Page 85 of Finding Our Reality

She shakes her head. “Oh no, that won’t make him mad. He doesn’t really get mad as long as you use your manners and do your chores and don’t talk back.”

Smirking, Ry plucks the pink fishing pole from her shoulder. “Miss Lulu has a master’s degree in talking back.”

Laura giggles. “You mean the college degree? That’s funny.”

“Haha. Your uncle is stretching the truth, Laura.”

She reaches up, grabbing Felicia Stinkbottoms from my hands. “Yeah, he does that sometimes.”

Ry narrows his eyes. “Snitch. Make yourself useful and go open the door.”

Skipping ahead, she pulls open the large side door of the huge outbuilding. It takes a few seconds for my eyes to adjust, but when they do, I nearly collapse in delight.

“Your truck! I mean, your grandfather’s truck! You still have it?”

“Hell yeah. That thing will probably run forever.”

I trace my fingers down the side and circle around to the tailgate. Vivid memories flash alive, pouring intense heat throughout my body. Ry sneaks behind me. Grabbing my waist, he tugs my ass against him as he whispers in my ear. “A lot of good times were had in the bed of that truck. I can still hear you screaming, feel you writhing with every lick of my tongue.” His cock jumps with every syllable he speaks.

Laura peeks around the corner, catching us. She smiles widely. “Come on, I’ll show you where Uncle Ry used to live.”

My T-shirt clings to my chest and my hair sticks to my neck. And I don’t think the summer heat has anything to do with it.

Untangling from his arms, I follow Laura, flopping my way through the garage workshop in the huge rain boots. The front of the garage holds the truck, some kind of all-terrain utility vehicle, a small tractor, and a riding lawnmower. Tools and yard equipment line the walls. At the back of the garage, there’s a door. Laura steps through it and turns on the light.

There’s a kitchenette, a small dining table, a couch, a twin-size bed, a dresser, and a TV. I lean inside another door, catching a glimpse of the shower, sink, and toilet.

In true Ry fashion, it’s neat as a pin.

“Uncle Ry lets me watch cartoons in here if he’s having to work in the garage and it’s too cold for me to play outside. I’m not allowed to have a TV in my big room at the house until I’m a teenager, and Uncle Ry doesn’t wanna be with me all the time because I’m moody and mean and want to kiss boys. Then, he says, I can hide in my room and watch TV.”

He chuckles. Bending down, he tickles her side. “Little Girl, you make me sound like a mean, old ogre.”

She races away, jumping on the couch and tossing her doll in the air.

“You lived here?” I ask.

“Yeah. It’s the Taj Mahal compared to my room at Harlan’s.” He nods for me to follow him. “Laura, we’re gonna fill up the side-by-side with gas. Be sure to use the bathroom before we leave.”

I watch Ry as he piddles around the garage, getting the all-terrain vehicle ready for me to see whatever Laura wants me to see. “You built this place first? Before the house?”

“Remember I mentioned that Harlan bought the land all those years ago? So Harlan left the land to me when he died. I tried to give it back to his son. Told him I would find a way to buy it from him, but he refused to go against Harlan’s wishes. After my injury, I stayed with Marcum and Nancy for about six months while my discharge and VA disability pay was getting sorted out. After that, I rented a small apartment. I sold ten acres, then used that money to start building this garage. It took a year for me to finish because I saved money and paid cash as I went. I moved into the garage here and started saving the rest of the money to build the house. It took three years to save and get all the workers and materials cost lined up. Found a bank willing to do a construction loan for me. It took eighteen months for me to finish the house. Fortunately, a lot of the cops and firefighters around here do construction jobs on the side, so I had a lot of help. This fall will be three years that I’ve been in the house. There’s still a ton of work that I wanna do, though.”

He places the gas can back on a shelf. Turning to me, he leans against a cabinet. The muscles in his forearms flex, calling to me, singing sweetly. “I hope it meets the high standards of the architect,” he says with a wink.

“Definitely. It’s amazing.”

“You checked it out before coming outside?”

“I just did a quick walk-through. Saw Laura’s room.”

He lifts his eyebrows. “Never thought I would paint a room pink. The color was calledBaby’s Breath Blush. Can you imagine? But that’s the color she wanted. She was three, at the time.”

“How old is she now?”

“Six.”

“Close to Anna’s age.” Raylee’s daughter will turn six at the end of July. “Does Laura stay here with you often?”

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