9. Tatum

CHAPTER 9

TATUM

F iona is useless. After Abi asked to take me on a date yesterday, I tasked Fee with finding me something unforgettable to wear. Unforgettable, it is, but her selection is also unforgivable. When I arrived at the bed-and-breakfast, my heart was aflutter with anticipation. Now, all I feel is dread, and that dread has nothing to do with Abi Kincaid. It's down to the outfit she's selected. It's simply a pair of fishnets ( no ), a banana-yellow jockstrap with a drawing of a ruler on the pouch, directly below the words "You must be this long to ride" ( again, no ), and a sparkly pink tank top ( maybe ).

Each article of clothing is resting neatly on her bed. Behind them, Fee is lying on her back, endlessly tapping her phone screen.

"I'm not wearing any of this, and I'll set this entire bed-and-breakfast on fire if you ever pull something like this again. Jesus, Fiona. You're a terrible friend. I'm going on a date tonight. My first date in over half a year. I can't walk into the lobby wearing heels and a jockstrap. What would people think?"

She places her phone on the bed beside her. Her expression isn't unkind. There's no malice on her face at all. She looks determined. She touches the empty space beside her, beckoning me over. Reluctantly, I shuffle over and take the spot on her bed she's offering. While I almost expect her to rear back her hand and slap me for getting sassy with her, she does nothing of the sort. Instead, she wraps an arm around me and pulls me closer.

"You spend an awful lot of time worrying about what people will think of you. I wish you would stop doing that. Kincaid will be there. He's not going to let anyone make fun of you." She reaches behind me and squeezes my butt. "If I had an ass like this, I'd show it off at every chance."

I roll my eyes. "Your ass is spectacular. Just ask the state of Washington. Half the population knows from experience."

Her eyes crinkle at the sides as her smile widens. "I know. I just love a compliment." She playfully taps the tip of my nose. "Seriously, though. I want you to wear what makes you happy and confident. If it's fishnets and a jockstrap, so be it. Don't let other people steal your sparkle."

"That's not what I'm doing," I say. The scent of her familiar perfume is strong, giving me a nostalgic feeling. It's a scent I've spent the last six months growing accustomed to. Cherry blossom, perhaps. Maybe a bit of mango. Traces of rose and gardenia. It's a lovely scent, and it's one I didn't even realize I was missing. As ridiculous as our connection is, Fee feels like home. She's a super-fab cuddler. She calls me out on my bullshit. Aside from Scotty, she's pretty much my best friend. Despite not knowing if I'll be returning to Winawana when the wedding is over, I really don't want to lose her friendship when this is all said and done.

"It's exactly what you're doing. I know you, cheeky boy. I know what makes you tick."

"You don't know shit," I snicker, tickling her side because I'm feeling a bit playful.

She laughs. It's faint, but it's there. "Those boys—those terrible, horrible men—took your confidence."

My heart beats a little faster because I really don't want to do this now. If she starts talking about my ex-boyfriends, she'll have me in a puddle of tears before Abi even shows up. How would that look? How would he react to the fact I've been weeping about lost love while he's been getting ready to show me the time of my life?

"Fee, I?—"

She shakes her head. "Tatum St. James. I know exactly who you are. The cruel words they said when you were being excluded. That sense of rejection that never really goes away." Her eyes close and she lets out a slow breath. "That's what Brody tells me, at least. We might not have meant to ice him out the way Benito did with you, but it's something I know Brody struggles with, and it was never his fault. It wasn't your fault, either." Her hand is on my shoulder, squeezing me ever so gently. "They do not define you. You've picked yourself up and dusted yourself off, and now look at you. Somehow you've dickmatized the biggest dick I've ever ridden, and you have him chasing after you like you're God's gift to the gay community. You've got a family who adores you. I adore you, and I basically hate everyone, so that's saying something." She leans in and kisses my forehead, smirking when she sees the lipstick left in her wake. As she grabs the packet of wet wipes I brought to clean Abi's finger later, she gives me her brightest smile. "So, whatever they may or may not have said to break your heart, I need you to let it go now. I'm getting quite tired of this push and pull act, so God knows Kincaid must be exhausted by it, too." A sting of guilt pierces my heart, and when I look up, my cheeks are warm, but that guilt fades when I see the smile she's giving me. "He loves you, Tatum, and I'm pretty sure you love him, too. So, you've got to trust him. He's not going to hurt you."

I open my mouth to object, only to close it again. There's no point arguing. While I don't know if this thing we've got is love, I can't deny the bond I feel with Abi. He's my tether. The one thing constant through all this madness. It might not be love, but whatever it is, it's strong and feels unbreakable.

"It wasn't all of them," I say when she's no longer staring at me. "The cruelty, I mean. It was never Bennet, Benjamin, or Austin. Just Benito." I pause to see if she'll interrupt, but when I look at her, she's staring blankly at the wall. I know this expression. It's the one she gets when she's trying to hide her anger, and it's one I've seen countless times. It started that first night, after I bopped her with the rolling pin and Abi claimed his undying love for me. She knew my presence pleased Abi, so she didn't question him when he suggested bringing me on the road with them. That look was on her face for the first four days, before we finally hashed out our issues on the rare occasion Abi allowed me to sit up front rather than lie with him in the trunk of the car.

"That's good to know. Thank you for sharing with me." When she reaches for her phone, I gasp as she pulls up her notepad app and opens a file titled ‘Momma's Hit List.' Once the document is open, she scrolls for what feels like minutes before reaching the bottom. There, just above the words THAT SON OF A BITCH ON THE INTERSTATE WHO DIDN'T USE HIS BLINKER , Benji and Bennet's names are written in blocky pink font. Austin's not on the list because she knows he didn't leave to hurt me. He did it for self preservation. She highlights both Benji and Bennet's names and erases them from what I'm hoping is a metaphorical hit list and not an actual list of people she wants to kill. Benito's name is a few spaces under, and she highlights it, holds her finger over the entry, and drags it to the very top of her list.

"Fee?"

She doesn't even look up from her phone, just smiles and says, "You're my family, cheeky boy. No one hurts my family and gets away with it." Giving her phone a decisive nod, she locks the screen and places it beside her on the bed. "Now, if you don't want to wear these," she says, flicking her hand in the direction of the disastrous clothing selection. "I've got a backup." Her lips press softly against my forehead, and when it's done, she releases the hold she's got on me and stands up, making her way toward the small closet in the corner of the room. "Honestly, the jockstrap and tank were a joke. I just wanted to get a rise out of you." She reaches in and pulls out a black garment bag. I watch as she unzips the bag, and my mouth falls open when I see what's inside. I'm fairly confident it's the most beautiful outfit I've ever seen.

The shirt is sheer and black. Behind it, there's a long, flowing cape. She pulls the shirt off the hanger and holds it out for me. I make my way across the room and take it from her. Underneath, there's a set of black slacks that are almost as see-through as the shirt, and I'm pretty sure when I put them on, my underwear will be on full display. She hands them to me, and I shakily reach out to take them. It's only now I realize my initials are embroidered into the fabric.

"You really don't recognize it?"

I look at her, trying to make sense of the question. "Should I?"

"I should hope so. It's the outfit that the lady at the shoe store made for your wedding." She reaches over and squeezes my arm. "It isn't right for a wedding, but it's perfect for a first date."

It's like she read my mind. The outfit, while stunning, isn't what I would want to wear whilst marrying Abi. I don't know what it is, but the outfit doesn't feel like ‘us.' If—Rinna forbid—there's a hiccup in our plans and I'm forced to marry him, I don't want to do it wearing something he's already seen. I want to be pretty for him.

"And don't worry about the big day. I've already got something in the works. Now, go on. Get all dolled up for Daddy." She slaps my ass and I stumble forward, somehow managing to stop myself before crashing into the floor-length mirror hanging on the wall. After six months living with Fee and Abi, any personal boundaries I may have held onto fell by the wayside. That's why neither of us bat an eye as I slip out of my shorts and the boxer-briefs I'm wearing. Tossing them in the corner, I ignore the stern glare Fee gives me and grab the jockstrap she had laying on the bed for me. Once my bits and bobbles are covered, I slide into the sheer slacks, and as expected, my banana-yellow jockstrap is fully visible.

Part of me—the lascivious, whorish part of me, at least—kind of wants to go commando, just so Abi can get an eyeful. I debate the possibility for all of five seconds before shoving the pants down, removing my jock, and easing back into the skin-tight trousers. My penis is pressed snuggly against the fabric, reminding me of when Scotty and I were still kids and we'd press our mouths against windows, making our lips look overblown.

"I've seen enough of your penis to last me a lifetime," Fee says, and when I look up, her eyes are on mine in the mirror.

"I have a beautiful penis. It deserves to be seen."

"A far cry from the twenty-two-year-old toddler who was just sobbing over the prospect of wearing high heels."

I dismiss her with a flick of my wrist before sliding into the shirt. Once I'm dressed, I put on my shoes then study my reflection. Not to brag, but I look fucking divine in this ensemble. Yes, my penis is on full display. And, yes, it leaves nothing to the imagination, but Abi will like it. Thankfully, the unnecessary cape isn't as sheer as the rest of the fabric, so I pull the tail around to the front and tuck it in the waistband of my slacks, hiding my penis from Fee's prying eyes. A sarong of sorts.

"So," I say, whirling around and flinging my hands in the air like a fool. "What do we think?"

She opens her mouth to speak, but the landline phone on her nightstand rings, breaking the silence. "You look perfect," she tells me, crossing the room and picking up the phone. I watch as her smile spreads, and she tosses a wink my way, mouthing, " Daddy's home ."

My heart races in my chest, and all logic must leave me at the mere mention of him, because I stupidly blurt, "How does he look?" She snorts a laugh, hanging up the phone. She opens her mouth—probably to shade me—but I beat her to the punch, narrowing my eyes. "Shut up. Just shut up." Wanting to make a frisky exit, I pull the cape out of my slacks and fling it dramatically. "I am young, I am hung, and I am fabulous. I don't need your sass tonight, Fiona fucking Frost."

Her eyes dip down to my now-fully exposed penis. "Yes, well, I don't know about hung, but you're definitely young and fabulous."

I scowl and push past her, holding the tail of my cape in front of my package, which is now shrinking in on itself from humiliation. I don't say goodbye, just barge out the door and into the hall.

I was in a rush to get to Fiona's room earlier, so I didn't take the time to drink in my surroundings. The home-turned-B&B Fee's been staying in is certainly stunning. It has a light, country cottage vibe to it, minus the endless assortment of picture frames hanging on the walls. The walls are a light blue, and every inch of available space is taken up by framed photographs of one man ...

Is that famed boyband member Phillip Firecracker?

Honestly, I'm not sure why the hell there are portraits of Tallulah's one-and-only celebrity export lining these walls, but Abi is waiting for me downstairs, so I can't take the time to rationalize the decorative choices of the innkeeper.

Rushing downstairs, I'm breathless by the time I reach the lobby. My heart stalls in my chest when I catch sight of Abi. He's leaning over the front desk, chatting to a lovely little hipster with blond hair that's pulled back into a man-bun. The desk clerk's eyes are glossy like he's just ingested every bud of marijuana in the tri-state area. It's not his bloodshot eyes that have my heart racing, though. It's Abi's perfect ass, currently on display thanks to the skin-tight gray slacks he's wearing.

"Abi?" I say, but my voice can't be much louder than a whisper. He must have really good hearing, because the second the name is out, he stands up straight and slowly turns around. His dark brown eyes widen when he sees me, and for a moment, I worry he hates the view. I just want to look pretty for him. For him to see me at my best after six months of knowing me at my worst. I open my mouth to apologize for my questionable fashion choices, but he quickly shakes his head. Then, his tongue extends, journeying across his lips.

The man at the counter starts to say something, but Abi holds a hand in the air, not looking back. "Nyet."

"Huh?" the alleged stoner asks.

"You do not speak when the little one is making his grand entrance." Abi's smile widens as he drinks the sight of me in. "I apologize for becoming distracted with this man. I should have been paying attention to the staircase." He takes a cautious step forward, holding his hand out for me. "Please forgive me, Tatum. He means nothing to me. I was not thinking."

Heat settles in my cheeks as his eyes dip down my body. It's like he's memorizing every inch of me. Wanting to give him an additional six—okay, maybe five and a half—inches to enjoy, I let the hand holding my cape fall and smile bashfully at him.

"Well?" I say, looking down at my exposed body. I hold my cape to the side and do a little twirl. "What do you think?" I can't bring my eyes to meet his, so I shuffle forward, covering my cock with the cape, watching as his feet come into focus, growing closer by the second. When they're right in front of me, his hand touches my chin, and he tugs until I'm finally looking at him. He reaches down with the other hand and caresses my package.

"You wore this just for me?" He looks just as nervous as I feel, and as much as I want to lunge forward and wrap my legs around his waist, I resist, standing on my tiptoes and offering him a chaste kiss instead.

"Just for you," I admit. "Wanted to look cute for you."

He drags his finger softly up my jawline until his palm cups the side of my face. "Mission accomplished." His grip tightens around my bulge and his thumb brushes back and forth against my cockhead. "I've been looking forward to this all day. "

Unable to stand the intensity of his stare, I wrap my arms around his back and shove my face into the crook of his neck, inhaling the familiar scent of his woodsy cologne. "Me too. Missed you."

"You did?"

I nod, parting my lips and flicking my tongue across his neck. "So much." I let my hands fall lower until they're both resting on his ass. Squeezing, I try to steady my wobbly knees, but it's no use. I'm essentially an invalid when Abi's dick or ass enters the equation. As my finger trails up and down his crack, he shivers at the touch. Rinna Almighty, his ass crack is perfection. It's like a seismic shift of the landscape left after the grandest of earthquakes. I want to slide my hand beneath his pants just so I can journey the canyon at my leisure.

"You know," he murmurs into my ear. "If you've changed your mind about tonight, I'm still open to the idea of riding your cock, my love. I would enjoy it very much."

I chuckle softly. "I'm a strict bottom. You'd think, as my kidnapper-slash-fake-boyfriend, you'd know that by now." I'm being cheeky. I know I am—I just don't care. He loves me like this. Wild. Unfiltered. A sparkling spitfire. He pulls away, but the smile I expect to see is missing. In its place, something akin to disappointment settles in his brows, working its way down his face. "What? Why are you looking at me like that?"

Instead of answering, he simply takes a step back. "Never mind that. Are you ready to go?"

Instead of picking me up and toting me out on his hip, he turns and walks toward the entryway. The man at the desk gives me a scowl, and I'm not sure what that's about, but I'm not particularly amused. Abi holds the door open for me, but when I reach for him, he doesn't take my hand. He just clears his throat and journeys onward, leaving me in a lingering cloud of confusion and woodsy cologne.