Chapter 2 #2
“And you also need to just sit down and relax,” he added.
“Well, maybe just a quick shower, and then the boys can show me how your game thing works that you got last time I was here.”
“The Xbox,” he said with a sigh.
“Yeah, that,” I told him as Micah started fiddling with the collar of my jacket and Pip slipped his hand into mine.
“That sounds good,” he husked, and I saw his eyes were filling suddenly.
“Looks like you had a long day yourself,” I murmured, leaning forward to kiss his forehead.
“Oh!” Tristan gasped. “You kissed Uncle Cyrus.”
I looked down at him. “I did. But that don’t bother you none, does it?”
He thought about it. “No. Josie Dole has two moms. She’s in the same class as me, and Jake Finnegan, he has two dads, but he’s in Mr. Wong’s class.”
“Well, see there, you know all about this sort of thing since you’re a man of the world.”
“You think I’m a man?”
“You’re eight, ain’t ya?” I squinted at him.
“Yes, I am.”
“Well, then.”
He smiled big.
I looked at their mother. “I reckon we’re ready to go in. Cy, will you grab my pack?”
“’Course.” He sucked in a breath. “Everybody in.”
The house was huge—8400 square feet, five bedrooms, four bathrooms—and looking like it belonged on the edge of the ocean, not the end of the street.
I always thought beach house when I was there, from how light and airy it felt inside.
But though it was huge, the views of the city out of the enormous windows, along with the masculine quality of the house, never failed to make me feel welcome.
As much as it made no sense, as much as I could never stay—there was no need for cowboys in San Francisco—it felt like home every time I walked through the front door.
It smelled good too. Between the leather furniture and polished wooden floors, I felt the calm sink into me.
I put Micah down on the couch and smiled at all three boys. “Y’all, I have to shower, but you get the machine there warmed up, and I’ll be back out to sit with ya. Your uncle said he’d cook, so we all need to thank him.”
Tristan and Pip did, with Micah looking over at him.
“Thanks, guys.” Cyrus smiled at them, then looked at Micah. “And I heard you, okay?”
Micah nodded, then looked back up at me.
“Be right back,” I told him, then grabbed my pack.
I walked down the short hall to Cyrus’s bedroom, put the pack on the floor, then shed my clothes on my way to the shower. Under the hot spray minutes later, I heard the snick of the door and turned my head and smiled at my host. “You can’t come in. Go make breakfast for them boys.”
“Jesus, Weber.” He scowled, looking me over. “You’re skin and bones.”
I glared. “I don’t think so.” I turned so he could see my chest. “If you put your hands on me, you’d see. I’m all muscle.”
“You’re six three. You should weigh at least a hundred and ninety to two hundred pounds. What do you weigh now, one seventy?”
“I have no idea.”
“Well, you need to eat, a lot. And…come here.”
I opened the shower door so he could touch me. He winced at the fresh bruises I was sporting—the new scar running down my ribs on the left side, and the healing gash that was now soft pink skin bisecting my right pectoral.
He shivered.
“Bull almost had me,” I teased, waggling my eyebrows.
“You think it’s funny?”
From the stricken look on his face, I was guessing not. “Cy…”
“Shut up.”
I didn’t know whether to go back to soaping my body or just continue to stand there.
“God, look at you,” he groaned.
“Not pretty enough to fuck, huh?” I grunted. “Freckles and moles and pasty skin don’t do it for you no more?”
His eyes lifted to mine. “You’re such an idiot. Don’t you know I love all your freckles, and your body is beautiful and powerful and… I just want to be under you right now.”
“Well, unfortunately”—I grinned—“we’re gonna have to wait on that, darlin’.”
His sigh was loud and deep like he just didn’t know what to do with me.
“I, um, don’t have nothin’ clean to wear. I don’t suppose you have—”
“I have the sweats I bought the last time you were here and the long-sleeved T-shirts you like to sleep in.”
“You didn’t throw them out?”
“I couldn’t.”
“I’m glad.” I smiled at him. “Now close the door ’cause I’m freezin’, and go find out what the hell is wrong with your sister.”
But he didn’t move.
“You all right?”
“You cut your hair.”
I chopped it off ages ago and now made sure to keep it short. “It’s too much trouble to take care of long hair on the road.”
“It looks darker.”
“Still just plain old red. Like it’s always been.”
“Nothing plain about you,” he said, leaning forward.
I met him halfway, the kiss soft but firm, sucking his bottom lip into my mouth for just a moment.
“I love that you kissed me in front of the kids,” he told me.
“’Course.”
“’Course,” he repeated, then turned and left me. Sometimes the man was just so odd.
When I got out, my pack was empty, the clothes all gone, and my wallet was on the nightstand on what was my side of the bed, closest to the door, whenever I was here.
I found sweats, thick, heavy crew socks, and a long-sleeved T-shirt on the bed waiting for me.
After I dried myself off, I pulled it all on and returned to the kitchen.
“Weber!” Pip yelled, flying at me full speed and leaping.
I plucked him easily from the air, tucked him against my chest, and carried him to the bar on the side of the kitchen that overlooked the great room. The other two boys were already sitting on the tall leather-backed stools, eating with their mother, as Cyrus flipped pancakes.
“You gonna eat?” I asked Pip.
He nodded fast, and I put him down beside Micah.
“How is it?” I asked Micah.
He beamed at me, and when I tousled his hair, he reached for my hand.
I took the little hand in mine and squeezed it for a second as I realized I had not eaten since the day before. “God, I’m starvin’.”
“Sit down,” Cyrus ordered me as I walked into the kitchen.
I moved up behind him and wrapped my arms around the man. I loved hugging him, and the amazing part was that he always let me.
“Thank you for cookin’ so late,” I said, kissing his ear. “I appreciate it, Cy.”
He stilled in my arms and let his head fall back into the crook of my neck. I supported his weight and kissed his temple, loving the feel of his silky hair in my face.
“So, Weber…” Carolyn cleared her throat. “Where did you come from?”
I gave him a last kiss, a final squeeze, then stepped free and walked over to her and the boys. “I was in Guthrie, Oklahoma, at a stock show. I showed some horses for a man, did some saddle bronc for exhibition.”
She nodded, her lips pressed together. “And where are you off to next?”
“Alaska.” I sighed. “Gotta be out near Anchorage before Christmas.”
“Why?”
“Oh, I got me a job for the holidays,” I answered, noticing that Tristan was picking at his eggs. “And I need the money.”
“I—”
“Pardon me,” I stopped her, leaning forward, chin in my hand as I looked at her oldest. “You gotta eat them eggs, Tris, or you ain’t gonna get no bigger.”
His dark sapphire eyes flicked to mine.
“I swear you won’t. My mama told me and Spence that the only way we got so big was because we ate everything that was put down in front of us and we slept when we was told.”
“If I eat everything, I’ll get as big as you?”
“Yessir,” I assured him.
“But I don’t like plain eggs.”
“You like cheese on ’em?”
He nodded.
“Well, lemme see what we can do.”
I went to the refrigerator, found a bag of shredded cheese, and brought it back and told him to tell me when. Micah lifted his plate for some too, and Pip just started chanting the word for me until I sprinkled at least four tablespoons on his eggs as well.
Once they were all settled, I put it back, took the plate with the pile of eggs, bacon, and pancakes Cy offered me, kissed him, and leaned against the bar so I could look at the boys and their mother.
“Sorry, you were sayin’?”
Her breath quavered. “Weber, is the job in Alaska going to turn into something more?”
“Not that I know of.” I smiled at her and then at Cy as he put a bottle of Tabasco down beside me. “Thank you.”
“And here,” he told me, placing the tall glass of milk he’d poured for me close as well.
“Y’all want some milk?” I asked the boys.
“Juice is better,” Tristan told me.
“Not this late at night, and milk is always better’n juice. Or water. Water’s best.”
They asked Cy for milk, and Micah smiled at me when he started drinking his.
“Weber.”
I looked back at Carolyn. “Ma’am?”
“Please, call me Lyn, okay?” She sighed. “Would you consider staying here for the holidays and watching my kids for me?”
I squinted at her, certain she’d lost her mind.
“I… The reason I’m here right now is that my husband left for Las Vegas this afternoon with our nanny.”
“On a trip?” Though why would her husband go on a trip with the nanny if the kids were… Oh. Got it. God, I really was tired if it took me that long to figure things out. “I’m sorry,” was all I could think of to say.
“Me too.”
I looked at Cy, and he appeared pained and mad and worried, all at the same time.
“Weber.”
Looking back at her, I saw how she was chewing her bottom lip.
“I would ask my parents to help me, but they live in Half Moon Bay, and Tristan has soccer and piano, and Micah has to see his therapist, and he has an art class.”
Why was she—
“And I didn’t make any arrangements for Pip because I thought I didn’t have to, but now his preschool is out for the holidays, and he still has a music class, and they all have karate, and so now…now I’m screwed.” I felt the weight of her stare. “Unless I get some help.”
“Ma’am—”
“Lyn,” she corrected, eyes steady on me.
I shook my head.
“Weber,” she said, sucking in her breath. “I really need you.”
I studied her face. “I’m not one to accept charity, Lyn. I thank you for your kind offer, but you don’t know me from—”