Watching You: KJ Elite Inc. (31 page)

My big bad bodyguard lightly shoved me back to sitting on the bed and chased after a blur of red that was darting around the second floor of my parent’s house. Cynde and my mother slowly approached me like I was a zombie or a rabid dog and took care in reaching out for me.

“Taylor Ann?” Cynde queried.

“Well of course it’s Taylor, you loon! Who else would it be?”

“I’m not the one who called my daughter a hussy!” Cynde shot back, fairly.

“Oh, hush, you!” She shooed Cynde’s response and brought the attention back to me. I was busy trying not to laugh out loud at the giant of a man I called my husband chasing a stout little ball of fire around the second floor staircase banister. He hurried after her reaching for her camera and hollered something about the lack of security in her hobby.

She was quick for her age and build.

Our mothers were each pulling on one of my arms and yelling at me in that way that was too gentle to be called yelling. But I knew it for what it was and I was lucky one of them hadn’t throw me over their knee. Yet.

An hour later, our mothers had me sitting at the kitchen island with a mug of apple cider, while they huddled over me. They tried desperately not to bombard me but it was fair that they should because I hadn’t been honest with either of them. Tommy stood off in the corner of the kitchen, holding all of the cabinets up with his hip in that sexy pose men seem to pull off flawlessly. Easy for him, he was no longer in the hot seat, after having announced I had a stalker. It’s a damn good thing I’m not claustrophobic. He stood silent and watched, expressionless.

Let me in,
I thought to myself, trying to communicate telepathically to Tommy.

His gaze lifted from my mug to my eyes and all I got was a solid, “You’re already in.”

Did I say that out loud? Or was I super bad ass Jedi Taylor? I’d take the latter if it was an option.

“So you’ve been here the whole time?” Cynde asked what mama thought.

I was afraid to look at her so I looked back down into the murky liquid and quietly, shamefully, nodded my head.

“Just tell us you aren’t the big client they put Tommy on.”

Tommy tried to cover his snort with a cough while I bit my lip and shut my eyes.

My mother smacked her hand down onto the wooden counter top and howled, “Cynde!”

“What?”

She was genuinely stumped.

Too bad we all weren’t.

“Did you have to make it sound so dirty?”

“Oh, Vicki! They’re grown adults. What they do is their business.”

“Yes, but I don’t need to hear about it.”

“Please – if Taylor hadn’t been hiding this whole time, you would have wanted full blown details.”

“I most certainly would not.”

Tommy cleared his throat in an attempt to get the conversation back on track and off of, well, our sexy times business.

After everyone had cleared out, after much shoving, mama insisted she had to whip me up some of my favorite: Zucchini bread. She turned her back and walked over to check the stove next to Tommy when Cynde pulled a flask out of thin air and spiked my apple cider.

“Bless you.” I whispered.

Bless her. She always played devil’s advocate when we needed it most.

Cynde was the risk-taker, dare-devil, partner in crime and then some all wrapped into a sweet, wholesome, perfect, southern wife wrapper. She never fit into the mold and I loved her all the more for it. A wink and the flask disappeared when mama turned back around. Tommy shook his head with a smile playing at the corners of his lips, knowingly.

I just shrugged my shoulders and took a big gulp.

Oh, the delicious burn!

My best guess was that famous moonshine Buster made in his back shack on the outskirts of town. He was our very own Uncle Jessie in a way – no sheriff was able to bust his operation yet and he’d been running it for well over fifty years. Praise him. It was damn good ‘shine.

“Don’t put it away, now.” Mama said and tapped the rim of her own mug, eyeing Cynde.

Her best friend to the core just smiled and added a dollop to mama’s cider.

I chuckled and raised my cup to mama in toast.

“After the last six years of trying to get you two together, I need alcohol to deal with whatever is going on.”

“Technically you’ve been trying for a hell of a lot longer than six years.” I pointed out.

“Don’t push me sweet girl. These last few years have been especially hard. You’re stubborn as a mule and we nearly thought Thomas wasn’t interested in women the way he drug his feet getting to you.”

Cynde hummed her agreement, I choked on my drink and Tommy stood tall with a disgruntled cluster of arguments.

Oh mama, if you only knew. The man doesn’t have a gay bone in his body. But lord does he have some nice bones
.

This time, Tommy really coughed and it was Cynde’s turn to choke.

“I just said that out loud, didn’t I?” My cheeks reddened.

Tommy nodded his head and made busy around the kitchen.

“And just what happened to waiting for marriage?” 

“Don’t act like you never did anything wild and crazy as a young woman, Vicki.” Cynde chided.

“I waited for marriage to do…that.” My mother smoothed her hair and cleared her throat. The utter heartbreak in her eyes, the pure sorrow, at the mere mention of a union between Tommy and me – it slayed her.

It hit me like a train.

In all of this time away, I had robbed my mother of that opportunity to see me grow into a woman and bond over that growth. She hardly knew anything about my new life aside from the little I divulged when she visited. It had to have been hard on her. Especially being the only daughter in two large families. To them, I was both their daughter. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. It only took about five seconds for me to gather the faux courage and make up my mind about what to do. This was going to hurt everyone, but false hope was better than no hope. Or was it really false?

“Do yall still have the binder?” It was a question for either of them and they both took no time in answering.

“Of course.”

“Absolutely.”

Tommy stopped and eyed me curiously.

“Well, maybe yall can start going through it.”

“Start going through what, exactly?” He asked curiously. Tommy was fishing with a net out like that. In the back of my mind, I said a hasty pray that for now at least Tommy didn’t catch anything. I knew he would stick a big stick of “No” dynamite in my idiotic plans.

Cynde ran into the living room and squealed pretty much the whole way. Returning, she had a very thick binder in both hands with many scraps of various samples hanging out.

“Son, mind you not. Just be there when we say.”

I’d take that.

“Be where?”

“You’re the perfect man, Thomas.” My mother said, slipping back into her sweet demeanor, all while giving him the brush off.

I stood, kissed both of our mother’s on the cheeks before walking to Tommy. Taking charge, I grabbed Tommy’s hand and pulled him out the back door to my waiting truck.

“Please tell me what is going on.”

“We are going home to finish what you started.”

“I see what you’re doing here and it’s not going to work.” Hermione much?

“Are you sure about that?” I gave him my very best, sex-me-eyes.

The result was what I would consider a preferred reaction. He tugged my arm, pulling me into him and effortlessly managed to haul me up his body, wrapping my legs around his waist. Hands resting on my bottom for support and, I’m pretty sure, to cop a feel.

He continued walking like this, down the porch steps and to my truck with absolutely no strain. It was like he just picked up a piece of paper and carried on with his day. A girl could get used to this.

“What aren’t you telling me?”

Maybe it wasn’t
most
preferred reaction.

“Um… well, I mean – nothing big. I just…” I looked away as if that would help disguise the words any better. “Itoldthemtoplanourweddingnobigdeal.”

Tommy pretty much made the sound of coming to a screeching halt as he did just that.

“Uh, what?”

“How does Chinese sound? I could really go for some steaming hot chicken fried rice and beef and broccoli. That would just hit the spot, don’t you think? Is Mr. Kim’s still open?” I rambled on as I tried to escape his hulk hold. While trying to throw him off my tracks, I effectively sidelined myself while I giggled to myself about the mystery that was the Chinese place named Mr. Kim’s, because the owner was Korean and his name was Mr. Hyun.

“Wedding.” He said. It wasn’t a question, but I had no doubt that he was asking.

My bottom lip automatically found itself caught up in my teeth. It wasn’t like I was reaching out of the deep blue yonder of girly dreams and forcing him into holy matrimony. We were already there, minus the holy probably.

This man squeezing the life out of me, or at least my ass, was always surprising me.

He reached one hand up and firmly placed it at the nape of my neck, pulling my lips to his where he brushed over mine lightly.

“I didn’t really see a way out of all of that.”

Tommy pulled back minutely and said, “You always ruin it when you open your mouth.”

Well, that wasn’t very nice. And the woman should be saying that to the man.

“Hey.” I smacked his stupid, steel like shoulder and pouted.

“You know that doesn’t work with me.”

“How about a good kick to the balls?” I quipped.

“You’re only going to break their hearts, Taylor.”

He was right. As always. Damn him.

“You in a hurry to get rid of me? Because you sure are quick to remind me that I didn’t plan on staying.”

“No I’m not. And didn’t?” He asked. “That’s past tense.”

“As thrilled as it makes me that I’ve turned you into a grammar nazi and all…”

“Don’t do that.” He said.

“Do what?” I didn’t expect him to pick up movement yet so it made me a little breathless when he did.

“Don’t shut me out like that and pretend like I don’t know you at all.”

“Maybe you don’t.”

We both knew I was lying through my teeth and not very well at all. He knew me, but something in my heart was beginning to yearn for home, like it had yearned for adventure when we were teenagers. That could be dangerous. As if life wasn’t dangerous enough right now. Plus, add the fact that he just mauled me in the very near vicinity of our mothers, and we were basically walking on the fire, no longer dancing around it. Tommy opened the passenger door, set me on the bench seat like I was made of glass.

“Tom…” I started but he slammed the door on me.

He took his sweet time walking around the hood of my truck and I’d be a full blown Pinocchio if I said he didn’t look like sex on a stick while he did it.

Tommy opened the driver door but stopped and cranked his head to the south, ears perked up like a hunting dog.

“What is it, boy?” slipped out of my mouth. I really had a way about myself.

Either he didn’t find it amusing or he was really focused on something.

Tommy shook it off and climbed into the cab, turning the engine over and pointing us back towards the house. Our house. It was still pretty weird to say. Not that it didn’t feel right – It was just new.

“You didn’t tell them to keep quiet about me.” I said in a lame attempt at anything other than silence. In the famous words of my hero, P!nk,
“The silence scares me, ‘cause it screams the truth.”

“When have you ever known a man to give a Kane or Jameson woman any type of order?” He pointed out.

“Good point.” I agreed.

“Plus, they already know. They’re really good with helping out whenever they can where the clients are involved but considering who it is this time, I think it’s safe to say their lips are sealed. As for Mrs. Can’t-keep-my-mouth-shut-or-camera-to-myself, I am still figuring the best way to dispose of her body.”

“Well, it’ll have to be quick from death to drop because a lot of people will notice her radio silence if she hasn’t tweeted, text, pinned, instagramed or facebooked after five minutes. Ten tops.”

“True.”

“I always liked the Alaskan river theory, but that’s kind of out of the question here.”

“Alaskan river theory?” He asked, eyebrows hitched.

“Yeah. If you want to dump a body in Alaska, do it in any decent sized river just as winter picks up, right before the rivers freeze over. It’ll take forever to find the body and it’ll wipe a good deal of evidence away.” I said matter-of-factly.

He just stared at me.

“Or so they say.” I shrugged my shoulders. It was a non-committal type of shrug and he laughed at me.

“I guess if you want to get away with murder, having a mystery writer on hand doesn’t hurt.”