Game Planner Page 3

  She lifts a brow when I finally run out of steam. “You finished?” she asks, her lips twitching.

  I shake my head, taking another breath to calm myself down. Then I let out a resigned sigh and nod.

  “Okay, I may not understand men that well but these men, Matt and Jase, and all the other guys in my life? They just do what they want to get what they really want. Jase may have gone about it the wrong way—well, the not-so-subtle way—but he’s telling you he wants to commit. He wants you in his house, in his bed, all the time. How can you be mad at that? Or is this an ‘I’m freaked out ’cause he’s trying to move full-steam ahead into cohabitation when you haven’t even gotten to the pee-in-front-of-him, let alone the fart stage?’”

  “He could’ve just said all of that, and I probably wouldn’t have overreacted,” I grumble.

  “Your scowl has PMS written all over it, Nat. You’re hell on wheels when shark week approaches. I should know; I’ve lived through six years of this.” A wry smile curves her lips. “Besides, there’s a reason we freak out and overreact, and I swear it’s our own natural flight-or-fight instinct kicking in when the men in our lives decide to rock the foundations a little.”

  “I should apologize.”

  “Oh, no you don’t. You stand your PMSing, irrational, crazy lady ground. You never admit you’ve been a bitch.”

  “But I was. A huge fucking raving one. He’s probably running for the hills now.”

  “Or he’s worked out you’ve come here, and he’s sitting on your couch, watching TV, probably with his hand down his pants, waiting for you to calm down and return home.”

  “So what do I do then? I don’t do this serious grown-up relationship thing. You know that.”

  She smiles and leans forward as if she’s about to impart some secret voodoo-magic woman secrets. “You go home and say nothing.”

  “Why?”

  “Because then you get makeup sex? It’s like erasing the blackboard and having a clean slate. Matt lives for makeup sex. I’m just lucky he’s damn good at it.”

  I frown, not sure whether this is good advice or not. “But you guys are just as new as we are.”

  She nods but pins me in place with a stare that tells me she’s about to dump a big ol’ pile of truth on me. “I’m not as put-together as you are. You know what you want—”

  “Jase…”

  “Yes. Whereas I want Matt without complications—ours—and baggage—mine. Besides, there’s one thing you’ve gotta always remember when it comes to you and Jase. I’ve seen it since that first date.”

  My eyes glaze over, a slow-growing smile curving my lips.

  Mia watches me do it then points her finger at me. “See? You two are just as crazy as each other, and you’re even crazier about each other.”

  A key rattles the lock, and in walks Matt with two containers of ice cream. I stand and move toward him, looking at the bag in his hand then back up to his face.

  “You can stay,” I announce with a grin.

  “Um, okay. Not quite sure you have a say in that though.”

  “Sorry, best friend vetoing rights. No ice cream, no entry.” I snatch the bag off him and smile sweetly at him.

  “I have cock-in-the-pussy rights, and that trumps best-friend’s-having-a-freak-out-because-my-best-friend-opened-his-big-mouth-the-wrong-way rights.”

  “Okay. You can definitely stay. But don’t talk… or breathe… My mood is a fickle bitch right now, and there’s no telling when she’ll fire up again.”

  “Duly noted.”

  When I arrive back at my apartment, I sit in my parking spot for at least five minutes, trying to come up with something to say to Jase. I don’t even know if he’s still here. For all I know, he got fed up and went back home. God, I hope not.

  I didn’t need six weeks to know Jase is everything I want in a man. I knew that the first morning when he brought me coffee in what is now my mug. And tonight, he was mansplaining the same thing to me, just in a really weird, Jase-like way.

  I need to go inside and Nat-splain myself. With a deep breath and newfound determination, I exit my car and make my way to my apartment. Using my key, I open the door and walk in, stopping short when I see Jase stretched out on my couch, watching basketball. Well, he must have been until I walked in, and he turned to look at me.

  “I’m a bitch,” I announce. “And I’m sorry.”

  He gets off the couch and walks over to me. Grabbing my hands, his expression is wary. “Groveling with words or my tongue?” he asks, bringing a smile to my face. My entire body relaxes, my shoulders dropping in relief that my overreaction and short-sightedness hasn’t scared him off.

  “Couch or the bed?” I ask, looping my arms around his neck and melting into him.

  His hands go to my hips, his lips twitching. “Or the floor…?”

  “I’m sorry. I’m a hormonal bitch who didn’t think and just reacted first.”

  He dips his head and brushes his mouth against mine. “That’s okay if you always come back.”

  “I want to always come back,” I whisper.

  “And I’ll be waiting for you when you do.”

  “Your place or mine?”

  “Now or forever?”

  “Bedroom now, your place forever. Wherever you are is where I want to be.” I pull back to meet his eyes and swallow down the lump in my throat before taking the plunge. “I love you.”

  He kisses me again, this time not gently and definitely not softly. It’s hot and hard, his tongue demanding entry, and when my lips part, he doesn’t hesitate to dive right in there and tell me without words just how much he liked what I just said. His arms snake around my waist and pull me in closer, nothing between us except thin layers of fabric. When he eases back, he grins. “Love you too, princess. More than I’ve ever loved anyone in my life.”

  Fuck, that feels so good to hear.

  “Me on my knees, or sixty-nine in my bedroom?” I ask.

  He moves his hands to my shoulders, his eyes blazing. “On your knees here, then I’m taking you to your bedroom. Gotta make the most of it before you move.”

  His hands guide me as I lower myself down to my knees in front of him, my eyes drifting to the tight crotch of his jeans before I lift them back to his and wink. “Better christen every room before we leave then.”

  When things get awkward

  A month after that first fight, Jase, Matt, Noah—his hot doctor brother—and Noah’s friends Thomas and Daniel helped me move out of my apartment and into Jase’s house.

  I even played Suzy Homemaker and made them sandwiches and bought them beer for when they’d finished. Then more friends arrived; Mia, her sister, Zoe—Noah’s wife—our friend Amy, and Daniel’s wife, Mac, plus their ten million spawn that they’ve created like a bunch of rabbits who don’t own televisions. Don’t get me wrong, I love kids, but in small doses—not four of them under the age of six. There’s Mac and Daniel’s six-year-old twins Riley and Jared, their three-year-old brother Mason, and Zoe and Noah’s son Nate who is now two.

  Soon, Jase’s house feels like a field trip to the zoo minus the animals, and with a ton of sugar—most of which I had supplied them, because kids like junk food, and it kept them happy and not killing each other. Double win for Aunty Nat!

  Spread out on the two couches, two chairs, six dining room chairs, three bean bags, and the rug—for the kids—we demolished twelve pizzas between us in the moving-in-with-your-boyfriend-of-two-and-a-half-months aftermath.

  “Nattileeeee?” Nate—my favorite of the spawn—says, jumping into my lap. He’s the perfect mix of Noah and Zoe, with a cheeky grin that would melt even the coldest of hearts.

  I run my hand over his gorgeous chestnut hair and grin down at him. “Yes, baby?”

  “What’s dis?” He dumps a condom packet in my lap. “It is da balloons?” he asks, his eyes bright as he bounces on my knee. “I loves da balloons.”

  Mac and Mia snort. My head snaps up to one of Nate’s cre
ators, my eyes pleading for Zoe to help. She grins and shakes her head. “Hey, Noah, your son is playing with balloons again.”

  He turns toward his wife, his brows bunched together. “Sweetheart, Nate is obsessed with balloons. He’s fine.”

  “Not those kind of balloons, Daddy,” I explain, holding up the foil packet in my fingers and out of reach from the clambering Nate, who’s stretching up his little two-year-old T-rex arms to get it back from me.

  “Yeah, Daddy,” Matt says, with a wide smirk. “These aren’t the kind you blow up.”

  “But you can use them to blow—”

  “Matt!” Amy gasps. “Don’t encourage them.”

  “I want a balloon too.” Mac and Daniel’s youngest son Mason says with a pout.

  Mac and Daniel’s six-year-old son, Jared, snorts and shakes his head, looking at his father. “I saw one of those in Uncle Brandon’s wallet.”

  Mac’s mouth drops open, Daniel grins, and the rest of us chuckle just as Nate slides off my lap, diving for the condom just as his father moves towards us. He jumps into action, jumping up and snatching the condom from my hand. “Balloon!” he cries in glee when Noah reaches us, pulling him up into his arms.

  “Dude, if Daddy promises to get you a bunch of real balloons tomorrow, can Daddy give this one back to Uncle Jason? He might need it tonight. This is his special extra-small balloon, and the Taylors only like big ones.”

  “He’s not wrong,” Zoe and Mia say in unison before giggling their asses off.

  “Mommy, I found this bubble mixture with the balloons. Can I play with it?” Riley announces, walking into the room with a recognizable bottle in her hand.

  “Yay, bub-bubs,” Nate says, clapping wildly and squirming to get down from Noah’s hold just as I jump to my feet to stop Riley from opening the lube bottle.

  “Guess the balloons are forgotten,” Zoe mutters, shaking her head. The rest of the adults laugh as I step in to save what’s left of my box of toys and supplies from the bedroom when the doorbell rings. Thinking it’s probably our friends Zander and Kate, I swing the door open, clutching the children’s ill-gotten gains in one hand when I come face to face with a weirdly familiar couple. I do a double take because surely this wouldn’t be… it couldn’t be…

  “Um… hi,” I stutter, my mouth as dry as the Mojave Desert.

  “Hello,” the woman says warmly, a smile I’d know anywhere shining back at me. “You must be Natalie. We’ve heard so much about you.”

  I look over her shoulder to an older tall man who has his hand resting on her back. His eyes shift from mine to my hand. I follow his line of sight, my stomach sinking to the soles of my feet when I remember just what I’m clutching.

  “Jase,” I squeak, plastering a freaking-out-but-trying-hard-not-to-show-it smile on my face.

  Kill me now. I just met my boyfriend’s parents for the first time with a bottle of lube and a rubber in my hand. Daughter-in-law material, right here.

  “Princess,” he says warmly, wrapping an arm around my waist as he pushes close at my back. “I was going to steal you away or a—”

  “Jase.” I grit my teeth, smiling sweetly at his parents. He totally just propositioned me in front of his parents.

  “Mom? Dad?” Jase gasps. He tightens his grip on my stomach, spinning me into his side. “This is amazing. This is my Natalie.” He punctuates his point with a kiss on my cheek, his finger on my jaw turning my face toward him and dropping his lips to mine.

  I pull back before he can make this moment any more inappropriate. I also take the opportunity to reach my hand behind me and chuck the offending sex products down the hall somewhere far, far away.

  “Ah… can we maybe start over? Hi, I’m Nat, and it’s great to meet you.”

  “I’m Heather, and this is my husband, Marcus. It’s lovely to finally see the woman who has my little boy enamored.”

  I bite my lip to hold back my laugh because if there’s one thing for sure, it’s the fact that there’s nothing little about Jase.

  Heather steps forward, tugs me out of her son’s hold, and wraps her arms around me, squeezing me tight.

  “Women,” Marcus says.

  “Can’t live without them though,” Jase adds as his Mom lets me go.

  “We’re not staying for long. I just wanted to deliver some tuna casserole for your dinner,” Heather says with a warm, super friendly smile. Mrs. Cleaver at twelve o’clock. My parents—multiple—are at the far ends of the spectrum from normal. Jase’s parents being perfect could either be a blessing in disguise or a disaster waiting to happen if we ever do combine families.

  “Oh, that’s so lovely, but we had pizza. You’re welcome to join us…” I say, and although I freaked out to start with, Jase’s parents do appear very normal and super nice. “I mean, it’s the least I can do after greeting you with lube and a condom. You probably think I’m some sort of deviant sex freak, luring your son over to the dark side…” Jase snorts, but still, I don’t seem to lose my awkward stride. Go big or go home. Accept awkward, neurotic, on-the-right-side-of-crazy Nat or don’t accept me at all. “I mean, what could be more uncomfortable than that, right?”

  “Of course,” Mrs. Cleaver—I mean Mrs. Cleary—replies cautiously. Her wide eyes and parted lips give away her confusion.

  “Well, standing on our son’s doorstep talking about lube and condoms could make it a little more awkward. Then again, as long as Jason is getting some, then sure, awkward away,” Marcus says, his mouth curved into a shit-eating, and, some might say, approving grin.

  Jase chuckles as Heather gasps, spinning around to whack her husband’s arm. “Marcus Cleary, now what is this lovely girl going to think of us?” she stage whispers.

  “She’ll think we have a sense of humor. C’mon woman, can you imagine meeting my parents for the first time like this? The poor girl hasn’t run a mile or burst into tears and…” He looks me over and smirks at Jase beside me before returning his attention to his wife, who is still holding the damn tuna casserole in her arms. “… she looks relatively normal, so it means she either really loves our boy here, or she’s a bit crazy. Either way, she looks pretty, she’s funny, and Jase is holding onto her like she might run away, so all in all, breathe, woman.” He side-steps his wife and holds out his hand for me.

  “It’s nice to meet you,” I reply meekly, in complete disbelief that this is my life right now.

  “Appreciate the offer for dinner and the rather hilarious explanation about how much more awkward this meeting could be, but we’ve got reservations at our favorite Greek restaurant, and I hate to miss out on my Souvlaki.” Marcus winks at me, then looks to Jase. “Golf next week, son?”

  “With or without the Taylors?” Jase chuckles.

  “Let us Clearys give them a run for their money. The more the merrier.”

  I’ve heard many a story from Mia, Matt, and Jase about these golf grudge matches.

  Heather moves toward Jase, handing over the casserole and hugging him. “She’s beautiful, Jason,” she whispers, but I don’t miss it.

  “Why do you think I tricked her into moving in with me?” he replies with a laugh.

  It’s my turn to gasp this time. “If I recall, you criticized my apartment then gave me a this-or-that choice.”

  “She’s got spunk. Just what you need to keep you on your toes. Good luck with that,” Marcus says with a knowing grin. “C’mon, Heather. My food is waiting.”

  “Don’t you let my son boss you around, Nat. He was raised to cook and clean as much as the next guy.” Now I really do like this woman.

  “Oh, I know. I always said I’d commend you for your good work. He’s very well house-trained.”

  Her eyes brighten and almost go glassy. “Oh,” she gasps, and I swear she’s probably hearing wedding bells and arranging the wedding planner in her head as she says it.

  “He doesn’t even need the litter box anymore,” I muse, earning a guffaw from Marcus and Jase alike.

  “B
ye, parents,” Jase says, sounding amused as he waves his mom and dad off, and we watch them walk down the steps and pathway toward the street.

  He shuts the door once they’re out of sight. After dropping the casserole dish on the hall table, he turns toward me and pushes me back against the door, crowding his body into mine. “So…” he murmurs, dipping his head and kissing my neck. “That was fun…”

  I grab his head between my hands and pull him out of my neck so I’m looking him right in the eye. “Fun?” I ask with a quirked brow.

  “Yeah?”

  “That was so far from fun, Jason Cleary.”

  His eyes soften, and his lips turn up into a sexy smirk, the mood between us shifting.

  “So, about sneaking away?” He waggles his eyebrows, and I bite my lip, struggling to hold back my laughter.

  “Not on your life.” I gently shove his shoulders, pushing him back so I can get past. “But nice try. Maybe next time, don’t try it on in front of my future in-laws.” I walk down the hall, looking back to see his gaping mouth. Bending down provocatively, I pick up the lube and condoms off the floor, earning a groan from Jase who leans against the front door and watches me go. Deciding to continue the show for future gratification purposes, I strut down the rest of the corridor to our bedroom to save my toy box with a huge grin on my face.

  Well, as weird and almost comical as that first meeting was, at least it’s one thing out of the way. Now, I just have to get Jase past meeting my crazy menagerie of parental influencers. If he can handle that level of insane, then we’ll be on the home stretch.

  When we committed in Vegas

  Six months after Jase and I fall in lust at first sight, we’re whisked away to Vegas with Matt and Mia for an impromptu wedding—theirs, not ours. Mia’s mom also tags along for the adventure. Since I’ve never been to Vegas before—and Jase is somewhat of an expert—Jase promises to take me on a tour of all the sights.

  With Matt and Mia christening their hotel suite and making the most of their first night as a married couple, and Mia’s mom disappearing in the casino, we know it’s now or never.