His Fantasy

by Sheila Kell

  “I’ll help with a casserole or two for you before I leave,” Rylee offered.

  He wouldn’t turn down help to feed the extras at his house. Her food lately had been all edible, so he’d just keep his fingers crossed it remained that way. “I appreciate it. Thanks, Rylee.”

  Devon fed Mitch a spoonful of something that looked like vomit. It was a good thing babies couldn’t compare because Mitch seemed to be enjoying whatever it was.

  “How’s the cleanup going?” Madison asked Rylee. She’d been pissed Brad had made her rest all day and not get involved in her business. It had been a controlled anger, but she’d obeyed, which meant she hadn’t been feeling as well as she’d said.

  “Almost done.” Rylee smiled at her son and husband. “The contractor can get started with taking out the bar since he’d had to leave it until he had more of his workers.”

  Madison set her glass of iced tea down on the shiny wood table. “That’s good. I’m ready also.”

  “Well, it’ll be all you day after tomorrow.”

  A silence settled on the table. Brad knew Devon didn’t like for Rylee to put her life on the line, but he’d settled into that was who she was. He dealt with it but wasn’t happy about that fact.

  Clearing his throat, Brad tried to bring the conversation back on track. “What did you want to talk to me about?” Time to get down to brass tacks. The conversation and food had been nice, but there’d been a purpose for this, and he wanted to know what it was.

  “Let’s clean this up, and I’ll bring in dessert. I baked a pie.”

  “A pie? Great.” Uh-oh. The last pie he’d eaten of Rylee’s hadn’t been quite edible. It had been one of her first “from scratch” efforts.

  “I’ll help clean this up.” Madison stood and took both of their plates to the kitchen before he could stand, leaving him lost as to what to do. So he watched Devon play with his son, probably hoping the little tyke would go to sleep.

  With a slice of apple pie and coffee in front of him, he smiled at his sister-in-law. “Looks great.” The crust actually did look fluffy this time and hopefully had some flavor. He hesitantly took a bite and smiled in satisfaction. The crust had a light, airy taste, the apples were cooked to perfection, and the sauce with the hint of cinnamon made his mouth water. Rylee had outdone herself. “Exceptional,” he complimented.

  “Really?” Rylee looked like a small child waiting for her parents’ approval.

  He nodded. “Really. In fact, feel free to send the rest of it home with us.” He winked, and they laughed.

  By this time, Mitch was nodding off, fighting each fall into slumber. “Let us put him to bed, and we’ll talk.” Rylee and Devon left him and Madison sitting at the table, drinking coffee, which he prayed was decaf because he needed some sleep tonight after staying up to check on Madison the night before.

  “What’s going on? What do they want to talk to you about?” Madison asked.

  He fidgeted. He didn’t like not having an answer to a question. “Don’t know.”

  They sat in silence, and his mind drifted back to earlier in the day when she’d woken and shyly come into the living room where he’d been dozing. She’d said nothing about his being in her bed, but she’d been friendly and something else that he couldn’t describe. But he enjoyed that side of her. They’d talked about nonsensical things and had long moments of silence where it had been comfortable.

  When she’d first come out in that long T-shirt, he’d had to hold himself back to keep from dragging her back to bed and removing it from her. She mustn’t have had any idea the pink around her nipples had shown through the fabric or that the giraffe design that ended below her pelvic bone did nothing to hide his imagination of what lay beneath it.

  Although they’d done nothing during the day so she could recuperate, they hadn’t fought. That made the day perfect. She hadn’t treated him like he was a pariah either. He’d take that win.

  When Devon and Rylee returned from putting their son to sleep, Rylee held a brochure in her hand. After they sat, Devon cleared his throat. “As you know, Rylee and I had some memory problems when we first met.”

  Brad nodded. Hell, everyone knew that. Well, after they found out the two had married.

  “We were talking about your memory problem from back when.” He gave a covert look at Madison, not knowing what he’d shared with her.

  Brad’s gut clenched. They’d talked about him? About his stupidity or failure, however you looked at it. “She has an idea of what happened.” Of course, he hadn’t come completely clean with her, but she was a smart woman. She’d eventually figure it out. Something inside him told him he’d best tell her before that happened. He’d seen how his brothers suffered when they waited to spill their guts.

  “Well”—Devon linked his hand with Rylee’s on the table—“we tried to decide if we really wanted to know what happened, so we checked out our options. We’d heard of hypnotherapy and considered it, although there was no guarantee our memories would surface.”

  Brad swallowed at the thought. To remember. To be able to figure out how things happened and why. Then again, that niggling feeling that he might not like what he found tried to encroach into the possibility of bringing his life back into balance. That’s how he’d felt since coming home with his tail tucked between his legs as a failure. “And?”

  “We’re still considering it. We kind of like the mystery of exactly what brought us together. But we thought this might be something for you. If there’s something hinky about what happened to you, this could be your chance to truly find out. Your missing memory might be the key.”

  Sitting frozen, Brad didn’t know what to think. He didn’t want to get his hopes up. What if he went to the trouble only to find they couldn’t retrieve his memory? Or worse. But even the slightest chance had him wanting to rush off and make an appointment.

  Rylee thrust the brochure forward. “I have a brochure for the place we’d recommend, should you decide to do it.”

  After a moment of hesitation, he stood and reached for the brochure. “Thank you.” He glanced down at a wide-eyed Madison. “I think it’s time to get Madison home and back to bed.” A bed without him.

  But, he was leaving with a possibility to clear his name. That put a bit of pep in his step.

  MADISON REMAINED QUIET on the drive home in an SUV that smelled like a restaurant from all of the leftovers. Brad seemed to be lost in his own world, and Ken and Sam must’ve had an inkling something was wrong with Brad because they also remained silent. It made for a long drive home with Brad gripping the brochure like it was a lifeline. Her heart went out to him and the turmoil he seemed to be struggling to handle.

  For her, doing the hypnotherapy would be a no-brainer, but Brad didn’t seem so sure. She couldn’t understand the problem. He wanted to know. That was why he’d asked those questions at dinner, right?

  Either way, she’d found sitting next to him at mealtime a challenge. She hated how much she was drawn to him, but loved it all the same. The heat that flowed between them was hard to deny. And she was tired of doing just that.

  Last night she’d wanted more from him than to hold her, but she’d been so distraught over the attack and then drowsy that she couldn’t ask for more. Tonight though… maybe she could get up the nerve.

  She’d tossed the idea of having more with Brad over in her mind many times. Maybe he only wanted to be with her because she’d been a supermodel and maybe not. His tenderness last night belied one of those possibilities. Either way, she’d never felt so precious as she had in his arms. And when he’d called her princess, butterflies fluttered in her tummy.

  She couldn’t remember when he’d started calling her that, but she liked it from him. It was the way he said it. Not as a slight for some spoiled child, but with care and respect. It seemed silly, but she wouldn’t stop him from giving her a pet name.

  Inside his home, they kicked off their shoes and stood awkwardly. Inspiration hit her. She woul
d do something to lighten the mood and help bring him out of the funk he lived in. “You look like you could use a nightcap.” She began walking to the kitchen. “Let me get you something. Have a seat.”

  She took the leftovers to the kitchen. Ken and Sam had taken a portion home with them, and Matt had already eaten, so they were quite alone.

  With two bottles of ice-cold beer in her hand, Madison returned to the living room and sat beside Brad on the couch. If he thought anything of her sitting there instead of a chair, he didn’t say a word to that effect. He just stared at the brochure.

  Wanting to break the tension, Madison started to say something polite, but instead blurted, “Why don’t we play cards or something?” When he looked at her dazed, she grew bold. “Strip poker.” That was one way to get him back into her bed.

  It took him a moment to react with a questioning look on his face. “What?”

  She swallowed hard. Since she’d already thrown it out there, she decided not to back down. “Let’s liven up the evening and play strip poker.”

  His gaze ravished her face, searching for something, and her body heated. Heck, they weren’t even touching yet and desire burned inside her. “I do believe I have a set of cards.” He launched himself from the couch, dropped the brochure on the oval coffee table and went to a side table, pulling out a drawer and rummaging through it. She smiled at how quickly he’d dropped the brochure and this step of getting his mind off all that was worrying him. Her heart warmed when he turned back to her. With a large smile, he produced a pack of red-backed playing cards. “Are you ready to lose your shirt?” His smile grew. “Pun intended.”

  His smile was infectious, and happiness bubbled up inside her. She liked this playful side of Brad. “I think it’ll be you who loses your shirt… and pants.”

  They made their way to the table with their beers in hand and discussed some ground rules. Five card stud. She had to lose her socks since she had on one more piece of clothing than he did. His socks were one set of clothing. The winner chooses the garment the loser has to remove. Ties result in each player losing a garment. Easy enough she thought. Then, she decided to play with him more.

  “Can you write down for me what beats what? I always forget,” she asked, with as much inexperience as she could summon.

  Something akin to lust and greed flashed in his eyes. He was seeing this as an easy win. Her emotions swelled at the change in his mood—how uplifting it had become. She hoped his humor remained when he realized she’d set him up. She secretly smiled at the thought of beating the pants off him.

  Brad grabbed a notepad and pen from beside the phone and wrote down the sequence of hands for the win. She didn’t know why he’d even write royal flush since it was doubtful either would have one.

  “How about we tell a story during each hand before we show them? It’ll help us get to know each other better?” she asked. She’d love to find out more from him. He was a hard man to get to know, maybe this would help.

  He nodded. “Okay. But, we trade off stories.”

  “Agreed. You don’t cheat, do you?”

  With a mock affronted look, he said, “Who me?”

  She giggled and enjoyed hearing the fun in his voice.

  “I’ll deal first, and I get to ask you the first question,” Brad said.

  She stiffened for a second. “How about we ask each other one question, then we go with stories we’d like to share—a funny time?”

  He studied her, probably thinking she was too scared to answer questions, and part of her was because there was no telling what he’d ask. “Okay.” After shuffling the deck, he dealt first cards and set the remainder of the stack between them.

  She shuffled her hand in an effort to make more of it. In the end, she discarded three and inwardly smiled at what she’d picked up. “What’s your question?” she asked, and took a drink of her beer.

  He grinned mischievously. “When did you lose your virginity?”

  Madison almost spewed the drink out of her nose. Instead, she was reduced to a hacking cough. “Wow. That’s a question.”

  He shrugged, and his grin shined bright. “I only get one, so I wanted to make it a good one. Are you too afraid to answer?” he goaded.

  Back stiffening, she narrowed her eyes at him. “No. I lost my virginity when I was eighteen at the senior prom.”

  “Why wait until you were eighteen? Don’t most girls start losing their virginity around sixteen?”

  “I don’t know about that, but my dad had me so afraid I’d get pregnant if I had sex that I couldn’t bring myself to do it. Until then.”

  “What changed?” he asked.

  “I had started the pill when I turned eighteen, and my father didn’t know about it.”

  “I see. Was it good?”

  “You were only allotted one question. But I’ll answer. No. It was short-lived.”

  Brad shuffled his cards and snorted. “Teenage boys.”

  “Yep.”

  “Are you ready to remove some clothing?” he asked.

  “Show me what you’ve got.”

  “Two pair. Tens and fours.”

  She made an effort to look at the sheet he’d given her, so it appeared she didn’t know what she was doing. “Well,” she said, looking up with a smile, “it appears my three jacks beat that.”

  He looked stunned and then smiled. “Beginners luck. What should I remove?”

  “We’ll start with your socks.” She wasn’t sure she could sit there and stare at his bare chest the entire game, but at some point, she’d have to.

  “Okay.” He tossed his remaining card down and leaned over, making a production of removing his socks and tossing them across the room.

  “My deal.” She collected the cards and shuffled. As she dealt, she asked her question, “Tell me about your tattoo.”

  He chuckled. “That’s an easy one.” He tossed two cards to the center of the table. “I’ll take two.”

  She checked her hand and almost fell on the floor in excitement. She already had two pair and the hope of a full house. “I’ll take one.”

  Cards dealt with, he began his story. “The night before I was leaving for the navy, my brother and I, drunk as skunks, went to a tattoo parlor to get something to remember each other by, to brand us as twins forever. Now that I’m sober, it seemed a stupid reason, but we did it anyway.”

  “Who chose the design?”

  “Well now”—he grinned playfully—“that sounds like two questions. But, since you answered mine, I’ll answer yours. One of the women we had with us. Now show me your hand.”

  “Two pair, queens and sixes.” She hadn’t pulled the full house, so she had to hope this was enough.

  “Fuck. Pair of aces. What now?”

  Trying to look as if she’d given it deep thought, she tapped her finger on her chin and looked at him. “Let’s go with pants.”

  He tossed the rest of his cards, and with mischief dancing on his lips, he stood to remove his jeans. The man drew down the zipper slowly, playing with her. What she could tell once his pants were removed was that he’d already been thinking about getting her naked.

  “Give me the damn cards,” he said with a grin, utterly unashamed of the tenting of his underwear.

  She laughed at his frustration. She should tell him that she wasn’t a novice card player. That she’d learned a great deal while on a long shoot in Vegas. Although it really was a lot of luck of the cards sometimes.

  He dealt and slapped down the remaining deck. “Your turn to share a story.”

  Looking at her cards, her heart sank. Not a thing worth keeping except the ace. She had to take four cards, and that meant she could still end up with a crap hand. “Four.”

  He looked at her startled, and then his grin grew mischievously as he also took four cards. “Story. Make it a childhood one.”

  She thought for a moment and brought forth a memory. “After my dad married Rylee’s mom, they moved in with us. Rylee brought a d
og with her, and my cat, Puddles, a yellow, short-haired cat didn’t like the dog. Rylee and I were constantly tending to the dog from scratches from Puddles. The first time they fought, I thought to separate them. I mean Puddles was swatting the hell out of Champ—Rylee’s dog. He wasn’t fighting back. So I grabbed Puddles, picking her up.”

  “Uh-oh,” he said. “I see where this is going.”

  “Yeah, there are times I can still see the scars of her scratches on me.”

  “Let me see.”

  She pushed up her sleeves and showed him her arm, tracing the barely noticeable lines on the inside of her forearm. “But, Rylee and I bonded real well after that. First, she tended my wounds, then we worked together, and it took us about six months for the dog and cat to cuddle together.”

  He shook his head. “Why don’t you have a cat now?”

  “Too much travel before. Maybe I’ll get one once I settle down with the boutique and moving. Okay, what do you have?” She was keeping her fingers crossed on this one.

  “Nothing but ace high.”

  Relief flowed through her. “A pair of twos.”

  “Fuck,” he said again at his loss. “This is not happening. How come I’m half-naked, and you’re fully dressed?”

  “Luck of the cards,” she offered as an excuse. “Shirt,” she added. Now she’d have to stare at it, but it was that or underwear, and that definitely had to be last. “You’re not new to this, are you?”

  Without further comment—or ogling his fine chest—she took the cards to deal. “Your turn. A story from your childhood.”

  “Okay. Let me think.” He fanned out his cards and grimaced at his hand. “I’ll take three.”

  She also took three, and what a three she pulled. The game was in the bag. Or at least she hoped. His chances of beating it were slim.

  “Okay, when I was about twelve or thirteen, my brothers and I had a bonfire to see Jesse off to college. While we were there, AJ brought up that we should all work together in protecting people, and we made a joke of it. It didn’t stick then, but I think when Jesse left the FBI, that thought came back to him because he started HIS for all of us to join. Me, I joined about a year after it was started.” He nodded and smiled, and she could see the joy radiating from him. “Best decision I ever made. Working with my brothers is fantastic, and I love what we do.”