Hourglass Squared (3 page)

"Well, if I'm invited, you know it," he called to my back.

"Okay, well, text Sav. Invite her over too. I'm going to go take a nap. I'm exhausted," I said, walking the rest of the way to my bedroom.

I stepped into our room, smelling the candle I'd left burning on the dresser as it saturated the room with the smell of cotton. My body sank down into my king-sized bed, and a yawn slipped out of my lips. My eyes grew heavy with sleep.

I woke with a startle, nausea overwhelming me as my skin moistened with sweat. I couldn't kick my duvet comforter off me fast enough and barreled to the bathroom to hug the toilet and dry heave. Droplets of sweat appeared on my brow as my body attempted to turn itself inside out.

"Josh!" I screamed, needing water and crackers.

Heavy footfalls let me know help was on its way. "Brooke! Are you okay?" Jake's worried voice called from the doorway.

"Jake?"
Heave
. "Jake, I need…"
Heave
. "Water..."
Heave
. "And crackers."

Jake was gone and back in no time, pulling out saltine crackers and handing them to me one by one. Sitting back on my butt, letting the coolness of the tile seep through my thin yoga pants, I reached for the water first. I swished it around and spit it into the toilet. My hand grasped a cracker; as I placed it on my tongue, I waited, letting the salt and dryness calm my stomach and work its magic. I leaned my head back against the wall. Miserable. I felt absolutely miserable at this moment, unable to be the slightest bit embarrassed that Jake was my savior.

"I thought it only came in the mornings?" Jake naively asked.

With a chuckle, I stood and walked over to the sink, turning on the faucet and splashing water on my face before grabbing a fluffy towel to the dry it off. "Not quite. I'm not sure who came up with the term, but it is most definitely an all-day thing in my case." I pulled out my hair brush and yanked it through my hair, trying to make it somewhat decent again.

"Hey, where is Josh?" I inquired as I replaced the hairbrush to the drawer.

"He ran out to the office real quick. We are trying to get some orders ready to ship for the new line."

"Oh, well, dinner should be done soon. Is Sav coming?" I questioned, walking out of the bathroom and heading downstairs with Jake in tow.

"Um, no, I don't think so," he stammered.

Spinning around, I jabbed a finger into his chest. I could tell he was dodging my question, and, knowing my husband and he shared that trait, I suspected he was hiding something. "Jake Worthington, so help me, did you even text her?"

"Well," he began toeing the tan colored carpet, "not really. But she is still mad at me."

"Then you are not staying for dinner either," I said, turning back around and walking to check the time on the slow cooker, not daring to lift the lid and sneak a peek.

"But Brooke," Jake whined, "it's pot roast, and you know that's my favorite." His lip jutted out, and I couldn't help but laugh at a grown man pouting like a child.

"Tough. You need to go home to your wife, make up, and get back to happiness. Didn't anyone tell you 'happy wife, happy life'? Trust me, if you
ever
want little Jakes running around, you better make sure that woman is happy as a clam." Placing both hands on Jake, I began pushing him toward the door just as Josh walked in.

"What the…?" Josh asked, looking from Jake to me, trying to figure out why I was shoving his brother out of our home.

"I thought he was staying for dinner?" Josh's face contorted to the same pouty face Jake had played on me just seconds before.

"Nope, he has to get home to Sav. Looks like it's just you and me, hot stuff." I flashed a smile and gave Jake a final push. "Tell Sav I said hi, and I'll see her Monday. Have a good night, Jake." I swung the heavy wooden door closed with a thud as Josh began laughing behind me.

"Wow, you just pushed him out on pot roast night. He's going to hate you," he said, pulling me in for a hug and placing his warm lips on my own. Josh pulled back ever so slightly. "You threw up again?"

Jumping back, I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand, mortified that he could tell. "Oh my God, Josh. I'm so sorry. Jake was talking to me, and I didn't actually puke since I hadn't eaten. I didn't even think to—"

"Shh," he soothed, pulling me back in to his warm comforting body. "I can taste the crackers from the saltiness on those gorgeous lips of yours," he explained, making me all weak in the knees. "Now come on," he said, pulling me toward the kitchen just as the timer beeped. "I knew my nose wasn't failing me, and I want to send a picture of my plate to Jake," Josh joked, letting out a maniacal laugh that was the essence of a sibling relationship.

I chuckled as I shuffled behind him to the kitchen. "See, that is probably half of Sav's reservations. We are both married to big children. Who needs more?"

CHAPTER FOUR

Savannah

G
ETTING INTO THE OFFICE
early on Monday morning was unheard of for me, but after arguing with Jake all weekend, I needed to get out of the house before he could bring up babies again. I was in my own world, making edits to my most recent photo shoot, when Brooke glided into my office.

"Good morning, did you and Jake make up yet?"

I smiled up at her, trying to avoid any more confrontation. "Jake and I are fine. But I've got to tell you, you're at the top of my shit list, currently."

Brooke gasped, taking a seat on the couch. "What did I do now?"

Amused, I went on, "Well, Jake has been going on and on about pot roast and you know how much I hate cooking, not to mention I've never been a fan of pot roasts. I think they're terrible."

Brooke snickered, leaning further into my couch as she rested her head on the plush cushions. "Morning sickness is kicking my ass. I've already puked three times today."

Waving my hands in the air, I tried to stop her from going any further, "Ew, I am so not interested in hearing about you puking your guts out. Yet another reason I'm not ready for children. I have no desire to be miserable for months on end, retching every time I smell seafood, or whatever it is that causes you pregnant women to toss your cookies every five minutes."

Brooke let out a gurgled laugh, jumping off the couch just as Monica appeared in my doorway. "Ladies, I need to speak to…"

I watched as Brooke barreled past Monica and down the hall toward what I could only assume was the ladies' room to puke her guts out for the fourth time this morning. Standing, I tried to attain Monica's attention. "Hey, Monica, sorry about Brooke. She's really sick. Is there something I can help you with?"

Adjusting her thick-rimmed, cherry-red glasses, she glared at me, less than thrilled. "I needed both you and
Brooke.
"

I cringed at the tone in which she'd said her name, knowing Monica would be looking for an explanation as to why Brooke had slammed past her just moments ago. Trying to save the moment, I piped up, "Well, I'm here and ready to take on any project you throw my way, so fill me in."

Thirty minutes later, I darted down the hallway, flying past Brooke's office with my workout bag in tow. I needed to run, to blow off some steam. I knew I'd told Monica that I was ready for anything she would throw my way, but this was just cruel.

I changed into my compression pants and tank top, then slipped on my favorite pair of hot pink running shoes and hopped onto the treadmill that overlooked downtown Denver. Our building had recently renovated the twenty-fifth floor, turning it into a state of the art gym that allowed for ample workout time when work made me crazy.

Setting an intense speed, I began sprinting on the treadmill, all the while cranking up my iPod with my go-to running song, "Legs," by ZZ Top. It hadn't even been ten minutes, and sweat sheeted down my face as rapidly as my legs moved. I'd finally pushed Monica's so-called brilliant idea out of my head and was able to focus on the scenery that displayed itself before me when Brooke appeared before me.

I tugged my ear buds out and gave her my undivided attention. "What's up?"

"I just spoke with Monica." Taking in a deep breath, she continued, "One can only assume that you are currently running as far away as humanly possibly from her amazing idea?"

Throwing my hands up in the air, I responded to Brooke, "Yes! I swear, in the past few days it's as if babies have suddenly consumed my life. We are
the
top fashion magazine. Why, all of the sudden, does she feel the need to feature pregnant celebrity mothers?" Continuing my all-out sprint to the finish line, I went on, "I get it, pregnant women are beautiful. It will gain more readers. But why me? Why do I have to be the photographer in charge? Can't she call in Kat or something?"

Brooke tried to hide the smile on her face, probably for fear of me jumping off the treadmill and shoving her out of the window. "I know it's not ideal at the current moment, but you're the best. Of course she'd want you in charge. Think how perfect this is. I was really worried Monica would freak when I finally announced my pregnancy, but now I think she'll be thrilled. Besides, you're not pregnant. You're taking birth control like clockwork and making poor Jake use condoms. You've got nothing to worry about."

Coming to a complete stop on the treadmill, I wiped my dripping wet forehead with my towel. "You're right, Brooke. I'm not pregnant, and I fully intend on keeping Jake's man parts clear away from me unless he is double-, no, triple-wrapped. Therefore, I won't get pregnant. Enough of this attitude. I'm going to celebrate all things babies with you and celebrate the fact that there's no baby in my belly, making me fat. It's a win-win situation."

In true Brooke fashion, she rolled her eyes and giggled, leaving me to clean up as she headed back to the office.

The rest of the day flew by, and, before I knew it, I was on my way to one of Jake's favorite restaurants to pick up a takeout order of pot roast for him and a juicy cheeseburger with French fries for me.

As I walked in the front door, Jake didn't even say hello before he accosted my mouth with his, and I dropped the takeout bag to the floor, while I reciprocated his fierce kiss. Throwing my arms around his neck, I pulled my body closer to his while he gripped the backs of my thighs and hoisted me up around his waist.

"I hate being mad at you," I moaned in between kisses. "Promise me we'll never fight again." Twisting my fingers into his soft tousled hair, I pulled his mouth from mine and peered into his sea-green eyes. "Promise me, Jake."

Jake let out a soft laugh before placing a chaste kiss on my nose. "You know I can't promise you we'll never fight again, but I can promise you I'll table the baby talk, at least for the next six months, but after that I'm going to bug you about it every single day. Got it?"

I smiled widely and nodded my head. Jake, of course, assumed it was in agreement, but I knew it was me telling him what he wanted to hear. I figured when it came back up in six months, I'd cross that bridge then. When he set me down, I reached for the to-go bag and made my way into the kitchen to prepare dinner.

"Oh my gosh, babe, that was to die for. One of these days you've really got to learn how to cook so we can eat like this all the time."

I cleared the table of our empty plates and discarded them into the sink. "There's no reason for me to learn. We can eat like this every day, as long as our favorite restaurants stay in business." Winking at him, I turned to rinse the plates before they could go into the dishwasher.

"Twenty minutes and I'm having a bowl of ice cream for dessert. Would you like one?"

Jake didn't answer, which made me assume he'd already made his way back into the living room, when I felt two solid hands clutch my hips. "I'd rather skip the ice cream and have you instead," he whispered into my ear.

My fingers slipped over the sink and turned the water off before I spun around, his grip still firm on my hips. "That actually sounds much, much better than ice cream."

Scooping me up, he flipped my tiny body over his broad shoulder and made his way toward the bedroom while I laughed the entire way, whacking his taut ass in the process.

Jake tossed me onto our bed and climbed on top of me before I could even adjust where I'd landed. His eyes were radiating raw desire, and in them I could see his thoughts. He wanted me, all of me, right there and then. My nerve endings were insanely sensitive to his every touch, tingling to the pit of my stomach each time his rough fingers caressed my delicate skin.

"Make love to me, Jake," I moaned breathily.

As Jake peeled me out of my clothes, piece by piece, his eyes gazed over me, almost as if he was trying to memorize every inch of my body. Finally leaning over me, he began kissing my neck. His breath alone, sweeping over my skin caused my back to arch upward toward his body, and I instinctively gripped his solid triceps, forcing him closer to me. Tugging on his shirt in the process, I slipped it over his head, yearning to feel the warmth of his flesh against mine.

But Jake wasn't interested in rushing through this. No, he wanted each second to last ten times longer than the last. Each kiss he gently placed upon my tanned skin was longer and more passionate than the one before it, ensuring he covered every ounce of my exposed body before finding my lips.

His mouth finally met mine, and it was as if all of the breath had been sucked out of my lungs, leaving them begging for air. This kiss was different from all of the kisses he'd splayed upon my body just moments ago; this kiss was forceful, needy. It left my head spinning aimlessly before I could regain composure. Once able to see straight, I reciprocated. Digging my nails into his chiseled back, I held his body against mine as our tongues collided, exploring every taste bud known to man.

Pulling away from my mouth momentarily, Jake began admiring me again as I lay there panting, utterly spent without him having even been inside of me yet. Had he decided to stop right then and there, I was sure I'd combust right before his eyes. But I knew Jake better than that. All of that time he'd just spent loving me was just the beginning. Pinning me against the bed, Jake took my body completely, the way only a husband could do to his wife.