36. Becca
36
BECCA
H oly fucking shit." Kade takes another bite of his peach muffin, crumbs catching on his lip. "This is better than sex."
"Really? You sure about that? Should I just arrange to have muffins delivered from now on, and sleep with panties on?" I nudge him with my elbow, nearly making him drop his precious breakfast. Or second breakfast, to be exact. I excused myself from breakfast this morning. Instead, I took a wander around town. It's cute. Reminds me a little of where I grew up, but cuter. These buildings look vintage.
Kade's eyes widen, trying to decide if I'm serious, I'm sure. Then, in a move guaranteed to make me want to ride him into oblivion tonight, he throws the muffin as far as he can. "They're not that fucking good."
"Oh my god," I say, pressing my face into his chest. "You're ridiculous. And also very adorable." Then, 'cause I'm feeling all kinds of mushy, I lift my own muffin up and let him take a bite. I keep my fingers mostly wrapped around it so he can't snatch it—this ain't my first rodeo—and laugh as his eyes roll back in his head. Then I take another bite.
"These are pretty fucking good."
He grins and tugs me into his side, arm draped over my shoulder. It still makes me all gooey and shit when he does that. I feel womanly and protected, and considering I'm fully capable of kicking his ass, it's a weird but welcome experience. I think it has more to do with feeling emotionally safe, though admittedly I don't worry about walking anywhere when my husband's with me. He's big enough and intimidating enough to make most criminal types think twice. I may be big for a woman, not an easy target, but there's something about boobs that makes bad guys think they can do whatever they want. And avoiding confrontation is pretty much rule number one of any martial art.
"You grew up in a place like this, right?" he asks, licking the sugar off his fingers.
"Mm-hmm. Population two thousand and declining." The familiar sight of locals greeting each other across the street, kids racing their bikes down sidewalks, makes my chest ache. "Every kid in town came through our dojo at some point. Made discipline easier when I could tell their parents exactly what they'd been up to."
"That must have been annoying as fuck."
"Oh, it was, but it's also safe. Everyone knows your business, but everyone looks out for you too. And the bullying wasn't anything like you hear about now. Because word would get back to your parents that you were acting like a fool, and you'd get called out for it." I pause to watch a younger woman sweep in front of the grocery store. "See that," I say, tipping my chin to her, "in the city, that's just about cleaning a mess. In a town like this, it's like a security patrol. She's keeping an eye on what's going on and gathering gossip that she can share."
"Gossip about what?"
"Oh, I don't know. Maybe the giant tour bus that rolled into town and the twenty extra people that rolled off of it?" I can’t even imagine how much worse it would have been if we’d brought the dogs. Luckily Cadence had room at the shelter for our pups to go play for the day.
"Really?" he says, looking so hot, yet so oblivious. He has no idea what he's stepped into.
"You still don't get it, do you? If you'd done that at home, people would look, and they'd go home and mention it to their families, but that would be it. It's just one more weird thing you'd see in a city. Here? Twenty years from now, two old guys will be sitting on one of these benches. One guy will turn to the other guy and say, 'Remember that time that fancy bus pulled up and all those odd city people stormed the town?' and the other guy will go, 'Yup, there must have been a hundred of them, all as big as football players.' Then, another twenty years later, it'll be two hundred giants getting off that bus."
"You're shitting me?"
"I shit you not, baby. That's how small towns work."
He scowls, planting his hands on his hips. "So everybody gossips about everybody. Sounds really fucking suffocating."
"Sometimes. But when Dad got sick, people brought casseroles, drove him to chemo, and would come and sit with him." I take another sip of coffee. "You don't get that kind of support in the city. Well, maybe you do, but it's harder to find. That kind of looking out for each other is built into towns like this."
He reaches out, running his finger down the bridge of my nose, tapping each freckle as he passes. There's a lot of freckles, so a lot of little taps. My man loves my freckles and loves to count them with his tongue every chance he gets. And I'm completely covered. It's a long, frustrating, amazing experience.
"Do you miss it?" he asks, eyes narrowed.
"Parts of it. The community, knowing your neighbors have your back." A group of kids races past us on skateboards, and I smile. "Teaching those kids was special. Being able to watch them grow up and to see them outside the Dojo was pretty special."
Kade turns in a slow circle, looking thoughtful, then he pulls me into a hug. I tip my chin up as his troubled eyes meet mine. "You came to the city for a fresh start. And I'm fucking lucky that you did. But do you wish you lived someplace like this?"
I lean up and kiss him softly, my fingers curling into his shirt. "I love where we live. Our family's there; our life's there. But maybe we could have both?"
"Both?" His eyebrows scrunch together.
"Yeah. Like when we have kids, it'd be nice to have a place like this to visit. Let them ride bikes up and down the streets, sit on the porch drinking lemonade while they play."
Kade freezes, his whole body going still. "Kids? We're having kids?"
"Well, I mean, eventually. If you want them." I trace circles on his chest. "Can you imagine? Little ninjas running around, dropping f-bombs like their daddy?"
"Holy fuck." His face breaks into a grin. "Our kid's first word would be fuck."
"And I'd teach them how to roundhouse kick before they could walk."
"They'd definitely get sent home from school."
"For cursing or fighting?"
"Both. Probably at the same fucking time." He pulls me closer. "We'd be amazing parents."
"The best. I mean, who else would teach their kids proper choke hold technique?"
"Or how to swear in three different languages?"
I snort-laugh against his chest. "See? We'd be too awesome not to reproduce. It's like our duty to humanity."
"Fuck yeah it is." His hands slide down to my hips. "When do you want to start this service to mankind?"
"Soon. But maybe we should practice the baby-making part first, you know, just to make sure we're going to get it right when we're ready?"
"Now that's the kind of fucking practice," he stops to giggle-snort at the pun, "I can get behind."
I'm watching my husband's eyes glaze over as his hands roam lower on my hips. "You thinking what I'm thinking?"
"That bus has bunks." He grins. "And everyone else is in the diner."
"Race you there?" I arch an eyebrow.
Before he can answer, Jonas sprints past us, his hair flopping with each step. "I think I saw a badger!"
Kade's head whips around so fast I swear I hear his neck crack. His eyes light up like Christmas came early, darting between me and Jonas's retreating form.
I pat his chest. "Go on."
"But—"
"Baby, you look like you're gonna burst. Besides, badgers are mean as fuck. I respect that."
He plants a quick, hard kiss on my lips. "I fucking love you. We'll practice later!" Then he's off, running after Jonas while yelling something about getting pictures.
I plop down on the nearest bench, stretching my legs out in front of me. The late morning sun feels nice on my face, and honestly? This is perfect. My man's happy, chasing fuck knows what kind of wildlife with his brother, and I get to people-watch in peace.
A group of old ladies walks by, whispering and pointing at the bus. I wave cheerfully, making them laugh and wave back. They don't know me, they don't know what the fuck I'm doing here, but they still smile. I like that. I like it here.
Janey drops onto the bench beside me with a sigh. Holding her breath, she lifts my coffee cup out of the hand closest to her, and places it in my other. Her morning sickness is better, but the food aversion thing is wild. How the fuck would I handle hating the smell of coffee? Would I even survive?
Jesus. Being pregnant is treacherous.
I don’t know how no one else has figured it out. I’m also not sure why the hell she hasn’t told us. She’s crossed the twelve week mark. She’s good.
“It’s got a lid,” I mutter, but she just gives me a look.
In the distance, I hear Kade shout, "Jonas, wait the fuck up!" followed by a thud and a muttered 'fuck.'
"Was that your husband, or mine?" she asks.
“Could go either way." I scan the square, noticing a distinct lack of four-year-old chaos. "Where's my favorite tiny human?"
Janey's bottom lip juts out. "Evie stole her. Something about getting ice cream and buying hair bows."
"Without us? The betrayal." Evie's an awesome mom. And Mia’s freaking delicious. I'm not sure I'd be so ready for kids if I didn't have that little terror to love on. She's incredible, and I have to think that my kids would be, too.
We sink into comfortable silence. No car horns, no sirens, no rush of traffic. Just birds chirping and distant laughter. The air smells clean, like grass and sunshine.
"So." Janey nudges my shoulder. "Blair."
"Right? I only caught a glimpse, but damn." Admittedly, I cyberstalked Ransom and found a few pictures of him with women, usually at some fancy event. In them, he had a polite smile on his face and a polite hand on their back. There wasn't any heat or any sense of affection.
And none of those women looked anything like Blair. As a bigger-than-the-curve woman, I think I'm well qualified to say that Blair McKenna is wrestling size. Broad shoulders, strong arms, juicy thighs. And she's even taller than me. She's maybe what I would look like if I cut out the snacks, which, face it, is never going to happen. And there's something about her that makes me want to be her friend, like she's the cool girl in high school.
Weird.
I’m usually the cool girl.
"Those eyes." Janey fans herself, grinning. "No wonder Ransom's still hung up after twenty-five years."
"And those shoulders? Girl works with her hands." I wiggle my eyebrows. "Bet Ransom likes that."
"Becca!" But Janey's giggling. Her eyes drift across the square to McKenna's Auto. "You know, she did head over to that garage..."
"We shouldn't."
"Definitely not."
"It would be totally inappropriate to just pop in."
"Completely wrong."
I tap my chin. "Although, as concerned family members..."
"We should make sure she's good enough for Ransom."
"Plus, what if she needs someone to talk to?"
"We're very friendly and really good listeners." Janey's eyes sparkle with mischief.
"The friendliest." I stand, offering her my hand. "It would be rude not to introduce ourselves properly."
"Downright negligent."
"Kade would want me to scope her out."
"Jonas specifically asked me to make sure she's nice."
We share a look, both fighting grins.
"We're going over there, aren't we?" Janey asks.
"Oh, absolutely." I loop my arm through hers. "For purely altruistic reasons."
"Of course. We're good people."
"The best people."
Janey clamps my arm to her side and tugs. "Hurry, before anyone notices where we're going. And ditch the coffee."