I sighed and found myself wishing people around us wouldn’t be so quick to judge him so harshly. But then, I judged him, too. I had typical feminine worries, like being first in his life. But my worries were light compared to the issues he faced daily. So, why couldn’t he take the support I offered him? Why couldn’t he allow me to be there for him, to be his shoulder to cry on? I only asked to lessen his burden by sharing it. And in return, I only wanted the certainty of a stable relationship. I didn’t understand why I could never stay at his place without planning ahead. And I couldn’t be there when he wasn’t around. When I asked, he just told me to trust him.
I did, but I needed him to replenish my reassurance. A heavier sigh escaped my lips as I lay my head on his broad chest.
“What is it?” I heard him ask.
I lifted my head and felt his welcoming kiss on my forehead. “Nothing.” I couldn’t start a conversation like this.
He raised his head to look me in the eyes, and then he rolled on top of me and kissed my lips. “What time is it?” he grumbled, trailing kisses down my neck.
“Time for me to go to the bathroom,” I replied, my urge to go sudden. He laughed, and pulled me into an even closer embrace but I insisted, “I’m serious! I need to go. Now.”
“Okay. Go.” He rolled to his back again with a disappointed look, and I ran.
As I relieved myself, I decided to gather my wits and clear things up once and for all. He said he could focus on himself until business with the Valves completely came to an end. I wanted to present all the arguments and show him I couldn’t think of him, if he would let me.
I brushed my teeth and rinsed my face with cold water, and I finished with some tonic lotion. Then, I stepped out with determination to find a way to start the discussion. But the bed was empty, and there was no sign of Dawson in the bedroom. From the hall, I smelled fresh coffee. He was taking his breakfast chef job seriously. I reached the kitchen with a wide grin, looking forward to his pancake magic. Ginger and I could eat this breakfast every day, and it would never get old.
I went straight for the coffee, pouring myself a cup as I watched Dawson prepare the batter with infinite care.
“What?” he asked, catching my feline grin.
I shrugged. “You’re an awesome dad, Dawson.
“Why, thank you, Miss Bennett. You’re generous today. But you haven’t told me what’s on your mind.”
I liked him fussing over the smallest sign I was upset. He had a way of knowing what I was thinking, and I always wondered if this was everything that every woman wanted. No need to spell it out – he would just look at me and find his way into my head. And my heart. But this was one of the few occasions when things needed to be spoken aloud, if I ever got up the nerve.
“What?” He tilted his head, drawing out the word in a mocking insistent tone.
It eased my tension a bit, and I cleared my throat. “I met one of our neighbors a couple days ago.”
“Uh-huh.” I watched his back moving, the muscles fashioned from some godly template.
“She helped me with groceries.”
“Nice of her,” he commented, carefully shaping the pancakes into various animals for Ginger.
“Yes.” I paused. “She…we talked.”
“What did she say?” His tone changed, harsher and a bit concerned. His magic was at work. He had an idea of what transpired between us.
“She insinuated that, by shopping alone, I could’ve needed a helpful hand with the bags. A male hand, and…”
“And that I’m a bastard for not being there,” he finished, cutting me off. “And you should divorce me immediately.”
I’d been staring at the ground, choosing my words carefully. Now, I looked up to see what he meant. His eyes flickered with a glint of amusement, and a cascade of laughter followed at the confusion etched on my face. It was infections, and I smiled, too. “Something like that.”
“That’s what was bothering you, baby? That was the reason for the frown on your pretty face?” He walked over and touched his long fingers to my lips.
I felt stupid for worrying about something so menial. I started to say it was nothing, but he must have decided we’d talked enough. In a swift move, he reached under my arms and started tickling me. He didn’t know I was sensitive, and I was shocked by his playfulness. Maybe the shock delayed my reaction, but soon I was on the verge of collapsing, and I jerked back. He pulled away, watching my reaction, and I scrambled a few steps back. But he took it as a sign to keep playing and reached again, barely containing his laughter.
“No!” I screamed, running in a panic. “I can’t be tickled. No!”
“Ooh, I didn’t know you were so sensitive!” He leapt after me, forcing me to keep running.
I tried to weave between furniture, making an obstacle course of every chair and coat hanger in my way. At first, I was too busy trying to escape his hands, but soon I couldn’t stop laughing, running through the house and screaming when he seemed to get dangerously close.
I felt like a teenager, a surge of energy coursing through me when I met his dark eyes. He laughed, too, sincere happiness between to people in love, no barriers. The rest was just a bunch of minute details, meaningless in the grand scheme of things, tiny in comparison to the perfection of this moment.
Our chase woke Ginger, and she stood in front of the guest room door, rubbing tiny fists in her sleepy eyes. I skidded to a halt to avoid a collision, and Dawson took advantage of the moment, catching up and wrapping his arms tightly around me, laughing loudly.
“Daddy?”
“Yes, baby?”
“I think you’re burning my pancakes.”
A split second of silence passed before Dawson and I burst into convulsive laughter. I had to lean on the door frame with the force of my amusement, and I heard Dawson in the kitchen, hurrying to save the pancakes. I got a grip and turned to Ginger, seeing her puzzled expression mixed with a bit of a pout. It was hilarious under the circumstances, and I had another fit of laughter.
It took several minutes to regain composure and lift Ginger into my arms. I walked to the kitchen, my cheeks aching from the laughter, and I placed her on a chair while I went for water. I opened the fridge and glanced at Dawson, delighted at the happiness dancing in his eyes. I shared it. This was why I loved him so much. He made me happy, lifted my spirits at the right times, and always turned my frown around. And he did it all with ease and honest, pure love.
I was on Cloud Nine and wanted with every ounce of my being to stay there.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
I lay on the couch, flipping lazily through cooking channels. I wanted to find a new cranberry sauce recipe after mine had gone terribly wrong last year. I hadn’t trusted myself with sauce pans since, and this Thanksgiving would be the perfect time to try something new. On one channel, they showed an old school play, footage probably taken from a personal archive. It was presented as inspiration for the chef’s traditional recipes, and I frowned. “How dare he?” I asked out loud. Earlier today, I’d been confronted by the Principal, who inquired about my daily progress and then told me I wouldn’t be responsible for this year’s Thanksgiving play. I always had been in charge of organizing it!
My cheeks burned, recalling the look in his eyes. He hadn’t said much, explaining with a copout, “We thought it best to start rotating between teachers every year. We can take advantage of more ideas this way. Plus, it gives everyone a chance to get involved.”
Ideas my ass! He was using this to punish me for rumors circulating amongst the teachers. With no confirmation, he couldn’t officially reprimand me, so he chose to play dirty, as always, and run the school like a dictator. I looked over at my wall calendar, where I marked Monday to start preparation for the play. From my experience, two weeks gave more than enough time to produce a good show. They were kindergarteners, full of energy, eager to please. And since Thanksgiving was a time of family gathering, most students had distant relatives coming to see
them shine in the play.
I loved involvement in activities like that. Watching the kids' excitement and laughter as they succeeded and learned was the biggest reward I got from my job, and he dared take that away?
I was frustrated at the turn of events, particularly because I couldn’t fault him. I was guilty of fraternizing with a parent of a child in my class. But the kids shouldn’t suffer for that. Then again, were they suffering, or was I being melodramatic?
I huffed and shifted, deciding to try and sleep, hoping I’d feel better after a nap. I closed my eyes and pointed the remote to turn off the TV without looking. But less than a minute of silence pass before my phone rang. Naturally, the damn thing wasn’t even in the same room, and I rose slowly, suddenly quite irritated with the interruption in the sleep I wanted to enjoy. I walked toward the kitchen, where the ring seemed to be coming from and slid my finger over the screen with a smile. “Yes, baby?”
“How did you know it was me, Mari?” came Ginger’s cheerful voice.
“I…had a suspicion,” I said, having expected her father at the other end. “What is it?”
“I was talking to Daddy and wanted to ask you something.”
I smiled at her sweet little voice. “Okay. Ask.”
“What are you doing for Thanksgiving?”
I thought for a moment. “Nothing, really.” I was free as a bird with the recent yanking of my responsibilities to the play preparation and no school to worry about.
“You mean you’re not making turkey, Mari?” Ginger’s question took me by surprise, and it took me a moment to understand.
I heard Dawson laugh in the background and held back my own chuckle. “Of course I’m cooking dinner. I just don’t have plans to go anywhere.”
“Oh, okay. What are you making?”
I laughed. “Turkey, of course.”
“And cranberry sauce?” I heard hope in her voice.
I thought for a second. “Do you happen to have a good recipe, sweetie?”
“I have lots! I saw one with oranges on TV. I made daddy save it. Do you want it?”
I hadn’t expected that. “Yes, definitely. As a matter of fact, I would love to make it.”
“Okay. Daddy wants to talk to you.” With no goodbyes or other preamble, she passed the phone off.
“Thank you, sweetie,” I heard him say. Then to me, “Impressed yet?”
“Thoroughly,” I answered truthfully. “She is definitely a resourceful little genius.”
“I agree. It’s hard to believe she’s only five.”
I nodded to myself. “Like I said: genius.”
He chuckled with pride, and then his tone changed. “So, a little bird told me you don’t have plans for Thanksgiving this year.”
His low tone stirred butterflies in my stomach, and I took a deep breath. Clearing my throat, I managed, “Yes. I mean, no, I don’t. As far as I know.”
“As far as you know?” he teased. “In that case, why don’t we have Thanksgiving dinner together?”
“Of course we’re having dinner together!” I heard Ginger say in the background. “We’re making cranberry sauce together, so we’re definitely eating it together.”
Dawson laughed harder. “Of course, sweetie.” To me, “Did you hear that?”
I couldn't help but smile. “I did. I guess our plans have been made for us.”
I felt excitement at the upcoming holiday, despite my earlier disappointment. Maybe it was a good thing I didn’t have the play. I had all the time in the world to make a perfect dinner for Dawson and Ginger. I heard the beep signaling my call waiting, causing a dreadful feeling to creep up my spine. I felt like I’d forgotten something important. “Let me call you back, baby. I have another call.”
“Okay, I’ll hang up,” he said.
I looked at the screen and cringed as I remembered. My sister. I’d forgotten about my sister. “Yes, Georgie?”
“Hey, sis. How are you?”
I’d always been jealous of her raspy, sultry voice. I cleared my throat, suddenly self-conscious. “I’m fine. What about you?”
“Oh, perfect. Absolutely freakin' perfect. You’ll never believe this!”
I scowled. “Oh?”
“I got a job! Like, a real one, full time and everything. Want to know what it is?”
“Tell me!”
“I’m a flight attendant!” she announced.
“You’re kidding!” I was shocked. Georgie had never been the type to wear uniforms or work in a corporate environment.
“I told you! I knew you’d be surprised.” She laughed. “Guess what else.”
“There’s more?” I suddenly felt ill.
“Yep. I get a complimentary flight on my first month, so I’m flying to you for free!”
“That’s wonderful. When do you get here?”
“I have Thanksgiving weekend off. Well, a day and a half. But still…Isn’t that awesome?”
“It is. I’m glad I get to see you, Georgie.” I was excited – we didn’t see much of each other. I was proud of her for getting back on her feet.
“Of course, sis. How could I miss our Thanksgiving dinner tradition?”
I winced. That’s what I’d failed to tell Dawson. In my excitement, I’d forgotten to explain that my sister always came from whatever exotic place she happened to be in to share dinner like we used to before our parents died. “Oh, dear,” I whispered.
“What is it?” she asked.
“Nothing. I just…”
“You made plans.” The sadness in her voice broke my heart.
“No, no. I mean, yes. But…”
“Mari! We do this every year! What am I going to do now?”
I thought for a second. I couldn’t imagine Thanksgiving without my baby sister. But I really looked forward to being with Dawson and Ginger. To hell with convention, I decided. I was going to have my perfect holiday. “I have an idea. Don’t even think about cancelling. You come, but we might have more people around this year.”
She gasped. “You have a boyfriend, don’t you?” she asked in the sing-song voice of a little girl, mocking me. I deserved it for being scatterbrained, so I let it pass.
“It’s not really like that,” I mumbled.
“Mari has a boyfriend!” she sang, and I could picture her swirling around with a smug grin. “Who is he? Is he hot? Is he good? You know, in bed.”
“Georgie!” How embarrassing was this?
“Oh, grow up!” she said. “I want to know everything.”
“Not now,” I sighed. “You’ll meet him at dinner. But I need to call him and tell him the change in plans now, okay?”
“Fine,” she sighed. “But you owe me all the details.”
“I know.”
“I’m excited!”
We both laughed as we hung up, and I felt like things were looking up. If only Dawson would like the idea of meeting my family. My thumb hovered over the call button, trying to think of a way to break the news about my sister. When I finally gathered the courage to push it, I got voicemail. I realized I’d been hold by breath as I exhaled. “God, I’m being so silly.”
I didn’t have time to think too hard on it. I had to go buy a nice turkey before all the decent birds in a twenty mile radius were gone. I refused to settle for turkey sandwiches and canned cranberry sauce.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Shopping for a turkey was less than pleasant, and going back to the market a second day in a row seemed like a punishment for forgetting about my sister. I needed help. It was Friday afternoon, and I knew Ginger was free. I thought I heard Dawson outside, too, so I reached for my jacket and went for an impromptu visit.
I surprisingly found the front door open and pushed it in a little farther, stepping inside with curiosity. “Hello?” I called, walking through the living room.
“Mari! We’re in Daddy’s room!” Ginger called from the back of the house. I did, indeed, find them in Dawson’s room and was even more surprised to find them bus
y tidying up.
“What’s going on here?” I asked.
“Oh, nothing much,” Dawson said. “Just Ginger, making me work for my food.”
Ginger leveled a serious gaze at me. “We need to do some cleaning. Sarah’s mother does it every year before Thanksgiving, and it’s nice.”
“Does she?” I asked, raising my eyebrows. I glanced at Dawson to see he shared my puzzlement.
“Would you like to help, Mari?” the girl asked.
MY PROTECTOR: The Valves MC Page 10