Suit, стр. 27

Caught off guard, I swung my gaze toward him, his expression wary. Just like mine had probably been when I found out my girls didn’t wear matching clothes. “Helping out. I’m getting their clothes.”

“They’re playing ball. Uniforms. They’re on the couch.”

“Oh, yeah. Of course.”

“Are you wearing lipstick?”

“Well, I have a lot of it. I assumed I always wore it.”

“No. Never. Not unless I made you.”

“Oh, well I better go wipe it off, then.”

Paxton couldn’t hide his reaction. He smiled. A genuine smile. I saw it with my own eyes. He strolled toward me, quickly replacing the grin with a smirk. Even in the short time I knew him, I could tell the difference. The smell of his cologne reached me before his body. Intoxicating.

“What’s this?” He indicated the makeshift belt. His fingers lightly slid over the sparkling studs while his eyes lingered on my breasts.

“I borrowed it from another outfit. It needed something.”

“I like it. Glad you’re going to be with me.”

I frowned, perplexed no doubt, taking over my expression. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing, it’s a compliment.”

“Mom! Mom! Rowan won’t give me my shirt. I’m number five. Mom!”

“I’ve got it. Let’s eat. We need to get going,” Paxton said close to my lips, right before he kissed me. Tongue and all. He retreated when Ophelia screamed again.

“You kiss me a lot,” I said, eyes holding his.

Paxton didn’t respond to that. He gave me a peculiar glance and walked away.

I stared after him. Well, mostly his ass. Paxton could wear jeans. Damn, could he ever wear jeans. I shook my head, wondering what the hell was wrong with me—besides the fact that my brain wasn’t right. Puzzling emotions mixed with a longing, and I knew it was for him. There was something there. We did have some sort of pull toward each other, bigger than what Paxton had thought. I didn’t know how I felt about that.

I hung the clothes that didn’t match Ophelia’s back in Rowan’s closet with a heavy sigh and a shake of my head. Day by day. That was all that I could do. That was my only plan.

Paxton and the girls were seated at the table when I joined them. One would think if the husband sat at the end of a six-seating table and chairs, his wife would sit at the other end. Not in the Pierce house. I sat on his right and the girls sat across from me, digging into scrambled eggs and bacon. I had learned my place at the table the first time I ate there. Or that I remember, anyway. All of that was gone. Nothing but a blank brain with little information to go on. What I did recall made no sense. At all. Why couldn’t I remember my life before now? All I had was the here and now with family that I didn’t understand. It seemed hard to believe this was all there was to me. Why was my brain remembering my childhood and not my adult life? I made a mental note to ask Dr. Mirage about that at my next visit.

“What are you doing?” Paxton asked.

I snapped out of my zoning out into space and looked at him, blinking away the vision. I shook my head and spooned a few eggs to my plate, omitting the bacon. “Nothing. I was just thinking.”

“About?”

I tilted my head and smiled. No, it was probably more a smirk, the same smirk that I always got from him. “Does it matter?”

“Of course it matters. What were you thinking about?”

“Okay, fine. I was thinking about my mom and my sister.”

Paxton rolled his eyes and bit into wiggly bacon.

“You have a sister?” Rowan questioned with excitement.

“No, your mother doesn’t have a sister. It’s her head injury talking. Eat up. You have a ball game to win.”

“I’m gonna hit a ball in the hole, Daddy,” Ophelia said while adding her two cents. She wanted the attention, too.

I smiled over at her, biting the corner of my wheat toast. “I think you like golf, Phi. Maybe that’s going to be your sport.”

“Ophelia. Her name’s Ophelia,” Paxton reminded me.

“Yeah, right. The Mayflower.” It just came out. I didn’t even mean to say it, and I sure as hell didn’t mean to flaunt the attitude. Too late.

Paxton’s fork clanked to the glass plate in front of him, his glare matching his attitude. “Can you help me in the kitchen for a second?”

The cloth napkin dropped to the table and Paxton got up, chair scraping the floor and daggers shooting through my injured brain. Oh, boy… He was pissed. I followed him away from the girls, knowing I was in for something. I just didn’t know what. Maybe a tongue lashing. Maybe a fingering punishment. Who knows?

He stood over the sink, staring out at the endless ocean. “You’re not going,” he said without turning around.

“Going where?”

“Anywhere. To watch the girls today. You can stay home and try to remember your place.”

“Why? That’s stupid. I want to go. I want to watch them play.”

Paxton turned to me that time. Two steps and he was in my face. “And I want you to remember who the fuck you are. You can’t seem to do that no matter how many times you’re told.”

“I don’t even know what you’re so pissed off about. Jesus Christ, lighten up. How can I remember who the fuck I am if this head injury keeps blocking my memories?”

Silence. A red face. And rage.

“Go to your bathroom. Now.”

His tone was subtle. Composed. Calm. That wasn’t the part that scared me. It was the look in his cold-green eyes that caused my own voice to tremble.

“W-why?”

“I’m going to remind you how Pierce women talk to their husbands.”

“There’s more of us? More of you? Shit. Sorry. That’s not what I meant to say. Let’s just go eat breakfast and forget this. It’s nothing. I didn’t mean to disrespect you. I just don’t see what the big deal is. Why can’t I call her Phi?”

“Because that’s not her name. Would you like to see her birth certificate?”

Actually, I did want to see it, but I knew that wasn’t the answer he wanted from me. “Whatever. Can we just finish breakfast and go?”

“I just said—you’re not going.”

“Don’t be like that. I said I was sorry. I need out of this house, too, you know.”

“Then turn around and go to your bathroom. I’m about to teach you another rule around here.”

“What?”

“Go. I’ll be there in a second.”

This was the stupid part. The part that totally baffled me. The first thing I noticed when I walked away mustering up as much deviancy as I could, was the rhythm. The impulsive throb right between my legs. It was like my body knew what lay ahead, reacting as if it had been accustomed to the routine. My brain…Not so much. I had that anxious, adrenaline rush where I could hear my heartbeat in my head. Quick, rapid beats, matching the pulsating between my legs. The palms of my hands dampened and my entire body trembled with apprehension.

And anticipation.

“How’s it going? You guys okay?” I asked as I passed the girls.

“Rowan got more eggs.”

“Well, you got more bacon,” Rowan tattled right back.

“It’s fine. Eat until your tummies are full. I’ll be right back.”

Sticky, strawberry jelly took precedence over me. Rowan started it, and Phi followed suit, forgetting I existed. I continued on my way to my bathroom, afraid yet excited. From the feel of the commotion going on between my legs, I was certain my body knew what was coming. Even if my mind didn’t.

Chapter Eight

I don’t know what went through my mind while I waited, butt resting on the countertop. I knew from the rising pain in the back of my knee and my ankle that I needed the crutches. Being stubborn only prolonged my recovery. Instead of thinking about Paxton opening that door, I thought about crutches. My mind tried hard to block it out, but without really knowing, I had a gut feeling what was about to happen.

The worst case of paranoid-freaking-out hit me when the doorknob turned. My heart pounded like crazy, and blood rushed rapidly through my veins. For a second, I thought I might be having a heart attack.