Taz
“Jesus. I need another drink.”
Kathleen wipes her eyes with her cocktail napkin.
“Do us another round, yeah,” Meredith instructs the waitress, who’s been keeping an eye on our table with no small amount of interest. I can’t blame her; three teary-eyed women sniffling in their drinks in the middle of a bar draw attention.
I just finished telling them about my talk with Sofie under the stars.
“I don’t want to get hammered,” I warn Meredith, who waves me off.
“Told you, Andrew is picking us up.”
“Yeah,” Kathleen pipes up. “Besides, last time we got sloshed together was about ten years ago; the night before you took off for Africa. Except then it was to drown your misery. Now we’re celebrating, so drink up.”
I remember that night. I’d been staying with Kathleen in an attempt to avoid everyone after Mom walked in on Rafe and me in the kitchen. I’d been so hurt—felt so betrayed—I was licking my wounds.
Tonight is much different. I know I’ll be going home to Rafe and that makes all the difference.
“Can I remind you, I spent a week with a very hot guy in a tent, separated by two kids?”
“Ahhh,” Meredith is the first to clue in. “Someone’s hoping for some nookie tonight.”
“Now I really need that drink. Where the hell is that waitress?” Kathleen grumbles, looking toward the bar. “I could do without you putting images of Rafe Thomas—naked—in my head, thank you very much.”
Meredith snickers and I join in.
“Just to say, there’s worse things to visualize than Rafe naked,” I point out.
“Agreed,” Meredith adds, her eyes sparkling with humor. “Shit, I wouldn’t say no to a picture, should you be willing to share some-a-that.”
Kathleen shoves her fingers in her ears. “La-la-la-la-la, I can’t hear you.”
I elbow her sharply. “Stop that. How long are you gonna keep him in the doghouse?”
“Until I know for sure he’s not gonna fuck up again.”
“He won’t,” I assure her. “And neither will I. I’m happy, Kathleen. Really happy. Can you be happy for me?”
“I am. I’m cautiously happy for you.”
“Whatever,” Meredith flaps her hand, “I still think your story is like a bittersweet fairy tale with a very happy ending. The only thing that would make it better is if you guys had a baby.”
When I don’t react, both girls turn their eyes on me.
“Christ, tell me you’re not preggers,” Kathleen says far too loud, as the waitress walks up with our drinks. “Did you have to press the grapes yourself?” she grumbles, as our wine glasses are set in front of us.
“Don’t mind her,” I tell the waitress, making a mental note to tip her generously later.
From the corner of my eye I see the very unwelcome figure of Sheila slink by, curiosity plain on her face as she peers over on her way to the ladies’ room. Fuck. With my luck she overheard our conversation, which would mean more food for the Eminence gossip mill to grind.
I turn back to the table. “For the record; no, I’m not pregnant.” Too bad the gossip queen is out of hearing, but I can at least set my friends straight. Kathleen dramatically pats her forehead with the napkin she still has in her hand. “For now,” I tease, chuckling as I see her eyes go big.
Still grinning, I tell them about Sofie’s reaction to the proposed renovations this morning, and the resulting exchanges.
“The kid makes a good point. You don’t want to spend money knocking down walls and reconfiguring your bedrooms now, only to have to do it again when you get pregnant. That would be stupid,” Meredith lays out.
“I know. That’s what Rafe’s doing tonight; tweaking the design he sketched.”
“That boy is not wasting any time,” Kathleen mutters, right before she takes a swig of her wine.
“The way I see it,” Meredith responds soberly, “too much has been wasted already.”
“Good point.”
The moment the words leave my mouth, Meredith pulls out her phone and taps the screen. “Andrew? Can you come get us?”
“Already?” Kathleen whines when she ends the call. “I’m just getting my buzz on.”
Meredith leans over and puts a hand on her arm. “You have another ten minutes before he gets here; make good use of it.” I’m smiling when she turns to me. “Our girl needs to get laid.”
Kathleen whimpers, “Jesus, have mercy,” and tosses back her drink.
“You’re early.”
Rafe sets me back after welcoming me with a long, deliciously wet kiss.
“Meredith insists I get laid.”
He chuckles, grabbing my hips to tug me closer. “Are you drunk?”
“I didn’t get a chance,” I pout, making him laugh harder. “I wanted to, especially after Sheila showed her face at the bar.”
Rafe’s expression immediately turns serious. “Did she give you any trouble?”
“No, not necessarily,” I admit, “but that doesn’t mean she won’t.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well,” I drawl, a little hesitant to broach that subject, “she may have overheard us talking.”
“About?”
“Just girl talk, you know? Meredith said something about a baby making our story even more of a fairy tale. Then Kathleen overreacted and asked if I was pregnant. Loudly.”
The arms around me tighten. “And?”
“And judging by the way Sheila eyed me, I’d guess she heard that.”
“You’re not, though.”
“No. I’m not.”
“So what’s the problem?”
I let out a deep sigh. “Mom and Dad are going to church in the morning. We’re supposed to have dinner over there tomorrow.”
Mom’s call this afternoon to invite us had been a surprise. A pleasant one. The conversation was a little stilted, but I figure it will take more time for us to find a new normal. Regardless, I’m happy for the conciliatory gesture. Except if Sheila’s gonna stir the pot again, which I have no doubt she will, it means more fireworks at dinner. I’m about done with all the upheaval.
“I see,” Rafe acknowledges. “I’ll take care of it. Now,” a lecherous grin spreads on his face, “I believe you mentioned something about getting laid?”
My body instantly responds, tingling in all the right places. I roll my hips against his, my belly brushing his already hard cock pushing against his fly.
“The kids?”
“Asleep about five minutes after I put them to bed.”
“Mmm…” I hum, smirking as I look up into his indigo eyes, dark with lust. “I think I’m gonna head upstairs, get ready for bed.”
“Be up as soon as I take care of the dogs. Don’t you dare fall asleep on me.” To emphasize his words he lays a long, heated kiss on me before letting me go.
I run upstairs, two at a time, heading straight for the bathroom to freshen up. I wish I had something sexy to wear; a flimsy nightie or some lace underwear, but sadly all I own is plain cotton. Functional, but not exactly high on appeal. In the end, I slip between the sheets stark naked. My skin is the sexiest thing I own.
When I hear him coming up the stairs, I roll over on my side, my back to the door, and pretend to be asleep. The door opens and I’m having a hard time trying to stay still as I hear a very quiet, but definitely heartfelt, “Fuck.”
I tense with the rustle of clothes and the clink of a belt buckle hitting the floor, and I stop breathing when I feel the mattress dip with his weight.
“A little tip,” his deep voice suddenly sounds right by my ear, as a hand slides over my hip and down between my legs, where he finds me wet already. “Don’t rub your thighs together when you pretend to be asleep.”
Grinning, I turn around and lift my leg over his hips, happy to discover he’s not wearing a stitch either. “I’ll make note of that,” I whisper, pushing up so I’m straddling him.
His hands slide from my hips up to cup my breasts. “Although I’m not complaining about all this skin. You’re so fucking beautiful.”
I brace myself on his chest, lean down, and kiss him. As I rock my hips against him, I slick his length with the wetness between my legs, and catch his growl down my throat.
“You’re killing me, Sweets,” he groans, ripping his mouth from mine as his fingers press into my waist. “Ride me.”
“Yippy-ki-yay,” I whisper before filling myself with his cock.
Rafe
The moment we walk into the house, I can tell word has gotten around Eminence.
Ed seems uneasy as he lets us in and Sarah is banging pots and pans around in the kitchen.
“Sarah! The kids are here,” he yells, as Spencer attaches himself to his leg.
“I can hear that, Ed,” comes her snippy reply. I look over to find Taz’s wide eyes on mine.
“Grandma!” My son lets go of his grandfather and barrels toward the kitchen.
“Hey, my beautiful boy,” I hear her coo. “Did you have a good time?”
Spencer doesn’t let an invitation to talk go by, and happily launches into a play-by-play of the past week. Sofie wanders into the kitchen as well.
“Wanna pour us a drink, Rafe? Beer for me.” Ed sinks down in his easy chair, patting the armrest of the couch beside him. “Come sit by me, Baby Girl.”
“Beer for me too. How are you doing, Dad? Been feeling okay?” Taz asks, taking her father’s hand in hers.
“Hanging in. Getting a little nervous about the surgery.”
I leave them talking and slip into the kitchen where I find Sarah examining the single dread Sofie asked Taz to twist in her hair a few days ago.
“You’re okay with this?” she asks me sharply.
“I am. Sofie asked for it, and I told her she could have one small one.”
“My hair is too short,” Spencer volunteers. He’d wanted a dreadlock as well.
“Anyway…” I lean down and kiss Sarah’s cheek, “…hello to you, Mom. I’m getting drinks, can I get you one?”
At least she looks duly chastised. “Yes, please. I’ll have my port.”
I pour her drink first, setting her glass next to the stove where she is lifting a lid from the Dutch oven. Then I pull three beers from the fridge and hand one each to the kids. “Can you drop these off for Grandpa and Taz, please? I’ll be right in. Try not to spill.” I wait until the kids are gone before stepping up beside Sarah, putting my arm around her tense shoulders as I peek into the pan. My mouth waters when I recognize her braised pork chops and onions.
“Kids seem to have had a good time,” she says stiffly.
“We all did. It was a great week.”
She grunts in response. I let go and turn, leaning my butt against the counter, and crossing my arms over my chest.
“We’re not pregnant.” Her eyes dart my way. “We’re not having a baby. Yet.”
“Jesus, Rafe,” Taz snaps from the doorway. “That’s how you’re taking care of it?” She grabs a roll of paper towel from the counter and turns to Sarah. “Mom, I know the gossip mill must’ve been buzzing, seeing as Sheila seemed very interested in our girls’ night out at Salty’s yesterday, but please don’t believe everything she says.”
“I’m not ready for that,” Sarah mumbles, her voice wobbling.
Taz shoves the paper towels at me. “Spencer spilled some beer in the living room.”
“Got it.” I take the roll and head out of the kitchen, knowing when I’ve been dismissed. A quick glance back shows Taz slipping her arm around her mother’s shoulders.
“Everything okay in there?” Ed asks when I bend down to mop up the spill.
“It’s all good.” I throw him a quick smile before asking, “Where are the kids?”
“I wasn’t sure if you wanted them within earshot, so told them they could watch TV in our bedroom.”
“That’s fine, Dad. Thanks. But there’s nothing for them to hear; you’re not going to be a grandfather again for a while yet. One step at a time, yeah?”
“That woman oughta have her lips stapled together,” he grumbles, shaking his head.
“Don’t tempt me,” I warn him on a chuckle. “If Sheila Quinn doesn’t have shit to stir, she creates some.”
I take the wet towels into the kitchen to find Taz and her mom in much the same position, talking softly. When I toss them in the garbage, she winks at me over her mom’s shoulder and I quickly make myself scarce again.
Dad seems pensive when I sit down on the couch and take a swig of my beer.
“You know…” His eyes sparkle when he turns them on me. “…I can’t figure out whether to be glad or disappointed.”