by Lucian Bane
She smiled dreamily up at him. “Just herbs and stuff. The medicinal kind.” She leaned in and kissed his chest. “Gramps signed a five year contract with the government to grow stuff.” Soft lips grazed his nipple, making it hard to focus. “We lost the first year’s crop,” she whispered, “from pestilence.” She circled the little hardened tip with her tongue in a seductive motion, “We never regained our footing since…”
A banging on the door made them both jump. “Tara Mae! Have you drowned child!?”
“Sorry Gramma, coming.” She gave Lucian a jaw dropped look at the woman’s brashness.
“Where’s Luscious? He was downstairs and now he’s not.”
“Not sure,” Tara called, biting her knuckle not to laugh. “Maybe he went into town?”
“The car is still here.”
“He might be unloading it.”
“We did that last night.” The words weighed with suspicion.
“Well then he must be getting acquainted with the farm, Gramma. I know he’s extremely excited to help out with that.”
“Well, I’m excited myself. Luther’s here and wants to see you, can you hurry up? I’m running out of things to talk about.”
Tara pushed Lucian into the shower then hurried to the door and opened it a crack. “Gramma, why is he here, I don’t want to see him!”
“He just wants to help with the farm Tara Mae. Get on downstairs child,” she whispered.
“I’m not going.”
“You’ll go or I’ll bring him up here. I told the man he’d see you before he left and I aim to keep my word.”
“Uuuugh, fine! I’m coming but it’s hi and bye. I want to spend the day showing Lucian around the farm.”
“I thought he was already doing that.”
“Maybe he is, I said. I’ll join him.” Lucian’s mouth watered at the way her ass looked in those panties, the white cotton buried between her firm cheeks. “Now, thank you very much, shoo. I’m not a child. And I’m going to be married in sixteen days.”
“Oh,” her Gramma said, lightly, like she’d just remembered. “I have a bushel of things to do, that Lutheran needs to get out of here.”
“Yes he does!” Tara hissed in agreement, then shut the door.
Lucian was on her before she could move, pressing his body into hers, preventing her from turning. His cock pressed into her ass and their breaths shuddered out in the sudden silence.
Hands splayed on the door, she glanced over her shoulder. “We need to get down… stairs,” she gasped.
“Why are you tilting your hips then?”
“Shit,” Tara gasped, grabbing a robe. “Gramma’s coming again.”
Lucian grabbed his clothes and slipped out the bathroom and hid in Tara’s room.
“What now?” Tara said, meeting her at the top of the stairs.
“I declare girl. The man already left.”
“Ohhh, shoot.”
“Shoot my ass.” She headed back downstairs. “All good for me, I have things to do. Places to go. You need to go find Mr. Luscious so he can take me into town.”
“Lucian, Gramma.”
“I said that.”
“You said Luscious.”
Lucian dressed and made his way down the stairs, signaling Tara to distract her Gramma.
“Wow, Gramma, when did you get this?”
“Get what? Now what is wrong with you? You know I’ve had that for years, are you losing your memory?”
Lucian hurried to the front door and walked out, looked around then walked back in. “Hello,” he called out.
“Lucian?” Tara hurried to him and gave him a huge hug, like she hadn’t seen him in years. It made him want to laugh but also felt really good.
“Speak of the devil,” Gramma said.
“The angel,” Tara corrected, kissing him.
“You been tourin’ the farm? Luthern’ll be back this afternoon to take a trek with us around the stead, see what all we can see. There won’t be a crop till spring, but we can discuss the particulars.”
“Yes, whatever needs doing, I can handle it.”
“Let’s get coffee, Gramma,” Tara said.
“I’ll have to put another pot on, Luther drank the whole dag-gum thing waiting forever for you to get out of the shower.” They followed Gramma to the kitchen, who kept mumbling non-stop. Tara pulled Lucian behind her, tossing a glance at him with a wink and smile.
“Surprised you’re not a prune as long as you were up there,” Gramma finished at the sink as Lucian took a spot at the table. He liked the feel of that kitchen. Pale yellow walls, pecan wood. From the cabinets along two walls, to the simple dining table for six, placed against a double window. Oh and the pecan planked floor. With the yellow checkered curtains edged with white lace and the fresh daisys on the table, it gave the room a genuine farmhouse feel that he could really get used to. He eyed the pecan china cabinet. It stood next to the back door full of fine china. Wonder if Grampa crafted any of this. It had the tale-tell signs of hand-made in the rough simple designs.
“Mister, you can take me into town,” she pointed at Lucian while filling the coffee pot. “I need to go to the Post Office, the bank, the grocery store. Not a stitch of groceries in the cupboards and I’m sure our guest could stand some homemade vittles.”
“Ohhhh you’ll love that,” Tara said. “And her famous gibblets.”
“Fine. And you’ll make your famous bread puddin’.”
“Can I cook a dish?” They both looked at him like he’d spoken Alien. “I… love to cook.” They exchanged glances now and Lucian wondered, “Is that… what, like a sacred… no-no in your family?”
Gramma was the first to give up the laughter. “A sacred no-no.” She wagged a finger at him then pointed at Tara. “I like him.” She hurried to a cabinet and opened it. “We don’t get many male cooks in these parts.”
“A woman’s work is in the kitchen,” Tara raised her brows at him, setting coffee cups and saucers on the table. “What you cookin’, Sexy.”
“Whatever you want.” His cock stirred at seeing her face flash with heat. Did she remember their first encounter in the kitchen for Dom Wars? Remembering her reaction to seeing his naked body for the first time, made him adjust his position in the chair.
“Getting hot in here, I think?” Tara winked and spun to fetch more things.
“Hot. Are you sick? The heater’s a-blarin’ on sixty-five.”
“No, I’m not sick, Gramma.” Tara grinned at Lucian and set little napkins next to the cute china cups and saucers with the dainty yellow flowers on them then laid little spoons on the napkin. She spun again and Lucian watched her work in the light pink, terry-bath robe that had seen her through many a shower. She returned with a cream and sugar tray, all made of solid, deeply-etched glass and set it down, giving Lucian a glimpse of creamy skin when the robe gaped at the top.
She sat next to him and they exchanged glances—a bit more heated now.
“So… ” she reached for his hand. “Where’d you learn how to cook?”
Lucian twined his fingers in hers. “My mother taught me.”
“I hope you’re aware that it’s a woman’s job,” Gramma mumbled.
Lucian held Tara’s hand in both of his and stilled when her foot found his crotch under the table, her toes kneading softly with an innocent smile.
“A man should know how to cook, so he doesn’t need to marry just to eat.” Lucian winked at Tara. “My mother taught me that.”
“A wise woman she is!” Gramma said, setting little crackers on a plate. “More sons should be taught that. And if’n I’da had any, I would of most certainly taught it.”
Tara broke their mental eye connection and lowered her foot. After a few seconds, Lucian realized it was the mention of a son. It hit Lucian suddenly that there was no mention of other kids besides Tara. Had Tara told him she was an only child? If she did, he didn’t connect that Gramma was childless, he’d assumed an only child from her biological
side. So what upset her? No doubt the childless issue with her. The idea of not being able to have kids with her suddenly made his stomach knot for both of them. And with the shadows in Tara’s eyes, the need to run out and find a kid to adopt, hit his blood like Jesus juice. She deserved to always be smiling. She deserved to be a mother.
Her grandmother brought the coffee and crackers to the table and set it just so. “You can pour the coffee,” she said to Tara, turning to do more things before sitting back down with small flip tablet and pen. “I want to know everything you want for this wedding.” She eyed both of them. “It’s my treat. And I’m sparin’ no expenses.”
“Gramma…”
“Tara Mae.” She shook her head with raised, barely noticeable brows. “It ain’t up for discussin. I have dreamed all my life of this day. Cept for that last weddin you ran off and tried to have without me.”
“Gramma. You didn’t want to go.”
“That’s cause I didn’t like him.”
“No, that’s because you didn’t want me to leave Missouri.”
“Course I didn’t. But there was more to it." She turned to Lucian now. “Don’t be thinkin you and I won’t be havin a talk still. I was thinkin’ we could do that while goin’ in ta town.”
Lucian nodded. “I would love nothing more.”
She took the cup of coffee Tara slid to her. “I aim to find what you’re made of and iffin it ain’t good, out you go.”
Lucian fought a smile. “Fair enough.”
“Dang right it’s fair enough,” she said this to Tara with a stern look then brightened. “Now let’s have coffee and no more fussy talk.”
Tara eyed Lucian like she was sorry he had to endure her grandmother, but more worried that he might not. He gave her a wink to reassure her and snatched her hand again, holding it tight. He was tickled to death with Gramma. One second she was ready to interrogate him at gunpoint, the next, it was spoiling the nesting love birds.
Light conversation ensued while drinking coffee with Tara taking over the list making and wedding ideas jotting. “I want this to be your wedding,” Gramma would say, “I want it just the way you like it.” Followed by Gramma’s tastes and suggestions, at which point Tara would look at him for his approval and he’d give it. Whatever she wanted, that’s what he wanted. In his mind, she was his already and this was just the formal expression. And he wanted her to express that to her heart’s content.
Chapter Seven
Gramma left the kitchen to go get ready then returned fifteen minutes later with chirpy steps. “I’m right ready when you are.”
Lucian stood, smiling at the sight. “And don’t you look beautiful.”
“Aww, this ole thing?” Her thin red lips spread in a smile as she smoothed her small hands over sky blue wool covered in tiny yellow flowers. A hexagon looking ivory box with straps and a silver clasp on top, hung on her thin arm.
“Come here, then.” Tara stood before her Gramma who let Tara wipe at the edge of her lips.
“My hands aren’t as steady as they used to be,” Gramma said.
“You’re fine,” Tara murmured. “Was just that edge.”
“Always that edge.”
“Yep.” Tara messed with Gramma’s hair next that reminded Lucian of a perfect puffy white cloud on her head with shiny yellow barrettes creating the various bubble parts.
“Did I do okay? I need another mirror to see by, I finally broke my hand-held. It’s a miracle it lasted as long as it did.”
“Oh no! The one with the sterling silver?”
“Yep. Ain’t nothing but things.”
Tara’s face slowly filled with regret. “Your momma gave you that.”
“She gave me lots of things Tara Mae, they can’t last forever now can they.”
Tara nodded a little with a forced smile. “No, they can’t. And yes, you did fine, I approve.” Tara looked at Lucian now. “She has an angel for a hairdresser.”
“Oh, stop it child,” Gramma waved a hand, soft brown eyes fluttering with her blush. “Hair looks like an ancient spider done spun a silver web right on my head while I slept.
“What?” Tara gasped. “Nooo, a handsome tall angel in white, sprinkled Christmas glitter in your hair.”
Her Gramma cackled. “Christmas glitter my fanny.”
“Gramma… aren’t you gonna…” Tara smiled a little at her.
She waved a hand and hurried around Tara to the sink. “Those pearly whites ain’t so pearly white. I look like the devil done got a hold of me with ‘em on.”
“Did you use the whitening on them?”
“Tara, you know I can’t see well to use that stuff. Sides that, I feel like a horse with a bit in my mouth wearing them. Like tryin’ to speak with a mouth of loose rocks.”
Tara gave Lucian a winced look. “We’re going to the dentist and have you a pair made that fits right.”
“Well if you think I need them.” She guzzled a glass of water at the sink now.
“I do think you need them. To eat! You need to chew your food you know.”
She set the glass in the sink with loud smacking. “Some people have a steel trap mind, I have a steel trap mouth. Put your finger in it and see.” She cackled and tossed a twinkling glance over her shoulder at Lucian. “You don’t mind going to town with a gray haired, toothless-wonder I hope.”
“I think you’re the most beautiful woman in Missouri and would be honored to accompany you into town.”
Another cackle. “Where you find this one? He’s a precious one, isn’t he?” She gave him a fighting glare and pointed, only with her crooked finger it was never quite at him.
“Yes, he is.” Tara said. “Very precious.”
Lucian’s gut tickled with the beaming smile she gave him. Fuck, he was pretty addicted to those. They always held these layers of joy and it gave him a rush.
Maybe he needed to change into something else. “Am I dressed okay?”
“You’re fine, Luscious.”
“Lucian. Gramma. It’s Lucian.” She eyed him. “I can’t say I like you strutting around Missouri in blue jeans and a black t-shirt like some model out of a magazine.”
Lucian laughed, mostly at how serious she was.
“You have that list I hope,” Gramma said.
Tara handed her a folded piece of paper while giving Lucian a quirked brow to let him know it wasn’t funny which made him only grin more.
Gramma headed out the kitchen and they followed her. “We only have a few days to get this shindig organized. And I want it perfect.”
“I’ll be using the internet to have a lot of these things shipped,” Tara announced.
Gramma halted and turned. “Using the what?”
“The internet. The computer?”
“I know what a computer is. You can shop on that thing?”
“Yes. Yes you can.”
Her face held worry and curious wonder. “Show me when I get back. I know they are making unfathomable things these days, I wouldn’t put anything past them.”
Lucian smiled to himself at the them reference. That would be the collection of masterminds hovering in the stratosphere, creating profound contraptions.
They finally made it into the car and Lucian’s first negative experience occurred the second they got to the end of the driveway.
“Which way, Gramma?”
“You may as well call me Dorothy until I know for sure you’re family material.” She opened her door and got out. Lucian watched her walk around the front of the car and stand at his door. He rolled down the window, confused. “I want to drive,” she announced.
“Drive?" Funerals and flowers replaced all the wedding thoughts in his head. "Are you sure? I don’t mind.”
“I haven’t driven in years and I’m a grown woman, dangit. Tara coddles me but I miss driving.”
Lucian sat there, wishing he could call Tara and ask her what the fuck to do and say. “Are you sure you can drive?”
“Of course I can drive
!”
Lucian realized to his dismay, that he’d have to call on Super Dom. With Grandmother, of all things. “Dorothy. Sweetheart. I know you can drive, but should you? Do you have any medical reasons that would prevent you?”
She stood there for a few seconds, face trembling with troubled emotions. “It's my dad-gum eyes. But I got glasses.” She opened her purse on her arm and fought to get them out. Finally she managed the black framed glasses. “Pert-near twenty-twenty vision with these.”
He stared into her eyes, now the size of holy-shit-balls. Twenty-twenty? She should be able see the fucking atoms in the air. “I think I should drive, Dorothy.”
“And I think I should!”
Lucian slowly slid his hands on the wheel, his dominance kicking in. “It’s not happening, Gramma.”
Her purse came at his head and he threw up his arm to block it. “I’m not your damn Gramma!” Before he could worry if he’d be fighting an eighty year old woman for the steering wheel, she was already stalking around the front of the car, mouth-a-moving and chin-a-bobbing. Fantastic start to winning her over. Fuck.
She opened her door. “You’re going to start talking then,” she sat and slammed the car door. “I want to know all about you. All your dirty secrets too.”
“Seat belt, madam,” Lucian said, putting the car in gear.
“This is Missouri.” She drawled the word like Mizzzz-urah. “You don’t need seatbelts, the cows walk faster than the posted speed limit for Clancey’s sake.”
“Dorothy,” Lucian began. “Your safety is not negotiable.”
“Damn right it’s not, I’m the only one who gets to decide about it. If I want to go flyin’ through the blast-it windshield, I can.”
“Dorothy, please. I’m really anxious to go… shopping with you. But I’m not moving until you put that seat belt on.”
Silence reigned for several seconds while Lucian prayed. “Aren’t you an ornery quack.” She yanked her seat belt on. “And I’m puttin’ it on because I want to, just so you know it.”