The Perfect Plans Series [Box Set] (55 page)

Releasing me slowly from our kiss, he whispers against my lips, “Honesty is incredibly sexy.”

“Is it?” I question playfully.

“Mmhmm,” he mumbles, kissing my neck.

“Well, allow me to elaborate my candor,” I manage through his onslaught, pulling every ounce of strength to cement my words. “I will fight those pesky fears to the bitter end. I’ll never run again. I promise you that,” I add, leaning my lips against his chest, waiting in hopes that he heard my truth.

He pulls back, the corners of his mouth curling up into one of his heart stopping smiles. “Well, Miss Ryan,” he brushes his fingers along my tummy, eliciting electric shivers, “…you realize that means you are stuck with me now.”

I can’t help but laugh at his boyish charm, now thankfully returned.
God, how I’ve missed it
. “Likewise, Mr. Tate.”

Placing a quick kiss to my forehead, he pulls me tighter, sighing contentedly into my neck. The feel of his smile against my flesh is indescribable. “Stay the night?”

“I’m not going anywhere.”

“OKAY,” I POSITION myself between Alex and the front door of my parent’s home, looking up into his beautiful blue eyes with weary caution, “…once you step inside this door, you may never see me the same way again. Are you prepared for that?”

His lips curl into that sexy smirk that immediately scorches down my core. I have to bite my lip against the thought of just jumping in the car and taking him back to bed.

“Sweetheart, I’m prepared for anything and everything that is you,” he wraps his strong arms around my waist, his words as charming as his smile. “And I’m more than willing to turn around and take you right back to the hotel to prove that a few more times, if you wish,” he adds, pulling at my bitten lip with his thumb.

“Don’t tempt me.” I can’t resist trailing my palm along his chest beneath the opening of his tweed jacket, my fingers begging me to reconsider his offer. “Let’s just get this over with,” I sigh, reluctantly turning in his hold to open the door. “So, remember, my dad’s not much of a talker, but he has a heart of gold, and Mom,” I pause, turning to look at him, “…well, let’s just say that at the end of the day, I think she means well.”

“Got it,” he nods, lips pursed before that crooked grin curls back into place.

God help me, I’m insatiable for him
. And he knows it. “Are you going to tease me all day with that wicked, sexy smirk, Mr. Tate?”

“I won’t be teasing,” he whispers in my ear, his hand trailing down my back to caress my behind.

“No? What would you call it?” I challenge, playfully.

“An extended warning.”

Oh, gawd
…

“Mom, I’m here,” I call out as we enter.
Let the fun and games begin.

“Aby?” she calls from the kitchen. “Well, thank heavens you finally decided to grace us with your…” she stops abruptly, finally having us in view. “Oh,” she smiles, smoothing down her perfectly wrinkle-free clothing.

“Hi, Mom. I’d like you to meet Alexander Tate. Alex this is my mother, Dianne.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Ryan,” he shakes her hand gently, offering his incredible smile. “May I call you Dianne?”

“Oh, yes, of course,” she giggles, caught in that familiar ‘Alexander Tate’ awkward trance as she stares at the man I’ve fallen in love with. “Abigail, you should have warned me you were bringing a guest,” she fiddles with her perfectly styled hair. “I would have done something with myself.” I roll my eyes - it’s not like she can see me, she’s fixated on the Adonis of a man at my side. “It’s wonderful to meet you, Alexander,” she gushes.

“Please, call me Alex.”

“Yes, of course.” Her giant, frozen smile seems to swallow the moment of silence. It’s hard to look away from her awestruck gaze before she opens her mouth again to speak, “Reggie! Aby is home, and she’s brought a friend. Come, come inside you two,” she grabs Alex’s arm, entwining it in her own to pull him along.

I follow behind, shaking my head slightly. This is more than comical.

We enter the kitchen to find my dad sitting at the table, his reading glasses perched on his nose, his face twisted tightly in concentration as he tries to decipher, what I can only assume, is the day’s crossword puzzle.

“Reggie! Did you not hear me calling? Abigail is here, and she’s brought a friend.”

Begrudgingly pulling his gaze from the newspaper at the shrill, yet undoubtedly partially tuned-out voice of my mom, instant warmth flashes in his eyes when they land on me. “Aby, honey, come here,” he stands, walking towards me, his crossword forgotten.

I immediately fold into his arms, hugging him tight in return. “Hi, Dad,” I smile against his chest, savoring the familiar scent that is my dad.

Pulling back to hold me at arms length, he flashes me his smile. “It’s good to see you. Have you been eating?”

“Ugh, yes I’ve been eating,” I chuckle. “Dad, I want you to meet my boyfriend,” I gesture towards Alex, standing idly by. “Alex, this is my dad, Reggie.”

“It’s a pleasure, Mr. Ryan,” Alex smiles, reaching to shake my dad’s hand.

There’s no question I can see the wheels turning behind my father’s gaze - part ‘who the hell is this guy’ and equal part ‘you’re not good enough for my daughter’. So damn adorable.

“Likewise, Alex,” he replies.
Yup, the man of few words.
I can clearly see the strength in the grip of his handshake, the motion of the gesture continuing a little longer than necessary.

“Now, Alex, what can I get you to drink?” Mom saves the day, the men pulling their hands apart. “Lemonade?”

“
Lemonade…that cool refreshing drink
,” I sing the little ditty from Eddie Murphy’s
Delirious
.

“I hope you’re hungry. I’ve got brunch coming up shortly,” Mom continues with a smile, ignoring me, my joke lost.

Humph, I thought it was funny.
Taking in Alex’s tweaked brow, I shrug playfully.
What? Can you smell it?
I giggle to myself.
I love Eddie Murphy.

Masking a chuckle, Alex turns his gaze to Mom, “Lemonade would be perfect, Dianne, thank you. And brunch sounds lovely.”

Gushing from his sweet gentlemanly words, Mom readies his lemonade, not bothering to offer me any. I guess I don’t count as a guest anymore, despite having not lived at home for years.

“Thank you,” Alex takes the glass with a smile, eliciting my mother’s giddy shrug. I cringe at her ridiculous display.
I need to get this shit under control. Alex gets enough of this outside of his comfort zones.

“Why don’t you go on into the living room? I’ll be there in a second,” I smile, gesturing in the direction.

Alex merely grins, turning to make his way out.

Out of earshot, I zoom in - the best defense is a good offence. “Mom,
really
? You’re acting like a crazy person. I warned you Alex was a celebrity,” I shake my head. “This is hilarious.”

“What kind of celebrity?” Dad pipes up. “I thought I recognized him.”

“Oh, Reggie, I told you that already. He’s a famous
actor
. You just don’t listen to me.”

“Dianne, you did not tell me that.”

“I absolutely did tell you! Ages ago. Remember? When Aby confessed to being shacked up with an actor. So you listened, you just don’t
hear
me. Maybe you need to get your ears checked, darling.”

“I would have remembered that,” he mumbles under his breath. “And, maybe I’d hear you if you didn’t nag at me every single second of every day.”

Oh sweet baby Jesus. My family’s fucked.
“Okay, okay,” I pipe in, interrupting their sidetracked tirade. “Yes, Alex is an actor. Yes, I
stayed
with him for a week. But he’s my boyfriend, and moreover just a regular guy. Let’s not make his career a big deal, okay?
Please
? I’m begging you not to embarrass me.” I’m pleading now. I don’t want Alex to think my family is any more certifiable than necessary.

“Of course, Abigail. We would never embarrass you,” Mom states, her hand held to her chest as though it’s a ludicrous notion.

“Okay, I just needed to make sure we’re all on the same page.”

“Are you happy, Aby?” Dad asks suddenly, sincerity in his gaze.

“Very,” I smile.

Clearing his throat - his typical swallow of emotion - he turns his attention back to his discarded crossword. “Well, you don’t need to worry about your mother, Aby, honey. I’ll keep her in line,” he chuckles, and I turn, shaking my head as I make my way out of the kitchen.
That woman couldn’t walk a straight line sober.

I find Alex standing at the console table full of portraits of my sister and her family. “This is what I call the ‘shrine’,” I whisper with a halfhearted laugh, taking in the large framed portraits above the numerous ones spread on the table.

He offers me a questioning glance, eyebrow raised.

“I think the evidence speaks for itself, no?” I roll my eyes. His sudden amused gaze makes me feel silly for allowing my petty jealously to show, and I purse my lips. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be,” he smiles, wrapping his arm around me, pulling me against him. “I’m not particularly a fan of
your
shrine, myself.” He kisses my forehead.

Huh?
Now I’m the one confused. I follow the direction of his nod towards the wall behind me.
Oh, my ever loving GOD! You have got to be shitting me!

Framed beautifully, a giant wedding portrait of Liam and I hangs between two smaller framed images - one of me graduating from University and one of Beth and I. Needless to say, there would be no faded paint around these recently hung portraits, and I love the added touch of my sister in
my
seemingly new mini-shrine. But, the giant wedding picture?
What. The. Hell?

Mortified, I turn to face Alex. He’s staring at the portrait of Liam and I, the pulse in his jaw unmistakable, though it feels as though he’s trying to hide any signs of a reaction. He’s failing. Miserably.
Shit
.

“Alex, I…”

“Show of hands for coffee with brunch,” Mom peeks around the corner.

Dad always told me that if looks could kill, I’d be a jailbird, and that dagger-shooting eye talent of mine is currently set to max. Number one target? My mother. “Interesting new photo collage,
Mom
,” I spew, trying very hard to control my pending explosive outburst in front of Alex. The last thing I want to do is add to his discomfort.

“Oh,” she replies in high-pitched nonchalance. “I found that in your belongings, and had the perfect frame for it. They say to display items in threes, and I think the smaller frames really make it pop, don’t you?” she questions, walking towards them, correcting the tilt of one at the corner.

“Oh, it pops something,” I mutter, Alex stopping my motion to step towards her with his gentle hold of my waist. “Mom,” I take a breath of composure, “…you wait until I’m divorced to hang a wedding portrait?”

“Sweetie,” she turns to face me, confused exasperation behind a smile-for-show. “Technically, you were divorced just yesterday. Your father hung these for me at least two months ago.”

“Don’t hang
me
out to dry,” Dad joins us, taking his usual seat in the recliner in front of the TV. “I didn’t know what your mother was planning to hang, I just do what I’m told,” he shrugs. “I warned you that Aby wouldn’t like it,” he adds, glancing at my mother.

“Well, I’m sorry,” she huffs, her gaze flickering between my father and I. “I thought it was a shame to have such a beautiful picture of my little girl sitting in a box in the basement.” She reaches for the large wooden frame, struggling with its weight, attempting to lift it from its hook.

“Allow me,” Alex steps forward with a smile.

I can’t help the purse of my lips to avoid grinning at the underling-amused sarcasm in his gentlemanly offer, knowing full well it’s completely missed by my mother’s self-absorbed oblivion. Sensing my father’s gaze, I glance towards him to catch his own amused wink at me, it speaks volumes and I smile. The man of so few words can tell me so much in just one action. He’s very happy for me.
And
Alex.

“We’re here,” I hear Beth call from the foyer. My niece and nephew race to the entrance of the living room before Beth calls after them, “Your shoes! Come back here and take off your shoes!”

“Yes,” Mom’s hand darts to her throat in controlled panic. “Take your shoes off, little ones,” she continues, making her way to greet them.

Dad slowly gets up to follow her, flashing me a roll of his eyes, and a wink.

Shaking my head on a smile, I turn to find Alex straightening from leaning the portrait on the floor against the wall. I note his pause of consideration as he eyes the image of Liam and I, our wedding smiles taunting him. Biting at the corner of my mouth, I watch him retrieve the discarded portrait, turning it to face inward, completely out of view.

Ugh
, I cringe. I can’t believe he just had to do that. “I’m so sorry,” I whisper as he takes me in his arms. “My mom…”

“Don’t apologize,” he smiles, cupping my face in his hands for a chaste kiss. “Remember,” he continues, his thumb lovingly brushing my cheek, “…she means well.”

“What she means is to hit every nerve in my body with her metaphorical Taser.”