by Freya Barker
“Anyway,” Meredith continues. “I was going to give you a call to see if you’d like to come over for dinner next weekend. I got Andrew a new grill for his birthday a few weeks ago, and he’s been eager to show it off. Bring the kids,” she adds, ruffling Spencer’s hair, “there’ll be plenty of food.”
“Would love to, but we won’t be around. We’re heading up to Mark Twain National Forest next weekend.”
“We’re gonna be sleeping in a tent,” Spencer adds excitedly. “And I’m going fishing.”
“A tent, huh? Well, that sounds like fun.” Meredith turns to me, with her eyebrows raised and a smirk on her face.
I pretend not to notice. “Yes, so can we take a rain check on dinner?”
“Sure. We’ll do it when you get back. I’ll call you—we’ll hash out the details.”
Grill me is probably more accurate. I hide a grin and shake my head. “Let’s hash them out over coffee instead, and we might as well get Kathleen in on that: two birds with one stone.”
Sofie has been quiet and it’s not until the ride home she says anything.
“Aunt Taz?”
“Yeah, honey.”
“Do you think I’m pretty?”
I look in the rearview mirror and take in the expression on her face, wishing I could touch her. “Very much so,” I assure her. “The kind of pretty I know will blossom into beautiful.”
She turns her face to the window and a little smile tugs at her mouth. She’s quiet again the rest of the way home, but the smile stays.
“Okay, guys. Everyone grab a few bags and bring them straight through to the kitchen, please.”
The kids are waiting for me to unlock the front door and barge right through inside, only to freeze a few steps in.
“What’s going—” I don’t get any farther as I freeze right behind them and take in the devastation that was the living room. “Sofie? I thought you said you locked the dogs’ crate.”
“I did,” she whispers. “I’m sure I did.”
We were gone for maybe an hour—tops—and the living room looks like a bomb exploded. Stuffing bulging out of the couch, torn pillows strewn about, their contents spilling everywhere. Snippets of paper, old coffee grounds, ripped plastic bags, and God knows what else. And in the middle of it all, two exhausted pups sleeping right through our return.
“Kids, take the dogs out.”
I wait for the kids to hustle the dogs outside and then I sink down on the bottom step of the stairs and drop my head in my hands. Of course this has to happen only a few hours before my parents get here.
I could cry, but that’s not going to solve anything. Instead, I take a deep breath in, grab the grocery bags that were dropped by the front door, and proceed to put the stuff away.
An hour later the kids are in their rooms, the dogs in their crate—properly locked this time—and I am tying up the last garbage bag. I open the door to toss it with the other five bags already stacked outside, as Rafe’s truck pulls up.
Shit. I’d so hoped to have the worst of it taken care of before he got home.
“What are you up to?”
He walks up in that casual stride, unaware of the destruction still waiting inside. I sure hope we have duct tape, we’re gonna need quite a bit of it to temporarily patch things up inside.
“I’m, uh, cleaning up. We had a bit of an incident here.”
Rafe looks instantly alarmed. “Kids okay?”
I have to grab his arm to stop him from barging inside without warning.
“Kids are fine. Dogs are fine, although I’m not sure for how long. They got out and…rearranged the furniture.”
He pulls up his eyebrow. “Rearranged? How badly.”
“Oh, pretty badly. We’re gonna need to do some furniture shopping.”
“You’re shitting me,” he mutters, as he walks in the door.
I expect a series of expletives, some yelling maybe, but instead it stays silent, and finally I follow him inside. He has his back to me—beside the couch—standing stock-still. Then his shoulders start shaking.
“Rafe?” I rush up behind him and put my hand on his back, which is when he throws his head back and starts laughing.
Not the reaction I was expecting.
I look at what’s left of the living room and back at Rafe, trying to figure out what is so funny.
“Don’t look so worried,” he finally says, humor still shining in his eyes as he hooks an arm around my waist. “I don’t care. My whole life I’ve cared. Put too much importance on stuff. Even growing up I held on to what little was mine thinking it would make me happy.”
“Rafe…” I slide my hand up his chest and look up in his face.
He tugs me closer, smiling down. “Now I know stuff is just that; stuff. It doesn’t make you happy—people do. My kids do. You do. I lo—”
“Hello! We’re a little early. Why is the front door open?”
Rafe
Taz jumps back like she’s hit with ten thousand volts.
It doesn’t go unnoticed. Sarah glares sharply at Taz, before her eyes come to me.
“What’s going on here?”
“Grandma!” Spencer comes running downstairs and barrels straight into her legs, wrapping his arms around. Sarah’s eyes drop down as her hand automatically goes to his floppy hair.
“Hey, little man.”
“Where’s Grandpa?”
“Right here, little buddy.” I hadn’t even noticed Ed coming in behind his wife.
Taz is still standing frozen and I give her a little nudge when I pass. “Let me find you a place to sit, Dad.”
“Lilo and Stitch were bad,” my son volunteers. “They ate the living room.”
“I can see that,” Ed says dryly, taking a look around.
“Why would you leave the dogs alone? Look at the furniture.” I look at Sarah apparently focused on Taz, who hasn’t said a word yet.
“It was my fault,” Sofie says, coming down the stairs, her face drawn. “I thought I locked the crate, but I guess I didn’t.” Tears immediately pool in her eyes when they catch on me.
Before I have a chance to respond, Taz moves quickly, pulling Sofie in her arms. “It was an accident. A good reminder for everyone to make sure those latches are closed properly when we put the dogs away.” She sets Sofie back a little and leans her face close. “Besides, it comes with the unexpected bonus, we get to shop for new furniture now.” At that a smile breaks through Sofie’s tears.
“Yuck. Shopping is stupid, right, Dad?”
“Let’s call it a necessary evil, okay, Son? Now, why don’t you two,” I look at both my kids, “get Grandma and Grandpa set up outside in the shade with some drinks, while Aunt Taz and I sort out things in here, all right? Let the dogs out too.”
“I’m getting the dogs!” Spencer yells already, heading for the dog crate.
Ed shuffles his way to the back door with Sofie on his heels, but Sarah stays put.
“I’ll help,” she announces, but I put a hand on her arm.
“Thanks, Mom, but we’ve got this. We won’t be long.” I can tell she’s not pleased, but she still follows when Spencer leads the dogs through the kitchen.
Taz dramatically wipes her brow when they disappear out of view.
“That was too close,” she mumbles.
“We need to talk to them, Taz. Before they find out another way.”
“I know, but I think we’ve had enough excitement for today, okay? Let’s get this place in some order and start on dinner. We’ll go over and talk to them tomorrow. Do you have duct tape?”
She picks up what looks to have been a remote control and puts the pieces by the TV. I’m tempted to push the issue, but decide to leave it for now and instead go in search of tape.
Half an hour later, with the living room taped back together as best we could manage and a start made on dinner, I head outside to light the grill.
“Does Taz need a hand in the kitchen?” Sarah asks when she sees me.
The kids are rolling in the grass with the dogs and Ed looks like he’s napping in his chair. “She’s wrapping the potatoes to go on the grill. She’ll be out shortly.” I can feel her eyes on me as I run the steel wire brush over the racks.
“I’m not sure it’s wise to encourage her, Rafe.” She’s come up behind me and speaks in a soft voice. “It’ll just be harder for the kids when she eventually moves out.”
I bite my tongue. I’d like to tell her she will not be moving out at all, but that would lead to explanations Taz wants to avoid tonight. I don’t want to lie either, so I abruptly change the subject as I turn to face her. “Can I get you a glass of port to go with dinner, or would you like something else?”
She stares at me for a long pause before she answers. “Port sounds good.”
When I look over at Ed to see if he needs a refresher, I find him awake and keenly observing us. I’m used to him being quiet. I’ve never considered maybe quiet doesn’t equal unaware. “Dad? Ready for another beer?” He holds up his empty bottle in response.
Taz
“Stay and talk to me.”
I’m on my way inside to help clean up when Dad grabs my hand.
The kids are upstairs in the master bedroom watching TV—since we need to replace the remote for the one in the living room—and Mom and Rafe are cleaning up in the kitchen.
I sit back down beside him, but he holds on to my hand.
“How are you settling in? How’s the new job?”
“I’m good, Dad. It’s nice to have Kathleen back and I’ve made some new friends.” I chuckle at that. “Who’d have thought there were new friends to be made in Eminence?”
“This town isn’t that bad, sweetheart,” Dad points out with a serious face. “Most people are kind. We look out for each other. No one’s ever gone hungry here.”
“True,” I grudgingly admit. “Although I could do without Mrs. Myers; the woman is a menace.” I tell him about her snippy remarks and the dog incident.
“Charlton? He’s a pussycat.”
“Apparently not when exposed to water. The old hag knew it too.”
“She’s been sour since Henry died…gosh, damn near thirty years ago. Never got over it, never moved on. There was a time that woman was happy and smiling all the time, but when her husband passed too young, it’s like a light went off.”
“I never knew her like that,” I admit.
“You were too young to remember.” He lifts my hand and kisses the back of it, before he continues in a gentle tone. “I know you haven’t had an easy time here. Not before you left, and not now, but I hope you stick it out, sweetheart. I understood why you wanted to leave, but I sure like having you back.”
“I missed you, Dad.” I’m getting all choked up. Talks like this are something else I’ve missed for too long.
“Me too, Baby Girl,” he responds in kind. “You don’t have to stop reaching for the sun, though. Grab on to your chance at happiness, Natasha.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
Rafe
I wake up with Taz’s scent up my nostrils.
Last night after her parents left and the kids were asleep, she’d been quiet. Halfway through an episode of Designated Survivor she announced she was tired and going to bed.
Earlier I’d watched her talking to her father through the kitchen window. She’d seemed emotional and I kept an eye out, but since it didn’t look like they were arguing, I didn’t want to interrupt.
The whole night had been uneasy. Sarah had seemed subdued to the point of uncommunicative, and Taz had been on eggshells, which is why I didn’t stop her when she went to bed. I finished watching the episode, took the dogs out for a pee before locking up for the night, and followed her upstairs.
“I know you’re awake,” she mumbles, her head on my chest. She’d curled into me the moment I slipped into bed with her.
“How long have you been up?” I stroke my hand up her back and under her nightshirt.
“A while.”
“How come?”
I can feel her shrug. “Trying to anticipate how they’re going to react when we tell them.”
“Your parents?”
“Hmmm. Mom’s going to blow. I’m not sure about Dad, though. He said something last night that made me wonder.”
“You looked like you were having an intense conversation.”
She lifts her head, her eyes meeting mine. “Not really intense; it was sweet. I haven’t had a talk like that with my father in forever. It felt good.”
“So those were happy tears I saw?”
She smiles, her eyes soft. “Yeah. He told me to grab hold of happiness. I’ve been wondering if he was talking about us. About you.”
I curl my fingers in her dreads and lift my head so I can reach her mouth for a brief kiss. “I wouldn’t put it past him,” I whisper against her lips. “I think your dad is more perceptive than he’s credited for.”
“But if that’s the case, why did he seem upset with me when I first got back?”
This time it’s my turn to shrug. “Don’t forget I was too. Misunderstandings tend to be persistent when you only get one side of the story.”
“I guess so,” she mumbles, dropping her head down to my chest, my hand resumes stroking her back.
“It’ll be okay.”
“You keep saying that.”
“Because it’s true. I’m not saying it’ll be easy, but we’ll get through. You wanna know how I know that?”
“How?”
“Love.”
Her head pops up again and her eyes search my face. “Yeah?”
“Absolutely. It’s what connects us all. Nicky, the children, your parents, and us; you and me.”
“Are you saying you love me?”
“I’m saying I love everyone, but I’m in love with you.”
Her eyes go soft and I feel the sudden need to be inside her. A little smile tugs at her lips when I roll her on her back, quickly shed my boxers, and wedge my hips in the cradle of hers.
“Make love to me, Rafe.”
“I always do.”
I feel her already wet when I pull aside the gusset of her panties and rub my cock along her crease. Our eyes stay locked when I slide deep inside her, her heat closing around me.
“For the record,” she whispers on a gasp. “I’m in love with you too.”
“Don’t hit your fingers.”
Spencer is wielding the small mallet like a tennis racket as he tries to hammer a tent peg down.
The kids are helping me set up the tent in the backyard to make sure the mice haven’t eaten any holes in the fabric. It’s been packed away for quite a few years. The sleeping bags are hanging on the laundry line to air out, and Taz is inside making a list of things to bring.
Our campground is only about two hours away, but you still don’t want to have to drive back home for something you forgot. I would’ve liked to venture out a little farther but staying a bit closer to home this time makes sense. Ed’s health is a bit unstable, the dogs are still pretty young, and this’ll be our first trip together. In addition, we plan to have a talk with the kids, which—especially in Sofie’s case—is at best unpredictable. Better not to get trapped a day’s drive away in case things go south.
“Sofie, don’t let Stitch pull on the tent flap like that. He’ll tear it.” Still a little shaken by the dog’s rampage yesterday, she’s quick to pull him away.
“Is this good, Dad?” Spencer calls out and I walk over to inspect the peg he managed to get halfway into the ground.
“Well done, Son. You can be my helper next week when we set it up at the campsite.”
“Sofie! I get to be Daddy’s helper!”
“So what?”
Ignoring the familiar ensuing bickering I inspect the tent, not finding any holes. I pick up Lilo, who seems to have found a place to nap inside, and close the zipper for the bugs.
“Guys, let’s grab something to eat, okay? We’re dropping you off a
t Kathleen’s for a few hours in the pool after lunch.”
With the dogs in their crate for a nap and the kids having a sandwich at the table, I walk inside to check on Taz who said she’d be right out.
“Watcha doing?” I find her curled up in one of the club chairs; her laptop perched on her knees. I sit down on the armrest and look at the screen. She starts to close the lid, but I stop her and point at one of the couches, a dark tan, leather sectional. “I like that one.”
“So much for the surprise,” she mutters under her breath.
“Surprise?”
She tilts her head back to look at me. “Your birthday is in a few weeks, I thought…never mind. It was a stupid idea.”
“Not stupid at all. I can imagine a lot of fun things we could do on that couch.”
“The kids,” she hisses in warning.
“Are busy eating their lunch.”
I tilt her chin up and lean down for a kiss. I plunder her mouth, fueled by images of Taz bent over the armrest of the leather couch, her lush ass in the air and my cock sliding in and out of her, slick with her juices.
A sharp intake of breath functions like a bucket of ice water on my libido.
Fuck.
Taz
“I didn’t want to believe it.”
Mom is standing in the open front door, looking at us with hurt in her eyes.
“Mom…” I scramble to my feet, setting the laptop on the table, but Mom holds up her hand, pressing her eyes closed.
“I didn’t want to believe it,” she repeats. “Not from that nasty cow, Sheila. Never could stand the woman. But when Mrs. Myers hinted at the same thing this morning in church I started wondering. I’d noticed a change—a word, a touch—but I convinced myself it couldn’t be. No way you would betray Nicky’s memory like that.” She looks up, her face marred with disappointment. “Now I know they were both telling the truth. How could you?”
“Grandma?”
My head swings around to find Sofie standing in the doorway to the kitchen, looking confused.
“Why don’t you drop the kids off at Kathleen’s.” My voice is flat, almost resigned, as I turn back to my mother.