by ML Nystrom
“Who’s Kiki?”
“My wife for now.”
“For now?”
“Yeah. She’s my third so far. We got married last summer, and since then she’s put on a ton of weight. Fat women aren’t my thing.”
“Prick,” Bevvie muttered under her breath.
He didn’t bother to acknowledge her presence. “Love to get together for drinks sometime and catch up.”
“I’m not drinking these days.”
“Coffee then.”
“I’m not doing much coffee either.”
His pretty blue eyes and all-American charm faded as his irritation showed. “I’m sure you can find the time to spend with an old friend. We have a past together, in case you don’t remember.”
My throat closed up, choking off any words I had. He took my silence as a sign of acquiescence and smiled like he’d just won the lottery. “We’ll talk soon, yeah?” He leaned into my personal space and kissed me on my cheek. Blood roared in my ears, and I became a cold marble statue as I watched his back moving away.
“Good-looking and great body, but those asshole remarks about his wife? What and who the hell does he think he is?”
Pain in my forearms made me realize my hands were clenched in tight fists. I relaxed my fingers and threw back my shoulders. The noise in my head had disappeared, and I flipped my hair back to throw off the black mood that had come over me. “The who part is Magnus’s friend, and the what part, you nailed already. He’s an asshole who doesn’t matter. Not anymore.”
I turned to the vendor sitting under the canopy. “How much for all the lavender-scented items you have here?”
The woman’s eyes rounded. “All of them?”
“Yes, all of them.”
She sputtered and counted the remaining soaps, lotions, bath bombs, oil infusers, and body sprays. The total came up to just over five hundred dollars. She inserted the register device in her phone as I handed her my credit card.
“Holy shit, Melanie. Are you buying all this stuff just because he doesn’t like lavender?”
“Yup. I knew you were smart.”
“Damn, Mellie, that’s a lot of money. You’ll be smelling like lavender for years with this much stuff.”
I smirked at her. “That’s the plan. If I run into his ass again, I want a fucking cloud of lavender around me at all times.”
She rolled her lips between her teeth. “I don’t know whether to laugh at your sense of justice or cringe at the amount of money you just spent.”
She was right. This was an expensive impulse buy and the chances of me running into him on a regular basis were pretty low. Perhaps I didn’t need this much lavender-scented stuff, but I had to have it. I just had to, and I couldn’t explain to her why. “Let me put it this way. I’d spend almost any amount for a chance to fuck up that man’s day.”
The vendor bagged everything while Beverly’s typed rapidly on her phone.
“What are you doing?”
She looked up at me. “With this many bags, we’re going to need help getting them to the truck. I’m texting Connor to see if he and Owen are close.”
“To borrow from Mattie’s vocabulary, coolio.”
I pulled one of the spray bottles from a bag and spritzed my wrists and neck. The floral smell surrounded me, and I inhaled it deep into my lungs. “Mmm. Just in case I have the displeasure of running into him again. I hope they come soon. After they get our stuff to the trucks, I’m gonna want some junk food. Has Mattie already had his allotment of fried Oreos?”
Chapter Ten
A warm male body cushioned my head as I brushed my hand over his stomach. His breathing increased under my ear, and a tingle started between my legs. My hand moved lower, unzipping his pants and slipping under his clothes to find his dick already hard. Saliva flooded over my tongue at the thought of his taste, and I swallowed. If I moved just a few inches down, I could have him in my mouth. I stroked him with my fingertips, caressing his shaft from balls to head, and he swelled even more. He squirmed under me, pushing into my palm, and I wrapped it around him, stroking firmly. His hand grabbed my wrist and held it still. “Mel, wake up. Please.”
Holy Fuck! I was lying across Owen’s chest with his dick in my hand. I let go immediately and watched it slap on his stomach, pointing north toward me. A drop of clear fluid appeared at the tip. I had to stop myself from sticking out my tongue to lick it off. I’d done enough damage already.
“Oh my God, Owen! I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to grab you. Fuck, where are we?”
Pieces of memory came to me. After my encounter with Robert, the men took our purchases to the trucks, and we spent some time stuffing ourselves silly at the food trucks. I tried a bunch of different tacos, barbecue, roasted corn cobs, and whatever else struck my fancy. I had two fried Oreos alongside Mattie, both of us scarfing down the gooey, messy treats. All that greasy food made my stomach churn in rebellion, and I got the bright idea to get a hotel room to nap for a bit. Owen came to check on me, and I asked him to stay with me. He curled up in the bed with me to watch some TV, and apparently, we both crashed and missed the fireworks.
Now the early morning light peeked into the room, and my hand had rubbed all over Owen’s junk. Why does this shit happen to me? I sat up and figured out quick I wore only my underwear and one of the T-shirts I bought yesterday. “Damn, O-man. I am so sorry. I was having a fantastic dream and… I didn’t realize… I didn’t mean to... fuck, this is embarrassing.”
He lay on his back, statue still and breathing deeply as if fighting for control. His dick remained pointing due north and hard as a rock. He still wore his jeans, but I had expertly opened them to put him on display in all his glory. As far as dicks went, his was very pretty. It had a nice shape with an extra wide purplish head and long, thick shaft. His erection still hadn’t gone down. Should I finish him off? A few veins stood out along the length, just begging for me to trace with my tongue. How would he react if I stripped off my panties and mounted him? My pussy was already wet from the dream, and it had been months since it saw any real action. My vibrator didn’t count.
Nope. Don’t go there, Melanie. Owen is more than just a quick fuck, so don’t treat him like one.
As if he read my thoughts, the big man next to me took a deep breath and heaved himself out of the bed. “It’s okay. Stay here. I’ll be back.”
His jeans remained open as he walked awkwardly into the bathroom. The giant back tattoo surprised me. A sword pommel sat between his shoulders, and the blade extended down his spine with a phrase on it I couldn’t make out. The design was simple, with no extra curlicues, shadings, or colors. A moment later, the shower came on. No doubt it was a cold one.
I relaxed back on the rumpled bed and sighed while I stared at the ceiling. How would Bevvie and Connor react to me and Owen spending the night together? Should I even worry about it? So far, Bevvie had never said a word to me about my lifestyle or life choices, even though I knew she worried about them. She was the least judgmental person I’d ever met and the most supportive, but would a one-night stand with her brother-in-law be too much for her? Too much for me? We hadn’t had sex, so would this situation be considered a one-night stand? Owen never struck me as a one and done kind of man, but this wasn’t the start of something, was it? I had never had a long-term boyfriend, and the thought of it terrified me. The idea of putting my heart out there to get stomped on? Not happening.
I pulled on my shorts and managed to find my bra before Owen came out of the bathroom. He had refastened his pants, but I got a good look at his bare upper body. Damn, he looked good! He didn’t have the carefully developed, cut muscles of a body-building weight lifter, but he still had a lot of definition in his pecs and arms. His stomach was lean and flat with long lines on either side that tapered into his jeans. No other way to put it. Owen was hawt!
Still, I couldn’t go there. I didn’t do long-term and if Owen was anything like his brother, that’s what he would expect. I’d adm
it the thought intrigued me and didn’t scare me as much as with other men, but still the risk existed. If I screwed it up, I could hurt a lot of people, including me.
How did I handle a scene where I just woke up in a hotel room bed with my hand gripping Owen’s dick? Simple. I ignored it like it didn’t happen.
“So, what big plans do you have today?” I fluffed out my hair and kept my tone nonchalant.
“Yard work. Woodshop. Watch a game or play with the kids. You?”
“Probably go shop at the mall for a while and scroll through Netflix for a movie tonight. Wanna join me later?” Shit, Mel! That’s not how to tone it down!
He smiled and shook his head. “Kids tonight. Connor and Bev are out.”
“Date night?”
“Yeah.” He pulled the shirt he wore yesterday over his wet hair and smoothed it over his body.
“That’s nice of you to help them out. I’ve done that a few times to give them a break. Abby give you trouble?”
“No. Texts all night.”
I laughed. “Yes, that’s Abby’s modus operandi on a nightly basis. Think you’ll need help? I can come over?” Fuck, why did I say that?
“Depends.” He looked up at me and grinned. “You gonna manually override me again?”
I turned beet red. “Look, Owen… I… uh… that is to say… um…” Holy shit, I’m sputtering. Me. The woman who prides herself on being bold and in control at all times.
Thankfully, Owen showed me some mercy. “Don’t worry about it. Nothing happened. I’m okay. You’re okay.”
“I really am sorry.” Lame, Mel. Really fucking lame.
“Let it go. I’m not mad.”
“You’re sure?”
One side of his mouth curled up. “Can’t be mad. I woke up to a beautiful woman.”
Ooooh, lots of tummy flutters. “So what’s the sword on your back all about?”
“Freagarthach, or Fragarach. Sword of Irish mythology. Called The Whisperer or The Answerer or The Retaliator. Legend is only men who stand above the stone of destiny can wield it. The stone shouts, and the sword whispers back.”
“And the writing?
“Is iad na muca ciúine a itheann an mhín. ‘It’s the quiet pigs that eat the grain.’ Means quiet people are strong people and will win in the end.”
I pondered as I slipped on my sandals. “Does that have a lot of meaning for you?”
He waggled his hand up and down. “Got drunk with Patrick and Angus one night and got it. Fits me.”
“Did they get tattoos of swords too?”
“Nah. Something else.”
His relaxed manner helped quell my worries. If he truly had no problems with this morning, then perhaps I shouldn’t either. “You know, I think this is the most you’ve ever talked to me. Whole sentences and everything.”
He sat on the only chair in the room to put on his socks and shoes. “I’m learning more about you. You snore.”
“I do not.”
His hand came up, and he waggled it up and down again.
“You’re teasing me, right?”
“Maybe. Maybe not.”
“O-man, I do not snore.”
“Just little ones. Kitty snores.”
OMG, did he just say the word kitty? Argh! If I pay no attention to it, it will go away.
“You hungry?”
I grabbed the change of subject like a drowning woman grabs a float. “Starving. You going to feed me?”
“Yeah.” He picked up his wallet and watch from the nightstand. “Gotta get your car first. Still at the house.”
Shit, he was right. Bevvie and Connor would see it and not say a word, but the kids might. “Think it’s still early enough they won’t notice?”
“If we leave now, yeah.”
“Fine. Let me go pee, and I’ll be ready.”
I took a little more time in the bathroom to wash my face of makeup remnants and finger comb my hair. A dab of the complimentary lotion got smeared under my eyes. I didn’t have anything else, but at this point, Owen had seen enough of me that being barefaced shouldn’t be a shock.
I looked at my reflection. “Well, Mel, it could have been worse. At least you weren’t humping him like a dog in heat or sucking him awake. He’s cool. You’re cool. Get over yourself.”
I walked out of the bathroom, prepared to be my usual lighthearted smartass. One look at Owen’s gentle face sent that right out the door. God knows why! My sinuses filled as the urge to cry hit me. “Oh, fuck. Stupid hormones!”
Owen came over to me at the first sniff and opened his arms in invitation. I didn’t hesitate to put myself there. His masculine musk surrounded me as he wrapped me up and pressed me close. He gave the best hugs. “Thank you, O-man.”
He kissed the side of my head. “I got you.”
Those three words echoed in my head. Yes. He did. He had me.
I pulled back and sniffed again. “Fuck, I need some food. Quit wasting time and feed me. I’m in the mood for a big stack at IHOP.”
Chapter Eleven
“What’cha making, Uncle Owen?” Mattie skimmed through the kitchen and rounded the counter to watch his uncle peel and chop.
“Boxty and sausage.”
“What’s boxty?”
“Potato pancakes.”
“Are we having breakfast for dinner?”
“Sort of.”
Muttface joined them and sat at Owen’s feet. The dog stared with intensity at each hand movement, ready to pounce on the first dropped crumb.
“What’s that stuff in the pot?” The boy pointed to the stove.
“Boiled cabbage.”
“Doesn’t that make you fart a lot?”
Owen chuckled. Lately, Mattie had become fascinated by the sounds his butt made. “It can.”
“Coolio! Hey, Sarah, want to have a fart contest later?”
Sarah looked up from her book. “No, and don’t feed Muttface any of that stuff. He’ll stink up the whole house.”
“Who’s farting?” Jacob came down from his room.
“No one yet. Gotta eat some cabbage to load up.” Mattie ran into the den area and executed a perfect dive roll over the back of the couch, missed the seat, and fell to the floor with a thud.
“You hurt, boy-o?”
“Nah. Don’t tell Mom.”
Owen didn’t know whether to laugh at the boy’s words, caution him about his gymnastics, or take the cabbage outside and dump it for the squirrels so Mattie’s fart contest got delayed. Visions of little gas clouds floating from behind fluffy gray tails teased his brain. Did squirrels fart? Don’t say that out loud. Jacob will want to make that into an experiment.
It had been just a month since the Fourth of July Festival, and his workload had increased to the point he and Connor were booked solid through until early November. As long as the weather stayed sunny and warm, everyone and his cousin wanted a custom-designed deck, porch, pergola, or shed of some sort built in their backyard. Currently, Connor had talked to several people about kitchen updates in the winter months, and Jerry Harris had already called about the design of his wife’s hobby she shed in their basement. Owen couldn’t complain. His living expenses were minimal, and his bank account grew fatter. Maybe the time had come to put down some roots at last. He liked Asheville, and obviously he could make a nice life at doing what he loved.
“You boys are disgusting.” Abby made an appearance and plopped down on the couch next to Sarah. “God, I’m soooo bored.”
“Too bad Autumn had a date tonight.”
“Shut up, Sarah.”
“You’re not supposed to say that.”
“I’ll say it again. Shut up, Sarah.”
“I’ll tell Mom.”
“God, you’re such a brat!”
Owen glanced at his phone on the counter and debated on calling Melanie to come run interference with the girls. He couldn’t pick it up, as his hands were in the potato, flour, and buttermilk mixture.
“You’re jus
t mad ’cause you gotta stay home while Uncle Owen babysits us.”
That set Abby off.
“I don’t need a babysitter. Jacob doesn’t even need a babysitter. Uncle Owen is only here for you and Mattie! You’re the only babies in this house.”
“I’m not a baby!”
“No, you’re a childish brat!”
Owen rinsed his hands and picked up his phone. His still wet thumbs flew over the letters.
Owen: Help.
Melanie: What’s wrong?
Owen: The girls are fighting.
Melanie: Any hair pulling or blood?
Owen: Not yet.
Melanie: Does big, strong Uncle Owen need help from little Auntie M? ;-)
Owen: Yes.
Melanie: LMAO on my way. Need anything?
Owen: No.
Melanie: Not even ice cream?
Owen hesitated. She knew his weakness for ice cream.
Owen: Okay but hurry.
Melanie: ;-)
The past weeks had settled into a routine. After the Fourth of July weekend, without fail, Melanie came to the house on Saturday night to play games, watch movies, do girly stuff with Abby and Sarah, and just be a part of the family. If it got too late, she crashed in the guest bedroom. This weekend, Beverly had a rare day off from her Sunday morning church service gig, and Connor had asked if he would take the kids for the weekend so they could have a date night somewhere besides home. They left this morning for a bed-and-breakfast place up in Hot Springs and planned on spending the evening soaking in one of the outdoor hot tubs.
Owen got to be the adult in charge, and Melanie had said she would help. He realized he needed it. Refereeing the kids’ squabbles turned out to be more than he thought. He hoped a trip to the emergency room for Mattie wouldn’t be necessary.
He pulled the golden brown boxty cakes from the pan when Sarah yelled through the house. “Auntie M is here!” One glance at her clean bare face and pink satchel told him what the evening’s activities included.
“Facials!” Both girls squealed and forgot their snit at each other.
“Are we doing nails, too?”
“Did you bring the natural clay mask or the oatmeal one?”
