“I was thinking on our way back, we could stop and get me a phone. Work will issue me a new one, but I still need to replace my personal one.”
“We’ll stop.”
“Everything all right?”
He didn’t answer and every second that stretched made my stomach uneasy.
“Weston?”
“We’re here.”
Weston parked at the curb and I glanced out the windshield wondering which house belonged to the Beils. The neighborhood was beautiful, all of the homes well-kept, with perfectly manicured lawns and colorful flowers still in full bloom.
I didn’t have to wait long before a stunning, older woman stepped out onto a porch, a beautiful, broad smile I’d seen plenty of times when Weston grinned at me.
“Ready?”
“You’re sure they’re gonna like me?”
Weston’s lips twitched and he nodded. “Positive.” His hand shot out, hooked me around the back of the neck, and his mouth met mine halfway. “Everything’s gonna be fine,” he murmured before his lips were on mine.
The kiss was hot, involved tongue, but short. I wasn’t sure if I was disappointed as I always was when Weston pulled his lips from mine, or thankful he had the self-control not to make out with me while his mother was watching from the porch.
When his eyes danced with knowing humor, fully understanding my dilemma, he winked. And it was then I decided I was totally disappointed.
“Later,” he mumbled, and righted himself in the seat before he cut the engine and pulled the keys from the ignition. “Wait until I come around.”
This wasn’t the first time he’d opened the door for me. He’d done it each time we’d stopped and if I thought about it, he always came to my side of his Jeep. Even if there wasn’t a door to open, he still helped me down. I liked that, liked that he was always considerate.
We were halfway to the porch, walking hand-in-hand, Weston’s mom now rocking on her heels excited to see her son, when Weston leaned down and whispered in my ear, “Brace, babe.”
“What?”
“Didn’t want to freak you out more than you already were but my mom’s a hugger.”
“What’s that mean?”
“Brace.”
That was all he said as his mom practically skipped down the two steps off the porch and threw her arms around Weston’s shoulders. His hand in mine squeezed before he let go to return the embrace.
“My boy’s home!” she exclaimed.
“Jeez, Ma, you’re acting like you haven’t seen me in a decade.”
“It’s been almost a year, Weston Francis,” she scolded, and I couldn’t stop the giggle from slipping out.
Weston Francis.
It was downright hilarious—my big, bad, former Navy SEAL was getting the full-name reprimand from his mother.
“Now you’re embarrassing me in front of my woman.”
Mrs. Beil pulled back ignoring Weston completely and smiled up at her son.
“You look good. Happy.”
There was no missing the excitement in her tone.
“I am.”
“I’m glad.” Her hand came to his cheek and gently gave it a pat. “So glad.”
“You think maybe I can introduce you to Silver now?”
Mrs. Beil didn’t move. She simply stared up at her son smiling. So much love shone it hurt to see. There was so much adoration pouring from that one look, my insides soured and something ugly started to roil. My mother’s poison churned and slopped in my belly.
That was how a mother looked at her child. That was what parental love felt like. That was what I’d been missing.
I knew it was big, I knew I’d gone without something important growing up, but until that moment standing in Mr. and Mrs. Beil’s front yard, I hadn’t known exactly how huge it was.
Weston’s hand was suddenly on my cheek, something he’d done so many times I’d lost count. A touch I treasured, but until then I didn’t know the depths of its meaning. It was tender, loving, something his mother had done to him probably a million times over his lifetime, now a gift he gave to me.
“Babe?” Warm, sweet, brown eyes bore into mine. “You good?”
I nodded and gave him what I hoped was my biggest, brightest, reassuring smile, even though I wasn’t sure I was good.
“Yeah.”
And just to prove I was all right, even though I really wasn’t because I’d just been punched in the gut with something so profound I could not breathe, I turned to Weston’s mother before he could make the introductions and I took over.
“Hi, Mrs. Beil. I’m Silver. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
I extended my hand, she glanced at it, shook her head, and then yanked me forward with jarring force and wrapped her arms around me.
Her hug was almost as good as her son’s. But just almost, because no one’s arms felt better than Weston’s.
Then she pulled back, her hand went to my cheek—exactly like she’d done to her son—exactly like her son had done to me moments before—and she smiled at me. Her look soft, friendly, motherly—not the same but close to what she’d given Weston. Tears pricked my eyes. I thought it was beautiful watching her give that to her son. I was wrong. Now that I had all of it pointed at me, I realized it wasn’t beauty, it was so remarkable there wasn’t a word in the dictionary to describe it.
“Silver,” she breathed my name like she was testing the sound, found she liked it and smiled brighter. “Of course it would be an ardent beauty, a precious treasure, that would bring my boy home.”
I sucked in an audible breath, trying to fill my lungs with oxygen to stop the painful burning.
“And please call me Margie,” she finished as if she just had shaken me to my core.
Treasure.
With another sharp embrace, she let me go and Weston was there to claim me. And thank God he was. My knees were weak, my legs jelly, my heart hammering, and my world rocked, I couldn’t stand on my own.
“Jeez, woman, you just couldn’t stop yourself, could you? The poor boy hasn’t even gotten his girl in the house!” a voice boomed from the porch.
“Quiet, Len. I haven’t seen my son in ages.”
“Well, now you have. So how ‘bout you let them in so I can say hello to my son?”
“Bossy,” Margie mumbled and I giggled.
Weston’s arm around my shoulders tightened and I looked up at his smiling face.
“Now I understand where you get it from.”
“Right.” Weston’s lip twitched. “You ain’t seen nothing yet, sweetheart.”
I wasn’t sure if he meant him or his father’s bossiness but I didn’t have time to ask because we were moving up the steps, across the porch, then into the house.
I also didn’t have time to look around the beautiful interior before Weston’s father pulled me from Weston, held both of my hands in his, gave me a once-over from top to toe before he loudly declared. “Passed all the right genes down to my boy.”
“Um…” I didn’t know what to say to that because I had no clue what the man was talking about.
“Len!” Margie snapped. “That is rude. And sexist.”
“Woman, how is a man complimenting a pretty lady, sexist?” Len returned.
It’s important to note that during this exchange, Len was still holding my hands and he hadn’t stopped looking me dead in the eyes. Dead on. It was hard not to squirm, he looked so much like Weston, save being thirty years older. But the intensity in his gaze was the same. Searching. Knowing. So I gave Len the only thing I could give him—all of me. I let go of my social mask, the one that Weston hated so much, and let Len see the real me.
I knew it worked when Len’s brown eyes, the ones he’d given his son gentled. He saw me and for once in my life, I wasn’t afraid he’d exploit the pain. I wasn’t scared he’d walk over me. I knew Len, like his son, would protect the soft spot.
“There is more to a woman than her looks,” Margie continued.
; “Know that. I gave that to my boy, too, great taste in women. That means the woman standing before me is not only beautiful but smart. Bet she doesn’t put up with his shit, either.”
“Mouth!” Margie shrieked and I pressed my lips together to stifle a laugh.
“Jesus. Can we not freak my woman out? Dad, give me Silver.”
Len ignored Weston’s request and jerked me to his broad chest and wrapped his arms around me in what was an arguably better hug than his wife’s. But only because when he held me, I felt the same umbrella of protection I did when I was in Weston’s arms.
“Mighty pleased you’re here, Silver.”
“Pleased to be here, Mr. Beil.”
“Len,” he corrected.
“Len,” I whispered.
Needless to say, I wasn’t freaking out anymore, worried Weston’s parents would hate me. Now I was in a panic, because they seemed to like me, and I really loved that they did.
27
Weston watched as Silver charmed the hell out of his parents. Margie Beil wasn’t easily impressed, but Silver had the older woman eating out of her hand. He’d never doubted his parents wouldn’t welcome Silver and see exactly who she was to him. However, it had taken his father less time than he’d thought it would for Len to see the pain Silver tried to hide from the world.
Though it had shocked the shit out of him, Silver hadn’t hidden it. Not from his mother when she’d cradled Silver’s face and tears had formed from the foreignness of motherly affection, and certainly not from his father when he was openly studying her. Silver had let it all hang out. And just as Weston had suspected, his father saw it, didn’t like the pain in her eyes, and had already moved in to do his part in eradicating it.
Damn, but he loved his folks. They’d been good parents, patient and supportive when he was growing up, but what they were giving Silver proved they were straight-up good people.
“Are you sure you don’t want to stay the night?” Margie inquired for the hundredth time.
“’Preciate the offer, Mom, but I told you, we need to get a few hours in tonight before we stop. Silver goes back to work in a few days. We need to get back,” Weston reminded his mom for the hundredth time.
“But—”
“Woman, they need to get back. And even if they didn’t, do you think they really wanna sleep in the room next to us?”
“Len!” Margie snapped.
“Well? Do you? I may be old, but I can still remember courting you and if I had my choice between the room next door to your parents and a hotel room, your hair would’ve been on fire I’d pull you from the house so fast.”
“Len Beil, I swear on a stack of Bibles if you don’t stop being such a tactless fool, I’m gonna throw a lamp at your head.”
Silver’s hand in his flexed before she crumbled into a fit of laughter.
Weston sat motionless enjoying the sound, but mostly he was just enjoying her—carefree, happy, open, unguarded.
In all of the time he’d known Silver, Weston had never seen her so relaxed and at ease. She was always stunning, but seeing her like this was beyond compare. Totally effortless, and he knew if he hadn’t already fallen in love with her, watching her laugh at his parents’ antics would’ve done it.
Weston caught his father’s smile from across the room, and he knew his old man was feeling it, too. The beauty that was Silver filled the space. It couldn’t be missed. A glance at his mother’s soft face watching his woman laugh had his chest tight and his heart near bursting.
“Try that, woman, and I’ll bend—”
“Don’t finish that sentence, Dad.” Silver rested her head on his shoulder, her body still shaking with humor.
“It’s not funny,” he grouched.
“It kinda is,” Silver returned.
“We’re leaving,” Weston announced and Silver wrapped her arms around him, keeping him on the couch as another wave of giggles tore through her.
Weston let that settle in, too. Her tits pressed against his side, her warmth all around him, his parents’ laughter joining Silver’s. Life was good. The only thing that would make it better was if he’d indeed planted his kid inside of Silver.
It had taken approximately an hour to say goodbye, three-thousand promises that they’d be back soon, a hundred hugs, and Silver thanking both his parents five million times before they’d been able to exit the home Weston had grown up in and get on the road.
By that time, Weston had grown impatient—they weren’t going to try to drive a few hours tonight. They were hitting the hotel they’d stayed in last night.
“We should’ve just stayed at your parents’,” Silver said.
That was not going to happen. He loved his parents, loved spending time with them, loved how they’d treated Silver. However, he was not staying in his childhood bedroom with his woman.
“You heard what my dad said,” was the only explanation Weston had to give.
“I like your parents.”
“That’s good, baby, seeing as they loved you.”
And they did, all it had taken was a few hours with her and the Beils were head-over-heels for her.
“You were right. I had—”
“Say again?”
“You were right.”
Weston was happy he was stopped at a red light so he didn’t miss the roll of her pretty hazel eyes nor the shake of her head.
“Thought that’s what you said. But I wanted to make sure.”
“Arrogant,” she muttered. “I feel like I say that to you a lot.”
“You do, so I’m not sure why you still doubt me.”
“If you plan on making good use of the hotel bed tonight, I suggest you stop rubbing it in my face and learn now, I don’t doubt you when you say things, I just prefer to learn things on my own.”
Weston’s grip on the steering wheel tightened as he dissolved into laughter.
“Babe,” he said through his chuckles. “That’s called stubborn.”
“No, what it’s called is: Weston’s sleeping alone on his side of the bed tonight.”
He tried but he couldn’t hold back, his head tipped and a roar of hilarity rumbled from his chest.
“That would last all of two seconds before you’d be rolling over to my side keeping me warm.”
“We’ll see,” she taunted.
“Yeah, sweetheart, we will.”
“Weston!” Silver panted, yanking on a handful of his hair. “Harder.”
He moved his hands from her hips, shoving them under her ass, bringing her higher as he pounded into her sleek, wet, pussy.
Heaven.
“You need my fingers?” Weston asked, knowing the answer—she never did.
“No. I’m almost there.”
“Let go, baby.”
“Weston!”
Weston had been wrong, it didn’t take two seconds for Silver to roll to his side of the bed. It hadn’t even taken two seconds for the hotel room door to close before she attacked. Two seconds after that she went wild.
Silver was right—but Weston still won huge.
Absolute heaven.
“Thanks for stopping so I could pick up a new phone.”
They were back in Kent County, close to home, and Silver’s face had been glued to her phone for the last hour as she set it up.
“And thanks for not arguing about who was gonna pay for it.”
“You’re welcome.” He chuckled.
“Now I have your phone number. I was starting to feel funny having all this ridiculously great sex with a hot guy and I didn’t even have his number. At least I knew your last name before we got down to business,” Silver teased.
“Yeah, baby, good thing you knew my last name before we got down to the business of ridiculously hot sex.”
“So what now?” Gone was the playful woman who’d been joking moments before.
“What do you mean?”
“Real life. We’re back in Maryland. I go back to work in a few days. I have an apartment
to sort out. The bad guys have been caught. So what now?”
“We haven’t been living in make-believe, Silver.”
“I know that, Weston. What I’m asking is, are you gonna take me home tonight—”
“No.”
“No?”
“There’s nothing for you to go back to. You’ll stay at the farmhouse until you go back to work, and while you’re on rotation, the guys and I will sort your place. After it’s cleaned out, you can decide what you want to do.”
“Well, that’s nice of you,” she snapped. “I mean, letting me decide what I want to do.”
“Silver—”
“Do not ‘Silver’ me. I get that you’re bossy. I get that you want to help me and that’s nice of you. But you don’t get to take over my life.”
“Nice of me?”
Weston was keeping a loose hold on his irritation, and by the biting tone of her voice, so was Silver.
“Maybe we shouldn’t talk about this right now,” she suggested.
He could see the logic in her thinking, it was a smart play, however, he wasn’t going to give it to her. They were just outside of town and had thirty minutes to hammer this shit out before they hit the house. And after being on the road for thirteen hours, all Weston wanted was a shower and a bed. He didn’t want to hash shit out before he got either of those things.
“You got five minutes to explain to me how I’m taking over your life,” he told her.
“I do? Really? I have five minutes? How accommodating of you.”
“Serious as shit, right now. I’m too tired for this. Just explain to me how I’m taking over your life and lose the attitude.”
“You’re an ass.”
“You’re a fucking pain in mine.”
Silence hit the cab of the truck and Weston didn’t try to break it. If she wanted to be unreasonable, so be it. It was time Silver learned he could be just as pig-headed as she could be.
28
“I’m going home,” I announced as soon as Weston parked the SUV in front of the farmhouse.
Weston's Treasure Page 20
