Matching Mr. Right(69)
“Nice. Now my hair is messed up.” After he pressed her makeup bag into her hand, she sent the pointy tip of her shoe into his gut and got a respectable grunt out of him. “Have you seen my pills? I can’t find them.”
“Worry about the pills later, we don’t want to be late for the party.”
“Then stop by the wrong side of the bed and lean down so I can grab my cell off my nightstand, Mr. Impatient.” Since they both were used to sleeping on the right side of the bed, she’d agreed to flip a coin for it. And she’d lost.
After he complied, they headed down the stairs and she poked him in the ribs. “You’re going to care about those pills later tonight, buddy. No pills, no nooky.”
He pushed open the door from the house to the garage. “You’re just still mad I got my way with the best side of the bed.” He plopped her down beside the Porsche, kissed her deeply, then opened her door.
Still a little dizzy from his fantastic kiss, she said, “Yeah, that too.”
She shook her head and slipped inside. As he backed out of the garage, she flipped down the mirror. After applying gloss, she smacked her lips, finger combed her hair, and then slapped the mirror closed.
Truth was, she was getting used to the wrong side of the bed, so it hadn’t been such a bad compromise. Not that she’d share that little detail with him.
She needed to put her latest plan into action. They’d been dating for eight months, she’d been living with him for the last five, and that was long enough.
She’d tried leaving pictures of her favorite rings from Tiffany’s on the coffee table and in his study, and dropping hints about how it’d be perfect to have a destination wedding in Italy in August or September when the weather would be the best. It being July, Mr. Thick Headed apparently hadn’t caught on.
“So, Jo said something interesting today. She suggested since I wasn’t living in my house anymore but still paying the mortgage, wouldn’t it be smarter for me to sell her the house? Then she’ll find a roommate to offset her expenses. But that’d mean I’d have nowhere to live if you kicked me to the curb.”
Nick laughed. “That’s rich. If anyone does the kicking in this relationship it’s you.” He rubbed his belly, reminding her of her earlier actions.
“That was more a poke than a kick.” She stifled her grin. “So what do you think I should do?”
“Whatever you want, Shelby. It’s your house, but it does seem like a waste to pay all that money when you can live with me for free.”
She should’ve kicked him a lot harder. “Look at this from my perspective. I’m just a guest in your home. What if you get tired of me and I’ve already sold my house to Jo who has a new roommate? Where would I go?”
He shrugged. “Jo has a couch. Or your aunt and uncle’s?”
She wanted to belt him. “Okay, Blockhead. This would be a good time to say something like, ‘Shelby, I love you. I want to spend the rest of my life with you, blah, blah.’”
He chuckled as they pulled into his mother’s driveway. “Calm down, Shelby. We’ll talk about this later.”
She got out of the car and slammed her door. Then she marched inside. After she doled out hugs to everyone, she turned to Nick’s Mom. “Hi. Happy Fourth of July.” Shelby hugged Nick’s mom really hard and then kissed her cheek. She really loved Linda. “How can you be so great but have such a slow-witted son?”
Linda leaned back and frowned. “What’s wrong, honey?”
“Nothing my bat won’t cure when we get home.” Shelby took a deep breath and tried to shake it off.
Linda smiled as she pushed a glass of wine into Shelby’s hand. “You’ll be singing a different tune by the end of the night, sweetheart. I promise.”
“Doubt it.” She frowned as she took a long pull from her glass.
After a great BBQ dinner, they all sat around the backyard eating dessert, waiting for the fireworks to begin.
Shelby’s mood had lightened a little. Mostly because she’d decided Nick wasn’t getting any tonight even if he begged. Maybe even for the whole weekend. If she could hold out that long.
Oh, who was she kidding? She was pudding in his hands, but she could make him pay for one night at least.
Everyone had plates of watermelon in their laps when Emily ran toward her. “Shelby, me and Uncle Nick wrote a book for you.”
She laid her plate aside and pulled Emily onto her lap. “You did?”
Emily beamed a bright smile. “Yeah, I did the pictures, Uncle Nick wrote the words on the computer and momma took it someplace and they put the pink metal things in to hold it together.”