“Attention,” I repeated, my tone doubtful.
“Yes, attention,” she replied. “When a man gives us his full attention and treats us as if we’re the most important thing in the world to him—aside from his children—most of our other problems fall by the wayside. A man’s love can make all the difference in the world.”
I dropped my head, frustrated. “But Mickie knows I love her.”
She patted my arm. “But she wants your attention too, Dawson. When you’re there with her, she wants you to really be there with her. Not distracted by your work or buried under paperwork. I’m sure the kids feel the same way.”
Could that be true?
Had I been giving my family only part of my attention?
“Well, Mom,” I said, lightening the mood because I needed to get the topic off of me and all of my misgivings. “It seems you’ve been a fountain of wisdom all these years, and I haven’t taken advantage.”
She huffed out a breath. “No. If I was wise, I would have made much different choices in my life. I was a fool for too many years.” She pierced me with her gaze. “Don’t be a fool, Dawson. Family is our most precious gift in this world. Don’t lose yours like I have mine.”
Dammit. A lump formed in my throat.
I wrapped my arm around her and pulled her to me. “You haven’t lost us, Mom. You just lost yourself for a little while.”
We sat like that in silence for several minutes. It was peaceful and comforting. Soothing.
Healing.
“The nurses tell me you spend a lot of your time out here,” I said.
She straightened her shoulders and looked around us. “It’s quiet out here. It helps me think. Plus, picking flowers gives me something to do. I can only do so many psychological exercises to pass the time. They’re not as fun as they make them out to be.”
The corner of my mouth twitched. “Are you saying you’re bored?”
She held up the small bouquet. “Not out here when I’m doing this. I forgot how much I missed it.”
I considered my next words for only a second before I spoke. “Maybe I could bring Gabby and Leo next time I visit.”
Her head snapped up, her eyes wide. “Really?” she said, her voice so hopeful. “You would do that?”
I nodded. “It seems like you’re doing well. I’d like to see you continue to get healthy, Mom. We all would. And I think Gabby and Leo would finally like to meet their grandmother.”
Her mouth split into the biggest smile I’d ever seen from her, and the sight was astounding. She looked like a completely different woman when she looked happy.
“I would really like that, Dawson,” she said, her eyes filling with water. “Very much.”
“Good.” I looked down at my watch. “I need to get back and relieve Sage of babysitting duty.”
Mom handed me the little bouquet of daises. “I picked these for Gabby.”
I smiled and took it from her. “She’ll love them.”
She averted her eyes, looking nervous. “They reminded me of the picture you gave me when she was three. The one where she was in a yellow dress with daises in her hair.”
That was Easter Sunday two years ago. A great day when the four of us had all been together.
She pulled something out of her pocket and put it in my hand. It was an arrowhead. “I figured Leo wouldn’t be very happy if Gabby got something and he didn’t. I found that when I was out walking the other day. You can make up some elaborate tale about finding it in a cave that Native Americans used to live in. He’d probably think that was pretty cool.”
I met her gaze. “Or I could tell him it’s from his grandma. He’ll think that’s cool, too.”
Her face brightened once again. I leaned down and kissed her cheek. “‘Bye, Mom. I’ll see you soon.”
I was a few steps away when I heard her whisper-soft voice say, “I love you.”
She probably thought I hadn’t heard her.
I turned around and saw tears running down her cheeks. “I love you, too.”
Chapter Thirty-Three
Mickie
I implored the help of Sage to get me ready for the Boys in Blue Gala. For more than one reason.
One, I sucked at makeup application, and Sage was a veritable genius in that area.
Two, I was completely disheveled from work and the kids. I barely had enough energy to pour coffee down my throat in order to keep me awake, let alone style my hair into a fancy up-do.
Three, because Dawson had asked me at the last minute, I hadn’t had enough time to figure out what I was wearing, and I needed a fellow woman’s opinion.
So, that’s how I ended up still trying to decide on a dress at six o’clock on the night of the gala—a mere hour before Dawson came to pick me up. Sage had been offering her opinion of the dresses I’d quickly yanked off the BCBG sales rack earlier that day.
The only problem was, none of them were working. And I was starting to freak out.
“Where is your waist?” Sage asked from her sprawled position on my bed. She was assessing me in the latest dress with a semi-horrified expression. “Is that a freaking maternity dress? Because it looks like one.”
Frustrated, I spun around to look in my full-length mirror. Okay, yeah, so the frock was a little shapeless. And the lavender color really wasn’t doing anything for me. “It’s not a maternity dress,” I insisted. “It’s comfortable.”
“Ugh,” Sage grunted, dropping her head. “You did not just give me the ‘it’s comfortable’ excuse. Mickie, you’ve got a little firecracker body underneath all that material. Show it off.”
I sighed. That was easy for her to say. Sage had the confidence of twenty Victoria’s Secret models combined. I turned back to the other dresses on the bed and fingered the one on top.
“The red one wasn’t that bad,” I said.
She shook her head. “Don’t do satin. The underwear situation will be a real bitch to tackle with that clingy material.” Her eyes shot to mine, and she waggled her eyebrows. “Unless you want to go without underwear.”
I inwardly cringed. “I’d really rather keep the panties on.”
She sprung up from the bed and walked into the closet. “Let’s see what we’ve got in here.”
I snorted. “I don’t keep gowns in my closet,” I said. “If I did, we wouldn’t be in this current situation. I usually give the ones I’ve worn to past galas to one of my nurses. It’s not like I need to keep them.” I pulled out another dress from the pile. “I’m trying on the pink one again. I don’t care if you think it looked like something your grandmother wore in the 50s.”
“If you don’t keep gowns, then what’s this?” she called from the closet doorway.
I turned to see a black velvet floor-length gown dangling from her outstretched finger. “Oh, wow,” I exclaimed. I walked over and ran my finger down the soft material. “I completely forgot I had this.”
“It still has the tag on it.”
I remembered the day I bought it. “I was going to wear it for my birthday two years ago. Dawson had this big weekend trip to New York City planned. He was going to take me to the opera because I’d always wanted to go…like in Pretty Woman, you know?” She nodded, smiling. I tried to make myself smile but I couldn’t. “But we never made it.”
Her smile turned to a frown. “What happened?”
I shrugged and walked back to the bed, not wanting to be reminded of the disappointment I felt when I celebrated my birthday at home doing laundry instead of being in New York with my husband.
“You remember when those three college girls were murdered two years ago?”
Her eyes turned thoughtful. “Yeah. It was all over the news for months.”
I pulled the pink dress over my head. “Well, that was Dawson’s case. He was lead on it. And the day the cops arrested the killer was the day we were supposed to leave for New York.”
Her face softened in understanding. “Oh, Mickie…”
I ignored
her sympathetic tone. If I didn’t, my emotions might crush me. “With all the media coverage and the pressure from the mayor to put the guy behind bars, there was no way Dawson could have bailed then. So, he stayed and worked the entire weekend. He said he’d make it up to me and take me another time. But we just haven’t had the opportunity.”
She was silent for a moment, but I refused to look at her. I was afraid that what I might see there would make those emotions come bursting forth once again.
“That’s it, you’re wearing this,” she announced. She stomped over and shoved the black garment into my hands.
“Are you insane?” I screeched, trying to hand it back to her.
She just crossed her arms over her chest and stared me down. “What’s the matter with it?”
“I can’t wear this,” I said. “I’m a mother.”
“You were a mother two years ago when you bought it.”
I bit my lip. “Yeah, well. I was being impetuous.”
She rolled her eyes. “I don’t understand why women think that when they become mothers, they’re no longer allowed to dress hot and youthful.”
I threw the dress onto the bed. “Uh, because I’m almost thirty. And I’m not going to be that woman whose goods are hanging out when she’s dropping her kids off at school.”
She came up behind me in the mirror. “Oh my God, I’m not talking about dressing like it’s Spring Break 2017. The Daisy Dukes and crop tops can stay in our early twenties where they belong.”
She yanked on the pink dress, pulling the material taut around my waist. Oh, look. There’s my figure.
“I’m talking about showing off what you do have while still keeping all the bits and pieces covered. You have an hourglass figure and skin the color of melted caramel. Be proud of that. Take advantage of it while you can.”
She may have had a point. I mean, I was lucky my boobs still looked the way they did after two kids. But let’s face it, they were going to succumb to gravity at some point.
“That dress is too small, anyway,” I said, still grasping for excuses. “I’ve gone up at least one size in the last two years.”
She grabbed the dress off the bed and held it up in front of me. “Nope. Definitely not too small. You’ve just been wearing your clothes too big. If anything, it’ll just push the girls up a little bit more. But it’s not like Dawson’s going to complain about that.” She winked at me in the mirror.
After a little more coaxing, she was able to get me into the dress. And I wouldn’t lie, the sincere gasp she let out when I came out of the closet boosted my confidence a little.
“Holy shit, that looks incredible on you,” she said, practically squealing.
I smoothed my hands down my body. The bodice was cinched at my torso, the material knotting above my left hipbone, creating the illusion of a slimmer waistline. And it did squeeze my boobs together, creating more cleavage than I was used to, but it was still tasteful.
“I haven’t worn anything this tight in a long time,” I said, my uncertainty growing.
“And I can see why,” she said, making me frown. I jerked my head around to see her smiling like a Cheshire cat. “Because if you did, your husband would be in prison by now for killing all the men who tried getting a piece of the pie.”
A laugh burst from my lips, putting me more at ease. Looking satisfied with herself, Sage led me to the vanity and pushed on my shoulders until I sat.
“Now, if you think that dress will make Dawson’s heart stop, wait ‘til you see what I’m about to do next.”
Oh, shit.
Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea.
Chapter Thirty-Four
Mickie
I stood at the living room window, anxiously twirling my wedding band around my finger. Dawson was supposed to be here any minute.
But why was I so nervous?
Maybe it had to do with the fact that we weren’t living together. That he was picking me up and dropping me back off at the end of the night, with no promises of sex. Making this feel like an actual date, despite the ring on my finger.
Somehow, I knew this night was important.
How things went tonight would determine where our relationship would go next. Especially since this was the first night we’d be together—on a date—since I’d declared our phase of abstinence.
Yes, tonight was critical.
And that didn’t help ease my anxiety a single bit.
“Can I play dress up too, Mommy?” Gabby asked.
Even as she asked the question, she started pulling out all her Disney princess dresses and plastic high heels.
I shot a conspiratorial look in Sage’s direction. “You’ll have to ask Sage if she wants to play.”
I knew the poor woman was needing a break from dress up, since that seemed to be the only game my daughter ever wanted to play. I still smiled when Sage glared at me, though.
“Can we, Sage?” Gabby pleaded.
“How about we play Pie in the Face?” Sage suggested.
Both of my kids’ eyes widened to the size of grapefruits. “Yeah!” they both screamed. Sage smirked at me as if to say Ha, I win! I just shrugged and said, “You’re cleaning up the mess.”
She smiled, as if relieved. “At this point, I’ll take it.”
Leo suddenly stood up and walked over to me, a shy grin forming. “You look really pretty, Mommy.”
I thought my heart was going to burst. My lower lip quivered as I fought the tears. “Thank you, sweetie.” I knelt down to squeeze him into a hug and kiss every inch of his little cheeks.
“Eww!” He wiped his arm across his face. “You’re getting cooties on me!”
I laughed and smoothed his hair out of his face just as I heard a car door shut outside. I darted back to the window to see Dawson decked out in a black tuxedo, his hair neatly combed, with a clean-shaven face. Even his shoes looked polished.
Damn. My man looked like James freaking Bond. Only better. Because James Bond had a watch with a spy camera in it.
But Dawson had handcuffs.
Why did I say we shouldn’t have sex? I couldn’t remember now. In fact, it sounded like the most idiotic idea I’d ever had.
When I opened the door, he made a noise as if all the air had whooshed out of his lungs. His hand was frozen on his tie where he’d been adjusting it, and he was standing there immobile like a marble statue. The only part of him that was moving were his eyes as they slowly raked over my body, taking in every inch.
“Holy shit,” he said on a strangled breath.
He looked at a loss for words, and damned if that didn’t make me feel like the sexiest woman on the planet. Maybe allowing Sage to take over had been a good idea.
“Yeah?” I asked, allowing my smile to break free.
His eyes finally found mine. “I—” He licked his lips. “My God, Mick. You’re stunning.”
I made a show of letting my eyes track down his body. “You’re looking pretty good yourself, Detective.”
His forehead scrunched as if he were in pain. “You know what calling me that does to me. So, if you want that dress to stay in one piece tonight, I’d refrain from it.”
The devious side of me rubbed her hands together in satisfaction.
The horny side of me was currently kicking my own ass.
I slipped my black clutch under my arm. “Duly noted.”
We kissed the kids goodbye and thanked Sage again before heading out. The car ride was a bit tension-filled. Our sexual frustrations were crackling in the air around us. I got so hot at one point I had to blast the air conditioning right in my face. I knew that if sex was off the table, we were going to have to find a way to get through this night without our pent-up desires driving us totally crazy.
When we arrived at the gala twenty minutes later, I still didn’t have an answer for how to do that.
He helped me out of the car and looped my arm through his as he led me to the entrance. “By the way,” he said, leaning in to whisp
er in my ear. “You know I prefer your hair down. At the end of the night, when I’m giving you your goodnight kiss, I’m going to take all those damn pins out of your hair. I’m looking forward to it, actually.”
I tutted my tongue. “You know better. No sex, remember?”
He continued to speak in a low voice even after we entered the ballroom, keeping the conversation for our ears only. “I didn’t say sex. I said a kiss. And I didn’t say where the kiss was going to be.”
I clutched his arm in a knee-jerk reaction, my belly clenching. When I peeked up at him through my lashes, the devil himself couldn’t have looked more fiendish.
“Is that so?” I asked.
Could he tell I was dying to hear the answer?
He eased my arm out from under his, and placed his hand on my lower back, pretending to guide me through the crowd. Then his hand slipped to my butt, giving it just a hint of a squeeze and drawing a small gasp from me.
He chuckled under his breath.
Oh, yeah. He could tell.
“Let’s just say that slit in your dress is going to come in real handy later,” he growled in my ear.
Son of a bitch.
When I’d told him I wanted the excitement back in our relationship and for him to put forth more effort, I should have considered how devastating he could be when he really put his mind to something. I should have recalled how many orgasms he’d given me before we’d ever had sex, back when we were dating.
I should have remembered how tempting the man was.
And how little self-control I tended to have around him.
I could feel my cheeks flush, and I had to stop myself from using my hand as a fan. I was still trying to get my reaction under control when Dawson raised his arm and waved to his partner, Kyle, who was approaching from across the room. I prayed my naughty thoughts weren’t being advertised on my face.
“Hey, Cruzes,” Kyle said in greeting. He shook hands with Dawson and leaned forward to kiss me on the cheek. “Looking good, Mickie.”
Always Mickie (Cruz Brothers Book 3) Page 18
