Frog

Chapter 5 #3

Her face had transformed into a huge smile as she’d passed me her keys. “Here you go, cowboy. Drive safely, and take care of my boys and the Enterprise, all right?”

Why she’d named her car after Captain Kirk’s starship, I had no idea—until I had to park it.

“Mom says she docks it,” Tristan informed me.

And I looked like every other asshole in the parking lot doing the eleven-point turn to try to get out of the parking stall without totaling the Honda Civic beside me.

The boys were highly amused, cheered me on, and did the wave when I was done.

I told them to shut their pieholes. They all dissolved into throaty kid laughter that it was impossible not to join in on.

If I wasn’t careful, I was going to fall as much in love with them as I already was with their uncle.

Lyn called, sorry she was going to be late, and worried, from the hesitancy in her tone, that I was going to be mad.

But I had no inclination to be upset. I was fine.

When she got there at seven thirty, everyone was fed, showered, and in their pajamas for the ride home.

She took one look at them, all sprawled out on the sectional, Pip watching Kung Fu Panda, Micah drawing in his sketch pad, and Tristan playing Mario Kart on his Switch, and burst into tears.

I grabbed her tight and squeezed her until she stopped, ending up with her head on my chest, arms wrapped around my back, and leaning heavily. The boys were all looking at us, curious as to the trouble.

“Mama’s just tired,” I told them.

One by one they got off the couch: first Pip, then Tristan, and finally Micah. She went to her knees and got a kiss and hug from each one, plus a drawing from Micah.

“Oh, baby, I love it,” she told him, wiping at her eyes, then pointing at the tree with the tire swing and then at me with my huge noggin. “Who’s this?”

“Weber,” he told her and smiled.

She froze.

I nudged her to make her voice work.

“O-oh,” she stammered, “well, it looks just like him.”

He nodded and left us.

Slowly, like she was moving through molasses, she rose and faced me—wide-eyed, her mouth agape, making her look like a fish, and her color was all wrong, sort of gray.

“Dr. Erin,” I began telling her, “said he was fixin’ to talk soon, so you should start hearin’ some words sprinkled in with his nods and such.”

She was just staring at me.

“But you shouldn’t make it a big deal, or else he’ll be thinkin’ he’s different, and he ain’t. So when he talks to you, simply talk back.”

Her indrawn breath was thready.

“That’s what the doctor said,” I reiterated.

Those eyes of hers, much like her brother’s, never left my face.

“Say, yes, I heard you, Weber.”

“Yes, I heard you, Weber.”

I grunted.

“One fucking day,” she said breathlessly.

The swearing was new. “Pardon?”

“They were with you alone one fucking day, and Micah is feeling so grounded that he wants to start talking again, and all three of them look happy and content like I haven’t seen them in months.”

I shrugged. “I dunno. Apparently, I’m a mountain.”

“What?”

“Never mind.” I grinned and patted her arm. “Are you hungry? We made stroganoff.”

“I get dinner too?”

I cupped her cheek before walking into the kitchen to get out of the refrigerator the plate I made for her and warm it in the microwave.

“Weber.”

I looked over my shoulder at her.

“You take better care of my boys than my husband did, and you care more about me.”

“That’s real sad. Maybe the next man you find should be sweet on all y’all. Just a thought.”

She swallowed hard. “Tomorrow I’m supposed to go to a Christmas open house at my boss’s house. We’re supposed to bring our children, and some people bring their nannies instead of their spouses. Would you consider going with me?”

“Surely.” I smiled at her. “I’d love to be the nanny.”

“I would love it too. Permanently.”

Hours later, I sat alone on the couch, watching Sports Center but mostly I was thinking about what I could and couldn’t do.

I often made choices based on what others thought.

The only people who would have simply accepted whatever I decided to do or be, with unconditional love and support, was my family.

But then my mother died, followed by my father, and finally my brother, and without them, I had no touchstone, no one I trusted. Except Cyrus.

I had faith in Cy, but he loved the cowboy, the excitement of that life, of me riding off into the sunset and pining for me when I was gone. If I was there, underfoot, how could that work?

What the hell was I going to do?

I heard his car pull in before the door from the garage to the kitchen opened, and he came rushing in, eyes sweeping the room before they fell on me.

“Hey.” I smiled. “How was the party?”

He looked incredible in his tuxedo as he crossed the floor to me, smiling wide, his bottom lip trembling.

“What’s with you?” I asked him as he reached me, leaning down close as I slid my hand up his arm.

“I missed you,” he whispered as his lips met mine.

I lifted so our mouths fit better and eased him down beside me, deepening the kiss, letting my tongue take the tour before tangling with his. He moaned and tried to shift against me, but I pulled back.

“What are—”

“Go change. That tuxedo costs more than what I got in the world, Dr. Benning.”

He rose quickly, striding from the room, and I was left again to wonder what I could really do. What made a man a man? Who got to judge?

When I heard him behind me, I asked if he was hungry.

“Why?” He smiled. “Is there any stroganoff left?”

“No.” I smiled back. “Your sister was hungry. She ate her plate and yours.”

“Nice.” He groaned, walking over to me, dressed now in sweats, socks, a T-shirt, and a hoodie. “So you gonna cook for me now?”

“Sure,” I said, starting to get up.

“I’m kidding.” He grinned, flopping down, stretched out close, legs out in front of him.

“Put your foot up here.”

He didn’t hesitate. He lay down, shoved a pillow behind his head, and got comfortable. Both feet were on my thigh. As I began rubbing, he purred.

“You sound like you’re gonna come,” I teased him.

“Are you kidding?” he whimpered. “Do you know how long it’s been since someone rubbed my feet?”

I chuckled, running my knuckles under his arch, squeezing his heel firmly, digging my fingers into the ball of his foot. “How long?”

“Since the last time you did it,” he groaned, head back, showing off the long, vulnerable line of his throat. He looked so good at rest, sprawled out, arm flung over his eyes, moaning as I massaged the feet he’d been on all day and all night.

“You love the ‘Desperado’ guy, huh?”

It took him a minute. “What are you talking about?”

“You know, that song by the Eagles.”

“I know the song. I just don’t understand the reference.”

“You like a cowboy.”

He moved his arm and looked at me. “You think I only love you because you’re a bull rider?”

“I don’t know.”

He sat up but didn’t pull his foot away, his eyes on mine, and I noticed again, as I always did, how dark and deep they were and the ribbon of gold in them.

“You’re so pretty.”

He growled. “Jesus, Weber, I did not fall in love with a cowboy.”

“But you call me cowboy all the time.”

“It’s a nickname. I’ll change it. God, I had no idea you thought something so ridiculous. It’s just like you call me Doc sometimes. Same thing.”

I arched an eyebrow while rubbing hard on his left foot, and he jolted in my hands.

“Weber.” He sucked in his breath. “This guy, the guy rubbing my feet, the guy I just got to come home to, that’s the guy I want. He’s the one I love. I didn’t fall in love with a cowboy or a bull rider. I fell in love with you. Just you.”

I pushed his left foot away and pulled his right into my lap.

“Fuck,” he moaned and fell back, making me laugh.

“Man, I had no idea you were such a sucker for a foot rub.”

“Only from you, cow—Web.”

“It’s okay.” I sighed, moving my hand up his calf, pushing hard on the knotted muscles. “You can call me cowboy now that I know it don’t mean nothin’.”

“Just believe me,” he whined, and I could hear the need in his voice. “I don’t care, Web. I don’t! The job you do doesn’t mean anything to me.”

“Yeah, but—”

“And you should stop caring what strangers think, or what people I know think, or what people you know think. What does it matter? What you do should only mean something to you, only make you happy.”

“But there has to be respect.”

“What respect? Me respecting you?” he asked irritably.

“Yeah.”

“Jesus, Weber,” he said, his voice broken and needy and surrendering. “Baby, I respect you more than anyone else I know. You have done everything you wanted, your way, and you went for your dream instead of just sitting on your ass and talking about it.”

“But I didn’t make it,” I reminded him. “I ain’t a professional bull rider.”

“But you tried. That’s the crucial part.” He eased free of my grip, rolling to his knees, rising over me. I had to tip my head up to hold his gaze as he straddled my hips, sliding into my lap. “Most people never even have the balls to try.”

I grabbed hold of his ass, loving as always the feel of the firm, round globes under my palms, and yanked him forward, his groin shoved against my abdomen.

“I will never, ever get tired of you or bored with you,” he promised.

“Don’t you see? I have no desire to watch you ride off into the sunset.

I want you here, at home, every night, waiting for me to get here.

Do you have any idea how bad I wanted to leave that fundraiser so I could get back to you? ”

“How bad?” I asked, low and husky.

“Let me show you,” he said seductively, hands attacking the buttons on my shirt.

But it wasn’t what I wanted, so I stopped him, covering both his hands with one of mine, flattening them against my chest, the other lifting to his face, his cheek.

“Web?”

“Get up.”

“What? Why?”

“Get up,” I ordered him a second time. He stood, and I did as well.

“Go change into your pajamas and get in bed.”

“What? No, I want—”

“Just go do it. I’ll be right there,” I said, leaving him no time to argue before I walked away from him. “I’m gonna get the lights, check the doors, and set the alarm.”

He left without another word.

I turned everything off, made sure the house was locked up for the night, armed the security system, and joined him in the bedroom.

He was sitting up in bed, shirtless, bottom half under the covers, waiting for me.

He said nothing as I stripped down, changed into sleep shorts, and walked around to my side of the bed, the left side, the one closest to the door.

“Get in bed,” he said, throwing back the covers in invitation.

I got in and turned off the light on the nightstand before lying down, arm under the pillow.

“Why don’t you want me?” he asked softly in the darkness.

I reached a hand for him. “I always want you.”

Instantly, he was snuggled up beside me.

“We’re both being idiots,” I said into his hair, inhaling him, my fingers sliding lazily up and down the smooth skin of his bare back. “You think if you don’t come home and fuck me, I’m gonna lose interest in you. And I think if I ain’t riding bulls no more, you won’t want nothin’ to do with me.”

His breath caught as he clutched at me.

“We’re both grown men, Cy, thinking such foolish things.”

He took another quivering breath. “All I want is for you to realize that what you do does not dictate the kind of man you are. What you do and who you are, are two separate things.”

“Not necessarily.” I sighed, loving him draped over me, the feel of him, his weight, his breath, as he tilted his head back, over the side of my neck.

“I think what a man does, what anyone does, is part of them, but I’ve always thought that if I wasn’t wild, you wouldn’t want me.

I thought you had an idea in your mind of what you wanted, and if I wasn’t that, then you wouldn’t be interested. ”

He groaned loudly. “For the love of God, Weber, I don’t give a shit what you do. I don’t need a cowboy or—”

“A prince?”

“Hell no,” he grumbled, lifting so he was looking at me.

“You’re loving and kind and gentle, and no one makes me laugh like you do, no one gets me like you do.

I mean, I took one look at you and threw caution to the wind.

I never did that before in my whole life, and I can’t tell you how many times I’ve cursed that decision, because apparently the second I saw you, I fell madly in love with the one man I can’t have. ”

I pulled him down to me, my eyes closing as his lips sealed over mine.

“Jesus, Weber, do you realize you sigh like you’re coming home every time you kiss me?”

“Yeah, I know,” I grumbled.

“Don’t sound so happy about it.”

“It ain’t funny,” I told him before rolling him onto his back and making sure he didn’t want to talk anymore.

“I thought we weren’t going to do this?” he asked minutes later between kisses, panting.

“Don’t tease me. I can’t help it. I’ll miss being in bed with you when I’m gone.”

“Like I’m going to let you go.”

I didn’t have it in me to argue.