Truly, Madly, Whiskey(54)
“Me and my uncle Axel,” Bear explained.
A pang of sadness swept through her as they moved on to the other pictures.
“This was my first bike.” He nodded to a picture of him as a young man standing next to a shiny black motorcycle. His father stood beside him, hands on hips, looking at Bear, but Bear was grinning proudly at the camera.
He motioned toward another picture. “This is Bullet, as you can probably tell by his size, and that’s me over his shoulder.” Bullet faced the camera with an angry scowl, holding Bear’s legs. Bear’s fisted hands were caught midair, as if he were pounding on his brother’s back.
“What did you do?”
“The jackass was dicking around. He dumped me in the lake. Not my proudest moment, but I love the *.”
“I’m sure you didn’t let him get away with it.”
“Hell no. See that shaggy hair? I chopped it while he was sleeping. He nearly beat me to death the next day. We both ended up with shaved heads that summer.” He grinned as they headed for the stairs, passing a bedroom, den, and bathroom.
She peeked into the bathroom, taking in the gas-pump faucet and the hand drill used as a toilet paper holder. “You weren’t kidding about your bathroom. It’s very male.” As they climbed the stairs to the loft, she said, “You’re lucky. Your childhood seems so normal. Mine was like that, until we moved.”
“If you consider sitting in the back room of a bar, hanging out in an auto shop several nights a week, or being woken up at all hours as a teenager to drive drunk customers home normal, I guess so. But it’s all good. We had good times.”
When they reached the landing, he said, “My bedroom.”
Pine walls and a high, exposed-beam ceiling gave the room a warm feel. A bay window, complete with a cushioned window seat, offered a spectacular view of the lake. She imagined curling up with him on that window seat and watching the sunset in the winter, when the lake was iced over, with Harley snuggled up at their feet. A leather recliner sat beside a driftwood and glass table, stacked four books high. In the center of the room was the largest bed she’d ever seen, draped in a maroon blanket.
“Your bed is huge.”
“It’s not the only thing about me that’s huge. Come on, sugar.” He shifted the tray against his hip.
“This might be a stupid question, but why is it so big?”
“Not stupid at all, and not for the reason you think. When I was little, we all used to pile into my parents’ bed on weekend mornings to wake them up. All four of us. My father would grumble, but we’d end up wrestling and laughing. It’s silly, but it’s one of my best memories. When I went to buy a bed, I decided to get one made that was big enough for that.”
The more she learned about him, the harder she fell. “So…you want a family?”
“Definitely, someday.” His brows slanted. “You?”
She weighed her answer, wondering if the truth would scare him off, and quickly decided that with Bear, nothing but the truth would do.
“I gave up wanting a family after my mom fell into the bottle. I was afraid I’d end up like her, and I didn’t want to do that to a child. But spending time with Kennedy and Lincoln, and seeing the love Gemma and Tru give them, has made me think about it again. People say you turn into your parents no matter how hard you try not to, but I don’t think that’s true. It might take effort, but I think we choose our own paths.”
“I respect my father,” Bear said with a serious edge to his voice. “But I’ll be damned if I’ll turn into him. I think Tru and Gemma are a testament to the fact that we aren’t fated to turn into our parents, and you have proven that we choose our own paths. The only thing we’re destined to be is what we decide we want to be. Everything else is temptation, bad and good. But in the end, we’re in control.”
He opened a door behind him, revealing a rustic screened porch with an old wooden table and four chairs that had seen better days and another bed, which sat low to the ground. A lantern stood atop the table. Like the walls, the ceiling was screened, offering the natural light and beauty of the night sky. Marred and scuffed rafters matched the knotted wood beneath their feet.
“I love this.” She set the pitcher on the table and looked out at the lake. “Feel that breeze? Don’t you wish you could have your whole house screened in and then somehow, just for winter, wrap it up tight?”
He set the tray on the table, and his arms circled her from behind. This was her second favorite place to be, the first being tucked against his side. “I spend nearly every night out here. I thought you might like it.”
She turned in his arms, completely taken by this outdoorsy side of him. “I more than like it.” He held her gaze for so long, she thought he must be reading between the lines, just as she hoped he would.
They ate dinner by the dim light of the lantern, sharing the grog and too many kisses to count. The paella was even more delicious than she remembered, but that could be because she knew the lengths Bear had gone to in order to prepare such a special night for her.
Now they lay on their backs on the bed, their fingers laced, gazing through the screen at the stars above and talking.
“Biggest dream?” she asked.
“That’s a hard one. Other than you?” He squeezed her hand. “Probably making a name for myself in the motorcycle business. You?”