by Kaylee Ryan
I catch up on a few e-mails from my phone while I wait. Saylor put her foot down at me helping any more than I already have. I gave into her, not wanting to piss her off. “I’m done,” she says, pulling my attention from my phone.
“Got everything you need?” I ask her.
“Yeah,” she sighs, pushing her arms into her coat. I do the same, lace her fingers with mine, and lead her out to her car. It’s already running and warm. “I didn’t even see you come outside,” she says.
I shrug. “You were busy.” Unable to resist her being this close, I pull her into my arms. “You work tomorrow?”
“No, I’m off all weekend actually.”
“Have dinner with me,” I say.
“What are we doing?”
“I don’t know,” I confess. “I know I thought about you all the time before Vegas, and now, you’re all I think about.”
“The weather is supposed to be bad. Why don’t I make us dinner? We can talk,” she says, stepping out of my hold.
“I’ll bring dinner, what time?” I ask, reaching up and pushing the hair out of her eyes.
“I have nothing going on, so you tell me. What time will you leave the office?”
“I’ll text you.”
“Okay.” She turns to open her car door, but then turns back around to face me. “Thank you, Whiskey. For standing up for me.” With that, she climbs in her car and drives away.
I was more than standing up for her, and we both know it. I overreacted, but I refuse to apologize for it. Not when it comes to Saylor. She’s had more than enough pain in her life. I’ll be damned if I let her be treated like some cheap piece of ass. My stomach rolls at the thought of her as a little girl, in a strange home, with sleazy older guys and possibly her foster father touching her. She alluded to as much, and I want to demand names so I can track them all down and teach them a lesson. Just the thought of someone hurting her, touching her, causes rage to flow through my veins.
My truck was warming up too. I climb behind the wheel and pull out onto the road. I take the long way home, just to make sure she makes it home safe. Apparently, this is my new normal when it comes to Saylor.
When it comes to my wife.
I’m lying in bed, all snuggled and warm into the blankets, thinking about getting up and facing the cold when my phone vibrates on my nightstand. With a sigh, I pull my arm out from under the blankets and grab it.
Rhett: Morning, beautiful.
I smile.
Me: Morning, Whiskey.
Rhett: Pizza for dinner tonight?
Me: You know how to show a girl a good time.
Rhett: Only the best for my wife.
He does that all the time. Refers to me as his wife. I know it’s true, but it’s not really, and it confuses my fragile heart. The heart that’s begging me to throw caution to the wind and jump in feet first to whatever it is he’s offering. My head, on the other hand, urges me to proceed with caution. I know how it feels to have your heart broken; that’s the story of my life. However, having him and then losing him, I don’t know how I would ever come back from that. Sure, I would pick myself up and move on, but I know I would never take the risk again. That leads me to a life of loneliness. Something I’ve felt less of ironically since my split with Pete.
Me: Pepperoni and Bacon?
Rhett: Anything you want.
Me: I’ll be here.
Rhett: I’ll be there around five.
Me: See you then. Have a good day.
Rhett: You too, Short Stack. See you soon.
Climbing out of bed, I strip my sheets and head to the laundry closet, just off the kitchen. I tell myself it’s time, and it has nothing to do with the fact that Rhett will be here tonight.
Nothing at all.
Breakfast, shower, cleaning, and laundry is what fills my day. By one o’clock, I’m finished and antsy. I find myself in the kitchen in front of the pantry. When I see the container of oats, I decide to make some no-bake cookies. It has nothing to do with the fact that they’re Rhett’s favorite.
Nothing at all.
As usual, I make way more than I can eat, even with Rhett’s help. Grabbing my phone, I call Molly.
“Hello,” she says in her usual chipper voice.
“Hey, I made some cookies, y’all want some?”
“Sure, we’re actually getting ready to head over to Baxter’s. Jerry is there, and it’s been a while since we’ve seen Number One. We used to visit at least once per week, but we’ve slacked off since Rhett has been home.
“Visiting,” I correct her.
“What?”
“He’s not home. He’s just visiting.”
“Ahh,” she says. “I get it now.”
“Get what?”
“Why you’re keeping your husband at arm’s length.”
“It’s just a piece of paper, Molly.”
“Uh-huh,” she says, appeasing me. “You want to come with us?”
Looking at the clock, I see it’s a few minutes before three. “How long do you plan on staying?”
“Why? You got a hot date tonight?” she jokes.
I bite my lip. I don’t know if I would call it a hot date, or even a date at all. We’re just two friends getting together for dinner to talk about a common interest. Our divorce.
“You do!” she says excitedly. “Wait.” The excitement falls from her voice. “I know it’s just a piece of paper, but you’re married and che—” I stop her there.
“Rhett’s coming over. It’s not a date. We’re just having dinner and discussing the next steps for the divorce.”
“What time?” she asks, the excitement back in her voice.
“Five.”
“We can be back by then. We’ll only stay an hour or so. The weather is supposed to get bad.”
“Yeah, that’s why we’re staying in too,” I admit.
“How long until you’re ready?”
“I’m good now. Let me wrap up some of these cookies to take to them and you, and I’ll meet you outside.”
“See you in ten,” she says, ending the call.
I quickly grab some Ziploc bags and fill them with cookies. I make three bags, one for Molly and Jake, one for Jerry, and one for Grandpa Rhett. Sliding into my coat, I grab the cookies and my phone, and I’m out the door.
“Perfect timing,” Jake says, meeting me at the truck. “Gimme.” He holds his hand out for a bag of cookies.
I laugh and hand one over before climbing in the back seat. “You better plan on sharing those.” Molly reaches over and grabs the bag from his lap. Jake mumbles something that sounds like “only you” with his mouth full, causing the three of us to laugh.
“Knock, knock,” Jake says, not really knocking as we walk on in to Grandpa Rhett’s house like we live there.
“In here,” Jerry calls out.
I follow along to the living room. “Hey, kids,” Grandpa Rhett says, happier than I’ve seen him in a while. “Saylor,” he says, his eyes lighting up. He turns to Jake. “You taking care of my girls?”
“You know it. Especially this one. She made cookies,” he says, pointing at me.
“Cookies,” Jerry pipes up. “No-bake?” he asks hopefully.
“Yes.” I laugh. “Here.” I walk toward him and hand him a bag, then give the other to Grandpa Rhett.
“Thank you, sweetheart.” He pats my hand before taking the bag.
“How are you feeling?” I ask, taking a seat next to him on the couch.
“I’m getting better every day,” he says, smiling.
“He’s fine,” Jerry interjects. “He’s just enjoying that grandson of his being around again.”
I look at Grandpa Rhett, and he shrugs, causing us to laugh. “I was cleared to go back to work with the promise to take it easy on Monday. I just decided on my own that I needed a little more time.”
“You miss him,” I say, low enough that only he can hear me.
He nods. “It’s been too long,” he says sad
ly.
“Wanna know a secret?” I ask him. He nods, and I lean in close. “He misses you too,” I whisper. “He regrets staying gone so long.”
“So what kind of trouble are the two of you causing today?” Jake asks.
“You see it,” Jerry says, leaning back in the recliner.
“I find that hard to believe,” Molly says, chuckling.
“How’s the wedding planning coming?” Jerry asks. “You make sure this one gives you the wedding of your dreams.”
She looks over at me. “Dreams change,” she says. “I think we’re going to go small, maybe destination, or who knows, maybe we’ll go to Vegas.” Everyone laughs but me. I do, however, bite back my grin.
“How about a game of Rummy?” Gramps asks. We all agree and head to the kitchen.
That’s where Rhett finds us an hour later. “Hey,” he says, greeting us. He walks over to where I’m sitting and stands behind my chair. Bending down, he kisses my cheek. “Nice surprise,” he whispers. “I’m slaving away at the office and come home to a bunch of misfits,” he teases everyone.
“This one”—Jerry points at me—“is a card shark. Don’t trust her,” he jokes.
“I take it you’re winning?” Rhett asks.
Molly hands him the notebook with our scores. “She’s kicking ass and taking names.”
“That’s my girl,” Rhett says affectionately, causing my heart to flutter in my chest. “I’m going to grab a quick shower,” he says, and then he’s gone.
“He’s enamored with you,” Grandpa Rhett says, making me blush.
“He’s just being nice. We’re in an awkward situation.”
“Your deal,” Molly says, pushing the cards to Jerry.
I mouth “thank you,” and she nods.
“This could be the final round,” she tells us. “Say is sitting at four hundred and sixty-five points.” The guys grumble, causing Molly and me to laugh at them. They hate losing, which makes my victory even sweeter.
“Rematch!” Jerry demands when I lay my final card.
“Not this time, old man,” Rhett says. “We’ve got plans,” he says, pointing at me.
“We should get going too,” Molly says. “This guy”—she nudges Jake—“agreed to make me dinner.”
“Raised you right,” Jerry says.
“You gonna ride with me? I have to swing by and pick up dinner?” Rhett says, his lips next to my ear, causing me to shiver.
“Sure,” I answer.
“You two behave,” Rhett says, pointing at his grandfather and Jerry. Grabbing my hand and lacing his fingers through mine, he leads me to the door, handing me my coat.
“You going with Rhett?” Molly asks.
“Yeah, we’re going to swing by and get dinner, and then we’ll be home,” I tell her.
“You can eat with us,” she offers.
“No way, I’ve intruded enough on your nights off. Take the night just the two of you. We have things to discuss.”
“If you change your mind, you know you’re always welcome, Saylor.”
I give her a hug, something I never used to do. She’s rubbing off on me. “I know, and I love you for that. I do. You have fun. Maybe set a wedding date,” I tell her.
“Yeah, we should probably decide for sure what we’re going to do. I have been wanting to finish remodeling the house.” She winks.
“Bye.” I wave at them. With Rhett’s hand on the small of my back, he guides me out to his truck.
“Here you go,” I say, handing Saylor a beer and taking a seat next to her on the couch.
“How was your day?” she asks.
“Slow. I kept watching the clock, waiting to leave. I was excited to get to spend some time with you,” I tell her honestly. “Yours? Aside from kicking ass in Rummy.”
“I cleaned, did some laundry, oh, and I made some cookies. I gave your gramps and Jerry a bag. Jake and Molly too.”
“Did you save any for us?”
“If you eat all of your dinner, I might be able to come up with dessert,” she says, talking about the cookies I’m sure, but my dirty mind takes me to images altogether different. Saylor, me, her bed, and some cookie dough, maybe some icing? I adjust my position to make room for my thickening cock. I should be used to the discomfort by now. Every time I’m in her presence it happens.
“I’d love to eat your cookies,” I say, winking at her. Her face turns a light shade of pink, which confirms she read through the lines. She rolls those baby blues at me. I fight the urge to lean in and steal a kiss. Don’t get me wrong, I plan on stealing more than one tonight, if she’ll let me, but I also want to spend time with her. I’m not risking getting thrown out on my ass just yet.
We make small talk through dinner; she tells me about how busy the bar has been and how she dodged Pete and his baby mama at the grocery store without me. This time she was able to skip out without being seen. I hate that she feels like she has to hide in her own hometown. “Guy need his ass kicked,” I say.
She chuckles. “Nah, he can’t hang. Trust me.”
“He did you a favor, Say. You know that, right? You’re so much better than what he was willing to give you.”
She shrugs, and I know she doesn’t believe me. “I dodged a bullet because he never would have been faithful. That goes against what I’ve always wanted.”
“No one plans to fall for someone who’s going to cheat on them.”
“No,” she agrees. “I just… I’ve always wanted a family, you know. I had Elaine, but I’ve always wanted big dinners and birthdays and every holiday in between. I want to be a mom one day. But I want my baby’s dad to be there, to be present and involved. I want our family to be important, and looking back now, I know that never would have happened with Pete. I let myself get too close to someone who wasn’t right for me.”
“He tricked you.”
“Not really. I mean, he wasn’t the most affectionate or attentive, but I went along with it. I never spoke up and told him I wanted more. Honestly—” She pauses, taking a drink of her beer, our plates long since forgotten on the coffee table. “—with my background, I know I’m the least appealing. Who wants to be with someone who has no one? I have nothing to offer, no family gatherings, no grandparents for our kids, just me, and I never thought that was enough. So when Pete showed interest, he was a nice guy, self-absorbed, but nice, and I went with it.”
Reaching over, I lace her fingers through mine. “You have you, Saylor. You’re more than enough, and if the bastard who steals your heart doesn’t see that, he’s not worthy of you.” I see you and you’re enough, is what I really want to say.
“So, have you heard anything? About the divorce I mean?” she asks, changing the subject.
“Gramps said last night he talked to Frank, the family attorney, and he should have the papers soon.”
“What were we thinking?” she asks, leaning her head back on the couch.
“I don’t know about you, but I was thinking that there was a beautiful woman standing beside me, and when our new friends suggested we get married, she was on board.” I pause and finish off my beer, setting the bottle on the table. Her eyes are still closed, so I forge ahead. “You have so much to offer, Saylor. You’re smart, witty, and loyal. You have the biggest heart of anyone I know. You’ve lived through things I don’t want to think about or even try to imagine, yet here you are putting one foot in front of the other. You’re a fighter. A beautiful, sexy, kindhearted fighter, and I was thinking that I’d be one lucky son of a bitch to call you mine.” I mimic her and rest my head against the back of the couch, only I don’t close my eyes; I keep them trained on her.
Slowly, she opens them and finds me staring at her. Tentatively, she places her hand on my cheek. “I was thinking that for one brief moment in time, I would have a family. That I would be tied to this amazing, confident, sexy man with whiskey-colored eyes. I was thinking that being a part of the Baxter clan sounds better than anything I’ve ever heard. I wanted to be your
s,” she whispers.
“Come here,” I say, my voice gruff. Sitting up, she turns to face me. “Closer, baby.” She moves closer, and I pat my lap. I expect her to argue, but she surprises me when she crawls closer, straddling my lap. My hands immediately go to her hips, anchoring her to me.
She runs her fingers through my hair, something I’ve noticed she likes to do when I am deep inside of her. “Your hair is so soft,” she says quietly.
My hands glide up and down her back until one finds it way under her hair, gripping the back of her neck. Gently, I pull her closer, our mouths now just a breath apart. I hesitate, waiting for her to shut me down, to shut me out. She doesn’t. Closing the distance, I press my mouth to hers. I take my time savoring her, slowly gliding my tongue with hers.
“Rhett.” My name falls from her lips. Longing tears through me.
“Tell me what you want, Say.”
“This. You. More.”
My answer is to hold her tighter, not able to get her close enough. No matter how close she is, I want her closer. My hand that’s holding her neck trails down her back and under her sweater. I make quick work of unfastening her bra, never breaking our kiss. Snaking my hand to her front, I slide it under the cup of her bra and find her tight nipples. My mouth waters as I remember the taste of them on my tongue.
“That,” she says, lifting the hem of her sweater and pulling it over her head.
I glide the straps of her bra off her shoulders and down her arms, tossing it behind me, not caring where it lands. “Perfect,” I say before my lips latch on to her pert, perfect breast, rolling the other between my fingertips. Her head tilts back, and she moans.
“More,” she breathes.
Sliding a hand between her legs, her thin yoga pants, or whatever they are, do nothing to hide her warmth. Needing to feel her heat, I slip my hand under the waistband and don’t stop until I find her soaking wet. Gently, I run my thumb over her clit, causing her to rock her hips.