Baking and Babies

Charlotte grabs my arm and drags me away from Marco while everyone else says their good-byes. Once again, poor Marco is suffering at the hands of my family and I can’t help but wonder how much more he’s going to able to take before he heads for the hills. Not to mention the fact that I just kissed him in front of everyone, including a camera crew.

While the women pile into the stretch limo parked in the driveway, my sisters and I stand outside the vehicle for a few private minutes. Ava pulls one of the flasks out of her purse and hands it to Charlotte.

“Start chugging it in the limo,” Ava tells her. “Make sure to giggle and yell a lot.”

Charlotte takes the flask and rolls her eyes. “I’ve been drunk before, Ava. I think I know what I’m doing.”

“And I’ve seen you drunk before. It’s not pretty,” Ava replies. “You go from telling everyone you love them to sobbing in two-point-three seconds. As a fake drunk, I expect better of you.”

Aunt Claire leans her head out of the limo and looks at the three of us.

“Let’s go, assholes. There’s a bottle of vodka on ice at the hotel with my name on it and it’s not gonna drink itself,” she announces before pulling her head back inside.

“You people better not get on my nerves tonight,” I mutter as I wait for Ava and Charlotte to get in the limo. “Drunk people are complete idiots when you’re sober.”

I hold onto the door and listen to Ava start up a chant with the rest of the women until the sounds of ten females screaming “Drunk bitches” repeatedly fills the quiet night. As I bend down to get in the limo and seal my fate, I hear my name shouted from the house. Quickly pulling back from the open door, I turn around to see Marco jogging down the front porch and across the yard.

All these years of making fun of my sisters for losing their heads over guys…is this what it was like for them? The nerves, the sweaty palms, and racing heart whenever you’re in the same vicinity as him? The constant anxiety that you aren’t smart enough, good enough or pretty enough to keep the interest of someone like him? I spent so much of my life making fun of how Charlotte and Ava behaved and I thought they were sad and pathetic. I get it now, and I’m ashamed of myself for being so hard on them. I watch Marco’s face light up as he rushes towards me and I want to crawl under a rock because I don’t feel worthy of that look in his eyes. The one that says he likes me, in spite of my family, and that I make him happy. The pressure of this is so much worse than anything I did in culinary school.

I move towards him in a trance, meeting him in the middle of the front yard. It’s not fair for someone to be so good-looking without even trying. Even in a tight, long-sleeved grey t-shirt and worn jeans he looks just as good as he would if he were wearing a tux.

“I’m glad I caught you before you left,” he smiles, the dimples in his cheeks making my knees weak.

“What’s wrong?” I whisper, hoping he didn’t race out here to ask for advice on how to make Uncle Drew stop dropping his pants and showing everyone his balls.

“Nothing’s wrong, I just forgot something.”

I open my mouth to ask if he forgot to write down the number to Poison Control in case Tyler gets into the nail polish remover again, but before I can take a breath, his hands are cupping my face and his lips are on mine. With my lips still parted to speak, his tongue slides easily into my mouth. All the blood in my body rushes to my nether regions and with every brush of his tongue against mine, I feel myself getting lightheaded. My hands fly to his chest and I grab onto handfuls of his shirt to hold myself steady as he kisses me soft and slow and the world around me disappears. He tastes like peppermint and smells like cookies, and I want to jump into his arms and wrap my legs around his waist. My heart thumps rapidly in my chest as our tongues swirl together until I’m not sure where he begins and I end. Our mouths have become one and have replaced everything in my brain with cheesy romantic poetry and dreamy Jane Austen quotes.

I need to stop this kiss before I turn completely stupid.

I never want this kiss to end and I don’t care if it turns me into Uncle Drew.

Marco slowly ends the kiss, gently biting my bottom lip as he pulls his mouth from mine. With my face still cradled in his hands, he presses his forehead to mine and sighs.

“Sorry, I tried to wait until we were alone to do that, but I think hell might freeze over before then,” he laughs softly.

“GET A ROOM, YOU WHORES!”

The lust-filled excitement in my body quickly vanishes when I hear Ava yell to us from the limo.

“Wrap it up before you knock her up on the front lawn! Oh, wait…” Ava adds with a loud giggle.

“I should probably go. The drunks are getting restless,” I tell him softly, wishing I never had to move and his warm, soft hands never had to drop from my face.

“Be careful,” Marco says as his hands slide from my face and down the sides of my neck to rest on my shoulders. “Never take a drink you didn’t pour yourself, and if you’re being attacked, always scream ‘fire’ instead of ‘help’.”

I snicker, unclenching the death grip on his shirt to rest my hands on top of his on my shoulder.

“I’m hanging out with my aunts, sisters, and cousins all night,” I remind him.

“You’re forgetting I’ve met those women. You should be more afraid of them giving you a roofie and trying to rape you,” he responds with a serious expression on his face.

“I’ll call you later to make sure you’re still alive,” I tell him, regrettably taking a step back from him.

He laughs and sticks his hands into the front pocket of his jeans. “Don’t worry about me, I’ll be fine.”

“Hey, Minivan Fuck Nugget! Do me a favor and grab the blow torch, edible underwear, Christmas tree tinsel, and the bag of goldfish from my trunk on your way in,” Uncle Drew shouts from the open front door.

“Goldfish, as in goldfish crackers?” Marco yells back.

“Uh, no. Twenty-four live goldfish. Why in the world would I have goldfish crackers in my trunk? I thought you said he was smart, Molly?” Drew complains before going back inside.

Marco shakes his head and starts backing away from me as I do the same, refusing to take my eyes off of him as I move towards the limo.

“My mom keeps a cookie jar on top of the fridge with bail money in it, just in case,” I inform him as my butt bumps against the side of the limo.

“Good to know,” he replies with a wave, turning to jog to Drew’s car parked in the driveway.

I take my time climbing backwards into the limo, staring at Marco’s ass as he leans into the trunk of Uncle Drew’s car. After that kiss, there is no way I’m waiting another second when this night is over to be alone with that man. Maybe I can sneak a few shots of liquid courage when no one is looking and have Ava and Charlotte give me some more advice. I don’t know the first thing about flirting or seducing a guy, and judging by that stellar kiss, I’m going to need all the skills I can get. It’s time for me to consult the experts.

“Don’t knock it until you try it; pony play is very erotic,” Ava informs the group as I sit on the comfortable leather bench next to Charlotte, closing the door behind me. “The plastic hooves are a little hard to get used to at first, but once you add the tail and the unicorn horn, you really get into it.”

Did I say experts? I meant mental patients.

Chapter 16

– Fuck Betty White –

Marco

“Sorry, no take backs. You already said you’d kill Demi Moore, marry Taylor Swift, and fuck Betty White,” Drew reminds me.

“I blurted it out without thinking!”

“Hide yo wives, hide yo grannies!” Drew cheers.

“My wife is going to be your child’s grandmother. Do you want to fuck her too? Or are you more selective with your grandmother fucking?” Jim asks.

Oh, for the love of all that is holy…playing Fuck, Marry, Kill seemed like a much better idea than being forced to watch that weird as shit turtle porn video again. Who knew turtles were so vocal during orgasm?