Colorado 02 Sweet Dreams (64 page)

In detail.

After we were both done, Tate pressed his hips into mine, I came off my knees, he came off his, I went down to my belly, his body covered my back and he rested his forearms in the bed on either side of me.

“You like that, baby?” he whispered in my ear.

“Yeah, Captain,” I whispered my understatement back.

He kissed my shoulder and muttered against my skin, “Fuck, it’s good to be home.”

I didn’t get a chance to reply, he righted us in bed, pulled the covers over us and tucked me close.

“Go back to sleep, Laurie,” he murmured.

“Okay, honey.”

His arms gave me a squeeze. “Sweet dreams, baby.”

“You too, Captain.”

I settled into him and fell asleep before he did.

I didn’t wake up once.

* * * * *

It wouldn’t be for weeks when I would realize I’d stopped waking up at all when Tate was home with me. It was only when he was away that I was restless.

It was Tate who made me realize this and he did it when he walked into the bathroom one morning while I was brushing my teeth wearing nothing but my undies. He stopped behind me, slid an arm around my stomach and pressed into my back.

My eyes went to his in the mirror and I noted instantly he had something on his mind.

He didn’t make me wait.

“You keepin’ somethin’ from me?” he asked.

I blinked, pulled the toothbrush out of my mouth then answered, “No.”

His arm gave me a squeeze, a physical warning, and he gave me a verbal warning through the way he said, “Babe.”

 I stared in his eyes, finished brushing, spit, rinsed, wiped and tried to turn but Tate kept me where I was, facing the mirror with his arm wrapped around my waist.

“Tate –” I said into the mirror.

“I don’t like you doin’ it alone.”

“What?”

“The night.”

I shook my head and asked, “Sorry?”

“I don’t like you facin’ the night alone. You wake up, I don’t, I’m tellin you now, babe, you wake me.”

That was when it hit me and I stared at him in the mirror, silently.

I did this for awhile, long enough for him to get impatient, give me a squeeze and prompt, “Got me?”

“I’m not waking up,” I whispered, stunned, still staring at him.

There hadn’t been a time I could remember when I didn’t wake up, not since I was a kid. Maybe for a night or two but not regularly. My mind had tortured me, and my sleep, since forever.

“Come again?” he asked.

My hands went to the basin and I held on.

“I’m not…” I shook my head in disbelief. “Tate, baby,” I was still whispering, “when you’re here, I don’t wake up.” I felt the sting of tears in my eyes and kept whispering. “It’s only when you’re gone that I –”

His arm went loose, his hands came to my hips, he stepped back and turned me to face him then stepped back in, his arm going back around me, his other hand coming to my jaw.

I tipped my head back to look at him.

“Honey –” he started and a tear slid down my cheek.

“All my life,” I interrupted him, “since I could remember. And now I’m not. Not while you’re around.”

“Laurie –” he whispered, his thumb moving to wipe away my tear.

“You’re…” I swallowed, “you’re it.”

“I know, baby,” he murmured, his forehead dropping to mine. “You’re it for me too.”

“No,” I told him. “You don’t get it. You’re the something special I’ve been looking for. And what I was looking for was what I needed to put my mind at ease.”

“Ace –” he started but I fitted myself to him and slid my arms tight around him.

“I knew it but I didn’t
know
it. Now I
know
it.”

For some reason, suddenly his head came up and he stared down at me with such concentration and for so long, I couldn’t take it anymore.

“What?” I asked.

“You aren’t goin’ anywhere,” he stated and I blinked again.

“What?”

“This is good enough for you.”

I shook my head and squeezed him with my arms. “Tate, you aren’t making –”

“You don’t just believe I can do anything, I
can
do anything, for you.”

I stopped breathing.

“Fix your sleep,” he stated.

I stared.

“Fucked up my whole life, made shitty decisions, almost fucked up my son’s life, but not you. I can do anything when I’m with you.”

“You could before,” I told him.

“Not until you.”

“Tate, you –”

“The day you rolled into town, babe, you saw me with Neeta. The next day, the day I met you, that’s when it began.”

“It isn’t.”

“Fuck,” he hissed, his voice so intense it was nearly physical, “wish Dad coulda met you.”

I stared at him, stunned speechless when it hit me my beautiful, badass biker had been broken.

And I’d fixed him too.

“It broke you,” I whispered.

“What?”

“When you lost the game, it broke you. You were on your way to self-fulfilled prophesies too.”

He stared down at me and I held my breath for his reaction.

Then he said softly, “Yeah.”

“You didn’t think, without the game defining you, that you could find a good life.”

“No.”

“And, for whatever reason, I didn’t think I was worthy of something special so I never found it, until you.”

His bizarre response to that admission was, “Thank Christ.”

“Sorry?”

“Babe, you let your college boyfriend show you you were somethin’ special all along, right about now, I wouldn’t be standin’ in my bathroom with you in my arms. I’d be fucked.”

“Well –”

“Jonas would too.”

“Um…”

His forehead came back to mine but his chin moved down half an inch so his nose was alongside mine. “Makes me a dick, you lived with it for so long, but I don’t care, you still gotta know, I’m pleased as fuck I’m the only one can give you sweet dreams.”

The tears came back and instantly spilled over.

“Me too, Tate,” I whispered.

“Waited a long time to be somethin’ special again, baby,” he whispered back.

“I’m glad it’s me who gets it.”

I watched through wet eyes as his smiled.

“All right, Ace, this is done,” he announced quietly.

“What?”

“These heart to hearts.”

“Oh,” I whispered, disappointed because I kind of liked them. “Okay.”

“We get it now,” he explained. “We don’t need ‘em.”

“Oh,” I repeated, not disappointed anymore because he was right. “Okay.” Then I asked, “Is Jonas still asleep?”

“Yeah,” he answered.

My hand trailed to his abs.

“Good,” I murmured.

“Baby?”

The fingers of my other hand slid into his hair as my hand at his stomach dipped down to cup his crotch.

“Feel like playing,” I whispered.

He grinned.

“Can I?” I asked.

“I’m ready for you to stop playin’ and get serious, I tell you, you get serious.”

“Deal,” I agreed and his eyes grew dark.

“On your knees, Ace,” he growled.

That was when I grinned.

Then I got down on my knees.

* * * * *

Life got pretty sweet after Tate and my final heart to heart in the bathroom that ended in him getting a blowjob from me followed by me getting an orgasm sitting with my behind on the edge of the basin, my legs wrapped around his shoulders and his mouth between my legs.

This didn’t mean we didn’t have dramas.

But all of our dramas revolved around Jonas.

One included Jonas having a ten year old boy fit at the mall, a fit which was backed up by Tate when Tate and I took him back to school clothes shopping. I felt his closet and drawers should be far fuller. Tate and Jonas didn’t agree and felt after we bought two pairs of jeans, a few t-shirts and a pair of gym shoes that cost nearly as much as the picture I bought Tate (slight exaggeration), it was time to go see a movie.

I gave in and, since I knew his sizes, I took Amber, Betty and Wendy to the mall the next day and we augmented Jonas’s wardrobe.

We also augmented Tate’s.

We also augmented Amber, Betty, Wendy and mine.

We also visited Wanda at the home store because Jonas got new towels for his bathroom and Tate and I got a new soap dispenser and toothbrush holder for ours.

We also got new canisters for the kitchen and a new set of earthenware bowls that were heavy, gorgeous, fit snug in each other for easy storage but since they were painted a muted, dusty green, pink and blue, I set them out on the island because they looked cool there.

Jonas, on the other hand, thought they looked girlie.

Tate just looked at them, looked at me, his lips twitched then he walked away so I decided to take that as approval, or at least not objection.

The other drama included Tate registering Jonas for junior league football, something he excelled at and something Tate tried very hard not to miss, either practices or games. However, seeing as fugitives didn’t take your call and wait for you to meet them at the local police station so you could turn them in, this didn’t happen as much as Tate or Jonas would like (I, however, didn’t miss a game, though if Tate was home to pick him up for practice, I let them have their boy time and only picked him up when Tate as gone).

Luckily, the first game Jonas’s team lost, Tate was there. This was lucky because Jonas didn’t like losing. As in, he didn’t like it
a lot.

This manifested itself in another ten year old boy fit. One during which Tate ordered Jonas to go to his room, Tate followed, I heard Jonas hollering for awhile then I heard nothing.

I was in the garden yanking weeds when Tate came out after dealing with Jonas.

“He okay?” I asked.

“Still pissed,” he answered.

“It’s just a game,” I muttered.

“It’s never just a game,” Tate replied and I looked at him.

“You can’t win at everything in life, Tate,” I said softly, “He should learn that.”

“You’re right, Ace, you can’t. But you can learn from losin’ how not to lose again. Or at least not make the same mistakes.”

This was true.

“Still, honey, he should learn not to pitch a fit,” I said carefully.

“That intensity is good, he’s just gotta focus it.”

“Did you teach him that?”

“No, but I will.”

I felt my face go soft and I smiled at him.

Tate smiled back.

Then he said, “Probably help, you give him some of your Grandma’s chocolate chip cookies.”

“I’m making Mom’s chocolate pecan pie.”

His smile got bigger.

“That’ll work too.”

“Food isn’t love, Tate,” I teased him with his own words.

He bent over where I was sitting on the ledge, wrapped his hand around the back of my neck and kissed my forehead.

He didn’t let me go but he looked me in the eyes when he whispered, “I was wrong about that, Ace. I get it now. The way you make it, it is.”

Then he let me go and I stared at him as he walked away.

Then I shouted at the door he disappeared behind, “I could make better pie-type love with a new stove!”

I heard his disembodied voice shout back, “Dick territory, babe. Don’t even think about it unless I’m there.”

“Chick territory,” I kept shouting. “A stove’s in the kitchen!”

“It’s got a plug and weighs over fifty pounds. Totally dick,” he shot back on his own shout.

I gave in, turning to the plants while giggling.

Totally dick.

My old man was funny.

* * * * *

And that was it. Some of it big, some of it bigger.

But nothing mammoth.

And I liked nothing mammoth.

I especially liked it after the mammoth, life-altering, heartbreaking, soul-shattering day at Bubba’s, and, worse, after Tate and I went home to share what had happened with Jonas.

Chapter Twenty-Four

Hold On

“Three Budweiser bottles, honey,” I said to Tate, looking down at my pad.

“Babe,” Tate called.

“Yeah?” I answered, pulling my pencil from behind my ear.

“Ace,” he called.

“Yeah?” I answered again, scratching on my pad.

“Baby, look at me,” Tate said softly and I looked at my clean-shaven man.

We’d had a fight that morning mainly because he’d shaved. Perhaps my reaction was a wee bit over the top but he was now in no doubt how I felt about his beard considering I’d threatened him with zero access to certain parts of my body unless he grew it back. Tate had found this amusing, not annoying, and I knew this because he burst out laughing and continued to do so even after I repeatedly told him I didn’t think anything was funny. Then he proved to me I would not be able to carry out my threat of zero access to certain parts of my body and he did this by gaining access to those very specific parts.

Even so, I was pretty certain my point was made, but if it wasn’t, I also didn’t much care. Truth be told, he was hot with or without the beard. I just liked the beard.

“What?” I asked when my eyes met his.

“Come here,” he ordered and I noted he had his arms wide and he was leaning into both fists to the bar. I’d seen him like that before and the last time he was angry.

“Um…” I mumbled. “I
am
here.”

“Closer,” he demanded.

I got closer, putting a hand to the bar.

“Closer,” he repeated.

“Tate, what on –”

“Now, babe.”

I sighed and leaned into him, putting both forearms on the bar.

He leaned in too, put a forearm beside mine, hooked me behind the back of my neck, pulled me closer and his head slanted right before he laid a long, wet, very hot kiss on me.

I had one hand curled around his forearm, one hand curled around his neck, both I was using to hold me up, when his lips moved from mine.

“That should do it,” he muttered, his face still super close.

“Do what?”

He didn’t answer, instead he stated, “Need to put a fuckin’ ring on your finger, Ace.”

I quit breathing and my legs wobbled.

“What?” I breathed.

“Those boys you been servin’ ain’t from around these parts. They stare at your ass or tits when you’re comin’ or goin’ one more fuckin’ time, we got problems. I figure I just made my point you’re mine. They do it again, I know they want problems so I’ll give them to ‘em.”