The Slow Burn (Moonlight and Motor Oil #2)(113)

His fingers holding my hand shifted so they covered mine totally, his hold so strong, the stone had to be digging into his palm.

“You go to that reading with my rock on your finger and my promise to love and keep you for the rest of our fucking lives in your heart, and whatever happens, fuck them. You’re loved. You’re looked after. And you got family,” he declared.

The ring was traditional.

The proposal wasn’t.

But it was Toby.

Before I even knew it was happening, the tears were sliding down my cheeks.

“Is that a yes?” he asked.

“Did you ask a question?” I asked back huskily.

“Baby, every man wants to hear the word,” he whispered. “Are you gonna marry me?”

My man wanted it?

He’d get it.

“Yes, Toby.”

He pressed my hand to his chest, his other one going in my hair and he bent to kiss me.

He left my hand pressed to his chest when he used that arm to lift me up and he entered the bed, taking me with him.

I wrapped my legs around him and he put us both in bed, necking, and then more necking with some added groping, and some more necking with some serious groping, which led to traditional missionary making love.

I came before Toby.

Toby came kissing me.

He cleaned me up after and brought my pajamas from where I’d put them on the hooks in the closet.

I pulled mine on.

He pulled his on.

And we fell asleep in his treehouse room with my mom over the mantel, smiling in the moonlight.



“We’re here,” I said into the phone as Toby parked his brand new, dark blue, twin-cab Ram in a visitor’s parking spot at my grandmother’s attorney’s office.

I didn’t question the truck.

The state of the Gamble Brothers the last week had been at best, uneasy, at worst, downright crabby.

This was because my sister, too, had received a letter. And after some discussion at the Food Festival with Deanna and Charlie, and more discussion at Margot and Dave’s, the decision was to go.

So on Monday, Izzy called to share we would be there.

And was told our father would be there too.

Neither brother wanted us anywhere near him.

But the day after we found out he’d be there, Toby’s old Chevy was parked in the space beside the house, which had been guest parking until then and that blue Ram was in the garage.

Apparently, he didn’t want to roll up to a meeting where my father would be in an old Chevy or a yellow Ford Focus.

I didn’t care what we drove there in.

He did.

It was a man thing.

So I also kept my mouth shut.

I again kept my mouth shut when I got home the day before and there were three boxes on the dining room table.

“Those’re from Margot,” Toby grunted (incidentally, the “uneasy” to “crabby” scale of Gamble Brothers’ moods deteriorated as Friday got closer).

In one box was a dress from Saks, red, cross body, had a collar that was short on one side but dripped low to a lapel on the other and had long sleeves with deep cuffs. It also had a somewhat low neckline.

It was a feminine, sexy version of a power suit.

The next box was from Neimans, and in it was a wicked cool, zebra print clutch with a handle.

The last box was from Nordstrom, and in it was a pair of shoes with red spike heels, black, ultra-thin straps with little silver balls on the ends that wound around my ankles, and just the toe was covered, mostly with crystal clear plastic with a diamond of zebra print at the toe.

They were sexy as fuck, stylish as hell and totally me.

So the message was clear.

Toby was not rolling up, delivering his woman to the meeting in anything but a badass, expensive truck, and Margot was not allowing me to go in there without armor.

I didn’t fight that either.

It was their way of taking care of family.

She’d tried to do the same thing with Izzy, but surprisingly, Johnny had put his foot down about Iz going to the meeting in some dress that was one of his favorites and the nude Louboutins he’d bought her.

Knock me over with a feather that Johnny would demand to have a say in Izzy’s Estranged Grandma’s Last Will and Testament Reading Outfit.

But it was a big deal to him for some reason.

Margot advised her to do what made Johnny feel less edgy and told her to keep what she’d bought her and just wear it whenever.

I partially understood all of this from a relatively deep perspective, what with Sierra’s joyful visit just fading from memory.

And I was finding I needed to stealthily soothe Toby and tread carefully, rather than the other way around.

Because what I did not understand was what it was like to be a Gamble Brother and know what they knew about what our father did to our mother during their marriage, and what she and her girls endured after it, all this in a time they did not know us and thus could do dick about it.

But it hurt us. It marked us. It hurt our mother. And marked her.

And that was the crux of the situation.

It was highly unlikely our dad was going to pull anything in an attorney’s office.

But honest to Christ, if this was another time, I had no doubt the men would go in wearing steel, immediately throw down a glove, and then swords would be drawn.

This wasn’t caveman shit.