Waking Hearts

by Elizabeth Hunter

  “Pinky. Bull. Lobo.” Allie sniffed. “Honestly, the names these guys think up.”

  Cam’s mouth quirked. “You’d see the humor if you knew Bull. This Lobo character? He’s another story.”

  “Why?” Ollie asked.

  The look Cam gave him told Ollie everything he needed to know. There were old guys like the Di Stefanos and even some of his ancestors who lived in the grey areas of the world out of necessity, family tradition, or an innate distrust of the law.

  Then there were others.

  Some men caused suffering to make themselves feel alive. For some, violence was as much a drug as alcohol. Ollie had a feeling he knew which category Lobo fell in.

  Ollie leaned forward and looked into Cam’s eyes. “I want to know everything I can about this guy. If you can find information that will make my woman and her kids safer, then I’ll owe you a favor.”

  Cam was interested. “I’ll see what I can do. Alex tells me Allie and her children are family to him as well. And I have no interest in some animal going after innocent women and children.”

  Ollie didn’t say another word.

  The server was putting a steak in front of him, and it smelled as promising as it had looked on the menu. Besides, Cam didn’t need to know that it was the humans Ollie found untrustworthy, not the animals.

  “WAIT a second.” She reached up and dabbed the corner of his mouth with a napkin. “Got it. I told you a cone wasn’t a good idea with all this beard.”

  He shrugged and grabbed her hand, pulling her out of the small shop and into the warm night.

  “I can’t remember the last time I went out for ice cream with a cute boy,” Allie said, bumping her shoulder into his arm. “Thanks.”

  He smiled down at her and reached for her hand. “Dinner was good.”

  “It was okay.” She wrinkled her nose. “Too many sun-dried tomatoes in the chicken. Jena wouldn’t have approved.”

  “I will leave the food critique to those with more discerning palates,” he said. “It was a good steak.”

  “But the ice cream was better.”

  “Ice cream is always better.”

  They walked in silence for a little while, and Ollie had fun watching the people go by. He burned with silent pride that he was holding Allie’s hand, not that he was going to say anything about it.

  “I like Cam,” she said. “I didn’t think I would.”

  “Me either. But yeah, he’s okay.”

  “I feel sorry for him.”

  Ollie laughed. “Oh yeah. He’s a rich, good-looking dude from Vegas. Poor thing. I’m sure all the girls feel sorry for him.”

  “Okay.” She laughed along. “I know what you mean. But… he’s kind of stuck, isn’t he? You can tell he loves his family, but he doesn’t want to be involved in all their stuff. He’s trying to make everyone happy, but it’s going to be impossible, isn’t it? There’s no way to protect everyone.”

  “Darlin’, these people are not upstanding citizens. You stop handing work to a bodyguard, he’s just going to find some other goon to walk beside so he can look menacing. The bookies are not going to go out of business. And the drug dealers will never run out of customers.”

  She squeezed her eyes shut and leaned against his shoulder. “I don’t want to know any of this.”

  “So don’t.” He kissed the top of her head. “Let me take care of it.”

  “Why? Because I’m ‘your woman?’”

  His lips curved up. “That gonna bother you? Because you are.”

  “Are you my man?”

  “Yeah.”

  She stopped, and when Ollie looked down, her cheeks were flushed. He pulled her out of the pedestrian traffic and leaned up against a wall, resting his back on it as he pulled her between his legs.

  “You knew that, right?”

  “What?” She was avoiding his eyes.

  “That I’m your man.”

  She opened her mouth to speak, then stopped. Leaning into him, she lifted her face and brushed a kiss over his cheek.

  “It’s not that I don’t want you to be my man,” she said quietly. “I do. But I feel like this is going so fast. You don’t have to…”

  “What?” Ollie tilted her chin up. “Make a commitment? Look after you?”

  “I don’t want you to just take care of me.”

  “Well, that’s a relief.”

  “When this is all over, I’m just gonna be me,” she whispered. “Nothing exciting. No danger or drama. Just a busy mom who likes going out with my friends and baking cookies and going to the river to swim. I help my dad on the weekends and eat too much chocolate when I’m stressed. And… I snore.”

  Ollie started laughing.

  “It’s true,” she said. “I do. It’s not super loud, but I definitely snore. I’m just telling you now so you know.”

  “Okay, but don’t spoil all the surprises about sleeping with you, okay?”

  She slapped a hand on his chest. “I’m trying to tell you—”

  “What? That you’re a normal person who doesn’t crave violence?” Ollie raised an eyebrow. “That’s a good thing, darlin’.”

  “I just don’t think… I’m not exciting or anything.”

  “What…?” He couldn’t help the snort of laughter. “Allie-girl, what about my life leads you to think I’m not as normal as you? Am I taking off to Australia with Sean and not remembering it? Am I building giant resorts or saving lives?”

  “You… know rock stars and stuff.”

  He curled his lip. “Most of them are pretty miserable people when they’re not on a stage.”

  “I’m just saying—”

  “Allie, I work.” He smiled. “And stare at you in your apron when I’m supposed to be paying attention to the bar. And I… bring my pop all the pies Yaya won’t bake for him anymore because I like to annoy her. And I go home and work on my cars. Eat crap food. Sleep in on Sunday and forget to go to church, then have to deal with my pop yelling at me about it because I’m not setting a good example for my cousins. My life is not exciting.”

  She leaned into his chest and put her arms around his waist. “So we’re equally boring people?”

  “No. We’re normal people who see the cool stuff about daily life, like chocolate ice cream and swimming in the river.”

  She said nothing else, but he could feel her shoulders relaxing.

  “Know what I don’t find boring?” He hugged her closer. “Coming home and smelling barbecue chicken sandwiches in my kitchen and listening to you sing along to the radio while you do dishes. You dance when you work. Do you know that? It’s cute as hell. Watching my dog chase Loralie and Chris across the creek and them throwing dirt clods at each other until they’re covered in mud isn’t boring either.”

  “I told them—”

  “Hush.” He tapped a finger over her mouth. “I’m making a point. It’s not boring to help Mark with his homework because the way that kid thinks just… blows my mind, Allie. I can’t wait to see what he’s gonna do. It’s not boring to show Kev how to take out an engine or pull out a dent or talk to girls. Darlin’, you and your kids are like… the antidote to boring.”

  She looked up at him, her smile radiant. “You really mean that, don’t you?”

  “Do I make a habit of saying shit I don’t mean?”

  “No.”

  “That’s right. Don’t forget it.” Ollie grabbed her at the nape of her neck and pulled her mouth up to meet his. Their kiss was long, sweet, and maybe a little frustrated on his side. He was trying to be good. Really trying. But to have her so close and still not have had her sweet body under his, still not tasted her, still not felt her curl into him while she slept… It was… hard. In every meaning of the word.

  His hands reached up to cradle her cheeks.

  “Ollie…”

  The quiet way she whispered his name killed him. He imagined her whispering his name in the dead of night. They’d have to be quiet so they didn’t disturb the kids. He’d
take her mouth and swallow her moans when she came. He’d be slow and careful with her.

  She turned her mouth to the side and sank her teeth into the flesh of his palm.

  Okay, maybe not too slow and careful.

  He broke away before he hauled her to the truck and toward the nearest hotel.

  “Have we”—he took a deep breath and tried to calm his body down—“put the whole ‘I’m not exciting enough’ thing to rest now?”

  She pushed against his chest, brushing against the steel rod in his jeans before she took a step back. “Have to admit, I’m feeling pretty exciting at the moment.”

  He growled. “Playing with fire, darlin’.”

  The smile she threw over her shoulder as she walked away could only be described as cheeky. “Maybe I’m ready to be burned.”

  Challenge welcome and accepted, Miss Smith.

  JUST the simple slide of her thigh against his in the truck was enough to drive Ollie crazy on the way home. Would the kids be asleep? Could he coax her to his bed? Maybe just a little fooling around in the barn? Maybe it was time to propose and hope she was too distracted to say anything but yes.

  “Oh shit,” Allie muttered, checking her phone and starting to text back at lightning speed.

  “What?” He sat up and forced his mind off biting that freckle on her shoulder. “What’s wrong? The kids okay?”

  “They’re mostly fine,” she said. “Sean says Chris is throwing up.”

  “That’s weird. He seemed fine earlier. What did Sean feed them for dinner?”

  “See? This is why he wouldn’t throw up with you. Sean said it was probably…” She read from her phone. “‘…the cheese sauce on the corn dogs, since the other kids had chili. Or possibly the Cheetos. Unless there was something wrong with the rocky road ice cream, since he ate most of the carton.’” Allie shook her head. “Is he kidding?”

  Ollie curled his lip. “Well done, Sean. That can’t have upset his stomach.”

  “I’m never letting him watch the kids again,” she said.

  “You realize that’s why he let them eat all that junk food, right? Sure, he might have to clean up a little puke, but that’s not a big deal.” He turned off the highway and toward the house with the puking seven-year-old and no chance of alone time with Allie. “But now he’s made himself the irresponsible one who can’t be left alone with the children, getting him out of all future babysitting duties.”

  Allie narrowed her eyes. “That snake.”

  “Yes, he is.”

  “Ollie?” She grabbed his hand. “I say we institute our first tradition in this relationship. Monday date night for you and me, and Uncle Sean night for the kids.”

  He smiled and brought their hands up to kiss her knuckles. “He had no idea who he was tangling with, did he? Poor rattler.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  THEY ARRIVED HOME TO A sick boy and a very guilty-looking Sean.

  “I’m sorry,” he told them at the front door. “I really didn’t think—”

  “Where is he?” Allie pushed past him. “Are the other kids in bed?”

  “Yeah, I—”

  “I hope he doesn’t have to miss school tomorrow because you thought it would be funny to let him stuff himself.”

  Sean’s face went pale. “Allie, I am so sorry.”

  She was mostly giving him a hard time. Chris would puke over too much pizza at a birthday party. He always felt better within an hour, and he’d never missed school because of it.

  But Sean didn’t know that.

  Ollie said, “Not cool, man.”

  Sean swore softly.

  “He’s just a little kid,” Ollie continued. “What were you thinking?”

  Allie forced herself not to laugh as she walked upstairs. Ollie was good. He was already explaining how Sean could redeem himself when he watched the kids the next week. Chris was still in the bathroom, leaning against the wall and holding his stomach. He groaned when he saw Allie.

  “Too much ice cream, Mom.”

  Allie put one hand on her hip. “Baby boy, I thought you learned this lesson after Jeremy’s birthday party.”

  “But it wasn’t candy, it was ice cream.”

  A sleepy Mark wandered down the hall and leaned into her shoulder. “Hey, Mom.”

  She ruffled his hair gave him a little hug. “Hey, kiddo.”

  “Did you and Ollie have fun?”

  “Yeah. How about you guys?”

  He smiled, his eyes falling closed. “Yeah. Fun. Until Chris started to throw up. Kevin and me had to clean it up ’cause Sean didn’t know where anything was.”

  “I think I drank too much water.” Chris bent over the toilet and puked again.

  “Gross,” Mark moaned. “I’m going back to bed. If I smell it, I’ll puke too.”

  She patted Mark’s back. “We don’t need more puke. He’ll be fine. Go to sleep.”

  “Night.” Shuffling footsteps down the hall. “Hey, Ollie.”

  “Night, bud. Get to bed.”

  She looked over her shoulder. “You put the fear of vomit into Sean?”

  “Yes.” He peeked over to frown at Chris on the floor. “He going to be all right?”

  “He should be.” She rinsed out a washcloth and put it on Chris’s neck. “His stomach is just sensitive, right, baby?”

  Chris groaned. “No more ice cream. Ever.”

  She patted his back. “He’s a puker. Has been since he was a baby.”

  Ollie looked like he was trying to hold in a laugh.

  “What?”

  He cleared his throat and flipped on the fan in the bathroom.

  “Opposite of boring.”

  “MO-OOM!”

  “What?” Allie stumbled through the front door with the first of the grocery bags as Loralie, Chris, and Mark ran into the house, dumped their backpacks, and headed for the kitchen because they were starving. Her children were voracious, hence the extra trip to the grocery store on Tuesday afternoon.

  “Look!” Loralie burst through the swinging kitchen door to the left. “Ollie got you something!”

  Allie frowned. “What?”

  She heard the younger boys chattering in the kitchen.

  “Whoa, cool.”

  “Try the crushed. Here, check it out.”

  “That is awesome.”

  Allie walked into the old kitchen to see Chris and Mark playing with a giant, stainless steel, french-door fridge where the old GE had once stood. It was the exact fridge she’d mentioned to Jena when she was talking about her dream kitchen.

  “Oh my—”

  “Mom, isn’t it cool?” Mark said. “It makes ice and crushed ice and has water and everything.”

  Chris pulled open the freezer on the bottom. “Ice cream!”

  “Don’t even think about it.”

  Ollie walked in the back door only a few minutes later while the kids were still playing with the various ice settings and ignoring their homework.

  “Hey,” he said. “How was school?”

  Loralie ran over, and he bent down so she could jump on his back like the monkey she was.

  “We colored new name tags, Ollie! For our desks.”

  “That sounds fun.”

  Allie said, “You got a new fridge.”

  He shrugged and went to the sink to scrub his hands, Loralie still clinging to his back. “Been wanting to move that old one to the barn for a while. Keep drinks and stuff out there and get something bigger for the house.”

  “Did you know this is the exact one I’ve been wanting?”

  He was smiling when he turned around. “Is it?”

  She couldn’t keep from smiling back. “Jena’s been telling stories.”

  “Who better to ask about buying a new fridge than a chef, right?” He winked at her, then plucked Loralie from his back. “Hey, guys. Did I see groceries in the car?”

  Oh, for heaven’s sake. Allie had completely forgotten about the four bags of groceries left in the minivan. She ro
se to her feet.

  “We’ll get them,” Mark said, grabbing Chris’s arm and pulling him out the door.

  “I’ll help!” Loralie ran after her brothers.

  “You,” she whispered. “Did you buy this fridge for me?”

  He swiftly walked to her and slid an arm around her waist. Allie went up on her toes and met his mouth in a scorching kiss.

  “Absolutely not,” he murmured against her mouth. “A refrigerator is a terrible first present.”

  “Mmm.” She kissed him again and slid one leg up to wrap around his thigh. “That’s too bad. It’s a very nice fridge.”

  “I just happened to be in Palm Desert today getting your actual first present—which is very small, very lacy, and hidden under your bed—and I remembered I needed a new fridge. This is”—he nipped at her lips, then kissed her again—“purely a coincidence.”

  She slid her hand down the firm muscles at the small of his back and into one of his jean pockets. She heard the kids shouting on the porch. Allie squeezed once before she sneaked in another kiss. “Thank you.”

  “Thank me when you see your real present,” he muttered before he slipped out the back door.

  Chris yelled, “It is not!”

  “Is too. You always grab the lightest ones.”

  “I have two. You have one.”

  Chris and Mark barreled into the kitchen with Loralie trailing behind. The baby, of course, had the bag with the eggs.

  “Look, Mama! I helped.”

  Allie quickly grabbed the bag before it could fall. “Thank you!”

  “I like our new ’frigerator.”

  “It’s not ours, baby. Ollie got it for his house.”

  Loralie cocked her head. “I know.”

  Leaving her with a quizzical look, her youngest ran outside, yelling for the dog.

  “ALLIE!”

  She heard Ollie calling from outside the barn after school on Wednesday. He was worried about the minivan. He’d taken to muttering “catastrophic engine failure” or “don’t forget your Triple A card” under his breath every time she left to take the kids to school.

  Allie walked out the kitchen door, leaving the kids doing their homework while she walked to the barn.