Clothing and racing suit in a bag, and still wearing Brenda’s clothes, I hug her good-bye as Mark’s truck pulls into her driveway. Standing in the doorway watching, with Princess in her arms, she lifts one of the dog’s tiny paws and waves with it.

In the truck, I turn to face Mark, letting him see my puffy, swollen eyes and nose, hoping he won’t recoil in horror.

Of course, he doesn’t. “Aww, sweetie,” he says, turning in his seat and holding his arms out to me. I slide over and let him fold me into his embrace, as tears of relief well up. “We’ll get through this. Don’t worry,” he whispers, nuzzling my cheek.

His words and his tenderness work a miracle and I do feel better.

During the drive to his place, I tell him everything, holding nothing back.

I just blurt it all out, tell him everything my dad said, because I can’t lie about it and I can’t convey why I’m so upset without just telling him.

Mark doesn’t say much, just holds my hand when he can, squeezing it reassuringly and caressing my skin with his thumb.

By the time we get to his place, he’s heard almost all of it.

He doesn’t censure me for being an ass to my dad. Or for being over-emotional. Or for anything.

He doesn’t take any swipes at my dad, or my brothers, or my family.

He just listens.

His only comment? “You can stay with me as long as you like. The longer, the better.”

“You sure?”

“Damn straight.”

My heart swells with gratitude.

“Thanks. I really appreciate that. We’ll see what happens, I guess.”

Why did I ever doubt him?

At Mark’s place, I text Tommy and let him know where I am.

Tommy: How long you think you’ll stay there?

Me: A few days. Or weeks. I don’t know.

Tommy: She’s here right now. She says she’ll talk to Dad when he chills out, and she’ll call you in a day or so.

Me: Okay.

Tommy: She says don’t worry about work for the time being. And don’t stress too much.

Me: Okay. You either.

After a quick shower, Mark and I meet in the kitchen to make dinner, him in his boxers, and me, naked under one of his t-shirts.

Still agitated, I’m cutting stewing beef into cubes while he peels and dices potatoes and vegetables.

But, as we work, a calmness comes over me. We don’t say much at first, just work together to make a meal.

I feel steadier and more sane by the minute.

It’s like a miracle.

Or…maybe, this is just how love feels.

Mark steps behind me to the stove, where he puts onions, garlic and olive oil into a deep pot, touching me reassuringly as he goes.

Feeling guilty now, I want to say something in my father’s defense.

“You know...I…my dad’s not usually this bad. I mean, he can be a hard case. He…he’s not quick to forgive. He holds himself to high standards and expects the same of everyone. And, he works so hard! I think it makes him kind of impatient, actually. It makes him hard on people…pushes them away. Like, how he pushed Bryce away.”

Finished cubing the meat, I put the pieces into the bottom of the stewing pot, where they sizzle in the layer of onions and garlic browning in olive oil.

The good smell of fresh beef searing rises as I add oregano, parsley, salt and pepper for seasoning.

“You wanna fill me in about Bryce?” he says, quietly.

“Oh…sure. Okay. Well, I told you that Bryce is a mechanic like all my brothers? He’s kind of a savant about engines, like Tommy, and he was the first in the family to specialize in the custom, high-end stuff. He brought a lot of new business to Sinclair’s with his personality. Real friendly, chatty, sales-y type.” I pause to turn the browning beef cubes over. “Dad, Callum and Hamish taught Bryce, but he surpassed their skill by the time he was a teenager. It was Bryce who mentored Tommy, even before Tommy was old enough to work, actually.”

Mark opens a packet of bouillon powder and shakes it over the contents in the pot. “And, how old is Bryce?”

“He’s twenty-five. At one time, Dad thought Bryce’d take over the repair business. And he did, for a while. But, Bryce is also a talented musician. He wanted to pursue that as his main career, which my father vehemently disagreed with. Most musicians don’t make money, see? Dad has a big problem with that. Not making money.”

Mark snorts. “He’s not wrong, sweetie. You need money like you need oxygen, unfortunately. And no, most musicians don’t make any money. There are plenty of starving musicians to prove it.”

“True but Bryce wanted to give it a shot. They argued about it, a lot. Mom had to intervene sometimes. It drove her nuts. Drove us all nuts, actually. It was the cause of a lot of strife. Bryce ended up leaving. Got a job at a big auto place in California and works part-time as a studio musician. He does well but he works for it. Puts in so many hours, we hardly ever hear from him.”

“That’s a shame. But, your fathers not mad at him still, is he?”

“No. Dad didn’t want Bryce to move away of course, but he’s not mad at him, exactly. It’s not quite that simple, I guess.” A wave of guilt flows through me. “I definitely should never have thrown Bryce in his face like that.”

“Don’t worry. You’ll make up soon, I’m sure. So…I guess your Dad was happy when Tommy turned out to have good aptitude for engine repair too?”

“Oh, yes. It’s funny how that all worked out. Callum and Hamish, who are much older, kind of took Gavin under their wing and now, he’s like them, more into the parts and sales and administration end of things. Bryce took Tommy under his wing, and now Tommy does what Bryce used to do.”

“Huh. Yeah you can get some interesting dynamics in a big family like that. Callum and Hamish are how old again?”

“Callum’s forty. Hamish is thirty-eight. Bryce is next in line, but there’s a thirteen year gap between him and Hamish.”

“Huh. They took a break between kids, did they?”

“Not on purpose. Mom had trouble conceiving after the first two boys. They never figured out what was wrong, but she got better when Aunt Kazuko helped them improve their diet. She says Kazuko’s Japanese food really helped her and my dad both get healthy.”

“Really? Lots of sushi, you mean?” He takes a taste of the stew broth, smacking his lips.

“That too, but also cooked fish and lots of veggies, you know. She said that’s how they eat in Japan, mostly. Not a lot of sugar and carbs. After that, the rest of us kids started coming along. Later, Mom and Dad started hitting the gym and committed to a healthier lifestyle. ”

“Kazuko sounds like a smart lady.”

“She was. She thought people here are crazy for the way we eat. Anyhow, we all cook and know how to eat pretty well. I think it’s helped us stay healthy.”

He comes over, puts his hands on my breasts and then runs them down and over my curves. Shivers follow the heat from his touch.

“Something’s certainly keeping you healthy,” he murmurs.

We share a long, tender kiss.

“I cheat all the time,” I say, when we come up for air. “I love carbs! Potatoes and rice and soft, fresh-baked buns.”

“You’ve got the nicest buns I’ve ever felt, that’s for sure,” he says, his hands gripping my ass, grinning at his own innuendo.

“I hope I don’t have any trouble conceiving. Er, I mean, someday, when, ah…if I ever, heh…you know.”

“I say we make a practice-preggers run tonight.” He grins a devilish grin.

Giggling, I wrap my arms around his neck. “Good plan. I probably need all the practice I can get.”

* * *

After dinner.

Taking me by the hand, he leads me into his bedroom nook.

Wordlessly, he pulls upwards on my borrowed shirt, and I lift my arms up for him.

He pulls the shirt over my head, leaving me naked. The corners of his lips curl upwards as he smooths my tousled hair.

Holding my head tenderly in his hands, he kisses me ever so gently. His hands slide down to my shoulders and then he leans down, almost-but-not-quite touching the skin just under my jaw with his mouth.

He takes a deep intake of breath, inhaling all along the lines of my neck, making the fine hairs on my whole body stand up and take notice.

“Mmmm,” he says.

His fingers glide downwards and find my nipples. He pulls on them, then rolls them, making my pussy warm and creamy.

Again, he runs his mouth over my jaw and down my neck, lips now touching my skin here and there.

“Damn, you smell good,” he whispers, tracing my contours with his lips.

Shivers, from head to toe. My belly contracts and, deep inside, my secret flesh softens and throbs, while my head tilts back and my eyes flutter closed.

Oh my gosh…oh my gosh.

His warm mouth nuzzles my collar bones and then travels downwards, making gooseflesh upon gooseflesh. Bending, his lips find the tip of one breast and suckle it, flicking it with his tongue until it hardens.

Wow…oh wow…now my spine feels like water and my knees feel wobbly.

Next, he sucks the other one, lavishing it with the same attention until it puckers, fairly straining towards him.

One of his big hands finds mine, pulling it to his crotch. I grasp his erection through his boxers, feeling it pulse and throb.

I can’t wait to feel that inside me.

He kicks his boxers off, letting his long, thick length bounce before him.

I grasp it and squeeze, loving how hot and hard it is.

Both breathing hard now, no words spoken, no words needed.

Lowering himself to his knees, pulling me gently down with him.

Suddenly, that Zen feeling washes over me, that feeling of singular focus that usually only happens when I’m driving.

Everything goes away. Everything but Mark’s hands…Mark’s mouth, Mark’s hard, huge, muscled body against mine, so warm, so alive, so incredibly arousing.

Taking over every facet of my awareness.

Deep, demanding kisses, tongues clashing. A warm hand cupping my pussy, a finger spreading me open and finding me soaked and hot.

So hot.

That finger inserts itself, making my hips writhe upon it helplessly.

Circling inside me, until my juices overflow…two fingers now, and he brings them to his mouth to taste them, then offers a taste to me.

I hesitate, but my own scent is light and enticing. And I taste sweet…sweet and light and yummy.

“Jesus,” he mutters, “you are so fucking hot…”

Now he kneels between my legs, his cock raring, and dripping, his big, strong knees holding my legs open, exposing everything I am to his sight.

His wide blue eyes are like eagle eyes, his need for me as evident in them as it is in his rock-hard erection.

“Mmmm,” and his voice is a hoarse grunt as he rubs the wide head of his cock against my labia, using his juices and mine to open me and lube us both and….

Uhhnnn!

With one smooth thrust, he hilts himself inside me, stopping my breath with the blinding pleasure of being so instantly filled to my core.

Trembling, nostrils flaring, he pulls back and thrusts again, bringing a cry from my lips and a grunt from his…and I’m trembling too, my thighs stretched to capacity, held open as he falls into a delicious rhythm.

Stroke after stroke of hot, luscious pleasure…now, pushing as far into me as he can, he grinds side to side, hard and fast…harder and faster…trembling and stroking, and oh god…I’m…it’s so good…oh god!

Oh yes…now I can feel that spark of deep, good pleasure far, far up inside me, and my legs stiffen, and my toes curl….my breath stops as all at once, as the pleasure grows from a spark to a burst to a roar. He senses it or feels it and he rocks me harder, and I look at his face, so intent and filled with lust.

That handsome, hot face… and the way he’s watching me…oh yes here it is…oh yeah…oh god…oh god yeah… I’m coming, I’m coming, crying out and shaking, my pussy grasping and releasing his hard, straining cock, sucking and gripping greedily.

“Oh fuck,” he growls, and I feel his cock harden and pulse where it’s buried deep within me, driving my pleasure to new depths.

“Hnnnhhh…hhnnnh!” He pulls back, his length becoming more rigid as his own orgasm surges.

Pulsing strongly and then, with a coarse grunt, he thrusts it home, his head going back, the muscles of his neck and chest stiffening as he arches his body into mine.

Avidly, I take it all in, drinking in the sight of him…the very sight of his masculine beauty making my heart pound with pleasure before he collapses on top of me, burying his face in my neck.

After a bit, he slides off of me and pulls me to him, spooning me tightly against his big body. We rest, letting our breathing return to normal, his hands across my belly protectively while his heart beats regularly, soothingly, against my back.

If only I could stay here, wrapped in Mark’s arms forever.

Being with Mark is a great comfort but my heart hurts as I think about tomorrow. If not for some hot-headed foolishness, I’d be going to work like a regular day.

We can’t re-wind our harsh words or pretend they didn’t happen. I don’t know what it’ll take to make things normal again.

I guess only time will tell.