Jennifer and Rocket (The Princesses of Silicon Valley Book 6) (15 page)

As I sit at work, I find myself staring at the screen while my mind wonders to Jennifer. I like her, really like her. She’s the Ying to my Yang. My mind starts running through the list of what I like and what I don’t like. The like list is really long. The what doesn’t work list all has to do with her pulling away from me. She’s the first woman I’ve ever had to chase. All my previous women chased me. Is that the problem?

Since I can’t solve this dilemma, I go back to what I can solve, my software. I worked late into the night on Wednesday and Thursday. At three in the morning, I finally get my build to work. I’m exhausted as I head home.

Sleeping in, I’m awoken from Jennifer’s ringtone, “My Hawaiian girl.” Yeah, kind of lame, but it fits. Managing to open up an eye I look at the phone.

Jennifer:
I’m at the coffee shop
.

Shit, did we decide on a time? I vow, first thing Monday morning I’m hiring someone to fix my road. I roll out of bed, slide my feet into flip-flops, then head down to pick her up.

I feel like shit as I pull in and immediately see her little car. I get the door open and am barely out of the cab when she runs over, throws her arms around me, and exclaims, “I missed you so much.”

Damn.

Talk about running hot and cold.

I give her a kiss that could melt an iceberg, because when she’s running hot I’m going with it. When we get back to my place I have one thing on my mind. Well actually two things, but I’ll take care of business first. She jumps down out of the cab and I scoop her up into my arms, she squeals.

Damn, even exhausted that squeal goes right to my dick.

Stalking directly to the bedroom, I plop her on the bed and as quick as I can pull off the T-shirt and boxers I was sleeping in. Now it’s time to get some of that soft sweet skin.

Jennifer’s busy trying to get her clothes off as I grab her jeans and help her along. She winds her arms around me and buries her head into my neck. I run my hands over all her wonderful curves.

“Hey, Jen, what’s with you?” I say.

She pulls away from her tight hold, puts her hands on either side of my face and says, “You’re a really good man and I almost blew it. I’m such an idiot.”

“Jen, you didn’t blow anything. I was stressed from work and—”

I never get to finish my sentence because those sweet pink lips are on mine, and those fingers are in my hair. My exhaustion leaves me as my dick takes over and I get to make up for not being with her this week. I run my hands around all her soft curves, reaching down to make sure I get her off. The benefit of being with her for a while is I know what she likes and how to get her going fast…and sometimes real slow. I’m too tired for a long session, but with the morning light streaming through my window, her skin looks beautiful. It doesn’t take much before she’s moaning and arching her back. I like to wait until she’s at her peak, but hasn’t gone over her edge. When I feel she’s about there, I find my balance and thrust in. She feels good—warm, and tight. An amazing surge of energy runs through me as I join her in the orgasm. Then all energy leaves as I roll off of her, pulling her tight against me as I fall back asleep.

Lying in the dark listening to Hartley lick herself makes my mind spiral. The last couple of weeks have been stressful. Rocket’s noticed the changes in my mood. I know it’s because I went from being consumed by the thought of Tristan Hall to being repulsed by the reality of him. I still feel guilty. But I’m taking Olivia’s advice, I never told Rocket about Tristan.

I’m not sure how long I lie awake; the next thing I know there’s morning light streaming in the window and Rocket’s side of the bed is empty. I realize that I did get some sleep. I throw on one of Rocket’s nasty old T-shirts, since it’s the first piece of clothing I find, and then leave the bedroom. Entering the kitchen, I find Rocket standing in front of the refrigerator drinking orange juice right out of the container.

Without even thinking, I admonish him with, “Ew, use a glass, now you’ve got germs all over the container.”

He blocks me against the wall, giving me a deep kiss with lots of tongue. With a smirk on his face, he puts his hands on my butt and says, “Now I got my cooties all over you.”

“Yeah, I think you did that last night, too,” I respond.

“Then why do you care about the orange juice?”

“I guess because it looks unsanitary or makes me feel like you’re not sharing.”

My mind is so twisted with meeting his family, I can’t think about why it bugs me that he drinks juice out of a container.

As I meticulously make his bed and clean up all our clothes, he leans against the door watching me. Finally, he says, “What’s with the cleaning?”

Surprised, I answer, “Your dad will be here soon. I don’t want it to look like we’ve had sex in this bed.”

“We’ve been going out since the fall. I guarantee you, my dad thinks we’re having sex.”

Now I’m horrified. What will his dad think of me? My face must show my thoughts since Rocket pulls me into his arms and says, “My dad will like you. He and Gary will be happy that I’m with a nice, sweet, pretty girl that I really like.”

It’s the best thing he could possibly say.

After my shower, as I finish up drying my hair, I hear the sound of a car’s tires on the dirt. In honor of his dad and Gary coming up, Rocket fixed his road. As I leave the Winnebago, I call to Rocket, who’s been in the studio. Rocket’s dad and Gary drive up in Tesla Model S.

What? I thought Rocket was raised by hippies on a commune.

An older guy exits from the driver’s side of the car. I have no doubt in my mind that he’s Rocket’s dad. Now I know what Rocket will look like in thirty-five years. He shares his dad’s tall, lean body, high cheekbones, and well-defined jaw; though his father’s features are more refined. His dad must have been drop dead gorgeous when he was younger. His elegantly graying hair is meticulously groomed, and he’s dressed in designer jeans and a well-pressed designer shirt. Another man, younger, shorter, and stockier gets out of the passenger side. He’s not classically handsome, but he, too, is meticulously groomed and dressed in expensive clothes in flamboyant colors. They both have this Ralph Lauren, just came off the yacht look about them, which is shocking since I never thought that Rocket came from money.

Watching the three of them together is enlightening. Rocket has a big, easy smile on his face as he comes out of the studio and waves. Giving each of them a warm, guy hug, shows another side of Rocket. Snatching me by the hand, he pulls me under his arm as he smiles and introduces us.

Gary says, “James, Rocket found himself a pretty one. I hear that she’s a teacher.”

I’m not sure what to say since I don’t know if I’m supposed to respond to that.

His dad looks around, then says, “Son, you look good. I’m glad you got your road fixed.”

Gary continues with, “James, it looks like Rocket is finally getting regular haircuts. This little Jennifer is a good influence.”

Gary looks around; it’s obvious he doesn’t approve of the Winnebago, though he doesn’t say anything. Rocket heads everyone into the studio.

“You’ve been busy,” James says as Rocket shows them what he is working on. Both his dad and Gary look over the latest sculpture, discussing what he’s doing and why he’s doing it.

Rocket had turned on the big forge, mostly to get the room warm. He pulled the table out into the center of the studio. Before taking my shower, I set it, creating a centerpiece out of branches from local trees.

While they continue to talk about his current sculpture, I get everyone a drink and take the food out of the big refrigerator. Rocket cooks the sandwiches using the forge. The three of them chat comfortably together; I can see what dinner must have been like in their house.

At some point, the conversation turns to me. Gary asks me about my family, what my parents do for a living, and how I was raised. They didn’t realize I was from Hawaii. Rocket told them I was there for Christmas; they thought I was on a family vacation.

Gary then asks me, “What do you think of how our Rocket lives?”

I’m sure it’s a loaded question, but I answer it honestly. “This place is starting to grow on me. When I first met Rocket, I was horrified that he lived in an old Winnebago up in the mountains.”

We catch each other’s eyes. I’m sure Rocket’s thinking of what I said last month.

“The funny thing is, I find myself looking forward to coming here. It’s really nice and peaceful.” Looking around the studio, I continue, “This place is fantastic. Rocket and I have so much fun here working together. It’s my favorite place in the world.” I catch Rocket’s eyes again. This time they are warm. I look back at Gary and his dad, “The only thing I don’t like is when it rains, I can’t figure out which is noisier, the studio or the Winnebago.”

I catch his dad shooting Gary a look. It’s the same look Rocket just shot me.

After lunch, Rocket has me show James and Gary my projects. They’re both supportive. Then we take a hike around Rocket’s large property. Gary keeps pointing out locations where Rocket can build a house.

Rocket finally says, “Buying this lot and setting up this studio has been expensive. I’ll build a house when I can afford it.”

“Your grandfather left you some money.” Gary responds.

Rocket bristles, “I’ve got a job. I can do it on my own.”

One more piece to the Rocket puzzle. It confirms what I thought; Rocket’s an independent guy who’s serious about supporting himself and living within his means.  Which is cool. I can respect that.

Serving them all the desserts I baked, along with coffee from my family’s plantation makes the afternoon special. At some point, they leave, confirming when our dinner reservations are. Watching their car disappear around the hill Rocket pulls me into his arms and says, “I knew they’d love you. What’s not to love?”

It’s the first time he’s used the word love around me. I’m not sure if he said he loves me, or it’s a turn of phrase. As we head into the kitchen to clean up the dishes, my head spins because I think I might be falling in love with him, too.

Jennifer gets dressed up all pretty in a fancy little skirt and high heels. My idea of dressing up is to shave and wear one of the new shirts I got for Christmas. We almost don’t make it out, since looking at Jennifer gives me too many ideas.

We beat Dad and Gary to the Michelin two-star restaurant Gary chose. Jennifer and I hang at the bar. When Gary and Dad finally show up, it’s obvious that they’ve embraced Jennifer, as they warmly greet her.

Of course, Gary looks me over and says, “James, I told you Rocket would look nice in that shirt. And look, he even shaved.”

Leaning over, I tell her, “These are my easy parents. Wait till you meet my mother.”

Her eyes get wide in surprise.

Of course, Dad hears that comment and starts in on me for not calling mom. My parents might never have been in love, but they have always been very supportive of each other.

Gary can’t let anything go. He says, “James, you know as soon as Lisa hears we met Jennifer, she’s going to be up here.”

Leaning back in my chair, I joke, “She can’t make it up here to see her only child?”

“Don’t be so harsh on your mother. She works hard. She always put your needs first, and as a teenager you were a little shit. None of us ever thought we’d survive those years.”

This gets Jennifer’s ears all perked up. Gary notices as he turns to her and starts filling her in on my teenage years. “As a teenager, we had to send him to two different private schools. They kicked him out of the first one for fighting, or was it after the police picked him up for defacing public property? James, who was it that caught him with drugs? I can’t remember. He and his ratty looking friends were always getting into some kind of trouble.”

Dad pulls the conversation back by saying, “I’m saying, you put your mother through a lot. You should call her. She shouldn’t have to find out what’s going on in your life through me.”

“How much did I put her through? I moved in with you and Gary when I was fourteen. You’re the ones who had to deal with everything.”

“That’s because you already were turning into a juvenile delinquent. I still don’t know how you pulled good grades with the shenanigans you were up to,” Dad says.

A strong teenage memory comes back to me. “I was a pain in the ass. School was always too easy, never a challenge. I remember having all this energy. I never liked organized sports. I liked the thrill of doing what I wasn’t supposed to, and, of course, speed and air—skateboarding in the city and in the drainage canals, mountain biking in the hills, snowboarding in the winter.”

“I had a personal relationship with your principal,” Dad kicks in.

“Yeah, I know, I wasn’t an easy kid.”

Jennifer asks, “If you had to raise you, what would you have done differently?”

Thinking about it, I say to dad, “Definitely moving me from Mom’s to your place was the right thing. She had no control over me. You guys were always in my face, which pissed me off at the time. I liked working with you in your shop. Remember the summer we rebuilt that car?”

Dad smiles and nods.

“That was fun. There were so many dumb shit things I didn’t do because I knew the blowback wasn’t worth it. Gary, you were always there, foiling my plans. Though you two know only a small percentage of the shit I got into.”

“Kids think they’re sneaking around, but they’re so bad at it, you would be surprised at what we knew. We both worked. It was hard working and trying to keep you in line at the same time,” Dad says.

Gary nods in agreement. “James, thank God Lisa didn’t want a second kid. I don’t think I would have survived if we had to raise two like that.”

When Jennifer gets up to use the ladies’ room, Dad says, “Nice girl.”

Gary adds, “James, this one’s a keeper.”

It hasn’t been two years since my divorce. Having no interest in jumping into another mess, I tell them, “Don’t get ahead of yourself. She’s twenty-four. I’m in no rush to get married again. Let’s see where we are next year.”