by Freya Barker
"Did you want to go there instead of come here?" I offer as an alternative, although I'd much prefer to have her alone in my house for a few hours than join the crowds on the streets of Parry Sound.
She seems to consider it for a moment before answering. "Dinner at yours."
"Good. How soon can you get here?"
Her peal of laughter feels fucking great. Given the week she's had, I'm amazed at her resilience.
"It's bare...barely eight in the morning," she hiccups. "I still have to get dressed."
"Now you're just teasing."
"I am not," she denies emphatically. "It's the truth. I barely rolled out of bed to get coffee going about five minutes before you called. Besides, it's not like I'm walking around naked. "
I growl softly, easily conjuring up the accompanying visual in my mind's eye. "Not helping," I force between clenched teeth, while wedging the phone between ear and shoulder, so I can shove my hand down my shorts and force my dick back down. Her soft mocking chuckle in my ear does me no favours either. "Frederique," I warn, her full name sounding sexy as shit rolling off my tongue. I immediately resolve to use it more often. But only when there aren't any kids around.
"Newt," she answers, more serious now. "Get a grip."
"You can't help yourself, can you?" I accuse her, happy to hear her start laughing again. Next to Millie's giggles, that's got to be the best sound ever. "For the record, I have a very firm grip here. Wouldn't want things to get out of hand. Also, as a side note, Frederique and Newt sounds like whipped cream and onions."
"Onions?" she snorts.
"I had to come up with something to offset the whipped cream—it conjures up even more visuals I can't do anything with right now."
She cracks up again, and I can't remember the last time I've been this geared up. Fucking giddy even. I'm high on the sound of her voice.
"So what time can you be here?" I ask again, when I hear the toilet flush on the other side of the hallway. Evidently Millie is up, which calls the sexy banter off.
"Maybe I'll come around four?" she suggests, and I can't resist. That door is wide open.
"No maybe about it—I can make sure of it."
Still wearing a grin, I pad into the kitchen ten minutes later, rubbing my hair dry with a towel. To my surprise, Millie is already up and cooking something. Bella barely spares me a glance, busy scarfing down her breakfast.
"Watcha up to?" Alerted by the smell, I peek over her shoulder at the slightly crispy eggs in the pan.
"I was trying to make everyone breakfast," she complains, pouting as she carries the pan to the sink. I manage to snatch the pan before she can dispose of the eggs.
"If you're not gonna eat them, I will." I grab a plate from the cupboard and have to scrape the eggs from the pan.
"Try the non-stick pan in the drawer under the oven. I usually put in just a little sliver of butter for taste," I suggest casually, as I add a bit of salt and black pepper. From the corner of my eye, I see her watching me as I bring the first forkful to my mouth. I work hard not to wince at the bitter taste of the slightly burned edges, I'll be damned if I show her.
She pulls her lips between her teeth and her eyes sparkle. "Is it really bad?"
"It's fine," I lie, blinking hard to stop my eyes from watering.
Millie busts out laughing, snatches back the plate and dumps the remaining eggs down the garburator. She grabs the non-stick pan, pulls the butter and a carton of eggs from the fridge before she turns to me.
"I made you coffee, but you may want to avoid that too," she warns sheepishly. "I couldn't find the filters and we're out of paper towels, so I used toilet paper instead. Also, it looks a little watery."
I grin at her, clean out the coffee maker, show her were I keep the filters and measure out the grinds for a full pot. Looks like she maybe used a teaspoon for a full pot.
"That's the coffee, and now for the eggs. I never knew you had an interest in cooking, otherwise I would've taught you some basic things a long time ago."
"I wasn't," she admits, her eyes blinking wide, "but I figure I should be able to fend for myself by now. What if you go out for dinner? Or away for a weekend? I need to eat."
I chuckle at her blatant play. "You don't have to hint so hard. I get the message." When she still tries to look innocent, I burst her bubble. "Freddy already told me you think we should date. But, honey, although I appreciate the stamp of approval, I think I've got a decent handle on the dating part. I honestly don't need the help."
Full of attitude, she gives me a dramatic eye-roll, before mumbling under her breath, "I doubt it."
Freddy
Last person I expected on my doorstep this morning was Jim Baldwin.
Boulder's soft woof, along with Bijou's little yips, alerted me to the fact someone was at the door. I was just putting some laundry in the washer. The man looked like he'd aged twenty years in the past week or so. Bags under his red-rimmed eyes, gaunt complexion where he normally had a healthy tan, and shoulders that looked like they're holding up the weight of the world. I invited him in, hooked him up with a cup of coffee, and then he took all of one sip before he started talking.
And didn't stop for an hour and a half.
The man is in a world of hurt. He has to be, to come knocking on my door. I didn't tell him Maggie had already given me the low-down on the scene at the station, but I didn't know what had gone on before, or what happened after. Apparently he had kept Ella overnight at the station to sleep it off, and then he took Jordan out of the line of fire and off to a camp for a couple of weeks. Then last night he was called out to a domestic disturbance in Badger's Corner, which turned out to be Ella's new digs, where she'd shacked up with some guy she'd been banging on the sly. His words, not mine. To add insult to injury, he then had to pull his stepson off the boyfriend, handcuff him, and throw him in the back of his cruiser.
That's when the reason for his visit became clear.
"I had to charge Billy with assault today. Ella wants him gone. Says she can't have him mess up the good thing she has with the new boyfriend." He spit out those last words, making it clear that whatever had him choose her when he had me, has long died on the vine. And then he proceeded to blow me away with his next words. "I did you wrong, Freddy. Fuck, but I messed up. I've known it for a long time, but I didn't want to see it. To think I hung my hat on a woman who turns her back on her own kids? You would never do that."
"No!" Both my hands slammed down on the kitchen counter before I knew what I was doing. Hot anger swirled in my gut as I took in the shock on Jim's face at my reaction. Boulder, sensing my turmoil, butted his head against my hip in silent support. "You don't get to do this," I forced out, my voice a low growl. "You don't get to ask me to absolve you for something you did wrong over a decade ago—just so you can alleviate the guilt you feel over the state of your family. You don't get to use me like that." I raised a hand and stabbed my finger in his chest. "You know what I lost back then, Jim. You know."
"Jesus, Freddy." He grabbed my hand before I could poke him again. "That's not...Christ..." He took in a deep breath before he finished that sentence. "I was talking about my boys. They need your help."
That was a couple of hours ago and I'm still rattled. Even though Jim explained he'd just sought me out to see if I knew someone or somewhere to send Billy for possible treatment, as a sign of goodwill for the judge. And he also wanted me to help Jordan get through this mess of a situation, so he wouldn't end up like his brother. Jim was just a desperate father, saying the wrong thing at the wrong time to the wrong person. I understand, but that doesn't mean that shit didn't cut deep. Especially now.
Maybe I should've cancelled my date with Newt—I doubt I'll be good company tonight—but instead I slip on a pretty summer dress, run a brush through my hair, and load the dogs in the car to drive to Hollys Lane.
He must've been keeping an eye out, because the front door opens before I fully get out of the car.
"Hey."
His smile is big as he walks up, looking relaxed and handsome in worn jeans and an untucked white dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up. He closes the distance, and without hesitation, hooks a hand behind my neck and pulls me in for a hard kiss on the lips.
"Millie..."
"Is probably peeking out her window upstairs." He turns his head, and I follow his gaze up to the second floor window, where Millie stands in plain sight, grinning from ear-to-ear.
"That's not peeking," I observe, "that's plain staring."
"Don't worry," Newt says, turning to face me. "She's waiting to get picked up. They'll be here soon."
A minivan pulls in behind my Matrix, just as I am getting the dogs from the back, and Millie comes rushing outside.
"Hey, Freddy," she chirps, stopping briefly to pat the dogs as Newt walks up to the van to talk to the driver.
"Hey, girl. How's your butt?" I smile when she grins up at me. "Sore?"
"Not even. I so could've gone longer."
"Maybe next time, if Chester feels up to it."
"Millie! They're waiting on you," Newt calls out.
"I've gotta go. Have fun with my dad," she says over her shoulder with a cheeky grin, as she skips to the van.
The house smells amazing when we walk in. The puppies immediately start rolling on the ground, gnawing at each other, and Boulder plops down on the floor next to the kitchen island.
"What smells good?" I ask, walking toward the kitchen when two arms band around my middle.
"Aside from you?" Newt's breath brushes my ear. "Ribs. Been slow cooking in the oven for two hours, and have at least two more to go."
I cross my hands over his and lean my head back. "Are we gonna stand here until they're done?"
"Just give me a second; let me enjoy the moment," he says from behind me, a smile in his voice. "You seem a little tense though." He releases me, holds on to one of my hands, and pulls me with him into the kitchen. "Want a drink? Beer? Wine? I have both."
"I could use a beer." I pull out a stool and sit down. He grabs a couple from the fridge, twists off the tops and hands one to me, before taking a swig of his own.
"So what has you tense?" he asks, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. A move I study closely, shifting in my seat before I answer.
"Well, for one thing, I haven't had a date in forever. I'm a little out of practice." Newt puts his bottle down, moves in behind me, and starts kneading the tight muscles in my shoulders and neck.
"Relax." He lifts my hair in one hand and touches his lips to the side of my neck. "There's nothing to it." A gentle bite at the apex of my spine as his fingers brush at the strap of my dress. "Like riding a bicycle." The rasp of his tongue along the top of my shoulder sends a shiver down my body.
"I can't remember ever starting a date like this," I whisper, enjoying the feel of his work-roughened hands scrape over my skin.
"Then you weren't doing it right," he mumbles, his lips now tugging on my earlobe. "Relax," he prompts again, while his nimble fingers work the zipper of my dress.
I feel him everywhere, even though his touch is limited to one area, my body is fully sensitized. I let myself be turned around, and my hands automatically come up to land on the chest filling my view. My eyes are drawn to the fine silver hair visible at the base of his throat, and I don't resist the sudden urge to see more. With restless fingers, I pluck at his buttons until the shirt falls open and my hands slide between over warm skin and hard muscle.
"Bed, honey," he announces through clenched teeth, stilling my hands with his. "Or else I'll be taking you on the kitchen counter."
"Bed," I echo, letting him pull me off the stool and lead me up the stairs.
I don't even take in the room; my only focus the man pulling me between his legs as he sits down on the edge of the bed.
"Beautiful," he mumbles, running his fingers through the ends of my hair before hooking them under the straps of my dress. Slowly he peels my dress away, taking my panties along and letting them puddle around my feet. His hands cup my ass, pulling me close as he presses his face in my belly, inhaling my skin.
Once again, I'm naked while he's fully dressed, but before I can voice a complaint, he stands up, turns us, and tumbles me onto the bed. Lifting up on my elbows, I watch with rapt attention as he slips off his shirt and strips off his jeans. My eyes scan his body, recording every detail to memory, including the puckered skin where I assume the bullet grazed him. The light chest hair gets denser toward his stomach, where it forms a pathway into the waistband of his boxer briefs that are gone the next second. My eyes drop to his long, fully erect cock jutting straight out, tempting me to touch. I sit up and reach out, stroking my fingers over the hot velvety length.
Newt
I hiss when her fingers touch me.
I'm too primed to let her play too long. The semi hard-on I've sported all day has teased me since I had her on the phone this morning. Seeing her in that pretty dress, having my mouth on her, her smell in my nose was enough to take me from zero to sixty in a single heartbeat.
She's beautiful. Her curves soft and pliable over strong muscle, her thick hair a silk curtain around her.
With my fingertips to her sternum, I gently push her back on the bed, and follow her down, partially covering her body. I intercept her hands when they reach out to touch me. Only so much more I can take, and I'm already too close to that limit. I stretch her arms over her head, pinning them to the mattress with one hand, while the other strokes the length of her body.
"Newt, please."
She arches her back off the bed when my hand brushes the side of her breast. Not one to turn down an invitation, I mold my hand around the soft mound and close my mouth over the dark pink nipple. She's so responsive, moaning a little with every tug of my lips and squirming against my body, quickly eroding the last of my restraint.
When I finally enter her body seconds later, her legs are spread wide under me, eager hands clutching my ass, and her warm brown eyes locked on mine.
Nothing more beautiful than the soft sigh from her parted lips when I bury myself in her liquid heat.
TWENTY
Newt
"So what was the other thing?" I ask, as I pull the ribs from the oven. They'd probably already be good to eat, but I like to toss them on the grill, just a couple of minutes per side.
Freddy, much more relaxed after our version of an appetizer, lifts her eyes from the tomato she's cutting for the salad.
"Other thing?"
"Before, when I asked what had you so tense, you said for one thing—that implies there's another thing."
"Let me finish this salad first. I probably shouldn't be holding a knife when I tell you."
I'm intrigued but give her that play and head out to put the ribs on the grill. A few minutes later, she follows me outside, two cold beers in her hand.
"The other ones were lukewarm," she explains, handing me one before she sits down in a lawn chair, stretching her legs out in front of her. "Jim came by this morning." She leads into a description of the visit that raises a few hackles, but also one or two questions with me.
"You were in a relationship with Jim." I'm just confirming what I had already had a faint suspicion of.
"A lifetime ago. He dumped me for Ella, who was already pregnant with Jordan."
"His baby?" She acknowledges with a nod.
Asshole.
"Let me get this straight," I recap, "he cheated on you, got this Ella pregnant, and...wait a minute. How old is Jordan?"
She rolls her eyes at me. "Should've known a cop might pick up on that tidbit." She straightens in her chair, and tosses back the rest of her beer. "Jordan will be fourteen in December. I'll give you the Cliff's Notes version. Jim and I were together for nine years when he came to the hospital—where I'd just had surgery to remove a tumour along with my entire kit and caboodle—to break things off with me. He said he wanted the family, but what he failed to tell me at the time was he'd already started working on i
t with someone else, before I was even diagnosed. I moved out of the apartment we shared, moved in with Mom, and stayed with her. Jordan was born in December, my last chemo was end of January, and Mom died the first week of February."
My hands are clenched in fists, hot anger flowing through my veins. Good thing Staff Sergeant Jim Baldwin is nowhere near. The likelihood of me being locked away for assaulting a police officer would have been high. Freddy looks at me from under her eyebrows while I get a grip on my temper.
If it wasn't messed up enough that she battled cancer and lost her mom all within the same year, now I get the full scope of the shitshow she lived through.
"Jesus, Freddy. That's fucked up. How are you still standing after that?"
"Is the barbecue supposed to be smoking like that?"
Fuck. My ribs.
It's not until I carry the slightly charred ribs into the kitchen that I realize she never answered my last question. Because of the bugs, we decide to eat inside at the dinner table, but before I have a chance to broach the subject again, she beats me to it.
"Okay. Full disclosure," she says, her fingers ripping at the label on the beer bottle. "Shit. I can't believe I'm doing this. I like you, Newt, and given you haven't already run screaming, I might as well give you all the dirt. You've been pretty open about your past and have entrusted me with your daughter, so I think you deserve to have it all—I just hope you won't hold it against me."
I reach across the table and grab one of her hands, rubbing my thumb over her fingers. "I like you too, and I trust you. I sincerely doubt anything you have to say will change that, so just spit it out, honey." She nods once and takes a deep breath.
"After Mom died, I kinda went off the deep end."
"I think that's to be expected."
"Perhaps, but I did some stupid stuff before I hit bottom." She snorts, pulling her hand back from me and refusing to look me in the eye. "Ironically, bottom came in the form of Jim, still driving patrol at that time. He found my car in a ditch, just up the road from my current house. I was behind the wheel, virtually passed out on a cocktail of pills and vodka. Can't drink the stuff to this day. Not sure if it was guilt or not, but instead of making up a report and charging me, he called Alex, who was in the middle of moving to Sudbury at the time. I've never seen my brother that angry. I had a total mental breakdown and he took me up to Sudbury. I was hospitalized for seventy-two hours and after that spent six weeks in a day treatment plan to get my head out of my ass."
