Tinsel

by Devney Perry

  She leaned into my body, deepening the kiss. Her hands drifted down to my ass, squeezing hard. “Want to show me your bedroom again?”

  I grinned against her lips. “After dinner.”

  “I’m not hungry.”

  “Then we’d better go back to Logan and Thea’s.”

  “Oh.” Her hands dropped away from my sweats. She backed away, her gaze falling to the floor. “O-okay. Right. I should get back. Get some sleep.”

  I took her hand, pulling her back into my arms. “You’re sleeping here. I just thought you might want to stop by and pick up a change of clothes for tomorrow.”

  “You’re not kicking me out?”

  “Until you leave for New York, you’re in my bed. You good with that?”

  She smiled. “Perfect.”

  With Sofia staring out her window of my truck, I drove us through the quiet streets of Lark Cove. Most people were probably at home, enjoying the holiday. It had snowed this morning and the streets hadn’t been plowed. Ours was the only set of tire tracks in the fresh powder.

  “I haven’t spent much time on this side of town.” Sofia scanned the homes as we passed them by.

  “It’s where most people who are here year-round live.”

  The highway divided Lark Cove in two. Most of the homes along the lake were larger and owned by people who came here for summer or winter vacations. But the locals and businesses were located on my side of town.

  The seventies- and eighties-style ramblers and split-level homes were organized in square blocks. Homes were close enough that you could smell your neighbors’ barbeque from three houses down.

  These were safe streets, where kids rode their bikes down the roads and played until sunset. The school was in the center of it all. The playground was open to the kids year-round. The basketball courts were available for us adults to use for our games.

  In a way, this part of Lark Cove reminded me of my hometown on the reservation. I’d grown up on a street similar to the one where I lived now. My family hadn’t felt the poverty that so often plagued my people.

  One day, I wanted to give back to that area and those not as fortunate. Maybe fix up a couple places on the reservation and rent them out to a couple families who’d fallen down on their luck.

  If they’d let me.

  It was one of the many reasons my father was so upset that I’d left the reservation. He’d expected me to follow in his footsteps, to take a job improving the lives of our tribal members. To help those Blackfeet people who needed it get back on their feet.

  In Dad’s eyes, I’d left and turned my back on those responsibilities. He couldn’t see that I might be able to do more for them if I wasn’t actually living there.

  That being two hours away meant I could help twice the people.

  We reached the highway and I drove toward Logan and Thea’s place. The evening sun had almost set, and there was only a little light left on the frozen lake. The quiet road to their house was just as peaceful as the sleepy streets in town.

  “I forgot to tell you thanks the other night,” Sofia said as we pulled into the driveway.

  “For what?”

  “For carrying me inside. That was sweet.”

  “You were dead to the world, babe. There wasn’t much sweet about it. I needed you out of my truck.”

  She laughed. “Liar. You’re sweet.”

  I winked, opening my door first. Then I hustled around the truck to help her out. She shivered as we went to the door, and she pulled a key from her pocket. The minute we got inside, I took a deep breath.

  Thea and Logan’s house always smelled good. The few times I’d been here, I hadn’t been able to get enough. I wasn’t sure if it was the housekeeper’s doing, but it always smelled like fresh wood polish and vanilla.

  “I’ll hurry.” Sofia walked through the kitchen, going right for the guest bedroom down a hall.

  “Take your time,” I said, but before she was out of my sight, I called her name. “Sofia.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Pack all your stuff.”

  She nodded, blushing a bit. “Okay.”

  I was determined to enjoy the rest of our days together, and she wasn’t sleeping anywhere but in my bed.

  I wandered through the house as she disappeared to collect her things. I went into the living room, circling the room until I stopped in front of the fireplace. Thea had filled the mantel with a row of framed pictures. They were mostly pictures of the kids, but there was one of her, Hazel and Jackson at the bar from way back when. And there was one group shot of the Kendrick family.

  I found Sofia in the photo instantly.

  She had a smile on, but it was different than the one I’d gotten used to in the last few days.

  She wasn’t showing her teeth, and it didn’t reach her eyes. The smile was posed and perfect—too perfect.

  Her chin was extended and her head tilted ever so slightly to the right, giving the camera a certain angle. Her shoulders were pinned back, and her arms were poised at her sides. Everyone else in the picture looked relaxed with their arms around the people next to them.

  But she stood apart from her family.

  Her parents were in the middle of the photo. Aubrey was next to their father. Logan and Thea were on the other side with an elderly woman I assumed was Sofia’s grandmother. The kids were scattered around the adults’ legs.

  Everyone was together, except her. There was a visible space between Sofia and Aubrey. Between her and the rest of the family. Why was that?

  The woman in the picture looked like the princess I’d seen walk into the bar on that first day. She wore the role proudly in the photo, flaunting her black dress and thick jewelry while the rest of the family wore light clothes and pants. It was like she had this image she had to portray, even with her family.

  Maybe especially with her family.

  “Ready.” Sofia came into the living room with two large suitcases in tow.

  I left the picture and went to get her bags. “Why am I not surprised you packed more clothes for a ten-day vacation than I own altogether?”

  “I was gone the day they taught packing light in charm school.”

  I laughed, leading the way out of the house. While she climbed inside the truck, I loaded up her bags into the backseat. Then I drove us to Bob’s Diner, the only other place in town that served food besides the bar.

  And the only place in town open on New Year’s Day.

  We walked into the restaurant, and I waved to the waitress as we slid into a booth. The place was deserted except for us, but I picked a place along the far back wall because Edith was known for gossiping. I didn’t want her to overhear anything Sofia and I had to talk about.

  She came over and took our cheeseburger order then went back to the kitchen, where I assumed Bob was holed up. The man loved cooking, but he hated dealing with customers.

  “So your uncle lives here. Do you have other family in town?” Sofia asked after Edith brought over our water glasses. Sofia frowned at the lemon wedge on its rim.

  “No, my family all lives on the reservation.” I took her lemon wedge and plopped it into my glass.

  “Thanks. I prefer lime.”

  I chuckled. “Figured that one out two days ago.”

  “What do they do?” she asked. “Your parents?”

  “My dad works for the Blackfeet Land Department and is on the tribal council. My mom is retired now and watches my sisters’ kids during the day, but she used to run the heritage center.”

  “Interesting. I’ve never been on a reservation before. What’s it like?”

  I shrugged. “Like any other town. It’s got its good parts and bad.”

  “You have sisters?”

  “Yep. Two younger sisters. Rozene and Koko.”

  “Then you’re like Logan. Do your sisters cause you stress too?”

  “They do. It’s . . . complicated.”

  Sofia nodded, settling for my one-word explanation.

/>   Her questions were innocent enough, but only a few people knew about the dynamic in our family. I didn’t talk about it to anyone in Lark Cove except Xavier and Hazel, mostly because it was difficult for outsiders to understand.

  But I had an urge to delve deeper, to let Sofia see beneath the surface.

  “My family doesn’t approve of me living off the reservation.”

  Her eyebrows came together. “Why?”

  “There’s a bunch of reasons. Tradition. Loyalty. Politics. Take your pick.”

  “Politics?”

  I nodded. “Have you ever heard of blood quantum?”

  “No.”

  “It’s basically the amount of pure Blackfeet blood you have. My family has one of the strongest bloodlines left in the world. To keep it simple, you could say I’m as close to a full-blood Blackfeet, which is very rare these days.”

  “Interesting.” She sipped her water. “How does that lead to complicated?”

  “There has been an ongoing debate on the reservation for the last decade about who can enroll with the tribe, who can be officially deemed part of the Blackfeet Nation. In the Blackfeet constitution, it’s based on blood quantum. Basically, you have to have a certain percentage of Blackfeet blood to be considered part of the tribe. Others are fighting to amend the constitution and remove the blood quantum requirement. Make it more inclusive just based on lineal descent.”

  “Why is that important?”

  “Because if you’re an enrolled member of the tribe, you get certain benefits. Subsidized health care. Educational grants. Payments. The right to vote in tribal elections or hold an elected office.”

  “I see.” She nodded. “Which side of the argument are you on?”

  “Neither. I see pros and cons to each side of the argument. But since my parents are strongly opposed to open enrollment—removing the blood quantum stipulation—me not picking their side caused a rift.”

  “So because of political reasons, you don’t get along with your family?”

  I sighed. “That’s a piece of it. My parents had hoped I’d eventually become part of the tribal council. Support their argument. But mostly, they want me to carry on the family line. Before my sisters got married, they were each given a list of the men they could have children with that wouldn’t dilute our heritage.”

  “What?” Her mouth fell open. “That’s insane. What if they fell in love with someone else?”

  “They wouldn’t have even let themselves get close to someone who wasn’t an option. Their husbands are both nice guys. They have the same stance on things. So it works for them.”

  “But not you? Did you meet someone they didn’t approve of or something?”

  I shook my head. “No. But I didn’t want the pressure to get married or get the right job or get on board with the right political beliefs. As I got older, it just got more suffocating. My family, they’re good people. They just have this idea of how life should be. I had a different idea. We clashed.”

  We clashed about things so fundamental it was hard to find common ground anymore.

  As a young man, I’d always thought I’d have kids. Children were an important part of our culture and heritage, and I’d always pictured myself as a father one day. But then the pressure to have them with the right woman had set in.

  I’d only been a freshman in high school when Dad had sat me down and told me that when I was ready to mate, I had to be sure to wear a condom with the women who weren’t the right ones.

  Two of his friends on the tribal council had daughters around my age. Dad had told me that if I happened to forget a condom with them, it wouldn’t be the end of the world.

  That had just been the beginning.

  “When I came back from the dude ranch, things got worse and worse at home. Dad and I were arguing almost every day about things. Mom and my sisters were constantly nagging at me to settle down. Finally, I couldn’t take it anymore. So I left.”

  I’d called up Xavier and he’d given me an escape.

  His reasons for leaving the reservation had been similar. The pressure from my grandmother and his brother—my father—to be a certain person and do certain things had driven him away.

  So when I’d called him out of the blue, he’d understood.

  Xavier hadn’t been around a lot when I’d grown up, but he’d made it a point to know me and my sisters, even though he’d had his own rift with my father.

  I wasn’t sure what Dad hated more: that I’d left, or that I’d called Xavier for help.

  “Is it like that for everyone on the reservation?” Sofia asked.

  “No. I don’t mean to make it sound like they’re prejudiced. They aren’t at all. They just love our people. Our culture is ingrained in them so deeply, to them it’s everything. And they fight to protect it. Part of that is defending it fiercely. A son who defies it gets put through his paces, if that makes sense.”

  “It does.” She nodded. “So what would happen if you had kids who weren’t—I don’t know if it’s the right term, but—full blood?”

  “Nothing,” I muttered. “That’s the thing. They’d be kids. They’d be free to live however they wanted. They’d have enough blood quantum to be part of the tribe. But my parents don’t see it quite like that. They were raised to believe that marrying a Blackfeet partner was the best way. Just like their parents before them. And their parents before that. They don’t see why I wouldn’t want to do the same. They’re blinded by tradition and pride. By fear. They’re terrified that our people’s traditions are being forgotten.”

  “That’s so sad.”

  “Yeah. It is.”

  She reached across the table and covered my hand in hers. “Sorry.”

  “I’ve come to terms with it.”

  I’d made my decisions and set my future in stone.

  No wife. No kids. It was easier that way.

  Edith came over carrying two large plates, each with a mound of fries stacked next to a thick cheeseburger. She set them down, ending the conversation about my family.

  “This is bigger than my face.” Sofia eyed the cheeseburger, unsure of how to pick it up.

  “Like this.” I gripped my burger with both hands, squishing down the bun. Then I opened wide and took a huge bite. Grease dripped onto my plate as I held the burger and chewed.

  Sofia stared at me for a long moment, then hesitantly copied my movements until her cheeks were bulging, and she moaned at that first bite.

  “Good?”

  She nodded, swallowing that bite. “I haven’t had a cheeseburger in years.”

  “I have one at least once a week.”

  “I’m going to need to use your gym in the morning.” She dove in for another bite.

  “Don’t worry. I’ll work it all off of you tonight.”

  She raised an eyebrow as she chewed. A sexy smirk played at the corner of her lips.

  If I were to ever break my own rules and have kids, Sofia would be fun to share that adventure with.

  I took another bite, shaking that thought away. Blocking it out for good.

  My future was planned. I knew what I wanted and where I was going.

  There was no use questioning it.

  Not even for a woman like Sofia Kendrick.

  “You don’t smile enough.”

  Dakota kept his eyes on the cutting board as he diced a green pepper. His mouth was set in a serious line. “You smile too much.”

  I forced the corners of my mouth down. “You can’t criticize someone for smiling too much.”

  “But it’s okay to tell someone they don’t smile enough?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why?” he shot back.

  “I, uh, I don’t know. It just is. Smiling is nice.”

  He shrugged, sliding the pieces of green pepper off the cutting board and into a bowl. Then he took the onion he’d set out earlier and began dicing it too. “Grab the eggs. Start cracking them into a bowl.”

  “Not until you smile.”

/>   “I’m not smiling.”

  I crossed my arms over my chest. “Then I’m not cracking eggs.”

  “I’ll just do it myself.”

  “If you do it yourself, that kind of defeats the point of a cooking lesson, don’t you think?”

  “Then grab the eggs, babe.”

  “Not until you smile.”

  He shook his head.

  “Why?” I asked. “You haven’t smiled all morning.”

  “Wrong. I smiled at you in the shower. Remember? It was right after I came all over your tits.”

  My cheeks flushed as I remembered the feel of his hot spurts coating my nipples. I’d been on my knees, ready to swallow his release when Dakota had pulled his cock out of my mouth and surprised me with a shower of his own.

  “Whatever.” I ignored the pulsing in my core. “That was a grin, not a smile. A smile includes teeth.”

  The corner of his mouth twitched, but he still wouldn’t give it up.

  “Smile.”

  “No.”

  “Smile,” I insisted.

  “Now I’m not going to smile all day.”

  “What? Why?”

  He smirked. “Because you want it so bad, it’ll be fun torturing you.”

  “Fine.” I pushed away from the counter and went to the refrigerator, grabbing the carton of eggs. “But you should know I’m withholding sex until you smile.”

  Dakota’s chest shook with a silent laugh. There was a tiny dimple forming at the corner of his mouth, but he took a breath, shoving all humor aside and concentrating on the onion.

  “You’re the worst,” I muttered, taking a bowl from the cupboard.

  “Yeah? And you’ll break first.”

  “What?” I cocked a hip. “Never.”

  He put down his knife and turned to me. Then he took one step forward, coming right into my space and forcing me to lean back. His abs pushed against mine. His hips pressed flush against my own so tight I could feel the bulge beneath his sweatpants. And his nose hovered just a fraction of an inch away from my cheek.

  “I’ll smile after I fuck you on the counter.”

  My heart skipped as his breath floated across my skin.

  “What do you say, princess?” He dropped his mouth and slowly licked the shell of my ear. “How badly do you want that smile?”