Just My Type Page 23

  I’m so goddamn in love with her that my stomach constantly feels like it’s plunging down the first hill of a roller coaster whenever she walks into the room. It would be nice if I could say this revelation suddenly hit me just now, but I’ve been feeling this shit flopping around in my stomach for weeks. Before I kissed her, before I made her come in a pool with my hand, before I found out what it felt like to sink inside her tight body and hear her moan my name. It’s been building for weeks, since the first time she called me an asshole. The sex is out of this world, but it’s just an added bonus. I’m in love with her.

  This was all new to her, being back in the dating game. I didn’t want to scare her and come on too strong. I’ll let her take the lead, and I’ll let her make the decisions, until she realizes I’m not going anywhere and will wait for as long as she needs. I still don’t want to scare her, but she needs to know I’m here, and I’m in this. I don’t want her to ever have any doubts about me.

  Ember ends the kiss, pulling back from my mouth to smile at me.

  “You know what Lincoln is going to want to name his next pet, right?”

  I chuckle as my hands drop from her cheeks and I wrap them around her shoulders, pulling her closer so she can rest her cheek against my chest and I can put my chin on top of her head.

  Clearing my throat, I speak in a higher-pitched voice. “Hi, I’d like to make a vet appointment for my beloved pets, Ron Jeremy and Piss Boner?”

  I feel Ember shaking in my arms as she laughs.

  “I don’t see anything wrong with that.” I shrug.

  The muffled sounds of Lincoln digging through the silverware drawer and opening and slamming cupboards fills the silence between us for a few minutes while we stand here in the hallway with our arms wrapped around each other. With a deep breath, I keep my chin where it’s resting on top of her head, and spit all this out before I lose my fucking nerve.

  “I’m all in,” I speak softly, staring at a spot on the wall as my hands gently run up and down Ember’s spine. “I was all in the minute I met you, because of how funny you are, and how strong you are, and how you don’t take my shit. I was all in the minute I saw how much you love your son and the people you care about. And I know being all in with you, means being all in with Lincoln. I like your son. He’s a handsome devil, and he’s smart, and funny, and polite, and he laughs at my fart jokes. That’s like, really important.”

  Since Ember hasn’t moved or said one word, I felt like I needed to end this thing on a silly note, so she wouldn’t freak out. But she’s still quiet and not moving, and my stupid hands are still running up and down her spine, because I don’t know what else to do with them.

  Maybe I should have played this just like the dating thing. Several years down the road, I can just be like, “Um, yeah, I’m in love with you. The signs were all there, God!”

  She suddenly pulls out of my arms, and I watch with shaking hands as her eyes slowly move up my chest and over my face until they meet mine. Out of the corner of my eyes, I see her bring her hand up between us and I glance down, my mouth tipping up into a grin and the nerves slipping away like a flash.

  Looking back at her, I wrap my pinky around the one she’s holding up in front of my chest.

  “You know the rules,” she says softly as we move our intertwined pinkies up and down. “You don’t fuck with a pinky swear.”

  “I’m well aware of that. It’s why I’m wearing a sparkly lip shirt and showing off my navel.”

  “You know I probably have an old shirt my brother left here in one of my drawers you could change into,” she says, our hands still moving up and down between us.

  “Nope. I’m committed to pulling this off now. Have you seen how great the sparkles make my abs look? It’s goddamn magnificent.”

  “And yet, I’m still all in, in spite of that.” She sighs dramatically.

  She lets out a squeal when I drop our joined fingers, squat down, and quickly lift her up over my shoulder, just like the night at the aquarium. My knee hurts like a motherfucker after last night’s sexcapades, but I don’t give a shit. I push through it and carry Ember out into the kitchen with her dangling down my back, smacking my ass, and telling me to put her down through her laughter, because I can.

  And because she’s motherfucking all in.

  “Wash your hands first if you’re getting a snack!” Ember shouts after Lincoln as he runs ahead of us through the door and straight into the kitchen.

  “I’m not getting a snack. I’m getting Ron Jeremy!” he yells back as we hear the squeaky metal sound of R.J.’s cage opening when Ember and I walk into the kitchen.

  She flops down on a chair at the table in the corner, letting out an exhausted sigh as she sets her purse down on top of it.

  “The zoo is exhausting. Why is walking around looking at adorable animals so exhausting?” she complains.

  Moving to stand behind her, I rest my hands on her shoulders and she lets out a groan of satisfaction when I start gently massaging them.

  We spent the day at the Lincoln Park Zoo, Ember and I holding hands with our arms swinging between us all day, while Lincoln walked a few feet in front of us, chattering away non-stop about every animal we saw. It was especially fun to see a flush move up Ember’s chest to her cheeks, when we got to the otter exhibit and saw them swimming around in their pool.

  “Probably because you didn’t want to be left out when Lincoln challenged me to a race back to the car,” I remind her, my dick starting to swell in my jeans with each little whimper and moan she makes as I continue rubbing her shoulders.

  We were one of the last ones to leave the zoo before it closed, and the parking lot was almost empty. Seeing nothing but wide-open pavement between us and my Jeep parked at least twenty rows away, Lincoln made the right decision. After walking around all day, I knew my knee wouldn’t make it through a sprint across the parking lot. I took off running with all three of them and then stopped immediately, just so I could watch Ember do exactly what I expected her to. Run full-out and put everything into that race, because there was no way in hell she was letting her son win. She also refuses to let him win at Uno, even if the game has been going for three hours. Ember will not fold.

  Ember’s not like a regular mom; she’s a cool mom.

  She beat Lincoln by two seconds, and rubbed it in his face until I joined them at the car, Lincoln got in the backseat, and her winning smile dropped as she sagged against me, groaning in pain, asking me why I let her do that. I had to practically lift her and put her into the front seat like a toddler.

  “Maybe you shouldn’t have inhaled three bags of cotton candy and two soft pretzels right before we left, and that race wouldn’t have winded you,” I tease her.

  “Maybe you should suck my dick,” she replies back sweetly as I kiss the top of her head with a laugh, and move away when Lincoln comes out of the laundry room with Ron Jeremy.

  “I’m thinking tacos for dinner. Who’s in?” I ask, moving over to one of Ember’s kitchen drawers to pull out her stack of take-out menus.

  Lincoln quickly throws his hand in the air, and Ember follows, but much slower, and with a groan of pain like she’s ninety-years old.

  I’m still laughing at her, even after she flips me off, and I pull my phone out of my pocket to order delivery from her favorite Mexican restaurant a few blocks away. The call just starts to connect when we hear the doorbell ring. Ember gets up from the table, glancing at the front door questioningly.

  “Want me to get it?” I ask, dropping the phone from my ear and tossing it on the counter.

  She looks back and forth between me and the door, biting her bottom lip with indecision. I come around the counter and stand in front of her as Lincoln gets a water out of the fridge, and the doorbell chimes again.

  “This does not make you any less of a hardass, having a man answer the door after dark just to be safe,” I tell her.

  Ember finally gives me a firm nod after a few seconds.

&nb
sp; “You’re right. I’m a nasty bitch. But what’s the point of having a boyfriend if he can’t scare away the people who just showed up to murder me?” she asks.

  “Do murderers usually ring the doorbell first?”

  I start walking through the living room, and Ember stays in the doorway of the kitchen, where she has a perfect view, but she’s far enough away that she’ll have a head start if the polite, doorbell-ringing murders overtake me.

  “According to your sister, ninety percent of women are killed by someone they know. Brooklyn and Clint are the only people I know who wouldn’t ring the doorbell and would just barge right in. But they wouldn’t kill me, so that’s a moot point,” she explains, as I look back over my shoulder at her when I reach for the doorknob. “That leads me to believe that anyone else I know who wants to kill me would be courteous and ring the doorbell.”

  “I never should have introduced you to Blake,” I mutter with a smile, turning the knob. “She’s a bad influence on….”

  My voice trails off when I open the door and see a man standing on Ember’s front stoop. He’s got dark, messy hair, at least three days of dark scruff on his face, and he’s wearing a pair of those fucking hipster, black-framed glasses. I’ve never met the guy before, but I looked through Ember’s photo albums one night with Lincoln, and he pointed his dad out in the pictures.

  This is the douchebag who’s too busy for his son and didn’t realize what an amazing, perfect woman he had.

  “You must be Baker. I’ve heard a lot about you,” Ember’s ex says, holding his hand out for me to shake.

  He definitely looked a lot more put-together in those photos than he does right now. His light blue dress shirt is untucked, wrinkled, and has pit stains under the arms, and he has bags under his eyes and what looks like a mustard stain on the thigh of his black dress pants. At least he no longer looks like a douchebag. Now he just looks pathetic.

  I’m not going to be a dick, even though I really, really want to. This is Lincoln’s dad, and he’s right in the next room. As much as I’m dying to slam my fist into his nose, I’ll behave for Lincoln’s benefit. Taking his hand, I shake it once, squeezing it in a tight grip before letting go.

  Sure, I’m not going to be a dick, but I can still be a little bit of an asshole and let him know that I’m well aware of what kind of a jackass he is.

  “Hey, Ember,” Brandon says with a smile as he looks over my shoulder. “Where’s Lincoln? I have something to tell you both.”

  “He ran out back to grab his sweatshirt he left outside last night, and to let R.J. crawl in the grass for a little bit,” Ember informs him, moving to stand next to me in the doorway.

  Am I supposed to invite the guy in? This isn’t my house, but it seems like the polite, non-dicky thing to do.

  I glance over at Ember, and she doesn’t look like she’s planning on having him stick around for coffee and a friendly chitchat. She looks like she’s two seconds away from slamming the door in his face.

  That’s my girl.

  Knowing she’s strong enough to handle whatever it is he has to tell her, I step out of the doorway and walk away to lean my ass against the back of the couch. Far enough away to give them some privacy, but close enough so I can move back around the door and punch Brandon in the nose before Lincoln gets back in, if he decides to let too much of his special brand of douche out of his mouth.

  “Guess what?” I hear Brandon ask excitedly from the front stoop.

  Ember sighs on the other side of the open door, and I cross my arms over my chest and let out a little snort, glad I don’t have to hide my amusement, since neither Brandon nor Ember can see me from where I’m at now.

  “It’s been a long day, and I’m tired. Just spit it out,” Ember says, letting out another annoyed sigh.

  “I know you’re mad, and you have every right to be. I’ve been a fool, Ember,” Brandon starts, making me roll my eyes.

  Oh, for fuck’s sake, here we go. He’s going to tell her he never stopped loving her, and he made a mistake, and he didn’t realize what he had until it was gone. Or, you know, until he realized all her needs were being met by another man. Boohoo, cry me a fucking river.

  “You haven’t been a fool; you’ve been a piece of shit. There’s a big difference,” Ember replies.

  I silently pump my fist in the air.

  “You’re right. You’re absolutely right,” Brandon agrees. “There’s been a lot going on with work. A lot of things I haven’t told you, and I’m sorry about that. But everything is going to be fine now. I’m fixing the mistakes I’ve made, and I’m going to make it up to you.”

  “I don’t need you to make anything up to me, Brandon. It’s in the past. I’ve moved on. The only person you need to worry about is that little boy in the back yard, who doesn’t understand why his father doesn’t give two shits about him.”

  “I know, I know!” Brandon argues. “I’ve screwed up so badly with him, but I’m fixing it. I’m fixing everything. You can be happy again, and Lincoln can be happy again, and everything will be the way it’s supposed to be.”

  “What the hell are you talking about?” Ember asks in confusion.

  “I got demoted.”

  This just keeps getting better and better. Karma is so pretty, and nice.

  “That’s why I’ve been so distracted and busy lately, and that’s why I’ve had to cancel with Lincoln so much. I know it’s not an excuse, but it’s the truth,” Brandon rambles. “I’m so sorry for letting him down. For letting you down, when I’ve already done that enough. I freaked out, and I’m sorry. Ember… I’m broke.”

  Bend over, Karma. You’re getting a nice, hard dicking and a bunch of orgasms as a thank you for your generosity.

  “Jesus, Brandon,” Ember mutters from the other side of the open door.

  I really wish I could see her face right now. I’m sure she’s making a valiant effort not to point and laugh right at him.

  “But it’s fine! Everything is going to be okay. It’s happening kind of fast, but I know you’re not going to care about that. The faster the better, I’m sure.” Brandon chuckles.

  “Brandon, what in the fuck are you talking about?” Ember asks him again when he just continues to ramble about shit that makes absolutely no sense.

  “I’m talking about moving back to Montana in two weeks.”

  A record screeches somewhere in my brain, and my body slowly lifts from its perch on the back of the couch, my arms dropping down to my sides when he says that one word. The one word that means everything to Ember—home.

  “The company is moving me to Billings, the closest big city to White Timber. This is it, Ember. You can finally go home.”

  I never thought one single word could make bile rise up from my stomach and get caught in my throat. Especially such a simple word that means love, and family, and all good things. All good things that Ember desperately misses.

  “I could stay here, in the lower, junior-level position, but they won’t cover my rent anymore unless I move where they tell me, and we both know how expensive it is living in Chicago.”

  Brandon lets out a little chuckle, and I can practically hear the steam coming out of Ember’s ears right now.

  Of course she knows how expensive it is, you piece of trash. She’s worked her ass off to put a roof over your son’s head, while you ate caviar and cruised around the bay on a fucking yacht.

  “I’m sorry I forced you to move here when I knew you’d never really be happy in a big city,” Brandon continues, digging the knife a little deeper into my heart.

  I wait for her to contradict him. For her to tell him that she is happy in this big city, you motherfucking piece of dog shit. Except I know that’s not true. Not completely. I know I make her happy, but I don’t make her home-happy. I can’t compete with the idyllic, peaceful, small town she lived in her whole life, filled with every good memory she’s ever had, overflowing with everyone she loves, when it kills her that she isn’t raising her son
there.

  “What do you mean they won’t cover your rent anymore unless you move?” Ember finally asks, my eyes closing and my head dropping forward when she never tells him she’s happy here. “When you asked for a divorce, you said since they were only paying for the first three months, and that time limit was up, it would be easier to separate then, since we needed to move anyway.”

  Jesus, what a cocksucker.

  “Three months. That was the time limit on them paying rent,” Ember says.

  Although, she doesn’t just say it. She seethes it. I can tell she’s clenching her teeth, and if she was a witch, there would be shit flying all around the house right now. Papers, and glasses, and furniture, and Ron Jeremy, they would all be cycloning around the room from the force of Ember’s rage.

  “Okay, don’t be mad,” Brandon quickly says.

  I do laugh this time, even though it feels like my insides are caving in. Men are taught in the womb that you never tell a woman not to be mad. It will never, ever end well for you. Brandon must have been asleep that day.

  “I feel like things between us have been on really rocky ground since the divorce, which is understandable,” Brandon rushes, obviously knowing nothing about his ex-wife.

  I can’t even see her and I know he’s a dead man. I can only imagine the look she’s aiming at his face right now. But he’s an idiot, and ignores it, figuring she’s completely silent right now because she’s just politely waiting for him to explain why he lied to her, and he’s been living in a high rise condo in Chicago for free all this time.

  Dude, she’s silent, because it takes a lot of concentration to make an alphabetical list of all the ways she can kill you and make it look like an accident. Wake the fuck up!

  “But now with the good news about Montana, I figured we’d finally be in a good place, and what I have to tell you is going to put us right back in the rocky place,” Brandon whines.

  He pauses, probably waiting for Ember to reassure him. She still doesn’t say a word, and with my eyes still closed and my head down, I shake my head at what a clueless schmuck this guy is. Her continued silence makes Brandon impatient, so he rips that shit off quick, like a Band-Aid. And like a completely clueless schmuck.