by D. D. Scott
Yes, he’d done everything his dad had asked of him that long ago summer. He’d entered the 4-H categories his dad thought would best showcase his son’s future agricultural enterprises. Following his dad’s instructions, he’d worked his garden hard. Despite the heat, despite the horrible bugs inhabiting the landscape, despite the gritty grime Zayne despised, he’d never faltered in his steadfast efforts.
His sweat and sacrifices had paid-off. He’d won every ribbon, beat his competition, advanced to the state fair level and whooped ‘em all, earning the coveted Tennessee State Grand Champion honors, never won by any child other than a Baudlin.
There the two of them stood, Zayne and his old man, surrounded by blue and purple ribbons. Prize-winning samples of their harvest-ready tomatoes filled baskets and buckets at their feet.
Zayne swore he could still feel the pride-fed pressure of his father’s hand clasped over his shoulder as they waited for his mother to focus the scene in her camera lens.
His eyes glued to the picture, Zayne rolled his neck and head, trying to shake off the heavy nostalgia. The apparent joy of the scene was nothing more than a masquerade of the moments leading up to the shot. A day that turned out to be one of his worst childhood memories. A day that forever changed his feelings for his dad.
Fortifying his resolve to move past that part of his life, Zayne swallowed a cold, dark swig of his coffee. He had to come to grip with the fact he was never meant to please his father. He wasn’t his father’s son in anything other than appearance, a genetic code they shared ingrained in his features. But a likeness ending with the sharp angles of Zayne’s jaw.
Just like he’d tried to tell his father that day, Zayne loved him and hoped the man could accept him for who he was. And that wasn’t a farmer. But Zayne had failed getting across his message then like he’d done ever since the day captured by that Kodak moment.
After that, Zayne had never again asked his father to accept his artistic and performance talents. Likewise, his father never mentioned them either. Zayne pursued his dreams, never again as an entrant in the state fair produce divisions, but made a name for himself in the advertising world as well as on the dance floor.
With his mother’s blessing and support and with his father’s dismissal and excuses to work the farm instead of his son’s future, Zayne had followed his passions.
The photo was the only memory Zayne and his father had made together. The only moment they’d shared the same frame, the same moment in time.
A cold chill flowed from Zayne’s chest to his limbs as if he were bent over an ice chest. He swore, when it came time to raise his own children, he’d never repeat the heartache he’d suffered at the hands of his dad. Somehow he had to freeze his father’s weaknesses, turning his dad’s failings into lesson-learned strengths for his life ahead.
A life that for the first time may be worth the obstacles Zayne struggled to conquer. With Roxy, he’d found a partner who not only fulfilled his wildest fantasies in the bedroom. She was also the perfect partner to share his dreams. She understood his love of dance. She came alive with him under the spotlights. She may move to her own rhythms, but she thrived, like Zayne did, on the unique blend they created together.
He closed his eyes, filling the frames in his mind with their future. He was ready to take the leap. Now that he’d held her next to him, feeling her warmth complete him, there was no turning back.
If only he could figure out what seemed to be holding her back. How could he reach her fears? How could he convince her that even though they’d been born and raised in worlds miles apart, they were a perfect match, both on and off the dance floor?
Roxy wasn’t sure how long she’d been standing in the doorway of the family room. But she’d been there long enough to realize Zayne was battling inner demons that must be on the same difficulty level as hers.
Seeing his distress, at the same time her guts gathered strength to fight beside him, her heart melted. Maybe if she braved the rough emotional seas tossing and turning inside her mind, she’d fortify him to do the same.
At least, in their joint efforts, they’d be miserable together.
She walked across the room, admiring the comforting, homey warmth the morning sun provided as it filtered through the windows. The natural light element in the McDonald home was magnificent, waking up her muses, enlightening her creative soul.
Without making her presence known, Roxy slipped behind Zayne’s recliner and gently, so as not to startle him, hugged her arms around his neck and shoulders, nuzzling her cheek against his smooth, clean-shaven face. The heat of his sun-kissed skin swaddled her in reciprocated affection while his citrus and spice cologne made her knees tremble.
“Good Morning, Princess,” he said, stretching his arms up and behind his head, tousling her bed-head locks with his fingers.
“Morning, Cowboy,” she answered, kissing his cheek before going around the arm of his chair hoping for an invitation onto his lap.
Zayne set his mug on the coffee table and patted his leg for her to join him.
Sliding onto his lap, Roxy cuddled against his bare, muscle-toned chest. As the few hairs he had there tickled her nose, she shivered. Glad she hadn’t fallen for a hairy ape of a man, she settled her head between his rock-hard pects, adapting her breathing to the rise and fall of Zayne’s chest.
“How’d you sleep?” He asked, rubbing her arm with adept hands.
She wouldn’t be opposed to him touching other parts of her as well, but she’d save that idea until she’d clued him in about her issues with her mother then helped him come to terms with whatever was on his mind.
“Thanks to you, I slept fantastic.” She traced his lips with her fingernails. “You wore me out, Cowboy.”
“Glad to hear it.” While his mouth curved into a devilish grin, he winked at her. “I thought the added exertion might wear you down enough to give you a solid night’s sleep.”
Roxy toyed with a lock of hair covering his ear, curling and twisting it around her finger.
“So you had your way with my body for my benefit only? Is that what you’re saying?”
“Not at all. I acted in a most selfish manner. Nothing righteous about it,” Zayne said, his eyes sparkling with a playful spirit. “And I don’t feel a damn bit bad about my actions.”
“Neither do I. I’d like to do it all again,” she whispered, feeling him grow hard underneath her.
He scooped her out of the chair and gently laid her on the bearskin rug in front of the fireplace.
Her body quivered with excitement. Her heart pounded against her breasts. A familiar dew-like dampness settled in between her legs. Forget the tangled sheets. Roxy planned on getting down-and-dirty on the bear-skin rug at their feet.
“I’ve got an idea,” she said, gently nudging Zayne aside so she could maneuver onto her knees.
She leaned the front of her body against the ledge of the hearth then invited Zayne to close in behind her.
“Oh, yeah. I’m gonna like this,” Zayne said in a husky voice, hotter than the fire crackling in front of them.
“Good thing Mom stayed at your place last night,” he said, moving Roxy’s hand over his groin, encouraging her to reach into his open zipper and set him free.
“She what?!”
Roxy sat up so fast, she cracked her head on the fireplace poker and tool rack, plummeting her body back against the floor. Her head spun from more than the impact of her skull with the dark oak. “Shit!”
“Whoa. Are you all right?”
Zayne rubbed the quickly swelling bump on her head. With each circular motion of his thumbs, Roxy went into orbit.
“No, I’m not all right. Do you know what you’ve done?”
She tried to sit up, but gave up, dropping her head back onto the rug, waiting until the sharp roar of her latest injury subsided.
“Besides trying to clear the way for us to initiate each room of this house with our best fantasies, no, I’m not sure how I really
screwed things up this time.” Zayne sat up, still caressing the hard knot now residing in full glory on top of Roxy’s head. “But I’m sure you’re about to fill me in.”
“You’re damn right I’m going to fill you in.” As much as Roxy knew he’d meant her no harm, as much as she knew the way his eyes talked that he loved her and only wanted to please her, the magnitude of what he’d left her to clean up throbbed stronger than the bruise from her most recent mishap. “You left your wonderful mother in the hands of my evil, misfit maternal fuck-up.”
“Oh.”
“That’s all you’re going to say is ‘oh’?” Roxy pushed her upper body toward him, resting her weight on her hands and shoulders to ease into a sitting position. The room spun, and she swore she heard birds chirping.
“Like I could say anything that would fix this. Shit, Roxy, I forgot she was there.” Zayne raked his fingers through his hair, apparently finally digesting what he’d unwittingly done. “What do we do know?”
“Hell if I know. I suppose we’d better call and make sure they’re both still breathing.” Roxy said it then thought about the ramifications of her statement as far as Kat’s health was concerned. Lily Vaughn was a cardiologist’s nightmare.
Sensing Zayne’s unease with her comment, Roxy leaned into him, glad he didn’t pull away.
He held her close and rubbed her back, whispering he was sorry.
“No, I’m sorry,” she said. “I’m sure I’m overreacting. I know you were only being sweet and giving us privacy. A luxury neither one of us have much of now.”
“I got it. We can fix this,” Zayne said, jumping to his feet, then helping Roxy stand.
He waited patiently until she had her bearings, effectively blocking out the obnoxious birds.
She couldn’t escape the desperate attempt in his voice to make things right. Taking a deep breath, open to any and all ideas to escape what she thought was certain doom, Roxy gave Zayne her full, most open-minded attention.
“Let’s pick up breakfast for them. That would seem natural, unobtrusive, right?” He paced the floor, zipping and buttoning his jeans.
So much for a recap of their nightcap.
Roxy fell into step beside him as they wore a path together into the refinished hardwood floors. “You mean unobtrusive, as in ‘we’re not just checking up on you to see who’s the stronger-willed, most wily of you, but rather just being neighborly and bringing coffee and croissants’?”
“Precisely.” Zayne stopped moving and took her shoulders between his hands. “What do you think, Princess?”
“My head hurts too bad to think period. We’ll just go with your plan.”
She took his hand, leading him on a scavenger hunt from the entryway, down the back hall to his bedroom, picking up pieces of their clothing as they found them.
Considering they had to face The Moms, providing the prima donnas had survived their initial meet and greet, Roxy and Zayne’s walk of shame took on a totally new dimension.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Frankly, even the thought of ringing her own door bell, considering the unknown state of affairs inside, scared the hell out of Roxy. Her body sizzled with anxiety as if it were filled with a string of firecrackers, lit and hissing their way to detonation.
“I don’t know why you’re ringing the buzzer instead of just punching in your code,” Zayne said, precariously balancing two bags of croissants and four sugar-free, vanilla mocha lattes with fat-free milk. “It’s your damn townhouse.”
“Listen, Buster,” Roxy snapped, using her best Rachel Bilson ala Adam Brody ass-chewing. “You got us into this mess. I’m getting us out. So pay attention. And if I want your opinion, I’ll ask.”
“Okay. Got it,” he said, not even bothering to contain a silly grin. “Would it be wrong for me to be looking forward to this in a small, inconspicuous way?”
“Yes, Zayne. It’d be wrong. Very, very wrong.” Keeping the part of her that wanted to laugh in check, Roxy glared.
She pressed the buzzer with her index finger then took a deep breath, sucking in so much air the bruise on her head throbbed back to life. She stared at the ground wishing she was small enough to hitch a ride on the big ass ant scurrying across the landing. Damn the bugs were big in Tennessee.
But nothing matched The Queen Bee answering her door.
“Hi. Mom. We thought you might like breakfast.” Plastering on a mega-watt smile, Roxy greeted the matriarch of misery.
“I don’t eat breakfast, Darling” her mother purred.
Keeping the door only half-open, her mom used her cosmetic perfect body to block the portion ajar, as if her daughter who happened to own the home shouldn’t be allowed access.
“But since you brought Starbucks, although it’s not quite Dean and DeLuca’s, I might reconsider, provided you’ve chosen non-fat dairy.”
Roxy cleared her throat and willed her tightly wound muscles to take her into her home, which now felt like an asylum for the socially impaired.
“Great, Mom,” Roxy lied her ass off then stood, waiting, anxiously looking at her monster of a mother.
Was the queen going to grant them safe passage or would they have to perform some impossible feat to gain access? As if her mother was the great and powerful Oz.
“Mind if we come inside to eat?”
Behind Roxy, Zayne coughed. Not once, but twice, evidently having something large blocking his airway.
“Zayne. Roxy, dear. I’m sorry. I was outback with the dogs and didn’t hear you.” Kat, wearing a gigantic, floppy-brimmed straw hat and without missing a beat, brushed Oz aside and greeted Roxy and Zayne with hugs. Taking the coffee from Zayne, Kat ushered them into the house. “Oh look, Lil, they brought us breakfast.”
Lil? This time, Roxy choked.
Hoping to get some sort of clue how bad a shape the battlefront was in, she looked at Kat with wide eyes. Kat winked and squeezed Roxy’s arms. At least The Moms were still alive and apparently speaking, Roxy surmised.
“Why don’t we eat in the garden, kids?” Kat suggested, opening the door to the garage and motioning for them to follow.
“I’m not much for eating outside,” Roxy’s mother, now named Lil, said. “I don’t enjoy insects touching my food or me.”
“Oh, nonsense,” Kat called behind her back, already opening the rear door of the garage into the garden. “The bugs and food issue I understand, but we’re eating under Roxy’s gorgeous canopy. That’ll help. As far as the bugs bothering you, well, not to worry. You aren’t sweet enough.”
Ouch. Kat hit a grand slam zinger.
Roxy looked at her mother, afraid of what she’d see. To her surprise, Lily kept her chin lifted, picked up her pace and whizzed past both her daughter and Zayne. Taking the hat off Kat’s head, Lily bee-lined for the canopied bistro table. Shooing Dipstick and Darling off two of the chairs, she plunked her tenacious ass at one of the place-settings.
Zayne, whose mouth had fallen wide open, was apparently too stunned at first to speak. As he handed Roxy the croissant bags and headed for the table, his face filled with deep red splotches.
“You can’t do that,” he said, swiftly snatching the hat back and handing it to his mother. “She’s under doctor’s orders not to get too much sun.”
Zayne looked at Roxy for help, begging her with most desperate eyes to do something. He tossed his hands into the air in complete surrender.
Roxy sighed, trying to steady her nerves, wishing she’d just faint. At least if she were out cold she’d find a temporary peace from the impending brouhaha.
Before she could think of anything witty to defuse the situation, Kat spoke. “Zayne, dear, don’t worry about me getting overheated. That’s more in line with Lily’s personality.”
If Roxy had a whistle, she’d have given it her all, blowing their eardrums and her mind free of the antagonistic banter. As it was, all she had were croissants. She could always pummel them with those bad boys.
“Come sit, Roxy, dear,�
�� Kat said while repeating Lily’s attempt to keep Dipstick and Darling off the chairs. Giving up, she took Dipstick in her arms, giggling as he licked her nose. She handed Darling to Zayne.
Zayne threw his head back in indignation, but eventually relaxed his shoulders and snuggled into the soft rolls of Darling’s neck as if trying to hide from the monsters surrounding him.
Roxy almost felt sorry for him until she remembered he was the moron who’d been the maestro of the mayhem.
“Let’s start the visit over, shall we?” Roxy dug around the croissant bag, serving each guest with a smile. Her false bravado, however, failed to convince even her that she stood a chance in hell of smoothing the stormy spirits taking over her Zen garden.
“I’d love to try that approach,” Kat said, passing out the coffees. “What do you say, Lil? Let’s pretend we’re friends.”
Roxy’s mother, apparently weighing her options, and for once, evidently unable to find anything better, said, “I suppose you’re right, Kat. With our children together, and with you and I working together, we should make the best of our circumstances.”
“Okay. Back up just a bit,” Roxy said, her mouth full of a mammoth bite of a perfectly flaky, ham and cheese toasted croissant that could damn well wait ’til she got The Mom’s shit straight.
Certain she’d misheard the conversation while trying to enjoy her breakfast, she swallowed her food. Desperate to make something good out of this day, and refusing to give-up, Roxy revisited her mother’s response. “First of all, yes, I am with Zayne, and I hope he finds a better side of you than what you’ve shown him this morning. And two, you can’t possibly be working with Kat, because she works for me.”
Roxy relaxed back into her chair. But the only satisfaction she’d gained from her soliloquy came from Zayne who gave her an atta girl thumbs up. Continuing to sip his coffee, he never uttered a word. Using the rim of his to-go cup as a barrier and safety net, his eyes followed the conversation.
