GUEST REVIEWS THAT ARE DISRESPECTFUL WILL BE DELETED!
IF YOU DON'T LIKE MY TAKE ON THE CHARACTERS – PLEASE STOP READING!
Chapter 16 – With Liberty & Bubba For All
BUZZ! BUZZ! BUZZ!
"Fucking alarm clock!" I mutter as I turn it off. Note to asshole self: don't re-negotiate a CPOs contract while drinking scotch with him until three in the morning. If you'd told me that I would actually have a good time with Luke Sawyer after he stood up to me, I would have called you an insane fuckwad. Fuckwad was Sawyers word for the evening. It became my nickname for the first hour, his for the second and Taylors in the end.
Taylor convinced Luke to come back and talk to me. I would say, really talk to me, but as I learned last night, it was me who was not really talking to him. I quickly realized Sawyer's a straight shooter. I respect that. Me, I'm still a closed-off bastard but at least I can say with some confidence, I'm less of a closed-off asshole than I used to be. I learned that Sawyer's goal was the same as mine – keep Ana safe. To him, she was the younger sister he'd always wanted, as opposed to his three older ones who, even though he was just over six foot six, still treated him as if he were ten.
The bond between Sawyer and Anastasia was forged under fire and unbreakable. I now understand and respect that. Spending time drinking with Taylor and Sawyer made me wonder if I wouldn't have been more like them or Elliot if the first four years of my life were relatively normal. Much to my chagrin, I actually enjoyed the hours we drank as equals rather than employees and boss. No wonder Elliot spends time laughing with them when he visits.
Still, getting up at five-thirty in the morning, with less than three hours of sleep, leaves me feeling somewhere between drunk and hung-over. Not a good feeling, but it could be worse – I could just be hung-over. I practically had to crawl to the shower, but after standing under the jets of water for twenty minutes, I begin to feel human. Now, as I stand before my closet in my boxer-briefs, all I have to determine is what to wear to a breakfast date. Over the years I'd seen Elliot go on dozens of these types of dates and his dress code was casual, though, it's Elliot, so he's always casual. I opt for simple jeans, dark grey sweater, and leather slip-on skateboarding shoes. While I don't skateboard, these are the single most comfortable shoes I own. As I approach the full-length mirror, all I can hope is that I don't see a ginger-haired pretentious asshole staring back at me. More than anything, I want to look normal. Ironic, I know. Yup, it's the fucking ginger guy staring back. FUCK! FUCK! FUCK!
As I head toward the breakfast bar, I'm surprised to find Gail there at all today as it's her day off, but it's six fifteen in the morning and she's smiling at me.
"Good morning Gail."
"Good morning Mr. Grey," she replies as she pours me a cup of coffee. "Would you like something with your coffee this morning?"
"Isn't it your day off today?" I can't help but ask as she is beaming at me.
"I was awake Sir," she replies.
After a few sips of coffee, I watch as she cleans out the coffeemaker. I have to ask her opinion, even though lately I haven't followed any advice she offered, which killed me because I know it was all good advice. "Is this outfit appropriate for a breakfast date?" It kills me. I don't do nervous. I'm a CEO of a multi-billion dollar company, yet here I sit at the edge of my seat waiting for Gail's response to a simple question that I shouldn't even need to ask.
"Permission to speak freely?" she asks with a smirk. I nod. "You look young."
"Young?"
She laughs. "Mr. Grey, we've known each other for five years now. Today is the first time I've seen you looking your age other than when you are going sailing. Honestly, it makes me smile."
I can feel my cheeks warm slightly. Fuck, am I blushing? Gail just laughs at me. "Thanks Gail."
I'm almost relieved when Taylor joins us a few minutes later. He looks how I feel – bordering on hung over. Gail hands him a cup of coffee as he fills me in on Anastasia's meeting that should be happening now.
"It was a quick meeting," he reports somewhat surprised. "Ana arrived first, ordered her tea and waited. Dali arrived, didn't order coffee, smiled at her, handed her a thumb drive, and they both signed the contract. It turns out that the barista there is a notary, so he notarized it for them. Dali was there for all of five minutes before excusing himself to catch a flight. Jeffries, the PO watching Ana said she was grinning from ear-to-ear when Dali left."
"Did the barista share anything about the contract content with Jeffries?" I had to ask.
"He told Jeffries to fuck off sir," Taylor reported with a smirk. He always appreciated someone who could keep a person's confidence.
"Just my luck, an ethical notary. I'm taking the R8 this morning and going on my own Taylor. You're only on standby today," I inform him.
He nods. I can see he's unhappy about it but tough shit. I couldn't help but add, "Real men don't eat crepes, so I have to be a real man and drive my own car today. Cut me a break Taylor."
He laughs. "So you've never been to Bubba's?"
I shake my head negatively.
"You're going to gain five pounds this morning then. Bubba makes Sawyer look short. He's military and a Hell's Angel, retired. Tattoos, piercings, leather – the whole nine yards. He went to culinary school in France and came back to open his own place. The place feels like a cross between a biker bar and a café. Other than the crepes, there's nothing prissy about the place. All types of people go there and the food is incredible. The breakfast menu is divided into two categories: Girly Crepes, Manly Crepes, and Chef's Experimental Lab. There's not a healthy thing on the menu," Taylor explains with a smirk knowing my preference for healthy meals. "So you're just going to have to roll with it."
Five minutes later, I'm on my way in the R8. I'm not stupid. I know I'm being followed by one of our staff POs in the blue pick up truck three vehicles behind me. Taylor tells me one thing and does another. I get it, but he doesn't need to know I get it. As I pull into the parking lot at Bubba's, I see Anastasia standing out front holding a Day Timer Attaché in one hand, while she scrolls through her phone with the other. She's dressed simply – jeans, violet t-shirt, slightly darker violet cardigan, and chucks. Her dark, wavy, hair is held back from her face by a hair clips and she's positively beaming. I wish she'd look at me like that. She looks alive, vibrant, and the last thing I want to do is rip that from her.
After sitting in the parked R8 for a moment, I take a deep breath and head toward her. I feel like a sixteen-year old about to ask a girl to prom. Hell, I feel fucking queasy.
"Miss Steele."
She startles unaware I had been approaching her. "Good morning Mr. Grey," she finally replies with a smile after sticking her phone in her purse.
"How are you feeling? You look wonderful." I'm not sure whether to hug her, shake her hand, or kiss her cheek. What the hell is the protocol in this situation? Fuck me, there hasn't been a book written on the protocol for a breakfast date with someone you tried to contractually beat and fuck; especially after they beat the shit out of you. So what do I do? Not a blessed thing.
"All recovered," she replies shyly. "You look … um… younger." She giggles.
I can't help myself I have to tease her. "Are you saying I normally look old Miss Steele?" I ask sternly. She blushes but I can see the panic in her eyes as her body stiffens. I laugh. "You're too easy to tease Anastasia."
"Nice Grey, really nice," she laughs uncertainly. Yup, I've screwed this up already.
We enter Bubba's and I'll admit, I'm surprised it's exactly as Taylor described it – part coffee house, part biker-bar. There are pictures of motorcycles adorning the walls, the table tops are motorcycle rims with glass overlays, and the mugs that adorn the coffee bar are a collection from around the world – some fairly normal, some tacky, and some are works of art. For seven in the morning on a Saturday this place is crowded. We grab a table in the far corner. It's the most secluded table available.
As I scan the menu, I can't help but ask, "So Elliot tells me you are writing a book. What type?"
"It's a secret, but I promise it's nothing you need to fear," she replies nervously as the waitress approaches. We order coffee and tea. A few minutes of awkward silence later, the server approaches with Ana's English Breakfast Tea, bag out, and my triple cappuccino.
"What would you like to order?" the server asks with her pad at the ready.
"I know my companion will have a hybrid crepe – crème brûlée and Nutella with shaved peanut butter cup, or at least that's what a mutual friend assures me," I reply as Ana beams at me like I'm her hero. God her smile could melt the darkest heart. It feels incredible that it's aimed my way.
"So you're Mr. Peanut Butter Cup," the waitress asks with a smirk.
I nod and continue our order. "We'll also share the sampler platter with the Cajun, Chili Relleno, Hollandaise, and one of each fruit crepe on the menu; also a side of hash browns, Andouille, two plates, and two glasses of ice water. Anything else Anastasia?"
She's still grinning at me, but now she's practically bouncing in her chair. "I'm really going to get my custom crepe?" She's adorable.
Bubba himself comes over to our table and laughs at her. Holy shit, he's fucking massive. Taylor was right, the guy has two inches on Sawyer, probably sixty pounds, and twenty years. "Pleasure to meet you Mr. Grey," Bubba smirks. "I see our Annie will finally stop begging for her custom crepe. Luke should be here to see this. You should thank this sorry excuse for a man you are with Annie because this morning we had five pounds of peanut butter cups and a fat donation made to our Christmas Toy Run all so you can have your custom crepe. You're spoiled rotten little girl and I blame Ray."
I watch as Ana looks up at the massive man, pouts and juts her bottom lip out in an exaggerated fashion. I can see the adoration in her eyes. Bubba is family. "Come on Uncle Shrek, I'm not that spoiled."
He rolls his eyes at her and laughs before telling me that as a small child she would climb the highest cabinets to get to the peanut butter cups until she took a tumble and broker her hand. Ray handed her a package of peanut butter cups and took her to the hospital.
Yup, my girl is spoiled. "How do you know Ray?"
"We served together. He was my commander when I first enlisted," Bubba explained. "He was a cantankerous SOB before Annie came into his life. She was this tiny little toddler, not even two, with big blue eyes and pigtails and all she had to do to mellow him was gaze up and say you said bad word and he just fucking melted. It was the funniest thing I'd ever seen."
"She still has that effect," I mutter.
Bubba excuses himself as the queue at the counter has doubled in size. So she brought me here because she feels safe with Uncle Shrek. We sit together in awkward silence as my paralysis sets in and it's almost like she's the nervous student who fell into my office all over again. After a minute, we both laugh nervously. "I apologize for being such a dysfunctional asshole Anastasia. I hope you know I'm sincere about this," I sigh nervously. She nods.
"I'm sorry about your balls, your nose, and your pride," she replies with a nervous giggle. I can't help but smile at her.
"Can we start our friendship again?"
She nods with a smile. "I'd like that, but let's make it clear, just friends."
I agreed. Well, for now.
"How have you been? What have you been up to other than writing a book?"
"I'm working almost full-time as an Assistant Manager of a hardware store, volunteering, and honestly, working with therapists to come to terms with Texas and the past six months. I feel like until I resolve my issues, I don't feel like I can really dedicate all of my attention on anything else. And you?"
"I can relate on the therapist side of things. I'm a work in progress," I laugh nervously. "The mergers and acquisitions world doesn't change much, it's just different companies at different times. Life is overall good though. I hear you are volunteering at my mother's charity, Coping Together. How do you like it?"
"I was hesitant at first, but Kate volunteered first and pulled me along."
"Why were you hesitant?"
She's nervously shifting in her chair. "I'd never worked with families with issues before, much less children who were abused. All of my volunteering in the past was at nursing homes or tutoring kids at school. I was worried it would bring back memories, but after initial jitters, I think it helped me conquer some of my own demons. Your mother is a wonderful doctor and an extraordinary person," she replies before sighing and adding. "I wish I could say the same about mine."
How do you respond to that? All I can do is nod. I know my mother is a saint and Ana's mother is distant, to put it kindly.
"Kate was raving about her mentor last night. Who is your mentor at Coping Together?" I ask, knowing full well her response.
"Elena Lincoln," she replied uncertainly. "I've never met anyone quite like her before – feminine yet tough as nails."
"She's a piece of work. Just be cautious with her," I practically plead, as four platters of food are set before us. We each grab a plate and survey the calorie-laden table.
"I hope you are hungry Mr. Grey as there is enough food here to feed your security team for a week," Anastasia laughs as she serves herself one of her custom crepes. I can't help but watch as she takes a small piece with her fork and tastes it. Her eyes light up and she grins. "I'm in food heaven," she exclaims as she takes another fork full and offers it to me.
She watches my mouth closely as I taste it. At first thought, the combination of Nutella, crème brûlée, and peanut butter cups sounded disgusting, but I can't help but close my eyes to savor the decadent combination. When I open my eyes, she's staring at me smirking.
"Well?" she asks.
"I'm not much of a sweets kind of guy unless it's chocolate cake, but that was incredible," I reply before serving myself half of each crepe on the platters along with hash browns and Andouille.
We enjoy our meal, discussing everything from soccer, to books, and current events. Amazingly, other than our stances on gun control, our political views are strikingly similar. By the end of breakfast, the initial awkwardness is gone leaving comfortable conversation.
"What are your plans for the rest of the morning, assuming the cable installer arrives early?" I ask after paying the check and we head out.
"Between now and noon I'm cooking to restock freezers – mine, my dad's and Luke's since I'm seeing them tomorrow. Dad and Luke would eat take out every day. Neither can boil water," she laughs. "They ordered me freezer containers to fill for them, bought groceries, and they insisted on manly foods, so today I'll spend the rest of my morning making chili, mac and cheese, meatloaf, enchilada bake, and a few types of soup. Thank goodness for the crock pots I had from college. I used to cater student parties occasionally."
"You're cooking for Sawyer?" I ask in disbelief. Again – not easy being green here!
"Luke helped me find a safe apartment at a price I can afford," she explains. "Besides, I like taking care of people and with Luke around I feel like I have an older brother close by. Thank you for assigning him to protect me while I was in the hospital. He's amazing." She is more than welcome to take care of me if she feels like nurturing someone. God I'm such a selfish asshole sometimes.
"Where are you going to be living?" I ask curiously.
Her big blue eyes sparkle with excitement when she explains that a friend of Luke's is shipping off for a year and he arranged for her to rent his houseboat on Fairview Avenue while he's deployed. She's like a giddy kid at the thought of living on a boat. I know she grew up around boats with Ray, but living on one, heck, even I liked the idea of that. I felt a bit better because I knew she was in a safe area that under normal circumstances she couldn't afford. I couldn't help but feel that Ray and Sawyer had made some arrangement that subsidized her rent.
I held her hand as we headed into the parking lot. I glanced around for her Beetle, but didn't see it. "How did you get here?"
"I walked," she explained. "Wanda was temperamental this morning. Luke says she's not a fan of the sea air; well either that, or she needs a new starter. He's going to teach me how to replace the starter tomorrow morning."
"Do you need a ride home?"
"I don't think so. It's only a few blocks and I need to stop at the grocery store along the way as I forgot a few things to continue the cook-a-thon," she replies.
"Would you like company? I can't even make toast, but I could keep you company."
She smiles at me sweetly. "We could watch another movie as I cook if you'd like. There is a television in the kitchen, though why they have one there is beyond me," she replies nervously. "I can indoctrinate you into Austin Powers, while making you my taste tester Mr. Grey."
"I'd like that Anastasia, but please stop with the Mr. Grey and call me Christian."
We get into the Audi R8. I can see she is impressed with the car, even asking how fast I've taken it on the highway. Reluctantly I fess up to one hundred and ten miles per hour. Her response was one word – awesome. I can't help but grin at her. We make a quick stop at the grocers we head back to the car. It felt odd carrying two grocery bags like a domesticated douche, but good too. Too fucking weird!
When I pull into 2235 Fairway, I realize these aren't middle range houseboats; these are million dollar homes that float. She probably has no clue. We take the long walk toward slip seven and it's there I see the arrangements Sawyer made for her and they are stunning. I wish I had done this for her. I'm so fucking green!
The two-story houseboat is pale greyish-white with blue trim around the doors and there are planters of flowers everywhere. When we get inside, it's modern, stylish, and the living room set I'd gotten her is there, along with the dining room table. The place smells amazing, which I understand when she shows me the kitchen, where four large crockpots are slowly bubbling away with different types of soups.
The rest of the houseboat has two bedrooms and an office. On her desk sits the laptop I gave her a few months ago, a small bowl filled with labeled thumb drives, and a large glass print of Ray, Sawyer, and a peacefully sleeping Anastasia in a fishing boat. While she sleeps, both Ray and Sawyer are smirking as they dangle a tilted bait bucket over her. I can't help but smile at the image, but at the same time, wish I were there, rather than Sawyer. Yup, I'm like a spoiled kid, jealous all the fucking time!
"I'm going to change back into my cooking clothes. Meet me in the kitchen," she asks sweetly.
"Would you mind if I made coffee?" I ask before heading down.
"Help yourself," she says through the closed door.
When I arrive in the kitchen, I rummage through the refrigerator looking for the coffee. It's filled with bowls of assorted cooked chicken, roasted vegetables, and cooked rice. Once I set the coffee pot to brew, I can't help but glance into each crockpot. Each one smells fantastic.
By the time she's back in the kitchen, I'm pouring myself coffee and am about to take a sip, but I stop when I see her. She's wearing black capri-cut yoga pants, snug black t-shirt, and barefoot. Her hair, which was down earlier, is now in a large messy bun. Every one of her curves is on display. I'd wonder if it's for my benefit, but Elliot is always telling me how smoking hot she looks while cooking. Yup, fucking green.
I watch as she grabs a blue apron from the pantry hook, leaving half a dozen others hanging there. When she pulls it on, the image looks familiar, like an old London police call box. "Where have I seen that image before?" I ask looking around and I realize it's all over the place in the houseboat in small ways – salt & pepper shaker, cookie jar, and even as picture frames on the fireplace mantle.
"It's the Tardis from Dr. Who," she replies with a smirk.
I shrug and she laughs.
"Oh Christian, if we by some twist of fate get a snow storm here this winter, I'm going to have to initiate you into the Whovian Universe. I mean, how do you not know about this? Elliot was the one that got me hooked after all. When I first came back to Seattle, he and Kate knew I was uncomfortable being along in the apartment, so they stuck around and indoctrinated me."
"Elliot? Really?"
She nodded. "Elliot made me promise to write a Dr. Who fan fiction with him as the regenerated doctor and Kate as his companion. You'd probably make a better Doctor as he always wanted to regenerate as a ginger. Elliot wanted it x-rated. I promised him PG13. He wasn't happy, but understood. He spent the next hour teasing me about not being able to write about sex due to lack of experience. He tried to set me up with some of his friends. I finally told him to shut up or the next time I baked him brownies they would have laxatives in them."
I rolled my eyes and exasperated replied, "It figures. My brother is a piece of work."
"So Mr. Gr-
"Christian," I correct her with a smirk.
"Christian, do you want to watch a movie on DVD while I cook or would you like to join in the mayhem in the kitchen – you know, cooking, music, chatting?"
"I'll take mayhem."
We are interrupted when her phone rings. I know the ringtone melody, but I just can't place it. I feel like it's the beginning of an Elton John tune but I'm stumped. I can't help but listen as she answers on speakerphone as her hands are sticky and talks to Elena fucking Lincoln about their plans for the afternoon. It's a short, mostly one-sided call, but Anastasia appears disappointed the event was cancelled.
"Anastasia dear, why don't you come to Esclava and I'll treat you to the works," Elena informs her almost sweetly.
Anastasia laughs. "Oh Elena, I'll make you a deal, I'll get my naughty bits plucked and waxed when you wear white and to into church."
They both laugh hysterically. "Oh baby girl, we need to get you primped so you can find a man. Remember upkeep begins when you are young or you pay for it when you are old."
"Elena for gosh sakes, having hot wax spread on my private areas is not my idea of stimulating and just thinking about the removal makes me cross my legs and never allow anyone near there. Hell, just thinking about it I might not allow anyone around there even after I'm married."
"Trust me Anastasia, all you need is the right man, then you won't be nervous. Let him take charge, just give in and go with the flow," Elena laughs.
"I'll make you a deal, you French kiss the Pope and I'll date the man of your choice. I want video evidence, not a still picture though," Ana giggles and surprisingly Elena joins her.
"Well Anastasia, I'm going to let you go then. Enjoy your afternoon," Elena tells her. God I hate that woman.
Finally Ana replies, "Thank you for calling Elena. Let me know when today's event has been rescheduled. Enjoy your afternoon," before hanging up.
"We can spend more time together today then," I can't help but give her my best smile. "You can watch a CEO fail at cooking and gloat about it to Elliot later."
She throws me an apron from the pantry. Once again she's beaming, but this time there is a sense of mischief in her blue eyes. I look at the apron and sigh; it contains the image of a naked, well endowed, female whose vitals are covered by hands. I merely glare at her, which makes her giggle.
"It was a gift from Elliot. Actually, they all were. That is probably the most subdued one though. Your brother is a piece of work," she explains handing me the others. They are all equally tacky, so I take the first one, smirk and put it on.
"Okay Miss Steele, I'm your assistant chef this morning. Please have mercy on my soul," I ask as I bow before her mockingly.
I catch her looking at me after she pulls few large containers and a large package of ground beef from the refrigerator. The grin on her face is priceless as she stares at my tacky apron. "You have a nice rack Mr. Grey. I'm jealous."
Glancing down at my apron, I can't help but smirk as she takes a picture of me with her cell phone. "They were a Christmas gift from Elliot last year – boobs for Christmas from a boob. I gave him a much needed penis pump."
Anastasia turned beet read, covers her face, and mutters oh my God! It was the sweetest thing I've ever seen. "I thought having spent time with Elliot you'd be immune to crassness by now."
"Elliot is sweet. He teases me but for the most part he knows when to stop. At that point Kate picks up the baton and keeps taunting me," she explains as she hands me two massive onions. "Have you ever peeled onions before?"
I shake my head negatively.
"Just cut the ends off and peel pack the first layer or two," she explains before she begins pulling the cores and seeds out of a few different types of roasted peppers. There must have been two-dozen peppers in the bowl.
"What exactly are we making?" I ask as I peel the onions while attempting to stop my eyes from watering.
"Don't cry little boy, if you are really well-behaved I'll even let you have some of my special cookies," she teases as she pops the lid on the phone box cookie jar and shows me the black & white cookies contained within. They look decadent and awesome. "We're making chili, but while most people use seasoning packets, I'm not a fan of them as I don't like most chili powders, so last night I roasted all of these different peppers in the oven, along with a few heads of garlic."
I watch as she places the onions, peppers, peeled tomatoes, and roasted garlic into the food processor and grinds it up. She has me get a massive pot from the pantry, while I casually check out her backside every time she bends down. A second later, she places it on the stove and adds olive oil. Once the oil heats up, on her instructions, I pore the onion and pepper mixture into the oil and stir as it cooks down. After a few minutes, she has me add the ground beef and more seasonings the pot. My responsibility, as Anastasia explained it, is to keep stirring that pot until all of the meat was cooked. This I could do, well as long as I'm not distracted. Damn her for wearing something clingy.
While I pretend to keep track of the chili, Anastasia pulls another pot from the pantry and begins making enchilada sauce. She's quick, efficient and it doesn't take long before both pots smell wonderful. The entire time we are just talking about everything and anything.
I'm surprised after forty-five minutes she pulls two bottles of beer from the refrigerator, opens them and pours them into the pot of chili, then grates some chocolate into the pot. I watch as she's stripping fresh corn from the cobs and adds the fresh corn into chili pot as well. I can't help but look at her oddly when she further adds honey, brown sugar, assorted beans, minced adobe peppers, and barbecue sauce. What doesn't she put in the pot?
"I know, my chili recipe is weird, but trust me," she laughs as she grates jalapeño cheddar cheese into her pot of enchilada sauce then adds some to the chili pot. She turns the rear burners on low and moves both pots to the back of the stove.
"What's next?" I can't help but ask. She's a confident chef and though some of her recipes seem unorthodox, what the hell do I know. I know how to eat, not cook.
"Mac and cheese, my dad's favorite," she laughs. I watch as she heads to the refrigerator and pulls out butter, cream, a large bowl of assorted shredded cheeses, and pulverized more onions in the food processor.
"Where did you learn to cook?"
The smile on her face was bittersweet as she continues cooking. "My mom wasn't interested in being a housewife or being in the workforce for that matter. We ate a lot of take out growing up, or burgers on the grill, which is about the only thing Ray can cook. I always wanted to learn to bake when I was little, so dad sent me to a baking class at the local rec center in Montesano where I learned how to bake, but then I took basic cooking classes. I was eight. I enjoyed learning how to cook, especially since it made dad happy. I mean, mom, well, she …"
I can see her struggling not to tear up, but I have to hand it to her, she took a few deep breaths and then continued. "She wasn't a great wife. Heck, I knew that when I was eight years old. Dad never complained though because he didn't want me growing up in a stressful household. He indulged my desire to learn to cook and supervised me in the kitchen, not that he knew what he was doing." She laughed. "By the time I was ten, I had a dozen simple recipes down pat and I made dinner most nights. I cooked and kept the kitchen clean, dad did the laundry and vacuumed, and mom, well, she existed for the most part unless she could do something to gain positive notoriety in the community. She was on the PTA for a year and was miserable, she ran for the school board, but that's about it."
"That's sad."
"Not everyone is cut out to be a mother Christian, but if you know you aren't cut from that mold, use birth control," Ana snaps. "I mean, in her own way she loves me, but she never wanted me. She did however bring Ray into my life and for that I'll be forever thankful. It was her choice in terms of the type of parent she was, not a reflection on me as a person. You know that, right?"
I can't help but shuffle uncomfortably.
"Your mom's friend Elena Lincoln did something right."
"What do you mean?"
"Well that woman knows she wasn't meant to be a mother and she was smart enough not to have kids of her own," Ana explains. "I'm still trying to figure her out as she's different from anyone I've ever met before, I mean, why would someone who never wanted children volunteer at an organization that is about helping children? She's also pissing me off trying to play matchmaker for me with a few of her friends, but I'm not interested. Does Elena speak in doublespeak? Every time I volunteer with her I feel like Velma from Scooby Doo trying to solve a mystery."
"You're more Daphne, not Velma," I can't help but inform her. She blushes. There's so much I want to say about Elena Lincoln but to do so, I would have to expose my own history with the woman and Anastasia never signed an NDA. Fuck! "I'm not a fan of that woman but put up with her because she is a friend of my mother. I would advise you to keep your distance whenever possible."
"Elliot and Kate don't care for her either. To me, she's an enigma, stuffed in a finger cuff, wrapped in god only knows what. Every time I see her, it's another dead animal wrapped around her shoulders. I hate that people wear fur."
"This isn't a puzzle you should try to figure out," I yell at her. I regret it instantly when all of the color drains from her face, she takes a quick step back from me, and wipes a few stray tears from her eyes. "I'm sorry I yelled at you. That woman is pure evil."
"How do you know this?" she barely whispers. All I want to do is smack myself for killing the comfortable mood we established over the course of the morning.
"Just trust me Anastasia. I've known that woman most of my life. She's selfish, evil, and I don't trust her."
Our discussion is interrupted by a knock on the door. I've never been so happy to see the cable guy in my life. Ana spends a good half hour with him, while I mindlessly stir pots in the kitchen and read emails on my phone. While she is in the upstairs bedroom having the cable box installed, I see her Day Timer. I know odds are the contact she signed this morning is sitting in there waiting for my to take a peek. Hell, it's beckoning me like a siren.
After looking around the corner to see if they were heading back downstairs, I unzip the Day timer and quickly look through the paperwork it contained until I find the contract, but before I can read more Anastasia Steele and Eric Dali's names on the contract, I hear her heading back downstairs as she lets the cable installer out. I quickly zip the Day Timer back up and return to stir the pots.
We spend the next two hours, dishing out individual servings of different foods, labeling them, and stocking the freezer. Who'd have thought we cooked for nearly five hours. Well, she cooked and I scooped, stirred, and stared at her ass every time she bent down. Anastasia even baked a small batch of cornbread.
Together we collapsed onto the couch with bowls of chili and cornbread in hand. I don't know how Anastasia does all this cooking every six to eight weeks. It's exhausting and I was basically a spectator. The chili was excellent, smoky and spicy yet sweet and tangy. It was even better when I added buttered cornbread into it.
"God Anastasia, you really can cook."
She laughed. "Technically, you made the chili. All I did was add a few ingredients, but it is one of the best batches I've made. My compliments to the assistant chef." She clinked her bowl against mine in a quasi toast and giggled. "Thank you for your help today. I had a great time."
"So does that mean I'm entitled to dip into those cookies you showed me earlier?"
"Most definitely," she replies as she stirs her bowl. "What are your plans for the remainder of the day?"
"When I get home I'll probably work until bedtime."
She asks me what I do for fun. A few months ago it would have been a more difficult question to answer. Back then it was work, sail, glide, and a submissive. Now, well, it's different. "I work, spend time with my family, sail, and glide. As I mentioned earlier, I've spent the past few months trying to figure myself out and along the way, it brought me closer to my family." I can't help but smile at the thought of spending time with them.
"All Elliot talks about when your name comes up is how much more open you are and how much he enjoys spending time with you. You seem more at peace with yourself. I'm really happy for you."
I can't help but run my fingers through my hair. I need her to understand… well, me. "In some ways I am more at peace, but that's what happens when someone who neurotically controls their life gets a overwhelming reality check. For that, I can't say it enough, but thank you and I'm sorry."
"I think we've both said and done things to each other and apologized. It's the past since we agreed to start this friendship over," she replies with a mischievous smirk. "Besides, Flynn would tan both our hides if he caught us dwelling on the past rather than planning our respective futures. God that man can drone on about it, but his accent makes up for it."
"His accent doesn't have that affect on me, so I just grin, pretend to listen and plot my next takeover," I tease. "How come our paths have never crossed at Flynn's office if we're both there a few times per week?"
She shuffles nervously in her seat before quietly responding. "I requested our appointments be at least two hours apart so we don't meet. Early on when I left my appointments I was an emotional mess. I didn't want anyone to see me like that, much less you."
"I don't understand."
She laughed nervously. "I was allowing my fears to bring out the worst in me because you are the only man I have ever attracted to and it scared the hell out of me. Well, between those feelings and seeing the red room it really messed with my head. I didn't want to run into you when I was vulnerable because then I probably would have been a raging bitch to you – the greater my fear, the bigger the bitch. You deserved better than that. I didn't want you or anyone else to see that side of me anymore. Once I understood and accepted the root cause of my behavior, I learned to control my inner bitch for the most part. Some women have inner Goddesses, or so they say anyway." She can't help but giggle at that before she continues. "Like Kate, I have an inner bitch and I don't particularly care for her."
We'd spent the entire day side-by-side, yet avoiding any type of contact, but I couldn't resist. I moved to sit on the coffee table before her and took her hand. That instant spark of electricity was there. "I dismantled the red room months ago and haven't had another submissive since I approached you about the role. I'm sorry I scared you back then. I'm working on being a more balanced person, but it's not an easy journey. I'm still on the road so to speak."
She laughs and squeezes my hand. "Stop apologizing Christian. We've both said it and meant it. It's time to move forward. This is what friends do. They make mistakes, learn from them, apologize, and move on."
"So moving forward we can spend time together as friends?"
"I would like that."
"What does that entail exactly? I've always been pretty much a loner until recently."
I don't think I've ever been this excited. She talks about the things she enjoys doing with her friends – going to sports events; book clubs; twisted card games; going fishing or to the gun range with her dad and the R-squared as she calls her friend Jose Rodriguez and his father; playing paintball; seeing movies; going to museums; going to comedy clubs and coffee houses on open mike nights; and swimming.
"I'm anti-guns," I inform her.
"Dad taught me to shoot so if necessary, I could protect myself. From there, I enjoyed learning to play paintball. It's one of the few athletic things I do, though I will admit my klutzy ways occasionally come out on the course. Luke and my dad took me to play a few times before I came back to Seattle. They surprised me by inviting R-squared, Kate, and Elliot and it was awesome. I even got to shoot Elliot in the rear. He was not amused, but Kate said his ass was red afterward."
"Okay, I'm in. I just want to learn to shoot Elliot's as–
We both jump at the loud pounding on the front door, followed by a key unlocking it, and a second later Bubba enters dragging an all too familiar looking man behind him who's sporting a quickly darkening black eye and is handcuffed.
"Hey baby girl, I came home for a break and found this pathetic asshole watching your place again. I want to make sure he's not someone you know before I turn him into chum and head out to catch marlin? After all, the smellier the bait, the bigger the fish."
Fuck, I am so screwed! So much for covert protection. How the hell am I going to explain this without Bubba adding me to the bucket?
Anastasia's Ringtones:
Christian – Sick Puppies "White Balloons" (one of my all-time favorite songs and SO appropriate for just about any Anastasia/Christian story)
Elliot – Chinga Chavin "Asshole from El Paso"
Taylor – John Mellencamp "Authority Song"
Ethan Kavanagh – Foster the People "Houdini"
Elena – Opening cords of Elton John's "The Bitch is Back"
Sawyer – Jimmy Buffett "Volcano"
Ray – Paul McCartney & Wings "Mull of Kintyre"
Kate – KT Tunstall's "Suddenly I See"
Eric Dali – Nine Inch Nails "Closer"
Jose – 12 Stones "Photograph"
Carla – Meshell Ndegeocello - "Good Day Bad"
Dr. Flynn – Green Day "Basketcase"