Chapter Nineteen
The first few days “off” had been great, especially after a few days in the hospital. Colby had mostly slept in Mal’s bed, waking long enough to eat and talk with her awhile. They usually watched television together until he dozed off. She teased him for loving daytime judge shows, while her guilty pleasure was British baking contests. She entertained him with stories about the new show she was putting together for VCONN. She even cooked a bit, just eggs and soup, grilled cheese sandwiches, easy things, but important and special because he knew she didn’t like to cook at all.
But she never said another word about getting married. He’d started to think maybe he’d dreamed it while drugged up in the hospital.
He couldn’t wait to get out and shop for her ring. But he couldn’t drive yet, not on painkillers. He could get around better and had started doing a few easy things around the house while she was at work. Laundry. Dishes. He even called Alli and asked her how to make her famous creamy chicken enchiladas, one of his favorite dishes. Elias came by at least every other day and updated him on the cartel situation. Which he didn’t care about in the slightest, though it gave him the opportunity to break his decision to Elias. His partner didn’t seem surprised and agreed to start the discussion with the lieutenant for him.
Which was great. Exactly what he wanted. But he wanted to be doing these things himself.
If he didn’t get out of the house soon, he was going to lose his mind.
The doorbell rang, a welcome distraction. Though the woman waiting at the door was a shock. Holding a fluffy little dog that had to be Pumpkin, Mal’s Mama looked him up and down.
“Well, well, well, who are you, young man?”
“Colby Wade, ma’am.” He saw the waiting car, the driver popping the trunk. “Let me get your bags.”
The driver set her bags out, thankfully, because he wasn’t supposed to lift anything yet. He gave the man a tip and rolled the two bags back up to the porch. She took one handle from him, leaving the larger bag for him, but luckily there was only one step up. He tugged it up, unobtrusively holding his side.
“You hurt?”
He flashed her a smile and she humphed under her breath. Mal got that from her. “I was shot off duty a little over a week ago, but I’m fine, ma’am.”
Before he could protest, she took the handle from him and shoved the fluffy dog into his arms. “Pumpkin needs to potty. Do you think you can manage that much?”
“Sure thing, ma’am. Let’s go, Pumpkin.”
He carried the dog through the back gate and set him down in the yard. The dog danced around his feet, begging to be picked back up, but he finally did his business and Colby took him back inside. He’d noticed a small box of treats on top of the fridge, so he gave the dog one.
“Ma’am, can I get you a cup of coffee?”
“Absolutely.” She sat down at the bar, watching him move around the kitchen. “So you’re seeing my daughter.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He set the cup in front of her. “Cream or sugar?”
She shook her head and held the cup, warming her hands but only watching him. It unnerved him. This was the most important person in Mal’s life. If her mother ended up hating him…
“You serious?”
“Yes, ma’am. I’d do anything for her.”
“Well, you’re certainly polite enough. Tell me about yourself.”
He told her about Afghanistan and the years on the force. Enough about his PTSD so that she’d understand how much her daughter had helped him. Then about the shooting and his plans to leave the force. “I still haven’t told her yet. I want it to be a surprise.”
“Darned fool,” Mama muttered, shaking her head. “Don’t you think she’d rather have a serious talk about your life, especially if you want to make a life with her?”
She had a point. “We already talked about it indirectly. She told me I had to give up my monstrous sense of responsibility. Her words.”
“And so you decided to quit your job entirely?”
“It’s more than that. I don’t need it anymore. I don’t need that constant war, the threat of danger to keep me engaged.” Not when I know I can battle the Mistress of Dallas in her bed as soon as I get home.
“I see.” She sipped her coffee a few moments. “What are your intentions with respect to my daughter?”
“I want to marry her, ma’am. If she’ll have me.”
“Does she know that?”
“Unless I dreamed it all in the hospital, yes. She actually sort of proposed to me first.”
Mama laughed. “That’s my girl. If she saw something she wanted, she took it. Even if it was a pie I’d promised to someone else.”
Speaking of dessert… “Ma’am—”
“I’m sure she likes you being all polite with her, but I’d rather you just call me Mama, or Alice. Either is fine with me.”
“Miss Alice, could you teach me how to make your famous cream brûlée?”
She threw her head back and laughed. “Now I know you’re perfect for each other. That always was her favorite dessert, even if she couldn’t ever make it.” Standing up, she grabbed the cup and came around the bar into the kitchen. “All right, young man, let’s see how well you take instructions.”
Walking into her house and finding Colby in the kitchen was always a nice surprise. Realizing that her mother was in the kitchen too…
Oh shit. Here it comes.
She’d been making plans all week for a small, impromptu ceremony with a justice of peace. She didn’t need or want all the fancy ceremony with an overblown reception and massive guest list. She didn’t even care if their friends were actually there for the ceremony. She just wanted him to belong to her.
But she needed to tell Mama, and she’d been putting it off. Anything else in her life, she would have tackled it head on and already kicked its ass or wrestled it to the ground. But Mama? She didn’t want to lose her, and this might be the very thing to send Mama out of her life for good.
“There’s my girl.” Mama wiped her hands on a towel and came to give her a hug, kissing both her cheeks.
“What a nice surprise. Where are you headed, Mama?”
Mama gave her a knowing look. “I thought I’d stay a few days, and then I’m headed to New York City with Patty and Rhonda. We’ve got tickets to Hamilton.”
“Nice.” A few days. Crap. It was one thing to arrive at her daughter’s house during the day and find a man. But to see him there day and night… She’d start asking questions. Questions Mal didn’t want to fight over.
“Sit down, we’ve got everything ready.”
She had to admit that it was something special to see the two people she loved most in the world sitting at her table. Together. It actually made her throat tighten when he took her hand and they said grace before plowing into fried chicken and mashed potatoes. Mama’s specialty was usually dessert, but no Southern woman would survive long without knowing how to make good fried chicken. “Sure is good, Mama.”
“Don’t compliment me. Colby made it.”
He flashed that killer grin at her. “With help. But I think I can make it again.”
She had no expectation that he slave in the kitchen for her, but that he was making the effort definitely made her cold Mistress heart flood with warmth. Too bad he was in no shape for her to show him exactly how grateful she was that he was willing to do things around the house without her ever having to make the request. Most men expected someone else to take care of the house and food as a matter of privilege, never thinking that he lived there too. That by ignoring the basic everyday chores, he was dumping all that responsibility on his partner. Even as a Mistress, she’d typically had to give the order to clean or cook.
Colby had taken it upon himself to help. Even injured.
“You’ll want to save some room for dessert,” Mama said, though no reminder was necessary. With her in the house, dessert was expected and hotly anticipated.
Colby cleared their plates and returned with small pots of cream brûlée. Now she’d definitely died and gone to heaven. She’d plowed through half of it before sensing his eyes on her. She looked up, meeting his smoky gaze. Ah, he was definitely feeling better. He hadn’t had that look in his eyes since before he’d been shot.
“How is it?”
“Perfect.”
He smiled at Mama and excused himself from the table. “I’m going to take a quick shower, if that’s all right. I didn’t have the chance this earlier.”
“Of course.”
It didn’t escape her notice—even with a few delicious bites of custard melting on her tongue—that he washed off their plates and put them in the dishwasher first. Now that was definitely a man she wanted to keep. For good.
When he went into the bathroom, she braced for the inevitable questions. The anger. The old familiar arguments.
“You are going to keep him, aren’t you?”
Shocked, she twitched so hard she almost flipped a spoonful of custard out of her spoon onto the table. She looked at Mama, who smiled back at her.
“I got eyes, girl. I can see how much he cares for you, how much you care for him. I’m just mad you never told me a peep about him.”
“I never told you because of the last time I introduced you to my boyfriend.”
Mama snorted. “That boy was worthless and you know it. Colby, now, he’s something else entirely. You know it. I know it.”
She did. She’d known from the beginning that he was different than any other man she’d ever dated. Not because she didn’t know if he was submissive, not even because he wasn’t part of her BDSM world. But his personality, the cocky, easy smile, the hardened, seasoned warrior. It took a special kind of man to serve his country, and then his community as a police officer. Risking his life for very little pay or reward.
“You don’t care that he’s white?”
“I don’t care if he be brown, red, yellow, white, or black, as long as he loves you. Words are easy to throw around, but actions are harder to fake. His actions say he’s going to take care of you every chance you’ll give him. He’s not the lying, no-good leaving kind of man like your father.” Mama reached over and squeezed her hand. “Don’t make my mistakes, but don’t be afraid to grab what you want with both hands and hold on despite my mistakes, either.”
Colby came back in, plain jeans and cotton shirt, sticking to his back because he hadn’t dried off very well. Bare foot. His hair was growing out, which she liked. Brown, but hints of gold that would probably lighten if he got much sun.
“Y’all need a refill?”
She nodded, not trusting herself to speak yet. He brought the carafe over and topped off her cup, then Mama’s. He started to turn back and she reached out, snagging his hand.
“Mama, I’ve got something important to tell you.” He paused, caught the serious look in her eyes, and immediately moved closer, taking up a protective stance at her side and setting the carafe down on the table to free his other hand, in case he needed to fight. Even wounded, he’d put his body in front of hers if he thought there was danger or she might face a battle. “I love this man and I plan on marrying him this Friday before the justice of peace, assuming Vicki finishes my dress on time. You got a problem with that?”
His fingers squeezed hers reflexively and he stared at her, his eyes suddenly raging with emotion. Hope, love, need, hunger. And yeah, satisfaction. She didn’t expect him to go down on his knees right there beside her chair in front of witnesses. Both knees, not the traditional proposal stance. Even more surprising, he pulled a ring box out of his pocket. One that she recognized.
As a child, she’d been allowed to look inside the red velvet box and dream about her grandma’s vintage wedding ring someday belonging on her finger.
“I happened to mention that I hadn’t been able to shop for a ring yet, and Miss Alice said there was no need. She had the perfect ring.”
“How…?”
Mama smiled, though her eyes shimmered with tears. “I was going through things and something told me I needed to bring it to you sooner than later.”
He took the silver ring out of the box and moved it to the tip of her finger, but didn’t slip it on just yet. “I’ve got something to tell you first.”
Mal leveled a hard look on him that made his nostrils flare and his eyes darken. Oh yeah, he was definitely feeling better. “What?”
“You gave me an ultimatum. You told me if I wanted to be here for long, I had to let go of something.”
She nodded, remembering that talk they’d had, sitting right here. Him with no shirt, wearing only his boxers. Blue eyes dark and hurt with old pain. Those eyes were dark, still, but not with pain. With desire.
“I gave notice to my lieutenant and am taking a job with an old high-school friend doing construction, as soon as the doc gives me the okay.”
She squeezed his hand, relief spilling over her eyes and trickling down her cheeks. “You didn’t have to do that. If you want to be a cop—”
“I want you,” he broke in. “Being a cop was never my dream. It was something to do that kept me alive and fighting until I could find you.” He bent his head but kept his eyes locked to hers, brushing his lips over her knuckles. “Mal, will you marry me?”
She deliberately held back her immediate yes. She’d played with a lot of subs over the years, and he was pretty low on the kink scale. Would that be enough for her long term? Would she be too much for him? What if she handled him wrong, pushed him too hard, or required something unreasonable from him? Like his job. She was glad, so very glad, that he wanted to quit. But was that really his decision, and not him making a decision for her approval?
There really wasn’t any way to be sure, she knew that. But she couldn’t forget the way he responded to her. The trust he’d already placed in her. To go from never exploring kink at all, to making love with a Mistress, was a huge step for a man like him. It gave her so much territory to explore with him. Boundaries to find and test.
Sliding her left palm around the back of his head, she gripped his nape firmly, letting him feel the strength of her hand in a subtle way that wouldn’t embarrass him in front of Mama. He might never want to wear a collar, but she watched the emotions flickering across his face. Desire, yes, fading to surrender. No expectation, no demands—just a quiet acceptance and appreciation of the strength she gave him.
“Yes.”