Perfect Kiss by Lacey Black
Chapter 12
Leni
“Call me if you have any problems,” I tell my mom but don’t meet her gaze. I already know she’s shaking her head at my statement.
“We’ll be fine, Leni. He’s been talking about this sleepover with Harlow and Hayden for days. He can’t wait to tell them all about the fish he caught Thursday evening,” she says, not even bothering to hide her grin.
I glance into the living room, where my son is playing with his future twin cousins. They already have tons of toys out, but my parents don’t seem to mind. In fact, they usually stand by, watching fondly, while the kids practically tear up the house. They’re definitely a lot more relaxed when it comes to grandkids than they were with their own children.
“So what are the plans tonight?” she asks, leading me into the kitchen for a few minutes.
“I’m going to meet Grayson and Laken at Pony Up. They offered to pick me up, but it’s such a gorgeous night, I don’t mind walking. It’s only two blocks.”
“Probably a smart move, and I’m sure Gray will drop you off at your place when you leave,” she says, grabbing two bottles of water from the fridge and sliding one across the counter. “Or…you could get a ride from someone else.” She wiggles her eyebrows suggestively, causing a bubble of laughter to spill from my lips.
“Subtle,” I mumble, shaking my head.
“So? What’s going on with you and Malcolm Wright?” she asks, leaning against the counter.
I sigh, not really sure how to answer this. After that big, long text thread a week ago, we’ve only seen each other Thursday night at his place. We’ve texted a few times, but they were casual and friendly. “To be honest, I’m not sure. I guess I consider him a friend. He’s been great with Trace and took him fishing while I was cleaning his house, which you know. And besides, I’m not really sure I’m looking for a relationship right now. I need to focus on Trace.”
“There’s nothing wrong with focusing on your son and on yourself, Leni.”
I nod, not really sure what more to say. I guess I’ll cross that bridge if anything more were to transpire between us, but I’m not really sure anything will. Malcolm has been polite, friendly, and maybe even a little flirty at times—but that’s who he is. He’s never taken it any further than that.
“Have you heard from Greg lately?”
She hit another sore spot right on the head. “No.”
Mom shakes her head and tsks. “Such a shame he turned out to be a complete turd.”
Her comment catches me by surprise, and I can’t stop from laughing. “You’re correct. He’s a complete turd.”
She grins and reaches for my hand, giving it a light squeeze. “You’re doing a wonderful job raising him, honey. Don’t ever doubt that.”
I swallow over the sudden lump in my throat. “Thanks. How’s Dad getting around?”
“Oh, he’s fine. He stopped using that crutch a few days ago, which was probably for the better. He was going to kill himself sooner or later,” she says with a laugh. “It still gets just a little sore on him, but as long as he takes it easy and rests, he’s fine.”
I’m just glad it wasn’t any worse than a bad sprain.
“Now, go get ready to meet your sister. They should be about finished with dinner by now and headed up to the bar. I’ve heard that Tucker guy play, and he puts on a great show,” my mom says, referring to Tucker Simms, a Mason Creek transplant who moved here from Billings. He plays at all the town festivals and events, with his mix of classic country and 90’s hits.
“Night, Mom. Call me if you need me,” I reiterate, even though I don’t need to. I know they’ll be fine.
“Go. You kids have fun,” she demands, practically pushing me out the door.
I say goodbye to Trace and the girls and head out the door. I’ve never been one to go out a lot, especially when I was back in Washington, but now that I’m home, I admit I’m enjoying getting to see friends every now and again.
And I know Trace is in good hands.
Let the night begin.
* * *
Pony Up is packed, but that’s to be expected with Tucker playing. He knows how to draw an audience. Even in the crowded bar, it’s easy to spot my sister’s vibrant red hair. I was always jealous of her hair color growing up, having to settle of the dull brown I was born with.
“You’re here,” Laken bellows, the slight flush to her cheeks telling me she’s already had a drink or two.
I hug my sister and am greeted by everyone already there. Justine is here, who’s with Tucker, Grady, and Charlee, as well as a few others I’ve come to be reacquainted with since my return. “Where’s Grayson?” I ask, glancing around for my sister’s other half.
“He’s grabbing a few drinks at the bar,” she says, and something about the Cheshire cat grin sets me on high alert.
“What?” I ask, narrowing my skeptical hazel eyes at her.
“Oh, nothing!” she sings, smiling over her straw as she sucks up the last of whatever was in her glass. “You look ah-may-zing,” she adds, giving me a look from head to toe.
I didn’t exactly put a lot of effort into tonight’s appearance, but I didn’t just pull my hair up and throw on a T-shirt either. My hair is down, straightened with the flat iron I rarely use, and I decided to wear some of the clothes in the back of my closet I only pull out on the rarest occasions. I’m wearing a pair of cutoff shorts, and while I don’t usually don things that might accentuate my ass, these shorts are stretchier than normal denim and do well at concealing my rolls. The top I chose is a deep blue halter top with little white flowers all over it. Plus, it’s super breezy and flowy and doesn’t make me feel like I’m on display. I learned a long time ago, with boobs as ginormous as mine, V-necks are not my friend. Unless you want every guy within a two-mile radius ogling your girls.
“Hey, Leni.” I turn and offer Grayson a smile as he hands my sister another drink.
That’s when I spot the man standing beside him, holding a beer bottle in each hand. “Hi,” Malcolm says, handing me a drink.
“Hi,” I reply, the word coming out a nervous squeak.
Malcolm lifts his beer to his lips and winks, sending my heart beating into a level that would certainly concern most physicians.
Fortunately for me, my sister pulls me into a conversation with Justine, and soon The Tucker Simms Band is starting to play. The girls instantly pull me into the middle of the dance floor, where I try to hide closer to the band so I’m not directly in anyone’s line of sight. Their popular rendition of “Sweet Home Alabama” kicks things off and flows directly into some John Michael Montgomery.
After the third song ends, I wave my hand over my face, desperately needing a drink to cool down. As I approach the table, pulling money from my wristlet, I’m surprised to see Malcolm there, holding out another beer.
I take the bottle and give him a suspicious glance. “You didn’t roofie this, did you?” I tease.
He snorts out a quick laugh. “I don’t need to drug you to get in your pants, Lenora.” He leans closer and whispers in my ear, “All I’d have to do is turn on my charms.”
I dramatically roll my eyes. “Your charms? Is that some cheesy pickup line?” I ask, taking a drink of the cold brew.
“Cheesy?” He gasps, feigning shock. “I’ll have you know my pickup lines are the best.” He turns serious and leans in. “Are you a parking ticket, because you have fine written all over you.”
I burst out laughing, catching the attention of everyone around me.
“Not that one? How about? Are you a camera? Because every time I look at you I smile.”
I try to cover my giggles with my hand, which only makes him grin more.
“What about this one? If your phone number was a dollar amount, what would it be?”
I groan and shake my head. “Those are horrible!”
He tsks. “Ladies these days don’t know good lines,” he declares to Grayson, who’s now standing beside him.
Grayson gives me a shocked look. “You mean you don’t like, there’s something wrong with my cell phone. It doesn’t have your number in it.”
I giggle and shake my head. “You’re lucky my sister already loves you.”
He seems to sober a bit, his eyes seeking her out. “Yes, I am.”
“Come on, you’ve had enough of a break,” Justine says, pulling on my arm.
I go to set my bottle down, but Malcolm snatches it up. “I’ll hold it for you.”
With a quick flash of a smile, I’m pulled back out into the thick of the dance floor for a few more songs.
The night progresses in a fit of laughter, drinks, and more fun than I anticipated. And to my surprise, a lot of flirting. Malcolm’s a natural flirt, but I’ve found I enjoy the banter with him. I’ve even shocked myself with some of the things I’ve said to him over the course of the evening.
Since I walked here, I decide to have one more drink. It’s getting late, though Tucker still has another hour to play, and even though the streets of Mason Creek are safe, I prefer to have a clearer mind when making my way home.
I head for the bar, having finished my previous drink before hitting the dance floor and chatting with my friends. I’m able to slip between a few patrons and catch the bartender’s attention. Just as he steps up, I feel a presence behind me. I already know who it is without turning around. It’s as if I can feel him, as if my body is hyperaware of his.
One half recognizing the other.
I don’t know if it’s the alcohol flowing through my veins or the flirtatious banter, but I sway my hips and rock back on my heels, my ass coming in contact with the man standing behind me. Malcolm leans forward, pressing his front to my back, as he rests his palm on the counter beside me.
To those around me, it looks like a man leaning forward to order a drink.
To me, it’s a man making it known how badly he desires a woman.
Because, even though it’s been a while for me, there’s no doubt in my mind Malcolm wants me. The erection that brushed against my body is the first indication. The other is the look in his eyes when I glance over my shoulder. It’s raw, hungry, and makes me shiver in anticipation.
“One more, please,” Malcolm states to the bartender without removing his gaze from me.
A few seconds later, a fresh beer bottle in the brand I’ve been drinking all night is placed in front of me, and before I can pull cash from the wristlet attached to my arm, money is exchanged.
I take the drink and turn to face the man who has bought every single drink I’ve had this evening. “Thank you, but I’m fully capable of purchasing my own beer.”
“I’m well aware, Lenora. Having a good evening?” he asks as we step away from the bar to allow others to place orders.
“I am, thanks. You?” I bring my bottle to my lips and take a drink and notice how his gaze follows my movements.
“I am. The view has been…incredible.” He has the softest smile on his lips, one that makes him look incredibly kissable.
Maybe I don’t need any more to drink…
“Hey!” Laken hollers, throwing her arm around my waist.
I grin instantly. “I love drunk Laken. She’s so fun,” I tell my sister.
“No more to drink! The last time I drank too much, you let Gray carry me up the stairs, and I smelled him!” my sister declares, her glassy eyes narrowing into little slits.
“Yes, but if I had left it up to you, you’d still be a lovesick puppy staring at him from the corner of the room, too afraid to make a move. I still wish I had recorded it,” I tease, glancing to Malcolm. “It was the best.”
Laken hits me on the arm. Not hard, but still. “You’re mean.”
I giggle, which causes her to giggle. Then Justine and Charlee join us and start laughing too.
“What are they laughing about?” Grayson asks Malcolm.
Malcolm just shakes his head and hollers over the music, “Not sure, and I’m pretty sure none of them know either.”
Just then, a slow ballad begins, and we all start swaying to the music. “I love this song,” Justine says.
“Me too. Come on, Grayson,” Laken requests, reaching out her hand for the man she loves. He takes it, kisses the top of her knuckles, and leads her to the dance floor. I can’t help but swoon just a bit, as he takes my sister to the dance floor and pulls her close. I’m so grateful they have each other. I know it wasn’t easy for him, taking the chance on love a second time, especially after losing his first wife, but I’m so happy he did.
My sister has never been happier.
Charlee and Grady walk out next, followed by a whole slew of other couples. Justine remains at my side, since Tucker’s a little busy singing, as does Malcolm.
Suddenly, a young woman pushes her way between us and practically throws herself at Malcolm. “Come on, Malcolm. Let’s dance,” she slurs, clearly a tad bit tipsy.
“Sorry, darlin’, but I don’t dance.” He throws her a wink before bringing his beer to his lips and gazing out at the growing dancing crowd.
“Awww,” she pouts, literally jutting out her heavily painted bottom lip. “Well, if dancing isn’t your thing, we could always go hang out elsewhere.” The way she practically coos as she strokes his arm lets anyone within hearing distance know exactly what she means.
A wave of nausea hits me, the beer suddenly not sitting well in my gut.
I look away quickly, wishing I weren’t standing right here. I mean, Malcolm is free to do whatever—or whoever—he wants to do, right? He’s single, and I have no claim on him whatsoever. Yet, it feels like someone punched me in the stomach as I picture him going off with this girl.
The jealousy is real, and I don’t like it.
I’m just about to excuse myself, to go anywhere but here, but am stopped in my tracks with his next words.
“You know, I think I will dance,” he says, the deep, sexy timbre of his voice sending my stomach straight down to my toes. He holds out his hand, but not in her direction.
I glance down, shocked to see it in front of me.
“Lenora, shall we?”
