Sixty Nine (Payne Brothers Romance Book 4)

by Sosie Frost

  We toured the town square, stopping in front of one of the vendor tents for a fresh mug of homemade hot chocolate straight out of the envelope. The lady working the tent offered us the cocoa, but she stopped Varius as he reached for his wallet.

  “No charge for the minister.”

  His smile faltered, but he didn’t decline, simply thanked her.

  “What a perk,” I said as we walked away. “Are you sure you want to give up this gig?”

  He stared at the cup. “Doesn’t feel right taking it.”

  “It’s just a cup of cocoa.”

  But to him, it meant the world. As if all the hopes and dreams of the community were distilled down into a warm drink on a cold night. He offered a sip to Lulu, but I’d come prepared for the inevitable spill. She tipped the cup, but I was there with the napkins. Varius grimaced as the hot liquid ran over his hand, but at least Lulu hadn’t been scalded.

  Her goofy little grin always seemed to ease the pain.

  Not all of his, but most.

  Varius glanced over the town square once more, his solemn expression lost in the twinkle of white LEDs.

  “Maybe I’ll go to Ironfield,” he said.

  “Might be hard to find ministry work in that den of debauchery,” I warned. “Fortunately, there’s a job waiting here for you.”

  “I’ve done all I can for Butterpond.”

  That wasn’t true. He hadn’t done enough for them, and he hadn’t done nearly enough for himself.

  A tinny version of White Christmas blared from the overhead speakers. The mayor took to the stage and gathered the residents near the tree, though I didn’t envy his speech. Gretchen had already distributed the political swag around the town, and a sea of Payne For Mayor stickers decorated every jacket.

  I lifted Lulu, pointing to the top of the tree, to the beautiful star waiting to be lit. Varius watched only her, his words warming as she clapped in excitement.

  “Big tree!” She approved, but she waited for Varius to agree. “Pretty!”

  He studied both of us. “Very pretty.”

  I tucked closer to him, letting Lulu lean against his chest as well. This earned more than a few smiles from the crowd, but, if only for tonight, I decided to enjoy the ride. Why not let myself be happy? Enjoy the time away from the pageant and the handsome man pulling me tight?

  The sound system crackled and popped as Mayor Desmond began his speech. His words fizzled into broken static.

  The town pretended not to see Quint sneaking away from a bundle of wires with scissors or the fifty-dollar bill Marius slipped his brother.

  The mayor sighed, grumbled to an assistant nearby, and surrendered. He shouted over the crowd.

  “Three…two…one…”

  He flipped the lever on the stage. The town held its breath.

  Nothing happened.

  A disappointed groan murmured through the throng, but I had a feeling this was a common occurrence during Light Up Night.

  “Quint must’ve cut the wrong wire,” Varius said. “This is why you pay Tidus to do your dirty work.”

  “Quality assurance?”

  “And he keeps his mouth shut.”

  The mayor called for a few minutes to sort out the technical difficulties. This offered us enough time to scope out the petting zoo. I adjusted the little pink ski cap on Lulu’s head and kissed her cheek.

  “What do you say, Lulu?” I asked. “Want to go pet the goat again?”

  Lulu’s lower lip threatened to pout. Her eyes got wide, and I feared more tears would fall. “Broken.”

  “No, no. That’s Clyde. V’s goat.” I elbowed him. “He only has three legs. But he’s not hurt.”

  “Broken.”

  If my kid wanted to visit high-quality animals, she wouldn’t find any at the Light-Up Night petting zoo, sponsored by Julian Payne and his Triumph Farm Animal Sanctuary. Last I’d checked, they’d stocked the pen with two naked alpacas, one deaf pig, a blind rooster, and a three-legged goat. Nothing was wrong with the hen, but Julian insisted she wouldn’t lay an egg to save her life or his farm.

  Julian didn’t charge admission to see the animals, but he accepted donations. Wasn’t sure if the money was used to buy them feed or to put them out of their misery.

  “Maybe I’ll stick you in the pen.” I tickled her pudgy tummy. “And everyone can come by and feed you pellets.”

  Lulu had other plans. “Jesus, gotta potty!”

  Uh-oh. There was my cue. “Okay, let’s find a potty.”

  Varius laughed. “You’re not gonna sing, are you?”

  “Got a problem with my soon-to-be-patented potty-training sing-a-long technique?”

  “Not at all.” He grinned. “But I’ve spent so much time at the church, I’ve gone tone-deaf.”

  “It’s a million-dollar idea.”

  “At least it’ll cover the copyright infringement suit.” He directed me through the crowd. “There’s a bathroom set up in the park. Perfectly secular too. Can’t promise anything about Santa.”

  “We’ll roll those dice.” I tickled her, realized that was asking for trouble, and kissed her cheek instead. “Let’s go potty, Lulu.”

  “Bless me, Jesus!” Lulu shouted for all to hear. “Potty!”

  It’d take longer to explain than to give a motherly smirk and guide the baby through the packed crowds desperate for a little holiday cheer—or, at least, a little shot of Baileys to warm up their cocoas. Fortunately, the people parted and offered me a quick path.

  Lulu tugged on my hair. “Uh-oh.”

  I groaned, anticipating a Christmas surprise all over my leg. “Just hold on Lulu…I’ll find you a potty.”

  “Uh-oh.”

  This time, it wasn’t my daughter’s fist in my hair.

  It was his.

  I yelped, almost yanked off my feet and pushed away from the crowd. I clutched my baby, but the motion dizzied me. I nearly landed in the dirt.

  Would have been the better option.

  “Where you goin’, Glory?”

  His voice snarled my name. I loathed how I flinched, how I dared to cower, even for a split second.

  What the hell was he doing here?

  “You disrespected me.” Andre towered over us. “Think you could hide in some fuckbilly town like this. Think I ain’t gonna find you?”

  Andre was as repulsive as he was drunk—the only two flavors he offered. He might have been handsome once, with skin as dark as night and more muscle than brain. But I’d grown up since making that mistake. Learned that a girl had to get rid of the bastards holding her back and find a new life beyond threat of fists.

  I clutched Lulu tight against me, even pushing her head against my shoulder. Not like she would have recognized her father. At least…I hoped she didn’t recognize him. He’d hardly been a father to her beyond the initial thirty seconds of effort required to create her.

  But she knew. Somehow, she knew who this man was.

  And why he should have frightened her.

  And for that reason, I’d never forgive him.

  I stepped further away, my voice a low hiss. “What the hell are you doing here?”

  Andre didn’t realize how loud he was. “Looking for you.”

  “Aren’t I lucky?” I searched the crowds, desperately wishing for a distraction. Why the hell had Quint cut the damned Christmas tree lights? “I have nothing to say to you, Andre. Get out of my sight before we have a problem.”

  “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” Andre sneered. “Love causing me problems.”

  “Liked fixing them more. I told you before, Andre. You come around me or my baby again, and I’d neuter you like the dog you are. Just give me a reason to hunt down a pair of scissors.”

  “That any way to speak to me?”

  Oh, I had a lot more to say, just didn’t dare unload in the middle of the most wholesome tiny town on God’s green earth.

  Over the years, I’d developed a stage instinct, a little nagging voice that protecte
d me from assholes, perverts, and drunken old fools. Usually, it ended with the heel of my hand smashing into the bridge of their nose and the bouncers kicking their asses across the street to the urgent care center.

  If Andre was lucky, he’d leave without breaking a bone.

  If he was particularly vulgar, he’d need stitches in places his next fuck-buddy would question.

  But those instincts were honed while strapped into a corset, armed with enough booze to black out anyone who dared to sue, and, most importantly…

  Without my little girl in my arms.

  How the hell was I supposed to defend myself while holding a baby?

  I would not let my daughter see me weak—but I wouldn’t traumatize her if momma went wild, enraged, and violent. Getting pissed, clawing at his eyes, and screaming obscenities would terrify Lulu. She didn’t remember the night we left Andre, but I’d made her a promise.

  She’d never be terrified again.

  “Saw you in the paper.” Andre pulled a newspaper article from his back pocket.

  I didn’t look. Already knew what I’d find. The advertisement for the pageant with accompanying special interest story about the production. Hadn’t thought about the photo they’d use—me and Varius posing in the middle of the cast.

  Should have known better than to show my face let alone have it printed in the biggest newspaper in Ironfield.

  I snorted. “Since when do you know how to read?”

  “There you go. Disrespecting me again.”

  “You gotta earn respect, Andre,” I said. “It’s not something you can steal, threaten, or pulverize.”

  “Let’s test it.”

  I still wore the cast from the last time he’d been angry. It wasn’t happening again.

  “We’re through,” I said. “It’s been over for years. Thought we had a deal—I don’t ask for child support, you leave my bones unbroken.”

  Alcohol reeked on his breath. “Yeah? Now I want a little more.”

  I knew what he wanted. Only thing he ever wanted. “Not happening.”

  “I’m not asking.”

  “Why don’t you try begging? It’ll be fun to kick your ass while you’re down.”

  Andre scowled. Pushed him too much, too far. I patted Lulu’s back, trying to ease her whimpers.

  “You know what I can do to a bitch like you?” he rasped.

  Pretty sure the entire town was going to find out. I batted his arm away as discreetly as I could, but the damage was done. The whispers began, the second glances.

  This was bad.

  I’d worked too long and too hard to get away from Andre, and then I’d worked even harder to stay low-profile in Butterpond. I’d failed at both. One look at Andre, and people would realize where Lulu got her darker skin, her cheekbones.

  They’d also realize why I had the cast.

  “You touch me, and I swear to God—” I gritted my teeth.

  The lie was a bluff. I had no way to defend myself. Lulu’s panicked squeal only drew more attention to us.

  Andre’s smile bared his teeth. “Just wanna talk, Glory…”

  This wasn’t a man who talked. Maybe to his parole officer, but even then he’d offer only the bare minimum so he could be left in peace to shoot up again. He might have worn a jacket, but I knew Santa’s sleigh wouldn’t have a problem traveling up the tracks on his arms.

  I didn’t have time to back away before he grabbed my bad arm, yanking me closer. “Do I gotta break this again to get you to listen—”

  Andre didn’t see it coming.

  And I had no time to shout.

  Andre spun, grabbed around the neck and hauled away from me. Andre swore, but the hit was quick and severe, striking him in the center of the face.

  No pretense.

  No warning.

  Just a crippling, jaw-breaking punch that flattened Andre to the ground.

  He crashed into the snow, blood spurting from his nose. The town went silent.

  And Varius hissed, shaking his bruised fist only once. He loomed over Andre, but he didn’t yell. His words darkened, simple and dire. “You come near her again, and I’ll take you to Hell myself.”

  My stomach rolled. I gripped Lulu tighter and stared at Varius.

  What the hell had he done?

  The crowd awkwardly squeezed in tighter, and the whispers blasted through the event. Suddenly, the unlit tree wasn’t the most exciting thing to happen that night.

  Now, the attention focused on me.

  I’d prided myself on my confidence, but the blood pouring from Andre’s nose threatened to heave the cocoa, spice cake, and Cheerios I’d snagged during the rehearsal. For the first time in weeks, my wrist throbbed. The cast chafed my skin until I longed to rip it apart, inch by itchy inch.

  And now they realized why.

  Every single person in Butterpond would know how I got the cast, the type of man who gave it to me, and why I never talked about my baby’s father.

  Jesus. The last thing we needed before the production was my life’s biggest indiscretion bleeding on the ground. This would ruin Varius.

  Quint’s excited cheer broke the silence. “Holy shit, V!”

  Nothing about this was holy.

  Andre struggled to his feet, and Lulu’s panicked whimpers became wails. Gretchen and Marius broke through the crowds, holding Quint before he leapt over Andre and finished the job.

  It wasn’t Quint they needed to restrain.

  Marius realized it before me. He dove forward, grabbing Varius before he made a worse mistake.

  Gretchen rubbed my shoulder, checking on Lulu. “Are you okay?”

  I was always okay. In the rare times life tried to knock me on my ass, I’d climbed back up with the help of a pole and the promise of a couple hundred crisp dollar bills.

  But no one had ever fought for me before.

  No one had ever risked their reputation for me.

  I didn’t like it.

  Sherriff Samson hiked up his pants as he strode through the crowd, urging everyone away with a wave of his hand. He still wore the Santa hat from the early rehearsal and bellowed a well-practiced Ho Ho Ho to all those snooping on the fight.

  “Okay, now, this ain’t very Christmasy.” He stepped over the puddle of blood and gripped Andre’s shoulders, forcing him to his feet. My ex blinked, woozy and disorientated. “Let’s not do anything that’ll end us up on the naughty list.”

  Varius said nothing, his stare burning through Andre. Quint and Marius had yet to release his arms.

  Samson took one look at the situation, gave me and Lulu a gentle smile, and patted the snow off Andre’s jacket. “There, son. You’ve got to be more careful.”

  Andre scowled. His words garbled over a fat lip and the blood from his nose. “The fuck?”

  Samson shook his head. “You’ve gone and got yourself hurt, son. Anyone got an idea as to how this happened?”

  “This motherfucker…” Andre’s profanity aimed for me. “Let me go.”

  “You mean the minister?” The sheriff laughed. “You’re mistaken, son. Pastor Payne’s never hit anyone in his life.”

  Andre struggled to free himself, but the concussion slowed his steps. “Fucking kill you, man.”

  Samson gestured to the crowd. “Did anyone see Pastor V take a swing at this man?”

  Not a soul raised a hand, said a word, or even pointed at Varius.

  It wasn’t possible.

  I stared at the growing crowd. Every single person, every member of the congregation and those who didn’t practice, stayed silent.

  The entire town lied for him.

  Protected him.

  Samson clapped Andre’s shoulder and guided him away. “It’s icy around these parts. You must have slipped. I’ll make sure we throw a little salt on these sidewalks. Keep an eye out…including you, Glory.”

  This wasn’t happening.

  The stares and whispers, judgement and gossip spread too quickly. Even the moment Mayor Desmond fin
ally lit the town’s Christmas tree was overshadowed. Brilliant white LEDs flooded the town square.

  It only illuminated the blood on the snow.

  Lulu pointed upward, sniffling through a fear she never should have experienced. “Pretty!”

  I held her too tight. Couldn’t help it.

  For the first time in my life, a stage-fright crippled me. I froze under the bright lights and questioning stares, unable to hide as the town realize the sort of woman who had sunk her claws into their tormented minister.

  Varius took my hand. Tugged. Forced me to look at him.

  “Come on.” He whispered. “Let’s go.”

  Go?

  Go where?

  The entire town watched our every movement.

  He led me through a blur of jackets and scarves, scowls and scorn. Varius’s brothers helped escort us through the festival, knocking over a barricade so we could slip from Main Street, through a narrow alley, and away to the church.

  The music and lights faded behind us, and a slammed door in the parish house silenced the music and laughter. I didn’t let him turn the lights on, didn’t want anyone to know I’d returned home…

  And that he’d come with me.

  Lulu wasn’t ready for bed. That worked. I wasn’t ready to let her out of my arms. I hadn’t expected Varius to join me, but he followed, quietly, resting beside us in the bed.

  Like he belonged there.

  And he did.

  I hated the difference it made. Hated how much safer I felt beside him.

  Hated how much Lulu loved to regale him with gibberish stories and squeals of excitement.

  She’d never had a real father before—never had a man in her life who cared for her, hugged her tight, and gently kissed her forehead. She cuddled between us, warm and secure, and wound her little hands in ours. Perfectly content.

  Then she slept as if she’d always been there with us, together, happy and comfortable.

  And it was my own fault. I’d anticipated breaking my own heart. Knew it would happen. Counted the days.

  But I hadn’t realized how much Varius had meant to her—shoulders for sitting, arms for holding, and a warm chest for sleeping.

  What the hell was going to happen when this all fell apart?

  She slept, and Varius pulled me away only after she’d been tucked under the blankets, surrounded with her toys. More than before.