“Oh,” I breathed.
Apparently Wanda at Deluxe Home Store was right. You tell a man early on you’re going to take care of him, it’s going to suck him deep.
Tate carried on. “Don’t even know when I learned to do laundry, just know, I wanted clean clothes, I had to do it.”
“Tate –”
“Leave you in my house once, babe, come home and the whole fuckin’ place is cleaned, the fridge is packed full, a sweet, girlie pitcher in the fridge filled with Kool-Aid and I got soft, fancy sheets on my bed.”
“I was worried that I –”
His head bent and his lips touched mine, stopping my words.
When his face moved away he replied in a very firm way to my unanswered statement, “Nope.”
“Then who planted those plants in your yard?”
“Mom,” he replied. “Came home, don’t know, five years ago. Stayed awhile. Got a wild hair, did some gardening. Unlike Mom, the plants took root.”
“Who bought your dining room table?” I asked.
“What?” he asked back.
“Your dining room table. It’s –”
“It’s Dad’s. I grew up in this house, Laurie. Bought a new bed when I took over Dad’s room, made Jonas some space. Other than that, everything here is what he left me.”
“Oh,” I whispered, my mind turning all of this over, all he’d said and all it meant.
“Yeah,” he grinned. “Oh.”
“You’re stuck,” I blurted, his grin died and he blinked.
“Come again?”
I swallowed, sucked in breath and forged ahead.
“I was lost but you… Tate, you got stuck,” I told him.
He stared at me and it took a lot but I braved his stare.
Then he asked, “You up for the job of pullin’ me out?”
“I…” I swallowed again. “No,” I answered truthfully.
“No?” he asked, his eyebrows lifting, his face getting dark, his arms growing tighter.
“I…” I pulled in breath then whispered, “I kinda like it here.”
With a sudden change that made me jump, he threw his head back and burst out laughing, pulling me into a close hug when he did it.
My cheek was smushed to his chest and it was going to stay where it was since his big hand was crushing my head there so I mumbled a smothered, “Tate –”
“Keepin’ you stuck with me,” he said over my head.
“Okay,” I replied.
“Okay?” he asked and his tone had changed again, now sounding slightly surprised.
My arms gave him a squeeze and I answered, “Yeah, honey. Okay.”
He was silent for awhile then I felt his lips against the hair at the top of my head.
Then he stated, “Baby, you know the worst about me.”
I tried to pull my head from his chest but he kept it pressed there so I gave up and whispered, “Tate.”
“Keepin’ you stuck with me, Ace,” he repeated in a murmur against my hair and I shivered because his tone had changed.
This wasn’t just a statement. It was a vow.
“Honey –”
“Bet Jonas likes grape Kool-Aid,” he whispered and I shivered again.
“He doesn’t, I’ll get him the flavor he likes,” I promised.
He let my head go and I tilted it back as his hand slid to my cheek.
“I know you will, baby,” he said gently.
I felt a nervous flutter in my belly.
“You’re sure he’ll like me?”
“Yeah,” Tate answered immediately.
“How can you be sure? Maybe he’ll –”
Tate cut me off. “He’s just like his old man.”
“How like his old man?” I asked and his hand moved to my jaw, his thumb there tipping my head further back as his head bent.
“Exactly like his old man,” he said softly.
“I’m in trouble,” I whispered.
His mouth came to mine and I felt his lips smile.
“Oh yeah,” he muttered then he kissed me.
The knife stayed stuck in the cake for awhile and Tate and I didn’t test out Moist Factor Five Hundred until it was dark. Tate sat on the island wearing nothing but his jeans only half buttoned up. I stood between his legs wearing nothing but his t-shirt. We ate a huge slice he held in his big hand, using our fingers to feed each other. This meant frosting got all over our fingers but cleaning it up was just a bonus to an already delicious activity.
Shambles was right, Moist Factor Five Hundred was a hit. But it wasn’t Shambles secret cake ingredient that made it a hit.
It was my very own chocolate butter cream frosting.
Chapter Nineteen
Jonas
The door to the bar opened, most of my body locked but my eyes flew to it.
Nadine walked in.
I heaved a sigh of relief.
“Laurie, honey, you okay?” Jim-Billy asked and I looked at him.
It was Friday. I was on the day shift. Tate was gone, picking up Jonas. I’d been on tenterhooks since noon, like Tate could step on Scottie’s beaming pad and beam himself and Jonas back and right outside the bar. But now it was nearly three and they could be here at any minute.