had this kind of a send-off in years. It’s really impressed with the amount of work you put into it. Shooting up the place in their signature color was beyond their wildest expectations.” She lands her hand over her chest and presses her lips together. “We’re all very touched.”
“What the hell are you talking about?” I’m not up for one more ounce of bullshit tonight.
Her mouth opens wide. “You didn’t know? It’s our last night in town. I stopped by last week to let your wife know we’d be out by Thursday night.”
“I don’t have a wife,” I deadpan. Not to mention that Kenny wasn’t anywhere near the cabin last week—she was at Ally’s.
“Then who is that?” She points behind me, and I follow her finger right over to Molly.
“Oh!” Molly touches her hand to her mouth for a moment. “I totally forgot to tell you! She said they were taking off sometime this week and she wanted to meet with you.” She bounces a little when she says it, and only then do I see what might have distracted her—that nutty professor of hers glued to her side.
Crap.
“That’s great that you’re leaving. But who in the hell is supposed to clean up this mess? You and your stupid band just cost me the business my grandfather broke his back trying to build.”
The Skin’s mouth falls open and her eyes fill with tears. “That’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever heard, man.” She gives a hard sniff.
“Save it, sister,” Lauren snips. “You and me are going to have one long talk.” She pulls her off into the sea of bodies.
“Looks like Lauren is going to wield a little prelaw her way.” Kenny lays her head over my chest.
Kenny and I both know this is too big for Lauren, for an entire legal team, to tackle. Something tells me God himself wouldn’t be interested in cleaning up this mess.
Nope.
The bed-and-breakfast is a total loss.
I’m about to marry the love of my life with nothing more than the shirt on my back.
“Don’t worry,” Kenny purrs into my ear. “Maybe we’ll get a Christmas miracle just when we need it.”
I dot her lips with a simple kiss.
I hate to break it to Kenny, but it’s going to take more than one miracle to pull us out of this mess.
A shooting star glides across the sky right over the bed-and-breakfast, and the crowd gasps while pointing skyward.
Kenny jumps into my arms. “It looks as if our miracle is on its way.”
Maybe it is.
13
WITH THIS BLING
Kendall
Christmas Eve
Cruise and I slept all night knotted up in one another’s arms. Yesterday the cleanup crew officially finished its month-long dry-down of the bed-and-breakfast.
Lauren got the Plague to foot the bill for the clean up, and, thankfully, outside of some destruction to one of the downstairs bookshelves, there wasn’t a whole lot of damage to the place.
“Morning, princess.” Cruise strokes my back with his warm fingers, and I curl into him, just happy to be spending yet another day in his arms. But we both know it’s not just another day. It’s our wedding day.
His body twitches to life, long and hard against my thigh, and I give a little giggle while backing away.
“Watch it there, Mister. I’ve invoked a vow of celibacy until much later tonight, so you and your hail to the chief are all out of luck.”
“It’s hail to the queen.” He presses his soft lips to mine and every last part of me wants to cave. “And I’d wait a thousand years if you asked me to.” He gently pulls my chin up until I’m looking into his watery-blue eyes. “You’re the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow, Kenny.”
I mold my body to his until the rhythm of our hearts echoes through to one another’s bones. It feels safe like this with Cruise. It feels like home.
“Cruise Elton, I love you.”
A loud clatter erupts from outside, followed by a bang against the front door.
I throw on my robe while Cruise jumps into a pair of sweats, and we hightail it to the door.
Cruise whips it open and an icy breeze knifes its way in, cutting right through the flimsy silk robe I’m wearing.
“What’s this?” Cruise reaches down and pulls in a rather large box wrapped in brown paper. “From Patagonia.”
“Oh my God!” I scream, dragging the parcel to the kitchen, where I snatch a knife from the butcher block.
Cruise holds out a hand as if he’s about to deflect my efforts.
“Stand back,” I snipe. “That’s my Vera in there.” I slit the package open before he can say another word, and I yank and pull until I see the first glimmer of scrumptious fabric. It’s the color of calorie-laden whipped cream, and suddenly I’m craving a latte.