by Bellus, HJ
He nods. “I needed time.”
“For?” I ask.
“To soak you in. Make sure you were real and not some screwed up part of my imagination.”
I reach down and grab both of his hands again, lacing my fingers in his. “I’m real and I’m here.”
He closes his eyes, bends his head, and kisses the top of my head. He remains frozen, not moving for long seconds. I squeeze his hands, overwhelmed with so, so many feelings I don’t know where they start and stop.
“I love your hair,” he whispers. “You’re so beautiful, Frankie.”
“I’m sorry.” I drop my forehead to his chest, unable to make eye contact. “I’m so sorry.”
“Look at me.” He waits on me.
“I can’t. It took me months to begin to forgive myself for leaving you after everything you did for me.” I inhale his familiar woodsy scent. “I don’t even know how to explain it to you, Cray.”
“I’m so damn proud of you.” He clutches my cheeks, lifting my face to his. “You have no idea. I’m not going to lie, it stung like hell. I read your letter for days afterward. The loss and sadness turned into pride and joy each time I read the words you wrote. I knew you were out there kicking ass.”
“Are you married?” I blurt out.
He gifts me a half-grin. “I bare my soul to you and that’s your response?”
I shrug.
“I’m not married.” He shakes his head and steps back, dropping his hands down to mine. “I’m not in law enforcement anymore, either. I left that shit hole and went back home. It killed my pride, but it was time. Don’t even have a girlfriend.”
He winks at me and continues. “I’m Truckee’s bitch on the ranch. Found my spot and doing my best at it. Tried dating.”
I wince. Can’t help it.
“Went on three dates with two different women and it just wasn’t right. Bought them dinner and a few drinks and then parted ways. I’ve wanted the dock, horse rides, and touching you for years. Nothing ever came close to it and now you’re here.”
I tug him by the hand over to a straw bale. He straddles it as he settles on one end and I do the same, mirroring him.
“I went to a wilderness therapeutic camp.”
I don’t leave out one single detail on how I changed my life and the world around me. The way it feels, the way I look at it, and every single detail in between. Cray doesn’t move or open his mouth at any part.
“I knew a part of me moved so close back to my hometown hoping I’d find you.” I swallow down all the emotions. “I left a chapter of my life wide open, and hunger more than anything to put the final words on the pages.”
“Me,” he whispers.
“You. Us.” I lean forward, placing my hands on top of his thighs. “And all of the beautiful things.”
“You waited for me,” he murmurs in awe.
“You waited for me,” I repeat back.
We both lean forward in unison, mere inches apart from connecting. I swear it feels like yesterday when I could taste him on my lips and on the other hand decades of not feeling his touch.
“Dadda. Weiner. Pee-pee.” A high-pitched voice fills the air.
“You don’t have a weiner and I have to whizz.”
“Me.”
We both look to the opening of the barn to see Gemma banging on her chest and Truckee finding a dark corner of the barn.
“Weiner. Whizz.”
“Jesus, kid.” He scrubs his brow. “Your mother is going to kill me again. You can pee in the barn, but you don’t have a weiner to whizz out of.”
Gemma puffs out her chest. “My weiner gonna blow. Need whiz, Dadda.”
Truckee laughs his ass off and helps his little mini-me behind a stall. There’s a few beats of silence as Cray and I both bite down on our lips, stifling our laughter.
“Okay, now you wait in front of the barn,” he orders.
“No. No. No.” She shakes her head, her wild curls bouncing around. “You whiz. You turn, dadda.”
“Godammit, kid.”
“Dammit, kid,” she banters back.
Cray can’t help but let his laughter burst out. “Come here, pumpkin.”
The moment Gemma sees her uncle she’s in an all-out sprint toward him. She smiles wide when she stops by the straw bale.
“I whiz my weiner.”
“Good girl.” He plucks her up and places her into his lap.
“She’s amazing and sssooo Truckee,” I say.
Gemma furrows her eyebrows at me. “Ruckee mine.”
I nod. “Yes, he’s yours.”
I have to bite my tongue to keep the rest in. I want more than anything to claim her uncle as mine, even if it means whizzing on everything and anything.
“Pretty.” Gemma jets forward pointing to my shoulder.
I peer down at her chubby finger and smile. The bright and colorful hummingbird in flight dances on my shoulder. “Yes, it’s my grandma.”
“Who you?” She curls up around Dalton’s neck staring at me with her little brows scrunched.
“She’s mine,” Dalton replies. “All mine.”
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Dalton Cray
“Blockbuster doesn’t exist anymore and I wouldn’t rent porn for you anyway.” I slam my hand on the steering wheel.
“Opal has that shit blocked everywhere. Damn Gemma has a tablet or some shit.”
“Okay.” I shake my head.
“Grab some Oreos. Any variety. Actually all of them on the shelf. I’ll have cash on the kitchen table.”
“Okay, if the store is still open after I hit the floral shop.”
“Listen, my dick is about to shrivel up. No porn. Healthy food shit everywhere, and a little girl who watches my every move. I need a hit of something. And you’re going to the floral shop.” He snorts. “At least my dick is still bigger than yours. I bet your balls are shriveled up.”
“Yep,” I mindlessly answer, pulling into a parking spot at the floral shop.
“Oreos. For the love of all men that want to keep their dicks intact. Buy Oreos and hide them in the barn, stall number three.”
“Got you, brother.” I hang up on the dumbass, having no time to tell him if his dick was so big he could go to town, watch some porn on his smartphone, and buy his own damn Oreos. I have no intention of buying Oreos. Truckee can figure out his own shit.
It’s time for me. It’s been brewing for years. Took me six months to get my girl to move to my hometown and when she did, that’s all I could focus on. Hell, can’t even count how many gates I left open just thinking of her in her new house on the outskirts of town.
She was hesitant. Happy where she was and not willing to move any closer to her hometown until a deal was put in front of her that she couldn’t pass up. A house, pasture, stable, and local floral shop that was going out of business. And that right there may be the only reason I buy my brother Oreos tonight. I still have no idea how in the hell he pulls the shit he does.
He was there when I hung up the badge, taking no shit from anyone in that fucked up town. He covered every single trail that led back to me. It will go to my grave that the pastor was never found because he was cremated by Truckee’s vet along with an old horse. That night he drank a bottle of whiskey and finally admitted what he did to our dad, but that’s his story. The moral of it all is family is family, and no matter what paths our lives take us, we are still connected. It doesn’t matter how ugly our past is or how dismal our future appears. We are tied together forever.
The familiar bell chimes when I push open the door. The sickening floral scent strikes me hard. I used to hate it, but now it reminds me of her. My future and world. I have no idea how it happened and have spent countless nights beating myself up over the fact. It came down to one simple thing. It happened and I’m not about to deny that shit.
“Hey, I’ll be right with you.”
Frankie has no idea I am showing up here right before closing. I can only imagine the ex
asperation coating her features, but know beyond a doubt, she’ll round that counter with the happiest of happy faces, ready to greet her customer.
Who knew? Creating beautiful masterpieces would be Frankie’s passion. It’s not your typical arrangements by any means. She discovers the craziest pieces to create her arrangements with. Huge pinecones, antlers, pieces of scrap metal, old keys and doorknobs, and tin cans are her jam. Shit, this girl has me collecting stuff I spot that might work for her.
Never was the dating type. Never thought I’d be the sheriff type either, or a small-town kind of man, or even a hometown boy. Everything I thought I knew blew up the day this woman entered my world.
I’m her type. She’s my beautiful.
“Hey, how can I help you?” Frankie’s smile greets me and widens when she spots me on the other side of the counter.
I tuck my hands in my jeans. “Heard there was a hot ass babe here that may or may not want to be taken to dinner.”
“Yeah.” She shrugs, fiddling with a vase of roses in front of her. “Not sure…haven’t heard of her.”
“Badass. Courageous. A tiny freckle on the side of her right breast.” I shrug right back at her. “A warrior. Mine.”
“Damn you.” She slaps the counter. “You got me. You get me so damn hard. Give me thirty seconds.”
Always forward and never back. We have all of our beautiful days and trust me, not one will be wasted. I settle onto the barstool near the counter, knowing her thirty seconds translates to a good five minutes. Frankie puts all of herself into her business. This shop is her world and it shows.
I was wrong; it is ten minutes later when my girl rounds the corner with her large purse slung over her shoulder. “All ready.”
“Get over here.” I snag her by the waist, pulling her chest to mine. “I’ve missed the hell out of you.”
“You dropped me off at work this morning.” She grins at me.
“Yes, hours ago,” I say against her lips.
She smiles against mine. I love instigating the kiss, but love even more when she leads it. Her sweet, full lips brush along mine once, twice, and the third time she opens them, darting her tongue out and pressing my lips open. I groan, squeezing her hips tight as we kiss the hell out of each other in the middle of the shop.
She’s the first to pull back. “Don’t we have a reservation?”
I nod, going for her kiss-swollen lips, not nearly having enough of her.
“Let’s go, mister.” She pulls back, reaching down for my hand. “I’m starving and know those reservations aren’t easy to get.”
I tug her back. “They are for me.”
I place one more searing kiss on her lips. When she groans in my mouth, I about lose my shit. Patience has always been the game with this girl. I’ve played it well, but I’m a man about to go wild on her perfect body.
We lie tangled on her couch. Frankie’s cheek rests on my cheek. I’m about to close my eyes and surrender to sleep when she lifts her head and peers up at me. She’s only been in her new house for two weeks. We just finished re-doing all the flooring and I’m beat.
“Cray.”
“Yeah, baby.” I run my hand down her long hair, loving the feel of it.
“I want to wait.”
“Uh?” I lift my head up to peer down at her.
“God, this is going to sound so stupid when I say it out loud.”
I raise an eyebrow. “You know better. Go on.”
I have a feeling what she’s trying to tell me. I could so easily jump in and save her from having to do it. Life has taught me a lesson and that saving others constantly isn’t the best for them. Still working on that shit and it sucks.
She takes a long swallow. “I know I’m not a virgin, but…”
“You said there wasn’t anyone else during those three years.”
“There wasn’t.”
“Then, baby,” I run my hands through her hair again, “then you are and it doesn’t need to be brought up again.”
Tears well up in her eyes. “You’re always making me cry. Stop. Okay, fine, I’m just going to get it out. I want to wait until I’m married.”
“Wait for what?” I tilt my head and raise an eyebrow.
She slaps my chest and rolls up on me until she’s straddling me, staring down at me. I don’t miss the subtle movement of her hips grinding right down on my dick. “Dalton Cray, I want to wait to have sex for the first time until I’m married.”
In a flash, I flip her underneath me. Her laughter echos off the freshly painted walls of her new home. I grab her wrists, pinning them above her head and pepper kisses on her neck. “I’ll wait no matter how long it takes. I’m not going anywhere.”
“I love you, Cray.” She licks her lips.
And right there, everything is complete.
“I love you, too.”
I finally pull away and open the door for her, waiting on her to lock it from the inside.
“Let’s walk.” She grabs my hand and adjusts her bag on her shoulder.
“Yeah?”
“Yep, it’s only a few blocks and it’s a nice evening.”
“You’re the boss and you know it.”
“Stop it.” She playfully slaps my chest.
She’s right, it's a beautiful night and I’d never pass up a chance to parade my woman down the main street. Frankie can eat steak right along with me and Truckee. I love her appetite and how’s she willing to eat anything.
The steakhouse is buzzing with business as we enter. The hostess seats us right away in a secluded corner. It’s perfect.
“Can I start you with something to drink?” the hostess asks, eyeing me with more than customer service.
“Yes, actually you can.” Frankie curls up into my side. “I’ll take a glass of Moscato and my boyfriend will have a Coors Light on draft, the largest mug you have.”
Frankie tilts her head with a sickeningly sweet smile.
“Okay,” the hostess stutters out. “Your server will be right with you.”
I look down at her and shake my head. “Jealousy will always and forever be hot as hell on you.”
She shrugs. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
My crazy girl.
We are halfway through our stuffed mushroom appetizer when a round of gasps echo around the steakhouse. This place has an intimate setting, so it’s hard to miss your surroundings. Old habits die hard; I glance around, tugging Frankie closer to me, thankful I’m sitting on the outside of the booth. I still think about logistics and safety when in public; that will never change.
“Yes! Yes! Yes!” A high-pitch voice squeals, followed by a round of applause.
Going off her gasp, I realize Frankie spots it before I do. June jumps up and down as she’s wrapped up in a hug. I squeeze Frankie’s hand, knowing what happened between the two of them. We get caught staring when June pulls away from her new fiancé. I see her father and mother follow June’s line of sight.
I stiffen, ready for a fight without a second thought. I tug my cell phone out of my pocket and get ready to dial.
“No.” Frankie takes the phone from my hand and places her hand on my cheek, guiding my face back to hers. “This is our town. Not theirs. Ignore them.”
I don’t have a chance to respond as the servers set our steaks down in front of us.
“One rare and one medium-rare, both with loaded potatoes. Anything else?” She smiles kindly.
“No, we are perfect,” Frankie responds.
“Looks like you two might be the next happy couple.” She peers over her shoulder. “I have no clue who they are. I guess their two families met in the middle for the surprise engagement. It always warms my heart to witness one.”
My knuckles grow white and my jaw ticks with tension.
“It sure is. Thank you,” Frankie responds.
“Cray, look at me.” She twists in the booth to face me. “We can’t live in a bubble. We can’t pretend our past doesn’t exist. We
face it head-on together.”
“You’re right.” I cup her cheek, lean in, and kiss the fuck out of Frankie until we are both left breathless. She faces her plate of food with full lips and snorts. “Or give them something to talk about.”
Chapter Thirty
Frankie
“Is this pretty?” I glance down to Gemma at her little work table with a lopsided bouquet of carnations.
“Very.” I pluck the one coming out the side and center it in the middle.
“I need bow, please.” She grins and bats her eyes.
I swear this child has everyone figured out and knows exactly how to play them. Also, she started talking full sentences overnight. It didn’t take her long to warm up to me when I moved here because she tended to interrupt every single one of Cray’s and my FaceTime calls.
I grab her quarter of the ham and cheese sandwich and place it down by her. She’s been so enthralled by working with me in the shop she hasn’t touched her food. I love Tuesdays because she spends the afternoon with me.
“I’m never going to finish these flowers.” I cross my arms in front of me and twist my lips in thought. This wedding will be the death of me. My client has taken bridezilla to a whole new level, stressing me the hell out.
“You will, auntie, you will.” Gemma pats my ass.
I chuckle. Another thing she picked up from her father.
“Thanks, baby girl.”
The bell chimes above the door. I don’t have to look up to see who it is. I can sense Dalton Cray a mile away.
“Where are my girls?” His husky voice fills the floral scent of the shop.
“Here.” Gemma begins jumping up and down. “Here.”
She snags her pink bedazzled little purse, throwing it over her shoulder and racing around the counter. “Finally. I need some man time.”
She leaps into his open and waiting arms. I chuckle at her nonsense. That girl is a hellion.
“You forgot your mom’s surprise.” I lift up the crooked and overstuffed bouquet.
“Uncle.” She points to it. “You carry it.”