by Cari Quinn
“Still thinking the same way you were a few minutes ago, Leelee?” Her father asked, reading her mind.
“Yes, I am.” She said it almost defiantly as she bent to stroke Lola’s head.
Being home meant having her faithful dog at her side once again. That included cuddling in bed with her, no matter how much Nick bitched. It was more bluster than anything else. He pretended to hate her cat yet she saw him sneaking Spot treats all the time.
“What’d that damn boy do with those other two pies?” Her father said, shaking his head as he checked the oven.
“Ate them probably. He’s skinny as a whip. Leelee, do you feed him?”
“He eats plenty, and no, I do not feed him as he’s a grown male and perfectly capable of getting his own nourishment without me providing it to him.”
Though she had taken to slipping extra vitamins and protein into the morning shakes she got him to drink every now and then. The vegetables she added to their nightly meals were for her as much as him.
Bah, so she did make sure he was fed. She was acting motherly already. She’d have to stop that. He probably wouldn’t need to eat for a long while if he’d scarfed down two whole pies. Her mother’s baking was incredible, but wow. How could he still fit in his jeans?
Anyway, she had other things to consider right now. Like his wandering around outside gloveless. Which was not mothering him. He was a California boy and still wasn’t used to these conditions. As his manager, protecting his hands meant safeguarding her investment.
And her orgasms.
“I’m going to run up and grab his gloves,” she told her parents. “Be right back.”
She jogged up the stairs to the bedroom they’d been given this trip. Instead of staying at the lodge on the property as they had most of the other times they’d visited, they’d been given one of the family rooms upstairs in the main house due to “all the last-minute bookings”. At least that had been her mother’s explanation.
The room they were staying in actually had a bit of legend. Her father had been back home on leave from the Navy and staying at Happy Acres with Laverne and her parents for a short time while the new couple searched for a house. They’d married shortly before her father shipped out, so there had been no time to find a place to live or begin to plan their life.
Then on Fred’s first night back on leave, he and her mother had conceived Lila, or so the story went.
It didn’t end there. Some family friends stayed in the room when Lila was little, and she grew up hearing stories about the “magic” bedroom where they’d conceived their little boy. She wasn’t sure what to make of the fact that her parents had insisted she and Nick had to stay in that bedroom, though her mother sure had beamed when Lila had taken her parents aside for their emergency talk.
She wasn’t one for superstition. Or magic anything, except maybe Nick’s magic hands. So it wasn’t a lie of omission not to tell him the meaning behind the bedroom, right? She was still on her birth control pills, and no woo-woo stuff could supersede science.
Right? Right.
Inside the cozy, rustic bedroom, she stopped and sucked in a quick breath of home. Lemon furniture polish, her mother’s perfume and the scent of fresh baked goods threw her right back into her childhood.
It was so good to be back.
She aimed for the bags Nick had stashed under the wide bay windows that overlooked the snowy landscape. A quick glance outside showed it was getting darker and the storm was worsening by the moment. She’d just find the gloves and run them out to him before he lost a damn finger.
He’d brought two bags and the first one didn’t hold anything remotely resembling cold weather gear. She did find an intriguing purple case that held some kind of battery-operated wand, however, and she had to press her thighs together to resist trying it out right now.
Toys were a fairly new part of their repertoire, as was the occasional naughty movie. Like seriously naughty. She pretty much blushed all the way through them, and he chuckled every time she covered her eyes.
Then he’d do some variation of whatever was on-screen to her and well, she forgot to be embarrassed anymore.
Reluctantly, she tucked away the purple case and searched through the second bag. She closed her hand around a thick book and smiled. He was forever squirreling away novels and non-fiction titles, hiding them as if they were contraband. Wonder what he was reading now. The last book she’d seen him tucking between the mattress and box spring was one on overcoming stage fright—
She frowned at the cover of the book in her hand. Her heart started to throb. Beat was much too tame of a word.
Oops, She’s Knocked Up—Now What?
Was that even a real title? What lame-brained male thought that would actually sell?
Though it obviously had, because she was holding the proof in her hand. Her trembling hand.
Her first emotion was fear. If she’d found this book in Martin’s bag beyond the first few years of their marriage, it wouldn’t have been because he’d knocked her up—he would’ve knocked up someone else, one of the many women he’d cheated on her with. Case in point, the woman who’d recently given birth to his baby. He’d impregnated her before his marriage to Lila had been final. No surprise there. But he wouldn’t buy this sort of book anyhow.
She swallowed down most of the niggling concern as she paged through the bookmarked and highlighted passages. Nick wasn’t cheating on her or knocking up other women. He also wasn’t reading this to be a supportive friend to Jazz, who had been through pregnancy before and had a capable husband to read such a book, were he inclined.
No, Nick had this book because he was imagining them having babies. Or more precisely, one male child according to his mandate last weekend.
Shaking her head, she flipped through the book. Different things were highlighted, from being prepared for crazy cravings in the middle of the night to massaging swollen ankles to what foods helped with pregnancy-related heartburn. The section that was highlighted and starred made her giggle out loud.
Unsurprisingly, it related to sex, and how much women in the second trimester craved it.
Hmm. Good to know. She’d never gotten that far the first time. She’d miscarried shortly after the beginning of the second trimester all those years ago, and she definitely hadn’t been feeling excessively horny.
More like uneasy, worried and sick.
This was a different situation though. Nick might not be fully ready for kids, but the idea was at least swarming in his brain. Perhaps Gray had helped put it there, since he and Jazz were on their way to singlehandedly repopulating the earth. Maybe Nick had somehow intuited Lila’s baby lust, no matter how much she shoved it down.
One way or another, he knew what she longed for, and he was trying to come to terms with the idea.
She pressed her face to the closed book and sniffled back the burn in her throat. If he’d presented her with a winged pink pony, she couldn’t have loved him more than she did at that moment.
Hurriedly, she tucked the book away. She felt bad for violating his privacy. She shouldn’t have looked, and she would confess later. But God, he’d made her so happy just from wanting to read about the idea. That alone would hold her for a good year or two, if he wanted more space to figure things out for himself.
Or even if he didn’t. If this exploratory trip of his reached a dead end, she would deal with it. He’d already given her so much. Kids meant a lot to her, but they weren’t a deal-breaker.
She’d told Donovan the truth. Nick was her deal-breaker, in all things.
She found his gloves in one of the pockets of his bag. They were the ones her mother had made for him last Christmas, made out of super soft navy and gray wool. And yes, she was sniffing them, just to get a hint of his smoky scent.
Pathetic, Ronson. Completely pathetic.
She rose and hurried back downstairs. She had a last minute, spur-of-the-freaking-moment errand to run, and it was getting late. The open h
ouse would be starting in just a few hours.
Her father was waiting at the bottom of the staircase. “Can you give these to Nick?” she asked.
He frowned. “You really think I’m the one who should find that boy right now? I might be tempted to give him a piece of my mind. Eating all your mother’s hard work. Now we’ll be short on dessert for tonight.”
“Sorry, Daddy.” She kissed his cheek. “I have to run an errand and it can’t wait. It’s an emergency.”
Gripping her shoulders, he pulled her back. “What kind of emergency? Are you okay?”
“I’m fine.” She smiled hugely and bounced on her tiptoes, eager to get going. “Better than I’ve been in…well, maybe ever.”
Ever, she decided. Definitely ever.
“Be gentle on Nick,” she added. “His family is different than ours, and he’s not used to all this. Even with all our trips back here, this is still a strange new world. But he’s trying, I swear.”
Her father patted her back and stepped back. “If you’re happy, his…idiosyncrasies don’t make a hoot of difference. I won’t beat him too black and blue while you go off and do your errand. But get back here as fast as you can, all right? The roads are getting worse and your mother will worry.”
“You won’t though, right?” she teased.
“Just you wait,” he said as he always did, referring to how she’d be with her future kids. This time, there was a twinkle in his eye.
“Is that what the suite upstairs is for? Nudging nature, Daddy?”
Her stern, no-nonsense father actually fidgeted. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Leelee. Now go on, get out of here.”
“Gone. Thank you,” she called over her shoulder as she rushed out into the storm.
Snow was awesome. He couldn’t wait to make snow angels with Lila and have a snowball fight with her and maybe do donuts in the icy parking lot until he got caught.
Looking for a thief dog in said snow? Not nearly as fun.
Nick trudged along the back of the building, heading toward the fence that ringed the property. The fence closed in the part zoned for activities in the fall and winter, though the Ronsons owned the land far beyond the crop of buildings that stood beside the store. They had miles of trees, and a bunch of old structures that Lila had said they were in the process of starting to renovate. A distillery, a couple of outbuildings, even a tiny, ramshackle chapel.
He’d discovered the chapel on one of their trips earlier in the year. It appeared much different in the green of summer than it did now, as the small, weathered building almost seemed to teeter in the wind. His eyes narrowed on the front door, and the dark shadow that blocked it. While he watched, the door opened and closed behind the visitor, the sound muffled in the preternatural hush caused by the falling snow.
Who the fuck was that?
Twilight hung over the property, the dark becoming deeper and denser with every passing moment. Soon the snow would blanket everything so completely that he wouldn’t be able to make it anywhere near the chapel.
Still, no one should be out there right now. The open house, whatever it was, would be taking place in the main building. The few farm animals the Ronsons kept were out in the paddock, which was in the opposite direction as was the farmhouse where the stablehands worked.
Maybe the hungry dog had an equally starving human equivalent. If so, Nick would give him some money and send him packing.
He might not be able to keep an eye on bakery items or protect flooring, but he could kick some ass if need be.
Stomping through the snow toward the chapel, he pushed his freezing hands into his pockets. Okay, so Lila had been right about the gloves. She tended to be right about too much and had a plan to deal with most eventualities. That was only one part of the reason why he figured she’d be the perfect woman to start a family with.
A few feet from the chapel, he stopped dead. Holy shit, he was pretty sure he wanted to start a family with her. As in a child. Their child. And it wasn’t even entirely due to the fact that Gray had left out some salient information when discussing pregnancy sex. Namely that the woman not only enjoyed lovemaking, many actually had months where they desperately craved it due to hormones.
No condoms, horny wife, no worry of pregnancy because hey, done deal. Basically, a one-way trip to Sexapalooza.
Gray should’ve been informing him of all the preggo bennies, but no, he’d played it cool. He was so going to kick his ass the next time he saw him, guaranteed.
Nick continued on, his gaze sharpening on the light flickering against the glass inside the chapel. Like a lighter. Just a little hint of illumination that danced behind the colorful panes of stained glass turned muted in the lengthening shadows.
Fucking A. Was the dude using a lighter to keep warm or was he a frigging pyro?
He fingered his phone, still tucked in his pocket. He was old school and had been a poor kid at that. Back when he was younger, you took care of business yourself. You didn’t call the cops, and you didn’t wait for backup. Whatever the trash needed to be taken out, you did it yourself. But things were different now. His hands were his livelihood. And he wasn’t going to freaking die over a fight with some intruder. He had too much to live for now.
Someone he loved too much to leave.
So he had his phone at the ready. Hey, maybe this guy wasn’t some kind of creeper. Perhaps he even had a good reason for skulking around out there alone in the dark.
Nick reached for the icy cold door handle. Time to find out.
Bracing himself, he eased open the door as quietly as possible and stepped into almost unrelieved blackness. Save for the patch of glowing flame that illuminated a face he knew all too well.
A man who wasn’t only his friend, but who had once been like his other half. Heterosexually speaking, because sharing the occasional woman in bed back in the old days was one thing, but they did not cross streams.
Simon Kagan turned his head, and the flame flickered in a gust of wind. The fire—and the building—trembled. “Hello, brother.”
6
Simon
Nick’s face was almost comical. His hair was a bit wild from the whipping wind, and he sure as shit wasn’t dressed for the day.
Then again Simon wasn’t either.
He couldn’t even remember how he’d gotten to this end of the orchard. He’d wandered away from the lively sounds of people. Laughter and light drove him deeper into the skeletal trees. The sweet, crisp undertones of apples mixed with the decaying leaves and snow crunching under his boots until he’d found this place.
At first he’d thought it was a cabin, until he noticed the spire and crooked cross on top. He’d never been a church type, though there was always a comfort there that he couldn’t describe. In the middle of nowhere, a little sanctuary in the overgrown corner of the orchard.
He certainly wasn’t dressed to pick his way over the brush and into the dark and dusty chapel. He and Margo had been at a holiday party with her old Philharmonic people in Boston. He’d been so surprised that she’d asked to see her old friends that he’d said yes before he thought it through. She so rarely asked for anything these days.
So, a trip into New York for a shoot had ended with Simon surrounded by band geeks acting like they’d never been in a metropolitan city in their lives. There had been much drinking. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been the DD on an outing. Margo had been in her element, and he’d learned long ago how to blend with just about anyone.
Musicians he understood. Even if their idea of a six-string was more violin than guitar. Or did theirs have five strings? Hmm.
Simon thought of the movement of his girl’s slim fingers, the vibration of the rosined bow over thick strings, and the look she sometimes got on her face. Not all the time. Just sometimes when he caught her in the window, her attention not on her instrument, but on the pulse of ocean and tourists outside their home.
The closest he got to music these days.
/>
Oh, he still did his voice lessons with Jerry, but they weren’t music. They were exercises and workouts. Jerry’s special brand of coaching.
He blinked out of those thoughts. Back into the flame shot dark where Nick was.
Where his past had found him once again.
The heat from the lighter singed his fingertips and he extinguished the light.
“Using the dark for a sneak attack?”
Simon swallowed a sigh. Oh, how he’d missed the snark and blade of his best friend’s tongue. He flicked open his Zippo once more until the flint and spark caught. He moved to the old candles he’d seen on his first perusal of the mini church.
The wick was old and stuck to the fat, white candle. It took a few tries to light it, but he caught another flare of light from the other side of the altar.
Nick had moved to do the same.
The soft light turned Nick’s face to shadow and sharp angles. His face wasn’t so hollow anymore, but even with an extra ten pounds on his whip-lean body, he’d never be anything but a bunch of angles.
“You look good, Nicky.”
His eyebrows snapped down as he turned and stuffed the lighter away. “Wish I could say the same. You look like shit, Simon.”
He inclined his head. It had been a long month of shoots and sleepless nights in between. His make-up girl was forever threatening to tie him down and knock him out with pills.
He’d thought about taking a pill just for the oblivion of sleep, but he couldn’t quite get there. It was a shaky step toward an edge he was desperately fighting to stay away from.
“Been busy.”
Nick withdrew a pack of smokes from his pants and shook out a cigarette. “Hard work, standing around for pretty pictures.”
Simon watched the cigarette dance through his fingers before he finally put it in his mouth and cupped his fingers around the end. The cherry glowed bright in the semi-dark as Nick took a long drag in, and blew it out his nose like a dragon.
The acrid scent of the first flare of tobacco was a welcome scent. Plenty of models smoked around him to keep their fingers busy, but here and now it was a memory of easier times.