Pucker Factor

by MariaLisa deMora

  She leaned forwards, arching over Christopher. “And I know you’ll say it’s nothing, or say anyone would do the same, but you’re wrong. You’re wrong, and I hope you never know how wrong, but I’ll share a tiny thing today so you’ll know how much it means to me that you’re taking me in. My son’s father wanted to give me a few hundred dollars to handle what he saw as a problem. He made it clear that if I kept the baby, he would have no part of it, having offered the only support he could find it inside himself to give. I chose so wrongly, it’s not even funny, and looking back I see things clearly now. That should make me not trust people, not trust men. But you’re the exception, Oscar Mayhan. You’re special, and such a gorgeous human being inside and out, and I hope to God that you know it. If you don’t know it, then take one thing from this. I hope you take away that you’re unique, and I’m blessed to know you. Me and Chris”—she’d hoped for a break in his intense expression, but using the shortened name for her son didn’t earn anything, so Lindy forged ahead—“we’re blessed that you were behind that desk, that you stepped in and made yourself a place in our lives, and that in doing so, you’ve given us a place in yours. You’re our hero.” Reaching out, she gripped Oscar’s hand and shook it back and forth. “Thank you, Oscar. Thank you.”

  He didn’t speak, didn’t move, but his fingers clutched tightly around hers. She unfolded her crossed legs, slipped over the side of the bed and stood in front of him, looking up. Oscar stared straight ahead, and for a moment, she didn’t think he saw her at all. Then his body jerked and he tipped his chin down, gaze directed straight towards her. They stood like that for a minute, then he pulled in a hard, ragged breath that shook his frame.

  Voice low and quietly intense, he told her, “You’re giving me more than you know, Lindy. It’ll be good to have company in the house, and you trusting me like you are, that’s a gift, too. Something I needed.” He lifted their joined hands and wrapped hers around Christopher, then brushed his thumb along the baby’s face, gentle as a butterfly’s wing. “He deserves to have the best start we can give him, and I’m blessed we can approach that goal together.” His head came up, hand falling back to his side as he took a step away, something she didn’t like but couldn’t put her finger on why, and said, “Now we’re done talking our heads off, let’s get you two home. My truck’s parked downstairs, and I’ve got the car seat already installed.” He leaned sideways and dragged a wheelchair she hadn’t noticed closer. “Hop on in, little momma. Let’s get you home.”

  ***

  Oscar

  The recliner in the living room was comfortable and familiar, as were the pictures on the wall, the rug on the floor, and even the late afternoon sunshine streaming through the window.

  Oscar leaned his head back, settling deeper into the chair as he made a list of the unfamiliar. Baby powder scent, the creak of a rocker in the other room, and the soft hum of a woman’s voice as she sang soothingly to her babe in arms. His chest warmed, a feeling of contentment settling over him.

  She’d called him her hero. Said it and meant it, deep down to her soul. He’d seen the honesty of the statement in her eyes.

  Oscar had loved it, her whole speech, because he felt the same way, only about her.

  He was blessed to have had the honor of being there when her child was born. That, and the hours leading up to that glorious culmination of all her work, had changed him in ways he still hadn’t cataloged. Blessed to have friends to help out, to know people to talk to on her behalf, blessed to have a place custom-made for her to recover and have her babe thrive. Blessed to know her, no matter the secrets she was still holding close.

  From what little she’d shared, he understood how terrified she’d been throughout her whole pregnancy. When her job came to an end, the car and apartment that had been part of her compensation package ended, too. She’d been ousted, no insurance, jobless and homeless, and trying to do the best she could. The junker he’d driven over and parked inside the garage was not worth the money it’d take to fix it up, but he had a line on a car for her. She wouldn’t need one for a while, but he’d make sure what she had was safe for her and Christopher.

  The baby cried out, soft and low, more vocalizing than distress, and he smiled. That was something whoever the jackhole was would never have, that evidence of the miracle of life. Throwing money at her for an abortion and absolving himself of any responsibility? Oscar didn’t understand how any man could do that and was glad he didn’t, because it meant he had a heart. Family was family, and when you made a miracle, you didn’t turn your back on that, no matter how hard things got.

  He and Kirby had grown up with a big family, and it wasn’t until he was in his twenties that he realized not everyone was connected by blood. It didn’t matter. Their grandfather had been one of thirteen kids, all of them his uncles and aunts, and their children his cousins. The family tree was twisted and took interesting turns, because his grandfather and the two oldest were full siblings. Their mother had died, and their father remarried a woman who had two kids, their step-siblings. The couple then had five kids together, their half-siblings. Their father had died, and their step-mother had remarried a man who had a child, and they then had two children together. Thirteen kids, raised side by side as blood, no matter the actual relationship. As far as Oscar was concerned, that’s what family did, and that’s what family was.

  So to him, it didn’t matter that Christopher had a father out there who wasn’t in the picture. The picture right now was Lindy, and him, because he’d adopted them sure as anything, following the tradition passed down through the family.

  Family wasn’t limited to what genes you shared.

  Family was something you made out of what you were given.

  Chapter Five

  Lindsay

  She sat up in bed, startled by whatever had woken her, and listened closely. Chris slept quietly. His tiny breaths in and out reassured her that he was okay. She shook her head and had decided to lie back down when she heard a low groan through the walls of the house. Oscar.

  Reacting to the anguished sound, she bolted from the bed and left the door open behind her, hand on Oscar’s bedroom door a moment later. She heard a muttered, “Fucking hell,” tortured and rough, and didn’t pause, throwing the door open wide. Light seeped in through his windows. Oscar was on his back, bare-chested, tangled in the covers, head thrown to the side. Eyes closed, his face was twisted, mouth open in a silent scream.

  “Oscar?” He thrashed at the sound of her voice, his moves violent and uncoordinated. “Oscar, are you okay?”

  “Fucking hell,” he muttered again, chin lifting as his back bowed. “Fuck them all to hell.”

  Lindy hovered beside the bed for a moment, then caught his hand as it flailed near, his fingers nearly crushing hers as he took hold. “I’m here,” she told him, and his face turned to her, seeking, with eyes still closed. “You’re not alone.” Her worst fear, and the thing she held close from his words two weeks ago when he’d brought her home. Home, here, where he was caught in the grips of some nightmare she couldn’t understand. “You’re home, Oscar. Home.”

  His grip tight, he pulled her towards him, unbalancing her so she fell to the mattress beside him. Oscar immediately turned and wrapped his arms around her, hauling her against his chest, throwing a leg over and hooking it behind her knee to tangle them together. His heart raced, beating so hard even in the uncertain lighting she could see how it thudded against his ribs. He’s done so much for me, for us. I’d do anything to make this better for him. She relaxed into his hold, giving him her weight, and she felt him take in a deep breath, then blow it out slowly.

  “You’re okay, Oscar. I’m here.” All she could do was reassure him, and she did that repeatedly, continuing until his muscles relaxed and his heartbeat slowed, until his breathing came normally again. Still, he held tight to her, and when she tried to pull away, he made such a distressed sound as he clasped her close that she didn’t try again for a long tim
e. She’d give anything to have this be hers, a place at his side like this, where she had a right to comfort him. I’ll take what I can get. “I’m here. You’re okay.”

  A couple of hours later, Chris snuffled himself awake in the other room, and as his first cry hit the air, Oscar tensed in a different way. His question was rough, rumbling through him as he asked, “Lindy?”

  “Shhh.” She pushed back, and he let her this time, reluctantly it seemed, but he let her go. “Go back to sleep, Oscar. It was just a dream.”

  “You’re my dream,” he muttered, turning his face into the pillow.

  She stared down at him for a moment, then turned to go care for her son.

  Chapter Six

  Oscar

  Sweat prickled along the back of his neck as he rolled away from the door and shoved his hand underneath the pillow. Another dream had woken him, but not a bad one this time. He’d had enough of those to last a lifetime, memories stretched like taffy by his subconscious so even the most innocent of conversations were fodder for the demons that populated his dreams. They’d slowed, nearly stopping in the month since Lindy moved in with Chris, only plaguing him once a week or so.

  He knew Lindy had a lot to do with that. Always when the dreams were the worst, she’d somehow hear Oscar’s restlessness and come sit with him. He’d woken more than once with his head buried in her stomach, arms banded around her, holding on for dear life. She’d stay beside him, losing her own precious rest to help make his a little better.

  No, this wasn’t one of those dreams.

  In this one, Lindy had been in his room, in his bed, but in a very different way. Naked and writhing underneath him, she’d stared into his face as she told him how much she loved him. Loved me. Her voice had been low and rough when she said she wanted him. Wanted him inside her.

  His cock throbbed, aching, and he had just decided to stroke himself off when he heard the doorknob rattle. Fuck.

  “Oscar?” Her voice came from beside the door, and he thanked God she hadn’t ventured farther into the room.

  He rolled up on a hip and twisted to look back at her. “I’m good, Lindy.”

  “You sure?” Her posture changed, relaxing slightly. “Need me to stay for a bit?”

  Shaking his head, he stared at her. Little ruffled nightie, sheer fabric covered with painted-on red poppies, the bottom edge swirled and shimmied around her thighs. Her breasts strained the bodice, and it emphasized that she had curves for days, exactly like he liked her. Beautiful, lush, generous, and giving… Oscar swallowed hard, forced his voice to some semblance of normalcy, and lied through his teeth. “No, Lindy. I’m good.”

  Hesitating, she shifted on her feet, which set the hem of that nightie twirling around her legs, inches below where he’d love to bury his face. Fuck. His cock jerked, and he tried to ignore the need pooling deep in his belly, the promise of electricity strong enough to stiffen all his muscles, if he’d only take hold. If she came to him right now, he wouldn’t try to deny himself. Please.

  “Okay, if you’re sure.” She took a deep breath, and his mouth watered when he saw her nipples were stiff and hard, poking little pup tents in the material. “Good night, Oscar.”

  “’Night, baby.” Her chin dipped at his response, and he could have sworn the expression that crossed her face was pleased. “See you tomorrow.”

  She smiled and pulled the door shut behind her, leaving him to his darkened room, alone.

  Oscar closed his eyes and lay back on the bed, then snaked a hand down and wrapped his fingers around his dick, stroking firmly as he went back through that encounter again. And again. And again, until he was groaning, hoping like fuck she’d made it back to sleep before she had to hear him come with her name on his lips.

  ***

  Lindsay

  “Thank you.” She stood from the chair and adjusted Chris in her arms, holding out a hand for the man on the other side of the desk. “I appreciate all your help.”

  “Not a problem, Ms. Ashworth. Oscar’s a good friend. It’s nice to see him being taken care of for a change.” Nonplussed, Lindsay tipped her head to the side and stared at him. The bank president was Oscar’s cousin, but their transaction today hadn’t been about Oscar at all, just Lindsay opening a new bank account here in town. “You know how he is, always doing for others. It’s just good to see him so happy.”

  Lindsay’s teeth clenched together as what he was implying came clear. Not that she’d be opposed to it, but Oscar had done so much for her and Chris. There was no way she’d take advantage of him that way.

  “Mr. Mayhan”—like half the town, he shared Oscar’s last name—“I think you’ve gotten the wrong impression. Oscar and I are friends. Good friends. Roommates. Nothing more.” She waggled the envelope of temporary checks he’d just handed over, along with the deposit slip for her first two paychecks from the city and one from the MBMC. “Most of these will be written to cover my rent, paid directly to Oscar. I agree he’s a very good man, worthy and sweet, and willing to go the distance for something he believes in.” She shook her head. “But we are not involved, if that’s what you were implying.”

  The man studied her a minute, and his gaze fell to the top of his shiny desk, void now of anything to interrupt the expanse of wood. He leaned forwards, fingers propped on the edge, and lifted his eyes to stare directly at her. “No offense meant, Ms. Ashworth. Small towns, you know how it is.”

  She nodded and thanked him again, turning towards the door.

  “Ms. Ashworth?” Lindsay twisted to look back to him, Chris heavy in her arms. “You seem like a nice lady, and I know a lot of people here in town already think the world of you.” She stared at him, unsure where this was going. “I hear you’re smart, good at your job, quick to compliment folks, and you look at Oscar like he’s your whole world.” She froze in place, heart rabbiting in her chest at his words that cut too close to her secret. “And smart as you are, if you can’t see he looks at you the same way, maybe you’re right and there’s nothing there.” He stepped back, angled into his chair, and gave her a brief nod. “Good to meet you.”

  Chris started fussing, and Lindsay stroked his back automatically, staring at the man for a final moment before she walked away.

  ***

  Oscar

  “No, man. It’s not like that.” He bent to pull a skillet from underneath the counter, angling up to see Kirby and Brian staring at him. They were at the clubhouse, and it was Oscar’s turn to cook for the members. He’d already traded favors with the guys more than once to cover his shift. It was time to just man up and do his part. “She’s not into me like that.”

  “Oh, Jesus. You got a serious case of the blinders.” Brian chuckled and lifted a bottle to his mouth, draining the water in a long gulp. “Should we tell him, Kirby?”

  Oscar shook his head as he dragged a container of hamburger out of the refrigerator. “There’s nothing to tell me, so you might as well give it up.” The huge stockpot of water was already boiling, steam rising from the bubbling surface. He rifled through the cabinet until he found the spices he needed for the meat, then dug through the refrigerator again for a tub of butter. “She’s just not into me. A man knows.”

  “Hey, Donny!” Kirby’s yell echoed through the building. “Who do you think Lindy’s sweet on?”

  “Ain’t no thinkin’, brother. She’s all about that Oscar, man.” Donny was still talking as he and Walt walked into the kitchen. “Oh, s’getti. That’s some good eats. I’ll get the garlic bread out.”

  “She’s not sweet on me.” Oscar stared down at the slowly browning meat, stirring it with a spatula. Wish like fuck she was. “Drop it, man.” Their teasing had never held an edge of cruelty before, no matter the topic, and Oscar hated showing them how this mattered, but he couldn’t deal if they continued in this vein. The anger rolling through him felt foreign, not something he wanted to give a place to stick to. Through clenched teeth, he pushed out, “Just fuckin’ drop it.”

&n
bsp; Silence fell in the room, broken by shuffling feet and smothered coughs. Without turning around, he reached for the box of noodles, breaking several handfuls in half and dropping them into the boiling water.

  “Oscar, we didn’t mean—”

  He cut Kirby off with a jerk of his head. “Don’t worry about it.”

  A hand fell on his shoulder and squeezed. “Food smells good.” Brian offered a graceful change of subject that Oscar hoped the other men grabbed onto with both hands.

  Donny followed suit, asking, “What can I do to help?”

  “Table.” The one word was all Oscar could grit out.

  “You got it.” Another hand gripped his shoulder, then another, and the men filed past him, leaving Oscar alone in the kitchen.

  If only.

  ***

  “How are the dreams?” Dominic Reed’s voice was soft, soothing, something Oscar figured took a lifetime to perfect.

  Oscar rolled his neck, satisfied when it drew two sharp pops from the tense muscles as he tried to decide how to answer the question from the foundation-provided counselor. One of the requirements for membership was at least a twice monthly chat with the man, which normally Oscar minded a fuck of a lot, because it seemed a waste of resources on him. Today, it felt like more of a process and less of an imposition.

  “They’re dreams, man. Nothing to get bent out of shape about.” He shrugged. “They’re somewhat better.”

  “Because of Lindy.” Not a question, Dom’s statement backed up things Oscar had let slip in the previous weeks. He made an agreeable noise. “Does she know what happened to you overseas?”

  “What? Nothing happened to me. I did my tours and came home.” His shrug was less comfortable, not fitting as well, muscles across his shoulders binding his movements. “Nothing to talk about.”