Angel of Redemption

by J. A. Little

  He was fast asleep when I slipped beneath the sheets and in-between his legs. Needless to say, he woke up with a start, but he figured out what was happening pretty quickly. I know his body well enough by now to know that at this point, all I need to do is grab his balls and tug a little, and he’ll be done—which is exactly what I do, and he comes with a load groan. I let him go and wipe my mouth before crawling up to meet his tired but happy gaze.

  “Happy birthday,” I whisper. He lifts his head, planting his mouth on mine before flipping me over onto my back.

  “Thank you. You’re naked.”

  “You noticed.”

  “Have you been naked all night?” I shake my head, offering a coy smile. “Didn’t think so. That’s definitely something I would have noticed.” He looks down between us at my breasts, smirking. “I like it.”

  He kisses me a few times, working my mouth, my jaw, my neck. His thumbs pass over my nipples. I shudder because I’m really turned on. I was trying to make this all about him, but that doesn’t appear to be what’s happening.

  “Dean?” I whimper.

  “Hmmm?” he hums, his mouth replacing one of his hands, his tongue flicking out.

  “Oh, that feels good.”

  He repeats the action. I’m going to lose my ever-loving mind. I roll my hips up, trying to get friction against his erection. He gets the message and pulls his hips back just long enough to position himself and push into me.

  “I’m not gonna last,” I cry.

  “That’s okay,” Dean assures, speeding up a little. Wrapping my legs around him brings his pelvis down against me, and I let go, feeling the pressure that’s been building suddenly erupt. Dean has to cover my mouth with his hand to keep me quiet. He’s got a huge grin on his face as he watches me come.

  “That is so fucking sexy,” he grunts, removing his hand and bending down to invade my mouth with his tongue, all the while still thrusting into me. After a couple of minutes he pulls out. “Turn over.”

  I roll over onto my stomach and let him pull me into position, my ass up in the air. He kisses the stingray on my hip before sliding back into me. I’m not going to come again, but it still feels amazing. It doesn’t take much longer before he’s gripping my hips and groaning against my back.

  “Wow,” he sighs falling onto the bed and pulling me to him. “That’s the best birthday present I’ve ever had.”

  I giggle. “Let’s just stay in bed all day.”

  “Nope. I have plans for you.” He rolls over, and I watch his gorgeous ass stride to the bathroom. Groaning and grumbling, I climb out of bed. It’s only six in the morning. Too freaking early. After going to the bathroom, I join Dean in the shower. It doesn’t get too sexual, but he does insist on washing my boobs.

  He gives me about twenty minutes to pack a bag, and by the time I’m ready to go, Andy has appeared in our kitchen and Claire is stumbling out of bed.

  “Have fun,” she says sleepily, giving me a hug before lying on the couch and pulling a blanket over herself.

  Dean drags me out the door, and we’re on our way. I still have no idea where we’re going.

  “You know it makes me nervous when you do this, right?”

  “Are you nervous?”

  “I’m getting there.”

  “You don’t trust me?”

  “Of course I trust you,” I say, pursing my lips. “I just like to know where I’m going.”

  “You’re a control freak,” Dean chuckles. His voice is still low and gruff from waking up so early. A few minutes later, we pull into the parking lot of the Jumping Bean.

  “We’re not going back to the beach house for one day, are we?” I ask as Dean cuts the engine.

  “That’s an eight-hour drive, Kayla. No.”

  “Then what are we doing?”

  “Getting coffee,” he says, a hint of sarcasm lacing his tone.

  “Smart-ass,” I mumble, getting out of the car.

  He slings his arm around my shoulders. “Would you just relax?”

  Mita is behind the counter, looking gorgeous as ever. How she manages that at 7:00 a.m., I will never know, and chances are she’s been here for awhile. She glances over and grins, holding up a finger as she helps the customers in line. For a second, I watch her shout out orders to the barista before the customer actually says anything. She’s friendly and engaging.

  Dean and I take a seat in the corner. It’s a tiny table, but it’s the only one available. Minutes later, Mita sets down two coffees and two pastries in front of us.

  “How do you do that?” I ask, staring down at my black coffee.

  “Do what?” she chirps.

  “Know what everyone wants before they order.”

  Mita shrugs. “A lot of these people are regulars, and I have a good memory.”

  “Huh. That’s impressive.”

  She leans down, wrapping her arms around my neck and kissing my cheek. She smells good, like fresh baked bread and chocolate. “How’re you doing, Kayla?”

  “I’m good.” I smile as she stands back up. “How are you?”

  “I am fantastic, thank you.” She grins and then looks down at Dean. “Get your ass up here and give me a hug, birthday brat.” Dean groans, but stands up obediently. “I can’t believe my baby cousin is thirty years old,” she says in a teasing tone. “I think…” She leans in close, picking at a strand of his hair. “Oh my God. I think I see a gray one.”

  Dean slaps her hand away, making her—and me—laugh.

  “I’m just kidding. You’re still as devilishly good-looking as you’ve always been. You guys hanging around?”

  Dean shakes his head. “I’m taking her to Camelot,” he tells her. I narrow my eyes in confusion. I would have thought it impossible, but Mita’s smile widens.

  “You are?”

  “What’s Camelot?” I ask.

  “Don’t tell her. It’s a surprise.” Dean snickers when I scoff.

  “I’ll just tell you that you’ll love it. Have fun. I gotta get back to work. I have a birthday present for you when you get back, though,” she calls out, hurrying to help the poor barista who’s trying desperately to keep up.

  Back in the car, I’m a little more relaxed. “How long is the drive?”

  “An hour and a half.”

  “That’s it?”

  Dean nods. “Yep. Sit back, drink your coffee, and enjoy the ride.”

  I watch the city disappear as we head east on I-94. By the time we enter Wisconsin, my curiosity is definitely getting the better of me. Dean pulls off of the highway, heading south. I see signs for Elk Creek Lake.

  “Are we going to the lake?” I ask, knowing full well he’s not going to tell me much.

  “Nope.”

  I sigh and lean back in my seat. Eventually, he pulls onto a dirt road. Over the top of a hill, a huge house appears. Dean pulls up to it and cuts the engine. I wait for him to come around and help me out, not because I’m letting him be a gentleman, but because I’m busy staring at the house in front of us.

  “What is this place?” I ask, standing up after he opens my door.

  “Wyatt Estate. My granddad’s.”

  “This is the place you were telling me about? The one where they have the Christmas benefit?”

  He nods. “Yep.”

  “Wow. Why do you call it Camelot?”

  “Uh,” he scratches his neck. “When we were kids, we used to pretend we were Knights of the Round Table and this was our castle. Aiden was usually King Arthur. I was Lancelot.”

  “And Mita was Guinevere?”

  Dean laughs. “Sometimes. But usually she was a female knight—an Italian lady, disguised as a man so she could fight to avenge her father’s death. She would sword fight and wrestle all while wearing the most elaborate dresses she owned.”

  I smile. “It sounds like you guys had fun here.”

  “We did,” Dean sighs and picks up our bags. “Come on. Let’s go.”

  Setting down his bag, he pulls out h
is keys, but he doesn’t need them. A woman, probably in her sixties with short, blond hair, opens the door.

  “Dean.”

  “Mrs. Elliot,” Dean greets politely. He turns toward me. “This is my girlfriend, Kayla. Kayla, this is Mrs. Elliot. She’s my granddad’s nurse.”

  She smiles at me and opens the door wider. “Come on in. He’s sleeping right now. I wasn’t sure what time you were planning on being here, so I didn’t want to disturb his schedule. You know what he’s like.”

  Dean nods. “That’s okay. I’m going to put our things in my usual room, and then I’ll show Kayla around.”

  “Perfect. There’s plenty to eat in the fridge. I’ll come find you when he’s ready.” She disappears up a main staircase and off to the right. Dean picks up our bags again, and I follow him up the stairs. We go off to the left.

  “I guess there will be no getting loud here,” I say under my breath. Dean turns around with a grin.

  “What gives you that impression?”

  “Uh…the last thing I want to do is meet Alexander the Great and then have him hear me…”

  Dean lets out a loud barking laugh. “First of all, sweetheart, his room is all the way on the other side of the house. I can guarantee you that Aiden and Emily have made some noise in this house without anyone knowing.”

  “How do you know, then?” I ask snidely.

  “My brother has a tendency for TMI. Secondly,” he continues, “my granddad is completely deaf without his hearing aids, and he doesn’t wear them to bed.”

  “But Mrs. Elliot’s not,” I protest.

  He opens the door to a room and sets down the bags, pulling me into his arms. “Don’t worry about it, baby. The walls are thick.” He knocks on the wall closest to us. It doesn’t leave the echoing sound my drywall does. It almost seems to absorb the noise. He leans down to kiss me, and I let him because it’s his birthday and he gets whatever he wants today.

  After a few minutes of making out and groping, Dean pulls me back down the stairs for that promised tour.

  The place is massive. There are two large rooms connected by a sliding wall, which apparently serves as the ballroom during the benefit. There’s a huge gourmet kitchen. A study. A library. An entertainment room. Upstairs is mostly bedrooms, ten in all, each with its own en suite. Dean points out his granddad’s bedroom but doesn’t open the door. Directly across the hall is Mrs. Elliot’s room, which he also leaves alone. There’s a pool, too, but it’s covered.

  “Guess they haven’t had the maintenance guys out here to clean it yet.”

  “When was the last time you were here?” I ask.

  “Christmas.” Dean frowns. “I should come up more often.”

  “But he doesn’t remember you?”

  He shakes his head. “Sometimes he does, but usually I have to remind him.”

  Outside gorgeous, old trees dot the rolling hills. One of them even holds a tire swing. From the terrace I can see a pond and remember the story Dean told me about catching frogs.

  “Dean?” Mrs. Elliot’s voice calls from the French doors behind us. We both turn. “He’s up and ready for visitors.”

  Dean threads his fingers with mine, and we follow Mrs. Elliot up to Granddad Wyatt’s room. He’s sitting in a powder-blue chair next to a bay window. He has a tray on a small table in front of him, and I can see his hands shaking as he brings a spoonful of oatmeal to his mouth.

  “Alexander, your grandson’s here,” she says loudly. “And he’s brought a friend.”

  “Which one?” he booms. I expected a weak and fragile voice from the looks of him, so I jump at the strength behind his tone.

  “Dean.”

  He looks up at us and squints. After a minute, he frowns. “Who are you?”

  Dean walks forward and sits in one of the chairs across from his grandfather. “It’s me, Granddad. Dean.”

  The old man shakes his head. “You’re not Dean.”

  “I am.”

  “You’re not! Dean’s…” He furrows his brow. “Today is Dean’s birthday. He’s ten.”

  “You’re right. Today’s my birthday, Granddad. But I’m thirty now.”

  I’m trying to control the ache in my chest that’s causing my throat to dry out. There’s a sadness in Dean’s eyes that I hoped I’d never see again—a look of pain and loss.

  “Thirty?” the old man asks, staring at Dean. They have the same eyes. “How?” No one answers. How do you tell a man he’s lost the last twenty years of his life? That some cruel disease of the mind has stripped him of everything? Dean takes his granddad’s hand in one of his and mine in the other.

  “This is Kayla, Granddad.” The old man’s eyes shift to me. He looks me up and down and grins.

  “I’ve never laid eyes on such a beauty. Are you his wife?”

  I smile softly back at him and bow my head. “No, sir.”

  “She’s my girlfriend, Granddad,” Dean chuckles.

  “Well, you better hurry before someone else snatches her up, son.”

  We sit and talk for awhile. Within an hour, Granddad can remember that Dean is an adult and working at Wyatt House. He knows Aiden and Emily have two small children, although he can’t recall their names. Dean once told me that he doesn’t seem to remember the accident or that Dean was in jail. If he does, he doesn’t bring it up.

  Every once in awhile he slips back into a memory that happened decades ago, talking about it as though it happened recently. When he starts doing it more frequently and becomes frustrated when he can’t sort things out, I see Mrs. Elliot and Dean make eye contact.

  “Granddad,” Dean says. “I want to take Kayla into town and show her around. We’ll be back a little later, okay?”

  His cloudy look seems to appear out of nowhere as he looks up. “Who’s Kayla?”

  We say our good-byes. Even though he can’t remember who I am, he kisses my hand and winks at me. Dean drives me into the city of Eau Claire. It’s more of a town, really. There are a lot of little art galleries and shops downtown that are fun to look in. We get a few interesting looks from the locals, whose eyes scan over Dean’s tattoos. One woman follows us around her antique shop for the entire fifteen minutes we’re browsing. I’m not sure if she thinks we’re going to break something or steal something, but it’s annoying. Even if I wanted to buy something, I wouldn’t just because of her asinine behavior. It doesn’t seem to bother Dean.

  After lunch in a small café, Dean takes a detour to Elk Creek Lake. We sit on a dock with our feet dangling in the water, watching the fishermen catch nothing for an hour.

  “This is all you wanted to do on your birthday?” I ask skeptically.

  He shrugs. “I just wanted to spend the day with you. And I wanted to introduce you to Granddad. He’s worse now than he was six months ago.”

  “How long has he had Alzheimer’s?”

  “Almost nine years. The average life span after someone’s diagnosed is eight to ten years. I don’t know how much longer he’ll be around.”

  “That’s just an estimate, though, right?”

  Dean shrugs. “I don’t know. I just hate seeing him like this.”

  I grip his hand tightly and bring it to my mouth, kissing his knuckles. I don’t know what to say, so letting him know that I’m here for him is the best I can do. I do have something I hope will make him feel better, though. Reaching into my bag, I pull out the gift I’ve been holding onto. It’s wrapped, and I’ve put a tiny bow on top.

  “What’s this?” Dean asks when I hand it to him.

  “Your birthday present.”

  “I thought the present you gave me this morning was perfect.”

  I bump his shoulder with mine. “Just open it.”

  He carefully opens the packaging and lifts the lid. “Jesus, Kayla.”

  “Do you like it?”

  Inside is a stainless steel TAG Heuer watch. It’s the least expensive one they had and, to be honest, it was a stretch on my budget, but I wanted to get him som
ething nice. Andy assured me that any man would love to have a watch like it, but I don’t care about “any man.” I just hope Dean likes it.

  “Baby, this is too much.”

  “You don’t have a watch,” I say quietly. “I thought maybe you’d like it.

  “I love it. It’s just… Shit, this is nice.” He pulls it from the box and flips it over, smiling as he reads the inscription. “I love you, too.” Leaning over, he kisses me, sucking on my lower lip. “Thank you.”

  Chapter 71

  Kayla

  We get back to the house early in the evening. It smells so amazing that Dean and I are drawn to the kitchen like cartoon characters who float their way across the room on their tiptoes, enticed by a visible vapor. When we get there, two plates are set on the island next to a bottle of red wine with a note.

  Accidentally made an extra steak pie for dinner. Help yourself. It’s in the warmer.

  P.S. The bubbly’s for you as well. Happy birthday, Dean!

  “How do you accidentally make an extra pie?” I ask, amused.

  Dean grins and shakes his head. “You don’t.”

  “That was very sweet of her, then.”

  “Yes, it was.” He picks up the bottle and reads the label. “Chateau Krug Champagne Brut Collection, 1985. Nice. My grandad likes to collect vintage wines and champagnes. I bet he’s been holding onto this one for awhile.”

  “That was a good year,” I tease. “I bet it tastes even better than it looks.”

  Dean narrows his eyes at me and smirks. “Be careful, sweetheart. You think you’re safe just because we’re here? I know so many little hiding places to drag you into, it’s not even funny.”

  It’s suddenly way too hot in the room. “Can we eat outside on the patio?” I ask, desperate for some air.

  “Sure,” he chuckles.

  The evening air is warm, but there’s a nice breeze blowing. We sit at the table across from each other and Dean pours two glasses of wine while I serve the pie. If I thought it smelled wonderful before, it’s nothing compared to the aroma that attacks me when I cut into it. I think I even moan.

  “So is Mrs. Elliot just a nurse?” I ask as we begin to eat.