Soaring (9781311625663)

by Ashley, Kristen

  Last, Mickey and I agreed, then took it to our kids and they agreed, that we would start the blending of families on Thanksgiving.

  Mickey had said they had a pact to share those days and it was Rhiannon’s turn to have them to her place for Thanksgiving. But before he asked his kids, he’d told her what we wanted to do and she’d agreed to giving up the meal if she got time with them in the evening.

  Something I thought was very kind.

  So they would be going to Rhiannon’s after dinner to share family time. That meant he and his kids would come over, have dinner, but none of the kids would be forced to spend all day getting used to each other.

  And with that, there was cooking and football and Lawr would be there, and he was great with kids. It wouldn’t be going out to dinner, making them converse, the focus being solely on the meet and greet. There’d be tons of distractions.

  It was perfect.

  As perfect as it was, it scared the heck out of me.

  But I did my best to set that aside and turn my attention to glorying in the fact that it was clear my guy was getting more than just flashes of happy.

  And I was right then at my first fight of Mickey’s.

  No. I was watching Mickey, sweaty and focused, wearing white satin boxing shorts with a green shamrock on the side that really, really did not look even the slightest bit foolish being worn by all that was Mickey.

  And he was beating the absolute shit out of some guy in a boxing ring.

  Last, I was doing this thinking I was orgasming.

  This was inappropriate. Not only were Alyssa and Josie sitting with me, Cillian, Aisling and Ethan were also with us.

  But I still was pretty sure it was happening.

  “You got back from Junior really quickly after his win.” I heard Josie, sitting to one side of me, note softly to Alyssa, who was on my other side.

  “Went back. Blew him real quick. He’s good until I see how our girl here becomes a fight fanatic,” Alyssa replied, also quietly so the kids sitting beyond Josie couldn’t hear. “Once Mickey kicks ass, I’ll hang around and make sure she doesn’t rush the ring and rip his trunks off. Then we’ll hit the motel that does an hourly rate on the way home and he can rock my world.”

  I heard these words.

  I didn’t tear my eyes away from the ring.

  They only fought three rounds and these seemed to last two seconds of sheer exhilaration and goodness before the referee had to stop the fight because Mickey got a technical knockout.

  I burst from my chair, and much like Alyssa did when Junior had won the fight before (except with less foul and suggestive language), I screamed, “Way to go, baby! You rock!”

  Mickey’s glove held up in the air, still sweaty and fabulous, his eyes dropped to me.

  That was when I got an easy grin.

  Yes, very much like orgasming.

  It was then I realized that having the kids on fight night was not that great of a thing.

  And it was then I realized that next Saturday, he wouldn’t have his but I would have mine as Pippa already told me she was having Polly for a sleepover, and maybe another girlfriend. Further Auden had shared he and his buds were going to camp out in front of my big TV to watch football all day after he was done with conditioning.

  With all those kids there, kids of two different sexes, they needed chaperoning, so I didn’t think it was a good idea to leave.

  So when Mickey had his kids back, I’d have to either finagle his kids doing sleepovers somewhere else, the same with mine, or I’d have to wait for my real fight night to come and it might take weeks.

  This was disappointing.

  But it was helped when we went back to the locker rooms and I could give Mickey a lip brush before Cillian took over for his blow by blow with his dad about the fight.

  This was cute because Cillian was excited and his blow by blow included much reenactment. This meant he did a lot of fake punching of his dad, who fake punched back, still sweaty but with his gloves off, his hands taped, warm in his boy’s excitement.

  Though, in Mickey’s case it wasn’t cute. It was sweet-dad-cute-hot.

  Alas, we separated in the parking lot. I had brought the kids there but Mickey, not having showered but in workout pants pulled over his boxing trunks and a zip up jacket, was taking them home.

  And we were all going home to houses across the street from each other, me alone to my empty house, Mickey with his kids to his.

  This was what we did and the whole way I tried to come up with ways to suggest he find sleepovers for his children when he had them again in two weeks.

  I was in my nightie, standing by my nightstand, moisturizing, and I still had not come up with how I would suggest this to Mickey when my cell on my nightstand rang.

  My pulse zinged when I saw it was Mickey.

  I snatched it up, took the call and put it to my ear.

  “Hey.” It came out as a breath.

  “Door,” he growled.

  My entire body zinged. I dropped the phone back to the nightstand without even disconnecting, and sprinted to the door.

  I threw it open.

  Mickey, still in his track pants and jacket, crowded me. His arm going around me, he backed me in, kicked the door closed and shifted me, backing me toward the dining room table.

  “Tell me your kids didn’t decide to spend the night,” he ordered.

  I shook my head. “No, baby. It’s just me.”

  Then I was up right before I was down, ass to the table then back to it as Mickey leaned into me.

  His mouth to mine, his eyes staring into mine through the shadows, he didn’t kiss me.

  He just looked into my eyes as his hand yanked up my nightie then dove right in my panties.

  My lips parted and my back arched.

  His eyes flamed through the dark. “Fuck, you’re wet.”

  “Yes,” I whispered.

  “Ready?” he asked.

  “Yeah, honey.”

  He moved away only to tear my panties down my legs and I whimpered.

  Then he came back, I felt him working at his pants between my legs and then he was inside me.

  I pushed my hands up his jacket to touch him but ended up clawing at him as he fucked me hard and relentlessly, his mouth brushing mine, his eyes to mine, his breaths harsh and assaulting my lips, his eyes blazing.

  He slid one hand up my side, my arm, pulling it from around him and wrapping his fingers around my wrist where he pinned it to the table over my head.

  I shivered and pressed the insides of my thighs tighter to his sides in order to hold him to me and use him to lift me up so I could get more of him.

  He groaned and drove deeper.

  God, amazing.

  “You like fight night?” he rumbled low.

  “Oh yeah,” I gasped.

  “You always gonna want your fight night fuck?”

  “Absolutely,” I breathed.

  He fucked me harder and took my mouth in a hot, deep, brutal kiss.

  That was it for me.

  Then again, I’d had three rounds of foreplay so that was all I needed.

  I moaned my orgasm down his throat.

  He kissed me through it and kept contact when he groaned his orgasm down mine.

  He was still inside me and we were both still breathing heavily when he ordered thickly, “You leave the kids in their seats next fight. They can come back after I fuck you in the locker room.”

  “Okay,” I agreed immediately.

  He ground his hips into mine as indication he approved of my response and I mewed against his lips.

  “Love you, Amy.”

  I stilled completely.

  He felt it.

  “I don’t care if that’s too soon for you,” he announced. “You do with it what you want. Keep it and hold it to you and hope like fuck you give it back when you’re ready. But you gotta know, it’s yours.”

  I stared at him through the dark.

  “Now, I go
tta get back to my kids,” he muttered, shifted to touch his mouth to my jaw then slid out gently.

  He pulled me to my feet and held me while I got my legs solid under me. Then he bent and nabbed my panties. He kept a hand to me to steady me as I tugged them on.

  After that, he grabbed my hand and led me to the door.

  Without a word, he took me in his arms and gave me a long, soft, sweet kiss that went on forever and it was still too short.

  He ended it and said, “Talk to you tomorrow, baby.”

  He then set me back so he could open the door and he was through it before I called, “Mickey!”

  He turned to me.

  “You gotta know too,” I said.

  He stood there, almost right where I’d first seen him, looking more beautiful than ever.

  Because he was mine. All mine. Truly mine.

  Every inch.

  Straight down to his heart.

  “You gotta know I love you too,” I went on. “You’re the best man I’ve ever met, honey. A great dad. A good man.” I smiled. “The best neighbor ever.”

  I watched his eyes dance at the last but I wasn’t done.

  “There was no better day than the day Conrad showed up and started shouting at me, because it brought you to me.”

  His lips curled up. “Only time I was glad some asshole was in a woman’s face.”

  My lips curled up too.

  Then they started trembling so I pressed them together.

  “Right across the street,” Mickey whispered.

  I pressed my lips together harder and nodded.

  He gave me an easy grin, “Luck o’ the Irish.”

  I started giggling.

  His eyes kept dancing.

  Then they warmed and he ordered, “Get inside, baby. Get warm. Talk to you tomorrow.”

  Like I wasn’t already warm.

  Through and through.

  “Okay, Mickey. Goodnight.”

  “’Night, babe.”

  It was then I realized I didn’t mind “babe” at all. Or “darlin’.” Or “baby.”

  I’d take anything from Mickey.

  Because he meant it.

  I lifted my hand to touch it to my lips and drifted it out to him.

  Then grinning at him like an idiot (and not caring), I closed the door on the man who loved me.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Awesome Holiday

  “I should believe it. I really should. But I don’t believe that man.”

  I was in my kitchen, banging around bitching.

  This was because it was eleven thirty Thanksgiving morning and the kids were supposed to spend the night last night at my place, seeing as Lawr had arrived yesterday morning. But also so they could help me get things ready for the day.

  Conrad had spoken to them and, for some reason, which I could read was not great, they’d changed plans and said they had to spend the night at their dad’s.

  However, they promised they’d be at my place by ten because the day had been precisely timed.

  The house was clean, that wasn’t a worry.

  But there was cooking and baking and table laying to do. They were supposed to help me get most of that sorted so when Mickey and his kids showed up at twelve thirty, we could watch football and relax without too much running around. However, there wouldn’t be much of that since dinner was supposed to happen at two so it wasn’t a rush since they were going to Rhiannon’s at four.

  It was perfectly timed. Football on, something to take folk’s attention but things to do together to give opportunities to mingle. Then good food with good company. And before it went on too long, Mickey and his brood had to go to Rhiannon’s so everyone could be let off the hook and they could relax (which I hoped wasn’t necessary but I felt it necessary to plan).

  The kids being that late was throwing me off. In fact, the kids not spending the night had thrown me off. I could have no idea but I wouldn’t put it past Conrad to know what was happening with Mickey this Thanksgiving, or that Lawr was going to be there, so he was trying to ruin it for me.

  I didn’t like Auden’s tone when he phoned and said they needed to stay with their dad. He didn’t share much and seemed distracted but he also seemed something…else.

  I just couldn’t get a lock on it.

  And again, he didn’t share it with me.

  I’d asked but he’d said, “We’ll talk later, Mom,” in a way he needed me to talk with him about it later.

  So I decided, for my boy, to let it go.

  Now, it was worse not only because they were late but also, except for a quick text from Auden that said simply, We’re gonna be late. Sorry. I’d had nothing. I gave it half an hour then I’d texted. I’d phoned.

  I’d received no reply.

  My kids were not impolite. Since our reunion, this kind of thing didn’t happen. They might not reply immediately, but they replied.

  Knowing they were late, they’d reply at the very least so I wouldn’t worry.

  I snatched up my cell, declaring, “I’m gonna call him.”

  “Sweetheart,” Lawr said, reaching out a hand to wrap it around my wrist. “Don’t.”

  I looked up at him. “There are pies to be baked!” I snapped.

  He lifted his brows and looked down at the pie crust he was rolling out (always there for me, my big brother Lawrie).

  “We need to bake three of them, Lawrie,” I reminded him.

  “And they’ll get baked,” he replied.

  I looked to the crust and mumbled, “I should have made them yesterday.”

  And I should have, though I didn’t know how I could have, what with spending half the day baking and decorating Thanksgiving-themed cupcakes to take to Dove House, where, after Mickey left, Lawr, the kids and I were going.

  That part of the day I wasn’t nervous about. I was just excited. The kids were finally going to meet the residents and I was going to get to show them and Lawr what I did that meant so much to me.

  And bonus, I got to spend time with my old folks on Thanksgiving with my family (or most of it, but maybe next year I’d get to take Mickey, Cillian and Aisling).

  “MeeMee,” he called and I looked back to him. “If he’s playing some game, you don’t want to lose it and fall into his plans. You also don’t want the kids, who know they should be here and are already probably stressed out that they aren’t, to be more stressed with you phoning and texting. Give them another half an hour. If they don’t show, call Auden again. If he doesn’t answer, call Conrad just to be sure they’re okay. In the meantime, try to relax.”

  Relaxing was an impossibility.

  I was a wreck.

  Lawrie read it.

  “MeeMee, sweetheart, I know this is a big day. It’s a big day for the kids too. But you have to guide it. Get in that space. Okay?”

  What he meant was that I had to pull myself together.

  Again.

  Because of Conrad’s antics.

  Again.

  But I had made up my mind that he would never again best me.

  So I nodded.

  The doorbell rang.

  I tensed.

  I didn’t recognize the shadow in the glass, which was concerning.

  As I studied it, Lawrie said, “This is ready. Get it in the plate and pour that gunk in it. I’ll get the door.”

  He gave me no opportunity to reply, he walked toward the door.

  I rolled the crust on the rolling pin and was spreading it out over the pie plate when I heard, “Signed delivery.”

  That surprised me.

  Who did signed deliveries on holidays?

  I kept spreading as I watched Lawr sign then take the envelope with an expression of gratitude before he closed the door and turned to me.

  He was walking and examining the envelope.

  He got to the end of the counter and lifted it up. “Mom and Dad’s attorneys.”

  I relaxed.

  “I have Preston amassing information I can use
against Conrad in case he feels the need to get ugly in the future,” I told him something I’d shared previously.

  Lawrie didn’t think this was a suitable explanation. I knew it by the puzzled expression on his face as he studied the envelope.

  I crimped the crust as I said, “It’s probably something to do with that.”

  “Special delivery on a holiday?” Lawrie asked.

  I shrugged.

  “Can I open it?” he queried.

  “Go for it,” I invited.

  I kept crimping and had moved on to pouring the pumpkin in the crust when he growled, “Son of a bitch.”

  My attention snapped to him.

  He looked angry.

  No, he looked enraged.

  I tensed again but not much. It was likely Conrad had done some other horrible thing while we were married and Preston’s investigator had found it.

  But except for today’s situation, Conrad had been quiet and not annoying me. So even though it was good to have all the ammunition I might need, so far he hadn’t done anything to make me consider using it.

  “If this is going to annoy me, considering Conrad is already pissing me off today, if you could just take that to my room and shove it somewhere the kids can’t see, I’ll look at it later.”

  Lawrie gave his eyes to me. “It isn’t from Preston. It’s from Addison.”

  I stared at him.

  Addison Hillingham was my parents’ attorney at the firm. He was a managing partner.

  He was also the executor of the Calway trusts.

  “I’m sorry?” I asked my brother.

  “Put that in the oven” he ordered.

  “Lawrie—”

  “Get it baking, Amelia.”

  Oh God.

  He called me Amelia.

  He never called me Amelia unless something was happening where he had to go all big brother, like I was doing something stupid after Conrad dumped me, he’d heard about it and he called me to tell me to stop it and pull myself together.

  I quickly put the pie in the oven then turned back to Lawrie.