His Ordinary Kiss (His Kiss Book 2) Read online

  Boston and Anna groaned in unison.

  “Don’t worry. I’ll take being a ‘too attentive’ mom over missing my best friend’s wedding.” I patted Boston’s arm.

  “What’s next in that red binder of strange Vietnamese traditions?” she asked, popping a cherry tomato in her mouth.

  I flipped the page. “ ‘Do not laugh while speaking or you will give the baby uncharming characteristics.’”

  Boston snorted.

  “What about after birth? Does all this stop?” Anna asked.

  I paged forward until I found a sheet headed with the title AFTER BIRTH. “Alas, no. After I give birth, I am confined to the bedroom for one month, where I must lie on a bed over hot coals, must drink only cold water, and eat saffron everyday.”

  Boston and Anna stared at me.

  I burst out laughing and made a point to speak through my words, uncharming characteristics be damned. “My grandmother is insane.”

  * * *

  AFTER LUNCH, I SWUNG BY Cole’s place to drop off leftovers.

  My big brother lived in a big brick Colonial just down the road from the hotel with three other guys. Mom had been attempting to make him get his own place for years, but he had a pretty sweet set up considering his rent was only three hundred a month and his three roommates were his three closest friends.

  I knocked on the door but before I could turn the knob, it swung open and Alan looked out at me.

  I pursed my lips. Alan Chaswell had had a thing with Boston a while back. He was good-looking, tall and muscular with jet-black hair and the kind of face that defined “rugged.” He’d treated her like an ass, using her for sex even long after she thought she had feelings for him. Since hearing she was engaged and moving on with her life, he’d turned into a sniveling jerk, constantly asking about her as if losing her to Ian had proved he wanted a relationship all along. I’d never liked the guy, even when he was in school with my brother.

  “Vespers. Looking hot today. Are your tits bigger?” His gaze dipped to my tank top.

  “Alan. Looking a little off today. Did you lose your balls?” I shoved past him and called for my brother. “Cole?”

  I heard a door open upstairs, and Cole bounded down the steps as Alan closed the door behind me.

  My brother was short and wiry like our mother, but as ungraceful as a baby horse. He tripped on the second to last step and slid across the landing, hopping to his feet with the practiced move of someone who’d done it a thousand times. He hitched up his over-sized cargo shorts. “Mm. Food.” Then he ripped the styrofoam box from my hands and moved off towards the kitchen.

  “How’s Boston?” Alan asked from behind me.

  I held up a hand and said, “You missed your chance,” then followed my brother.

  “Thanks, sis. I’m starved,” Cole told me as I sidled up to the kitchen counter where he was slathering my leftover eggplant parmesan in Sriracha sauce. His white t-shirt was on inside out, and he wore socks with his Adidas slides. My brother did not get Mom’s fashion sense.

  I slapped the back of his head. “If you used your money on food instead of cigarettes, you wouldn’t go hungry all the time.”

  He shoveled a spoonful of eggplant into his mouth and looked at me with his dark puppy-dog eyes. “But then I wouldn’t have cigarettes.”

  “We need to discuss your priorities. You’re going to be an uncle, and my little girl needs a better role model.”

  It was fun waiting for the reaction, for that exact moment when he stopped chewing and realized what I’d said. He dropped his fork to the styrofoam, mouth hanging open, showing me his chewed-up food.

  “Oh, God, Cole, don’t do that.” I jerked around, holding my stomach as I heaved. I’d had a pleasant, non-vomital day, and I wanted to keep it that way.

  “Say what now?” he asked.

  I turned back to him and held out my arms. “You’ve got a niece coming. Or so Grandma says, using her special version of Vietnamese voodoo.”

  Cole yelled, tugging me into a hug and dancing me around the kitchen. “I’m gonna be an uncle! You’re having a baby! What the fuck!”

  I laughed, letting him have his fun until my stomach felt too tossed, and I had to pull away.

  “It’s not voodoo,” Cole said after he’d calmed down and returned to his eggplant.

  “Hmm?”

  “Grandma. Voodoo is a Santerian thing, like New Orleans stuff that came from Africa. What Grandma does is tradition. It’s our heritage. Where we came from.” He shrugged. “It’s something to be proud of, you know?”

  I was floored. I mean clearly, I wasn’t the best at having my shit together. I saw a therapist on the regular and didn’t have balls enough to tell the baby’s daddy he was gonna be a daddy. But I always thought I was more mature than my brother who played video games and smoked pot on the days he wasn’t frying chicken tenders at the steakhouse for pay.

  Then he did crap like this and proved me wrong. “You’re right,” I said firmly, ashamed of myself. “As weird as it is, what Grandma teaches us is our heritage. I’ve been unkind about it.”

  “Nah, you’re too nice to be ‘unkind,’ ” Cole said gently, polishing off the last of the eggplant and speaking through his full mouth. “You forget sometimes where we came from. That’s okay. Everybody does. Society makes us.”

  “When did you get so wise?” I asked him, pinching the sensitive inside of his elbow.

  “Sometime between today and last Tuesday,” he joked. “So who’s the dad? Is he stoked?”

  With that small, honest question, Cole proved it was time for me to man up.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  I took familiar back roads to Trevor’s condo.

  My heart pounded from my chest as I pulled into his small lot and parked next to his old muscle car. He worked from home for a software company, so I figured at one pm on a weekday, I was probably interrupting his work. But I had to do this while I was convinced I should. While I was convinced I was brave enough. If I thought about it too long, I knew I’d lose my conviction. Anna’s adamant sadness combined with Cole’s oddly mature attitude had been enough of a push that I knew I just had to do it. Like yanking off a bandage.

  I knocked on the door and then opened it; Trevor never locked his place. Big bad Marines could take anyone who walked in with nefarious purposes.

  “It’s me,” I called, stepping into the airy foyer. A crystal chandelier above reflected daylight from the sunroof. The staircase led to a loft bedroom that overlooked the foyer, and the living room and kitchen were to the left. It was a small place, pristine and eggshell white, but it served him well.

  “Ves?” Trevor appeared in the doorway to the living room. He wore nothing but a pair of basketball shorts slung low on his hips.

  My mouth watered at the dips and valleys that made up his torso. I remembered quite vividly running fingers and tongue all over those muscles.

  I snapped my gaze to his face. “Hey.”

  He grinned. “What are you doing here? Thought you had to work tonight.”

  “I do. In an hour.”

  His eyes flicked to my cleavage. “Cool. What’s up?”

  So, it seemed like a better idea than telling him the truth. I mean, if I was going to have his baby, surely I deserved a little more time in his bed.

  I threw myself at him, wrapping my legs around his waist as I kissed him. He gripped my hips, holding me as the kiss turned wild. My body responded immediately. If it was possible, I was even hotter for him than I was the first time.

  Without breaking the kiss, I slid down his body until my feet were on the floor. He rid me of my shirt and skirt so fast my head spun, and then lifted me in his arms to carry me upstairs.

  He dropped me on his bed, draping his body over mine and resuming the kiss. He ground against me, his erection teasing between my legs.

  “Trev, Trev,” I said breathlessly, pulling back. “Stop fucking around. I don’t have time for that. It’s been over a month.”
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br />   Trevor grinned and took me literally. He pushed the waistband of his shorts down but didn’t take them off, and in the same movement, hooked a finger through my underwear and pulled it aside.

  Then he shoved inside me so hard and so fast it took my breath away.

  There was nothing slow and sensual about this. This was carnal. This was catching up on the five weeks we’d missed out on because I was an idiot. He pumped into me, our bodies colliding recklessly. My orgasm built instantaneously, and I cried out his name as I came.

  A moment later, Trevor threw his head back and groaned, slowing the rocking motion of his hips as his own completion spilled into me.

  Which reminded me—this was exactly how we’d gotten into our current predicament.

  Trevor stayed inside me, resting his weight on top of me as he kissed my neck and my cheek, and then slowly and thoroughly kissed me senseless. He gently moved his hips, his softening cock tracing paths over my still trembling inner muscles.

  “Not that I’m complaining,” he murmured, his deep voice reverberating in my chest. “But what changed your mind?”

  I sighed, giving him a shove.

  He looked confused, but obeyed, climbing off me, his cock leaving me bereft.

  I washed off in the bathroom and came back to find him sitting on his bed, his shorts reappropriated and sweat still drying on his brow. The room felt steamy after our quick-and-dirty tumble.

  “I have something to tell you,” I said, opting to stand in my underwear — my clothes were still downstairs.

  “Okay.”

  “I’m pregnant.”

  Trevor stared at me, uncomprehending.

  “I’m pregnant, and it’s yours,” I clarified. I waited tensely for his reaction. I didn’t know what to expect. A secret inner part of me was fearful he’d scream or deny the baby was his. Or even hit me.

  There was no part of me that expected him to leap to his feet with an excited yelp and gather me in his arms to dance me around the room.

  “Trevor! What are you doing?” I laughed, struggling to get out of his arms.

  “We’re having a baby!” he yelled, readjusting his grip and sweeping me off my feet into a twirl.

  “Oh, let’s not do that.” I shoved away from him, fighting back a wave of nausea. I held tightly to his arm, one hand on my stomach as I waited for the nausea to pass.

  “Sorry.” He smiled, massaging my arms. “Ves. I can’t even… Wow.”

  I returned his smile, but not with the same amount of excitement. “Yeah.”

  “Wait here.” He pounded down the stairs.

  I followed him, because I was sure if I stayed in his bedroom with those rumpled covers, I’d be naked and begging for him when he returned. As appealing as that seemed, I had to be at work soon and like the first night we’d spent together, once would not be enough.

  I pulled my skirt and tank back on before he met me in the foyer, his eyes twinkling. He sank to one knee and held up a delicate silver ring.

  “Vespers Malone. Will you marry me?”

  * * *

  I RAN AWAY.

  Probably it wasn’t the nicest thing to do. Probably, it took him by surprise. But he took me by surprise, too! When I came to tell him about the baby, I had no ulterior motives. He needed to know so we’d have time to prepare. I was maybe ready to try a relationship and see where it went. See if we could take our lifelong friendship and turn it into something stronger.

  I was not ready to marry him.

  I called Boston as soon as I got home.

  “I told him.”

  “Ack! What did he say?”

  “He proposed to me.”

  She went silent and then burst out laughing. “He would!”

  “This isn’t funny.”

  “Oh, chill out, Ves. Calm down, then go back over there and tell him you’re not to that point. But be honest—tell him you dig him and you want to date him. You’ve got like three months before you’ll start to show. You can figure out before then if it’s going to work.”

  I sank to my couch and let my head rest in my hand. I didn’t even think about the fact that my body would begin to change that soon. “Why didn’t we wear a condom?”

  “I don’t know. Why didn’t you?” Boston’s voice was as serious as I’d ever heard it.

  “We were drunk, I guess. And he was so gorgeous. Then I saw what he was packing under his shorts, and I just wanted to—”

  “Whoa, hey, stop right there,” Boston interrupted. “Red light. I love you both, but I am not okay with sexual details. He’s like a brother.”

  “He doesn’t feel like a brother.”

  “Ew, Vespers. Just ew.”

  “You’re right,” I said with a sigh. “I might have overreacted.”

  “Get your ass back over there and talk to him.”

  I glanced at the clock. “Can’t. I gotta head to work. I’ll call you later.”

  * * *

  MY BOSS INTERCEPTED ME AT the door as soon as I arrived.

  “You’re fired,” he said in his light, girlish voice. He was shorter and skinnier than me with thinning auburn hair. I took a step back because his breath smelled like onions and coffee, and the baby sickness did not like that.

  “What do you mean I’m fired?” I countered.

  “You called in sick two mornings in a row, and then Marcie saw you eating lunch at Tapas Bar this morning.” Jeremy crossed his arms over his chest, but it did nothing to make him look intimidating. He looked instead small, grumpy, and sad.

  I glared at Marcie behind the counter. She smirked. She’d never liked me because I was faster on bar and I was better with customers.

  “I had lunch out today, and I came to work today,” I pointed out. “That is completely irrelevant to my sick days.”

  “This is not a democracy, Vespers. You do not get to pick and choose when you come to work.”

  I stared at him for a brief moment. “I don’t think you understand democracy in context.”

  Jeremy’s face turned red. “You’re fired. Fired fired fired.”

  I threw my hands up in the face of his juvenile tantrum. “Fine. Good luck holding this shithole together without me.”

  In the parking lot, I dialed Boston’s number. As soon as she picked up, I said, “Are you home? I’m coming over.”

  “We’re at the Ludbetters’ having dinner. What’s wrong?”

  “What did Gladys cook?”

  “Um. Enchiladas.”

  “Oh, God. Her enchiladas are divine.” I groaned. “Jeremy just fired me.”

  “Fired you?” Boston barked, indignant. Her voice muffled for a moment, and I heard her say, “Sorry, guys. Please excuse me. Vespers got fired.”

  “Oh, no, how awful.” Ian’s cultured tones in the background.

  “Oh, what a shame,” I heard Gladys say. “Didn’t she work at Heavenly Beans?”

  “Yeah, for like two years,” I griped in Boston’s ear. She repeated my words.

  Gladys spoke again. “I need someone to run the new espresso machine at the bakery. Does she have experience with a La Marzocco?”

  Boston started to ask, “Do you have—”

  I cut her off. “Yeah. That’s what we had at Heavenly Beans.”

  “She does,” Boston told her.

  “She’s hired,” Gladys said.

  “You’re hired,” Boston repeated.

  “Yes, Polly, I heard her.”

  “On one condition!” Gladys added, her voice a bit louder.

  Confused, I asked, “What’s that?”

  Boston said, “She wants to know what.”

  “She needs to make up with Trevor.”

  I groaned. “Boss! You told them?”

  “Okay, love you, bye!” And she hung up on me.

  One of these days, I’d beat her.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  I didn’t call Trevor. I would, eventually, but for the night, I couldn’t.

  I slept like the dead and got up bright a
nd early to be at Hot Cross Delights by six AM. Luckily, this morning didn’t begin with half an hour in the bathroom. As I sipped a peppermint tea in the kitchen, I shook my head remembering Grandma Linh’s absolute belief that herbal tea would cause me to miscarry.

  I parked the moped in a bike spot a block from Hot Cross Delights and hoofed it to the front door, only to find it locked and the interior dark. Confused, I rummaged for my phone in my shoulder bag and double-checked Gladys’ text message: definitely six o’clock. I sent her a quick I’m here and waited, but got no response.

  I knew Gladys did a lot of her baking before she opened in the morning, so maybe she was in the back. I knocked on the thick glass, but it didn’t make a sound loud enough for me to hear, much less someone in another room.

  I trudged back the way I came and took a left up Rose Ave. A small alley ran behind the strip of shops where Hot Cross Delights sat. Rather than being a creepy, dirty alley like one would find in New York or some other big city, this alley was lined with hanging plants bursting with color, and the ground was red brick. About halfway to Gladys’ store, I could smell the warm, cinnamon air.

  The back door to Hot Cross Delights was propped open with a potted plant. Gladys stood at a center counter, her hands pounding at a football-sized glob of dough as she swayed to ethereal music coming from the stereo.

  “Knock knock,” I said, stepping through the doorway.

  Gladys whipped around, dough in hand, and let out a breath. “Oh, baby girl. You scared me half to death.”

  Gladys was a tiny woman, five-foot-nothing with graying blonde hair in a messy ponytail. There was a streak of flour across one tanned cheek and cocoa powder dusted her collarbone above her cotton sundress.

  She put the dough down and picked up a remote, turning down the music.

  “What are you listening to?” I asked, setting my bag on a chair at the table in the corner. “I like the gypsy-like sound.”

  “Blackmore’s Night,” Gladys answered, returning to pounding the dough. “They make lovely music. Like you said, gypsyish.”