“Hey, Rockster. You didn’t tear down my castle, did you?”
“No way, Auntie Aida. I built a dragon to protect your castle.”
Auntie Aida. My heart seemed too big for my chest.
This kid hadn’t only grown on me. I’d fallen in love with him, too. My vision blurred and a pesky tear fell down my face. I wiped it away before anyone could notice.
“C’mon.” Tucker joined us, holding two large, red, plastic discs.
“What are we doing?”
Tucker quirked his brows at me. “Um. Sledding.”
“What? No. That can’t be safe.” I stepped around him, dead set on heading back into my cave.
Tucker grabbed my hand, halting my retreat. “Let me guess, you’ve never been sledding.”
I shook my head no, suddenly ashamed of my deficiency in the childhood whimsy department.
The smile that graced his face was so full of mischief I couldn’t help but laugh.
“You’re not afraid to take on drug lords, or angry strippers, but you’re afraid of a sled.” “Well. This’ll be fun,” he chuckled, pulling me through the snow toward the hill that led to The Truck Stop. He glanced at me over his shoulder. “You can wipe that worried look off your face. You have a bun in the oven so you can’t ride one of these bad boys. I just thought you might like to come along and watch.”
“Oh.” Thank God.
We stood at the top of the hill and looked down over the white blanket of cold. The Truck Stop was closed due to the snow and the holiday, so the parking lot was still barren and pristine, unsullied by tire tracks or footprints. I spun to my left, taking in the serenity of Lake Willow. Across the bay from The Truck Stop, I could see the Rossi Mansion, its sprawling property the boast of Whisper Springs. Tango’s childhood abode was half the size of the castle I’d grown up in, but double the charm, lacking harsh security gates and high, stone walls.
Then I turned to take in Tango and Slade’s new digs, standing tall and proud atop its snow covered, lakeside hill. A quarter the size of the Rossi estate, quadruple its fill of love and warmth. I envied the small-town charmer. Envied the children who’d been raised in this close-knit community.
A finger hooked under my chin and soft, cold lips pressed against mine, warming me to my core. “You okay?” Tucker asked, brushing a loose hair off my cheek with his wet glove.
“It’s so beautiful here,” I mumbled, lost in the ocean of his gaze.
“Take my hand. We have to head down the hill a bit before I let the Rockster loose.”
I stepped closer to Tucker and lost my footing, not because the hill was steep, but because I couldn’t tear my attention from his beautiful face.
His free arm shot around my waist and held me steady. “I got you. I got you.”
Yeah. He had me all right.
I had Aida right where I wanted her. Outdoors, with a big, fat smile on her face. Her woes forgotten. At least for a little while.
Rocky and I raced up and down the hill. Aida cheered us on from the bottom. Laughing. Clapping. Victory dancing. She even got Lola involved, throwing clumps of snow in the air for her to catch.
Not long after I molded a small jump, Tango and Slade joined us. The races turned into snowball fights, our sleds became shields, and Aida murdered us all with her impeccable aim.
Her laughter was back.
Christ, that laugh.
A siren’s call. Leading me to certain death.
Hours passed, and when the sky opened up, spilling giant flakes, we called it a day. Tango carried a snow-drenched Rocky up the hill. Slade hauled the sleds. Aida and I took our time, her clinging to my arm to stay upright on the slippery incline.
I stripped her naked inside her door. Kissed the warmth back into her cheeks.
We fucked. We showered. We fucked in the shower.
I made love to her in her bed.
We ate chili and watched television, tangled together on her oversized couch.
I hadn’t heard the click of her nails all day.
Her knives remained untouched on the side table.
When we fell into bed again, I slept better than I had in weeks.
With dawn came immeasurable pleasure. Aida’s lips. First on my scars, then my cock. I returned the favor. My lips. Her sweet, sweet pussy.
Lola’s barks and incessant knocking cut our morning intimacies short. I scrambled out of bed, wrestling gravity and drowsiness to hurry into my jeans. When I opened the door, an arctic blast forced the sleep haze clean out of me. My mother’s rosy cheeks and mile-wide grin took care of my lingering erection.
“Happy Thanksgiving!” She threw her arms around me.
Lola jumped, whined, and wiggled, desperate for Mom’s attention.
“Mom.” I hugged her tight. “What are doing here?” I pulled her inside and closed the door, shutting out the cold.
“Surprising you. It was Slade’s idea. She said Aida wasn’t in the traveling mood and that you wouldn’t let her spend Turkey Day alone, so, here I am.” Her rosy cheeks were a welcome sight.
“Dad with you?”
“He stayed home,” she said, squatting to give Lola her greeting. “Bob Riggins was released from the hospital a few weeks ago. Some of the boys are taking turns nursing him. Your dad volunteered for the holiday shift so the others could be with their families. I told him you wouldn’t mind.”
“Nah. Glad to have you here.” I offered a hand to help Mom stand. “Did you drive all night?”
“Flew in. Slade picked me up this morning. I was going to surprise you at dinner, but I couldn’t wait that long to see you.” She stomped the snow off her boots and slipped them off her feet.
I helped her shrug out of her coat, avoiding eye contact. My cheeks pulsed with heat, and I couldn’t help but feel ten shades of guilty for being caught half-naked in a woman’s apartment. Didn’t matter if you were sixteen or sixty. No son wanted his mother privy to his bedroom affairs.
Aida came down the hallway, hair disheveled, my flannel coat pulled tight around her naked body. “What’s going … Oh. Oh! Lettie.” She floated across the room, landing in my mother’s arms. “What are you doing here? Everything okay? Where’s James?”
Thank God, she’d covered her private bits.
“Mom decided to surprise me for Thanksgiving,” I offered, barely holding the laughter in.
“That’s. Wow. That’s wonderful.” Aida pulled my mom to the couch. “Coffee?”
“Love some.” Mom made herself comfortable.
“Let me get dressed.” Aida looked down, wiggling her bare toes.
Mercy, those legs. So damn tempting poking out from under my jacket.
“Sorry. I wasn’t expecting company,” she said, not at all bashful, but respectful, and I admired her grace in what could’ve been an uncomfortable situation.
My mother waved her off. “Please, sweetie. We’re all adults here.
Aida retreated to her room. Mom gave me an oh, we’re gonna talk look. I made myself busy with the Keurig machine. When Mom came around the corner, all smirk and bright, knowing eyes, I made myself busier by stacking croissants on a plate.
“You’ve got it bad.”
That was an understatement.
Mom carried the plate of pastries to the table. “Your father and I know, sweetie.”
Translation? I’m going to spend the rest of my life making you feel guilty for not trusting me with Aida’s true identity.
“I figured the two of you would put two and two together.” Slade had filled Mom and Dad in about Tango’s relationship with Luciano Voltolini. I’d hated keeping them in the dark, but Aida’s identity wasn’t my secret to tell. Of course, now that her face had been all over the news, it was only a matter of time before people figured it out. I hadn’t been worried about the customers in The Truck Stop. Aida had always sat in the corner table. She’d never talked to anyone other than Charlie and Margie, who, for obvious reasons, were now in the loop.
“Are you
in danger?”
I almost snorted. I was danger. Mom didn’t know that about me.
“No, Mom.”
“If I can help in any way—”
“Absolutely not.” I slammed my coffee cup on the counter. “I don’t want you near any of this. Between Aida and Slade, I’ve got my hands full. I can’t worry about you, too.”
“You can’t save every woman you see in trouble, Tuck.” She pushed me out of the way and finished filling the last mug. “And it sure as hell is not your job to worry about me.”
“Mom.”
“No. You listen and you listen good. Aida has been a guest in my home. Any fool can see that you’re head over heels. In my book, that makes her family. My family. And we take care of each other. It’s not all on you. Understand?”
Sure, Mom talked a good game. She didn’t understand the danger, though. She hadn’t seen what I’d seen. Lived what Aida had lived. The most danger my mother had been in was helping Slade rescue Rocky from his psychotic birth mother, and only by delivering the little guy, and falsifying the hospital and birth records.
I turned to argue. Aida stood in the doorway, hair pinned up, dark green sweater dress clinging to every curve. Fuck. Those curves. Her legs were hidden in tights and biker boots. She wore lipstick and not much more on her face aside from the look of pure adoration aimed at my mom.
Pierced me. Knife through the heart.
Mom was right.
Aida was family.
Family.
So, this is what it feels like.
I melted into the melon-colored love seat, and propped my feet on the matching ottoman, allowing another wave of serenity to wash over me. Rocky hopped up next to me on his knees and lowered his face to my stomach, which was ready to pop, because the twelve pounds of turkey, and three gallons of gravy I’d shamelessly devoured.
His small hands flattened on my baby bump, and he pressed his lips into my sweater. “Hello, baby. Hello, baby. Can you hear me?” He giggled and jumped down, disappearing into the family room. What I wouldn’t give to have that energy.
From my seat, I had a view of the chaos in the kitchen. Tucker cleared the table, Tango stacked dishes in the dishwasher, and Lettie cleared the buffet of leftover pie and plates full of cookie crumbs.
Slade came around the corner, glowing and happy, and dropped her butt next to mine. Tango’s father, Carlos, soon followed, having been shooed out of the kitchen by Lettie.
“She scolded me for putting rinse aid where the soap was supposed to go,” he said with an impish grin.
“You did that on purpose,” Slade laughed. “So you didn’t have to do any more dishes.”
Carlos only winked. Damn, the man was handsome. Aside from a few wrinkles, he and Tango were nearly identical. He’d aged more gracefully than my father had, a byproduct of their respective life choices, no doubt.
He crouched next to me, pulling my hand between his own. “How ya holding up, Princess?”
I didn’t have the energy to lie. Carlos had grown up with my father. He knew what kind of boy Luciano had been and the man he had become. “I’m holding it together, though it’s difficult. Part of me wants blood, part of me wants…” I slipped a glance to the kitchen. In particular, to Tucker, who was now crouched at the cupboard, fitting pots and pans in their proper place. That was until Tango, soapy hands and all, slipped his arms around Lettie, and twirled her around the kitchen. “Part of me wants what you all have.”
Carlos rose to his feet, kissing my forehead. He cupped my chin, lifting my face to meet his emerald eyes. “Princess. You decide to go home, there’s no doubt you’ll have the world in the palm of your hand, to mold, crush, or manipulate however you desire.” He stared long and hard at me. “But if you choose to stay here, every person in this house will carry your world in the palms of their hands. Freely and joyfully. You’ve got family here, baby girl. Remember that while you weigh your options.” His eyes liquefied, holding my gaze again for an uncomfortable spell. “I miss your dad terribly. I know he was rough around the edges, but I can’t imagine he’d want that life for you or his grandchild.” He kissed the corner of my mouth this time, tender and caring, then sauntered off, calling after Rocky.
Slade’s arm slid around my shoulders. “Carlos is wise, for a pompous, womanizing ass, isn’t he?”
Wise, yes. His words pierced me something fierce, and I blinked away the sting in my eyes. I couldn’t get emotional in front of everyone.
“What’s your beef with Carlos?”
Slade threw her head back and laughed. I envied her organic nature. “Oh, Aida. Someday, when we have a few hours to ourselves, I’ll tell you the story.”
“That good, huh?”
“That long.” She rolled her gorgeous blue eyes.
“Has Tango heard from Tits?”
“If he has, he hasn’t mentioned anything. I know he’s worried. He checks his phone obsessively.”
“My guess is, he’s shacked up with some clueless, barely legal fitness model, getting his rocks off until all of this blows over.” Or dead. Or being tortured, I thought to myself. Wouldn’t be appropriate, or productive, to voice those fears out loud. Although, I knew she was thinking the same thing, by the look in her eyes.
“Mom,” Rocky called from the other room. “Mom. C’mere.”
Slade hopped up, heeding the call, and bounced away, light and airy, to the other room.
When I turned my attention back to the kitchen, Tucker strode my way, six-feet-something of determined and devastating male. He leaned forward, pressing his fists into the cushion on either side of my head and lowering his mouth to my ear to whisper, “I need to be inside you, Bambi. Let’s go.”
Heat flooded my cheeks.
Tucker helped me to my feet. “Aida’s wiped,” he shouted over his shoulder. “We’re gonna head downstairs.”
Everyone shouted goodnights, and I barely squeaked out my response before the door closed behind us. Snow crunched under our boots, and the night sky, clear and twinkling, lit the path leading around the side of the house. Tucker let go of my hand only long enough to unlock the door. Once inside, he pressed me against the wall and crushed my mouth with a brutal kiss.
One hand palmed the wall next to my head, his other, oh sweet Papa, with his other hand he pressed on the underside of my belly, rubbing gently, before sliding down, and lifting the hem of my sweater dress. He shoved his fingers between my legs, and released a frustrated groan when my tights prevented him from connecting with my naked flesh.
“Fuck,” he mumbled into my mouth.
Before I could respond, he pulled away and yanked my tights and panties down my hips.
I gasped, surprised, and aroused by his brutality. Before Tucker, I’d always been in control. Especially when it came to sex. Fucking had always been about me. About the release, about the high. About power.
Something in Tucker’s eyes, his breaths, the tension in his movements, told me he needed control. Something about the way I loved him, allowed me to step outside of myself, to sacrifice my pride, to give the man full authority.
Tucker spun me around to face the wall, dug his fingers into my hips, and nudged my legs apart with his booted foot. Heavy breaths blew in my ear. Strong, rough hands smoothed over my ass, parting my cheeks.
Without warning, he shoved his cock inside me. “Sweet hell, baby.”
I hadn’t even heard him undo his pants.
I braced myself, hands flat and shoulders high, my cheek smashed against the rough texture of the paint.
Cock buried deep, Tucker bit my shoulder, slid his hands over mine, encasing my fingers, and fucked me against the wall, fully dressed, and one hundred percent in charge.
Brutal and unchained, he chased his release. Breathless and needy, I let him use me. And as fast as it started, he came inside me, his body pressed against mine, his breaths jagged and hot against my neck.
Never had I allowed a man to get off before I had. Never had a man dared t
o try. I’d never felt such satisfaction, cocooned between Tucker’s arms, his sated dick sliding out of me, his semen, hot and sticky between my thighs. I had never felt so coveted.
Forget feeling loved and needed. To be wanted, so desperately, on such a primal level? Well, that was a high I could easily form an addiction to.
Addiction was a dangerous thing. I’d had Aida that morning, and several times the night before. Problem was, the more I had, the more I wanted, and the whole damn day had been an excruciating test of self-control. A test I failed. Out of my mind with lust, I’d taken her like a savage against the wall. Selfish bastard.
I’d yet to recover, when she turned, still caged between my arms, and wrapped her fingers around the back of my head. “Cowboy,” she nearly purred. “Promise you’ll do that again. And soon.”
Inside, I was screaming, yee-haw, let’s do it again now. But I was a man for crying out loud, not a horny teenager.
“I’m no cowboy,” I whispered, still catching my breath. “Never touched a horse, or a cow for that matter. Besides, cowboys are gentlemen. And the things I want to do to you are definitely not fit for a lady.”
“Hmm.” She nibbled my chin, giving it a sharp pinch between her teeth before letting go. “No one has ever accused me of being a lady.”
“Damn, right.” I dropped to my knees and slid my hands to her waist. “You’re all woman.” I kissed her round stomach and helped her step out of her tights, then used them to wipe the mess between her legs.
Aida shivered. I stood, slapped her ass, and ordered her to the shower. I waited until she was out of sight to tuck my semi-erect cock back into my jeans. When I heard the water running, I locked up, cranked the heater, and searched my phone for a number I hadn’t called in years.
Connor Howe answered on the first ring. “Sweet Jesus. Tucker Slade? That you?”
“Howe.” I shook my head, reeling with a flood of memories. His voice didn’t match the pasty, computer whiz I remembered from high school. “Need a favor.”
Truck Stop Tryst Page 19