Page 132 of Tempt Her

Sunlight beams through the tall windows as I lift my dress over my head, fully aware I’m standing in a thong and heels in front of them, but nudity suits me nowadays. They can rarely resist it, but this is more important. Grabbing my bra, peasant top, and jean shorts out of my bag, I dress for the next occasion; dinner on the deck of Ford’s house, where his daughter, Hannah, is meeting us.

“Well,” I tell Ford, switching my heels for flip-flops, “telling a woman how sheshouldfeel is as smart as flossing an alligator’s teeth. Let her decide. And if she’s mad for a spell, you can take it. You’re a grown man, right?”

“Yeah, I’m a grown man with a heart that can’t fucking take it.”

You wouldn’t know it looking at Ford. He’s the picture of virility, wearing a groomed dark beard, distressed jeans, and a white linen shirt hanging open over his tan, sculpted torso. But underneath his granite chest is a dying heart that needs to be replaced.

That’s another reason he can’t put this off. I won’t let him.

I grab his hand. “We’ll be there to support you.” For this, his first time talking with his daughter and for the heart transplant he’s on the list to get.

But it doesn’t help.

As his truck bounces down his sandy driveway an hour later, he’s popping off curses. “Fuck, shit, and damn” fly from his mouth with every pothole we hit.

“I’ll go start the grill.” Mateo jumps out of the back seat and goes into action once Ford parks his truck outside his house.

“I’ll set the table and get everything ready.” I nuzzle into Ford’s neck. “Why don’t you grab a beer and wait for her.”

He stares straight ahead at the marsh like he’s confronting his greatest demon. “I’m telling her everything. About you and me. About Luke and Mateo. She’s gonna know everything about me, and if she still hates me, then okay. At least I was honest.”

I mutter against his flesh, loving the smell of woodsy soap on his warm skin. “I wish he were here. He’d make you laugh.”

Ford nods, missing Luke too.

We rarely hear from him. Ford says it’s normal. The missions they have Luke on, they’re secret. Sometimes we know his locations; mostly, we don’t.

Luke’s been home twice since he joined the Army, after basic training and then for the holidays, when he completed Ranger School. He tries to call; sometimes, he can do a video chat. We made it a dirty one for him twice, but then I felt terrible, like we made him miss us more.

While I go inside to start setting the table for dinner on the deck, Mateo grills chicken and side-eyes me, worried about Ford too.

I keep watching him out of the kitchen window. Parked under the shade of an oak tree, Spanish moss sways over Ford’s head, but he’s a stone leaning against his truck.

After the year I’ve been with Ford and Mateo, we know each other so well. It’s like all the love I never got from one wicked man; these two make up for it like it’s five men loving me now.

Even when Luke’s not here, I feel his love too. And his fear. He never shared it with the guys, but I couldn’t keep the secret. Worry burned inside me. One morning in bed, while Mateo spooned me and Ford stared at the ceiling, I knew he was missing Luke too.

“He’s afraid he’s gonna get killed,” I confessed to Ford. “Like he’s gonna be like his father. Like it’s his destiny.”

He turned to me. “That’s normal. We all think that. It’ll keep him alive.”

I lingered my fingertip down Ford’s nose while Mateo caressed my hip. “He needs to hear that from you. That it’s normal to be afraid sometimes. You should tell him the next time he calls.”

And he did. I think it made Luke feel better. He started smiling again on his calls. It made me feel better too.

But now it’s Ford who needs help. I can tell, so I join him in the driveway. “Want me to wait with you?”

“Please,” he says, and that’s rare for him.

The man will always have “grumpy boss” as his default setting, but Ford lets me in. It’s in small ways that reveal deep love now. How he caresses my waist when we brush our teeth together. How he steams my clothes for me though I don’t give a damn about wrinkles. How he planted gardenia bushes when I told him it’s what my dad did for my mom.

When a white SUV appears in the distance, bouncing down the driveway, Ford grabs my hand; his is sweating.

It’s so awkward and sweet. How he and his daughter don’t know if they should hug, so we all shake hands instead.

“Do I call you Dad?” Hannah asks, and I can’t stop staring at how she’s his spitting image. She’s almost twenty, stunning and tall for a woman with his same gorgeous blue eyes and dark waves. You can tell by her shoulders she’s an athlete. She gets that from him too.

“Call me whatever you want.” I’ve never seen Ford smile like this, humble and in awe. “Ford. Dad. Asshole. I’m just thankful you’re here.”

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