Page 97 of When The Rain Falls

I take in the deck stairs. The railing that now needs repairs. Because I kicked the living shit out of it. Maybe I do need a little bit of anger management.

I pocket my phone so that it can't give me any more bad news and look through the kitchen window. Aimee and the girls are walking around busily. I can't hear what they're saying, butI hear their chatter. Their laughter. And despite my anger, that forces a half smile from me.

Since Aimee’s bust her way into my life like a tornado, things have been different. The house has a heartbeat again. It feels alive. It feels the way it felt when Laurel was here. When we were a family. A whole family. Pressure builds up in my eyes. I shake my head and blink it away.

Goddamn. I'm such an asshole. Just storming around like a tyrant. I step up to the slider door and give it a quick rap with a knuckle. Aimee appears, wooden spoon in hand, arms folded across her chest. I want to wrestle that spoon out of her greedy clutches and swat her bare ass with it. Maybe that’s something we try tonight.

"Unlock the door," I order.

She doesn't move. She takes me in with those mischievous, brown eyes. She has all the power. And she goddamn loves it.

"Please?" I rest my forehead helplessly against the glass door.

"Hmmmmm," Aimee says loudly, as if she's considering her options. Her lips press together thoughtfully. They’re pouty, and full, and I want to claim them right now. “Say the magic word,” she commands as she pops a sinful hip. She's a fucking menace in her thin cotton t-shirt and those skin-tight jeans. Suddenly, all I can think about is how she tastes when she’s on her back with one leg hiked up to her chest.

"God, you're a pain in the ass," I mutter. But what I’mthinkingis whether or not I should grow a beard so I can mark her thighs with my face.

"That was a lot of words," she says. "But none of them were themagicwords."

"Open sesame?" I offer.

"Too generic,” she scolds. "Try again, bear." I groan and bump my head against the door in frustration.

“Open this door,” I yell. Then I bring my voice to a whisper, “And let me fuck you with my mouth.”

“Ohh. It hurts.” Aimee winces as she clutches at an imaginary arrow to her chest. “It hurts so much to say no to that one. But,” she pauses, “no.”

"Sorry?" I try.

"Oh, now you're getting close." Her ears perk up. "So. So. Close. But you can do better." Goddamn. This is so ridiculous.

"Sorry that I was an asshole."

"And?"

"And fuck. I don't know what else that you want from me." I throw up my hands in frustration.

"To show the proper level of remorse." Remorse, my ass. I'll teach her remorse. As soon as I can get her alone again. She lifts the corner of her mouth and waits.

"I'm sorry I was an asshole and I feel deep,deepremorse for my actions," I say as dramatically as possible.

"And what did you say? You like my singing?"

"Goddammit." I jiggle the door handle. Aimee just looks at me with utter and complete patience. Like she has all fucking day.

"And I love your singing."

"Perfect," she says.

"Good God," I mutter under my breath.

"What was that?" Aimee asks.

"Nothing."

"I thought so," she says with a laugh. She flicks the lock back down. I throw it open forcefully and step inside before she can change her mind. I stride right past her, brushing her shoulder. I don't stop until I'm standing in the middle of the kitchen. I don't miss how Vivian and Ruby flinch slightly as I survey the room. It's just as disastrous now as it was when I waltzed in fifteen minutes ago.

I feel the eyes of the room on me. Ruby, Vivian, Aimee. They're watching me with nervous anticipation. Like they're waiting for one of those baking soda and vinegar volcanoes to erupt.

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