With Tinsley satiated and splayed across me, I figure it’s time to talk about the future. “We’ll probably go back to San Francisco this week,” I tell her. “Time to get back to reality.”
“I know. Everything is going to change.” I hear sadness in her voice.
“What do you think will change?”
“No more of this.” She caresses my soft cock.
My heart begins to race. “Why not? I was hoping you’d move back into my apartment—and my bedroom.”
Tinsley sits up and gathers the sheets around her. Her eyes narrow.
I hold up my hand. “I don’t want a fight. We love each other. You made it clear you don’t want to get married, but are you okay with living together?”
Her brows crease, and her anger seems to dissipate. “I don’t want to marry. It’s a stupid piece of paper. We can sign a medical power of attorney and—”
“Alright, but I thought we could take this in baby steps. You move in, or we can find somewhere else to live, we live together for a while, and when we both believe it’s right, we’ll make a commitment to one another.”
Tinsley jumps out of bed. “How can you say that?”
I take a deep breath, because I’m not sure where I’ve gone wrong. “Look, we don’t have to discuss this right now. But given the requirement that you have twenty-four/seven security coverage, at least for the time being, why don’t you stay with me? I’d love it if we were together in the master bedroom, but I understand if you’d prefer to stay in the guest room and leave me with the worst case of blue balls ever seen. I mean, they’d be massive.” I kiss her softly on her lips. “But only you will have access to them.”
Tinsley’s shoulders drop. “I don’t know what I want.” She sighs.
“We don’t have to decide right now. I swear, I don’t have the medical power of attorney in my back pocket.”
“You’re not wearing pants,” she points out.
I look down, and my erection is back. “No, I most certainly am not.”
I roll her on her back and cuddle in close. “What I’m trying to say is I love waking up to you, and I’ve been hoping I might continue to do that when we return to San Francisco.”
“We’ll talk about it after you win the tournament. If you lose, it’s a nonstarter.” Tinsley wiggles her eyebrows and runs to the bathroom.
I jump out of bed and hobble behind her. “After the therapy you gave me last night, I’m going to win this thing.”
“Good, because I want to go up to Whistler this winter.”
“We always close the company between Christmas and New Year’s,” I tell her. “We can invite your mom and her boyfriend, plus Claire and my parents.”
As Tinsley steps into the shower, she looks over her shoulder. “I guess you’d better win.”
Even after our leisurely morning, we’re among the first to the breakfast buffet.
“This smells fantastic.” Tinsley opens the various chafing dishes and peeks at the contents. “Molly, did you sleep at all after that huge dinner you made last night?”
“Of course I did.” She blushes. “I didn’t even get up as early as you think. Jeannine, Jimmy’s wife, Dolores, and my friend Margie all were here at six. We had the ovens going here and in two different guesthouses. It’s what we do, and the ladies love the extra cash, so they’re great with getting everything ready.”
“I agree. This is incredible.” I see scrambled eggs, bacon, sausage, ham, biscuits, sausage gravy, pancakes, and a frittata.
“What can I get you both to drink?” Molly asks. “There’s juice at the end of the table—including fresh pineapple juice from Jackson Graham’s estate in Maui—and I have drip coffee and hot water for tea, but I’m happy to make any espresso drink.”
“Tea is perfect for me,” Tinsley responds.
“I’m good with pineapple juice, and the drip coffee is fine. Have you and Frank eaten?” I ask.
“We’re fine.”
I hear the shuffle of slippers behind me.
“Good morning.” Claire rubs the sleep from her eyes. She’s dressed, and her dark hair is pulled into a bun.
“Good morning. How did you sleep last night?” Tinsley asks.
“Fine. It’s a little quiet here.”
“It does take some adjustment,” I agree.
“What can I get you to drink?” Molly asks while I hand her a warm plate.
“Can I have a nonfat latte?”
While Molly gets Claire her drink, I grab a pitcher and begin filling it with pineapple juice.
“What are you doing?” Tinsley asks in a low whisper.
“Saving this for later. I don’t want to share it.”
Tinsley shakes her head.
I store the pitcher behind a plant in the dining room. Soon most of the guests have wandered in, and we’re all making plans. We have a good part of the day before we meet in the barn for the tournament at one.
I relax and enjoy watching people wander around. After a while, I’ve stored five pitchers of pineapple juice around the downstairs.
“Who drank all the pineapple juice?” Jackson asks. “I didn’t even get any.”
“It was fantastic, but I was one of the first this morning,” I say with a shrug.
“Lelani sent over five gallons. I thought that would be enough for the weekend.”
I’m trying so hard to hide my smile. “It was pretty damn good. Guess I wasn’t the only one who thought so.”
Jackson walks off, clearly puzzled, and I’m holding back the giggles.
“You’re bad.” Molly gives me a look. I don’t get much past her.
“We give each other a hard time. It’s all about the mental game that comes with our tournament,” I tell her. “I have to throw him off. When
