“You’ve got it.” She smiles at me before glancing out the window. I’ve barely made my first right when she speaks again. “You’ll have to forgive an old lady for interfering, but why on earth don’t you have a nice girl? You’re handsome, smart; you do respectable work. And no woman worth her salt would miss that soft side you’re trying so hard to hide.”
Anyone else I would’ve told off or ignored, but this will be my sister’s mother-in-law and a nice lady to boot. I don’t have the heart to do either.
“Just not my thing, Joan.”
“Bullhickey.” I glance over at her vehemence. “It’s everybody’s thing. Man is not an island, my dear boy. The world is a big beautiful place, all you need is someone to show you.”
“Haven’t seen a lot of beauty, Joan,” I tell her, pulling up to the curb outside her house.
“Then maybe you haven’t been looking well enough,” she counters without hesitation. “Beauty was sitting right across from you at Christmas dinner, and you missed it. You also missed her looking at you. Open your eyes.”
In the time it takes me to figure out what she’s talking about—or rather who—she’s already getting out of the truck. I quickly follow suit and hurry to join her on the sidewalk, offering her my arm, even as my thoughts drift to Jaimie.
On her front step, she puts a hand on my shoulder for balance before lifting on her toes so she can kiss my cheek.
“You’re a good man, Titus.”
“Have a good night, Joan,” is all I can think of to say back.
Even as I walk back to my truck, I feel her words warming me from the inside out.
I hit the intersection by Main Street and sit there, undecided, part of me wanting to head north toward Jaimie’s house. When a car honks behind me, I take my foot off the brake and turn south instead. A few of my brothers are waiting. I’ll have that beer and, if it’s not too late, maybe after I’ll take a detour by her house.
Lady Luck is smiling on me when a parking spot opens up right across from the Irish.
Jaimie
“Want another one?”
Tony has to lean down to me, his lips by my ear so I can hear him over the loud music.
The band is good, with lots of great covers of popular eighties’ rock, but my ears are not as receptive to the high decibels as they once were. My head is spinning, although admittedly not only from the volume in here.
I lean back and twist my neck so I can talk directly in his ear.
“I should probably pass.”
What can I say? I’m a lightweight. The two glasses of wine I had over the past couple of hours have fast gone to my head. I’ve already been giggling stupidly at the banter around the table, but can’t seem to stop myself. No need to embarrass myself further.
“’Scuse me.” I push against Tony’s shoulders when I suddenly need to pee. He immediately steps aside, steadying me with a hand in the small of my back when my legs take a minute to stabilize.
Holy shit.
“I’ve got her,” I hear Autumn say, and I turn to smile at her, almost losing my balance again. With her arm firmly around my waist, Autumn guides me to the ladies’ room in the back. “Are you gonna be okay?” she asks, when I stumble out of the stall beside her and over to the sink. I have to hang on with one hand while splashing cold water on my face with the other.
“I’m good as long as I hold onto something,” I assure her, sounding more confident than I feel. “That must’ve been some potent wine.”
“They serve big glasses here,” Autumn says, as she joins me by the sinks to wash her hands. “And you had four of them.”
“Four?” I wince at my own piercing volume. Definitely drunk.
“Don’t you remember?”
“Shit. I remember two. Only two. No wonder I’m so…”
“Hammered?” She snickers, slipping her arm around me again. “We all need to let loose every so often, girlfriend. I’m just glad I’m not you tomorrow morning.”
I groan and roll my head on her shoulder as she pushes open the door and guides me through.
“I’ve got her.”
My head snaps up at the familiar rough voice. Unfortunately, that sets off a dizzy spell and I feel my knees buckle. Autumn’s arm around me is replaced by Trunk’s massive ones, as he slips one around my waist and the other behind my knees, lifting me clear off the ground.
“What are you doing with my date?”
Uh-oh, I can’t quite open my eyes to confirm, but I’m pretty sure that was Tony’s voice. I open my mouth to protest the term ‘date’ but quickly close it when I’m hit with a wave of nausea.
“Taking care of her.” I snuggle deeper into Trunk’s arms, the vibrations of his deep rumble soothing.
“Like hell. I came with her, I can take her home.”
Oh my, Tony sounds really pissed.
“You let her get pissed out of her brain on your watch, I think you’ve done enough.”
Okay, I don’t think I like that comment, but I’m too comfortable to do anything about it. I vaguely hear someone in the background say, “Let it go, Tony,” and the next thing I know a blast of arctic air hits my exposed skin.
“Just a sec, Little Mama. I’ll get you warmed up in no time.”
That sounds really good. My mind is trying to conjure up ways he might accomplish that as I hear the beep of a car lock.
“I can walk.”
“Now she tells me,” he grunts, hoisting me into what I think is the cab of his truck. “Here, take this.”
I don’t know what he put over me but it’s warm and smells of him. In seconds I’m drifting, the last thing I hear Trunk’s voice.
“Lord, you try me.”
CHAPTER 5
Trunk
I LOOK BESIDE me where Jaimie is passed out; her head tilted back, her mouth partly open, sawing logs.
Oddly it doesn’t take away from her appeal. At all.
I’d clocked her the moment I walked into The Irish to meet up with Honon and Paco for a few beers. She’d been completely oblivious to me; she was facing the stage and bobbing her head to the music. She was sitting at a table with the Benedettis, and Keith and Autumn Blackfoot. Keith was the only one who spotted me coming in. I didn’t see Tony Ramirez until he came from the back—bathroom probably—and took a seat right next to her.
If it wasn’t for Paco waving me over to the bar, I might’ve acted on the surge of anger boiling my blood. I managed to engage in some conversation and tried to enjoy the music, until I noticed Ramirez get real cozy with her. I was already off my stool when she suddenly pushed him off, and aided by Autumn, stumbled to the bathrooms in the back. That was enough for me.
The porch light is on when I pull in next to Jaimie’s Honda in the driveway, and I can see the flicker of the TV through the living room window. Her mom is still up.
Jaimie doesn’t even wake up when I open the passenger door and reach in to unbuckle her. She moans a little and snuggles her face in my neck when I lift her out.
The front door opens when I step on the porch.
“Trunk? What’s wrong with her? Where is Tony?”
“She needs her bed, she’s wasted,” I limit myself to explaining.
Sandra steps aside and waves me inside with my load. “Is she okay?”
“Nothing a good night’s sleep and a fistful of ibuprofen in the morning won’t fix.” I head straight for the stairs and carry her up. Jaimie isn’t a big woman, but she’s not exactly light either. The muscles in my arms are burning with the strain.
Her room is surprisingly sparse, no knickknacks on the dresser or mountain of pillows on her bed. It smells like vanilla. Fuck. Sandra comes in behind me as I drop her daughter on the mattress. I plan to beeline it out of here when she suddenly blinks her eyes open and clenches a fist in my shirt.
“Trunk? What…”
“You’re home. Go back to sleep, Jaimie.”
I remove her fingers from my sleeve and back out of the room when her
mom starts peeling off her daughter’s sexy as fuck boots. I need to get out of here.
“Thank you!” Sandra calls after me as I pound down the stairs.
When I pull the front door shut behind me, I take in a deep breath, welcoming the frigid air. It goes a long way to clearing her scent from my nostrils. I can ignore my hard dick a little longer. Not like I don’t have enough experience with that.
Instead of heading home, I turn back toward The Irish. I left my brothers without explanation—although I’m sure they didn’t miss my dramatic exit—and I should probably clear the air with Jaimie’s friends. I’m still pissed at Ramirez, but I’d be a crap psychologist if I didn’t realize that has more to do with me than it does with him.
Fuck.
Jaimie
“I’ve been trying to get in touch with Tahlula all week. I need to talk to her about her manuscript. Is everything okay?”
I glance in the mirror at my reflection. The dress T and I picked for me to wear clings to every one of my curves, and not for the first time, I’m having second thoughts. Thank God it’s a deep navy blue, instead of some light pastel. That would’ve been much worse.
“More than okay, Karen,” I tell Tahlula’s editor, Karen Dove. “She’s getting married today. She’s had her hands full trying to pull off a wedding on such short notice.”
“Married? Holy crap, how come I haven’t heard of this?” She sounds a little perturbed.
“It’s a small affair. A courthouse wedding with family and a few friends,” I quickly appease her. “They’re not even going on a honeymoon, not with Hanna still so young, so things will probably just return to normal after the weekend. I’ll let her know to call you, okay?”
Mollified, she answers, “Sure, that’s fine. I just wanted to talk through a few final points before I send her the edits back.”
“Great. Did you get the artwork for the cover sorted?” I refer to a conversation she and I had before Christmas after Tahlula rejected the first cover design. In the mirror, I see the door to my bedroom opening as Mom carries River inside. My face breaks open in a smile at the sight of my son. Mom managed to wrestle him into a tiny dress shirt, dark jeans, and tiny cowboy boots on his feet.
“I’ll have something for her to look at after the weekend.”
“That’s good, thanks, Karen. Look, I have to get going or we’ll be late. I’ll let T know you called.”
“Wish her all the best.”
“Will do.” I hang up and turn around. “He looks adorable,” I tell Mom, who rolls her eyes.
“Like putting an octopus in a straight jacket,” she complains before giving me a once over. “You look stunning.”
I look down and run my hands over my dress. “Don’t you think it’s too revealing?”
“You should flaunt those curves God graced you with,” she says firmly.
Never mind my curves have curves. I feel like a stuffed sausage in the Spanx I’m forced to wear, in an attempt to smooth them all out. “I could do with a few less.”
“Nonsense. I bet that boy, Trunk, would have a thing or two to say about that.”
I roll my eyes. Ever since I got hammered out of my brain a few weeks ago—I wince at the memory of the massive hangover the next day—Mom seems to have forgotten all about Tony and is actively pushing Tahlula’s brother on me.
I haven’t seen or heard from him, and actively worked at keeping it that way.
The whole incident had been embarrassing, in hindsight. It was bad enough Tony called the next day, wanting to know how I was doing and apologizing for not keeping a better eye on me. I reminded him that was not his responsibility, but my own. Normal people wouldn’t get blotto after four glasses of white wine, and frankly, before I got pregnant with River, neither would I. Then Autumn called as well, and Ollie stopped by with some ginger tea she claimed would help.
I’ve been keeping a low profile since, but today I’ll have to come out of hiding, and looking at my formfitting, navy blue outfit, I’m doing it in a rather spectacular way. Not sure what I was thinking saying yes to this dress.
“We should get going.”
“I know, I just need to put on some lip gloss and I’m ready.”
We just made our way downstairs when there’s a knock at the door. One of the Benedetti boys is standing on the porch with a box in his hands, a sheepish look on his face.
“Hey, Mrs. B. Dad told me to come apologize to you. This box was left in front of our house a few weeks ago, but I was late for soccer practice and put it in the garage. I kinda forgot about it. Dad just found it on the workbench. I’m so sorry, I hope it wasn’t important.”
I take the small box from his hands and see my name on the label. “I’m sure it wasn’t, Mason. Don’t worry about it.”
“Okay, Mrs. B. Sorry again.” The kid hops off the porch and jogs down the driveway and across the road.
“What’s that?” Mom wants to know.
“Don’t know.” I shove the box in the hallway closet and grab my purse. “We’re going to be late.”
_______________
“You look beautiful.”
She does. Tahlula’s gorgeous skin is set off against the ice-blue pantsuit she picked. I’m a little jealous at how stunning she looks.
“You’re gonna make Evan drool.”
T chuckles. “Honey, I don’t need clothes for that.”
“Shee-it, Sis. Don’t need to hear that crap.”
I remind myself to breathe. Trunk looks beautiful too. His massive form is poured into a sharp navy suit, and crisp white shirt, making him look so different from his usual jeans and leather.
The moment his eyes find me, I turn to Tahlula. “I should head out there.” I quickly kiss her cheek, and without another look for her brother, I slip by him.
Thank goodness the only ones walking down the aisle will be the bride and her escort, so I can sneak down the side and take my spot at the front, where Evan is already waiting with Hanna in his arms and Cap, his best man, by his side.
The doors at the back of the courtroom open and all heads turn. I should be looking at the beautiful bride, but my eyes keep drifting to the man accompanying her. They stop right beside me and I hear him rumble, “Be happy, Tahlula,” before kissing her forehead and turning to Evan to take their daughter.
The official portion is short but sweet, and after congratulations and a few snapshots outside the courthouse, we all troop to the Hilton along the Animas River for dinner and the reception.
“How is he holding up?” I ask Mom, who’s been keeping River occupied.
“He’s fine, but if you want, I can take him home,” she offers.
“You don’t need to. Tahlula arranged for babysitting right at the hotel. She didn’t want to be too far from Hanna, since she’s still nursing. Ollie’s daughter, Trinny, is looking after them. She’ll have Aleksander as well, so River will have his buddy to play with.”
We barely find our seats, after dropping River off with Trinny, when the bride and groom are announced. My heart aches a little at how happy they look when they walk in. Hand in hand and smiling wide, as Evan twirls his wife around. Strains of Ed Sheeran’s “Perfect” fill the air the moment they hit the dance floor.
They do little more than sway and stare into each other’s eyes, but it’s so sweet, I have to brush away a stray tear. Suddenly Cap is standing in front of me, his hand out.
“They want us up there.”
Right, wedding party duties.
I let him lead me onto the dance floor and try to follow his lead. A bit of a challenge, since the man appears to have two left feet and no rhythm. I’m concentrating so hard not to get my toes stepped on; I don’t notice that the dance floor has filled up.
“Mind if I cut in?”
I look up, startled at Trunk’s gruff voice.
“Thank, God,” Cap mumbles in a pained voice. I should probably be offended, but I’m too busy noting Trunk’s large hands replacing Cap’s. An electric curre
nt spreads from where he touches the small of my back and my hand, which he presses against his wide chest.
Unlike his predecessor, Trunk can move, and despite my inability to speak, my feet effortlessly follow his around the dance floor.
We still haven’t spoken when Ed Sheeran morphs into the next song. People around us leave, but Trunk’s dark eyes keep me in place.
“You’re beautiful.”
I feel the vibration of his deep timbre down to the tips of my toes, and I almost stumble with the impact of his words. His arm tightens, pulling me flush against his body and my fingers curl into his biceps in response.
I’ve heard people wax poetic about the world disappearing, but I’ve never quite experienced it. Until now.
Those eyes, I might’ve thought hard and judgmental before, are now soft and warm. Hot, even. They make me believe his words.
“If you would please return to your seats, the first course is about to be served.”
The DJ’s voice is like a bucket of ice water.
I feel almost bereft when Trunk’s arm disappears from around me, but he keeps my hand firmly in his as he takes me back to the table, and to my surprise, takes the seat next to mine. I’m not sure what is happening, but when I look up, I see both my mother and Joan smiling as if they just shared a secret.
“Titus Maximus Rae,” Tahlula teases from the other side of the table. “I thought you said you didn’t dance?”
“Shut up, Sis,” Trunk growls at his sister who grins at him, unimpressed.
Under the table, he keeps a firm hold on my hand until dinner is served, then he lets go, giving my knee a squeeze before he digs into his meal. It takes me another minute to realize I’m the only one not eating and I quickly grab my fork.
What just happened?
Trunk
The moment I see that fool blundering all over Jaimie’s feet on the dance floor, all my good intentions blow right out of the water.
Fucking hell.
I knew I’d ventured too close to the edge when I brought her home from the pub. I’d even gone back to clear the air with her friends after virtually kidnapping her from under their noses. They seemed mostly amused, which annoyed me, except for Ramirez who was put out and let me know it, which pissed me off.
EDGE OF REASON Page 4