3:AM Kisses (17 page)

“Nope.” He gives my hand a squeeze. “I wanted it to be a surprise.”

Crap. Not all surprises are good, but secretly I’m hoping I’m a good one.

“You’ll do fine.” He brings my hand to his mouth and kisses it. “Besides, I’m dying to show you off.”

Just hearing that sets the butterflies off in my stomach.

Bryson leads us in through the glass double doors where Annie and a tall woman with a bob haircut and large black-rimmed glasses greets us. A black lab, just like my own, runs circles around me, and I bend over and scratch behind his ears while he licks me silly.

“Easy Nitro.” Bryson gives him a pat on the head, and the panting pooch retreats.

His mother steps in. “Well who is this beautiful young lady?” Her eyes expand, clear as a summer sky, just like Bryson’s.

“Mom, this is Baya. Baya—this is my mom, Miranda.”

“It’s nice to meet you.” I reach over and shake her hand briefly.

An awkward moment of silence thumps by, and both she and Annie take their time to inspect me from head to toe. Nitro lets out a little bark and breaks the ice.

“Would you look at how gorgeous you are?” His mother crimps her lips. “I bet you’re illegal in twelve different states.”

My entire body flushes with heat as I cut a look to Bryson. I hardly believe my face is criminal, but I appreciate her effort.

“It’s actually all fifty.” Bryson reels me in by the waist. “So I might need to help her hide out for a while.” He pulls me in closer until I relax over his body. “If you don’t mind, I’m going to give her the tour and get us settled in.”

Annie signs over to him, and he nods.

Bryson leans into me. “She’s got a friend spending the night and asked if we wanted to watch a movie with them later.”

I nod into him. “I love you,” it speeds out of me. Crap. “I mean, I’d love to.”

But it’s too late. The giggle fest has begun as everyone around me chortles at my verbal mishap, laden with hearts and arrows, and, well, the truth.

“I’m glad.” His mother smiles. “But no movie before dinner,” she chides to her daughter. “Meet me in the dining room in half an hour.” She looks to us all. “I’ve got a roasted duck and a gumbo I’ve been working on all day.”

Annie makes a face.

“Don’t worry,” Bryson whispers into me. “I’ve got plans for dessert.” He gives my ribs a tweak. “Baya and I will whip up some cookies.”

“Nice,” it purrs out of me. For a moment I thought he was propositioning me in front of his family.

“Race you up the steps,” he says, taking off for the sweeping staircase.

I bolt around him and barely crest the top a second before he does, with Nitro hot on my heels.

“I win,” I pant.

“It’s a tie.” He presses a kiss over my lips. “Plus, I had forty pounds of luggage.” He bumps the bags over his shoulders as Nitro hightails it back downstairs. “What do you have in here anyway? The bricks of technology?”

“Actually”—I step into his chest as he pants into me—“I left my laptop behind this weekend. I didn’t think I’d get much studying done with you around.” I glance down at the floral carpet that bleeds into the hall. “I thought maybe we could do other things.” I wanted to add, now that my brother isn’t haunting us with his vagina protection shield, but I’d rather leave all mention of Cole and missile-defense systems outside these walls for the weekend.

Bryson pulls me in. His hands warm my waist before riding low over my bottom, and my body whimpers into him.

“I was sort of hoping we’d do other things, too.” He gives a smile that borders on wicked. “I hope this weekend is everything you want it to be.”

Dear God. “It already is.”

Bryson offers a kiss that lingers this time. His supple lips smooth over mine and rain that special fire only he can produce right down into my soul.

A pair of footsteps come up on us quick, and we part ways quickly only to find Annie clicking her tongue at us before rushing back downstairs.

“Annie’s room.” He nods to the door at the end of the hall. “Holt’s,” he touches a door as we head in the opposite direction. “Your room.” He opens the door quiet as a whisper then nods at the room next door. “That’s mine.”

“Oh”—a flood of relief fills me that he’s practically within reach—“thank you.” My face heats up for no good reason. “So”—I lean into the doorframe—“is this where you stash all the girls you bring home for the weekend?” I don’t know why I went there. I guess, deep down, a part of me wants to know just how many girls his mother might find illegal.

“I guess so.” Bryson takes in a breath as he settles my bag on the floor. His eyes float back to mine, serious, tender with their gaze. “I’ve never brought a girl home before, so, in a way, I’m setting a precedent with you.”

My heart thumps its way into my throat. My ears pulsate with a rhythm all their own.

Bryson Edwards has never brought a girl home before, and now that girl is me.

“I don’t know what to say,” I whisper as he comes in close, his breath feathering over my cheek.

“Say this.” Bryson covers my mouth with his, and we indulge in a heated exchange right there in the doorway that just so happens to be unblemished with tally marks, real or imagined. His tongue roams over mine, his teeth bite over my lip playfully. I don’t stand a chance this weekend. I’m already his in every single way.

Bryson tracks his hands up my thigh and stops shy of my bottom. I reach down and pull him up a few inches until he’s cupping my curves in his hands, and a slight laugh gurgles from his throat to mine.

“This is just the beginning.” I whisper right into his mouth.

Bryson strings a trail of kisses up my neck and gives a gentle bite over my ear.

“A beautiful beginning,” he whispers, and every cell in me sings the body electric.

This weekend is starting to feel like the beginning of the rest of my life.

And with Bryson by my side, it will be more than beautiful.

Bryson

I give Baya a tour of the house, the most important room being my bedroom. She walks slowly around the periphery looking at the trophies on my bookshelf, the lack of actual
books
, which I’m sure she finds unimpressive. She runs her hand over the felt pendant that reads
Whitney Briggs,
and I don’t bother telling her that my mom put that up while I was away my first semester. Baya pauses at something over my desk and lingers.

“Who’s this girl?” It comes out so innocent, it doesn’t even faze me at first.

I bounce off the bed in a single bound and make my way over.

Fuck.

I flip the picture down and take a step back as if I just put out a grass fire. I don’t know what I was thinking. I knew that picture was here, and it’s like it didn’t even register. I should get rid of it. God knows it’s burned itself into my mind. It’s the one of me and Steph locked in an embrace, floating on the lake in a canoe like we had the rest of our lives ahead of us to do just that. It’s when things were still good. I guess everything is good when you’re both still alive.

“Whoa.” Baya holds up her hands as if she were about to get arrested. “So that’s the hot spot.” She bites down over her lip. “You want to talk about it?” Her forehead wrinkles, and, for a second, I think she might cry—that we both might.

“I’m sorry.” I pull her in by the waist and touch her forehead to mine. “I’m not ready to go there.” I’m not sure I ever will be. “One day.” One day seems like a good answer. It hurts too much to think about. And, now, I have Baya—her whole heart, and it feels unfair to everyone involved. It was easier when it was girls by the dozen falling into my bed. I could put my heart in a bottle and toss it into the ocean, forget about it forever if I wanted. But Baya plucked the bottle right out of the sea. She’s holding it there in her sweet hand, tenderly, carefully. And now we’re both staring down at my barely-beating heart wondering what the hell’s the matter with it.

Baya pulls me in and melts her lips over mine. She offers slow, lingering kisses that scrape the pain out of the deepest part of me—that have the ability to cleanse my mortal soul. Baya should store her affection and sell it as a balm. She’s the light at the end of this very dark tunnel. And, if she keeps leading me by the heartstrings, I think I might make it out alive.

“Maybe we should go down to dinner,” I whisper. I’m hoping that will brush the patina of grief off this night. I’m ready to galvanize my relationship with Baya, and the last thing I want to do is focus on the tragedy in my life.

“Dinner sounds great.”

She’ll change her mind once she tries Mom’s cooking, but I’ll let her decipher that for herself.

Downstairs, Mom and Annie have already set the table, so we take our seats. Nitro sits dutifully next to Baya and me, and, I’m sure between the two of us, he’ll score more of Mom’s questionable food than he’ll want. Mom dishes out the gumbo, and I watch as Baya eyes the concoction as if an alligator might pop out—and, knowing Mom, it might.

“So”—Mom steadies her eyes over Baya with that peace about her that I was hoping for—“Bryson mentioned you were from Texas. What made you choose Whitney Briggs?”

“My dad.” She glances over at me and gives a sad smile. “He went there. My brother and I both wanted to attend, especially after he passed away.” She pauses a second, and my heart breaks for her. “He was struck by a drunk driver while he was on his bike. He was a cyclist. He loved to ride.”

I don’t remember her mentioning a drunk driver—and here I have her working at a fucking bar. Crap.

“I’m so sorry.” Mom touches her hand to her lips. Annie looks equally distraught, so I don’t bother translating. “Bryson has had nothing but nice things to say about your brother. I’d love to meet him one day. He’s been rather an enigma these past few years. Maybe he can come with you next time?”

Baya shifts uncomfortably in her seat. Mom doesn’t realize that if we brought Cole, bulletproof vests might be necessary—for me anyway.

“I think that would be great.” Baya’s lips rubber band into the world’s quickest smile. “You have a beautiful home.” She looks from Mom to Annie.

And, so it goes, with the on again off again, awkward dinner conversion until finally Annie offers to clear the dishes.

“Baya”—Mom folds her hands where her plate once sat—“tell me how you and Bryson met.”

Shit.

I blink a smile over at Baya, and my gaze dips to her chest a moment. Her perfect tits were the ultimate hello, but I’ll be the last to admit it to my mother.

“I…” Her teeth graze her lips. Baya is cute as hell when she’s in hot water. “I was struggling with my luggage and he offered to help.”

Well done. I raise my brows at her. And points for telling the truth.

“What a gentleman.” Mom swoons into the idea. “That’s my Bry, Bry…”

And it’s a wrap.

I push my seat out. “Baya, you want to help with dessert?”

“Yes.” She hops up so fast, you’d think her feet were on springs.

Baya and I make our way to the kitchen where Annie already has the dishwasher running.

Annie signs over to me.
You found a good one. I’m proud of you
. She wraps her arms around me for a brief second.
You deserve to be happy, even though I know you don’t think so.

I give her a firm hug before she waves at Baya and leaves the room.

“I like your sister.” Baya pulls me in by the belt loop. Her perfume swoops around me like a vanilla whisper.

“She likes you, too. So does my mom.”

“So I got the seal of approval?” She dips her chin just enough to let me know she’s flirting.

“It doesn’t really matter what they think.” I dot a kiss on the tip of her nose. “I’d love you anyway.”

There it is again, that L word. I’m not so sure she’s comfortable with me using it so liberally, but I can’t help it. I’m in so fucking deep, I can’t see straight. I’m head over heels—all of my sanity has left the building. My lips find their way to hers, and Baya grazes over my tongue with her teeth. My hands glide up her sweater and round out over her hips. I love touching Baya this way. Having the freedom to do so without thinking Cole might lodge a hatchet in my skull from behind.

A loud clatter erupts, and we both jump.

“Sorry!” Mom freezes, doing her best impersonation of a deer in the headlights. “I was just passing through and dropped this.” She holds up an aluminum tray.

“We were just about to bake cookies,” Baya says it so fast, it sounds like the excuse it is.

“Not a problem. I’m off to bed. Goodnight!” Mom zips out of the kitchen so quick you’d think she saw a ghost.

“That wasn’t awkward.” Baya’s dimples press in as she frowns.

“Well, I’d hate for you to be a liar. It looks like we’d better do some baking.” I wrap my arms back around her waist. “Hey”—I pull her in as the smile melts from my face—“I don’t remember you telling me the details about your dad.” The truth is I hardly have the guts to go there.

She lowers her lashes and blows a breath over my chest. “That’s exactly what happened.”

“Is that why you don’t drink?”

“Only partially.” She shrinks a little. “Is that lame? I really don’t care for the smell, so I assume the taste is not far off.”

“No, it’s not lame. There’s nothing lame about you. Does it bother you to work at the bar?”

She shakes her head. “In fact, I always offer to call a cab for someone before they take off, and twice already I’ve been taken up on it. It feels good to know that I might be averting another tragedy.” She shrugs. “Is that silly?”

“That’s damn right heroic.” I land a careful kiss over her lips. “How about we implement a program where we make it routine to ask if anyone needs a cab?”

“That would be great.”

“What was your dad’s name?” I wince when I say the word,
was
.

“Charlie.”

“We can call it Charlie’s Plan.”

“You’d do that?”

“
Yes
.” I brush her hair from her eyes. “Hell, yes.”

“And”—she gives a coy smile—“if they’re really ripped and refuse our offer, we can implement the
Sorry
Charlie program and take away their keys.”