Whose Wedding Is It Anyway?

Chapter 3: Parked

Chapter 3: Parked

Though Dan has quarters on base, for all intents and purposes, he lives with me. The interstate is still busy despite the late hour as I head back into the city, one hand on the steering wheel of my Mazda6 and the other holding Dan’s tightly on the center console between us. Every now and then I glance over, sure he’s still overseas and I’m really alone in the car—I’ve been waiting so long to get him back that I’ve dreamed him into being. But no, he’s right there beside me, seat reclined and eyes closed, dozing as I drive.

When I raise his hand to my lips and kiss his knuckles, he shifts in his seat.

At home, I pull into my parking spot beside his Land Rover and turn off the car. As the engine ticks softly, I unbuckle my seatbelt, then lean over to brush my hand over his cheek. “Dan?”

He stirs. “Hmm.”

“Babe, we’re home.”

Blinking, he turns to me and suddenly we’re so close, inches apart, and I can’t help myself. I’ve waited for this for too long. Cupping his jaw, I press my lips to his and claim a tender kiss.

His reaction is immediate, as if he wasn’t snoozing moments earlier. A hand comes up to cradle the back of my neck, pulling me to him, as his mouth opens. His tongue licks out, tasting my lips before easing between them. I don’t fight him; I wouldn’t even if I could. I want him too much, I can’t even wait until we get out of the car before I get a piece of him. My lips part and he enters me, delving inside, filling me with his own special flavor. I’ve missed this, I’ve missed him, and I open myself to him, wanting to drink him down, every last drop. My hand slips down his cheek, over the bristly fuzz that will be gone in the morning, to caress his neck then further, down, over his collar. On their own, my fingers start to pluck at the buttons of his shirt.

He stops me before I get too far. “Not here,” he murmurs, catching my hand. “Inside.”

“Don’t you want the neighbors to watch?” I joke. “I’m sure they missed you, too.”

He laughs a little breathlessly and that only turns me on more. I did that to him, me. It’s heady knowing I can make a strong soldier like Dan weak in the knees. “You don’t know how much I’ve missed sleeping in my own bed,” he tells me, unbuckling his seatbelt.

I sit back in the driver’s seat and pull the key out of the ignition. “Actually, I do know. You mentioned it every time we talked about you coming home.” When I open the car door, the overhead light clicks on, and I wink at him. “And here I thought you were just trying to find a subtle way to say it was me you missed.”

“I did miss you, something fierce.” Leaning over, he kisses me again, long and lingering. It warms me from feet to forehead and everywhere in between. “God, Michael, you don’t know how glad I am to be home.”

I smile against his mouth. “If it’s half as glad as I am to have you home—”

He kisses me a second time. “Hold that thought. We really are putting on a show now, what with the door open and all. Let’s get inside.”

“Or I can just close the door,” I suggest as I start to ease it shut.

The look he gives me brooks no argument. I already know I’m going to lose, but I don’t drop my gaze. After a moment, I struggle not to grin when I tell him, “You’re so sexy when you try to pull rank on me.”

He laughs, breaking the tension between us. “I’m not…I wasn’t! Honest. I’m just tired.”

“Fine,” I concede. “Come on, we can go inside. That’s where the wine and chocolates are, anyway.”

One eyebrow raises with interest. “Chocolates? What kind?”

“You’ll have to come in and find out,” I tease.

His duffle bag is in the trunk, which I pop open before getting out of the car. As he’s getting it, my cell phone beeps and I almost don’t bother to check it. At this late hour, it’s either my boss or my mother, neither of whom I want to talk to at the moment. Hello? I’m about to get busy with my boy for the first time in a year. A year. Anything anyone else has to say can f*****g wait.

But even as I think this, my hand dips into the back pocket of my pants out of habit. Just a quick look, I tell myself. I won’t bother replying. If it’s my boss and she wants something work-related, a response now will make her think I’m willing to work on something despite the hour. If it’s my mom, hell, she’ll keep texting—and texting, and texting—until I go insane. She always has to have the last word, always. Even if it’s just to reply, Okay. Drives me crazy.

A quick peek at the screen of my iPhone shows neither S. Aylett - Work nor Mom but rather Cat. My younger sister who, though now twenty-seven and living on her own, is still every bit the precocious toddler in my mind. I can’t look at her and not feel a surge of brotherly overprotectiveness swell up in me. What if she’s in trouble? What if she needs my help? What if—?

There’s Ray, a voice inside me whispers.

Ah yes, Ray, our brother. Three years older than me and still living at home with our parents. So forgive me if I don’t think of him as the type to come rushing to Caitlin’s aid when she needs it.

Or, I should say, if she ever needed it. As much as I hate to admit it, the girl has more cojones than most people I know. I almost wish she’d called instead of texted, if only so I could gloat a little bit that she finally needs my help.

Swiping the screen, I read through her text, then laugh. Well, no, she’s still doing perfectly fine, it seems. All she wants is to check in with me…rather, with Dan. As she puts it, Hey bro, that hot BF of yours back from war yet? When R U ever going 2 send me d**k pix?

With one hand, I type back my response. He’s here. And never.

She must be sitting by the phone, waiting for a reply, because hers comes back almost instantaneously. U suck. No wait, that’s what HE said!

Twenty-seven going on twelve, I think. Sometimes I seriously wonder if I were born to the wrong family.

Watch it or I’m telling Mom on U, I write back.

As I’m typing, Dan comes up beside me and eases an arm around my waist. Resting his chin on my shoulder, he glances at the phone screen. “Who’re you writing to?”

“Cat,” I tell him. “She wanted to know if you were back yet. She wants a picture of your dick.”

He closes one eye and squints at me, nonplussed. “Are all sisters like this?”

He wouldn’t know; he’s an only child. Grinning, I kiss his cheek and assure him, “God, I hope not.”