Father & Son: Book two of the Jensen Family Series

by Michelle Day

  Paul nodded and even though he was thinking Uh oh he answered “Yeah, met her last night in a club.”

  “Paul.” Monica warned, “We are surrounded by good Catholic girls.”

  Paul couldn’t help his grin, it set his sister giggling. “I didn’t ask if she was Catholic and she was far from good in a bad way if you know what I mean.” He laughed then, “Might be worth a second visit.”

  “Oh my God, you didn’t just say that!” Tessa exclaimed through her laughter.

  “Please tell me you didn’t.” Monica scowled at him.

  “I promised I’d never lie to you mum so I can’t tell you that.”

  “But....,you have a girlfriend.”

  Paul shrugged “What happens in Spain stays in Spain.”

  It became the norm that Paul would spend the daylight hours with Gavin and Luke, the most challenging part of it being trying to prevent Luke from throwing himself off high objects in order to obtain a cool plaster cast like Gavin’s’. In the evenings, after the boys were bathed, had a bedtime story read to them and were soundly asleep, Paul would dress ready for a night on the town. He took Tessa with him on a few occasions but as she seriously cramped his style, it was only a few occasions.

  Throwing a box of condoms at her son as he turned to leave, Monica pinned him with her sternest stare and announced “I do not want a football teams worth of grandchildren from the loins of just one of my offspring thank you very much.”

  Putting the box in his pocket, he thought it ironic that his mother had chosen tonight to give him these, he had no intention of going anywhere near the clubs. He had something else entirely in mind. “Thanks mum but I have no intention of adding to the Jensen brood any time soon.”

  Paul was not what could be considered a natural early riser. If there was work to be done that required him to be a functioning member of society at the start of the day, he would be up, alert and working but if there was nothing that required his attention, he would simply sleep until his body had decided it was ready to rise so, on days off or holidays, Paul could sleep for England.

  Safe in the knowledge that his mother would see to the boys first thing, Paul slept in. And slept and slept until Monica felt the need to rouse him. Shaking him firmly, thinking it was about time he got out of bed, just in time for lunch no less, she stepped back when he turned to face her and opened his eyes.

  Running a hand over his face and sitting up, Paul bid his mother good morning before swinging his legs out of the bed. Raising his arms above his head in a stretch, he felt the pull of tape and the sting from his right arm. He’d fallen asleep with the dressing on. Picking at the corner of the tape as he stood, he began to make his way to the bathroom.

  “What have you done?” Monica asked, thinking her son was injured, then “Oh Paul.” As he peeled away the dressing to reveal the outline of a dragon tattoo covering his upper arm and stopping just above his elbow.

  “I took the opportunity to get this started, it’ll have to be completed when I get home but it’s something I’ve wanted for a while.” He explained. “Mum, it doesn’t make me a different person and it’s in a place that can be hidden.”

  “But you’ve permanently marked your body.” She pointed out.

  Paul stopped from retreating into the bathroom, I have enough scars permanently marking my body, and this isn’t going to make any difference now is it?” He asked. “At least I wanted this, I didn’t ask for the others.”

  “You are never going to forgive him are you?” She asked even though she already knew his answer, as far as Michael was concerned, Paul was stubborn.

  Shaking his head, he answered simply “No, never.” He put a stop to a more in depth conversation by stepping into the bathroom and closing the door.

  Chapter Twenty Eight

  Paul relaxed back on the sand after digging a hole for his legs. Cool sand began to cover him from the waist down and small hands began patting it firmly in place. Gavin and Luke’s favourite past time had become burying him in the sand which he was totally on board with, it gave him the perfect opportunity to relax while still interacting with the two boys.

  He couldn’t help cringing as the spades came out and began slapping down on the sand covering him, making it nice and smooth. He relaxed back on his elbows and kept a careful eye on the progress of the spades as they worked their way up his legs, ready to defend his pride and joy if necessary.

  His eyes were drawn to several yachts idling by and he felt a longing to take the boat out, his thoughts drifting to purchasing small, child sized life jackets. It took a few vital seconds to notice the atmosphere between the boys had changed. A clash of spades over his legs resulting in Gavin’s being cast aside and with a feral scream, the smaller boy threw himself at his friend.

  Stunned into momentary immobility, Paul watched as his son rained punches down on the older boy who did nothing to retaliate, he just took it with only the odd step backwards for a brief respite.

  Monica had heard her grandson’s scream and made to go and sort the situation out when Tessa stopped her with a light touch to her arm.

  “Let’s see how Paul handles this Mum. He has to learn sometime. If he mucks it up, then you can step in.”

  Nodding, knowing her daughter was right; she sat down but kept a wary eye, worried that her son’s volatile nature would show itself at the worst possible moment.

  Launching himself upwards, sand flying everywhere, Paul wrapped an arm around his son and lifted him away from Luke. Putting his son down and very firmly telling him to stay where he was, he turned his attention to Luke and the red marks left on his body by his sons flailing fists and plaster cast.

  “You ok little man?” He asked, smoothing his hands over the red blotches.

  Nodding, Luke answered “Yes. I’m ok.”

  “What happened?” Paul pressed.

  “He just gets like that sometimes.” Luke shrugged.

  Looking over to where he’d left his son, Paul felt his anger stir as he saw the little boy stomping up the beach towards the ever forgiving arms of his Grandmother. Determined not to handle this the way his own father would have. He gained his feet and cleared his throat before speaking in a tone that brooked no arguments.

  “Gavin. Stop. Right. There.” He had to admit to himself that he was surprised when the boy stopped. Thinking ok, baby steps, he continued “Turn around son.” His tone a little gentler but not much. Gavin turned to face him and crossed his arms over his chest, his sulky glare meeting Paul’s steely one. Oh boy, I am in way over my depth here. “Come back here.” He beckoned. Gavin didn’t budge. Ok. Now what? “I said come here.” He hardened his tone. Still the boy didn’t move. “Gavin. This is your last chance. Do not make me come and get you.” The last sentence spoken was almost a snarl, harsher than he intended but it got the desired result, little legs started moving, carrying his son towards him.

  Kneeling in front of his son, hands gently holding his arms, Paul asked what had happened. The sulky reply of “He hit his spade on mine.” Did little to improve Paul’s mood.

  “Gavin, it was an accident and nothing to get all fired up about. Look at what you’ve done to Luke. You hurt him. All those red marks are what you did. Would you like it if Luke did that to you?”

  Gavin shook his head. His eyes fixed on his friend before turning back to his father.

  “Is there anything you want to say to Luke?” Paul asked. He would have to discuss how to address the subject of some sort of punishment with his mother although punishment seemed too harsh of a word for the current situation.

  Nodding, Gavin walked over to the older boy. “I’m sorry I hurt you Luke.”

  What was that feeling he had forming in his chest? Oh yeah, it was a little bit of pride that it hadn’t taken too much pushing to get his son to do the right thing.

  Grinning from ear to ear, Luke wrapped his arms around his little friend. “It’s ok. Gav.”

  Paul sank back onto his bottom and watched
the easy way Luke forgave and dismissed what had happened. In the grand scheme of things, it wasn’t anything major but Gavin’s explosive reaction to the situation had him worried. He looked up when a shadow fell over him to see his mother spreading a towel on the sand and his sister doing the same on the other side of him.

  “You handled that well.” Monica told him.

  “You think so? I had no idea what I was doing.”

  Smiling at her son, patting his arm “You could have used a softer tone perhaps but you got a good result.”

  “Did you see what happened?” Paul asked. “I kinda zoned out for a bit.” He admitted.

  “I saw it all.” Monica confirmed.

  Great! “His reactions are a bit extreme.”

  “Both you and Carmen have tempers Paul. You are both volatile creatures by nature. Can you reasonably expect Gavin not to be the same if not worse? Seems to me he has a healthy dose of both your personalities and I’d say you are in for a rough ride with that one.”

  “Terrific.” He mumbled as he climbed to his feet announcing, “I have sand in my boy parts, I’m going for a swim.”

  Luke laughed, a truly dirty laugh that would garner him plenty of attention if it stayed the same as he got older “Sand in your boy parts.” He chuckled taking Paul’s hand and dragging Gavin with him.

  The final night of their holiday and Paul decided to let the boys stay up a little later so they could all go for a meal and maybe he’d be able to encourage his mother to show off her flamenco skills. A large serving of paella shared amongst them and several margarita’s for the adults and Monica was ready to get her groove on as the music started. A few margarita’s more and Paul was right there with her while Tessa laughed and the boys clapped and hollered in delight.

  Watching her brother and mother, Tessa had to admit to herself that she was a little envious that she didn’t fit in quite so well. Her mother looked so happy, her cheeks flushed from alcohol and exertion as she sidled up to Paul. He in turn, straightened his back and standing side on to his mother looked down at her with all the arrogant flair of a genuine flamenco dancer as they started to dance. She understood now when he said he could happily live here. He was accepted, something he would never be by their father.

  When Monica flounced away to dance with one of the other men present, Paul stood on the sidelines and clapped along with the rhythm. He was relaxed, no tension in his body and he couldn’t stop laughing. He had certainly needed this holiday that was for sure.

  Two very sleepy boys were carried back to the villa and left to sleep in the morning while the adults packed in preparation for the flight home. Paul’s customary bolt for the toilet still happened on the homebound flight but after that, he fared reasonably well. Immersing himself in games with the boys kept his mind off the fact that he was in a flying cylinder full of fuel many miles above terra firma.

  Once back in England and having instructed his sister not to “do anything fucking stupid with my Porsche” he loaded the boys and their luggage into Monica’s car and turned it towards Gloucester while Tessa and Monica took his car home.

  He expected for the two mothers to be gushing with love and proclamations of missing their offspring, what he hadn’t bargained for was the argument that ensued when Carmen caught sight of Gavin’s plaster cast. To her credit, she saved her scathing remarks for when the boy was in bed but she then sparked Helen off and he Paul found himself cornered in the kitchen with two angry women.

  Carmen was completely livid that he had neglected to inform her of her son’s broken arm. Paul told her it wasn’t a big deal, it was dealt with, the cast would be off in a little over a week and if he’d told her beforehand, she would have prevented him from taking the boy on holiday. He cringed when Helen actually agreed with him, knowing full well her comments would do nothing to ease Carmen’s mood, his grudging respect for her support was short lived when she, in her very next breath accused him of encouraging Luke to lie to her on their daily phone calls as not once had the seven year old passed comment on his friends cast.

  It hadn’t even occurred to Paul to try to convince the youngster to be economical with the truth, something right now he was relieved about and he voiced as much, stating that he hadn’t even considered that to be an option. Neither woman was entirely happy with his answers but he stressed the point that a good time was had by all, both boys had returned happy and mostly healthy and he thanked both women for their trust in him.

  Placated somewhat by his calm replies even though his stance belied his apparent calm, Carmen and Helen backed down a little. He found himself rekindling old flames with the mother of his son that night and was tired but immensely satisfied as he began the journey home.

  He spent the next few days catching up with his business and touching base with Jez and the staff at the club. He’d been home three days before deciding it was probably a good idea to let his girlfriend know he was home. The time away from her had cleared his mind and spending a deeply satisfying night with Carmen had strengthened his resolve and he had decided the relationship with Eve was no longer a viable one and it was time for it to end.

  He had planned to take her out, neutral territory and break the news but she insisted on having her driver drop her at his flat. This meant he had to make sure his Uncle would be out and after explaining what he was planning to do, John was more than happy to leave for the evening.

  Considering he hadn’t seen her for almost a month, she was hardly gushing with enthusiasm when he let her in to the flat and therein lie the problem. Paul liked women with passion. Women who weren’t afraid to tell him what they wanted in no uncertain terms and were eager to take it from him when he made the pretence of being unwilling.

  A few glasses of wine later had put him in the mind set of trying his luck. His kisses and caresses seemed welcome enough but as his hands began to roam, Eve tensed under his touch, telling him they should take it slow as he’d been gone so long and it was like starting a new relationship all over again.

  Sitting back on a sigh and scraping his hands over his face, Paul paused for breath before looking at Eve.

  “So all the work I put into you was for nothing? I have to start again?” He asked.

  Sitting bolt upright, huffing and puffing in indignation, Eve finally gained her feet and rounded on him “Excuse me? All the work you have put in to me? How dare you.”

  “Face it Eve, you aren’t exactly the warm, cuddly type are you? I’ve invested a lot of time and patience with you and for what? To start again? Nah, that doesn’t work for me.”

  “The only thing that works for you is a woman on her knees worshipping your cock.” She spat.

  His brief thought of well yeah, that works really well for me, was cut off when his mouth took over. “It works as long as it’s not your mouth. I can honestly say I never want your mouth on my junk again. Ever.”

  “You have some nerve. I always knew you weren’t classy enough for me.” She picked up her jacket. “I hope you have that council project sealed up tight because the press are going to have a field day with this.” She hissed as she reached the door.

  Moving quickly, he slapped his palm on the door, slamming it shut before leaning in to her, “Don’t try that shit with me. Don’t forget I hold all the cards here. You sell your sob story to the press and I might just let slip about dear old dad being a major financial fuck up.”

  Eve laughed and stepped back from him. “I knew you’d bring that up. How foolish will you look when I retaliate with the news that you have been bank rolling him?”

  “I can turn it around.” Paul shrugged. “Do your worst.” He said over his shoulder, he needed a drink. Badly.

  “I will of course, follow up that statement with the fact that I’m pregnant and when you found out you dumped me and are refusing to talk to me or take any responsibility?”

  He stopped dead in his tracks, glass teetering on the edge of his lip. Lowering his glass, he stared at her for a few moments.
“No way. I was always careful with you. I always had the feeling all you ever wanted was a rich husband.”

  “Oh Paul, how naive are you? Don’t you remember being drunk and pestering me until I gave in? It happened more than once. What will happen to your precious contract when this gets out?”

  He downed his drink in one, welcoming the burn. Shit. He turned his back on Eve, fingers fisted into his hair. “Fuck” he whispered. There was no way he could afford to lose this contract. He scrubbed his face with his hands, holding them there as his mind whirled a mile a minute “Fuuuuuuck” he bellowed. Turning to face her, he braced his hands on the kitchen counter “Get rid of it.” He growled.

  Although his shout had made her jump, she was expecting the words he’d just spoken so they were in no way a surprise. Shaking her head, smiling her perfectly perfected bitchy smile. “No. You are right, I want a rich husband and now I have the perfect opportunity to get one. You make an honest woman of me or I will ruin you. Even with your money, I know there’s no way you’ll risk this contract so, here’s what we are going to do. We are going to get married. You are going to look happy about it. You are going to find us somewhere to live because I won’t be moving into the flat above the club and I certainly won’t be living here and you will provide for me and our child without complaining. You do that and I will protect your reputation with my life.”

  Poof. Just like that his dreams of his bachelor pad above the club went up in smoke. With her connections, he had no doubt that Eve could ruin him. He had a lot of balls in the air right now and he couldn’t afford to drop a single one of them. I have got to stop my cock leading me through life. He thought, shaking his head at the realisation that he’d just handed the path of his life over to yet another woman.

  Chapter Twenty Nine

  Suzanne turned the envelope over in her hands after reading her name in fancy script on the front. No return address. The paper was thick, high quality. A pity to ruin it by merely ripping it open. Picking up her silver letter opener with the mother of pearl handle, she carefully sliced open the top of the envelope and retrieved the heavily embossed card inside.