Cupid Has a Heart-On, Page 8

  “You’d be in charge of creating your own greeting cards from choosing the messages to picking out the artwork. It sounded like something fun,” I suggest with a shrug, brushing a lock of hair off of her cheek so I can kiss it.

  “I love you, Sam. Thank you for doing this. It’s perfect,” she replies, squeezing me tighter. “Since we have a few minutes alone before my mom gets back from grocery shopping, my dad wakes up from his nap, and Aunt Bobbie gets bored watching porn in the spare bedroom, I thought we could-”

  “Have the sex? Outstanding idea. Take off your pants.”

  Noel laughs and I pull her body closer to mine, loving the sound of her happiness so much that I know I’ll do anything to keep her this way, even if it means shutting my mouth about our living arrangements.

  “As tempted as I am by your flowery way with words, I thought we could talk.”

  Right. Talk. That was my second choice.

  “Alright, but just so you know, my nipple is fully healed and it has requested your lips, soooo…” I trail off.

  She pulls one arm out from around me and slides her palm up my chest, using the tips of her fingers to trace around the nipple in question, grazing one finger over the piercing. It’s like a bolt of lightning right to my balls, and I groan.

  “Yep, definitely healed. Holy shit, it’s like a power switch right to my dick.”

  She smiles wickedly up at me. “Talk first, nipple play second.”

  I take a step back from her before images of her teeth tugging on my nipple ring make me throw her onto the couch and fuck the hell out of her. We definitely need to talk. Ever since I let it slip that I only pierced my nipple so she’d think I wasn’t a pussy, she’s admonished me constantly about being an idiot and asking me where on earth I would have ever gotten such an idea. Since I can’t exactly tell her it came from Alex, who heard it from Scheva, without Alex beating the shit out of me, I’ve shrugged it off and told her I got the idea from a book.

  And each time I’ve tried to ask her what else is bothering her, aside from the no job thing, she’s told me everything is fine and she’s just being a stupid girl. We’re both obviously holding back, and if we don’t get it all out in the open, one or both of us is going to lose our shit and it won’t be pretty.

  It hasn’t helped much that all of our conversations the last couple of days have happened over the phone while we were both busy, distracted, and exhausted. This is the first moment of alone-time we’ve had since the night of Nipple Gate in the laundry room, and I’m determined to keep my head out of the gutter and not push our problems aside because I can’t keep my hands off of her whenever we’re together.

  Although I use the term “alone-time” loosely since I can hear Reggie snoring upstairs and Aunt Bobbie banging away on the keyboard of the computer in Nicholas’ old bedroom.

  Noel slides her hand through mine and tugs me toward the couch and like some bad, made-for-TV romance movie, everything that can go wrong, DOES go wrong. As we both start to take a seat and finally hash things out, Nicholas walks into the living room with a Tupperware bowl of last night’s dinner leftovers in his hands, shoveling fried chicken and mashed potatoes in his mouth.

  “Um, where did you come from?” Noel asks as he squeezes in between the two of us and flops down on the couch.

  “I saw Sam’s truck in the driveway and snuck in through the kitchen door in case you two were doing something weird in here,” he explains through a mouthful of food.

  We stand in front of the couch, staring down at him as he eats like he hasn’t had a meal in a month.

  “Don’t you have a home? And your own food? Why are you here?” Noel says with a sigh.

  “My home is currently a warzone. Have you ever been around a new mother?” Nicholas asks, licking his fork clean before setting the empty container on the coffee table in front of him. “Half the time she’s crying louder than the baby, and the other half she’s screaming about all the dangerous shit in the house we need to get rid of. It’s a nightmare.”

  “NOEL! HOW DO I REMOVE THIS STUPID PARENTAL LOCK FROM THE INTERNET? I CAN’T MASTURBATE UNDER THESE CONDITIONS!” Aunt Bobbie shouts from upstairs.

  “And you thought coming here would be less nightmarish?” I laugh.

  “Yeah, I didn’t really think things through. I just ran out the door when Casey started freaking out about how we have to get rid of our cat because he was looking at Holly funny,” Nicholas says with a shake of his head.

  Grabbing Noel’s hand, I pull her away from Nicholas while he busies himself with turning on the television.

  “Okay, so clearly there won’t be any privacy down here. Why don’t we go up to your room and talk?” I suggest.

  Noel nods and we walk hand-in-hand out into the hallway. When we get the base of the stairs, the front door flies open and Bev comes rushing in, calling for everyone to meet her in the hallway.

  With annoyed sighs, Noel and I turn around to see her ushering in a very young, very scantily dressed, very well-endowed woman. Nicholas comes in from the living room to join us and Aunt Bobbie and a sleepy-looking Reggie walk down the stairs together, stopping right next to us.

  “What in tarnation is all the racket for? I was trying to take my before-dinner nap,” Reggie complains with a stretch, his arms freezing in place above his head and his mouth dropping open when he gets a look at the woman standing next to Bev with a big smile on her face.

  “Everyone, this is my new friend, Pinky VonPump and she’s going to be spending the night with us tonight,” Bev announces, wrapping one arm around Pinky’s shoulder. “Noel, she’s going to stay in your room.”

  “So much for finding privacy there,” Noel grumbles.

  I nod my head, looking up at the ceiling instead at Pinky. It seems like the wisest decision.

  “Excuse me, um, Pinky, but Mom, who is this person and why is she staying in our home?” Noel asks.

  “Get a load of the rack on her,” Aunt Bobbie mutters next to me.

  “I told you, her name is Pinky and I just met her at Walmart. The poor dear has no place to stay tonight since they’re fumigating her apartment for termites, so I said she could stay with us. She’s a stripper! Can you believe that?!” Bev asks.

  “Oh yeah, I can believe that. Damn. Seriously. Look at those tits,” Nicholas whispers from the other side of Noel, which earns him a smack to the stomach from her.

  “This is an excellent paint job you’ve got on your ceiling, sir,” I tell Reggie, who smartly keeps his eyes trained anywhere but on the stripper, just like myself.

  “The key is using ceiling paint. Regular old wall paint just won’t do,” Reggie explains with a nod as we both stare above our heads.

  “Mom, you can’t just bring home a random stripper like she’s a stray cat,” Noel complains.

  “Shhhhhh, keep your voice down, she can hear you!” Bev whispers dramatically.

  “Oh, it’s okay, Mrs. Holiday!” Pinky tells her. “I like cats. They’re so soft and cuddly.”

  “Her tits look soft and cuddly,” Aunt Bobbie mumbles under her breath. “My penis is really confused right now.”

  I hear Aunt Bobbie screech in pain and see out of the corner of my eye that Noel is currently pinching the side of her arm.

  “Noel, be a dear and go get Pinky a sweatshirt and some sweatpants. She needs to get out of all this restricting clothing,” Bev says with a sigh. “Honestly, sweetheart, I don’t know how you can even breathe in such a tight shirt. And aren’t you freezing with your cute little belly button exposed and wearing such a short skirt?”

  Reggie starts to choke and cough, and I reach over to pat him on the back while we continue studying the ceiling.

  “I really love the shade of white you used. What’s it called?” I question nervously, sweat starting to run down my back and my neck getting a cramp in it from holding it at such an odd angle for so long.

  “Uh, er…it’s called white. You think it could use another coat?” he muses
with a shaky voice.

  “Definitely. I can help you with that when you’re ready. How many cans do you think it will take?”

  “Cans…” Reggie mumbles with a nervous laugh.

  “Keep it together, sir!” I scold under my breath.

  “Oh, my Gorgonzola,” Bev mutters. “You two act like you’ve never been around a stripper. What is wrong with you?”

  Noel laughs and pats me on the back. “It’s okay, you can look. It’s fine.”

  I take my eyes off the ceiling long enough to glance over at Reggie and he shoots me a wide-eyed, panicky look.

  “Don’t do it, Sam. Don’t do it!” he warns. “It’s a trick!”

  “I apologize for my husband and future son-in-law, Pinky. They seem to have lost their manners,” Bev explains.

  “It’s okay, Mrs. Holiday. I’m used to being around men without manners. You have no idea how many guys never even say ‘thank you’ after I give them a lap dance,” Pinky tells her.

  “I think I’m having a heart-attack,” Reggie moans.

  “Sam, seriously, stop looking at the ceiling. Do you honestly think I’m that insecure?” Noel asks me softly.

  Too softly. Her voice is like butter, but the hot, molten kind that you pull out of the microwave after two minutes and will scald your skin if you don’t handle it correctly.

  “I love you,” I tell her, just so we’re on the same page and she doesn’t burn the fuck out of me if I take my eyes off the ceiling.

  “I know, which is why you can stop looking at the damn ceiling already.”

  I look at Reggie again and he’s shaking his head back and forth so fast I’m surprised he doesn’t get dizzy and pass out.

  “I feel like your dad is right and this is a trick. Or a test. One that I will fail miserably and you’ll kill me in my sleep if I do it wrong,” I mutter. “It’s fine. I really like looking at the ceiling. How about we just go back to my place and talk?”

  Aunt Bobbie taps me on the arm and thankfully, I can look at her instead of the doorway where my final exam is waiting for me to fuck up royally.

  “I forgot to tell you. I’m gonna need to stay at your place for a few days since this house seems to be at capacity now that there’s a stripper in residence,” Aunt Bobbie informs me. “I’ve got this Tinder date, stalker situation that needs to work itself out, so it’s best if I stay away from my house right now until the poor man wears himself out and moves on.”

  “Do I even want to ask what you’re talking about?” Nicholas questions, his eyes still staring unblinking over at the stripper by the front door.

  “Well, this guy got a piece of Beautiful Bobbie and now he can’t quit me,” she says with a sigh. “He stands out on my front lawn, jerking off while reciting poetry. It was cute at first, but there’s only so many times you can hear someone moan through a Robert Frost poem.”

  “Jesus, Bobbie,” Reggie groans, turning his body all the way around to face the stairs behind us so he’s not tempted to look anywhere else.

  “Why don’t you just ask him to stop?” I question, bringing one hand up to the side of my face to shield my eyes.

  “And crush the poor man’s heart? That’s just cruel. He’ll run out of poems and semen to fertilize my lawn with eventually,” Bobbie says with a shrug.

  Bev starts apologizing to Pinky all over again about her rude family, and I turn around to face the stairs with Reggie when she pulls her past all of us and down the hall into the kitchen to get her something to eat.

  “If anyone needs me, I’ll be out in the garage until tomorrow,” Reggie announces, stalking out the front door behind Aunt Bobbie, who went out to sit in my truck and wait for me to give her a ride to my place.

  Giving Noel a kiss that is entirely too short for my liking, interrupted by Aunt Bobbie laying on the horn of my truck out in the driveway, I back away from her toward the door.

  “We’ll talk tomorrow, I promise,” Noel says. “And thanks for not looking at the stripper. I would have punched you in the neck if you looked at her tits.”

  “I KNEW IT! I knew it was a test!” I shout in victory as she blows me a kiss before heading off into the kitchen to help her mother feed the stray stripper.

  At this point, we might have to leave the country to get a minute alone so we can talk. Come hell or high-water, or another random stripper coming to stay, we will talk tomorrow.

  Chapter 11

  Front Butt

  Noel

  “Is that really what you’re wearing?” my mother asks, one eyebrow lifting as she takes in my outfit of choice.

  I glance down at myself, my nerves out of control as it is without my mother’s judgment.

  “What’s wrong with what I’m wearing? Black pencil skirt and a white button-down with a wide black belt. It’s a standard interview outfit.”

  She scoffs and shakes her head at me. “The clothing choice is fine, I’m referring to the granny shoes on your feet. You should borrow something from Pinky. She has very nice taste in shoes.”

  I ignore her comment, and the half-dressed woman who walks into the hallway in a short, white silk robe with matching white, furry, heeled slippers on her feet and her hands wrapped around a mug of coffee.

  “There’s a foot of snow on the ground. I’m not going to chance breaking my neck before I even get to Happy Greetings. These two-inch black pumps are just fine,” I tell her, trying to calm my racing heart while attempting not to stare at Pinky as she watches us and sips her coffee.

  How is it possible someone can make drinking coffee look sexy? I was joking when I told Sam I was glad he didn’t look at Pinky last night because honestly, I’m not insecure about the way I look. But Jesus, I don’t stand a chance standing next to a stripper with fake boobs and even faker lips who looks like she’s about ready to give her cup of Joe a blow job.

  “I do have a pair of thigh-high, black stiletto boots that would look fabulous with that skirt,” Pinky tells me with a smile. “We look to be about the same size so I’m sure they’d fit.”

  Yeah, same size in shoes only since my tits aren’t bigger than the Grand Canyon and my waist isn’t the width of a twig.

  “Thank you for the kind offer, Pinky, but I think I’ll pass.”

  She shrugs. “Let me know if you change your mind. I also have a really cute pair with clear heels that you can put a goldfish in.”

  “Oooooh, that sounds fun!” my mother exclaims. “Can I borrow those later? Reggie would get a kick out of them. I could do a whole goldfish theme and make him eat goldfish crackers off of my-”

  “Mom!” I interrupt. “What did I tell you about oversharing?”

  Glancing at my watch, I realize I still have an hour before I need to leave the house for my interview. An entire hour of staring at Stripper Barbie and listening to my mother discuss her sex life with my father. I start pacing in the living room, wiping my sweaty palms on my skirt.

  “I don’t know why you’re so nervous. Aside from your shoe selection, they’re going to love you,” my mother tells me.

  “I’m nervous because this is a big deal. Sam got me this interview, and I can’t screw it up. I have to make a good impression.”

  Aunt Bobbie walks into the room and shoves a glass of water at me, holding her palm out that has a little pill resting in the middle of it. “Here, take this.”

  I step back and shake my my head at her. “I’m not taking drugs before an interview, are you insane?!”

  Aunt Bobbie scoffs, thrusting her hand toward me. “Quit being a little bitch and take it. It’s a Xanax, not meth. It will just take the edge off so you don’t go in there and screw everything up.”

  “I love Xanax. I used to take it all the time when I first started stripping. I was so self-conscious about my body and it really helped,” Pinky informs me.

  “That reminds me, don’t make any plans for after your interview. Pinky is going to give us a pole dancing lesson!” my mother says with a smile, glancing over at Pinky. “Wi
ll we need to be naked for this? Should I have Reggie pick up some more firewood for the fireplace so we don’t get cold?”

  Grabbing the little pill from Aunt Bobbie’s hand and the glass of water she’s still holding out to me, I down it quickly and hand the empty glass back to her.

  “Good girl. Now you’ll be nice and relaxed and they’ll hire you on the spot,” she tells me with a pat on the head like I’m a puppy.

  She walks out of the room to take the glass into the kitchen and I breathe a sigh of relief. I can already feel my nervousness slipping away and I start going over all of the things I’ll say during the interview to dazzle them. I really, really need this job so I can get the hell out of this house.

  At this point, I’d take a job at McDonald’s flipping burgers just to get a minute alone with Sam. Not only am I freaking out about landing this job, I’m freaking out about how crazy Sam has been acting lately. Getting his nipple pierced because he’s under the impression I don’t think he’s enough of a man? Where in the hell did THAT come from? I mean, it’s hot, don’t get me wrong, but really? And he hasn’t even mentioned us living together in days. Not one word, when up until our fight, he brought it up every chance he could.

  So, not only am I freaking out about getting a job, I’m freaking out about Sam changing his mind about wanting to live with me. Which I know, makes me the biggest hypocrite in the world since I want to be officially engaged before we live together, and even though I was getting annoyed with him bringing it up all the time, it was still nice to be asked. And feel wanted.

  I really suck and need to get my shit together.

  “I’m going to go soak in a nice bubble bath to get my muscles relaxed so I can be extra bendy for our lesson,” my mother announces, bringing me out of my thoughts.

  I take that as my cue to get the fuck out of this house, even if it means I’ll show up to my interview a little early. I’d rather be early and not have to listen to my mother talk about getting bendy, than throw up on the living room carpet and be late.