Deliciously Obedient (15 page)

Grumbling,
he pulled the warm covers back and searched the ground for last
night’s clothes, throwing on a very rumpled set of pants and four
layers of shirts, shivering as he made himself a small pot of coffee,
throwing in extra water and grounds in hopes that Lydia would come
back soon and join him for a hot cup of joe and a hotter taste of
Jeremy.

That
was a threesome he’d enjoy.

Speaking
of threesomes, where the fuck was Mike? Booting up his computer, he
checked email quickly.

No
Mike.

He
checked his phone.

No
Mike.

He
almost called Mike’s mom back in Indiana, but paused. Hiding from
the world was Mike’s call. Once he and Lydia were done here and
back in Boston, though, he’d hunt the asshole down and find out
what the fuck he was up to, because disappearing on Lydia and the
world was bad enough.

Flaking
out on his best friend was inexcusable.

A
quick look at CNN showed him nothing about Mike, though there was a
small blurb featuring an unmistakeable picture of Diane, toothy and
tight. “Reality Show Confirmed For CEO’s Plaything.”

Holy
fuck.

Dodged
a major bullet with that one.

Lydia
still had no idea—and if Jeremy had his way, she never would—that
Jeremy had brought Diane into this to become a backhanded savior.
Mike, too. Sometimes secrets mattered. Once in a great while, it was
better to save a relationship through deception than truth.

As
much as it pained him to think that way, he had to live it.

And
live with the consequences.

Dressed,
caffeinated and social media-ed out, Jeremy opened the door and
strode with purpose to the rec hall, assuming he’d find Lydia
there.

No
Lydia, but Sandy was at the cash register and waved as he walked in.

“
Latte?
I can make you one.”

“
No,
thank you.” He patted his stomach like an old guy. “I had some
coffee back at the cabin.”

She
looked confused. “I just saw Lydia go down to the beach with Pete.”

He
grinned sheepishly. “I slept in. Slacker.”

Sandy
laughed. “Just enjoying your vacation.”

Vacation?
He always slept in. But let the woman think whatever she wanted. “I
think I’ll head down there.” Pete he’d gotten to know over the
past few days, but Sandy remained a bit of a mystery. Polite and
kind, she kept her distance, though he had no reason to think she
didn’t like him. Unlike Pete, though, while she was friendly and
effusive with her kids, there was a guardedness in her that made him
stay on his toes around her.

“
Can
you grab that empty barrel and take it down for me? Someone dragged
it up by accident and if we don’t leave it down there the only
other trash can gets to overflowing,” she said, pointing to a blue
plastic barrel with a black plastic bag poking out around the top.

“
Sure.”
He picked it up easily in one hand and began the journey, feeling her
eyes on him as he walked down the path to the main beach. What was it
about mothers? Fathers were easy. If they didn’t like you, they
said so. To your face.

Moms
were more insidious. Like his own had been.

A
few kids on bikes screeched to a halt as the dirt turned to sand,
dumping their bikes and running toward the water, careful not to
touch it. This was a beach in name only, as far as Jeremy was
concerned. The soft pink sands of Bermuda or the white sands in
Florida were what he would call a beach.

This?
This was a tract of land that abutted the ocean. Land covered with
broken rock and cracked clam shells. It was ugly and bereft of
beauty, though you could stare out at the water and the horizon to
get a meditative fix. Beach?
Pfft.

He
dropped the barrel where Sandy had asked and took careful steps on
the rocks, ankles strong in his boots. Out in the distance he saw
them, sitting on a nature-made rock piles, Pete’s arm around Lydia
in a sideways hug.

Hmmm.
Maybe he shouldn’t interrupt. That looked like a Norman Rockwell
moment, and the last thing the new guy wants to do is ruin one of
those. Dads eat that shit up once their kids are adults. Especially
the only girl in the family. If Pete wanted to grasp at fading
moments of Daddy’s Little Girl, putting a dent in that special
moment would be the kiss of death.

He
already had four of her brothers watching him carefully. Pete was an
important counterbalance, and Sandy was neutral. The woman was
inscrutable.

What
to do with himself now?

Bzzzz.
“Holy fucking shit!” he muttered, jumping high as his cock
began to hum.

Not
cock. Phone. Okay, his phone buzzed in his front pocket. He hadn’t
had a text in days, the feeling foreign. Sliding it open, he saw a
text from Mike.

I’m
alive
, it read.

Even
Jesus only took three days to reappear, Mike
, Jeremy wrote back,
pissed.
Where you been?

Closer
than you think.

What
does that mean?

You’ll
see me soon.

You
OK?

Fine.
How’s Lydia?

Sharp
inhale. Running frantic fingers through his overgrown hair, Jeremy
paused and waited before even thinking about putting his finger on
that screen.
How’s Lydia? Well fucked. How’s Lydia? Still not
over you. How’s Lydia? About three days away from having me confess
my love.

How
do you think she is?
was all he could type back.

You
taking care of her?

Only
one safe way to answer that:
Yes.

One
minute. Two. Three. He stared at his phone, and just as he was about
to crack and write the next text, a single word appeared on his
screen:

Good.

“
You
seen Jeremy?” Lydia walked into the store and asked her mother,
whose ass was poking up in the air as she bent down to clean the
lowest shelf of some antique pie holder that currently housed various
novelty candies.

“
Nope,”
said her mom’s ass. “Not since he went down to the beach to find
you.”

Sandy’s
clipped tone bothered Lydia. A lot. Krysta walked in, looking
completely wiped. “What’s up with you?”

“
Caleb.
He won’t stop riding me.”

Smirk.

“
The
man’s appetite is voracious.”

That
got Sandy to stand up quickly and pay attention.

“
And
I keep asking him to touch my melons, and when he does he says
they’re not good enough.”

“
He
what?” Sandy gasped.

Krysta
stopped, took a deep breath, and let it out in a frustrated puff.
“I’ve spent the better part of three days in that kitchen doing
whatever he tells me, and all he ever has me do is work. Work, work,
work. He is a machine.”

“
A
machine,” Lydia repeated, crossing her arms over her chest.

“
He
won’t let up.”

“
He
won’t,” Sandy added with sympathy.

“
I
give him what he wants and twenty minutes later he wants more!”

“
More,”
Sandy and Lydia said in unison.

“
And
now he wants me to spend more time on his balls.”

Sandy
gagged as Lydia gave Krysta one of those looks. Krysta winked back.
Aha.

“
His
balls?” Lydia could play along.

“
He
says I need give them as much attention as his cock.”

“
Wait,
wait, wait!” Sandy sputtered. “Krysta, I know we’re all adults
here, but this is just too much!”

“
We
shouldn’t have barbecued chicken and a fresh fruit plate with melon
balls?” she asked Sandy sweetly.

Confusion
filled her mom’s features, making Lydia bite her lips to keep back
laughter. “Oh. That kind of…”

The
store phone rang. Sandy’s relief was tangible as she scampered over
to answer it. Lydia walked over to Krysta and elbowed her in the
boob.

“That
was mean!”

“Your
mom deserved it. She’s done nothing but try to matchmake. Caleb’s
oblivious. He just loves having me as a kitchen slave.” Krysta
groaned.

“Dobby
loves her master.” Lydia was enjoying this, even if she had her
doubts that Caleb could see the awesome woman under his nose. Her
best friend and her brother together? That would be…interesting.

Krysta
snorted. “If he gave me a sock I’d take it and run back to
Boston.”

“No,
you wouldn’t.”

Krysta
didn’t even try to argue. She knew when she was bested.

“Kitchen
slave isn’t the kind of submission I want to subject myself to, if
you know what I mean.”

“Please
do not talk about my baby brother like that!” Lydia shuddered.
Gross.

“We’re
all adults,” Krysta taunted.

“At
least you finally acknowledge your crush.”

“What
crush?”

“Ha
ha.”

Jeremy
waltzed past, staring at his phone, head bent over like a data
zombie. Lydia and Krysta traded raised eyebrows.

“
What’s
that about?” Krysta asked.

“
No
idea. But I’ll go find out.” Jeremy hadn’t pulled his phone out
since…well, ever here at the campground, so the sight of him
looking like a teenager at the mall, head down and engrossed in his
phone, was a bit disconcerting. His long legs took him down the main
road at a fast pace, forcing her to hoof it to catch up.

“
What’s
going on? You testing your data plan?”

“
What?”
he yelped, clearly startled by her, losing his grip on the phone and
throwing it in the air. She caught it with such grace it seemed
planned by a divine force.

“
Saved!”

“
Good
hands.”

“
You
would know.” She flipped the phone over and looked at the screen,
then her blood turned cold.

Mike?

“
You’re
texting with Mike?”

Snatching
the phone back, he swallowed hard and seemed to grope for words.