Own the Wind (Chaos #1)(69)
She’d talked to her grandfather and explained that she couldn’t get off work. He, too, had been cool, asked her schedule, and told her he’d plan the funeral when she had two days off. Shy and Tab were going to fly down for the funeral and fly back up the next day.
She’d met Cherry for a drink after work and that was also good. Again, not a surprise. He knew Cherry didn’t have it in her to be a bitch, hold a grudge, or f**k with a good thing. And she and Tabby had a good thing.
The only person she had not patched things up with was with her brother Rush. He’d called repeatedly and she hadn’t taken his calls. This was a surprise.
“I’ll see him at the funeral and deal then,” she’d muttered.
It was time, Shy decided, to push her to deal with the situation with Rush.
“Babe, you gotta call your brother.”
She lifted her head from his gut, twisted her neck and looked up at him. “Shy—”
He cupped her cheek with his hand. “You lost family, both of you. Do not let this fester.”
She held his eyes a beat, two, then she whispered her admission, “He said things about you.”
“I don’t give a f**k. He repeats ’em and doesn’t get over shit like everyone else is doin’, you got a case to be pissed and hold a grudge. Now, you both lost your grandma. He doesn’t have a woman. He only has a sister. Honest to God, is my girl gonna take that away from him now?”
She licked her lip.
He hauled her up his chest to touch his mouth to hers.
When she lifted her head away, she was grinning a sexy little cat-got-her-cream grin.
“You pull that shit now deliberately, don’t you?” he muttered.
“Actually, no, but it’s a good idea,” she replied, still grinning.
He ignored her sexy grin and looked in her eyes. “Rush,” was all he said.
She held his gaze. Then she murmured, “Oh, all right.”
“Call him now,” he ordered.
She rolled her eyes and muttered, “Righty ho, boss.”
He grinned, then he rolled her to her back in his lap and took her mouth, leaving her clutching his shoulders and panting when he lifted his head.
His eyes went to the mark he put on her neck that morning then to her eyes.
“You get off the phone, you thought the day started good, I’ll give you an ending you won’t f**kin’ believe.”
“I foresee my forgiveness phone call to Rush lasting all of thirty seconds.”
Shy burst out laughing. When he quit, he saw she was smiling up at him.
And it hit him.
All of it.
Waking up to her. Going to bed with her. Making love to her. Eating with her. Laughing with her. Kissing her. Going shopping with her, and when she was in a store and wandered away, he saw her looking over the racks, looking for him, and when he came to her at her back, she’d turned to him, looking lost, and leaned into him the second he got there, suddenly found.
Jesus, he had it.
All of it.
“I never dreamed any f**kin’ dream,” he whispered, and the smile faded from her face as tears filled her eyes.
She understood him.
“Shy—”
“Didn’t dream it, saw it, waited my time, and then you gave it to me.”
“Shy,” her voice broke on his name.
He looked into her blue eyes swimming with tears, feeling her fingers digging into his shoulders, her weight in his lap, the smell of her hair, the taste of her still on his tongue.
Yes, he f**king had it.
When he was twelve he lost it.
Now he had it again.
All of it.
Everything.
“Call your brother,” he muttered. She pulled in a breath through her nose then nodded.
She then lifted up and touched her mouth to his, one of her hands sliding into his hair so when she pulled back, she held him at the side of his head.
“Love you, darlin’,” she whispered.
“Love you too, honey.”
She grinned a wobbly grin and broke from his arms as she rolled off his lap.
He listened to her patch things up with her brother.
When she was done, he turned off the TV, took her hand, guided her to the bedroom, and gave her what he promised. An end to the day that was exactly what he intended it to be.
Unbelievable.
Chapter Fifteen
Lucky
One month later…
I stood out in the cold, a beer in my hand, next to a steel drum filled with fire giving off a wave of heat. I felt an arm slide along my shoulders and I tipped my head just in time to hear Landon, who’d claimed me, say, “Jesus, Tab, what’s goin’ on with that? It’s like a hippie hookin’ up at a Tea Party rally.”
My eyes went to where his were aimed and I saw Lanie and Hop, not quite hidden by the steps that led up to the office that they were behind but mostly hidden by the dark of the November night. She looked glamorous, as usual, her glossy, thick dark hair gleamed even in the distant fire and floodlights. I’d gabbed with her earlier and saw she was casual for Lanie, wearing jeans, but her killer, expensive boots, elegant sweater, and the pashmina she had wrapped around her neck screamed class.
Hop, on the other hand, was in beat-up, faded jeans (that still looked good on him), a black thermal, and his battered cut, a black leather jacket with the Chaos insignia on the back. His dark hair was overlong and falling in his face, and his kick-ass, biker mustache that ran thick across his lip and down the sides of his mouth needed a trim. Something, knowing Hop for ages, I knew he’d get around to when he felt like it, he had a classy dame in his bed or not. This could be the next day. This could be next month.