She returned to the kitchen, but her laptop had gone to sleep. Great. She’d forgotten to preheat the oven, and in a few hours, she’d have a houseful of guests. Where was Vera? Jen glanced at the clock. Nine thirty already. She’d never get Thanksgiving dinner done in time.
A pair of strong hands rubbed her swollen belly, and a set of bearded lips skimmed the back of her neck. “Good morning, beautiful. How are you this fine day?”
Jen leaned back into Dave’s warm chest. “Stressed out. Why aren’t you helping me with the cooking?”
He sniffed exaggeratedly at her. “You haven’t showered yet, you naughty girl.”
“I wanted to get this turkey in the oven first. Besides, I took a bath last night.” She pushed his roving hand away. “Do you mind?”
He backed away, palms up. “Whoa, who basted you on the wrong side this morning?”
Jen heaved the turkey onto the roaster. She had no time for patting it down. There was still so much more to do: the sweet potato casserole, the green beans and onions, the cranberry bake, oh, and tostones, Uncle José’s favorite.
Dave pressed the buttons on the oven panel and programmed it. “Okay, let’s shove her in.”
As soon as he shut the oven, he took Jen’s hand. “Now, stinky, into the shower you go.”
“But… the cooking,” Jen protested, catching the sly gleam in his eyes. “Nuh-uh. I’m too fat.”
“Hmm… you may be right. Not enough room in the shower.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Jen dug in her heels as Dave tried to drag her from the kitchen. “We have three showerheads and a ledge.”
He raised his eyebrows. “Oh, yes, the ledge.”
“But, the cooking. The food.”
He smothered her lips, his beard brushing her chin, his tongue strong and irresistible. The spatula dropped from Jen’s fingers, and she clung to his corded muscles. He smelled deliciously earthy, like a warm tropical morning after a light rain.
His fingers intertwined with hers, and they walked up the stairs to the master suite. He stripped to his boxer shorts, prominently tented in the center and locked the door. Kissing her from her head down to her chin, he trailed his lips around her neck, touching every sensitive spot. Jen gasped and gestured toward the bed.
Dave circled to her back and peeled off her robe. He clasped his hands over her belly and nibbled on the back of her neck, sending showers of tingles over her. Slowly, one hand traced around her breast while the other one traveled over the circumference of her abdomen. The baby squirmed under his hand.
He turned her around suddenly and knelt in front of her, his eyes darkened with desire.
“Stop staring at my stomach. I’m as bloated as a whale.” She sat on the bed and pulled the bedcovers back.
“Shh, shh.” Dave kissed her belly. “I always wanted more meat on you.”
“But the stretch marks.” She spread her hands over her distended abdomen.
“You’re talking too much.” He placed her hands on his shoulders and opened her legs. His wicked tongue licked around her belly button and traveled downwards, taking his sweet time. Excruciatingly pleasurable sensations spread over her, crescendoing in pulsating fireworks. Dave flicked on the stereo with a remote to drown out her vocalizations. “Now, we’re ready for the shower.”
Jen could barely catch her breath. “The…the… pump-k-kin p-pie…”
He lifted her with a sweep of his muscular arms and opened the shower door. With one hand he turned on the water of all three heads and set her on the ledge on top of a rubber cushion. The water hit him full on the back. “Take off my shorts.”
“They’re all wet already,” she giggled. Mmm… peeling them off his tight buns might be fun. Jen licked her lips and circled her finger into the waistband. Sure enough his cock jumped to meet her. She teased around it and slowly worked his boxers to his ankles. His breathing was rough and his abdominals quivered as she licked circles down to his groin. He moaned and pressed her gently into the seat, spread her legs and knelt in front of her.
The booming rock music, the spray of the shower, and Dave slamming into her most sensitive spot made her soar—each stroke pushed her like a weight up the rail with the pounding of the hammer at the county fair, closer and closer to ringing the bell at the top of the strong man game.
“Jen. I. Love. You,” Dave cried, his eyes intensely focused on to her. He jerked his hips, shooting her toward the bell.
It clanged over and over again, intensifying and vibrating until she shattered, hot waves over cold tightening around her shoulders. “I love you, Dave.”
Tenderly he soaped her body, wrapped her in a towel and led her to the bed. He cuddled behind her, spooning her. Jen gave in and released all her tension. All that mattered was her loving husband, cradling her.
* * *
Dave tucked Jen deeper into the comforter and pulled on his clothes. He couldn’t get over how lucky he was. A year ago, he was burdened with grief, lost and alone. He kissed her cheek and inhaled her slightly spicy after-sex scent. Today was Thanksgiving, and he wasn’t about to let Jen slave in the kitchen, especially since she was on the board of directors of Shopahol.
He ambled lazily down the stairs, leaving Jen snoozing on the bed. The crew had let themselves in during the interlude. Dave’s mother hugged him. “I can never find anything in this kitchen. You need a lazy-susan in that corner cabinet. My back aches trying to reach the chocolate powder.”
Anita, his father's girlfriend, unpacked a grocery bag of pancit noodles, bananas, and pork rind. “It’s not easy finding fresh plantains. I had to go to downtown San José. I picked up some pan dulce and mojo criollo, too.”
Vera and Christy bustled around the kitchen island, stirring, whipping, and running the electric mixer. Emily crawled under the table after Max who was licking the floor clean of pumpkin batter. “Tia, Tia,” she cried and buried her face in Vera’s chest.
Vera’s hands were dusted with flour so she hugged her with her forearms. “I think your dad wants a hug too.”
Dave opened his arms and Emily embraced him, her sweet little lips kissing his cheek. They had decided to keep her as Emily and moved Vera and Lola in to ease the transition. Emily liked to brag at school that she had three daddies. Dave hugged her tighter. At least Rodrigo, Rey, Lola and Vera had given her a loving home. Other than the adventure of going with Sherry and Bruce to destroy the Evil Woman, Emily had not suffered any traumatic effects from being kidnapped.
He let her go back to playing with Max and grabbed a football. “Alex, Owen, Dad!” He roused them from their video games. “Come on out back. It’s a sunny Thanksgiving Day.”
The bullet holes had been patched, Jocelyn’s piano was junked, and he had bought a new Italian leather sofa ensemble. He glanced at his wedding picture. Jen had meticulously planned every detail, down to his cufflinks and making sure his shoes were polished to perfection. She was the most gorgeous bride he’d ever seen, and that moment when she stepped through the church doors on the arm of her father… pure, rapturous joy, so much that he could barely breathe.
Alex pulled on his sneakers and yanked the football from his hands. “Come on, Aunt Vivian,” he yelled as he dragged Dave’s sister to the backyard. Alex had a hard time after his mother’s death, and he acted out by breaking things. It had taken Dave and Jen lots of patience and love to ease him out of his rage. Somehow, no matter how destructive he was, he loved Emily.
Alex missed his sister, Cookie, who had moved to Texas with her real mother, Jen’s former roommate. She had plea-bargained for a misdemeanor in exchange for evidence against the chop shop boys, Craig Pearson and Bruce, but was satisfied to leave her dog with Jen since Cookie was allergic.
Uncle José sat with Lola on the porch swing. He jerked his arm from her shoulder as Alex, Vivian and Owen filed out the screen door. Caught! The doorbell rang. Dave smirked at the two lovebirds and went to answer the front door. Detective Mathews and Lester stepped in, followe
d by Claire and Melissa with pies in their hands.
Claire blew him an air kiss while Melissa handed him a pie and embraced him, kissing him noisily on the jaw.
“How’s the bun in the oven?” Melissa gave him a hip bump. “Brought you banana cream.”
“Our husbands had to work,” Claire said. “Running numbers for the Black Friday 2013 sale.”
He glanced out the door before shutting it. This would be his first Thanksgiving in five years without Lisa. She and Greta had skipped town after Craig Pearson’s trial and moved to South Africa, together.
Hurried footsteps pattered overhead.
“The turkey!” Jen yelled and bounded down the stairs. She skidded to a stop, clasping her robe, her hair rumpled.
Dave clapped an arm over her shoulder and whispered. “Honey, don’t you have to get dressed?”
“Oh!” She stared at the guests. “I overslept. But why do I smell all the food?”
He guided her back to the bedroom. “Mom and Vera have it all taken care of. Now put on something sexy, or I’m going to have to throw you in the shower again.”
He handed her a shopping bag.
“I’m so sure they had a tent dress sale at Victoria’s Secret.” She laughed and pushed him out of the room.
* * *
Jen came down the stairs, aware of all the eyes on her. Dave had given her a sexy maternity dress. It was bare-backed, with an empire-waist and multiple scarves of diagonally biased cloth flowing over her baby bump. Dave’s father greeted her with a hug, and even his mother smiled. It had taken a while for her to warm up to Jen. Her involvement with Rodrigo had been brought out during Bruce’s trial, and those days had been hard on everyone. But Dave supported her, and for that Jen was thankful.
They gathered around the table, and as Jewell family tradition went, everyone had to say what they were thankful for. Jen glanced at Christy. She lived with her father in Reno and had become a straight-A student. Sammy had gone to college, and they drifted apart, remaining friends.
It was Dave’s turn. Everyone groaned. Nothing but Dave, Jen and saying grace remained between their hungry stomachs and the turkey.
“…I am most thankful to God for blessing me with my wonderful wife, Jennifer, and…”
A dull ache expanded across Jen’s abdomen. She clutched her belly, and the blood rushed to her head, pounding. She took a deep breath to calm her nerves. The pain subsided. She closed her eyes, relieved when the baby rolled. Her belly tightened again, and this time the pain was sharper.
“Ugh…” A groan rolled from her mouth. Cold sweat popped over her forehead, and she fanned herself. Dave was still droning. Praying. Jen pushed herself back from the table to relieve the constriction when wetness gushed between her legs.
“Oh!” she exclaimed. Her womb contracted again and she jumped to her feet. “I… think… oh, my! Baby’s coming.”
Everyone lifted their heads, and Dave said a hasty ‘Amen.’
* * *
“Push, Jen, push.” Dave stroked her forehead and ran a moist sponge over her lips. A big plastic sheet was draped over their bed, and the stereo was turned to a playlist screaming “Push It.” The annoying “baby, baby” music was Dave’s idea.
“Oh… Dave, I can’t do it.” Jen’s hands shook and her body felt like dead weight.
He swept her hair back and kissed her forehead. “Yes, you can. Only a little bit more and it’ll be all joy.”
The roiling pains squeezed her like jaws around a rag doll. “Ahhh! Easy for you to say. This… this… breathing crap doesn’t work.”
“Then relax. Imagine a blue sky.”
Red lights flashed behind her eyes. Jen pushed and tightened all her muscles. Another contraction passed, more earth shattering than the last, but the baby was still inside of her. The pushing music pounded her head; a band name Garbage followed Salt-N-Pepa.
“I can’t. It hurts so much.”
Dave adjusted the pillows and crouched next to her, grabbing her hand. “I wish I could bear the pain. Just a few more. You can do it.”
Jen bore down hard, tensing her leg muscles and blowing desperate puffs. “I have to. Have to do it."
“Oh, Jen! You’re doing great. I... I can see the top of his head and… he has hair!” Dave gripped her hand a little too tight.
“Where? Owww! I can’t look.”
“Almost there,” the midwife said. “Next one, give it all you got.”
The rolling thunders gathered into a mighty contraction. Dave leaned his head against hers and gripped her shoulders. The pain accelerated like a runaway freight train. An unearthly scream pierced her throat, and a stretchy stinging sensation ruptured between her legs, followed by a tumbling gush.
Jen’s mouth relaxed as she opened her eyes. A squirming baby boy squalled, his fists tight, and mouth wide open.
“You did it, babe.” Dave turned her face for a kiss, his eyes brimming with awe. “You’ve given me the most precious gift.”
The midwife handed Dave the shears and he cut the cord. Slowly, Jen’s breathing returned to normal. She held out her arms as the midwife cleaned her baby, their son. Floods of love overfilled her heart and drenched her with shaking, fluffy emotions.
The midwife tucked the baby to Jen’s breast and arranged him in the crook of her arm. Jen touched his tiny nose and stroked his pink cheek. He quieted as he latched on and peered at her with soft blue eyes.
Jen blinked back tears. “Oh, dear God. He’s so perfect.”
“He’s like his father, isn’t he?” Dave tickled her face and beamed for a compliment.
“Oh, stop it!” She swatted at him. But one thing was true. Jen was overwhelmed with love for this precious little one and his “perfect” father.
Dave kissed her again. “I love you, Jen.”
“I don’t know if I could ever be happier,” she whispered.
Dave fixed his warm grey eyes on her. “That’s what you said on our wedding night.”
Tears of joy trailed down her face. Their son suckled contently. Nothing had prepared her for the tug this little one had on her heart. She stroked his fuzzy head. “I can’t believe how much has changed in a year.”
“I know. I used to hate November, and now it’s my favorite month.” He threaded his fingers through her hair. “We fell in love and found Emily and Alex.”
“And now we have our baby, our own little Jewell.” She clasped Dave’s hand, their fingers intertwined in a lovers’ hold. “I love you so much.”
“Me, too.” Dave embraced her and the baby. “Our family is complete, for now.”
“W-what? You want more?”
“Of course.” He wiggled his eyebrows. “But I’ll let you rest a bit. What will you name him?”
She glanced at Dave sideways. “What did you have in mind, Mr. Jewell?”
“Guess.” His eyes sparkled as he rocked on the bed, confident.
“I… think…” She swirled her finger over the baby’s head. “I’ll call you Mathew.”
“What?” Dave’s mouth popped open.
“Mathew David Jewell.”
Psalm 51:8 Make me to hear joy and gladness; that the bones which thou hast broken may rejoice.
THE END
I sincerely hope you enjoyed Broken Build. Thank you for reading. You’ll warm my heart with an honest and thoughtful review at Amazon.
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Other books by Rachelle Ayala:
Michal’s Window (A Novel: King David’s First Wife)
Your Daily Bible Verse: 366 Verses Correlated by Month and Day
Coming in 2013: Hidden Under Her Heart, contemporary women’s fiction.
Acknowledgments
Cover Art by Robin Ludwig of Robin Ludwig Designs Inc.
Edited by Cherie
Reich of Surrounded by Books Publishing
Many thanks to my wonderful critique partners at CritiqueCircle.com who challenged my writing and loyally critted me from week to week without fail:
Melisa Hamling
Annamaria Bazzi
Lucie Ulrich
Aminah Grefer
Dawn Albright
Carla Barber
“Mooderino”
Stefanie Pristavu
Genna Collins
Christine Raggio
Chantel Rhondeau
Helen Elliston
Jennifer Comeaux
My beta readers were the best! They pointed out murky areas and studded their feedback with valuable reactions. Thanks and appreciation go to:
Lori
Stefanie
Roopa
Rebecca
Veena
Melisa
Flara
Cate
Martha
Christine
Brittney
Lauren
Brandi
Hiral
Holly
Alexandrea
Also by Rachelle Ayala—Bestseller Historical Romance and Family Saga, available at Amazon.com
MICHAL’S WINDOW
It’s not easy being a woman, least of all princess of Israel. Married as a prize, abandoned as a wife, Michal fights to claim her rightful spot next to King David, the man she loves with all her heart.
Separated by war, concubines, and kingdom politics, Michal embarks on a journey of adventure and heartache where she is befriended by a goddess-worshipping priestess and tempted by a Philistine prince.
From reading scrolls high atop the palace walls to seduction with a henna-painted body, Michal is not your ordinary Bible heroine. Join her in Michal’s Window and let her delight you with her courage, devotion, and outrageous passion in her relentless drive to win back her husband.
WHAT READERS SAY:
“So, once I let the modern feminist inside of me relax, I realized how timely her story is, because, sadly, many of the things she has to deal with are things that women still face today.”
Broken Build: Silicon Valley Romantic Suspense Page 36
