Lucian found himself laughing with them then finally wondered, “What’s Adam’s Ale?”
A breath later, Gramma resumed her laughing, Tara with her. “Ain’t nothin’ but water!”
It finally quieted down and Tara patted Gramma’s hand. “It all sounds perfect.”
“Sure does. Like a dream wedding if you ask me.”
“Aww,” Gramma tossed her hand. “Ya’ll just sayin.”
“No ma’am,” Lucian took his dishes to the sink and proceeded to wash them. “Of course if I married your granddaughter in a tree house, I’d say the same thing.”
He smiled at the laugh that bought him, realizing just how much he loved hearing that sound. And now he had two women in his life he liked hearing it from.
****
They were finally headed back to the house in Luther’s truck after the “evenin” business. The only enjoyable part was being with his fiancé on the scary ten foot high tailgate, hand in hand, legs swinging as Mr. Missouri slowly drove. “Well, at least I have the generational history on every facet of Missouri that doesn’t have a damn thing to do with Gramma’s farm.”
Tara snickered. “I know right?” She deepened her voice and drawled, “My mother’s father’s brother’s uncles’ dog’s offspring helped tuh bring medicine in the hard winter of twenty-nine.”
Lucian busted out laughing. “Oh my God, I could sell his voice to CIA interrogations. Twenty four hours and I guarantee the hardest criminals would give up their mother’s souls to stop the torture.” Lucian drawled then, “These woods is ferocious and unforgiving.” He needs to have his ass beat with a dictionary.”
Tara threw her head back and laughed before squealing, “Oh my God!”
“And what the fuck is this jacked up truck? I feel like we’re riding around in our back yard in a fucking rocket ship.”
Tara clung to him in breathless squeals. “Matches his jacked up ego,” she barely managed.
His smile took over his face, enraptured with the sight of her joy.
Realizing he stared, she asked, “What?”
He shook his head a little. “You’re just beautiful when you laugh.”
“Just when I laugh?”
He leaned a little closer. “Just beautiful.”
She maintained her glowing, amazing secret smile and leaned in toward him. “Kiss me, Mr. Bane.”
“Don’t you mean Luscious?” He leaned in, not needing to be asked twice and just before their lips met, the truck jerked forward, throwing them. Lucian’s arms shot around Tara and he glared at the back glass, catching that fucker’s fish eye glance in the mirror.
“Too bad he’s not married, I’d put his ass through that school just for an excuse to kick it.”
“I have a few prospects on that,” Tara said.
“Do you?” Lucian got interested. “While I was in town with Gramma, I scoped it out.”
“Ohhh,” Tara angled a secret gaze at him. “We can go undercover together. Formulate a plan.” She bounced her brows once.
Lucian leaned in close and whispered. “I think we’re going to be able to find the couple’s easily. Keeping them quiet is another issue. And as far as selling dildos, I’m still at a loss with us needing to provide receipts and delivery validation.”
Tara looked out into the distance, pursing her lips. “We’ll figure it out, Mr. Bane. This much, I am sure of.”
“We are the Top Doms,” he reminded.
“Indeed we are.” She sucked in a sudden breath.
“What?”
She turned wide eyes to him. “It’s time to invite Steve to come to the wedding. We’ll put him up for a week and break the news to him. Then he can see his family home and return to help?”
“Yeah. Yeah that could work.”
Finally back at the house, they all filed in from the large back porch for evenin’ coffee. It took everything Lucian had not to make up some reason not to be there, but he needed to show this idiot he had what it took to run the farm. And he needed to Google that shit first chance.
“Now that you have a little background on Missouri, you still think you can manage it, slick?”
Lucian pulled Tara in his lap. “I’m from Texas. My dad was a Rancher.” Lucian hoped he didn’t call his bluff and ask questions he really had no fucking clue about. He made it a point to not know anything his father took interest in. Wouldn’t be the first time that came back to bite him in the ass.
“That’s right,” Gramma remembered, readying the coffee.
“Let me help Gramma.” Lucian’s fingers kept contact on his wife as long as he could before lowering his hand to the table and meeting Luther’s challenging gaze.
“You know uh…” he looked out the window now at the expanse of empty land. “The town isn’t going to appreciate this. Never have, never will.” He met his gaze again, an odd grin tugging at his mouth.
“Why wouldn’t they?” Tara asked, sounding bored. “It’s farming, that’s what you do in Missouri.”
“Not this, you don’t.”
Tara turned and put both hands on the counter behind her. “Not what?”
Luther leaned back in his chair like a fat pig just fed. “Medicinal herbs.”
Gramma started mumbling something then said, “How about we see what the weather is doing?”
“What does Missouri have against medicinal herbs?” Lucian said.
Tara tossed a hand at Luther. “Town calls it crazy weed, like crazy people don’t deserve medicine? I never did get that.”
“Luther, you need to stop this,” Gramma warned, turning with her tray of cups and saucers and bringing it to the table.
“Stop what? I’m just preparing him for what’s coming.” He turned that fake concerned look at Lucian. “The town don’t accept pot farmers. Especially the church.”
Chapter Twelve
Lucian looked at Tara, hoping he didn’t mean what he thought or that he’d heard wrong. “Pot?”
“Luther, I mean it,” Gramma yelled now. “Shut yer trap.”
“Luther.” Tara’s voice bit. “There is nothing wrong with growing herbs or crazy weed as you all call it, it’s a perfectly legitimate herb.”
“Well it also happens to be considered a narcotic by most of the US. And Missouri don’t like farmers growing things of that sort. They call it the gateway drug,” he looked at Lucian now. “You start with that and move on to other harder things.”
“What? It’s not a narcotic, it’s a medicine,” Tara argued, looking at Gramma. “Tell him, Gramma.”
Lucian couldn’t believe it. Gramma and Grampa were farmers of dope? “Is this… medicinal herb also known as… marijuana?” Lucian eyed Gramma now who turned back to the sink and got busy.
“One and the same,” Luther answered with unbidden glee.
Lucian finally figured out what was going on with ole Luther. That was his ace in the hole to get rid of Lucian. But the other issue was Tara. This was news to her as much to him. And by Gramma’s reaction, it had been a secret till Mr. Missouri blew her cover. Fucker.
Well, he’d set him on the straight and narrow out of their lives. “Let’s get something straight here, Luther,” Lucian said. “Whatever Gramma and Grampa farmed before I got here is what we’re farming. If Grampa saw fit to grow it, then I will trust his judgment. And if Gramma wants it, Gramma gets it. I’m not one to follow the crowd anyway.” Lucian eyed Gramma who stared at him with wide eyes, “And finally, please pardon my french but…” he aimed a hard gaze at ole Luther, “I don’t give a Missouri shit what the town thinks of our family. People think what they want regardless. We’re not here to please them, we’re here to look out for our family. And if you can help with that, you’re most welcome to. But if you can’t…” Lucian shrugged, “… we’ll manage just fine without you.”
“That’s some mighty big words coming from a city slicker,” he drawled.
“Hey!” Gramma bellowed. “This here isn’t a city slicker. That boy is about to be
my son, and you had better watch your tongue. I changed your diapers and I still have that wooden spoon with your name on it for teachin’ lessons,” Gramma said with a nod before turning to the fridge. “I done worked myself up an appetite, now who all is hungry?”
“I need to get going,” Luther said. “I’m sure I’ll see you around.” Luther eyed Lucian as he stalked out.
A few moments later, Tara gasped, “Gramma? Pot? Marijuana? Why didn’t you tell me?!”
“No sense in addin’ insult to your injury chile,” she mumbled, putting food on the counter.
“Insult to injury?”
“You just went through that heart ache when we switched crops. We was desperate and the government offered us a contract. Wilbur took it and we just… felt it best to not tell you. You had enough to fret over and through.”
Tara stood there with her hand on the counter, shaking her head. “All this time, I thought the town treated me weird because of what happened to me.”
“What?” Gramma’s soft voice sounded frail and confused.
“I was left at the altar and I heard the rumors. ‘What’s wrong with Tara? Maybe her fiancé found out her Grandad grows crazy weed and she’s takin’ some.’”
“Oh, honey.” Gramma collapsed in a chair and put a trembling hand on her forehead. “I had no idea. I didn’t tell you to hopefully spare you more grief, that’s why, I give you my Missouri word.”
Tara hurried to her Gramma. “Alright now, you didn’t know.” She put her arms around the now sobbing woman. “Please Gramma, don’t cry, I’m not mad. None of that is your fault. I appreciate you and Gramps trying to protect me. Thank you for that.”
“That’s all we wanted. Honest.”
“I know that, I know that. But Gramma, why would you want to grow it now if the government isn’t helping? Are you sure Grampa would want that?”
She shook her head and wiped a trembling frail hand across her face. “No he wouldn’t. He’d say I’d done gone and lost my rudder. It’s a stupid idea, but…” Her voice squeaked on the last word. “It’s the last crop we had together. We worked through a mess of higgledy-piggledy together and I realize now that it made us stronger for it. Farmin the herbs keeps our last memories alive for me.”
“Then we’ll grow it,” Lucian declared, going to both of them and kneeling. “Dorothy? When I married Tara, her family became mine. And if this makes you happy, then that’s what we’re doing. And that’s final.”
She gasped a light laugh and nodded, dabbing her eyes with her little handkerchief. “You got yourself a stubborn man there, Tara Mae. Strong and sweet and protective. Just like my Wilbur.”
Tara gave Lucian an agonized gaze. “I miss him too Gramma. Maybe later we can look through the photo albums with Lucian and drink hot chocolate. Telling stories will make us all closer.”
“Oh,” Gramma brightened. “Goodness me, what am I thinkin’. There ain’t a stitch of time for all this ruckus, we have a weddin’ to plan.” She got up and hurried out the room, leaving them staring at each other in amazed wonder.
Lucian raised up and pulled Tara in his arms. “Wow,” Tara said in his embrace after a few seconds. “I can’t believe I didn’t know they were farming pot!” she whispered. “I am… so… fucking floored!”
Lucian understood completely. He stroked her back then confessed, “I could actually stand to smoke a fat joint right about now. While Googling how to farm pot.”
They stood in momentary silence before they erupted in snickers that slowly turned into doubled over breathless laughter. “Oh my God,” she managed. “Your dreams are finally coming true. You’re marrying the dope farmer’s Top Domme daughter.”
Lucian held his stomach, leaning against the table in tears. “Hi Mary Jane,” he barely managed through the wheezing laughter.
“Maybe…” Tara gasped, “maybe we can grow…” Laughter cut off her words then she shot them out quickly, “grow pot-bellied pigs!”
Lucian went breathless again, stomping his foot. “Oh my God. You sound like one,” he squealed before doubling over again.
Chapter Thirteen
“Steve!”
“Lucian? Is that you buddy?”
“It sure is, how are you? Where are you? Hey before you tell me, guess what,” Lucian said, needing to obligate him immediately. “I’m getting married December 16.”
Various forms of gasping ensued before Steve managed, “Congratulations! When? I mean, where?”
“Here at Tara’s farm. And I want you here. My best man.”
Choking exasperation filled the phone. “Oh buddy, I’m honored. I really am, but…”
“Oh no,” Lucian said, dreadfully. “Talk to me, what’s up?”
He gave a huge tired sigh. “Same ole same ole. Money. I have to work.”
Lucian gave a triumphant fist pump. “Dude, I get it. You still have debts, I thought Dom Wars took care of that.”
“Ha! Tip of the iceberg my man. Tip. Of. The. Iceberg.”
“So you have a job?” Lucian silently prayed.
“I do!”
Lucian jerked in silent anger.
“I mean I’m pretty sure I have it, but it’s not definite . But it’s all but in the bag. Another driving job. For a wealthy Chinaman. Mr…. well it’s hard to pronounce his name, but he’s very respectable.”
“Oh, I’m sure, I’m sure,” Lucian said. “In New York?”
“Yes, yes. Waiting for a call… sometimes this week. One of those sit by the phone types, pretty sure deal.”
“Damn, that’s too bad. I had a job for you here too.”
“A job?” the hope in his tone made Lucian do another silent victory dance. He gave a low laugh. “You need me to drive a tractor?”
“Ha,” Lucian shot out. “Not quite, no. But it pays twenty thousand.”
“Dollars?”
“No, cow pies. Of course dollars man, I know you need real money.”
He began to sound like he was hyperventilating.
“You okay?”
“This is…” his voice thickened with emotion. “Just a miracle, really. I am so desperate for a job right now.”
“What about the Chinaman?”
He hissed in the phone and Lucian imagined him biting his knuckle. “I fibbed a bit. He’s really a fat Chinese pimp.”
Lucian knew a few of those. “I might know him.”
“Well, I said his name is hard to pronounce, but not for the reason you think. I’m too embarrassed to say it.”
That piqued Lucian’s curiosity. “Spell it.”
He sighed. “H-o- L-e-i- F-o-c-k.”
Laughter shot out of Lucian when he connected it. “Holy fuck!” he whispered.
“Lordy,” Steve hissed. “And given his profession, my guess is, it’s his trade name. I have nightmares of women being forced to suffer things with him. I can’t look at his meaty face without seeing that hairy vagina from those horrific toys we were forced to sell. Thank God that’s over with.”
“Yes, thank God. So that means you’ll do the job?”
“Yes,” he declared. “Absolutely!”
“Well, how about this. I would be honored and thrilled if you let me pay for you and your family to come up for the wedding and stay a week. We can fly you, the wife and… kid?”
“Son. James. He’s my light bearer, and he’s twelve.”
“Awesome. We’ll fly your wife—”
“Susan. Sorry, she’s my other light. My right hand.”
“Awesome. So, we’ll fly you guys up, they can stay a week after the wedding? Even put some spending money in her pocket.”
“Lucian, I can’t—”
“You can and you will, dude!” he cried, “Did you forget that Tara and I are millionaires? This is chump change!”
He gave a long sigh. “I will, you know I will. And I’ll work my butt off for you too. What am I doing again?”
“Oh, just… I really just need like a personal assistant with the farm. It’s a
ll new to me.”
“Not a problem. I happen to have thirty-four hours in business and economics. And I’m an abled body if the work gets physical. I know how to roll up my sleeves if you know what I mean.”
“I do know what you mean.” Lucian grinned at the night sky. “So, one more huge favor, man.”
“Anything, name it.”
“How soon can you come?”
“Well… how soon do you need me to?”
“Do you think it will be a problem if you come now and we fly your wife and son in, say… two days before the wedding? I need your help man, I have no idea how to get married and the folk here are… not to my understanding.”
“I get it, I do.” Steve had his 911 tone now. Remain calm no matter what exploded or who was dying. “People are my area of expertise. I know how to handle them.”
“I know this, I do. And cannot tell you how thrilled I am that you can do this. So can you be on a plane tomorrow evening?”
“I… can call you back in a few to let you know?”
“That works man. That works perfectly. And Tara and I cannot wait to meet your family!”
“Of cooourse,” he said, like that were a remembered bonus. “The feeling is mutual. I assure you.”
“I’ll be waiting for your call, I gotta go.”
“Tell Tara hello and keep your phone nearby.”
“In my pocket.”
“I shall speak to you in a few my friend.” Lucian imagined his weird, wide eyed look with that tone.
“Perfect, man.”
They hung up and Lucian ran in the house and upstairs to tell Tara the news. Steve was coming. Thank fuck.
****
“There it is.” Lucian pointed out the black rental van in the parking lot.
“Allow me!” Steve shot to it, looking like an inconspicuous penguin in a race. With exaggerated flair, he opened the door for Lucian and Tara, sweeping his arm toward the interior.
“Ohhh, thank you, Mr. Steeeeve!” Tara’s energetic performance brought a smile to Steve’s face that made you feel sorry for him.
It was Steve’s insistence that had them both in the back, no ifs, ands, or buts. “Love birds should remain joined at the hip during their final hours before the sacred union.” The silky words were followed with a tuck of his chin and his famous creepy grin and brow quirk. The infamous Steve characteristics once alarmed them until they learned they were harmless. Mostly. He was every bit the gentle and faithful driver as that dude driving Ms. Daisy.