I wander away from the others to answer. “Hey there.”
“Baby,” he says. “Coming your way.”
“What happened to maylsh?”
“So you prefer Russian terms of endearment? We can always go back to kotik. Or, maybe zaichik.”
“That’s my only choice? Pussycat or bunny?”
A rumble of laughter. “How about we discuss it in person. Like maybe, tonight?”
While we banter back and forth, I’m catching bits and pieces of conversation between Kendra and Jake. Kendra is following him from window to window, peppering him with questions. She’s moved into the personal realm, quizzing him about Kimber and Gunner. Much to my surprise, he responds. I only catch a few of the words, but they don’t include none of your damn business. My admiration for Kendra’s interrogation skills is growing by the minute.
Before we sign off, Mick again mentions he has something important to tell me. I get no hints from his tone, so it could be anything from revealing the whereabouts of his mother or a new recipe for Syrniki, a Russian delicacy he knows I love. If I’ve learned one thing about men in the past year, it’s this: they’re damn poor communicators.
I join Kendra and Jake who’s just finished measuring.
He tells Kendra, “I’ll work out the details and call you with an estimate.”
“Super,” she replies, bouncing up and down with excitement. In my opinion, her enthusiasm is a bit over the top considering the circumstances. But, what do I know?
Jake looks at me. His expression grows serious, as it always does when we interact. “Another shooting lesson soon?”
“I’ll check my work schedule and give you a call.”
He nods and heads for the door.
After he leaves, Kendra looks smug. “He’s hot for you.”
“Give me a break. He can hardly look at me.”
“He’s shy.”
I do an eye roll worthy of Ziggy and don’t reply.
Finally, Kendra can stand it no longer. “Guess what I found out?”
“Enlighten me.”
“Jake is not the father of the twins.”
Chapter Sixteen
“Of course he is,” I counter. “They call him Papa and he takes care of them. Would he do that if he isn’t their father?”
“You have daddy issues,” Kendra says. “Because your dad bailed out on your mom before you and Hope were born, you’re not a good judge of fatherhood material.”
I feel the need to defend Steve. “There were extenuating circumstances. He’s trying to make it up to me.”
Kendra sighs. “Mel, this isn’t about you. It’s about the twins. Are you willing to listen?”
Kendra, being totally serious, rarely happens.
“Sorry,” I mumble.
She pulls me over to a couch littered with toy trucks, sweeps them onto the floor and pulls me down beside her. “When the twins were two, they turned up at the compound with their mother who, according to Jake, was in bad shape. Strung out on drugs is what he called it. He said the twins were filthy and underfed. Apparently the guy in charge of New Dawn…” She pauses, trying to come up with the name.
“Hitchcock.”
“Yeah, Hitchcock. He took the woman and her kids to Jake’s cabin and said it was his duty to take care of them.”
“His duty? Those were Jake’s exact words?”
“Yes, Mel. I don’t have short term memory loss yet.”
“Sorry,” I murmur again. “It just sounds strange, like something out of the Bible.”
Kendra shrugs. “You said the place was like stepping into a time warp.”
“But why Jake? Surely there were other families willing to take them in.”
“Maybe Hitchcock was doing a little matchmaking since Jake’s a single guy.”
“Maybe,” I say, trying to make sense of the story. “If so, it didn’t work. Kimber told me their mother is dead.”
“I asked Jake about the kids’ mother. I could tell he didn’t want to talk about her. He mumbled something about her running off and leaving him with the twins.”
“But, he didn’t say she was dead?”
Kendra shakes her head. “Nope. Then, he changed the subject.”
I grin at her. “Even though you gave it all you got, charm-wise, he clammed up?”
“No worries, girlfriend. I figured full wattage charm might scare him, so I held back a little. I’ll get the rest of the story the next time I see him. Actually,” she says, looking me over. “Since he’s lusting after your cute little bod, you could try charming him yourself.”
“In case you’ve forgotten, I have a boyfriend who, by the way, is on his way to 3 Peaks as we speak.”
“Oh?” she says, one eyebrow shooting upward. She lowers her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “Have you two done it in your new place yet?”
I mock-punch her. “None of your beeswax.”
She turns serious. “You know Billy wants you back.”
“I’m aware.”
She takes my hand and squeezes it. “He’s changed, Mel. The PTSD counseling really helped him work through his issues. He knows he screwed up. He loves you and I know you love him. You two are meant to be together. Just think about it. Okay?”
Damn Kendra! Like my mother, she always knows how to push my buttons. When I speak, my voice is hoarse with emotion. “Did Billy ask you to tell me that?”
“No!” Her hands fly up in denial. “But I’m not blind, Mel. I can see what’s going on in his life and in yours. Mick is a great guy, but he’s rarely around. Am I right?”
As they say, whoever they are, the truth hurts. And, I’ve had all the truth I can deal with right now. I rise from the couch. “Gotta go. Thanks for your help with Jake. I’ll be in touch.”
****
Mick strolls into the pub shortly after the dinner crowd dissipates and wraps me up in a bear hug witnessed by Ziggy, whose eyes widen in surprise and then sparkle with evil intent.
“New guy, huh?” she says, her glance sweeping over Mick who has returned to bad boy mode. Scruffy five o’clock shadow, hair dyed black again, tats prominently displayed.
I extricate myself from his embrace and make the introductions. I think the image Mick is projecting is right up Ziggy’s alley. As it turns out, I’m not mistaken.
“Wow,” she says, fluttering her lashes at Mick. “Guess you don’t know about Mel’s other guy. He’s a cop and they were totally making out in the parking lot.”
Mick’s laser blue-eyed gaze swings over to me. “Guess you missed me, huh maylsh.”
I take his hand. “Pay no attention to the child. She likes to exaggerate.”
Ziggy draws herself up and huffs, “Did you just call me a child?”
Obviously, she doesn’t know she’s messing with a pro. We’ve arrived at a teachable moment. “When you behave like a child, that’s what you’ll be called. Oh, by the way, have you filled your dad in on our little adventure the other day? The one involving Benny, the drug dealer?”
Her face loses color and she glances over at her dad who’s in his usual spot, behind the bar. Safe in her belief he’s not overheard our conversation, she puts her hands on her hips and sputters, “You don’t play fair, Mel.”
I smooch Mick on the cheek. “Best you should keep that in mind and we’ll get along fine.” I point at a table littered with dirty dishes. “Ziggy, don’t you have tables to bus? Busy hands are happy hands.”
“God, you are such a pain in the ass,” she mutters and stomps away.
Mick gazes down at me. “What was that about?”
“Nothing important.”
“Was she talking about Billy?”
What the hell? I have nothing to hide and decide to go with the truth. Who knows what Mick does when he’s undercover? He could have a dozen girlfriends for all I know. I tell him about Billy’s help moving the cat and how he wanted a kiss as payment. He listens with a furrowed brow. I know he’s not happy, but all he does when I
finish is give me a curt nod along with a noncommittal, “I get the picture.”
I zip my lip and wait.
Finally, he cups my face in his palms and brushes his lips across mine. His voice is husky when he says, “Nick says you can leave early.”
This is what bugs me about Mick. He tries to micro-manage my life. This is my workplace, not his to manipulate so I can devote my time and energy to meeting his needs when he decides to pop into town. I bite back an angry reply and push away, heading for the bar. “Nick,” I say. “If you need me here, I can stay. No problem.”
He waves a hand. “Nah, take off. We’re not super busy. Consider it your reward for spending time with my bonehead daughter.”
I pat his cheek. “She’s smarter than you think. Don’t give up on her.”
“If you say so,” he mutters.
I deliver a round of drinks to the guys in the Corral before I take off my apron and join Mick at the bar.
Ziggy, holding a tub of dirty dishes, sidles up next to me. “Hey, what about the job at the ranch where the cute guy lives? This job really sucks.”
I’m still a little ticked about her snarky comment to Mick. Perhaps spending time cleaning out box stalls might result in an attitude adjustment. “It’s not one or the other, Ziggy. You still have to do your job here. Understand?”
She pouts, looks over at her father’s stern expression and then nods.
I decide to let her stew for a while. “I’ll call Riley soon and let you know.”
“Can’t you call him now?”
I glance at the clock. “He’s probably out with his new girlfriend.”
This has the desired effect. She pinches her lips together and stomps into the kitchen. Her dad offers me a high five.
Mick slips his arm around me and nuzzles my ear. “Power tripping?”
“Whatever it takes. Gotta stay ahead of the kid.”
Mick follows me home. I wonder if this is another one-night stand. If he has something important to say, I want to hear it while we’re still wearing clothes.
Thunder Paws is on my tiny front porch, looking irritated as usual. When he notices I’m not carrying a box of leftovers, he hunches his back and hisses. I avoid eye contact and step carefully around him to unlock the door.
Mick leans over and scratches him behind the ears, murmuring to him in Russian. Thunder Paws flops onto his back, purring in ecstasy. The big tomcat is definitely into male bonding. Once inside, he checks out the feeding bowl, discovers it contains only kibble and demands to be let out.
I close the door behind him. Mick grips my shoulders, spins me around and presses me against the door with his muscular body. I catch my breath and, unbidden, my arms curl around his neck. My good intentions slip away.
“My maylsh,” he murmurs, feathering kisses along my neck while his hands slide under my shirt. I gasp with pleasure at his touch, unable to find my voice. Still pinning me to the door, he deftly unzips my jeans and then slides down my body, his lips trailing a path of heat down my belly. When the warmth of his mouth envelops me, when his tongue flicks over my vulnerable center, I’m lost in sensation, unable to speak or even think. Soon I’m deposited on the bed, his body covering mine.
So much for conversation while clothed.
Chapter Seventeen
Later, we’re at the table. Mick sips Grey Goose.
My eyelids droop, but I fight off fatigue as well as annoyance. I need answers. Mr. Sensitivity doesn’t get the picture, so I resort to a bit of nagging. “Twice, you’ve mentioned you have something to tell me, yet here you sit with a look of satisfaction on your scruffy face, saying nothing.”
It came out a little harsher than I intended.
He reaches across the table, takes my hand and kisses it. “Forgive me, maylsh, when I see you, my brain ceases to work as other body parts take over.”
I can’t help it. I snicker. “Tell me something I don’t know.” I look into his eyes, mesmerized by his beautiful sky blue soul. I’ve always loved Mick’s soul. Sure, he has secrets he can’t share, but nevertheless, his soul glistens with integrity. When I’m with him, I feel safe and, for me, that’s a big deal. The words with Mick are important. When he’s gone for days, sometimes weeks at a time, doubts slither into my mind like snakes creeping into a garden. Yes, it sounds needy and I don’t like it. In all fairness, one might say I’m a bit conflicted about my feelings for him.
He squeezes my hand. “I know you are aware I work hard in my job. I’ve taken every shit assignment that comes along without complaining, hoping my superiors will take notice.”
I nod, waiting for the other shoe to drop.
A dark cloud of sadness flickers across his soul. “I’m not sure whether to be happy or sad about what I’m about to tell you.”
My forehead wrinkles as I try to grasp the meaning of his words. Seconds later, a lightning bolt of understanding flashes through my sleepy brain. “You got a promotion!”
When he fails to answer, I prompt, “Am I right?”
He nods. “Here’s the bad part. It’s in Boston.”
In my mind, a colorful map of the United States appears. 3 Peaks nestles in the mountains of Central Oregon, less than one hundred fifty miles from the Pacific Ocean. Three thousand miles to the east, Boston clings to the opposite shore. The Atlantic Ocean. My gaze drops to the table. “Oh.”
He tucks a finger under my chin and tilts my head back. “Look at me, Mel. Here’s what I’ve been waiting to ask you. I want you to come with me. I’ll always take care of you.”
Overwhelmed, I can’t seem to form words.
“You don’t have to decide right now. Think it over.”
Suddenly, it’s important to know how long I have to think it over. “When do you leave?”
“I have to report April first.”
“Twelve days from now.”
He nods. “I could get you work there, maylsh. Many law enforcement agencies would love to access the unique skills you have.”
I think about my life here. Steve, my newly discovered biological father. Our business together. Uncle Paco. Aida. Their little bun in the oven. Kendra, her family. Billy the Kid. Nick and the pub customers who’ve become my extended family. My mother and stepfather, Abel, in San Bernardino. Though I’m trying hard not to think about them, Kimber and Gunner nag at my consciousness. I can almost feel Kimber clinging to my hand and hear her cry of delight. “You came! I told Papa you would.”
What will happen to them if I move to Boston and never show up in their lives again?
I gaze into Mick’s hopeful blue eyes, willing myself not to say something that will cause him pain. “I’ll let you know soon.”
Mick has never been able to hide his feelings. But he also is attuned to mine. Disappointment flashes across his soul.
He releases my hand. “I think I know the answer, but I will hope for the best.”
Even though I’m tired, sleep eludes me. Cradled in Mick’s arms, I feel his chest rise and fall in steady rhythm as I gaze into the darkness, unable to turn off the images in my mind. Images of those I would leave behind if I moved across the continent with Mick.
When he leaves the next morning, I promise I will call him soon with my answer. My throat is choked with tears as his car pulls away from the curb. It feels like farewell.
This dark state of mind leads me to a decision I know I will regret. I call my mother, Sandra. When she answers, I recite a long, rambling, disjointed account of my current situation with Mick.
She listens carefully before declaring, “Honor Melanie Sullivan, are you crying? Do you want me to come to 3 Peaks? I’ll hop on one of Abel’s trucks and be there by nightfall.”
“No, no, that’s not necessary,” I protest. “I just need someone to talk to, preferably someone of the female persuasion. Kendra has her own agenda, so you’re next on my list. All you have to do is listen. Actually, I feel better already. So, I’ll hang up now. Okay?”
No way am I getting off
that easy.
Sandra takes a deep breath and blows it out. “Hold it. I have questions for you. Do you have a ring on your finger?”
I admit I do not.
“Did Mick ask you to marry him?”
“Uh-uh.”
“No brainer. Stay in 3 Peaks.”
Her advice is hardly surprising since my biological father impregnated her with twins and then returned to his native Spain with nary a goodbye kiss. Later, we would learn of his difficult issues, namely an arranged marriage and finally, the fact that he’s gay and waited until his parents’ deaths to come out of the closet. I’ve been able to forgive him, but Sandra is still bitter, even though she’s married to Abel, a wonderful man who is my second father.
Still, she’s my mother and cares about my welfare. Sometimes a girl just needs her mother. However, my independent streak asserts itself. “Thanks, I’ll think about it..”
“I’ll be waiting for a text from you.”
What have I done? Her last statement translates to, “I will be nagging you with non-stop texts until you make a decision.”
“Love you, bye!” I click off.
****
Two days later, I arrange a shooting lesson with Jake Gunderson to get my mind off the Mick situation. I also have another agenda. Ziggy will go to the Rockin’ R Ranch with me and begin her second job, cleaning box stalls. I’ve made the arrangements with Riley and Ziggy is beyond excited. Riley’s dad, Rick, will drive me to New Dawn while Riley supervises Ziggy. Win-win situation. Or, so I thought.
First, I undergo an interrogation by Ziggy as we drive to the ranch.
“Did Riley break up with his girlfriend?”
Since the girlfriend is totally fictional, I say, “Not sure. Maybe you can figure out a sneaky way to find out.”
“Will he be in the barn with me or what?”
“I’m sure he’ll give you instructions. You might have to do stuff on your own, though, to see if you can handle it.”
She stays quiet for a while. When she speaks, she sounds like an insecure little girl. “Do you think Riley could ever like a girl like me?”
Hope and Honor Page 9
