by Freya Barker
“So you can have babies?”
I burst out laughing. The woman is relentless. I ignore the sharp Ma! coming from all directions and turn to Carmella. “I guess I could if I wanted to. And although I might well be a bit too old, the equipment is all there. But...” I stop Carmella as she opens her mouth. “That is something to be discussed between a woman and a man—not a woman, a man, and his mother.”
Hoots and whistles come from the Gomez girls, but Mama isn’t laughing.
“My Damian wants babies.”
“All right,” Chrissy grabs her mother by the arm and starts dragging her out of the kitchen. “That’s enough, Ma. It’s none of your business and if Damian knew you were trying to interfere, he’d be all over you. Now let’s go get some fucking food, already!”
She pulls her mother straight to the door, completely ignoring her barked, “Language!”
“Don’t worry,” Bella says, as she puts her arm around my waist. “I already told the girls a little about your situation. Enough for them to know that you and I are going to stay here and they’ll get groceries without us.”
“You don’t have to stay,” I try to assure her.
“Oh yes, I do,” she says, turning to face me. “There’s a reason I’m moving to Durango, aside from my job. More than an hour or two at a time and my mother has me reaching for the rat poison...for me!”
WHEN THE FAMILY COMES back two hours later, it looks like they’ve not only bought enough supplies to feed an army battalion, but each comes carrying in bags from Target.
“Bella, help me get those damn boxes out of the van!” Fran yells from the front door. I follow behind Bella as we navigate through what has to be half the store inventory in the familiar white and red bags. Carmella has already taken over the kitchen, barking orders at Chrissy, and I’m glad to escape before I get hit in the cross fire.
Fran is standing at the back of the van by the open gate, and I’m shocked at the number of boxes stacked in the back.
“Holy crap. Where are we gonna put all those?” I blurt out. “There’s no room in the garage.” The two-car garage has been converted into two spaces; one half serves as a home gym, a place I’ve learned is sacred to Damian, since he goes in there regularly to work off frustration of any kind. The other half is jam-packed with a table saw, building materials, camping gear, golf clubs, fishing poles, riding lawnmower, snowblower, and other assorted flotsam—you name it, it’s there.
“Good question,” Bella says, surveying her belongings. “Laundry room?”
With the three of us hauling, it doesn’t take that long to transfer the boxes into the small room off the kitchen. Twelve good-sized boxes are now stacked on the appliances and covering the floor. Good thing I just did laundry the other day, because there’s no way we can get to the damn washer like this. I quickly close the door.
“Are you getting a place of your own soon?” Bella’s mother pins her with a sharp glare, her hands in a large metal bowl I’m sure wasn’t here before, kneading what looks to be some kind of bread dough. “You know three’s a crowd, right?”
“I’m looking, Ma.” Bella does the eye roll thing as she shoves Fran to the side and helps unpack the vast collection of Target bags.
“Kerry, you know how to clean ribs?” I smile at the dramatic brow wipe Bella performs as Carmella’s attention shifts to me.
“I do,” I tell her with more confidence than I feel. The woman has me seriously doubt any skills I thought I had.
“Good. Get on it.” She tilts her head to the four full racks of ribs stacked on the counter. “Those foil trays are for the ribs. Two racks per tray.”
I grab a cutting board, a paring knife, and go to work, carefully slicing the tough membrane covering the back of the ribs and using my fingers to pull it off. Before long, Fran and Bella have the dining room stacked with kitchenware, bath towels, sheet sets, four new pillows, a box of dinner plates, twelve soap dispensers, and a stack of boxer shorts. I can’t help it, I start laughing and once I start, I can’t stop. Soon Bella and her sisters join in when they see me looking at the collection on the table.
“What?” Carmella looks from one to the other. “His shorts are almost threadbare.” That has us laughing even harder.
“Mama, he’s forty-four,” Bella points out. “I’m sure he can buy his own underwear. And he has a linen closet stacked with towels.”
Her mother huffs and shrugs her shoulders. “You can never have enough towels.”
Carmella has us working like a well-oiled machine and in no time, we have bread dough rising, potatoes boiling for potato salad, vegetables cleaned and chopped, ready to go into the oven to roast last minute. The ribs are in there now on two racks, slow-cooking in a marinade she made that smells fabulous. Fran has pulled out a massive bottle of white wine and is pouring us all a generous serving in the new, unbreakable wineglasses. Too risky to use real glass on the deck, Carmella explains.
We take our glasses outside while we wait for the potatoes to cook. It’s nice. Despite the hectic day, Carmella’s inappropriately invasive ways, the family’s constant bickering, and my complete lack of control over any of it—it was very nice. This is what family’s supposed to be like. Warm, contentious, tolerant, dysfunctional and above all, loving. Not something I had growing up.
“You have a house of your own?” Carmella asks, drawing my eyes from the water I know flows right to Damian.
“I rent a place for now. I’m still looking for a house.” I smile at her and she smiles back. It looks innocent, until...
“What’s wrong with this house? Bella needs a place, she can rent your house. You just stay here. It’s a beautiful house.”
“Ma!”
DAMIAN
The moment I walk in the door, the familiar smells of my mother’s cooking assault me. Automatically, my stomach starts growling. Other than breakfast, I’ve not had a thing to eat and I’m starving.
All the way home, I was mulling over the case, but the moment I hit the top of the hill, seeing the river valley below with my house nestled on the shore, it all drained away. Home—made all the more so because of who is there waiting for me.
No one is in the kitchen, but I can hear them outside. Walking up to the sliding door, I just catch Mama telling Kerry to move in with me, and I stop in my tracks as one of my sisters scolds Ma.
I know my mother loves me to distraction, as she does all her kids, but she loves with the finesse of a drill sergeant. Always convinced she knows best how to make her kids happy. She rarely does, but I can’t deny the thought of Kerry here permanently does make me happy. And having Bella take over Kerry’s lease would be a good solution all around. Seems like all this estrogen invading my life again is seriously debilitating the straight-lined, logical, cautious parts of my brain I’d painstakingly developed after leaving home.
I slide open the door and step on the deck, moving behind Kerry’s chair. She has her head tilted back and a smile on her face. Relief at seeing her relaxed, and the clear invitation on her gorgeous mouth, has me bend down and kiss her with everything I feel. I don’t give a damn my sisters or Mom are getting an eyeful. This is my house—my woman.
DINNER IS A ROWDY AFFAIR.
After I get over the pile of unnecessary crap my mother bought me, and shake off the endless ribbing by my sisters over the fact my mother insists on buying me underwear at every opportunity, I really enjoy the evening. Better yet, so does Kerry, who seems to have found her place with my sisters and is starting to find her ground with my mom.
As for Mama, she may not express it in words, or even in action, but she really likes Kerry. It’s in the little glances from under her eyelashes as she observes Kerry interact with the girls. The soft tilt to her lips when she catches Kerry watching me with warm eyes. She likes her—for me.
Good. I like her for me, too.
“Night, Ma,” I tell her when she announces she’s going to bed. She’ll be sharing the room with Bella, while Fran and C
hrissy are taking the spare bedroom. The girls actually worked it out that way, and I’m grateful. With a bathroom connecting the master and the spare, I don’t even want to think about having my mom in there. “Thanks for dinner. It was very good.” She smiles at me and simply nods.
“Breakfast tomorrow is yours, Kerry,” she announces from the doorway. “I bought some more bananas and cream cheese. And I picked up some chocolate syrup.”
I turn to Kerry, who is chuckling at my mother’s retreating back before she turns her smiling eyes to me. “Your mother is something else. I think she just gave me a compliment and a way to improve my recipe at the same time.”
“Our mother is demanding of the people she cares about but never more demanding than she is of herself,” Bella points out, very astutely.
“And that’s the truth,” Fran confirms with a smile.
Ten minutes later, Kerry gets up and bends down, her hands bracing my neck. “I’m heading up.”
“Right behind you,” I mumble with her mouth pressed against mine. I watch her head inside before turning back to my sisters, who all wear smirks without exception.
“You know,” Fran speaks up. “I never thought I’d see the day, but I’m happy for you, brother. She’s smart, she’s independent, and she seems to be getting a handle on Ma. I’m gonna kick your ass if you fuck this up,” she finishes, folding her arms determinedly over her chest.
“I second that,” Chrissy adds.
“Me three,” comes from Bella.
“And on that note,” I announce as I push out of my chair, wisely removing myself from the line of fire. “I’ll take kitchen duty and hit the sack.”
The ten minutes it takes me to clean the last of the dishes flies by as I listen to my sisters’ quiet voices and occasional laughs coming from outside. As much as the lot of them, save perhaps Bella, get on my nerves after a while, it feels good to have them all here.
By the time I make it upstairs, Kerry is already in bed. As many nights before, I strip in the bathroom, toss my clothes in the hamper and join her in bed, where her body instinctively snuggles against mine. My mind instantly goes to my earlier thoughts. I’ve come to terms with the fact I’ve fallen for this woman. Despite believing most of my adult life I was doing fine on my own, the thought of not being able to come home to her at night has already become something I dread. I know without a doubt she will think it too soon. She’s protective of her independence.
“I can hear you, you know,” her sleepy voice startles me. She pushes up off my chest and lifts her heavy-lidded eyes to me. “The wheels are loud in there.” She taps my forehead with her fingers. “Everything okay at work? I didn’t even ask you after this morning.”
“Mostly everyone’s frustration at the lack of progress. No tag on Willoughs yet. Other cases popping up, requiring attention, and leads drying up without other ones to investigate. Keith’s hope of finding something on the video feed from the lab that might help us figure out what happened to the missing shipment came up empty, too. These things tend to wear on patience, and mine ran pretty short this morning, too. Talking to you helped.”
I tuck her head under my chin and breathe in her scent. She presses her face in my chest, and her limbs curl around me in a full body hug.
“Good. I’m glad,” she softly replies.
“I’m sorry I left you here to fend for yourself. My family, they—”
“Shhh,” she hushes me. “Your family is great. You’re very lucky. It just took me a minute to get used to the intensity, that’s all. I don’t have siblings, and my parents... Well, my mom is sweet, but she’s never understood my need to venture out on my own. She’s built her life about caring for her husband. And my dad? He works, comes home, reads his paper, and starts drinking until it’s time to go to bed. The next day is just the same. I don’t think they even noticed when I moved out. I don’t even bother going home for holidays anymore. Just the occasional phone call.”
“I’m sorry,” I say again. Bella would be proud of me, as those words seem to be rolling almost effortlessly from my lips now. I am, though. I can’t imagine growing up in a place where you’re not noticed. Puts growing up in a house where everyone’s in your business in a whole new perspective.
“Don’t be,” she says. “I’m just telling you how it was for me, to explain my momentary shell shock when confronted with your family. I adore them, though.” She lifts her head again to look at me. “Your mom, too.”
I chuckle at that, burying my nose in her neck. “I’m glad. I hope she didn’t scare you with the underwear. I really do buy my own, you know. I just can’t seem to break her of the habit.”
I feel her body shake with suppressed laughter. “She brought home half of Target,” she snickers.
“I know,” I groan. “Worst part is, she does this every time.”
I can feel her yawn against me. “Get some sleep, baby.”
“Okay. You, too, honey. Don’t think too much,” she mumbles.
“I promise I’ll just be thinking about how much I like you here.”
“In your bed?”
“In my bed, in my house, on my river...In my life.”
CHAPTER 27
Kerry
“I’m off!” Bella yells from downstairs, on her way to her new job.
We finally said goodbye—with promises to visit soon—to Chrissy, Fran, and their mom late afternoon, after spending a much more relaxed day yesterday. A few times Carmella tried to push her idea of a perfect housing arrangement on us, but she didn’t get far. As wonderful as the weekend had turned out, I was a bit relieved when we had the house back, and it was just the three of us again over dinner.
While Damian sat at the table going over some files and tapping away on his laptop, Bella and I watched a few episodes of Chopped, exchanging ideas on how we’d use the sometimes weird ingredients the contestants were saddled with.
Damian snuck behind me in bed, well after midnight, and woke me with his mouth on my neck and his fingers playing between my legs. In the dark, I could see the shine of intensity in his eyes as he rolled me over. He slid inside me with his hands cupping my face, his eyes holding mine, and his heat covering every inch of my skin.
Our lovemaking was slow and sweet. My climax washed over me gently instead of hitting me like an explosion. It was a different experience. Peaceful.
“Would it be so bad?” he asked as his hips still slowly rocked his length in and out of me.
“Wha-at?” My breath hitched as his cock touched a sensitive place inside me. Little electric impulses skittered out from my core and over my skin.
His rocking stopped. “Living here. With me.”
“No...” I hesitated, bringing up a hand to stroke along his set jaw. “I’d be lying if I said the thought hadn’t crossed my mind. But Damian, it’s early days yet. We haven’t even been able to go on a normal date—Friday’s attempt not withstanding.”
“It’s fine,” he said, ducking his head as he pulled out of me. I could feel his disappointment when he climbed off the bed.
“Damian...” I wait until his eyes meet mine. “I love it here...with you. I don’t think I’ve ever lived in a place that’s so peaceful—so glorious—or with someone who makes me feel so safe and cared for. I don’t think that’s going to change once life returns to normal for me, but I’d feel much more confident about such a decision if I could make it when I feel I have some control back over my life.”
He put a knee on the mattress and covered my body again with his, resting his head between my breasts, his ear pressed against my skin. “You’re right,” he said simply, as he listened to my heart beating. After lying there quietly for a few minutes, I could just hear him say, “For me...”
I almost told him my feelings right then, but instead just stroked my fingers through his hair until we both fell asleep like that.
This morning, he’d woken me up with coffee and a quick snuggle in bed. I’d thrown on some easy clothes and had come down
for a bit of breakfast before he had to go. We were standing on the front porch when he took my hand and pressed it palm down against his chest, right over his heart.
“For you...” he said, before kissing me and walking with long strides to his SUV. My brain didn’t kick in until I had closed and locked the door behind me.
He kills me.
“Good luck today!” I yell back downstairs, as I boot up my computer to check emails and my brand new Facebook page. Bella’s idea. As was the Twitter account. I put a halt on it there, because although I’ve had a private Facebook account for years, I hardly check it and a business page is a totally different animal. Twitter is entirely alien to me, so I’ve decided that until I can get back in my store, I’m going to use the time to climb the steep learning curve of social network marketing.
A ping on my phone alerts me of an incoming text.
Damian: Reset the alarm?
Shit.
I put down the phone, grab my now-empty coffee cup, and head downstairs to the kitchen. I have my focus on the alarm panel by the back door and curse myself for constantly forgetting. I’m in my head and not only do I not hear a thing, but when an arm wraps around my neck from behind, it takes me a minute to react. My coffee cup shatters on the floor, and immediately my hands start clawing at the arm. I can’t get a sound out. I try to kick, but with my toes barely reaching the floor, I have no leverage. Struggling as hard as I can, I keep my eyes focused on the water—drawing strength from the knowledge that it will flow to Damian. Already darkness starts bleeding into my peripheral vision, until all that remains is a pinpoint of light.
Then even that turns dark.
DAMIAN
“Sorry I left you holding the ball Saturday.”
