Redeeming Rafe

by Alicia Hunter Pace

  He opened his iPad and brought up the book he’d been reading on the history of horse breeds. After his talk with his brothers, he was even more sure he could make a go of this. With their help—he stopped short. Help. Somewhere along the way, it must have become acceptable to have help.

  He hardly recognized himself anymore. Sorry, Camille. I don’t deserve this life that seems to have been put in my path. Can you forgive me for being happy? Is that okay?

  He never got an answer, never had time to even think about it, because the door burst open and Phillip and Bella, wearing only diapers, barreled through. Abby was hot on their trail, with a naked Alice in her arms and a diaper clutched in her hand.

  “Hey! I told you Daddy would come in and say good night.” She’d changed into the shorts and Boston Bruins shirt she would sleep in, and her color was high. Everyone smelled of soap and baby shampoo.

  “Sorry,” Abby said. “I guess I left the nursery door ajar.”

  “Daddy! Up!” Bella was struggling to climb onto the bed, to get to him.

  Until lately, it had been a long time since someone had struggled to get to him. Not since Camille. He laid his iPad aside and reached for her. “Come on up, kid. You too, Phillip.”

  Abby put Alice on the bed, and she immediately began to crawl toward Phillip and Bella, who were now on Rafe’s chest. Bella was pulling on his nose and babbling about something that seemed extremely important to her.

  “I’m sure that’s true, Bella,” Rafe said. “Whatever it is.”

  “No you don’t.” Abby captured Alice and began to wrestle her into the diaper.

  “I should have helped with the baths,” Rafe said to Abby.

  She grinned. “I’m going to stop giving baths. I’m just going to throw them in the yard and hose them down. There.” She patted Alice’s bottom. “You can go to Daddy now.”

  Alice crawled to the foot of the bed and kissed the bottom of Rafe’s foot.

  “Hey!” Startled, he looked at Abby. “Does that meet anybody’s standard of hygiene?”

  Abby burst out laughing. “You taught them about foot kissing.”

  “Join the puppy pile.” He stretched out a hand to Abby and pulled her onto the bed. “Their feet are so chubby and cute. I can’t help it.” He pulled Abby under his arm, and Phillip climbed over and draped himself over her chest.

  “They are,” she agreed. “And that might be why you do it now. But at first, you kissed their feet because to kiss their faces was getting too close.”

  Was that true? He couldn’t remember his motives. He only remembered being terrified.

  “They’re scary little vampires,” he said. “But I’m not afraid of you.” He dropped a kiss on her mouth—whereupon Bella pulled his hair, and Alice hurled herself between them.

  He pulled away and groaned. “We’re going to have to get a bigger bed if this is going to happen very much.”

  “Do they make a bed big enough for five to puppy pile?”

  “A king would probably do it—for now. But what will this be like when they’re five? Or eight? After that, they’ll probably be done with puppy piles. A few years later, they won’t want to be seen with us until they’re grown.”

  She bit her bottom lip and wrinkled her pretty forehead. “Do you really see all that for us?”

  He caught his breath. He’d spoken without thinking, and it had probably been the wrong thing. Still, he couldn’t pass it off like it was a joke.

  “I don’t know,” he said slowly. “But this is a good life. I’d like to keep having it.”

  And she smiled at him, pure radiant joy.

  Now, time to lighten the mood. “There’s one problem,” Rafe said.

  “Oh?” She looked worried.

  He circled the Bruins logo on her shirt. “If you let Nickolai and Noel catch you in this shirt, there might be a feud.”

  And she laughed. “I’m not scared of them.”

  She’d probably never been afraid of anything in her life. And more and more, he was learning how it felt not to fear.

  Phillip pulled on his shirt. “Ride Snow Pony?”

  “Sure, pal. You can ride Snow Pony. Soon.”

  Abby rolled away and stood. “Time for pony riders to go to bed.” She reached for Phillip.

  “Apparently, Bella agrees.” Somewhere along the way, she had succumbed to sleep, draped across Rafe’s chest. That was the way of it with Bella. She fought sleep so hard that she usually passed out in mid action. Snuggled at his side, Alice wasn’t looking too alert, either.

  How different putting the children to bed was now from that first time. They went through the rituals quietly and efficiently—the pajamas, the kissing, the covering, the rocking. Finally, Abby put on the nightlight and closed the Dutch door behind them, this time making sure it latched.

  “I have something to tell you.” Rafe climbed in bed and pulled Abby after him.

  “Oh?”

  “I have a career plan. I talked it over with my brothers and they think it’s feasible.”

  “Is it dangerous?”

  “It’s not sitting at a desk, but it’s not jumping off cliffs either.” And he outlined the plan to her.

  She nodded. “Is that going to have enough excitement for you?”

  “Exciting enough. If I can raise a bull or bronc of the year, that’ll have its own rewards.”

  She rolled him to his back and shimmied on top of him until she straddled him and their pelvises were pressed together.

  “So there can be excitement that doesn’t endanger your life?”

  “Best excitement I’ve ever had is right here.” Cupping her bottom, he lifted and rolled his hips, allowing her to feel him go fully hard against her. “You’re not a danger to me. Are you?” He’d meant the words to be teasing, but they didn’t come out that way. He wanted assurance, and he wanted it now, before he got in any deeper—if there was deeper.

  With understanding in her eyes, she cupped his face. “No. Not a danger. I promise.”

  Overcome with the emotions of the moment, he rolled them over until he was above her. Slowly he slid down, pulling her shorts off as he went. By the time he kissed the inside of her thigh, she knew what was coming and was trembling in anticipation. She’d never said, and he would never ask, but the first time he’d given her pleasure in this way, he’d had the impression she’d never experienced this before. Maybe that was why he wanted her so much this way—that and it brought about a level of intimacy that made him feel that she was part of him in a way that nothing else could.

  Urged on and thrilled by her moans of pleasure, he sucked, licked, and nipped, drawing back and bearing down until she cried out and quaked against his lips and tongue.

  It was a beautiful thing, and he wanted more. Though his testicles ached and his penis throbbed and jerked against the mattress, begging to be deep inside her and for release, he kissed her belly and rested his head there, giving her a moment to recover.

  Then, not for the last time that night, he parted her with his fingers and began all over again.

  Eyes closed, with her hands stroking his hair, Abby writhed, almost incoherent with pleasure. And Rafe celebrated every second.

  Chapter Nineteen

  By day, Miss Laura’s Tearoom and Gossip Parlor was exactly what one would expect from a Victorian tearoom—bone china teapots, delicate nibbles, and soft, dreamy music.

  But two nights a week, the front shutters were closed, the front door was locked, and it became a private club for the women of the town. And only the women of Beauford were allowed. Laura figured the women who knocked themselves out all day catering to the tourists who came to town to shop deserved a little exclusivity. If she was worried about what the men of Beauford needed, she’d never shown any sign of it. So far, if any of them felt discriminated against, they hadn’t brought it up; none of them would dare cross Laura.

  As for the tourists, if one occasionally sensed there was something going on inside under the pink and whi
te striped awning and knocked on the door, they were always told there was a private party in progress.

  On these nights, wine and pitchers of some sort of trendy mixed drink replaced the daytime lattes and Earl Gray, and the food was whatever suited Laura’s whim. The dinner fare still came out on the tiered servers used for high tea, but there was nothing delicate about it. The women who came in the back door of Laura’s by night had worked all day and didn’t want watercress sandwiches and lemon tarts.

  Tonight Abby, Noel, Emory, Christian, Gwen, and Neyland were dining on individual crab potpies, ramekins of pea salad, hot rolls, and slabs of apple pecan cake with caramel icing.

  Whenever one of the extended Beauford Bend crowd felt the need to gather with the others for libations and food, she would make a call and say, “Laura is feeling poorly. We might ought to take her a casserole,”—which was code for “I need some girl time,” or “I have something I need to tell,” or maybe just “I’m hungry.”

  Abby had made that call today. According to Rafe, their friends knew there was something going on between the two of them, but everyone was pretending they didn’t. In turn, Abby and Rafe were pretending they didn’t know that everyone knew. It was getting complicated, and it was time to move out of the eighth grade.

  “Sure you won’t change your mind and let me bring you a martini glass, Emory?” Laura set another pitcher of spiced caramel apple martinis on the table.

  “I’m good with this.” Emory raised her glass of water. “Designated driver.”

  “Uh-huh.” Laura looked Emory up and down and gave her a knowing look.

  “She knows.” Once Laura was gone, Christian refilled her glass and passed the pitcher. “How does that woman know everything?”

  “We’re still waiting to tell Beau before we have a press release issued.” Emory patted her stomach. “But if Beau doesn’t call soon, the news is going to announce itself.”

  “And there’ll be speculation on every Jackson Beauford fan site about the gender and name,” Gwen said.

  Abby took a sip of her drink. “Speaking of speculation …”

  And five sets of eager eyes turned to her, snapping with curiosity—probably not at what she was going to say but how. And that was a good question.

  “It has come to my notice that you all might have suspected that Rafe and I have—” Have what? She should have thought this through, written a speech, looked up definitions for relationships. Relationship. That would do. “Rafe and I have entered into a relationship outside the bounds of an employer/employee association. In fact, this relationship tends more toward the romantic nature.”

  To Abby’s astonishment, they all looked stunned, including Christian, who had admitted she knew something was up. Then they all began to laugh. Though the laughter wasn’t mocking, it wasn’t soft, happy chuckles either. No. They were practically hysterical in their amusement. Gwen tapped on the table with her fist and Christian wiped tears from her eyes.

  “What? What?” Abby demanded. “Don’t pretend you didn’t know.”

  “Oh, honey, of course we knew,” Emory said. “But you could have been a sound bite. Do you have a speechwriter? ‘Outside the bounds of a employer/employee association; tends more toward the romantic nature.’”

  “Sorry,” Noel said. “We don’t mean to laugh at you. You just reminded us what an upper crust Yankee you are. It was so precious.”

  “Truly,” Christian said. “We weren’t making fun of you. But we forget sometimes that your blood is a lot bluer than ours.”

  “That’s not true,” Abby said. “And even it were, none of that matters.” Though she doubted if her family would agree. And she was going to tell them—soon, as soon as she got around to it.

  “A Beauford man can be a hard job,” Neyland said. “Ask Emory. But we love seeing you happy.”

  Gwen nodded. “And those little girls need a mother.”

  “And Phillip needs a father,” Noel said. “Rafe is so good with him.”

  “Could we please have the wedding before I have to roll down the aisle?” Emory said.

  “Wait!” Abby put a hand up. “I just told you we are … involved. It’s way too soon to be thinking about that.”

  But she wasn’t so sure.

  • • •

  Later, after they dropped off Noel and Christian, the rest of them exited the Around the Bend van and walked toward the main house.

  “Gwen, I don’t know why you wouldn’t let me drop you at home. I could have put away the tarts you made for the luncheon tomorrow,” Emory said.

  “Because if Gabe ate them, I need to know it tonight so I can make more.”

  “Gabe wouldn’t have done that,” Neyland said loyally.

  “Tell, you what,” Gwen said. “Let’s make a bet. If he didn’t, I’ll deliver breakfast for the two of you to the carriage house every morning for a week. If he did, you stay up tonight and replace them.”

  “Uh … No. That’s a bet I can’t take,” Neyland said. And they all laughed.

  “Do I smell smoke?” Abby asked as they approached the house.

  “Probably,” Emory said. “I bought some portable fire pits for a wedding reception next week. It has a fall theme, and they’re having a s’mores bar. Jackson wasn’t pleased. You know how they are about fire.”

  “With good reason,” Gwen said.

  “Agreed,” Emory said. “Which is why we never light candles in the house or leave a fireplace unattended. But it isn’t unreasonable to have fire pits outside. Anyway, Jackson had Sammy bring one up near the side porch. He wants to see for himself that they’re safe before we use them.”

  “Always in control,” Neyland said. There was no sarcasm in her voice.

  “Or so he thinks.” And there was no humor in Emory’s.

  Something about the exchange made Abby wonder about what kind of demons Rafe’s brothers fought over the fire that took half their family. Without doubt, however bad they might be, those demons couldn’t be as horrific as Rafe’s.

  But as Abby and the others rounded the corner, male laughter greeted them. Clearly, the demons had left them alone tonight to be happy. The anxiety that had been brewing among the women evaporated.

  “Sounds like they’re having fun,” Neyland said, clearly relieved.

  The brothers, along with Sammy and Dirk, were seated around the pit where a small fire burned. The smell of chocolate and burnt sugar filled the air.

  “Seems like they’ve set up a s’mores bar of their own,” Abby said.

  Gwen sighed. “That would be Gabe and his legendary appetite’s doing. I’m thinking they found the supplies for the wedding reception s’mores.”

  Emory laughed. “At least that probably means your tarts are safe.”

  “Don’t be too sure,” Neyland said.

  As they closed the distance, the men looked up, and their reaction was a lovely thing to see. Sammy aside, these were men who were happy to see their women. Abby had seen this before, but this time she was part of it. One by one, she’d watched her friends fall in love, and she never thought it would happen for her. Now, she had what they had. She wasn’t an outsider going home alone to worry about making ends meet and how she was going to help her son learn to be a man.

  Wait. Something in her thoughts pinged. In love. She hadn’t put words to her feelings, but that’s what it was.

  The men were on their feet now, opening their arms, and it was so nice to have warm arms to go into on this cool, fall night. Rafe smelled like wood smoke and tasted like beer and chocolate.

  “Don’t worry,” Rafe said after their brief kiss. “The kids are clean and sleeping. Jackson and Gabe helped me. You know how paranoid Dirk is, and even he said it was okay to bring out the baby monitor while the kids sleep. I tested it to make sure I could hear them.”

  “I wasn’t worried,” she said. “I trust you to take care of our children.”

  Our children. On the surface, it was correct. She had a child; he had two. B
ut our children could mean so much more, and she had a feeling it did.

  “Did you have fun?” he asked.

  “Yes. But not as fun as this.” She gave him a little squeeze.

  “I have good news,” Rafe said.

  But before he could say what, Jackson’s voice boomed with excitement, “Everyone listen!”

  Abby and Rafe parted, but he stood with an arm around her shoulders, similar to the stance the other couples had taken. Sammy put another log on the fire.

  “Beau called!” Jackson said. “He’s fine. He’s got to be somewhere else next week, but he’s almost positive he’ll be home for Thanksgiving—maybe even a week or so before.”

  Everyone cheered and embraced.

  “Oh, Jackson!” Emory said. “Did you tell him about the baby?”

  “I hated to do it without you but—”

  “Honey, that doesn’t matter. I’m just so glad he knows. I’d better call Missy in the morning.”

  “About that.” Rafe looked at Emory and dropped his eyes. “I called her to tell her we’d heard from Beau, and it sort of came out that you’re pregnant. Sorry.” He looked so much like a little boy who’d been caught sneaking into Christmas presents that Abby wanted to cradle him against her.

  Emory laughed. “It doesn’t matter, Rafe. I know how things have a way of sort of coming out when you’re talking to Missy.”

  “I’ve had an idea,” Jackson said.

  “And this is news? You always have an idea, and it always involves bossing us around,” Gabe said.

  “Shut up, Gabriel, and listen,” Jackson said. “It’s a good idea. Now that Beau knows about the baby, we were going to have my people do a press release. But I was thinking I’d like to tell the people of Beauford first, even if it does go viral on Twitter immediately. So what if we all show up for open mic night at The Café Down On The Corner on Thursday night? We’ll call Christian, Nickolai, and Noel, too. We can get some sitters for the kids. I’ll sing a song or two, and Emory and I can share our news.”

  “Is Ginger all right with this?” Emory asked, referring to Jackson’s manager, who’d been with him since the beginning of his career.