When I awoke alone, my dream was at the forefront of my mind and I was grasping at straws trying desperately to remember every piece of it. Thatcher. It was always Thatcher who invaded my mind. The feel of his large hands caressing my thighs, those eyes of his boring into my soul as he whispered dirty words into my ear, that, now awake, I couldn’t hear what they were. God, how I wished I could. He drove me wild. It was that moment, clenching my sex in need, wanting so badly to touch myself with thoughts of Thatcher so present, I realized my toy was in the fire. Dang it.

I got up quickly, throwing a blanket away from me that Thatcher must have placed on me while I slept. The fact that that thought sent crazy thrills of excitement through my body, must have had to do with the dream I’d just had. Heading downstairs and toward the delicious smells of dinner, I saw Thatcher and Thayer sitting outside on the back patio. The screen door allowed for me to listen in on their discussion.

“Spider-Man always likes to be outside.”

“Even in the cold?” Thatcher asked.

“I don’t know. Does he?”

“I don’t think so, buddy. Turtles like the warm sun.”

“Why don’t you pick him up? My mommy holds him sometimes for me. He wiggles a lot.”

“Yeah,” Thatcher said, sounding unsure, “let’s wait until your mom wakes up and she can help you with him.”

I don’t know why, but it annoyed me that he sounded so…so nice. It was like our little moment where he demanded I tell him about my divorce meant nothing to him now. That my life was changing every which way and I didn’t even have my toy to boot – and Thatcher sounded like it was just any other ole day! I made my presence known, sliding the door open and maybe shutting it a little too hard behind me.

“Hi, Mama. Thatcher was showing me how to cook.”

“To grill.”

“Yeah, how to grill, Mama.”

“Is that so?” I dared a quick glance at Thatcher and those damn blue eyes were stern, threatening me as if I were the one to have a problem. This mess was his fault, as far as I could see. Maybe he was affected more than I thought when I had been standing on the other side of that screen door, unable to see his facial features. But now, with the sun waning, sitting in a white Adirondack chair, his hands folded in front of him and the turtle bin at his feet, I could see the grim line in his face that he wasn’t too happy. I could feel the tension rolling off him in waves and for the first time since Adrian and I agreed on this divorce, I was irritated with my husband. Ex-husband. For leaving me to deal with this alone with his friend.

“Hungry?” his voice down-right angry, accusing.

Even though I wanted to tell him no thank you, I couldn’t ignore the growling in my stomach, trying to remember the last time I ate. Before I took Thayer to the park this morning. Thayer had cereal and I ate a banana as I waited for him to finish up.

“I am, actually.”

“I can hear your stomach growling. We grilled steaks.”

“It smells wonderful.”

He took some massive T-Bones off the grill and the heat of the flames had me stumbling back against his chair. He was at my side in an instant.

“You okay?”

“Yeah, I just…it was the heat. The fire’s been on my mind and that just brought back the reality of it is all.”

His warm hand was on my elbow in an effort to keep me steady and I couldn’t help the fact that it wasn’t a total lie what I told him. The fire was on the forefront of my mind, but when I was this close to him, able to feel the comforting heat of his skin, the pungent smell of soap, whispers of my dream, the fire wasn’t the only thing on my mind.

“That was stupid of me, I didn’t think-”

“No! It’s okay. I suppose it’s going to take awhile is all. It was only this morning.”

“Feels like its been days.”

“I know. Speaking of days,” he let me go and I settled into the Adirondack chair he’d been sitting in. Thayer managed to find a pile of rocks that he was keeping himself entertained with and I thought it was a good opportunity to bring up the fact that we couldn’t stay here for more than a night. “Thayer and I will leave tomorrow. We can’t stay here.”

“I gave Adrian my word.”

Ugh. There was always that. His word. He never gave me his word. About anything. But with Adrian, it was so solid I damn-near wanted to throw up.

“At least you give someone your word.” I surprised myself, not meaning for the words to come out and I hated how bitter and sarcastic they sounded. But Thatcher made me feel things. Things I didn’t want to feel. Things I didn’t know much about.

He shut the grill off and barely turned to give me a pointed look. He went into the house. I sighed. I was over Thatcher. I was over the pain that had taken up residence in my body when he left me high and dry five years ago. Over it. Why did I feel the need to keep spouting out little jabs then? Why couldn’t I leave well enough alone?

Thatcher’s yard was plenty big and I was happy for that. Thayer was oblivious to my attitude and so far, hadn’t seemed to mind that every possible thing he owned was lying in ashes two miles away. Shrubs and bushes lined the yard, which was squared off by a wooden split rail fence. His yard was flat; scattered groupings of small rocks and newly planted trees filled certain areas making the yard look not-so-sparse.

I could hear Thatcher rummaging in his kitchen through the open screen door and I resisted the urge to go inside and help him set the table. I sat there a few more moments watching Thayer, trying desperately not to think about this difficult predicament I was in with nowhere to go. Sure, I had friends. But none I felt I could impose on for an indefinite period of time. Finally, my manners got the best of me.

“Thayer, I’m going in to help Thatcher. We’ll just be in the kitchen.”

He managed to look up and wave and I went through the screen door.

“Would you like me to set the table?”

Thatcher was bent over in the kitchen, his head halfway inside a cabinet door, giving me a nice look at the way he filled out those worn jeans. I sucked in a breath, waiting patiently for an answer, trying not to stare at his butt. I couldn’t help it. The denim was snug against him and damn, if I wasn’t getting myself all worked up again.

I turned away from him, not fully understanding every emotion flowing through my body. Sadness. Lust. Anger. Resentment. Temptation. Excitement. All rolled into this giant meteor that could explode at any given time.

“We can eat on the patio. You’re not going anywhere, Abigail. So we’re clear. I gave Adrian my word I’d look out for you and Thayer. Not going back on it now. Settle in. You’ll find you like it.”

He gave me this wicked grin that made his eyes sparkle and my insides melt. Truth is, I probably would like settling in here with him. Although I wasn’t going to let that happen. Not after he betrayed Thayer and me. Not after he gives everyone around him his word and he never gives it to me, never does anything for me or in my favor, never puts aside his loyalty for Adrian to put me first – not even when he got me pregnant. I’m sure I’d like settling in, but as far as I could tell, I wasn’t about to let that happen.

“You coming to eat?” He stood at the open screen door, holding plates and utensils, napkins and somehow, two bottles of beer and a soda. He had that dark glint in his eyes that drove me wild and my mind wanted to run away from him, but my growling stomach had me stepping toward him instead.

“When do I get a ride on your four-wheeler?” Thayer asked the second Thatcher set our dinner down on the wooden picnic table.

Thatcher glanced up at the sky for a brief second, “I reckon I might be able to take you for a quick ride before it gets too dark. Is that going to be okay with you, Abigail?”

I took a deep breath, studying him as my mind raced with all these thoughts and questions. How could I not allow my son’s father to take him on his first four-wheeler ride? No matter if my insides were feeling a little squeamish at the idea of little Thayer on the back of that big machine. Even though Thatcher wanted nothing to do with us in the family sense, I trusted him. I knew he wouldn’t allow Thayer to get hurt. Despite whatever happened between us, I knew that with all my heart.

“Can I Mama? Can I?”

“Sure. But settle down and eat now, okay? We’ve had a long day and I don’t know about you but my stomach is growling.”

“So is mine.”

Not much was said over dinner. I drank my beer and noticing Thatcher hadn’t touched his, I drank his too, not letting the stormy glint in his eyes deter me. The cool liquid felt so good in the August heat. Every so often, I could feel his eyes on me and I chose to ignore it, trying hard not to look at him. My second beer was making me feel a bit bold and I was thankful when Thatcher announced it was time for their ride, stopping me from saying something I shouldn’t.

While he took Thayer to the garage, I busied myself with cleaning up our dinner. Being a guest in his home it was the least I could do. It didn’t ease my thoughts though. I hadn’t been around Thatcher for this long in quite some time – let alone alone with him. Even though I was trying to keep the past in the past, all these old emotions were just on the surface bubbling inside of me. How had we gone from great friends, to lovers, to strangers? Why did he leave me when I got pregnant? I thought we were on to something great back then, that our relationship held promise; had he not felt that way at all?

I’ve always felt like there was something between Thatcher and I, that smoldering look in his eyes when I was around – I remembered that look. It was the “lava bubbling to the top of the volcano, threatening to spill over” look. Neither one of us have ever acted on anything since Adrian and I got married. However, something was still there present between us. Stifling. Thick. Red hot. Desire. That’s what it was. I may not have had sex in five years, but I darn well recognized the need.

I laughed out loud, wondering what Thatcher would think if he knew he was the last guy I’d slept with, the last guy and the only guy. Ever. A shiver raced up my spine as I loaded his dishwasher. I clenched my sex in response to those far-off memories, that somehow, still managed to get me worked up.

The rev of the four-wheeler spooked me like I’d been caught and I made my way outside to watch Thayer on his first ride. I halted at the sight before me. Thatcher had Thayer nestled in between his legs, his large, broad body a shield for my little guy. My heart twitched a little at how much they looked alike. Thayer waved at a me, a gigantic smile on his face. I smiled back. My eyes traveled north to Thatcher and he was smiling, too. Not a forced smile this time. A full-on, panty-dropping smile that had me pressing my palm flat against my chest in an attempt to quench the foreign feeling that was threatening to spill out.

Thatcher drove around the front yard and headed along the outside perimeter of his backyard fence. I ran to the side of the house to follow them with my eyes in order to see where they were going. The sun was settling in to the horizon now and I had to remind myself that Thatcher did know what he was doing driving that thing. The mom in me I’m sure. When they became a small dot against the lush green landscape, I went back inside.

I didn’t have to wait for long before I heard the door from the garage open and in came Thatcher carrying a sleeping Thayer.

“The big ride wiped him out.”

“I can take him.”

“No. I can carry him up to the bedroom.”

I followed Thatcher upstairs and pulled back the covers, quietly moving out of the way so he could lay him down. I watched him take off Thayer’s shoes and then pull the covers up to his chin. So gentle. He hesitated a moment and then slowly his large hand came out and brushed a lock of Thayer’s hair away from his forehead. Our eyes met and held, his that same stormy blue I’ve come to find a present during the entire day we’ve been here.

I looked away, down at my baby and my heart ached all over again. Not for what could have been between the three of us, but for Thayer. What with the fire and the divorce, Thayer was handling it better than I expected. He didn’t seem too upset about much of anything, not even his Spider-Man blanket, which was never far from his reach at home. He hadn’t brought it up once all day since we’d got here and the idea that my baby was going to school soon, had my heart breaking all over again.

“I’ll be downstairs.”

I nodded in agreement a little too late as I could already hear Thatcher’s boots padding down the hallway. He just assumed I was going downstairs, too. Probably so we could re-hash our discussion about my divorce. Something I wasn’t all too eager to do. Might as well get the rest of it over with since tomorrow I was going to find a new place to stay.

I kissed Thayer’s sleeping face, shut the lights off and walked down the stairs in search of Thatcher. I didn’t have to go far. The smell of citronella wafted in the air making its way through the screen door and I could see his shadowy figure sitting in his Adirondack chair with a bottle of beer perched to his lips, his head tilted back in a swallow.

“I got you beer, Abigail. Come outside. It’s time you and I have a chat.”

My skin broke out in goosebumps at the rough tone in his voice but I squared my shoulders and made my way outside. Spider-Man still lay near his feet inside the bin, enjoying the warm night air no doubt. He unscrewed the bottle cap off my beverage and handed it to me, his eyes never looking in my direction.

To hell if I was saying anything. This was my life. My divorce. I did what Adrian wanted me to do, I told Thatcher. So there. I could be stubborn when I needed to be and this, out here in the beautiful quiet country with a storm brewing inside Thatcher, is when I needed to be.

“Why the divorce, Abigail? Don’t play games with me.”

“I already told you it wasn’t working out.”

“For you? For him? I want details.”

“Why do you even care, Thatcher?”

“Because I do.”

I glared at him even though he had yet to look at me. Sure, he cares. Since when had he started caring? Not when he decided it was best for us not to be together.

“Why? Why do you care? Explain that to me and I will be happy to tell you anything you want to know about Adrian and me.”

He was silent for a long time. I was extending one more chance to him. As much for him as for me, because I wanted to matter to him. Deep down, I wanted to be important. I wanted to be someone he cared about and gave his word to and someone that he was loyal to. I know it was silly considering I couldn’t trust my heart with him.

Finally, he looked at me. I could see the reflection of the flames from the citronella candles burning in his eyes. One golden-yellow flame in each eye, shadowing his stormy blue eyes and this time I couldn’t decipher what he was thinking. Probably some way to explain that he only cared because Adrian was his friend or something else that was less-than-desirable for me to hear.

His Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat as he took a long swallow of his beer. I looked away. Disgusted at myself for all the ways I allowed this man to drive me crazy. His throat, for crying out loud! The memories burned much like those citronella candles, imprinted in my mind for good. If I thought hard enough, I could still feel the heat of his chest pressed against mine, the warmth of his breath as he whispered his dirty talk into my ear.

Abruptly, I stood making a move to go back inside. I didn’t need this. All I was doing was hurting myself. His arm darted out in front of me, pressing against my thighs.

“Don’t go,” his gravelly tone pleaded.

“Why should I stay, Thatcher?”

“Because I’m asking you to.”

“If I stay, I want answers. Think you can handle that?”

“I’ll get us another beer.”