Against Me (Cedar Tree Book 3)

by Freya Barker

  "We're good. Why don't you just take the elevator upstairs and lay down for a bit. I'll check on you in a little."

  A sweet kiss on my lips and a shove in the direction of the front hallway and he's off outside.

  Must've been sleeping for a bit because the sun is pretty low in the sky when I open my eyes and look at the mountains. At the same time I feel the pain in my back returning, but much more intense, and moving into my lower abdomen. Oh fuck, this is a contraction. Relax and it will go away.

  I manage to breathe through the intense sensation but before I have a chance to get up and find Caleb, another one hits, this one even stronger then before. It's a fucking battle not to grit my teeth but I know any added tension will only make it worse. Breathe through it. Another one builds before the last one is even gone, and part of me is starting to panic. I can't seem to move.

  It's ok, I tell myself. This takes hours. I can handle pain. Someone will come upstairs.

  One after another, the storm of contractions become so overwhelming, I’m barely thinking straight. When at the height of another one a flood of water gushes between my legs, I can't help it, I cry out loudly. Within seconds I hear Caleb shouting, "Mal! Get Naomi and come up here." Then his voice turns soothing in my ear. "You'll be ok, Yázhí. All your people are here. We can do this."

  If it wasn't for the stupid mutt showing up just when he did, and bugging me to let him inside the house, I might not have heard Katie cry out from upstairs.

  One look at her and the state of the bed and my guess was this baby was going to be born right here―at home, whether we liked it or not. First person I think of to call is my brother; I need him here and Naomi of course. Christ what a stroke of luck to have Naomi here.

  Katie is barely registering her surroundings, she's already so drawn into herself. With Naomi and Mal's footsteps coming up the stairs, I start pulling off her sopping wet pants and underwear. Mal moves in behind Katie and starts whispering to her while Naomi slides in beside me and quickly starts shooting off instructions.

  "Look,” she says, at the peak of the next contraction when a little patch of ink black hair becomes visible between her stretched labia. "We're having this baby in the next few minutes"

  "Will it be ok?"

  "Thirty-seven weeks, Caleb. Technically it's considered full term."

  "You take her, I'll grab what we need," Mal says and I take his place, pulling my wife up between my legs.

  I can't remember much of the next minutes until Naomi tells both Katie and I to slide our hands around the slippery little body between Katie's legs and lift it up on her belly. Time stands still to engrave that moment in our memories for eternity. My hands cover Katie's as we pull our son up, where he is warm and nestled between his mother's chest and the warmth of our hands.

  "Caleb, want to cut the cord?"

  I'm about to answer, when Katie puts a hand on mine.

  "I'd like Malachi to cut the cord. Mal? Would you?" Katie asks in a soft voice.

  My brother simply nods and takes the sterilized scissors from Naomi.

  I bury my face in my little one's neck and count my blessings.

  ——THE END——

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Freya Barker craved reading about 'real' people, those who are perhaps less than perfect, but just as deserving of romance, hot monkey sex and some thrills and chills in their lives – So she decided to write about them.

  Always creative, from an early age on she danced and sang, doodled, created, cooked, baked, quilted and crafted. Her latest creative outlets were influenced by an ever-present love for reading. First through blogging, then cover art and design, and finally writing.

  Born and raised in the Netherlands, she packed her two toddlers, and eight suitcases filled with toys to move to Canada. No stranger to new beginnings, she thrives on them.

  With the kids grown and out in the world, Freya is at the ‘prime’ of her life. The body might be a bit ramshackle, but the spirit is high and as adventurous as ever. Something you may see reflected here and there in some of her heroines.... none of who will likely be wilting flowers.

  Freya

  https://www.freyabarker.com

  https://www.goodreads.com/FreyaBarker

  https://www.facebook.com/FreyaBarkerWrites

  https://tsu.co/FreyaB

  https://twitter.com/freya_barker

  or mailto:freyabarker.writes@gmail.com

  COMING SOON

  CLEAN LINES

  (Cedar Tree #4)

  by Freya Barker

  Expected July 2015

  PROLOGUE

  “Is that gonna hurt?”

  “Remember those pokes I had to give you a few minutes ago?”

  The poor little guy nods his head furiously, tear tracks still staining his cheeks from his earlier encounter with my needle.

  “Well, those pokes were to make your skin go to sleep. Wanna see?” I watch him look at me from under his thick lashes as he nods again, this time with a little less enthusiasm as I pick up a spare needle. “I’ll do it softly first, and then a little harder and I promise I’ll stop if it hurts, okay?”

  “Okay,” comes his timid little voice.

  Five year-old Matthew came into the emergency room with his mom after a spill off the swings, right into a broken beer bottle some idiots had discarded in the park’s playground. Two good-sized lacerations, one below the other on his lower leg, of which the bottom one was deep enough to expose the bone. It was going to need a good cleaning and a fair number of stitches to close, but first I needed to freeze the area and that was not fun for the little squirt, who had screamed bloody murder. I’m not about to traumatize him even further and am trying for his cooperation, which will be the faster way to go, if I can get it.

  A few gentle pricks with the needle bring out a big smile on Matthew’s face, and when I poke a little harder he even giggles.

  “You are one tough little super kid, aren’t you?” I smile at him.

  “I didn’t feel it!”

  “Told ya. Now I have to squirt into the cut with that bottle to clean it up really well before I put some stitches in, but you know you can’t feel anything, right? Are you gonna be able to help me out?”

  I hand him a stack of dressings, “Here, hold on to these, and every now and then can you wipe my forehead? This is hard work, you know.” A quick reassuring wink at his mom, who is observing from the side of the bed, and I snap on a clean pair of gloves. “Ready, Matthew?”

  “Ready,” he says proudly sticking out the dressings.

  It takes me only twenty minutes or so to clean out and neatly stitch both lacerations and the only time the little guy complains is when I put a loose dressing over the stitches to protect them, cause he can’t show them off to his friends.

  I have a smile on my face listening to his little boy chatter as he walks out the room with his mother, while I make quick work of discarded needles and gauze.

  “You were really good with him.”

  The familiar deep raspy voice coming from the doorway startles me and I turn around to face its owner. Chief Deputy Sheriff Joe Morris is leaning his impressive frame against the doorpost, a small smile playing on his lips. Damn. That man does interesting things to my insides every time he focuses those baby blues on me. Tall, at least a good foot taller than I am, dirty blond hair sprinkled with the odd hint of grey and always a tad on the long side making it curl at the ends; perpetual scruff on his chin and those long limbs he manages to move gracefully; he is sight for sore eyes. He is also a persistent flirt.

  “Thanks. I like little kids - they’re so direct and straightforward. Don’t give or want any bullshit. It’s refreshing.”

  “Huh. Straightforward you say?” He pushes his body off the doorframe and slowly stalks in my direction, freezing me like a deer caught in headlights. “I think I remember how to do straightforward, if that’s how you prefer it.”

  Walking right up to me I can almost feel the body hea
t radiating off him and I have to tilt my head back to see his face.

  “Have dinner with me tonight.” He holds up his hand to stop me when I go to turn him down, again. “Don’t. Hear me out. We’ve done this dance for weeks now; the flirting, the playful banter. Trying to get you to agree to a date and you turning me down - it’s been a fun game, but I’m serious now. Have dinner with me tonight. I’m interested in you and unless I’m way off base, I think you might be interested too.”

  I’m struck dumb. Literally. Normally quick with the comebacks, he has taken all the wind out of my sails with this display of honesty. He’s right, for weeks he has been coming in on occasion on official business, or I’ve bumped into him in town and we’ve flirted - innocently. Or so I thought. And I have turned down every semi-serious invitation he has issued, thinking either I wasn’t ready to step on that ride again or that he wasn’t serious. Maybe a combination of both. But this sounds genuine and truth be told, I am tempted. Do I dare? The man is one walking temptation and the simple fact he is asking plain little ole me should make me giddy, but instead it makes me apprehensive.

  “Thinking hard there, sunshine,” he says, lifting a wayward curl away from my face and tucking it behind my ear. Oh geesh...

  “Okay then,” I croak out, a big frog having taken residence in my esophagus. Clearing my throat I try again, “I’ll go for dinner with you.”

  The full force of his white smile hits me midriff and I suck in a quick breath at the impact. Handing over his phone he tells me to enter my number and address. I only have a second’s hesitation, figuring that being who he is, he could probably look me up if he put his mind to it, so I throw caution to the wind and do as instructed.

  “I’ll send you a text so you’ll have mine,” he says. “Pick you up at seven tonight?”

  The few functioning braincells I have jump into action, causing me to nix that plan. “Actually, why don’t you tell me where I can meet you at seven?”

  Joe tilts his head and regards me through his thick eyelashes.

  “Okay, I’ll give you that play this first time, Naomi, even if it is against everything I’ve ever been taught.”

  At least I’ll be able to control when I leave if things don’t go well.

  *****

  When I drive up to Tequila’s at a little before seven that night, I can’t see Naomi’s car anywhere yet. I have a choice to go in and claim the table I reserved earlier, or wait out here and escort her in. Thinking it might be a nicer touch, I opt for the latter and pull my truck into a spot where I have a good view of the parking lot so I can spot her pulling in of Main Street right away. I spotted her last week getting into a brand new midnight blue Denali at Safeway, so I know what I’m looking for. Although the little brunette has somehow never had a problem grabbing my attention, from the first time I saw the back of her at the nurse’s station at the hospital; her hair up in a ponytail, wearing generic scrubs that had me mistake her for a nurse instead of recognizing her as the new doc on the block. I snicker at the memory, because the little firecracker didn’t take any time setting me straight. Dark brown eyes bright with irritation flashed as she took one gander up and down my body to finally settle on my face, a slight smirk on her face before she cut me down to size. Yes - a big challenge in a little package.

  Ever since we have build up a good rapport, with easy teasing banter and heaps of sexual tension - at least from my end, but she has persisted in dodging my invitations. Saying yes this afternoon all of a sudden, was a great surprise. I have a feeling it wasn’t an easy decision for her to make. There seems to be quite a bit going on in that pretty little head of hers that I’m eager to discover, but I have to admit, she is the first one to have me interested in going on a date in many, many years.

  I like to fuck as much as the next guy, but have managed without any entanglements, and kept it as far away from my home turf as possible. My life is complicated enough and it never seemed worth it to add to that - but for some reason Naomi makes me want to go there.

  My phone rings just as I see Naomi pull into the parking lot. I quickly answer with a short, “I can’t talk right now, I’m having dinner. Call you later.” I put the phone back in my pocket and walk over to Naomi’s ride.

  “Gosh, you startled me,” she grabs at her throat when she whips around hearing my approach behind her. It’s the first time I see her out of the drab hospital scrubs and the little black curve-hugging number she is wearing is doing amazing things to my libido. Who knew so many lovely curves were hidden under that shapeless green uniform. Her usually tied-back hair is flowing in loose shiny coffee-black waves just over her shoulders, and the hint of lipgloss is the only make-up I can detect on her fresh beautiful face. At the risk of overstepping my boundaries, I lean in for a soft kiss on her lusciously shiny lips.

  “You ready to go in?” I try to play off as casual as I can, pushing down the urge to slide my mouth over hers and taste her properly. That little appetizer certainly had my entire body at attention. Hers too.

  “What was that?” she blurts out, a blush on her cheeks.

  “You look beautiful, I’m happy you agreed to come on a date with me, and I got rid of the awkward anticipation of how your lips would feel against mine. Now I know... that I will want to have another taste later.”

  Her blush only deepens and while she still seems a little dumbfounded by my straightforward response, I quickly grab her hand and pull her with me to the entrance of the restaurant.

  No sooner had the waitress seated us at our table and taken our drink orders, or my phone starts ringing again. One quick look at the screen tells me to ignore the caller.

  “Do you have to take that? Are you ‘on call’ or whatever they call it?” Naomi asks.

  “No, nothing like that. Just something I can deal with later. I’ll turn off the sound; don’t want anymore interruptions,” I tell her, grabbing her hand over the table. I can see it makes her a little uncomfortable, but I’m not going to beat around the bush; she can know I’m interested. “Tell me about you. How did you end up in Cortez of all places?”

  “Oh my - now there’s a question that has a potential heavy load. Let’s just say we needed a change of scenery and a fresh start. Cortez seemed like the right place and I’ve always loved visiting Mesa Verde. Started with my parents when I was young.”

  I have to admit I don’t really register much after she says ‘we needed’. It implies another person in her life and I can’t help but scrutinize the fingers of the hand I’m holding in mine. No rings, but a slight indentation that might be a remainder of one. When she pulls her hand forcefully from mine I raise my eyes and meet her fiery ones.

  “Sorry,” I admit, “when you said we, I...”

  She doesn’t give me a chance to finish before giving it to me with both barrels. “You thought I would flirt with you if I had someone waiting at home? You’d think I would say yes to an invitation to dinner if I had a commitment to someone else? What kind of person do you take me for? I have a son at home, for your information, not that I think it’s any of your business at this point.” Grabbing at her purse she is almost out of her seat before I can stop her.

  “Wait. Stop. Don’t run out of here angry; my mind jumped - and I wasn’t really thinking, just reacting. Sit, and tell me about your son.”

  Reluctantly she lets me guide her back to her seat, and I wonder what caused such a strong reaction. I’m not ready to have this date end too soon. There is still much I want to learn about this intriguing little package of a woman.

  “Well, he’s thirteen and two hands full. The move here from Phoenix was as much for his benefit as mine, ‘cause I’m afraid the bigger city was going to swallow him up. Here he has more of a chance to be a kid.” She laughs a little at herself. “He just doesn’t see it that way. Yet.”

  Wow. A kid. I’m surprised to find it doesn’t send me running the way I imagined it would.

  “What about his dad?” Touchy question, I know, but I’
d like to know the potential minefield I’m wading into.

  “Oh God. Is this really what people talk about on dates? I’m so out of practice, it’s no wonder I’ve been avoiding it like the plague.”

  The slightly panicked look on her face has me throw back my head and laugh.

  “Relax. It’s not routine for me either and if you don’t want to answer, you don’t have to. I simply wanted to know if he is still in your son’s life.”

  Before she has a chance to answer, my phone started vibrating again. Third time since I turned the sound off and put it aside on the table. I’ve been trying to ignore it, but apparently it has become too much of a distraction for Naomi.

  “I really think you should answer that, it sounds like it might be urgent.”

  “Sunshine, I know who it is and I can guarantee the urgency has no basis in reality.”

  *****

  I’m gonna plop that phone of his in my water glass. Already a bit of a nervous wreck, I don’t need the buzzing every couple of minutes to shock me out of my concentration. Yes I am concentrating hard not to make an ass out of myself again. What is wrong with me? I almost stormed out of the restaurant all because of a valid concern the man had when I implied I wasn’t alone. I’ve grown so distrustful and bristly. So here I am trying to steer clear of the sordid details of my failed marriage and my douchebag ex without appearing to be too uptight and I know I’m failing miserably. It would have been safer to stay at home with my grumpy kid and read a book over pizza. The company is so freaking tempting though. He seems genuine and interested; not put off too much with my knee-jerk reactions, and I really... really liked that kiss in the parking lot. Long time since I’ve looked at with such appreciation and been kissed so sweetly. And then there’s the hand-holding - oh my - I had no idea that the slight stroke of a thumb over my knuckles could be such a rich and erotic promise. He is a lethal combination of looks, dominance, ease and charm - and even if nothing ever comes of this, Joe will surely feature with top billing in my fantasies for a long time to come.