My Way Series: Books 1-3

by H. J. Bellus

  The next song started and he continued to twirl me around on the dance. Not an inch of air was able to penetrate between our entwined bodies while we danced.

  “Princess.”

  “Beast,” I mumbled into his chest.

  “We’re not living in the cabin forever,” Tripp said into my ear.

  My head instantly flew up from Tripp’s safe place and my eyes were full of questions. My Tripp was a thinker, and was obviously easing his ass into some hot water with a statement like that.

  “But it’s my home.”

  “Baby, you deserve a castle.”

  “I just want the prince. That’s all I signed up for.”

  “I bought a farm and I’m building you a castle,” Tripp said.

  No conversation. No discussion. What an overbearing, aggressive asswipe. The douche canoe was lucky that I was one horny bitch tonight and wouldn’t put up a fight on this topic. I guess a girl could handle living in a castle with her prince, forever.

  “Whatevs. Just get it done, son!”

  The shocked look on Tripp’s face was damn right comical. He was expecting a down right, drag out fight, and that’s why he told me in a public place. Oh, he was so lucky that I was such a revved up horn dog tonight.

  Then it hit me. Where?

  “Woah, Cowboy! Where? You can’t take me from Milly. I won’t go. Never will I leave…”

  Tripp placed his finger over my lips that were splashing on about leaving my sister. He then placed his tender lips on my forehead and started to kiss away my worries. It never did take much of Tripp to settle me down.

  With his sweet lips pressed up against my forehead, he clearly mumbled, “Pretty girl, it’s a quarter mile down the road, five hundred thirty steps to the front porch if you cut through the field, and it takes seventy-three seconds in the Jeep doing forty-five miles per hour. It will all be okay.”

  My heart started dancing with his words and all I could say was, “Zip it and dance with me.”

  “Ground has already been broke, and the house has been framed. We should be able to move in mid-September.”

  I burrowed deeper into Tripp’s embrace as he explained away all the details of our castle, new farm, and life. Tripp said he loved construction, but missed having his hands in the dirt and his ass in the tractor seat. Of course, he would never be the same caliber of farmer as Cree, but Tripp wanted to farm a thousand acres, and had schemed up a design plan for a fruit and vegetable stand, since fresh organic food was in high demand.

  I listened to my Beast explain away our future as he twirled me on the dance floor. He was a brilliant man, beyond genius for that fact. Not even Cree understood how smart Tripp was. The man was always thinking and creating with his mind and hands. Just thinking about his sheer intelligence made me tingle up and instantly become wet.

  I interrupted him midsentence. “Baby, I need you now,” I demanded.

  “Lace, you have me now and…”

  I grabbed his thick package, cupping his balls, making him come to a halt mid-sentence. Like I said, my boy is one smart son of a bitch.

  Trip threw me over his shoulder and hauled me out to the Jeep. Oh, the memories the Jeep holds for us.

  ***

  Holy shit! Tripp wasn’t fooling when he threw the word castle around last night at the bar. He served me breakfast in bed, and had the house plans strewn all over me. By breakfast in bed I mean a banana Laffy Taffy and a chilled Diet Mt. Dew. The man really was my fucking perfect prince charming. The house plans were intense and way overwhelming.

  “Tripp, you mean that mansion up the road is ours?”

  “Yeah, well, it’s not a mansion. It’s just a castle, and it’s only framed.”

  “But it’s ours?”

  “All five bathrooms, eight bedrooms, and kitchen is ours, baby.”

  “Overkill much?”

  “I want it. It’s mine and we deserve it.”

  “Oh, ’cause I thought you were making up for your small dick with a huge castle,” I said and slapped his bare chest with my taffy.

  Tripp pinned me down to the bed and hovered over the top of me, being very careful not to smoosh our little Meatball. He knew exactly how to handle me, and by the look in his eyes, he was about to yet again teach me a very important lesson. I would always be a hopeless failure just to get a lesson from him.

  “Pretty girl, let’s see if this small dick can make you scream.”

  Letter #3

  Hey, Sweet Meatball,

  Things are going well. I’m only puking about four times a week now. The bad part is, I never know when it’s going to hit now. I swear your dad sees it coming before I do. Speaking of your dad, he’s working on building us a castle to live in. He wants his family to live in a home he built with his own two hands. I wouldn’t call it a house. It’s a freaking castle fit for two princesses!

  The baby bump has started to show. I don’t know who’s worse, Annie or Cree. They love to rub my tummy and talk to you. They’re the crazies that have been petting you constantly. Aunt Milly said to get used to it because they did the same to her and Mac. And your Aunt Willow has been the one feeding us those yummy lemon bars. The one great thing about this pregnancy is eating, but only when you let me keep it in my tummy.

  I’m off to go shop with the girls in Fort Collins. I love you, Meatball!

  Love, Momma

  Chapter 20

  You Gonna Do Good

  Lacey

  Milly: Want to go to state fair with us tomorrow?

  Me: U buying me a corndog, bitch?

  Milly: Only cuz it’s feeding my godchild.

  Me: What about cotton candy?

  Milly: Yes.

  Me: And a sliced caramel apple with chopped nuts?

  Milly: Yes.

  Me: And then mmm…an elephant ear scone with honey butter & powdered sugar?

  Milly: Yes.

  Me: And then cheesy fries?

  Milly: Yes.

  Me: And then a corndog?

  Milly: Enough with the and thens you fat cow!

  ***

  “Tripp! Seriously, listen the fuck up. We need a plan of attack here. First, we’re hitting up the corn dog stand and then following it with a sliced caramel apple and cheesy fries, then I need to chase it with cotton candy and a grape slushee. Tripp, are you fucking listening to me?”

  Tripp was typing my demands into his phone as fast as his nimble fingers would go. I’m pretty sure he was more than happy to go get my food order so my bitching would cease. Milly and Cree had ditched us because something was going on with Willow, and family always came first.

  “Uncle Tripp, you is gonna need to whip Aunt Lacey a lot tonight,” Annie said from Tripp’s lap.

  She was perched on his lap while he typed up my order. Of course, we drug along our favorite little burrito slayer. Annie was beyond thrilled to go to the fair with us. She had been waiting on the front porch with Olive when we drove up. Milly had dressed her in a lime green and violet purple outfit that could be spotted a mile away. She was decked out in hair bows and bangle bracelets. Annie had on Milly’s bangle that was stamped with MAC. I’m pretty sure the little shit had snuck into her momma’s jewelry. Good for her! Milly needed to be kept on her toes. We couldn’t have the bimbo getting lax in her life.

  I then noticed she was wearing some of Frances’ god-awful, ugly clip on earrings. They were gold and had a huge pearl adorned in the center. The funniest part was one earring was missing the center. But my little toothless tiger was sporting them proudly. I never knew Frances May Crazy Pants, but from all of Milly’s crazy stories, I felt like she was my fairy godmother. Note to self: Watch Annie’s ears and make sure they don’t turn purple tonight.

  “Wait here, grumpy pants. We’ll go get your food,” Tripp said as he bent down to kiss my forehead.

  He hoisted his girl up from his lap to his shoulders, and they strolled away together. Tripp was wearing his signature khaki shorts that I always wanted to rip off, an
d a snug tank top. He still took my breath away, even after everything we had gone through. You hear women gush on about all the “doe in the headlight” talk, and falling hopelessly in love all the time, and I always thought they were lame-ass fools. Love came and love went. Sex happened and sex ended. I’m just a knocked up doe gushing over her buck going to get her some slop at the state fair. Life is funny!

  Sixteen minutes and twenty-two seconds later, I finally spotted the pair making their way down the midway. Annie was holding two corndogs dripping with mustard in one hand, and a bowl of sliced caramel apples in the other. Tripp was carrying a box! A box of freakin’ fried fair food for me. Like I said, the motherfucker still took my breath away on a daily basis.

  “What’s in the box, big guy?”

  Tripp sat the box down with caramel dripping from one ear and mustard smeared all down the other side of his neck. I was going to owe the man big time. Like, blow job big time. Like, all the way blow job. I could handle it for some damn grub.

  “You better eat every effin’ piece of food you requested or…” Tripp lowered down and whispered, “I’ll shove my very large boy part in your ass tonight.”

  Uncontrollable laughter hit at his threat. Tripp was always threatening to give it to me in the ass as a form of punishment. I sat up tall enough to suck the caramel sauce off his ear, and then darted my sticky, sweet tongue into his ear.

  “Baby, I look forward to it,” I whispered into his ear.

  “You can’t handle it,” he chuckled.

  Tripp started passing the food out. He basically stacked everything in front of me and I followed my plan of attack. Corndog first, bitches. No surprise, Annie pulled a slice of cheese pizza from the box and Tripp grabbed a double cheeseburger. He went for my fries a couple of times and his hand paid the price.

  “Unky, can I go play that ball game right there?” Annie asked.

  Tripp looked at me for approval and I just shrugged my shoulders. The game was about ten feet away, but there were people everywhere and it would be so easy to lose sight of her.

  “Let’s go sit over there on that piece of grass by the game and finish eating while Annie tries to win a fish,” I suggested.

  This meant Tripp had to gather up all the food and relocate us to our new spot.

  His face said, “Are you fucking serious?” but his body movements said, “Yes, baby. Anything you want.”

  I bought a Navajo blanket thingamajig that they always sell at fairs for us to sit on. It was a pokey little bastard, but it got the job done. Tripp gave Annie a hundred dollar bill to win herself a fish and I about shit my capris. I tried to reason with him, but he insisted she win a fish. He also let the carnies know they better not rip her off or he would bash their heads in. He could be so beastly sometimes.

  Perched on the grass, I continued enjoying my food, and Tripp helped Annie toss ping pong balls into goldfish bowls while finishing his greasy burger. I guess he knew what he was doing when he gave her a hundred, because sixty-two dollars later, we finally had two fish. I was fucking praying that one was a girl and one was a boy. Milly needed to add fish farmer to her sprawling resume.

  Annie was busy holding her new fish up to the sky to inspect them, and Tripp was sprawled out on the blanket taking a breather from all the activity. I took a cheesy fry and lapped some of the mustard on it from his neck and then popped it in my mouth. “I love you,” I mouthed through my cheesy fry.

  “Love you too, Princess Pain In My Ass,” he said, exhausted.

  “Come here, baby,” I said, and pulled him to me.

  I started to feed him some cotton candy, since he had been a good boy. Actually, I was so full that I thought I was about to split my panties any second. Tripp wrapped his hands around my waist and let me feed him cotton candy. He still had mustard on his neck, and in good conscience, I couldn’t let my hubs walk around the state fair covered in mustard. My tongue took care of the job, sucking the mustard and parts of his flesh into my mouth.

  “I want you to feed me cotton candy naked at home,” he whispered into my ear as I finished cleaning him.

  “Deal,” I said, pulling back, looking into his eyes, and imprinting every detail of his masculine face into my memory forever.

  We could talk without saying a word sometimes. The heated fuel was building up between us, right in public, in the middle of thousands of people, and we didn’t care. It took no words to let each other know we needed to be alone together, and very naked.

  Annie chose this moment to catapult her sticky and very sweaty little body between us.

  “Unky, we ready to go throw baseballs at those milk can things. Remember you said you has the heat to nail’ em,” she chimed.

  The clueless little bugger didn’t realize that, when she sprang between us, she landed right on Tripp’s nuts. He was doubled over in pain, holding his junk, moaning in excruciating pain.

  “You tummy hurt, Unky?” Annie asked.

  Tripp finally managed to look up at us, with a slightly green face and watery eyes. “Oh, right in the Sacagawea,” he said.

  “Sacagawea? What’s that?” Annie asked.

  “You nailed me right in the Sacagawea, squirt,” he replied.

  “I’m sorry.”

  “He knows, pumpkin. You gotta be careful around boys and their Sacagaweas, okay?” I assured little Annie.

  “’Kay, can we go play?”

  “Yes, squirt. Let’s go win Aunt Lacey, you, and the new baby a stuffed animal,” Tripp said.

  “What about my momma and Mac? Oh, and my dad?” Annie asked.

  “You better have brought the heat, little girl. We have lots of shit to win,” Tripp said as he stood up.

  “Spanking! You get a spanking for saying a bad word,” I said cheerfully.

  “Go buy some more cotton candy and you can spank me when we get home,” Tripp teased.

  Two hundred dollars and six extremely large stuffed animals later, we were making our way to the Jeep. It took Tripp twenty minutes of strategically stacking the animals in the backseat of the Jeep to get them all in.

  Little Annie was dead asleep in my arms and my head was perched down on hers. We had walked through all of the barns, fed the animals at the petting zoo, rode the ponies and all the rides, and had our faces painted. Tripp and Annie got baseballs on their cheeks and the number eight. Tripp’s number. I had a gremlin painted on my face. We snapped a picture and sent it to Milly. She never responded, so I knew shit must have been deep back home on the farm.

  Before Annie, the queen of the fair, passed out, she claimed the giant buffalo for Mac, the overstuffed gorilla for her dad, SpongeBob for her momma, and the dragon for herself. Tripp had to give one of the stuffed animals away because we had way too much shit for the Jeep. He chose to keep a ginormous hot pink crocodile for us. I was shocked because he gave a little red head boy a gigantic stuffed wolf. He winked at me when he kept the crocodile.

  “You look beautiful,” Tripp said, snapping me from my thoughts.

  “Yeah, real beautiful. Sweaty, sticky and swollen. You have real high standards, tough guy.”

  “You look beautiful with Annie in your arms. I can’t wait to see our baby there.”

  “Me neither, Tripp. Me neither,” I whispered, feeling excited, panicked and nervous all at the same time.

  Tripp took the little sleeping beauty from my arms and buckled her up in her booster. We propped her dragon up next to her and wrapped the ratty Navajo blanket around her, and we each took turns kissing her on her forehead. Annie wiggled around and barely opened her eyes, flashing us her sweet loving smile.

  “Guys. I wove you. Thanks for bringing me. Your baby is gonna be okay ’cuz she has you guys. You guys are gonna be good parents and gonna do real good,” she mumbled up to us, barely peeking through dark, thick lashes. What a kid!

  Tripp lifted me up into the Jeep, and buckled me like he had done with Annie. He went to walk away and I grabbed his wrist.

  “Why did you keep
the pink crocodile, Tripp?” I asked.

  “I know.”

  “You know what?”

  “I know it’s a girl.”

  “How?”

  “The butterfly.”

  My fingers instantly released Tripp’s wrists and he bent down and placed a silent tender kiss on the top of my head. The butterfly visited him.

  “We’re naming her Rose and the nursery will be decorated in a baseball theme,” Tripp said as he fired up the Jeep making no eye contact.

  My mouth instantly dried, and my arms clutched the safety of the big pink crocodile. Grant was his butterfly and watching over us too. Tripp had his own butterfly, Grant. My Rose started to protest all the county fair food.

  “Tripp, I’m going to puke.”

  Letter #4

  Meatballio!

  How’s it going kid? I’m thinking you are going to be a mover and a shaker just like your poppa. I can finally feel you. The first time I felt you, I was doing Willow’s hair. I was applying the color and felt a flutter in my tummy. The feeling made me instantly freeze, and I thought for sure I was about to throw up. I grabbed my bump and started for the bathroom. Then another flutter came, but my tummy wasn’t rolling with waves of nausea. Your poppa walked in while I was in the middle of the salon clutching my bump and he freaked. I just smiled back because it had finally dawned on me that I had just felt you move for the first time, and ever since that moment you haven’t stopped.

  Your dad is dying to feel you move, but it is like a game of cat and mouse. I yell for him, but by the time he touches my tummy, your acrobatics are over. We moved into our new house today and have started the fight over decorating your room. I want to do a pink and black rocker chick theme and your clueless father wants to do a sports theme. I have a feeling that we are going to have to meet in the middle somewhere or trick him into going out of town and just decorating it the way I want. Thank God your Aunt Milly is basically the evil spawn of Martha Stewart, so no worries sister, you will have a beautiful bedroom to arrive home to.