Chapter 2 #2
We exited the car into the sultry late afternoon.
Autumn had settled, but we were experiencing a late heat spell—complete with a crackling storm the night before.
Despite the wind and lightning's best efforts, our little farmhouse had stood strong.
Clean-up had only been a few branches this morning.
Drake hurried to the door, hitting the bell.
"Settle, bro,” I murmured, clasping his shoulder. "We don't want a repeat of yesterday."
Drake took a steadying breath, then nodded. "Slow and easy."
Mr. Henderson pulled the door open, beaming as he ushered us in. "Boys! Come in, come in. I didn't expect to see you so soon."
We'd reconnected in the grocery store. The old guy had been our lifeline these past few years, slipping us intel on Belle, what she was up to, who she was dating.
Hell, even before we'd shipped out, he'd been looking out for us.
The old man had overpaid us for maintaining his garden and car.
He'd been the one to suggest we look at the Marines as an option.
Hadn't hurt that he'd served and gave us all the gory but enticing details.
We stepped through, allowing him to wrap us in back-clapping hugs. Mrs. Henderson had passed two years ago. It was part of the reason why we'd decided to call it quits. Time was passing, and we'd been overseas, unable to return in time for the funeral.
We were fucking good at our jobs. Enjoyed the shit out of the travel and adventure.
Fuck, even the regimented schedule hadn't been that bad.
But we weren't getting younger, and we knew Belle wanted kids.
Mr. Henderson had told us she'd stepped up her dating game, trying to snag herself a man.
It had taken us two years to transition out, but now we were ready. Ready for her.
"Good to see you," I muttered, accepting his hug.
"You're just in time. Belle just arrived, and I've put a fresh pot of coffee on. Come join us."
He led us down a hall that had three bright pink suitcases leaning neatly against the wall. "Ignore the mess; Belle's staying here for a few days." I glanced at Drake, finding his gaze already on me. He lifted an eyebrow, a small satisfied grin settling on his face.
Minuscule and clinical, the unit was nothing like the homely house Mr. Henderson had lived in before. Oh sure, there were pictures hung, while photos and knickknacks sat scattered about on display. But underneath, the place felt like a hospital room masquerading as a home.
I exchanged a look with Drake. He nodded, his normally jovial expression completely wiped from his face.
For a man we cared so deeply about, this was unacceptable.
We entered the kitchen and found Belle standing at the sink, chopping vegetables.
"Look who I found,” Mr. Henderson called, moving to settle in one of the chairs.
Belle glanced over her shoulder, an easy smile ready on her face. As she registered our presence, that smile froze. Her body tensed, the knife falling silent. Her eyes widened until she looked a little like a deer in headlights.
"Belle," Drake grinned, heading over to her. "We have to keep meeting like this." He quickly removed the knife from her hand, dropping it to the counter and then wrapped her in a hug.
I watched, satisfaction building as her cheeks coloured. Drake kept her wrapped in his arms just a beat too long, and I watched, anticipation unfurling, when she didn't protest.
Drake let her go, one hand resting on the small of her back, propelling her toward me. "Go greet, Dane."
She complied, coming to me, and letting me wrap her in a hug.
Good girl. I breathed her in. She smelled like lemongrass and home.
Our girl felt fucking fantastic in my arms. Her curves were deliciously generous and perfectly plump.
Her Double-D tits pressed against me, and I couldn't help the rumble of pleasure that echoed in my chest.
Her breath caught, and her body trembled once before she stepped back. She immediately looked away, hand reaching up to tuck stray hairs behind her ear.
"I…I-I-I didn't realise you were coming today,” she finally stammered, standing awkwardly in the middle of the small kitchenette.
"Thought we'd drop by and see our main man," Drake said, sliding easily onto one of the seats at the four-seater table. He clasped a hand on Mr. Henderson's shoulder. "Gotta make up for lost time."
Her hands lifted, fluttering up to touch her collarbone before settling on her hips. "Right. Well, I'll just get back to dinner." She turned, hesitating. "Did you want to stay?"
The words were a concession. Everyone in the room except old Mr. Henderson knew how much it cost her.
"Love to, Honey," I answered for us. "Whatcha making?"
"Chicken biryani."
"Sounds great. Can we help?"
She blinked. "Um, no. But thank you."
I settled on the opposite side of Mr. Henderson while he dished out coffee, donuts, and the latest gossip.
Sally and Johnny were divorced. The old Randall couple had sold up and moved to Idaho to be closer to their grandkids.
Belle's parents, the people who'd run the group home, were in Europe for the summer. The Stones’ and Bronze’s were still locked in a battle for the cabins up new Lover’s Lake.
"And what about our fine little Bluebell?" Drake asked, leaning back in his chair. "What's been happening with you, Miss Belle?"
She'd been quietly frying and chopping in the background, the smells teasing my taste buds. She stiffened, the knife stilling.
"It's Blue now,” she murmured, still turned away from us.
"Sorry?"
She cleared her throat, shoulders straightening. She twisted, giving us a serious look. "I go by Blue."
I sensed from her tone that this was important to her. "Any particular reason for the change?"
She gestured down at her body. "Bluebell is the name of some white girl wearing Daisy duke cut-offs and a crop top. That's never gonna be me."
"Baby, you can wear cut-offs and crop tops around us any time," I told her, letting everyone in the room hear the heat in my voice.
But I got it. No one had believed two punk kids could make it. Only Bluebell's great aunt on her daddy's side had stood by them. She'd been named for that aunt, but it had to be admitted it was one of the frilliest names I'd ever heard.
"Blue," I muttered, liking the taste of her name on my tongue. Liking even more her little shiver of pleasure. "Okay, Blue it is."
She nodded once, then returned to the stove, swirling a large spoon through the simmering curry. "Nothing to really add. I'm sure Mr. Henderson has told you everything."
He had, but so had her parents. In dribs and drabs over the last decade, we'd received updates on little Miss Blue.
She'd worked two jobs while studying nursing, then landed a job in the hospital a town over.
After a few years there, she'd transferred to a local clinic, preferring the short commute and friendlier hours.
When Mrs. Henderson had passed and Mr. Henderson had moved into aged care, she'd helped him sell the house, pack up his things, and move in here.
"Ah, pish-posh." Mr. Henderson shook his head. "Blue's roof got damaged in the storm last night. She's staying with me."
As one, Drake and I turned to look at the beautiful woman in the kitchen. "What about your parent's house?"
"They're renting it out while in Europe."
Three years ago, her mother had a health scare.
The lump turned out to be benign, but it'd left the family changed.
We'd still been deployed but had heard all about it.
Mr. and Mrs. McKenney had continued to assist the current kids in their care.
Once the kids were settled—either with a family or in their own digs—the McKenney's travelled.
They'd taken on so many difficult kid cases—me and Drake included—that no one could begrudge them this alone time.
"But this is a one-bedroom unit," Drake's tone was deceptively casual. "Where you gonna sleep?"
"The sofa bed. I tried to get a room, but it's peak tourist season." She raised a shoulder in a shrug, her back still to us.
"Couldn't stay with friends?"
She flushed, brushing nervously at the strands of hair that wisped across her cheeks.
"They're either on vacation, have a full house, or don’t have a spare bed. It's summer break, so—” she trailed off.
"You know, we got a few spare bedrooms," I drawled, deceptively casual. “We could always put you up."
"And we're closer to the clinic," Drake added helpfully.
"Boys, that's a mighty fine idea." Mr. Henderson raised his coffee mug in a salute. "There you go, Blue. No need to lose sleep on that lumpy couch."
Oh, she'll still be losing sleep.
I picked up a donut and shoved it in my mouth, concentrating on chewing rather than giving in to the overwhelming need to press her against the closest flat surface and taste her.
"I couldn’t.” She'd abandoned the stove to stand at the kitchen counter, wiping over and over the same spot.
"Why not?" Drake asked, smiling at her. "We got the rooms; you need a place. You're not even unpacked."
She looked panicked. "I promised Mr. Henderson I'd drive him to the—"
"Oh, nonsense," Mr. Henderson fluttered a hand dismissively.
"I can drive myself just like I've done every other time.
" He glanced at me, rolling his eyes. "Due for a check-up.
" He tapped a hand over his heart. "Need to get the old ticker checked.
No need to worry, just making sure everything is as it should be. "
"But—" Blue protested.
"Darling, I appreciate your support. But you sleeping on my couch isn't going to work for either of us. Take the boys' generous offer and get yourself some much-needed rest."
She bit her lip, looking down at her feet. I waited, not moving, not even daring a glance at Drake.
Say yes. Say yes.
"Okay." She blew out a breath. "The insurance guy will be around tomorrow. It should only be for a week at the most." She glanced from me to Drake. "Is that okay?"
"Baby," I leaned back in my chair, triumph and satisfaction settling in my chest. "You can stay forever."
Her cheeks flushed, and she fumbled with the wooden spoon in her hand, turning back to the stovetop. "I don't think that'll be necessary."
I glanced over at Drake. He shot me a look, eyes dark with desire, a hungry grin across his lips.
Oh, yeah. This was going to be fun.