Raising Steel (Men of Steel Book 9)

by Mj Fields

  “I just can’t—” I begin, and then he is hugging me, and I give in to his embrace.

  After a few moments, he pulls back and looks down at me, and the way he looks at me is comforting.

  “Let’s get out of here and grab a bite to eat. You’ll feel better, Joe.”

  I release my grip on the back of his shirt and nod. Then he steps back, and there is another look that I can’t quite place.

  *.*.*.*

  “You’re quiet, Joe. What are you thinking?” Thomas asks as we walk down the road toward a blinking neon sign that says “Diner.”

  “I’m thinking I’m glad I wore these boots.”

  He laughs, and I realize I have slurred my words.

  “Very nice.”

  When we walk in, I slide into the first vacant, red vinyl booth, and Thomas slides in across from me.

  After ordering us two cups of black coffee, he leans back and slings his arm over the back of the seat he is occupying. “Tell me something you’ve never done that you wish you had,” he says with a slight smile.

  “I don’t think I can. My life has been wonderful.”

  “I see.” He smiles at the tall blonde waitress who sets our coffee mugs in front of us, and she blushes. He notices and shakes his head slightly as he looks down at his cup. “I never had children.”

  “I never seemed to be able to stop.” I laugh.

  “I never thought I could love someone as much as I love Carly and think of her as my own.”

  “She’s very loveable.”

  “I will agree, but that’s not part of this little exchange.” He motions between the two of us. “You never …”

  “I never dated.”

  “I never married.”

  “I never would have imagined not being married.”

  “I would have married Katherine in a second. Hell, I proposed-.”

  “I never,” I remind him gently.

  “I never saw it coming; that’s for damn sure,” he says, his eyes harsher than before, and he takes a sip of his coffee.

  “I never did, either.”

  We sit quietly, looking at each other. Then he breaks the silence. “I never said good-bye, and I am sure that’s what makes this letting go thing even more impossible.”

  “I never did, either, not even at his funeral.”

  Again, there is silence, the shared sadness hanging heavy above us.

  “I never told Carly, but her mother and I had the discussion about, if one of us passed on, the other should love again. I think Carly knows. Hell, she’s been pushing me pretty hard.”

  “Must be in the—”

  “I never,” he reminds me and smirks, pushing his cup in a circle.

  “I never expected the conversation I had this morning with the girls to happen.”

  He reaches out instantly and takes my hand. “Time out. They did it out of love.”

  “I know. I’m just not sure what I’ll do with my time.”

  “Make friends of your own.” He smiles. “I know how difficult it is to even consider the possibility of stepping outside of a life you created out of love. I’m sure that’s why I ventured away from California. Carly was in my life for a short time, but she is a constant reminder to me that I had something real.”

  “She adores you.”

  “The feeling is mutual.”

  “Kiki adores you.” I can’t help smiling at my granddaughter’s name.

  “They all adore you.”

  “Oh, yes, and I all of them.”

  He looks down at our hands still holding on to each other’s and shakes his head. “Do you ever think our holding onto the past reminds them even more of the loss? Makes it harder for them?”

  He lets go when the waitress comes over to take our order.

  “Something greasy. Fries and chili for me.”

  “I’ll take the same.” I nod to her, even though she isn’t paying a bit of attention to me. Her eyes are fixated on Thomas’s soft, warm, and inviting smile and mannerisms.

  He looks at me. “Is that all?”

  I nod and the waitress takes the hint and walks away.

  “That’s a good place to start over.” I nod toward her. “She is taken with you.”

  “Not my type,” he says, running his hand through his brown waves. Then he smiles, and the corners of his eyes crinkle.

  “Do you even know what your type is?” I ask.

  “Sure do.”

  “I have an idea,” I say a bit louder than intended and laugh at myself as I grab my phone from my purse. “Okay, tell me what you want in a date.”

  “Someone who doesn’t want a date.”

  “Explain?”

  “Do you want to date someone?”

  I shake my head. “We’re talking about you.”

  “Actually, we’re both here for the same reason.” He takes a sip of his coffee. “We’re here because Carly and the girls think we need someone to make us happy.”

  “When, in all reality, we are happy. We just miss the loves of our lives.”

  “And sex,” he says.

  My face turns red; his does not.

  Before I have a chance to say anything, the waitress is back with our french fries and chili.

  When she leaves, he continues. “You see, I have the relationships that keep me whole and going every day. Bringing in someone new—an outsider—would just fuck things up.”

  I am a bit shocked by his choice of words.

  “I’d lose the only family I have, and quite frankly, Joe, I’d rather beat off forever than for that to happen.”

  “We’re your only family?”

  He looks at me, nods, takes a drink of his coffee, and then sits back. “I have an older sister in her fifties. She’s a surgeon and has an amazing life partner. I was a”—he pauses—“surprise, I guess. My parents had me well into their forties, and they passed away a couple of months apart, very close to my thirtieth birthday.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  He shakes his head. “Katherine, Carly, your family, little Bell, and Kiki…” He laughs. “Let’s just say, with being the child of two doctors and a sister who was more like an aunt, life was always too busy. Until Katherine, I don’t think I knew what spending an entire day in bed was like.”

  “Great days,” I say, remembering when Jonathon and I did just that before children.

  He laughs and I know he is practically reading my mind. “We would read to one another a lot.”

  “Oh.” I blushed, thinking he must think I am … well, just like my children.

  “Now don’t get shy on me, Joe. There was that, as well.”

  His blue eyes sparkle like Jonathon’s used to when he looked at me. I get lost in them, maybe for too long. My face burns red, but still I look into his eyes.

  “My perfect date would be spending the day in bed, reading to the woman I had just made love to the entire night before.”

  I clear my throat because, in my alcohol induced state, I am thinking of sex. Top that with the fact that this is the first time I have discussed sex openly with a man when it was just the two of us, and it brings out feelings I haven’t had in years.

  “Talk to me, Joe. We’re two adults here, no children or grandchildren in ear shot. Tell me what you are lacking in your life.”

  “I think you and I both know what we’re lacking,” I say, and oddly, the embarrassment thing happens again.

  “You’re blushing,” he says, his lip curling up just a little as his thumb rubs up and down the handle of his coffee mug.

  “I’m talking about sex with a man who is not my husband. I am talking about sex and not scolding my boys about talking about it.” I can’t help smiling. “It’s different.” I look out the window and shake my head. “Everything is different now, though, isn’t it?”

  “Shall we indulge?”

  I snap my head around as he takes a french fry out of the basket, dips it in his chili, and pops it in his mouth.

  “It’s delicious,
Joe. Try it.”

  CHAPTER FOUR

  It has been quiet since we began eating. After we’re done, we leave the diner and cross the road to another bar. He thinks maybe we should call it a day, but I don’t want to.

  “Ladies choice,” he says.

  “Your mother raised you right.” I smile as he opens the door for me to Che Che’s Bar.

  “That, she did,” he whispers as we make our way in.

  The bartender is a woman in her late forties, early fifties. She has huge breasts and very dark hair.

  “What can I get for you two lovebirds?” she asks as she wipes down the bar in front of us.

  “Oh, we’re just friends.” I smile as I sit down.

  “Well, then”—she looks away from me and at Thomas—“what can I get for you?”

  Thomas pays no mind to her obvious flirtation, none at all, as he looks at me. “Are we back on a Jack kick or something different?”

  “I’ll take a beer?”

  He smirks. “Is that a question?”

  “I’m normally a wine drinker.”

  “We have wine,” the bartender interjects, and Thomas’s eyes sparkle again as he looks at me.

  “Two Coronas,” he says, still looking at me. As soon as she walks away, he smiles. “I think the wine here comes out of a box, not from a vineyard in Livorno.”

  “I’ve drunk box wine before and liked it.”

  He shakes his head and smiles.

  “Okay, what’s with the head shaking, Thomas?”

  “Habit, I suppose,” he says as he stands up and pulls some cash from his pocket. His shirt lifts, and I see a part of Thomas I never expected. Thomas has an Adonis belt.

  I quickly look away and thank the bartender, who is checking out Thomas.

  I am buzzed, warm, and now with all the talk about what I am missing … Sex is definitely on my mind.

  He sits down and continues, “Can I be brutally honest with you?”

  I clear my throat as I try to clear my mind. “Of course.”

  “I am a very analytical man, and I have watched you for a couple of years now. I know when you are dishing out pleasantries and smiles, even when it isn’t what you truly want to do. Your features get sharper, and sometimes, you get this little eye twitch. When you are offering advice you know won’t be received well, your tone softens and so do your eyes. You never want to hurt anyone. When you are adamant about something, your shoulders are squared, your head held high, and it is easy to see there is no way you’ll waiver. When you have given up or given in to something, your shoulders slouch a bit, and your expression is nearly heartbreaking because no one who cares about you wants you to give up. No one wants you to give in. Everyone around you wants you to be strong, Joe. Everyone … but me.” He takes in a slow, deep breath, and his eyes darken. I know immediately at this point that whatever he is going to say is going to change our dynamic. “I have a proposition for you.”

  “A proposition?”

  “Yes.” He nods once, his eyes raking slowly over my face then down my body, causing me to become nervous. “I don’t want my life to change, and I know you don’t want yours to, but I would like someone I consider a dear friend, someone I trust, someone who knows they can trust me, to spend an occasional afternoon like this with.”

  Quickly, I agree because I am secretly hoping he doesn’t say what I think he is going to—

  “And someone I can occasionally spend some very intimate and private time with.”

  —say.

  “I would hope, as adults, we can discuss—”

  “You want me to agree to fuck you?”

  “Joe.” He raises his eyebrow and looks around.

  “Thomas?” I say, as if I am put off when I am actually not. Not one bit.

  “Sharing a bed once in a while with someone you respect and are already comfortable with wouldn’t be as difficult as finding someone who wants to own every part of your life, change the dynamics in a family that is already functioning perfectly—”

  “Yes.” I slam back my beer and set the empty glass on the coaster.

  “Yes, what?”

  I stand up and push my stool back, take a step forward, and look him square in his blue eyes. “Yes, I’ll fuck you.”

  He looks around again as if someone might get offended and then back at me. “Well, all right, then. Let’s hammer out the details.”

  “Or let’s just leave and do this.”

  “Before you lose your nerve?” he asks, finishing the truth of the sentence that I would have never spoken.

  “Why waste time?”

  “I’m not willing to throw away a friendship, our friendship. Boundaries need to be set, schedules need to be—”

  I walk toward the door, drunk yet not loaded, with all intention of just doing it, and he follows me out with my coat and purse.

  “Josephina.” He gently grabs my elbow.

  I turn and look at him. “I am agreeable right now.”

  “You’ve had a lot to drink.”

  “I’ve made up my mind,” I counter.

  “You’re allowed to change it. Think on this, and—”

  I grab his face with both hands and press my lips against his. It is not out of desire that I do this; it is a need to just have it over and done with. I need to move on, understand that my children don’t need me in every part of their lives and that they apparently think I need to find a man. I don’t, but right now, I’ll give it a try. I need to … oh … oh …

  His hand grips the back of my neck, and he groans as his other hand slides slowly down until it sits on the small of my back. His thumb hooks in my waistband as his tongue touches my lips. He moves me backward slowly until my back rests against the building.

  I open my mouth for him and accept it, give permission for it, enjoy it as his tongue softly caresses mine. However, he pulls back and looks down at me, and my heart hurts momentarily.

  He is looking at me like my Jonathon did that first time he kissed me and every day until he was no longer. But he is not Jonathon.

  He shakes his head, and I close my eyes, lifting my chin and expecting more of what he just gave me. Instead, he kisses my forehead and pulls my head roughly against his chest.

  “I am so ready for this, Joe.” He kisses my head again. “I just don’t think you are. It’s understandable. You had many, many more years with him than I did her.”

  “Are you going to continue this conversation with yourself, or are you going to kiss me again?”

  He starts to shake his head again, so I push up on my toes and kiss him.

  His kiss is not as gentle this time, and God, how I have craved being kissed like this again, but I never expected I would be able to let myself go.

  I find my hands rubbing up his back while his run down mine. Then I feel him grip my ass and pull me against his hard length, and I gasp.

  He quickly pulls back. “Too much?”

  “Not sure yet, but Thomas?”

  “Joe?”

  “You need to remember who I am, and if I didn’t want this—”

  “Right. Let’s get the hell out of here.”

  He kisses me again hard, pulls back, turns, and then hails a cab.

  We sit in the back of the cab and are much closer than when we came. His hand is wrapped around mine, his thumb stroking the back of it in soft, slow circles. I feel a rush of warmth that I haven’t in a long time.

  “Desire,” escapes my intoxicated mouth in an unintended whisper, and he squeezes my hand as he looks over at me.

  Looking at Thomas now is different for obvious reasons. He is a very attractive man and younger than I am. Dear God, I wonder how much younger. Do I really want to know?

  “Are you still with me, Josephina?” he whispers, and I look up from his big, thick hand holding mine and nod. “Good. I have wanted you for a very long time.”

  “What?” I ask, thinking I may have misunderstood him.

  “Last Thanksgiving, as a matter of fact. That�
��s the day I decided I had to have you.” He sighs, “You are a very beautiful woman. I know you have probably heard it a million times, but—”

  “Not in a very long time. Well, aside from my sons telling me, but that’s more of an obligation than—”

  “You are stunning, timeless, sexy as hell, and Josephina, your confidence is such a damn turn on I can’t even begin to tell you how many times I imagined you under me.”

  I feel my mouth form an O, and he gives a somewhat proud smile.

  He pulls me closer and leans down so his forehead touches mine. “I promise you I will not disappoint you. I have done this you-and-I thing so many times alone in my head that I know exactly where to start and how it will end.”

  “Is that so?” My voice waivers.

  He nods as he stares at my lips then holds my hand up and delivers tender kisses against it.

  As we pull through the gates of our community and head toward my place, I suddenly feel a bit panicky. I wonder if I have changed the sheets on my bed and then remember I do it like clockwork every Sunday evening. I wonder if I shaved my legs today, and then I feel my panic worsening.

  Dear God, what am I doing? I am nearly forty-five years old. I am a grandmother. Is this okay? It certainly isn’t natural. I should have my head checked.

  “This is a mutually beneficial arrangement between two adults who trust one another, Josephina.”

  I look out the window and quickly pull my hand free. “One of whom has four boys who are angry their mother went off the grid today.”

  Cyrus, Jase, Zandor, and Xavier are in the driveway, all with their phones in their hands and all looking up as the cab pulls to the curb.

  “Thomas,” I say as I look at him, “thank you so much for today, but I think—”

  “Call me when they leave, and I will—”

  I get out before he finishes and shut the door behind me.

  “Momma Joe, where the hell have you been?” Jase huffs.

  I lower my sunglasses, put my nose in the air, and walk on by.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  I walk into my apartment and set my keys in the metal bowl, which Jase made during his most difficult time, and bend over to pull off my boots.