by Amy Andrews
Coughing as she almost inhaled her drink, Della dragged her eyes off Tucker.
“Mom.” Both Clay and Jethro protested in unison.
“What?” Rosemary affected an air of innocence. “You came here today to try and dissuade me from my relationship with Ray. Let’s not try and pretend any different.”
“That’s not true, Mom,” Clay said. “We’re just concerned you’re being taken advantage of.”
“Clay Edmund Forbes, have I ever struck you as some senile old lady who’s easily swayed by a fine piece of patootie?”
Clay winced at the patootie reference. So did Jethro. Della, on the other hand, just managed to suppress a smile. Rosemary was totally partial to Ray’s patootie.
“Of course not, Mom,” Clay assured. “It’s just that you’ve been through a lot in the last year and a half, with Dad dying and moving away from the place you called home for over fifty years. It stands to reason you might not be making…clear-headed decisions.”
“My head,” Rosemary said, her voice steely, “is perfectly clear.”
Jethro regarded his mother for long moments before switching his attention to Della. “I apologize for you being dragged into this family matter.” He was clearly not impressed with discussing private matters with a woman he’d just met. Not that Della could blame him. “But now that you are, perhaps you could give us your professional opinion?”
Della blinked. She’d never been asked for a professional opinion. Until this moment, she hadn’t even regarded herself as a professional. But, she supposed, after a year of working at the old folks’ home, she did know a lot about residential living and could speak from a knowledge base.
And damn if that didn’t make her sit a little straighter.
“Is it common for residents in old folks’ homes to form…special friendships?”
“I think the phrase you’re after is friends with benefits,” Rosemary interrupted with an eye roll.
Another wince twisted Jethro’s face, but he continued. “And, if so, do they last, and what happens when they’re over and both people have to continue living in such close quarters?”
Della glanced at Rosemary for permission to speak, because while she understood Clay and Jethro’s concerns and that they were coming from a place of love, she could also understand why Rosemary was bristling over her sons’ interference in her autonomy. And she was team Ray and Rosemary all the way.
Pursing her lips, Rosemary nodded at Della to speak.
“It’s more common than you think,” Della said. As far as she knew, it was currently only Ray and Rosemary at the Credence old folks’ home, but she’d done a lot of reading about geriatric relationships in residential care facilities since Ray and Rosemary’s assignation. “And how long they last and behaviors after they end are the same as in the general population.”
In other words, some cases ended well and people moved on, and some cases didn’t. Neither Forbes son seemed particularly comforted by Della’s words.
“Don’t you think…” Clay paused, looking at his mother as if he was trying to find a delicate way to say whatever he was trying to say before returning his attention back to Della. “They’re too old?”
“We’re old, Clay,” Rosemary snapped, her brows beetled together. “Not dead.”
Della chose her words carefully, wanting to be persuasive, not combative. “Well…it’s really not any of my business. If you’re after my opinion, then I would say no. Age shouldn’t come into what two consenting adults choose to do in the privacy of their own homes. And also, Ray Carmody is the nicest, sweetest, most gentle guy you’ll ever meet, and he treats your mother like a queen. He’s not taking advantage of her. He doesn’t have any agenda. They’re just simply…enjoying each other’s company, and I, for one, think it’s wonderful.”
Rosemary delivered a squeeze to Della’s thigh under the table, and she squeezed back.
“But what if it were to turn serious and they were to get married?”
Della didn’t see why that would matter and was about to say so when Rosemary’s laugh cut her off. “Clay…darling. I’m not marrying the man. I’m just using him for sex.”
Della felt the double wince of the two Forbes men all the way down to her toes. It was funny, though, seeing these two grown men discomforted by their elderly mother’s sex life.
“Which means he’s using you, too,” Clay said, tight-lipped.
“I sincerely hope so,” Rosemary confirmed. “Every night,” she added under her breath so just Della could hear, causing her to bite on the inside of her cheek to stop herself from laughing.
“Mom.” Clay gave her a stern look. “I’m trying to be serious.”
“Oh, I’m sorry, let me try that again. I’m seriously just using him for sex.”
Della bit her cheek harder as Jethro jumped in. “What kind of sons would we be if we weren’t looking out for you?”
Rosemary sighed, sliding her hands across the table, one for each son to hold. “I’m sorry, my darlings. Thank you for looking out for me. You’re good boys. But since when have I not been able to look out for myself?”
“Dad would have wanted us to,” Clay insisted.
“I think your dad knew I could look out for myself. And while we’re on the subject, if the shoe was on the other foot, if I was gone and your father had found himself a girlfriend, would either of you feel the need to have this conversation with him?”
Clay and Jethro looked at each other guiltily, and Rosemary gave them both a knowing look as she withdrew her hands. “Right. And above all else, your dad would have wanted me to live a full life. I know that because we discussed it often as we got older, and I think you both know it as well.”
“Yeah,” Clay admitted. “I guess it’s just…not been that long.”
“And you and dad were married for over sixty years,” Jethro added. “It’s taken us by surprise.”
Rosemary nodded slowly, like suddenly it was dawning on her, as it was Della, that this conversation wasn’t about Ray or their mother’s sex life at all. “I know you both miss your father,” she said, her voice gentle. “I do, too. I miss Winston every damn day.”
“I just…still can’t believe he’s gone some days, you know?”
The break in Jethro’s voice hit Della right in the feels. She was envious of these two men having a father that was worthy of grief.
“I do.” Rosemary squeezed her son’s hand. “And I’m not replacing him in my heart. I could never do that. I’m just…making some room for somebody else. Our hearts are always big enough for someone else.”
Della glanced at Tucker, feeling every one of Rosemary’s wise words.
“How about this,” Rosemary suggested. “I know you’ve already met Ray, but that was a brief hello one day. Why don’t I call him and get him down here so you can get to really know him? I think you’ll like him. I think Winston would have, too.”
Jethro and Clay glanced at each other, then nodded their heads, and Rosemary beamed. “Thank you, darlings.”
Della stayed for another half an hour, chatting with the Forbes family, listening to their farm stories and tales of Rosemary in her younger days, until Ray arrived. She excused herself then, heading toward the bar and Tucker. He’d checked out her skirt so many times since sitting in the booth she’d wondered if he’d been bitten by a radioactive spider and suddenly developed X-ray vision.
It was fair to say she was a little hot and bothered by his not-very-discrete ogling of her legs, and she was itching for some payback.
“Hey,” she said with a smile as she approached.
His gaze roved all over her like he really could see through her clothes. “Hey.”
Della’s legs wobbled at the dirtiest sounding hey that had ever been hey’d. The kind of hey that said your panties are red lace with tiny black bows on the hips, and I
’m going to be getting you out of them as soon as possible.
Well…she was way ahead of him. If he wanted to set her underwear on fire from across the room, then he could bear the consequences. Placing her glass on the bar, she said, “I’ll have another. I’m just going to the restroom.”
Scooting quickly to her destination, she shut and locked the door of the closest cubicle, then reached under her skirt and pulled down her red-and-black lacy thong. She smiled to herself as she stepped out of it, unable to deny the sudden little thrill. She finally felt like she was coming into her own sexuality.
Okay, she hadn’t been able to go all the way with the blow jobs yet. And there was part of her that worried she might never be able to go all the way. But thankfully, Tucker seemed just fine with any attention she gave him down there, which made her feel safe enough to experiment. To perfect. To make sure whatever level of oral she could give him was her very best work.
Screwing the scrap of lace into a ball in her hand, she stepped out of the cubicle and headed back to the bar.
“That was quick,” Tucker murmured, looking over his shoulder at her as he prepped her cocktail.
Della eased herself up onto the stool, grateful no one else was sitting at the bar who she could potentially flash now that she was bare-ass naked beneath her skirt. She waited patiently, panties in her hand like an unexploded bomb, for Tucker to finish.
Finally, he was done, placing her drink down in front of her and blasting her with his flirty eyes. “See anything else you need?”
She smiled at Mr. I-know-how-hot-you-are-for-me-right-now. “I’ll have an empty glass, please.”
He cocked an eyebrow, curious but compliant. “What kind?”
“Surprise me.”
He reached up, slid a martini glass from the rack above his head, and placed it next to her piña colada. Smiling, Della picked the glass up, brought it close, stuffed her balled-up underwear into it, and pushed it back across the bar until it was sitting halfway between them.
Tucker frowned as he looked down into the glass. “Are they…” He glanced up, dropping his voice. “Are those your panties?”
Della nodded, feeling pretty damn proud of her daring. “Yup.”
His nostrils flared as he stared at them before returning his gaze to her face. Leaning forward on his elbows, he whispered, “Della Munroe. Are you commando under that skirt?”
“That’s for me to know and you to find out.”
He swallowed. “Jesus.”
“You didn’t know you were creating a monster, did you?” she said with a smile.
Opening his mouth to confirm it, he was interrupted by Drew. “Good idea, barkeep. I’ll have a martini.”
Tucker snatched up the glass, and Della stifled a laugh.
“Dirty.” Drew grinned at Della and waggled his eyebrows. “The only way to drink them.”
He got himself comfortable on the stool to her left as Tucker took the glass down to the end of the bar and opened the under-counter dishwasher. She watched as he discreetly stuffed her panties in his back pocket and dumped the glass into the machine, shutting the door.
“Hey, Della,” Drew greeted, bright and cheery, absolutely nothing at all like Tucker’s much more loaded hey.
“Hi.” Della smiled at him, taking a sip of her piña colada. She’d always liked Drew. The fact he was aware of the relationship between her and Tucker and seemed to approve made her like him even more.
Tucker arrived with a beer, plonking it in front of Drew as he blasted Della with a look that told her his hands were under her skirt at the very first opportunity.
“That’s not a martini.” Drew looked down at his drink.
“Correct,” Tucker said, his voice tight.
Drew leaned in toward her and dropped his head to the side. “What’s wrong with him?”
Mimicking his pose, Della also leaned in, her lips pressed together to stop from smiling too big. “I think he’s a little…flustered.”
“Ah.” Drew looked from Della to Tucker and back to Della again. “You two were talking dirty before I arrived.”
“Yes,” Della confirmed.
“No,” Tucker denied.
Drew laughed as they spoke on top of each other. “Would you like me to leave?”
“Yes,” Tucker confirmed.
“No,” Della denied.
He laughed again as their voices clashed once more. “Aww. You two are so damn cute.”
Tucker rolled his eyes, but Della’s heart pitter-pattered at the thought of being one half of a cute couple. She shouldn’t let it do that, but it was hardly under voluntary control. “Ignore him,” she said. “Stay. Tell me about your day.”
“Just the usual kind of stuff,” Drew dismissed. “But while I have you, how about a female perspective on sacred ritual practitioner as an alternative to undertaker?”
A snort came from Tucker. “It sounds like you’re starting a cult. Arlo’s just going to love that.”
“It does sound a little…dark arts-ish,” Della agreed.
“Hmm.” Drew rubbed his jaw. “Maybe you’re right.”
Just then, a guy sat on the stool beside Della and bade them all a polite hello. He wasn’t from anywhere around Credence, because Della would have remembered meeting someone so easy on the eyes who was about her age.
Sadly, he did nothing for her.
“Hi,” Tucker said, smiling at the newcomer. “What can I get you to drink?”
“A Bud, please.”
Tucker turned away to get the beer, and the guy faced Della. “You’re Della Munroe, right?” For a split second, Della froze. How did this guy know her name? But he pressed on, oblivious, offering his hand. “I’m Bo. Bo Forbes. I’m Rosemary’s grandson. She sent me over here to say hi.”
“Oh.” An instant flood of relief exaggerated her response, and Della glanced over her shoulder at Rosemary, who winked and tinkled a little wave. “Right.” She turned back to Bo and shook his hand. This was the daredevil grandson who prioritized his looks over his brain. “You ride bulls on the circuit?”
“That’s me.”
“Rosemary talks about you all the time.”
“She talks about you all the time, too.” He smiled at her. “I can see why.”
His beer was plonked down in front of him with a definite thunk. “Cheers,” Tucker said.
“I’ve always wanted to go to a rodeo,” Della said conversationally.
“You’ve never been? Seriously? You should definitely come and watch me sometime.” Bo grinned. “It’ll be the biggest thrill of your life. I promise.”
Della laughed at his exuberance. She didn’t have the heart to tell him she was more of a Tucker-having-her-panties-in-his-pocket kind of thrill seeker.
“You’re on the professional circuit?” Drew asked.
A half-hour conversation followed about the adventures and dangers of riding a big-ass bull for eight long seconds. Bo rattled off a list of his injuries, including the shoulder surgery he’d just had, which was why he was back home with the family in Kansas and here visiting his grandmother today. He talked about his goals, which included a comprehensive exit plan from riding by raising bulls for the circuit. His winnings had already bought him a ranch, and he’d started to stock it, so it should be turning a handsome profit in the not-too-distant future.
He also threw in a couple of stories about his grandmother and how she’d championed his move onto the circuit when his father had been more cautious. “I don’t think I’d have gone pro if it hadn’t been for Grams.”
While Tucker dealt with an influx of customers, Della chatted away with Drew and Bo quite happily. It felt good to be part of a conversation like this. To have Bo’s light, easygoing attention. To hang out with people and not feel awkward or wary or self-conscious. Being married so young and isolated for
a lot of that time had really stymied her social skills, and the more secure and normal she felt, the more her confidence grew.
She was conscious, however, of her underwear stuffed into the back pocket of Tucker’s Levi’s. Every time she caught a glimpse of his ass, she saw the slight bulge, and a trill of excitement skipped through her belly. The fact that the only person in this bar who knew she was commando was Tucker was also wildly thrilling, and she couldn’t wait to hear his key in her lock tonight.
Yeah. She’d given him a spare key last week…
Della checked her watch. It was almost three. “Well, it was nice meeting you, Bo,” she said, “but I gotta go. I’ve got an appointment.”
She and Ruth were having mani-pedis at Mirror, Mirror at quarter past three. She was contemplating getting some fancy waxing done especially for Tucker. She flicked him a glance now, sending him a secret smile, which he didn’t seem to clock.
“Be careful out there, okay?” she instructed, turning her attention back to Rosemary’s grandson as she slid off the stool. “It looks very dangerous.”
“I’m always careful,” Bo said with his daredevil smile. “Before you go…I hope you don’t mind me being forward, but I was wondering if you’d like to go out with me sometime?”
“Oh.” Della blinked at Bo. What? Go out? “Like…on a date?”
“Yes.” He laughed. “On a date.”
Okay. She had not seen that coming. Clearly she needed to pay more attention to the person talking to her and less attention to the guy who was currently harboring her underwear. She glanced at Tucker, who was smiling but in a tight kind of way, like his jaw was about to shatter. Then at Drew, whose gaze flitted between her and Tucker, then to Bo and back to her.
“Oh. Wow.” She was seriously flattered—amazed, actually—but a date with Bo hadn’t even crossed her mind.
Bo laughed again. “I obviously need to be less subtle with my flirting. Look, if you’re not into me or if there’s a special guy, then my ego can take a no.”
Della glanced at Tucker, who met her gaze for a long moment before nodding slightly and giving her a gentle smile. “You should. It’s been ages since you’ve been on a date, Della.”
