Upper Hand (Cedar Tree Book 5)

by Freya Barker

  “Goddammit, Dylan,” I mutter to myself, trying three more times to get through, when Clint covers the phone in my hand with his.

  “Was going to do this on Wednesday already, and now I wish I had; we’re gonna talk to Gus, girl. See if he can find anything out.”

  “Something’s wrong, Clint. I can feel it.” I struggle to keep the impotent tears at bay when I feel his hand stroking my cheek, and my breath stills in my throat. He’s never touched me like this before. When I lift my eyes, I see compassion in his eyes, but also something else—something darker. It’s making me squirm in my seat.

  “I know. Fuck, I knew it when he dropped Max off Wednesday morning. We’ll figure it out, sugar.”

  With a variety of emotions constricting my throat, I simply nod before slipping the car in drive again and pulling out of the parking lot.

  _

  “Big gah!”

  We’ve barely stepped inside when Max comes barreling to the front door, passing right by me and latching himself onto Clint’s leg, nearly knocking him off kilter. Blue, Katie’s dog, walks up languidly behind and nudges me with his big head, making sure I’m not left out.

  “You guys the welcoming committee?” I smile over my shoulder at my grandson, but he’s still smiling up at Clint. Little traitor. It does melt my rusty heart a little when I watch Clint smiling back and ruffling Max’s hair.

  “Go say hi to your Gammy.” Clint nudges Max, who’s like a little trained Pavlov dog when Clint speaks and immediately swings around and treats me to a big smile and a leg-hug, pushing the big dog out of the way.

  “Gammy, see?”

  Max grabs my hand and pulls me to the kitchen, where Katie is working on her computer at the dining room table. Mattias is sitting on the floor, surrounded by those oversized Lego blocks. Duplos I think they call them.

  “Hey guys,” Katie says, “I wasn’t expecting you back so soon. Thought maybe you’d take the opportunity to grab some dinner?” She’s wiggling her eyebrows up and down with a fool grin on her face, looking back and forth between Clint and I.

  “Stuff it, pipsqueak. You’re about as subtle as an eighteen-wheeler on a bicycle path.”

  “Actually,” Clint pipes up, “maybe we should ask Katie? See what she can come up with on Dylan.”

  Katie whips her head back to me. “Why? What’s up with him?”

  I spend the next couple of minutes going over the tension in their house, Tammy leaving suddenly, and Dylan showing up at my house at the crack of dawn to drop Max off. I remember almost word for word our phone conversation from earlier. Not difficult, since he never said much to begin with. Katie’s fingers are already flying over the keyboard, while I’m telling her what little I know.

  “Where does he work?” She wants to know and I give her the name of the garage. She then proceeds to question me on his home address, Tammy’s family, where they’re from. Do I know if they’d had any specific problems in the marriage before, and if I know about financial issues they might have. I don’t have a hell of a lot to tell her. Clint sits at the kitchen table keeping an eye on the boys, while at the same time listening in with a keen ear.

  By the time we have Max and his things loaded up, my head’s still buzzing with the virtual interrogation, despite the fact that Katie’s assured me she’ll start digging around. I’m just getting in the car when I remember something.

  “Wait!” I call out to Katie who’s already walking back in the house with Mattias on her arm. “We never talked about baby-sitting Max.”

  “Not much to talk about,” Clint points out, “I’ll sort it out with Katie in the morning. I’m not totally helpless with him.” He seems almost insulted.

  “Never said you were, but—“

  Katie pipes up, “No buts, you just do your thing and Clint and I have Max covered between us, okay?”

  “Fine.” I throw my hands up in surrender. “I really appreciate this, you know?”

  “Just roll with it, Beth. Being on the receiving end of help isn’t something you’re accustomed to, but you’ll get the hang of it.”

  Clever bitch. I throw a sharp look at Clint, who is chuckling at Katie’s teasing words, before sliding behind the wheel.

  “Later, little lady,” he waves at her before closing his door.

  -

  With a quick simple dinner under our belts and Max down for the night, I walk into the kitchen to find Clint at the counter measuring out coffee grinds.

  “Decaf,” he clarifies.

  I slide onto a stool and find myself staring at his broad back underneath the flannel shirt he’s wearing. I have to shake my head to clear the increasing R rated thoughts he seems to generate on a more frequent basis lately. Forcing my eyes away, I stare out into the darkness outside the window instead.

  “Penny for your thoughts.”

  When I look back, Clint’s eyes are studying me intently. It’s become awkward with him getting better every day and me still around. Not like he really still needs me here twenty-four seven. He gets around the house fine, and aside from needing groceries and being driven around for now, he seems able to look after himself just fine. I like being here with him—not going to deny that—but I’m afraid to get too comfortable in this man’s house, in his presence.

  “I should probably be moving home, you know. Not like you need me around all the time.” I wince at how passive aggressive that sounds. Like I’m willing him to ask me to stay. He doesn’t; instead he rubs a hand over the now permanent scruff on his jaw and regards me through slitted eyes.

  “Yeah? Getting tired of me already?”

  “Not saying that,” I scramble. “Just that I’m sure you’re craving your peace and quiet. I’m not exactly easy to miss and Max...well, a two-year-old Energizer bunny is not your usual speed either.”

  “Hmmm. You worried about me or about you?”

  “I’m not sure what you mean?”

  I shift a little uneasily on my stool as he suddenly pushes back from the counter and makes his way around it. With both hands he grabs my seat and turns me around so I’m facing him. And he’s close—in my face close, especially when he puts his hands on either side of me on the counter, effectively boxing me in.

  “You running again?” I can feel the breath from his lips on my own. Whatever control I was holding on my physical response to him just went out the window.

  “Again? When was I running?” I pretend not to know what he’s talking about, when in reality he has pegged me better than I’m comfortable admitting. I am running, and have been, knowing very early on the kind of power he’d be able to wield over me. I’m a coward.

  “You’ve been doing that since I first clapped eyes on you and tried to let you know I liked what I saw. You’re like a jumping bean; in constant motion before anyone has a chance to hold you down. And, sugar, I’ve been wanting to hold you down in a bad way.”

  Still boxed in and with nowhere to go, I can’t avoid the slow descent of his mouth to mine. Not that I really tried.

  The rich, potent taste of him is like a shock to my system. While his tongue is determinedly taking charge of my mouth, his hips insert themselves between my legs. My mind is urging to shut him down but the moment I move, his cautioning growl against my lips has me wantonly open my legs and lips wider instead. It’s not like he is holding me down, and yet despite only our lips touching, and his prominent, very hard erection pressing between my legs, he has complete control. Slow deep sweeps of his tongue in my mouth, in rhythm with barely discernible hip rolls, have me whimpering in submission. All thought, but the taste and feel of him, disappears from my mind. Each time my hands involuntarily move to touch him, his deep growl vibrates through all my nerve ends in a delicious warning.

  When his mouth finally pulls away from mine, I can’t stop the little moan escaping me. His hands, which have been gripping the counter on either side of me, finally move to cup my face and tilt it up. The undeniable heat in the dark brown eyes looking down at me sends
an involuntary shiver down my limbs.

  “Can’t have your hands on me, or mine on you; I’d lose all control,” he mutters in a low voice.

  “Would it be so bad to lose control?” I find myself whispering.

  “Absolutely. Can’t have what my hands or yours are touching distract from what my mouth is tasting.”

  Fucking hell.

  What in blazes happened to the man, who just hours ago said all the wrong things, and yet has me melting at the words falling from his mouth now? Just as I’m about to point that out the shrill ring of a phone interrupts.

  “Yours,” Clint says, as he steps back from me and leaves a chill in his wake.

  I get up on legs that are more wobbly than I expected, requiring me to grab onto the counter for stability. My phone is still in the pocket of my coat hanging on a kitchen chair.

  “Hello?” I manage to catch it right before it goes to voicemail. “Hello?” I try again when the line stays silent. I pull the phone away from my ear and look at the screen. It says ‘unknown number’ so I try one last time. “Who’s calling please?” Nothing. Not a sound except the loud click that signals a hang up.

  “What was that?” Clint asks.

  “Not sure. Never got an answer.”

  I’m still staring at the screen when the damn thing starts ringing again, and I almost drop it on the floor. Clint reaches out and grabs it from my hand before I have a chance to answer.

  “Who the fuck is this?” he says, rather angrily, evident by the stark red of the surgery scar on his skull.

  “Christ. Sorry, little lady, Beth just got a weird call is all. Thought whoever it was before was at it again. Yeah—sure, she’s right here.” With a sheepish grin he hands me the phone back. “It’s Katie,” he explains unnecessarily.

  “Thanks, Einstein,” I mumble, secretly pleased at the forceful display of protectiveness.

  “Hey, Katie-girl, what’s up?”

  “You tell me first; what’s this business about a weird phone call?” she demands to know.

  “Nothing, probably just a wrong number, but did you find something?”

  “Only that Dylan was evicted from his house last Tuesday for nonpayment.”

  “Jesus.”

  “He apparently failed to pay rent for the third month in a row, and the landlord had no choice, since he wasn’t returning his calls.”

  “How did I not know this? See this? I stayed there for a fucking month and I had no idea. Why didn’t he say something? I could’ve helped.”

  I feel Clint walking up behind me and putting his hands on my shoulders in silent support.

  “I don’t know what to tell you, girl, but I’m guessing he may have felt he’d tapped you enough for money over the years? Wild guess...”

  “Yes, possibly—probably, but I would never have allowed my grandson to go without a home, I wouldn’t even have hesitated.”

  “Don’t know what to tell you, honey. The landlord did mention that he was surprised to find the place abandoned already. The notice technically gave them a week to move out, but he said when he went to check yesterday, there was nobody there, and it looked like someone had packed in a hurry. Clothes and such mostly seemed to be gone and a bit of a mess was left in the bedroom, but other than that, he said it looked like they just up and left, leaving all furnishings behind, including the desktop computer. I told him you’d be in touch once you’ve decided what you want done with the stuff?”

  I slump a bit and feel Clint’s solid form against my back. “Not sure what to think. Should I pack it up? Put it in storage? I don’t even know when he’ll be back.”

  “I actually had a thought,” Katie offers. “Gus has Malachi going to Durango to attend to some business tomorrow. I’d like to have Mal look over the place and at least pick up the computer? Who knows what he picks up on and besides, we may be able to get some information off that desktop. He can arrange to have the rest packed up and put in storage for you? At least it keeps it safe until you want it or Dylan comes back.”

  “I guess that’s fine, I can’t even think straight right now. I probably should give that landlord a call.”

  “Do it tomorrow morning, it’s too late now. Just let him know Mal is coming and give him the GFI number so we can deal with details.”

  When I hang up with Katie, Clint turns me around and wraps me in his arms.

  “I think I got the gist of it; he got kicked out of the house for not paying the rent and he left the contents behind. Something like that?” His voice rumbles in my ear.

  I just nod my head against his chest as confirmation.

  “We’ll figure it out.”

  Again I’m momentarily stunned with the easy way ‘we’ slides off his lips and settles in my heart. How ironic, since just a short while ago I was ready to run in the opposite direction.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  “Shhh, let Grammy sleep for a bit longer, little man.”

  I wake up to the high pitched voice of Max and Clint’s quiet rumbling one. With startling clarity, last night’s events filter my sluggish mind. Katie’s call, the news she brought, and the scalding hot exchange between Clint and I it interrupted. After hanging up with her, the momentary heat was cooled and it wasn’t long before Clint suggested we turn in for the night. He left me at the door to my bedroom, with only a peck on my lips, a longing in my chest, and between my legs. I can’t remember much beyond that except crawling in bed and promptly passing out from what I’m sure was emotional fatigue. Only explanation since even now, after sleeping a long night, the needy ache of my body has me restless.

  Reaching over the side of the bed, I grab the bag I quickly stuffed with unnecessary clothes we picked up at my house, to find my battery-operated buddy. A quick twist and the depleted batteries drop out and I slip my hand between the mattress where I’ve wedged their replacements. Fumbling under the sheets, one hand wanders to find the coarse hairs on my mound and my slit already wet and swollen. A little shiver has me draw in a quick breath of air as I part my lips with one hand, while the other slides the bulbous tip of my vibrator through, coating it slick and teasing my clit. A quick flick of my thumb and the low-grade buzz, muffled by the covers has me clench in anticipation. Instead of slipping it into my pussy, I slide it back and forth from my clit, where I allow it to linger, all the way to my perineum and teasing the rim of my puckered hole. Muscles already tensing, I know that it won’t take much for me to reach climax. After building anticipation with a few passes between my lips and beyond, I slowly shove the sizable vibrator in my pussy, deep enough so I can feel the deep buzzing inside my channel and the twitching bunny ears hit my now over-sensitized clit. I regret not having more hands to pull and twist my nipples. My breasts ache to be sucked in between strong lips. My hand is working the vibrator in and out at an increasingly punishing pace. My breath hitches and all I hear is the rushing of blood in my ears. Almost. I pull my knees all the way up to my chest and slam the poor replacement for the real thing home hard. Squeezing my eyes shut to imagine Clint between my legs, pumping his big cock inside me, his heavy balls slapping against my ass; I come apart. My muscles squeezing and massaging the inanimate length still vibrating inside me. Out of breath and heart pumping, I fumble for the little switch that turns off the buzzing, which suddenly sounds loud in the small room. With a deep sigh I pull it out of me, leaving me sated and tender. Good gawd.

  -

  -

  Fucking hell.

  I’m standing with my forehead pressed to the door of Beth’s bedroom, having just listened to her get herself off with some aid by the sounds of it. Goddammit, I’m so hard I could knock down the door with my cock. I wanted nothing more than to barge in there and watch, having been teased for over a year with just a vague concept of what Beth was hiding under her clothes. I’d planned on biding my time with her, making her needy for me in a controlled manner, but she just blew that plan right out of the water. Fuck, I want to go in there, but I just left Max in the borrow
ed highchair at the kitchen counter, coming to grab a wet wash cloth from the bathroom to wipe his sticky face. What I want to do with Beth will surely take more than a few quick minutes.

  With a hand pressed against my painful hard-on, I walk into the bathroom, grabbing the washcloth I came here for and wetting it at the sink. When I turn around I almost bump into Beth, who’s standing in the door opening, her mouth slack and soft, eyes heavy-lidded, and a deep flush on her cheeks. My growl is unintentional but rather instinctive and has her eyes widen in response. Trying not to stare at the puckered nipples pressing against the thin fabric of her nightshirt, I breathe in the scent of her. I’m sure my eyes betray me, but I stay in full control as I lean into her. Or so I tell myself.

  “You always smell good, but the scent of your orgasm makes my mouth water,” I whisper against the shell of her ear before slipping my body by her, making sure to brush against her breasts. A sharp hiss escapes her and is followed by a mumbled, ‘Holy Christ on a broomstick,’ making me smile. With the satisfaction of knowing the effect I have on her, I walk down the hall to the kitchen—taller than I have in a while.

  Finding Max with apple jelly all over his face, as well as the counter, is a small price to pay.

  When Beth finds us a little later, sitting on the floor with some of Max’s toy cars, she smiles but it’s tight. Should’ve kept my big trap shut, ‘cause I can see her mentally retreating from the boundaries we’ve started shifting. She turns to the coffee pot in the kitchen. I hoist myself up off the floor, pausing momentarily until the dizziness dissipates, before following her there. I can see the moment she realizes I’m behind her, because her back straightens up and she freezes in place. Not letting it stop me, I step up right behind her, my front to her back.

  “Didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable, Bean, but that was fucking hot.”

  Like a shot she turns around and plants her palms on my chest trying to shove me back. I simply grab her hands and hold them between our bodies as I back her into the counter.