Taming Lucinda by Normandie Alleman

Chapter 15

Cole

I woke up with a heavy weight on my chest and a sharp pain in my arm. "Max," I groaned, shoving him to the side. Who needed an alarm clock when they had a seventeen-pound cat to do the job?

He didn't appreciate being pushed to the side. Immediately, he turned around and curled up in the crook of my armpit, resting his chin on my shoulder, our faces right next to each other. He started licking my ear, and I knew I just had to endure it.

"I've missed you too, bud," I said, scratching the spot under his ear that always made him purr the loudest. He'd spent the entire night in bed with me, at my feet, curled against my chest, or even on the other side with just his paw outstretched to touch my hand. It was adorable, but it also made me feel guilty for how much time I'd been spending away from home.

I didn't want to admit it, but it was time to face the music—I needed to bring Lucinda here. I couldn't keep going to her place every time we wanted to spend time together. My place was a hovel compared to what she was used to, but if we were going to be together, she'd have to see it sooner or later. She'd only called me her boyfriend once—when she introduced me to Mary Lou—but that had been enough for me to keep thinking about it.

Max burrowed his head against my neck, his whiskers tickling while his claws kneaded into my shoulder.

"How about breakfast?" I offered. Food was typically a pretty good motivator for him, though he hadn't been completely emptying his bowl lately.

Getting out of bed was harder than usual, my joints snapping and popping like a bowl of freshly poured Rice Krispies. My mattress wasn't quite up to the quality of Lucinda's. It had never bothered me before, but I had never really known any better either.

I was waiting for the coffee to brew while Max happily scarfed up his breakfast when my phone rang. An unknown number.

I didn't get many of those. Usually, when I did, it was my brother in another jam, stuck in jail or needing rehab, needing money, needing something. We'd dealt with Mom's diagnosis in different ways, but I'd stopped trying to help him years ago. There was no point trying to help someone out of a hole that they insisted on digging deeper. Sooner or later he'd wind up pulling me in with him.

That possibility made me hesitate about answering the call. As much as I didn't want to deal with that bullshit, I didn't want to deal with the guilt I'd feel if I ignored him and something really terrible happed either.

"Hello?" I answered, heart in my throat.

"Good afternoon. May I speak with Mr. Cole Jordan?" The woman on the other end of the line sounded very professional. Very official.

God damn it.

"What has he done now?" I sighed, slumping down onto the couch. Max sensed the shift in my mood and wandered in meowing at me.

"I'm sorry?"

"My brother," I answered, patting the seat next to me for Max to hop up.

"I think there's some misunderstanding. My name is Nancy Carhouse and I'm calling on behalf of the Modern Living Channel—"

"The...what?"

"The Modern Living Channel," she repeated. "We have been scouting hosts for a new show and we think you'd be perfect for the part."

"You..." Without any coffee in me, I was really struggling to keep up. "I'm sorry, what are you talking about?"

Nancy Carhouse cleared her throat impatiently. "We saw the work you did for Dynassy Barnes-Thompson's wedding and were very impressed. We'd like to invite you in for a screentest and reading."

"This is for a TV show?" I asked, finally putting the pieces together. Max was just settling down on my lap when I got up for a cup of coffee.

"Yes. An outdoor design show. You would be helping people achieve their garden dreams—"

"Let me stop you right there. Thank you for thinking of me, but no thank you. I have no interest in being on television."

Nancy didn't miss a beat. "I'll send you some more information. You don't have to give us an answer right now. Look over what we're offering," she said. "Have a good day, Mr. Jordan. I look forward to hearing from you."

She hung up before I could tell her not to hold her breath.

Before I could process that call, I received another. Lucinda this time.

"Miss me already?" I answered, smiling.

She laughed. "I do, but that's not why I'm calling."

"No?"

"Ivy's getting married and she wants to have the reception at my house. She wants you to do the garden for her. Is that okay? I didn't figure you'd mind doing a new design in a month or two."

"Of course. That's what you pay more for, right?"

"I pay you to be a groundskeeper. You could make far more if you wanted to do landscape design full-time, and you know it."

"And you know I'm perfectly happy where I'm at. I'll be over in an hour or so. We can talk about the plan then?"

"Sounds good," she answered, a heavy pause hanging between us.

I wanted to say more, but I didn't want to scare her off. Lucinda didn't share her heart easily. I didn't want her to think I was trying to force her hand by making some grand statement.

"See you soon," I said, holding in the words I really wanted to say.

When I got to Lucinda's, she was nowhere to be found. Instead of searching high and low for her, I got to work. Even if I was going to change everything up in a month, there was still plenty of work to be done to maintain things until then.

When I did finally see her, she was acting very strange.

"Cole!" she hissed from the patio door, only sticking her head out, huge shades and a wide-brimmed hat concealing her. It was her 'hiding from the paparazzi' look. She rarely wore it at home. Only when there was some kind of scandal that drew the vultures in for a story. "Hurry!" she whisper-yelled, waving me over.

I swiped the sweat from my forehead and grabbed my shirt off the bush where I'd cast it aside.

"Come on," Lucinda insisted. What had gotten her so anxious?

"What's going on?"

As soon as I was in arm's reach, she grabbed my wrist and tugged me inside, slamming the door shut before drawing the shades.

"We have a problem," she said, pulling the sunglasses off to show the lines of worry around her eyes.

"What kind of problem?"

"This," she said, thrusting her cell phone at me. One of the big gossip sites was loaded up, and there, the biggest story on the front page was my picture with the headline Gardener to the Stars: Cole Jordan—Who is he?

"I'm so sorry," Lucinda groaned, rubbing her temples, probably fighting off that migraine that popped up whenever she got too stressed out.

I set her phone down and put my hands on her shoulders, massaging them until I felt her start to relax.

"You're not mad?" she asked.

"At you? Why would I be? These people will do anything for a story. That's not your fault."

"But if it wasn't for Dynassy's wedding—You know this will likely get worse with Ivy's wedding if you do it," she added.

"They'll get bored and move on to another story. I'm not all that interesting. Look, it's a pretty short article," I said, scrolling through it. I really had no interest in reading what they said about me, but it was good to know that they hadn't found too much.

"Security has told me that they're waiting outside the gates. Photographers. They're going to follow you as soon as you leave. If they don't already, they'll know where you live soon enough. Why don't you stay here tonight? Maybe the heat will die down."

"You don't have to come up with all this justification to get me to spend the night, you know."

She rolled her eyes. "I know. It's not about that."

"I can't. I've been away from home too much. I was actually going to see if you wanted to come over to my place the next time we...hang out."

Her eyebrows shot up and the air between us suddenly changed. Hot and charged, dense with sexual tension.

"Well, I was hoping we could...hang out...tonight," she said, licking her lips while admiring my bare chest. Her eyes flicked up to meet mine, that 'I've got a plan' glint sparkling in them.

"What are you scheming?"

"Just thinking how to get you home without the paparazzi taking away all of your privacy."

"And?"

"Well, they're interested in hearing from you, right? They think you'll have some secret dirt on the Barnes family or something—they don't care about me right now."

"What's your point?"

"I'll take you home," she said. "You can duck down so no one sees you when we leave, and they'll keep waiting for your car to go. Then I can come over and we'll hang out," she finished, grinning as her hand slid up my stomach, over the solid ridges of my abs.

"Mmm, you really did miss me last night, didn't you?" I purred, settling my hands on her hips. Could I get away with fucking her here in broad daylight?

Tempting as it was, Esther didn't need to walk into that.

"Maybe," Lucinda said, coy, playful.

"Well, if that's all you're after, we could go upstairs right now—"

"Who says that's all I'm after?" she asked, taking a step back. "I want to see where you live."

"There's not much to see," I warned her. "Definitely not anything up to your standards."

She scoffed. "I wasn't always rich, Cole. You should've seen some of the dumps we stayed in during Ziggy's early tours. Your place is definitely nicer than those."

"Good to know you've set the bar low," I teased.

She rolled her eyes again, smacking my chest playfully. Even with the tabloid drama, Lucinda was in a good mood.

"I'm really glad Ivy reached out to you."

Lucinda nodded. "It was a surprise to be sure, but a really nice one. And it wasn't the only one."

"Oh?"

She gestured to a huge bouquet of flowers in the living room.

"From Eden," she explained, beaming. "I guess Mary Lou told her about everything we talked about and she's willing to move forward. Mend some fences. I don't know if it counts as forgiveness, but I'll take it."

I wrapped my arms around her, pulling her close, kissing the top of her head. "I'm so proud of you. None of this has been easy, but you kept with it. You stuck to the truth even when everyone turned their backs on you."

She looked up at me smiling. "Not everyone."

One kiss turned into another, then another, and before too long, I had Lucinda pressed against the wall, her leg hooked over my hip, grinding against me. She was panting and moaning and clawing at my shoulders before I realized what we were doing and pulled back.

"We should save that for later," I told her, tugging her skirt back down her thigh.

She was flushed and breathless and looked like she wanted to strangle me for quitting when I did.

"You bastard," she sighed, smoothing her hair back in place.

I gave her one more kiss, quick and innocent, and grinned. "I've got to get back to work if we ever want to be able to leave tonight. My boss is a real hard ass."

She pretended to be offended; the light in her eyes said she was on the verge of laughing instead.

"Fine, get out of here. Go back to work."

"Keep the shirt off," she added as an afterthought.

I chuckled on my way out. "Yes, ma'am."

I finished my day's tasks with only a little bit of daylight to spare. Lucinda already had an overnight bag packed and ready to go. Her excitement definitely ramped up my nerves.

This could be the last night I ever spent with Lucinda. Once she saw where I lived, the simplicity of my life, she might decide there's no way for her to fit into it.

She might not want to fit into it.

I stayed crouched low in the passenger side until we were well past her gates, on the way out of her neighborhood. By then the sun was setting, painting the sky in pink, orange, and crimson.

It gave me an idea for the garden.

Ivy's style was loud and in-your-face. I didn't have to worry about taking attention away from her with my design because nothing would be able to take attention away from her. I could go as wild as I wanted, which opened up a whole world of possibilities I wouldn't normally consider.

"You don't need to worry so much," Lucinda said glancing over at me.

"What?"

"I'm not going to think less of you because of your house. I know you're worried about it."

"Just don't expect a lot," I told her. "And don't be offended if Max is a little standoffish."

"Max?"

"My cat. He's not much of a people person. He mostly just likes me."

She laughed. "That's fair. I'm not much of an animal person. At least we can agree that we like you."

I slid my hand over her thigh and squeezed. It was possessive and intimate, and I waited for her to stiffen or push me away, but she didn't. She followed the GPS to my apartment complex, and as the dingy old buildings came into view, I tensed, waiting for her reaction.

Lucinda parked without saying anything, taking a moment to just stare.

"If you don't want to...You're not going to hurt my feelings. I can Uber over tomorrow for work."

"It looks just like a place I had in Santa Monica when I was still waiting tables," she said. "I love it."

I wasn't sure I believed her, but she wasn't running away.

"Make yourself at home," I said, unlocking the door. I probably should have insisted on hurrying in ahead of her to tidy up. Lucinda wanted to see where I lived, she was really going to see it.

"Mrow," Max greeted me, stopping in his tracks when he saw Lucinda.

"Hey bud. This is Lucinda, that friend of mine I've been telling you about."

"You've told him about me?" she asked, amused.

I shrugged. "He deserved an explanation for why he was sleeping alone so often."

"Sorry about that Max," she chuckled.

"Mrooow," he answered, not coming any closer.

"Do you want a drink? I don't have any wine, but there are still a few beers from my last batch in the fridge."

"You made it yourself?" she asked as I held out a bottle.

I grinned. "I told you I have a lot of interests. I'm sorry for the mess, I wasn't expecting—"

She stopped me with a kiss. "I like it," she said. "It's...homey." She took her beer and wandered into the living room, examining my plants and the books on my shelves while I tended to Max.

I returned from the kitchen with a stack of take-out menus, fanning them out for her.

"What are you in the mood for?" I asked. "I'd offer to cook for you, but we'd probably both wind up with food poisoning. Frozen foods are about as advanced as I get."

"You're good at so many other things, Cole," she said, her voice heavy with suggestion as she sauntered toward me. I didn't have to ask what things she was talking about. "I couldn't expect you to be a good cook too! How about pizza?" she asked. "That's always good. And quick. Which means we have time before we need to order..."

All my fears were unfounded. Lucinda hardly seemed to notice her surroundings thanks to that one-track mind of hers. She didn't care about my threadbare couch or the creaky mattress. Not when I was giving her back-to-back orgasms until she begged for mercy.

We drank more beer, had a really good veggie pizza, and when I got up in the middle of the night to go to the bathroom, Max was wedged in the space between the two of us, fast asleep.