Page 50 of Contingently Yours

Andrew

“Can’t believe you’re in my house,” Lucas slurs as we bump into the wall on the way to his bedroom.

I can’t believe what a happy drunk he is.

And heavy. It’s like he’s lost all control of his muscles along with his anxiety.

Panting, I clutch his wrist tighter where it’s slung over my shoulder and steer us through the doorway he said leads to his bedroom.

It smells like Lucas in here, and there are several little wood carvings on one of the dressers.

At least the directions to his room were better than the ones to his house that he gave our taxi driver.

“Can’t believe you’re in my room,” he murmurs against my neck, inhaling deeply. “Dreamt about you being in here.”

Oh, really? We will be discussing that later.

My leg bashes into a chair, toppling a cardboard box onto the floor. I catch sight of an open sack of rice spilling out along with tiny organza baggies. My boot crunches some grains as Lucas’ momentum takes us toward his bed.

“It’s a nice room,” I say, coddling him. “I love what you’ve done with the place.”

His arm bashes me in the back of the head when he spots his mattress and dives toward it, landing with a belly flop.

Crawling forward, he sticks the bubble butt in the air and then flips around so he’s sitting on it.

I nearly get dinged in the nuts when he kicks off his dress shoes.

Leaning back, he rests his weight on his hands, but his torso still sways.

He smiles, but it’s clear he’s still trying to focus on me. Such a mess—a big, sexy, adorable mess.

Now that he’s stationary, it seems safe to move back in. I step forward and start working on the buttons of his dress shirt. We lost the tie earlier at the reception when the guy who claimed to have two left feet suddenly turned into a dancing machine.

“All right, party animal, jammie-time,” I inform him.

Grinning up at me, he scoots forward. “You want to see me naked?”

“Maybe some other time… like when you’re sober. Right now, I just want to get us tucked in.”

“You’re staying?”

God, he’s killing me. I’ve never seen this man smile so much. He’s a happy teddy bear tonight.

“Someone’s got to make sure you don’t end up on the floor with a face full of rice.”

“ You tried to make me sleep on the floor once,” he grumps, giving me an accusatory look.

I did, didn’t I?

“Which was wrong of me,” I admit as though I’m speaking to a child. “But hey, you ended up in the bed anyway.”

“So we’d look like we were having sex,” he says, shifting back to his playful tone.

He flops back on the bed and thrusts his hips up in the air when I tug his pants down over them. The bulge of his half-hard cock nearly bashes me in the face, and I swear under my breath. I hear a moan and glance up to find him running his hand down his happy trail.

Fucking hell. Alcohol is definitely not heart-healthy. Mine is doing somersaults over the things coming out of his mouth right now.

I wrangle his socks off him and fling them over my shoulder. I may be in love, but I’m not a maid or an ex-soldier with laundry rituals. Also, I had a buzz of my own before wrestling this handsy grizzly bear out of the cab and up his front steps. I am one urban cowboy in dire need of sleep.

I start on my shirt and catch his hazy eyes watching me, his hand slowly massaging his junk. Lord, I’m almost afraid to get in there with him. I might not make it out unscathed, and then I’ll have one more thing to feel bad about.

“Mm,” he groans at the sight of my bare chest, sending a wash of pride through me, but then he busts up, laughing.

“Can’t say I’ve ever gotten that reaction before from stripping.”

“There’s a cowboy in my room.” He giggles. “Cowboy stripper.”

“Wow. You are on a roll,” I deadpan, trying not to laugh. “And only half a cowboy. I gave Mason my hat, remember?”

“Still mad about that,” he mumbles, licking his lips when I undo my belt buckle.

Damn. I need to deflect.

“Go on. Get under the covers so I don’t have to haul you up there.” I gesture with my chin to the head of the bed.

He grunts a pouting noise, but then belly crawls his way to the pillows. “So tired,” he murmurs. “I’m never getting married.”

I know he means the planning part of it, but I feel a bit slighted.

I wonder what it would be like to be married.

Cuddling in the morning, driving to work together, and shopping for coffee tables.

Chuckling, I shake my head at myself, realizing the image I see is with him, and kick my pants off. God, I have it so bad.

“I’ll get you a wedding planner,” I offer, sliding in under the covers.

“Like a wedding bitch?”

“Language, Lucas,” I scold, sounding like my mother, but it’s too funny to hear him be so unfiltered.

“I don’t think that’s what they like to be called, but yeah.

Someone to do all the planning so you don’t have to stress about anything.

” I raise my arm to wrap it around him, but he burrows into my chest before I even lay it across his back.

“No way. I’d do it myself. They’d screw something up.”

Snorting, I shake my head and rub his back.

I guess his future dream wedding is back on.

Rolling back, he glances up at me. The next thing I know, a hand is pressed against my face.

His fingertips nearly poke me in the eye as he drags his sweaty digits down my face.

When I open my eyes, he’s grinning at me like a fool.

“What?” I laugh, my breath catching in my throat. Is he going to tell me I’m the one he pictures in that dream wedding he supposedly doesn’t want?

“You’re in my bed. Like seeing you in my bed.”

It will be my mission in life, henceforward, to get him to loosen up this much without alcohol. Pressing a kiss to his forehead, I assure him, “I like being in it.”

When I draw back, his mouth moves in. “Want you,” he murmurs, kissing me. It’s sloppy, and yet it’s still as sweet as he is. His hand moves lower, though, trailing over my cock and giving it a squeeze. “Want you, Andrew.”

Fuuuck. This is payback for every rotten thing I’ve ever done or said in my life.

Capturing his wrist, I bring it to my chest and kiss his knuckles. “Not tonight, sweetheart. I don’t put out before the first date.” Or when people are inebriated, but I’m not about to listen to an intoxicated man try to convince me he’s not intoxicated.

“Since when?” He frowns.

Ouch. That was some drunken honesty.

“Since now.”

He tries to be all coy, sliding his fingers from my grip and nudging his hips forward, but I catch his hand again before it passes my belly button, intertwining our fingers. Huffing, he rolls closer, burying his face in my chest.

“You’re mean,” he mumbles against my skin.

Kissing his temple, I agree sympathetically. “I know.”

When he stays still and quiet, I feel my body relax.

Maybe the beast has finally decided to hibernate.

Gingerly, I slip my fingers from his and wrap my arm around his back to hold him close.

Something creeps up on me that feels a lot like gratitude as I hold his warm body in my arms. I get to be here. Get to hold him. Like this.

Smiling, I place a soft kiss on the top of his head, recalling our evening. I still can’t believe I got invited to sit with him and his mom.

I remember how my stomach was in knots as we approached the table, hand in hand. I’ve never met the parents of anyone I’ve been intimate with. I certainly wasn’t expecting to be welcomed into the family tonight.

“Don’t volunteer for anything,” Lucas whispered as we approached her.

He should have elaborated more and sooner.

I see now why he takes responsibility for his family so seriously.

That woman roped me in without my even realizing it.

I ended up with a date to help clean her gutters, paint her fence, and look at her faulty washing machine.

I don’t know shit about washing machines other than how to call for a repair.

Still, it was nice to be relied upon and trusted.

I’ll have to try that out on Loretta sometime and see how it goes.

And the babies? Well, they’re adorable little bundles of giddiness and mischief.

Granted, I know it was their wedding day, but I can tell they’re rays of sunshine year-round.

I’m glad Lucas has had that in his life.

They pretty much adopted me. I think it was mostly my dancing skills, but seeing the way their brother smiled at me with his puppy-dog eyes might have had something to do with it, too.

“Ask me now?” Lucas pleads, interrupting my thoughts. I thought maybe he’d fallen asleep, but I find him looking up at me with a seriousness in his eyes that belies his inebriated state.

“Ask you what?”

“To be your boyfriend.”

He went from wanting to save a horse by riding a cowboy to wanting to watch ‘ The Notebook .’ What am I going to do with him? Also, I can’t ask him right now. Not like this! I came up with the perfect date plan while we were at the reception.

I know the man pretends to love granola, but I also discovered he has an affinity for cake.

The way he moaned over that slice in Darwin—he did the same thing tonight with the wedding cake.

I was going to take him to this wood carving place I’ve seen and then out to my favorite restaurant in Wilmington, which has the best better-than-sex cake that lives up to its name.

“Why don’t we wait until your head is clear?” I suggest tenderly.

“Don’t need to. My heart is clear.”

Jesus. Who can argue with that?

Swallowing, I brush my nose against his and close my eyes so I don’t end up crying. “Yours always has been.”

“Ask me,” he whispers.

“I wanted to make it special and take you on a date.”

His brow furrows, making him look equal parts confused and annoyed. “You’re still going to take me on a date,” he insists.

Oh my God. He’s become a boyfriend monster already. I bark out a laugh, but he just stares at me as though he doesn’t understand what’s so amusing.

“ Ask me .”

For Pete’s sake. He’s not even going to remember this tomorrow. I want fully alert Lucas to be the one to answer me, even though I like every side of him.

“Lucas…”

“Please?” he begs, sounding so sweet, I don’t know how anyone could deny him anything. “I don’t want to wait another minute.”

I’m not laughing anymore, not even on the inside. Because I know exactly how he feels. And it’s like Mason said the other day, we’ll do anything for the people we love.

“Lucas…will you be mine?”

His brow furrows in confusion. “I already am.”

I try not to laugh. I really do, but my head rocks back and my stomach shakes against his.

I can barely catch my breath, but I have to reel it in when I see that crease in his brow and find him looking at me like he still doesn’t understand the joke.

Stroking his beard, I murmur, “That must be why I love you.”

It’s not until I’ve pressed a kiss to his lips that it occurs to me what I’ve said. Shit. I was also going to save that for a more coherent Lucas. When I pull back, he’s smiling again.

“You’re in love with me?”

I think I said ‘ love ,’ which sounds like a level below in love. As I gaze at him, however, I know I’m absolutely at whatever the highest level is. I nod and give him another soft kiss.

“Yeah, Tufty. I’m in love with you.”

His arm squeezes me tightly, and his head ducks underneath my chin. “Then ask me,” he repeats.

Fucking Lucas and his boyfriend kick. I guess boyfriend status trumps love when you’re three sheets to the wind.

“Lucas Everette…will you be my boyfriend?”

“For real?” comes his muffled, disbelieving voice against my sternum. I guess some people just need to hear the words.

“For real. I want you to be my real-life boyfriend.”

He lets out a strange groan against my skin that sounds like it’s the equivalent of ‘ aw shucks ’ and then sighs a contented sound. I think I finally appeased him. Stroking his back, I smile into his soft hair and wait for his answer.

And I keep waiting.

His arm feels heavier on my ribcage than before, and I think his breathing has changed. Pulling my head back, I find his eyes closed.

He freaking fell asleep on me. Now I have to do this all over again tomorrow.

I mean, I still plan to anyway. He’s getting that date.

It’s just…he made all that fuss and then left me hanging .

Drunken Tufty does not play fair. Judging by the little smile on his face, however, I’m pretty sure I know his answer.

It’s a really good answer that sends me to sleep with a smile of my own.