Finding Our Reality (The Reality Duet #2)

Chapter 36

CRUTCH

She moans.

Rolling over, she stretches her arm across my side of the bed, searching for me. “Ry?”

It’s not even seven in the morning. It’s raining outside so the gray morning light casts her swollen and well-loved body in the most beautiful of shadows. Gorgeous. My Lulu is gorgeous.

“I’m right here.”

Her voice is thick with sleep. “What are you doing?”

I pull on my boots, walk over to the bed, and sit next to her. I trace my finger up the curve of her spine. Something catches my eye. The bandage on her arm has some blood on it. Shit. We were pretty wild last night. Well, this morning, I guess you would call it. I hope she didn’t bust a stitch.

She tries to open her eyes, but they’re too heavy. She looks like a little kid trying to stay awake in church. It makes me laugh. “Go back to sleep. It’s early.”

“Come back to bed.”

“I can’t. I got called in. There was a gas station robbery, I have to work.”

“What time is it?”

“Close to seven.”

She pats my thigh. “We didn’t go to sleep until after three. Come back to bed.”

“I’ll be back as soon as I can. Keep the bed warm for me.” I lean forward and kiss her temple. She doesn’t budge. She’s already fallen back asleep.

Walking into the bathroom, I grab the first-aid box and then set it on the nightstand. I open the drawer, push my latest book aside, and grab a notepad and pen.

I’m sorry I had to leave for work. I’ll be home as soon as humanly possible.

Do not move. Not a single inch. I expect to find you in my bed. Naked. Wet. And waiting for me.

Last night was nothing. I have so much more to give. It was just the beginning.

GAME ON.

PS-I’m sorry about your arm.

***

I can’t believe I had to work all day. All damn day.

But there were some positives to it. Like when Lulu texted me asking what time I would be home.

Home. To our home.

It made my heart feel like melted butter.

I could get used to that. Hell, one text, and I’m already used to it.

Marcum was waiting at the gas station for me when I pulled up this morning. He saw the hickeys all over my neck. He also saw the shit-eating grin plastered all over my face.

He grunted. “She’s like a daughter to me. Besides that, you show up to a crime scene parading yourself around like that? You look like you just left a strip club. Not very professional, son.”

I nodded, respecting the chastising from my mentor. “Yes, sir. It won’t happen again.” I shook my head, not meaning what I literally said. Because you better believe it will happen again. “What I mean is, I won’t show up in a physical state like this again.”

He nodded, but when he turned around, I caught his reflection in the side mirror of his truck. He smiled. Smugly, proudly.

It was something small. It probably meant nothing to him, but it made me feel like I just had a talk with my dad. Well, not my father, obviously, but it felt like what a fatherly talk should be like. So, I enjoyed the moment.

Oh yeah, and we caught the bad guy.

All in all, it was a damn good day.

And now, I get to see My Lulu.

I can tell she’s been somewhere. The position of her SUV has changed in the driveway. I park my truck in the garage and walk through the mudroom. Hanging my hat and keys on a hook, I shake the rain from my hair and toss my wallet on a small table before turning the corner into the kitchen.

Oh, hell yeah.

Melted butter again.

The kitchen table is set for two. There’s some kind of salad, bread, and chicken. And cantaloupe. The washed frying pan is drying next to the sink. Over on the kitchen counter, her work is all spread out—her laptop, her notebooks, her day planner. In the distance, I hear the toilet flush in the hall bathroom, followed by the running water of her washing her hands. The noise of her bare feet padding across the floor gives me a hard-on.

When she rounds the staircase, she literally steals the breath from my body. She’s wearing a white shirt and, courtesy of the bright lights of the kitchen, I can see her black bra underneath. Her short, gray cotton skirt showcases the brown tan of her skin. Her honey and caramel waves are pinned out of her face with a small barrette, and her face is free of makeup.

But the best thing?

Her smile. Wide and beautiful and happy.

“There you are. I was wondering when you would get home. I’m starving.”

I lick my lips. “Me too. But not for food.”

She laughs, holding her stomach. “Well, tough shit. Because I’m hungry for food. I did some pan-fried pretzel-covered chicken. It’s great.”

I stare at her, trying to use my non-existent powers of telekinesis to make her drop her panties.

It’s not working.

She sits down and nods at the seat next to her. Pouting, I grab a seat as she plates my food. She studies me from the corner of her eye. “You can pout all you want, but we’re eating supper.”

I concede with a grunt. As soon as I start eating, I realize how hungry I am. “The chicken is great, Lulu, thank you. Did I have this stuff in the fridge?”

“No. I ran home to get a few things. I really needed to catch up on some work today, so I needed my laptop and paperwork. I stopped at the store on my way back.”

“Did you get a lot of work done?”

“I did. It’s been raining all day, so I set up outside on the porch and worked. It was so peaceful.”

“You could’ve used your office.” I nod down the hall. “That’s what it’s there for.”

She tries not to blush. Really, she does. It’s the cutest thing ever.

“Thanks. But you know I love watching the rain droplets bounce off the pond.”

And I love you, Lulu.

I finish before she does. She’s eating so painstakingly slow. I think she knows what she’s doing; I think she’s teasing me on purpose. Finally, she sits back, declaring. “That was so good.”

I jump up from the table and pull her against me. “It was. Now, let’s go work it off.”

Giggling, she pushes back. “I need to clear the table. I made dessert too.”

“I don’t want dessert. I want you.”

She leans forward, poking my chest with her finger. “I made it. And you’re gonna eat it. Sit.”

Are you kidding me right now?

Flopping back down in my chair, I splay my legs wide in front of me and watch as she clears the table. I should help her. It would be the nice thing to do. But she’s not being nice to me. She knows I need more. More of her.

I’ve never seen someone rinse dishes and load the dishwasher so damn slow. A sloth could move at a faster pace than this. Not to mention, every time she bends over, flashing the back of her thighs to me, my erection grows harder. I mean, I could knock down concrete pillars over here.

She’s playing our game. And she’s not playing fair.

After an eternity, she closes the dishwasher and makes her way back over to the table. Stepping between my legs, she grabs the hem of her skirt and lifts it to her waist.

Kill. Me. Now.

She’s not wearing any panties.

“Your dessert is served. Game on, Ry.”

My eyes dart to hers. It’s the best thing I’ve ever heard.

Wrapping my hand around the back of her head—so I won’t give her a concussion—I fling her across the kitchen table and make up for twelve long years.

Starting with eating that dessert.

***

I wish I could say that coming home Monday night was as pleasant as coming home Sunday night, but it wasn’t.

She wasn’t there.

I didn’t have a chance to call or text her until about four and she didn’t respond. When I pulled in my driveway, her SUV wasn’t there. I raced through the house calling her name. Like a fool, I even checked the closets. I immediately jumped in the truck and raced back into town.

And here I stand, pounding on her front door. “Open the damn door, Lulu.”

After just a second, Holt opens the door. He takes one look at me and starts laughing. I’m about to punch him in the face when he steps to the side, letting me pass. Lulu’s sitting at the counter, laptop open, and earbuds in her ears. Smiling brightly, she waves and motions that she’s on a web call.

Looks like I’m waiting.

Holt takes a long sip of a sports drink. He’s drenched in sweat. He’s obviously been working out, doing his physical therapy. “I see, after all this time, she’s still driving you crazy,” he says.

“I want her to drive me crazy until the day that I die.” Whoa, I didn’t mean to get that serious with Holt.

The humor fades from his face and his brow furrows. “You never moved past her, did you, man? It was always her.”

I lean against the back of the loveseat, watching as she furiously scribbles notes in a green notebook with purple polka dots. “She was my one and only. She’ll always be my one and only.” I turn and study him. “Just wait. Just wait until it happens to you. You’ll know exactly what I’m talking about.”

He shrugs, fiddling with the wrapper on his bottle. “Hey, I’m ready.” Lightening the mood, he nudges my shoulder, “Got any hot female relatives you wanna set me up with?”

“The only female relative I have is my mother. And she’s currently in jail.”

Holt’s eyebrows lift into his hairline. “Uhhh. Hard pass.” He walks back to his room, hollering over his shoulder. “Nice hickeys, by the way.”

I pace around the living room, waiting on Lulu to end her work call. When she finally does, she yanks the earbuds from her ears and races over to me. Throwing her arms around my neck, she kisses one of the healing hickeys. “Hi.”

“You left.”

Pulling away, she studies my face, smirking like she can’t believe I’m actually upset. “Of course, I left. It was a regular workday today. You had work, I had work.”

I toss my hands in the air. “So?”

“Plus, I only packed enough for one night.”

“So, pack more shit this time.” I look down the hall and point to her bedroom. “In fact, pack all your shit.”

She squints her eyes. “What? What are you talking about?”

I spin in a circle, looking at the living room. “This isn’t you, Lulu. Can’t you see that? You don’t belong here. You belong with me. At our house. The house you designed and I built. It’s ours.”

She walks over into the kitchen and grabs a diet soda from the fridge. “What are you saying? You want me to move in? You wanna live together?”

I grab the soda from her hand and put it down on the counter. Scooping her into my arms, I hug her, holding her body tightly against mine, forcing her to her tiptoes. She loves it when I do that. Bending my head, I slowly lick the shell of her ear and whisper, “Hell yeah, I do.”

She loves it when I do that too.

And having her in our house, I’ll be able to do all the things she loves whenever I want.