He chuckled. “No, they’re professionals—most of the time.”
Throat tight with gratitude, she whispered, “I’d really appreciate that.”
Braydon made some calls, as Hunter required some of her time. They ordered takeout for dinner and then did a puzzle together.
After the bedtime routine that Braydon waited patiently throughout, the house was quiet and she collapsed on the couch, resenting her lack of energy. She didn’t want him to go, but she also really wanted her bed.
“I have some wine in my trunk. Want me to bring it in?”
“You can if you want some. If I have wine I’ll probably fall asleep.”
“Do you want me to go?”
There it was, that grip of reality on her heart, tightening and twisting. She wanted nothing more than for him to stay, but it had been such a draining day she wasn’t going to be much fun. “I don’t want you to leave.”
He turned, assessing her. “Sleepover?”
The debate in her head lasted only a second. Why not just invite him? “Would you want to?”
“Let me think. Yes.” His answer was so fast it made her laugh. “I have a bag in my car.”
“Look at you, Mr. Optimistic.”
He kissed her cheek. “I missed you. I knew once I had you I wouldn’t want to leave.”
Her fingers pulled on one of his golden waves. “Haven’t had me yet.”
“Is that an invitation?”
“Maybe.”
“I’ll get my bag.”
* * * *
Climbing into bed, Braydon placed a condom on the nightstand and pulled Becca close. She’d showered, and her skin smelled of flowers and soft girlie soap. His lips pressed into her shoulder and she hummed pleasantly. “What are you in the mood for? And you better not say sleep,” he teased.
She giggled and turned. “Thank you.”
“For?”
“Today. You handled everything perfectly. Not many people do.”
Her praise was a tremendous relief. He’d been a nervous wreck about meeting Hunter, because he really liked this woman and her son meant the world to her. He wanted Hunter to like him. “Thank you for letting me meet him. I like getting to know this side of you.”
Leaning in, he kissed her lips softly, parting them with gentle nips. After seeing what an average day in the world of Becca was like, he found even greater empathy for her day-to-day trials and wanted to do something nice for her.
Kissing a trail along her belly, he drew down her panties. Her legs scissored slowly against each other as he nibbled her thigh. When his mouth found her center, he licked and kissed until she was moaning softly. His fingers parted her folds and she arched into his touch. He loved the sight of her there, so pretty, pink and delicate.
“You’re so beautiful.”
He teased her center and she opened like a flower. For some reason he didn’t want to go fast. Taking it slow, he brought her to climax, her voice low and weighted with desire. He reached for the condom.
“That’s my job,” she whispered, her face flushed with a soft rosy glow.
He handed it to her and she carefully slid the latex on. Easing her back down, he crawled over her and looked in her eyes. For unknown reasons, he tried to summon visions of past lovers in that split second, but came up short. All he could see was Becca, an angel beneath him.
Pressing into her, his body rocked with need and something much more potent. Something was happening here, something he didn’t think either of them was prepared to handle. They took their time, savoring each slow thrust, her hands holding him close while he was buried deep inside of her.
His eyes studied her through the shadows and he tried to catalogue the moment, wondering why it felt so different from all the other times. Then it occurred to him. This was making love in its finest form.
The sudden thought left him staggered. He’d never been in love and wasn’t clear on how to recognize the sentiment. Signs of authenticity were unspecified to him, yet he wanted to define it then and there.
“Are you okay?”
Blinking down at her, he shook off the unfamiliar thoughts and emotions. “Yeah, sorry.”
Jarred by the overwhelming sense of love, his release broke free and he shook with need. Kissing her deeply, she moaned and held him tight. Unforeseen fears pushed his passion. This was his woman. A territorial need barreled through him to claim her, all of her, and never let go.
“Wow,” she whispered. “That was intense.”
Relieved she experienced the intensity too, he nestled into her shoulder. The idea of pulling away from her was so repugnant he stayed there a while longer. He needed to get a hold of himself. Her one rule was no I love yous. And what if it really wasn’t love?
* * * *
As the bathroom door closed, Becca turned to her side and bit her knuckles. What just happened? She saw it, the moment Braydon’s mind clicked. A second later, she felt it. Never in her life had she experienced such a poignant connection while making love.
Worry had her biting her lip. She was definitely falling for him. Oh, who was she kidding? She’d fallen. Her heart raced as she worried how this would change things.
Her mind clouded with rising misgivings. Depending on others was dangerous. If she became conditioned to expect Braydon’s presence, she’d be left weaker for it when on her own again. No matter how she came to care for him, the fear of eventual failure never subsided.
The bathroom door clicked open and she shut her eyes, pretending she was asleep as his body curled around hers under the covers. What if she was imagining things and he didn’t feel it? What if he was simply that nice of a guy and she was misinterpreting everything? She was so jaded and he was so idealistic. It wouldn’t be difficult to garner the wrong impression from such a nice guy.
Her mind went in circles until she’d truly exhausted herself and fell asleep.
Morning came all too soon. Slipping out of bed, she tiptoed downstairs to start on breakfast. It wasn’t long before she heard Hunter up and moving.
Placing her mug of coffee on the counter, she went to say good morning. As she worked through their morning routine of brushing and dressing, she thought she heard the shower running in the other bathroom. Her nervousness was back, and she wondered how Hunter would react to Braydon still in their home.
“Okay, bud, let’s head downstairs for breakfast.”
Leading Hunter down to the kitchen took several minutes. They moved his chart and he marched around the house as she started the French toast.
“Truck! Mom, truck!”
“What?” Placing the last slice onto a plate, she turned to see what Hunter was shouting about.
“Truck. Truck in the yard.”
Frowning, she went to the window. There certainly was a truck in their driveway. It was large and muddy and she had no idea what it was doing there. A horn beeped and she quickly directed Hunter to the den. “You can listen to three songs.”
“I wanna go outside and see the truck,” he argued.
The doorbell rang and she unraveled the earbuds from the iPod. “I don’t know who those people are. Stay here.”
“No!” He pushed off the sofa and Becca gave up on trying to get him to stay inside. She was still in her pajamas and without a bra.
Taking Hunter by his arm, she guided him to the door. “Okay, come with me.” As she unlocked the door, holding Hunter tight, all words left her head.
“Hi. Are you Becca?”
There were two of them, two shockingly handsome—identical—men standing on her porch. Hunter darted for the yard and jerked her arm in its socket. Her grip remained tight as she pulled him back.
“Y-yes. Can I help you?”
“We heard you need a tree removed. Is it that one there?”
They had to be twins. “Um…” Hunter writhed to get outside. Pressing his arms to his chest she struggled to restrain him. “Yes. Who are you?”
“I’m Luke and this’s Finn.” The gu
y glanced at Braydon’s car in the driveway. “Is Bray here?”
“Oh, you’re the people Braydon called. I didn’t expect you so soon.” Hunter started to really jostle her around. “I’m sorry. Would you mind holding on for a second while I situate my son?” The men smiled as Hunter shouted about wanting to see the truck. “I’ll go find Braydon.”
Shutting the door and locking it, she turned Hunter just as his hand swung out and caught her on the cheek. Stinging tears rushed to her eyes. “Enough,” she said sternly. “You hurt Mommy.”
Issuing a scream that had her flinching away, she waited, never releasing her hold on his arms. Braydon came barreling down the stairs in a panic.
“Becca?”
Not having time to answer, she looked at Hunter. “Say sorry.”
Hunter screamed again and Braydon took a halting step forward. When her grip slipped, Hunter shoved her. She dropped from where she squatted to the floor, taking her son as much onto her lap as possible. Her arms contained him in a tight basket hold and he started to shriek, attempting to smack her. She rocked back and forth trying to sooth him. “If you quiet down I’ll take you outside to see the truck, but not until you calm down.”
She couldn’t see Braydon from where she was sitting, but she imagined he was terrified. Hunter screamed again, this time punching himself in the head.
“Hey! No hitting.” Her son was fast and strong, making it difficult to keep hold of him. She only restrained him when there was a chance of injury, but he hated being touched and that made episodes like this all the more difficult. His legs kicked the floor hard and she twisted like a pretzel, wrapping her own limbs around his, while trying to protect herself as well.
Her strength waned the longer he fought. His arm slipped past her hold and punched into her leg as he screeched and suddenly a large fist closed over her son’s smaller, flailing hand. “Hunter.”
Glancing up at Braydon who kneeled beside them, her son froze. Braydon looked nervous, but his focus remained on her son. Using a soft voice, he said, “I saw her today…”
Hunter tensed, every muscle in his body flexing tight, but Braydon held onto his fist, not with force, but with definite control.
“Help me out, buddy. A glass of wine…”
“Hand,” Hunter shouted.
Braydon glanced at her, his expression pleading for the next verse. Becca panted out the next lyric.
Hunter thrust his body forward on the floor then screeched out the next verse.
Braydon met her gaze and smiled, nodding. Together they whispered the chorus about not always getting what you want.
Hunter moaned and Becca released her hold. Braydon dropped further to the ground as her son stomped toward the piano but didn’t settle. His body rocked as he hummed the chorus and shouted, “Get what’chya need!”
Becca caught her breath and as much as she should be admiring the sudden transformation in her son, she couldn’t take her eyes off Braydon. He was watching her too, his eyes tense with concern. His hand lifted slowly, the back of his fingers grazing the sore part of her cheek Hunter had hit.
Her vision blurred at the awkward sense of exposure and she lowered her gaze.
“You okay?”
She nodded. If not for him, she’d still be restraining her son. “Your friends are here for the tree. I think that triggered him. He got excited about the truck.”
“Oh, Becca.” He looked away and slowly shook his head.
She didn’t want him to feel guilty for helping her. “It’s okay.”
“I’m sorry. I should’ve given you a heads up they were coming first thing. I didn’t expect them this early.”
“You’re doing me a favor, please don’t apologize. Who do I make the check out to?”
“Don’t worry about it.”
She met his stare. “Are they just doing a quote today?”
“No, they’ll take care of it.”
“Well, how are they going to get paid?”
“You can try to pay them. They won’t take it.” He stood and held out a hand to help her off the floor. Hunter rocked and pounded a few notes on the piano each time he passed the keys.
Braydon stood and carefully helped her off the floor. “Come on, let me introduce you.” He glanced back at Hunter. “Did he want to see the truck?”
“Yeah.”
Braydon stepped close, but didn’t touch. “Hunter, are you ready to see the truck?”
He stilled and flicked the side of his face. There was no eye contact and his motions were jerky, but that was typical behavior after a tantrum.
Becca stepped forward, snapping out of her trance. “Hunter, do you want to go outside and see the truck?”
His arms flapped. “I want to see the truck.”
“Can you say sorry first?”
His personal struggle was evident as he paced. Falling back on his signs, he rubbed his chest and mumbled an apology. She accepted the sign for sorry and gently touched his shoulder before placing her hand on his arm. “Let’s go see the truck.”
After pulling on a jacket for the sake of the neighbors, they made it to the driveway. The men were inspecting the tree, and Braydon talked to them as Becca took Hunter to the truck. It was large and orange, and had a high reach on the top and a chipper attached to the back. Her son was utterly fascinated by its presence dominating their yard.
“Becca?”
She turned as Hunter inspected the handles on the side. Braydon waited a few steps away with the men. She smiled nervously, knowing the men probably weren’t expecting such a demonstration that morning.
“These are my brothers, Finn and Luke. Guys, this’s Becca and her son, Hunter.”
Oh my God, they’re his brothers!
One man held his hand out. “Pleasure to meet you, Becca. I’m Finn.”
She shook his hand, her palms sweating, and glanced at Braydon. “Brothers?”
“Two of them.”
Her grin quavered. “You’re the twins.”
Luke shook her hand as well. Recalling her disheveled appearance, she fidgeted. Lovely. This was his family’s first impression of her.
“I didn’t realize. You’ll have to excuse my appearance. Can I get you some coffee or…” She wasn’t prepared for this. Perhaps this was one of Braydon’s faults—spontaneity.
“Why don’t you get dressed, and I’ll show Hunter the inside of the truck?”
Her mouth opened, ready to object. Overbearing didn’t accurately describe her parenting. She was a jumble of protectiveness and reluctance for a reason. “I don’t know if that’s such a good—”
Before she could finish her objection Braydon stepped close and kissed her temple, whispering, “You can trust me, angel. I’ll keep an eye on him. I promise.”
Control wasn’t surrendered easily. Glancing to his brothers, she nervously shook her head. “He runs—”
“So does Finn. Trust me, we can keep him safe for a few minutes. Go get dressed and we’ll be fine.”
They did look like a capable threesome. Feeling a little outnumbered and chastising herself for being her usual overbearing self, she grudgingly forced herself to bend a little. “O—okay.”
With a sense of empty handedness, she returned to the house. When she made it to her bedroom, she glanced out the window. Braydon and his brothers surrounded Hunter, each one smiling as Hunter pointed out various parts of the truck. Luke climbed into the driver seat and Braydon held Hunter’s shoulder as the high reach extended. They grinned with her son as his excitement tumbled into laughter.
Her hand pressed into her chest as the pinching over her heart tightened. She was an emotional mess.
Quickly slipping on clean clothes and sneakers, she brushed her teeth and pulled up her hair. When she returned to the front yard the men were all cheering as Hunter yelled into a walkie talkie.
Becca came to Braydon’s side. “Who’s he talking to?”
Braydon chuckled. “My dad.”
“All the way
in Center County?”
He nodded then shouted. “Tell him we’re gonna take down this tree, Hunter.”
Hunter laughed and shouted into the hand held device, “We’re gonna take down this tree!”
A scratchy voice came over the speaker, “Ten Four.”
Luke gave Hunter a hand climbing out of the truck. Hunter immediately ran to her side and informed her he used the walkie talkie and was inside the truck. “He said Ten Four, Mom! Ten Four!”
“I heard! How about we go inside and have breakfast then you can watch Luke and Finn cut down the tree from the window?”
It seemed the tree was the perfect motivation. Luke and Finn followed them inside and Becca apologized for the mess. She served up the French toast as they talked. There was always a touch of insincerity whenever new people came into her home. There was no way of telling if the people that didn’t outwardly comment on their situation were simply polite, or judging them in their heads or, rarest of all, not really bothered by the differences.
She jumped when Braydon approached her at the sink after breakfast.
“Skittish this morning?”
“You snuck up on me.”
“I came to give you a kiss.” His lips pressed into her neck. “Hunter’s waiting at the window, so the guys are gonna get started.”
“Shouldn’t there be more help? Are two guys enough to remove a tree like that?”
A smile, full of cockiness, spread over his face. “We’re McCulloughs, Becca. We’re used to handling big things.”
She smacked him with the towel. “Cocky.”
“Exactly.”
Of course he was right. Two McCulloughs were plenty to handle the tree. Hunter wasn’t the only one fascinated by the removal. They all gawked as Luke and Finn climbed the limbs with saws and chopped it into nothing. The most exhilarating part came when the trunk went down.
A bit of sadness came with the new, open view in her front yard, but something about the day’s events lightened the burden of having to say goodbye to the tree that had been there since she bought the house.
When they finished there was nothing but sawdust where the stump had been. Braydon’s fingers curled around hers as he quietly asked, “How about we order some pizzas for dunch?”