“Sure, Mom. Coffee sounds good.”
A smile broadened her face. She held the rail and walked with careful steps down the stairs. I noticed she favored one side.
“Did you hurt your leg?”
“I had a knee replacement a few months ago.”
Guilt blanketed me. I tried to think of something to say, but came up empty. Man. She deserved so much better.
“I’m doing a lot better now.”
We entered the kitchen, and she commanded me to sit at the table.
I watched her pour water in the coffee maker and take two cups from the cabinet. “Mom?”
“Yes?”
“I’m sorry I’m such a terrible son. I guess you lost me the same year you lost Sarah and Dad.”
Mom went to the refrigerator and took out the milk which she poured into the cups. “I didn’t really lose you. Maybe just misplaced you for a while.” She smiled as she said it.
“I’ve not really been back since I went to college.”
“Do you think the position in Stone Rand is a permanent one?”
“I don’t know. It’s not undercover. I think I’m done with that. This last assignment was hard.”
“I guess that’s where you met Abigail.”
“Yes.”
“Nice girl. Very outgoing.”
“To her detriment, I think.”
Mom laughed. “She’s welcome as long as she wants to stay. Of course, you are, too. You know that, I hope.”
“You hadn’t moved the key on me. Still, it makes me uneasy that anyone could come in on you. The ledge is the first place someone would look for a key.”
“I’d think they’d look under a rock. Isn’t that where people usually hide a key?”
“There are no rocks by the back door.”
“You think I should put a few back there to confuse the burglar?” She placed the cup of coffee in front of me. When I looked up at her, she winked.
I laughed, glad to be with my mom again. She asked about my last case, and I told her as much as I could without scaring her as to how close I had come to dying in the fire, getting shot inside a banger’s hang out, or getting the crap beat out of me by bored teenagers while sleeping under a bridge. I asked her about her knee surgery and how the rest of the family was doing—my older brother and his family in Mississippi, my grandpa, and aunts, uncles, and cousins Mom still kept up with.
It was close to midnight when I went downstairs. I got ready for bed noting Abigail’s door was ajar. I turned off the hall light and stood for a moment wondering if I should go in my old room to Abigail. What was the worst that could happen? She’d kick me out. What was the best that could happen?
She wouldn’t kick me out.
I took a deep breath and went in, closing the door behind me. In the darkness, I could barely make out her form on the bed. I hesitated thinking how stupid it was to be afraid of having her reject me when I had stared down criminals ready to fight to the death if I had to. Abigail I wanted. My heart thumped so hard I heard it.
“What’cha waiting on?” Her voice was soft, lilting, affectionate.
I knelt on the bed. She sat up and wrapped her arms around me. When our lips met, it was different from every other time we had kissed. In the courthouse and her apartment, we had been fervent, nearly out of control—hyped on surprise or anger or grabbing the moment that maybe wasn’t going to happen again. This kiss was unhurried, gentle, basking in each other. I know it’s a cliché to say it, but it had never been like this for me before. I didn’t want to hurry. I didn’t want it to be just about getting off. I wanted it to mean something to her because it meant something to me.
I ran my fingers along her skin, reveling in how soft she was, the satin smooth texture of her body. I broke our kiss and moved to her neck realizing as my hand grazed her thigh she still had on no panties, just the T-shirt. I pulled it up and off of her. I liked her like this—naked and against me. I held her and kissed her again, tasting her sweetness. With almost no sight, we explored each other in touch and taste. Even her foot rubbed invitingly on my calf. I brought her leg up, touched the flesh at the bend under her knee with my thumb making her shiver.
See, the thing about being celibate for so many years was I imagined all the parts of a woman, all the places that might be soft to the touch and may need extra care. A lot of guys go for the breasts, the vagina, and the ass and that’s it. What they don’t realize is how sensitive a woman’s ear lobe is, for example. Or, the skin on the side of her ankle. Or the flesh inside the upper arm between the elbow and the arm pit. I loved every one of those parts of Abigail with fingers and tongue. I worshiped her as a man who had seen her for months, who had only very rarely been able to be close enough to touch her. I cherished her as though we had our entire lives to spend making love and as though the world was going to end tomorrow. I gave it all to her.
I sucked the tender flesh of one inner thigh and the other until she grabbed my head and guided me into her. I tasted her, holding her until her whole body shook and she laughed out loud. There was nothing better than Abigail’s soft chuckle and her accompanying sigh when I made love to her. With a self-congratulatory grin as her sigh rang in my ears, I took a leisurely path to thigh, hip, across her rib cage, to her back then pulled her to me and spooned her. Her body was as limp as a bath cloth after a thirty minute shower, another sign I had done right by her.
It felt good.
Maybe it was moments later or hours, I didn’t know, she turned, reached for me, and we came together for real this time. I fell asleep with her sprawled across me like a warm and comfortable, but very sexy blanket.
****
“Do you have to go?”
“Yes. I talked to the ASAC, that’s an acronym for the Area Special Agent in Charge. He wants to meet me today.”
She didn’t respond. I glanced back at her. She lay in the bed, the sheet covering most of her, but one leg, bent at the knee was bare. My mouth went dry. I almost jerked off the tie I had just put on and even took a step toward the bed to crawl next to her and love her again.
Down, boy.
Unaware of what a tempting sight she was to me, Abigail stared at the ceiling.
“I’ll try to be back by one. We can eat a late lunch.”
“Food wasn’t what I had in mind,” she grumbled.
“Me neither.”
She met my eyes and grinned. She raised up on her elbows. The sheet slipped an inch revealing the pale skin below her collar bone, the beginnings of her breasts. “Sure you can’t be a little late?”
I swallowed hard and walked from the room. “I’ll get back as soon as I can,” I called from the hall trying to sound like it was no problem to leave her, trying to act like she hadn’t tilted the axis of my world in a most amazing way.
At the ATF headquarters, I met Dixon Betts, a guy in his early forties with a receding hair line and squinty brown eyes. He shook my hand firmly and invited me into his office.
“So.” He sat back with hands clasped behind his head. “You come with a glowing recommendation from Delia Travers. I was at the academy with her.”
“Yeah?” I wondered if she had ever kicked his ass.
“She broke my arm.”
I smirked. I guess I had my answer.
“Good agent, though. Hear you all did some fine work with the gangs down there. Has the jury come back on the case?”
“Not yet.” I had called Bryant this morning on the way to the office. Closing arguments were yesterday with instructions from the judge to the jury and deliberations. They hadn’t been sequestered so deliberations would continue Monday.
“Well, let’s get to it then. I’d rather not be here all day on a Saturday.” He sat forward and stood up. “But I can show you a few things. Give you a taste of how it is around here.”
****
I couldn’t wait to get back to Abigail. Most of the miles back had been spent trying to figure out how to hole up with her in the basement
for the rest of the weekend without having Mom interrupt us. The best idea I had was taking Abigail to a hotel in Stone Rand.
Before I even opened the door, I could hear Amanda screaming. I walked inside and saw every toy ever made in China covering the floor. Abigail entered the room from the kitchen with a crying and red faced Amanda on her hip.
I strode toward them.
“What happened? Where’s MeMe? Where’s Mom?”
“They went to Daniel’s soccer game.”
“What? And left you with Amanda?” I couldn’t believe it.
“Oh, I offered. Like an idiot. I don’t know what I was thinking.”
“What’s wrong with her?”
“I don’t know. She’s been doing this for about forty-five minutes now. I’ve tried to feed her, change her, play with her. She hates me.”
“She’s a baby. What’s she know about hate?” I eyed Amanda critically. She turned away from me and stiffened her little body. She took a deep breath and let out another bellow.
“Here. You take her.”
I stepped back. “I don’t know anything about babies.”
“What? And you think I do?”
“Why did you agree to babysit?”
“Well, she was so happy before. A great little kid, and I thought, ‘How much trouble could she be?’ Boy, was I wrong.”
“Did you call MeMe?”
“I can’t call her. She’ll think I’m an idiot.”
I snorted. “I’ll vouch for you. Where’s her number?”
I pulled out my cell phone while Abigail went to get the number. I called, and MeMe answered on the first ring.
“MeMe, get back here and do something with your kid. She’s screaming her head off.”
“Oh, hi, Scotty. Can you guys wait about fifteen minutes? The game is almost over.”
“No, we can’t wait. I think she’s going to hyperventilate or something. You need to come back now.”
“I’m sure she’s fine. Have you checked her diaper?”
I growled.
“Well? Have you?”
I hung up and pocketed the phone. “Come on. They’re at the school. We’ll take her to her mom.”
We walked out the door to Abigail’s car. Her eyes met mine over the top of the car. “What about a car seat?”
“Let’s just belt her in the backseat.”
“I don’t think it’s safe.”
Amanda howled. Something had to be wrong to make a kid bellow like that. I snapped my fingers. “Mom’s car. She’s got car seats.”
I ran inside, retrieved the keys, and was at her vehicle in less than a minute. Abigail and Amanda disappeared inside the back.
“Do you know how this car seat works?” Abigail’s voice reached me over Amanda’s wails.
I opened the other door and leaned in. The baby’s face was red, her hair wet with sweat. Should we just take her to the hospital? Call an ambulance? My hands shook as I pulled the little belt from her back and over her shoulders. Shit. I couldn’t believe a baby was scaring the hell out of me. What was wrong with her? The buckle snapped in the front and between her legs securing the car seat.
When I climbed into the front and started the car, I rolled down the windows hoping some of the sound would escape. How had Abigail stood this for forty-five minutes? How had MeMe stood it for twelve months?
Gravel shot out from under the tires as I stomped the gas.
“Uncle Scotty, slow down. You hurt one hair on this baby’s head, and MeMe will kill both of us.”
I ignored the threat and drove the ten blocks to my Alma Mater, Finch Elementary School. From the backseat, Abigail crooned, and Amanda stopped screaming for the first time since I had gotten to the house. She took a shuttering breath, made some horrible disgusting sound, and was quiet. I glanced over my shoulder to make sure she wasn’t dead. The baby was slumped over the side of the car seat. Abigail’s surprised expression met mine. I turned back to the road before I wrecked.
“Is she okay?”
“She’s still breathing.”
I pulled into the parking lot of the school, parked, and turned back around with the engine idling. Abigail wore an expression of relief.
“I think she’s asleep.”
“Let’s take her to her mom.”
“No way. I’m not moving this kid and risk waking her up. Why don’t you go tell MeMe we’re here and to come get Amanda when they get ready to leave?”
“Okay.”
Thankful to have a plan which involved letting sleeping children lie, I strode toward the field looking for familiar faces.
“Scott? Scott McIntyre? It is you.” An older Tamara Simpson approached me. I smiled back. Tamara had been the gal mom had caught me in bed with in eleventh grade.
“Tamara Simpson. I was just thinking about you.”
She laughed. “It’s Tamara Fisher now. I married Donnie.”
Donnie Fisher? He had been one of my best friends in high school. “I didn’t know he had a thing for you.”
She caught my arm and began pulling me toward a throng of people. “He’s here. Come say, ‘hello.’ Donnie? Hey, look who I found.”
A rotund guy grinned at us. “Well. Scotty McIntyre. Look at you in a suit. Ha! You haven’t changed a bit.”
“You have.”
Donnie laughed and patted his large stomach. “Tammy’s fattened me up. Haven’t you, honey?”
“You guys have kids on the soccer team?”
“Yeah. Eleanor and Daniel are on the same team. This,” Tamara indicated a girl about ten years old. “is Gerri. And the three year old running across the field is Ashton. I better go get her before she disrupts the game.”
I watched Tamara go after the little carbon copy of herself.
“Hey, man. You didn’t make it to the ten year reunion.”
“No. I think I was in New Mexico at the time.”
“MeMe said you were in the ATF. Pretty impressive.”
“What do you do?”
“U.P.S. Tammy teaches at the high school.”
Geez. I couldn’t believe it. Tamara and Donnie. And they had kids. I spotted MeMe, Tank, and Mom. “Hey, good to see you, Donnie.”
“Yeah. How long you in town? Maybe we can go out for a beer or something?”
“I’d like that.”
Donnie reached into his pocket. “What’s your number?”
I recited it, and he punched in numbers. My cell phone rang.
“Okay, man. You got my number. Call me when you’re free.”
He closed his phone, then reached forward to shake my hand. “I’m glad we ran into you. It’s been too long.”
Yeah, it had been.
The game was over. The family walked toward me. Mom reached me first. “Where are Abby and Amanda?”
I noted the nickname and wondered if Abigail would mind. “In the car.”
MeMe caught up. “It was her diaper, wasn’t it?”
In a big group, we made our way back to the parking area.
“No, it wasn’t her diaper. Abigail had already checked it. She let out this monstrous burp in the car and fell asleep.”
“Who, Abigail?” Tank asked slapping me on the back. Tank and MeMe had known each other since grade school. The little runt had practically grown up in our house. Along about middle school MeMe declared she was going to marry Tank, so none of us were surprised when it happened.
I returned his look. “No, smart ass. Your daughter.”
“Scotty,” Mom warned casting a glance at Daniel who grinned up at me.
“Sorry,” I said to Mom then to my sister, “MeMe, I think you need to take Amanda to the doctor. Something’s wrong with that kid.”
“Nothing’s wrong with her. She just had some gas on her tummy. Sometimes she’s gassy,” MeMe informed me.
“Takes after her old man,” Tank grinned.
“Tank, that burp even put you to shame. I swear it shook the car.”
He sighed contentedly. “That
little girl makes me so proud. Burpzilla. That’s what I wanted to name her, but MeMe insisted on Amanda.”
I couldn’t help it. I laughed.
“Can we quit talking about burps and go get pizza? I’m starving,” the little boy declared.
“Me, too,” I agreed with my nephew.
I spotted Abigail still in the backseat of the car. She reached her hand out the window and waved at us.
“Hi,” I greeted her. She smiled up at me, Amanda asleep next to her. I opened the door and crouched in to retrieve her. The baby’s complexion was back to normal, her mouth gaping with a line of drool to the belt. Maybe I shouldn’t pick her up. She might start crying again. I’d rather avoid that scenario.
Still.
Abigail’s face was close to mine. I thought about kissing her since I was here anyway. And she did have a damn beautiful mouth. She shifted a bit.
“Here.” She unbuckled the car seat and moved the belts away from Amanda. Picking her up, Abigail leaned forward to give her to me.
Feeling all thumbs as I believe this was the first time I’d ever held a baby, I tucked her close to me like a football, backed out of the car, and was ready to hand her off to MeMe before Amanda stirred and got a good scream going. I sighed in relief when MeMe had her, still asleep, and brought her against her shoulder.
Abigail exited the car and stood next to me.
“Pizza. Pizza. Pizza.” Daniel jumped up and down.
I turned to look at Abigail and realized to my surprise, I had my arm around her waist, my hand cupping her hip. “You want to go eat pizza?”
Her eyes sparkled at me, and I was reminded of the conversation from this morning.
“I’d love to,” she murmured, though with that look she was giving me I had a pretty good idea what she’d love to do, and it wasn’t eating pizza.
I concurred.
“So, we’ll meet you at the pizza place on Westcott Avenue?” Tank called to me as they started walking to their minivan.
Nope.
In the car by ourselves, I approached the subject with about as much tact as a herd of stampeding elephants. “If we go straight back to the house, I figure we have about an hour of uninterrupted sex before they get back.”
Unforgettable Heroes Boxed Set Page 74