Suit - Woodruff Jettie - Страница 34
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I chose an all-black one instead. The stitching was done in white, the straps were white, the outline of my breasts were in white, and the slit going up my right legs was trimmed in white. Same thing, different dress. Maybe a little more revealing, but Paxton liked that. I applied makeup, a hairpin to the top of my head, and red lipstick.
The dress was a little long for plain sandals or flip-flops, but I didn’t change. I chose other shoes. Lord knew I had a ton of them. White wedges with open toes. Damn. I should have painted my toes again.
“What are you doing? We’ve got to, um, we need to get going. That’s not what I laid out for you,” Paxton said, feet stopping dead when he saw me. Score. He thought I was hot. It was written all over his face.
“Yeah, sorry about that. I spilled lotion on it.”
“Oh. Well, you can’t wear the shoes. Are you trying to break a leg? Put your boot on.”
“I can’t. This dress is too long for that.”
“You’re not wearing those. Put the boot on.”
I didn’t argue. My new plan was to be on my best behavior and hope like hell Paxton wanted to play when we got home. Maybe if I was a good little slut, he’d let me play, too. Jesus. What the hell am I saying? I was delirious. Someone should call that Mirage doctor.
“Okay, but I would like to have panties. Just for you, I didn’t get them out of the drawer. I figured you would complain.”
“You don’t have panties because I have something else for you. Thanks for reminding me. I almost forgot.”
“Oh, man. Now what?”
That one got a snap and glare. This was not going to be easy. Was I always this defiant, or did it come after the accident? Or was it only with him? So many questions and zero answers.
I watched while he made his way to the cabinet, hand in his pocket in search of the key. My throat dropped to my stomach, anticipating what he had planned for me. If he thought for one second I would wear the stupid chastity belt, he would get a fight. No way.
With high caution, I watched him stroll toward me holding black lace. He squatted on the floor and I raised my foot. Left one first. That didn’t look so bad. Black thong. But why was it locked up?
“This is going to keep you in line tonight. Don’t be telling the neighbors how high their grass is. Answer when you’re spoken to, and that’s it. You don’t need to sit and carry on a conversation with the neighbors. Got it?”
“Um, yeah. Okay,” I said, not really sure what it was he wanted to get across to me. How was a pair of panties going to keep me in my place? I didn’t ask and he didn’t explain it. We had to go.
Paxton rushed me again while we were in the kitchen, packing up our dishes. He carried the blue shopping bag, and I held the hands of the two prettiest little girls in Florida, both wearing their little sundresses.
They talked busily, explaining their fieldtrip to the beach. Their dad fell and got run over by a wave, they petted a dog named Blue, picked up trash and put it in the can, and they built sandcastles, only they did it too close to the water and the tide took them away. I giggled with them, hanging on to every single word they said.
“What’s in here,” Paxton asked after shifting the weight of my bag for the third time.
“Something for the kids, something for the adults, and something for everyone.”
“Thought you didn’t cook.”
I smiled at him, and I think he might have smiled back. He covered it pretty quick. “Apparently, I don’t do a lot of things that I do.”
“That doesn’t make any sense, Mommy,” Rowan assured me.
I brushed her blonde hair behind her back and smiled down at her. “Daddy is the only one who has those sense.”
“I’m going to get a sparkler at dark time. Collin told me I can have one,” Ophelia said while skipping up ahead to pick up a rock. She studied it with the strangest look and then tossed it to the grass.
As soon as we were close enough to the house, both girls took off in a sprint, excited for the fun.
“I prefer you don’t speak.”
“Yes, Paxton. We’ve established that.”
“I’m being serious, Gabriella.”
“Fine.”
“That a girl. I knew you’d come around to my way of thinking.”
I wasn’t coming around to anything. I was being manipulative, hoping to feel something later on. I would take the “that a girl” and roll with it. Whatever worked. I was stuck until one of two things happened. Either I figured out how to get away from him, or I remembered my freaking name.
So frustrating.
I don’t know what the rush was for. We were the first ones there. Shayla took my bag and hummed out a yum, taking in the scent of pasta.
“What is this, Gabriella? Something new?” she asked with a smile and a peculiar stare.
I got excited telling her about it. I sort of liked being in the kitchen. Who would have thought? “The pitcher has rum-runner in it. It’s delicious. The red bowl is for the kids. It’s dirt pudding. I even put the gummy worms in it. The other one is just a pasta in a white sauce.”
“Oh, man, I was hoping you were bringing those little barbequed wieners you make,” Tricia said from behind. I turned to see her and Brant joining us on the breezeway. Collin ran for the pool, and cannoned-balled, water splashing on all of us.
“Collin, you little bastard. I’m going to beat your ass,” Shayla yelled.
I laughed at her and shrugged at Tricia. “I don’t remember how.”
“And some people don’t really like meat,” Lane said. His arms were crossed and he leaned against the counter behind Candace’s back, smirk directed right at me. What the hell, dude?
Candace looked back to her husband with a noticeable grimace. “You eat meat three times a day.”
“Yeah, I know I do. I’m just saying some people.”
“You’re not drinking anymore,” she said, still wearing the frown. My eyes met Lane’s and I unintentionally scowled. Was he talking about me?
“Oh, my God. This is so good, Gabriella. What’s in it? Mmm, Shay, Tricia, you gotta try this,” Candace said while licking the icy alcohol from her lips.
I used my fingers to calculate the ingredients as I thought them out. “Captain Morgan. The spiced kind. Blackberry liqueur, creme de bananas, fresh squeezed orange juice, and—oh, crushed ice. That’s it.”
The gathering moved away from the pool and under the roof when Collin splashed everyone again.
“You don’t even drink,” Candace said.
I looked up, puzzled. “I don’t?”
“You hate alcohol,” Paxton reminded me with a squeeze to my hand.
“No, she likes it,” I heard, barely above a whisper. Lane’s hand went to the small of my back as he passed me, needing to get closer to his grill.
“You help me get this off?” Rowan asked with her head stuck in her dress. I gave her bare belly a noisy raspberry first and then lifted it over her head. She giggled and ran off to join the other kids in the pool.
From all the strange stares I seemed to be getting from my friends, my neighbors—or whatever the hell they were—seemed to be telling me something. I was a freak. Why did I get a look every time I said or did something? Or was it the raspberry?
“I like this alcohol,” I admitted. I poured myself a drink in one of the cute whisky glasses and sipped it. Again, all eyes on me. Paxton discreetly nodded to the chair next to him and I sat. With my drink.
“You okay?” He set a hand on my knee and raised his eyebrows.
I leaned in closer and whispered back, “I’m going to need a cooler full of ice for this day.”
His frown deepened with confusion. “Excuse me?”
“Forget it.”
“Good idea. No more after that.”
“No more what?”
“Drinks.”
I snorted. “Hmph, okay.”
“Gabriella,” he said in a quiet yet stern tone. It was a warning and I knew it. Gah. Why couldn’t I just be fake like everyone else?
The night wasn’t so bad. Maybe because I didn’t stop with one. It wasn’t my fault, though. Lane kept pouring them for me. If Paxton really cared, he should have said something to him. He didn’t. Not my fault.
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