Page 88 of Sexy as Sin
“I’ll hug her instead, then, until you’re someplace less slippery,” his mother decided, and did it. It was a pretty good cuddle. “And of course I’d worry some,” she told Brett once she’d let go. “So what? Would you want a mom who thinks, ‘Oh, well, I’ve got two more where that kid came from’? Bet not. But come on inside and tell me about it, and everything else you haven’t said on the phone, because I’d just worry, and who wants that from their mother? And I’ll showyouthe new washer and dryer you bought me, not that I needed anything that fancy, and besides, it was only the washer that conked out.”
She grabbed one of the suitcases—Willow’s. Brett said, “Mom. Don’t,” and she said, “What? I’m not going to get any stronger by not picking things up,” and headed towards the house. Fast, even in the snow, and even though she had to be over seventy.
“It has wheels,” Brett called out, and she flapped a hand back at him in a way that made Willow laugh.
Not as much of an ordeal as she’d feared, then.
Willow wasn’t allowed to help with dinner, and she didn’t insist. People could get odd around chefs, the same way they did around cops, although possibly with less worry about being arrested. She told Brett, during a quiet minute while they unpacked before dinner, “I owe you one. Your mum’s a much easier prospect than my uncle Colin. Not to mention Jace and Rafe.”
Brett smiled. “True, but you still have my sister and brother-in-law to go.”
“Pity I don’t get to meet both your sisters.” She sank down on the bed and fondled King’s ears. He’d come in with them. Clearly, he adored Brett, since Willow was the one patting him, andBrettwas the one he was looking at. She thought again about that everywhere-and-nowhere-is-home lifestyle, and how you wouldn’t be able to have a dog. Or mates to watch the footy with, or workout partners, or whatever Brett actually did during his relaxed downtime. When he scheduled that. Could lying on a bed with her, watching a movie, have been a big indulgence for him? She was thinking the answer could be ‘yes.’ Which just showed you how much he needed to do more of that.
“Not really.” He pulled on a flannel button-down shirt, and she considered standing up to put her hands on his chest, but felt too lazy to do it. Instead, she put a hand behind her neck and lay back on the bed, and saw his attention zoom straight in. He was so easy. She gave him a slow smile, and he stopped buttoning. “Wait,” he said, “what were we talking about? Stop looking at me like that.”
“Mm.” She put a stockinged foot on the bed and turned toward him a little, then parted her legs. Just a bit. Just a suggestion. He liked these stretch jeans. “Getting you ready for your birthday, that’s all. We’re talking about your sisters. Quit thinking about taking my clothes off and focus, boy.”
He paused for a long moment, then said, “Pam’s fine, but things tend to get a little tense with Carla. Fortunately, being four hours away means it’s not as often.”
“Is it the money?” she asked, forgetting to be sexy.
“Of course it’s the money. At first, I splashed out more on everybody when I came home, but it didn’t make anything easier. Just the opposite, so I toned it down. And now I’m an asshole for not doing more. Oh, well. Like I said, Pam’s fine, and so is her husband. Friend of mine from way back.”
“Steve. The electrician, and she’s a teacher. Their kids are Jason and Jennifer. Both at University.”
“You’ve got it.” He put a hand down and pulled her to sitting, and as always, his assurance gave her a rush. After that, he put a hand on the bed and the other one behind her head, and kissed her like he wanted to. “You’re teasing. Don’t think I haven’t noticed. Look how weight-bearing I am, though. What’s my birthday present?”
She moved her mouth over to the strong column of his neck, breathed in his cedar-and-spice scent, brushed her lips over his skin, got her hands under the soft flannel shirt, and traced her fingers over the ridges of his abs while he sucked in his breath. He was so good at keeping her tingling, and tonight, she was going to do the same for him. It was his birthday, after all.
“Your birthday present?” she asked, getting her tongue and teeth into the action on his neck. “You said I had to wait until cake to give it to you.” Not that her pressie was exciting. It was a gray-and-black, merino-and-cashmere scarf chosen by Azra, and it had cost more than she ever spent on anything. Although, as she never spent much, that didn’t mean what it might have. What did you give a man who had everything? A scarf, it appeared. Beyond that, you did your best. On that note, she decided to put forth some more effort. The payoff was always better when you’d anticipated it, and itwashis birthday. She sent her hand down on an exploratory mission, discovered that, yes, he did like having his neck kissed, and murmured, “You have to wait...all...the way until cake. Sure you can do it?”
“Not that one,” he said. “The one I get later.”
“Oh.” She smiled against him and did some more touching. “That? That’s whatever you want. It’s your birthday. You choose. Though I was wondering... maybe you want to think through all those fantasies you had in this bed growing up, and see which one I could make come true. Unless it’s a threesome. I’m not giving you a threesome, birthday or no.”
He sighed. “Shoot. That was it.” When she jerked her head back, he laughed, gave her a slap on the hip, and said, “You do tend to be noisy, though. Exactly how excited could I get you before you gave us away?”
There was no way she was letting him have the last word, not on this one. “I reckon,” she said, climbing off the bed and heading toward the door with the kind of sway in her step that she’d never been able to manage, because nobody had ever made her feel as desired as he did, “that you can think about that.” She left the room, then poked her head back around the door and purred, “Give it your best effort, sailor. I’ve only got this one gift to give.”
If that didn’t work, she had nothing. But she thought it would work.
An hour or so later, she was thinking about the future with some longing. It was good to meet his family. Of course it was. There were undercurrents, though. There was the moment when his mom had said, “The elk steaks are thanks to Steve. He got a tag this year.” They were bloody enormous, sirloins that practically overhung the plate. Sixty grams of protein, easily.
Steve, a quiet man with watchful blue eyes, said, “Yeah. I went out with my dad. Still nobody like him for tracking elk. He was sorry you couldn’t make it over, by the way, Brett. Said he’d think you were getting conceited, but you’d probably just forgotten how to kick back and be that other guy, the one who used to work in the mill and thought an elk tag was the ticket to the good times. Next year for sure, he says. October. You could put it on your calendar.”
Brett said, “I’ll try to get away,” and Willow thought,Why is that actually a ‘no’?It obviously wasn’t the first hunting trip Brett had been on with the two of them, and helikedSteve. Was it that he needed to put some distance between himself and the young man he’d been? Somebody too needy, maybe? She knew without him telling her that those years had been rough, because they’d been the same for her. Surely, though, you didn’t have to walk away from the people who cared about you.
Or did you? Because after that, he withdrew some more, doing his usual thing: listening, and asking questions. About his niece and nephew, mainly. Willow thought about the bleakness in his voice when he’d told her about Claire, what it must feel like to turn forty-three and not have had that dream come true, and wanted to hold him.
She was still thinking about it as his mother carried a cake out of the kitchen, frosted with chocolate, its top adorned with a celebration’s worth of sparkler candles. Brett sat good-naturedly for the usual off-key rendition of “Happy Birthday,” then blew out the candles and said, “Good thing I’ve still got some lung power. You could’ve started a fire with that, Mom.”
“However old you get,” she said, “I’m thirty-two years older. Hold that thought,” and he laughed.
“Like you’d worry,” his sister, Pam, said. “You just get better looking. It’s not fair. Kids. They take your body away and never give it back.”
“On that note,” Brett said, as his mother plated slices of a cake that, Willow had a feeling, had come from a box, but that Brett would eat every bite of anyway, “Willow and I ran into Nia in Portland. She’s pregnant. Having a baby girl.”
His mum put the knife down, and her face lit up. “Oh, that’sgoodnews. I’m so glad to hear that. When’s she due? I’ll send her a card now anyway. Every good thought helps. Is she still living in the same place? Her and Aaron?”
