[Bad Motherpuckers 02.0] Sexy Motherpucker

by Lili Valente

  “All right.” His gaze softens in a way that makes me think he understands more than he’s letting on. “Then we should probably start by getting out of the car.”

  “Yes.” I nod and keep nodding for way too long while my hands remain stubbornly glued to the sweat-slick steering wheel. “But you’re going to have to help me. If you don’t mind.”

  “Not at all. That’s what I’m here for.” He reaches over, resting his hand on top of my white-knuckled one. “That’s one of the good parts of being a couple, you know. You don’t have to do all the scary stuff on your own.”

  I nod again, but I don’t speak. My lips are pressed into a thin line, and I’m pretty sure if I set them free they’ll do something stupid like beg Brendan to get us out of here as fast as my Forrester’s winter tires will carry us.

  With a final hand squeeze, he reaches for the door, and I brace myself for change. Big, hairy, scary change…

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Laura

  What seems like mere nanoseconds later, Brendan is opening my door and reaching inside to peel my fingers slowly off the wheel, one by one. When he’s finished, I thread my hands into a single fist that I press to my chest, the better to keep my heart from punching a hole through my ribs.

  “We stand on three.” His tone is firm and even, inviting no discussion. “One, two, three.”

  With his arm around my shoulders, I stagger out of the car, gulping large mouthfuls of cold winter air. It can’t be more than thirty degrees, but my heavy sweater is too hot, I’m sweating like I just finished a 5k, and my cheeks feel simultaneously flushed and bloodless.

  I find my feet and steady myself, but the world is moving a lot more than it usually does, the horizon line swooping up and down in my peripheral vision as Brendan tucks me firmly under his arm.

  “Now we walk,” he says. “One foot in front of the other until we reach the sign-in desk.”

  My chin bobs. “Okay.” But it’s not okay, and after only a few steps I can’t feel my feet. It’s like frostbite but from the inside, as my bone marrow crystalizes and my muscles atrophy with fear.

  “I had a dream about you last night,” Brendan says, distracting me from my rapidly numbing extremities. “You were wearing a white dress and floating in this dark green lagoon, your hair waving in the water around you like seaweed. And you were so beautiful, like one of the paintings Chloe loves, but your eyes were closed and… Well, I knew you weren’t just sleeping.”

  I glance up at him, frowning hard. “That’s a sad dream.”

  He nods. “I’ve been having a lot of dreams like that lately. I think it’s my subconscious testing me, seeing if I’ve really got what it takes to move on.”

  I wrap my arm around his waist, offering what support I can, considering I would dissolve into a puddle of terror if he stopped propping me up. “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be. It’s good.” He shrugs. “I mean, it’s not good, but it’s part of it.”

  “Part of what?” I ask, ignoring the voice in my head screaming that we’re getting way too close to that little yellow cottage.

  “Of getting better. Of growing instead of being stuck. I was stuck long enough.” He holds my gaze with an intensity that banishes everything but him. “I don’t want to be that person anymore. I’m sick of being so afraid of losing the people I love that I can’t love them the way they deserve to be loved in the first place.”

  My eyes sting, and the bridge of my nose grows suspiciously achy. “This might sound silly, but I’m proud of you.”

  “And I’m proud of you.” He hugs me closer. “But you know you don’t have to jump off of a bridge to prove anything to me, right?”

  “It’s an illogical fear.” I stand up straighter, forcing my legs to support more of my own weight. “There’s only a one in five hundred thousand chance of dying in a bungee jumping accident. It’s one in six hundred every time you get into a car, and I still drive every day. It’s ridiculous to be melting down like this. I need to stop being afraid of things I have no reason to be afraid of.”

  His gaze shifts to the gravel in front of us, making his expression hard to read. “I agree. But there’s a difference between irrational fears and rational concerns.”

  “Well, yes, but—”

  “I messed up,” he cuts in, stopping several feet away from the line of people waiting to check-in for the New Year’s group jump. “I shouldn’t have left you and Chloe alone like that. It was a mistake, one I’m not planning to repeat. I even drew up something we can sign if you want. A contract, sort of.” He reaches into his back pocket, tugging out his wallet and slipping free a folded piece of paper that he holds out toward me. “It’s only two pages, but it took me a few hours to get it right. I wanted to be sure everything was covered.”

  I take the paper and unfold it, smiling as I read the heading at the top of the document: I’ll Be the Bad Guy: All the Ways I Promise Not to Suck Ass As Your Single-Parent Boyfriend. I skim the bullet points, which cover everything from disciplining Chloe to helping with homework to folding small-person laundry and putting away toys.

  “Oh, I don’t mind folding laundry,” I say, eyes mistier than they were a moment ago. “I actually kind of like it. Her clothes are so tiny and cute, and she has the coolest socks. It makes it kind of fun to match them up, you know?”

  “I just want you to know I’m not looking for a housekeeper,” he says, tipping his head closer to mine. “Or a babysitter. Or someone to help discipline or entertain my kid. That’s not why I asked you what I asked you on Christmas Eve.”

  “I know that.” I refold the letter, hands trembling. “And Chloe isn’t why I ran away.”

  He shakes his head, but I don’t give him a chance to speak.

  “I ran because I already love you so much,” I say, swallowing hard. “Both of you. And in the past, the thought of just one person who was that important to me was enough to give me a bad case of commitment-phobia. But now there are two of you. Two people who are capable of ripping my heart out if they get tired of me, or change their mind about being a family, or get hurt or killed or sick or just deeply unhappy in a way I can’t make better.”

  He cups my face in his hands. “I’m never going to get tired of you, Freckles. That’s not the way my heart works.”

  Tears fill my eyes. “You can’t promise that. I could become a serial killer. Or a kitten strangler. Or a vegetarian.”

  He smiles. “My uncle is a vegetarian, and I’ve managed to love him, deeply, my entire life. The kitten strangling could be a deal breaker, but if you’re one of those serial killers who only goes after the bad guys, we could make it work.”

  My breath huffs out. “I would laugh if I wasn’t so scared.”

  “Scared of the bungee jumping or…”

  I loop my arms around his neck, moving in until my body presses against his and that sexy, sizzling, warm, familiar, home feeling rushes through me, the way it does every time I’m close to this man. “Both. I’m scared shitless of both, Brendan. But assuming the fetal position and hoping change goes away isn’t a tenable life plan, and it’s no way to act when you love someone.” I take a deep breath. “And like you said, I don’t want to be stuck anymore. I want to grow and get better, and I want to do it with you and Chloe. I think we should move in together and love each other and see if we can make this work.”

  The tension melts from his shoulders as he pulls me close and hugs me tight, tucking his face into the curve of my neck as he whispers, “We can make it work, baby. I know we can.”

  I cling to him, tears slipping down my cheeks as my eyes squeeze shut. “I love you so much.”

  “I love you, too.” His hands smooth down to my hips, squeezing me through my thick pants. “Now let’s get out of here. I need to take you home and get you naked. I’ve missed your body so fucking much.”

  “Yes,” I say, blood pumping faster. “But first we jump.”

  He pulls back, gazing down at me like he�
�s pretty sure I’m crazy.

  And I probably am. But luckily, he seems to love me anyway.

  “All right,” he says, shaking his head. “But if you pass out between here and the sign-in desk, there’s no way they’re going to let you up on the bridge. You faint, and it’s over. I’m carrying you back to the car, and we’re going home.”

  I nod. “But I’m not going to faint. I’m feeling brave all of a sudden. Let’s go earn our vision quest names before I lose my nerve.”

  Brendan smiles as he tucks me under his arm again. “What’s your name going to be? Pees When She Screams?”

  “If you’re lucky. It might be Pukes While She Screams. Considering you’re going to be jumping right next to me, Daniels, that could get really gross for you really fast.”

  He shudders and hugs me closer. “I must really love you.”

  I lean my head on his shoulder. “You really must. Because I’m not kidding. This could get messy.”

  “I know,” he says softly. “But I’m not afraid of making messes. Or helping to clean them up. As long as you’re there with me.”

  It’s such a romantic, wonderful thing to say I can’t resist the urge to turn to him, stealing a kiss that becomes two kisses, and then three, because once we start, neither of us wants to stop. We make out covertly—short, sweet kisses and longer, deeper ones that probably qualify as PDA violations—as we shuffle from the back of the line to the front.

  At the counter, I manage to give my name and confirmation info to the bright-eyed, man-bunned dude in an only slightly breathy voice. Fifteen minutes later, we’re strapped into thick harnesses that seem to be taking safety seriously and climbing onto the backs of two heavily modified pickup trucks with matching platforms that extend over the edge of the bridge.

  There are twelve jumpers total, and we’ll be flying over the edge in groups of two. But thanks to the twenty Brendan slipped our jump operators on the way across the bridge—having correctly deduced that the chances of me passing out would increase with every couple we had to watch plummet before it was our turn—we’re going first.

  “Keep your eyes on me until the last second,” Brendan says, voice raised to be heard over the wind whipping through the gorge.

  My head bobs up and down as I inch toward the edge, knees slightly bent and arms held out to my sides like I’m balancing on a wire instead of plodding slowly down a platform at least seven feet across.

  My handler chuckles beside me and says in a friendly baritone, “You’re going to be fine. It’s wicked fun. You’ll be back here next weekend, begging to go again.”

  I hum doubtfully but can’t speak. My throat is too tight, and my ribs have decided not to expand for more than a shallow wheeze. My heart is slam-dancing in my chest, and the squeaky fear-voice in my brain is screeching “Run away! Run away!” The only thing keeping me from dropping to my knees and begging someone to help me back to the car is Brendan’s steady blue gaze.

  He doesn’t say another word, but in his eyes I see everything I need.

  His eyes say—

  You can do this.

  But if you can’t it’s okay.

  Whatever you choose, I’m here with you.

  Because I believe in you.

  And I love you.

  And you’re not alone.

  And for the first time in my life, change isn’t as scary as the thought of not being with this person. This strong, sweet, brave, incredible person who I love with my entire heart, and who loves me just the way I am.

  “Love you,” I mouth as we reach the edge and our feet are wrapped up for the final plunge.

  “Love you, too,” Brendan mouths back with a grin and a nod toward the great unknown.

  My heart does a swan dive in my chest, making it feel like part of me is already falling as I nod back.

  Falling…

  Falling…

  And then, with our eyes still locked, Brendan and I bend our knees, brace ourselves, and…

  Fly.

  Epilogue

  Brendan

  The following summer…

  “Hurry!” Chloe pinwheels her arm, eyes wide and impatient. “We’re going to miss the sunset if we don’t hurry!”

  “You run ahead and find us a spot,” I say. “Just stay back from the edge until Laura and I get there.”

  “And make sure you pull your kite in and hold on tight before you climb up,” Laura adds. “The wind is stronger up there.”

  “Got it!” Chloe gives Laura a thumbs-up before dashing down the beach, pulling her mermaid kite behind her, her braids bouncing as her bare feet smack the damp sand.

  Beside me, my other favorite redhead is looking ridiculously sexy in a green swimsuit cover-up that barely conceals her ass, granting me peekaboo glimpses of the black bikini underneath as the wind whips along the coast. I’m already counting the hours until it’s time to tuck Chloe in with the rest of the kids spending the night at the beach home Justin rented for his birthday. Then we can retreat to our private room where I will demonstrate my continued commitment to making Laura come again and again until she’s so exhausted I’ll have to carry her to the shower to clean up before bed.

  “Stop it,” she whispers, a grin stretching across her face.

  “Stop what?” I reach over to cup her ass as we walk, unable to resist the lure of her fine as hell backside.

  She puts her hand to my chest, playfully pushing me away. “That. You’re going to gross Chloe out again.”

  “Chloe is going to have to get over it.” I wrap my arm around Laura’s waist, pulling her close. “I can’t be expected to keep my hands to myself when you walk around looking like that.”

  She laughs. “So it’s my fault that you have zero self-control?”

  “Completely your fault.” I pat her ass affectionately, pleased when she doesn’t pull away. “But I do have some self-control. I’m not dragging you into that cave over there and having my way with you, for example.”

  “Well, that’s good.” She leans into me. “Then we would miss the sunset for sure, and Chloe would be really mad.”

  “What would we do without her to keep us in line?” I smile as Chloe turns, as if on cue, and pinwheels her arm again, clearly displeased with the speed of our progress down the beach.

  “Fall to ruin,” Laura says seriously. “Fall to ruin and miss sunsets and not be the first people in line for brunch at the Farm on Sundays.”

  I grunt softly. “Remind me to set her clock back an hour after she’s asleep next Saturday. I would really like to sleep in once or twice before practice starts up again.”

  “Next Saturday she’ll be at Steve and Angie’s for her summer visit,” Laura says, a sly note in her voice. “And I was thinking maybe we could slip away for a trip, too.”

  “Sounds good. A trip where?”

  “You’ll see,” she says mysteriously as she sets off at a trot after Chloe. “Come on! The view’s supposed to be gorgeous from the lookout point.”

  I hesitate a moment, watching the two people I love most running away down the sand, their red hair lit up with gold in the fading light, my heart twisting in my chest. Even now, six months into living and loving together full-time, there are still moments when this kind of happiness is a shock to my system.

  When I can’t believe that both of those beautiful girls are mine.

  That they’re my family, and they love me, and more importantly, they let me love them. No holding back. No hiding. No keeping it toned down or tamed, or pretending I’m not a sappy bastard who gets tears in his eyes at weird moments when it hits me all over again how lucky I am.

  I know someday things will get hard again. Someday that little girl I love will grow and change the way she’s changed before, becoming someone different than the sweet, snuffly baby who slept on my chest, or the toddler who squealed with delight when I launched her into the air above my head so she could fly. This version of Chloe will pass away, gone forever. It hurts to know how short my time with
each incarnation of her will be, but it’s also part of what makes every second so precious.

  Someday Laura and I will change, too—slower than the lightning flash of a baby growing into a wild, silly, wonderful girl, but we’ll still be different.

  But we’ll be different together, our relationship growing deeper, closer, finer with time. I know this the way I know the sea is salty and the sun will slip below the horizon when the day is through. It’s a truth settled deep in my bones, easing the need to hurry to the next step.

  We’ll get there.

  There’s no need to rush. No need at all.

  The thought is fresh in my mind as I jog up the rocky trail to the cliff, reaching the top as the sun is kissing the waves but finding the lookout area oddly deserted. There’s no one here, in fact, except Chloe, Laura, and a table set for three, a white tablecloth secured to its legs with brown twine, plates covered with silver domes, and a vase of flowers fluttering in the breeze.

  “Surprise!” Chloe shouts, jumping up and down, waving her kite overhead. “We tricked you!”

  “We didn’t trick him,” Laura says, laughing as she tugs Chloe’s braid. “It’s only a trick if there’s something bad at the end of the surprise.”

  Chloe grins. “But it’s still fun. You should see your face, Dad. You’re totally surprised. You had no idea we had a secret!”

  “I didn’t,” I confess, moving to help Laura secure Chloe’s kite beneath the legs of one of the chairs. “So, what’s the celebration for, ladies?”

  “Just for fun,” Chloe says, patting my arm. “Because we like you.”

  My heart twists again. “Well, thank you. I like you an awful lot, too.”

  “Actually, that’s not completely true.” Laura moves to stand on the opposite side of the table, resting her hands on the back of one of the chairs. “I have a confession to make, Chloe. Part of this surprise is for you.”

  “You double-crossed me?” Chloe climbs into the chair beside me, sitting on her knees, clearly excited.