Borrowing Trouble (12 page)

“Hello?”

“Hey, Dad, I know it’s late, but I’m already out at Erica’s. Can I spend the night?”

“Sure, kiddo. I’ll let your mom know. Everything okay?

“Yup. I’ll be there in about fifteen minutes.”

Chapter Twenty-one

When I pulled up to my family farmhouse, the front porch lights were on and my dad was on the porch, nursing a beer in the swing.

“Hey, Dad,” I said.

Without a word, he bent down, picked up a fresh beer, passed it to me, and patted the swing next to him. I obliged him.

“Long day?”

“Yup,” I said leaning back and taking my first sip from the longneck.

“Need me to beat him up for you?”

“Who? Trip?” I laughed. “Oh, no, he’s fine.”
As far as I know about my part-time boyfriend.
“It’s Erica and Josh. They’re having some difficulties and I just worry about her and the kids.”

“I’m sorry to hear that. I can’t help but think of Erica as still being thirteen. I guess you’ll both always be teenagers to me. Marriage is hard.”

“Yeah,” I shrugged.
Like I know anything about being married.
“Josh is just virtually living in New York because of work”
and who knows what else
“and it’s hard on Erica, basically being a single parent.” I took another long pull on my beer and looked at my dad’s garden, which was fading into its autumnal slumber. “Hey, random question.”

“Shoot.”

“You know when Trip was over for lunch?”

“Yeah.”

“You took him out to show him your garden. What were you guys talking about?”

“The garden.”

“Sure. And Mom’s sewing circle only talks about dress patterns. What did you two talk about? Since college, I don’t recall you cornering any guy I’ve brought home for a meal like that.”

“Well, now, it wasn’t about you, if that’s what you were worried about. It’s something I had a question about and he seemed like someone whose opinion I could trust.”

“That’s not particularly a straight answer.”

“That’s all I’m giving you. Go on in. Your mom is putting fresh sheets on your bed. I’m going to have another one out here. See you in the morning, sweetheart. I love you.”

I stood and with my beer in one hand, placed the other on my dad’s shoulder before leaning down and placing a kiss on the top of his head. “Night, Daddy. I love you.” I dropped my purse in the living room and made my way upstairs to my childhood bedroom. “Hey, Mom.”

“Sweetie, such a nice surprise,” she said, pausing while tucking in blankets on my bed. “Just making a fresh bed for you.”

“Thanks, Mom.”

“You good?”

“Yup. I’m tired. I’ve been at Erica’s. Today was Miriam’s fifth birthday.”

“Already!”

“I know. Makes me feel ancient.”

“If it makes you feel ancient, sweetie, don’t ask me how I feel.” My mom laughed. “Need anything?”

“Nope. Just going to crash. I love you.”

“Love you, too, sweetie,” she said, giving me a quick hug. “I’ll see you at breakfast.”

I kicked off Friday morning with coffee, bacon, banana pancakes, and a segmented orange, all courtesy of my mother. “I should come home more often.”

“I’m not going to argue with that. I’d love to see you more.”

“Mom, what are you and Daddy doing tomorrow night?”

My mom paused for a moment while stirring Splenda into her coffee. “Can’t think of anything special.”

“Would you like to have dinner with me and Trip?”

“Absolutely, sweetheart.” Her face nearly cracked from the large smile that crossed it.

“Great. I’ll talk with Trip and make sure it’s okay with his schedule and I’ll text you details. He’s been out of the country all week, so I can’t promise anything, but I want to make it work.”

“Sounds nice. You thinking about dinner downtown, out here, or meeting somewhere in between?”

“Not sure yet.”
Depends upon how brave I’m being and what Trip’s up for
.

“Okay. Just let me know. I’ve got to scoot to a Rotary breakfast meeting. Your daddy is still asleep. You have a great day.”

“Love you.”
So it is easy to say and to mean.

My phone rang around two o’clock and I grabbed it, noting the Branco general line on the caller ID.
He’s back! He’s back early!
I wanted to do a little dance, but instead, I spoke my name.

“Miss Tanner? It’s Jenny, Mr. Brannon’s assistant. He emailed me that you need some time on his calendar next week. I’m calling to set that up.”

Bummer. Not Trip.
“I need forty-five minutes. Maybe an hour. Could be a conference call, if that works for him.”

“I think we may have our wires crossed. He said in person. In his office. Said he’d prefer lunch.”

I smiled and rolled my eyes.
Nooner.
“Okay. Tuesday, then?”

Jenny laughed. “Umm, Miss Tanner? I was under the impression that I’m supposed to book you for lunch every day next week.”             

I shook my head.
He doesn’t stop, does he?
“Jenny, please call me Marisa.”

“Yes, ma’am. I mean, sure, Marisa.”

“Thank you for the flowers a couple of weeks ago. The lilies? They were really nice.”

“How did you,” she began.

“Because as much as I adore Trip, I don’t see him calling a florist. And, even if he did call a florist, it’s not like he figured out what shop to call. So, the thanks go to either you or his mom. And for this, I’m laying money on you.”

“I’m not saying a word.”

“And thank you for the New York plans. They looked lovely. I really wish it had worked out and we’d gotten to go.”

“No problem. I’m happy to rebook that anytime for y’all. So, lunch next week?”

“Sure. I can do Monday, Tuesday and Friday. Can I also get a non-lunch time with him?”

“Okay. How about right before lunch on Monday?”

“Works for me.”

“Oh, one last question. Do you have any dietary restrictions?”

“Um, no.”
Because his assistant also needs to know my blood type?

“Great. I’ll just have lunches sent up from the cafeteria, then.”

He wasn’t kidding about the nooner. Lunch in his office. Um, okay, no. Jimmy’s office is down the hall. And Jenny sits right outside his door. It’s one thing for her to order flowers for me and book us a weekend away. It’s another thing for her to know we’re screwing just on the other side of a closed door. Oh fuck. That corner of his office with the table that can’t be seen from the doorway. I’m sure as hell not eating lunch there. I can’t have anyone walk in on that. I need to be above reproach. Like Caesar’s wife. Was that Portia? Hell, I hope not. She swallowed coals.

“Miss Tanner?”

“Yes,” I said, snapping out of my introspective daze.

“Anything else?”

“Is his flight still scheduled to get back around four?”

“Let me check. Yes, everything appears on schedule,” she said after a pause.

“See you next week, Jenny, and thanks again.”

I set the phone back in its cradle. I rested my head on my chair and stared at the ceiling.
Does he really think that I’d honestly have sex in his office? In the middle of the day? Sure, maybe late one evening or on the weekend, and, I mean, we both live within less than two miles from our offices. I’m not adverse to this idea of afterhours sex at the office or a quickie over lunch, but is this what he sees in me? Sex anytime he wants it?

It’s not like I’ve asked him to expect anything different. When we’re together, we’re essentially rabbits. He’s said he loves me and Lord knows I’m totally beyond help when it comes to him, but it’s been a lot of sex. Crazy good mind-melting sex, but just sex. Easy to say “I love you” when my mouth is on your dick, right? Or on the cusp of orgasm. Huh. Maybe eating dinner with Mom and Dad isn’t such a good idea.

My mobile chimed with a text message.
On the ground in ATL. Thru customs. 45 min ‘til flight to MEM is wheels up.

Glad to have you stateside
, I typed on the screen.

A beat later, it lit up with an incoming call. “Hi,” I said, raising it to my ear.

“Hi, yourself. I didn’t want to bother you with a call if you were busy.”

“Nope. Nothing out of the ordinary. Just tying up a few loose ends before the end of the week.”

“Is that a hint?”

What?

I quickly pondered my spoken words before it clicked. “No,” I ever-so-gracefully snorted while blushing and becoming aroused at the thought.

He totally fucks with my thoughts.

“That was not a hint. I meant to say I’m wrapping things up.”

“That isn’t any better, Miss Tanner.”

“Trip, will you let me finish the few work-related tasks I really want to get off of my plate so I can see you tonight without any distractions?”

“Now that is better, but you still said ‘get off.’ Your place or mine?”

“Um, how about we, you know, have a date?”

“Have I been neglecting you?”

“No. Not at all,” I sighed. “I’m probably just. . . I don’t know.”

“Wanting to see me outside of our little sex bubble?”

“Trip,” I began, not knowing where to start.

“So, we’re going out. Like really out. Don’t worry. You didn’t pressure me into anything. We have tickets for a performance tonight at the Orpheum. “

“Cool,” I replied, scrolling through my head, trying to remember what was going on at the 1920s movie-house-turned-theater. “What are we going to see?”

“The ballet. Swan Lake, I think.”

“The ballet?”
Oh, this is like the sparkly streaming grips for my bike. He’s trying to take the piss out of me. No way we’re actually going to the ballet.

“Yes.”

“Do you like the
ballet
?”

“Sure. I like the music more than the dance, though.”

Wait, he’s serious. We’re going to the ballet tonight? I was just asking for dinner or at least a drink at a bar before we ended up screwing each other’s brains out. Now I’ve got
culture
. The pendulum is swinging too far.
“Okay, the ballet sounds nice.”

“And here’s the other part. It’s with my parents.”
What?
“I said I’d go a long time ago. I don’t really put this stuff on my calendar. I just tell my mom yes and then if I’m in town I go, and if I’m out of town I don’t go. She reminded me today. You hate me?”

“No.”

“Okay, good. Anything you want to do tomorrow night, just say it and it’s done.”

Well, this will be a fun.
“Anything?”

“Anything. Absolutely anything.”

“Okay, dinner tomorrow night.”

“Done.”

“Mr. Brannon, once again, you agree too quickly to deals without hearing all the terms. Aren’t you the one with the MBA?”

“I am and I know a good deal when I hear it.”

“Oh, this a great deal. Me, you, a lovely restaurant, a nice bottle of wine.”

“See, I told you. No hardship here.”

“And my parents.”

“What?”

“Yup. So, it sounds like we’ve got back to back double dates with our parents this weekend.”

“Christ,” Trip swore. I could hear him scrub a hand across his face. “Really?”

“Oh, come on. How bad can it be?”

“You do realize that you’ve just jinxed us? So, should I pick you up at six? There is a donors’ reception before the ballet at the theater. Cocktails, heavy hors d’oeuvres, get to meet a few of the performers, shake some hands.”

“Wow, a networking event. Just what every woman wants to do after her boyfriend returns home following a week apart.”

“It won’t be bad. I promise.”

“Oh, we’ll have a great time. No doubt. We always have a good time. I was just giving you a hard time.” I realized my mistake as soon as the words left my mouth.

“You’re giving me a hard time right now,” he growled.

“That is the worst innuendo I think I’ve ever heard.”

Trip laughed. “Okay, going to get on this flight. I’ll see you at six at your place.”

“Great. Bye.” I looked at my watch.
Okay, two hours until he’s back. Yeah, I can make this work.

             
Chapter Twenty-two

Using my opener, I parked my car inside Trip’s garage. I knew he’d see it and know I was at his place, but it wouldn’t totally ruin the surprise. I closed the garage door and walked into his quiet home. As much as I wanted a date with him and to have some sort of life with him outside of what he called our “little sex bubble,” I knew we needed some one-on-one time before the ballet with his parents if we were going to keep from pawing each other like hormonal teenagers. I checked my watch again.
A few minutes before five. He should be here soon.

I headed upstairs, set my tote on the floor of the master bedroom, and hung my go-to little black dress in Trip’s closet. I stripped out of my work clothes and pawed through Trip’s clothes.
White? Too stark. Black candy stripes? Nah. Plaid? Country cabin. Tattersall? Ah ha. Light blue
w
indowpane.
I
slipped into one of Trip’s dress shirts. I rolled the sleeves up on the blue and white shirt, leaving it unbuttoned to showcase my black lace bra and panties. After a quick primp session in the bathroom, I was ready to rock both of our worlds.
I’ve seriously lost my mind. We are like bunny rabbits. Enjoy it while it lasts, right?
I gave myself a final once-over and headed downstairs.

I was opening a bottle of wine in the kitchen when I heard the garage door open.
All right. Game on
. I hopped up on the island, crossed my legs, and leaned back slightly, making sure my breasts were on full display.
I really hope this looks sexy because it is sure as hell not comfortable.
The back door opened and Bitsy walked into the kitchen.

“Oh my God!” I screamed and yanked the shirt closed around my body.

“Oh, oh, oh!” She turned around to face the back door, completely avoiding me.
Oh, dear God, please let this be a terrible nightmare.
“I just was dropping off breakfast things. I’m sorry. I saw the car, but didn’t think. I just didn’t think. I’m going to leave this sack of groceries.” She bent down to set the brown paper bag on the tile.

I hurriedly buttoned up the shirt.
Maybe I can play this off as some sort of fashion statement? Like a cross between a shirtdress and the boyfriend jean trends? Who am I kidding. This is a disaster. I’m now a slut.
“Um, I’ll leave.”

“No, you stay put. He’s not twelve anymore. I should probably ask first. I just didn’t think.”

“Bitsy,” I began, not knowing what words to use next.

“No, no,” she continued with her back to me. “I’ll see you at the Orpheum?”

“Yes.”

“Good. Cute shoes.”

My mouth fell open as I watched her leave after complimenting the four-inch strappy gold fuck-me shoes on my feet. I hopped down from the countertop and tore the shoes from my feet. After I scooped up the groceries and put them away, I poured myself an overly generous glass of wine, and curled up in a ball on Trip’s plush white sofa.

Shit.
That was pretty much straight out of a horror movie. I’m now the sex-crazed woman who is taking her son away from her.
Fuck.

I was nearing the end of my glass when I heard the garage door open again.
If it’s Jimmy, I’m just going to start crying and then move far, far away. Maybe Vermont. I don’t think Branco has any interests there.

“Hello? Marisa?”

Trip. Thank you, God.
“In the living room,” I called, not bothering to get up.

I heard his suitcase wheels click across the kitchen tiles and stop. “Hey, you. I really am going to keep leaving if I get to keep coming home to scenes like this, Daisy.” He shrugged off his hound’s-tooth sport coat and kicked off his penny loafers. “I could so crash right now. Might I be able to talk you into joining me for a nice hot shower?”

“Trip, your mom was here.”

“And?” He stalked over towards me.

“And I was here.”

“And?” He lowered himself onto the sofa, curling around me.

Like ripping off a Band-Aid.
“And I was virtually naked in your kitchen. I was sitting up on the island, planning on surprising you.”

“Were you wearing this shirt?” he asked, fingering the hem of his shirt that sat on my thighs.

“Sort of.”

“
Sort of?
”

“Well, I was in my bra, panties, my shoes, and your shirt was open. It was pretty ridiculous.”

“Doesn’t sound so ridiculous.”

“Trip, your mom saw me posing like a centerfold in your kitchen.”

“Are you sure?”

“Pretty damn sure. She complimented me on my shoes.”

Trip began laughing. “I’m really sorry I missed this. But you’re right. This is pretty awful.”

“Pretty sure it would have been just as bad as if she’d walked in on us, you know”

“Having sex?” he finished my thought. “Hey, don’t be bashful about this.” He pulled me into a fierce embrace. “Really, it’s my house. You’re my girlfriend. I’ve invited you to spend as much time as you want to here. I’m an adult and I swear of all of the things in my life that my mom could have walked in on, I’m not ashamed of this, I’m not ashamed of you, and you shouldn’t be either.”

“I’ll survive.”

“But I’m guessing you’re not exactly in the mood to join me for a shower.”

“I’m in the mood to get completely plastered, so I can forget the past twenty minutes ever happened.”             

“You know the old saying right? About the fastest way to get over something is to get under someone?” He resumed toying with the hem of the shirt, grazing the tops of my thighs with his fingers.

“Trip, one, that is not how that saying goes. Two, I really feel like a total slut and I’ll feel like even more of one following a quickie before we see your parents. And, three, I just can’t do a quickie with you right now,” I confessed into his chest, rubbing my face into his shirt and breathing his smell deeply. My muscles relaxed and I sank into him. Perfectly content.

“We can skip the ballet,” he offered in a whisper.

“No,” I said, lifting my head and looking into his kind blue eyes, burning with need for me. “That would just be worse. Okay, so you shower and I’ll get dressed.”

***

“Well, hello, Miss Tanner. I will say that as pretty as you look now, I greatly preferred the other outfit.”

“No doubt,” I replied with a laugh, twisting my hair into a low chignon.

“And now you taunt me with your hair all pulled up like that.” He leaned in and ran open-mouthed kisses down my neck, licking down my shoulders, exposed in the black bateau dress.

Fuck. Maybe we should have just fooled around. I’m dying for him now.
A hand pressed against my thigh and grazed to my hipbone, pushing up the skirt.

“Trip,” I whined, leaning into him while simultaneously swatting him away. “After earlier this evening, we cannot be late. Your mother will think that I’m some sort of sex fiend.”

“And that is somehow an inaccurate view of you?” He smiled and waltzed into his walk-in closet with a blue towel tied around his hips.

I stiffened.
Yes, yes, it is.
I turned away from the mirror and stared at the closet doorway. “Um, yeah, so,” I began not quite sure how to tell him that perhaps he has the wrong impression of me. “Hey, I want to drop by my place on the way. Pick up some shoes.”

“Forgot shoes?”

“No, just don’t want to wear the ones I brought with me. You know, the ones your mom complimented me on earlier. That’s just.” I couldn’t even finish the thought. I waved my hands over my head and danced on my tiptoes from being uncomfortable. “It’s just so weird.”

“Hey,” he soothed, emerging from the closet in his boxers and buttoning up a fresh white shirt. “Just stop thinking about it. She doesn’t think you’re a sex fiend, if that’s what you’re worried about. She’s just happy I’m dating someone. Want to help me pick out a tie?”

I raised my eyebrow.
Unbelievable.

He paused at the top button and let out a full-body laugh. “That isn’t what I meant. Sometimes a tie is just a tie.” I shook my head at him and he retreated into his closet while I finished my makeup, swiping on a bold red lip. He emerged fully dressed in a navy suit with a faint purple pinstripe, white pinpoint shirt and violet tie. Our eyes met in the mirror.

Holy shit, my boyfriend is hot.

“Aw, fuck, Marisa. You look like one of the women in the ‘Addicted to Love’ video. Are you trying to torture me?”

He wrapped his body around mine and I simultaneously felt comforted and entirely aroused. “Ballet,” I spoke sternly, reminding us both that we had to be grownups, at least for a few hours. “With your
parents.
”

***

As we walked into the Orpheum, Trip placed his hand on the small of my back, softly humming ‘Addicted to Love,’ and guiding me up the stairs to the reception area. The donors’ reception was standard. A black-skirted table functioning as a bar with a waist-coated man standing at attention. A long table of bite-sized savories and sweets pushed against the far wall. A quiet buzz of friendly conversation, sprinkled with a few hearty male chuckles and tinkles of polite women’s laughter, filled the room.

There she is.
I spotted Bitsy across the room, standing with a group of her contemporaries. I glanced at my feet and looked at the modest black peep toes I’d picked up from my condo on the way.
I’m so glad I changed my shoes.

“Here’s our play,” Trip whispered in my ear, steering me away from his mother and toward the bar. “First, bar. Second, my mom. Third, my father. Fourth, get the hell out as soon as we can.” I nodded in complete agreement.

We reached the bar and Trip ordered a bourbon on the rocks for himself and a glass of red wine for me. “Thanks,” I said, taking the glass from his hand.

“Yeah, after the last time I saw you holding a glass of bourbon, it’s all I’ve been thinking about. You with a glass of wine in hand gives me no such problems, but seriously this outfit is killing me.”

“Want me to find a guitar to strap on and do the dance from the video?” I offered, stepping from side to side with my face blank and robot-like.

“I’m so digging out my Stratocaster when I get home and living all of my teenage fantasies.”

“How old are you? Didn’t that song come out in the eighties?”

“Good music never dies and hot girls with their hair pulled back and kissable red lips are timeless.” He cupped his free hand around my jaw and then ran his fingers down my neck. I shivered under his touch. I felt my cheeks warm and I glanced around, hoping no one else would have noticed his very intimate caress.

“Marisa, great to see you.” I spun around and found myself face to face with Laney. He leaned in and kissed my cheek. “It’s been too long.”

“Laney!” I automatically passed Trip my wine glass and grabbed Laney’s hands, taking in the warm smile that danced on his fashionably scruffy face. “So good to see you! We should get lunch or dinner or, even better, drinks soon.”

“Definitely drinks,” he said. “You’re looking good.”

“Thanks. So are you.” Trip cleared his throat. “Oh, I’m sorry. Trip, Lane. Lane, Trip.” I took back my wine glass. The men shook hands with a nod and Trip pulled me into his side.
Oh, hello, Mr. Jealous. Should I tell him or no?
The devil and angel on my shoulders battled it out for less than a full second.
Yup, let’s see how he does.

“How do you two know each other?” asked Trip, trying to appear nonchalant while sussing out the situation.

“Oh, I’ve known Marisa for years. She was actually my senior prom date.”

I nodded. “Yeah, I had a serious secret crush on Laney in high school.”

Trip stiffened. “And you guys are friends?”

Laney nodded and ran his fingers through his close-cropped brown hair. “We keep in touch. I moved back to Memphis about three years ago. Haven’t seen her as much as I’d like. We really do need to set up drinks and make a night out of it.”

“Absolutely. I’ll email you.”

“I’ve got to make the rounds before the performance starts, but really, it is good to see you.”

After a brief hug for me and another nod in Trip’s direction, we were alone in the middle of the reception.

“What was that?”

“I do have friends, Trip.”

“You have friends who are guys and who tell you how hot you are and then ask you out for drinks in front of me?”

“Possessive much?”

“Absolutely. Mine.” He kissed the top of my head.

“Okay, fine. Don’t piss on me. I like this dress.”

“You haven’t been seeing anyone else while I’ve been out of town?”

“Definitely not. And Laney really is a friend. And he’s not interested in me.”

“Oh, he was interested.”

“Trip, if you want to join us for karaoke night at AJ’s, you’re more than welcome.”