“I’ve seen you with Jake. The way you move your body around his, the way you look up at him through your lashes. You are submissive by nature. But you gave that gift to the wrong man, got burned, and now you are scared to show that side of yourself to someone else. But Jake is no Tom, Buttercup. He is a man who will care for, protect, and, yes, correct you. With him it will all be from a place of loving care.”
Still more embarrassed than she had ever been before, Buttercup found the nerve to ask, “Jess, can you tell me about your relationship a little? Just so I can be prepared?”
“Of course, sweetheart. Hope this isn’t awkward for you, me being married to your brother and all…”
“I think we are well past awkward, Jess,” Buttercup mumbled.
Giving a laugh, Jessica continued talking while spraying a cloud of sweet smelling hairspray over Buttercup. “It started out with Ray and me as friends. He was taking the best care of me and Evan. Then he told me he loved me. And then he got bossy. Very quickly it became clear—Ray was going to flip me over his knee and spank my butt any time I stepped out of line.”
“Like what?”
“Overspending. Being disrespectful, being bratty. You know, the usual trouble us women find ourselves in. Not you though, you’re too sweet. I can’t even imagine what you could get yourself into trouble over. Well, anyway, with Ray, he is in charge, one hundred percent. He always asks me my opinion, what I’m thinking, how I’m feeling, but ultimately, he’s the head of our household. And I wouldn’t have it any other way. Though sometimes when he’s walloping my behind, I have second thoughts.”
Buttercup gulped, feeling embarrassed and nervous at Jessica’s confession. But another part of her felt free. Free in the knowledge there wasn’t something wrong with her years of craving. Wanting the type of relationship that Jessica had just described.
“Thank you, Jessica. For everything. Talking to me about the girl stuff, letting me stay here with you and Ray. Giving me a home.”
“You are so welcome, honey. We just love you to death and don’t ever want you to leave. And I know you are going to have a fantastic time on your date.”
The butterflies, the shivers, all came over her at once. “What if he brings it up tonight?”
“What? Spanking?”
“Yes.”
Jessica placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. “Oh, don’t worry, honey, he most certainly will.”
Jake had insisted on opening the passenger door of his white, Ford F-150 for Buttercup, looking as if he wanted to smack her hand away when she went to open it herself.
Buttercup had to stand on the running board to boost herself up into the high seat of the truck.
Once he was satisfied with her comfort, Jake looked her over, eyes brightly shining. “You wore the dress.”
“Of course. You asked me to.”
“I told you to,” he said, a glint in his eyes that made her insides melt. “Didn’t I, Buttercup?”
“Yes,” she whispered, feeling almost as if she should be adding sir to her words.
“Good girl,” he said, throwing her a debonair smile and shutting the door.
Those two words, good girl, oh how Buttercup had longed to hear them from a man. Her knees went weak and she was so glad she was seated and not standing.
Jake climbed into the truck, flashing that smile, and asking, “Ready?”
“Yes.”
Sneaking a glance at him out of the corner of her eye Buttercup took in the tan trousers he wore with a light blue button down tucked into his tan leather belt. The sleeves of his shirt rolled neatly up to his elbow. She watched as his beautiful hands grasped the steering wheel, the way his long fingers wrapped around it. Something about the way those sleeves were rolled up had her imagining Jake doing to her the things Jessica had talked about.
“You like barbeque?” he asked, looking over at her, interrupting her thoughts.
“Sure, of course,” Buttercup lied. Best not to get picky on a first date.
“You sure?” he asked, narrowing his eyes at her.
“Of course, I do. Who doesn’t like barbeque?”
After a moment of silence, Jake said, “You don’t, Buttercup. I should pull this truck over and put you right over my knee for lying.”
There was a stone-cold silence in the cab of the truck. A thrill ran though Buttercup at his words.
“Cat got your tongue?” Jake asked, throwing her a grin. “You know I’m kidding, right?”
Breathing a sigh of relief, but also surprised by the disappointment she felt in her gut, Buttercup laughed a nervous laugh. “Of course.”
“I won’t spank you until you’re officially my girl.” Jake placed his hand on her knee, giving it a familiar squeeze.
“Are you kidding, now?”
“Nope. Serious as a heart attack. And I know you don’t like barbeque, because Ray told me so. I was going to take you to my house and cook for you. Would that be all right, or would you be more comfortable going out in public? I understand if you want to wait until you are my girlfriend to come to my house.”
“Your girlfriend? We haven’t even been on an official date yet. Don’t you think you are jumping the gun, just a bit?” she squeaked out.
“I have been hoping, praying you would be mine for ten years. Ever since you came and spent those weeks in our Texas town. If you think, for a second, I am not going to make you mine, now that you are here and single, you are mistaken, young lady.”
“What if I say, no?”
“That is the only thing that will stop me. You not wanting me. Anything else is fair game and I will fight for you. As long as you will let me.” He threw a soft glance her way.
“Good to know I have a choice in the matter,” she murmured.
“Of course, you have a choice. But when you realize what a perfect match we are, I don’t think you will be having second thoughts, Buttercup.”
The way he said her name, it sounded so sensual in her ears. Buttercup. It melted off his smooth Texan tongue. It made her want his mouth on hers again.
“You sure are confident for someone who barely knows me. This is only our first time going out. And it’s not a date. Not officially,” she reminded him.
Flashing her that brilliant smile, he replied, “It is a date. And it most certainly won’t be our last. You haven’t even had my famous steak and potatoes yet. If my building skills didn’t impress you, I’m hoping my cooking will.”
“I don’t know. Ray is a pretty good cook. That’s some fierce competition,” she teased.
He threw her a sheepish smile. “I may have gotten some pointers from him. While I was working on the garage. And found out a few of your favorites while I was at it.”
That was certainly something Tom had never done. Cooking for her. Finding out her favorites. Buttercup was the one doing the cooking, Tom coming in their small dark kitchen and taking over half of what she made without even a thank you. She had told herself it didn’t bother her. That it didn’t matter. That she was lucky to have him at all.
Sitting beside Jake, Buttercup wondered if she had been mistaken about a lot of things.
Pulling up to the little cottage, Buttercup felt her eyebrows raise in surprise. The home was gorgeous.
The white siding looked meticulously maintained, the wide porch inviting, the blue shutters on the windows looked to be freshly painted. The lawn was tidy and edged. There were clay pots filled with Bluebonnets dotting the walkway.
“It’s beautiful,” she whispered.
Jake gave a laugh. “It wasn’t when I bought it. It was a total dump. You should have seen this place when I first moved in. I got it for the same amount I had to put into it—just to make it livable. But now, it’s home. And everything I learned, all the mistakes, helped me run my business I have now. The experience was priceless.”
Buttercup waited patiently for Jake to open her door as he exited the truck, assuming he was the type of man to want to open the door as he
had closed it for her.
Sure enough, he came around to her side, opening the door with flourish. “You are learning quickly,” he teased. “Not so bad having a good man to take care of you, is it?”
She answered with a small smile, her face flushed from his nearness. The woodsy sent of his cologne caught her as he leaned in to her. Instead of holding her hand to help her down, Jake reached over, unlatched her seatbelt then wrapped his hands around her ribcage under her arms. Buttercup giggled as he lifted her up and out of the truck.
When her feet were on the ground, Jake held her close to his body, looking down at her and saying with a wink. “Didn’t want you to be afraid. I know how you feel about heights.”
Buttercup teasingly swatted at his shoulder, “I’m not afraid of being a couple of feet off the ground, Jake. You were literally bounding across that roof.”
“You can never be too careful.” His smile warmed her as he released his hold. “Shall we?” he asked, hooking her arm in his and leading her up the pristine walkway to the little cottage.
When they reached the friendly blue door, Jake opened it right up without unlocking it with a key. Buttercup wondered what it would be like to feel that safe, living somewhere.
Entering the home, she was greeted by the white walls and polished floors of a cozy entry way. A large mirror with a wooden frame hung directly in front of her. She caught a glimpse of herself and Jake standing together, the frame of the mirror almost like a frame of a portrait of the two of them.
Jake stood over her shoulder, tall and confident, his handsome face a head above hers. And she looked—different. Healthy and happy. Her skin was no longer sallow. Her eyes were bright and her ‘perfect’ hair shone. Buttercup couldn’t help but think they made quite a pair. The couple in the mirror looked like they belonged together.
As if reading her thoughts, Jake flashed his brilliant smile at her. Giving her shoulder a quick squeeze, he moved past her, showing her the way into the living room. The furniture was all the same soft blue color as the door. Beautiful pale oak flooring running through the home.
The artwork on the walls caught her attention. Her gaze hovered over the paintings that lined the white walls. They were abstract designs, streams of colors layered upon one another with streaks of metallic running through them.
Stepping closer to the red and orange one that reminded her of a sunset, Buttercup asked, “Where did you get these? They are gorgeous.”
When Jake spoke, the usual confidence had left his voice. Sounding unsure, he said, “They are my work. Do you like them?”
“I love them.” Forgetting herself, she walked up to each painting, studying it in turn. Next to the sunset was a teal, green and silver painting, reminding her of the ocean. Her father had taken her once, and she had been enraptured by the blue greens of the water stretching out to meet the horizon.
Beside the ‘sea’ one was a darker painting. She could not tear her eyes away from the angry black and grey marks. Though the other paintings had brought her a sense of peace and happiness, she found that this was her favorite of the three. It touched the scars she had buried deep within.
It reminded her of hearing the gut wrenching words, ‘your mother left us’. And the feeling she had when Tom would storm out of their apartment, leaving her behind, bewildered and wondering what she had done wrong. Blinking quickly, she finally had to look away.
Jake came up beside her, asking softly, “What do you think of that one?”
She answered honestly. “It is my favorite one. But it makes me feel—sad. Worried. It unsettles me.”
“That is the one I painted the day after Kevin died.”
Looking over her shoulder, she stared at Jake. “Tell me more.”
Considering the painting, his face was more serious than she had ever seen it before. “I was seventeen when Kevin was killed. He was my best friend. We thought we had our whole lives ahead of us. We were going to travel together, start a business together, get in trouble together. The things teenage boys dream of. Then he was killed in the car crash. It was all so sudden, so unbelievable. It turned my life upside down. The world was nothing like I had thought it was. I learned there are no guarantees in this life. You can plan all day, but it can end at any moment. I grew up the day he died. And then I painted this.”
Standing with her arm leaning against his, Buttercup brought her eyes to the painting once more. “Is that why you throw yourself into things the way you do? The business, the house, life? Because none of us know how much time we have left?”
“Yes. That and something else.”
“What?”
“I do it for Kevin. I feel like I have a responsibility to live my life to the fullest. For me and for him. It’s like I have this drive to live enough life for the both of us. Mine and the one that was stolen from my best friend.” His warm gaze turned to her. She felt a current running through his eyes, into her soul.
“That’s how I am able to be so honest with you about my feelings for you. And, when I felt the way I felt the first time I laid eyes on you I could allow myself to trust the feelings to be real. Because I live my life with a brutal honesty and I live it to the fullest.”
Never considering herself brave, Buttercup dared to do something she wouldn’t have been able to do only a few months prior. Lifting her hand to the side of Jake’s cheek, Buttercup reached up on her tippy-toes, closing the gap between their bodies and pressing her lips to his full, kind mouth. Jake’s arms wrapped around her, holding her close, secure against his broad chest. When he kissed her back it was with the hunger of a man who had known love, but had it withheld from him. And Buttercup knew—she was falling in true love for the first time in her life.
Chapter 3
Wes gazed over the reflection of the stranger who stood in the mirror before him. Ten long years had gone by. His face had not aged much. The lines were a bit deeper, the frowning corners of his mouth tugging downward. There were a few strands of silver weaving their way through his sandy locks. It was his eyes that had changed. They were almost unrecognizable to their bewildered owner.
Once a gentle gray, they had darkened. Now, they were the color of angry storm clouds. The kind that gathered over the Texas hills before releasing a torrent of rain.
Sorrow had taken its toll on Wes.
The first five years had been the hardest. Learning to live without Carrie was like reprogramming a computer, an impossible task that he had absolutely no clue how to do. Then, there was fatherhood to figure out.
The moment the doctor had put the tiny baby in his arms, the sight of the golden halo of curls had broken him. Wes had almost handed the baby back to the doctor, the pain of his loss too great.
Then, like magic, the baby girl had reached up and out of her swaddling and grabbed the finger that hovered over her cheek. The squeeze told him ‘it’s going to be okay- we are going to be okay’. Taking a deep breath, Wes had kissed the curls breathing in deeply the enchanting scent of new life.
The panicked faces of the doctors over his shoulders, the medical team pushing him and his baby away from his bleeding wife. His arms tightening around the precious bundle as he watched, helplessly, while the color drained from his wife’s lifeless face.
“Dad!”
Wes startled, waking from his troubled sleep. Untangling himself from the sweat covered sheets he sat up. Running a hand through his damp hair, he willed his bleary eyes to focus.
“Your turn.” The sweet familiar voice mumbled from beside him. Looking over at Carrie’s side of the bed Wes gave a huge sigh of relief throwing his arms around her shoulders and laying his head across the lower back of his wife. She was here. And she was alive.
Sensing his urgency, Carrie turned over, struggling out from under his weight and sitting up. “Not that dream again? Wes?”
Wiping the stinging tears from his eyes, Wes nodded.
“The one about the birth?”
Smoothing her hand over his tumbled hair,
Carrie crooned, “I’m here. Look at me.” Holding his face in her hands, Carrie smiled. “We made it through, Wes.”
Eleven years ago, Wes almost lost Carrie to a ruptured appendix. Wes had felt an unnatural sense of dread the moment Carrie had first mentioned the very idea of even having a baby. His feelings were a product of fear and anxiety from spending every waking moment at her bedside hoping she would live through that first ordeal.
Then, Carrie did become pregnant. Everything that could have gone wrong with the pregnancy seem to, culminating with the birth of their daughter. Carrie’s uterus had ruptured. Wes’ mind still flashed backed daily to the vision of his wife laying limp and bleeding to death on the white hospital bed.
“We are going to be late,” a little voice demanded. The angelic sound snapped Wes from his horrid memory.
Gazing down to the foot of the bed Wes stared at the miniature Carrie standing before him. The blond curls pulled into two braids she must have proudly done all by herself this morning. Sparkling purple skirt over pink leggings, the outfit complete with turquoise riding boots.
“Uncle Garrett said he would take us riding and we are going to be late,” she repeated with angst.
Rose may look like a spitting image of his beautiful, petite wife but she had inherited Wes’ personality. Even as a newborn baby Rose thrived on routine and at the age of five had adopted the habit of always being promptly on time. She, like her father, tried to make order out of the chaos of this world. Her mother lived moment to moment, seeming to thrive on chaos.
“I’m coming, sweetheart.”
Rose walked over to her father grabbing his large hand in her small one. The feel of her fingers wrapping around his was the only thing that made him know for sure that the dream hadn’t been their fate. That they had all made it out alive.
Tugging Wes’ hand, Rose impatiently stomped the heel of one of her teal boots.
“Let me get dressed,” he chuckled, smoothing down the curls that were escaping her haphazard braids.
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