by Freya Barker
It’s just past nine now, so we have plenty of time to tackle one of the rooms before he gets here.
“Which one first?” I ask Ben when he reappears.
“Master,” he says without hesitation. “Get the bedroom ready first so we can sleep here and then move out from there.”
“We don’t even have a bed,” I point out.
“We’ll bring the mattress up,” he says with a grin. “Not gonna squeeze in that damn shower any longer than I have to. Besides, that dog will need the room.”
We’d discussed Atsa over breakfast and Ben called the shelter himself with some questions. We’re going to stop by the shelter on the way to his sister’s, and if we click with the dog, we’re going to have their vet neuter him before we pick him up on our way home after the weekend.
The kitchen floor is tiled with a deep gray slate, matching the beautiful concrete countertop Jim’s guys put in. The stainless steel appliances are enough to make me drool: the fridge, about five times the size of what we have in the trailer, and the gas stove is almost industrial sized. The bathrooms have similar floors but the counters are a lighter gray composite. It is odd, moving through the house when most of the flooring is missing and only a layer of primer covers the walls. Very stark, until you look out the humongous ceiling to floor windows and all the beauty of the outdoors is right there.
It’s one of the reasons why we decided on a fairly neutral palette inside, just a selection of warm gray tones for the walls and floors. I’d wanted real wood floors, but Jim had convinced us to go with a high-end laminate that looks like old barn boards. The subtle differences in color and ridging detail makes it look like real wood, but with the convenience of being scratch resistant and easy to clean. Something I’m sure we’ll appreciate now that it looks like we’ll have a dog.
-
I’m up on a stepladder, cutting in the top edge of the wall with an angled brush, when Jim walks in.
“Wow,” he says, looking around at the walls, which already sport one coat of the odorless, fast drying paint. “Ben wasn’t kidding when he said you were hustling.”
“He wants to sleep here tomorrow night, so the walls have to get done today, and the floor has to go in tomorrow.”
“Ambitious,” Jim mumbles, grinning.
“You doubt we can do it?” I challenge him with a smile of my own, to which he vehemently shakes his head.
“Oh, hell no, I don’t doubt you can do anything you put your mind to.”
“She sure can,” Ben pipes up, from where he leans against the doorpost, smiling at me. “Got a minute to do a walk-through with us?”
“Sure.”
It doesn’t take long before we’re waving as Jim’s truck rattles down the brand new road, and we are alone. When I walk into the kitchen and see the stack of paperwork and manuals, along with a pile of keys, lying on the counter, the full impact hits me.
“We have a home.” I slap my hands over my mouth to hold back the semi-hysterical giggle bubbling up as I turn to face Ben, who is right on my heels.
“That was the plan, right?” His lopsided grin belies the dry tone of his voice. He’s excited too; he’s just too much of a guy to show it.
That was her.
I can’t believe the gall.
Right in the middle of Main Street, she’s putting her lips on my goddamn man. I spotted him right away, pushing the greedy bitch away from him, right outside the hardware store. But then seconds later, she is wrapped around him, his arms lifting her up like she belongs there. Not if I have anything to say about that.
It was a stroke of luck, which brought me to Cortez at that exact moment. Divine intervention, if you will.
Yesterday I finally had enough money to buy that picture she took of him. The flashy guy at the gallery wasn’t very forthcoming about her, but he willingly gave me the name of the printer. That’s where I was headed, when I saw him. I almost ran into the car in front of me. I panicked, there’d been nowhere to park, and traffic was thick, so I pulled around the block. By the time I got back where I’d seen them, they were gone. I waited thirty minutes on that corner but they never showed up. Sure that I’d lost him again; I drove to the printer and found parking in the alley across the street.
I’d barely said hello to the young guy behind the counter when SHE walked in. I can’t remember exactly what I said, but I made some excuse and hurried back to my car. My heart was pounding in my chest. What are the odds?
No sign of him, so when she crossed, right in front of me, I reacted.
Stupid. That had been stupid. I have to be more careful, but she was taunting me.
Touching what belongs to ME.
The father of my child.
CHAPTER 13
Ben
“Isn’t he amazing?”
It’s not the first time I’ve heard that in the past hour, so instead of answering—again—I just give her knee a squeeze.
We stopped in Farmington, of course. The woman at the shelter knew who we were, or rather who Isla was, the moment we walked in. Not surprising, since she’s been ‘checking up’ on Atsa daily. The two women greeted each other like they were old friends.
The moment the door to the small waiting room opened and the big furball was brought in, Isla was on her knees, with her arms around the big lug’s neck. I tried cautioning her about putting her face in such close proximity to the dog’s much bigger head, but it fell to deaf ears.
He’s a beautiful dog, already big, but with more growth in those big paws ahead of him. Great demeanor too, since he allowed Isla to coo and cuddle while he silently endured. Despite the laid back attitude, his eyes were sharp, not missing a thing. With his big snout resting on Isla’s shoulder, he threw me a look that said: I’ve got this. I got the distinct feeling he might already be protective of Isla and that’s fine by me.
If not for the promise of picking him up on our way home in four days, and the prospect of meeting my family, it would’ve been impossible to drag her away from the shelter.
But now I’m in a car, and will be for another couple of hours, with an overexcited Isla.
Only one coffee so far today, and already too many words; I’m going to need more reinforcement.
“I need more coffee.”
“Oh, perfect,” Isla chirps. “I need to pee.”
I’m already sipping the bucket-sized coffee, when she comes bouncing out of the gas station, carrying a bottle of wine and a stuffed animal.
“What’s that?” I ask her, when she dumps both on the backseat.
“Can’t come with empty hands. The wine is for Stacie and the toy is for Mak,” she says, climbing into the car. I tamp down a smile, she is in for a bit of a surprise when she meets Mak and Stacie.
Bolstered by the added caffeine, the rest of the drive is manageable. Isla chatters about the dog, the fact that it’s her first visit to Albuquerque, and the furniture we need for the house. It’s a little bit confusing, at times, to try and keep track of what she’s referring to now, but judging by her reaction to my occasional monosyllabic responses, I’ve done okay.
Truth is, I’m pretty excited about seeing those two as well. I won’t lie, sleeping in a real bed for once, is probably the thing I look forward to most. I’ve spent long enough in small trailer beds or on floors.
My plan to drag a mattress up the mountain, so we could sleep in the house, never materialized. We worked our asses off these past few days. Bedrooms, bathrooms, hallway, and kitchen are all painted, courtesy of Isla, mostly. The great room still needs to be done, since I’ll need some ladders to reach the ceiling. I’d planned to wait to lay the flooring until each room was painted, but it was more practical to keep going once I started it.
The days and nights had been long to get the place this far, so at night we just rolled down the mountain and into bed. And in the mornings, I’d curse myself when I hit my elbow or my head in that joke of a shower.
Stacie offered for us to stay with her on the air
mattress in her office, where I’d usually sleep, but I declined this time. She lives right around the corner from a nice Holiday Inn & Suites, so I booked a room there: with a king-sized bed and a walk-in shower. Fuckin’ A.
“Are we going to your sister’s first or the hotel?”
“Hotel,” I answer, knowing that if we head to Stacie’s first, we wouldn’t get out of there again. I want to get a feel for that mattress first, so I can spend the rest of the day looking forward to it. “I might want a quick shower,” I add, and Isla bursts out laughing.
“You get in that shower, you won’t be alone,” she says, taunting me. “And that will mean we won’t be coming out of the room again today. So let’s save the shower for later. Much, much later.”
“Spoilsport,” I mumble, as I pull the Toyota up to the front of the hotel.
We only have two small bags, which I easily toss over my shoulder as I reach out and tag Isla, before she runs off without me. My hand rests casually on the back of her neck and I’m suddenly struck by our reflection in the automatic doors as they slide open. The top of her head just barely reaches my chin and the shadow of my much bigger body dwarfs her. Our contrasts are undeniable, and yet we fit. She is strong and resilient, and matches me step for step when it comes to hard work and focus. I think I knew the first time I saw her that there was a hell of a lot packed into that small package.
I keep my hand on her neck as we walk up to the desk, and while the clerk puts our information into the computer, I lean down and put my lips against her ear.
“Love you.”
I can feel her startle under my hand, before she slowly leans the weight of her body into me.
“Here are your keys,” the young girl chimes, sliding a small folder over the counter. “You’ll find the Wi-Fi login information inside, and the complimentary breakfast buffet is setup in the restaurant between seven and ten. Your room is just down this hall and there should be parking right outside your door. Hope you have a nice stay.”
“Thank you,” Isla says, and I just nod, using my hand on her neck to guide her down the hallway to our room.
I let her open the door to a decent space, probably a little bigger than the trailer, with a large bed, two chairs and a sofa, plus a TV. To my immediate left, the bathroom with a large walk-in shower. Hell yes.
Isla stops in the middle of the room and turns to me. I drop the bags on a chair and take a step so our fronts are touching. My eyes are focused on her shiny ones as I pull my phone from my pocket.
“Stace?”
“Yay!” my sister squeals in my ear. “Are you here yet?”
“Yeah, we’re in town,” I tell her, my eyes focused on Isla’s face. “Listen, can’t wait to see you, we’ll be there by dinnertime.” I don’t wait for an answer, just end the call and toss my phone on the bed.
Isla’s hands come up and brush up over my stomach to my chest, where they still. I lift my fingers and stroke them along her jaw, tilting her face while lowering mine. My mouth brushes her lips and they easily open for me, but I don’t deepen the kiss. Instead I duck down, and flip her over my shoulder in a fireman’s hold. She squeals and slaps at my ass, as I walk her straight into the shower, a big grin on my face.
Isla
“Ben...”
My clothes are in a pile on the floor, I’m desperately hanging on to the shower door with one hand, and the soap dish with the other, gasping for air as Ben’s eyes burn into mine from between my legs. On his knees in front of me, he has one of my legs over his shoulder while the other one buckles; his mouth seems the only thing holding me up.
“Ben...”
I’m not sure if I’m begging him to stop or pleading for him to break the protracted pleasure he’s building with his lips and tongue. He hums against my pussy and I can feel the vibrations on my clit.
“Please...”
His hand slides over my thigh and between my legs, where his thumb finds the tender bundle of nerves with devastating accuracy, as his tongue penetrates and fucks me.
I know I must have screamed loud when I see Ben’s shit-eating grin through blurry eyes. My own ears are still ringing.
“Always wanted to do that,” he growls, getting to his feet.
I’m still limp from that eruptive orgasm when he pulls me against his wet body, kissing my mouth with equal passion and dexterity. There is something so intimate about wet flesh rubbing wet flesh, my taste on his lips, and his need for me clear, in the press of his hard cock against my stomach.
Still completely pliable, Ben turns me around, bending himself over my back.
“Hold on tight,” he rasps against my skin, as he helps me brace against the glass of the shower door. I feel his hard length slide along my ass, as he widens his stance, going through his knees. His hands tighten on my hips as he helps me tilt my ass up and feel the crown slide through my folds. “Watch,” he rumbles from behind me. I lift my eyes, catching our reflection in the mirror straight ahead, the shower door blurred by droplets and condensation. My palms are flat against the glass and Ben’s large shape, even less defined, is looming over mine.
His cock teases at my opening.
“Are you watching?” he asks, keeping me once again in suspension as one of his hands slides from my belly, up between my breasts, and curves around my neck.
“I am,” I whisper, just as he drives up with force, stealing what little breath I have.
His pace is furious and I can’t tear my eyes away from our reflection. Ben’s head is down, his attention on the furious piston of his hips, and yet the touch of his hand on my neck stays gentle in contrast. A dichotomy, much like the man. Soft and hard in equal measure.
“Get there, baby,” he breathes from behind me, his plunges even deeper but less controlled. He slides his fingers over my clit and presses down as his thrusts about lift me off my feet. “Please...”
His urgent plea pushes me over the edge, and Ben is right behind me, bucking his release. His jerky movements still, until all that remains are the two of us, plastered together back to front, still connected.
“Love you, too,” I finally say, my cheek plastered to the glass and my mouth barely moving.
Ben’s arms band around me and lift me upright, as he slips free of my body, turning me to face him.
“Thought you heard me,” he says, his eyes warm. “The words are a little rusty—don’t use them often and then just with my sister, or Mak.” I slip my arms around his neck and tilt my head back.
“I’m grateful for the words, but even without them, I already knew.” I watch as one side of his mouth lifts. “You show me every day.”
-
It’s two hours later that we are finally standing in front of the door of a cute little bungalow, in a nice residential neighborhood. Now that we’re here, I’m getting a little nervous and my hands are getting slippery around the bottle of wine and the stuffed animal I’m holding. Ben’s hand is calming in the small of my back.
“Relax,” he mutters under his breath, and I whip my head around to glare at him.
“Easy for you to say,” I hiss, just as the door opens, revealing a striking woman.
Before I can fully take her in, a blur streaks past me, yelling, “Uncle Ben!” almost bowling him over.
CHAPTER 14
Ben
“Uncle Ben!”
Before I even have a chance to say anything, my niece is dangling around my neck, like the monkey that she is.
“Makenna,” I mutter in greeting.
“Mak, Uncle Ben. Makenna is a girl’s name.”
“I’m sure they told me that’s what you were, when you came out of me already screaming, Makenna,” my sister scolds her daughter. “A girl.”
I snicker at the disgruntled snort emerging from the lanky girl in my arms. I tilt her back a little so I can have a good look. Still with the short hair, but her pale blue eyes—like the rest of the family—are fringed by beautiful dark lashes and her face gets prettier every time I see
her. Sadly, Mak is unmistakable as a girl, despite the short haircut and the aversion to girly clothes.
“Can I at least tell you you’re growing like a very pretty weed?” I ask her teasingly.
“Am I gonna be big and strong like you?” she asks, her little hands on my cheeks.
“You sure are,” I tell her before adding, “and prettier than your mom.”
“Alright,” Stacie interrupts, untangling Mak’s arms from around my neck and setting her on her feet. “Give me a chance to say hello?” I give my sister a hug, lifting her off her feet.
My sister is slender and tall, but still a fair bit shorter than I am. Aside from our height and the telltale light blue eyes, we have little in common. There’s the substantial age difference, but in addition to that, my sister is a true blonde—unlike me—a legacy to our Scandinavian heritage. She is also one of the most put-together women I know, with never a nail chipped or a hair out of place. This is why it so funny to me that she has Mak as a daughter. Seems like some kind of divine joke that the girliest girl I know, would give birth to the biggest tomboy on two legs.
It’s not until Stacie steps back that I notice Isla trying to disappear in the background. Mak is standing right in front of her, with her arms crossed over her little chest and a scowl on her face. Uh oh.
“Stace, this is...”
“Isla! I’m so sorry, we’re being rude.” My sister steps up and pulls the slightly shell shocked Isla in for a hug. “This is my daughter, Makenna, who, as I’m sure you’ve picked up on, prefers to be called Mak.” She grabs Isla’s hand and tugs her into the living room. I follow behind, hooking my arm around Mak’s neck and giving her a noogie, while dragging her with me.
“She’s your girlfriend?” Mak asks, when I drop her on the couch, as Stacie and Isla disappear into the kitchen.
“She is,” I confirm, following Mak’s suspicious gaze in Isla’s direction.
“She looks like a tomboy,” Mak observes and I chuckle.
“She is that, too,” I admit and she turns her gaze to me. “It’s part of what I like about her. She likes to ride on her four-wheeler and can build the best campfires.” I see interest spark on my niece’s expressive face. “She’s a photographer and can cook the best meatloaf you’ve ever tasted.”