“I’m good, but I don’t mind taking you. The place the women here go to is really nice.” They also serve champagne with their services, but my drinking would be limited if I were driving her.
She laughs. “I never pictured you as the type to get his nails done.”
“Cuticle care is important,” I manage to say without laughing, but the smile spreading across her face keeps me from maintaining my seriousness. “Melanie is the best, but she books early, so you may not be able to get an appointment with her.”
“One of your women?” she asks, almost keeping the hint of jealousy out of her voice, but I still detect it there.
“I don’t have women, Grace.”
“So you’ve been celibate all these years?”
I give her a look that I hope she reads as get real, but once again, I’m not discussing those parts of my past with her.
“As celibate as I’m sure you’ve been,” I say instead.
Chapter 22
Grace
We didn’t leave immediately after making plans for a drive. I felt the need to stick around and help put away uneaten food and wash dishes. I may not be able to cook or take care of kids, but I know cleaning. I blame growing up as a child in such a nasty house for my nearly OCD tendencies when it comes to tidiness.
Trenton waited in the living room, chatting with a few of the guys while I worked, and he even managed a half a smile when I said I was done.
The banter back and forth that we had earlier died long before we climbed into the SUV. The sky is painted in gorgeous pinks and yellows with a hint of purple by the time we pull out of the clubhouse parking lot.
“I bet this place is beautiful in the summertime.” Wow, we’ve quickly gone from spending an hour in each other’s arms the other day to talking about the landscape.
He huffs as if he’s considering exactly the same thing. “It’s hot as hell here in the summer. That’s why Cerberus has two pools. We use them constantly.”
“I see no tragedy in weather so warm it forces over a dozen shirtless men into a pool,” I say, keeping my eyes on him, waiting for any sign that he could be jealous with my words.
I need a reaction from him, some way to even the playing field from the way he made me feel when we were talking about his history with other women.
His jaw flexes a little, the shadows cast by the setting sun making his jawline prominent.
“We have a huge Fourth of July party every year. Bikinis as far as the eye can see. It’s pretty awesome.”
And another point for him, a hit right to the chest.
I can’t figure out why it hurts so much to listen to him talking about other women. It makes me a little crazy, and not in a way where I’m getting offended by him even mentioning them, but mentally ill for the response those thoughts are able to pull right out of me.
I know if I change the subject, he’s going to know how much it affects me, but I’m stubborn, choosing to double down any time I feel like I’m on the losing end of something.
“And the other parties?”
“Other parties?” he asks, but I can hear the warning in his voice.
He doesn’t want to talk about those, and maybe they don’t exist. Maybe the stories I heard from the idiots on base weren’t true. Maybe they were just wishful imaginings from men who were tired of trolling local bars only to end up with women hoping to land a man with a job.
“The orgies?”
He watches the road as he drives for the longest time before responding.
“Those parties are always clothing optional.” A slow smile spreads across his face.
And another point for him. When will I ever learn?
“So they do exist?”
“Who have you been talking to?”
“I heard stories on base,” I answer.
“And what did you learn from listening in on conversations of men with no damn chance of getting into Cerberus?”
“Just that a hoard of horny women shows up ready to sleep with any guy at the club that’s willing to show her a good time. Sometimes it leads to threesomes, and they don’t even have to take their business to a private area. They play and have sex right out in the open for everyone else to watch and enjoy.”
He’s silent once again, shifting in his seat like the memories of what he’s seen and done during these parties are getting him fired up. The man I knew would growl at any man who looked twice at me. How has he become the type of man willing to share what he’s doing to a woman in front of others?
“Are you denying it?” I ask, for some reason just needing to know.