Keeping 6 (Rock Point Book 1)

by Freya Barker

  Before I even realized what was happening, I’d been herded through the house and was sitting on the back deck with a drink in my hand. The lively noise of chatter and the smell of rich, fragrant foods instantly washed out any hesitation I might have felt walking in. If not for the new, deep sunflower-yellow color I noticed on the kitchen walls, I wouldn’t have known anything had happened here.

  It wasn’t until a little later, when Bella announced dinner was on the table and we all filed in, that I realized this homecoming had been very carefully orchestrated. I could feel every eye on me as I sat down, watching for any signs of a breakdown. Instead, I smiled at Carmella and said, “I’m starving!” Immediately, the rather loaded silence lifted and the boisterous sounds of a large family dinner filled the room.

  I sit back and put my hands on my food-filled belly. “I don’t think I’d survive another bite, Carmella. That was out-of-this-world delicious. The way this family cooks, I’ll need to invest in a new wardrobe soon.”

  “You’re no slouch yourself, Kerry,” Bella points out. “You could give Papa a run for his money with your desserts.”

  I turn to Ignacio with big eyes. “You cook, too?”

  “I can do the sweet stuff. I can cook but not like my wife. We split tasks so we don’t fight each other in the kitchen,” he explains, chuckling softly.

  “We’ll do dessert with coffee,” Carmella says, getting up from the table. “Mi hijo, why don’t you take Kerry upstairs while I put on a pot? You haven’t had a chance to inspect it up there.”

  Damian squints his eyes at his mother before getting up, pulling my chair out, and holding out his hand. “I can tell my family’s been up to something,” he says, bending down to me when I stand. “Best get this over with.”

  With my hand tucked in his, I follow him quietly up the stairs. He heads straight for the master bedroom. Right away I notice the subtle changes in decor. A dove gray is painted on the walls, and there are new sheets on the bed, a lighter gray with a chocolate-brown border. Throw pillows in the same colors but embroidered with subtle olive green stitching are piled on the bed, and matching curtains have replaced the utilitarian blinds to cover the large windows on either side. A proper dressing table, with a stool, has replaced the simple dresser against the wall, and when I look closer, I see a few familiar items I would have sworn were still in my house when we left this afternoon.

  “Son of a bitch,” Damian mutters from behind me. “I swear, I had no idea,” he says. as I turn around and watch him step into the walk-in closet where my clothes are neatly stored, right across from Damian’s.

  “How...” I start as I walk in past him and run my fingers along my entire wardrobe that somehow miraculously made its way here.

  “Bella,” he says by way of explanation.

  “Actually,” Bella’s voice pipes up behind us. She’s leaning against the closet door, a half-guilty smile on her face. “Fran and Gabby helped. It was Mama’s idea all along. I guess she felt you needed a nudge. I would have put a stop to it if I didn’t think it was a foregone conclusion things would end up like this anyway.” She turns her big, brown eyes on me. “Are you mad?” I think about it. I probably should be, but oddly enough, I’m relieved any decision-making was taken from my hands in this case. If I’m honest with myself, I knew I’d end up here eventually anyway, I would’ve just agonized over the move a little longer.

  “No—surprisingly,” I admit, a little giggle escaping me.

  “Phew,” she wipes the back of her hand over her forehead in dramatic fashion. “In that case, look what else we’ve done.”

  I hear Damian growl as his sister grabs my wrist and pulls me along to the room on the other side of the bathroom. The walls in here are painted the same soothing, gray color and the double bed, which had been centered against the far wall, is now fitted in the corner and made up like a daybed. A thick, bolstered pillow runs along the back and some loose throw pillows turn it into a huge, comfy couch. The reclaimed wood desk under the window is new, as is the leather high-back chair behind it. Also new are the matching bookshelves, running from the edge of the desk to the far corner, giving the room a library feel.

  “We didn’t want to presume and take out the bed,” Bella explains, which elicits a derisive snort from Damian. “Although Ma had a couch picked out, as well.”

  “This desk...these shelves... they’re beautiful.” I run my fingers over the dips and divots of the old wood.

  “Papa made them.” Damian steps into my view and examines the shelves.

  “He had the desk already done at home, but he built the shelves right here,” Bella explains. “Anyway, I just wanted to make sure our highly inappropriate family isn’t completely scaring you off. I promise they’ll be heading back home tonight.”

  “Are you okay?” Damian asks, holding me back at the top of the stairs. I take a minute to really consider the question. I think even as little as a few weeks ago, I would’ve bristled at the not-so-subtle manipulation, but strangely enough I feel rather laid-back about it now. Not that I was really given a choice, but the family’s meddling is growing on me. It actually makes me feel cared for.

  I press my cheek against his chest and wrap my arms around his waist. “I think it’s sweet,” I simply tell him.

  The churros Ignacio has made are delicious. Light and crispy, not overly greasy, and with the cinnamon and sugar dusted on top, it’s difficult to stop after just one. That’s why I barely manage to get out of my chair when Carmella announces they should get going.

  It’s getting dark outside, and the bugs have come out in full force when we wave after the four sets of departing taillights. Bella’s included. She’s going to stay the night at my place, suggesting we take the night to make sure this is what we want before she actually moves all her stuff from the spare room.

  I won’t need the night to decide.

  DAMIAN

  “You haven’t said much,” she stops me inside the house.

  I carefully close and lock the door behind me and walk her backwards into the living room.

  “I don’t usually talk much around my family,” I explain, as I sit her on the couch before dropping down on the coffee table in front of her. “I tried enough of that as a teenager, and I was never able to make myself heard over my sisters. I just try to take them in stride, like my father does.”

  It’s true, my dad spent all night engaged and enjoying himself, yet he barely strung two words together. It’s the way it’s been since I can remember. The irony is that with his silence, he manages to get more accomplished than if he’d duked it out in a verbal war.

  “Okay,” Kerry says carefully. “But they’re not here anymore, and I really want to know how you feel about this.”

  I give up my seat on the table for a spot next to her on the couch, carefully tucking her against my side. “I couldn’t care less about colors and decor as long as stuff isn’t pink, but I do care about turning this into our home instead of just mine. Obviously, my family couldn’t resist leaving their own stamp on our house, but they did it for you—so you would feel at home. That’s all I want, too.”

  “We’ll have to sort out the finances, though. I expect to pay half of everything.” She’s not quite pulling off the stern look she is trying for, and I have a hard time not chuckling at her scrunched up face.

  “Okay,” I answer cautiously, knowing full well I’m heading into a potential minefield. “I actually thought about it.” This clearly surprises her. “I figured there are a few ways we can do this. I’d feel better just paying for any expenses, but knowing you, that probably wouldn’t fly.”

  “You’ve got that right,” she mumbles under her breath.

  “You’d probably prefer something like contributions at income ratio.” This time I don’t hold back when I see her nod her head enthusiastically. I burst out laughing. “You know you’re predictable, right?” I tease. “But I don’t like the idea of obligation from one to the other. So here’s the de
al; we split bills. Utilities, maintenance, and taxes I take care of, and you can take on groceries.”

  “Okay, that’s hardly a fair division,” she inserts sharply.

  “It actually is.” I give her a quick breakdown of the monthly average expenses and my income, and then I hit her with my one condition. “Once we’re married, though, I don’t want any of this nonsense. We build a life together—we share it all. The house is transferred into both our names, and we never talk about mine and yours again.” I expect resistance but not the utter shock I see on her face.

  “Married?” she squeaks. “I was barely muscled into moving in with you—how did marriage get into this?” She’s cute when she panics. Her eyes dart around like she is looking for an escape route, but I’m not about to let her get away.

  With care for her ribs, I pull her on my lap and with my hand to the side of her face, force her to look at me. “Where did you think this was leading, Gypsy? Not this week, maybe not this year, but at some point I’ll want a chance to call you my wife.”

  “I vowed I’d never get married again,” she says pensively.

  “Never get married, because of marriage, or because of your ex? Because if you’re going to stick by that vow as a result of him, you’re not being fair to yourself or to me. Married or not, I hope you know I will always, always be keeping your six.”

  The hand she places over my heart is Kerry’s only response, but it’s more than enough.

  I WAKE UP IN THE MIDDLE of the night to Kerry’s lips sliding down over my cock. In the dark, I only see the shimmer of her eyes peeking up at me through her lashes. Her fist is tightly wrapped around the root, and I feel more than see her cheeks hollow as she sucks the length against the roof of her mouth. Fucking bliss. Instinctively, my hands burrow in her hair and my hips surge deeper.

  “Gypsy...” I groan, as I threaten to lose myself in the wet, stroking heat of her mouth. “I need to feel you come around me.” With a sharp plop, she releases me and her eyes never waver from mine as she makes her way up my body, stopping only when her soaking wet core finds my dick. With her hands braced on my chest, she starts moving with rhythmic tilts of her hips, rubbing herself on my cock.

  Frustrated I can’t see her, my hand automatically reaches for the light on the nightstand, but she stops me. “Don’t,” she whispers. “Just watch my eyes and feel me.”

  I fucking feel her all right. Slick and hot with these little gasps and moans that drive me so wild, I almost come like this. I watch her, though. It’s too dark to see color, but I don’t need it to see the need in her eyes. I want inside her and grab her hips to lift her up. When she catches on, she stills her movements and obliges by bracing herself on my tip, sinking down slowly until I’m buried to the root. Then she slowly rides me, the slap of skin on skin where our slippery bodies meet, the only sound other than our breathing.

  It could’ve been minutes or hours, but when I feel Kerry’s body give in to the slow buildup of tension, and she starts bucking on my cock, I can do little but hang on for the ride. My hips pump up in tandem until, with a loud groan, Kerry grinds herself down, pinning me to the mattress. Swiveling her hips, she rolls her clit hard on my root, fighting for her release. Barely able to hold off my own orgasm, I slip my fingers through her wet crease and press the tip of my middle finger firmly against her ass. The moment I penetrate the tight ring of muscle, she finds it, her body pulsing around mine, dragging me over the edge right behind her.

  CHAPTER 31

  Kerry

  “How many more boxes?”

  Jasper just showed up this morning, driving a large pickup truck. Apparently, Damian had mentioned we were moving me out and Bella in, and he offered to lend a hand. Very kind of him, but I have a suspicion his motivation may run a bit deeper than just kindness.

  “I think just three from the bedroom,” I yell back at him.

  Damian went ahead with a load, and Bella was quick to hop into his truck. She claimed that way she’d have her stuff packed up and ready to go when we got there with the last load, but I know she’s trying to get as much distance between her and Jas. Those two have some interesting chemistry going on.

  Jasper, who is loading the back of his truck, plods past me into the house, where I am trying to decide which of my kitchen gadgets I need—given that there’s a fully equipped kitchen at home—and which ones I should probably leave behind for Bella. I finally decide to just bring my KitchenAid Pro, my baking pans, my measuring cups, and my favorite Santoku knife. If I find I am missing something, I can always buy it.

  After seeing what Damian’s family had done a few days ago and the subsequent conversation he and I had after, I think I’ve finally wrapped my head around moving. Our financial arrangement will even allow me to pay down the car loan faster for my new Forester, which, by the way, is ready for pick up this afternoon.

  I’ve tossed what I need from the kitchen into my last box and hand it, plus my KitchenAid, to Jasper when he’s finished loading the three other boxes.

  The drive to Hermosa is only slightly uncomfortable; just because Jasper is asking some pretty detailed questions about Bella.

  “You know, Jas,” I try gently. “Bella’s story is not mine to tell. I’m sure that when she decides to open up to you, you’ll have a better understanding of why she’s perhaps a bit distant in her approach.” He laughs out loud at that and the sound is warm and comfortable.

  “I’m sorry, Kerry. You’re right, of course, if a bit distant is your euphemism for blatantly hostile.” I have to grin at that. She has been pretty asocial around Jasper in particular. “I just can’t quite get my head around that woman,” he muses out loud.

  Jasper helps unload, and with Bella firmly locked in her bedroom, supposedly putting the last hand at packing her stuff, he leaves shortly after.

  “Am I dropping you off at the dealership or do you want to unpack first?” Damian asks when he closes the front door. “I have to go into work for a bit this afternoon, but we can maybe do it tomorrow?”

  “Hell, no. I want my wheels now.” I feel like a kid at Christmas. Besides, I want to pop into the store and see what needs to be done. I’m sure there are some things that I’ll have to pick up at the grocery store for the coffee shop, but I can probably do that tomorrow when I get some baking supplies.

  Damian pulls me in his arms and puts his chin on top of my head. “I was just gonna welcome you home, but your mind is already gone again, isn’t it?”

  I smile against his shirt. “I was just going over my mental checklist of things I’ll need for Monday. I might stop by the store just to check on things.”

  “Just don’t lift anything heavy,” he cautions. “I’d better let Bella know we’re off.”

  “I’ll go let her know,” I offer, lifting on my toes to give him a kiss.

  Bella’s door is open a crack and I can see her sitting cross-legged on the floor, sifting through what looks like a box of pictures. Instead of barging in, I knock and her head swings around as she wipes her hand over her face. Yeah, she’s so not ready for anything. Too much is going on under the surface she isn’t sharing with anyone.

  “Do you want to come along to pick up my new car?” I ask, pretending I don’t see her red-rimmed eyes.

  “I’m actually almost done,” she says, closing the lid on the box. “I don’t have that much left, and it should all fit in my car easily, so I’ll probably head out myself, once I have it packed up.”

  “I’d offer to help, but Damian would probably frown if I did any lifting. I can ask him, though?”

  “I’ll be okay,” she smiles, “I’m actually excited about moving in there. It’s a great place. Good thing this house is also pretty awesome or else I can’t imagine you ever wanting to leave.”

  “True,” I agree. “I had some decent incentive, though.”

  “This decent incentive needs to get going,” Damian growls behind me as he climbs up the last few steps, coming to a stop right behind me. “How a
bout I grab a few boxes on my way down, sis?” he says, already stepping into the room and hoisting two in his arms without waiting for an answer. Bella rolls her eyes, but a smile tugs at her mouth.

  AN HOUR LATER, I AM the proud owner of a beautiful, shiny, Quartz Blue Pearl Subaru Forester. Damian, in true Gomez family fashion, rolls his eyes as I roll down the window, blast the radio, and zip out of the car lot. I throw a last glance at my rearview mirror, where I see him standing next to his dull Expedition, his hands in his pockets, watching me drive off with a smile on his face.

  I’m almost disappointed when I pull into the parking lot behind the store. My new wheels drive like a dream and I want to keep going. I barely get out of the car when Bill Franklin steps out of his back door.

  “About bloody time,” he half-yells across the parking lot, and I walk up to him with a smile on my face.

  “I’m just popping in today, Bill. Monday things are back to usual. Thank God.”

  “You can say that again,” he tries to sound stern, but the twinkle in his eyes spoils the effect. “I’m getting sick and tired of people running down my door, only to find out when you’re gonna be back. None of them even have the decency to walk out with some screws or a tape measure.” When I get close enough, he pulls me into a careful hug. “Missed your coffee, girl,” he grunts.

  “Missed you too, Bill,” I answer with a smile before turning toward my door.

  “Hey, wait,” he calls after me. “A woman’s stopped by three times already to drop something off for you. I offered to hold it for her, but she insisted she wanted to hand it over in person. Left you her number, I’ll quickly grab it. Hang on.” Two minutes later, Bill is back with a slip of paper. “Give her a call, will ya? Otherwise, I might have to start charging you for secretarial duties.” He turns away with a wink, but before I have a chance to stick my key in the lock, he calls out again. “Nine o’clock on the dot on Monday, girl. I’ll have a large latte with skim milk. Don’t want the wife to catch me cheating.”