Page 34 of Forgotten Dreams
His eyes go from Mackenzie to me, and his eyes and his smile get even bigger. “Sweetheart,” he says to Mackenzie, who wraps her arms around his waist and he bends to kiss her head, “this is a nice surprise.”
“Daddy does nothing at home.” She changes the story from what she told me not long ago.
“I bet he doesn’t,” he mumbles. “Take off your boots. Grandma is making apple muffins.”
“My favorite!” she squeals, kicking off her boots and then placing them nicely on the mat outside the door. “Grandma!” she yells, opening the door and walking in before it closes behind her.
“Look at you,” my father says, coming and giving me a hug, “walking down the beach with a beer.”
“I was having one beer,” I tell him, putting it on the table, “when your daughter and granddaughter came walking down the beach.”
“She’s exhausted,” he mumbles. “Her husband needs to pitch in more.” I raise my eyebrows.
“You know he works, and when he gets home, he’s hands-on with the kids,” I remind him. “He worships her.”
“Not enough.” He glares at me when I try to defend him.
My mother comes to the back door. “She said you were here, and I didn’t believe her.” She wipes her hands on the apron around her waist. “Look at you.” She gives me a hug. “You look like you have a lot on your mind.” I roll my eyes and shake my head. “Is it a woman?”
“No,” I refute, and my father’s eyebrows go up.
“That was a fast no, so it must be a yes.” He laughs. “Who is she?”
“No one.” I shake my head, not ready to talk about Sierra yet. What can I say, really? I like this woman, like really fucking like her, and she’s avoiding me like I’m the plague. This whole week, she’s avoided me altogether, except when she got a huge-ass whiteboard that she tried to carry up to her bedroom by herself, but stopped every seven seconds huffing and puffing. I leaned against the doorjamb, watching her trying to pull up the big box. She knew I was watching, knew all she had to do was ask me for help. But, of course, why would she? She was going to do it all by herself. Until she got to the fifth stair and thought it was going to be smooth sailing, when the box slipped out of her hand and fell right down all the stairs.
“Motherfucker,” she hissed, stomping down the steps to the box, and I finally pushed away from the doorjamb and went to her.
“Need help, baby?” I asked. The glare was enough to make me go back to the kitchen and mind my business, but all I could think of was what her lips would taste like if I kissed her.
I went to the box and held the side as she came down, her feet stomping on the steps as she grabbed the box, and we carried it up to her bedroom. “Where do you want it?”
“In the other room, but it’s not finished.” She tilted her head to the side, and I shook my head and laughed.
“You need a kitchen before you need a spare bedroom or an office,” I reminded her as she went over to the box and flipped open the side. “Do you need help unpacking the box, or are you going to pretend you have this?”
“I wasn’t pretending.” She went over to her office, getting a box cutter. “I had it covered.”
“It looked like it.” I put my hands on my hips as I watched her cut the box on top and then at the side so it fell open to the side.
“See?” She pointed at the box. “Got it covered.”
“Perfect,” I said to her and turned to walk out of the room. I waited for her to say something to me, but she said nothing.
“You need to settle down,” my mother interrupts my memories, “and give me grandbabies.”
“Have you spoken to my other sister?” I mention Meadow. “She also can help in this project to fill your house with grandchildren.”
“She’s busy,” my father says, “and she doesn’t need”—he glares at me—“any of that.”
I laugh at them protecting my sister, as Mackenzie comes out to grab my mother. The day is spent with the two of us just lounging on the couch while they bake apple muffins. We end up watching some movie that I don’t even concentrate on because all I can do is think about what Sierra is doing.
We eat dinner, and I walk back to the house, showering and sliding into bed, wishing she was here with me. I don’t think I’ve ever felt this way about a woman before. The need to constantly be around her is foreign to me. I drift off to sleep while the television watches me, waking when my phone buzzes from the bedside table. I reach out for it and open one eye, seeing it’s Sierra calling. I can’t help the way the smile fills my face, bringing the phone to my ear. “Hey, baby,” I mumble, “did you miss me?”
Chapter 17
Sierra
“Hey, baby,” he mumbles, filled with sleep, and I close my eyes, “did you miss me?”
