Demanding All Of You

by Ali Parker

  “Three-hundred pieces is pretty intense,” I agreed. “I don’t remember the last time I did a jigsaw puzzle.”

  “You do the outside first and then you just do one piece at a time until it comes together,” Oliver explained as if it was that easy.

  “Have you been doing this all by yourself?” I asked him.

  “Dad helped me a little bit.”

  I looked up at Damion and found him watching me. “That’s very nice that he’s helped you,” I said, my gaze locked on his.

  “It’s good to get away from the screens for a little while,” he said.

  I nodded, pulling my gaze away from his before things got any hotter between us. I was glad Oliver couldn’t feel the sexual tension burning between us. I felt it. I knew Damion felt it. I damn near grabbed the puzzle box lid and fanned myself.

  “No, Dad,” Oliver groaned.

  “What?” Damion asked innocently. “It fits.”

  I looked at the piece he had tried to cram into another one. “I don’t think so.”

  Oliver looked at me, rolling his eyes and looking thoroughly disgusted. “He does this all the time. They don’t fit and he tries to make it work.”

  I laughed. The look on Damion’s face was priceless. “I do not,” he protested.

  It was clearly a game for him. He did it on purpose to get a rise out of his son. It was cute and endearing and made me want to throw my arms around him and kiss him. My ovaries were practically crying out for the man to put a baby in my belly. Seeing him with his son was too damn sweet.

  We worked on the puzzle a little longer before Oliver declared he was done. “Should we bring in the horses?” Oliver asked his dad.

  Damion looked at the time. “They can stay out a little longer. We can go out after dinner.”

  “I’ll help,” I volunteered.

  “I’d like that,” he said. “Oliver, why don’t you wash up?”

  “I’ll go with you,” I said, practically jumping up from my chair. I didn’t want to be alone with Damion. Not yet. I needed to talk to him, but I wanted to do it later, when Oliver wasn’t likely to overhear the conversation.

  Damion gave me a look. I knew he had hoped to get a few minutes alone. I offered him a smile and followed Oliver down the hall to the bathroom. We took turns washing our hands.

  “Do you want to see my new bedroom?” he asked. “We got some more of our stuff. Dad has to unpack it still.”

  “I would love to see your bedroom,” I told him, noticing the boxes piled up against one wall in the hallway. I couldn’t help but look across the hall into Oliver Senior’s bedroom. The door was open, revealing more boxes. There was a pile of clothes on the bed. My heart clenched when I recognized the plaid shirts. They were Oliver’s. There were no sheets on the bed, making me think Damion wasn’t using the bed.

  The door to the room at the end of the hall was open. I could see a pair of Damion’s boots next to the bed, along with a few clothes scattered about. I imagined it was hard for him to come back home to a ghost.

  “This is my room,” Oliver announced.

  “This is a nice room,” I said, noticing the posters on the walls of bands that had been popular almost twenty years ago.

  “It used to be my dad’s room,” he explained, answering the question I hadn’t asked.

  I nodded. “I like it. Do you like it?”

  “Yep. I have more books in the boxes. Dad said he’ll try and get to it soon.”

  “Unpacking is a lot of work,” I told him.

  He shrugged. “I guess.”

  “How about school? Do you like it?” I sat down on his bed. He sat beside me.

  “I do like it. Miss June is really nice. I like my new school better than my old school.”

  “That’s good. This is a great place to grow up.”

  He nodded. I felt a kinship with him I couldn’t explain. I didn’t even know him all that well, but I felt like we had a close bond. It was going to be very hard to leave him. He wasn’t mine, I reminded myself. I had met plenty of other kids during my times on the job. Oliver was different. Damion was different. They threatened everything I liked about my life. I had to get away before I really fell in deep.

  “We should probably see if your dad needs help,” I said, feeling like the room was closing in on me.

  I got up and walked back to the kitchen. Damion was just putting the lasagna on the opposite end of the table from where the puzzle was in progress. “There you guys are. I thought I was going to have to send out a search party.”

  “He wanted to show me his room,” I told him.

  He nodded. “I see.”

  Oliver sat down. “You can sit there.” He gestured to the chair across the table from him.

  “Thank you.”

  I took my seat, waiting for Damion to sit down as well. I watched as he dished up a portion of the lasagna for Oliver. I could watch the two of them all day. They clicked so well. I wanted to ask about girlfriends or other women in his life but didn’t dare. It was none of my business. I just couldn’t imagine that with all the women in New York, none of them had snared Damion. Finding a good man was hard. Finding one that was sexy, kind, and devoted to his kid was even harder. He checked all the boxes, and no one snapped him up.

  After dinner, we all helped clear the table. I was keeping Oliver by my side to avoid the difficult conversation that was coming.

  “Ready?” Damion asked Oliver.

  “Ready,” he said with a firm nod. It was very Oliver Senior. It was crazy they could be so much alike after having spent little time together. It was Damion. Damion was the link. He had the same mannerisms. Oliver Senior’s legacy lived on.

  We walked out of the house together, Oliver darting out in front of us. “I’ve missed you the past couple of days,” he said in a low voice.

  “Sorry, I was busy.”

  He nodded. My excuse was lame. He knew it and I knew it. There was an awkward silence between us as we followed Oliver. I let out a whistle, calling the horses in. They knew the drill. I could see them slowly meandering in, none of them in a hurry to be bedded down for the night.

  “Can I ride him?” Oliver asked when Casper made his way toward us.

  “Not tonight, buddy, but soon enough,” I told him. “You and your dad need to work that out.”

  Oliver popped out his bottom lip. “But I want to ride a horse.”

  “Soon,” Damion told him. “I promise I will teach you how.”

  “Do you remember how?” I asked him with a grin.

  “Like riding a bike,” he said with a laugh.

  “Not quite, but I’m sure you’ll figure it out.”

  “You could always teach me,” he said, his voice and the expression on his face leaving a lot to interpretation.

  I pretended not to notice. I reached for the bridle on Casper and walked alongside him. Oliver walked beside me, chattering the whole way back to the barn. We tucked each of the horses in for the night, making sure everyone had fresh water before closing up the barn and heading for the house.

  “I should be getting home,” I said to Damion. My stomach was in knots. The easy thing would be to walk away and never look back. Not easy at first, but it would get easier.

  “Do you want to stay for a bit? Have a drink?”

  I smiled, knowing I had to talk to him. I couldn’t dodge it forever. “Actually, I was wondering if you had a few minutes for us to talk?”

  He looked me in the eye before looking over at Oliver. “I’d like that. Let me get him situated with a show and we can talk.”

  “I’ll wait out here,” I said, not wanting to go back in.

  “Are you sure?”

  “I’ll come in and tell him good night,” I offered.

  I walked into the house behind Damion, feeling a sense of melancholy. I looked around the comfortable room and remembered the many times I had been inside with Oliver Senior. The house was full of life and lacked that quiet that had been a part of Oliver. I cou
ldn’t remember him ever watching television.

  “Oliver, I’ll see you later,” I said. “Thank you for dinner and showing me your room. You have a great day at school tomorrow.”

  He threw his little arms around me. “I hope you come to dinner again. Next time, we’ll ride horses.”

  I laughed at his persistence. “We’ll just have to see about that.”

  I patted his head and walked outside, taking a seat in one of the two rockers sitting on the porch. The sun was just barely starting to set. It was a little chilly out, but I didn’t mind. I loved the evening hours. I couldn’t wait until I had my own covered porch with a comfortable rocking chair to sit in. I slowly rocked back and forth, staring out at the endless view of wheat swaying in the slight breeze. It was a beautiful view. It wasn’t classically beautiful with mountains or an ocean to stare at, but it was progress. The tall wheat was validation after a hard day of work.

  I let out a long sigh, wondering if I was making the right choices in life. I was twenty-seven. Most women my age were married with several kids. I was still on the go, living like I was a young twenty-something exploring the world. For the first time in my life, I was feeling the pull. The pull to settle down and let the grass grow under my feet—just a little bit.

  Chapter 23

  Damion

  I gave Oliver a little snack pack of cookies and a glass of milk. He was sitting on the couch, his favorite show on TV with his tablet in his hand. He was the kind of kid that could play his games and watch TV at the same time, although I doubted either had his full attention. He had always been that way, always looking for input. It explained his love for reading. His brain was starving for knowledge. He did all he could to feed it.

  “I’ll be right outside on the porch if you need me,” I told him. “You get one show and then I need you to get your jammies on.”

  He nodded, not taking his eyes off the TV. “Okay.”

  “No more snacks after that,” I lectured.

  His eyes were still glued to the TV. “Okay,” he answered again. I had a feeling he wasn’t listening to me.

  “Your horse is in your bed.”

  “O—” He looked up and frowned. “What?”

  I laughed, my test proving my suspicion. “One show. No more snacks. Jammies after the show.”

  That time, I knew he heard me. I walked away, leaving him to his devices. I grabbed two cold beers from the fridge. I had no idea if she drank beer, but I was guessing she did. She was a country girl who bucked hay. Beer was very likely in her wheelhouse.

  I walked out onto the porch and spotted her. My breath hitched in my throat when I saw her sitting in the rocking chair, her gaze fixed on the wheat field. Her short hair moved with her rocking motion. She looked so perfect, so right, like she belonged in the chair and on that very porch. I had a brief image of us spending our evenings together just like this before going to bed—together. I glimpsed into a future that was only in my dreams, but damn, they were good dreams.

  “Do you want a beer?” I asked, holding out the cold bottle of Coors.

  “Thank you,” she said, taking it from me.

  She popped the top, keeping the lid in her hand. I took the rocker next to hers, soaking in the view before unscrewing my own cap and taking a long drink. It was a mighty pretty sight. The New York City skyline was breathtaking, but staring at the wheat field that had a pretty orangish glow cast over it was breathtaking. I felt like my grandpa in that moment. I couldn’t count the number of times I had come home and found him sitting in the same rocker, holding a beer and just staring out over the field. I always wondered if he was lonely. He didn’t ever look or act lonely, but he spent most of his life alone.

  “Warm night,” I commented.

  “It is. I love sitting outside on a summer night.”

  “I’m looking forward to those hot summer nights,” I agreed.

  “Damion, I—”

  I cut her off. “Wait, please.”

  “I need to tell you something,” she said.

  “Before you do, I need to say something first,” I said, dreading what it was she was going to say. I needed to plead my case and beg for forgiveness before she could tell me what happened was wrong and awful and whatever else.

  She took a drink from the bottle. “Go ahead.”

  “First, I’m sorry if I was a little too rough,” I started.

  She smiled. “No, you weren’t.”

  “I was and I apologize. Second, I didn’t mean for things to happen like they did, but I don’t regret it.”

  “You don’t?” she asked with surprise.

  I shook my head. “No. I regret that I wasn’t all that graceful and I hope to hell I didn’t disrespect you. That was not my intention.”

  “It’s okay,” she said, her fingernails toying with the label on the bottle.

  “I don’t think it is. You didn’t come by the last two days. I’m guessing I offended you. I didn’t mean to. I swear, I can’t explain what came over me. I apologize for the way it happened but not that it happened.”

  She licked her bottom lip before lifting her eyes to look at me. “It’s really okay. I wasn’t exactly an innocent party.”

  “Good,” I said, taking a long drink. “I think my grandpa wanted me here.”

  She chuckled. “You’ve just figured that out.”

  I slowly shook my head. “No, he wanted me here when you were here. My grandfather has been running this farm for fifty years. I find it hard to believe he suddenly needed help to make things work.”

  She cocked her head to the side. “You think he faked his need for me to come in?”

  I shrugged. “I don’t know. I don’t doubt that you came in and waved a magic wand and got things running smoothly again. He liked you, obviously. He would never let anyone touch his farm if he didn’t like them.”

  She smiled. “I agree. I liked him. We got along really well.”

  “I promise this isn’t a line, but do you believe in fate?”

  She burst into laughter. “That is about the most overused line if there ever was one.”

  “I’m serious. My grandfather dying, leaving me the farm, and us coming out here and meeting you, it feels like fate. I feel my grandpa’s hand in this. He’s up there trying to orchestrate things.”

  She was still laughing as she took another drink. “I don’t know. I don’t know what I believe.”

  “I have to tell you I have never been happier since I came back home. Oliver has never been happier. He’s a completely different kid. He’s confident and happy and enthusiastic. Being back here has changed our lives. I know it’s only been a couple of weeks, but it feels like I’ve come home where I belong. My heart was always here, and I didn’t know it until just now.”

  She looked away from me again. “I’m happy you’re happy.”

  “Alex, I know how much you hated that asshole that offered you the job to work for him, but I’m going to say it anyway.”

  “Say what?” she asked.

  “I’d like to offer you a job,” I blurted out.

  “A job?”

  “Yes. Work here. Full time. I’d make sure you were paid well, more than you would make fixing farms, but not like the other guy. You wouldn’t be working for me. You’d be working with me.”

  “Damion,” she said my name, dragging out the word.

  “Wait, don’t say no. Not yet.”

  “Damion, that isn’t what I do.”

  I nodded. “I know, but don’t you want a steady job? You live close by, right? Oliver loves you. I have so much more to learn from you. Will you please consider it?”

  Her gaze went back to the field. “I do like Oliver, and I would love to have a friendship with him, but I don’t need a job.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “It means I don’t need a fulltime job. That isn’t what I like to do. I like the experience of learning and seeing new things.”

  “How can farms be all that different? It�
�s the same shit on a different piece of land.”

  She offered a sardonic laugh. “That’s true, but it’s not for me.”

  The way she said it made it sound like a woman on a diet trying to talk herself out of a cookie. I could tell by her body language and the lack of conviction in her voice that she didn’t feel the words she was saying. I had a chance. I could convince her to stay. I didn’t know how, but I saw a sliver of hope, and I was going to jump on it.

  “You never know what might be for you until you try it. I didn’t think living out here in nowhere Montana was for me, but now that I’m here, I can’t imagine living anywhere else. My life in New York pales in comparison to this place. I had to give it a chance. I did and now I don’t want to leave.”

  “It isn’t the same,” she insisted.

  “What is it, Alex? Is it me? Is it because of what happened?”

  “No,” she quickly answered. “Not that.”

  The way she said it told me that was definitely a factor in her rejection of my offer. “I’m sorry,” I said again. “You’re a beautiful, strong woman, Alex. I’m attracted to you. I can’t deny it, but if it makes you uncomfortable, I will keep it to myself.”

  “It,” she said, looking at me with a grin.

  I laughed, appreciating her keeping things light. “The way I feel, and I will keep it in my pants.”

  “Damion, I’m leaving.”

  “Right now? I thought we were talking.”

  She shook her head. “No, I’m leaving town.”

  “What? When?”

  “Tomorrow.”

  My jaw dropped before I clamped it shut again. “Can you be a little more specific?”

  She blew out a breath. “I’m going to Wyoming. I have a job.”

  I stared at her. I didn’t know what to say. She had just stolen the wind from my sails. “You’re leaving?” I asked.

  She nodded. “I am. I had fun working here on the farm. I appreciate all that I learned, and I will treasure the memories of your grandfather. He really was a good man. I will miss him terribly. It’s time for me to move on.”

  I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. I had told her I was attracted to her. I had asked her to stay and she shut me down.