Colorado 02 Sweet Dreams (73 page)

It looked fantastic.

I just
knew
Tate’s kitchen could be fabulous!

There was a beautiful, old-fashioned, pink glass cake stand sitting on the island, the edges of its top polka-dots of glass. On the stand was delicious looking cake with generous swirls of creamy, chocolate frosting and it was topped with an abundance of pink candles. A huge bouquet of balloons in every color of the rainbow festooned the middle of the island, their multi-colored strings held down under one of my heavy stoneware bowls.

“Happy birthday, Laurie!” I heard Jonas shout and my body jolted as I watched him run from the mudroom followed in a stream by Wendy, Tyler, Shambles, Sunny, Ned, Betty, Pop, Holly, Twyla, Amber, Krystal, Bubba, Dominic, Nadine, Steg, Wings, Stoney, Stella, Wood and, bringing up the rear, Tate.

Jonas’s body hit me, his arms going around me for a tight hug as I went back on a foot on impact.

His hug was fast and he let go, jumping back a step and announcing, “Dad and Uncle Wood spent all day putting in the counters. He ordered them
forever ago!
The guys who brought the fridge and stuff from the store just left, like, a second before you and Jim-Billy drove up. It was good you were late because Dad was
freaking out!
Totally pi… I mean mad as all get out because he didn’t think they’d be done before you got home. Uncle Wood had to hide Dad’s guns!”

I looked from Jonas’s smiling face to his father who was standing at the end of the counter, his hip to it, his arms crossed on his chest, his eyes on me.

Then I looked into the kitchen at the new countertops, the new appliances, the cake, the balloons and, most of all, my friends.

Then I burst out crying.

These were not delicate, quiet, ladylike tears. No. They were loud, out of control, eyes and nose streaming sobs.

I was in Tate’s arms in an instant and I heard through my bawling a muttered, “Jesus, Ace.”

I yanked back, succeeding in only moving my head and shoulders because his arms were tight, I focused on Tate through the wetness in my eyes and I yelled, “You’re supposed to be after a fugitive from justice!”

“I lied, babe,” Tate replied. “There was no skip.”

“You
lied
to me?” I screeched hysterically because I was hysterically happy and I had absolutely no clue how to deal with that.

“Couldn’t tell you I couldn’t take you to work because I had to go pick up countertops, Ace, that would spoil the surprise,” Tate answered.

My head jerked and I asked, “How did you know it was my birthday? You weren’t supposed to know it was my birthday.”

“It’s on your job application, Laurie,” Krys called and I heard her but I watched Tate’s face dip close at the same time it got serious.

“Yeah, and we’re gonna talk about that,” he murmured and I had the distinct feeling he wasn’t too hot on me keeping my birthday from him.

“I thought –” I started.

“I know what you thought,” he cut me off, “and we’re gonna talk about that.”

I swallowed back tears, wiped my face and sniffed loudly.

Then I changed the subject. “Did you make the cake?”

Tate grinned. “Fuck no. Shambles made it.”

“Moist Factor Five Hundred, babeeeee!” Shambles shouted from somewhere behind Tate.

I giggled softly.

Then I whispered to Tate, “You bought me a new stove.”

“Yeah,” he whispered back.

“And a new fridge.”

“Yeah.”

I moved to fit myself to his front and wrap my arms around him, tipping my head back further to hold his eyes.

“And a new dishwasher,” I continued.

“Yeah, babe.”

“That’s a lot of appliances, Tate.”

“Yeah,” he agreed.

“And a lot of cake,” I observed because I knew from just glancing at them that the appliances and countertops were top of the line and they had to cost a whack.

“No shit,” he replied.

I smiled at him and kept whispering. “I think you like me.”

“I like how you cook, probably like it better, now you got better tools to do the job.”

My smile got bigger. “You like more than how I cook.”

His arms gave me a squeeze and he whispered, “Yeah.”

I moved my arms from around his back, wound them around his neck and got up on my toes to touch my mouth to his. Then my lips went to his ear.

“Do you love me?”

His lips at my ear, he answered, “Oh yeah.”

I smiled and stuffed my face in my neck.

“Sick!” Jonas shouted. “Jeez, can we have cake or what?”

“I’ll go fire up the grill,” I heard Pop say as I shifted back and Tate’s arms around me became only one as he tucked me into his side and turned us to face our audience. “Stell, sweetheart, bring out the chops,” Pop finished.

“You got it, Kyle,” Stella replied, heading to the fridge.

“Chops first, Bub, then cake,” Tate told Jonas.

“Tyler and me are giving you a week of boot camps, free of charge!” Wendy called.

“Great,” I muttered, uncertain if a week’s worth of physical torture was a good birthday present but I still muttered this smiling at them.

Sunny came forward, holding out a card while saying, “Free coffee for your birthday month.”

“Oh Sunny, I couldn’t,” I told her, taking the card.

“All November, Petal,” Shambles walked up and slid an arm around Sunny’s chest from behind, his grin pinned to me, “on the house.”

“Thanks,” I whispered.

Krystal came forward with a package wrapped in birthday wrap but no ribbon or bow.

She handed it to me and stated, “It’s a Harley tee and it’s sweet. They only had that one left in our size. You don’t like it, give it back, I want it.”

I didn’t think Krystal was the same size as me and I figured she bought her own size so I’d have to give the t-shirt back. I laughed softly and shook my head while she avoided my eyes, turned and also avoided Bubba on her way back into the kitchen.

Tate let me go and drifted away as others came forward with cards and gifts. A huge bouquet of flowers from Holly. A smokin’ hot biker babe belt that Stoney had noticed me checking out at his store. A gift certificate for a mani and pedi from Dominic. A white ribbed tank with a black, silver, gray and orange design of skulls, hearts and flowers around the words “Carnal, Colorado, Harley Heaven” from Amber and Jonelle. Two gift certificates for the home store, one from Ned and Betty, one from Pop, Stella and Wood. A bottle of very good vodka from Steg, Wings and Nadine. A neck choker I would never have considered buying for myself (but it was hot and I couldn’t wait to wear it) made out of a thin strip of black leather with silver rivets on it from Bubba.

And a can of mace with a mumbled, “Can’t be too careful,” from Twyla.

Once I’d opened all my gifts; read my cards and set them on their sides on the counter that separated the kitchen from the living room; everyone had a beer; and Stella, Krys, Wendy and Amber had put out bowls of chips, macaroni and potato salad and fluffy dinner rolls, Tate returned to me.

And he did it carrying a martini, with olive, in a fantastic, long-stemmed, elegant martini glass.

When I took the martini all the while my eyes never leaving his, he murmured, “Wanda says happy birthday.”

Tate had braved Wanda and Deluxe Home Store for me.

I felt tears sting my eyes.

“Tate,” I breathed.

His hand slid along my waist as he muttered, “Shit, babe, are you gonna cry again?”

“No,” I lied as a tear ran down my cheek.

Tate watched it fall then his free hand lifted and he used his thumb to swipe it away. He left his hand cupping my cheek when he was done and I’d gotten control of myself.

Then I whispered, “Thank you, baby.”

His face got soft, tender and his head dropped so he could run his nose along mine.

He moved an inch away, his eyes locked on mine and he whispered back, “You’re welcome, Ace.”

My parents were good at giving birthdays. My Mom was a birthday freak and she made every one more special than the last.

But I stood in my new-ish kitchen, looking into Tatum Jackson’s brown, tawny-flecked eyes and I loved my Mom and all the hard work she’d put into giving me great birthdays… but Tate had given me the best.

And it wasn’t over yet.

* * * * *

I returned to the house after waving good-bye to Bubba, Wendy, Tyler and Amber, the last of the lot to go.

Jonas had left earlier with Pop, he was spending the night with him, I suspected because Tate had another birthday treat for me, one I was
seriously
looking forward to because I’d had more than one martini and I was
seriously
drunk.

I slid the sliding glass door shut and cooed nonsensically at Buster who was weaving around my ankles as I weaved my way toward Tate who was standing at the debris-filled, brand new, shit hot kitchen counter, something in his hand, his neck bent to look at it.

I sidled up to him and then plastered myself against his side.

His neck twisted to look down at me and I whispered what I hoped was a suggestive, “everyone’s gone now, we can have wild, crazy, biker on biker babe sex”, “Hey.”

“Who’s Matt Derriford?”

I blinked drunkenly.

“What?”

He lifted my phone pointed at me and I saw my call history, Mom and Dad and Carrie were on it but at the top was Matt’s name.

“Um…” I muttered, trying to think fast, however I was inebriated so thinking fast was an impossibility.

“College boyfriend?” Tate surmised.

“Um…” I muttered again, trying to read his face, however I was inebriated so reading his face was an impossibility considering it was carefully blank.

Tate looked back down at my phone. “When’d you talk to him?”

“Um…” I repeated, “At the bar, after my shift.”

Tate looked back at me. “Tryin’ to hide it, Ace?”

I bit my lip as my mind screamed,
Yes!
considering he didn’t seem too happy. Hiding it was a moral imperative and I decided next year to do a heck of a lot better with that.

I didn’t answer and Tate put my phone on the counter and turned into my arms. His hands came up and settled where my neck met my shoulders.

“You drunk?” he asked.

“Yes,” I thought it safe to answer.

“How drunk?” he asked.

“Very drunk?” I answered with a question even though it should have been said firmly as I was, indeed,
very
drunk.

“Too drunk to hold on, I take you for a ride?”

My belly fluttered at the thought of being on the back of his bike but my eyes slid to the new microwave over the new stove then back to him.

“Tate, it’s nearly one in the morning.”

“Too drunk to hold on, Ace,” Tate repeated.

“I’m never too drunk to hold on,” I replied.

“Get your jacket,” he ordered.

I stared at him and I couldn’t decide if he was pissed or if he was something else. Since he loved me and he loved me lots and he’d proved that over and over again, most recently with a bunch of expensive, brand-spanking new stuff in the kitchen, I figured I was safe even if he was pissed about my call to Matt.

I got my jacket and he led me out to the garage, threw a leg over his bike, backed it out and then I got on behind him.

Then we rode. It was cold, the wind whipped my face and hair and bit through my jeans.

And I didn’t care.

Because I had Tate’s back tight to my front, my arms wrapped around his belly and my cheek to his shoulder. I was drunk on martinis he’d made me and I’d drunk them in delicate glasses he’d bought me. And my mind was free, clear and free and I was, for the first time in my life, deliriously happy. Content, settled, safe, and happy with my family of three, me, Jonas and Tate.

It was late and it was cold but Tate and I rode for a long time. Finally, he stopped at a ridge, Carnal spread out before us, its lights blinking in the utter darkness of the hills and mountains surrounding it, covered in a blanket of midnight blue that was the sky.

Tate thrust down the stand, turned off the bike and I hopped off the back, Tate coming off after me. I walked to the edge of the ridge and stopped. Tate moved in behind me and circled me with his arms, one at my chest, one at my ribs.

“Next year, babe, you call him when I’m there,” he said in my ear.

My mind had been filled with nothing during the ride. Tate’s mind had been filled with Matt.

“Okay,” I whispered. “But, Tate, it isn’t a big deal,” I assured him, even though this year it was, I didn’t share that. “We’ve been doing it for –”

His arms gave me a squeeze and I shut up. “You do it when I’m there.”

“You have nothing to worry about,” I told him.

“I know,” he replied.

“So why –?”

“Don’t want you hidin’ anything from me.”

“It wasn’t like that.”

He was done with this topic, I knew that when he muttered, “Simple request, Ace.”

I was beginning to realize that, although some of the ways of a badass, biker, bounty hunting, alpha male would become clear to me, others would forever remain a mystery.

My hands came up and my fingers curled around his forearm at my chest. “Okay, Captain. Next year, I’ll talk to Matt when you’re there.”

His arm at my chest tightened and he kept muttering when he said, “Seal the deal.”

I blinked at the vista.

“What?”

His arm around my ribs stole away, then his hand came back, prying my left one from his forearm at my chest, I felt something cold at my ring finger and Tate slid its coldness to rest at the base.

“Seal the deal,” he repeated, his hand curling mine back on his arm and his lips went to my neck to give me a kiss.

That neck was bent and I was staring at a diamond glittering dimly in the night.

I simply stared at it, mind blank, stomach hollow, heart stopped as Tate kept talking.

“Seal the deal,” he said yet again. “You talk to him next year, another ring’s gonna be sittin’ at the base of that one.”

I felt my throat get tight.

Tate went on. “We’ll get married in April, anniversary we met.”

I swallowed and couldn’t tear my eyes from the ring.

Tate continued. “You want a big thing, we can do that, but, babe, I’d prefer it small.”