Page 35 of Baker
“Sounds great. Where do you go after Canada?” I asked nonchalantly, or tried to sound unconcerned because damn it, Ishouldbe composed. His leaving was not a surprise. It was what he did.
“I’m coming back to Oklahoma.” He sat up. I looked at him with pleased surprise. His smile made my stomach knot. “I’m feeling like there are things here that need to be explored more.”
“Lots of animals to take pictures of,” I tossed out and got a nod.
“Lots of animals as well as a certain man who has piqued not only my curiosity but my affections.” He moved over me, careful of my arm, to straddle me and steal a kiss that made me forget everything besides the warmth of his chest resting on mine. “That is, if you’d like me to come back? I’m not a fan of lingering where I’m not wanted.”
I ran my fingers through those thick, overgrown yellowish-tan strands. “I think you can tell that you’re wanted.”
“Well, yeah, by your dick and ass, but what about the rest of you?” He nuzzled a cheek thick with raspy whispers against my nose. I breathed him in and said things that fought against saying something that I wouldn’t utter without a gullet full of neatly served bourbon whiskey.
“The rest of me wants you to do what makes you happy.” I felt horribly exposed emotionally. I knew it was a cowardly copout, but after watching my marriage detonate like the Hindenburg, I was simply too scared to put myself out there again. Safer to stay on the earth. Those who venture to the skies always come crashing back down in my experience.
“I’m pretty happy rubbing up to you,” he purred and dropped another scorching kiss to my lips. I slid my leg up over his backside, my dick somehow perking up. Not a full perk, obviously. I was forty-two, after all. But a sleepy kind of ‘Hmm, maybe after a nap’ kind of perk.
Prissy snorted. I rubbed my calf over Hanley’s bare ass. The sound of engines broke into our sensual little makeout session.We both must have registered the roar of ATVs at the same time, since we both floundered around trying to find, pull on, and run outside to sit around a wet fire pit just as my brothers rolled up.
All three of the other Bastians sat on their Hondas like they were thoroughbreds, hats cocked and lips twisted into something that was supposed to be some lame attempt to quell smirks. I gave them all a scalding look as I yanked at the sleeve of my shirt that was caught on a seam in the rock-hard plaster cast. Prissy was nearby, swishing her tail, looking at me as if to say “Busted” while my siblings tried not to snigger.
“Did we interrupt something?” Dodge asked, gloved hands dangling over the handlebars of a dirty Honda ATC200E.
“Baker had a bee in his shirt,” Hanley flung out.
The other three nodded in muted delight.
“He must have run into a nest if all those tiny bruises are bee stings,” Linc tossed out, which made the others lose it. The fuckers. I tugged my cast free, yanked my shirt down over my chest to hide the damn love bites, and then flung a nasty glare at Hanley as he sipped pretend coffee in his mug. He shrugged.
“Fuck off all of you,” I snapped before bending down to give Hanley a bruising kiss that left him and my stupid half-brothers gawking when it was over. They all knew now. I was a fucking hickey from top to bottom and all places in-between. Might just as well come clean and face the music. “Let’s get going. Lots of work to do.”
Dodge, the insufferable damn dentist, called out to Hanley. “If you’re around the house this Sunday, we’d love to have you join us for Easter dinner. My son will be flying out the day before if all goes as I hope.”
I glanced at Ford. He gave me a short nod. Good. I was glad he was going to give his consent. Hopefully, he could talk Bella into it as well. Good fathers needed to be given all the help they could get.
“I’d like that if you think there’s enough room?” Hanley said while staring up at me.
“We’ll use Granny’s sewing chair.”
Hanley gave me a soft smile. I shoved my hat back onto my head before heading to my horse. Once I was on her back, a feat that was not as easy as I had hoped at the get-go. I had to climb up on a fallen log as there was no mounting box around, then put my left hand on the back of the saddle before hopping up. Not very graceful, but my ass was on leather. When I was situated, I looked out at the smirking faces of my stupid siblings.
“Not a single fucking word or I’ll tell Granny to make liver for dinner,” I warned them before tapping my heels into my horse’s sides. Given the looks of revulsion on my brother’s faces, I’d found a good threat.
Hanley blew me a kiss.
I rolled my eyes and rode off before I died of embarrassment, the roars of three idiots rolling over the plains.
13
Chapter Thirteen
There are some moments that carve memories deep into your brain.
Seated on the front porch swing, wearing a thin jacket and holding a cup of coffee in my hand with a full belly, I felt that this time was one of those moments. Dodge had come back from the airport over by the rez with his son Dahn, a scraggly Asian boy of ten with a mop of black hair, a shy smile, and an instant love of goats and chickens. He was leery of the cows and horses, but that was understandable. They were big. We’d introduce him to the horses slowly with treats and pets to fuzzy noses while he was here. Hopefully, that will help ease him into loving them as much as he did the goats, which were, as much as I hated to admit it, damn cute.
The air was April fresh, and Granny’s tulips were up and open, filling the beds with shades of red, yellow, and purple. Spring had sprung, and I was happy for it. Winter was tough on a ranch. Snow and ice made chores twice as difficult and the long, cold,lonely nights seemed to drag on forever. Seeing those bluebirds moving into their boxes always lifted the spirit. As did watching a father be a good father to his son.
Dahn and Dodge had spent most of this Holy Saturday with the animals and were now in the front yard beside a lone pile of brush—all that remained of the mighty oak—supposedly tossing a football. What I saw was Dodge trying to get the boy into a game of catch, but Dahn had found an old baton in the junk room/sewing room and was doing his best to twirl said baton.
The door behind me squeaked. I glanced over from the father and son to see Bella emerge. She, too, had a cup of coffee or tea in her tiny hands. I gave her a smile and jerked my chin at the empty space beside me. She patted over, tucked her sweater around her lean body, and sat. She was in a navy-toned ethereal kind of Stevie Nicks dress and soft blue flats. Her hair was braided neatly, her face smooth as a baby’s backside, and her makeup delicately done. She was quite pretty tonight. She was pretty every day, to be honest.
