by Freya Barker
“You only mentioned your mother before, is your father…”
“He died four years ago from a massive stroke.”
“I’m sorry.”
Evan sets the frame down and takes me by the arm. I only now notice the nice charcoal dress shirt he leaves untucked over dark jeans, looking very handsome. I’m glad I made the effort to look presentable, wearing the only dress I own that covers my baby bump—a loose-fitting linen slip dress topped with a little sweater to hide the sexy thin spaghetti straps holding it up. Sexy is not what I was going after for dinner with his mother.
“It was a shock for us. He was still very active, but I’d like to think he would’ve approved going out before age slowed him down,” Evan shares as he leads me back outside, locking the door behind us.
“There’s something to say for that, I guess.”
I’m back to wringing my hands, contemplating the wisdom of my decision to come, as he drives us a few blocks over and pulls into the driveway of a quaint bungalow surrounded by a gorgeously lush garden.
“Pretty garden,” I mumble, as he comes around the truck and opens the door for me.
“One of Ma’s passions is gardening.”
“It shows.”
Wondering if it’s too late to change my mind—again—I watch the front door open as we approach.
Evan’s mother is taller than I expected. Short white hair tops a still striking face. She’s clearly one of those lucky women who grow gracefully into their senior years. Her sharp eyes immediately move from her son to me, looking a little confused.
“Ma, meet Tahlula Rae.” She holds out her hand and I take it in mine, surprised at the strength it holds.
“Nice to meet you, Mrs. Biel.”
“Call me Joan,” she immediately corrects me. “This is certainly a nice surprise.” There’s a clear admonishment in her words as she gives her son a meaningful look, and I shift uneasily on my feet.
“You’re making her uncomfortable, Ma,” Evan says with a grin. “Don’t pretend you’re not thrilled I’m finally bringing a woman to meet you.”
She raises an eyebrow at her son, tosses a cheeky little wink my way, and turns to lock her door.
“Let’s go. I’m starving. I’ll give you a tour of the house later, if you’d like, Tahlula.” As if we’ve known each other much longer than the twenty seconds on her front step, she hooks an arm in mine and walks me back to Evan’s truck. “How far along are you?”
So much for wearing a flowy dress, my initial assessment of Joan Biel as sharp proves correct. “Twenty-six weeks. My due date is September twentieth.”
I prepare to climb into the small back seat when Evan’s mother stops me. “You’re sitting up front,” she announces.
“I’ll be fine back here.”
“You’ll sit up front.”
“For fuck’s sake, there’s room for both of you in the front,” Evan grumbles.
“Language,” his mother snaps, and I can’t help the snicker that escapes.
Two minutes later, I’m strapped in between Evan and his mother as we head downtown. He drops us off outside the beautiful, historic Strater Hotel while he hunts for a parking spot.
“I’ve never been here,” I admit, peeking into the window of the Diamond Belle Saloon. The place looks straight from the Old West, with lots of wood and brass, serving staff in period clothing, and complete with a honky-tonk piano sitting on a platform. “Evan tells me this is one of your favorite places to go?”
She looks at me as if she’s studying a bug under the microscope. “I see my son has at least had the grace not to send you completely blind into this dinner. The Belle is one of my favorite restaurants in town, yes. He probably mentioned one of the reasons is because the piano player is sweet on me?” When I nod, she continues, “He is. Been after me since Matthew died, and I like to make sure he doesn’t forget about me until I’m ready to take him up on it.”
Evan wasn’t kidding. His mother is as straightforward as they come, and pretty funny to boot.
“Is it working?” I ask, a grin on my face.
“Wait and see.”
The moment we walk in—Joan in the lead—a handsome older man in a striped dress shirt, with suspenders, shoots off a stool at the bar and makes his way over.
“Good to see you, Joan.”
Evan’s mother offers him the faintest of smiles. “Good evening, Sam,” she says almost regally.
“Any requests tonight?” Sam asks eagerly.
“Play it, Sam. Play ‘As Time Goes By.’”
Evan snorts behind me, and I have to clap my hand over my mouth when she steals the quote straight from Casablanca. “She does this every damn time,” he whispers, his lips next to my ear.
One of the staff shows us a table close to the small stage, where Sam is taking a seat behind the piano, and takes our drink orders. The moment she is out of earshot, Joan turns to me.
“So. I’m guessing that baby isn’t my son’s, or I’d have to disown him for keeping it from me for so long, but where’s the father?”
Oh, yeah. Joan Biel does not pull any punches.
10
Evan
I’d vacillated between putting a muzzle on my mother and kissing her.
After giving Tahlula the third degree—this would be the part where I wished I could superglue her lips together—Ma seemed quite taken with her, spending the rest of the evening charming the socks off her, as I’d expected she would.
By the time we dropped Ma off at home, she hugged and kissed Tahlula like a long-lost daughter.
“Your mother is lovely,” she sighs in the seat beside me, a warm smile on her face as she rests her head back.
“She’s quite taken with you as well,” I share, reaching for her hand on her lap and lacing our fingers.
I’ve been on my best behavior, keeping my hands to myself all night, but I know that won’t last long once we get to her place. I’d love to take her to bed, discover all that smooth, light-brown skin teasing me from under that slinky dress. The modest sweater she topped it with did nothing to mitigate how sexy she looks. However, I realize that might be moving a bit fast. I’ll settle for a hands-on make-out session on that comfy couch of hers.
“I can’t believe how she played Sam all night.” She snickers at my groan.
“Don’t remind me. I’m going to give the poor guy some pointers for playing it cool.” Apparently that is hilarious as Tahlula bursts out laughing hard. “What’s so funny? I’m dead serious.”
“I know, that’s the funny part,” she deadpans. “You teaching Sam to play it cool? That’s hilarious; you’re not exactly Mr. Subtlety yourself. Sleeping in your truck outside my door, and that’s after knowing me for only a few weeks. Sounds like Sam’s had his eye on your mother for years.”
“That’s different,” I protest, a tad disgruntled.
“How?”
“I was looking out for you.”
She lifts my hand to her mouth, kissing my knuckles. “That’s sweet, but totally unnecessary. Unless you haven’t noticed, I’m not a wilting flower, and besides, I have a dog who’d rival any security alarm available on the market.”
“It still pays to be careful.”
“I know,” she smooths my ruffled feathers.
It’s almost eleven when my headlights illuminate her driveway and the dark house at the end. The place could do with some floodlights. I don’t like the idea of her driving home late at night when everything is dark.
I pull up beside her Lexus and kill the engine. Hopping out, I round the truck to open the door for her, but she beats me to it. Inside Luke lets out a soft woof in greeting.
“I had a good time,” she says smiling, even as she pours cold water on my libido. “I really do like your mother.”
“She’s likable.”
“And thank you for all the work you did today, I really appreciate it.”
“Tahlula, are you sending me home?” I ask, moving close enough so
I can pull her body against me. Her head tilts back.
“You need sleep. At this rate you won’t get much rest before you go back on shift. Monday, right?” Her hands slide up my chest and around my neck.
“I don’t sleep much anyway. Plus we’re painting the nursery tomorrow.”
“We are?” I can hear the amusement in her voice.
“Absolutely. I never leave a job unfinished, if I can help it.”
“Is that a promise?” she purrs, pressing her body into me.
“Lula,” I growl, my cock straining painfully behind my fly. “Now you’re just being cruel; telling me to go while rubbing up against me.” She instantly tries to pull away, but I hold her tight. “Let me at least kiss you goodnight.”
Without hesitation, she lifts up on her toes and offers me her smiling mouth. The kiss starts sweet, but quickly turns wet, deep, and hungry. My hands run over the silky fabric of her dress, one sliding down to her round ass. Her soft moan down my throat encourages me to inch the material up, so I can slide my hand in the back of her panties, feeling her smooth skin against my palm as I squeeze the plump globe.
I’m not sure if it’s her or me who turns us, but I suddenly have Tahlula pressed against the passenger door, my hand still on her ass and my hard length pressed between us.
“Evan…” She drops her head back, exposing the long, graceful arch of her neck for me to run my lips and tongue along.
Her taste is intoxicating and I’ve almost forgotten where we are, when I hear the deep rumble of an engine. Before I can pull my hand from Tahlula’s panties, we’re bathed in light as a motorcycle pulls up to the house.
I quickly block her body from view and make sure she’s covered before turning to face a very angry-looking Trunk stalking toward us.
“What the fuck?”
He looks like he’s ready to lay one on me when Tahlula pulls me back and steps in front of me. “Don’t even think about it,” she growls, and despite the situation, it only turns me on more. “What are you doing here, Trunk?”
Ignoring her, his eyes stay on me. “You’re a fucking douche, moving in on her when she’s alone and vulnerable.”
“Shut up, Trunk!” Tahlula yells and inside the house Luke starts barking. “Not only are you insulting him, you’re insulting me, you big oaf.”
“Guy had you half-undressed in your fucking driveway, Tahlula,” he finally addresses her.
“I know! I was fucking there.”
“You’re pregnant!” he bellows, making it sound like she has some communicable disease, and I can feel the air freeze around us.
“I’m not her, Trunk,” she says in a much calmer voice. I get the sense I’m missing something.
“Pregnant, no daddy around, latching onto the first dick that comes sniffing. Coulda fooled me.”
I’ve had enough.
Taking Tahlula by the arm, I swing her around to face me. “Go inside, honey. Calm down your dog.”
“I’m not leaving you here with him.” She tilts her head to her brother.
“We just need a word, Lula. We’ll be fine. Please?”
“Don’t fucking tell her what to do, and she hates when you call her Lula,” Trunk, who’s clearly out for a fight, points out. I force myself to ignore him, but Tahlula immediately reacts.
“I hate ‘Lula’ when you call me that, and he didn’t tell me what to do, he asked, but you wouldn’t know the word ‘please’ to save your life.”
Defiantly she turns to me, lifts up on her toes, and plants a hard, wet kiss on me before marching to the house and letting herself in.
I slowly turn back to face her menacing brother.
“I know you’re her brother. I know you’ve looked after her your whole life. I respect you want to protect her, but if you ever fucking talk like that to her again, I will lay you out.”
“I’d like to see you try,” he scoffs, folding his massive arms over his chest. Truth is, he could probably squash me like a bug, but that wouldn’t stop me from trying.
“I’d have the best motivation; your sister.”
“What do you know about my sister? All she is to you is an exotic piece of ass to tap. You don’t even fucking know her.”
If it weren’t for Tahlula, who I know is keeping an eye on us from the house, I would’ve swung at him. Instead I move into his space to show he doesn’t intimidate me—even if he does. “I know enough about her to know she doesn’t deserve to be talked about like that. Those are all your words, not mine. Your thoughts, not mine. Don’t put that fucking chip you carry on your shoulder, on me or her. You don’t strike me as a stupid man, but I’ll be forced to change my opinion if you alienate the only family you have because you’re too hung up on stereotyping her. You’re a psychologist—fucking figure it out.”
I turn on my heel and walk up to the door, which is already opening. Luke sticks his head around his mistress, and I give him a quick scratch behind the ears.
“What did you tell him?” she wants to know, but I shake my head.
“I just gave him something to think about. I’m going to head home and leave you two to work things out, but I’ll be back tomorrow to paint, and I’m only a phone call away. Now kiss me goodbye.”
Tahlula
“What’s gotten into you?”
Trunk, who finally made his way inside, long after Evan’s truck disappeared down the driveway, turns to face me.
It’s late and I’m tired, but at the look on his face, I shake off my fatigue and pat the couch beside me.
“Nothing,” he says, taking me up on my invitation to sit.
“Then why aren’t you in Grand Junction at the rally?”
“Had some shit to take care of here. Besides, I’m your brother, am I not allowed to worry about you? Yesterday you hung up on me.”
“Because you were being an ass. As for worrying, I couldn’t stop you if I tried, but you don’t get to throw your weight around in my life, Trunk.” I snuggle into him to soften my words. “I’m forty-one years old—not fifteen anymore—and look around you; I don’t do so bad looking after myself.”
“That didn’t stop someone from breaking into your place in Denver. It didn’t stop someone from burning a body a stone’s throw from your house.” I don’t bother telling him half a mile is hardly a stone’s throw. “You don’t know him. With everything that happened to you, don’t you think you should be a little more careful?”
“What I know is he serves to keep his community safe, he’s tight with his crew, and friends with Detective Blackfoot. I know he spent last night in his truck outside, for no other reason than to put his own mind at ease about my well-being. I know he spent all day helping to get the nursery ready for a baby that’s not his. I know he’s close with his mother, bought a house two blocks from hers so he could keep an eye out. I met her tonight when he asked me to join them for dinner.” I lift my eyes to find his on me. “He’s a good man, Trunk. I know he is. I get you don’t always agree with my choices.” His gaze drops to the hand I’m resting on my growing bump. “But I’ve done nothing to deserve your distrust.”
“I trust you,” he protests. “I just don’t trust anyone else.”
“It’s the same thing,” I point out. “You’re not doing me any favors by flexing your muscles in an attempt to throw off the only man who’s looked further than the color of my skin, and the size of my baby bump, and only sees me. And yes, Trunk, I love you, but that includes you.”
I can tell I’ve shocked him, but maybe it’s time he realizes his reaction casts more of a judgment on me than what he thinks he’s protecting me from.
“We picked a kid up yesterday in Grand Junction. Eight years old. He was panhandling at the rally. He told me he hated it, but his mom needed heroin, so he was begging until he had enough to score her some.”
“He reminded you of us,” I conclude gently.
“Fuck. Same story repeated over and fucking over again.”
“So what happened?” I prod him
.
“We took him home—if you can call the rusted out RV at the back of a junkyard a home—had a talk with his very sick mother, who willingly signed over the care of her son to us while she tries to get clean in the facility we shipped her to.”
“That’s good. Better than what we had.”
“It’s only one kid, though. How many more like that out there?”
He doesn’t say it, but I know that part of his issue with my pregnancy is exactly that. Neither of us grew up with the greatest example of motherhood. We just took different things away from it. For me, it meant making sure I always had my shit together and wasn’t dependent on anything or anyone. For Trunk, it colored the way he saw women who even reminded him of our mother. As a psychologist, he knows this about himself, but still can’t seem to stop doing it.
“Is that what brought you back to town? That boy?”
“Among other things. I had to help him get settled in at the clubhouse.” His sigh is bone-deep.
“You can only save one at a time, honey,” I tell him, reaching up to kiss his cheek. “That boy may be one of many to you, but you are everything to him right now. Don’t forget that.”
“How’d you get so smart?” he rumbles, pressing a kiss to my head.
“You threatened to whoop my ass if I didn’t get top grades, that’s how.”
The deep rolling laugh I don’t hear nearly enough is a welcome sound, and I put my head on his chest to feel the vibrations.
“You mind if I crash here tonight? I’m bushed.”
I straighten and push myself up off the couch. “You know the way to the spare bedroom. I’m gonna crash myself, I just need to let Luke out.”
“You go, I’ll do the dog and lock up.”
I head into the kitchen to take my prenatal vitamins, Trunk following behind me to let the dog out the back.
“By the way,” I stop him before he goes outside. “Evan will be here tomorrow to help me paint. You’d better be on your best behavior.”
My brother spares me a sharp answer, but he can’t seem to help the deep growl I can hear clear across the kitchen.
