The Keys to Jericho (92 page)

“You know what I mean, Becks. Just stop it. I don’t need to hear every damn detail. It’s only November. Fucking July is a long time away.”

“Not for wedding planning, really.”

“Why are you arguing with me?”

“I just—”

“This shit turns me way off to ever…” He sighs and says, “Stop pressuring me.”

“I’m not.”

“You are. It’s not always what you say. It’s the innuendoes, the hints scattered all over your apartment, and now, even mine. It’s all irritating the fuck out of me.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I’m in no hurry, like your brother suddenly is. I told you that I don’t want to get married. That’s no shock to you.”

“I know, but—”

“And here’s a heads up, I might not ever change my mind.”

“Don’t you love me?” Hadley’s voice shakes and I want to punch Finn Wilder.

Finn sighs. “Becks.”

“Can’t you answer that?”

“You know the answer to that. Loving you has nothing to do with this.”

“It has everything to do with this, Finn.” She quietly states, “You’re not going to their wedding with me. Are you?”

“Probably not. Too close to the 4
th
. That’s a busy time for me at work.” I hear Hadley’s unsteady breath and he unconvincingly mutters, “I’ll see what I can do.” He won’t even try.

Without a further argument on the subject, Hadley deeply sighs. Finn says, “Let’s go. I need to catch some scores.”

“If it helps me zone out, then yes. Gladly.”

Hearing shuffling on the carpet, I dive into the nearby bathroom.

Jesus Christ. Hadley has less damned backbone than I thought, letting Finn walk all over her. Goddamn it. Am I the only Beckett with a fighting spirit? She makes Dad look like a fucking Samurai.

For Christmas, Kat and I spent her break together mostly in Philly, since I don’t get a work break like she does. It was rather nice, not having her mother pop in, excited to show Kat more wedding shit, as Finn had called it, which is one thing I agree with him. The planning gets to be too much at times, especially when I don’t seem to have a real say. Oh, I get an opinion allowance, but no final decision goes through me. Yet, in the big picture, like Finn, I don’t give two fucks about napkin colors or who dances to what song. Just as long as I get to call Kat my wife.

On the other hand, I do have a major task to handle. I’m actually in charge of the honeymoon. I just don’t know where we should go. Somewhere secret, so her mother doesn’t show up, asking us when we’re going to have a baby. Fucking hell. She’d probably try to give me pointers on positions, and critique how fast I thrust into her daughter.

“Do I really need to wear this shit? I look like a fucking pussy!” I loudly complain, pulling at the white fluff on the leg of my boxers. Looking up, I scowl at the Santa hat dangling from my head.

From the bathroom, Kat yells, “Yes! Don’t take it off!”

“What the hell? That was the part I was looking forward to!”

“Not yet!”

Crossing my arms over my bare chest, I glance out the window, praying no one can see me dressed like this. I’d rather a naked picture of me be posted online, than one of me wearing this fucking get-up.

How did I sign up for this again?

The small Christmas tree, Kat put in the corner, sparkles in the dim room. When the doorway darkens, I turn to see Kat, dressed in a sheer, red nightie, topped with the white fluff I hated two seconds ago, hugging her tits. The flimsy, red underwear she’s wearing with it won’t last long. As my eyes roam over her, red lipstick matches her outfit. The last thing I notice is the matching Santa hat she’s wearing.

She says, “I can go change.”

“Like fucking hell you will. Get over here.”

Kat gets onto the bed and I grab her hand, pulling her to straddle my legs. As my hands slide up her ribs, over the thin material, she says, “You look hot, Santa.”

“Oh, yeah? I hear you’ve been a bad girl this year, Katriona. What ever will I give you?”

“A lump of coal?” I shake my head and she asks, “How about the South Pole?”

“I live at the North Pole.”

She grins, looking down. “The one in your shorts is south.”

“I was right.
Very
naughty.”

Kat lightly moans, and my jaw drops at how unexpected and sexy she sounds. “I’ll show you just how naughty I can be.” She runs her hands down my chest, my stomach, but stops at my waistband. She pouts. “Oh, wait. Aren’t you married?”

Squeezing her tits together, I lick my lips. “Not yet. I’m still looking for my Mrs. Claus.”

“You’re still auditioning for the position?”

“Yep. In every position possible. Santa is eager to eat your Christmas cookies.”

Kat giggles and my hands go to the top of her nightie, pulling it down to expose her tits. Leaning in, I hungrily take one into my mouth. When my hands go to Kat’s shoulders to push her onto her back, she unexpectedly moves and yanks down the front of my boxers. Bending, she quickly takes my dick into her bright red mouth.

Watching her leave red streaks on me again, I groan, “Damn, baby. I love your signature. You fucking win. Be my wife.”

Kat whispers over my cock, “I plan on it.”

She licks up along my shaft and then sucks on the tip. When she takes me deep into her mouth, I close my eyes and whisper, “Hell fucking yeah.”

Merry Christmas to me.

New Year’s arrives, and this time, Rio borrows Kat to help him pick out a ring for Liberty, momentarily leaving me with the fear she might try to see his goods. Jesus.

Duquesne was still astonished how Liberty and I conspired, and actually kept my engagement plans a secret from him. I think he was more scared that she had the ability to keep her mouth shut for as long as she did. I remain dumbfounded, too. In a way, I wish the bitch had proved she wasn’t trustworthy. Now, I have to acknowledge that she was. Damn it.

Sure enough, right after midnight, Kat’s phone rings, and they both squeal on speakerphone for half an hour, with Liberty asking Kat to be a bridesmaid. Christ. Not this shit again.

In contrast, Rio and I did no squealing whatsoever, and our call only lasted 10 minutes, even with our agreeing to meet for lunch.   

Taking my seat in the booth at our usual sports bar, the hostess gives us menus, and I order a roast beef sandwich and an iced tea, while Rio, actually being on time, orders a club sandwich with his iced tea.

He folds his hands and takes on a serious expression, which is a usual Duquesne trait, and older than me by over a year, he tends to act more his age. He says, “I’m not going to say a bunch of flowery shit. I’ve said enough of that and besides, you’ll only roll your eyes at me.”

I smirk. “I usually do roll my eyes at you. It can’t be helped, Duquesne. You beg for it.”

Suddenly appearing anxious, which
isn’t
a Duquesne trait, he says, “You’re my best friend, Jare. Be my best man.”

Sucking in a breath, I say, “Now you make me feel like a total douche, picking my dad.”

Grinning, he shakes his head. “No way, Jare. I love that you asked him. He’s the perfect choice and it means a lot to him. Very admirable of you. I wouldn’t want you to have it any other way.”

I raise an eyebrow and look to the table. “Uh, thanks.”

“So, will you?”

Looking up at him, I shrug. “I’ll have to check my calendar.”

When Rio frowns, instantly doubting me, I laugh. “Fuck, yeah, I will!”

Rio laughs in relief, I think. He seriously doubted that I would do it? “I’m still shocked about you proposing to Kat. I really had no idea what you were going to do about her. I honestly didn’t see a good prognosis.”

I frown. “Thanks, Diet Dr. Pussy.”

He laughs again. “I’m glad you proved me wrong, Jare.”

I anxiously fluff at my hair and say, “So am I. I uh… I nearly lost her again.”

He nods. “I know, but you didn’t.” I inhale and he asks, “Can you believe we’ll both be getting married this year?”

I shake my head, brushing my hand over my mouth. “No. Shit. It’s coming faster than I thought it would.”

Becoming serious again, he asks, “Are you changing your mind?”

“Hell, no. Just…” I sigh, leaning back against the seat. I look around the bar, searching for the right words, but I can’t find them, and if I do, I’m not sure I want to acknowledge them.

Rio asks, “Nervous? Scared?” Fuck me.

Shrugging, I mutter, “I don’t want to screw this up. I’ve already done that enough times with her.”

“You’ll be a great husband. I see how you are with Kat. She makes you happy. I haven’t seen you smile so much in all the years I’ve known you.”

I nod. “I know I act like a prick most of the time, but I really do hope you’re happy, too.”

Rio raises his eyebrows, surprised I said that. “I am.”

“Good. Now we just have to find Calder a woman.”

Laughing, Rio sits back, his blue eyes gleaming, as he crossing his arms. “You
know
who he wants.”

The waitress brings us our drinks and I scowl into my iced tea. “I’d rather send him pictures of me wearing my Christmas pajamas.”

“I don’t even want to know.”

I roll my eyes at Rio. “Trust me, you don’t, but I can’t really complain about them too much. Not after…wow.”

Rio leans forward, and in a hushed voice, says, “I had to wear boxers that look like Santa’s suit, and a fucking Santa hat to go with them. Still…wow.”

I pound my fist on the table, making our drinks jump. “Goddamn it. Mrs. Beckett and Mrs. Duquesne need to stop talking to each other, starting right this second.”

He sighs, but laughs. “Are you ready for this, Beckett?”

I shake my head, yet say, “Bring it on. But I’m going to need a drinking buddy from time to time.”

Rio nods with a smirk. “You have me, Jare. Always will.”

What in the hell would I do without River Duquesne?

Christ. I’d be stuck banging my head against the wall, listening to Dashiell Calder.

“Same here, Duquesne. You need me. Someone has to start the fires.”

He smiles. “And you need me. Someone has to douse the flames. It’s a friendship made in Heaven.”

I raise an eyebrow with a crooked grin. “Or Hell.”

Laughing, Rio shakes his head, but then nods with me. “Goddamn it, Jared Beckett. Definitely Hell.”

“Baby, I’ve missed you!” Kat says, hugging me as I walk through the front door of her apartment. I guess I’ll still call it her apartment, even if I have a key to it, keep clothes in her drawers, and spend most of my weekends with her here.

Since I had worked late Friday, Kat made me stay in Philly so that I wasn’t driving late. We had a big argument on the phone about it, but I eventually relented, wasting too much time arguing, which made me too tired to drive. I’m assuming that was part of her fucking plan to win the argument.

As soon as I toss my keys onto the counter, she hands me a red bag with white tissue paper inside it. Irritably snatching the bag from her hooked finger, Kat smiles and clasps her hands together, waiting for me to say something.

I petulantly ask, “Why’d you do this?”

“It’s our first Valentine’s Day, Jericho,” Kat says, rolling her eyes.

“I told you not to get me anything.”

“Did you get
me
something?”

I arch an eyebrow at her. “Yeah, but I took it back.”

“That’s okay. I’m not hurt. All I want is your love.” Fuck. She always calls my every bluff.