NINE
BURGERS WITH CHILCONN kids was a regular thing. The plastic tables and neon overheads may be tacky to some, not her. Though it had never been quite like that. Baer and Presley were an enthralling experience. Kidding around and messing with each other, their familiarity mesmerized her. In the arcade at the back of the burger joint, the brothers battled on various machines, Baer got the balance of competitiveness and going easy just right.
Baer paid for the meal and refused to take a penny. He wouldn’t let her pay a cent for their shared cab either. She knew better than to push, especially with a youngster around.
Despite Presley’s requests to see her apartment, she doubted he truly wanted to snoop. More likely his goal was to avoid facing his father, but, unfortunately for him, that appointment was inevitable. Kissing each male on the cheek, she’d bid them goodnight.
The next afternoon, she lingered over selecting ingredients at the store. Big first impression on the horizon. She couldn’t mess this up. Normally, she wasn’t so concerned about making a fool of herself. Why was she so worried about it? Baer. He was why.
Loitering outside Presley’s school with her paper sacks was conspicuous. There she was, a stranger, standing there as kids flooded the street. No one would notice, no one would care. Would they? If you see something, say something. If anyone reported her, could she explain her presence? Yes. So what was she stressing about? It had been a long time since she’d had first date nerves. Who was she worried about dating? The kids? Their father…? Or their older brother?
Picking out Presley was surprisingly easy. His bright cast cut through the noise and drew her eye. It didn’t matter though, he spotted her just as quickly.
Grabbing the boy at his side to rush through the melee of schoolkids, Presley was with her in a flash.
“You came! I can’t believe you really came!”
“I said I would, didn’t I?” She set her smile on the new boy. “You must be Charlie, I’m Freya. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
Presley shoved his brother. “Say hello, idiot. Freya’s my girlfriend.”
She’d say it was never bad to be wanted, but anyone overhearing that on the street outside a school… Yeah, maybe they should get moving.
She elevated her paper sacks. “Still okay for me to cook you dinner?”
“Uh huh! Yeah! For definite!”
“Show me the way.”
The boys wasted no time heading away from school. Charlie was a little more uncertain of himself than Presley, but when inspiration struck, he’d find his exuberance.
The three of them walked back to a simple, clean, apartment building. Going inside, and up one floor of the five-floor structure, the boys burst into their apartment. In a narrow entryway, they kicked off their sneakers and dumped their bookbags, so she hung her purse on an empty hook.
Free of their school wares, the pair rushed through a door to the left.
“Dad! We brought someone home!”
Straight ahead, in a living room recliner, facing the blaring TV was a man, probably in his sixties, but still in good shape. Wearing loose jeans and a tee-shirt, he could do with a haircut. The end-table beside him was filled with clutter, magazines, soda and beer cans, a coffee mug, but nothing that looked like it had been there forever.
The man gave the doorway an absent glance, he’d been focused on something in his hand. Once she registered, he did a quick double take and sat up, tossing whatever was in his hand to the table and grabbing the remote to turn off the TV.
“Well, shit, boys, what did you do?” he asked. The gruff tone wasn’t threatening, just fed up. “I’m sorry, ma’am, if they damaged your vehicle or upset you in—”
“No, not at all,” she said, handing one food sack to Charlie and the lighter one to Presley who was still working on maneuvering with the cast. “Put these in the kitchen, would you, please?” The boys ran off to do as told. Landing a smile on the elder Claymore, she could tell he was still confused. “Your boys are wonderful. A real credit to you.”
“A credit, huh?” he asked, raising his chin to peer at her. “You a Christian?”
Of all the questions she might have expected, that one wasn’t on the list.
She laughed. “I don’t know how to answer that, sir. My intentions are honorable, but I’m not here to sell the Lord to you.”
“She’s my girlfriend,” Presley announced, bouncing over to her side.
Shock and maybe a little horror crossed the older man’s face. “Your girlfriend? Boy, now I don’t know what you—”
“Baer wants to have sex with her!” Charlie piped up, darting across to his father. “I say they’re gonna fight over her, Dad!”
That widened his eyes. He checked both of his boys until his gaze ended on her. Still suspicious, the discerning glint was familiar, it matched Baer’s.
“When you said my boys, you meant all of them,” he said. “Guess I should be pleased Baer still remembers how to treat a woman right… So which of my boys you want? Woman as beautiful as you can have any of them… Will say I’ve been trying to offload the oldest one the longest…”
“Dad!” Presley whined. “That’s my girlfriend!”
When Presley tried to put his arm around her waist, she turned to wrap both arms around his shoulders.
“You are a sweetheart, Handsome,” she said and looked to the father over his head. “I came to cook dinner for Presley… would that be okay?”
“To cook? In my kitchen?”
“For you all… yes.”
Some of his suspicion was back. “Baer ain’t here. He drops in and out. I don’t know when he’ll be around… If he’s giving you the runaround…”
Ha! She’d prefer if Baer didn’t appear.
“No, Baer and I are friends,” she said. “That’s all… I was at the hospital last night when Presley was brought in. I work with a foundation that caters to children with sickness and injury…This is just something I like to do for the kids I’ve personally overseen. I like to check in and make sure everything is okay, check they’re healing.”
“Oh, like follow up care,” he said. “Like a candy striper who does house calls.”
She laughed. “Something like that, yes. If it’s a problem, I can leave.”
“No,” he said, shifting in his seat. “A beautiful woman comes to my home and offers to cook dinner for me and my boys… only a fool would refuse that… The boys will help you, don’t have much in there but—”
“I brought everything I need,” she said and let go of Presley to cross to him. “I’m Freya… Freya Dere.”
“Abel Claymore,” he said, shaking her hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
“And you, sir,” she said. “Anyone have allergies or requirements I need to know about?”
“No,” he said. “We eat what’s put in front of us… This is very generous.”
“It’s what I do, sir.”
Leaving him, she went into the kitchen at the back of the space to unpack her ingredients. Once everything was laid out, the kitchen got her scrutiny. It wasn’t full of mod cons but had the essentials. A sink, a stove, a fridge, and the long, wide breakfast bar was a generous working space.
A groan in the living room signaled Abel getting out of his chair. He snagged a stick from next to the table, using it for balance as he came toward her. Regardless of his infirmity, his shape was impressive. There didn’t seem to be extra weight on his frame, and she smiled at the stubble on his jaw… It suited him, just like it suited his eldest son.
Taking a board from the end of the counter, she checked out blade after blade in the knife block before finding the right one.
“Yo, you two, homework,” Abel called out to the boys who were taking turns hitting Presley’s cast in the dining/den area by the kitchen. “What you got?”
“Nothing, Dad,” Presley said, holding up his injured arm. “Teacher said she was impressed I was in.”
Charlie shoved his brother. “All day I had to help him… Baer said I gotta. I don’t gotta, do I, Dad?”
“I heard that conversation,” Abel said, propping himself on a stool. “Sounded like you came out on top of that barter, Charlie, boy… What you extort out that conversation?”
That shut Charlie up fast.
Getting ready for cleaning and prepping, she hid a smile at Presley making faces at his brother, sharing his gloating amusement.
When he was done with that, he came moseying over to watch what she was doing.
“Wash these for me, please, Handsome,” she said, handing off some of the vegetables.
After taking a second to look at them every which way, Presley went to the sink.
“Pres got arrested and Baer took him out for burgers,” Charlie said. “It’s not fair… How come we didn’t go?”
Raising the knife a little, she stopped trimming the meat. “That’s my fault,” she said. “I invited Presley for burgers. I didn’t think about it causing trouble at home.”
“I’ll take you at the weekend,” Abel said. “Stop starting trouble.”
“He gets to go with Freya, and he’ll have to go twice ‘cause what will we do with him? Baer’s never here at the weekend.”
“If Miss Dere is free, she can join us…” Abel said, his intent gaze expected an answer.
“I would be honored. And, please, it’s Freya.”
Charlie was getting closer and closer by the moment. She figured he was intrigued, or hungry. Pushing the pre-tossed salad toward him, she nodded at it. Even if he finished it, there was plenty extra to make more.
“Presley can just sit and watch us eat,” Charlie said, opening the tub of salad to pick at the leaves.
She handed him a bottle of dressing. “It’s better with that… If you want to try it.”
“Baer makes salad,” Charlie said, opening the bottle.
“Yeah, and you complain before you eat it,” Abel said. “Who’s cooking for your family tonight, Freya?”
“I live alone.”
“No husband? No kids?” Abel asked and she shook her head. “Where did you meet Baer?”
Ah, excellent, a question she didn’t want to answer. “I, uh… ran into him,” she said, smiling at the memory of her panic on leaving that gallery. “I was distressed about something. He took me for coffee to calm me down.”
“And she kissed him,” Charlie said, then froze to look at her and his father. “That’s what Presley said.”
“It’s not a lie.” Though technically, Baer had been the one to kiss her. “But we are just friends.”
Presley had been a while and the faucet was still going. She went to help him finish up. There may be water everywhere, but he hadn’t done an awful job. After drying up, the boys finished the dressed salad, then set the table at her request.
Everyone helped with prep, no one complained. She saw more of Baer in Abel when the elder Claymore showed patience in teaching the boys how to cut the vegetables. Once everything was prepped, she got to cooking. Abel sent the twins to get washed up and changed.
Once she and Abel were alone, somehow, they got onto the subject of Abel’s wife and what the family had endured. How? No idea. She hadn’t brought it up, but Abel’s openness relieved some of her guilt about intruding into Baer’s life. The family had been through a lot.
Abel’s willingness to share suggested he hadn’t talked about it for a while or that he needed to talk about it. After their car accident, Abel lost function in his leg and his wife, Sandy, fell into a coma. Taking her time with the meal, she let him talk, let him tell her about his spinal injury and how he’d almost lost his leg completely.
Even after five years, he was battling through physio and improving all the time. The pain and stiffness didn’t go away. Some days were better than others. Still he fought for the woman he loved and never missed a chance to be with her.
Serving the food, she left the meat resting.
“Have you been in pain today?” she asked, washing her hands.
“Yes,” he said. “Stiff, like usual.”
“This might sound weird.” She snagged a towel to dry her hands. “But I’m qualified in sports and therapeutic massage, if you want me to…”
The unexpected offer didn’t stump him for long. “Really? You wouldn’t mind?”
“It would be my honor,” she said. “I have oil in my purse… You don’t have any allergies, do you?”
He shook his head, so she ran to the entryway to grab her purse from its hook.
Without closing the entryway door, she dug out her toiletry bag to retrieve the oil.
“We can do it after dinner,” he said, pushing himself from the stool.
“I can give you some quick relief,” she said, putting her purse on the floor and shaking the bottle of oil. “Not to be too forward, but can you drop your pants?”
He wasn’t shy, and grinned until he laughed. “Haven’t done that for a woman since my wife last asked me,” he said, but unbuckled his belt and let them drop.
As he put his hands on the breakfast bar behind him for support, she dropped to her knees, pouring oil into her hands.
She worked her palms over his thigh. “Is the pain in your hip too? After dinner, I can do it properly, if you’re still getting stiffness.”
“It is stiff,” he said. “I skipped exercise last night and this morning. I should know better…”
“With Presley getting injured you had reason to be distracted, this morning at least,” she said. “Can you reach the meat from there?”
He twisted. “Uh, yeah, I think so.”
“There’s an extra piece on the end, will you try it for me, please? Tell me if it’s seasoned okay for the boys.”
“This looks like expensive steak,” he said. “Do you treat all your clients this way?”
“Often as I can,” she said, peeking up to see him pop the meat between his lips. “How is it? Is it good?”
“Mm,” he said with his mouth full. “Mm, it’s amazing. Really good… Wow, oh, geez, girl, you’re incredible.”
“What the fuck is going on in here?”
Baer’s voice intruded without shame. Abel swore in a hiss. She hadn’t hurt him, she didn’t think, but she couldn’t say the same about the man standing by the door, fuming.
“Son—”
“Are you fucking kidding, Abel?”
Speak. Speak, Freya. She should explain but was having difficulty blinking. Speaking was too much. In blue jeans and a grubby white tee-shirt, Baer was less buttoned up than she’d ever seen him. In the suits, he was hot and delicious, but with the glisten of sweat on his brow and the tool belt slung around his hips, she was surprised her tongue was still in her head.
Stomping across the room, obvious anger creased his brow. “Five fucking years you’ve refused to move on from Mom and the first woman you put the fucking moves on—”
“No,” Abel said. “Don’t fucking walk in here and speak to us like that!”
Moves? Oh, good God, Baer thought they were…
On her knees between father and son, she looked from one to the other, vocal cords still frozen.
“On your feet, Little Skit. Tell me what the fuck is going on.”
He tried to give her his hand, but she pulled away. “Don’t. I have stuff all over me.”
“Oh God,” he said with disgust written all over his face. “Shit, Lil’.”
Thrusting to full height, not that it made much of a difference to him, she shed her shock in the face of outrage.
“Oil,” she said, showing him both palms. “I have massage oil on my hands.” Raising her chin in a defiant tilt, she marched to the kitchen sink. “Your dad is right, don’t come in here shouting and swearing. You don’t have a clue what’s going on.”
“Lil—”
“Don’t ‘Lil’ me,” she said, soaping her hands. “Do you really think I would come over to your family’s home to seduce your father just hours after your mouth left mine?” Everything was relative and a certain number of hours ago, still, her point was valid. “I came here because Presley asked me to meet him after school. I stayed to cook because I like to cook and I don’t have anyone to cook for, so I cook for people I meet through my work.” Rinsing her hands, she grabbed the towel from the counter and spun around to face them. “Yes, okay, I admit it, I’m sad and pathetic. I go to people’s houses and cook for their families because I have no family to cook for. There. I’m glad you’re happy to hear my pitiful truth. Are you happy now?”
She went to rub the excess oil from Abel’s leg with the kitchen towel, appreciating it wasn’t the best thing to use, but she didn’t have anything else. When done, she tossed it aside and crouched to help him pick up his pants, something his son failed to do in his indignation.
Ignoring Baer at her back, she met Abel’s eye. “Thank you for your kind hospitality, sir. Please enjoy the food and apologize to the boys for me.”
“Freya, don’t leave,” Abel said.
It wasn’t fair to ignore his plea, but there was nothing to say. Instead of answering, she snatched her purse from the floor and strode away; it wasn’t like he could chase after her. Father? No. Son…
She got as far as the entryway before Baer caught her.
“Lil’ Skit,” he said, grabbing her wrist to tug her back, almost knocking her from her feet. “I’m sorry, baby.” Crowding her close to the wall, he scooped a hand under her jaw and tracked his thumb across her cheek. “Seeing you on your knees in front of any other man would drive me insane, but my father… I’m sorry, baby. I’m sorry I saw red… Since you were down there between me and that vending machine…” He groaned. “God, baby, all I’ve thought about is your mouth on me.”
Not expecting him to confess such a thing, she relaxed enough to meet his eye. “Baer—”
“That question about you tasting a man… I’ve never done that with a client, been brazen like that before I got a brief. But you… Skit… in that minute, I was me and I…”
Touching his lips, she silenced him. “Don’t talk about that here… someone might hear you. They asked how we met. I told them I ran into you and you took me for coffee.”
Filling him in just ensured their stories were straight.
His lips curled to a smile behind her fingers before he took her wrist to free them. “Not a lie.”
“No, it’s not.” She shook her head. “I’m sorry if you think I got too close. Maybe you’re right, maybe I did. Sometimes I do overstep… I’m sorry if you thought I was stalking you.”
He breathed out a laugh. “I should be so lucky,” he said. “You should stay for dinner.”
Exhaling, she relaxed. “I shouldn’t. I stayed too long already and your dad is tired.”
“All the more reason you should stay, help him get the boys to bed… I have to go out tonight.”
Their eyes met, though locked on, she desperately didn’t want to see the truth in his gaze.
“Client?” There was something solemn about the way he closed his mouth and nodded, just once. God, she had no right! No right at all to dislike his life choices or to judge him for them. Except it wasn’t judgment, it was ridiculous jealousy. Inhaling through her nose, she breathed out as her gaze sank. “Lucky lady.”
Curling a finger under her chin, he picked her attention back up. “It won’t be all night. Just four hours, ten thirty to two thirty.”
Touching his tee-shirt on his sternum, she drew a fingernail around one of the grimy patches. Presley said Baer worked maintenance in the building, which was how they got a break in rent. The jeans and sweat and tool-belt had to be part of his day job. It was a wonder the man ever found time to sleep.
Now she understood why he did it. Abel couldn’t work. The facility his mom was in would be a small fortune in fees. Abel needed regular doctor and physical therapy visits too. All of that was on top of the boys’, the family’s, daily living costs.
“Two a.m. is my favorite time of the night,” she said. “It’s that sleepy time when those who didn’t turn in early are heading home or going to bed… It’s quiet… everything slows down and when you’re in the arms of a man, it… feels like you’re the only two people in the world.”
“It won’t tonight,” he murmured. “Not for me.”
Ducking down, on a trajectory for a kiss, she couldn’t let him and turned her mouth away. “Don’t Baer,” she whispered. “Not when you’re on your way to another woman’s bed.”
“It’s work, baby. Just work, that’s all.”
“I know,” she said, making a point of meeting his eye. “I know what it is, and I know why you do it.” That piqued some curiosity in him; she didn’t waver. “I don’t judge you for it. I understand why and I would do the same thing if I were in your position… Doesn’t mean I want to think about you doing things with other women that you’ll never do with me.”
His frown was quick, but they were interrupted by Abel.
“Good, you got her,” Abel said. “Please stay for dinner, Freya… The boys will do the dishes.”
Pasting on a smile, she eased Baer away to join his father. “I would be honored… now where are those boys?”