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A fresh spasm of agony rips through him as we mount the front steps. I feel for Mark, I really do. Especially because I know getting a doctor out here on thanksgiving is a long shot, with no phones and no power.
And my mind is already turning to the thing I want most of all.
She holds my stare as we help her Dad onto the same couch I just ate her out on, shaking her head as her eyes narrow.
I can only shrug but I get the strong impression Misty wishes I’d claimed her while we both had our chance.
“Sitting or lying?” is all I ask Mark, who’s face is flushed red as he tries to keep a brave face on for me and for Misty.
“Lying,” he grunts, gasping one more time before I finally help him lie down completely flat, and pull out the cushions from under his neck.
“Daddy, tell me what to do. What do you need?” Misty asks, wringing her hands as she kneels down beside him.
“I think I’ve just gone and ruined Thanksgiving is all,” Mark says bitterly, wincing in pain again as Misty’s eyes meet mine again for a second.
“Welcome home, buddy!” he grimaces again, trying to hold his hand out but only manages another agonizing cry.
“I’m getting a doctor,” I hear myself saying to them both. The man needs medical help, not a damned couch.
But Mark’s not having any of it and waves away my concerns, even my direct order for him to get professional help.
“You know as well as I do, Zak, once that disc pops it needs nothing but rest until it’s good and ready to slide back in. I overdid it, racing around when I couldn’t reach you two, that’s all. I’m not gonna let this ruin our Thanksgiving,” he says with a note of finality that cancels out mine.
Wait until you hear the part about how I ate your daughter, right where you’re lying.
I can’t think like that. I mustn’t.
Misty seems to read my mind and hides a smile behind her palm before she strokes her Dad’s brow.
“At least let me get you a Tylenol, Dad?” she pleads, and he nods his head sharply.
“Thanks, sweetie. Say? Did you manage to get the generator going? All that food, is it in the icebox yet?” he asks.
Forever the organizer, I lean in and fib a little, telling Mark that everything’s under control.
Another quick glance at Misty tells her to keep her Dad comfortable while I go do some chores.
“I’ve just about got that generator going, Mark,” I tell him as he tells Misty not to fuss over him so much.
He’s still trying to lean onto his elbow, calling out after me to promise and tell him all about my trip when he cries out in pain again, slumping back.
Misty catches my arm in the kitchen as I make my way outback. “I’ll be out there in a minute to give you a hand with that generator,” she whispers in my ear, a mischievous grin playing on her lips.
I want to tell her no, that we need to be careful. But the heat of her breath on my ear is enough to send me wanting her like never before.
I brush her hair with my hand, taking in her scent as I grip her hand tightly before letting it go quickly.
One more second of this and I’ll explode, I know it.
Why couldn’t we have had Thanksgiving at a hotel? With separate rooms?Chapter NineMistyI thought my heart would stop once I hear Dad’s truck, and it’s not like I’m glad he’s put his back out either.
But it does give Zak and I some cover, a little more time to make it look like we’ve been trying out a few different things apart from how loud Misty can squeal when Zak licks her just right.
“You okay, honey?” Dad asks as I hand him some Tylenol and a little water. He won’t take anything stronger, I know from experience.
“I’m fine,” I announce, almost purring as I fight the urge to hug my elbows and grin like the cat who got the cream.
Almost.
I would normally explain to Dad what happened, about the SUV falling into a ditch on the wet road, but I don’t want to worry him any more than he probably already is.
His best friend is back after years and well… I just discovered a new part of myself and how well I think Zak’s gonna be able to fill it.
The problem is going to be enjoying both my Dad and Zak’s company, as well as prepare a Thanksgiving feast without my Dad being suspect of what’s really developed between Zak and me.
Challenge accepted. I think.
“Misty? Could you come help me for a minute? I don’t know quite where everything is,” Zak says from the back door, letting in a gust of chilly air and in drawing threats from my Dad going to help him if only to get the ‘damned power on’ and ‘why didn’t we start a fire yet? It’s freezing!’
