by Freya Barker
“Be up as soon as I take care of the dogs. Don’t you dare fall asleep on me.” To emphasize his words he lays a long, heated kiss on me before letting me go.
I run upstairs, two at a time, heading straight for the bathroom to freshen up. I wish I had something sexy to wear; a flimsy nightie or some lace underwear, but sadly all I own is plain cotton. Functional, but not exactly high on appeal. In the end, I slip between the sheets stark naked. My skin is the sexiest thing I own.
When I hear him coming up the stairs, I roll over on my side, my back to the door, and pretend to be asleep. The door opens and I’m having a hard time trying to stay still as I hear a very quiet, but definitely heartfelt, “Fuck.”
I tense with the rustle of clothes and the clink of a belt buckle hitting the floor, and I stop breathing when I feel the mattress dip with his weight.
“A little tip,” his deep voice suddenly sounds right by my ear, as a hand slides over my hip and down between my legs, where he finds me wet already. “Don’t rub your thighs together when you pretend to be asleep.”
Grinning, I turn around and lift my leg over his hips, happy to discover he’s not wearing a stitch either. “I’ll make note of that,” I whisper, pushing up so I’m straddling him.
His hands slide from my hips up to cup my breasts. “Although I’m not complaining about all this skin. You’re so fucking beautiful.”
I brace myself on his chest, lean down, and kiss him. As I rock my hips against him, I slick his length with the wetness between my legs, and catch his growl down my throat.
“You’re killing me, Sweets,” he groans, ripping his mouth from mine as his fingers press into my waist. “Ride me.”
“Yippy-ki-yay,” I whisper before filling myself with his cock.
Rafe
The moment we walk into the house, I can tell word has gotten around Eminence.
Ed seems uneasy as he lets us in and Sarah is banging pots and pans around in the kitchen.
“Sarah! The kids are here,” he yells, as Spencer attaches himself to his leg.
“I can hear that, Ed,” comes her snippy reply. I look over to find Taz’s wide eyes on mine.
“Grandma!” My son lets go of his grandfather and barrels toward the kitchen.
“Hey, my beautiful boy,” I hear her coo. “Did you have a good time?”
Spencer doesn’t let an invitation to talk go by, and happily launches into a play-by-play of the past week. Sofie wanders into the kitchen as well.
“Wanna pour us a drink, Rafe? Beer for me.” Ed sinks down in his easy chair, patting the armrest of the couch beside him. “Come sit by me, Baby Girl.”
“Beer for me too. How are you doing, Dad? Been feeling okay?” Taz asks, taking her father’s hand in hers.
“Hanging in. Getting a little nervous about the surgery.”
I leave them talking and slip into the kitchen where I find Sarah examining the single dread Sofie asked Taz to twist in her hair a few days ago.
“You’re okay with this?” she asks me sharply.
“I am. Sofie asked for it, and I told her she could have one small one.”
“My hair is too short,” Spencer volunteers. He’d wanted a dreadlock as well.
“Anyway…” I lean down and kiss Sarah’s cheek, “…hello to you, Mom. I’m getting drinks, can I get you one?”
At least she looks duly chastised. “Yes, please. I’ll have my port.”
I pour her drink first, setting her glass next to the stove where she is lifting a lid from the Dutch oven. Then I pull three beers from the fridge and hand one each to the kids. “Can you drop these off for Grandpa and Taz, please? I’ll be right in. Try not to spill.” I wait until the kids are gone before stepping up beside Sarah, putting my arm around her tense shoulders as I peek into the pan. My mouth waters when I recognize her braised pork chops and onions.
“Kids seem to have had a good time,” she says stiffly.
“We all did. It was a great week.”
She grunts in response. I let go and turn, leaning my butt against the counter, and crossing my arms over my chest.
“We’re not pregnant.” Her eyes dart my way. “We’re not having a baby. Yet.”
“Jesus, Rafe,” Taz snaps from the doorway. “That’s how you’re taking care of it?” She grabs a roll of paper towel from the counter and turns to Sarah. “Mom, I know the gossip mill must’ve been buzzing, seeing as Sheila seemed very interested in our girls’ night out at Salty’s yesterday, but please don’t believe everything she says.”
“I’m not ready for that,” Sarah mumbles, her voice wobbling.
Taz shoves the paper towels at me. “Spencer spilled some beer in the living room.”
“Got it.” I take the roll and head out of the kitchen, knowing when I’ve been dismissed. A quick glance back shows Taz slipping her arm around her mother’s shoulders.
“Everything okay in there?” Ed asks when I bend down to mop up the spill.
“It’s all good.” I throw him a quick smile before asking, “Where are the kids?”
“I wasn’t sure if you wanted them within earshot, so told them they could watch TV in our bedroom.”
“That’s fine, Dad. Thanks. But there’s nothing for them to hear; you’re not going to be a grandfather again for a while yet. One step at a time, yeah?”
“That woman oughta have her lips stapled together,” he grumbles, shaking his head.
“Don’t tempt me,” I warn him on a chuckle. “If Sheila Quinn doesn’t have shit to stir, she creates some.”
I take the wet towels into the kitchen to find Taz and her mom in much the same position, talking softly. When I toss them in the garbage, she winks at me over her mom’s shoulder and I quickly make myself scarce again.
Dad seems pensive when I sit down on the couch and take a swig of my beer.
“You know…” His eyes sparkle when he turns them on me. “…I can’t figure out whether to be glad or disappointed.”
Chapter Thirty-One
Taz
“How is Mrs. Myers?” I ask Mom when she walks through the back door.
The past few weeks have been a little crazy driving back and forth to Springfield for Dad’s surgery and the follow-up procedures, and getting the kids ready to go back to school. Poor Rafe’s birthday got lost in the shuffle, so we’re having a do-over today.
Mom and I have spent a lot of time in each other’s company since the non-pregnancy debacle. The long hours at the hospital, waiting for news on Dad, allowed for some good talks that went a long way to bettering our relationship. It’s still a work in progress, but I think we each have a better understanding of the other. Of our inherent differences at the root of all our past problems.
I’ve come to the conclusion, had I not left all those years ago, we likely would’ve worked those issues out along the way. We’ve covered a lot of ground these past few weeks, most of it by simply spending time in each other’s company.
Today Rafe is scheduled to be out all day doing his quarterly visits, courtesy of Lisa. I enlisted her help to make sure he’d be gone. The new leather sectional the kids and I picked out for the living room is scheduled to be delivered around noon, and I want to have it set up before he comes home. The thing is big enough to seat all of us comfortably, and then some. It may be a weird birthday gift, but as Sofie pointed out with her eight-year-old wisdom, her dad would like nothing better than to be able to snuggle up with all of us at once.
She’s right.
“Happy as a clam with her new cat,” Mom answers, tying on her apron and unloading the rest of the contents of the tote bag she brought in. “That was nice thing for Rafe to do.”
The family who owned the young cat discovered their daughter was allergic and had asked Rafe if he knew anyone who’d want to adopt it. He thought of Mrs. Myers.
“It was,” I confirm. “A cat is probably a better fit for her than a dog.”
“Let’s hope she doesn’t send it to an early gr
ave as well,” Mom grumbles. “She was letting it lick butter off a plate when I got there this morning.”
“Rafe says cats are more likely to stop eating when they’re full.” I start putting ingredients on the counter while I wait for the fresh pot of coffee to brew.
“Fingers crossed,” she says, while greasing the cake pans she brought. “Kids off to school okay?”
“Yup. They both love their new teachers and are eager to go. It’s funny, I remember hating school at Sofie’s age. Nicky used to love school too.”
“You just had trouble sitting still,” Mom says, smiling wistfully. “You were always more interested in learning through exploration than from books.”
We work in silence for a while, surprisingly in sync as we put together the batter for Rafe’s favorite; Black Forest cake. When Mom slides the pans in the oven, I pour us a coffee.
“Dad still doing okay?” I ask when we sit down at the kitchen table while waiting for the cakes to bake.
“He is. I still can’t quite believe that since the last appointment this past week, he hardly has any tremor left. He certainly walks a lot steadier. According to him, his mind is less muddled too, although I suspect that may be wishful thinking. It’s not like his mind was ever that clear.”
I chuckle along with her, amazed and thrilled with the easy camaraderie we’ve developed. I never would’ve thought Mom and I could be like this. I still catch her observing when Rafe and I are in the room, but I figure she needs time to adjust to the idea of us together. We, in turn, try to be respectful in the way we interact. I’m sure it’ll take my parents a little longer to adjust than it did the kids.
“Did I hear him mention something about the Florida Keys the other day in the doctor’s office?”
Mom rolls her eyes. “Now that he’s doing better, he’s determined to drive the RV down right after Christmas and spend the winter down there.”
I smile at her. “So he’s not done traveling yet after all. Are you okay with that?”
“Considering his first choice was Alaska during that same time period, I’d say absolutely. I’d rather be roasting on a beach somewhere than get frostbite traipsing through the wilderness.”
The doorbell rings just as Mom pulls the pans from the oven, and I run to open the front door to the delivery guys.
After the kids left on the bus and Rafe drove off, Lisa helped me move the old couch out. Good thing both of us have decent upper body strength, because that thing was heavy. It’s out behind the garage for now, until we can haul it to the dump. Lisa ended up taking Lilo and Stitch over to the clinic for the day, so they wouldn’t be underfoot, and I pushed the other furniture out of the way to make room.
“Looks good,” Mom says, admiring the couch as I close the front door. “I’m sure Rafe will love it.”
I sit down, running my hands over the tan leather. “Come try it,” I encourage Mom, who sinks down beside me.
“Comfy.”
“Right?”
“It’s big,” she notes.
“I know. It’ll fit us all.”
I’m surprised when she blindly grabs my hand, her eyes staring off in the distance.
“With room to grow,” she says softly.
Mom and I have finished putting together some appetizers when I hear Rafe’s truck door slam shut. The kids are already opening the front door by the time I come out of the kitchen.
“Happy birthday, Daddy!” Spencer yells at his customary volume and latches himself onto one of Rafe’s long legs. Sofie takes up the other side with her arms wrapping around his hips.
“I already had my birthday, guys,” he corrects them, somewhat bemused. His eyes find me, before drifting over my shoulder into the living room, taking in the balloons and streamers the kids helped us put up after school.
“We got you a new couch,” Sofie shares and he glances down, stroking a hand over her hair.
“I see that, Pipsqueak.”
His eyes come back to me as he untangles himself from the kids and steps up to me, wrapping an arm around the small of my back, tugging me close.
“Happy birthday,” I barely get the words out, as his mouth is already closing over mine.
His kiss has my bare toes curl on the cool hardwood under my feet, and is barely appropriate in front of the kids. When he lifts his head I’m almost swaying on my feet. “Thank you, Sweets,” he mumbles, and I have to grab on to his shoulders for stability.
A soft chuckle belonging to my dad behind me slams me crudely back to earth.
Fuck—my parents. So much for being careful.
However, when I turn, Dad is wearing a grin, but it’s my Mom’s soft eyes that hit me.
Rafe
To say I was surprised when I walked in the door would be an understatement.
Not only had my birthday already passed, but I never really considered it a big deal, simply another year older.
I’ve certainly never had anyone go to this kind of trouble before. Of course, we’ve always made sure the kids’ birthdays were special, but adult birthdays were usually just marked with a card, a cake, and maybe a small gift. Taz definitely raised the bar this year.
I don’t doubt this is all her doing, and I’m moved at her efforts to make it special. What’s even better is she managed to involve everyone, including her mother.
I’d been even more surprised when Meredith and Andrew, Brent and Kathleen with the kids, and even Lisa and her partner, Beth, showed up fifteen minutes later.
Dinner had been served buffet style, with bodies all over the house and yard. All to the great delight of Lilo and Stitch, who were in constant motion looking for attention or spilled food.
“What’s this I hear from Kathleen, you’re thinking of renovating the upstairs?” Brent asks, when we’re having coffee and cake.
I wince when I see Ed’s head snap up. Shit. I haven’t had a chance to inform my in-laws of my plans yet. It was their house for decades before I bought it, and I would’ve liked to have broached the subject with a little more care.
“Thinking about it,” I confirm. “Just playing around with the layout.”
“Got something to show us?” Ed pipes up, and I scrutinize him for any disapproval, but all I see is curiosity.
“I’ll grab the sketch,” Taz says from behind me, putting her cool hand to my neck.
I showed her my new plans a few days ago. I turn to watch her walk from the kitchen and catch Sarah’s eyes, who’s standing by the sink and clearly overheard the exchange. She seems to catch herself and busies herself refilling coffee cups.
A few minutes later, all of us are bent over the rough drawings Taz put in the middle of the dining table.
“Of course I’ll get an architect to see if this is even feasible and do up a proper plan,” I offer apologetically, “but this is the gist of it.”
“I like it,” Brent announces, looking at the original layout versus the proposed one. “It’s a more economic use of space. Other than the plumbing that needs to be relayed—which is a good-sized job—it’s a matter of relocating walls and doors to end up with the same number of bedrooms but an additional bathroom.”
“When do you want to start the work?” Ed asks.
“I would first have to get drawings done, get some quotes for the work. I don’t think it’ll be before the winter.”
“Do you need it?” The question comes from Sarah who has been looking over her husband’s shoulder. “The extra bathroom, I mean? It seems like a lot of money you’ll have to fork out to end up with the exact same number of bedrooms.” She pulls the sketch toward her and points. “If you wanted to do something new with the master suite, all you have to do is move the wall of the walk-in closet farther into the room so it has an extra window. If you add a door straight out to the landing, it could be a home office, or at some point a perfect nursery.”
I feel Taz’s fingers dig into my shoulder, and I’m pretty shocked myself.
“And you’d still have an extr
a bedroom to fill,” Kathleen adds, grinning ear to ear.
“Sounds like common sense to me,” Andrew volunteers, as he cuts off another piece of cake, ignoring Meredith’s hissed, “Andrew!”
“Except, Sofie’s already been promised her own bathroom.” Taz’s soft reminder draws my attention to my daughter, who I hadn’t noticed coming in from outside.
It warms my heart when Sofie smiles at Taz brightly before sharing, “I’d rather have a baby sister than a bathroom.”
“Brother!” Spencer, who heard his sister, argues.
“Sister,” Sofie insists. “‘Cause I don’t wanna share a bathroom with two stinky brothers.”
Before the two continue their bickering, Sarah intervenes. “If Andrew doesn’t mind sharing; anyone else for another piece of cake?”
Taz and Kathleen dissolve in giggles as Meredith elbows her husband in the ribs, causing him to blurt out, “Ouch! What the hell’d’ya do that for?”
“So what do you think?”
It’s long after everyone’s left and both the kids and the dogs are asleep. Taz is tucked to my side on my kickass new couch and we’re watching the last hour of Live PD.
I immediately know what she’s referring to.
“I should ask you that question.”
“Mom’s suggestion makes sense.”
“It does,” I confirm.
“But even if it didn’t,” Taz continues, “the mere fact she suggested it, makes me think that’s exactly what we should do.”
“Are you sure?”
“Positive.”
I bend down and kiss her softly, grabbing a handful of her dreadlocks to hold her head in place when I pull back. I touch my forehead to hers.
“I don’t think of the years behind us as time wasted anymore, it only makes me appreciate what I’m building with you even more. I could not in my wildest dreams have imagined it could get this good. You make my life beautiful, Natasha.”
