Pouring cold champagne into the flutes, he smiled at Cam and gave him a what’s-up head nod when he strolled by. Light streamed from the downstairs windows while occasional ripples of laughter and happy voices drifted in the cool evening air.
Everywhere he looked, life was happening. It was a good feeling. This place and these people filled him with happiness and excitement for whatever the future held.
Now if only he could figure out this one issue. Was he capable of giving Angie what she wanted? What she needed? Did he see himself as a dominant, and if the answer was yes, what did that mean?
Sex was one thing, but this went light-years beyond kink in the bedroom.
He wasn’t sure his greedy passion for his desert angel was entirely controllable. And a Dom had to exercise control at all times and in all things. Could he balance his impatient appetite with her needs? Not only in an intimate way but also in the real world.
Until he had some answers, the playroom would continue to be out-of-bounds. They weren’t stepping foot through the door until he understood the full and wide-ranging ramifications of what he’d be allowing.
She was sulking when he came back with the champagne. The confusion in her expression made Parker want to kick his own ass. But the tiny sparkle in her eyes also told him she wasn’t going to let this go.
Taking the spot next to his woman, he handed off her glass, offered a smile and tapped her flute with his. “To happily ever afters.”
He started to relax while they chatted about nothing. Maybe he was wrong, and she’d back off to keep the peace. A coward’s escape hatch but he’d take it however he could.
Eventually, they wandered into the house hand in hand and made the rounds. Feeling pride in her extraordinary confidence and the easy way she had with people, Parker enjoyed himself.
His mom, of course, fawned over Angie. So did his dad. Having declared her unusually pretty this evening and suggesting that she outshone the bride, Parker rolled his eyes at his dad and chuckled as their lively conversation took a turn to the absurd, courtesy of Sophie.
“Aunt Wendy,” she called out. “Settle a dispute, would you?”
Dragging a bemused Finn by the lapels of his suit, Sophie went to the designated family referee and stated her case.
“Okay. Once and for all. Glenfiddich or that pisswater Jameson?”
“Objection,” he drawled into Sophie’s stone cold sober expression. “Leading the witness.”
“She’s not a witness, Counselor. She’s the judge. Now back off and let your mother speak.”
Finn muttered, “Kangaroo court, much?”
At his side, Angie giggled and reached again for his hand.
“Well, let’s see,” his mom said. “In the interest of fairness, I think it’s best to state that pisswater has merits.”
Sophie slapped Finn on the chest. “See?” She snickered. “Told ya. Pisswater.”
Finn’s eyes narrowed. “That’s not what she said. I believe what Mrs. Sullivan was trying to get out before you interrupted is that everything has value. Even pisswater.”
Parker squeezed Angie’s fingers when Sophie met Finn’s fierce gaze with her own. Having his childhood friend back in the mix along with her cutting and sometimes brutal take on things was proving to be quite entertaining—as long as her snarky attitude wasn’t aimed at him.
“Technically, he’s right, dear,” his mom comically stated.
Sophie dropped her jaw and laughed. “My own aunt is taking his side?”
His father laughed heartily and shrugged. “We’re tequila people, Soph. You know that! Don’t have a dog in this fight.”
Finn struck an arms-crossed pose and declared, “Since I’m the only one bringing a professional opinion to this matter, let me state in unequivocal terms that Glenfiddich is for pussies.”
Sophie’s scoffing comeback was met with snickers of delight. “You bought a bar, Beantown. Not graduated with honors from Liquor University.”
“Doesn’t change the fact that Glenfiddich is for …”
He didn’t get to finish because she walloped him in the gut and stormed off.
Parker chuckled and tossed Finn O’Brien a smirky grin. “So I guess Beantown is the official nickname?”
Finn glared at him but didn’t speak fast enough, giving Parker a chance to get one good shot.
“Isn’t the name courtesy of your girlfriend?” The glare deepened. “By the way, where is Remington?”
If no one were standing around, Parker was sure he would have answered differently, but since there were several witnesses, Finn kept it short and simple.
“She couldn’t make it.”
“Oh, right.” Parker sniggered with a mocking smile. “She’s babysitting Lady FiFi, right?”
Angie squeezed the fucking life from his fingers and pursed her lips. If she wanted him to apologize or back off, she was in for a surprise.
A virtual standoff ensued. His mom and dad left them to it while he brought his lawyer stare to the proceedings and tried topping the stupid Irish shit. Unfortunately, the belligerent douche canoe relished the potential for a smackdown and refused to alter his stance.
“Okay, you two,” Angie muttered darkly. “Enough.”
He snorted and gave Finn a menacing look.
“I’m serious,” she barked with a smack on his arm, and a finger wagged in the other guy’s face. “Stop. Now. You’re both being ridiculous.”
Nobody rubbed him wrong like this guy did.
“Shake hands and be nice.”
Parker started to say something snappy, but she cut him off. “Swear to god. Shake or die. Calder is watching, and if you invite …”
He didn’t need to hear another word. His hand went out. “Mea culpa, Beantown. Wrong place, wrong time.”
Angie hissed, and Finn reluctantly took his hand, asking, “What size shoe do you wear?”
Parker blinked. Huh?
“Your shoes, Sullivan? What size?”
“Thirteen? And a half.” He dropped Finn’s hand and cocked his head to the side. “Why?”
“Gonna train my dog to piss on any size thirteen shoes she sees.”
Angie exploded with laughter.
“Thank you, boys. I needed that.” She tapped his arm and drew him forward. “Come on. I hear music. Let’s see what everyone’s up to.”
He gestured to Finn with two fingers pointing at his eyes and then the other guy’s face—just to let him know he was watching him.
Beantown flipped him off.
Calder couldn’t stop referring to Stephanie as his wife, and as for seeing anything or anybody else except her? Pfft. As if!
He watched her move around the room, stopping to talk with everyone as she made the rounds. It was the third or fourth time she’d done the same thing, but this time, instead of going with her, he’d begged off because he wanted to watch her. From across the room.
“Will you be staring at my bottom?” she asked with completely innocent seriousness.
He admitted it was a given.
“And what about this?” she asked as she patted her growing baby bump. “Will you be looking at this?”
“Yes.”
His wife grinned, made a tiny, sniggering pantomime of clapping, and said, “Okay.” Then she sashayed off, stopped to gather her train in one hand, winked at him, and went about her business.
He liked watching her. His interest had a voyeuristic feel to it. She was a people person—others were drawn to her genteel charm. Calder found it exciting to observe how others reacted to her.
She was his now. Had the ring, a piece of paper, and a baby on board as proof.
Stephanie Bennett was his wife.
No. Correction.
She was Stephanie Dane now.
His legally wedded and soon-to-be bedded wife.
She turned around and smiled at him as though having heard his thoughts. In the background, the sound of the baby grand piano drifted in the air. He’d recognize that
sound anywhere. It was his sister making music. A rare and unexpected treat.
Discreetly motioning to his wife, he felt nothing but overwhelming happiness. She immediately joined him and took his hand.
“You summoned, husband?” Joyful silliness was evident in her voice.
Calder touched her wherever he could without going too far. “And you came running,” he teased.
Nothing was mysterious or confusing about the way she looked at him. If he wasn’t careful, the tears that rocked him sideways at the chapel would start again.
She clung to his hand and toyed with a button on his dress shirt. “I’d crawl over broken glass to be with you.”
A man could experience satisfaction in a hundred different ways throughout his lifetime. Calder’s knee-jerk reaction to her blunt admission delivered a new sort of satisfaction—one that ran deep and connected with his soul. This woman was meant to be his.
“Ash is at the piano,” he murmured softly while losing himself in his wife’s loving gaze. “Shall we go listen?”
“Oh,” she gasped. “Yes! Let’s.” She switched gears and started for the house. After four or five steps, she halted—turned to look at him and made a face. “What are you doing? I thought you said we should …”
A snicker rippled from his gut to his chest and out of his mouth. His eyes darted around them—nobody was paying attention. Good.
Cutting her off, he gave his wife a very suggestive leer. “Duchess, if you must know, I was enjoying the magnificence of my wife’s ass and imagining bending you over the picnic table, lifting your bridal gown, and peeling off what I hope are scandalously sheer panties.”
His wife smiled—blushed then bit her lip—then looked at the picnic table, and finally, rather pointedly at his crotch.
With a decidedly wicked gleam in her eyes, she stepped close and whispered, “Would now be a good time to admit I’m not wearing anything under this dress?”
That feeling? It was his eyes bugging out of his head. “Are you serious?”
She laughed and shook her head. “Shugah pie, honey love.”
Oh, my god. That was a new one. He beamed like the blinding spotlight on a cop car.
“Of course, I’m serious. Showing off our baby was priority one. I’m not about to let panty lines, muffin tops, or boob bulges ruin my devious plan.”
A warm flow of happiness ran through him when he responded. “Ah, there was a plan to all this then?”
The long lashes framing her beautiful eyes dipped for a second. Anytime she worked him over with her sly, Southern coquette act, a determined hard-on was the result. Anyone believing their sex drive diminished after fifty was an idiot.
Prepared for some playful teasing, he was left open-mouthed by her wicked response.
“Of course, there was a plan! Alex and I worked it out before I showed up. He said you were lonely and tired of having a relationship with your hand.” She gave him a cheeky shrug. “I was looking for a shugah daddy, and you checked all the boxes.”
As if on cue, Alex’s booming laughter wafted from inside the house to punctuate his wife’s outrageous taunt.
“Oh, I get it,” he mocked. “So Wolf Pup called in a heavy hitter.”
She chuckled. “He knew a beauty queen would, well … you know.”
My god but he adored this fantastic woman. She loved with her whole heart. Not even being widowed so young had dampened her fire. Stephanie was that rare person who looked for the good in people and lived a life that leaned toward joy and away from darkness.
Total reflex made his hand swat her butt. She jumped and made a little yelp. “What the hell was that for?”
He simply looked at her and let his expression fill in the blanks.
“Oh,” she murmured.
“Yes, oh.” Calder smirked and shook his head. “Tsk, tsk, Duchess. You knew what would happen when you threw down with the naked beneath the gown remark.”
She whispered in his ear. He absorbed her coos and purrs. “Do you want me to behave?”
“Until I get you alone, yes.”
“Then you have to make a promise.”
He picked up her hand and kissed the ring he placed there earlier. “Made one hell of a promise already, Mrs. Dane.”
Her sweet smile lit up his heart. “This is a honeymoon promise.”
“I can do that,” he answered confidently.
“Well, good.” She surreptitiously ran her hand over the front of his pants. When she finished, his wife had no doubt as to the strength of his lust for her.
Then she whispered a slew of dirty suggestions, framed them as promises, and smiled.
“Wait.” He chuckled. “You behave and do all that? What happens when you don’t behave?”
Her sultry laughter hung in the air. “Come on, you bad man.” She held her hand out, and he took it. “Let’s go soak up the love.”
Carmen smiled broadly when they walked through the kitchen. She was standing at the end of the hallway where Meghan’s new office and the pantry was located. Beside her, Duke Winston stood looking like a fish out of water. His graying ponytail was carefully brushed, and not one extraneous facial hair existed.
Calder had to smile and give her a thumbs-up. She was someone else in this lively bunch he’d known a long, long time. Looked to him like he and Carmen hit the jackpot in the grown-up love category.
Most everyone ended up in the large, grand foyer. The whole Villa was a study in Spanish architecture, but the huge open space with the arches, columns, and the wide, formal staircase was really something. Over the years, it had become the gathering place for many occasions.
Tucked just slightly beneath the curving staircase, the baby grand piano his sister was playing filled the two-story open space with rich sound.
His heart did a little dance. He loved Ashleigh more than he had words to say. Whenever she sat at the piano, he knew she was channeling their mother, who had instilled a great love of music in them. It was a gesture of love from sister to brother that she played for everyone now.
Sophie leaned on the piano and watched her mother’s long, expressive fingers dance across the keys. From her earliest days, the piano and her mom’s skill had entranced her. When she was older and started to understand the connection that her mom experienced whenever she played, the moments when the music took her over held emotional significance.
She did haunting justice to a famous Rachmaninoff rhapsody on a theme by Paganini that made tears gather in Sophie’s eyes because she knew how hard it was for her mom to gift them with that one.
Her dad stood protectively by Mom’s shoulder like a guardian. He knew too, and they looked at each other briefly.
Alexander was next. He took up the spot on the other side, looking Sophie in the eye. They breathed together for a long moment—both struggling.
Then Angie joined them. At Sophie’s side, she wrapped her arms around her. They clung to one another as the soft, emotional melody continued.
Eventually, Calder stood right behind Mom with his hand on her shoulder. Aunt Wendy and Uncle Matt moved in close. From the corner of her eye, she caught Carmen wiping away a tear.
When Mom finished, Calder sat on the bench and gathered her into an emotional hug. Stephanie and Sophie’s dad touched each of them with supportive strokes and pats.
A box of tissues made the rounds, and after a few minutes steeped with emotion, the joking around started. Sophie smiled. This was what they did as a family. Let the feelings come—give them space—and then afterward, they shared the emotion before a reset brimming with amusing foolishness.
It was what they did for her when the wheels came off. Instead of trying to fix her and a situation they didn’t fully comprehend, her family took a different approach. They circled the wagons and stood guard—showered her with unconditional love—and gave her the space and time she needed. They’d given her the gift of faith. Faith that she knew what was best for her. Considering what she’d been through, by not riding
roughshod when they absolutely could have and taking her power away, they’d put Sophie on the road to healing.
Stroking her belly, she made a silent promise to her unborn son that she would always remember the lessons she learned from the ones who cared most—and make sure the same kind of love always surrounded him.
“All right,” she cheered to those assembled. “Raise your hand if it’s time to sing!”
“Did you call my name?” Parker hollered.
“No, you spotlight hound,” she quipped with a twisted sneer. “Let someone else have center stage, would you?”
Angie giggled and murmured quietly. “My bottom will be paying for that comment, sis.”
“You can thank me later,” Sophie answered with a smile.
“Yeah, yeah. Whatever. Out of the way,” Meghan quipped. “Justice Ladies, assemble,” she exclaimed.
Mom vacated the piano bench and kissed Meghan after she sat down. “Show ‘em how we do it, honey.”
Meghan had this way of knowing exactly what was needed, and this time, she didn’t disappoint. There was only one way to follow up the haunting ode to loved ones long gone.
Her hands moved with certainty on the keys, and she found a soulful opening to “For a Dancer” and then added her voice. With the women bringing a quiet backing harmony, the song built until it engulfed the space with the joyful sound mentioned in the lyrics, and a shower of emotion rained down on them.
It was absolutely soul-searing perfection.
Then it was time to get the party started. Next thing they all knew, Parker’s guitar materialized. So did one of her brother’s electric guitars and a small amplifier. Informing Alex that he could go shit in his hat, Finn took control and shooed his brother-in-law to the side. “Pound on something,” he told him with a smirk.
Everlasting (Family Justice Book 6) Page 14
