by Vivian Arend
“You promised me you wouldn’t do this again,” Dare scolded with a tease. “No having babies in the living room.”
“Hey, I promised not to have a kid in my house. This is your place.” Vicki sucked in a sharp breath. “Hey, Jaxi. We called the guys and the ambulance, but just in case, did you bring your catching mitt?”
“I’m usually the one pitching,” Jaxi said with a soft laugh, “but I think we can figure it out. Don’t worry. Everything’s going to be fine.
Not even forty-five minutes later, when the front door burst open, Joel rushing in with Jesse hard on his heels, Vicki was on the couch, her baby wrapped comfortably in her arms.
Dare had one of her twins, and Jaxi held the other, and Ginny was riding herd on the rest of the children. It was the finest of chaos in Jaxi’s opinion.
Joel cuddled in next to Vicki and kissed her tenderly before accepting his baby boy into his free arm. “I’m sorry I wasn’t here this time.”
“It’s okay,” Vicki reassured him. “You’ll be here for the rest of it.”
Jaxi was still buzzing with excitement when she got to share the story with Blake that night. “It was probably one of the most exciting things I’ve ever done,” she admitted. “And one of the scariest.”
Their children were all asleep, and she and Blake were sitting on the floor in front of the fireplace.
He leaned on one elbow, stroking his fingers down her thigh as she sat cross-legged in front of him. “You were worried about Vicki?”
“And the baby, and just—everything.” She caught his hand and pulled it up to her mouth so she could kiss his fingers. “You’ve said it before, but I never quite understood until now how hard it is to be there and not be the one having the baby.”
She’d been running on sheer adrenaline by the end of it, wanting to take the pain away from Vicki and yet knowing she couldn’t. Hoping with every breath that things would be fine, and knowing all she could do was one thing at a time.
Blake dipped his chin. “I know they’re very grateful you were there.”
Another rush swept through her. “I’m not going to be able to sleep tonight,” she exclaimed. “They named the baby after me, Blake. Not just because of tonight—they said they always planned to.”
Joel and Vicki announcing that their little boy would be called Jackson in her honour made something magical flutter inside.
Blake curled upright, pulling her against him and surrounding her with his strong arms. “Joel told me a few days ago they planned on it. He said you were the best kind of sister ever. Someone who’d been there from the beginning. Someone who wasn’t always perfect, but when you screw up, you apologize then work to make it right. He said they looked up to you even as they feel comfortable telling you anything.” She took a shaky breath, and he squeezed her again. “It’s quite a compliment, and I agree completely.”
Great. Now she had tears as well as adrenaline running her system ragged. “It’s quite something to know that my family of choice is far more than my family by blood.”
It was easy now to let go of any final bitterness from being an afterthought to her parents. Maybe the peace should’ve snuck in a long time earlier. Maybe in some ways, it had. This moment was the icing on a beautiful cake. A sweet, pretty covering over the deliciousness she’d been enjoying for years.
She squeezed Blake extra hard then pulled back. “So, how was your day?”
His grin slid from amusement to heat. “I’ve got something to show you.”
Jaxi snorted. “Excuse me?”
Blake blinked then joined her in laughter. “You’ve got a dirty mind, Slick.”
“You love my dirty mind,” she told him with a bit of an attitude.
He scooped her up, rising to his feet as she bit down a shout of surprise. This was definitely not the moment to wake any of the kids.
“My day was pretty good as well,” he told her. His strong hands squeezed her butt as he held her against him. Jaxi wrapped her legs around his lean hips, fingers digging into his muscular shoulders as he carried her down the stairs.
They were slightly safer now, since the children were still sharing bedrooms on the main floor for a few more years. Jaxi waited silently until he put her down in the dark corner of what used to be the family ranch office at one point.
“You need my help to balance some ledgers?” she whispered.
A low, dirty chuckle escaped him. “You’re going to be a little too busy.”
He clicked a switch, and teeny lights went on, strategically arranged around the perimeter of the room. Wall sconces burned as well, and soft country music began playing, almost as if they’d stepped into—
No way. Jaxi twisted to look into Blake’s grinning face. “You made us our own version of Traders Pub?”
“Dance with me?”
His voice was lust-filled and smoky, and it sent a shiver racing up Jaxi’s spine.
She didn’t plan on sleeping anytime soon. Getting to rock against her favourite person in the entire world while he held her, one hand caressing her lower back, fingers teasing the back edge of her butt, was delicious. His other hand slid over her shoulders and through her hair. Trickling down the front of her body, boldly caressing her breasts.
Oh, she could handle a dance or two. If she must.
Hmmm. Nothing said she couldn’t make this as much fun for him as it was for her. Jaxi eased a little tighter, took a slightly bigger breath as she arched and savoured the delicious sensation of his hard muscles rubbing fabric over her breasts.
“Jaxi.” His groan was already a reward, but when he reached between them and undid the button on her pants, her blood pumped a little faster.
“Is the door locked?” Because this wasn’t something she wanted interrupted.
“Yes.” He pushed her pants to the floor, taking her panties with them. “There. Much better.”
She wanted to laugh, because the shirt she wore was extra-long, and the tails hung over her hips like a dress. “You seem to have an agenda.”
“Making good on a promise,” he told her. “I’m sorry it’s taken this long. I promise I’ll make it worth your while.”
He flicked another switch, and the back half of the room lit up to reveal—
Shock and amusement hit. “Blake Coleman. Is there a pool table in here?”
“They were nearly giving it away. Said they ordered new ones and I could have this one cheap.” He backed them up two paces then placed her on the edge of the table. Then he caught hold of her knees and pressed her legs wide before trickling his fingers up the inside of her thighs. Teasing as he slid his fingers past the line between where her leg and her torso connected. Small circles inching closer to her sex. “You’re not in a sundress, but this works for me.”
He stood there, fingers now cupping her possessively. Waiting.
“Oh, yeah. This works for me, too,” she agreed quickly. Gasping when he reacted by sliding his fingers through her folds. “Oh, this so works for me.”
Blake teased. Fingers slipping into her sex. One. Two. Just the hint of three before his thumb danced in a series of rapid pulses over her clit. He did it again, and a strong pulse built inside her core.
Her breasts ached. She wanted to tear away the rest of her clothing. Tear away his clothing so they would both be naked, and yet there was something so deliciously dirty about the way he stood guarding her. As if a whole room full of people stood behind him, none of them quite aware of what was going on. None of them able to see the fire in his eyes as he stared at where he worked her sex.
None of them able to see what was on his face when he glanced up and whispered her name, pinching her clit lightly.
Jaxi rocked as the first wave struck. Blake rubbed harder, thrusting her into overdrive. Pushing hard so that pleasure rose, then dipped, then flared higher again. It wasn’t until she gasped his name that his hand vanished.
The hard length of his cock took its place.
He leaned his hands on
either side of her, staring into her eyes as he pushed into her body. An inch, and another inch. Slow and yet inescapable. Her only option for movement was to arch her back, but all that did was press her tighter against him as he buried himself fully. Filling her.
Loving her.
Jaxi cupped a hand to his face. “Blake.”
He grinned. “Promised I’d take you on a pool table sometime.”
Then he did. The sweet, gentle, fulfilling connection turned down-right dirty. Blake’s big hands gripped her hips like iron as his hips sped up. Thrusting hard, pulling back. Driving her toward the heavens again.
It was still lovemaking, but this was perfect and dirty and perfect and hard and just…perfect.
It didn’t matter how many times they’d come together before; this time was special because it was a promise fulfilled. It was special because it was the same promise he’d fulfilled every time since their very first time.
Love. Dirty, hot sex, but always love.
He fucked into her. Jaxi dug her heels into his butt, loving how intensely she and Blake burned, loving every bit about giving to him.
She spiraled, scratching his back without meaning to. Then she buried her face against him and fought to contain her scream.
He made a noise that sounded painful, followed by the most satisfied moan ever.
The two of them stayed there, locked in position, Blake’s legs shaking nearly as hard as Jaxi’s. Their chests heaved, but their expressions were all satisfaction and smiles as they stared into each other’s faces.
Blake leaned down and offered a kiss. “That was a wonderful dance.”
She had to agree.
27
As the summer progressed, Dana collected each precious moment and tucked it into her brand-new set of memories.
The collection the Coleman family was putting together had given her a chance to revisit all of the best moments of her high school years, followed by the time dating Ben, and then marriage.
She refused to let the later sadness erase the seasons of good they had enjoyed. She wouldn’t have wanted the brothers to have wiped Ben from their childhood reminiscing or from the stories that had been shared about when they had raised this barn and who had been involved in building that shelter. Ben’s hand had touched many things in a positive way, and that’s the part she wanted to honour.
But seeing Mark’s earnest blue eyes and his firm smile across the table as she shared a coffee with him was a new sweetness washing away years of pain.
As he took her by the hand and they went horseback riding together, or walked beside the river, or joined the children for a picnic dinner, Dana found her feet growing more comfortable on this new path.
He picked her up a few days into August, absolutely giddy as he drove her to the building site to witness the timber frame being lifted into position over the foundation.
Mark had done some building of his own, creating a level platform on the highest ridge to the south side of the future house. Today he put two lawn chairs on it, with a small table to the side and a cooler tucked under a blanket.
“Looks decadent,” Dana said with a laugh.
He grinned, opened his mouth and then closed it, looking thoughtful. “I have to be careful what I say.” He met her eyes and winked. “I want to share this moment with you. It’s a very special moment, for many reasons—and I’ll stop there.”
He didn’t have to say more because Dana could read the words on his face. He wanted her to witness the home he was building going up. The home he wanted them to share.
The home she was very much beginning to want as well.
What she did was give him a hug and a quick kiss before settling in one of the chairs. “It’s very exciting. I’m glad to be here with you.”
It was fascinating to watch the crew fit the long, sturdy pieces into each other one at a time flat on the ground. Then they attached a chain to the topmost point and used a crane to lever the entire wall up at one time, wooden beams rising toward the robin’s-egg-blue sky.
A week later the house had framed-in walls and a finished roof, beautiful pine boards shining overhead as Dana stood in what would be the living room and stared upward. “This is happening so fast.”
Mark stepped behind her, his arms gentle but possessive as he curled them around her. “You think?”
She turned, sliding against him and lifting her face for his kiss.
Every time they got together, they told stories. What Mark had done while he’d been gone. What Dana was the proudest of accomplishing over the years.
They touched on joys, and even slipped into sharing sorrows. And maybe that was when Dana began to realize—
Began to acknowledge—
She caught herself staring out the window when he wasn’t around, gazing into the distance as if that would help her push past the final bit of worry and admit, at least to herself, that she was falling in love.
They went up to the house often, to enjoy picnics on the floor in what would be the kitchen someday. To dance to music playing on Mark’s phone in the living room. Lawn chairs were placed on the porch once it was framed in—a perfect location to watch the sunset over the Rocky Mountains as the day ended, and it would be late, but neither of them wanted to stop talking.
Neither of them wanted the days to truly end.
Tonight he’d moved his chair close enough that their fingers were tangled, hanging between them. Off in the distance, the sound of a hawk’s cry rippled over the air.
Mark hummed, soft and low. “Every time he heard that, Dave used to say, ‘Hold on to your hat,’ and then he’d duck down as if he were hiding.”
“You’ve mentioned him before,” Dana said. “Friend of yours from university, right? Where is he now?”
Mark hesitated. “He passed away about eight years ago.”
His sadness was so sharp. Dana laid a hand on his arm. “I’m sorry.”
“You couldn’t have known.” He adjusted position, sliding his chair closer to hers so he could rest their joined hands on his thigh. “He was a good friend for many years. We met at university then taught in the same school for over twenty years. He got cancer. It took him pretty quickly.”
It struck her then that all of them had lives traced with loss. Mark, her, her children. So many of them in the Coleman family. “You must’ve really missed him.”
“Still do,” he admitted. “I suppose the silver lining, if you want to call it that, was the six months he had at the end were full of one hundred percent live life to the fullest attitude. I quit my job, and between his chemo sessions, we took an extended road trip all over Western Canada.” He smiled, sad amusement in that gentle curve. “We went into every small-town museum we could find. Gave most of them a thrill to have Dave willing to let them talk about grain elevators and train routes and what all for hours on end.”
“I’m glad you got to do that with him.”
“Me too. That’s when I switched to driving a truck. I needed a change.”
Night was falling, and in the midst of the quiet, something changed. Dana wanted to listen to Mark talk for hours, and the truth sank in deep.
He must have felt it too.
Abandoning his chair, he moved in front of her and caught her hand in his. “You know, there’re still so many stories to share. It’s not as if we can know everything about each other instantly. Or that we have to know everything before we know what’s right…”
He let the words trail off, not as if he wasn’t sure what came next but as if he was waiting. Trying to be patient.
Failing dismally.
Sweet, happy hope began spiraling upward in Dana’s chest.
It was the truth. “You’re saying we should probably move in with each other because that would make it easier to catch up?”
He lifted her hand and brushed his lips over her knuckles. “That, and it would make it easier for a lot of other things.”
She waited to see if he would waggle his eyebr
ows, but apparently, the man had decided to remain thoughtful.
Which meant the bubbles lighting up her bloodstream were dangerous, because she didn’t want to be sober right now. She wanted to pull him to his feet and dance, to laugh as they wandered over the hillside.
She wanted to pull him into bed and dance all night long in a whole different way. To sleep in his arms and know he was there.
Mark. Her caring, cocky, listening man.
This wasn’t a moment for serious—not that kind, anyway. This was a moment of serious joy.
Before she could say anything, Mark rose to his feet and held out a hand. “I have something to show you. I was going to wait, but I couldn’t resist seeing how it looked in its new home.”
She walked with him, curiosity rising as he led her across the great room toward the master bedroom.
The cozy, rustic farmhouse where she had lived for over thirty-five years had been built with love. She’d raised her children there. Buried lost ones there. Spent time with her son and daughter-in-law, and began to live again.
This new house set amongst the wild roses, with a view of the mountains, was dreamily perfect. Everything shiny, everything glowing, and the room Mark led her into was nearly the size of the living room in her old place.
Yet what made her lips curl upward wasn’t the spectacular luxury but the air mattress on the floor, a quilt and pillows neatly in place. “Mark Coleman. That’s the fanciest bed I’ve ever seen.”
He looked confused for a moment then laughed. “Honestly, that’s not what I wanted to show you.”
She was laughing as well, amusement tickling so hard, she couldn’t stop. “Sure.”
He spun her as if they were on the dance floor, ending with her back against his chest, arms crossed in front of her as he twisted her toward the wall that divided the bedroom from the master bathroom suite.
An enormous picture hung on the unpainted drywall, and she gasped. “Mark.”
“It seems Ashley was inspired. It’s one of the most beautiful things I’ve ever seen,” he said, softly pressing a kiss to the side of Dana’s neck.
Ashley had painted an eerily familiar scene. A woman stood surrounded by verdant-green bushes, pale-pink roses blooming exuberantly everywhere.