Love In Alabama (The Love In Series Book 1) (2 page)

Paige smiled at me, her expression morphing. Her smile was more of a salacious grin, the way I imagined the wolf smiled at Little Red Riding Hood. “Excellent.”

THREE

“I think it's a great idea.”

I choked on my coffee. “What?”

Mimi slipped Jacob into the baby carrier strapped around her front and snapped the sides. He fussed a little and she popped a blue pacifier in his mouth. “Paige is right.”

I didn't dare look at my other best friend sitting next to me at Mimi's kitchen table. I knew the look I'd see: smug satisfaction.

“You think I should go sleep with fifty guys?”

I could see Paige shaking her head out of the corner of my eye. “Not sleep. Fuck. How many times do I have to say it?”

I finally turned to look at her. “Fine,” I snapped. “Fuck.” I whirled back around to face Mimi and raised my voice. “You think I should
fuck
fifty guys?”

Lines of disapproval creased her forehead. “Could you not say that word?” she asked. She glanced toward the living room. Olivia and Sawyer, her other two kids, were crashing toy cars on a plastic road map spread out on the carpet. The television was on, some nature show with cheetahs and lions lounging on the African savannah. She never let her kids watch cartoons.

“She said it first,” I said accusingly.

Mimi chuckled. “Now you sound like my kids.”

The timer on the oven beeped and she grabbed a potholder off the counter and opened the oven door.

“Cookies!” Olivia squealed from the living room. She dropped the cars she was playing with and scurried into the kitchen. Her blond hair was lighter than her mother's and baby fine, the strands like tufts of cotton candy sticking out from her head.

“Not yet,” Mimi said, nudging her three year-old out of the kitchen. “They have to cool.” She slid the chocolate chip cookies off the baking sheet and on to cooling racks lined up on the counter.

Olivia pouted but turned herself around and skipped back to the living room to continue playing with her brother. Sawyer was almost five, also blond, and the quietest child I'd ever met.

Mimi grabbed three of the just-baked cookies and dropped them on a plate. She set it down on the table before pulling out a chair and sinking into it. Jacob had somehow managed to fall asleep and his head lolled to the side, his mouth slightly open, his face a picture of serenity.

She grabbed a cookie for herself and shoved the plate in our direction.

I took one and bit into it and the gooey chocolate exploded in my mouth. “Tell me how this is a great idea.”

Paige picked up the last one. “Eating cookies and talking about sex? Best idea ever.”

“Not what I'm talking about.”

Mimi took a sip of her coffee and wrinkled her nose. I knew what she was thinking. It had turned lukewarm. And Mimi hated lukewarm coffee.

“I just think you have an amazing opportunity in front of you,” she said. “You don't have a job. Or kids. You have the freedom to travel and meet people and figure out what you want to do with your life. What you've missed and what you want your future to be.”

I wondered if I imagined the note of envy I heard in her voice. I stole a quick glance around the cluttered duplex she called home. It looked like a tornado had touched down in her living room. An overstuffed laundry basket sat on the couch and blankets littered the corner of the floor next to the sliding door. I wondered if someone had slept there the night before. Sawyer and Olivia had mountains of toys strewn across the carpet—cars and dolls and blocks and half-done puzzles—and there were two sippy cups and an opened bag of Goldfish crackers spilled over on the coffee table.

The kitchen wasn't much better—a sink full of dishes, a refrigerator covered with alphabet magnets holding up crayon drawings of stick figures and flowers. I knew she loved her kids, knew she loved Alan. But I wondered if this was what she imagined life to be for her. If she was living her dream.

“I get that,” I said. “I'm totally cool with taking some time to travel, to see the country. But to find a guy in every state?” I lowered my voice. “And have sex with them?”

A slight frown creased Mimi's forehead. “Maybe it should just be that you date someone in every state.”

I smiled and nodded my head vigorously. I knew she wouldn't agree with Paige. No way, no how.

“No.” Paige was adamant. “That won't work.”

“Why not?” I asked.

“Because,” she said, staring at me evenly. “I know how you'll 'date.' You'll find some guy and talk to him for five minutes and call it a date.”

“I will not,” I protested.

“Bullshit,” she said. She took a sip of her coffee. “You will, too. We need to set firm expectations. And make sure you follow through.”

I turned to Mimi for support but she was looking at Paige, nodding her head.

“So you agree with her?” I asked incredulously

“Sort of,” Mimi admitted. “I mean, the only guy you ever dated was Brian. And you guys just sort of...ended up together. It wasn't like you had all this experience beforehand.”

I raised my eyebrows “Kettle. Black.”

A faint blush tinged her cheeks. She  hadn't dated much in high school either; Alan was her first serious boyfriend, too.

“Her situation is entirely different,” Paige said.

“How?”

She pointed her half-eaten cookie at Mimi. “She's happily married.” She motioned the cookie toward the living room. “And she's clearly having sex. A lot of it, considering how she keeps popping babies out.”

Mimi giggled.

“See?” Paige's voice was triumphant. “She agrees with me. So you're doing it.”

I started to protest but Mimi spoke. “Now, hold on,” she said. She picked up her mug, then remembered it was cold and set it back down. “Maybe not straight sex.”

“You want me to have lesbian sex?” My voice squeaked.

“Oh my God. No.” Mimi's cheeks went from pink to tomato red.

Paige's eyebrows shot up. “Why not? What's wrong with lesbian sex? I mean, if that's what Jess wants. Is that what this is all about, Jess? Are you gay? Because that's perfectly okay.”

“Oh my God.” I dropped my head to the table. “No, that is not what this is about.”

“I just meant maybe she should have physical contact with a guy in each state,” Mimi said. “You know, like get together with fifty guys. So she can...compare.”

“So not just straight penis-in-vagina sex?” Paige asked.

It was my turn to blush. “Jesus, Paige.”

“What?” She was the picture of innocence. “I'm just trying to clarify what Mimi is saying. Is that what you mean?”

Mimi nodded. “Yeah. I guess.”

Paige nodded. “Okay. Fair enough. So how much physical contact are we talking about? At minimum, a blow job? Of course, you should probably plan to receive oral, too. Or are hand jobs okay? Will those count toward her quota?”

“I can't believe we're discussing this.” My voice was muffled, my head still buried in my arms.

“I think that's reasonable,” Mimi said.

“Okay,” Paige said. I could tell it wasn't—she really wanted me to have sex with fifty guys—but she also knew when to cave. “So you've got to get to third with a guy in every state. At minimum. And with completion. Like, there needs to be cum on your hand.”

I lifted my head from the table. “Paige!!”

“What?” She smiled. “Why is this so hard to talk about? Sex is the most natural thing in the world. And you, my dear, are about to have a hell of a lot of it.”

I looked at Mimi for some help.

“I think she's right,” Mimi said, which was no help at all.

“Traitor,” I muttered.

Mimi frowned. “Look, there has to be a small part of you that's at least intrigued by this or we wouldn't even be discussing it. You could've dismissed it immediately and gone back to sulking over where you're at. The fact that you didn't do that tells me there's at least something about this that has sparked for you.”

I didn't say anything.

“And Paige is right,” she continued. Jacob made a noise and, without looking, she reached for the pacifier and popped it back in his mouth.“Sex shouldn't be so hard to talk about. You shouldn't be embarrassed that your sex life has sucked so far. Or at least not met your expectations. That isn't your fault.”

“It's kind of her fault,” Paige said.

“Not helping,” Mimi said, glancing at her, then shifting her gaze back to me. “There is absolutely nothing wrong with taking some time to catch up on what you've missed out on. You don't have to apologize to anyone. You don't owe anyone anything. But do you really want to get into another relationship without knowing what you're looking for?” She smiled. “And I'm sorry, but sex is a huge part of a relationship. It's what connects two people. You have to be on the same page with your partner. And the only way to figure out what page you're on is to...”

“Get a little cum on your hands,” Paige said, grinning.

Mimi started to say something, then shrugged and said, “Well, yeah.”

I frowned and studied the melted chocolate on the tips of my fingers. Mimi was right. I could've kicked the idea to the curb the second it had flown out of Paige's mouth. But I hadn't. She wasn't just playing armchair psychologist. She was reading a good friend and doing it correctly. I felt like the biggest whore admitting it, but there was something exciting about what they were proposing. And they were right that I was in the perfect position to do it. So why wasn't I just saying yes?

I licked the chocolate from my fingers. Because I was scared, both of what it might be like and because of what people might think. Not that I'd tell anyone else what I was doing, besides hitting all fifty states. But I'd gotten it in my head that they'd figure it out and write “Jess is a slut!” on bathroom walls and I'd show up on websites around the world, mocked by millions. I knew that was ridiculous and there was a small part of me that wanted to raise my middle finger at the whole notion that unattached woman wanting to have sex – and doing it – meant that she was some sort of whore. I smiled to myself. I wasn't just warming to the idea of having sex with different people. I was also warming to the idea that it was a totally okay thing to do. I'd deprived myself of a normal sex life and I had the opportunity to correct that. As daunting as that seemed, there was also the possibility that it might be that moment that Paige had mentioned, that moment that shifted my life in the direction I'd never thought possible.

Maybe it was time to start admitting to that.

I drummed my fingers on the table. “Would you two need evidence? Of the...encounters?”

Paige sat up straighter in her chair.

Mimi pursed her lips to fight off a smile.

“Wait,” Paige said. “Am I hearing you correctly? Are you going to do it?”

“Answer the question.”

Paige studied me critically, assessing how trustworthy I would be to accurately report my encounters. “I trust you,” she said finally.

I looked at my two friends, the two women who knew me best and who I trusted implicitly. I mulled over everything we'd just discussed. If they were telling me to do something, even something as outlandish as this, I needed to listen to them. They wouldn't tell me to do something if they thought it was wrong. They knew I'd become a mental case after the divorce. No matter how crazy it sounded to me, if they were urging me to do something, I needed to trust them.

And myself.

“Yes, I'm going to do it,” I said. I laughed, not just at the unintentional double meaning of my words, but because I meant it. “Fifty times.”

FOUR

September

“You sure you don't want something to eat?”

I looked up at Dylan Armstrong. Paige's older brother was holding a half-eaten bagel sandwich in one hand, a cup of airport coffee in the other. It was eight o'clock in the morning but it felt more like the middle of the night. Because I hadn't slept a wink. I'd hoped the bottle of wine I'd killed off with Paige and Mimi would help me pass out, but my nerves were stronger than the alcohol.

The original plan had been for Paige to take me to the airport, but when Dylan called her to see if she could feed his fish while he was gone, he'd offered to swing by and give me a ride as payment for keeping his fish alive. Paige had a class to teach in the morning and I already knew she'd be rushed to drop me and get back to the campus in time for it. So I'd told her it was no problem to ride with him. When she was certain that I wasn't going to try and make an escape from his car and avoid the whole trip, she'd relented and agreed to let him take me.

I shook my head. “No, thanks.” My stomach was all tied up in knots and I was sure a bite of anything would send me straight to the toilet.

He sat down in the black vinyl seat next to me.

“When does your flight leave?” I asked.

He glanced at the departure board. “Forty minutes.” He bit off another piece of egg and bagel. “You should be boarding any minute now.”

He was right. My flight to Mobile was scheduled to leave in thirty minutes. There was a gate agent behind the desk, staring at the screen, microphone in hand. I was pretty sure she was ready to start boarding first class and premium members.

“So are you excited for your big adventure?” Dylan asked. “I'm envious. Fifty states. That's pretty cool.”

Dylan didn't have all the sordid details about my trip around the states. All he knew was that I was trying to set foot in all fifty. I was determined to keep it that way. “Yep. And why would you be jealous? You travel all the time.”

He chuckled and took a sip of his coffee. “Can't believe this is your first time out of New England.”

“Ive been to New York,” I reminded him. I thought back to my brief weekend honeymoon with Brian. We'd flown to New York City and my plans of nights spent on Broadway and days spent strolling through museums and Central Park had been cut short by Brian's sudden development of some mysterious stomach ailment that had rendered him hotel-bound the entire weekend. I'd explored alone and had come back to a snoring husband both days of our trip.

“That's like southern New England,” he said, grinning. “Doesn't really count.”

“Just because I'm not some world traveler like you are...” I let my voice trail off.

“That I am,” he said, puffing out his chest a little, his smile growing wider.

I laughed. “Okay, Super Traveler.”

Dylan sold stuff overseas. That was basically the extent of my knowledge of his job. I knew he'd graduated from BU with a degree in Political Science. But then he'd taken some position a few months after graduation, selling stuff. Whenever he popped up in my Facebook feed, he was always off in some exotic locale, posing with the locals, mountain biking through jungles, or sharing pictures of weird, ethnic dishes. He lived in Vermont, but it sounded like he could live anywhere he wanted.

“You like traveling?” I asked him. “Going to all different parts of the world?”

He polished off the bagel and wadded up the wax paper wrapper. “Sure. I mean, I get paid to travel. What could be better than that?”

The gate agent clicked the microphone on and started boarding first class.

“You don't get tired of living out of a suitcase? Of not being able to put down roots?” I tried to keep my tone light but those were some of the thoughts creeping into my head as fifty weeks of travel loomed in front of me.

“I have roots,” he said. “Here.”

“But you're never here, are you?” I didn't want to admit that I had no idea when he was in town and when he wasn't. Dylan was four years older than me and Paige and we'd never spent much time together, even as kids.

“I'm here enough to have a condo where I keep my belongings and I manage to get over to Mom and Dad's once in a while for a home-cooked meal. And I have a fish.” He winked. “Those are roots enough.”

“And living out of a suitcase? That doesn't bother you?”

“Nope.” He glanced down at his outfit, a pair of navy slacks and a light gray polo. “I bring a few days worth of clothes, my laptop.” He grinned. “And condoms. What else do I need?”

I bit back a smile. “Sounds like you have everything covered.”

He let out a sharp laugh. “You can say that again.”

I got his double meaning and blushed a little.

“So, yeah,” he said. “Roots enough to still call this place home and still manage to get my punk ass sister's best friend to the airport when she needs a ride.”

I smiled. “Thank you. For the ride.”

“You're welcome.”

The gate agent spoke into the microphone again, this time calling my boarding group. I stood up and reached for my roller bag.

I swallowed down the butterflies that had suddenly taken flight. “Guess that's me.”

He studied me, his blue eyes a mirror of his sister's. “Why are you doing this?”

“Doing what?”

“Traveling.”

“Because I want to see the world. Or at least the country.”

“You don't act like someone who wants to be doing this.”

I hoisted my purse on to my shoulder. It was a bigger one than I was used to carrying and I'd crammed it full of crap. It felt like it weighed a hundred pounds—or maybe that was something else. I shifted on my feet, stretching my back and neck, trying to work out the tightness that had settled in to my muscles.

“Well, I do,” I said stubbornly.

He nodded. “Okay. If you say so.”

I pulled my boarding pass from the pocket of my shorts and unfolded it. “And I'm going to have a great time. Exploring.”

“You should,” Dylan said. “You're a lucky girl.”

“I am?”

Lucky was never something I'd considered myself. My life, especially after high school, had mostly been a series of disappointments. Some big, some small, but all of them piled up on top of one another to make me feel like the unluckiest person on the planet.

He grinned and stood up, slinging his own bag over his shoulder. “Duh. You're pretty. Smart. And loaded. The world is your oyster, Jess. Indulge and enjoy.”

Indulge and enjoy. Those words suddenly seemed exotic and erotic. Words that I'd never associated myself with.

“Let me know how it goes, Jess,” he said. “Or maybe we'll cross paths in some airport or something.”

My spine went rigid as visions of him watching me pick up some stranger in a bar danced in my head. The last thing I needed was for him—or anyone else, really—to figure out what the trip was really about.

Stop
, I told myself.
Indulge and enjoy. And relax.

“That would be cool,” I said, forcing a smile on my face. “I'll keep an eye out for you.”

He laughed and nodded. “Me, too. Have fun, Jess. Be safe.”

I watched him walk down the corridor toward his own gate. I turned toward the line forming at the counter, my eyes focused on my fellow passengers as they disappeared down the jetway.

I took a deep breath.

Indulge. Enjoy. Relax.

I joined the line, heading to Alabama, thinking those three things were far easier said than done.