Wild Man
Page 59
“Where are you?”
“I’m with you,” I said quietly.
“Yeah, Tess, you’re with me.”
I held his eyes for a moment then closed mine and did a face plant in his chest.
The fingers of his hand at mine curled around tight.
“This is free,” I heard growled and I opened my eyes and turned them in the direction the words came from and saw Vance’s infuriated gaze locked on Brock. “No marker. This I do for your woman.”
I felt my belly tighten with shock as my fingers wrapped hard around Brock’s at his shirt.
“I work that angle too,” Hector announced and my eyes shot to him to see he, too, had his furious, dark eyes locked on Brock.
“Uh…” I mumbled but they were on the move.
“You see to your woman and your boys,” Vance declared. “We’ll get to work.”
Um.
Wow.
I didn’t know them, like at all, outside of the fact they were hot. But I liked them.
“Appreciated,” Brock muttered.
They tore their eyes from Brock and looked at me.
“Tess, next time, hope it’s better circumstances,” Vance said to me.
I did too.
“Thanks,” I whispered.
Hector, who didn’t know me either, wasn’t done being pissed on my behalf and therefore he scowled at me. Then he jerked up his chin at Brock and they moved to the steps. Brock let me go to start moving with them.
“Uh…” I called, they stopped and looked back at me. “I, um… own Tessa’s Cakes in Cherry Creek.”
They just looked at me.
“Uh, well, you boys look like you aren’t cupcake eaters,” more like ribeyes grilled blue,
“but, you know, if you’re ever in the mood, come in, anything you want on the house for, like, eternity.”
It was lame but then again, my cakes were really good. Maybe they wouldn’t think it was lame.
They didn’t. Vance’s handsome face split into a shit-eating grin. Hector’s dark eyes melted, his lips twitched then he gave me a glamorous white smile.
Brock chuckled.
“And, uh…” I started to add, “whichever one of you is on that bike, that bike is hot but be careful. Snow’s coming.”
“Will do, Tess,” Vance murmured.
Then I got more chin lifts and they headed back out.
Moving on!
I headed to the fridge and was perusing options for dinner when I heard and felt Brock come back.
Determinedly setting the mood that what had just passed had passed and now we were going to get back to regularly scheduled programming that did not include bitchy, manipulative ex-wives or vicious, nasty, territorial ex-husbands, I stated, “Dinner choices, steak and potatoes, pork chops and rice or hamburgers.”
I pulled my head out of his fridge, closed the door and turned to Brock.
He was leaning his h*ps against the counter, hands to his sides, palms to its top, studying me.
Then he gave me my play and answered, “Pork chops and rice.”
I nodded, opened the fridge and pulled out the package of pork chops. Then I dropped it on the counter and opened the cupboard to pull out the box of seasoned rice.
“What’s with the bags?” Brock asked as I tilted my head down to study the directions on the rice.
“Christmas presents,” I answered. “The boys get here tomorrow and the area under the tree is a little barren. Tree skirts are not meant to be barren, especially in a house with two boys aged ten and twelve. So, tonight I’m wrapping and tomorrow they’ll get here and see presents under the tree.”
“Babe, how much did you buy them? There’s gotta be twenty rolls of wrapping paper there.”
“Something to learn about me,” I muttered to the box. “I have a weakness for wrapping paper and not just the Christmas kind.”
This was met with silence.
Until, “Babe, forgot to tell you something.”
I looked from reading the directions on the box of rice to Brock to see he had hauled himself up on the counter and was sitting on it.
“Yeah?” I asked hesitantly.
“Coupla weeks ago, you gave me a f**kin’ sweet nightie and words I loved hearing.”
I felt my entire body go still as I held his eyes.
“Forgot to mention I feel the same,” he stated and my insides hollowed out.
“What?” I breathed.
“Put down the rice and come here, baby, I wanna tell you I love you when you’re in my arms.”
I didn’t move. I stared at him, my internal organs gone but still, my body managed to produce tears which gathered in my eyes and then promptly and silently slid down my cheeks.
Brock watched this for about two seconds then he whispered, “Tess, darlin’, come here.”
I went there; he opened his thighs and reached out to me when I got close. He pulled me between his legs, deep into him, one arm tight around me, one hand cupping my head and pressing my cheek against his chest. I wrapped my arms around his waist and held on.
He dipped his head so his lips were at the top of my hair and whispered, “I love you, my sweet Tess.”
I soft sob hitched in my throat; I held on tighter and pressed deeper.
“Jesus, my girl, so f**kin’ sweet,” he murmured against my hair.
Another hitch then I tilted my head back, his came up and I pulled an arm from around him, lifted it, curled my hand around his neck and pulled his mouth down to mine.
Then I kissed him as hard as I could trying to show him how much his words meant to me.
I was guessing this worked when he tore his lips from mine and muttered, “Maybe I don’t love you. Maybe I just love your mouth.”
I grinned up at him.
“And your cunt,” he went on.
My grin got bigger.
“And your cupcakes,” he added.
I started giggling and he smiled.
Then he whispered, “No, it’s just you.”
I stopped giggling, stared into his quicksilver eyes and then dipped my chin and did another face plant in his chest.
He held me close, arm around me, hand at my head becoming fingers sifting through my hair.
After awhile, I sighed, lifted a hand to my face, swiped away the wet and muttered, “Let me go, baby, I gotta feed my man.”
His hand stopped sifting through my hair and both arms wrapped around me tight.
Then he let me go.
Then I moved away and got down to the business of feeding my man.
* * * * *
I sucked back the dregs of the hot cocoa then moved on my hands and knees across the floor, dragging boxes with me to arrange the newly wrapped presents under the tree. Then I cleaned up paper scraps, put away scissors and tape, bunched up and folded bags and tucked them away and stowed the rolls of Christmas wrap, ribbons and bows in the hall closet.
“I’m with you,” I said quietly.
“Yeah, Tess, you’re with me.”
I held his eyes for a moment then closed mine and did a face plant in his chest.
The fingers of his hand at mine curled around tight.
“This is free,” I heard growled and I opened my eyes and turned them in the direction the words came from and saw Vance’s infuriated gaze locked on Brock. “No marker. This I do for your woman.”
I felt my belly tighten with shock as my fingers wrapped hard around Brock’s at his shirt.
“I work that angle too,” Hector announced and my eyes shot to him to see he, too, had his furious, dark eyes locked on Brock.
“Uh…” I mumbled but they were on the move.
“You see to your woman and your boys,” Vance declared. “We’ll get to work.”
Um.
Wow.
I didn’t know them, like at all, outside of the fact they were hot. But I liked them.
“Appreciated,” Brock muttered.
They tore their eyes from Brock and looked at me.
“Tess, next time, hope it’s better circumstances,” Vance said to me.
I did too.
“Thanks,” I whispered.
Hector, who didn’t know me either, wasn’t done being pissed on my behalf and therefore he scowled at me. Then he jerked up his chin at Brock and they moved to the steps. Brock let me go to start moving with them.
“Uh…” I called, they stopped and looked back at me. “I, um… own Tessa’s Cakes in Cherry Creek.”
They just looked at me.
“Uh, well, you boys look like you aren’t cupcake eaters,” more like ribeyes grilled blue,
“but, you know, if you’re ever in the mood, come in, anything you want on the house for, like, eternity.”
It was lame but then again, my cakes were really good. Maybe they wouldn’t think it was lame.
They didn’t. Vance’s handsome face split into a shit-eating grin. Hector’s dark eyes melted, his lips twitched then he gave me a glamorous white smile.
Brock chuckled.
“And, uh…” I started to add, “whichever one of you is on that bike, that bike is hot but be careful. Snow’s coming.”
“Will do, Tess,” Vance murmured.
Then I got more chin lifts and they headed back out.
Moving on!
I headed to the fridge and was perusing options for dinner when I heard and felt Brock come back.
Determinedly setting the mood that what had just passed had passed and now we were going to get back to regularly scheduled programming that did not include bitchy, manipulative ex-wives or vicious, nasty, territorial ex-husbands, I stated, “Dinner choices, steak and potatoes, pork chops and rice or hamburgers.”
I pulled my head out of his fridge, closed the door and turned to Brock.
He was leaning his h*ps against the counter, hands to his sides, palms to its top, studying me.
Then he gave me my play and answered, “Pork chops and rice.”
I nodded, opened the fridge and pulled out the package of pork chops. Then I dropped it on the counter and opened the cupboard to pull out the box of seasoned rice.
“What’s with the bags?” Brock asked as I tilted my head down to study the directions on the rice.
“Christmas presents,” I answered. “The boys get here tomorrow and the area under the tree is a little barren. Tree skirts are not meant to be barren, especially in a house with two boys aged ten and twelve. So, tonight I’m wrapping and tomorrow they’ll get here and see presents under the tree.”
“Babe, how much did you buy them? There’s gotta be twenty rolls of wrapping paper there.”
“Something to learn about me,” I muttered to the box. “I have a weakness for wrapping paper and not just the Christmas kind.”
This was met with silence.
Until, “Babe, forgot to tell you something.”
I looked from reading the directions on the box of rice to Brock to see he had hauled himself up on the counter and was sitting on it.
“Yeah?” I asked hesitantly.
“Coupla weeks ago, you gave me a f**kin’ sweet nightie and words I loved hearing.”
I felt my entire body go still as I held his eyes.
“Forgot to mention I feel the same,” he stated and my insides hollowed out.
“What?” I breathed.
“Put down the rice and come here, baby, I wanna tell you I love you when you’re in my arms.”
I didn’t move. I stared at him, my internal organs gone but still, my body managed to produce tears which gathered in my eyes and then promptly and silently slid down my cheeks.
Brock watched this for about two seconds then he whispered, “Tess, darlin’, come here.”
I went there; he opened his thighs and reached out to me when I got close. He pulled me between his legs, deep into him, one arm tight around me, one hand cupping my head and pressing my cheek against his chest. I wrapped my arms around his waist and held on.
He dipped his head so his lips were at the top of my hair and whispered, “I love you, my sweet Tess.”
I soft sob hitched in my throat; I held on tighter and pressed deeper.
“Jesus, my girl, so f**kin’ sweet,” he murmured against my hair.
Another hitch then I tilted my head back, his came up and I pulled an arm from around him, lifted it, curled my hand around his neck and pulled his mouth down to mine.
Then I kissed him as hard as I could trying to show him how much his words meant to me.
I was guessing this worked when he tore his lips from mine and muttered, “Maybe I don’t love you. Maybe I just love your mouth.”
I grinned up at him.
“And your cunt,” he went on.
My grin got bigger.
“And your cupcakes,” he added.
I started giggling and he smiled.
Then he whispered, “No, it’s just you.”
I stopped giggling, stared into his quicksilver eyes and then dipped my chin and did another face plant in his chest.
He held me close, arm around me, hand at my head becoming fingers sifting through my hair.
After awhile, I sighed, lifted a hand to my face, swiped away the wet and muttered, “Let me go, baby, I gotta feed my man.”
His hand stopped sifting through my hair and both arms wrapped around me tight.
Then he let me go.
Then I moved away and got down to the business of feeding my man.
* * * * *
I sucked back the dregs of the hot cocoa then moved on my hands and knees across the floor, dragging boxes with me to arrange the newly wrapped presents under the tree. Then I cleaned up paper scraps, put away scissors and tape, bunched up and folded bags and tucked them away and stowed the rolls of Christmas wrap, ribbons and bows in the hall closet.
