I hop down from my car and head in to say a quick hello to the guys since I need to start getting ready for tonight. Mia attacks me and I drop my things to pick her up, give her the lovies she’s looking for hearing Jude and Tony in the basement watching TV. Making my way downstairs, I see both men strewn out on opposite sides of my sectional watching a college football game.
Leaning over the back where Jude is sprawled, I plop Mia on top of him, giving him a peck. “Hey.”
I guess my peck wasn’t enough, because his hand reaches up around the back of my head, pulling me down for another, longer kiss. “Sugar. You finish up?”
“Yep. All done.” I grin at him, then look up and say, “Hey Tone. Don’t you need to get ready and have some girl to pick up?” I stand up straight and put my hand on my hip. “Which by the way, who am I going to have to pretend I find interesting tonight? Maybe I’ll get there early and arrange the seating so whoever you bring has to sit by your mother.”
“Gabba, that’s not nice. And I’m not a chick, it’ll take me all of fifteen minutes to shower and throw on some old clothes and boots. I’m bringing Chelsea, I’m sure you’ll find her extremely interesting. She’s a redhead and a waitress.”
“Really?” I ask. “Is she even a real redhead? Real redheads are the only pretty redheads. And you picked up a waitress? What is wrong with you?”
“Nothing’s wrong with me,” he says, affronted. Then, going on with a snicker, “Maybe I should hang out with gun smugglers and wait for Federal Agents serving warrants like you to go trolling.”
“Hey now,” Jude rasps out in mock warning with a grin on his face.
I put both hands on my hips and exclaim, “That’s it. I am not playing interference for you with your mother tonight. You can deal with Elizabeth Carpino all on your own.” I look down to Jude. “I’m going to get ready.”
Jude just chuckles. “Sounds good.”
Not believing my cousin, I march my ass upstairs to my bathroom. I only have an hour and a half before we need to be there and I still want to paint my nails.
I shake my hands to speed up the drying process, I only had time for a clear coat of polish having to forego a color. I stomp around my bathroom in my new super cool cowgirl boots I found at Sheplers in the clearance section the other day. I can’t imagine a real cowgirl would actually wear these on a farm or ranch, but who knows? I don’t know any real cowgirls. However, I do know my new boots are the bomb, fit perfect, were seventy-percent off and they have a higher heel than normal to give me an extra boost to close the height gap Jude has on me. They’re a distressed brown with light blue stitching all over them with a cool eagle winged pattern, a cross in the middle and swirly stitching on the foot and toe.
I was planning on wearing a jean skirt with a cute top, but on my way to the clearance section, I passed a dress that caught my eye and I couldn’t go home without it. Its cream with red, periwinkle blue and cornflower yellow little flowers all over. The neckline is square, low and wide, gathered over my breasts giving me the perfect amount of cleavage. I added a slew of silver bangles to my wrists and I’m trying to put on my chunky turquoise necklace with matching earrings without messing up my nails.
I half dried my hair to save time and left it naturally wavy, pulling the front pieces back into a very loose French twist, pinning it with bobby pins so you can’t see where it ends. The rest is big, messy and falling down my half bare back where the dress scoops to just above my bra strap. The dress, boots, messy hair, I love it all. I can easily say I’ve channeled my inner cowgirl.
In the middle of my laborious getting ready process, Jude showered and is now dressed in faded, great fitting jeans, a black button down with a slightly western cut on the pockets and shoulders. He finished off his simple but kick-ass western attire with a black belt, silver oval buckle and old black cowboy boots. I’ve decided to add cowboy to my list of favorite looks that include his police getup, jeans with a t-shirt, and his suit. This took him all of eleven-point-two-five minutes and he kissed my then wet haired head, leaving me to it.
“Gabby,” I hear him bite out at me from the great room. “We’ve gotta get a move on if you want to be on time.”
“Coming,” I yell back. “Just trying to get my necklace on!”
Now I am cursing myself for thinking I had time to paint my nails as I try to hook my necklace and not smudge them at the same time. I hear the clomp-clomp-clomping of boots getting louder on my wood floors. I look up to see Jude standing in my bathroom doorway.
“Can you help me with this, please? My nails are still tacky.”
Looking at me a beat, his eyes are heated and melty, taking me in slowly from tip to toe and back again. He moves to me, takes my necklace out of my hands, turns me so I’m looking into the mirror and he stands at my back. Slowly swiping the hair on my back over one shoulder, his arms come in front of me and around my neck to clasp my necklace. His eyes are on his task, when all of a sudden, I feel his warm fingers tracing the scoop of my dress on my bare back making me shiver.
He looks to the mirror, into my eyes as his hands come low to my hips and thighs as he fists the ruffles in each hand. “This is a short dress.”
My eyebrows come together and my head tips. “You don’t like it?”
“No,” he keeps on low and raspy. “I like it.”
Then he dips low, kisses me below my ear and I feel my dress move up my thighs and ass. I close my eyes and lean my head back on his shoulder and then feel his hands on my chocolate brown with pink lace Brazilian cut panties. His hands stop abruptly and I feel him move away from my back a small step and I open my eyes to see him looking down at my ass with my dress around my waist.
He doesn’t move his body, but his eyes come to mine in the mirror. “Shit, baby.” Then his thumbs dip into the waist of my panties and he yanks them down my legs.
“Jude. We’re going to be late,” I semi-yell at him.
“Yeah, we’re gonna be late,” he agrees, squatting, yanking my lacy panties over my boots.
“You’re going to rip them. I bought them just for this dress,” I complain, but I still find myself helping him out trying to step out of them while still in my boots.
“Don’t care.” He stands up and tosses my panties to the side, pulling my dress back up around my waist again.
I raise an eyebrow to him. “My nails are still wet, you know.”
“Don’t worry, you won’t have to do anything.”
I feel his boot kick my boot farther to the side, one hand slides in between my legs from behind while the other snakes around me up to my breast. Not messing around, two fingers dip inside me as one glides over my clit and my hands go the vanity in front of me to hang on. In, out, forward, back—his fingers move and it starts to build. I drop by head forward and hang on getting ready for it to come over me, but then he stops, keeping his hand where it is cupping me between my legs.
I lift my head, look at him in the mirror and breathe, “Why did you stop?”
He pulls my back into his front tightening his hold on me and looking me in the eyes. “I want you to look at me.”
“Okay,” I plead. “Just don’t stop.”