Page 85 of Right Side of Paradise
It was only nine-thirty but already pushing ninety degrees. I had a feeling this farmers market was about to put that gentle yoga session to shame. Sweat was already dotting my top lip.
Behind us, a couple of bikers rang their bells in warning. And without thinking, Soul grabbed my hand and pulled me out of the way into the grass before they sped past us.
“Riding them bikes like Hellcats,” Soul mused to himself.
A second later when he tried to keep walking, I tightened my grip around his hand and held him in place.
“I kissed Rico,” I said, licking my lips.
“Nah.” He grinned, cocking his head. “I think you did more than kiss him.”
“You’re not jealous?”
Soul and Rico didn’t put labels on what they were doing. That didn’t mean I was oblivious to the obvious love between them. Two days ago, we were talking about being each other’s metamours. And this morning…
“Hell yeah, I’m jealous.” Soul erased the sliver of space between us. “I’m jealous as hell it wasn’t my kiss that made you come.”
His words stirred something primal in me and made me realize coming to the farmers market in workout clothes was the worst decision I’d made in a while. Because apparently, Soul spoke the language my dick liked and now I was half hard from a simple sentence and his proximity.
“It makes sense though,” he continued. “You were always more comfortable with Rico. But I hope you stop running from me one of these days.”
I blinked. Was I running? “…Soul.”
“I won’t push you, Chris. You know that. But if you ever give me the chance to feel you…”
My mouth turned into a desert. I didn’t know what the fuck to say and that wasn’t a problem for Soul because he went on.
“I love you and what you did this morning made you happy. You should know by now, I want you happy, Chris.” He tugged his sunglasses down his nose so he could make eye contact with me. “Look, I’m not perfect but I only get jealous when it’s not us giving you what you need. And I hope this means you finally start taking more of what you need from us.”
“You want that?” It was an echo of the question I asked before I ran from him. I knew the answer, but they were the only words my dry throat let me utter.
He hooked his hand behind my neck and pulled me close until he could whisper in my ear. “I already told you what I want. That’s all four of us. Together. Happy. Forever.”
Forever.
“And I think you’re starting to realize you want that too.” He pulled away and gave me that smile he’d been giving me for twenty years. But now there was a glint of something more. Maybe it was the promise of what was to come or maybe it was me thinking too deeply.
“Come on,” he kissed the spot between my brows. “Let’s go get donuts. Your treat.”
Still holding my hand, he turned to walk away like he just knew I would follow him. And I did.
Use Me
My mother was clutching her pearls. No, really. It was ten a.m. on a Saturday, and she had on a string of pearls at the farmer’s market.
Her manicured fingers curled around them —right here at Bird’s Eye Brew coffee stand— as she gaped at me.
“Harlow, what the hell happened to your eye?”
My mother never cursed. But seeing me like this was clearly her limit. And it was my fault because the sunglasses I’d been using to conceal my eye were perched on top of my hair, useless as ever.
“It’s nothing, mom. It actually looks good compared to how it was.”
This was what I got for being greedy. The massive breakfast sandwich I bought earlier had hit my glasses twice before I gave up and shoved them out of my way.
“What do you mean it looks good?” She cocked her head and closed in on me like she was studying me under a microscope. “You look battered. What were you doing?”
“I got a little tipsy. At Christian’s bar. It was an accident. It’s fine. I’m fine,” I said in an attempt to wave off her concern once again.
