Games of the Heart

“That’d be good, Ryker,” Mike said on a deep sigh.

Ryker trained his eyes on me and his farewell was, “Cake.”

Then he was there no longer.

I turned, tipped my head back and pressed my body to Mike’s. He was already looking down at me and his hands settled on my hips so mine slid around his waist.

“Did that just happen?” I asked.

“Yes,” he answered.

“That guy was real and not a figment of my imagination?” I asked.

“Yes,” he answered.

“He’s terrifying in a hilarious and slightly lovable way,” I shared.

“He’s the first, the last two I’m not sure I agree.”

I grinned up at my man and leaned deeper into him.

Mike’s hands slid from my hips to become arms that rounded me and his head dipped close.

“So you’re only half-drunk?” he asked.

I stared in his eyes and liked what I saw.

“Unfortunately,” I whispered.

“Time for the tequila switch, sweetheart,” he whispered back.

I smiled and replied, “You’re absolutely right.”

Mike turned me to the bar and ordered a tequila shot. I drank it. More came after it. Then Mike took me home. He gave it to me bossy, controlling and dirty.

I loved every second of it.

Then I passed out naked in his arms with Layla’s head resting on my ankle.

*

Mike ended the kiss, his lips sliding down, his mouth working my neck.

It was Sunday morning. We had day old Hilligoss downstairs which weren’t the same but they were still brilliant. Mike was inside me, we’d both finished after he’d taken his time. It wasn’t dirty. It was sweet, lazy, fantastic.

And he’d ended it as usual then finished it off with a slow, beautiful kiss.

I turned my head and in his ear, whispered, “Stealth kisses.”

Against my neck, Mike muttered, “Fuck.”

My arms tightening around him, I smiled at the ceiling of the bedroom I shared with my man, happy.





Chapter Eighteen


Promise



Fin and I moved through Mike’s backyard to his backdoor, Fin carrying his book bag over his shoulder.

The corn needed to go in so we were putting it in. Dad and I on tractors working all day, Fin and Kirb working with us on the weekends. When Fin got home from school, until dusk started to fall, he was on a tractor. Dad told him this was unnecessary but Fin was adamant he do his bit. This meant homework waited until dinnertime. This also meant Rees’s homework waited until dinnertime. But they ate with their books around them, talking low and studying. Then they’d camp out in front of the TV. The night would end with Clarisse walking with Fin to the back gate, they’d both disappear behind it for about twenty minutes and Clarisse would come back without Fin.

Through this, I’d often glance Fin’s way, wishing I was seventeen again.

This was because I was relatively fit but working the fields meant I was flat exhausted by the time I parked my ass in front of the TV with the family. But going to school, coming home, doing his bit on the farm, eating and studying apparently didn’t faze Fin at all.

It was Wednesday after I moved in. The kids took me being there in stride. Even though Mike said it was their idea and their texts indicated they were up for it, I couldn’t help it. I was bit nervous. But the instant they got back on Sunday I saw it was no big deal to them. Then again, the two weeks prior to me moving in I was over most nights with Fin and we’d kept the same schedule. Work in the fields, clean up, go over to Mike’s, Mike or Rees had dinner made, the kids studied, I parked my ass with No and Mike on the couch and zoned out in front of the TV.

So that was good.

Rhonda was not.

I’d taken the time that day to have another chat with her. With Mom helping with the housework not to mention working in the window boxes and planters dotted around the large grassy space in the yard getting them ready for flowers, Rhonda had even less focus. She was now no longer spending all her time in her room. Now she was watching daytime TV. She still wasn’t eating much. And she was still definitely hazy.

I was a patient person but I was beginning to lose it. I had made several attempts, coming at her from different directions, trying different tactics. I showed her want ads and the results of internet searches I’d done. I’d tried to get her interested in my horses. I’d told her I needed help with my pottery, crating it up and getting it ready to ship to my gallery. Then I told her I seriously needed help with my pottery seeing as most of the time my ass was now on a tractor. She wasn’t interested or she’d try it for a day or two then slack off.

I knew Mom spoke with her more than once too. And Dad even sat her down for a Dad talk.

No go.

I couldn’t step into her shoes. I never lost a husband I adored before. What I did know was that I lost a brother, my parents lost a son and my nephews lost a father and all of us seemed to be able to get on with things.

Kristen Ashley's books