Chapter 3 #4
Brett sighed. “You’re a stockbroker. You make a fucking mint. What do you care?”
“Because dating someone who has their own money and isn’t looking for me to take care of them would be a really nice change, let me tell you.”
“But Cy was such a dick to you.”
Which meant that maybe I shouldn’t have been upset about Cy talking to him earlier.
Ross scoffed. “The man is a world-class surgeon. I think the ice-queen thing is part of it. You don’t see it because you’re family, but I bet that’s how he is with everyone he doesn’t know well.”
“I just thought you guys would make sense together, you know? I mean, you both live in the city, you both—”
“Give it a rest.” Ross sounded amused. “I’m gay, and your brother’s gay—that’s all you thought.”
“Well, yeah,” Brett admitted with a short laugh.
“Listen, I’m really glad to be your and Rachel’s only single gay friend so I could have the chance to be invited up here to meet your brother.”
More snickering from Brett. “I just, I wasn’t even aware he knew someone like Weber whoever.”
“See, just goes to show, you never really know your own family.”
“I guess not. God, I’m surprised my folks even let Cy bring him in the house.”
I leaned my head against the door and listened to the two men chuckle over me some more before they walked away, their voices trailing down the hallway.
I waited a couple of minutes, then returned to the living room. I took a seat on the floor between Micah and Tristan. In seconds, Pip was in my lap.
Angie called us to dinner, and I sat on the end with the kids, keeping a seat open next to me.
There was one open next to Ross as well, and when Cy came into the room, Brett gestured for him.
I pulled the chair out a bit, and Cy was there quickly, slipping into the seat next to me, leaning sideways to kiss the side of my neck. It was obvious who the man had chosen.
I talked to the kids, Cy talked to Lyn and Rachel, and when Tristan was done, he started to stand up, clearly ready to go do something else.
“Where are you goin’?”
He turned to me. “I’m done eating.”
“Oh?”
“What?” he asked, his tone defiant.
“Don’t say what, say pardon me.”
“Wha—pardon me?”
“Exactly right.”
He was squinting at me. “So I’m supposed to say pardon me?”
“Yessir.”
“Okay.” He got ready to get up again.
“I ask again, Tristan. Where are you goin’? Aren’t you forgettin’ somethin’?”
“I’m done,” he replied irritably, as if I misunderstood that the first time.
“First,” I began, leaning forward, “you thank your grandmother for the fine meal you just had. Second, you ask to be excused, and finally, you carry your plate to the sink, because neither your grandmother nor your mother is your maid.”
He looked at me hard. I arched an eyebrow in question.
“You’re not my father,” he said, still surly.
“No, sir,” I agreed, waiting on him. The room was quiet around us.
After a minute, he took a breath. “Nana,” he said, turning to look down the long table at her.
“Yes, Tris?”
“The chicken was really good. Thank you for making it.”
“You’re very welcome,” she answered, and I heard her voice hitch.
“May I please be excused?”
“Yes, you may.”
His eyes flicked to me, and I nodded. He got up and took his plate to the sink.
“Nana,” Pip said, “me and Micah liked the food too. Can we go?”
“Yes, dear.” She chuckled.
Pip leaned into my side. “Did I do good?”
“Yessir,” I told him, then to Angie, “Ma’am—”
“Thank you, Weber.” She smiled. “We haven’t had manners in this house for some time.”
“Oh yes, ma’am,” I agreed, leveling my gaze on Brett. “I am aware.”
He had the good grace to blanch.
I rose and carried my plate to the sink, listening as the girls asked their grandmother to be excused. As I turned on the water to rinse the dishes, little arms wrapped around my waist and a head pressed into the middle of my back.
“I’m sorry.”
“Nothin’ to be sorry for,” I told Tristan.
“Are you mad?”
“No, sir,” I assured him. “Come help me with this.”
“Yessir,” he said, smiling at me.
“Smartass.”
He grinned wide, his eyes lighting up.
“Weber, you don’t have to do that,” Angie called over.
“Yes, ma’am, but we’re good here.”
I had all the kids helping when Angie joined us.
“Weber.”
I turned to look at her.
“I’m enjoying having you here very much.”
“Thank you.” I smiled at her, just as Cy came into the kitchen.
“I need to speak to you right now.”
“But I’m washing the—”
“Brett and Rachel can take over,” Angie stated flatly—and loud enough to be heard in the dining room.
I heard the scrape of chairs on the wooden floor as I rinsed soap off my hands and dried them quickly before following Cy.
He led me out to the patio, and after I closed the door behind me, I realized he was still moving. Catching up, I was surprised when he rounded on me. I crossed my arms and looked at him.
“I had no idea that man was going to be here.”
“What man?” I teased him.
It took a second, but the tension drained out of him and he exhaled sharply. “Ass.”
I smiled at him.
“I didn’t, though. I would never try and make you jealous or—I don’t play games.”
“I know.”
He stared into my eyes. “You realize, when you’re with me, you’re the only one I see?”
I did know that. He always made it clear what I meant to him.
“Which is real nice, Dr. Benning.” I put a hand on his nape and drew him in for a kiss.
He whined, his eyes closing, his lips parting.
I sank my tongue into the wet heat of his mouth, claiming, taking possession, feeling more raw and vulnerable than I thought I would.
He melted against me, arms wrapping around my neck as he gave me his weight, and I bent him back, clutching him as I ravaged his lips.
He always tasted so good, kissed me like no one ever had, like I was all there was.
It went on, and long minutes passed before he broke the kiss to gasp for breath.
“Jealous,” he heaved out the word.
“Pardon?” I growled at him, leaning my forehead against his, our noses side by side, touching, bumping.
“Even though I had nothing to do with it, you’re jealous of what’s his name.”
“Ross,” I provided.
“Yeah.”
“He’s a stockbroker.”
“Uh-huh,” he agreed, his thumb sliding over my bottom lip, his groin grazing my thigh.
“Well, I’m not.”
“You’re not what?”
“A stockbroker. Pay attention.”
He huffed out a breath. “No, you’re not.”
“We both know you can do better’n me.”
“We believe two completely different truths,” he assured me, hand on my nape, stroking, the other now clutching my shirt.
“I—” What was I going to say?
“You?” he prodded.
“Even when I’m gone, that guy doesn’t deserve you.”
“Say what you mean.”
I cleared my throat. “Don’t ever kiss him.”
“Or?”
“Or fuck him or do anything with him at all.”
He licked his lips. “Okay, cowboy, it’s a promise.”
I walked him back into the wall, and when I pinned him against it, the moan he released made me smile into his eyes.
“It’s nice that you’re making demands,” he told me.
At which point I realized how ridiculous I was being. “Shit. I—”
“No.” His voice hardened. “You can’t take it back.”
“But I have no right to say anything to you at all.”
His hands lifted to my face, easing me to him. “I say what you do and don’t have, cowboy.”
I didn’t want to argue with him, so I kissed him instead.
Later on, after all the kids went to sleep, it was nice to sit and listen to everyone talk.
Even listening to Ross chime in was okay, as he was funny and engaging.
I sat between Lyn and Cy on the couch, had a cup of tea, enjoyed the sound of the rain pounding on the roof and the glass, and reveled in being inside, warm and clean and safe.
I watched the dogs lying beside the crackling fireplace and decided that someday I would have the same thing.
Smaller, and probably just one dog, but the same warm family home. It was my dream.
“You’re smiling,” Angie said to me out of the blue, which brought the conversation to a halt.
“Yes, ma’am.” I sighed, so comfortable with Cy leaning on me, his thigh and knee pressed to mine.
“Why?”
“It’s just nice to be inside on a rainy night. Makes you thankful.”
Her breath caught. “Yes, it does.”
“Where is your family, Weber?” Mr. Benning asked me.
“I don’t have any family left to speak of, sir.”
“Oh?”
I shook my head.
Cy cleared his throat. “Weber’s mother passed away when he was fourteen, and his father was a roughneck on an oil rig. He was killed in an accident a year later.”
Angie’s brows furrowed. It was nice to see her worry for me.
“Weber and his older brother, Spencer, were alone after that, and so Spencer, who was seventeen at the time, looked after Web.”
“And where is Spencer now?” Mr. Benning asked Cy instead of me.
Cy took a breath, needing a moment like he always did when he spoke about my brother. His empathy for me was one of his most endearing qualities. “Spencer was killed in Iraq when he was twenty.”
The room was silent until Angie coughed softly. “You must have things of your mother’s and your father’s and your brother’s kept somewhere, don’t you, Weber?”
“Oh yes, ma’am. I have a storage space in Abilene that I used my brother’s life insurance money from the army to pay for. It gets paid automatic every month and will for another ten years or so. But at least I know it’s all safe.”
She nodded. “And if, heaven forbid, anything should happen to—”
“I have the address,” Cy told her, “and the spare key. Those arrangements were made a while ago.”
Funny to think how many things I trusted Cy to do for me, be for me. I had trusted him implicitly from the beginning.
“Cy is my emergency contact in my wallet.” I smiled at her. “If I get trampled or shot or gored or—”
“Stop,” he cut me off. “She gets it.”
She nodded fast.
“Well, if I die, someone will call Cy, and he can dispose of my things as he sees fit.”
“And your profession is that of ranch hand? Is that correct?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“What did you do before that?”
“Rodeo. I was a bull rider.”