Our Chance (Los Rancheros #4) Page 7

  I fill my lungs to bursting and pick up my fork, shooting a smile his way. “I’m fine, buddy. Tell me about the friends you made today.”

  He shrugs and moves his food around on his plate. “Nobody, really.”

  “No one was nice to you? I’m sure there has to be a pretty girl that caught your eye.”

  His eyes shoot fire at me as he jumps up from his seat. “I said there was nobody, okay?!”

  I feel my face flinch at the loud screech of the chair on hardwood and watch him stomp up the stairs before picking up my fork again. Everyone is frozen and looking to me. I take a breath and ask Harper what she thought of her teacher. I can feel Brody’s eyes on me after the kids go back to their food. Questioning me? I don’t know.

  I tell the kids they can have popsicles on the porch after dinner and Brody gives them balls to throw for the dogs as the sun sets. I clear the table and do the dishes, Brody’s eyes following me around the room. I throw the sponge in the sink and turn to face him.

  “What?!” I ask in exasperation.

  He shrugs. Fucking men and their shrugs are just as bad as a woman’s. I lift my shoulders mockingly back at him.

  “What does that mean?”

  “I didn’t say anything, Jules. Chill out.”

  I point to him and step closer. “You’re thinking it. You think I’m a bad mom? You think I don’t know what I’m doing?”

  “Jesus Christ. I don’t think you’re a bad mom, maybe a little nutty and prone to jumping to conclusions, yeah. But I’m not judging you for letting him storm off and slam doors.” He moves his eyes to where he places his hands on my shoulders and gives me a little shake. “I’m learning, babe.”

  What? I look past him to process his words. Nope, still don’t get it. “What?”

  “You know your kids. I’m still learning them. I’m learning you again. Don’t ever think I’m doubting you when I watch you. You should remember, I like to look at you.”

  I sniff indignantly. “Stare.”

  “Fuck yeah, stare. I would have had a tattoo of your pretty face on my arm a long time ago if I didn’t think I would walk in a circle all day just to look at it.”

  A laugh bubbles to the surface and I can’t hold it in. “You’re such a dork.”

  Brody smiles and then it slips as he puts his thumb on my bottom lip. “And you’re a goof.”

  I scoff. “I’m perfect.”

  “Yeah, I perfect mess.”

  I push him playfully and he rocks back an inch, giving it to me, I know. If he didn’t want to move, I couldn’t make him. Then he holds my hands against his chest and I become aware of his heart racing. I look up into his hazel eyes that are swirling greens and golds and feel myself falling into the whirlpool that is J+B. But we haven’t been that, don’t even know how to be that, all of these years later. We aren’t teenagers anymore and need to do this right.

  I pull my hands away, my rough skin scraping on his nice shirt on the way down his chest. I curl my fingers in and make fists, putting them on my hips. I will not think about how Maggie probably has satin skin. “Are you leaving?”

  “Nah,” Brody says as he backs up toward the back door. “I’m going to play with the kids. You coming?”

  I shake my head and gesture over my shoulder. “I need to see about this one now.”

  He lifts his chin and watches me walk to the garage door.

  “He went upstairs, babe.”

  I turn to make sure he can see me when I roll my eyes at him. “I know that. He has my old room.”

  Brody smirks, lines forming next to his eyes in amusement. “And since he’s just like you, he would figure out that the roof is perfect for sneaking out of the window.”

  “How did you know he’s just like me?”

  Brody bites his lip and tosses a tennis ball into the air before catching it. “I’m learning.”

  I have a smile on my face as I open the door and see my boy sitting in the driver’s seat of his dad’s car listening to his iPod. Since the windows are down, I hoist myself up awkwardly and slide in, instead of opening a door.

  “Mom! What the hell? You could have scratched my paint!” he yells, snatching his ear buds out of his ears.

  “Language,” I say lazily.

  “Sorry. But seriously, I know you’re trying to be cool or whatever, but you’re not and that could have put a dent in my car.”

  I eye him and ask sarcastically, “A dent? Really?”

  He lifts a hand as he talks, his eyes wide in his tanned face. “The paint at the very least.”

  I slouch in the leather seat, putting my bare feet up on the dash. “So sorry, sir. I wouldn’t want to be rude, or show you any disrespect.” I look over at him. “I hate rude people. And I hate disrespect even more. Kinda like when a mother’s favorite son storms off in the middle of a meal, especially if there’s a guest. That really sticks it to them, don’t you think?”

  Trigg looks down at his hands, wrapping and rewrapping the cord to his headphones around the iPod. “Yeah, yeah. I’m not your favorite son.”

  “That’s not the point, little dude.”

  “I get your point. I shouldn’t have blown up. I’m sorry.”

  “Why did you?”

  “I’m . . . This place is different.”

  I put my hand on his head and sigh. “I know it’s hard making new friends. But they have to think you’re so cool for having been in Alaska.”

  He give me a look that says he’s not impressed. “Mom, these people are rich. Their parents are like, famous and stuff. Alaska is nothing.”

  I poke him gently in his arm. “Not true, sir. A lot of them are farm kids.”

  “Yeah, I’m not one of those, either.”

  “Okay, so you don’t know the planting seasons, but just wait until harvest. You’re going to be a pro!” I smile over at him, but his eyes are serious and his next question makes my heart split open.

  “Mom? Lots of people have a mom or a dad, and not both. But nobody has one parent who died. What do I say?”

  Oh my precious baby. I’m so sorry. I blink back my tears and pull his forehead to touch mine and whisper to him, “You tell them that your daddy died for this country, that he loved you more than the world and wanted to keep you safe. He was the bravest man in the world and no one will ever be like him again.”

  Trigg reaches his little arms up to me and squeezes my neck as he cries. It doesn’t last nearly as long as I was prepared to hold him, and my arms don’t want to let him go when he pulls away.

  “I love you, buddy.”

  Trigg smiles with half of his mouth, causing a sharp pain in my chest when I see that glimpse of the man he’ll be one day. “Love you, too, Ma. Don’t we need to get inside with the others? Jet’s probably stuffing all of our underwear in the freezer by now.”

  I pop the door handle and walk quickly over to the driver’s side, pushing him over the gearshift. I put the key in the ignition and smile slowly. “Nah. Brody’s babysitting. How about you and me go for a little spin?”

  His beautiful eyes sparkle back at me as he bounces in the passenger seat, quickly reaching for his seat belt. “Yes!”

  The engine turns over with a growl and I back it up until I’m beside Brody’s Bronco next to the other garage. It looks like they’ve started a little bonfire in the backyard. I rev the engine, causing Brody to jog over to the car and lean down on Trigg’s side.

  “What’s up guys?” he asks, looking relaxed.

  “We’re going to hot rod around if you’re cool to watch the kids.”

  “When you say hot rod, you mean . . .”

  “I mean, we’re going to break some of your fancy speed limits and leave marks on your pretty cobblestones,” I inform him before nodding to Trigg. His smile is about to split his face, it’s so wide as he presses play. I turn my wrist all the way around as I turn the volume up to blasting.

  I am —of course— careful with my baby in the car, but we definitely break the speed lim
it, whooping when we pass a slow moving tractor on the deserted roads. Trigg takes videos with his ever-present camera. I make weird faces and dance like a loon for him, listening to him giggle until he’s coughing.

  We break into my parents’ house for some ice cream, and I let Trigg drive as I push the car down the driveway, like they have no idea we were there. They don’t normally keep their back doors unlocked, but he doesn’t need to know that.

  We park in one of their pastures and listen to the cows as we share a pint of B & J.

  “Did you used to come here when you were younger?” Trigg asks as he uses his spoon to scoop more ice cream out of the carton I’m holding.

  “Yeah.”

  “With Brody?”

  I nod once and busy myself with getting out a chocolate fish that’s hiding.

  “He’s kinda weird,” Trigg says into the darkness.

  “Why?”

  He scrunches up his face. “He just looks at you. A lot.”

  I laugh and rest the ice cream on my knee.

  Trigg looks over to me with an earnest expression. “No, Mom. I mean, like, a lot a lot.”

  I release another chuckle. “Brody is weird.”

  “I told you.”

  The key to getting a muscle car into the garage without waking the whole house is to gain some momentum and then cut the engine. Sebastian learned that early, when the kids were babies.

  We coast into the garage and close the doors quietly. I kiss his sticky cheek and whisper for him to brush his teeth before he goes to bed. Walking into the kitchen, I set my keys on the counter and look around. No Brody. I grab two beers, knowing he hasn’t left, and move through the house, checking in the study and living room before walking out of the screened front door.

  He’s sitting on the wooden swing with his boots propped on the rail in front of him. I stand over him, taking in all that is Brody in a wife beater, and offer a bottle to him. “Boots with slacks, huh?”

  He does some kind of head lift, grunt thing that means he’s amused and takes a swig. I sit next to him, our arms instantly warming as they touch, and try to put my feet on the rail like him. They fall, making us both laugh quietly in the night as frogs and grasshoppers make themselves known in the yard.

  “How’s the little guy?”

  I nod and take a drink. “He’s perfect. It was great to have some one on one time, though. We don’t get to do that very often.”

  Brody starts picking at the label on his bottle. “Now that you’re here, you can have that probably any time you want.”

  “Maybe,” I agree easily. “Did the kids go down for you okay?”

  “Yup.”

  “That’s good.”

  Everything is so loud, yet not. I feel mellow, relaxed, as home floats around us, blips of memories from each little insect and animal flashes like a silent movie through my head. I sigh contently as Brody leans over to put his beer on the table next to him.

  The next thing I know, I’m flying through the air as Brody raises me to straddle his lap. I narrowly avoid clocking him in the temple with my bottle and bend, purposefully setting it on table next to his.

  When I sit up, I have to take in a breath, all that is Brody filling my lungs and making my blood run faster. He looks almost lazy, sleepy, all slouched in the swing, his hands still at my waist. His five o’clock shadow looks delicious, his skin shiny in the low glow of the flood lights over the garage in the distance.

  I put my hands on his chest and move my eyes to intercept his that are locked on my breasts. “Brody.”

  His lip twitches as his eyes glitter. I feel his hands flex and find myself rocking against him slightly.

  “Jules,” I get in warning, making me grin.

  “What, you don’t like that?”

  His chest moves as he laughs, tilting his head to the other side.

  “You know I do.”

  “Well you put me here.”

  He moves his hands to rock me against him this time as he sucks in a breath through his teeth. “I did do that.”

  “Don’t think you’re getting in my pants, though. I’m not that kind of girl.”

  “No,” Brody agrees through a smile, his teeth shining off of the dim light cast on us. “You’re just the kind of girl to get a guy all hot and bothered. You know what we used to call those?”

  I purse my lips in thought. “Smart? Wholesome? And who the hell were you with that you weren’t getting any, Brody Denton?”

  “You, my little Juliet. You get me hot and bothered all the fucking time. You always have, ever since I realized what girls were for.”

  “You better mean something chauvinistic, like washing your clothes or cooking you dinner,” I warn him.

  “Yes. I want you to fold my socks and ride my cock. How is that?”

  I can’t keep a straight face, so I lean down and tickle Brody. He was always ticklish on his ribs. He doesn’t disappoint and jack knifes up, dropping his feet from the rail and almost has me going backwards with them. I snag his shirt in my fists to keep myself up as we try to be quiet.

  Brody wraps his big arms around me and squeezes tight, resting his head on my chest. A funny moment turns into something serious and important in a heartbeat. I wrap my arms around his head and pull him as deeply into me as I can. His biceps flex, pushing into my ribs and constricting my breathing. That act alone makes me grit my teeth. Not in pain. We have a blender full of emotions, the past and present blending into a soupy mix of what the fuck do we do now.

  “Brody. Brody,” I whisper against his stubbly cheek. I pull his head back so that I can get to his lips, shocked to see the shine of tear tracks on his face. “Brody.”

  He opens his mouth as I lean into him and my eyes close at the taste. Brody tastes like home, and danger, and love. I feel like my shattered heart that was so painful for so long, fits back together for the first time in years.

  He strokes his tongue against mine slowly. He’s half sitting off of the bench, pulled up to me, but he’s not even shaking with the effort. I move my head to change angles and rock against him, earning me another groan. We touch and feel and slide until we’re interrupted by a blinding light.

  I fly over to my original seat on the swing and pull my shirt down.

  “What’s up, bud?” Brody asks after he clears his throat.

  “Nothing. Just wanted to see when Mom was going to sleep.”

  “I’ll be right there, Trigg. Go grab your water bottle and head upstairs, okay?”

  I hear the door shut again and look over at Brody as I run my hands through my hair. His lips are red and cheeks flushed. He looks so good, I don’t know whether to scold my children, or kiss them for interrupting us.

  “Time to go.” I hop up and move to the door quickly. Brody moves more slowly, taking the beer bottles with him and grunts a response.

  As he walks past me, he stops and leans on one leg. “I fear . . . that it’s our lot in life to sneak around and almost be caught. Just like always, Jules.”

  He walks down the steps on light feet, taking a swig from one of the bottles in his hands.

  “What did I do? I didn’t do anything.”

  He rolls his eyes and glares at me. “I’m a fucking tripod, woman. But you already knew that.”

  I shrug slightly and look at my nails. “Maybe.”

  I hear him curse and can’t hold in the giggle anymore.

  There’s nothing like necking on a school night.

  Chapter 7

  A few days after our late night make out session, it’s apparent that a new routine is emerging. Brody brings milk and eggs in the morning as I’m feeding the kids. He usually leaves before I take the kids to the bus stop, so there hasn’t been any more morning delight for me.

  I work until lunchtime. Usually Brody’s back from where he goes by then, to share a quiet meal with me. It’s nice to have him around. I’m not used to having another adult to talk to on a daily basis, much less more frequently. After lunch, we get
out in the orchard and do maintenance on the trees and garden. We laugh and joke, carrying on traditions like blaring rock music for the trees. Granny always did that. She said it vibrated the roots to produce. Who knows if it’s true, but man it makes the day go by faster jamming out the whole time.

  Once the kids get home, it’s homework and housework for me while Brody does his own thing, meeting back at the house for dinner. When the kids are tucked into bed, I always find him on the porch with a cold beer.

  Some nights get intense, in the physical aspect. Other times we just enjoy being in each other’s arms. There are lots of sighs and deep breaths taken in shirts and hair.

  Now it’s Saturday, and we’re going over to my brother Will’s house for our official welcome home celebration.

  “You would think, this being a party for you and all, that you wouldn’t have to bring so much food,” Brody says as he passes me, headed to the garage again.

  “Trigg, grab that for me, bud.” I put the ladle he gives me on top of a covered glass dish with the coleslaw in it, ready for Brody to take out to the van on his next trip.

  As soon as he walks in, I start talking as I grab more dishes from the fridge. “Who else is going to make the fruit and veggie dishes other than me, Brody? Really. Mom and Dad have meat, that’s just how it goes when you’re in the business.” I look at Jet and roll my eyes, making him giggle. Before I lose my smile, I feel fingers tickling my ribs, making me giggle, too.

  “I saw that,” Brody growls softly in my ear before grabbing another dish and walking outside.

  Harper finishes brushing her Barbie’s hair and asks me, “Why do you think Brody comes over all the time?”

  I stop what I’m doing and give her my attention. “Does it bother you?”

  “No.” She shakes her head. “I just wondered what happened to his girlfriend. Seems like she would want to see him, too.”

  “I . . . You’re right,” I say as Harper and I watch Brody walk back into the kitchen.

  He comes to lean his elbows on the counter and grab a carrot stick from the tray I’m supposed to be wrapping up. “Of course Harper’s right. What are you right about, princess?”

  Hearing him call my daughter an endearment, seeing him in my kitchen, leaning against my counter so casually, I’m stunned. We’ve been here a week and this man has burrowed into our lives like a very sexy bot fly.