by Shauna Allen
I found Mom bustling around the kitchen, heavenly, Mom-like aromas bubbling from the stove. I snatched a roll from the basket and leaned down to kiss her before she could chide me.
“Hey, sweetheart. How was your day?” she asked, obviously ignoring my roll transgression as she stirred the pasta sauce.
“Good.” I took in the chaos around me. The family and love. It was awesome. “Better now.”
She offered me a smile and spoonful of homemade marinara.
“Delicious,” I assured her. As always.
“Son.” My dad joined us, stealing his own roll, which earned him my mother’s evil eye.
“Hey, Dad.” I faced my mom. “Can I help with anything?”
She shooed me off. “Just get yourself a drink and visit with everyone. Dinner’s almost ready.”
“Okay.” I ambled off and grabbed an orange soda from the fridge. I took a seat between Dwayne’s wife, Audra, and Leta, interrupting my sister in whatever girly crap she was talking about. She shot me a glare. “Hey, Sis.”
Her face melted. She could never stay mad at me for long. I winked at Audra and she blushed, but I was the only one who caught it. Luckily, Mom started setting the food on the table and that got everyone together. We served up and Dad said a quick blessing over the meal. Before we could dig in, Dwayne cleared his throat and stood. I smiled and sipped my drink, feeling like I was in on the secret.
“Before we eat, Audra and I have a little announcement.” His eyes darted to his wife, baby now in her lap, then to the highchair between them and the kiddie table behind us with the rest of his brood. “The Joyner family will be growing again.”
Audra had her face nuzzled to her baby’s head, but I could see her serene smile.
Mom gasped and pressed a hand to her mouth. Dad just grinned like the proud grandpa that he was. Leta squealed in typical Leta-fashion.
“Audra is pregnant again and baby number five is due next spring.”
Cheers erupted as he sat and placed a hand on his wife’s thigh.
I offered my congratulations along with everyone else, but something in me still felt removed. Like this happiness was not meant for me. But I sincerely wished nothing but the best for my brother. Even if he didn’t know when to quit.
After dinner, I helped Mom clear the dishes and began washing as everyone else congregated in the living room for a game.
Mom bumped me with her shoulder as we washed and dried in tandem. “Great news, huh?”
“Yeah.” I kept my gaze pinned to the bubbles.
She was silent a moment before asking, “How are you, Son?”
I shot her a glance. “I’m good. Why?”
Her eyes, as blue as mine, softened with motherly love. “A mother knows these things. Plus, you may be a grown man, but I still worry.”
“There’s nothing for you to worry about.” I put my energy back into scrubbing a plate.
She let it drop as we finished up, but before we joined the others, she stopped me. “If you need anything . . . want to talk about anything . . . you know I’m always here, right?”
I studied her, humbled by her unconditional love. But I would never burden her with the muck swirling through me. “Of course I do.”
She nodded once and we headed to the living room, where a game of Candyland was already underway. I sat beside my brother, his boys at his feet, and for once wondered if I could ever take my mom up on her offer. If I could ever confide in anyone in my family. They would be accepting, I was sure, but it was just too much for me to contemplate.
I watched my family play and laugh and I chatted with my brother for a while. I was suddenly struck by their tenacity. I hadn’t really considered how hard my time away in prison must’ve been on all of them, but they loved me through it, never once condemning me for my stupid, violent reaction. Especially Leta, who was the only one who truly knew what I was protecting her from . . . so maybe we shared a secret.
My family was a loyal bunch. Definitely not quitters, and full of love. Filled with this, I rose and strode to the back door, letting myself out onto the dark patio. Before I could change my mind or think it through too much, I yanked out my cell and dialed.
I inhaled deeply of the warm air, tasting a hint of the ocean. It calmed me a tad.
“Hello?” Rachel answered on the third ring.
“Hey.”
“Did you—?”
“Listen,” I interrupted her, needing to spit it out. “I want to apologize for bailing on you after I promised to work on your bike. I’m not a quitter.” I studied the decking and inhaled. “I’ll do it . . . if you still want me to, that is.”
I’d swear I could hear her thinking on the other end of the line. “Of course I still want you.”
I ignored the double meaning of her words and exhaled a relieved breath. “Good. Great. I’ll be there tomorrow at nine.” I grinned into the darkness. “And I’ll bring breakfast.”
Rachel
I slept soundly Friday night. I mean, like a dead person. Maybe it was knowing Jesse was coming in the morning, though that probably should’ve kept me up. No, I felt . . . content.
I’d even had a dream about my daddy, and it left me feeling warm and fuzzy, not sad, like usual. In my dream, he was pushing me higher and higher on a swing, making me giggle like he did when I was a little girl.
“Fly, baby, fly,” he’d said.
His broad smile was so sincere, it was impossible to not know how much he loved me. It was over quickly, but I was thankful to hear his voice again, even if it was in dreamland.
I rolled out of bed with a big stretch and padded to the kitchen to start the coffee brewing. I wondered what Jesse would bring for breakfast. Donuts? Something equally sweet? Delilah wasn’t kidding, the boy had a sweet tooth to rival any kid.
With my first cuppa joe in hand, I grabbed a quick shower then stood staring at my closet, debating what to wear. Stupid. Jesse wouldn’t care. But I cared what he thought, so in the end I decided on my favorite denim boyfriend pants because they made my ass look good and a frilly black babydoll. I glanced down, the black polish from my last pedicure was holding up well. All good. All that was left was a little mascara, lip gloss, and a spritz of cherry vanilla body spray. You know, to make me smell edible.
Right on time, the doorbell rang and I hustled to answer. Taking a breath to steady myself, I swung open the door. I fought to keep my jaw from the ground as I took in the magnificence that was Jesse Joyner. His hair had grown some, even since the last time I’d seen him, and he now sported adorable, messy blond curls around his nape and ears. His blue eyes were even more piercing than I remembered, or maybe that was just how he studied me. His jeans were worn and snug in all the right places, low on his hips. A faded Harley Davidson T-shirt clung to his chest and biceps.
His smile was devastating, probably because it was so rare, as he lifted the paper bag in his hand. “Hungry?”
Oh, yeah, I was hungry. “Famished.” I stepped back and indicated for him to come inside.
He brushed past, giving me a whiff of the manly, woodsy scent that must be his body wash. Moving to the kitchen with a swagger all his own, he set the food down and faced me. “Breakfast tacos all right?”
I made my way over and peeked in the bag, the mouthwatering scent of fresh eggs and tortilla filling my nose. “Perfect.” I glanced up with a small smile. “And here I thought you’d do jelly donuts or something.”
His eyes dipped a bit guiltily. “I thought about it. Figured you might not appreciate that.”
“Why not? I love fried dough as much as the next girl.”
“Yeah, well . . .” He offered me a foil-wrapped package as we sat at my bar. “Most girls want to watch their weight or some shit.”
“I’m not most girls.” I opened the taco, slathered it with picante sauce, and took a big bite.
“No. I guess you’re not.” He grabbed his own taco.
I offered him a drink then we ate companionably for a
while. I sat back with a sigh when my belly was full and sipped my coffee as I watched him polish off another taco. “So, why’d you change your mind?”
His eerie eyes caught mine as if I’d surprised him with my question. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, you told me you were no good for me. We kissed. You tried to pawn me off on your competitor. Now you’re here. What gives?”
Picking up his napkin, he wiped some sauce from his fingers, his attention focused on the task. Was he going to avoid the question? He finally met my gaze again. “I told you. I said I’d do it, so I will.”
I slid off my stool and got in his space. “That’s it?”
I did not miss the way his eyes strayed to my lips then back up. “That’s it. That’s all it can be.”
I cupped his cheek, loving the stubble he was sporting. “You sure about that?”
He gently drew away and stood. “No. But that’s how it’s gotta be, okay?”
It wasn’t okay, but I sensed his fear and even if I hated it, I understood his hesitation. He’d been through enough in his life already and he was gun shy. No matter how tough you were, pain wasn’t a good bed partner.
I nodded my agreement and moved to clear our trash.
“This your dad?”
I spun around, having expected him to have already escaped to the garage. He was focused on the picture of me and my dad stuck on the fridge. We were standing by his car, grinning like idiots, on my sixteenth birthday, my brand new driver’s license burning a hole in my pocket.
“Yeah,” I murmured as nostalgia filled me.
Jesse glanced over. “You look like him.”
So I’d heard. “I know.”
He looked again, as if memorizing the image. “You really loved him, didn’t you?”
“Yes, I did.” How could I not, when he was the only stable parent I had? It was just me and my brother and him against the world for as long as I could remember, and the world felt so empty without him sometimes. Rebuilding this bike felt like the very least I could do, both to honor his memory, and for my own sense of closure.
“Well . . .” Jesse stepped away from the fridge. “Guess I’ll get to work then.”
I nodded, still fighting my tears. “Sure.”
He walked away and closed the garage door quietly behind him, leaving me with my memories.
Close to lunchtime, after I’d cleaned up around the house, done a couple loads of laundry, and paced myself to keep from walking out to the garage a hundred times, I could stand it no more.
Quietly opening the door, I was struck dumb for the second time that day.
Jesse was crouched down in a squat, his attention riveted on some greasy bits in his hand, parts of the bike already lined up neatly on a piece of tarp on the ground. Sweat soaked his back, making his already snug shirt cling to him like a second skin, showing me the bunch and shift of his muscles.
He had earbuds in, attached to an iPod tucked into his back pocket, so he didn’t notice me, giving me ample time to stay back and admire the view. And what a view it was.
He shifted and his jean leg rode up . . . I swallowed a gasp as his ankle bracelet came into view. A sobering, stark reminder of his past.
Suddenly, he froze. He peered over his shoulder and caught me staring. I offered him a tiny smile, consciously avoiding looking at his ankle again.
He rose and killed his music, popping out his earbuds. “Hey.”
“Hey.” I cleared my throat. “I was wondering if you wanted some lunch?”
He shot a quick look back to the bike. “Nah. Not hungry.”
Ah, I saw what called to him. “You sure? Maybe something to drink and a sandwich? You’re working awfully hard out here.”
His boyish grin caught me off guard. “This isn’t work.”
“Oh.”
“But I will take you up on some water.”
We held eye contact for a couple seconds before I spun away back into the kitchen. I grabbed my biggest plastic cup, hoping he didn’t mind that it was pink with lips all over it, and filled it with ice water. I slapped together a ham and cheese and brought it all out to him.
“I know you said you weren’t hungry, but, well . . .” I offered him the paper plate and water.
He nodded his appreciation and accepted them both, taking a giant chug. I watched his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed. My gaze flitted up as he studied my pink cup, a bemused expression on his face. “Thanks,” he said, then sat on the concrete right there next to my bike and crossed his legs Indian-style to eat.
“You can come inside, you know.”
He shrugged. “This is great. Plus, I’m all sweaty. Don’t want to stink up your pretty house.”
Warmth unfurled in my chest. He thought my house was pretty?
Taking a chance, I plopped down next to him, letting my knee bump his. When he glanced over in confusion, I leaned in and stole a bite of his sandwich. I kept my eyes on his while I chewed. His gaze dipped to my lips then back up before he took his own bite.
I wondered if he’d say anything or ever acknowledge this pull between us as I sat there studying him. He just kept eating, his eyes on the food. After about a minute of that, he shifted and held the corner of his sandwich up to my mouth in a silent offer. I took a nibble, being sure to bite right where his lips had just been.
He watched me chew, swallow, his eyes growing darker.
We continued this game until the sandwich was gone. He picked up his water and took a long sip, again offering me some. I shook my head and waited to see his next move. He was like gasoline to my fire . . . we went together and it was a bit dangerous, but I couldn’t combust without him. I should’ve probably heeded his warnings and steered clear, but I couldn’t.
Suddenly, before I could take another breath, he was on me. Swooping in like a hawk, he possessed my mouth in a bruising kiss, his hands cupping my head so I was captive to him. His tongue was still cool from the water as it slid along mine, ripping through my mouth like he was starving.
I knew the feeling.
I groaned and he swallowed it with a deeper one of his own. I clung to his T-shirt, my fists clenched at his shoulders as I went along for the ride. Adjusting my position, I straddled his lap and ground a little into his pelvis. He was hard and willing and I wanted to melt right onto him like a coating of chocolate. He gripped my hips and pressed them down as his own automatically rose to meet mine, forcing a long moan to rip from deep in my throat. How long had I fantasized about this? And, God, the reality was so much hotter.
Panting, he drew back and dipped his head into the crook between my shoulder and neck, his hot breath puffing against my skin. I loosened my hold on his shirt and let my fingers wander to his nape, where I played with his hair. It was as soft as it looked and his tiny curls wrapped around my fingers.
I felt him relax beneath me, his heartrate slowing against my own. I sensed the shift in every one of his muscles as he tensed beneath me. Maybe because of our intimate position, or maybe I was already in tune with him, but I knew I needed to do something or risk losing this beautiful moment.
I planted a kiss to his temple and he leaned back to look at me. Emotions I could scarcely name or understand danced through his eyes. I cupped his jaw in one hand and ran my thumb along his lower lip. “Let me in,” I pled in a whisper. “Please. Tell me what’s haunting you.”
Jesse
When she looked at me that way, like she really understood, really cared, I wanted to talk. I really did. I’d just kept everything bottled away for so long, I didn’t know how.
I forced myself to loosen my grip on her since I was holding her like a drowning man with a life preserver, but she didn’t budge. Instead, right there in that muggy garage, she leaned into me and hugged me tight, her arms wrapped around my waist. Not quite sure what to do with this unexpected tenderness, I eventually let my hands rest on her hips as I inhaled the sweet scent of her shampoo. I hadn’t been this close to a woman in, well, years,
and it was a bit disconcerting. Rachel made me feel things I was sure I had no business feeling, but I couldn’t seem to stop it.
Her nose nuzzled my shoulder. “Please, Jesse, I’m dying to know you.”
“I can’t.” My words were a pained whisper from deep in my chest.
She said nothing, just gripped me tighter.
“I mean, I don’t know how,” I admitted, not sure why I was still talking.
Finally, she drew back and faced me. “You could start at the beginning.”
“I, uh . . .” I squeezed my eyes shut, popped them open again. “Beginning of what?”
“Anything. Tell me whatever you’re comfortable talking about.”
My brow furrowed as confusion set it. “You know all about me already. You’ve been around my family in one way or another since we were young. And surely you know the gory details of the last few years from Delilah.”
She pivoted off my lap and grabbed my ice water for a sip. “Yes and no. I mean, I know all the surface stuff, but I have no idea what’s going on in that gorgeous head of yours half the time.” She set my cup down and pinned me with her gaze. “Was it awful in prison?”
Was it . . . awful? That seemed like such a benign word for the shithole I was stuck in. “Yeah. It was prison.”
Her dark eyes didn’t waver. “Tell me.”
“Why do you want to know about that? About anything?”
“Because I care about you, Jesse, and in case you missed the memo, I’m after more than friendship with you.”
I heaved a big breath, ready to withdraw again, but she grabbed my hand and interlaced our fingers.
“Please,” she said again. “I’ve felt this way for a long time. It’s nothing new.” She blinked up at me. “I won’t hurt you. I swear I’d never do that.”
Hurt me? Was that what I was afraid of? Maybe, if I was being honest. But I was still more afraid of hurting her.
