Page 16 of Mine To Keep (Southern Wedding)

I ignore him, turning to his little girl instead of telling him to go fuck himself sideways with a cactus and no lube. “Hope you feel better, pretty girl,” I tell his daughter before I turn around and walk down the stairs to my car. I can feel his eyes on me, and if he wasn’t holding his daughter in his arms, I might flip him the bird. But instead, I walk back to the SUV, almost jogging when I’m at the end of the driveway. Never once do I look over toward the door, and I drive off knowing he’s watching me but making sure he doesn’t know he got to me.

eight

Caine

“She’s pretty, Daddy,” Meadow says softly from my shoulder as we watch Grace walk back to her SUV. My heart goes into overdrive in my chest while my head tells me I was an asshole again to her.

“Yeah, baby,” I admit, “she is very pretty.” I watch her walk down the driveway in another pair of high fucking heels. Of course, she can run in those shoes, so she jogs as she gets closer to her car, and my cock comes out to play.

“Is she a fairy?” Meadow lifts her head from my shoulder and pushes her hair from her face.

“I think she is,” I tell her with a smile, “but I think it’s a secret.” She gasps. “How about we go watch some TV while Dad works?”

“Okay,” she agrees, squirming from my arms at the same time Grace drives away. I watch Meadow walk into the family room while I look up seeing Grace’s SUV turn the corner.

I close the door and wait for a second, looking down at my cock. “You’re a dirty old man,” I tell him. “She’s too young for you,” I say as my phone rings from my back pocket. Pulling it out, I spy Marylin’s name, making my cock duck and run for cover.

I put my head back and know she’ll call me every ten minutes if I don't answer. She either doesn’t call for six months or else she calls too much. I press the green button before it goes to voicemail. “Hello.” I turn, walking into the house, past the staircase and dining room, past my home office and into the family room where Meadow is already on the couch with a blanket over her. The remote is in her hands as she goes to her channel, so I walk back into the home office.

“Caine,” she says, “I’ve been trying to get ahold of you.”

Yes, you have, and I haven’t answered. You would think that was clue number one, I want to say, but instead, I go with, “Sorry. It’s been crazy busy.”

“Well, I’m in town, and I was thinking that maybe I could come over and see you for lunch or dinner. Maybe spend the night?”

“Spend the night?” I don’t realize I’m saying the words out loud until she answers me.

“Yes, spend the night. Catch up with you,” she confirms, and I cringe.

“Well, Meadow woke up with a fever,” I inform her, “so you can come over now if you like.” I know full well she’ll stay ten feet away from this house with Meadow being sick. She didn’t do well when Meadow was a baby and had colic for a month. She even refused to give her a bottle at one point because the vomiting made her sick.

“Eww,” she replies. “What’s wrong with her?” And this is the biggest reason I hate this woman.

“She probably heard you were flying over. It’s enough to make anyone sick,” I finally respond to her.

“There are a couple of things I need to say to you.” She completely ignores my last sentence.

“Well, you have me.” I pull out my chair and sit down. “What can I do for you?”

“I was hoping we could have this conversation face-to-face.” Her voice goes soft, almost seductive. “That way we could, you know.”

“I have no idea what you are getting at, absolutely none.” Nor do I care or even want to know, I don’t add that in.

“I’ve been doing a lot of thinking,” she says, and I lean back in my chair rocking back and forth, “and I think I will be moving back.”

“Here?” I ask.

“Yes, here,” she huffs. “My family is here.”

“Your family?” I ask, confused. “What family? I thought they were all out West.”

“I meant you and Meadow,” she snaps. “My family is here, so I thought it’s time I come back home.”

I sit up straight now. “Number one, there is no you, me, and Meadow. There hasn’t been for the past four years.” That I even have to remind her of this is lunacy.

“Well, yes, I know this, but she’s getting older, and she’ll need a mother.” Her soft voice now sounds irritated.

“You don’t know this because you haven’t been around for the past four years, but,” I grind out, my tone hopefully letting her know that this conversation is as irritating for me as it is for her, “she’s been doing fine without a mother.”

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