“I fucking love it here,” she yelled to no one.
Arizona was proving to be the answer to questions she didn’t know to ask. Fate appeared to be at work in so many lives. How else could she explain Team Justice stumbling one at a time to this highly unusual world that the Major created from nothing?
She’d driven less than a few blocks before encountering a yellow school bus discharging student passengers.
“Honey, did you put your lunchbox in the kitchen so Daddy can clean it out?”
Rafe dashed around the living room, straightening up. For some reason, Molly’s kindergarten schedule was harder to adjust to than years of preschool.
Ignoring the question, his excited and overly tired daughter launched into a free-form brain fart that touched on words beginning with the letter C, some kid named Angus who made burping noises when the teacher’s back was turned, her dislike of applesauce for lunch, why reading made a difference, and of course, her new dance class. The one with the dad crew who met for coffee and discussed raising daughters.
He listened as long as he could and then gently led her back to his question. “Marielle,” he said with quiet emphasis. She heard his tone and looked him in the eye, so he continued. “Your lunchbox. Where is it?”
“Umm.” She looked around. “Oh, wait!”
He watched her run into the powder room next to the kitchen and chuckled. Of course! Pretty much every single day she ran in the door and booked for the potty.
“Here it is.” She giggled with the ballet shoes lunchbox in her hand. The lunchbox that matched the one his daughter demanded he have personalized with Domineau’s name.
“In the kitchen, young lady,” he told her after a thumbs-up. “And then help me pick up all this stuff. Maybe we can color at the dining room table and not all over the place?”
“Oh, Daddy.” She snicker-giggled in that tone which reminded him that he was a soft touch where his baby girl was concerned.
“Hurry up and change, okay?”
“Why?” she asked.
Movie shark music played in his head. He switched out the uncalled-for association and replaced it with something less ominous. The disturbingly catchy song from The Lego Movie “Everything is Awesome” fit the bill.
“We’re having company,” he informed Molly in what he hoped was an everyday and matter-of-fact tone. Not an easy task to pull off when inside he was careening wildly between nail-biting stress and cartwheels of joy.
She eyed him with five-year-old suspicion. The girl was good. She knew that having company on a school night signaled something was up.
At this moment within a moment, Rafe paused to take stock. Bringing Molly and Domineau together was critical if there was any hope of the two forging a relationship. His daughter was more than willing and extolled Rina’s endless merits at every opportunity. It was his girlfriend with the dragging feet.
While the scenario might seem hopeless, there was quite a bit of bright light streaming in at the end of the tunnel. After Matty, Bella, and Molly’s successful joint mission to get him and Domineau to come out as a couple, he’d been warmed by his newly acknowledged girlfriend’s willingness to open up about her past. Bit by bit, he was piecing together a daunting tale of horror and loss followed by what he considered to be nothing less than emotional abuse. Her fucking aunt was a cunt, plain and simple.
From what she shared, he was able to form a context that helped him understand why Molly was a bridge too far. Domineau adored Matty, so kids weren’t the issue. This had everything to do with being a parent. She still hadn’t dealt with losing hers, and what she feared more than anything was what she imagined her mom and dad felt when their son pulled out a gun and shot them dead. The shock, pain, and betrayal of their final moments messed with her head and emotions to this day.
But, for really real, at the end of the day, he saw fate’s handwriting all over their situation. They were meant to be together and had certainly proved they were compatible. Each time they broke up and drifted, something brought them together again.
This was the ultimate test of their relationship. He was a devoted dad, and she was terrified of being a parent.
He looked at his daughter’s sweet face. Marielle was a godsend. She was everything. Being a parent fulfilled him in ways he couldn’t explain. More than anything, he wanted Domineau to just meet him halfway. He knew she was trying, and that counted for something.
“Domineau is stopping by,” he told her. “I thought if you’re okay with it that we’d ask if she wanted to stay for dinner.”
She didn’t offer a sound—she just hauled ass in the other direction.
“Where are you going,” he hollered?
“To get changed. Rina is coming! Yippee!”
“So much for asking if it’s okay,” he mumbled to the empty room.
He heard her truck when she turned onto his street. Right away, his heart hammered in his chest. Unable to squelch his excitement, he didn’t even try to act dignified as he dashed into the driveway like an eager puppy.
“Move, you dumbass,” she yelled with a husky laugh as her window lowered. “Are you trying to get run over?”
He laughed and gestured her to a stop like the flight crew on an aircraft carrier. Just to be a bitch, she ignored his directions and ended up parking at a blocking angle.
When she cut the engine, he yanked on the door handle and hurried her from the cab. Her playful laughter and swatting hands made him smile. She wiggled in her seat and swung her legs to the side. His smile turned to an appreciative leer as she struggled to exit the vehicle in a ladylike fashion.
“You could offer a hand, you know,” she loudly groused.
“Nah. Fuck that.” He chuckled. “Way more fun waiting for a panty flash. You are wearing panties, right?”
She landed on her feet and immediately grabbed his crotch in a manner that made him instantly regret being a dick.
“If I put in the fucking effort to look nice, the least you can do is pretend.”
“My bad,” he grimaced. “Jesus Domineau, you’re cutting off my blood supply.”
Her feisty snort and handsy fondle hit him like a dump truck filled with bricks.
“I’m waiting,” she snarled.
He gave her a thorough inspection, noted the effort she referred to, and acquiesced with a nod.
“You look beautiful.”
She softened, and he doubled down with a crack after she released his junk.
“I’m a lucky man.”
She responded with a derisive scowl. “Do you imagine I did this for you?”
Rafe laughed. “That’s what she said.”
“What?” She squinted at him and frowned.
He shrugged and pulled her in for a side hug. “You said you made an effort. My response to that is that I’m a lucky man.”
Her face registered a slew of emotions, including one that suggested she wanted to rip his nuts off for using her own words against her.
“You leave me no choice, Ms. Rivera,” he murmured a split second before he caged her with his body against the side of the truck and took her face in his hands. His kiss was intended to make a statement. When she shuddered and groaned into his mouth, he knew she got the message.
Satisfied that he’d subdued her, Rafe grabbed her hand and turned them toward the house, but she pulled back before they took two steps.
“Slow down, cowboy,” she complained. “Is it okay with you if I get my stuff?”
“What stuff?”
She shook her head and sighed. “My purse, for one.”
Oh, yeah. Right. She was suddenly carrying a fucking purse. Domineau and a purse did not compute—neither did Domineau and nail polish or Domineau and a bubble bath. Plus, there was the whole top-secret wardrobe of frilly girly stuff that as close as they were he had not been aware of previously. She was changing right before his eyes.
Her heels on the pavement drew his attention. The buff-colored shoes with the open toe
s made her legs look sexy as hell. When she leaned into the passenger side of the truck, his brain stuttered to a knuckle-dragging stop.
Marveling at the understated outfit, he memorized how she looked as something he wanted to remember. This meet-up was her idea. He wondered what else she had up her sleeve.
When he took her hand, she didn’t flinch and walked with him to the front door. They weren’t even in the damn house yet, and all he could think of was thanking her. Rafe was humbled by her willingness to try.
“Whoa,” she murmured after they were through the door.
He glanced around and had to agree with her. He wasn’t the best housekeeper. Mostly, his preferred organizational technique was to make piles. Right now, the piles straddled end-of-summer crap and school year necessities. Work was hella busy and with school having started he hadn’t found the time to get their shit in order.
“Yeah, sorry,” he told her in a slightly embarrassed voice. “Might be time to get a housekeeper. This dad thing was easier when she was a baby.”
Domineau stepped over his workbag and the tactical vest that was dumped on top.
“Is this Molly or you?” she asked with a hand wave.
The mess went wall to wall. He acknowledged her question with a wry smile.
“Some five-year-old, mostly me, plus some leftovers from the move that we haven’t dealt with yet.”
“Rina!” Molly squealed as she ran toward them. “You’re here!”
Domineau staggered back a step when his daughter flung herself at her for an exuberant hug. Molly’s arm around her waist appeared to startle her.
“Oh. Okay. Hugging.”
He watched with bated breath as she tried to relax. Her hand mechanically patted Molly’s back while her other hand hung in the air. She was so uncomfortable with the display of childish emotion that he could feel her conflict.
“Can you stay for dinner? Daddy said he was gonna ask. I’m glad you’re here. Wanna see my homework?”
Molly didn’t wait—kids generally didn’t. She ran off to gather her show and tell, oblivious to the fact that Domineau gave the impression she was having an episode.
He knew what to do so she’d relax.
Initiating an artful disconnect, he slid his arms possessively around her waist and offered a dazzling smile. “I know I already said this, but my god, honey, you look gorgeous. Nice touch with the highlights. They make your eyes sparkle.”
A flicker of pleasure lit up her eyes. He liked that she enjoyed letting her female side have some breathing room. It was fascinating to watch her blossom from the VIP seats.
“I know I’m going to hell alongside Victoria St. John for asking this, but dammit, I have to.”
He grinned. “Ask what?”
“Do you like my shoes?”
What was it with women and shoes? He didn’t fully get it. Domineau could fart like a Viking—don’t ask how he knew what a Viking fart sounded like—and laugh it off. Hell, she made ass-beef stew a long-standing Justice joke. But shoes? Shoes were what made her unsure?
He studied her footwear and stroked his chin. The shoes were the first thing he noticed about her outfit. “How much were they?”
“More than a cell phone bill but less than my rent.”
“Did you buy them because you thought I’d like them?”
Her face went pale and then she blushed. “Shit, yes,” she said with an exasperated grumble.
He palmed her ass. Twice. She came damn close to purring. “Let me take you shoe shopping.”
Would she resist? Put up a fight?
No. She smirked. “Are you sure you can afford that?”
“I’ll work overtime,” he growled.
Molly exploded five seconds later—waving a folder in Domineau’s face.
“I have a homework folder. Everyone gets one. Look!” She slapped the red two-pocket folder on the coffee table and flipped it open. “This side has messages for dads and moms. And old homework. This side,” she explained while pulling several sheets from the pocket, “is the homework. I have letter C. And a number match. Matching is fun. You draw lines.”
Domineau stood over her and examined the pages. “Did you write your name? It looks very neat.”
She nodded. “Before I could write my whole name, Daddy taught me how to make M’s. M’s are fun.”
“I, um, have something for you,” Domineau said in a surprisingly small voice.
She went to her purse and pulled something out that she handed off to Molly. Rafe was flabbergasted. First, asking to come over. Then, getting dressed up. And now, bearing a gift for his daughter.
“Fancy Nancy!” Molly squealed with delight. “Look, Daddy!”
He read the title aloud. “Fancy Nancy-Budding Ballerina.” Molly enjoyed Fancy Nancy. The character had a flipbook that they read together about jitters on the first day of school.
Rafe was thunderstruck by Domineau’s gesture. He turned the book over and read the description. It was about Fancy Nancy’s dad learning ballet.
Aww! He held the book to his chest and looked at Domineau. She was nearly beet red.
Homework papers completely forgotten, his daughter tossed the folder aside and snatched the book from his hands.
“Let’s read it now,” Molly demanded as she grabbed Domineau’s hand and dragged her to the sofa.
Molly sat between them and slapped the book onto Domineau’s lap. “You have to read all the words. Even who drew the pictures, ’kay?”
It took forty-seven minutes to read a child’s picture book with a dozen pages. Molly was accustomed to thinking out loud. She liked to talk about everything and pointed out in each illustration where the artist drew a shadow.
He said very little and just let them interact. At first, Domineau looked at him for reassurance with every comment she made and each answered question. After a while, Molly’s constant chatter and clever opinions allowed Domineau to relax. She conversed freely and became animated when the topic was ballet.
She and his daughter had something in common. Hot diggity damn! Dancing would be their middle ground.
When the story was finished and they paused for air, he asked, “Do you know how to line dance?” He startled himself with the out-of-the-blue question.
Domineau’s eyes narrowed. Her voice was uncertain. “Uh, okay. Yeah, I guess.”
Molly giggled. “I’ll start the music!”
Domineau looked at him. “What’s going on?”
He put his hand out for her to take and then hauled her to her feet.
“Let’s show Domineau how we do it.” He chuckled to Molly. They did a modified high-five and moved into place.
Music boomed from the sound system. It was so loud they had to raise their voices. He clapped to start the count. When Molly picked up the rhythm, she clapped along, then he counted down, and they started to move.
Domineau laughed. “Is this disco?”
“Yeah, disco!” he shouted. “Late seventies. It’s called ”Shame.” Evelyn Champagne King. Join in anytime.”
“Come on, Rina! Watch.”
Molly busted her best line dancing moves. His heart filled with pride. She was an energetic kid and channeling her enthusiasm in healthy ways was nothing but parenting joy. He loved that she was fearless and bursting with confidence.
He yelled some basic instructions, and after a bit, Domineau caught the sequence. She jumped in, and before long, Rafe was roaring with unabashed delight as he and his two girls got some intense cardio going. It was an established fact that Domineau could move. He called their slow dances, boner-cranks. She fit him so perfectly that the minute they started moving, his dick cranked to upright and solid.
“Holy crap,” Domineau murmured after a sequence where they each boogied across the floor to switch spots. “She’s really good!”
Molly heard the compliment and hooted. “Daddy taught me how to keep time!”
God, he loved his kid. She was more than an angel.
Energetically slapping her hands together, Molly hollered over the music. “One, two, three, four. One, two, three, four!”
It was a long song. Six and a half minutes—and they were moving the whole time. By the end, everyone was huffing, puffing, and laughing.
This was all he wanted. This right here. Domineau laughing, relaxed, and happy. Marielle smiling, and full of joy. He’d give anything—pay any price, strike any bargain—to make this dream a reality. The three of them as a family.
Nice, happy thought.
Another nice, happy thought?
Domineau rocking open toe heels.
He honestly wouldn’t care if she was half his size but admitted there was a definite plus in her height. Put her in heels and a skirt—where he could enjoy her fantastic legs—and he was a happy camper.
His happiness was closing in on being off the charts because he wasn’t born yesterday. She dressed for this visit. And she showed up with a book for his daughter. The daughter she was so fearful of.
Oh, my god. Domineau was actually trying.
“That was a lot easier than I imagined,” Alex grunted as he dropped a moving carton on the ground.
“Speak for yourself,” Meghan quipped.
He grabbed her and started dancing around the breezeway that connected Carmen’s quarters with the back of the Villa. She laughed and let him lead.
“Watch my toes, big guy,” she exclaimed when he went left, and she broke right. They stumbled and laughed through the comical cavorting.
Alex pulled her close and captured her eyes with his. Brilliant green flecked with gold sparkles looked back at him. Sometimes, he swore the whole galaxy was in her gaze.
“I’ve loved you for a thousand lifetimes,” he murmured.
Her smile was slow. She settled against his body and feathered her fingers on the side of his face.
“Mine,” she huskily declared.
“All yours, forever and ever. Till the end of time.”
His heart filled to capacity. She snuggled into his neck and softly sighed. They clung to each other and swayed to silent music.
These were the good times. The simple moments that stoked his emotions. Each second he had with her filled his soul. Every yesterday became a cherished memory, and the promise of tomorrow, his reason for living.
Enduring (Family Justice Book 8) Page 41