Plus One Page 12

  Before I can remind us both that this is only pretend, Duncan’s lips cover mine, swallowing my reply. Without thought, my body melts against him. The way my breasts press against his hard chest reminds me of the promise he made earlier. When our kiss ends, I tug him toward the steps.

  Still outside, I remember his question and say, “Susan does talk. Tonight, while we were out, just the girls, she was talking and laughing with everyone. You met my other cousin, Jillian. She lives in Illinois. The two of us are the misfits, whether you see it or not.”

  “Why?”

  “Well, for one, after tomorrow we’ll be the only ones not married.”

  Duncan laughs. “Or without 2.5 children.”

  I shrug. “Or a dog.”

  He leans in and brushes his lips over mine. “I can’t help you with any of those things, but I can help you with something else.”

  “What is that?”

  “Remember that little problem I promised to rectify? Let’s go upstairs and I’ll prove to you that I’m a man of my word.”

  For the first time that I can recall, I have a desire for what Duncan can’t or doesn’t want to help me with, the whole deal, more than just plus-one—marriage, children, and dog. However, the way my insides pinch at his reminder, I also want what he’s offering me upstairs.

  Quietly we make our way to my room.

  “SO TELL ME about my granddaughter.”

  Helen’s question takes me by surprise.

  I move my focus from the sun-drenched fields to Helen’s serious expression. The two of us are sitting in wooden rocking chairs on the wide porch. Kimbra, Susan, and Judy are all in the kitchen. I offered to help with the breakfast dishes, but Judy pushed Helen and me out the door into the warm morning air.

  Kevin and Oscar are doing something on the farm. Their parting comment was about how there’s no such thing as a day off. Generally, I’d agree. However, this weekend is different.

  Of course, I haven’t been totally without contact. I’ve been in communication with Jorge and Mike. Via texts and emails, I’m up to date on everything happening in New York and at our satellite locations. After Kimbra’s interesting proposal and before we left, I told Mike everything.

  He wasn’t pleased with what I’d done, or almost done, in the bathroom; nevertheless, he was cautiously optimistic about my deal with Kimbra. We both laughed that she would truly think she’s blackmailing me into being her plus-one. If there is anyone who knows me, it is Michael Buchanan, and he and I both know that I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t want to be.

  A man who accomplishes what I have by my thirties isn’t one who succumbs to blackmail. I am a man who seizes an opportunity when it presents itself, especially if that opportunity includes four days—and nights—with Kimbra Jones.

  Mike and I met our freshman year of college and the rest is history. We both come from financially stable families. Neither was wealthy. Some might say middle-class. No matter the title, we were comfortable, but still we both longed for more. That drive helped me focus during a rough time. Our business ambition became my life.

  We worked hard and did our homework. We studied the markets, economy, and fiscal environment. It became obvious with the aging demographics that no matter what happens in other markets, people will need pharmaceuticals. The development and patents are a nightmare. Let someone else do that. We focused on logistics, getting each pharmaceutical from point A to point B in the most efficient and economic fashion. Add in the fact that medication is consumable, the concept was golden. Together we built Buchanan and Willis into the pharmaceutical logistics giant that it is today.

  “Tell you about Kimbra?” I reply to Helen. “I’d suspect you can tell me more.”

  Her wrinkled hand covers mine. “Son, don’t bullshit an old woman.”

  Laughter rings from my chest. “Never.”

  “I know our Kimberly Ann, but I want to hear about this Kimbra.”

  A smile spreads over my face. “She’s a dynamo. She’s obviously beautiful and a good person, but she’s more…” I go on, telling Helen the same things I’d said to Kimbra, extolling her assets. With each word, I see the pride beam from Helen’s eyes.

  “And you two have been together…”

  I repeat our story, our fabrication. As I do, I add the truth. “But honestly, I noticed her long before the Christmas party. How could I not? She was gorgeous in that gold dress, but my first staying memory is from nearly three years ago. Twenty-two years old. Her resume was excellent but her experience was limited… in HR,” I add, fighting a foreign sensation to blush, no doubt brought on by my recently acquired knowledge of her experience in other matters. “My manager,” I go on, “in her department was impressed with Kimbra during the interview process. Enough so that he’d already offered her the position. I was still skeptical. That was until she walked in. She exuded confidence and competence. Nothing intimidates her. I’ve watched as she’s quieted a roomful of angry employees.”

  “Now, surely, you don’t have angry employees.”

  I scoff. “Sometimes financially strategic decisions aren’t always received with enthusiasm. The thing about Kimbra is that she cares. Employees will ask for her by name and not only the ones in the corporate office, but also those in our satellite centers in other states. She remembers all their names…” As I go on and on, it hits me just how closely I’ve watched Kimbra through the years. There’s no pretense as I recall that first afternoon. “She entered my office and stole my breath.”

  Helen’s eyes narrow. As the lines around her eyes and lips become deeper, her cheeks rise. “I don’t think that your breath is the only thing she’s taken.”

  “What are you two talking about?” Kimbra asks as the screen door slams and she comes out onto the porch.

  My gaze meets Helen’s. Will she rat me out? Will she tell Kimbra how much I’ve truly fallen for her, that this is much more than a weekend arrangement? That this is something I’ve been fantasizing about for years. Well, minus the farm, sex toys, and funny-as-hell grandma.

  You can’t make that shit up.

  “Duncan was just talking about his company,” Helen says. “I had no idea it wasn’t limited to New York. I know!” she adds with the same enthusiasm she had for her vibrator. “You could open one of those—what did you call it?—satellite centers here in Indiana, and then we could have our Kimberly Ann home.”

  I reach for Kimbra’s hand and pull her toward my lap. The rocking chairs are solid and wide. There’s plenty of room for her to be with me. As our hands connect, a part of me feels complete. I couldn’t explain my need to touch her, to be in contact, if I were asked. It’s a new feeling that I can’t dismiss. Our eyes meet for only a second, as if she’s embarrassed to move closer in front of her grandma.

  Helen stands. “Kimberly Ann, take it from someone who was married for over fifty years: when your man wants you to sit on his lap, do it.”

  “Yes, Kimberly Ann,” I say, emphasizing her longer name and tugging her down. I’ve already witnessed that Helen is just about as good at whispering as Kevin. Nevertheless, when she leans closer and speaks in Kimbra’s ear, I do my best to pretend not to hear.

  “And now this old lady is going to leave you two alone. If I were you, I’d ride him good.”

  “Grandma!”

  My breath catches as Kimbra’s cheeks turn the deepest shade of red and her chin drops to my shoulder.

  Helen pats Kimbra’s shoulder. “If you need me I’ll be in my room. Ignore the noise. My electric toothbrush is loud.”

  We sit in silence, well, except for the low rumble of my laughter, as Helen goes back in the house.

  Finally, Kimbra relaxes, lays her head against my chest, and sighs. “I tried to warn you about her.”

  “Stop apologizing. I think she’s fantastic. I am, however, a little disappointed that you don’t listen to her advice better.”

  She cranes her neck toward me. The red in her cheeks has subsided. It’s the blue of
her eyes that have me mesmerized. “I did listen. I’m here.”

  It’s my turn to whisper. I do it with purpose, making sure my warm breath blows over her sensitive skin. “I believe she mentioned something about riding…”

  Kimbra’s head moves back and forth. “Not on my parents’ porch in the middle of the morning while my grandmother is…”

  “Brushing her teeth,” I volunteer.

  Kimbra buries her face against my chest. “She has dentures.”

  We both break out in a fit of laughter.

  KIMBRA’S HAND RESTS upon the crook of my elbow as we follow her family down the aisle of the country church. While the surroundings are quaint and the stained-glass windows ornate, I’m having a hard time noticing anyone or anything but the beautiful woman beside me. She went with Susan and her mom to someone’s house. I think it was a friend of a friend who once worked with Judy. I got lost on the connection story. That doesn’t matter.

  Before they left, Judy reminded them all to wear button-down shirts. Kimbra seemed to understand why, though until she returned I had no idea. The thing was, she didn’t have anything like that with her. It was Susan who finally offered one of Kevin’s. When she did, Kimbra’s eyes lit up and she went to her bedroom—the room we’re sharing. When she walked back out, my cock grew to the point where I knew standing wouldn’t be appropriate. I didn’t trust Helen not to call me out.

  With her short little jean shorts, Kimbra wore the shirt I’d worn on Thursday afternoon. She looked so damn cute with it all rolled up, her amazing tits visible from the unbuttoned neckline, and the shirttails tied in a knot at her hips.

  Fuck!

  I’ll never look at the shirt the same way again.

  When they returned, each one had her hair styled and makeup done. Kimbra’s long auburn hair was wrapped and pinned, with dangling curls. Though I tried to touch it, because it showed off her sexy-as-hell neck, I was quickly swatted away.

  Following her to the bedroom, I learned why she needed the shirt. There couldn’t be any chance of messing up her hair.

  Now, I can’t keep my eyes off of her. She’s absolutely stunning in her blue dress and high heels. The dress is swishier and girlier than what she wears at work. With each new discovery, I’m like a kid at Easter finding another egg. There are so many sides to her that I never realized existed.

  As we sit, our legs touch and music fills the air.

  “That’s my Aunt Laura,” she whispers as Jimmy walks a nice-looking woman down the aisle.

  “Is she Judy’s sister?” I realize I never figured out the connection.

  “No, Uncle Albert is Dad’s brother.”

  We do a better job of whispering than the rest of her family as she points out different people. One by one the bridesmaids come down the aisle. The last one is Sheila. I quickly gaze at Jimmy, suddenly curious about his expression. My chest expands as I see his eyes directed toward his wife. How did I suddenly become involved in Kimbra’s family drama? I’m not sure, but for reasons I can’t explain, I also care about them.

  All at once, the volume of the music increases, the wedding march begins, and the entire congregation stands.

  Scarlett is lovely, totally dressed in white. The memory of my suggestion to offer her and Kurt the use of my plane makes me smile. As she nears, the scene before me fades and I have a vision of Kimbra dressed in a wedding gown. The image catches me off guard as I blink it away.

  It’s true that I don’t want this thing—deal or seized opportunity—to end after Monday, yet marriage is not in my plans. I’ll never again entertain that notion. It’s obvious that Scarlett and Kurt are madly in love. It really does radiate from their smiles, the way they look at one another. Nevertheless, that ship sailed for me a long time ago.

  I’ve faced the fact that my lack of interest in commitment is the reason I’ve avoided anything beyond a physical relationship. Those rarely last beyond the obvious. It’s easy to tire of one another when the attraction is purely skin deep.

  Kimbra squeezes my hand, bringing me back to the present as we resume our seats.

  The ceremony continues.

  Kimbra’s uncle presents Scarlett to Kurt. People sing and verses are recited. There are candles and some symbolic sand-pouring thing. And eventually Scarlett and Kurt say their vows. But through it all, I concentrate less and less on our surroundings and more and more on the hand in mine.

  Kimbra isn’t thinking about me. Her blue eyes are moist and she nibbles her pink lips as she watches her cousin.

  Through it all, I can’t shake the image of Kimbra in a wedding dress. The more I try, the more vivid it becomes.

  The entire church bursts into cheers as Kurt and Scarlett kiss.

  “Look at him,” Kimbra whispers. “He’s looking at her like he’s starved and she’s his meal.”

  I laugh. “My money’s on a quick pick of that flower. Or with your analogy, fast food.”

  Kimbra’s eyes open wide as she tries to stifle a laugh.

  It doesn’t work and Judy looks our direction. “Your mom is watching us.”

  “No, my mom wants to know what’s so funny. She hates missing out on any joke.”

  “Maybe I should mention Helen’s especially white teeth.”

  Kimbra shakes her head. “Never.”

  OUR ROUND TABLE echoes with coughs and throat clearing. Though earlier I caught Duncan watching me with an unusual expression, now he’s having fun with the rest of my family. Honestly, his coughs are as loud as everyone else as my grandma takes another sip of her wine and repeats her question.

  “Why can’t I give it to her? I brought it.” She eyes each person suspiciously. “I hope you all aren’t coming down with something.”

  At the head table Scarlett and Kurt are smiling for pictures and sipping champagne. Sheila just finished her matron-of-honor toast, and it’s about time for Uncle Albert to speak.

  I wish they’d get on with it. I’m hungry, and with the number of glasses of wine Grandma and Mom have had, they need more substantial food than the cheese squares and crackers.

  My eyes grow wide as I politely lean closer to Grandma. “You didn’t?” I ask in a whisper, but loud enough for her to hear.

  “I most certainly did,” she announces triumphantly. “I started thinking about it after our discussion yesterday morning.” Her eyes narrow and back straightens. “You all aren’t the only ones who have Amazon Prime. I can even access it on my new smart phone. And since I won at poker against Mr. Moneybags over there…”

  I think her final winning amounted to almost seven dollars.

  “…and Scarlett’s wedding color is silver,” Grandma goes on. “I figured what better gift for her first night as a married woman than to have a silver vibrator.”

  Cough! Cough!

  “Shhh,” Mother says. “Mom, you can’t just hand her a vibrator and you can’t put it on the gift table either.”

  More coughs. We’re drawing attention.

  “Judy, you were the one touting the attributes of toys. If you think Oscar gets stress, can you imagine the pressure on poor Kurt? I think this is…”

  Though I want to die with embarrassment for my unfortunate dad, he appears totally oblivious. If he wore hearing aids, I’d guess they were off. However, since he doesn’t, I’m going to go with his unique ability to ignore my mom and grandma. That superpower is probably what’s saved their marriage all these years.

  “…a great way to kick things off for them. You know sex is as important in marriage. Your grandpa and I…” Grandma keeps talking.

  Cough! Cough!

  “Not here…” my mom tries. “Give it to them tomorrow.”

  “No. They might like to have it tonight. And well, it only arrived just before we left. I didn’t have time to wrap it. You know,” she goes on, “when they get those drone things, delivery will be much faster.” She turns toward me. “I probably should have ordered a gift bag and tissue paper. I was just too excited that they had silver.
I’ve never had a silver vibrator before. I like pink.”

  Cough! Cough!

  Ignoring our warnings, Grandma lifts her big leather designer purse that I’m certain came from the outlet or maybe a garage sale. It doesn’t matter to her, as long as it has a brand name. Then faster than any of us can move, she pulls the plastic-enclosed silver bullet vibrator from her purse and tosses it to the table. “See, it’s new.” She looks my direction. “Although I do have the same model.” She winks at Duncan. “Pink. And this one is quieter.”

  Cough! Cough!

  “I even brought batteries.” She digs in the bottom of her purse. “If I can just find them.”

  “Grandma, put that away,” I say, reaching for the vibrator.

  Just then, my uncle steps to the microphone and the room quiets. “Today is a special day…”

  “Kimberly Ann, give me back the vibrator!”

  Cough, cough, throat clearing.

  The entire room turns our way. My cheeks catch fire as I shove the package back into her purse. No longer able to ignore us, my father lays his head on the table while Susan’s shoulders slump forward. Kevin shakes his head, and Mother takes another drink of her wine. It isn’t until I look toward Duncan that the world suddenly seems right. His smile is classic. His green eyes sparkle with unshed tears of delight and his broad shoulders quake with laughter.

  As he reaches for my hand under the table, I succumb to the same laughter. It takes a full minute before I’m able to hear the heartfelt speech coming from the microphone.

  “…pride and joy…”

  When the dancing begins, Duncan winks at me as he stands. I start to rise but stop as he leans down and speaks to Grandma. “Helen, would you give me the honor of a dance?”

  A lump forms in my throat. My grandma is glowing. Her eyes twinkle as she takes his hand. Together they walk toward the dance floor. Compared to his six-foot-plus build, she is petite, and when she looks up at him, her cheeks are pink and full of joy. As if they belong on a seventies TV show—the one with bubbles that my grandparents used to watch—as the music plays they glide across the dance floor.