I could hear Thatcher rummaging in his kitchen through the open screen door and I resisted the urge to go inside and help him set the table. I sat there a few more moments watching Thayer, trying desperately not to think about this difficult predicament I was in with nowhere to go. Sure, I had friends. But none I felt I could impose on for an indefinite period of time. Finally, my manners got the best of me.
“Thayer, I’m going in to help Thatcher. We’ll just be in the kitchen.”
He managed to look up and wave and I went through the screen door.
“Would you like me to set the table?”
Thatcher was bent over in the kitchen, his head halfway inside a cabinet door, giving me a nice look at the way he filled out those worn jeans. I sucked in a breath, waiting patiently for an answer, trying not to stare at his butt. I couldn’t help it. The denim was snug against him and damn, if I wasn’t getting myself all worked up again.
I turned away from him, not fully understanding every emotion flowing through my body. Sadness. Lust. Anger. Resentment. Temptation. Excitement. All rolled into this giant meteor that could explode at any given time.
“We can eat on the patio. You’re not going anywhere, Abigail. So we’re clear. I gave Adrian my word I’d look out for you and Thayer. Not going back on it now. Settle in. You’ll find you like it.”
He gave me this wicked grin that made his eyes sparkle and my insides melt. Truth is, I probably would like settling in here with him. Although I wasn’t going to let that happen. Not after he betrayed Thayer and me. Not after he gives everyone around him his word and he never gives it to me, never does anything for me or in my favor, never puts aside his loyalty for Adrian to put me first – not even when he got me pregnant. I’m sure I’d like settling in, but as far as I could tell, I wasn’t about to let that happen.
“You coming to eat?” He stood at the open screen door, holding plates and utensils, napkins and somehow, two bottles of beer and a soda. He had that dark glint in his eyes that drove me wild and my mind wanted to run away from him, but my growling stomach had me stepping toward him instead.
“When do I get a ride on your four-wheeler?” Thayer asked the second Thatcher set our dinner down on the wooden picnic table.
Thatcher glanced up at the sky for a brief second, “I reckon I might be able to take you for a quick ride before it gets too dark. Is that going to be okay with you, Abigail?”
I took a deep breath, studying him as my mind raced with all these thoughts and questions. How could I not allow my son’s father to take him on his first four-wheeler ride? No matter if my insides were feeling a little squeamish at the idea of little Thayer on the back of that big machine. Even though Thatcher wanted nothing to do with us in the family sense, I trusted him. I knew he wouldn’t allow Thayer to get hurt. Despite whatever happened between us, I knew that with all my heart.
“Can I Mama? Can I?”
“Sure. But settle down and eat now, okay? We’ve had a long day and I don’t know about you but my stomach is growling.”
“So is mine.”
Not much was said over dinner. I drank my beer and noticing Thatcher hadn’t touched his, I drank his too, not letting the stormy glint in his eyes deter me. The cool liquid felt so good in the August heat. Every so often, I could feel his eyes on me and I chose to ignore it, trying hard not to look at him. My second beer was making me feel a bit bold and I was thankful when Thatcher announced it was time for their ride, stopping me from saying something I shouldn’t.
While he took Thayer to the garage, I busied myself with cleaning up our dinner. Being a guest in his home it was the least I could do. It didn’t ease my thoughts though. I hadn’t been around Thatcher for this long in quite some time – let alone alone with him. Even though I was trying to keep the past in the past, all these old emotions were just on the surface bubbling inside of me. How had we gone from great friends, to lovers, to strangers? Why did he leave me when I got pregnant? I thought we were on to something great back then, that our relationship held promise; had he not felt that way at all?
I’ve always felt like there was something between Thatcher and I, that smoldering look in his eyes when I was around – I remembered that look. It was the “lava bubbling to the top of the volcano, threatening to spill over” look. Neither one of us have ever acted on anything since Adrian and I got married. However, something was still there present between us. Stifling. Thick. Red hot. Desire. That’s what it was. I may not have had sex in five years, but I darn well recognized the need.
I laughed out loud, wondering what Thatcher would think if he knew he was the last guy I’d slept with, the last guy and the only guy. Ever. A shiver raced up my spine as I loaded his dishwasher. I clenched my sex in response to those far-off memories, that somehow, still managed to get me worked up.
The rev of the four-wheeler spooked me like I’d been caught and I made my way outside to watch Thayer on his first ride. I halted at the sight before me. Thatcher had Thayer nestled in between his legs, his large, broad body a shield for my little guy. My heart twitched a little at how much they looked alike. Thayer waved at a me, a gigantic smile on his face. I smiled back. My eyes traveled north to Thatcher and he was smiling, too. Not a forced smile this time. A full-on, panty-dropping smile that had me pressing my palm flat against my chest in an attempt to quench the foreign feeling that was threatening to spill out.
Thatcher drove around the front yard and headed along the outside perimeter of his backyard fence. I ran to the side of the house to follow them with my eyes in order to see where they were going. The sun was settling in to the horizon now and I had to remind myself that Thatcher did know what he was doing driving that thing. The mom in me I’m sure. When they became a small dot against the lush green landscape, I went back inside.
I didn’t have to wait for long before I heard the door from the garage open and in came Thatcher carrying a sleeping Thayer.
“The big ride wiped him out.”
“I can take him.”
“No. I can carry him up to the bedroom.”
I followed Thatcher upstairs and pulled back the covers, quietly moving out of the way so he could lay him down. I watched him take off Thayer’s shoes and then pull the covers up to his chin. So gentle. He hesitated a moment and then slowly his large hand came out and brushed a lock of Thayer’s hair away from his forehead. Our eyes met and held, his that same stormy blue I’ve come to find a present during the entire day we’ve been here.
I looked away, down at my baby and my heart ached all over again. Not for what could have been between the three of us, but for Thayer. What with the fire and the divorce, Thayer was handling it better than I expected. He didn’t seem too upset about much of anything, not even his Spider-Man blanket, which was never far from his reach at home. He hadn’t brought it up once all day since we’d got here and the idea that my baby was going to school soon, had my heart breaking all over again.
“I’ll be downstairs.”
I nodded in agreement a little too late as I could already hear Thatcher’s boots padding down the hallway. He just assumed I was going downstairs, too. Probably so we could re-hash our discussion about my divorce. Something I wasn’t all too eager to do. Might as well get the rest of it over with since tomorrow I was going to find a new place to stay.
I kissed Thayer’s sleeping face, shut the lights off and walked down the stairs in search of Thatcher. I didn’t have to go far. The smell of citronella wafted in the air making its way through the screen door and I could see his shadowy figure sitting in his Adirondack chair with a bottle of beer perched to his lips, his head tilted back in a swallow.
“I got you beer, Abigail. Come outside. It’s time you and I have a chat.”
My skin broke out in goosebumps at the rough tone in his voice but I squared my shoulders and made my way outside. Spider-Man still lay near his feet inside the bin, enjoying the warm night air no doubt. He unscrewed the bottle cap off my beverage and hand
ed it to me, his eyes never looking in my direction.
To hell if I was saying anything. This was my life. My divorce. I did what Adrian wanted me to do, I told Thatcher. So there. I could be stubborn when I needed to be and this, out here in the beautiful quiet country with a storm brewing inside Thatcher, is when I needed to be.
“Why the divorce, Abigail? Don’t play games with me.”
“I already told you it wasn’t working out.”
“For you? For him? I want details.”
“Why do you even care, Thatcher?”
“Because I do.”
I glared at him even though he had yet to look at me. Sure, he cares. Since when had he started caring? Not when he decided it was best for us not to be together.
“Why? Why do you care? Explain that to me and I will be happy to tell you anything you want to know about Adrian and me.”
He was silent for a long time. I was extending one more chance to him. As much for him as for me, because I wanted to matter to him. Deep down, I wanted to be important. I wanted to be someone he cared about and gave his word to and someone that he was loyal to. I know it was silly considering I couldn’t trust my heart with him.
Finally, he looked at me. I could see the reflection of the flames from the citronella candles burning in his eyes. One golden-yellow flame in each eye, shadowing his stormy blue eyes and this time I couldn’t decipher what he was thinking. Probably some way to explain that he only cared because Adrian was his friend or something else that was less-than-desirable for me to hear.
His Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat as he took a long swallow of his beer. I looked away. Disgusted at myself for all the ways I allowed this man to drive me crazy. His throat, for crying out loud! The memories burned much like those citronella candles, imprinted in my mind for good. If I thought hard enough, I could still feel the heat of his chest pressed against mine, the warmth of his breath as he whispered his dirty talk into my ear.
Abruptly, I stood making a move to go back inside. I didn’t need this. All I was doing was hurting myself. His arm darted out in front of me, pressing against my thighs.
“Don’t go,” his gravelly tone pleaded.
“Why should I stay, Thatcher?”
“Because I’m asking you to.”
“If I stay, I want answers. Think you can handle that?”
“I’ll get us another beer.”
Chapter Seven
Thatcher
Can I handle this? I can. For sure. I don’t understand why I have the urge to go for another run then. Because I got this. What could she possibly want answers to that she doesn’t already have? The real reason I left her. That was one. I could think of a few more. Knowing this could be a long night, I grabbed my small work cooler from the mud room and packed it with the remaining beers I’d retrieved from the fridge.
I hated hurting her. I hated knowing she was hurt. Not just because of my past mistakes but because of the fire, her divorce and because of the fact that I was unwilling to share much with her. I hated that I was going to take her to court and attempt to gain custody of Thayer. I poured some ice into the cooler, trying to talk myself into the fact that I needed to give her more. Give her more than these one-syllable answers.
I know why I cared about her divorce, but the thoughts and feelings in my head sounded good only in my head. It was damn more difficult to say all the things I was feeling. Let alone to her. Besides, I’ve always wanted to be Thayer’s father, I’ve just been a pussy. With the terms of this will, it cemented something that was long over-due on my part. I grabbed the cooler and headed outside to find Abigail holding Thayer’s turtle. I stood beside her and watched as the turtle pressed his feet against her hands in an attempt to be free.
“If you hold him gently and let your fingertips feel, you can feel the life of him beating through the underside of his shell.”
“I’ll trust your word on that.”
She glanced up at me from her chair, those pretty green eyes sparkling in the moonlight. Her head was arched back slightly, that long, pale neck exposed to my liking and I was taken to another time. A night with the feel of it just like this one as we sat on the tailgate of my truck sharing a beer between us. Heated. Humid. A cloudless sky filled with stars and an almost-full moon. The heavy smell of jasmine permeated the air, a smell that to this day I associated with Abigail.
“I’ve never been with anyone else, Thatcher.”
“Never?” I knew she’d never been but fuck if I wasn’t dying to hear the confirmation come from her lips.
“No. Never. How will I know if…” She stopped, her voice trailing into the night sky. I gripped her chin with my thumb and forefinger, the rest of my hand easily cupping her neck as I forced her to look at me.
“How will you know what?” I demanded.
I could feel her swallow beneath my fingertips, holding the breath inside me as I waited for her answer. Her eyes searched mine looking for unspoken answers.
“How will I know if I’m doing it right?” she whispered.
My chest burst with this awkward sensation. It felt like all the stars in the sky were swallowing me whole, that I was being sucked into their orbit, into this world I didn’t know existed. A world I’d never experienced before until Abby. Love, my inner voice whispered. That’s what this was. All I knew in that moment, was Abigail Greenley was mine. All mine. And tonight, I was going to show her how much mine she was.
“Baby, there’s no doubt in my mind that whatever you do to me will be right.”
“Thatcher…”
“Shh, look at me. I’ll show you, okay? I’ll talk you through everything, tell you what I’m going to do, tell you what I want you do. Anything. Everything. To make this good for you. I promise.”
“I know it’ll be good for me.” She gave me that naughty-girl smile that she’d come to reserve strictly for me. She took a drink of our beer and licked the sheen off her top lip, “I’m worried it won’t be any good for you.”
I reached for her small hand firmly placing it against my zipper, “You do this to me, Abigail Layne. It’s all you, Baby. All the time. You’re all I can think about. The only touch I crave is yours. There is no way it won’t be good for me.”
“You promise, Thatcher? You promise me you’ll tell me if there’s something you don’t like?”
“Abigail-”
“Just promise me, Thatcher.”
“I promise. I promise you anything. Everything.”
“Are you afraid of the turtle?” Her voice brought me back to the present and my eyes shifted from her neck to the turtle in her out-stretched hands. My cock was so close to her forearm that if I moved only a slight bit, she’d be able to feel the semi-hard-on I was sporting.
“No. I’m not afraid of the turtle. I just don’t want to hold it. I’d rather drink another beer.”
“Oh my gosh, is big, bad Thatcher Patterson afraid of this harmless little guy?”
I shook my head in agitation and sat down, popping the top off my beer and gulping as much as I could to avoid her quizzical stare. Afraid of the reptile. Ha. I sure as fuck wasn’t admitting that to her. Besides, it wasn’t so much fear as it was…well, he’s plain scary-looking.
“I’m not afraid of him.”
“Yes you are.” Pure joy flashed across her face. The second smile tonight that was pure and genuine. Something inside me stirred. I wanted to see more of that smile.
“I can assure you, Cupcake, I’m not afraid of him.”
“You are! Hold him.” She leaned over in her chair, Spider-Man’s neck was stuck so far out of his shell, it was clear he was taunting me, too.
I raised my brow along with my beer bottle. Bringing the bottle to my lips in an effort to conceal the grin that was forming there.
“Not doing it,” I played with her.
“Spider-Man, can you believe what you’re hearing? I, for one, cannot believe my ears!” A deep belly laugh rumbled out of her throat, the night air sending
her laughter on for miles. She leaned back in her chair with that sexy smile still on her face. I tried to conceal my own grin as I watched her, wondering what else I could say to get that laughter tumbling out of her once again.
“You should laugh more often. Looks good on you.”
Silence descended upon us the second my words were out. She cleared her throat and set the turtle back into his bin.
“I better go wash my hands.”
“Abigail-”
“I’ll be right back.”
I relaxed into my seat, hoping she would come back. All turtle talk aside, I needed to get to the bottom of their divorce. I had to understand it. To hear the words from her that I was hoping I wouldn’t – that she’d been miserable for the last five years. Why? Just punishment perhaps? Maybe in some way it would confirm what an asshole I was. Maybe asshole that I still am. I don’t know. Abby fucks with my brain. Everything I’ve done in the past; I’ve done for her. I’ve done to make her happy. Happier than she would be if she were stuck with me.
Including having her and Thayer stay here with me tonight. Selfishly, I liked being the one to look after them. To protect them. It thrilled me to no end that it was me whose arms she ran into this morning, that it was me who was there to comfort them. Giving Adrian my word that I would take care of them was more self-serving than I’d ever let on.
She stepped back out onto the patio and sat in her chair and I handed another beer to her exchanging it for her empty one.
“Glad you came back.”
“I told you I would.”
“You have to level with me, Abigail. Have you been unhappy this whole fucking time?” I could hear the desperation in my voice, as if my livelihood depended on her answer.
“It wasn’t like that, Thatcher.”
“What do you mean, it wasn’t like that Thatcher?”
“I haven’t been unhappy this whole time.”
Wild: A Small Town Romance (Love in Lone Star Book 2) Page 6
