Ain’t He Precious?

Home > Other > Ain’t He Precious? > Page 8
Ain’t He Precious? Page 8

by Juliette Poe


  Pap just blinks at me several times. His gaze drops to the bar, and then he lifts it back to mine, eyes shining soft with understanding. “You know, I don’t think I ever really understood why you chose to practice law here until just now. That’s very noble, Trix.”

  “I don’t do it to be noble,” I say, brushing off the compliment.

  Pap’s hand comes out and covers mine on the bar. It’s a rare display of public affection, as the Mancinkus line of males tend to be physically standoffish. But I warm to the gesture, because coming from Catherine Mainer’s loins, where physical affection was mandated in our house, it makes me go all gooey inside when Pap gets like this.

  “Maybe your guy could move here then,” Pap suggests.

  “Pap,” I say kindly with a squeeze to his hand. “Nothing’s changed to that extent between Ry and me. We’ve definitely missed each other, and there’s still a deep connection we didn’t realize we still had, but he’s got a pretty solid life in Boston. An amazing career. I’d never ask him to leave that, and frankly, we’ve only been back in each other’s graces for two days. It’s a pipe dream.”

  “You two may have only been back together two days, but you both had eleven years neither one of you let go. That’s a long time to love someone.”

  I want to deny I love Ry, but I can’t. I never stopped, so why even lie about it?

  I don’t affirm it either though, instead saying, “I’m taking this one day at a time, but honestly… I think the end result is that’s he’s going to do me a solid on this case, and then he’s going to leave.”

  Pap opens his mouth to argue with me, and I can even anticipate him calling me a quitter, but he sees something over my shoulder and snaps its shut.

  Ry scoots onto the stool next to me, which I had saved for him while he was playing pool. We’re jammed in tight, and I hate and love the feelings that sweep through me as his body brushes against mine.

  “Your sisters are pool sharks,” Ry says with a grin as he pulls his mug of beer forward but doesn’t take a sip.

  “Figure out which is which yet?” I ask with an answering grin.

  “Only because they’re wearing different clothes and I made them re-introduce themselves to me before we started playing just to be sure,” he returns. “But I’ll get it at some point.”

  “Good luck with that,” Pap says. “Took me until they were about seven years old.”

  Ry leans forward so he can make eye contact with Pap. “I’m learning all kinds of things about this family, but what’s the story with this bar, Pap? And where did you come up with the name Chesty’s?”

  I settle in to listen to the story, knowing it well but enjoying it all the same. I’m proud of Pap and Daddy’s service in the Marine Corps.

  “Chesty Puller is the most decorated marine in U.S. History,” Pap tells Ry. “He fought in Haiti, Nicaragua, World War II, and the Korean War. I’d been working at one of the VFWs in Pittsburgh before I came here, so it only seemed natural to open a bar. Chesty’s was the only name I could call it.”

  “Do you miss Pittsburgh?” Ry asks, and I’m completely stunned when he leans into me, his left arm coming to rest across my lower back. It’s a bold move and one that proclaims to my family—no, to the entire bar—that we’re together.

  Are we?

  “There are parts of it I miss,” Pap says with sage wisdom. “The mountains and the people in general. The way the city bounced back after the steel industry collapsed, and let’s not even get into watching my beloved Steelers at Heinz Field. But my family was small. Outside of a few cousins I didn’t know all that well, I didn’t really have anyone there. I know I sure as hell don’t miss the cold weather.”

  Ry laughs. “Heard that. Boston winters are miserable.”

  “You’ve spent a few days down south… has it made you miss Boston?” Pap says with a twinkle in his eye, turning the tables back on Ry.

  Ry stuns me again, and I almost fall off my stool. Good thing his arm is around my back. “Not the way you miss Pittsburgh. That was your home. Where you grew up. I’m from Chicago so all my family is back there. But we’re not super tight… not the way your family is. I guess I miss some of the things that come with a big city—like being able to buy clothing from somewhere other than a vintage store—but not Boston per se. One big city is just as good as the next, I guess, if you’re looking for those opportunities.”

  “I thought you loved Boston?” I ask, turning my head to look at him.

  Ry shrugs. “I mean… I like it great. It’s a wonderful city. But do I feel roots there, the way Pap did in Pittsburgh? You know I wouldn’t.”

  “Then Chicago?” I press him.

  “Well, of course I miss my family, Trix,” Ry explains. “But I’m satisfied with phone calls, emails, Facebook, and the occasional trip home on a holiday. That’s just the way it is in my family.”

  I know this.

  I know it well. During our years at law school, Ry wasn’t big on going back home. While I would have loved nothing more than to visit Whynot and my family whenever I could, I didn’t for two reasons. One, Pap had told me to make the most of my time away, including being truly independent. But more importantly, I didn’t want to miss time with Ry. We were in our own little world in Cambridge, and I was loving the hell out of it. I may have called my mama at least five times a week while I was away, but it nowhere near compensated for actually being around them. It might even be a regret I have now, not taking that time during those three years to come back to Whynot and perhaps bring Ry to see it as well. Maybe things would have been different between us.

  Or… my subconscious whispers to me softly. He would have seen right away that this life wasn’t for him, and you would have broken up a lot earlier than you did.

  Ry picks up his beer and drains the rest of it. The bartender immediately comes and asks if he wants another. He shakes his head and turns to Pap to say, “Well, we’d love to stay and continue the celebration with you, but Trixie and I actually have some work we need to catch up on at her office.”

  My head snaps toward Ry.

  We do?

  He looks down at me with a wink. “Yes… you know those documents that are due tomorrow in the Ogletree case? We never did get to go over them today with everything else going on. And they’re due first thing in the morning. Or did you forget, Trix?”

  “Um… oh, yeah,” I say as I turn to Pap. “Totally forgot about that.”

  Pap just smirks and nods his head, his eyes twinkling and knowing. “You two hard-working lawyers get out of here and get your work done.”

  “Thanks, Pap,” Ry says as we push off the stools.

  “Yeah, thanks, Pap,” I say as I lean over and give him a kiss on his whiskered cheek. Then with more meaning than he’ll understand, for the mere fact he’s trying to help me achieve a higher happiness, I whisper, “Thanks for everything.”

  CHAPTER 13

  Ryland

  I hold Trixie’s hand on the way out of Chesty’s, and I don’t miss the very intrigued looks from Laken and Larkin as we stroll by them. Catherine gives me a warm smile as she hugs us near the door. After Trixie hugs her father, I put my hand out for him to shake. He takes it not quite reluctantly, but his grip is extra hard. I’m pretty sure the message is simple. I’m watching you, boy. Don’t you hurt my little girl.

  We turn left out of Chesty’s as Trixie’s firm sits right next door, but we are brought to an immediate halt by a hulking man standing in the middle of the sidewalk who carries a shotgun loosely in his right hand.

  “Hey, Floyd,” Trixie says brightly, as if this is nothing weird. I take an involuntary step backward, trying to pull Trixie with me, but her grip tightens on my hand and she holds her ground.

  “I smell mischief in the air,” Floyd tells her as his eyes cut to me briefly before coming back to her. He doesn’t seem menacing exactly, but maybe just a little “off”.

  “Well, I’m sure mischief will run in the other direction if
they see you coming,” Trixie says with a laugh. Then she tugs me forward. “Floyd… this is Ry Powers. A longtime friend of mine who is visiting.”

  Floyd turns a shrewd gaze my way. I have to look up at him slightly as he towers over me by a few inches. Maybe in his late fifties, iron-gray hair that is curly and long, with a frizzed gray beard that hangs halfway down his chest. “You the boy who got young Lowe out of jail this morning?”

  Wow. News sure travels fast in this town.

  “Yes, sir,” I say with all the respect that is due to a man holding a shotgun. Luckily, the tip is pointed toward the ground. “Pleased to meet you.”

  Floyd gives a grunt of acknowledgment and looks back to Trixie. “I don’t cotton with no fancy New York princess coming into this town and destroyin’ your family’s home. If Lowe had called me this morning, I would have come over and helped him hold his ground.”

  “Then Ry would have been bailing both of you out of jail,” Trixie admonishes gently.

  “It’s not right,” he grumbles. “That’s a Mainer home. It belongs with the Mainers. They built this town, and some respect should be paid.”

  “Floyd,” Trixie again chastises. “We sold that house. It’s not a Mainer home anymore.”

  “Always be a Mainer home,” he stoutly advocates.

  “You’re sweet,” she says as she steps toward him and goes to her tiptoes. He takes that as a sign and leans over so she can kiss his furry cheek. “But you need to stay out of it. I don’t need Lowe getting in more trouble over this.”

  Floyd grunts again and straightens. “Well, let me finish making my nightly rounds. You two stay safe.”

  “We always do under your watch,” Trixie says as she tugs on my hand. We push past Floyd. As I look over my shoulder, I see him continue past Chesty’s, crossing the street toward Providence Church.

  “What the hell was that?” I ask in amazement.

  “That’s just… Floyd,” she says with obvious affection. “He owns the hardware store on the other side of the courthouse square.”

  “And he’s walking around town with a shotgun because…?”

  “Because he thinks it’s his job to protect this town,” Trixie says in a matter-of-fact tone.

  “And the police don’t mind?” Still amazed, because… this guy walking down a street in Boston would be under arrest so damn fast.

  “Nope,” she says as we reach her law firm door. “He’s harmless.”

  “Is that shotgun loaded?”

  “Yup.”

  “Then he’s not harmless,” I maintain.

  “Only if you’re the one letting off the mischief pheromones he smells on the air,” she quips.

  I laugh. The people in this town are nuttier than squirrel shit.

  Trixie unlocks the door, and we step inside. She doesn’t turn on any lights, just leads me back to her office. She has a large window facing the street with wide slatted wooden blinds that are open. The streetlights cast a glow about a quarter of the way in her office but the rest remains in shadows.

  “I assume you really didn’t want to go over nonexistent documents, right?” she teases me, and her hand goes to the light switch.

  I grab it, pull it away, and give her a slight push toward her desk. “Yeah… totally didn’t want to go over nonexistent documents.” My hands go to her waist as I step up behind her.

  She lets out a huff of breath, and then leans back against me. “So, what do you want to go over?”

  “You,” I murmur as my arms circle around her stomach, squeezing her tight for just a moment. “I’m thinking right over this desk here.”

  “I like that idea,” she says breathlessly.

  Oh, I do too.

  Like it’s the best idea ever.

  “Think anyone can see in here?” I ask, wondering if Floyd will be walking back by at some point.

  “I doubt it,” she says, but then amends. “I don’t know. Maybe. Does it matter?”

  “It matters,” I tell her as I bring a hand up, cup her jaw, and turn her head. I lean to the right, pressing my mouth against hers for a soft but short kiss. When I pull back, I release my hold on her and walk around the desk. With a quick move, I snap the blinds shut, which darkens the office more, but there’s still enough of a glow that I can see Trixie standing on the other side.

  “Get naked,” I tell her as my hands go to unbutton my shirt. I’d permanently ditched my tie and suit jacket after court this morning. They are still in the back of Trixie’s car.

  I can see her teeth as she smiles back at me and practically purrs. “Why do we need to get all the way naked? We’ve got a desk. I’m pretty bendable and wearing a dress, so I’m thinking the only thing I need to do is get my panties off.”

  And Christ… I start to get hard at the image. Maybe I’ll snake her panties down those legs with my teeth.

  “Oh, wait,” she says as an afterthought. “I forgot… I didn’t put my panties back on after we showered at the Marriott.”

  And now I’m fully hard.

  Painfully hard.

  My hands drop from my buttons, and I stalk around the desk. As I get closer to her, I can see her face a little better. She bats her eyelashes at me coyly. Yet Trixie has never had a coy bone in her body. She’s always owned her sexuality, which may possibly be the thing I miss most about her. Not in a self-serving way, but in a way that a man can admire the confidence a woman has in herself, which is sexy as hell to me.

  When I reach her, I pull her to me with a hand behind her neck, bending to give her a deep kiss. Her fingers grip into my shirt, tugging me closer. We make out, barely touching but getting so turned on. Within moments, we’re both panting like schoolkids in the backseat of a car.

  I release Trixie and turn her toward her desk. With my hands on her hips, I tell her, “Let’s get you bent over that desk.”

  She complies instantly, and I have her dress hiked up before her elbows hit the desk. My hands palm her ass, tightly toned muscle covered by silky smooth skin. I run my hands lightly over her, holding myself back from giving her ass a slap. That had been part of our play in the past, but tonight… with slivers of romantic streetlight filtering in… I want to take this slow and gentle, despite the lack of foreplay.

  My hand slides down, between her legs, and I feel how turned on Trixie is.

  Damn, this is going to be good.

  Slow, gentle, and very, very good.

  ♦

  “That was really, really good,” Trixie says softly as we sit side by side on her office floor, our backs up against her wall. We’re sharing a post-sex beer that she retrieved from a little mini fridge in the corner. She takes a sip and passes it to me.

  “Better than good,” I say as I take the bottle. “No, wait… that was the best, right?”

  “Of all time?” she asks, her head rolling on the wall to look at me.

  “Yeah, of all time.” I take a sip. I’m mellow and satisfied. But who wouldn’t be after spectacular sex with someone as amazing and gorgeous as Trixie Mancinkus while she was bent over her desk?

  “Well, there was that time on the apartment rooftop,” she points out.

  And yeah… that was pretty damn great. The attached unit next door was having a party on their roof. We were totally out of sight, hidden in a corner with me holding her up against the wall with her legs wrapped tight around my waist. And we had to be so quiet, but that was easily remedied just by kissing the entire time.

  “It’s always been great when you think about,” Trixie says softly. “You know… some people have bad sex. Or sometimes, it’s just mediocre, because you know… sometimes you’re just off but not all the way in the mood—”

  “I was always all the way in the mood with you,” I say, offended she would think I wasn’t.

  Trixie laughs, pulling the bottle back away from me. “You know what I mean. It was always… extraordinary with us.”

  “That I will agree on.”

  “What do you want to do now?” sh
e asks before tilting the bottle back and draining it. “If you’re recharged, we can go again.”

  “I’m recharged,” I tell her firmly. “But I have a better idea.”

  “What can be better than sex?” she asks curiously.

  “Let’s go try to catch Ol’ Mud again.”

  Her tinkling laugh floats across me. “You’re kidding.”

  “I’m not,” I answer as I push up from my position on the floor. I hold my hand out to her. “You said it was easier to catch catfish at night. Let’s go give it a try.”

  Trixie takes my hand and I help her up, then pull her a little harder right into me. I put a hand on her hip and squeeze.

  “You really want to go fishing right now?” she asks, her head tilted to the side.

  “Yeah, I think I do,” I tell her. “It will be fun, and something I’ve never done. Fishing at night, that is.”

  “We could also fool around on the boat,” she suggests.

  “I suppose,” I hedge, but I won’t admit to her I’d been thinking along those same lines too. “As long as it doesn’t scare the fish away.”

  I get another laugh from Trixie, and Christ… I missed that as much as the sex. I’m going to use every opportunity I can while I’m here to get her to make that sound over and over again.

  CHAPTER 14

  Trixie

  I snuggle under the covers and wait for Ry. I heard his shower go off a few minutes ago, and I’m glad he took far longer than I did as it gave me time to sneak up the stairs and into his bed. I giggle to myself as I think about being naughty with Ry under my parents’ roof, and there’s not an ounce of shame in me for it.

  I suspect Ry is taking longer with his shower because he wasn’t overly fond of holding the fish he caught tonight. We didn’t have sex in the boat. Instead, we fished and talked and laughed. I got a few fish before Ry got his first bite, but he remembered his lessons from that morning well and expertly reeled in a large-mouth bass.

 

‹ Prev