Sweet Dreams

  Okay, I had to admit I’d heard that before, not only from Carrie but from Dad and Mom.

  Still, I said, “Carrie –”

  “Talk to him,” she whispered as we heard the men approach. “Give him a chance to set the story straight.”

  “Right,” I whispered back because the men were almost there, we needed to stop talking and because she was right, she usually was. She was my baby sister and I knew I should be the smart and responsible one but I never was. I was always a good girl and I was always a nice person but I wasn’t always smart and responsible. That had always been Caroline’s role.

  She got to within an inch of my face. “And listen,” she finished.

  “Right,” I repeated still whispering.

  “This doesn’t look good,” Mack remarked from close and Carrie moved back so we saw them both standing four feet from the hammock. Mack had his arms crossed on his chest. Tate had his hands resting on his hips. Mack’s eyes were assessing and they were on Carrie. Tate’s face was carefully blank and his eyes were on me.

  Carrie ignored Mack’s comment and asked, “You guys want grape Kool-Aid?”

  “Jesus, is that what you’re drinking?” Mack asked.

  “Yes,” Caroline answered.

  “Little kids drink that,” Mack noted.

  “Laurie and me are always kids when we’re home,” Carrie replied. “You know that.”

  “God’s honest truth,” Mack muttered in a way that stated plainly this was not a good thing as he shook his head while glancing at Tate then he looked back at Carrie.

  “You have a grape Kool-Aid mustache,” he told Carrie and Carrie swiped the back of her wrist along her mouth at the same time she cried, “I do not!”

  And she didn’t, Mack was just teasing which was why he grinned.

  She stuck her purple tongue out at him and looked at Tate. “You want a Coke?”

  “Yeah,” Tate replied.

  “I’ll have a Coke too,” Mack put in as Carrie and I swung the hammock back so she could get out.

  “You can get it yourself,” she muttered as she rolled out of the hammock to her feet. Then she rounded the hammock, jumped up on the patio and headed toward the door.

  “I see the Grahame sisters have matching attitude,” Tate murmured to Mack and my eyes narrowed on him but Mack chuckled.

  “It’s in the genes. Jeannie’s shell-shocked ‘cause Gavin’s in ICU. Just wait until he’s fit. He’ll be fakin’ a heart attack to get some rest from the drama,” Mack returned.

  “Mack!” I snapped. “Mom’s sweet as pie.”

  “Yeah, to you. You got balls, she’ll bust ‘em,” Mack retorted and my eyes cut to Tate firstly because he’d accused me of busting his balls and secondly because he’d burst out laughing.

  “Shit man, you’re gonna catch it,” Mack warned a still chuckling Tate as he watched me glare at the still chuckling Tate. “I’m gonna get a Coke.”

  Then Mack walked to the patio, jumped up on it and headed to the house.

  Tate walked to me and then smoothly entered the hammock to lie at my side like he slept in one nightly since he could walk.

  Regardless of the fact that I was in no danger of spillage, I snapped, “Watch my Kool-Aid!”

  “Babe,” was his reply.

  I glared at him.

  He reached across his abs, wrapped an arm around my waist and curled me so I was on my side and resting the length of him. He also did this without endangering my Kool-Aid.

  I decided to ignore him and take a sip.

  Tate watched me doing this and remarked, “You grew up in heaven.”

  I swallowed, dropped my tumbler hand to rest on his chest, glanced at him, lifted up and looked. I saw sun dazzling lights on the pond; the long, green front yard Dad kept neat and trimmed; the lush, dense trees at the foot; the farmland beyond that; and Mom’s tidy, flourishing garden on the opposite side of the pond where she planted strawberries, potatoes, tomatoes, regular corn and popcorn every year.

  I looked back at Tate and whispered, “Yeah.”

  “The first time I met you, you told me you grew up here, I’d call you a liar,” Tate informed me.

  I tipped my head to the side and asked, “Really?”

  “Really.”

  “Why?”

  “High-class,” he replied.

  “Sorry?”

  “You looked high-class,” he semi-repeated.

  “I’m not,” I stated.

  “No, Ace, you’re not. You’re a different kind of class.”

  “Farmer class.”

  “Pure class.”

  That was so nice, and so unexpected, before I could stop myself, I melted into him, my face getting closer to his.

  “Tate,” I whispered.

  His hand slid from my waist partly up my back.

  “You get grape Kool-Aid on my tee, babe, it’s gonna piss me off,” he lied and I knew it was a lie from the look on his face which was sweet and soft and more handsome than he ever looked.

  “I’m not going to get Kool-Aid on your tee,” I returned quietly.

  He rolled into me and I had no choice but to lift the tumbler and hold it behind his back.

  “Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad,” he said, his face in my neck, his beard tickling my throat. “You could lick it off.”

  “Captain, we can’t fool around in the hammock at the front of my Mom and Dad’s house with Mack and Carrie in the house,” I informed him as his lips and beard slid up the underside of my chin.

  When they reached my mouth, he whispered, “Yeah, sucks.”

  He was not wrong.

  Suddenly his head came up and he looked over his shoulder.

  I looked too, in time to see a police cruiser followed closely by a silver sedan coming around the bend and up my parent’s curving, gravel lane.

  “What the fuck?” Tate murmured then I knew he saw what I saw and that was Brad driving the silver sedan. I knew this because he bit out a repeated, “What the fuck?”

  Before I knew it we were both rolling out of the hammock and, with Tate firmly guiding our actions, I had a task of keeping my grape Kool-Aid safe. Tate grabbed my hand and dragged me around the tree and we both jumped up the two foot high side of the patio. Caroline and Mack came out of the house, Carrie still holding her tumbler, Mack had two cans of Coke in his hands. They both looked at Tate and me then they looked to the side of the house where the cruiser and the sedan were parking. We all met up and walked toward the side together but stopped when a uniformed policeman entered view and on his heels Brad followed.

  Wonderful. Brad.

  Again.

  The policeman’s eyes scanned us all but they jerked back to Tate, got wide, he stutter stepped and then halted, staring bug-eyed at Tate like he would stare at a movie star he just happened to bump into on a farm in middle Indiana.

  “You’re Tatum Jackson,” he whispered and I stared at him then swung my head to look at Tate thinking he must be a really good bounty hunter if a policeman four states away knew who he was.

  “I know you?” Tate asked.

  “Tatum…” Mack started, trailing off and my eyes moved to him to see he was looking at Tate like he hadn’t seen him before. “Shit,” Mack muttered, “I knew there was something familiar…” he trailed off again as Brad spoke up.

  “Yes, that’s him!” he was pointing at Tate. “That’s the man who assaulted me in the Marriott!”

  My head twisted around and it did it fast so I could glare at Brad.

  “He did not assault you!” I snapped.

  “He put his hands on me,” Brad leaned forward, “twice!”

  I leaned forward too. “That’s because you forced your way into our room and put your hands on me and wouldn’t let me go even though I asked a million times!” I looked to the policeman and informed him, “And Tate didn’t put his hands on Brad. He only needed to use one hand.”

  Caroline emitted a strangled giggle and Tate used one finger on one hand to h
ook one of my belt loops and pull me into his side.

  I felt his lips at my ear when he ordered softly, “Quiet, Ace.”

  The policeman was still staring at Tate.

  Then he spoke. “Dude, when I was a kid, me and my Dad, shit, we were your biggest fans.”

  Tate’s lips left my ear as he straightened and asked, “Come again?”

  “My Dad’s Penn State alumni and he still says you were the best linebacker in the history of collegiate football,” the policeman stated. “He was so devastated he didn’t talk for a week when you blew out your knee that second game in for the Eagles.” He shook his head. “Seriously. That sucked, man.”

  I felt my body go still.

  “What’s this?” Caroline asked the question in my head.

  “Holy fuck, Jesus, shit, you’re Tatum Jackson,” Mack whispered, definitely now looking at Tate like he’d never seen him before.

  “What’s this about?” Brad clipped. “Why aren’t you taking him to the station or something?”

  “Can I have your autograph?” the policeman asked Tate.

  “What?” I whispered.

  “What?” Brad shouted.

  “No,” Tate said.

  “It’s not for me, it’s for my Dad,” the policeman continued.

  Brad threw up his hands. “This is ridiculous!”

  Tate ignored Brad and spoke to the policeman. “Your Dad live in town?”

  “Yeah,” the policeman answered.

  “We’re havin’ lunch at The Station. Call him, tell him to come by, we’ll have a beer,” Tate offered.

  “That would be awesome,” the policeman breathed then said louder, “Dad’ll freakin’ flip!”

  “Excuse me, would you mind if we talk about the assault charge?” Brad asked sarcastically and the policeman’s body jerked and he looked at Brad.

  Then he looked at me. “You Jackson’s woman?”

  “Um…” I mumbled, uncertain of the appropriate response to that query.

  “Yes,” Tate answered, not sounding uncertain in the slightest.

  “You married to this guy?” the policeman jerked a thumb at Brad.

  “They’re divorced,” Tate shared.

  The policeman looked at Brad. “Statement said she was your wife.”

  “Ex-wife, same thing,” Brad muttered.

  “No,” Tate’s rough voice put in and Brad scowled at him, “it ain’t.”

  “She says you forced entry into her and Jackson’s room, you do that?” the policeman asked Brad.

  “She let me in,” Brad replied.

  “I did not!” I snapped. “I thought it was Tate back from running and he forgot his keycard so I opened the door. You just came right on in, I didn’t invite you and you’d surprised me considering at the hospital the day before I told you to go away. Not to mention I could not believe you were at my hotel room door at six thirty in the morning, knowing Tate was running because you saw him and you were taking advantage because he was gone.”

  I felt that scary energy start to emanate from Tate but before I could react or even process the even scarier look I saw Tate directing at Brad, Caroline spoke.

  “She did say that, at the hospital,” Carrie backed me up and then helpfully shared more information. “Dad had a heart attack and Brad just showed. We all tried to get rid of him seeing as he cheated on Lauren with her best friend then divorced her now he wants her back but she doesn’t want him back because she’s got a bounty hunter hot guy and Brad’s a dick, he just wouldn’t go.”

  The policeman looked at Tate with wide eyes. “You’re a bounty hunter now?”

  Tate didn’t get to reply because something occurred to me and I spoke to Brad.

  “How did you know about Dad?” I asked and Brad started to look uncomfortable. “Brad,” I prompted.

  “Tina heard from somewhere and she called me,” Brad told me.

  “Tina?” I asked softly knowing he meant Tina Blackstone, a woman I grew up with in that ‘burg. She was a girl I didn’t like and she grew up to be a woman I didn’t like. She had her eyes on Brad from the minute I brought him to town on a visit and we’d bumped into her at a party. Then again, she always had her eyes on every guy she encountered if they were good-looking. Brad struck up a friendship with her that he said was totally innocent but it always made me uncomfortable. I had no idea they still talked. We’d been out of Indiana for years. Why would he stay in contact with Tina?

  “Tina?” the policeman asked Brad. “You mean Tina Blackstone?”

  Brad’s back went straight and he looked at the policeman. “Yes, she’s a friend.”

  “I bet,” the policeman muttered, obviously knowing all about Tina Blackstone and I knew then too.

  Tina wasn’t just a friend and my ex wasn’t just a dick, he was a screaming asshole dick.

  Tate brought the matter back to hand by asking the cop, “He tell you he was accosting Lauren in our room?”

  “Nope, didn’t mention that,” the policeman replied.

  “I was hardly accosting her,” Brad spat.

  “Heard her shoutin’ in the hall,” Tate returned. “Got into the room and you had your hands on her, she was strugglin’ and shoutin’ for you to let her go. If that ain’t accostin’, what is it?”

  “We were talking,” Brad declared.

  “Bud, a woman’s strugglin’ in your arms and shouting ‘fuck you’, that ain’t talkin’,” Tate educated.

  Brad gave up on Tate and looked at the cop. “He still put his hands on me, shoved me out of the room.”

  “He strike you?” the cop asked.

  “Not exactly,” Brad answered.

  “Did he strike you?” the cop repeated.

  “No,” Brad snapped.

  “You get injured?” the policeman went on.

  “No, but that doesn’t matter! He –”

  “When I was a cop,” Tate cut in, “we frowned on folks givin’ false statements. Now that was in Colorado.” Tate crossed his arms on his chest and leveled his eyes on the cop. “You might do things different here in Indiana.”

  The policeman looked at Tate. “You were a cop?”

  “Jesus!” Brad shouted. “Stop acting like he’s some kind of God! This is a serious situation! I was assaulted!”

  The cop turned to Brad and he must have looked at him in a particular way because Brad clamped his mouth shut. Then the cop turned to me.

  “You wanna make a deal outta him harassin’ you?” he asked.

  “This is insane!” Brad cried.

  “No, I just want him to go away,” I said to the cop.

  “I can do that,” the cop replied and turned to Brad.

  “Are you serious?” Brad asked the cop.

  “Deadly,” the cop replied. “Jackson’s right. I’m a cop in a small town but I got things to do. The IMPD got things to do. We don’t got time to run around doin’ errands for some guy who got his pride stung.”

  “I –” Brad started but the cop leaned in.

  “You’d be advised to keep your trap shut,” the policeman interrupted him. “They make a big deal outta this,” he jerked a thumb at Tate and me, “trust me, way it sounds, you’re not gonna come out on top.”

  Brad glared at the policeman then he glared at Tate. His angry eyes swept through Caroline, Mack, back to the policeman and then rested on me.

  “You said we could work it out,” he accused.

  “Yeah, Brad, I said that over a year ago,” I reminded him.

  “Bud, move on,” Tate advised. “And clue in, Laurie already has. You’re history.”

  “Piss off,” Brad hissed.

  Tate sighed.

  Brad looked back to me and his eyes were squinty. “Be warned, Lauren, after this, you want back, you’ll have to work hard for me to take you.”

  “Seriously?” Tate muttered.

  “Jeez Brad!” Carrie cried, “How far up your own butt are you? Look at her! Look at him!” She motioned to Tate and me with her arm. “You d
on’t stand a chance. She’s so far out of your league she can’t even see you,” she turned to me, “and, Big Sister, you always were.”

  “I’m uncertain why you’re even talking,” Brad snapped at Caroline. “You always had a mouth on you and it was always a mouth I did not like.”

  “Would I get arrested, say, if I assaulted him now, right in front of you?” Mack asked the cop but his eyes were on Brad.

  “Probably,” the policeman answered.

  “Probably?” Brad shouted.

  “That’s too bad,” Mack murmured.

  Tate chuckled and Brad turned squinty eyes to him.

  “This isn’t over Jackson,” he warned.

  Tate stopped chuckling and informed Brad in a dangerous voice, “Friendly head’s up, I don’t respond well to threats.”

  “All right,” the policeman got between the two of them, “let’s not make this into a situation where I gotta do paperwork.” He turned to Brad. “Best you go.”

  Brad skewered us all with a look, declaring, “You haven’t seen the last of me.”

  “Might be wrong but that sounded like another threat,” Tate noted.

  “Fuck you!” Brad shouted and Tate looked down at me.

  “He always need the last word?”

  I considered this, realized it was true as I realized it always kind of annoyed me and nodded.

  Tate grinned. “I get you naked in my bed and in the shower, he gets the last word,” Tate’s eyes sliced to Brad, “works for me.”

  Brad lunged. “You son of a –”

  Tate’s finger, still in my belt loop, pulled me back, he stepped in front of me and the cop stepped in front of Brad, put a hand flat on his chest and cautiously pushed back.

  “You don’t wanna do that,” the policeman warned.

  Brad glared at Tate then he looked at me.

  “Mistake, Ree,” he put a hand up, palm out in my direction, “big fucking mistake.”

  Then he turned and stormed off the patio.