One year later…
“Can you grab Elias’s binky?” I ask Easton.
He reaches into the diaper bag and retrieves the pacifier. Elias, now drunk on breastmilk, can barely keep his eyes open. He happily accepts his binky before his eyes fall shut. Sometimes I stare at him for hours. Especially in the middle of the night while Easton sleeps. Elias—with the same blue-green eyes as his daddy—is a miracle in our life. I understand now that God doesn’t take. He gives.
“You’re crying.” Easton’s voice is gruff and it startles Elias. “What’s wrong?”
I turn my eyes to my husband and blink away the silly tears. “Nothing. I’m just so thankful we have him.”
He leans over and kisses my mouth. “Me too, honey. Me too.”
Mom strolls into her living room carrying a basket of towels to fold. We came over to visit after church. She’s always good for a Sunday home-cooked meal. Especially after she and I tag team in the church nursery. Caring for all those babies—including my own—is taxing but I wouldn’t change a thing. Despite not seeing my husband preach to his steadily growing congregation, I enjoy being in the church nursery rotation.
Easton sets to texting with his friend Dane. My gaze drifts to my mom. Today she’s beautiful, still in her church dress. She spends a lot of time at the gym keeping her figure. Where I’ve softened in areas due to childbirth, Mom remains tight and fit. She really is a knockout with her long golden-blonde hair, flawless makeup, and form fitting outfits that compliment her body. The spiked heels she wears make her at least four inches taller and elongate her already long slender legs.
My mom is gorgeous.
Ding-dong!
Elias startles and whimpers. Mom hurries to the door. My gaze follows after her as she swings open the door. Anthony Blakely stands on the other side of the door. When did that kid get so big? His hulking frame fills the doorway. Mom takes a step away from him. Anthony, despite his imposing body all muscles and hard lines, is harmless though.
“Anthony Blakely?” Mom questions, astonished. “I had you confused for Quinn there for a moment.”
Anthony gives her a crooked grin. “Dad doesn’t like that I’m taller than him.”
She laughs—no, she giggles—as she steps aside. “Please, come in. Is there something you needed?”
He saunters into the foyer. When he sees me, he waves. “Hey, Lace.”
“Hey, Anthony.” We went to school together all our lives. Anthony is a couple of years behind me. At almost seventeen, he’s every bit of a man as his father or my husband.
“I was next door at Mrs. Sing’s when I noticed your yard,” he tells Mom, his hands on his hips.
Anthony is built like your typical high school football player god. Massive. Muscly. Cocky. His almost black hair hangs down over one of his eyebrows giving him a playful look about him. Anyone who knows Anthony, though, knows he’s anything but playful. His twin brother Aiden is the playful one. Anthony is broody and grumpy. Again, just like his father.
“What about my yard?” Mom questions in defense.
“Whoever you’re paying to do it, you should fire.” Anthony darts his gaze over to Easton in question.
Easton laughs and raises both palms. “Don’t look at me. I offered and was told no.”
“I do the yard,” Mom huffs. Her shoulders are stiff as she’s no longer happy to see him. Irritation has her lips pursing together. “Nothing is wrong with it.”
Anthony snorts. “You cut the grass way too short for one. The edging isn’t straight. And do you know the difference between a weed and a flower? Your garden doesn’t.”
Mom gapes at him and I can’t help but giggle.
“Oh, boy,” I mutter under my breath.
The stupid guy keeps on running his mouth. “It’s the worst looking yard on the street. Pales in comparison next to Mrs. Sing’s. Surely you’ve noticed how nice her yard looks?”
Mom’s cheeks blaze bright red and I wonder why. I’ve noticed Anthony mowing next door before in just a pair of basketball shorts. When you’re married to the Adonis I am though, nothing compares. But the guilty flash in my mom’s eyes tells me she notices him. A lot.
“It’s okay,” Mom lies. She’s told me on more than one occasion that Mrs. Sing has a nice yard.
Anthony laughs. “It’s better than okay. It’s the best.”
Mom swipes at a rogue blonde strand of hair from her eyes—clearly flustered—and lets out a sigh of annoyance. “So you came over here to tell me what a crap job I do on my yard? Thanks.”
His grin is wolfish. “I came to see if you’d hire me.”
At this, Mom scoffs. “You’re just like your dad. Arrogant and presumptuous. Of course I won’t hire you. Not only do you have the worst business spiel known to man, but I also can’t afford you.”
More lies.
Mom does well at her advertising firm.
Anthony shrugs. “I’ll do it for free.” His brows furrow. “Well, not exactly free. A trade. I need something from you in return.”
Mom’s face turns even brighter crimson. She shoots me a confused look. Easton chuckles from beside me.
“What do you want from me?” Mom’s voice has risen a few octaves.
Anthony pauses for a long time. His gaze unabashedly peruses along her curves before he meets her stare with a conspiratorial grin. “One thing.”
“W-What?”
He smirks. “I need you to get me an internship at your agency. Dad won’t let me intern at his company because he wants me to bring some different experiences to the table. Plus, the college I’m eyeing likes when you volunteer. Dad thinks it would be a conflict of interest if my only experience interning was with him.” His brows tug together in a puppy dog stare. I bite back a laugh because he clearly doesn’t know my mom. She’s seconds away from throttling him for being a little shit.
“Okay.”
My smile falls away. I’m stunned. “What?” I ask, my voice coming out a choke of surprise.
Mom lifts her chin. “We need an intern. Quinn Blakely’s son would be a good fit if Anthony here has one iota of his father’s work ethic and drive.” She sighs and flutters his fingers at him. “And I do need a yard boy.”
Anthony growls. “I’m not a boy.”
Easton and I share a knowing look. No, Anthony is certainly not a boy. He looks like he’s perfectly capable of throwing my mom over his shoulder and carrying her upstairs. The thought has trickles of excitement surging through me.
“She needs a pool guy too,” I pipe up. “Javier forgets to come half the time and does a crappy job.”
“Lacy!” Mom admonishes. “I don’t need—”
“I’ll do anything you want,” Anthony murmurs, his voice low and promising.
It shuts Mom up. She shoots me a helpless stare and I shrug.
“Looks like you have a job, Anthony,” I say with a grin.
“From the sounds of it,” Easton chimes in. “Like three free jobs. Good luck with that. If you’re in the business of working for free, the church could always use an extra pair of hands to polish those pews. They sure do get dirty.”
I shoot him a warning glare. We have only had sex in the sanctuary the one time, but it’s a time we’ll never forget. That moment was the catalyst for…everything.
“I’ll think about it,” Anthony tells Easton before turning his attention to Mom. He juts out his massive arm and offers his hand. “Do we have a deal?”
Mom’s tiny hand gets swallowed in his. He’s a mountain compared to her. I’ve always thought of her as feisty and larger than life. Right now, she’s a fair maiden about to be devoured by the giant in her tale.
“You can let go now,” Mom rasps as she tries to tug away her hand.
Anthony’s features darken. “It’s a three-part deal. The handshake takes at least three times longer to seal the deal.”
He doesn’t let her go.
And a part of me hopes he never does.
Anthony Blakely is nothing but trouble.
Mom needs a little trouble now that her little girl is no longer finding it every turn.
“Do you see what I see?” Easton questions, his hot breath close to my ear. Elias sighs in his sleep and I absently stroke his dark hair.
“I see, Preach.”
“Do I need to kick his ass?”
At this, I laugh. “Nah, she’s got it covered.” My mom jerks her hand away and points at the door.
“Time to go, Anthony. You can come over tomorrow. Be prepared to sweat.” She tries her best to look threatening but fails miserably.
“I look forward to you making me sweat, Ms. Greenwood,” he murmurs as he heads toward the door. He casts a heated glance at her over his shoulder. “All. Day. Long.”
He leaves and it isn’t until the door slams shut that Mom let’s out an exasperated cry.
“This was a bad idea, huh?” Her panicked eyes meet mine.
Easton shrugs. “Everyone deserves a chance to prove themselves.”
She kicks off her heels and storms off to her bedroom, clearly still in a panic about hiring a good-looking football player teenager. It’s a recipe for disaster. Good thing Mom knows her way around a kitchen.
“They’re going to fuck,” Easton murmurs, his eyes gleaming wickedly.
“Preachers can’t say fuck,” I scoff.
He smirks. “Church nursery workers can’t say fuck either,” he challenges.
I smile and shake my head. “We have much to be forgiven for, Preach.”
“I’m going to take you home and we’ll add a few more naughty things to the list. Go big or go home, honey.”
Leaning forward, I kiss his full lips. “Lead the way, sinner. The night is still young.”
Lots of growling and stuffing items into a diaper bag before we’re loaded up and headed home. My preacher man is a man of his word. And he’s about to make good on his promise. All. Night. Long.
As we drive, I bask in the happiness that seems to follow me like a thousand rays of sunshine after a rainy day. My series with the publisher about Mikey is doing well. My husband is hot and adoring and perfect in every way. Our son is adorable and a good baby.
Life is better than I could have ever imagined.
And I can’t wait to see what God has in store for us next.
The End