I Made You My First (6 page)

Before I could say anything, he said in a whisper, “Hello, I’m Irish.
 You must be Jurnee.  You probably don’t remember me, but we met several years ago, and I haven’t been able to get you out of my mind since then.  I know it’s really late to be calling on a young lady, but I was hoping we could chat awhile.  I’d really like to get to know you,” he grinned.  I tugged at his shirt and pulled him into the house. 

We
sat on the patio for a long time, just staring at the sky.
I’m really glad he’s here
, I thought. “I’m sorry I didn’t remember you Irish, but it was really an emotional time for me,” I admitted. Neither of us moved.

F
inally he said, in just above a whisper, “I know.”

“I’d really like to start over,” a
nd I turned to look at him. “But I’d also like to know
what
you knew about me before we met yesterday.”  I watched his expression turn serious. I could tell he was really going to make this
a fresh start
.

“All right, most of my information obviously came from your brother.
He was at our house a lot after your parent’s funeral, and I overheard them talk about a lot of different things. But whenever he talked about you or your parents or your aunt, I sometimes asked him questions, and he’d answer them.” He looked into my eyes.

“I wasn’t joking when I told you I’d thought about you more than a guy should ever admit to.
But I really have. At first I thought it was because of how sad you looked at the funeral, but whenever I thought about you, it wasn’t you looking sad. It was you looking hot,” he blurted out. I suppressed a smile that was just begging to slither across my face.

He smiled at me and continued,
“You know, John thinks that you...” and he seemed a little uncomfortable. “Well, he thinks that you don’t
like
him.” I nodded, encouraging him to continue. I personally believed it was the other way around with John, but at this point I wanted Irish to get to the
good
stuff.

“I also think he’s really proud of you and
has felt guilty that you’ve been so far away with your aunt, and he hasn’t done anything to help.” Even though I heard everything Irish had said, my mind was stuck on the
really-proud-of
-
you
part.

“John said he was really proud of me?” I had to ask.

“Yes, he’s said it several times.” Wow, I wished I could’ve heard him say that just once.

Irish turned his body around in his chair until he was leaning toward me and said, “I also know that your full name is Jurnee Ciara Sampson, you’re twenty-four, but will be twenty-five in ten days.
Well nine days now. You’re going to have a big party.”

M
y eyes grew huge and my mouth flew open, “What party?”

He quickly raised his eyebrows and did some fancy back pedaling before I realized he was even doing it.
  “Whew…can we just rewind back to what I was saying before I mentioned the party?” I closed my eyes and shook my head.

“Okay, sure. Keep going,
” I said, trying to keep my voice calm.

“You’ve had a couple boyfriends, but you
’ve always dumped them when the relationship got serious,” and now I sensed an uncertainty in his voice.

That had to have come from John.
Irish didn’t know anyone I’d dated. I doubted John even knew the color of my eyes. What a jerk. “So did John send you to help his poor pathetic sister?” I was serious, but I threw in a laugh to keep him on track.

“No, he didn
’t know I was going to meet you,” he admitted.

I guessed
he was finished with his big reveal because he turned, looking up at the sky.

“Hmm, so you thought you’d go meet your brother’s best friend
’s younger sister at the airport, take her somewhere, and
sex her
up
?” I kept my eyes straight ahead, but I could feel the wind from Irish’s head whipping around to look at me. I wanted to turn and look at the expression on his face, but I didn’t.

“You’re the one who started it yesterday.
I was only trying to give you a light.”

I looked at him and grinned,
“I know, Irish, I’m just messing with you. Really, it was all in good fun.” His eyes narrowed and he shook his head but he didn’t smile. It was getting late, and I was feeling exhausted. I leaned over my chair and whispered softly and seductively in his ear, “It’s getting late, and unless you want to finish what
I
started yesterday, I think you’d better go.” The look on his face was priceless. I wanted to giggle but I stayed straight-faced. I stood up, and so did he. I took his hand and headed for the front door. He followed willingly. Standing outside the door, I hesitated for a moment, looked into those blue eyes and pressed my body close to his. He gently leaned in, kissing me. His lips left my mouth and began slowly traveling up my neck. I didn’t realize I was doing it but Irish caught me with my eyes closed, smiling.

“What’re you smiling about?” he asked
, releasing his sweet breath into my ear.

“I’m smiling because this feels really good.
And because I’m afraid if you don’t leave right now, I’m going to tie you up and drag you into my room and for sure finish what I
started yesterday.” I grinned to myself just for having that thought, never mind sharing.  He pulled me close and wrapped his arms around me. My hands worked their way around his waist and I gave him a tight,
I-don’t-ever-want-to-let
-
you-go
squeeze. After a long minute, he gently pushed me and leaned his chest out away from mine.

Looking at me with
sweetness in his eyes he said, “See Jurnee, we can do this,” and he gave me that wonderful Irish smile I liked so much. I buried my face in his chest.

“So, this starting over means
you
don’t want to finish what we started on the patio yesterday?” I held my eyes tightly closed my head firm on his chest as I waited for his answer. I felt him hug my whole body before softly pushing me away.

He planted a soft, sweet kiss on my forehead. With a sexy, smug expression he said,

“Oh I very much want to finish what we started yesterday. Don’t you worry your little cotton panties about that. But I’m going to get it right this time; we’re starting over, remember?” I felt my heart flutter, I loved hearing those words; and then I felt a disappointing chill run through me when he suddenly released his embrace. He turned and left me standing at the door. I watched him drive away.

Chapter Four

Yes, it’s Sunday
, I thought, as I opened my eyes to the glorious sunlight shining through my bedroom window.  Sundays were reserved for our traditional bonfires at Fiesta Island.  Every Sunday I was in California on vacation, we’d had a
girls-only
bonfire.  All the ladies in our
pac
k
,
as Judy and I called it, celebrated with wine, chocolate, and fire.  Men were our main conversation topic, but collectively, we’d deny it if ever asked. 

I could hear Judy in the shower, so I lay in my bed stretching and wiggling myself awake.  No dreams last night.  That truly was a bummer. 

I finally rolled my butt out of bed and headed for the kitchen.  I heard the water in the shower stop, so I knew Judy would be out soon.  The coffee pot was still on so she must not have been up long.  I poured myself a cup of coffee and opened the refrigerator looking for the whipped cream.  Judy knew I love it in my coffee, so I could always count on some being in there,
especially
for me.  Standing at the counter, coffee in hand, I heard my phone beep.  I could barely hear it.  Where did I leave it?  I gave the room a quick once-over, and then went to the glass slider. 

I spotted it on the patio table.
Way ta’ go, Jurnee
, I said to myself.  Setting my cup down, I plopped into a chair and picked up my phone. 

I had four messages.
 

First
message, three am:
Just wanted to thank you for a wonderful evening
. 

Second
message, five am:
I know you’re sleeping but I can’t stop thinking about you
. 

Third
message, seven am:
I’d really like to take you somewhere today
. 

Fourth
message, seven-forty-five in the morning:
Please call me when you get this message
. 

When had this guy slept?  I looked at my phone: eight-o-five.  I punched in his number. 

One ring, two rings, “Hello, this is Irish.” 

I sat there a second and listened to his soothing
 voice.

“Hello, Jurnee?” he asked.

“Irish, I’m sorry I missed your calls.  I left my phone out on the patio last night.”  

“No problem, I just wanted to see what you were doing today, hoping I could steal you away for a day.  Maybe have you all to myself.  I’d really like to take you somewhere special, if you’re free?”
 

I wanted to tell him to come get me, but I couldn’t betray my
pack
.  Not on a Sunday anyway.  “Irish” and it really pained me to say this, “I’d love to go with you, I really would.  But Sundays are our traditional bonfire days, gals only, I’m afraid.”  I could feel my face scrunch up waiting for his reply.  I really wanted to see him.  More than that, I wanted to get past first base with him.  That wasn’t a valid reason to abandon my
pack
. I had to stay
loya
l
.

“Where are you going for the bonfire?”  In that moment I really had to do some soul-searching.  I shouldn’t tell him.  It was a rule.  Before I could talk myself out of it, I blurted, “Fiesta Island.” 
God, I’m such a coward
.

“Okay, I run my dog there every other day.  What time will you be there?”

Holy cow, Jurnee, be strong.  Tell him the rules
.  “Irish, it’s kind of a gal’s thing. We don’t bring guys.”  Thank goodness I hadn’t sai
d
boys
. 

Just when I was feeling proud of myself for getting that out, he said, “So it’s a girls-only event, huh?”
  My eyes slid shut and I felt myself holding my breath.

“Yeah, pretty much,” I finally answered.

“Okay.  Will you call me when you get home?”  He asked so sweetly, my eyes popped open and I almost shed a tear.  What was thi
s
gu
y
doing to me?

“Yes, I’ll call when I get home.” My voice was composed.

“Okay, talk to you then,” and he hung up. 

I sat there with the phone to my ear.  What was it?  What was it about him that was making me fall
so
hard
?  This wasn’t at all like me.  I felt like such a stupid ninny.  

Judy and I headed out for the grocery store.  I’d missed shopping with her.  We always played our game of
boxers-or-briefs
, trying to guess what the men in the store were wearing.  The older men were all obvious
briefs, and
we always ended up giggling about it to the point of embarrassment.  We were almost ready to check out and Judy was choosing the chips when I saw the bottles of alcohol.  Irish had turned down the wine I’d offered him at dinner and remembering the comment he’d made on the patio, I grabbed my phone and punched in his number. 

“Hey,” he sounded winded, “Jurnee.”

“Yeah, it’s me.  We’re at the store and I remembered that you said when you drank, you sometimes lost all your inhibitions and could be talked into things you wouldn’t ordinarily do.  I was just wondering, because I’m standing here in the liquor aisle, what it is that you drink that makes you do that.”  A smiled covered my face as I waited for him to answer.

He laughed.  “Jurnee, I don’t need any alcohol with you, girl.”

“Okay, but just for shits and giggles, if you were to order a drink, what would it be?”   I held my breath.

“Jurnee, my drink is kinda’ pricey.  I don’t want you to spend your money.”
  

“Irish, I’m standing here in the store, so please just tell me so I can go home.”

After a long pause, “Okay, but I wish you wouldn’t do this.  I drink Grand Marnier, it’s a liqueur.  It’s in a brown bottle, red cap.”  

I searched the shelf. 
Yes, I see it.  Great, it’s locked up in a case
.

“Okay Irish, thanks so much for the info.  Now I have a secret weapon,” I muffled a snicker.

“Girl, you
are
the secret weapon.  I wish you’d believe me.”  

“Thanks, Irish, have to go.  Later,” I said and closed my cell.  Grand Marnier it was.