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BAG BOY

CHAPTER 17

CougarCougarCougarCougarCougarCougarCougarCougar

Friday morning, Edward woke at an indecent hour. The sun was just breaking through the crack between the curtains. 6:27? Yikes.

He tried to sneak out of bed, but I'd quickly grown used to the comfort of his body next to me, even in sleep. The absence stirred me awake. I forced one eye open to find him tiptoeing out of my bedroom, clothes tucked under one arm.

"Leaving?"

He froze in his tracks, a burglar caught in the act—buck naked to boot. "Sorry. I was trying not to wake you."

"I don't remember you telling me you had somewhere to be this morning."

"I don't, exactly. I have a couple papers due early next week, and I haven't cracked a book since I got home."

"Oops."

Edward chuckled at my sheepish grin. "Yeah, I knew you'd feel bad about that." Damage done, he dropped his clothes on the floor and plucked his boxers from the pile.

I shimmied up against the headboard to watch him dress. There was absolutely nothing elegant about his methods—how did he not faceplant from all the one-footed hopping?—but what I found most entertaining was his complete lack of modesty. My thoughts spun back to our game of Strip Hangman, the first time I saw him naked, the bold candor of his unexpected requests throwing me off my plan for the first of many times.

"Any idea when you'll be ready for a study break?"

He grinned in my direction as he shoved his feet into his flip-flops. "I'm ready now . . . but I also need to put in some face time at home."

His mom was jealous—not of me, per se, but of whoever was robbing her of time spent with Edward. Couldn't say I blamed her. Since Saturday morning, we'd been together practically non-stop, and now, the inevitable—Edward leaving for school—was bearing down on us once again.

This time would be different. No more self-imposed radio silence, no more pretending I was okay with him sowing his oats. But that didn't mean it was going to suck any less being apart. Still, Mama Cub deserved her Edward time too.

"I get that. You do what you gotta do. Just let me know if you want to get together later."

"Oh, I already know the answer to that." He climbed onto the foot of the bed one knee at a time and crawled straight up my body until he was fully planked over me. Want buzzed through me like a violin string pulled too tight. "The only question is," he said, dipping down to kiss me, "how soon can I make it happen?

I kicked off the sheet between us and tugged him down on top of my naked body. He flexed his arms as if to escape, and I rolled on top of him, pinning him between my thighs. His eyes went wide. I straddled his hips and twerked against his shorts until he grew thick against my bare bottom. His breathing got real shallow real quick.

"Bella . . .?" His voice dripped with need. "What are you doing?"

I gave him a sweet smile while lifting his hands to my breasts. "Providing incentive for your speedy return." He let out a frustrated groan when I rolled off. "As soon as you get your sweet little ass back here, we can finish what I started."

I heard a muttered "Evil woman" as he tucked his erection away and scrambled off the bed. "I see some things never change."

"And I know you wouldn't have it any other way, baby."

Bagboybagboybagboybagboybagboybagboybagboybagboy

I hit the books as hard as I could with that image of naked-in-bed Bella stuck in my head. With even that small taste of distraction, I could appreciate how impossible it would have been to focus if she'd lived any closer to school. There was no multitasking around Bella Swan.

Around ten, I took a jog to clear my head. Mom and I were due for a lunch date at noon, and Dad had put the pressure on by issuing an ultimatum: If I hadn't told her by the time he arrived home after work tonight, he'd do the job himself. A week was "seven days too long to keep a whopper of a secret" from his wife. He'd strongly suggested I not leave it to him, and I didn't need to be warned twice.

My jog turned into a rehearsal, but no matter how hard I tumbled the lines around my brain, I couldn't turn the lumps of coal into a diamond. It wouldn't have mattered if I had; seated across from Mom at my favorite sub shop, all of my carefully rehearsed lines went right out the window.

Poking at her Greek salad, Mom smirked at my turkey wrap. "Have I just witnessed the end of the reign of the meatball sub?"

"I wouldn't say I'll never eat another one, but I do think it will be a while before I eat red meat again."

"Perhaps you could share some of your newfound nutritional wisdom with your father," she said with a chuckle, "though he may regret paying for your college education if you use it against him."

"I wouldn't blame it on college," I blurted, realizing my slip when Mom cocked her head for an explanation. "My, uh, the woman I've been seeing is a healthy eater. I guess I picked up some good habits from her."

Mom's eyebrows shot way up at that. "I like her already."

I shifted in the aluminum chair, causing the feet to squeak against the floor tiles. "How's your salad?"

"Pretty much the same as it always is," she said. "Might you be trying to change the subject?"

I might. "Just wanna make sure you're enjoying your lunch."

She grinned as the forkful of lettuce paused just outside her mouth. "I'm with my favorite date. I'd be enjoying a bowl of Cheerios."

"Well, that's not saying much. You love Cheerios." In fact, I'd always loved how easy it was to make her happy.

"That's true, too," she answered with a ready smile. "So this woman of yours"—I bolted upright in my chair—"this is the same girl you were seeing last fall?"

"Mmhmm." I shoved my sandwich in my mouth.

"You know I really don't like to pry into your love life"—every part of my body clenched—"but isn't it about time your father and I met this young woman? You know, you don't have to worry that we'll embarrass you. We're really quite well-behaved." She opened her mouth for a dainty bite of lettuce.

"Uh, actually, I wanted to talk to you about that."

"Oh?"

Where the hell is that script I memorized? "You've already met her," I said.

Mom lowered her fork. "I have? Someone from high school?"

A laugh hiccuped out of me. "No, nothing like that." Bella would have been out of high school before I hit kindergarten—a sobering thought. "You met her at the store."

Forehead scrunched, she dabbed a napkin around her mouth. "The grocery store? You don't mean that checker you worked with—what was her name, Tori?"

"You mean Tanya?"

"Yes, yes, that's right. Tanya. She's the one?"

"No! Jeez, Mom! Tanya's heinous."

Mom threw her hands up. "What do I know? She's always been polite to me . . . and she has such a pretty figure."

I stared down my turkey wrap before setting it down with a sigh. "I think I just lost my appetite."

"You always were so dramatic, even as a little boy," she said, a grin tweaking her lips up at the corners. "Not Tanya. Hmm, let's see. Oh! What was that other girl's name . . .?"

Ugh, was she about to list every female employed by Nature's Bounty? Dragging this out into a guessing game was not going to help the cause. "It's Bella, Mom."

"Bella? The same Bella I met last week?"

"That's the one." And there it was.

Mom's mouth snapped shut, but her eyes told the whole story. Shock. Confusion. A flicker of horror.

"Oh," she said finally.

I held my breath and waited while she stabbed a tomato, brought her fork to her mouth, and continued eating without another word. Without any idea what she might be thinking or what the hell I should say, I bit into my wrap and chewed cautiously.

"So that's why you never brought her to the house," she said. "You thought we would disapprove of the age difference?"

I felt the heat rush to my cheeks. "That's part of it, I guess."

"You were worried we'd embarrassed you," she said with a twinge of sadness that hurt my heart.

"No! It wasn't that. Bella and I . . . don't exactly have a 'bring her home to meet the folks' kind of relationship. Honestly, I'm not sure you would call it a relationship at all."

"I see." She didn't—she couldn't—but she was trying. "Well, this must be some kind of relationship if you've been carrying on all this time."

"We haven't been . . . We ended it before I left for school."

"Son, I may be old, but I'm not blind."

Polishing off the first half of my wrap, I tried to figure out how much to say without oversharing. "We only reconnected because you made me text her that recipe on Friday."

"I certainly wouldn't have made the request if I'd had any idea you were trying to avoid each other!" Her wounded tone deteriorated quickly into indignation. "You know, you could have said . . . something. All this time . . ." She paused to shake her head, whether at me for not saying or herself for not knowing I couldn't have said.

"I'm sorry. I just didn't know what to say, and Bella didn't really want it getting around—"

"Telling your mother is hardly feeding the gossip mill."

"I understand that, but I was trying to respect Bella's wishes."

"As you should." Mom sat back in her chair, arms folded, and sighed. "I made myself a promise that I would never come between my son and a woman he was sweet on—unlike your grandmother." Her nose crinkled like someone who had just smelled bad cheese.

It wasn't the first time I'd heard references to Grandma Cullen's poor treatment of my mother, but it was the first time I'd visualized their dynamic through the eyes of a young woman in love with a man whose mother might not have been quite ready to let him go.

"I've always appreciated that," I told her, and I meant it. She'd never been anything but kind and accepting where my girlfriends were concerned.

"But"—of course there would be a but—"I would ask that you carefully consider any relationship you feel you need to keep secret from your parents."

"I hear you." Fact is, I had spent many, many hours carefully considering my feelings for Bella and hers for me. "I'm actually really relieved I can talk to you about it now." And as reluctant as Bella might have been to admit it, she's the one who'd shoved this snowball down the hill by tracking down Mom at the store.

Mom settled forward in her chair, pushed her salad bowl aside, and folded her hands on the table. With her "I'm listening" smile firmly in place, she said the words I thought would terrify me: "Tell me about her."

Oddly, as we talked, I found it easy to tell Mom about Bella without feeling sordid or confused. Yes, the details of our early encounters would always need to stay between Bella and me, but I still found plenty of mother-appropriate content to share. Long after the last sip of iced tea was slurped, we were still talking. Mom interjected a question every now and then; mostly, she listened.

"Sounds to me as if you two are getting fairly serious," she said.

"I'm trying to take things one step at a time, what with another two years of school ahead of me."

Mom nodded. "That sounds wise."

"Besides, Bella's kind of . . ."

"Skittish?"

I answered with a shrug. "She's careful not to make me feel tied down."

"That's a two-way street, Edward." As usual, Mom didn't pull any punches.

"I know."

"I don't want to see you get hurt."

"I know that, too."

I could almost read the questions churning through Mom's head—marriage, children, the gap in wealth and lifestyle on top of the age difference—but she asked none of them out loud. "I hope you know your father and I only want you to be happy." She waited for my nod. Yes, I knew.

"Are you?" she asked, head cocked for my final answer.

"Yeah. She makes me really happy."

"And you two have things to do"—she leaned in—"outside of the bedroom?"

If my mother only knew half the things we did to each other outside of the bedroom . . .

"Well, we've watched The Graduate about twenty-five times. Does that count?"

That got a big smile. "Yes, yes, movies are good. Did I ever tell you my first date with your father was—"

"Home Alone"? Nope, never heard that before."

"Okay, okay," she said, rising from the table. "Make fun of an old lady, will ya?"

"Aw, c'mon. You know I never tire of hearing those stories again and again. And again and again and again."

"Does your girlfriend know how fresh you are?"

"Yes. She loves it."

Now, she loved it. We'd certainly come a long way since those early days when she'd tell me to jump, and I'd ask how high. Then again, almost nothing was more fun than handing Bella the reins.

"You really are your father's son." That she rolled her eyes to the moon told me she might not have meant that as a compliment, but I couldn't help taking it as a good sign that Mom seemed to identify so strongly with Bella.

I held open the screen door of the sub shop as she walked through, illustrating I had also picked up some of Dad's better habits along the way. "Thanks for the lunch date, Mom."

"Speaking of dates . . . I think it's high time for the four of us to meet, don't you?"

"You mean, like a double date?" All I could picture in my panicked state was bowling with my parents.

Mom slipped behind the wheel of her Honda. "There you go again, getting all dramatic on me. Bring her by for dinner tomorrow night. Maybe she'd like to try a few of Nonni's other specialties."

The idea of bringing Bella to my house made me twitchy on many levels, but then, I couldn't exactly see my folks walking through Bella's foyer after all the depraved things we'd done to each other there. "Sure," I answered carefully, "but just so you know, Bella doesn't eat carbs or red meat, so there might not be a lot of overlap with your recipes from the old country."

"I'm sure we can work around that," she said, smiling in a way that left no room for discussion. "Your father and I have plans tonight with the Clearwaters, so it'll have to be tomorrow, say, six?"

Tomorrow? My last night with Bella for another six weeks?

Before I could object, Mom started chuckling. "Don't worry, Romeo. You two lovebirds will still have plenty of alone time after the old folks turn back into pumpkins."

"Very funny," I said, but the relief had to have been written all over my face.

Mom shot me a wink—the kind she usually saved for Dad. "Your father and I were young and in love once, too, you know." So I'd heard and heard and heard.

"I'll check with Bella."

"You could text her right now," she said, both eyebrows arched and waiting. "Did I say that correctly?"

"This seems like more of a voice conversation situation," I answered. I pulled the seatbelt across my shoulder and clicked it, phone securely stowed in my back pocket. Non-negotiable.

Mom took the hint, started the car, and away we went toward home.

CougarCougarCougarCougarCougarCougarCougarCougar

The invitation didn't surprise me, but the prospect of meeting his parents tomorrow still scared the hell out of me. On one level, it would be nice to get this sniff test out of the way. If Edward's parents were going to put up resistance, better to find out sooner rather than later. It would be easier on Edward that way.

The thing was, I hadn't met the 'rents since Jacob took me home our first spring break, some seventeen years ago. Truth be told, it hadn't gone all that well the first time. I'd never been good enough for Jacob in their eyes; they'd pegged me for a gold digger, which wasn't exactly fair. It didn't hurt that his family was well-off, but I did love him.

I feared Edward's parents would dislike me for entirely different reasons. There wasn't anything I could do now about the fact that I'd preyed on a much younger man—ouch—or that I already had one failed marriage under my belt or the sneaky way I'd gone about meeting his mom, so I'd sweeten the deal with the one thing I could do—bake a perfect blueberry pie.

Poor Edward had been a bit of a mess since he'd called with his mother's so-called invitation, and my attempt to calm his nerves with an errand wasn't helping.

"For the hundredth time, you don't need to bake anything." His car door opened and closed in the background, and I could picture him walking across the Nature's Bounty parking lot. "We can pick up a perfectly good pie from the bakery on our way to dinner tomorrow. I promise my mom won't think less of you."

"Nobody's mom was ever impressed by a store-bought pie. Now get your sweet little tush inside that store and pick me out the best pint of blueberries money can buy. If you need help, just ask Javier. Tell him it's for me." I knew that would get him.

"Hello . . . nutrition major over here? Not to mention Nature Bounty's best delivery boy in the history of delivery boys. I think I can handle a pint of blueberries."

"Well, get to it, cub. Meanwhile, I will be preparing to greet you in my customary welcome outfit."

"Now you're talkin'!" Finally, I heard the tension break in his voice.

"Quick but not too quick. Don't break any land speed records, now."

"Gotta go . . . I need two hands for this. See you soon."

~#~#~

I ditched the towel on my way to the door. My cub needed a serious distraction. Wearing just kitten-heeled slippers and sparkly earrings, I threw open the front door.

His jaw dropped, eyes popped wide. "You're not wearing a towel."

"Neither are you," I replied. "Would you like to step inside so I can close the door, or should I give ol' Mr. MacGregor across the street a heart attack?"

"Sorry, yeah," he said, shuffling forward.

"Have you got something for me, cub?"

"Oh. Right. Here." He thrust the shopping bag toward me without taking his eyes off my tits.

"Doesn't really seem fair you're fully dressed and I'm standing here naked, does it?"

"Nope." He kicked off his shoes while he pulled the T-shirt over his head. Edward was still one of the fastest undressers I'd ever met, a skill I greatly admired and appreciated.

As he reached for his fly, something around his left wrist caught my eye. "What's that?"

He examined his arm as if surprised to find two rubber bands there. He slid both off and took my left hand in his. A serious expression settled on his face.

"Edward? What are you doing?"

"Bella, I've never been happier than when I was wearing the rubber band you put on my wrist. I want to wear it again, with all that represents, but only if you'll wear one too. I'm yours if you'll be mine."

Tears pooled in the corners of my eyes. "Oh, Edward, that is so incredibly sweet."

With the band meant for me poised at the tips of my fingers, he asked, "Was that a yes?"

"I want to say yes to you to you, really I do . . ."

"But?"

"But what exactly does this mean to you, this rubber-band bond?

"It means I want you all the time, and I'm tired of holding back. I want us to be exclusive, whether we're physically together or not. I want to leave for school knowing I can text or sext you, and either way, you'll smile when you open it. I want us to talk at weird times like we used to and Facetime when the other stuff just doesn't cut it . . . I mean, I have a roommate, but we'll figure something out . . ."

The floodgates were open now, and Edward barely paused for breath. As for me, I was too choked up to sneak a word in.

"I want to hold onto this intimacy we've built but still keep that excitement of pushing each other's boundaries, and I want to get to know your friends and meet your mom and dad and brothers and sisters—shit, I just realized I don't even know if you have any brothers and sisters—"

"Whoa, whoa! Slow down, cub."

He blinked at me as if I'd woken him from a fitful sleep. "Too much? Too soon?"

"No, you're just talking so fast, I can't keep up."

"Okay, sorry, yeah . . . Will you say something, please?"

"I have an older brother who lives in Atlanta." His smile flickered but flattened almost instantly into the serious line awaiting my answer. I set the shopping bag out of the way so I could take both his hands in mine. "Yes, Edward. Yes to everything you just said."

He held the rubber band stock-still, as far out of reach as God's finger from Adam's on the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel. "Why does it seem like you're gonna say 'but' again?"

The muscles in his jaw clenched tight. I hated the way his body was bracing itself for pain. For all my teasing and torture, I'd never intentionally hurt him.

"Let me get this out of the way, okay?"

He nodded once.

"I can't make you any promises right this second about a future, so if you're asking about kids and PTA bake sales and puppies, I'm not ready to think about that yet."

"Jeez, neither am I. I've got school for at least two more years, and I've only just started to think about what might come after that."

"Fair enough." A shared flicker of relief passed between us. Common ground was good even if that ground happened to be quicksand. "I guess I don't need to tell you my biological clock is ticking away, which—pshh—never really concerned me before, to be quite honest. But there is a chance, and no promises but there is an actual chance I do have a maternal bone in my body! Go figure."

"Go figure," he repeated, clearly as shocked by my revelation as I was. "I'm glad to hear your mind is open. And of course, nobody can guarantee what might happen down the road."

"Best laid plans and all . . ."

"As long as we're both in agreement the puppies are non-negotiable?" He gave me a dazzling smile; I responded with an eye roll.

"So, how do we do this rubber band thing?" I asked. "One at a time or one-two-three-go?"

That was all he needed to hear. "Let's get yours on first."

I smirked as the rubber band met my fingertips. "This doesn't mean I have to masturbate with my left hand, does it?"

"You're not going to have to even think about masturbating for the next forty-eight hours. After that, we'll see what's what." With a wink, he looped the band over my fingers and settled it around my delicate wrist. "Perfect fit."

I turned my arm over and back, pleased and amused by my newest accessory. "My tennis bracelet is going to be very jealous."

"Oh, whoops. I guess I hadn't really thought through what a dumb rubber band would look like next to fancy baubles. Is this gonna cramp your fashion style?"

"Nah. If I have to get dressed up, I can always tuck it under my watch band . . . if you're okay with that?"

"It's the thought that counts."

I leaned in, cupped his cheek, and kissed him. "I haven't stopped thinking about you since we met."

"I can guarantee you I haven't either." He handed me the other rubber band and made a fist. "Band me, baby."

As I slid the rubber band over his hand, I could feel the tension leave him. "Consider yourself banded, cub." I slipped my fingertip inside and gave the band a friendly snap.

He smiled and let out a windy, "Ahhhh," sounding very much like a parched man who'd just guzzled a very cold drink.

"You look happy," I said, mirroring his smile.

He shook his head, chuckling softly to himself. "I really wish you hadn't just said that."

"Why?"

"My mom asked me earlier if you made me happy."

"Oh Lord." I dropped my gaze as a blush filled my cheeks. How the hell would I survive this meet-and-eat with his parents tomorrow?

Edward swept his hand under my chin, lifted my face to his, and held my gaze. "Bella, I . . . am . . . so fucking happy right now."

My heart filled with so much love for him. "I'm glad. You deserve it."

He cocked his head to study me. "What about you? Are you happy?"

His finger skimmed along the inside of my wrist. The question was clear: Was I happy inside this industrial-green rubber circle of our commitment?

"I am."

The truth? I couldn't ever remember feeling happier.

"In that case," he said, his gaze darkening as it rode down my naked body, "mind if I finish taking off my clothes now?"


A/N: I think my face hurts from all the smiling. SHE SAID YES TO THE (rubber) BAND! They're SO FREAKIN' HAPPY! Sigh... Jeez, I really hope this dinner with the 'rents works out!

Thank you to my sweet, sweet chayasara for running her loving eyes over these words and encouraging the next batch out!

And thank you, dear readers and reviewers, for receiving what I'm sending out into the universe.

XOXO
~BOH