by Kaylee Ryan
“Trust me, Rhett may be arrogant, but he’s nothing like Pete.”
“You’ve found one of the good ones, Mol, Hold on to him.”
“I plan to.”
“You’re pretty. That’s what I thought the first time I met you.” Her words flash through my mind. I wasn’t expecting that, and I’ll admit she knocked me off kilter just a little. I don’t know if I should be insulted or thrilled that she likes what she sees. Although, pretty isn’t really how I like to be referred to.
“What’s with you?” Jake asks.
“Explain that,” I say.
“With Saylor, what is that?”
“She’s irritating. I mean, who fucking runs with their eyes closed?”
“Did you see that her eyes were closed?” he asks.
“Yeah, who does that shit?”
“Then why didn’t you stop? Or better yet, go around her?” he questions.
Because she’s sexy as fuck. “She needed to learn how dangerous it is to run like that.”
“And it was your job to show her?”
“Better me than some sick fuck that would have done way worse than catch her fall.”
“Uh-huh, come on, Casanova.” He smirks and walks away.
“Molly, you ready to leave my nephew for me?” I hear Jerry ask.
“Fuck off, old man,” Jake retorts.
Shaking off my irritation, I head that way. Jerry is greeting Saylor as I walk in.
“And this one, who might this beauty be?” he asks, pulling Saylor into a hug.
“This is Saylor; she works at the Corner Pocket,” Molly tells him.
“She’s living in the garage apartment,” Jake adds.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you. I’ve heard so much about you.” Saylor charms him with her smile.
“We’re keeping her,” he announces.
Everyone laughs but me. “Do we have to?” I ask, alerting them to my presence. I rake my eyes over Saylor, as if sizing her up, trying to decide if we should keep her. It’s a good show, because really, I just want to check her out. She’s in those tight pants that all the ladies are wearing these days, knee-high, black, fuck-me boots, and a long sweater. Sadly, it covers most of her ass.
“Number Three, get your ass in here and meet, Saylor.”
Jerry and Saylor both turn to face me, giving me a full view. Although the sweater and the scarf hide her from me, I’ve seen her in a tight T-shirt. I know what’s underneath—well, not skin, but fuck would l like to. “We’ve met,” I say flatly.
“Jerry Mason,” he holds his out for her. Of course, she takes it with a smile on her face. Jerry really lays on the charm when he brings her hand to his lips and kisses her knuckles.
“She’s too young for you, old man,” I goad him.
“Doesn’t mean I can’t appreciate a beautiful woman.” He points at Jake. “This one is too territorial of my Molly.”
“Mine,” Jake practically growls at his uncle.
“See what I mean?” Jerry throws his head back in laughter.
“What can we do to help?” Molly asks.
“Birds on, everything else is already in the oven. I think I have it under control, all but dessert. I forgot about that, but I found a pecan pie in the freezer. I have it thawing as we speak.”
“Saylor made pies,” Jake tells him.
“What? Beautiful and she bakes?” Jerry asks.
Saylor blushes and my cock twitches.
“Where’s Gramps?” I ask, trying to keep my dick from joining the conversation.
“Upstairs. He’s coming down to eat with us.” Jerry looks at me like I’m crazy.
“He’s coming down?” I ask for clarification.
“Yeah, it’s Thanksgiving.” He says it like I should know better.
I should, and I would if the old man would talk to me. I had breakfast with him this morning before Jerry was up, and he’s still shutting me out. How the hell was I supposed to know? I don’t know how much longer this freezeout is going to last.
“Rhett, did you not offer our guests a drink?” Gramps’s gravelly voice says from behind me. I turn to look at him. He’s still pale, but the cough is better. I still feel like this illness has taken a toll on him.
“How you doing, Mr. Baxter?” Jake asks.
“None of that ‘Mr. Baxter’ nonsense. I’m fine,” he tells Jake.
“It’s good to see you again.” Molly leans in and gives him a gentle hug. Pulling back, she points to Saylor. “This is our friend, Saylor. She’s working for us now at the Corner Pocket.”
“S—” He coughs. “Saylor,” he tries again, “nice to meet you.”
“You too, Mr. Baxter. Your home is beautiful.”
“It’s Rhett or Baxter. Welcome.”
“Or Number One,” Jerry pipes up. “You know, since there are three of them and all.”
“Really?” Saylor asks, surprised.
I find it hard to believe that she still doesn’t know who we are. “Why so surprised?” I ask her.
“I just-” She’s cut off when Gramps speaks up.
“Rhett Alexander Baxter. I’m the first, my son, his father”—he points at me—“is the second, and he’s the third.”
“Three generations,” she says. “That’s amazing.”
“You made pies?” Gramps asks Jerry. Jerry is a great cook, but a baker he is not. It’s usually something from the bakery for dessert. Molly did attempt to make a cake a few years ago. It was dry and tasted burnt. Not sure how she managed that, but after that, it was store bought from then on. That is until today.
Until Saylor.
“Saylor made them.” Molly beams at her friend.
“That’s a treat. Mason, is it time to eat? I’m famished,” Gramps says, heading into the dining room to take a seat.
I stare after him dumbfounded. It’s the most I’ve seen him talk since I’ve been here. Not that I needed confirmation, but it’s me he’s pissed at. How am I going to get him to get over this grudge he’s holding?
The next half hour flies by while the girls help Jerry in the kitchen. Jake and I sit with Gramps. They talk about the bar, football, you name it. I sit there quietly, adding to the conversation here and there. Mostly, I sit stewing about how he’s acting toward me. It’s childish. I’m here, and I’ve told him I’m not going anywhere until he’s ready for me to go. Hell, I even told Dad I wanted to stay a little longer to just hang out with him. Too bad it’s cold or we would go fishing. I need to make plans to come back late spring or early summer so we can do that. Looking over at Gramps, he’s frail and pale, not the same vibrant man I remember. I don’t know how many more chances we’ll have left.
“Come and get it!” Jerry yells out.
“We do things more casual,” I hear him tell Saylor. “Kind of like a buffet. No point in dirtying up serving bowls when you can just walk a few feet and make your plate.”
“I can definitely see the appeal,” she agrees with him.
We all shuffle into the kitchen and fill our plates. Once we’re seated, the sounds of forks against plates is the only noise, until Gramps breaks the silence.
“So, Saylor, are you from around here?” he asks.
“No, actually I moved here a few months ago. I’m originally from Cincinnati,” she says.
“What brought you to the fine state of West Virginia?” Jerry asks.
She hesitates. “Life.”
They seem to accept her answer while I’m sitting here wanting more. I want the real story of what brought her here. I remember Jake telling me she’s had a hard time. What does that mean exactly? She got fired? She’s on the run? A hard time could mean anything. I find myself wanting to know the secrets of this sexy Short Stack.
“I’m sure your family is missing you today,” Jerry says. “Especially with the way those pies look.” He scoots his chair back from the table and smacks his protruding belly. “I’m gonna have to let that settle before I can indulge, but I’ll have me a piece of bo
th.” He smiles at her.
I look to Saylor for her reaction, and what I find shocks me. Her face is somber, and if I’m not mistaken, a hint of pain shines in those blue eyes. She looks to her lap, so I can’t be sure.
“Jerry, can you help me for a minute?” Jake asks, his voice hard.
I watch as he stands and stalks toward the kitchen. Jerry looks to Molly, and she nods, telling him without words that he needs to follow Jake. Molly stands at the same time as Jerry. “I need a refill, Say?” she asks, her voice chipper, but I can see the worry in her eyes.
“No thank you,” she says softly. Molly gives her shoulder a gentle squeeze and follows Jerry to the kitchen.
The table is quiet, too quiet, uncomfortably so. Gramps coughs, causing Saylor to look up and at him. “Are you okay?” she asks him.
He waves a hand in the air. “I’m fine, just fighting off this pneumonia. It’s taking longer to get over it than I’d like.”
Silence ensures except for the mumbled voices from the kitchen. “I’m sorry,” Saylor says. “They’re in there because of me. I—” She stands.
“Please sit,” Gramps says.
She does as asked. “I don’t have any family,” she whispers so low that if I hadn’t been watching her, I might have missed it.
“Of course you do,” Gramps says.
Fuck. Her face pales even more so, and I’m just about to ream his ass when he speaks again. “You’re here with family. We’re unconventional, but you are always welcome here.”
I watch her as she blinks hard, fighting the moisture in her eyes. Damn this girl. She’s feisty as hell, holding her own, sweet underneath, baking pies, and doing it all alone. No family. Surely there must be someone?
“Sorry about that,” Jake says as they all take their seats.
I watch as Jerry leans down and kisses the top of Saylor’s head. No one comments on the act. Instead, Jerry starts talking to Gramps about football. Everyone is talking, laughing, and having a good time. I hold my own, but I constantly keep going back to Saylor, watching her. Her blue eyes are so damn expressive. I see pain and sadness. It causes something deep inside of me to want to take it away, take it all away from her, so I can see the smile in her eyes. At least when she’s sparring with me, I can see the spark, the sadness hidden in the shadows.
“Saylor, girl, I do believe it’s time to try some of that pie.” Gramps gives her a warm smile.
She stands. “I’ll be right back.” Molly starts to stand, I assume to help her, and Saylor waves her off. “I’ll just bring them in here with some plates. I got it. It’s the least I can do.”
I watch her go, unable to take my eyes off that tight little ass of hers. Even under that sweater it’s a sight to behold.
“See something you like?” Jerry smirks.
I shrug. That causes both him and Jake to laugh. They can see through my bullshit, but that’s because they’re not blind. They see what I see. Sure, Jake is wrapped up in Molly, but he sees her.
It’s been a few minutes, and she’s not back yet. I stand from the table and walk to the kitchen. I find Saylor on her tiptoes reaching into the cabinet. Walking up behind her, I place a hand on her hip and reach over her, grabbing the stack of dessert plates from the top shelf. “This what you need, Short Stack?” I ask, my lips next to her ear. I can feel her shiver, and my cock thickens.
“I had it,” she says, a quiver in her voice.
“Uh-huh,” I say, making no effort to move away from her. Gently, I move her hair that’s hanging over her shoulder out of my way. I bring my lips close to her ear again. This time I can see the effect I’m having on her as goose bumps break out across her skin. “You need anything else? From me?” I add as an afterthought. I watch her throat as she swallows. Leaning in, I want to kiss her neck, right at the base where I can see her pulse pounding.
“What’s taking so long?” Molly calls.
Quickly, I step to the side. Leaning against the counter, I cross my arms and legs. “Short Stack here was having trouble reaching the plates.” I motion my head to where Saylor stands beside me.
“Ass,” she says, loud enough that Molly can hear her. “I was working on it,” she mumbles.
I bite back my retort. Instead, I stand to my full height, grab both pies, and head to the dining room. Not a minute later, Molly and Saylor emerge with plates, forks, vanilla ice cream, and whipped cream. I’m glad I’m sitting down, because seeing her holding a can of whipped cream has all kinds of naughty thoughts racing through my head. All of them starting with her stack.
The ride home is quiet. The rest of the day was a blur. I contributed to the conversation, but my mind was all over the place. Why does he affect me like he does? One minute I want to rip his head off, the other I want his hands all over me. I tried to be angry in the kitchen, but his hands on me, his hot breath against my ear… It’s a reaction I’ve never had before. My body has never responded to a man the way it responded to Rhett.
“You awake back there?” Molly asks once we pull up in front of the house.
“Barely. I think I’m in a turkey coma,” I tell her.
“A late afternoon nap is definitely in order,” Jake says while yawning.
“Thank you, guys, for including me,” I say, opening my door.
“Always,” Molly replies.
I don’t hang around for small talk. The late afternoon air has a chill to it. I just want to curl up with a blanket and sleep off this turkey. Sliding out of my boots and taking off my scarf, I settle on the couch. I’m flipping through the channels when my phone alerts me to a message.
Molly: Rhett?
What is she wanting to know?
Me: What about him?
Molly: What did I walk in on?
Me: Him being an ass.
Molly: It was more than that.
Me: Nope.
Molly: I’ll let you slide for now. I’m watching you.
I laugh, because I can hear her saying that doing that thing with her index and middle fingers where she points at her eyes and then to mine.
Me: Nothing to see.
Letting my phone fall to my lap, I go back to channel surfing. I settle for a Nicholas Sparks movie. I’m just about to dose off when my phone alerts me to another message.
Molly: I’m sorry if what Jerry said upset you.
Heaviness settles in my chest. Jerry didn’t mean anything by asking a simple question. I know that, but it still hurt just to think about the answer, then admitting that to Rhett and his grandfather. I was mortified until his grandfather spoke up and said I was family. It was a nice sentiment, and I took it as such. I’ll always be the foster kid with no living relatives. That’s just the hand I was dealt.
Me: Nothing to be sorry for. He couldn’t have known. I’m used to it.
Molly: I’m sorry for that too.
Me: One day at a time, Molly. One day at a time.
Turning my phone off, I place it on the coffee table and burrow back underneath the covers. Commercials come on for all of the after Thanksgiving Day sales. Elaine and I used to go out shopping. More for the people watching than the actual deals. Sure, we would buy a few things, but we never went crazy like some. One year we saw an actual fistfight over a throw blanket of all things. I miss her so much. Tears prick my eyes, and this time, I don’t fight it. I let them fall, crying myself to sleep.
I wake to the sound of knocking on the door. I must have woken up at some point and come to bed. I don’t remember, letting my grief consume me. I’m still in yesterday’s clothes as I rush to the door. It has to be Molly or Jake. Peeking out the window, I see Molly dancing around in the cold. I also see white, lots and lots of white. Looks like Mother Nature decided to deliver some snow. Pulling open the door, I don’t get the chance to greet her as she rushes in.
“Thank God, are you okay?” she asks. I can hear the concern in her voice, and see it in the wrinkle of her brow.
“Of course I am, what’s wrong?”
“I’ve been trying to call you for two hours. You weren’t answering your phone.”
That’s when I remember I turned it off last night. “Sorry, I turned if off last night before bed.”
She takes in my appearance. “You slept in your clothes?”
“Yeah, I, uh, fell asleep on the couch watching a movie. It must have been the turkey.”
She shakes her head and smiles. “I’m glad you’re okay. You had me worried.”
“I’m good,” I tell her. “Did you need something?”
“Shit, I forgot. Yeah, how do you feel about going sledding today. There’s a good six inches of fresh snow out there.”
“I don’t want to intrude.”
“You’re not intruding if you’re invited. Come on, please, Say,” she begs. “I promise you’ll have fun.” She bats her eyelashes at me.
Laughter bubbles up as I take in the show. “Fine,” I concede, like it’s a huge inconvenience.
In all honesty, it’s not something I’ve ever done before. “What time are we leaving?”
“In about an hour. Do you have thermals?” she asks.
I bite my bottom lip and shake my head.
“Okay, I have extras. Get ready. I’ll go grab them and leave them on the bed for you.”
“Thanks, Mol.”
“Always, Say. Now go, get a shower. We have hills to slide down.”
I scamper off to the shower. I’m excited but nervous all at the same time. I don’t want to look like a fool, but really, how hard can it be to slide down a hill? I rush through my shower and find the thermals Molly promised sitting on the bed. I quickly put them on, sliding on a pair of jeans, long sleeve T-shirt, and a hoodie. I forgo makeup; this doesn’t seem like one of those outings where I need to be all dolled up. My hair, I go for blow drying it, but first have to remove the hoodie. I didn’t think that one through. Too damn hot in here. After shedding the hoodie and drying my hair, I braid it in two halves, almost like pigtails on each side. I figure this will serve dual purposes. One it will keep it out of my face with the wind, and two makes wearing a hat easier.