Games of the Heart

by Kristen Ashley

  * * * * *

  “Soooo,” I drew it out and Mike’s eyes went from the book he was holding open on the pillow beside me to mine.

  “So what?” he asked when I said no more.

  “Debbie phoned today,” I announced then watched Mike’s eyes flare and his mouth get tight.

  “Tell me you did not take that fuckin’ call,” he growled.

  “She’s being persistent,” I told him something he already knew.

  “Sorry, darlin’, but she does not get to play devoted sister after bein’ a bitch to you thirty-eight years because you gettin’ shot woke her shit up. She’s got penance to pay. And I’m not showin’ if you invite her to the wedding.”

  I bit back a chuckle and informed him, “I didn’t answer. She just called. I never answer.”

  “Well, don’t start.”

  My eyes drifted away as my hand drifted through Layla’s fur and I mused aloud, “It’s probably pissing her off. Me not answering the phone is probably setting her to stewing and giving her something else to hate me for.”

  “She takes it that way, I would not be surprised. That would be pure Debbie.”

  My gaze went back to Mike to see his still on me, his book still open on the pillow, his head in his hand, his elbow also in the pillow, his chest bared and gorgeous (since it was bedtime and we were dressed to sleep) and his eyes were pissed.

  “Gorgeous, stop,” I ordered. “No getting pissed on the day you asked me to marry you.”

  “Afraid me bein’ touchy is gonna last a while, Angel.”

  “Why?” I asked.

  “Because I’ve been tryin’ the gym thing and it isn’t working. The thing that puts me in a good disposition is unavailable yet sleepin’ next to me. So until she’s back in commission, you’re gonna have to put up with it.”

  My legs shifted at the thought and I whispered, “We could –”

  His eyes went scary dark and he growled, “No fuckin’ way.”

  Well that was out.

  “I could use my hand,” I suggested, his eyes flared in a not scary way then went back to dark and scary.

  “No give without take,” he decreed.

  “Then you could –”

  “Dusty, talkin’ about it is makin’ it worse.”

  I shut up.

  Then I grumbled, “This sucks that we can’t celebrate our impending nuptials by doing the nasty.”

  Mike had no reply so I kept griping.

  “And it’s no fair you saying I can’t bitch because I’m tied to this bed and yet you get to be in a bad mood because you aren’t getting any.”

  “I’ll only get in a bad mood if Debbie doesn’t stop rearin’ her ugly head, you stop bitching and jerking around like you didn’t get shot three weeks ago and you also stop talking about having sex or the fact we can’t.”

  I shut up again.

  Then I asked, “What else is there to talk about?”

  “Nothin’,” Mike answered. “So read a book. I bought you twenty of them.”

  “I don’t read,” I told him.

  “Then use this golden opportunity to pick up a new hobby,” he shot back.

  “Is this us? Are we going to become Bicky and Bickrum McBickerson?” I fumed and Mike burst out laughing.

  Layla lifted her head and panted happily in his direction.

  I glared at Mike’s dog. Then I glared at Mike.

  “I wasn’t being funny,” I snapped.

  “Yeah you were,” Mike said, still laughing.

  I shut up again.

  Then I bit out, “I forgot to tell you, I like the ring. It’s beautiful. Probably way too expensive but I’ll only mention that in passing so you won’t get pissed off. And Jerra oo’ed and ah’ed over it for fifteen whole minutes.”

  “Pleased you like the ring, Angel. Best part is you rappin’ that information out to me like you just told me the Chinese invaded and their unforeseen attack is ruining our dinner plans.”

  I glared at him again.

  Then what he said penetrated and I felt the smile spread on my face.

  Then I shared, “Bickering with you is fun.”

  “That’s good because I’m sensing we got a lifetime of it.”

  My body started shaking and Mike’s good humor fled as his eyes moved to my chest and he scowled.

  I fought back the laughter and whispered, “Mike, I’m past the point where I can’t laugh. Trust me. I know.”

  And I did. When Jerra and Hunter showed the day after I was shot and Jerra made me laugh in the hospital, it hurt like a bitch. They left their kids with Hunter’s parents and Hunter had to go back. But Jerra stayed after declaring she was in for the long haul and, as ever with Jerra, she did not lie.

  His eyes came back to me and his scowl cleared.

  I kept whispering when I assured him, “I’m gonna be okay.”

  His eyes moved over my face then he reached out a hand and glided his fingers along my jaw.

  That felt sweet.

  Then he dropped his hand to the bed and whispered, “Yeah.”

  “And soon, we’ll be able to have sex again.”

  He grinned and repeated, “Yeah.”

  “And after that, we’ll get married.”

  Mike just kept grinning at me.

  I kept talking.

  “Then we’ll make babies.”

  Mike’s grin got bigger.

  My hand went from Layla to cover his on the bed, his twisted and his fingers curled around mine.

  “I love you, Jonathan Michael Haines.”

  His hand gave me a squeeze.

  Then he whispered, “Yeah.”

  He might just have said, “yeah”.

  But his beautiful eyes, so close, staring deep into mine, told me a whole lot more.

  Epilogue

  All’s Well

  Seven years later…

  Fin slid his hand up the skin of Reesee’s side, in over her ribs, his eyes watching his hand’s movements.

  “Baby,” she whispered in her soft voice and he looked to her face.

  Then he couldn’t stop himself. He very rarely could but when they were like this, never.

  He dropped his head and took her mouth.

  She whimpered down his throat.

  His body was pressed to her side. He rolled over her and his hand slid up to cup her breast, his thumb sliding over the hard peak.

  She drew in a sharp breath, sucking his tongue deeper into his mouth.

  God, she was hot. Hot and sweet, his Reesee.

  Fuck, he loved her.

  He broke the kiss and slid his lips down her cheek, her jaw to her neck.

  “Like this bikini,” he muttered against her skin.

  “I’m bein’ bad,” she whispered.

  Yeah she was.

  Thank God.

  His thumb slid back over her nipple and she squirmed under him.

  “How’s that?” He was still murmuring against her skin, his lips moving, his tongue darting out to taste.

  “I bought this bikini for our honeymoon. You aren’t supposed to see it yet.”

  He grinned against her neck.

  He was about to hook his thumb in the material to tug it down when her hands that were moving over his back suddenly stopped moving and her arms wrapped tight around him.

  Her sweet, soft voice was thick when she whispered, “I’m marrying the first boy I ever loved tomorrow.”

  His head came up and he looked down at her, her long, dark blonde hair spread across the blanket, her gentle, dark brown eyes warm on him.

  “The only boy you ever loved,” he corrected and her lips quirked in her cute smile.

  Then they stopped quirking and she looked deep in his eyes, her hand gliding along his back, in, up his chest so it could cup his jaw.

  “The only boy I ever loved,” she said quietly.

  His eyes moved over her beautiful face.

  Then he whispered, “Yeah.”

  Then he dropped his head and kiss
ed her on a blanket by the side of the creek at the watering hole, one of their horses, Dreamweaver chewing at the grass ten feet away, the hot, muggy Indiana sun beating down on their bodies.

  A perfect day. Nothing could be more perfect. Nothing.

  Until tomorrow.

  * * * * *

  Clarisse rode in front of Fin on Dreamweaver’s back, her mind on the fact she was late and also on the fact she didn’t give a flip.

  All day at the watering hole with a picnic basket and Fin.

  Nope, she didn’t give a flip.

  She knew she was supposed to be doing other stuff. She was getting married tomorrow.

  She also didn’t give a flip about that either. Fin asked her to spend the day with him and tomorrow would be crazed, she knew it. It was their day but she’d been to a lot of weddings. It might be their day but they wouldn’t be spending a lot of it together.

  No way she was saying no.

  Fin trotted the horse into the barn then stopped her close to her stall and threw a leg over, dismounting. Then his hands came to her hips and he pulled her off but he did this standing close so her body skimmed his the whole way down.

  That was Fin. Three years ago, when she opened the floodgates, he took every opportunity to cop a feel.

  She didn’t give a flip about that either.

  When her feet were on the ground, instead of moving away, his arms circled her.

  She put her hands on his chest and tipped her head back to look at him.

  “I gotta get goin’, baby,” she said softly. “Get to Dad and Dusty’s, take a shower. The girls will be around in an hour and the guys are descending here soon. We have to hurry, put up Dream and get a move on.”

  “Need you to come in the house,” he told her.

  “Fin, we don’t have time.”

  His arms gave her a squeeze.

  “We’re makin’ time, beautiful. I need you to come in the house.”

  She suddenly started thinking about all the things she needed to think about. Fin’s bachelor party tonight and how she hoped he didn’t get blitzed and his idiot friends didn’t do anything stupid. Her girls were coming over and the beauty technicians showing up to do manicures, pedicures, facials and shoulder massages. She had to rinse out her bikini so it could air dry overnight and she could pack it with her other stuff tomorrow.

  “Fin –”

  “Reesee, honey,” another arm squeeze, “ten minutes.”

  She studied him and saw something in his face. She didn’t know what. But whatever it was, it made her nod.

  “I’ll deal with Dream when you take off,” he muttered, grabbed Dream’s reins and led her to the stall where he clipped her to the long leather strap there.

  Then Fin took Clarisse’s hand, led her into the house and up the stairs.

  The house, now, was just Fin’s.

  And, tomorrow, Clarisse’s.

  Kirb was gone. Like Clarisse and No, he’d gone to college. He studied agriculture, graduated and now he worked the land with Fin but he and his girlfriend lived in an apartment in town, saving to buy a house in one of the developments close by.

  Fin’s Mom was gone too but she’d only moved out three months ago. She did this so Fin and Clarisse could have the house just to themselves starting out. And she was able to because she’d been working the last six years, starting out as Tanner Layne’s receptionist part-time. Then Mimi needed her back so she worked part-time for Mr. Layne and part-time for Mimi. Then Mimi really needed her at the front and helping with baking so she went full-time for Mimi which was where she stayed. She didn’t make a mint but when her Dad died last year, he left her a little nest egg and Kirb and Fin gave her more. She wasn’t living the highlife, she had a small, one-bedroom apartment that was close enough she could walk to the Coffee House and it was cute. So she wasn’t complaining.

  When Fin guided her to the top of the stairs, he turned right toward where the bathroom was and where his Mom and Dad’s room used to be. Then he went to the closed door to the bedroom but she smelled it.

  Fresh paint.

  Her brows drew together and Fin opened the door, pulled her through and then stopped them.

  She stared.

  “Holy cow,” she whispered.

  She’d said (to everyone) one of the first things she was going to do after she moved into the farmhouse was make their bedroom hers and Fin’s own. And she’d spent some time researching what she wanted to do with it.

  And this was it. Almost exactly like the magazine picture she showed to anyone who would look.

  Dark teal-gray walls. White ceiling. Heavy but elegant, dark wood furniture including a queen-size bed. Glass-bottomed, tall lamps on each nightstand with a pull string that had a crystal dangling at the bottom of the chain. A big, plush, dark gray area rug under the bed.

  On one of the dressers, one of Dusty’s vases, a big one. This one not her usual colors or shapes. It was obviously made special, a matte gray outside, the inside of the curving lip, a shiny teal. It was gorgeous.

  On the walls black-framed, cream matted jumble frames with a variety of black and white photos of Fin, Clarisse or Fin and Clarisse throughout the entire seven years they were together.

  And there was a big frame made of curly-edged mirror holding Clarisse’s favorite picture of her and Fin.

  Fin was leaning against the side of the barn, his ever-present, ratty baseball cap on his head, a white t-shirt covering his chest, faded jeans on his legs, workmen’s boots on his feet, beat up leather workmen’s gloves on his hands. Clarisse was leaning against Fin wearing short-shorts, a cute tee and even cuter flat sandals. One of his arms was wound around her waist, the other hand dangling. One of her arms, hidden from view, was wrapped around his waist, her other hand on his abs. She was in profile, Fin full face, his head was back, pressed against the barn, her chin was dipped down. Both of them were laughing.

  Dusty took that picture. Clarisse adored it.

  “Wedding present,” Fin muttered and she looked up at him. “From your Mom.”

  She slowly closed her eyes then opened them and looked back around the room.

  She’d shown her Mom that picture in the magazine.

  And there it was. Her Mom got Fin to take her to the watering hole so she’d be occupied all day so she could give this to Clarisse.

  Whatever happened to her Mom seven years ago to shake her up, it took hold. She was remarried to an attorney but she still worked, now as a paralegal for a different firm to her husband. She even went to night school to learn as she held down her day job. They lived in a cushy apartment in downtown Indy and had buckets of money. Her Mom again had great clothes and great shoes but she also worked sixty hour weeks and still somehow managed to have a great marriage to a guy who wasn’t a slimeball but actually pretty cool.

  And she also managed to be a good Mom.

  At first, it freaked Clarisse out.

  She got used to it.

  And No told her time again he told her so.

  Whatever.

  It worked. Mom and her husband Jordy were even friends with Dad and Dusty. They didn’t go out to dinner together or anything but they exchanged birthday cards, Christmas cards and talked and laughed together whenever there was some family gig going on, like Thanksgiving, Christmas dinner and Fourth of July barbeques. Jordy didn’t have kids but he was all about family and since Dad, Dusty and Mom were too, it worked.

  Seven years ago, Clarisse would have said no way.

  Now, she was used to it.

  “Jordy too, obviously,” Fin went on and she looked back at him. “Your Mom makes some cake but this furniture…” he trailed off but she could see it.

  It was not inexpensive. It was not even middle-of-the-line.

  It was the best money could buy.

  They’d have it a lifetime.

  Clarisse smiled back at the room.

  “That’s not it, honey,” Fin murmured, she looked to him again but he was already looking toward
the door.

  Then, his hand still in hers, he led her through it and down the hall to the other end. He went to the closed door of his old bedroom, opened it and pulled her through.

  She stopped dead, what hit her eyes penetrated and they filled with tears.

  The wood floors had colorful throw rugs strewn all over them. In the corner was the big, fluffy, faded flower print armchair that used to be in Fin’s Mom and Dad’s room that Clarisse said was the only thing in that room she would keep. A loose, colorful afghan she knew Fin’s Gram crocheted was thrown over it. There was a small, tassel-sided, button-topped footstool in front of it in covered in muted rose velvet. There was a big, deep, wide white desk that had a huge, high back that went up nearly to the ceiling that was all drawers, nooks, crannies and shelves and she saw they already had her knickknacks, notebooks and more frames of photos of family, Fin and friends. There was a brand new, super wide monitor, all-in-one computer sitting on the desk with her bright colored pencil holder, envelope stand and notepaper stacks arranged around it. Even her hand lotion she had on her desk at home was there. In front was a kickass swivel chair that was white leather and chrome. It was modern but somehow it totally went with the countrified rest. There were bookshelves with her books and CDs in them against the walls, her stereo set up in one, her speakers set around the room. And the windows were hung with wispy, sheer, muted rose curtains that bunched on the floor and looked amazing against the white woodwork and the newly painted walls that were a deep, warm violet.

  And last, in frames all around on the walls, were big pieces of Dusty’s swirly, pastel pencil doodles. Random patterns, beautiful colors, flowy designs. They were gorgeous.

  “This is from me,” Fin said, her body started and her head whipped to him.

  Dusty and her Dad, yes.

  Fin…

  Oh my God.

  He tugged on her hand to pull her closer and when he got her close, his other hand came to span her hip and he whispered, “This is where you chase your dreams, honey.”

  The tears filling her eyes tumbled over.

  “Baby.”

  He grinned and said, “Happy wedding.”

  She grinned back, the wet still coming and he let loose her hand and hip so both his hands could cup her jaws and his thumbs slid through.

  “You’re not supposed to cry,” he whispered, watching his thumbs move.