Houston, We Have a Problem
A/N: Thought this chapter was going to turn out a hell of a lot shorter, but when characters want to talk, you gotta stand back and let 'em. At least, that's my philosophy. Thanks a million times over for the bitchin' reviews. You guys boost my ego every time you log on and send me a note of encouragement. Life gets crazy hectic and knowing that you have a support system means everything. So thanks. And, as always, Enjoy!
"Ugh!" Jennifer shouted, running her fingers through her hair before flopping back on her plush, full-sized bed. "I don't have a damn thing to wear!"
Dave chuckled from the doorway, peeling an orange as he leaned against the doorframe. "You have an entire closet full of clothes, Jen," he nodded toward the open closet as he pitched rinds into the trash.
Rolling over onto her stomach, Jennifer looked up at the beautiful man shadowing her door. She had been sure, a few years earlier, that her boyfriend at the time, Marco, was the biggest man she had ever seen. She had been wrong.
With his broad shoulders and his towering, six and a half foot build, Dave looked like he had walked out of the pages of a romance novel. He had ripples in places she didn't know the body had muscles, and the way his tailored clothes hung from his frame was nothing short of delicious.
He was part Greek, part Filipino, and though she had yet to figure out which parts were which, she found them all equally captivating. His skin reminded her of her morning mocha latte, after the whipped cream had begun to melt into the dark coffee. It was smooth, rich, and intoxicating. And the chocolate pools that stared at her with amusement, affection, and desire were almost enough to bring her to her knees.
Most of the time. Except when she was prepping for her first outing with his friends' girlfriends. Trish, Lita, and Ashley had invited her along for a day of pampering and spa treatments, and while she was excited that they had included her in their plans, she was finding herself ready to back out a few minutes before leaving.
They were perfect. Sure, they got paid to work out and be beautiful. And sure, they paid for enhancements to the parts that weren't already beautiful to begin with. But it didn't change the fact that, in their presence, Jennifer felt downright plain. And dressing like a crazed, single mother who had barely found time to step out of her house in more than four years wasn't going to help her ego any.
"They're not right," she insisted. "My clothes suck!"
Dave just smiled and popped a slice of orange into his mouth as he pushed off the door frame and moved to her closet. "Baby, you have great taste. I don't see what the problem is," he stated matter-of-factly. "You just wear a tank top and some jeans," he tossed the clothing onto the bed beside her, "And you look gorgeous, as always."
Leaning over, Dave began to kiss Jennifer's forehead, until she rolled from under him and stood with her hands on her hips. "You want me to wear a Target tank top and a pair of Sears jeans to go to the spa with three of the most perfectly beautiful women I have ever seen? Are you out of your motherfucking mind, man?"
With a sigh that turned into a deep laugh, Dave fell onto the bed and continued to eat his snack. "You saw them the other night, Jen. At John's house?" He nodded as she shrugged. "That's how they normally dress," he promised.
"In public, though?" Jennifer asked, thinking back to the casual attire the women had been sporting. "I mean, they're like," she stopped, looking for a word. "Goddesses or something."
Dave scooted to the edge of the bed and reached out for her, pulling her by the waist to his side. When she lowered her body onto his knee, he offered her a slice of his orange. "You are making way too big a deal out of this." He gently rubbed the back of her neck. "Everything's going to be fine. Just be yourself. They will love you."
The soothing sound of his rumbling baritone alone was enough to calm her quickening heart rate as she chewed on the orange and thought about the day ahead of her. "Besides," she finally concluded, "It's not like I'll be wearing it that long anyway. I mean, we'll be in towels for the massages, robes for the manicures and pedicures, and naked in the sauna."
She felt Dave's body instantly spring to life at the mere mention of the word. "You don't, perhaps, need a chaperone, by any chance, do you?"
Again, Jennifer rolled her eyes as she stood and began to change from her grubby sweatpants to the jeans that Dave had laid out for her. "We're big girls, Dave," she reminded him. "I think we can handle it on our own."
He shrugged and finished the last of his fruit before laying back on the bed with his hands behind his head, enjoying the show as his girlfriend hastily changed in front of him. Though she wasn't yards and yards of legs, arms, and torso, she was still stunning in her individuality.
He watched as her dark locks fell over her face, her brown, puppy dog eyes hidden from view as she wrestled her tank top down her body. She swore that she still had baby fat, a bubble of a tummy that she couldn't get rid of. But Dave knew the only thing he saw was perfect curves at every turn. Curves he couldn't get enough of on the rare occasion he actually got any at all.
"It's alright," he sighed, sitting up again and running his fingers over a slinky dress she had thrown on the bed earlier. "I've got a pretty hot date this afternoon. I don't need a bunch of hot naked women."
As if on cue, a rambunctious ball of energy burst into the room, a juice box in one hand, and a magazine page in the other. "Look what I found, MOMMY!" Keegan shouted.
Without a thought, she held the paper out to her mother and handed Dave her drink. Twisting her cherubic face in concentration, she hoisted her tiny body onto the high mattress and then wriggled her way onto Dave's lap. When his arm was behind her, securing her from falling, he handed her juice back and watched with a smile as she happily sipped it.
Keegan's dark hair flailed around her head in wild curls that Jennifer couldn't seem to tame. Braids seems to be the only salvation from shrieking tears at bed time when she tried to brush the tangled mess that was her daughter's unruly main. But Keegan had learned how to "unbraid" and the curls were on the loose once again, smacking Dave in the face every time she bobbed her little head.
"What is this?" Jennifer asked as she looked over the paper and then handed it back to her daughter.
Holding the picture up for Dave to peruse, she laughed. "Look, Dave," she squealed. "It's you!"
He smiled as he noted that he was, indeed, in the picture. Laying flat on his back and looking as though all of his wind had been knocked out of him. "This is not my best picture, Peanut," he told her, turning his head to the side. "I have much better ones."
"Dave?" Keegan looked from the picture to her mother's boyfriend, her brown eyes wide with wonder.
"What?" he asked, his heart melting as she pointed to the paper in her hand.
She waved her hand in front of her face. "Can you still see me?"
He chuckled as he realized that the picture above his in the magazine was one of Cena's patented "You Can't See Me" pose. "Nope, not a thing," Dave teased.
"Yes, you can!" She laughed, lifting his large hand with both of hers and urging him to make the same motion. Dave complied and Keegan puffed her lips out. "I can still see you just fine!" she insisted.
"No, you can't!" Dave argued, moving his hand in front of his face again. "You can't see me."
Jennifer turned away from the interaction. She hadn't really worried about Keegan becoming a wrestling fan. She was only four, and she had absolutely no interest in anything that wasn't shiney, flashy, sparkley, or pink. Until she spent a week with Jennifer's sister and nephews. And then she couldn't stop talking about Monday Night Raw and Friday Night Smackdown.
Of course, her favorite was John Cena, not that she knew the Dr. of Thuganomics was her biological father, of course. Jennifer had vowed to herself never to let on to that - not until Keegan was old enough to find him for herself. But that didn't stop the tiny tot from emulating her favorite wrestler every chance she got. Although, no matter how Keegan had cried, Jennifer drew the line at buying her a pink "Mrs. Cena" tee shirt - it was just way too weird.
Now that Dave was around a lot more, Keegan's interest in sports entertainment only seemed to grow. He had shown her a few moves on the living room floor. Or he had tried to. Usually, he just ended up throwing her in the air above his head and catching her while she giggled and cooed and insisted "John Cena doesn't do THAT!"
"Okay," Jennifer announced, hitching her purse over her shoulder with a quick glance at her watch. "I'm late and they're probably going to leave without me, so I'll see you guys in about twenty minutes."
Dave rolled his eyes and swung Keegan into the air, resting her effortlessly on his massive shoulders. "They're not going to leave you," he rolled his eyes and followed her out of the bedroom.
At the front door, Jennifer made a sharp turn on her heel and shot Dave a serious look of concern. "You're sure you'll be okay?"
"Jennifer, I have three daughters," he reminded as Keegan hummed and repeatedly tapped his chest with her heel. "We'll be fine."
Worridly nibbling her bottom lip, Jennifer dug in her purse. "I have my phone, so if you need anything at all, call me," she instructed. "And all of the emergency numbers are on the fridge. If you can't get me, call my sister. And the spa. And . . . "
She was cut off by a steady stream of red liquid dripping onto Dave's white "Gold's Gym" tee shirt. Looking up, she couldn't stifle the giggle as Keegan covered her mouth with her pudgy little hand, her expression horrified.
Dave looked at the stain, then at his girlfriend, before growling from deep in his gut. "Now look what you did!" he exclaimed, gripping Keegan's leg and pulling her down off his shoulders. He gripped her little hips tightly and held her out in front of him, narrowing his eyes playfully. "Your juice peed on me!"
Keegan roared with laughter and shook her head. "We don't say pee, Dave. It's not lady-like." Her voice was an obvious mockery of something her mother, or more likely, her aunt had told her on several occasions.
Jennifer didn't try to fight her giggles as Dave feigned an apologetic stare. "Oh," he said. "What do we say then?"
Keegan rolled her blue eyes and lowered her voice. "We say tinkle," she said in an exaggerated whisper.
Both Jennifer and Dave were laughing as Keegan squirmed until Dave sat her feet on the floor. When she ran toward the living room, Jennifer apologized. "I'm sorry about your shirt," she said, moving to him and running her hand over the stain in the middle of his chest.
Trapping her hand and holding it against his body, Dave shook his head. "No worries, baby," he assured her, bending to capture her lips in a quick kiss. "Babysitting hazard. I was prepared," he winked, lacing his fingers through hers and moving them to her hip. "Have fun," he whispered, resting his forehead against hers.
She licked her lips and nodded, taking a moment to breath in the subtle sent of his soap, aftershave, and cologne. Like everything else about him, the scent was uniquely Dave, and she found herself craving it more as the days passed.
Even as she guided her little S10 pick up truck out of the driveway, Jennifer drummed a beat on the steering wheel. If she had known who he was the night he brought Keegan back to her hotel room, known what he did for a living or who his friends were, she never would have invited him in or spent the entire night talking and laughing with him. She would have denied the instant attraction and pushed right back out the door.
But as she continued the drive toward Lita's house, she repeated the mantra that had so often plagued her thoughts lately. Meeting Dave is the best thing that has ever happened to us. Things do not have to change. I can do this. We can do this. Everything is going to be just fine. Everything will be fine.