“Bet where Mommy is they have purple wings that sparkle, all shiny when they flap.” Mara made a flapping motion with her arms, making Mimi giggle.
Moments later, the floodgates opened, her round eyes fell to the snow-covered ground. “I miss her.”
Mara fought a wave of her own tears. Mimi was so small against the backdrop of the enormous landscape behind her, her genuine sorrow making her look even more vulnerable. Mara gathered her close. “So why don’t you tell her that?”
Mimi shrugged as if the idea were pointless—useless. “She can’t hear me.”
“I dunno. I talk to my mom all the time. She might not answer, but I like to think she hears me.”
“Did she died-ed, too?”
Mara’s heart shifted, but she smiled anyway, caught in the grip of this child’s desperate wish to find peace. “She did die. My father, too. I was sad just like you.”
Mimi’s gaze up at her was full of innocent hope. “But you seem really happy now.”
If only happiness were as simple at her age as it was at Mimi’s. She wanted Mimi to always have that. No matter what life threw at her, it was okay to hope love would always win. “That’s because I know my mom’s keeping your mom company, and they’re up there talking about sparkly wings and wishing us happy thoughts while they miss us, too.”
Mimi let her head rest against Mara’s hip, putting her arm around her thigh. “I like that.”
Mara squeezed her shoulders and fought a shudder of breath. “Me, too, Miss Mimi.”
“I like you.”
She blinked to erase any sign of impending tears, glancing down at this small child, fighting to find a way to survive such tragedy. “Really? You do? I guess I like you okay enough,” Mara teased, dragging a finger down Mimi’s freckled nose, making her squeal. She held out her hand. “C’mon, let’s go back to the cottage and see if Carl’s made us some cabbage soup for dinner. Yum-yum, cabbage. Whaddya say to that?”
She wrinkled her bright red nose and made a face. “That is so gross. Cabbage is stinky. But I like Carl, even if he is a weird color.”
Mara burst out laughing at the irony of her childish statement.
If Mimi only knew the half of it.
* * *
WITH the children gone back to Wanda’s, and Nina and Carl visiting with Marty and Keegan, the silence of the cottage became profoundly obvious.
Harry was lost in his thoughts on the couch, staring off into the roar of the fire he’d built.
But they had to talk before . . .
Wiping off the last remnants of a very messy dinner made up of cheeseburgers and Tater Tots from the counter, Mara poured him a mug of coffee and took a deep breath before making her way to the couch to join him.
He smiled up at her distractedly when she offered him the steaming mug. “Thanks.”
Pulling a throw from the back of her couch, she settled in, crossing her legs beneath it. “Penny for them?”
He shook his head, his eyes distant. “I didn’t think I’d miss them this much.”
“They’re amazing kids. I had a great time with them today. Who knew Arch was such an ace snowman maker?”
His smile, when it happened lately, changed the landscape of his face, taking it from hard and cold to boyishly sweet. “They had a great time, too. It was probably the happiest I’ve seen them since . . .”
“Donna died.” No holds barred, time to get it out in the open while she still had the chance.
He nodded his dark head, cupping the mug with a firmer grip. “I guess I got so caught up in Donna’s death, and I was so overwhelmed by all the little details of running a household with two active kids, I forgot to enjoy them the way I used to when I was just plain old Uncle Harry. We used to have some really fun times. Lately, I’ve been nothing but an internal wreck or a badger about bedtimes and structure.”
The struggle Harry fought so hard to hide made him so much more endearing. Each second she spent with him, every word he spoke about the children, left her wanting to peel back yet another layer of his personality.
But they didn’t have time to indulge in anything other than the facts. “You were just trying to do the right thing. Get them settled. Your whole life was turned upside down, too, you know. Single man suddenly raising two children who are so young. Be fair to yourself in the assessment process.”
“I want to do right by Donna. I need to.”
“You will. You are. You’re adjusting. But do me a favor?”
“Name it.”
“Let Mimi talk about how much she misses Donna. Fletcher, too. Speaking as a kid who lost her parents, distraction so you don’t have to face your own pain isn’t the answer.” And it bred all sorts of coping mechanisms like avoidance, solitude, and most importantly, a voice unheard.
Harry scowled, making his “Nina” face. “Fear breeds confusion, misunderstanding, and eventually gives you fucking kids who act like they’re entitled to shit in gold toilets while they text their friends on their fancy iPhones they don’t deserve and didn’t goddamn well earn.”
Mara laughed and nodded, letting her cheek rest on the cushioned back of the couch. “In the words of Countess Dracula, yes.” Reaching out, she grabbed his hand in impulse, forgetting everything but her mission. “Don’t let that be a part of what keeps them from sharing with you, the fear they’ll upset you. I know they see a therapist, and that’s healthy, but the therapist isn’t you. She didn’t love Donna and her husband like you did.”
Harry looked away from her and out the window, his fingers twitching beneath hers. “I’m shitty at sharing my feelings.”
She snorted. “Oh, please. How quickly we forget. You’ve been very share-ish about your reluctance to be one of us. You sure didn’t hold back when you were reminding me about how you were going to find a way out of this.”
“Dig, dig, dig,” he teased, leaning closer to her.
“Hide, hide, hide,” she reminded him, staying the course of her mission.
His throat worked, the strong column of muscle beneath his sweater, tensing. “Losing Donna was even worse than when I lost my parents. All we had was each other.”
No excuses. No compromises. She couldn’t explain why, but she needed to know he’d nurture Mimi and Fletcher’s desire to remember their parents, encourage them to share the good and bad. “Too bad. The kids shouldn’t have to hide their anguish, Harry. It’s part of the reason they’re acting out. For someone so smart, you’re a little dense. Just promise me this, and I only ask you because Keegan and Sloan did the same thing to me that you’re doing to the kids. They diverted, they coaxed, they gave me things. Lots and lots of things. They never talked to me. But nothing makes up for losing your parents, Harry. Not a bike or a dog or the best prom dress money can buy. What helps is expressing it. Don’t ever give up. Because you can’t throw your hands up in the air and pretend like you don’t know what’s wrong when they act out and you’re part of the explanation. No more excuses.” More tears had begun to form in her eyes at her own personal memories.
Harry swiped at them with his thumb. “Your parents died when you were a kid, right?”
“Not as young as Mimi and Fletcher, but yes. I was almost thirteen, and it was awful. Keegan did all the right things, but because he claimed he sucked at expressing himself, too, I felt the brunt of it. There was nowhere to go with all the pain of losing my mother and father.”
He grinned suddenly. “But look at you. You turned out pretty good.”
Anger made her lash out at him. It wasn’t something to joke about. “If by good you mean in the future you’re comfortable with Mimi making baby potions because she’s single, lonely, and can’t find anyone who wants to start a family with her, keep this up.”
“I’m sorry. You’re right. I mean, not about how pathetic you’ve made yourself sound. That’s just not how everyone else
sees you, me included. I mean about listening to them and talking about Donna. I’m bottling up all the memories because they always lead back to the same thing. She’s gone, and she’s never coming back.” Harry paused, his voice raw and low. “Sometimes it’s almost more than I can handle feeling all at once. She was a great mother, and that makes her a hard role model to live up to, but worse, it hurts to talk about her in the past tense.”
Her heart pulled again, clenching and unclenching. “And you’re going to be a great father. Don’t doubt that, Harry. I don’t.”
His eyes remained blank, his head cocking in question. “You say that as if you won’t be around to see it.”
Her eyebrow rose when she poked a finger playfully at his chest. “You say that as if there isn’t a conflict between us. Aside from everything else, you don’t want to be like me, remember?”
He gave her the look. The one that said he was tired of her razzing him. “Just because I don’t want to be like you, doesn’t mean I don’t want to be with you.”
She smiled the smile of someone who had a secret. His words brought a girlie high, but then she remembered two things: her age and tomorrow. “Do you know how old I am, Harry?”
“I know all about the eternal thing. You’re not going to scare me off with that.”
“Good. Then how old am I?”
Harry frowned, a crease cutting across his forehead. “Nothing but trouble can come of that question.”
“Oh, stop. You can’t offend me. Just give me a number.”
“I dunno. But you don’t look a day over twenty-five.”
She snorted.
“Good save, right?”
She giggled. “Super save. But here’s the deal. Around everyone who’s human, I’m technically thirty-five. But in reality, I’m sixty-five.”
Harry’s mouth fell open in that adorable way it always did when he was trying to process something he just couldn’t wrap his mind around.
She patted his hand. “We age very, very slowly, Harry. So we won’t age appropriately together. I’ll look like this for a long time to come—you, not so much.”
“You could be my mother . . .” His revelation appeared to stun even him.
“Well, at least I’d be someone’s mother.”
“I was joking. Wait. No. I wasn’t joking, I was opening my mouth before I thought about it. I can stick my foot in it myself,” he teased with a grin.
Mara laughed at him, rubbing his arm, loving the feel of his muscles encased in a sweater. “It’s okay. Technically, it’s true. No hard feelings, or feet either.”
He let his cheek fall to the cushion along with her. “Did I ever tell you my mother named me after Ralph Waldo Emerson? Harry was my father’s name, but she loved Ralph—quoted him all the time. He said, ‘As we grow old . . . the beauty steals inward.’ I don’t much care what you’ll look like. Sure, you’re beautiful on the outside, but that’s not the most important factor with you, Mara. Not by a long shot.”
Her heart stirred again, this time deeply, shifting, changing, opening up, and as much as she wanted to fight it, she couldn’t. It was so rare, such a gift, she chose to accept it. “Well, you say that now, and those are very pretty words, but you can’t possibly know what the future holds. Everything’s in too much of a jumble.”
Instead of acknowledging her truth, Harry changed the subject. “You really wanted children pretty bad.” It wasn’t a question. It was a statement. One he’d clearly given thought to—wondered about, if his expression was any indication. One that sounded as though it came without judgment, even if in her want, she’d run amok in his life.
“I really do, er, did. Now I just want everything to be okay, and for you and the kids to be okay, too.”
“Are you rethinking your stance on it now?”
“I’m rethinking everything right now,” she told him truthfully. “I realize I didn’t give a lot of thought to the idea someone could steal the formula and create utter havoc for us paranormals. Why I didn’t think about it is the question. I’m usually pretty thorough. I never would have let anyone have the formula for it. I almost can’t believe it worked.”
Harry’s smile was wry. “I guess we can only surmise it would have worked. You sort of started with a living, breathing guinea pig. But I don’t doubt it would’ve worked because you’re brilliant. Yet, I’ve wondered something . . .”
“Shoot.”
“If this pack of yours is so strict about mating and all these rules, how would you have explained how you got pregnant?”
Mara sighed, looking down at their intertwined hands. “I never got that far in my mind, I guess. I wouldn’t let myself get that far. It took me months to get as far as I did.”
He gave her one of his sweetest smiles, making the grooves on either side of it deepen. “So are you willing to share how you got as far as you did?”
“Not if you flayed me alive and poured vinegar on my open, raw wounds. If I don’t ever tell, no one can ever steal it.”
He chuckled, rich and full. “Damn. Fair enough. Either way, I think you’re an amazing human being, and you’re really good with kids. I think the pack should let you have a dozen. I know my kids like you a lot. I’m impressed.”
“I like them, too,” was all she could manage around the lump in her throat.
“So, sixty-five, huh?” he asked, low and husky.
“Total GILF.”
He leaned into her, nipping at her jaw, brushing her hair aside, his breath hot on her neck. “Total package, if you ask me,” he murmured on a rasp of a breath before removing her coffee cup from her hand, then taking her lips.
CHAPTER
16
Harry slanted his mouth over hers, slipping his tongue between her lips, stroking it until Mara had to grab hold of the front of his sweater to keep the world from tilting.
He bracketed her face with his hands, driving his fingers into her hair, pulling the clip that held it up out so the strands fell over her shoulders and down her back. “Hearts and flowers this time—promise. We’ll go slow. Really slow,” he muttered between kisses.
Her heart raced with need at his words, so much gentler than the last time. Her answer was to move closer to him, burrow into the warm shelter of his chest, savor the friction of her nipples, drawn tightly in her bra.
Harry’s hands slipped under her sweater, caressing her skin, drawing out the agonizing wait for him to unclasp her bra and touch her naked flesh.
He drew her to him, pulling her top over her shoulders, teasing her with his tongue, caressing the sensitive flesh of her neck while exposing her flesh to the cool air.
He groaned when he pulled away, scanning her in nothing but her bra and jeans. “So beautiful,” he whispered, popping the clasp on her bra and brushing it off her shoulders.
Pushing her back against the couch with a hot moan, Mara tugged his shirt off, too, dragging it upward, relishing his heated flesh against her fingertips.
She ran her fingers over his nipples, moaning her satisfaction when he hissed into her mouth, sliding down along her body until he was at her breasts.
The brief moment before he wrapped his lips around the tightened bud was full of exquisite agony. Suspended by his dark head against her pale skin, his molten-hot tongue rasping along her collarbone, settling between her breasts, and nipping the underside of one.
She arched against him, rearing up when he enveloped her nipple, wetting it, blowing on it just before capturing it again. Heat, white and thick, spiraled in the pit of her belly. Her cleft grew wet with anticipation, the rib of Harry’s chest between her legs, excruciating.
Mara’s hands gripped his shoulders, digging her fingers into his flesh as he gathered both of her breasts together; he laved each nipple to a tight peak, making her writhe beneath him with the scream of his name.
And then his han
ds were dragging her jeans off, unzipping, tearing until there was nothing left between her and complete nudity but her lace panties.
Harry slipped a finger into the triangle of material, drawing his finger between her swollen lips, stopping only briefly to drag his index finger over her clit.
Desperation warred with her wish to make these moments last as long as she could. Yet, with a will of its own, her body bowed against his touch, begged for it, each stroke he took, each whisper of his breath across her thigh, made her need deeper, harder.
Harry slipped his tongue along the crease where thigh met hip, teasing, taunting until she had to clench her teeth to keep from ordering him to pleasure her.
His mouth inched closer, sliding her panties over until each increment of movement became a carnal act all unto itself.
He was delivering the hearts and flowers he’d promised slow and deliberate, driving her not so quietly insane.
When Harry finally plunged his tongue into her wet folds, she bucked beneath him with a wild abandon she’d never encountered. The combination of his hands stroking her thighs and his tongue deep within, skimming her clit in hot pass after pass, made her come in a flash of brilliant color and lights.
Mara strained against him, rising up and driving herself against his mouth, spreading her legs and wrapping them around his neck.
It was then Harry drove a finger into her, deep and hungry, and as his lips consumed her and his tongue devoured her, she came again.
Her chest heaved, her lungs begging for air as she rode his mouth, curling her fingers into tight fists.
Harry drew his finger from her slowly, caressing and kissing every inch of available flesh while he did. Whispering, soothing, when she whimpered the loss of his body pressed to hers. He rubbed his cheek against her calf wrapped around his neck, the bristles of five o’clock shadow sending shivers along her spine.
His fingers, now gentle and tender, continued to stroke her, skimming across the tops of her thighs as he made his way up along her body.
Mara tore at his jeans, desperate to touch him, feel the weight of his cock in her hands. Harry helped, driving them downward until he was naked.
The Accidental Werewolf 2: Something About Harry (Accidentally Paranormal Novel) Page 23