Sweet Dreams

by Kristen Ashley

  “Carrie and Mack have to leave Sunday,” I went on.

  “Yeah,” Tate repeated, one hand moving down my back so his fingers could trail the lace that rode high on the cheek of my bottom, the other hand slid forward, his thumb under his lips gliding across my nipple.

  This felt good so I sucked in breath and fidgeted in his lap.

  “Tate, baby, you okay?” I whispered.

  “Yeah,” he said yet again, his thumb catching the lace at my breast and pulling it down.

  “Baby –” I started and stopped, my breath hitching when he drew my nipple in deep. My hips rolled against his lap and my head fell back.

  His mouth detached from my nipple and traced up my chest, his hand at my bottom drifting up to glide into my hair and pull my head down so he could kiss me, wet, slow and sweet, while the pad of his thumb tormented my hard nipple.

  When his mouth detached from mine, my lips moved along his cheek to his ear, I tried to pull it together and asked softly, “What’s on your mind?”

  “Tryin’ to figure out how to fuck you while you’re wearin’ these panties,” he answered.

  I was pretty certain that was what was actually on his mind but still, my head came up, both my hands went to his jaws and I whispered, “Baby, talk to me.”

  His eyes looked into mine and his hand in my hair pulled me down to touch his lips to mine then he let me move away half an inch before he said, “Laurie, I’m good.”

  “I’m worried about you,” I was still whispering.

  “Baby, I’m good,” he repeated.

  “You’ve changed,” I told him and quickly went on. “It isn’t a bad change, I’m just… concerned.”

  “Yeah, babe, I’ve changed,” he surprisingly agreed.

  I dropped my forehead to his. “Talk to me about it.”

  He sighed and fell to his back. I followed him down, planting my forearms in his chest, my hands flattening there as his hands cupped my behind.

  His eyes caught mine and he announced, “I’m over it.”

  My head tipped to the side. “Sorry?”

  “I’m over it,” he repeated.

  “But –”

  “This sucks, all of it. But I was way over her when I started it with you. I don’t like Pop, Stell, Wood and definitely Jonas bein’ on their path but, Ace, I ain’t suffering.”

  “But earlier –”

  “Today was shit, babe, and I can’t say it doesn’t hit me, that ugly end to her livin’ an ugly life but, outside of keepin’ an eye on Jonas and my Mom actin’ whacked, today, mostly I was struggling with the fact that I’m not suffering.”

  One of my hands slid up to curl around his neck and I whispered, “But Tate, you… with me… we –”

  “Life hands you lessons, Ace, this one taught me to enjoy what I got. My Dad died and I didn’t learn shit from that at the time, didn’t learn until it was almost too late. This time, Neet dyin’, ‘specially like that, I learned quick.” His hand slid up my spine and into my hair. “I’m happy, Laurie. This is good, what we got, and I’m gonna fuckin’ enjoy it.”

  “So you don’t want me close, um… sex close to be, uh… super close to prove to yourself that I’m here and I’m okay?”

  His brows knitted while I spoke and when I was done he asked, “Sex close?

  “We’re having a lot of sex, Captain.”

  “We have a lot of sex all the time, Ace.”

  “You said, the day she died, you needed me and you wanted me close,” I reminded him.

  “It was fresh then,” he told me.

  I tipped my head to the side. “So you’re okay now?”

  “Yeah.”

  “You’re not, um… dealing with death in a macho man, badass, alpha male kind of way?”

  He pressed his lips together, his expression softening and then he said, “No.”

  “You’re sure?” I pushed.

  “Ace, I’m okay.”

  “Yeah?”

  He tipped his chin up and then he rolled me to my back, getting on top and he shoved his face in my neck.

  That’s when I heard him laughing.

  “Tate?”

  “Give me a sec, Laurie,” he rumbled into my neck, still laughing.

  I lay under him for awhile, hearing and feeling his laughter, then I muttered, “I can’t believe you’re laughing.”

  His head came up, his mouth still curved into a smile, he looked at me and said, “Dealing with death in a macho man, badass, alpha male kind of way?”

  “Well I don’t know!” I snapped. “I was worried!”

  His head dipped, his nose sliding along mine and he whispered, “Yeah.” Then he pulled back and looked at me. “You good?”

  “I guess so,” I answered snippily.

  “Can I fuck you now or you wanna process somethin’ else?” he teased.

  “I suppose we can have sex but, I’ll warn you, I like these panties so don’t tear them or anything in your quest to fuck me while wearing them.”

  “I tear ‘em, I’ll buy you new ones,” he said, his mouth coming toward mine.

  “Tate –” I started when his lips hit mine.

  “Shut it, Laurie,” he growled.

  “Oh all right,” I mumbled but I didn’t shut it since he kissed me, with tongue, so I couldn’t.

  Then he fucked me and Tate could do just about anything for me, but he couldn’t figure out how to fuck me wearing the panties.

  But he did manage to do it without tearing them when he whipped them off.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Birthday

  After my shift at the bar, I went to the office, opened it with my new key, stepped inside, turned on the light, walked to the couch and sat down. Then I pulled my cell phone out of my jeans.

  I scrolled down my contacts, hit the button, put the phone to my ear and listened to it ring.

  “Derriford,” I heard my college boyfriend answer.

  “Hey Matt,” I said softly.

  “Laurie?” Matt asked.

  “Yeah,” I answered.

  “Shit, Laurie, been callin’ all day. Your number was disconnected, your cell, at home and they said you quit work over a year ago. I’ve been fuckin’ worried sick. What’s up?”

  “I’ve got a new phone,” I told him, “moved from Phoenix, living in Colorado now.”

  “Brad moved you guys from Phoenix?” His voice was incredulous, he knew Brad liked his golf. “What? He get a better job?”

  I had not shared anything with Matt during our birthday calls, not on my last birthday, when I was in the throes of a post-divorce wander, his birthday or the ones the year before when I knew in my soul it was going bad. My calls with Matt on our birthdays were about laughing and reminiscing about good times, not getting into anything heavy.

  That day was my birthday and the time had come to tell him.

  So I did. I told him everything.

  When I was done, he was silent.

  “Matt?” I called.

  “I’m here,” he said quietly.

  I misread his quiet mood. “I’m okay, honey. I’m… well,” I smiled to myself, “I’m really good.”

  “Yeah, I can hear,” he replied but he didn’t sound happy for me.

  “Are you okay?” I asked.

  “Left Ellen,” he announced, I pulled in breath and he went on, “‘bout a year ago, now.”

  This shocked me. I thought he and Ellen were solid.

  “Matt,” I whispered, “what hap –?”

  He cut me off. “Shoulda called me, Laurie.”

  “What?”

  “Shoulda called me.”

  “Why?”

  “Wished you’d’ve called me,” he stated softly.

  It was my turn to go quiet because I knew what he was saying.

  Then I whispered, “Matt.”

  No answer.

  Then, “His name’s Tate?”

  I swallowed then nodded even though he couldn’t see me. “Yes, Tate Jackson.”
/>   “And he’s a bounty hunter?”

  “Yeah.”

  Nothing.

  I waited.

  Then, “Jesus, Laurie, only you could go from a pansy-assed dickhead to a badass bounty hunter in the space of a year.”

  He was teasing me and I knew it was going to be okay. So, he’d just rocked my world, letting on he’d been carrying a torch for me for decades and making me feel a hint of regret that I hadn’t told him about Brad because he’d been a great boyfriend and I knew he was a good man. A year ago, I wouldn’t have minded exploring that.

  Now, no way in hell.

  “So,” I returned, “you knew I had an inner biker babe all these years?”

  “Biker babe?”

  “Tate’s a Harley man,” I explained.

  “Goody Two Shoes Lauren Grahame on the back of a bike,” he hooted. “Fuck me.”

  “Tate’s bike is hot,” I retorted.

  “Honey,” he replied, a thread of amusement in his voice.

  “He part owns a biker bar. I’m a waitress there. I wear high heels, tight jeans and Harley shirts and break up fights, when I’m not running checks on the skips he’s tracking down. I’m the woman behind the info, Matt. He’s got bounty hunter databases on his computer. He needs it, I run the checks and feed him the data. You should be nice to me, I can find out anything about you.”

  “Then I better stay on your good side.”

  “You got that right.”

  We slid into our comfortable banter after that, laughing and reminiscing and only going serious when he told me about Ellen, who he spent the last three years falling out of love with because she sounded kind of like a nagging bitch. Suffice it to say, Matt definitely couldn’t drink grape Kool-Aid on his couch because Ellen would have a conniption and Matt was not down with that, at least not fifteen years of it with Ellen growing more and more uptight rather than less and less.

  “Glad to hear you sounding so happy, honey,” Matt said quietly when I told him I had to go home and make dinner for Jonas.

  “I’m glad to be so happy, honey,” I said quietly back then whispered, “Hope you find this, Matt.”

  “Had it, Laurie, lost it,” Matt replied, also whispering.

  Cut. Right to the quick.

  “Matt –”

  He cut me off. “Next year, Lauren.”

  “Next year.”

  “Later.”

  “Bye.”

  I hit the button to turn off my phone and then I stared at it. Then I sighed and pushed up from the couch to get my purse and head home.

  * * * * *

  Sitting beside Jim-Billy in his beat up truck I watched the dark landscape slide by.

  It was early November and the May-December murderer still hadn’t been found. He also had not committed another act of violence since Neeta.

  Neeta had been in the ground awhile and Jonas was beginning to move on from those frequent moments where his eyes would go lost or pained and I knew his thoughts had grown dark. They were still there, they’d probably always be there, but they were less frequent.

  This was why I hadn’t told him, Tate or anyone about my birthday. Christmas was around the corner and we were going to Indiana for two weeks to celebrate it. That was soon enough for fun and laughter. If the pond froze, Jonas could skate on it. My mother would spoil him rotten and we’d all probably come back needing a new wardrobe because we’d gained so much weight from her cooking.

  But right now, things didn’t need to be about me. They needed to be about Jonas.

  Tate had even gone off that morning to hunt down a bad guy. It sucked that he wouldn’t be around for my birthday, even if he didn’t know it was my birthday. But, though we both kept close watch over Jonas, our lives were settling and I noticed he liked to work. He hadn’t been able to do it for awhile without a lot of stuff hanging over his head but with Jonas sorted, me in his house, the bar ticking over well and Neeta not making his life a misery (in the usual ways), he was able to do his job with more focus and I realized he liked doing it. He either got off on the hunt or he got off on making the world a little safer, or both. Therefore, I didn’t make excuses to try and keep him home when he said he had to go that morning. He arranged for Pop to take me to work and Jim-Billy to bring me home and I didn’t breathe a word.

  I thought, when the dust had settled after Neeta’s funeral, that Tate would again go after Tonia and Neeta’s murderer.

  He didn’t.

  I asked him about this and he explained simply, “Feds got their job, cops got theirs. Mine is to keep my family safe.”

  There was nothing to say to that so I didn’t say anything. That didn’t mean I didn’t do anything and what I did was kiss him, hard and long.

  I noticed Jim-Billy’s truck stop and I saw we were in Tate’s drive. I also saw Stella’s car in the drive which wasn’t a surprise. She was tasked with bringing Jonas home after my shift. I’d called and told her I’d be a little late due to my phone call to Matt though I didn’t tell her about my phone call to Matt. Tate and I had settled but Tate was a badass alpha male. Brad wasn’t concerned in the slightest that I gabbed and laughed with my ex-boyfriend for an hour on my birthday. Tate, I didn’t think, would like that. And Stella, I’d learned, had a big mouth.

  I turned to Jim-Billy. “Want to come in for dinner? I’m making roast chicken and mashed potatoes.”

  Jim-Billy grinned at me. “Don’t mind if I do.”

  I grinned back and jumped down from the truck. Jim-Billy followed me up the steps to the deck, along the deck and through the sliding glass door. The lights were off and the television wasn’t on, which surprised me. If he wasn’t doing his homework or playing video games in his room, Jonas was always camped out in front of the television. And with Stella there, and Jonas being a polite kid who liked company, I thought for sure he’d be camped out in front of the television.

  I flipped on the lights, turned right and froze.

  Then my mouth dropped open.

  The battered countertops were gone. Fabulous, gleaming granite ones were in their place (except the butcher block island, that was just the same). The old fridge, stove and dishwasher were also gone. Where they once stood, there was a brand new, glossy, black fronted fridge, a matching dishwasher and a beautiful, stainless steel restaurant quality stove. Above the stove, the old microwave had been pulled out and a fancy new one matching the stove was there.

  It looked fantastic.

  I just knew Tate’s kitchen could be fabulous!

  There was a beautiful, old-fashioned, pink glass cake stand sitting on the island, the edges of its top polka-dots of glass. On the stand was delicious looking cake with generous swirls of creamy, chocolate frosting and it was topped with an abundance of pink candles. A huge bouquet of balloons in every color of the rainbow festooned the middle of the island, their multi-colored strings held down under one of my heavy stoneware bowls.

  “Happy birthday, Laurie!” I heard Jonas shout and my body jolted as I watched him run from the mudroom followed in a stream by Wendy, Tyler, Shambles, Sunny, Ned, Betty, Pop, Holly, Twyla, Amber, Krystal, Bubba, Dominic, Nadine, Steg, Wings, Stoney, Stella, Wood and, bringing up the rear, Tate.

  Jonas’s body hit me, his arms going around me for a tight hug as I went back on a foot on impact.

  His hug was fast and he let go, jumping back a step and announcing, “Dad and Uncle Wood spent all day putting in the counters. He ordered them forever ago! The guys who brought the fridge and stuff from the store just left, like, a second before you and Jim-Billy drove up. It was good you were late because Dad was freaking out! Totally pi… I mean mad as all get out because he didn’t think they’d be done before you got home. Uncle Wood had to hide Dad’s guns!”

  I looked from Jonas’s smiling face to his father who was standing at the end of the counter, his hip to it, his arms crossed on his chest, his eyes on me.

  Then I looked into the kitchen at the new countertops, the new appliances, the cake,
the balloons and, most of all, my friends.

  Then I burst out crying.

  These were not delicate, quiet, ladylike tears. No. They were loud, out of control, eyes and nose streaming sobs.

  I was in Tate’s arms in an instant and I heard through my bawling a muttered, “Jesus, Ace.”

  I yanked back, succeeding in only moving my head and shoulders because his arms were tight, I focused on Tate through the wetness in my eyes and I yelled, “You’re supposed to be after a fugitive from justice!”

  “I lied, babe,” Tate replied. “There was no skip.”

  “You lied to me?” I screeched hysterically because I was hysterically happy and I had absolutely no clue how to deal with that.

  “Couldn’t tell you I couldn’t take you to work because I had to go pick up countertops, Ace, that would spoil the surprise,” Tate answered.

  My head jerked and I asked, “How did you know it was my birthday? You weren’t supposed to know it was my birthday.”

  “It’s on your job application, Laurie,” Krys called and I heard her but I watched Tate’s face dip close at the same time it got serious.

  “Yeah, and we’re gonna talk about that,” he murmured and I had the distinct feeling he wasn’t too hot on me keeping my birthday from him.

  “I thought –” I started.

  “I know what you thought,” he cut me off, “and we’re gonna talk about that.”

  I swallowed back tears, wiped my face and sniffed loudly.

  Then I changed the subject. “Did you make the cake?”

  Tate grinned. “Fuck no. Shambles made it.”

  “Moist Factor Five Hundred, babeeeee!” Shambles shouted from somewhere behind Tate.

  I giggled softly.

  Then I whispered to Tate, “You bought me a new stove.”

  “Yeah,” he whispered back.

  “And a new fridge.”

  “Yeah.”

  I moved to fit myself to his front and wrap my arms around him, tipping my head back further to hold his eyes.

  “And a new dishwasher,” I continued.

  “Yeah, babe.”

  “That’s a lot of appliances, Tate.”

  “Yeah,” he agreed.

  “And a lot of cake,” I observed because I knew from just glancing at them that the appliances and countertops were top of the line and they had to cost a whack.