Sweet Dreams

  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.”

  I didn’t hear a word he said. I was back at his earlier statement, therefore repeated, “What?”

  “Lauren?” I heard from behind me and I knew that voice. I knew it and I couldn’t believe it. It was so shocking to hear it, Tate’s throwaway comment, which was anything but throwaway to me, flew out of my head and my entire body froze as I stared into Tate’s eyes.

  He looked into mine, his brows knitted and he didn’t let my neck go nor move away as his eyes went over my shoulder. I saw them move down then up then he grinned huge, like something was tremendously funny before he whispered, “Fuck me,” and let me go.

  I turned woodenly and stared at my nemesis from Horizon Summit, the woman who pretended to be my best friend while she was fucking my husband, the dreaded Hayley.

  “Hayley?” I whispered and stared at her.

  She looked just as good as ever. What she didn’t look, in her designer jeans, complicated designer blouse, seven hundred dollar shoes and two hundred dollar haircut, was like she belonged in a biker bar.

  I, on the other hand, was wearing a Harley t-shirt that Deke brought back for me from Sturgis. It fit snug, was pale blush and super cool with Harley Davidson written in burgundy and silver on the front with a pair of wide silver and burgundy wings on the back. I was also wearing jeans (that were designer) and silver strappy sandals that didn’t cost seven hundred dollars, not even close, but they were hot. My hair was down, I’d just had it touched up by Dominic (at the same time I gently forced Sunny out of her house and into the salon so Dom could work his magic on Sunny too, and he did, and even she liked the result) and I’d let it dry somewhat wild because Tate liked it that way.

  Hayley looked like an upper, middleclass suburban housewife who had a personal trainer and a standing appointment for monthly visits to the salon.

  I looked like a biker babe.

  And she’d just seen me kissing the beautiful, badass Tatum Jackson. I knew it by the astonished, yet envious look on her face. A look that I suspected I sported the first time I saw him with Neeta.

  This was why I smiled.

  “Hayley, girl, what’re you doin’ here?” I asked, loud and friendly, didn’t wait for an answer and turned to Tate. “Honey, this is Hayley. You know, the woman who pretended to be my friend while she fucked my husband, Brad?”

  Tate, standing again with arms wide, fists to the bar, tried not to smile, failed when his lips twitched up and then he muttered in his rough, sexy voice, “Yeah, babe, I know who Hayley is.”

  I turned back to Hayley to see she was staring at Tate, her eyes wide, shocked and openly covetous, her lip
s were parted and her face pale.

  “Come on, I owe you a drink,” I announced, moving to her and shuffling her toward the bar as I saw Jim-Billy, Nadine, Steg and Wings all watching, all smiling and I helped Hayley onto a stool then I turned to Tate, “Honey, can you get Hayley a martini?”

  “No,” Tate replied.

  “Oh,” I said then turned to Hayley, “We don’t do sissy-ass drinks here. Will you drink vodka straight?”

  She blinked up at me then she blinked up at Tate, what she didn’t do was answer.

  “Maybe we’ll start you with a diet pop,” I suggested.

  “I… you…” she struggled then said, “why do you owe me a drink?”

  I leaned back, crossed my arms on my chest and grinned. “To thank you because you freed me from Brad.”

  “What?” she whispered.

  “You freed me from Brad so I could get out of that hellhole of a life and that cesspit that was Horizon Summit and find Carnal and Tate.” I uncrossed an arm and motioned to Tate, leaning forward and informing her conspiratorially, “He’s my old man.”

  “Your old man?” she asked.

  “Biker slang for he’s my um… man,” I explained. “We’re together.”

  Her eyes went back to Tate and she observed, “He isn’t much like Brad.”

  “Thank fuck,” Tate muttered and I swallowed a giggle.

  Then I asked, “Tate, honey, would you get Hayley here a diet and I’ll go serve those Buds.” I looked back at Hayley. “I have to serve a few beers. Be right back.”

  Tate popped the caps of three Buds, I rushed them to the customers, they paid, tipped big and then I rushed back to see that Tate had served Hayley a diet and was leaning with his hips against the back of the bar, arms crossed on his chest, watching me. I also saw that Jim-Billy, Nadine, Steg and Wings had moved down to stools closer to Hayley and she was eyeing them and Tate uncertainly.

  I slid on a stool beside her and asked, “So, what’re you doing here?”

  She looked at me. “I… erm…”

  “Yeah?” I prompted.

  “I heard Brad’s here,” she answered quickly. “Hasn’t he been in?”

  At her words, Tate pushed away from the back of the bar and got close, saying in an unhappy growl, “You are fuckin’ shittin’ me.”

  Hayley swallowed as she stared up at Tate then she looked at Jim-Billy, Nadine, Steg and Wings then her head turned so swiftly to me I was certain she had to have wrenched her neck.

  “They say he’s in town. He wants you back. So much, he won’t take me back,” she said quietly, like this was unfathomable, like someone was trying to convince her the sky was fuchsia.

  “Take you back?” I asked.

  “Nathan left me,” she whispered.

  “Went back to his wife you mean,” I suggested and she swallowed again which I decided to take as an affirmative.

  “Ace,” Tate called and I looked at him. “Tell this one,” he jerked his head to Hayley, “to call that fuckwad and tell him, he doesn’t want to know what assault actually is, I don’t see his ass in my bar.”

  I nodded, looked at Hayley and advised soberly, “You should do that, call Brad.”

  Hayley’s eyes were wide. “You mean he’d assault Brad?”

  “Probably,” I replied. “Actually, I’m not sure but I wouldn’t test him.”

  She stared up at Tate then nodded and opened her purse.

  “You…” she muttered as she dug through her purse. “You…” She pulled out her phone and then looked at me, her phone in her hand, her eyes moved to my lap and back up. “You fell apart when Brad left.”

  “Tate put me back together.” I leaned into an elbow on the bar and looked at Tate. “Didn’t you, baby?”

  I could tell with just a glance Tate wasn’t having near as much fun as me.

  I knew this for certain when he ordered, “Get her to call him.”

  “All right, Captain, calm down,” I muttered and then to Hayley I said, “You better hurry up and call him.”

  “Hayley?” I heard Brad call, my eyes went beyond her as she twisted on her stool to look and we saw Brad in another golf shirt, a pair of chinos and his eyes were glued to Hayley. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

  “Out,” Tate growled and Brad’s eyes flicked to him but he still walked to Hayley and me.

  “I asked, what the fuck are you doing here?” he asked Hayley.

  She stared up at him, her fear gone, her face getting hard and she stated, “You said you wanted her back and I couldn’t believe it. I heard you were on your way up here and I had to come see for myself and I still don’t believe it.” She leaned forward and finished with, “You can’t honestly want her. She’s a waitress!”

  Well, there you go. Nothing had changed with Hayley.

  “And you can’t honestly believe you could fuck around on me and think I’d want you,” Brad shot back.

  Hmm. It appeared something had changed with Brad.

  I settled back to watch the show as Hayley crossed her arms on her chest and snapped, “You told me you loved me and always would.”

  I leaned in and shared, “He said that to me too.”

  Jim-Billy guffawed. Brad glared at Jim-Billy. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Tate move and I turned to him.

  “Don’t, honey, please?” I asked. “This is fun.”

  Tate stopped moving, stared at me a second, his eyes roaming my face, then he muttered, “You get five minutes of fun, Ace, then you get both their asses out of here.”

  Hayley was focused, Tate and my exchange was lost on her, she got up from her stool and repeated to Brad, “You told me you loved me and always would.”

  Brad ignored Hayley and looked at me, he did a top to toe and back again then his gaze moved to Tate.

  “I’m here to tell you I’m suing you,” he announced.

  Jim-Billy, Nadine, Steg, Wing and my eyes moved to Tate.

  Tate stared at Brad then he said, “Come again?”

  “I’m suing you,” Brad repeated.

  “For what?” Tate asked.

  “Alienation of affection,” Brad answered.

  Without hesitation, Tate threw his head back and burst out laughing.

  Then he looked at me and remarked, “You’re right, babe, this is fun.”

  Ignoring Tate’s comment, Brad declared, “You stole my wife.”

  Tate looked back at Brad. “Yeah, bud, I did.”

  Brad pointed at Tate and his voice was raised when he proclaimed, “See? You admit it.” He threw his arm out. “I have witnesses.”

  “Not that any judge’ll hear your case, seein’ as Lauren divorced your ass before I alienated her affection, but you manage it, I’ll pay the fine. In the meantime, I’ll keep alienating her affection. You should know, and feel free to share it with your lawyers,” Tate continued magnanimously, “schedule’s comin’ out mornin’ and night. Usually, in the mornin’, she sucks me off or I make her come in the shower. Night, man… shit, that’s even better. Definitely worth the fine.”

  I rolled my eyes (mostly in an effort to ignore the fact that Jim-Billy, Nadine, Steg and Wings were all grinning at me, the men somewhat lasciviously, Nadine just happily) but Brad glowered at Tate then his eyes moved to me.

  “Honest, Ree? Is that filth what you like?”

  “Oh yeah,” I muttered the God’s honest truth and heard Nadine, Steg and Wings all chuckle but Jim-Billy guffawed.

  Brad glared at me then looked at Tate. “I’m moving to have the divorce declared null and void.”

  I felt my body tense, unsure if this was even possible and hoping to God it wasn’t but Tate didn’t seem concerned.

  I knew this when he replied, “Good luck with that.”

  “Ree didn’t want the divorce until she came up here and met you,” Brad went on.

  “Maybe not but you should know before you drop a shitload of cake on this crap, she’s glad she’s got it now,” Tate returned.

  “You’ve
brainwashed her,” Brad shot back, Jim-Billy guffawed again, I stared at Brad in stupefied disbelief at the mind-boggling extent of his conceit and he continued. “I get her away from you, we’ll find our way back, she said so.”

  “Yeah, that was before. Since…” Tate paused, leaned in, fists again wide to his sides and in the bar. “Since, she’s tasted the good life and she knows you’ll never give her that.”

  Brad’s lip curled up, he looked around the bar, back at Tate and sneered, “This is the good life?”

  “Part of it,” Tate replied instantly, taking his fists from the bar, leaning into his forearms and asking softly, in a tone meant both to challenge and provoke, “She ever ignite, lose so much control she’d attack you? Climb on top and fuck you so hard she can’t breathe?”

  I watched Brad suffer that blow because I hadn’t, not even close. We’d had good sex but not that good and Brad was extremely proud of his sexual prowess. He was convinced he was the best. And he knew, with Tate’s words, he was wrong.

  “Jesus, you’re disgusting,” Brad muttered, calling up revulsion to save face.

  “She does that to me,” Tate continued.

  “Fuck off,” Brad snapped.

  “All the fuckin’ time,” Tate pushed.

  “Fuck off,” Brad repeated.

  “It’s fuckin’ magnificent,” Tate declared.

  “Thanks, honey,” I whispered and grinned at him when his eyes came to me.

  I was actually expressing gratitude, although embarrassed by his conversation, but I was also kind of joking to get in Brad’s face.

  Tate wasn’t. His expression was serious when he said, “You are, Ace. Fuckin’ magnificent.”

  He meant that and he meant it about more than me fucking him so hard I couldn’t breathe. And this meant so much to me, I stopped breathing as I looked into his dark, tawny-flecked eyes.

  “I suggest you find an attorney,” Brad butted into our mostly nonverbal exchange.

  Tate’s dark, tawny-flecked eyes cut back to him. “Got one, bud. You’re stupid enough to bring it, bring it.”

  Brad looked at me but insulted Tate, “Jesus, Ree, he can’t even speak proper English.”