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Grace pushed against him. “The paintballs are less dangerous than being smothered by you.”
“Stop shooting,” Justice called from her spot on the guard tower. “It’s a fucking massacre.”
He rolled off them, stood up, and helped Gracie and Tyler to their feet. The two of them burst into laughter. They high-fived each other. Made his heart do something funny, a bit of gymnastics in his chest.
He reached out and drew them both in for a bear hug, lifted them up. They complained mightily, but what was a man to do? They’d just survived a massacre together. Yes, sir, he was that damn lucky.
Chapter 70
The Mantua Home campus looked idyllic in autumn. Trees filled with green, yellow, red, and orange leaves lined the campus lawns, streets, cozied up to brick buildings and park benches. The wind smelled of earth and a summer well spent.
Gracie’s heart was light as she left the quad with Tyler by her side. The teams had broken up after the war games, and groups of people walked here and there. Dusty, Justice, and Sandesh strolled together, discussing the “fucking massacre.”
It was still weird having the school so empty this late into September, but it sure made it easy to get around. They walked into the main road leading onto campus and toward the front gate. The sun was starting to set, spotlighting the tops of the trees with an orange glow.
Cee, Romeo, and Jules jogged past heading toward the house. One of Leland’s rules for training. She remembered it well from childhood. Don’t walk, run. Romeo bumped Tyler’s shoulder as he jogged by. “Ask again.”
Gracie yelled after him, “Don’t encourage him. Remember who you’re training with tomorrow morning.”
Romeo turned around and spread his arms wide. “Dusty said he’d train with me.”
She turned to look at Dusty, who gave her a sassy Southern grin, or at least that’s how she took it, when he winked at her.
She didn’t try to hide her smile. “You’re lucky you’re so cute.”
“So, can I?” Tyler asked.
Letting out a breath, she grabbed his hand, held it as they walked. Yes. He was too old to hold his mother’s hand, but strangely he never objected. “We’ve been through this, Ty.”
“But Rome goes here. Why can’t I?”
Oh boy. This was the third time he’d asked. And it made her beyond happy that he wanted to make a home here—even if it was just during the school year. She could see him all the time. Get to spend time with him, take him for ice cream, teach him about computers.
“School won’t start until the end of October this year. There’s a short holiday break. A shorter summer break. It wouldn’t be easy. And I don’t think your parents—”
Ty brushed slightly sweaty bangs from his green eyes. “No. Dad knows. I talked to him.”
John knows? Surprising. Well, John and El had become a lot kinder to her since she’d saved Tyler’s life. And all that other stuff with the authorities. John felt guilty after accusing her of kidnapping Ty. She shuddered. Tried not to think about it.
Truth was, she would love for Tyler to go to school here, but was that fair to the girls here? Ugh. What was she doing? She was making excuses. Sexist excuses. The kind that made Tony run away, fake his own death. Well, that and the fact that he knew if he’d stayed he’d have been M-erased. Man could run, but he couldn’t hide. “I’ll talk to Momma.”
Tyler perked up, swung their clasped hands back and forth. “She’ll let me in. Momma loves me.”
Gracie’s throat grew tight. “Yeah. She does.”
As they neared the main gate, she could see John and El sitting in their car.
“Are you sure you talked to your parents about it, Ty? They won’t even come onto the grounds.”
He cringed. “Yeah. I talked to Dad. Mom, uhm, I mean—”
“She’s your mom, Ty.”
His face reddened. “Yeah, Mom’s against it. She thinks it’s too expensive.”
It was expensive. El could’ve just been saying that, but Gracie was going to take her at her word. She was done feeling guilty or wrong about being present in her son’s life.
Gracie grinned at her son. “Did you know that family goes here for free?”
Chapter 71
Standing behind Gracie outside the new and improved “Staff only” doors leading from the back of Club When?, Dusty tied the blindfold—a long strip of black silk—over her eyes.
Pretty as a picture in spiked red heels and a short red dress that laced up the back, she didn’t object. The curve of her fine ass reminded him of an apple. Ripe. Juicy. Begging to be bitten.
One thing at a time. He bent forward, put his lips by her ear. “You ready?”
She tilted her head back. “I’ve been ready for weeks.”
He had too. But the thing needed to be perfect. Taking a small nibble of her earlobe, the silk from the blindfold pressed against his cheek, he whispered, “Is that excitement or wariness in your voice?”
She laughed. “Excitement. If I hadn’t promised, I so would’ve peeked in there to see what you’ve been up to.”
“Have to say, I was impressed with your self-control.” Especially since they were both living at Club When? now. It had taken all his powers of persuasion, after the club had been repaired to her specifications, to get her to allow him to take over designing the theme for the grand reopening.
He hoped she liked it. Hoped what waited beyond was their future.
“Good thing you hadn’t peeked,” he said, giving her a light pat on the round swell of her ass. “You would’ve been in big trouble.”
Grabbing her by the hips, fingers itching to pull that bow, he steered her through the doors, using his foot to kick one open. Lord, he was starting to sweat.
Inside, the ceiling of the club was draped in black fabric. Projected on that silk was an endless night sky, brilliant stars, the Milky Way’s glimmering sweep of silver dust, and the ethereal pinks and golds of distant galaxies.
Sculpted white trees draped in lights perched along the perimeter of the dance floor. And on each of the white-linen-draped tables twinkled smaller handcrafted versions of the trees.
A light show of white shimmered slowly over the floors and walls. All along the bar were a series of glowing tall and short silver candles.
Mouth dry, heart pounding, Dusty fished out the remote and hit the button that started the music pouring out of the speakers. The sounds of the piano played quietly, and then Garth Brooks began singing what Dusty now thought of as their song: “Make You Feel My Love.”
“Dusty?”
“One sec.”
He tried to still his pounding heart, took the ring from his pocket. Dropping to one knee in front of her, he held up the gem that reflected the purity of his intentions and his undying love.
“You can take off the blindfold, Grace.”
She reached up and pulled it down. Her hands flew to her mouth. Her eyes bounced around the room, glittering with the reflection of all those lights. By the time they settled back on him, tears streaked her cheeks.
He found his own eyes growing wet. Aw, hell. He adored her. “Grace Divine Parish, will you do me the honor of marrying me, making me the luckiest man in all of the universe?” She dropped to her knees, took the ring. “Yes. A thousand times. In a thousand ways. Yes.”
* * *
Felt good to be back behind the bar of Club When? Especially when he was putting together his favorite, or at least his most cherished, drink. Dusty took in the growing crowd beyond. Still early, but looked like another banner night. He just hoped it went smoothly.
First week back, and Club When? was experiencing a bit of a hiccup. There wasn’t a night this week that the bar hadn’t had at least one fight.
Starting to feel more like a club bouncer than a bartender, he couldn’t help but wonder if it had anything to
do with the “costume change” as Grace called it. She’d loved the wedding theme—so said her enthusiastic yes—but later pointed out that they’d have to tie the theme to a specific date in history.
He’d considered it and decided a royal wedding was an historical event. What wasn’t to like about Kate and William’s wedding? Pomp. Ceremony. Crazy hats. Maybe it was the hats.
He passed the drink to the customer, telling her, “It’s called Blood and Guts, because you need some to drink it.”
She smiled, clinked her blue swirly drink with her boyfriend’s beer. Squaring his shoulders, Dusty moved to the other end of the bar. He’d seen the guy come in earlier. Apparently the man didn’t understand the “get lost” signal Dusty had been sending him. Couldn’t really help the curl of his lip as he reached the end of the bar. Guy deserved a sneer. “What do you want, Mack?”
