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“I am always Ryder,” I mutter, “and I’m pretty damn cool.”
She slaps me softly against the head and I look up at her, smiling.
“Just try,” she whispers. “It will be your birthday present to me.”
“Okay, Mom.”
“Love you,” she adds.
“I love you, too,” I respond as the emotion moves over me.
“Damn it, Clara. Are you giving away my crumble cake?” Dad complains, stomping inside, dressed in his worn jeans, his brown Stetson, white T-shirt, and dusty cowboy boots. He’s every inch the American cowboy made famous in the movies, but better. Then again, I’ve never been a western movie fan.
“There’s plenty and you know it. If you give me that kiss you forgot this morning, I might just cut you a slice,” Mom laughs.
“I didn’t forget, honey. You were sleeping and you were up late last night reading. I didn’t want to wake you,” Dad responds. “I did kiss your forehead.”
“The day I’m too tired for my man to kiss me good morning is the day the good Lord should just call me away. I like your kisses. They make my day better.”
Dad smiles broad, his face going soft. I take in the moment the two of them are sharing. When they are looking at one another, I cease to exist in the room. I smile. That’s what I want. They’ve always been like this and that is exactly what I’ve always wanted in my life. Dad and Mom fell in love when they were both sixteen and it has lasted. I’ve never wanted anything more than that and I’m almost positive that’s why I tried so hard with Emily. I was young and stupid, but I loved her—or so I believed at the time. To me, that meant I needed to do whatever to make it work, because that’s what my parents did.
I grieved the fact that I wasn’t able to do that for way too long. Now, with Tillie, the need to have her, to make her mine, and to keep her is strong and more powerful than it ever was when I was young. The connection doesn’t feel exhausting or forced at times either and I’m starting to realize that there’s a very good chance that I confused love with the idea of it and a huge, healthy dose of lust.
I definitely want Tillie—more than I have ever wanted a woman. It’s not just sex, though. I’ve always felt this pull toward her. I tried to bury it, but it remained and refused to go away. Now, with just the taste of her that I’ve had, I can see her in my life. I can see us building a future together. I smile, I can even see us arguing over kisses and coffee cake.
“Now, do I get my cake woman?”
Dad sits down beside me, and I smirk at him. He gives me a wink and that tightness I’ve felt in my gut—for way too long—begins to loosen. Could it be possible that I’ve just imagined my father was disappointed in me all these years? He’s gruff and he doesn’t really talk about his feelings. Hell, all of us Monroe men are like that. The possibility is strong…
I push my thoughts away as I continue watching my parents. Their exchange makes me smile. For years, Mom would fight with my father on the fact that he would eat sweets instead of good food before going out to work all day. Over the years, they came to a compromise. Dad would eat Mom’s breakfast if Mom would make him something to go with his lunchandhis sweet tooth. From the looks of things, lunch didn’t happen any longer and had morphed into coffee and dessert. It should also be said that although no kid wants to see it—especially when it comes to their parents—it’s also apparent that more than just lunch happened around this time.
Shit.
The slight touches, my mother’s blushing and the way my Dad’s eyes tracked her ass hit me all at once.
His eyes tracked her ass.
“Uh… I think I’m going to go upstairs to my room and call my coach. I was hoping to stay a few more days,” I mumble pushing what was left of my cake back and trying not to blush my own damn self.
Jesus.
“Are you enjoying your visit?” Dad asks, surprised.
“Yeah,” I answer. “I might be making a few more of them.”
“That’d be good son. It’s nice to have you around,” he says quietly. Mom comes over to stand beside him and I don’t miss the way his hand goes to hold my mother’s ass either.
My dad is an ass man. Christ.
“I’ll just go upstairs. I’ll probably be up there for a while.”
“Okay son,” Mom says.
“With my ear pods on so I can concentrate on what Green is saying,” I add standing up.
Mom’s face crinkles with confusion. “Okay,” she says again.
“I won’t be able to hear you if either of you call out,” I add, mumbling.
