Jayson: A New Adult / Coming of Age Romance (7 page)

“I don’t have a curfew or anything. She has expectations I like to live up to, that’s all. I guess you could say I’m a perfectionist,” she says with pride.

I nod, seeing perfectionist written all over her. That, and sexy. Sexy perfectionist. I suddenly get a vivid mental image about what that would translate to in the bedroom, and the arousal comes on strong and unbidden. I shift positions, clearing my throat. “Yeah, I’m what most would call a workaholic, myself. I don’t usually come to places like this either, but my brothers wanted to hang out tonight.”

“So, how many Zephyr Brothers are there?”

“Well, there’s Castiel. I don’t think you’ve met Devon yet, but he’s around here somewhere. We also have a younger brother named Ashby. As the eldest, I’m less chill, they tell me. I made an exception tonight, though…and I have to say I am ecstatic that I did. You, Ms. Schneider, happen to be impossible to not think about,” I admit.

She smiles. “I’d say it was mutual, but that might be leading you on.”

I should tell her I’m not easily led astray. The alpha male in me can’t abide letting someone else take charge of me. No danger there. I grin and ask, “Why would that be leading me on?”

“Because you’re not the kind of guy I can bring home to my mom.” She doesn’t say it in an offensive way…. In fact, her face is more like that of a kid staring in a candy store window. But it still gets to me. I try not to show it.

“Yeah, I figured as much.” Of course I’m not dateable to someone with her wealthy background. She’s looking for a country club member. I’m just a contractor. I don’t point out I’m actually a well-off business owner or that what I do for a living shouldn’t have any bearing on whether or not she talks to me. It irritates me to be ruled out on such grounds, but I know how these things work. Besides, my bad boy past means that I’m not the kind of guy she can bring home to Momma in more ways than one.

“We got tonight, though. Nobody knows me here,” she murmurs. There’s a look of challenge in her eyes now. As much as I want to tell her I’m not interested in being her dirty little secret, that would be a lie. Just to spend a bit of solitary time in her company, away from the job site, away from our roles as client and contractor—I can be her dirty little secret for that.

“You want to dance?” I ask, gently enveloping her hand in mine. I smile lightly, giving her leeway to turn me down if that’s too much for her. But, she doesn’t turn me down. She nods shyly and pulls me out to the crowded floor.

I so shouldn’t be doing this. I shouldn’t be doing this!

I squeeze my eyes shut, mouthing OMFG as I walk ahead of him. I don’t recognize any of the music, but the minute he pulls me into his space to dance, the song could be a nursery rhyme set to dubstep for all I care. His fingertips skate down my sides, lingering on my hips. We’re close enough for our chests to bump, making my nipples bead beneath the thin marigold tank since I’m not wearing a bra. I bite my lip with a quiet groan of pleasure, toeing the line between risqué and innocent as I sidle closer and slink away. His eyelids lower over his golden eyes, and I look up at him under the colorful strobe lights.

He makes no attempt to hide his attraction. When I turn around and roll my bottom slowly against his pelvis, he slips a hand to the base of my stomach to gently guide the movement, his obvious erection unmistakable. Usually, this is a turn-off with a guy, but not this one. I guess if you feel the same…I’m being so brazen I almost feel like I’m watching someone else instead of dancing like this myself. I pull away, taking things down a notch, knowing that if female arousal were as obvious as male…well, he wouldn’t be the only one with it showing. I leave some space between us as we continue to dance. The song ends, another starts and then another. I should be watching the clock because I lied to my mother about having to work late. If I don’t get in soon, she’ll catch me in the lie. Yet, in Jayson’s arms I can barely think past the wall of his chest and the mesmerizing pull of his gaze.

“What is this?” I know I sound crazy for asking, but my bewilderment is sincere. I’m not used to the rush of blood to my pelvis when he touches me, looks at me, says my name. Not used to the physical manifestations of desire. I’m…dewy for him. I’ve been attracted to other guys before, but nothing as potent as with Jayson. Seriously, what is this?

“Are you scared?” he asks with that sexy baritone laugh that sends a shiver through me. I shake my head. He pulls me back close and I go willingly as the song we’re moving to transitions to something slower. I suspect the DJ is conspiring against me. Clearly the universe knows I’m on the verge of acting out of character. Am I scared? Hell, yes! Not of Jayson. Of myself.

He tucks my chin between his thumb and forefinger and lifts my face. Alarm bells go off in my head. The voice of reason screams my name, but what do I hear? Absolutely nothing. Not the music or chaos of the club, not the dancers bumping into us in slow-motion, not even my heartbeat, even though I know it’s pounding harder than the bassline, given that my chest feels like it’s about to shatter and I’m breathless. Time hitches.

The only thing moving is his lips towards mine. His kiss—feather light—nonetheless impacts me with the earth-shaking force of an asteroid. Imagine a cold, hard crust pulverized to reveal a deep, lush, gorgeous landscape, a sensual pocket now open to the air. His silky tongue slips into my mouth and sweeps over mine. I gasp and inhale sharply.

Time starts back up.

“Kit? Kit!”

“W-what?” I stammer, confused, dazed, blitzed by Jayson Zephyr—no…spun out of control. The Zephyr effect he calls it. I turn around and Grace swims into focus.

“Kit, it’s almost eleven o’clock! I’m so sorry I lost track of time. I was supposed to get you back to your mother’s house almost forty-five minutes ago!”

“Oh, shit!” I exclaim. I pull away from Jayson, who clutches my hand like he doesn’t want me to leave. I shake my head apologetically.

The spell is over and I’m back to reality. Candace Schneider is going to have an entire fit when I get home. But, as we speed through the city back to Mom’s house, my lips tingle and that out-of-control feeling doesn’t leave. What the hell is Jayson Zephyr doing to me?

T
his is a love story
. This is the story of a girl who found a house tucked in a quiet little neighborhood and fell in love, a house with a lot of potential but not much curb appeal, a house that
needed
love. I wish I could say that everyone else around the girl understood her love for that house, but of course they didn’t. After all, she was only twenty years old, and it took a childlike faith to believe a junker like that house could someday be a home—the kind of childlike faith people called naïve.

For the record, I’m not naïve, but I am sick of feeling like I’m a kid. With a sigh, I hop out of the car in front of my mother’s huge estate and race to the front door, wishing I were leisurely strolling into my own place sitting across town instead of trying to meet my curfew. “Hurry up,” Gracie, my best friend, hisses anxiously. I fumble my key into the lock and throw the door open.

“She might be asleep,” I whisper. “Let’s hope she’s asleep. She usually is around this time. Just keep quiet.”

“Should I come in? We can pretend like we just got off work and I stayed over for a while, in case she does wake up.”

“On second thought, maybe you better not. If the shit hits the fan, I don’t want you around for the fallout.”

“Eww, I don’t want to be there for that either.” Grace giggles, and I shove her out the door back toward her car. She had followed me home, as usual, although we weren’t coming from work like I hope Mom believes. That was a lie we cooked up to get some girl time together, beginning with a trip to my place so she could meet the sexy contractor doing renovations for me and ending with us running into the very same sexy contractor again at the club later that night.

“Bye!” I wave to her and quietly shut the door, locking it. I tiptoe toward the stairs. All I have to do is get to my room, but the minute I put a toe on the bottom step I hear my mother clear her throat behind me. I cringe, pivoting. Candace Schneider stands in the foyer with her hands on her hips. Her perfectly curled ash blond hair doesn’t have a strand out of place, and she’s still in her pearls and a canary yellow dress after midnight. I sigh, knowing she’s waited up specifically for me. “I know I’m home late, but there’s a reasonable explanation for it,” I blurt. “Grace and I went out for a bite to eat after work and time simply got away from us.”

Mom takes a step casual step toward me as I lower myself from the stairs and stand under her close scrutiny. She walks a circle around me, inhaling softly. “You smell like a nightclub,” she murmurs, crossing her arms. “That terrible combination of cheap booze, cancerous cigarettes and bad decisions.”

“Is anything in life not a bad decision to you?” I grumble, not daring to say it too loud.

“Come into the parlor. I need to speak with you. I went by your house today to check up on the renovations.”

I follow her into the sitting room and hold my breath for whatever is to follow. It can’t be good that she went to my house, the beautiful, quaint little home in Western Addition that I purchased with my savings against her will. I’ve owned it for weeks and have yet to spend a single night there. Mom is fronting the cost of flipping the property so I can try to make some of my money back, and although she’s made it a point to stay abreast of progress, I thought she had tapered off her visits. “Well, did you like what you saw?”

“I heard you had been there right before I got there. I thought you were at work…”

“I, uh…” There’s nothing I can say. She’s caught me in the lie. Mom pierces me with her hawk-eyed gaze, shrewdly assessing the short skirt and midriff shirt I borrowed from Grace. I squirm nervously.

“Funny, one of the crewmen mentioned the contractor and his brothers left early for drinks.”

“We didn’t go together,” I reply. “We just happened to run into each other.” That’s the truth, but I’ve unwittingly told on myself. I close my eyes and brace myself for mother’s usual heavy-handed tampering with my existence. I know she won’t pass up this opportunity to tell me seeing Jayson is another “bad decision,” but I’m not even seeing him. I think about his lips, pressed flower-petal-soft against mine less than an hour before this conversation, and I shiver involuntarily. When I open my eyes, I find my mother nodding as if she’s discovered something from the one-second unbidden flashback, and a blush spreads across my face.

Mom sits down on a floral patterned swoop back chair and crosses her legs, the nude hosiery making her calf look smooth. She gestures to another chair with a wave of her hand. Her expression is placid. She has a studied grace and poise the likes of which it takes rigid self-control to maintain, because I know she’s livid at the moment, completely furious with me. I can tell by the tic she can’t control at the left corner of her eye. She smiles a small smile that barely twitches her lips. “Kitrina, is there something I need to know about you and that boy handling the renovations?” She tilts her head, wide-eyed, as I sit.

She’s thinking the worst. I can see it in her earth-brown eyes. Her cynical imagination is sprouting wild ideas. I shake my head swiftly to dispel her fears. “Mother, I barely know the guy, aside from the work he’s doing on the house. Look, whatever you think is going on, I can promise you it isn’t.”

“But you hung out with him at the club?”

“I ran into him at the club, as I said,” I correct her. I fidget, hoping my explanation is enough for her. Of course it isn’t.

“Don’t patronize me, Kitrina. I pay very close attention to you. You’re my child, my only remaining link to your father, God rest his soul, and I know when you’re not acting like yourself. Don’t think I don’t hear you at night whispering on the phone.”

“I’m usually talking to Grace!”

“Ever since you met that contractor you’ve shown an unhealthy interest in him. You shouldn’t even be at the renovation site, and I know all about your little trips there after school. No point in denying it now. Kit, I’m not going to mince words. Is the man attractive? Yes, but that can’t be all you’re looking for in a man.”

“You know I’m not that superficial.”

“I’d hope you’re not that simple. Superficial isn’t the word for it. Don’t get me wrong. A good- looking man can be a catch, as long as he has the credentials to match the dimples. But what does Jayson Zephyr have to offer? He’s a glorified carpenter.” She chuckles drily, and I bristle.

“What are you trying to say? That we’re too good to associate with people like him?” I ask lightly, trying not to show my distaste for Mom’s line of thinking.

“With your background, you should be looking at men of your caliber—learned men, accomplished men. In due time you’ll find a nice boy at university who has a successful future ahead of him like you do. You may think I’m being elitist right now, but you’ll thank me for it in the future. You’ve never had the anxiety of wondering how to stretch your finances or scrape by. You don’t know what it’s like to live from paycheck to paycheck, thank God.”

“Rest your nerves, Mom. It’s not like I’m looking for a serious relationship right now.”

“Ah, well, you rarely have to look for trouble. It has a way of finding you. Listen, honey, I’m glad you’re
not actively
seeking a partnership right now, but that’s entirely different from
actively not
seeking a partnership right now. I need you to focus on your education so you can reach your full potential, and it’s so easy to become distracted. I wouldn’t take the time to tell you these things if I didn’t think they were true. Stay away from rogues like Jayson and keep your mind on graduating.”

Again I think about Jayson kissing me. Contrary to what my mom believes, I’m not a rebel. I don’t do things just to upset her. In fact, I try to do everything I can to win her approval. I’m twenty years old, a sophomore at a great university, and I have a perfect GPA. Added to that, I work part-time. I stepped out on a ledge and bought my own house to show her I could be independent. Things backfired for me when the house turned out to need more work than anticipated, but I even went along with her idea to fix it up and sell it—the furthest thing from what I wanted to do. This has to stop.

That house was my first step toward embracing and moving into adulthood, yet here I am still living by my mom’s rules. I honestly believe she wants the best for me and is trying to empower me, trying to advise me the best way she knows how. What she’s saying makes sense. At the same time, what she’s saying reveals how vastly she underestimates me. She makes me feel weak, foolish, gullible. I’m none of those things, and if there was ever a time I needed to assert myself, it’s now. This more important than just what I want. It’s about becoming a woman who can make her own choices, lead her own life and succeed. I know in my bones that my dependence on Mom weakens me. I wish she could see that.

“Mom, all I’ve been doing is focusing on graduating, and that’s what I intend to keep doing. I respect and appreciate the energy you’ve put into mothering me, but I want you to know that you don’t have to do that anymore. I’m a grown-up, Mom. I just want to live. There are more ways to learn than by picking up a book or listening to a lecture. Some of the best-remembered lessons come with experience. Even the books say so! This isn’t about Jayson, so don’t think that way. This is about me. I need you to stop clipping my wings and let me fly…I’m actually behind most of my classmates in terms of life lessons, because I haven’t had the experience of leaving home. I think it’s time I move out. I’ll stay at my house, if I have to, until I can find an apartment but I can’t stay here.”

My mother tenses, and her lips become a firm, straight line. “Kitrina, you’re making a big mistake. You’re young—you have plenty of time for ‘experience.’ That’s the difference between us—I know what it’s like to be twenty; you don’t know what it’s like to be my age, looking back. This is a rare and precious time of life when you
have
no other responsibilities but study. I wish you appreciated that.” I start to reply but she shakes her head. “Mark my words, you won’t be able handle the cost of an apartment and the cost of that house combined, and I’m not spending a red cent on such foolishness. You’re begging for problems, and they will come. How will you be able to pay your bills without me? By working more? Then your grades will slip; your dreams will be washed away all because you have a point to prove. I don’t need you to prove any points to me. I simply want the best for you, and I know what’s best for you.”

“You’re trying to tell me I’m going to fail, and I don’t accept that.” I rise to my feet, shaking my head. There’s a lump in my throat and butterflies in my stomach. The part of me that will always be a little girl feels too terrified to make the leap, but if I turn back, I’ll never know what it’s like to stand on my own. I exit the parlor with Mom marching angrily behind me.

“You’re not going anywhere unless I say so!”

“You can’t stop me,” I angrily retort. I yank my phone out of my purse and dial Jayson’s number as I make my way to my bedroom. “Hi, I know it’s late—.”

“Kit! I didn’t expect to hear from you tonight.” His warm greeting diffuses my anger, and my hands stop trembling. “You left the club in such a hurry.” I glance over my shoulder at my mother, who’s standing in my bedroom door watching the whole scene play out, the soft smile on my lips at the sound of his voice, the visible calming effect he has on me. I sigh, knowing there’s no way to hide it.

“I really, really need to know if my house is move-in ready.”

“What, you mean tonight?”

“Yeah.”

There’s a pause, and I can tell he wants to ask questions, but I hope he doesn’t. “Well, the electricity is on, all the wiring stuff complete. The plumbing is fine. As far as I know, you could move in tonight if you wanted. You’d just have to deal with the noise of the guys working through the day.”

“Thank you, that’s all I wanted to know…I’ll talk to you later.” I hang up the phone quickly. Mom’s brown eyes meet mine and I glance away. “Will you excuse me? I need to pack.”

She barks a short, bitter laugh and walks away from my bedroom door. “Lock up when you leave,” she calls over her shoulder. “You can keep the key. You’ll be back.”