Have Your Cake (24 page)

He sighed, hooking his right hand into the loop next to his buckle. “That’s what it felt like when you told me you researched my history. I acted the way I always did with Sally. I’m sorry. I know you aren’t used to that type of thing. I shoulda never gone off on you.”

He shifted his footing. “I never meant to scare ya, Love. I yell and scream, throw a thing or two across a room, stomp my boot, but I’ll never lay a hand on another woman. I knew the first time with Bridget was a mistake the moment it happened. Sure as hell wished I never did it many times. Scared the shit outta me when I saw what I did.”

He swallowed. The guilt and remorse saddled his shoulders. The repentance made him rub his neck trying to soothe the uneasy knot in his gut. He squeezed his lids shut a moment before dropping his head with a sigh.

Cyana leaned into his shoulder, making him take a long breath and peek at her. “Sally and I certainly don’t share the same views about love.” He paused at her short inhale. She blinked, averting her gaze while wiping her palms against the sides of her chef pants. “So, there you have it. There’s my truth, little lady. I was a bad seed. I did hit a woman, but I’m a new man now. Not quite a snob, just surrounded by them.”

“Asher, I’m so sorry I called you a snob.” Her stare went downward. She shook her head. “I really never got that perception of you.” Her apology rushed out. He shifted in front of her, taking her hands. The move silenced her and brought her focus back.

“Look here, Cyana, the Wilmington name is well known for all the wrong reasons. I can assure you. But, I’ve been working real hard to turn this thing around.” He ran his calloused thumbs over the silken flesh of her hands, soft and pliable to his touch. Heat stirred through his midsection. “I hate my father’s name, but it’s one I share with my nephew, a man I’m proud to call my son. It’s on my business, which I care about very much. And, I would love for it to belong to someone special in my life one day as well, but it’s not an easy name to carry.” Silence passed between them as she stared up at him. He took a step forward, leaving only inches between them. “I, ah, want to confess something. I saw you with another man. I got jealous as hell.”

She squinted. “Another man?”

He shifted his view to the lawn to hide the envy stirring in him. “I was getting my suit from downtown. You were at Marshall’s with this—”

“Incredibly handsome dark man.”

When he looked at her, she was smiling. His gut tightened into a rock. He certainly didn’t feel like smiling.

She laughed. “Oh, Asher, it wasn’t what you think.”

He shook his head. “I may not know you well, but you seemed damned comfortable with him.”

“I am—”

“Cyana!” Iona’s shrill voice tore them from conversation. Asher loosed Cyana’s hand.

Iona ran across the lawn holding up a phone. “Cyana.” She mounted on the canopy, skipping all the stairs. “Your phone. You left it in the kitchen.” The distress creased into Iona’s face made Cyana reach out and steady her sister.

“Iona, what is it?”

Iona swallowed a breath. “It’s Coach. He thought I was you when I answered. Something happened to Eric.”

Cyana’s face drained of emotion. Asher fisted his hands as he stood by, ready to find out what was going on. Cyana trembled and crossed an arm over her belly after taking the phone. “Hello.” She paused with a gasp. “Oh, no. Where is he? Can you text me the address? I’m on my way.” She leapt from the platform with Iona on her heels.

“Cyana,” Asher called out.

She twirled to him. “I’m sorry. I have to go.”

Go?
His heart nearly seized. He took a step forward, but his knees turned to mush. He wasn’t certain they’d support him. He leaned on the railing, watching his love ripping away from him as Iona gathered information on where she was going. They split as Cyana flagged Miguel for a ride to the parking lot. Iona ran back to the stable kitchen where Mama Huffing stood outside. Dammit, he’d just gotten to speak with her. Where was she going? Someone needed to give him answers.

The storm raging in his gut helped him make quick work of the lawn. Mama and Iona both retreated into the stable kitchen. He stopped his headlong stride.
Can’t go in there acting like an ass.
He resolved to gather his wit at the open door, overhearing their chatter.

“I don’t know, Mama,” Iona said. “I shoulda went with her. Any injury to Eric will fry her brain.”

“Now he’s her only child. Cyana can make the drive. She’ll be fine. If anything, the determination to get to him as soon as she can will make her more careful.”

Asher cleared his throat at the door.

Both women were deep in clean up. Iona jumped and spun. “Oh, I’m sorry Mr. Wilmington. How may we help you?”

He sauntered into the room. “Please, call me Asher. I noticed Cyana took off outta here in a hurry. Is everything okay?”

“Oh boy,” Iona said. “She told me to give you the money back for the tow on the Gremlin.”

“Thank you, Iona, but we both know I don’t need it,” he said. “Please, tell me what’s going on?” His gaze passed from Iona to Mama.

“Her son’s school bus was in an accident on the way home.”

“Son? School bus?” He glanced at his watch. “It’s after five.”

“Eric is twenty. He attends college in Illinois and plays football. His team was in town to play LaGrange yesterday.”

Sudden realization donned on him. “Shit,” Asher said. “Sorry, Mama.” He apologized for his language. She’d said she was married before. “Did he happen to take her to Marshall’s on Friday?”

Iona and Mama looked at each other. Iona pivoted to him with a confused look. “Yeah.”

“Son of a bitch.” He placed both hands on his hips while staring at the ceiling. “Sorry, Mama.” He straightened and held out a hand with his fingers splayed, shifting his weight to one side. “What happened?”

“The travel bus of ball players was returning to Chicago today and was involved in an accident injuring several players. Eric was one of them. She’s on her way to the Nashville hospital to see about her boy.” Mama gave the full explanation slow enough for him to grasp and fast enough to suit his antsy desire to get the hell out of there.

“Thank you, Ma’am.” He tipped his hat, fishing for the keys in his pocket before he crossed the threshold.

He could hear the tail end to the kitchen conversation before clearing the ramp.

“Where’s he going?” Iona asked.

“To get your sister. That boy’s in love.”

C
yana’s mother uttered the truest words Asher had heard. He started across the lawn and towards the parking lot. The heavy notes of roses and gardenias didn’t soothe him. He passed through the group of wedding guests conversing among themselves. Every muscle in his being itched to be in Nashville right now with Cyana. Only spotting Miguel on the golf cart brought a pinch of relief.

“Señor Wilmington.”

“Hey Miguel. You’ll be closing up shop with Sally today.”

“Okay, Señor. Want a lift to your truck?”

Asher hopped on board. “Thanks.” He whipped out his phone, instructing it to dial Sally.

“Asher, where are you? You have some nerve to walk out on me and create a scene.”

“Mother, stuff it. I’m leaving. I need you to lock up when everyone’s out.”

“Leaving?” Sally’s expression sounded intolerant over the phone. “Asher Theodore Wilmington, I have plans for the evening. What are you doing?”

“What I’m supposed to do. I’m going to get my woman. Secure the Milway.” He hung up as the parking lot came to view. Miguel let him out. He told him goodbye and climbed into the king cab sized vehicle. His stomach churned with questions and ached with his stupidity.

Cyana has a son, a grown son.
The truck entered the road. He set the GPS to the Nashville hospital. He’d given her so much hell about her boy, thinking maybe Cyana wasn’t as sweet as she let on. He even accused her of being a bigot, leaving him because of his race.

For her to have a boy his size, she would have given birth as a teenager. He cursed, remembering the thin light colored marks on her belly from loving her.
That was what it was, right. Loving her.
How much time had they lost because of his jealousy?
Damn, I’m an asshole.
No other way to put it.

C
yana drove the Gremlin as fast as she could through traffic. She thought she would get a ticket in the Civic the way she roared through Weynor to get to Mama’s house. She changed out of her chef uniform, grabbed clothes and her car. The only thing slowing her pace was the blue hospital sign. She drove the lot to find a parking place and sat in the vehicle a moment.

Checking her face in the mirror, she cringed.
I can’t go in like this. He can’t see me like this.
She grabbed a few napkins from the glove box. Cracking open the bottle of water lying in the passenger’s seat, she dabbed some liquid onto them. She did the best scrub job she could to rid her face of the streaked makeup. She fumbled around in her patchwork purse and squeezed out a bit of lotion to follow the wash; then lip balm.

She inhaled a few yoga breaths to calm her nerves. When she opened the door, the humidity accompanied a coolness which only came at night. Chilly bits of microscopic water seemed to reach out and grab the skin of her arms and neck. The sky was a deep black. The stars littering the night’s blanket with sparkles set high above the city’s lights. She scurried to the entryway.

There were several people waiting inside the holding area. Her sight skirted over a hunk of a man with his elbows rested on his knees and head down. He was formally dressed and taking up plenty of space in the far corner. A black Stetson sat in the chair next to him. Wanting shunted in her gut for Asher.
It’s impossible for him to be here.
This was Nashville. She should expect to see a cowboy or two around. Cyana set her sights to the woman behind the desk and approached the receptionist.

“Um.” She rubbed her sweaty palms against her jeans, trying to contain the quiver of worry making her ill. She’d long lost Iona’s rib dinner before hitting the interstate. She forced a breath. “Eric Huffing, please.” She shifted on her feet, grabbing the strap of her flimsy purse as if it were a lifeline. She blinked rapidly against threatening tears, certain she didn’t have the water to spare.

The receptionist didn’t seem fazed by Cyana’s approach. Cyana was certain she had to appear half crazy as she jittered about. She swiped the back of her hand against the rogue curl to shift it. “He’s, um, with the Illinois college football team.” The emotion of speaking the words after her imagined horrors the team endured formed a knot in her throat.

“And you are?” The woman asked with masterful calm.

“Cyana Huffing, I’m, uh, I’m—”

“His mother.” A deep male voice rumbled from behind her.

She twirled. The well-dressed stranger sauntered over from the corner of the waiting room with gentle clops of his boots. Her mouth dropped open; heart slugged her ribs with happy nervousness.

“Asher?” His name passed at barely a whisper.

He wrapped an arm around her, placed his hat on while staring down with concern. The hard warmth of him lining her side and the reassuring scent of male musk drew her in. He stroked her cheek before whispering, “Hey, I’m right here with you, Love.”

The receptionist regarded Asher. “I need to see some ID.”

Cyana sighed under Asher’s touch. “Thank you for coming.” Her words were near breathless. She reached in her purse to get her ID.

“Sir,” the receptionist stated, “yours as well.”

“Absolutely.” Asher produced a fine leather wallet from his back pocket.

The receptionist peered at the plastics. “Thank you, Ms. Huffing. Mr. Wilmington, I take it you aren’t family?”

“No, ma’am.”                           

“Please. We drove from Georgia to get here,” Cyana said.

The receptionist studied them for a moment. She exhaled loudly before opening the access doors and giving them instructions on how to get to the room.

Asher took Cyana’s hand, leading the way with a stride she nearly had trouble keeping up with. He knocked at the door before opening it to let her in first.

Cyana saw one large man snoring heavily in the first bed. She dismissed him and went around the divider in the room. Cyana rounded the corner. Eric was sleeping. It had been so long since she’d seen her baby lying peacefully. She smiled. He was a monster in the little bed with his left leg bandaged and near hanging off.

She stroked his forehead with the back of her hand.

He stirred awake. “Ma?”

“Hey, baby. How are you?” she asked.

He reached for her with a big smile. She sat on the edge of the bed to hug him. “I’m so glad you’re here.”

Knots of concern and anxiety released her middle. She sat back, running her hands against the sides of his shaved head. “Honey, what happened?”

“There was an accident on the highway. We got hit by a rig. It jackknifed. The bus tipped,” he said. He shook his head. “Ma, it wasn’t pretty. I got scared. I helped get some of our boys out, but all I could think about was seeing you.”

She placed a palm to his chest. “Hearing about it scared me too. I’m so glad you’re okay.”

He nodded. “You didn’t have to come.”

She sucked her teeth. “Oh stop being tough, boy. Don’t make yo’ mama feel like a fool for coming to see you.”

He chuckled. “I’m glad you’re here, Ma. I just know the wedding was important.”

“Nothing is more important than my baby.” She stroked his stubble-laden cheek.

The dread kicked around in her gut. Football was Eric’s dream. After his big news on Friday, she was nearly afraid to ask. She peered down over his leg, struggling to suppress the tears. “How bad,” she gasped, “how bad are the injuries?”

“Don’t cry, Ma. I must’ve had an angel watching over me.”

“I’m sorry.” She fanned at her face. “I’ve been so worried.”

He took her shoulder in a reassuring grasp. “I’m gonna be fine. Just beat up real bad. Some of our boys,” he shook his head, “they ain’t playin’ anymore. I’ll still play. I got cut deep from my knee to my ankle, but it’s all muscle. Ligaments are fine. I’ll be back on the field. They’re keeping me to watch for infection.”

She took in a breath. “What about UGA?”

He chuckled. “Ma, Coach said this is just a setback. The scholarship’s still mine.”

She sighed. “Boy, you had me worried sick.”

Eric smiled before looking up to Asher. “This the pale fella Auntie was tellin’ me about?”

Asher stood at the foot of the bed with his hands shoved deep in his pockets. He tipped his cowboy hat. “Asher.” He rounded the bed and stuck out his hand.

Cyana’s spine tensed. Iona had already spilled the news about Asher to Eric. She made a mental note to have a conversation on privacy with her sister. Then again, when it came to Iona, keeping any secrets from family was a big deal.

Cyana worried her bottom lip, not certain how Eric would respond. She’d never dated, or brought a man home. Asher’s work rough hand seemed to hover in front of her view forever before Eric’s dark grasp secured it.

“Asher, huh? Cool name, man.” Eric sat up in the bed. “You crushin’ on my ma?”

Cyana lifted her gaze from the handshake to peek at Asher.

“Yeah.” He nodded with a gentle smile; forcing her heartbeat into overdrive. “I think I got it pretty bad.” He stepped closer to her, brushing the wild curl which seemed to always plague the vision of her right eye.

She smiled up at him.

“All right, man. Here’s the rule,” Eric said. “Be good to her. Treat her like she’s the most precious thing on the planet. ‘Cause if things don’t go so good and my leg heals well, I’m gonna have to come find you.”

Asher chuckled, never taking his sight from her. “You got a damn good kid over there.”

“I know,” she said.

He ran a thumb across her cheek. “It sounds like he knows a thing, or two, about how to treat a lady.”

“He does,” Cyana said.

Asher held both his hands out to her. She took them. He ran his thumbs across the backs. “These hands have a lot to learn. Think you can teach an old fool how to be that way?”

“I don’t know. Depends on how stubborn he is.”

He tugged her up from the bed and wrapped his arms around her. “I can’t get enough of you, Cyana.”

Asher opened the door to the suite and ushered Cyana inside. Exhaustion scraped at the edges of her mind. Every action compelled her instinctively past the luxuries and towards the bedroom.

She paused after opening the door. “One bed. Really?”

She glanced up at him while he brushed passed her and sat on the mattress’s edge.

“Is it a problem?” he asked, removing his Stetson to set it on the nightstand.

She entwined her fingers and leaned against the long dresser, watching him remove his boots. “I have a confession.”

“Well, go ahead,” he said, setting each one down with a thud.

“You know when I told you I was on the pill?”

He paused and peered up to her. “Yeah?”

“Well, I was.” Her fingers seemed to knot around each other while she peeked at the floor. “But, on the way down I ripped my purse in Tennessee, the case fell into the road and kind of,” she waved a hands through the air, “got ran over. I don’t think we should push our luck.”

She expected him to be angry, at the least slightly upset.

Asher laughed, continuing to remove his gold bolo tie.

Cyana straightened and crossed her arms. “What’s so funny?”

“That sounds about right with the luck you were having. Guess I’ll have to get you a Coach bag for Christmas.”

“A Coach? Wait a minute. Christmas is months away.”

“And?” He raised his palms to the sky.

“And we don’t know if this thing is going to last between us. I still have to get back to Chicago until the semester ends.”

“Then I’ll definitely have to get you a car. I don’t trust your Gremlin,” he said. He stood, tugged his shirt from the waist band of his slacks and unbuttoned it, revealing the stretched white tank top underneath.

The sight made her skin hot. She diverted her stare to the floor. She took a few steps away, reaching for what little assertiveness she could muster.

“Now wait one minute, Cowboy. I like my car.” She made eye contact. “I bought it with my own money. It’s completely paid for. You absolutely cannot think you can barge right into my life and start,” she waved her hands through the air for a lack of words, “doing stuff.”

“If you love it so much, then I can have it fully restored.” He peeled off the tank top and tossed it to the floor.

“No,” she croaked, bringing her legs closer together. His shirtless body was weaving a deep need through her; stripping her mind far away from resting.

“Cyana, you’re not going up to Chicago and coming back in that thing.” Offense shot her into a straight-backed stance. Asher continued, “You need dependable transportation.”

“
That thing
is my car,” she defended. “It’s not shiny, sparkly and new. But, it’s dependable and it’s mine. I’m not getting rid of it just because it needed a part. Parts wear out. That’s normal.”

Asher let out a sigh, dropped his head and rubbed at the back of his neck before looking up. “What’s the deal here, Love? I’m only offering to help you out. I want to make your life a little easier.”