The last few weeks have been a roller coaster ride of emotions. From the scary crazy stuff at the firehouse and the bar to the amazing that is knowing what it’s like to love and be loved by the man of my dreams. I think I’m fighting so hard for Hennessey to stop being such a pig because I know what I have with his brother and I want him to have that same joy. Just not this Joy. She’s crazy.
“Excuse me, handsome,” I say and approach the dancing pair just as the song ends. I say a little “thanks” to God for that one. I was a tad worried her boobs were going to try for an up-close-and-personal greeting and no freaking thanks. Joy notices me first with a friendly smile and signals to Hennessey. His eyes widen just slightly as he clears his throat.
“I found your phone,” I say and pull the device out of my cleavage with my thumb and middle finger. Slowly, I offer it to him with my best fake smile plastered on my face.
“Really now?” His blue eyes look dead and cold in their lack of reaction and so does his voice. Instead of taking the phone from my hand, he pats down his suit, and sure enough, he finally realizes that what I’m offering him really is his phone.
“How nice of you,” Joy says. She looks at Hennessey and raises her brows. Still, he doesn’t react.
“Wonder how my phone slipped out,” he grinds out in frustration. That temper Royal’s talked about is budding to the surface, and it scares me a little. The chords of his thick neck tighten in a series of motions. I gulp in response. “Couldn’t be that you lifted it?”
“Might have.” I cross my arms over my chest and decide this little plan was just that—little. It’s not enough. It was his idea that I interrupt them tonight. I just improvised a little with the phone. He’s still playing the rude-ass bad boy who needs to be knocked off his game. “I was looking up signs of syphilis. You know that rash you gave me?”
He closes the space between us and snatches his phone from me. Joy fades into the background with a gasp and some kind of admonishment that I don’t care to hear. He’s a pig. He’s a liar. Yeah, yeah, Joy. Get in line, girl. We get it. I’m trying to make him neither of those things, but he’s not making it very easy when he falls in bed with every easy girl he meets.
“That was a bit far,” he says and shakes his head. “If Jay heard that, he’d be pretty pissed.”
Maybe I shouldn’t have had as much champagne as I have, because I’m having that “loose lips sink ships” problem again. Oh well, too late now. I needed it to calm my nerves. This place is crowded, and the only reason Jameson agreed that we could come is because security is out of control this year. Dad made sure nothing would tarnish Mom’s benefit or impair my safety.
“Do you think he’d get so mad he’d put me over his knee and paddle me?” I ask with wide eyes. Hennessey scowls and visibly shudders at the suggestion, while I warm to the thought. I’m growing fond of the idea of being paddled by my man.
“By the way, what does purple stand for?” Actually, I’d rather not know what the color associated with my name means, but my mouth has once again got me into trouble. I’m like a damn yappy Chihuahua that doesn’t know how to shut up even when it’s in my best interest.
“Family,” he says. I place my hand on my chest and pull him into a hug.
“That’s so sweet,” I say, so happy to be accepted by the Hayes family like I have been. I think Janet’s already mentioned to her priest about marrying me and Jameson next summer. All I heard through the phone yesterday were the words church, summer, and available before Jameson said, “Ask Lulu,” and hung up on his mother. Taking a step back and a deep breath, I try to calm the fluttery happy emotions that are overtaking me. I’m on the verge of tears with my eyes wet and my mascara in danger of running.
When I look up, I find the most gorgeous man I’ve ever laid eyes on. He smiles a slow and sexy smile that should come with a purr because it just looks that smooth and does amazing, incredible things to my body that I can’t really stop evidence of since this year I decided to go commando. He crooks a finger at me, and I slip through the people and wrap my arms around his waist. This is home, right here, with Jameson.
“Hennessey thinks of me as family,” I say quickly. It’s been what, a freaking week? And yet it feels right. So right. I’ve had a year to adjust to loving Jameson and being a part of his family in an informal way. Now that I have him, I don’t want to slow down. I can’t, really. He’s everything that matters, and I can’t think of wanting anything or anyone else. I just want him in every way I can get him.
“Dance with me,” my Mr. Gorgeous says moments after a slow song begins. He spins me around the dance floor, keeping me close.