The Wait Was Over
Six thirty in the morning, Christmas Eve . . .
I WOKE TO DARKNESS WITH Gray’s hands and mouth on me.
“Baby, it’s Christmas Eve. On Christmas Eve can’t we sleep in?” I asked drowsily.
Gray’s hand made it to my breast and curled around as his lips made it to the base of my ear where he muttered, “No.”
His thumb slid over my nipple and I decided I no longer wanted to sleep in.
Instead, I twisted my neck, Gray’s head came up and it immediately came back down so he could kiss me.
Seven oh three in the morning, Christmas Eve . . .
“Need you, baby,” I breathed my plea.
I was stroking him, so desperate for him it was part stroking, part pulling.
His hand was between my legs, two fingers buried, thumb working me. Our mouths were close and we were both breathing heavily.
“Not done,” he muttered, pressing deeper and rolling.
Oh God.
“Baby, I’m gonna be done and I want to be done with you inside me,” I begged, my hips jerking, my hand still stroking and I did this hard, hard enough for him to groan.
I liked that and I was hoping that meant he was ready to move us directly to the final phase.
He didn’t.
Instead, he whispered, “Take you there again.”
Oh yes.
My eyes held his, close up.
“Really?”
He stopped rolling and started finger fucking me.
My head arched back.
His mouth went to my throat. “Really.”
Yes.
His fingers slid out, his hand cupped me and my head righted with a jerk, my eyes locking on his.
“Baby—” I started to protest.
“On your back, Ivey, spread your legs wide for me. I wanna watch you come while I fuck you with my fingers,” he ordered.
Oh yeah, I wanted that too.
So I did what I was told. Gray did what he wanted. And when he did, it was so good, my back arched clean off the bed, my head dug into the pillows and my hips ground down on his hand.
“Fuck me,” through the daze of my orgasm I heard him growl, “prettiest fuckin’ thing I’ve ever seen.”
Then he was between my spread legs, his hips drove into mine and he started fucking me.
Hard.
He did as promised and took me there again.
It was brilliant.
Eight thirteen in the morning, Christmas Eve . . .
Gray shoved his plate in the dishwasher I had open, sucked back the last of his coffee, upturned his mug and slid that in. After doing that, his hand snaked out and tagged me behind the neck.
He pulled me in and up and dropped a light kiss on my lips.
When he lifted his head, he said, “Got shit to do in town. Then gonna go get Gran. You need anything?”
I shook my head.
“Got everything we need from Plack’s?” he went on.
I nodded my head.
“I’m ready,” I told him.
And I was ready. Boy was I ready. I’d spent hours in Plack’s, Hayes and on the Internet, shopping. More in the guest bedroom wrapping. More creating menus and searching for recipes.
I was definitely ready for Christmas and I couldn’t wait.
Gray read this in my eyes. I knew when he grinned, giving me the dimple.
Then he dropped another light kiss on my lips.
He let me go and I watched his ass as he sauntered out of the kitchen, muttering, “Later, dollface.”
“Later, honey,” I called to his back then turned to the sink to finish the breakfast dishes.
I did this smiling to myself mostly because my eyes were on my hands and I could see my ring there.
Gray would have a time of it, besting his birthday present.
But he was making the effort. I knew this because he was getting Grandma Miriam from the home and she was going to be with us until the day after Christmas. And we could do this because, early that evening, his mom was coming. She was a nurse, she was spending the next two nights in our guest room and she, with the help of Gray and me, could give Grandma Miriam what she needed. Then, tomorrow, after we had a small family Christmas in the morning, in the afternoon, all Gray’s uncles, their wives and Audie and his girl were coming over for Christmas dinner.
I couldn’t wait.
For any of it.
More than six months of peace from the machinations of Buddy Sharp and more than six months of going to bed and waking up with Grayson Cody, the last two and half with the Cody family heirloom ring on my finger.
Life was good, and with Gran there, Norrie, who Gray was getting to know slowly and cautiously but he was doing it, then his uncles, aunts and cousin, I’d have a real family Christmas.
The first one ever.
Ever.
Thirty years and there it was.
Yeah, Gray was close to besting his birthday present.
Nothing would be better than the symbol that stated plainly I was soon going to take the name Cody.
But a family Christmas wasn’t far off.
Nine thirty-eight in the morning, Christmas Eve . . .
I had Christmas music playing, a bay and rosemary candle burning and I was making Christmas cookies. It was my fifth batch of the season. This was because, with Christmas cookies in the house, Gray had foregone his candy bars and nabbed a cookie (or four) whenever he had the munchies. This was also because, now that there was peace amongst the Cody men, anytime his uncles were fighting with their wives, they were over at our house.
Which meant they were over a lot.
And they grew up in that house so they had no problem helping themselves.
I didn’t mind.
Not at all.
I was standing at the kitchen counter, kneading the dough, Christmas all around, but my mind was on flowers.
Not flowers for my wedding, planting them around the house.
During a visit with Grandma Miriam she told me, before she lost her legs, every year she planted a thick border of impatiens around the front and side of the house.
“Perfect for them, child, with the trees that shade the house, they get their bit of sun but they like their shade,” she’d told me.
I had the ring she wore on my finger. I was making Christmas dinner in the kitchen where she’d prepared it for five decades.
So, come spring, the house would have Grandma Miriam’s flowers.
I heard the approach of a car and my head turned to the window, surprised because I figured it was Gray. I had no idea what he had to do in town but going to get Grandma Miriam and dealing with packing her up and checking her out alone would take an hour and he’d been gone just over that.
But it wasn’t Gray’s pickup bumping down the lane. It was a silver car, an Audi, new and clean like it had a garage for its home.
I found this interesting. Audis weren’t popular cars in Mustang.
I took my hands out of the dough rubbing off the lumps. I rinsed them quickly, dried them, headed out of the kitchen, down the hall and out the front door.
I stopped dead on the porch as I watched Bud Sharp get out of his Audi and out the passenger side was a man who Buddy would definitely not hang with. Not ever.
He was older, tall, beefy, with longish, wild hair that held its blond but had more silver, and to say he was rough around the edges was an understatement.
I didn’t hesitate to call to them, “Best get in your car, Buddy. I’ll be saying these words to you then calling nine-one-one then calling Gray. If it was me, I wouldn’t be here when Gray gets back.”
I turned to the front door, walked three steps and stopped dead with my hand on the doorknob after Buddy called back, “Now, Ivey, is that any way to act the very first time you lay eyes on your daddy?”
It was stupid, I knew it. I should go in, call nine-one-one, call Gray, but instead my head turned and my eyes went to the man walking toward the porch with Buddy.
That hair was my hair.
That hair was my hair.
I stared.
They got close to the side of the porch and stopped.
Buddy, I noticed when I flicked my eyes to him, was grinning. Pleased with himself.
The man had his eyes glued to me. He looked curious. He also looked hesitant. And, even though he was tall, sturdy, weathered, worn and rough around the edges, I sensed a hint of fear.
“Hoot Booker, I’d like you to meet your daughter, the ex-pool hustling, ex-Vegas stripper, current cowboy piece, Ivey Larue,” Buddy introduced, loving every minute of this.
But my eyes were on Hoot Booker . . .
Hoot Booker . . .
My father.
And at Buddy’s words, Hoot Booker’s eyes narrowed scarily and sliced to Buddy.
“Merry Christmas.” Buddy smiled happily then leaned forward. “Oh, and just so you know, Hoot here, coupla years ago, got outta prison. Murder one. Now, I don’t know much about these things but I think that’s the bad kind.”
“Think you’re done, chief,” Hoot Booker’s deep, rumbling, pissed-off voice stated, and he looked from Buddy to me. “Don’t know this guy. He found me, said he knew you, paid for me to get here. Swear, girl, until this very second where he turned dick, the man’s been nothin’ but cool with me. I see now you two got history but I do not have a place in that. I just wanted to meet my daughter.”
His daughter.
Me.
I stared at him, immobile, hand still on the doorknob.
Buddy was glaring at Hoot Booker.
Hoot Booker was staring at me.
Then he shook his head, closed his eyes and looked away for a second, taking a moment for what I wouldn’t know before he opened his eyes.
They came back to me and I saw his face was pained before he whispered, “Jesus, fuck, I look at you, can’t believe my eyes, can’t fuckin’ take it in. I created somethin’ as beautiful as you?”
Oh my God.
“I don’t know,” I whispered, only my lips moving.
“Sheila Bailey your momma?” he asked.
“She gave birth to me,” I answered, still talking quietly.
He nodded his head, a small smile cracking his face, “Yeah, see Sheila never changed.”
“No,” I whispered.
The smile fled and he stared at me, reading me like he knew me my whole life either because I was too stunned at what was happening to hide it or because he had more practice than me.
I figured it was both.
“She didn’t treat you good,” he whispered.
“No,” I repeated, that one, one-syllable word weighty.
Hoot Booker read that too and emotions he didn’t try to hide either rolled over his face, more pain, anger, despair.
“That brother a’ yours?” he asked when he got control of his emotional roller coaster.
“Dead to me.”
He knew what I was saying and I knew he knew when he whispered, “Fuck.”
“This is all very touching,” Buddy put in snidely, and I finally moved, turning away from the door to face him and see his expression was even more spiteful than his tone. “Why am I not surprised that an ex-stripper doesn’t mind havin’ a murderer as a daddy?”
“Think I told you, you’re done,” Hoot Booker reminded him and Buddy turned to my father.
“I am? What are you gonna do, big man? Kill me in front of your long, lost daughter?”
“No, but, the way she said hi, not sure she’ll mind I fuck you up a little bit,” Hoot returned, and I couldn’t help it, a giggle escaped me.
Buddy’s eyes cut to me and he hissed, “Shut your slut trap.”
Then Buddy wasn’t there because Buddy was on his back in the snow-covered yard, Hoot’s knee in his gut, his calf in his arm immobilizing it, one hand at his throat, his other hand wrapped around Buddy’s wrist pressing it into the snow.
Oh God.
I moved to the edge of the porch but could go no further because I didn’t have any shoes on, just a pair of thick woolen socks, so I cried, “Please, don’t! He isn’t worth the trouble. Honestly, he isn’t worth the trouble.”
But Hoot Booker didn’t even look at me.
Nose an inch away from Buddy’s, he whispered scarily, “You called my girl a slut right to her face and right in front of me.” He paused a scary pause and finished, “I don’t like that.”
Buddy kicked out his legs and snapped, “Get off me!”
Hoot lifted his head and aimed his eyes at me before he ordered, “Go in the house. You call the cops then you call your man.” When I hesitated, he clipped, “Now, girl. Go.”
“I don’t want you to get in trouble,” I said softly, his head jerked and his face changed. It softened and under all that rough, weathered and worn I saw my father was handsome.
“Then keep me outta trouble by gettin’ some folks here to deal with this assclown before I lose it and do it myself,” he replied gently.
I held his eyes and I nodded.
Then I ran into the house, dialed nine-one-one, told them what was happening then I called Gray.
He answered with, “Hey dollface. Remember something you need?
“Buddy’s here,” I replied. “He brought my father with him. He said a few things my father didn’t like and now my father has him pinned in the snow in the front yard.”
Silence then, “Say again?”
“Buddy’s here,” I started. “He brought my—”
Gray cut me off to rumble, “You are fuckin’ shittin’ me.”
“No,” I whispered.
“You are fuckin’ shittin’ me!” Gray roared.
Oh God!
“Honey, are you driving?” I asked carefully, reminding myself again to tread cautiously and not get lulled into stupidity by the usually easygoing Grayson Cody.
A moment while I suspected he deep breathed then, “Yeah, on the way to Gran. I’ll be there in ten. You call the police?”
“Yes.”
Then I got, “This man, is he really your father?”
“Well, I can’t be sure but he’s got my hair, he said I was beautiful, he knew my mom’s name, and when Buddy called me a slut, he took him down in, like, a nanosecond.”
More silence and I didn’t get the same seriously unhappy vibes traveling over the airwaves that I did when I first shared my news so I didn’t know what this one meant.
Then I knew when Gray’s voice came on a vibrating, “He called you a slut?”
Okay.
Again.
Tread cautiously, Ivey!
“Gray—”
He cut me off. “You feel danger from this man, your father?”
“No.”
“Right. You get your fuckin’ baseball bat, you lock all the fuckin’ doors, not in that order, and you stay the fuck inside until I get there. Not the cops, me. Do you hear me?”
“Yes, Gray,” I agreed as I moved to the front door.
“Do it now. I’ll be there soon.”
“Okay, baby.”
“I’m done with this guy,” he whispered.
Shit!
“Honey, please stay calm.”
“I’m done,” he was still whispering and he was also gone.
Shit!
I locked the door then I ran to the back door and locked that. I ran upstairs and got my baseball bat (well, it was Gray’s, I didn’t have one anymore) and ran back downstairs to the living room where there was a window where I could see Buddy Sharp and Hoot Booker in the snow.
Their positions hadn’t changed.
I twisted the window latch, crouched low, shoved the window up an inch and called out, “Uh . . . sorry if you heard the lock turn. No offense but my man isn’t real comfortable with me being alone here with a man he doesn’t know and Buddy.”
Hoot Booker’s head was up, he was looking at me through the window and he was smiling a huge, white, wild-ass smile.
“See you found yourself a decent man,” he remarked, still casually holding Buddy in the snow.
“Uh . . . yeah. He’s great.” I was still calling out the crack of a window.
“Good news, girl,” he replied.
“I, uh, also called the police. They know about Buddy so they’ll probably be here really soon,” I told him.
“More good news,” he said.
“Fuckin’ let me up!” Buddy shouted, still struggling against Hoot’s hold, snow flying all around, but Hoot ignored him and kept his eyes on me.
“So, you live here long?” he asked conversationally, and I again couldn’t control the giggle.
When I controlled it, I answered.
“Just over six months but Gray and I’ve known each other for over seven years,” I told him, decided, considering he seemed willing and able to dole out justice for me, I would leave out the history and Buddy’s place in it, and finished, “It’s a long story.”
“Gray?” he asked.
“Gray, uh . . . Grayson Cody. That’s my man’s name.”
“Fuckin’ hell, I get from the dude ranch I’m on he’s a cowboy but, Christ. Grayson Cody? That’s like the most cowboy a name can get.”
I giggled again.
Yep, this was totally my dad.
“Let . . . me . . . up!” Buddy shrieked, and Hoot looked back down at him.
“Your car, your clothes, your house, chief, I get you think you’ll get whatever you want, but clue in, right now is not one of those times,” he stated.
“Fuck you,” Buddy spat.
“Lotsa money,” Hoot Booker muttered, still looking down at Buddy, “no class.”
My heart skipped a beat before it warmed.
That was when I heard sirens.
“Uh . . . um . . . Hoot?” I called, and he looked at me.
“Yeah, darlin’,” he replied softly and I felt my nose sting but I fought back the tears.
“Well, just so you know, Gray doesn’t want me out there until he’s home so the cops are gonna be here soon but I won’t be out until he gets here. Just wanted you to know. Okay?”
“You give your man peace a’ mind and do as he asks, Ivey. I’ll be good until he gets here,” my father assured me.
My father.
I smiled at him through the window and called, “Thanks.”
“You’re welcome, beautiful,” he called back.
My father.
It seemed this was going to be a family Christmas.
And, again, I couldn’t wait.
Nine fifty-seven in the morning, Christmas Eve . . .
I was ready by the time I saw Gray’s pickup truck speeding down the lane.
There were two uniformed officers outside in my yard wearing their big, bulky winter uniform jackets.
Buddy was up, his back still caked in snow, and he was shouting, complaining and threatening.
Hoot Booker was standing removed, beefy legs planted wide and beefy arms crossed on his chest straining his jeans jacket with its sheepskin collar. His eyes were on Buddy and there was an expression on his face like he’d never encountered anything quite like him and, to save anyone else from doing it, he was struggling with the idea of crushing him like a bug.
The cops were staring at Buddy, clearly unhappy that what they’d hoped would be a laidback Christmas Eve shift involved a run-in with the town’s most hated inhabitant.
As for me, to be ready for Gray’s arrival, I’d run upstairs to yank on my cowboy boots then back downstairs to pull on my jacket, wrap a scarf around my neck and tug a fitted, knit cap on my head down to my ears.
What I couldn’t do was wrap my mind around the fact that the man outside was my father but I also couldn’t think about that just then.
I had to think about Gray.
So the minute his pickup turned in and stopped, I dashed through the living room and out the front door and I didn’t stop. I jumped off the porch and raced through the snow toward Gray.
I knew with one look at him that the time it took for him to make his drive did not cool his anger. He’d been pissed when Casey came to call, angrier than I’d ever seen him.
Now, he was beyond enraged. I knew his control had snapped. He had not lied with what he said to me on the phone.
He was done.
And I needed to stop him from doing something he’d regret and something that might take him away from me.
I made it to him just as he viciously slammed the door on the old girl, the door making the usual creak but also the entire truck rocked ominously.
His eyes were riveted to Buddy, his face set in stone.
I put my hand to his gut. “Gray, baby, don’t. Take a minute. Calm down.”
Not tearing his eyes from Buddy, he put a hand to my chest and firmly but gently shoved me back, growling to no one in particular but to everyone except Buddy, “Keep her away.”
“Don’t, Gray!” I cried frantically, following on a rush as his legs swiftly closed the distance between him and Buddy.
He ignored me and stayed on target.
“You called my woman a slut?” he asked Buddy on a low, rumbling mutter, and no one, but no one, could mistake his fury.
Buddy straightened and faced him down, informing him of something he could not miss, “You got a police presence, Cody.”
Gray’s hand, which never left my chest, gave me another shove. It was not violent but it was forceful. Forceful enough for me to fall back three feet and then Gray moved.
Fast.
Before I could launch myself back at him, two iron arms clamped around me and I shouted, “Gray!”
But he was on Buddy, hands in his jacket powering him back through the snow. Buddy, for some insane reason, didn’t read the threat and was not prepared. Then again, he likely never would be. Gray was fury unleashed, and except maybe Hoot Booker, no one there had experienced anything like it.
Two feet from the corner where the porch met the house, Gray shoved him off and Buddy staggered back and slammed in between the porch and the house.
Gray instantly took those two steps in.
“You called my woman a slut?” he roared in Buddy’s face.
“Gray!” I shrieked, fighting the arms around me and I vaguely heard Hoot Booker whisper in my ear. “Still, beautiful, let your man do what he’s gotta do.”
I didn’t calm. I strained as I watched Buddy try to slide out from in front of Gray but Gray’s arm slashed out and shoved him savagely right back into the corner so Buddy’s body thudded into the house. Buddy recovered and tried the other side but Gray moved fast, shoving him back in so hard Buddy almost went down to the porch. Buddy quickly righted himself, again tried the other side, and again Gray kept him pinned with another body slam into the house.
Then Buddy aimed an upper-cut to Gray’s jaw. I whimpered, but again, lightning fast but still almost casually, Gray lifted a forearm and deflected the blow before his fist even came close.
He stepped in, chest to chest, nose to nose, and rumbled quietly and terrifyingly, “You came to my home on my land when my woman was alone and you called her slut?”
“Step back, Cody,” Buddy demanded, tried to slide out from in front of Gray again but Gray just shoved him back.
“Fuckin’ answer me,” Gray ordered.
Buddy finally realized he was going nowhere so his eyes went beyond Gray to the two officers and he asked irritably, “Aren’t you gonna do anything?”
My head turned toward them to see one had his hands to his hips, the other his arms crossed on his chest, both of their eyes were on Gray and Buddy and neither moved nor spoke.
They weren’t going to do anything.
Buddy realized this too and went back to Gray.
“Step back!” he screeched.
“What’s the matter with you?” Gray asked.
“Fuck you!” was Buddy’s answer.
Gray kept his face in Buddy’s and thundered, “What’s the matter with you?”
“Get off!” Buddy shouted.
“What did I do?” Gray asked.
“Get off!”
“What the fuck did I do?” Gray repeated. “Fuckin’ decades, Bud, decades you played this game. Then you took my fuckin’ woman away from me. Seven years. Seven fuckin’ years, Bud. In that time, you got two girls. What did you take from Ivey and me? I’m marryin’ her next year but that house right behind you should have my kids in it by now and you took that away from her and me.”
At Gray’s words, Hoot Booker’s arms flexed powerfully around me but I kept my eyes glued to Gray and Buddy.
“Step the fuck back,” Buddy hissed.
“You diseased my trees, you poisoned my horses, you burned down my barn, you tried to take my land from me. Why? I don’t get it. Why the fuck would you do this sick, crazy, whacked-out shit? What’s the matter with you? Give me one fuckin’ thing in the miserable time I’ve known you and explain to me what the fuck I did to you.”
“Just like you, the Great Grayson Cody, thinkin’ everything is about you,” Buddy sneered.
“You and I been livin’ in the same town at the same time all our lives, but I don’t know you and you sure as fuck don’t know me so you don’t know you can say that kinda shit about me,” Gray shot back.
Buddy glared at him a second and then demanded, “Fuck off and let me pass.”
Buddy misinterpreted Gray seemingly calming down (a bit) because at his demand, Gray put his hand in Buddy’s chest and shoved him hard into the house. When Buddy’s body swayed back out, Gray did it again and his head slammed against the side.
Then Gray got nose to nose with him again and barked, “Explain this shit to me!”
“It’s not about you! It has not one fuckin’ thing to do with you!” Buddy shouted back. “It’s about the land!”
I stopped straining and stared in shock. Gray moved back three inches and did the same.
Buddy, though, now it was Buddy who was unleashed and he went wild.
Throwing his arms out then slapping his hand against the side of the house, he began.
“Since I could remember, all Granddaddy talked about was Cody land. Then my father went on and on and fuckin’ on about it. ‘Good neighbors but that sure is some damn pretty land.’”
His last words, undoubtedly repeating his father, were sarcastic and biting.
And he wasn’t done.
“And I took Granddaddy’s shit, I took Dad’s shit. Want me up on a horse. Want me muckin’ fuckin’ horseshit. Want me ridin’ the fences with the ranch hands. Want me out herdin’ the cattle. Want me in the pens wrestlin’ fuckin’, filthy, stinkin’ calves. Fuck that. I got no interest in that. Do they care?” He shook his head. “No. ‘You’re a Sharp, Bud, quit pissin’ around and be a fuckin’ Sharp.’”
More of Jeb Sharp’s words to his son coming out snide with his face twisted and he kept on.
“So I decided, he wouldn’t let me be me, he only would let me be what he wanted me to be, I’d be what I fuckin’ wanted to be and I’d see about taking what he most wanted. I’d sit in this house on this land with my family. A Sharp would be here but he’d know it would be me. He’d know this was all mine. He’d know I got what he wanted, what his daddy wanted, what his daddy’s daddy wanted, I got. And it would be mine, not his and fuck him. Fuck him.”
“This shit is true, then why the fuck did you take Ivey from me?” Gray asked.
“You found a girl, got married, had children, you’re a Cody. If you had a family I’d never get you off this land.”
This was definitely true.
But Gray obviously didn’t believe it.
“This shit, Bud. It’s all bullshit. You targeted me.”
“Bonus, Gray,” he snarled. “Mr. Mustang, the Mighty Cody, everyone in town thinkin’ you control the sun and moon, call the tides. Made me sick watchin’ it, hearin’ it,” he leaned in, “livin’ that shit. Made me sick.”
“That’s it?” Gray asked incredulously and I thought strangely. “Controlling lives, breaking hearts, destroying property, killing animals for that shit?”
Oh. Well. I could see his point.
“Yeah, Gray, that’s it. You didn’t live my life. Your daddy strutted through town makin’ damn sure everyone in it knew he thought you could control the sun and moon, call the tides, talkin’ you up so much, they believed it. My daddy didn’t do that shit.”
“And this?” Gray went on. “Your visit today. What the fuck is this all about?”
“I ate that shit all my life, you don’t get to live free and easy. You don’t get your happily ever after. And neither does she,” Buddy answered on a sneer.
“So it is about me and it’s also about Ivey,” Gray stated.
Buddy glared at him and said nothing, which meant yes.
“I don’t believe this,” Gray said low.
“Believe it,” Buddy clipped.
“I don’t believe this shit,” Gray kind of repeated.
“Believe it!” Buddy shouted and Gray stood there, staring him down, silent.
Then he broke his silence.
“You’re pathetic,” he stated, and Buddy blinked.
Then his face twisted again.
“Fuck you. You think I care what you think?” he asked.
“Yeah,” Gray answered. “I think you care too damned much about what everybody thinks.”
And there it was. Gray had another excellent point.
He also wasn’t done.
“I also think you’re weak. You wanted to be your own man? Bud, all you had to do was be your own man. Fuck, you got a college degree. You found a job that paid a shitload. You found a pretty wife. You gave her beautiful daughters. You put a nice house over their heads. But you’re so fuckin’ pathetic you didn’t see that you already showed your dad. Instead you hurt people, including your wife and kids, to perpetrate some sick-ass shit so you could show everybody . . .” He trailed off then asked, “What? To show everybody what?”
He didn’t wait for Buddy to answer, he just kept talking.
“I don’t know. It’s so whacked I don’t get it. The only thing I get is that you are sadder and less of a man than I already thought you were and, Bud, that’s sayin’ somethin’ because me and the rest of Mustang thought you were lowest kind of person a person could be.”
Buddy opened his mouth to reply but Gray took a step back and beat him to it.
“That’s it, then that’s it. You don’t wake up and be a man, that’s on you, not on me. You pile more shit on me and Ivey, it’s fucked, but it reflects on you, not me. You are obviously not wakin’ up but every time you fail to beat me, you . . . just . . . fail making you less and less the man you wanna be and more and more the man your daddy feared you’d be. So, do what you gotta do. Nothin’ a pathetic excuse for a man like you could do could defeat me.”
And with that, he was done and I knew that when my man turned and walked through the snow toward me and Hoot Booker. He didn’t even glance at the cops and he didn’t look over his shoulder and give Bud Sharp any more of his attention. He just stopped two feet away from my father and me.
His eyes did a scan of my face then they went over my shoulder to Hoot.
“You wouldn’t mind, I’d like to have my woman.”
“Sure, hoss,” Hoot Booker muttered, letting me go, and the second he did, Gray leaned in, grabbed my hand and pulled me to him.
He slid his arm around my shoulders, tucking me to his side, his eyes still on my father and he lifted his hand. “Grayson Cody.”
God.
God, but I loved Grayson Cody.
Hoot lifted his, took Gray’s and gripped.
“Hoot Booker.”
“Ivey tells me you’re her daddy,” Gray remarked, letting Hoot’s hand go.
“Reckon so, she’s got my hair, or, at least, hope it’s so,” Hoot replied.
Some tension left my body because that was sweet.
I heard movement and muttering around us and knew the officers were rounding up Buddy but, like Gray, I was done with him. He ceased to exist. So I ignored this.
Gray looked side to side then back at Hoot. “You got a car?”
“In town,” Hoot answered.
“Stayin’ at the hotel?” Gray went on.
“Yeah, paid for by that douchebag. Think that ride’s ended though,” Hoot noted and I swallowed a giggle but that didn’t mean I didn’t smile.
When I looked up at Gray I saw the dimple was out.
Then he said, “Right, how ’bout this? We go in, have a cup of coffee, warm up. After we do that, I gotta go get my gran from the nursing home. I’m thinkin’ you can guess I don’t want Ivey too far from me so I want her with me. That said, my woman’s never had a family so I can guess, you’re here, she’ll not want to be too far from you.”
He had that right.
Gray continued, “So, you follow in Ivey’s Lexus. We get Gran, Ivey can ride with you on the way back and you two can get to know each other. Work for you?”
Hoot stared at him a beat not hiding his surprise. He looked to my car. Then back at Gray.
“You’re lettin’ me alone in a Lexus?” he asked softly.
“You gonna steal it?” Gray asked back.
“No,” Hoot answered instantly.
“Then yeah,” Gray replied and Hoot’s brows shot together even as he moved his big body uncomfortably.
“Hoss, maybe you don’t know, I—” he started.
“I know,” Gray cut him off firmly and my body twitched.
“You know?” I asked him, my head tipped back and he looked down at me.
“Lash,” he answered.
“Right,” I whispered, not sure how I felt about this.
“Told you, dollface, he told me everything about you. You didn’t know this because you’d had enough, he didn’t want to give you more. I saw his play and made the same one.”
Well, knowing my father was in prison for murder one would not have been joyful news, especially back then even if I was living happy limbo.
I supposed I could be pissed. Then again, the men in my life loved me and wanted to protect me so I decided not to be.
And anyway, it was Christmas. I had a father to get to know, a grandmother to pick up from the nursing home and cookies to bake.
I had other priorities.
“Whatever,” I muttered and Gray grinned down at me then he looked to Hoot.
“So, you wanna come in for coffee?”
Hoot stared hard at Gray before he looked at me and back at Gray.
Then he smiled a huge, wild-ass smile and stated, “Fuck yeah.”
Gray jerked up his chin then led me to the side of the porch. He disengaged from me to lift me up onto it even though I could, and had (often), jumped up on my own. He climbed up after me and led me to the house.
I glanced and saw the Audi and cruisers gone.
Gone.
I drew in a breath.
My man guided me and my newfound dad into our house where we had coffee while Gray called the nursing home and explained the delay and I chatted with Hoot Booker and got to know my dad.
Then we went to get Gran.
We brought her home.
I finished my cookies.
Then Gray, Grandma Miriam and Hoot Booker ate a bunch of them.
Norrie came over.
Then Gray and Hoot went into town so Hoot could check out of the hotel and get his car.
And in a beautiful house on a big, beautiful patch of land, Grandma Miriam in her chair wrapped with her shawl, Norrie in the armchair, her hand wrapped around a mug of hot cocoa, my father sitting in another chair, his hand wrapped around a beer, and me curled into my man, I found myself surrounded by family.
The wait was over and I found Gray was right.
Good things come to those who wait.
But he’d left out one word.
Because those things were really good things.
Ten twenty-two at night, Christmas Day . . .
Gray and I were in bed, front to front, arms around each other, whispering in the dark about our day.
It had been a great day. So great it was hard to pick which part was the best.
But I was thinking it was the fact that Gray and I unintentionally settled on the same theme for each other for Christmas.
First, he unwrapped my gift which was a scarf. The minute he saw it, his eyes came to me. They were warm and soft with memories and when I tipped my head to the side and bit my lip, he looked at my mouth and burst out laughing. Then, right in front of everyone, he hooked me with a hand at the back of my neck and laid a hard, closed-mouthed kiss on me.
After that, I told him to look in the bottom of the box and muttered, “You preempted my instructions.”
I said this because there was a note at the bottom of the box on which I wrote, “Your real gift comes after a kiss.”
Even though he’d already earned his present, after reading the note, Gray gave me another kiss immediately.
That one was softer, shorter but no less sweet.
It also wasn’t closed-mouthed.
With that I gave him his real present, a kickass, to-the-hip leather jacket with warm lining. He had the same one he’d had since I met him but I’d noticed the lining was ripped, worn and some of it had come out entirely.
He loved it.
Then he gave me my presents.
First, a beautiful, soft wool knit cap and scarf in gray with the barest hints of black, the scarf wide and long and gorgeous. Second, a pair of gray suede gloves with fantastic stitching and lined in soft fur. And last, a matching hip-length, hide coat that was like no coat I’d ever seen. The sleeves were belled and both sleeves and hem were jagged following the natural lines of the hide. The lapels also fell in the natural lines of the hide but they fell wide and deep exposing the thick, super-soft fur that was mostly gray with an undercoat of cream and wisps of black hairs that was the inside of the coat. It tied closed with a hide belt.
It was unusual, it was sophisticated, it was classy, it was cool, it was stylish and it was Colorado.
It was the perfect coat for a macho man rancher cowboy’s stylish soon-to-be wife.
I opened it, put it on, felt that soft fur against my skin, loved it instantly and my eyes drifted to Gray.
Then I burst into tears.
In turn, Gray burst out laughing. But he held me as I cried and multitasked by ignoring it and continuing to hand out presents.
“Let’s see, dollface,” he muttered, breaking into my thoughts. “Got me an ex-con whose smile scares me a little and whose also my woman’s long lost daddy snorin’ on my couch. Got my gran in a rented hospital bed, also snorin’. Got my estranged mom lyin’ in the guest bedroom, luckily not snorin’. And got no beer left in the house because my uncles drank it all.”
“I know,” I whispered, “isn’t it awesome?”
I saw his grin in the moonlight but he said, “Not fond of a house without beer.”
“I’ll go to Plack’s tomorrow,” I promised.
“Know you will, my woman takes care of me,” he murmured and I sighed happily.
I did, I took care of him. And I loved doing it. But I also loved knowing he noticed and liked it.
His arms gave me a gentle squeeze.
“You have a good Christmas, baby?”
I pressed closer to him. “Yeah, honey.”
“Good,” he murmured.
“You?” I asked.
“Best ever,” Gray answered.
Oh yes.
Yes.
I loved Grayson Cody.
“Good,” I said softly.
Then I dipped my chin, moved in and kissed his chest.
There, my lips against his skin, I whispered, “It’s been a wild ride and I can’t say over the years that I didn’t wish I’d made a different decision. But right now, in this bed with you, our family in this house, your ring on my finger, I’m glad that when I was on the sidewalk on the square in town with you and Casey all those years ago, I decided for the first time in my life not to play it safe.”
Gray’s arms gave me another squeeze, this one so tight I was forced to take my face out of his chest, tip my head back and look at him.
“I’m glad too, Ivey, seriously fuckin’ glad you took a chance on me.”
Yeah, I loved Grayson Cody.
He dropped his head and touched his mouth to mine, giving me a light kiss then ordering against my lips.
“Say you love me, Ivey.”
My lips smiled against his. “I love you, Gray.”
His lips smiled back.