He’s a very sexual man and a generous lover. In everything we do, he considers me before doing it, and there isn’t anything I’d deny him.
A kiss presses against the back of my neck. “Morning, darlin’,” he grumbles in a sexy, deep voice. I twist in his arms and press a kiss to his nose.
“Good morning, honey.” I bite my lip, thinking again of all we did last night and ignoring the tingle down low that wants a repeat of everything.
“I think it snowed all night,” Chet says.
Filled with excitement at the prospect, I sit up and lift the edge of the darkening shade. “It’s a winter wonderland out there.”
A finger drags lazily up and down my naked spine. “You’re a wonderland,” he states, his voice still rough from sleep. I smile to myself, gazing out the window. I sense him shift behind me, sitting up and pressing against my back.
“Let me see,” he states. Chet lifts the shade higher and takes in the view.
“It’s gorgeous,” I say, unable to remember the last time I really looked at the beauty of nature around me. The world is covered in white with a light dusting still falling softly over the trees around us.
“You’re gorgeous,” Chet says at my back, and I turn to him as he leans against me.
“Who says you aren’t romantic?” I kiss him, soft and tender, delicate and deep like the snow outside the window.
“Might need to call today a snow day,” he says when we finally part, turning his sight out the window once more.
“What would that mean?” I ask, keeping my eyes focused on his profile. The strong features of his nose. The edge to his cheeks. The thick scruff on his jaw.
He glances back at me, his face close. “It means a day in bed and a repeat of all the things.”
“All the things?” I teasingly question.
“All the things,” he confirms. “But I need some coffee and a shower. Unfortunately, mine does not have room for two people.”
Showering together?
“We could step over to the motel and use a room there.” Chet hesitates, reminding me of his suggestion last night.
“I think I’m okay to stay right where we are,” I flirt, leaning in for a kiss. He kisses me back but pulls away before I’m finished with his luscious mouth.
“Are you, darlin’? Are you okay with where we are?”
My stomach drops. Isn’t he? I thought we were in a good place. “Aren’t you?”
“I’m thinking.” A thick palm swipes down his face. “What if I did move in with the boys permanently?”
I stare at him, uncertain what to say, but the pit in my belly has turned to flutters of excitement. He’d be so much closer to me if he lived in Green Valley.
“I think that would be wonderful. The boys would love to have you around all the time.” I hesitate. “But what about here? The Fugitive and your bus?”
“I’ve been thinking about all that as well. I work remotely, mainly from the bar, so why can’t I work at the house? Especially once the boys are at school.” He looks around the space. “I love the bus, but it doesn’t have a two-person shower or a decent kitchen. I still owe you a steak dinner.” He’s teasing me about the dinner we never shared on the night of Henny’s arrest. We’ve had plenty of other dinners since that night.
“What will Maura do?” It isn’t that I’d mind if Maura and Chet lived together. I’m confident in their relationship being one of strong friendship, not too dissimilar from Karl and me. There’s no romantic interest, just a platonic business arrangement between them.
“You know, I snapped up Maura when she wanted to leave foster care. Something happened that isn’t my story to share, but she agreed to be what amounts to a round-the-clock nanny. When Hunter came along, Maura fell in love with him, and the foster home was born. She’d had so many troubled teens, and she just wanted to start at the bottom for once. Adopting an infant really helped her. I know she loves my boys, but I think in her heart, she’s ready to have her own home with a little less chaos in her life.”
I nod, thinking Chet knows her best.
“So you’d live in the house with the boys full-time.”
“Yep.” He slowly smiles. “This way, you could come to visit. It’s a helluva lot less driving and a less risky drive at that.” Navigating down The Tail of the Dragon in the winter wasn’t exactly something I wanted to do, but I’d take the risk to see him.
“I’ll help Maura get set up somewhere and give Savannah some other options for employment.”
“What about cooking?” I lift a brow.
“I’ll just have to practice. Been a bachelor most of my life, so I have a few skills.” He wiggles his brows, and I snort, then cover my mouth at how unattractive it sounded. Chet removes my hand and kisses me, melting away my embarrassment. Then he pulls away again too quickly.
“So what do you think?”
“I love the idea,” I say because I do. I want him to be closer to me. I want the boys to have him all the time, and I think it would be good for him to live with them. He can do this. He just hasn’t given himself enough credit.
“I’m probably going to mess them up,” he says, pressing a kiss to my bare shoulder.
“Parenting isn’t a perfect job.”
“I’m not their parents.” His voice drops, and I hear the sorrow at the loss of his friends.
Reaching for his jaw, I press his face upward. “Chet, you’re the parent they have now. You aren’t replacing what they lost, but they’re gaining you. You’ve always been there for them, and that’s all they need to know. They can’t have their parents back, but they can have you. That’s all that matters.”
He stares at me for a second.
“You’re going to be great for Malik and Omari,” he says, his voice quiet.
“Yeah?” I whisper.
“Yeah. It’s going to be a lot to take on, especially at first. I hope you still have room for me and the boys in all the chaos.”
“Chet,” I whisper. “I’m not going anywhere. And if I have any say about it, neither are you. You’re going to fit right where you are. In my heart. In my bed. I’ll need you.”
He gazes at me while I speak and slowly nods. I don’t like the doubt in him, but time will prove I want to be with him. I want to be with all my men—him and the Maverik boys, and Malik and Omari.
“They’re going to be so lucky to have you.”
“I’m going to be lucky to have them.” I press a kiss to him. “And I’m lucky to have you.”
“Now, who’s being all romantic?” he teases.
“I really like you like this,” I flirt.
“I really love you,” he says, leaning in for another kiss.
“Mmm,” I purr as our mouths meet. “That too.” Then I kiss him back, and this time, I don’t let him pull away so quickly. We tumble back to the bed, deciding neither of us needs a shower or coffee yet. Snow day in bed it is.
Chapter 33
Adopting a New Perspective
[Scotia]
December
I’ve never spent the day in bed exploring a man and talking with him, but Chet and I do just that. The rest of the weekend’s a blur.
On Monday, I continue the process to seek legal guardianship.
“You are persistent, Mrs. Simmons,” Ms. Mason, the caseworker, states.
“You haven’t seen anything yet, honey. I want those boys sooner rather than later.” Every day apart feels like a day we lose on building our own relationship. Thankfully, Ms. Mason agrees on supervised visitation with the boys in their alternative placement. This gives me peace of mind and gives her time to observe our interactions together.
After hours of phone calls and internet searches, I place my elbows on my desk, my head in my hands, and close my eyes for a second.
A cup of coffee is placed before me.
“Gideon?” I stare up at my assistant.
“I just want you to know I think you’re doing a good thing.”
I
sit straighter in my chair, leaning back and peering up at my assistant, who’s standing on the other side of my desk.
“What do you mean?”
“Adopting those boys.” Gideon sniffs. “I just think it’s wonderful.”
“Gideon, do you have nothing better to do than listen in on my phone calls?” I glare at him. We’re working on getting our pickle nuggets to each vendor before the next holiday, especially New Year’s since appetizers are plentiful in places hosting parties. I should be working on such things, but instead, I’ve spent most of this day organizing.
“Don’t you sass me, Mrs. Simmons. Not when I’m trying to compliment you,” he snips, and I should scold him for insubordination, but I don’t have the energy. Plus, I like him. He’s a hard worker, and that’s credit I don’t often give to others.
“What have you heard?” I sigh, knowing even though his desk is outside my office, the door has been open all day.
“You’re going to adopt those poor babies kidnapped by that crazy woman.”
“She wasn’t crazy,” I state, surprised at myself for defending her. To me, Henny Heiner was a sad, pathetic woman who never accepted what she had was enough until it was too late, and even then, she still felt entitled to more. If she loved her children, I can’t say I blame her for losing her mind a little bit over the loss of them. Hennessy will spend eighteen months per conviction in prison, which was two counts of child abduction. She’ll be up for parole before those three years are served if she displays good behavior. Either way, she’ll need heavy psychiatric support. Mental illness was a part of her plea, including post-traumatic stress disorder. As she had no prior convictions of any sort, she’s receiving a minimal sentence.
Chet and I eventually discussed why Henny came back to him. He didn’t have any answers, only assumptions. He’d learned that Henny’s husband was leaving her which is how he was on that mountain road the night of the accident. Jeffrey Heiner sold off Henny’s father’s company in order to free himself of his wife. Henny had lost so much—her children, her husband, her wealth—and she was grappling to restore the past with new children, a reclaimed lover, and a man with money at that. It’s the best answer we could think of to explain her actions and intentions. Eventually, we decided we didn’t need to know Henny’s motives. She was in the past for Chet.
“Well, either way, adopting two little boys . . . it’s just so noble.”
“I don’t feel noble.” I pause, looking up at him. “Am I doing the right thing? Would they be better with a young couple instead? Am I thinking too big?”
Gideon slowly lowers himself to the chair opposite the desk. “Can one think too big when it comes to children? Could you love them unconditionally?”
I stare at him a second, knowing what he means and forming my answer, but he speaks before me.
“What I mean is, can you accept that they had parents they lost and know that you can’t replace them? You’ll need to love without immediate gratification, at least until they learn you’re a good woman when you want to be.”
I said something very similar to Chet.
“Is that a backhanded compliment?” I question, taking his meaning. If I put my mind to doing right, I know the difference from wrong.
“It’s a comment. If you’re doing this for the right reasons . . . because those boys need someone stable to love them . . . then yes, you’re doing a good thing.”
“Am I too old?” I question, speaking out loud doubts I hadn’t felt when I first decided to take on Malik, and then Omari. “I’m forty-eight. Is it too late to be raising children, especially ones who aren’t mine yet?” The question of yet leaves me longing for them even more.
“Age is relative, as they say. You aren’t spry, but that doesn’t mean you can’t spring. You have the energy of a twentysomething with the temper of a two-year-old and the tongue of someone eighty. I think you can handle two little boys who aren’t toddlers and not quite teens.”
“Thank you, Gideon. I think.” My hands slide along the edge of my desk. My gaze lowers to my fingers, noting the veins sticking out on the back of my hands. It’s time for this desk to be replaced, I decide on a whim.
“People are going to talk. Some will judge me. Some will say I did this for nefarious reasons. Others will disagree with my decision.”
“With all due respect, Scotia, when have you ever given a fig what other people think of you?”
Honestly, I’ve worried what others thought of me all my life. Lashing out at others first was to protect myself from judgement and rejection. Mask in place, Scotia. It’s been a lonely life living with Karl’s secret, constantly working at keeping it, constantly worrying others would find out.
“In some ways, I’ve always given a fig,” I state, using his word. “But then again, I normally do what I want, don’t I?”
“You sure do,” he says, laughter filling his voice. “And that isn’t always a bad thing. Look at this business.” Gideon tips back and looks around the room with samples of our wares and designs over the years along with that phallus-like trophy and a few other plaques awarding my fried pickles.
“You know, if I take on a second family, I’m going to need you to pull more weight around here, young man,” I say to my assistant, who sits up in his chair, stiffening his back. “You’re going to have to stop eavesdropping and actually do some work.”
Gideon’s eyes widen, but a slow grin curls his lips, and my own follows his lead.
“You’re a better woman than people give you credit for,” Gideon says, leaning forward and whispering as if conspiring with me.
“Let’s keep that between us. I have a reputation to protect.” I wink.
“Think it’s going to be shot to hell when people start seeing you around town with tall, dark, and dreamy.”
I laugh. “Who’s that?”
“Don’t you play coy with me, missy. I know what you almost did on this desk with that lumberjack wannabe.”
“Gideon! I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Uh-huh.” He stands. “Your secrets are safe with me.” With that, my assistant dismisses himself but turns back to me at the door. “I’m proud of you, Mrs. Simmons.”
He exits before I can express my gratitude, but I say it all the same to the empty office. “Thank you.”
“You’re going to what?” Beverly stares at me over the table at Daisy’s Nut House. Naomi has remained speechless during my explanation.
“I’m going to be a foster parent to two young boys,” I repeat. I’ve just informed them of my relationship with Chet, volunteering at Harper House, and how I met Malik, and eventually, his brother, Omari.
“Why?” Beverly asks. This is the question I’m expecting to answer over and over again, even though I just explained myself to my sisters. When I met Malik Evans, there was just something about his quiet reserve that told me a lot was going on in his mind. He was either going to shut himself inside or lash out at the world as I had. His silence frightened me on his behalf. He needed to know someone cared and had his best interests at heart. Without knowing what happened to him, I made that person be me.
“Because I want to,” I state, frustrated as I’ve already explained myself. Naomi’s mouth falls open with my explanation while Beverly stares at me. Exasperated, I ask, “What do you think the reason should be?”
“To give love. To help others. To be a teacher and a listener and a provider. To inspire and to comfort. To—”
“To be all the things you want to be,” Naomi interjects, holding her gaze on me. “You want to adopt them to give them all the things you can give to others.” Naomi’s voice softens as if she really understands my reasons.
“I just want these boys,” I say.
“Because Darlene is gone? Is this some empty-nester thing?” Beverly’s daughter, Hannah, is on the verge of leaving their home.
“I’m not looking to replace Darlene.”
“What does she think of this?” Naomi asks
. My own daughter is old enough to be a mother to children the ages of Malik and Omari.
“She doesn’t know yet.” She’s busy living her life as she should, but I want to keep living mine, and this is what I want to do with it. I want to take on these two children. I want to do things my way this time.
“What about Big Poppy?” Beverly questions, lowering her voice, and I almost chuckle at his biker name coming from her.
“Chet is equal parts hopeful and hesitant. He’s worried about the boys and me, but he also accepts that we need each other.” And I need him and his boys.
“Is it so wrong to want this?” I lean back in the booth, staring out the window at the lightly falling snow. It’s the beginning of December, and Christmas will be here soon. The coming holiday season has an air of excitement I haven’t felt in years.
“There’s nothing wrong with what you’re doing if you’re doing it for the right reasons,” Naomi says, and my head swivels back to my sisters sitting across from me in the booth.
“I’m not saying you shouldn’t do it. I’m just trying to understand,” Beverly adds.
Does she need to understand? Does anyone? It’s my decision. It’s my life.
“I hope you’ll both be involved aunts.” The statement shocks them. Hannah and Darlene are not close despite being first cousins. We kept our lives relatively separate from each other when they were children. I don’t want that to happen again.
“Of course, we will,” Naomi says for the two of them, lifting her clasped hands under her chin as a slow smile brightens her face. She now has two stepdaughters with Nathan, the youngest is near Malik’s age and has a crush on Dewey Maverik.
“We’re here for whatever you need,” Beverly says, reaching across the table for my hand. I hesitate before I take it but gratefully accept the offering.
Love in a Pickle: A Silver Fox Small Town Romance (Green Valley Library Book 9) Page 30