Yearning For Her Curves: (A BWWM Interracial Romance) (10 page)

Chapter 24

That Friday, the front door closing brought me from a nap that I hadn’t really planned on taking, but had apparently taken me as I lay on the couch reading earlier.  I’d closed at the store the night before, and had to set up a few new displays, since the owner of the store didn’t trust anyone else to do it the way she wanted.  I’d been there hours after everything had closed, but had still gotten up with Patrick that morning.  I thought I’d be able to make it through the day, but sitting still had done me in.  I’d gotten through maybe ten pages, judging by where the book sat open.

“Jacinta, are you here?”  Patrick said, his footfalls echoing as he walked through the house.

“I’m back here, in the den,” I said, getting up and straightening myself a bit.  Patrick came into the room and stopped when he caught sight of me.  Then he snickered, ducking his head a bit.

“Did I wake you?” he asked through his laughter.  I narrowed my eyes at him.

“You know I was working late last night,” I said.

“That I do, honey.  Your hair just looks a little insane right now, I’m sorry,” he said, trying to subdue his laughter.  I glanced up and put my hands on my head.

“Oh my goodness, it is sticking straight up!” I squealed, running into the bedroom to get to the mirror and my brush.  Patrick’s laughter followed me, and I rolled my eyes, trying not to laugh myself.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart. I didn’t mean to laugh, I swear,” he said, finally coming into the room after me right around the time that I got my hair together.

“Jerk,” I said, although the huge grin on my face gave away the fact that I wasn’t really mad.  Patrick walked over and hugged me from behind, smiling at me in the mirror.

“I really am sorry, but you always look so put together.  For months, I was convinced that you were somehow waking up before me and making yourself look beautiful so that you didn’t look like most people do in the mornings, but you don’t.  I’ve never, ever seen you look even slightly disheveled,” he said.  I turned and looked at him, shocked.

“I look a mess in the morning!”  I squealed.  Patrick grinned and shook his head.

“You look the complete opposite of a mess in the morning.  It’s intimidating, I felt like I was waking up next to a goddess but you were waking up next to a troll,” he said.  I snickered.

“Patrick, other than that righteous morning breath of yours, you look just fine in the morning.”  I turned in his arms.

“Your breath doesn’t exactly smell like roses in the morning either, you know.  You look great, but your breath is horrid.”   

I stuck out my tongue at him and he laughed. “What are you doing home anyway?  I thought you and the guys were going out tonight.” 

He’d told me a few nights prior, that the team planned to go to one of the really nice bars out by the practice fields that night.  Coach thought it was a good idea, as a family and team building thing, getting together outside of practice all together, not just the guys who’d been on the Bullets for years.  He’d said that he thought it was funny that all of the team, even the new ones looked to Joey before they agreed.  Once he’d said yes, everyone else chimed in as well.  I thought it was excellent; I didn’t think Joey ever wanted to be away from the field.  He could go into coaching without any issues, if the entire NFL was already looking up to him anyway.  Patrick had agreed, saying that Joey was starting to get up there in age, as was he, but that neither of them were ready to give up playing just yet.

“One of the guy’s wives went into labor and another one’s Dad had a mild stroke in another state.  We decided to cancel and do it another night, when things are calmer for everyone,” he said.

“Oh, I hope everyone is okay.” 

“Me too.  In the meantime, go get dressed,” Patrick said, with a sneaky grin.  I eyed him hesitantly.

“Get dressed for what?” 

“For our night.  Dress nice, too.  Like, not formal, but nice.”  He turned and walked out of the room.

“What?  Where are you going?” 

“I have to shower too, so I’m going to go use one of the other bathrooms.  Get dressed, or you’ll have to go naked.” 

“You would not!”  I said after him.  He poked his head back into the room and smirked.

“I would so, and you know it.” 

I took a step towards the bathroom.  Actually, he was right, he probably would.  I needed to get dressed.

~~~

Once I was all cocktail dressed up and had put on what little make up I was willing to wear for a night that I knew nothing about, I sashayed my sexy behind out into the living room and slipped into one of the stools along the breakfast bar, listening to Patrick hum as he got ready.  I grinned to myself; he always hummed while he was getting ready.  He didn’t even notice that he did it until I’d pointed it out to him.  It was actually a great way to tell when he was ready, because he’d fall silent when he was putting on his shoes.  I thought it was cute.

“Are you dressed?”  Patrick yelled.  I smirked.

“Dressed and waiting,” I yelled back.

Patrick walked out of the bedroom and made me stop and stare.  He was always handsome, but tonight was different.  Tonight, it seemed like he’d gone out of his way to accentuate every bit of him that I found the most attractive.  His shoes made that expensive tap across the hardwood floors that gave away the fact that they were well made and probably cost a small fortune, but were so worth it.  His pants were slacks, a good, breathable fabric in a charcoal gray with a rather classy matching button down top.  He’d wisely chosen no tie, which to me would have seemed a bit dressier than he was looking to go, and the gray made his eyes pop even more than they normally did.  I melted a little inside.

“Ready?” he asked, holding his hand out to me.

Have you ever had one of those moments where you think to yourself that you must be dreaming, and that if someone wakes you up, you’ll kill them?  That it has to be a dream, because there is no way that someone as wonderful and handsome as this man is in love with you.  This was my moment.  I nodded slowly, and took his hand.

Chapter 25

Our first stop in our night of mystery for apparently no one but me, was a small wine bar that was pretty close to the house.  They sold good wine at excellent prices, and I could buy bottles for the house when I wasn’t in the mood to sit there and act polite for the masses that wanted to know what it was like to be dating a football player.

Tonight, it was dimly lit and romantic, so we didn’t draw a lot of attention as we stepped inside and were directed to a booth in the corner.  The wine bar served a pretty well stocked menu for a place that seemed to want its focus to be the wine, but I wasn’t going to complain.  Their chef was excellent.

Patrick ordered a glass of wine for me, but said that he didn’t want anything to drink, and then ordered us a crab cake appetizer that I’d never noticed on the menu before and two steaks.  His, a large T-Bone, rare and mine, a smaller but no less tender cut, medium.  The meals came with large salads, steamed vegetables and potatoes to round it out.

“Drink the wine, Jacinta.  I promise, it’s alright.  But I plan on taking you a few places tonight, so I have no intention of drinking anything,” he said.  I sighed.

“Alright, but only because you already ordered it.  After this glass, I get soda with you, okay?”  

Patrick grinned. “Fair enough.” 

“So what brought on this desire to have a super secret night together?”  I asked.

“I just wanted to surprise you.  I want to keep things spontaneous.”  He grinned as he took my hand.  My mind flashed back to our conversation from earlier in the week, about things having cooled a little and nodded.

“Oh.  I’m already enjoying myself.” 

“We haven’t done anything yet,” Patrick said, laughing.

“Sure we have!  We got dressed up, we left the house on our way to a secret location that turned out to be a place that I love, and now we’re going to have good food, which will include steak and makes both of us happy.  And we’re together, what else is there?” 

“You do look really good in that dress.  Have you worn that for me before?  Because you look fantastic,” he said, looking me over.  I snickered.

“I’ve had it for a few weeks, but I haven’t had a reason to wear it until tonight,” I said.  Patrick stopped for a moment.

“You’re right, I don’t take you out enough,” he said.  My eyes widened and I held up my hands.

“Wait a second, that is not what I said!” 

“I know it isn’t, but it’s true.  We don’t go out nearly as much as we used to, and we should.  We should make time to spend together, doing something fun when we can.  I’m out of town a lot, I want to spend my time at home enjoying you and this city.” 

“Okay, we can go out more.  Char usually knows the places that are new around town. We can always check in with her.” 

“I feel kind of bad about that, since she and Joey aren’t going out as much either since Al was born,” he said.  I smiled.

“They aren’t, but they aren’t upset about it.  Those two love being at home and watching Al discover new things.” 

“Joey is such a doting Dad.  It’s really sweet, but you know, in a manly way,” Patrick said.  I snorted.

“In a manly way?” 

“Yeah, because we’re men,” he said.  There was a massive laugh threatening to spill out of my lips, but I managed to keep it at bay.

“So if we decide to have kids, you won’t be completely obsessed with the new little person that we create?” I asked.  Patrick thought about it for a moment.

“I plead the fifth,” he said, then promptly shoved a forkful of food into his mouth.  I snorted.

The food for the evening was amazing, and Patrick and I began discussing the future.  Not too far into the future, mind you.  Neither of us was interested in taking away the time that we’d need to do something fun and spontaneous.  We talked about how that was something that we both needed and wanted in our life together.  And we made a date night twice a month.  That wasn’t really very spontaneous, but it did make sure that we had time to spend together which seemed more important.  We agreed to sit down at the beginning of the month with his travel schedule, and pick the two nights.  Then I could inform the store not to schedule me to close those nights.  Nothing would keep us from those nights together, out on the town.  Oh, and I would plan one while he planned the other.  That way we had an entire month to plan something amazing.

We talked about what we wanted in the future.  I found out that he did want to be a father, but not until a few years from now.  He still wanted more freedom than being a father allowed, and he was honest enough with himself to admit that.  He wanted to get dogs, but because he wasn’t home to be with them, he hadn’t.  We decided that since I was at home daily to spend time with them, we would go puppy shopping at the shelter nearby over the next few days.

The conversation we shared that evening, over dinner at our first mystery night stop was one of the most open and honest conversations that we’d ever allowed ourselves to have.  By the time we were ready to leave, our fingers were tightly intertwined and we had the attention of the whole place.

Stop two in Patrick’s mystery night was the art gallery where Char and Izzy’s Pinks dinner party had taken place.  There was a wide red carpet in front of the main entrance, and the entrance was flanked by hired security and photographers.

“What’s going on?”  I asked, looking around as the car pulled to a stop.

“One of New York’s most famous graffiti artists moved his work all the way down here to Texas simply because he wanted to be in this museum,” he said.  “They tried to keep it a secret so that tonight wouldn’t be insane, so they didn’t put out any publicity for the event, but everyone found out somehow.”  Patrick opened his door and got out, handing his keys to a valet driver and opening the passenger side door before holding his hand out to me.

“Geez, how many people would have shown up if they’d advertised,” I said, stepping out with my hand tightly holding his.  He put my hand in the bend of his arm.

“I don’t think Keith would have been able to handle the crowd,” Patrick said, as we moved up to the carpet, blinking against the repeated bright flashes of the cameras.

This particular Keith was nothing like the cheater college boyfriend.  This Keith was the owner of the gallery, and someone who had become a friend since Charlotte had done that piece on the gallery, back when it first opened.  She’d wanted to give him some exposure, because he catered to the not-so-traditional art lovers and artists, and ran on donations and investors.  It had worked.  He’d expanded a few times, and now had artist exhibits booked up through the next 12 months.  He was also one of Alton’s many uncles, though his profession meant that he wasn’t around as often as the others were.

“Ah!  You made it!  I’m so glad.  I have no idea how so much media found out about this, I am so sorry.  Tonight was supposed to mainly be a night for investors and contributors, so I was trying to keep media out of it until tomorrow,” Keith said, coming up to us almost as soon as we entered the studio and hugging us both warmly.

“I figured it would be a bit of a media frenzy, but I didn’t think it would be this much!”  Patrick said.  Keith smirked.

“Well, the truth is that word got out that Mr. Horton would be here tonight, so they are all hoping to catch a shot of him since he is notoriously camera shy,” Keith said.  I felt my eyes widen.

“Mr. Horton?  As in Lancelot Horton?”  I asked, my voice going a bit higher pitched than I’d meant it to.

“You know him?  No offence Jacinta, but you never struck me as the type to follow graffiti art,” Keith said.

“No offense taken,” I said.  “My aunt used to live in Manhattan when I was a kid.  I used to spend my summers up there, because my parents wanted me to experience more than simply the south.  Lancelot wasn’t famous then, but he did a lot in my aunt’s neighborhood, covering up the offensive graffiti with art that the families in the neighborhood wouldn’t have to worry about their kids seeing.  Whenever I caught him working, I’d sit a few feet away and just watch.”

“That’s amazing,” Patrick said.

“You’re a fan?” Keith asked him.

“I have been for years.  One of the reasons I wanted to be here tonight is because I want to buy a few pieces for the house, as long as my love is okay with it,” Patrick said, looking down at me.

“That would be so amazing!”  I squealed, clapping.

“Wait a second, I recognize that sound.  It’s a squeal I haven’t heard in years,” a voice said from out of sight.  A man walked around the corner and stopped in front of us.  He was older, probably early forties.  His hair was cut close and started to salt and pepper, but his face showed youth and happiness that had kept him young in appearance.  He was a man that had taken chances with his choices in life, but didn’t regret any of them.

“Oh my goodness,” I whispered.  It was him, there was no mistaking it, even though he was older and so was I.  Under the age was the same face that used to share lunch with me while he painted, because otherwise, he sometimes didn’t have anything to eat during the days while his mother was at work.

“I remember you.  You were the first fan I ever had, back when I was just a kid,” he said.  I nodded.  I couldn’t even speak.

“You and your aunt were always so kind to me,” he said.  “You fed me when I had no money or means to feed myself.  And your aunt used to go to my mother’s house and give her a little bit of money when she could, to help out.  She always told my mother that it was payment, for the beautification work that I was doing in the neighborhood, and every time she did it, Mom cried.  Happy tears, though.” 

I felt my eyes tear up.

“My aunt loved you, and your mother.  She told me that sometimes, life makes things hard on people who don’t deserve it and that you and your mother were people who didn’t deserve it.  She’d always pack me extra food if I was going to be running around the neighborhood that day, in case I ran into you,” I said.  Lancelot nodded and smiled.

“Your aunt was an amazing person.  You know, the first big piece of art that I sold, I used the money to put a large hunk of change down on a house in the country for my mother.  The second big sale I made, I bought your aunt a car.”  

I smiled. “So that’s where she got that big Lincoln from.” 

He laughed. “That was what she wanted.  I gave her money for you too, because you were the one that made me believe that this was something I could actually do for a living.  Did you ever get it?” 

I opened my mouth to say no, but stopped.  Then I laughed and put my head down.

“She paid for half of college for me, and no one could figure out how.  She said that I had a benefactor that I didn’t know about, but that she’d been sworn to secrecy.” 

“Yeah, I told her not to tell you.  Even when you were a kid, you didn’t strike me as the type who would have taken it unless you didn’t have a choice.  She told me that she’d put it into an investment account for you, and that she’d give it to you when you were ready for it.”

“And she did, when I needed it most.” 

“Thank you, sunshine.  Thank you for teaching me that what I loved doing was amazing, and that maybe my mother wasn’t the only one who thought so.  Thank you for believing in me, and telling me that I should believe in myself,” he said.  I sniffed.  This man was going to make me cry.

“I don’t feel like I did anything.  But if I did, it was my pleasure,” I said.  He smiled at me, then looked to Patrick, who had stayed silent beside me the entire conversation.

“Is this Patrick McCloud?  I am a huge fan of yours, it is a pleasure to meet you,” Lancelot said, holding his hand out to Patrick for a shake that Patrick met enthusiastically.

“Likewise, it is such an honor,” Patrick said.

“You know Sunshine?” Lancelot asked.

“Sunshine?” Keith asked.