One Last Shot (Pub Fiction #3) (24 page)

“I’m gonna get rugged with you if you don’t get in there, woman.” He kisses my lips before shutting the door behind me.

It’s been about nine months since I bared my soul to Matty at the Friends in Grief meeting, and things have been nothing but amazingness between the two of us. We’ve got an incredible relationship and I’m excited for our future. I’m hoping we move things to the next level and soon.

I’m not gonna lie, I’m a bit frustrated that we still aren’t living together. I understand if Matt’s a bit hesitant and wants to take moving in together a bit more slowly than he originally said, but I’m losing my patience waiting for him to ask me. I keep dropping clues that I’m ready, thinking that he’ll get the hint, but dude’s gone into turtle mode. I half expected he’d ask me over Christmas, but it didn’t happen. Then again around Valentine’s I figured it would be a done deal. I mean, we stay with each other almost every night anyway. But it’s become something we don’t mention; we haven’t talked about how he’d like me to move in with him sooner than later since the day after I took him to that meeting.
Newsflash, buddy, it’s later!
And I am more than ready.

He said he wanted me to be sure, and I get that, I really do, but now I’m way past ready. A part of me has started second guessing whether he wants me to move in or not, to wonder if something has changed. I can’t help having a nagging little feeling that maybe he’s changed his mind, that maybe it’s Matt who’s no longer as ready as he was before. I know I’m just being dumb. His actions and words haven’t given me any reason to think that he’s not; if anything, we’re stronger now than we’ve ever been. I guess I’d assumed after the way things have been that I’d have been moved in months ago.

Maybe he needs me to bring it up? Maybe he’s waiting for me to tell him I’m ready?
Either way, I plan on bringing it up soon. Real soon.

In my head, I’ve been practicing how to raise the subject, but unfortunately I’m still somewhat of a chickenshit and lose my nerve every time I convince myself to go for it. Maybe after our date I’ll finally have the courage.
Fuck it, I’m tired of waiting. I’m Claire Knox: it’s time to take what I want. Be ready, Mr. Bishop. After this date, I’m moving in!
I smile to myself at the threat.

“What’s so funny, Sugarshack? Penny for your thoughts.”

“Nothing really, I’m just laughing at how cute those cows are,” I point out the window, “thinking how much I love seeing the animals and still trying to figure out where we’re heading. Seems like a whole lot of country out here,” I say as we pass farm after farm. I didn’t even know there was so much farmland up this way. But then again, it’s not like I’d have reason to visit here, anyway. Finally, after what feels like an hour’s drive, the truck stops.

“We’re here,” Matt says, pulling off on a side road and shifting the truck to a stop under the biggest weeping willow tree I’ve ever seen. My face breaks out into a huge smile as I take it all in. Weeping willows are my favourite. When I was a kid my mom and I used to sit under the one in our yard and read for hours, just her and I, enjoying tons of new adventures, getting lost in the words that graced the pages. It was our thing. One I’ve missed the most. I had told Matt about it once when we visited an old bookstore, I guess he remembered. Which shouldn’t surprise me, it seems Matty remembers everything we talk about. He’s amazing like that.

“Wow, this place is beautiful,” I tell him, noting not only the tree but also the water on which it’s banked.

“What is this place?” I ask.

“It’s our place,” he says, like it’s not the big beautiful deal it is. “I found it the other week. Saw the tree, thought of you. Knew I needed to bring you out here. Needed to make it our place.” He helps me out of the truck.

“Aren’t we going to get in trouble for trespassing? I saw a house back there when we first came up, past the hill.”

“Nope. We’re all good, baby. Cleared to come whenever we want.”

“Are you sure? You better not be corrupting me, Mr. Bishop. I do wear a pretty clean halo, you know.” I smack his hard chest.

“Oh, I plan on corrupting you, alright. That halo of yours will be good and tarnished, if not a little bent, by the time I’m finished with you.” He draws me in for a kiss, but bites my bottom lip instead.

“See, you really are Satan.”

“Thought we could have a picnic, break in the new truck a few times. I can play my flute for you,” he says, grinning like only he can.
God, I love this man.
“Then,” he says, resting his chin on my head, “I thought I’d sprawl you out under that tree and make love to you, properly. Figured I could worship every inch of your tight little body,” he says lovingly, before moving me with him to the back of the truck. “Sound good, Sugarshack?” he asks, bringing down the truck’s tailgate. “I figure we gotta break this puppy in, too.” He nods at the truck, “Had you in my old car, need your scent in my truck, too. And I figured we might as well call dibs on the tree,” he says confidently, reaching in the cab.

“Well, who am I to object to a plan like that?” I reply, sounding breathless even to myself. I’m like a dog in heat standing here, completely ready to go, his words coupled with his “no room to object” delivery has made my body more than ready to welcome him inside.

“You okay, baby?” the bastard asks, knowing full well that I’m a standing puddle of takemerightthefucknow!

“Er…yeah,” is all I can muster.

Matty just squeezes my bum. “Let me set up, then I’ll make you all better. I do plan on feeding you, too,” he adds, bringing out a beautiful dark brown picnic basket and blanket, “if I can manage to fit it in. The way you look in that dress and the way you’re looking at me right now makes eating the last thing on my mind though, so don’t hold your breath, beautiful.”

“I’m not hungry, anyway. Food’s overrated. I’ll meet you in the truck,” I say, going up on tiptoes, running my tongue along the cords in his neck before stepping back from his embrace.

“And
I’m
the corrupter here?” Matt laughs, shaking his head, dropping the basket into the truck’s bed before stalking toward me, his intentions clear.

Claire

R
esting against Matt
as he leans back on the willow’s trunk and slides his hands along my exposed skin, I’m now clad only in my unbuttoned sundress. My cardigan and shoes are around here somewhere.

We sit under the tree relaxing, taking in the view of the water after our picnic and some of the sweetest dessert sex I’ve ever had. Matty took me hard in the back seat of his cab first, then made love to me in the truck’s bed for good measure. Sitting with him here, like this, I’m beyond happy and content. For the first time in years, I’m truly not afraid to let love in. I know Matt is my future and we’ll take that one-day at a time. I won’t let fear take the wheel from me again. Luckily, I was given the right incentive to see the way my life should be, could be. Mind over matter can be a scary thing especially when involving matters of your own heart. I’m thankful every day that my mind won the battle, on behalf of my heart.

It turns out this property belongs to one of Matt’s clients. A guy by the name of Bruce, to whom Matty had needed to make a few house calls because his injury wouldn’t let him drive. I guess one of the sessions had involved walking, and that’s when Matty spotted what is now our tree. Bruce told him he could bring me here anytime. Thankfully, our spot is a good distance from both the house and the main road.

“Let me see your hand.” Matt’s voice reverberates in his chest behind me, interrupting my thoughts.

Untangling my fingers from each other, I reach back and place my hand in his. He begins softly tracing what feel like letters on the centre of my palm.

“We’re going to play a little game. Try and guess what I’m writing. Close your eyes and focus,” he whispers, brushing a kiss to my temple.

“Oh, I so got this. I love games. You are on, buster. But we need a prize; no game is real without the potential and promise of prizes. So tell me, what’s the prize for guessing them right?”

“Can’t just let me play my way, eh?” he chuckles. “Such a pain. Okay, let me think here for a second, then.”

“How about sexual favours? Breakfast in bed? Slave for a day?” I turn my neck to see him, and he’s still laughing at my competitiveness.

“Whatever you want, baby. I’ll give you anything.” He pulls me back to rest on his chest.

“Okay, sexual favours it is. Game on, hero.”

He begins tracing what feels like a B-R-A…

“Hey, I’m not a brat!” I laugh, and elbow him.

“Well, you kind of are, Sugarshack. A big one,” he smiles against my neck. “Regardless, it’s one point for Knox.”

“Booyah! I feel oral coming on.”

“Yeah, yeah, we’ll see. Gimme your hand again.”

Next up is a C-L-A-I-R-E.

“Okay, that’s too easy. Matty, you suck at this, it’s Claire. Point Knox again. Bishop, you’re going down. Fast.” I tease him, and he reaches around, giving my nipple a pinch.

“Now, shush. Time to focus,” he says, drawing C-L-A-I-R-E on my palm again.

Although this time it feels as if he’s running his finger along the length of my palm as if he’s underlining a part of my name.

“What are you doing now? Are you underlining my name?

“Yeah, see if you can find the key word. There’re extra favours for getting these right.”

“Ohhh, me likey. It’s like a bonus question. ’Kay, do it again. I’m ready.” I tell him, getting more and more turned on at the prospect of what our game will lead to. “Is that…? Wait, ah, oh, I know. Is it ‘lair’? Did you want me to have my way with you in my secret lair, baby?” I giggle against his chest.

Matt moves my hair, ghost whispering along my neck, stopping at my ear.

“No. It’s ‘air’…’cause you’re my
air,
Claire. I need you to breathe. So you can’t ever leave me. I can’t breathe right when you’re not around.”

“Matty.” My breath hitches at the sweetness of his words.

“Yeah?”

“I’m not going anywhere. You know that, right?” I ask, tears welling up in my eyes.

“I do know that. What’s more is I believe it, too. And thank fuck for that, Sugarshack, because I love you so fucking much.”

“I’m glad, Matty, because it’s true,” I say, before turning my body to face him, needing him to see that I’m serious while we talk about this.

“I know it’s true, baby. But I gotta interrupt the moment here for a sec, and say
whoop, whoop
, point Bishop. I’m still in the game.”

“Matty,” I call, my voice raised an octave at his sweet words and his flip back to jokester.

“Yeah,” he says, chuckling in front of me. I push him down so I can lie on top of him. “Okay, okay! I love you, too.”

I kiss him, then take his bottom lip in between mine and pull a bit. “That’s for being cheeky.”

“Ooh, I like it rough, do it again,” he kids, wrapping me in his big arms, holding me tight in his warm embrace.

“And, so you know,” I lift my head, “I do believe in love at first sight. I just needed you to walk by me one more time to really drive the point home, I guess.”

“Thank God for wicked pick up lines, eh?” Matty laughs, shaking us both.

“Lord, help me,” I roll my eyes.

“Hey, it was an awesome line. You have to admit it. It brought the best thing I could have imagined into my life. That line gave me you.”

“You need to know, Matty, if you keep saying sweet shit like that to me, I might just have to take you to my lair and mate with you for life.”

“That’s my goal, sweetheart. That’s all I ever wanted. You for life. But I won’t be going to any lair of yours. The next time I’m inside you, it will be at
our
lair.”

“Yeah?” I question, lifting myself off his chest. The palm of his hand trails across my cheek.

“Yeah, baby, move in with me. I’ve been trying to give you time, but I’m a selfish bastard and need you with me everyday. I can’t wait anymore.”

I can’t help the victory smile that breaks out on my face. “Well, then we need to go, Matty. Now,” I say, disentangling myself from his arms and standing immediately, once free. I begin grabbing the containers, starting to pack everything up.

“What? Why the rush?” the daft man asks, like he doesn’t remember the words that he just said.

“’Cause I’ve been waiting months for you to ask me, and now that you finally have, I need you in me as soon as possible, and you said the next time would have to be in our lair. So we need to go back. To
our
bed,
our
home. And I’ll need you to drive fast this time, too, Morgan Freeman. I’m no Miss Daisy.” We both laugh, then Matty gets a serious look on his face.

“I’ve got a surprise for you.” He stands, moving closer to me. His hands grip the cup I’m holding. He takes it and lets it fall on top of the picnic blanket. “I knew I was being an idiot for waiting so long. I just wanted to be certain that you were absolutely sure about us, after everything.”

“I’ve never been more sure of anything, Matty.”

“Then you’re right. We need to go, right the fuck now. We’re leaving this shit here,” he says, scooping me up and taking me to the truck, then hopping in quickly himself and starting the engine with a few revs that I’m sure I never heard in
Driving Miss Daisy
. To my surprise Matty pulls up a long driveway, toward the house we’d passed on our drive in.

“What are you doing, Matty, I thought we were going home?” I can’t help the disappointment that laces my tone.

“We are home, Claire,” he says, turning off the ignition. “The house, the land, the pond and the tree. It’s all ours.”

“What? But when? How?” I stammer, staring at the farmhouse. “Are you serious? It’s beautiful!” I can’t stop from looking around the place in awe. Opening the truck door, I hop out to take a better look at what is to become our new home.

Matty follows suit, joining me on the expansive wraparound porch. “Yeah, I’m serious. The last time I was out here, Bruce said he was going to sell it, so I made him an offer. I knew the place was perfect for us. Knew you’d love it.” He pulls me in for a hug. “Are you mad I bought it behind your back?”