Colorado 02 Sweet Dreams (42 page)

I twisted to Tate again, looked up and suggested, “Take him up on that.”

Tate looked at Shambles. “Rock my world,” he invited then he looked at me, his fingers curled around my wrist, he lifted my hand to his mouth and he took another huge bite of my cake.

“Hey!” I exclaimed, pulling my hand back. “That’s my cake.”

“Yeah,” Tate muttered, mouth full, his hand moved to my neck, his thumb at my jaw tilting my head back and his head bent. He swallowed then he kissed me, a kiss that was short but included a sweep of his lemony tongue.

Beautiful.

His mouth left mine and he asked, “You still pissed?”

“I don’t think so,” I answered, still tasting lemon and Tate so, it was debatable, but it might be physically impossible to be pissed.

He grinned. “Give it time, somethin’ll come up.

I turned and rolled my eyes to Sunny who was grinning at the both of us.

Then I took another bite of cake.

Heaven.

* * * * *

We were in the home store and Tate was pushing the cart as only men do. That was to say, he was bent at the waist, his forearms crossed on the handle, his chest leaning into them, the look on his face part glazed, part blank indicating clearly any question I could ask him would receive the answer, “Hunh?”

I was leading the way to the curtain section while realizing Tate’s rabid need to go shopping for curtains was because, with Neeta on the loose, he needed curtains not because he needed to shop. Shopping was the necessary evil that came with owning curtains.

He’d seemed game until I commandeered a cart at the entrance.

“We’re buying curtains, babe, that activity hardly requires a cart,” he noted

“We’re in a home store, Tate,” I replied, thinking my answer said all.

“And?” he returned, stating plainly my answer did not say all.

“A mega home store,” I added.

“And?”

“And, I came here a few days ago to buy you sheets. I ended up buying you two sets of sheets, six new pillows, a down comforter, a comforter cover and shams. That happens in a home store,” I educated him. “You come in needing a spatula and you go out with a spatula, new kitchen towels, candles, candle holders, cool things to seal open chip bags, a variety of frames, a soap dispenser and a new vacuum cleaner.”

After I delivered this lesson was when Tate’s face went blank and, shortly after that, his eyes glazed over. He hijacked the cart so he could lean on it in order to remain standing even as he fell asleep while walking the aisles and we headed to curtains.

“Tate?” We heard and I turned around to see Tate had stopped but hadn’t straightened and was looking over his shoulder at an advancing Stella, the Queen Biker Babe from Wood’s garage. She approached and took us both in, a grin spreading on her face. “Lauren,” she greeted when she arrived.

“Hi Stella,” I returned, walking back to stand beside the handle of the cart Tate had straightened from.

“You’re at a Deluxe Home Store,” she stated the obvious since we were, indeed, standing in a store called “Deluxe Home Store”.

“Um…” I mumbled, Tate’s arm slid around my shoulders and he hauled me into his side.

“Yeah,” Tate replied. “How’s things, Stell?”

“Hoppin’,” she answered and her eyes moved between the both of us and settled on me. “You okay?”

“Um…” I repeated. “Yeah?” I answered in a question because I was uncertain of her question.

Her eyes went to Tate. “Neeta?”

“Visited Laurie last night,” Tate shared.

“Shit,” Stella hissed.

“She got the papers,” Tate kept sharing.

“Yeah?” Stella asked.

“She’s gonna fight it,” Tate answered.

“Stupid bitch,” Stella muttered.

“Um…” I put in and Tate looked down at me.

“You ever meet Pop?” he asked and I nodded. “Stell is his little sister. I grew up with her too.”

“Practically raised the three of ‘em,” she told me, “even though I was a kid myself.”

“Oh,” I whispered, wondering about this but not having much time to do so.

Stella looked at Tate. “I’ll track down Neet, see if she’s receptive to a chat.”

“Mighta been, if I was livin’ a life where I wasn’t in a fuckin’ home store buyin’ curtains with Laurie. Now, no way.”

“That girl,” Stella whispered. “She never gave away any of her toys.” Her eyes came to me. “And she never shared.”

“I got that from her last night,” I said quietly and cautiously considering Stella might have called Neeta a bitch but she was still Neeta’s aunt.

She read my tone because she stated, “Darlin’, no love lost, trust me. Not a lot of bridges Neeta hasn’t burned.”

“Oh,” I repeated and Stella looked back at Tate.

“Curtains?”

“Don’t have any and Neeta called Lauren out last night through my bedroom window.”

“Christ,” Stella muttered. “How could she be Kyle and Brenda’s?”

Tate made no response so I asked, “Kyle and Brenda?”

“Pop and his wife, Ace. Brenda died when Wood and I were eight, Neet was six. Diabetes,” Tate answered.

“That’s horrible,” I whispered.

“Yeah, horrible normally, more horrible because Brenda was a beauty, inside and out. Pure through and through. Pure goodness. Pure kindness. Pure love. The real deal. A good girl. Everyone loved her,” Stella added and Tate’s arm tightened around my shoulders when she said “a good girl”.

“I’m sorry,” I said to Stella.

“Long time ago, darlin’. Sucks to say but one thing good about it, she didn’t live to see Neeta turn out the way she did and she didn’t live a life like Kyle, puttin’ up with Neeta’s shit,” Stella remarked.

Before I could stop myself, I turned to Tate and started, “But Wood said –”

“Wood blames Pop ‘cause that’s Wood,” Tate interrupted me. “He’s gotta have someone to blame.”

“A trait you two share,” Stella put in smoothly, Tate’s eyes cut to her and his mouth got tight.

My whole body got tight.

They held each other’s eyes and I stood there, supremely uncomfortable while they did it. Something was happening there and I didn’t get it.

Stella proved herself the Queen Biker Babe by not backing down from Tate’s dark look and instead saying, “You two share a lot, Buck.” Her eyes slid to me and then back. “And not just taste in women.”

“That’ll do, Stell,” Tate warned in a low voice.

“You let it go, he finally might be able to,” she went on.

“What’d I say?” Tate asked.

“He took your old lady’s back, Tate,” she reminded him of a fresh memory. “Goes without sayin’ that was big, seein’ as he was thinkin’ Lauren would be on the back of
his
bike.”

“Stella,” Tate’s tone had degenerated from scary to ominous.

In return, her voice got soft. “Cut him some slack, Buck, all I’m sayin’.”

Tate didn’t speak but a muscle in his jaw jumped.

Stella kept at him. “You get Jonas, and you’ll get Jonas, Tate, Neeta’ll make it a pain in your ass but you’ll get him, what with her history, her record and that ass in her house not to mention Pop and me at your back. Then when you get him, you’ll need all the family you can find. Wood loves that kid. He’d do anything for him. And you’d be a fool to harbor bad blood when you can let it go and build a family for Jonas.”

“You done?” Tate asked.

“Never,” Stella answered.

“You are for now,” Tate replied and then turned us away from her, tagging the cart with a hand and moving the cart and me unavoidably forward without saying good-bye.

I twisted my head to look over my shoulder at Stella.

“Um… see you later?” I called.

“Yeah, darlin’, you take care,” she called back.

“You too,” I replied, smiled an embarrassed smile and looked forward again. “What was that all about?” I asked Tate under my breath.

“Curtains, Ace,” was Tate’s non-answer.

“Tate, honey, I think you get I’m not big on you keeping stuff from me,” I reminded him gently.

He stopped the cart and looked down at me.

Then he stated bluntly, “Wood killed my Dad.”

I blinked.

Then I whispered, “Sorry?”

“Car wreck. Wood was drivin’. Wood walked away. Dad died at the scene. Now you know. Can we buy curtains?”

I didn’t hesitate even a second in my response.

“Yes, baby,” I was still whispering but my arm had moved to slide around his waist both to support him and also to keep myself standing.

I had questions. Lots of them. But they weren’t for a home wares store.

I led Tate to the curtains.

* * * * *

I wasn’t paying attention when we walked up to the cash registers.

This was because they always put the good stuff around the cash registers and therefore my attention was turned and I was wondering if Tate had a cool spoon-slash-bowl scraper in the awesome color of teal. Then I wondered if he should have two, one teal and one purple. Anyone could easily use two spoon-slash-bowl scrapers in their house. You could use them for
everything.

“Ace!” Tate called, I jumped, looked to see he was at the head of the line at a register and I grabbed both the teal and purple ones because, from the look on his face he was pretty much done with Deluxe Home Store and I obviously didn’t have time to make a considered decision about the spoon-slash-bowl scrapers.

I rushed to the cart and started unloading. Curtains for the bedroom (denim). New curtain rods (awesome). New kitchen towels (bright and cheery). New bathroom towels (thick and lush). And one of those shelf things for the shower because Tate really needed one.

Our cart was so full because Tate had been distracted by brooding over his conversation with Stella. I wasn’t proud of my behavior but I couldn’t deny I took advantage.

“Girlfriend!” our cashier cried, I straightened and looked at her.

It was my cashier from when Wendy and I were there a few days before. Her eyes were fastened on Tate in a way it looked like it might cause bodily damage if she was forced to tear them away.

“Hey,” I greeted, her body jolted and her eyes came to me.

She asked with a tilt of her head to Tate, “This your hot guy?”

Tate looked at me.

I bit my lip. Then I said, “Yeah.”

The clerk’s head shot around and she shouted, “Hey, Maybelline! This is the sheet chick and her hot guy.”

A rotund, older black lady four registers down turned to us, gave Tate a once-over and shouted, “Oo doggies. That boy’s hot all right!”

Wow. Conversation in the staff room at Deluxe Home Stores must be relatively limited for my sheet purchases to make the agenda.

“Uh… Ace,” Tate called and my head swung in his direction to see his eyebrows were up but his mouth was twitching.

“Don’t,” I warned.

“What’d she get this time?” Maybelline called.

The clerk at our register was scanning as she called out our purchases across the register lanes, “Curtains! Kitchen towels! Bath towels! Rods! A shower shelf! Oo! And a teal
and
purple spoon bowl scraper.” She looked at me. “Good choice, I got the purple first and came back for the teal. These things are
great!
They don’t even melt. You can use them making cakes
and
cookin’ scrambled eggs. You got two, you can do both at the same time.”

“Great,” I muttered.

“Sounds to me like someone’s settin’ up house,” Maybelline remarked loudly.

“Me too,” our clerk called back.

Tate’s hand came to my hip and slid around to my belly as he pushed the cart through to the end and then his mouth was at my ear.

“Uh…Lauren, you wanna tell me why –”

I twisted my head to look at him.

“Don’t,” I whispered.

He grinned down at me. “Babe.”

I looked at the clerk and asked, “What’s your name?”

“Wanda,” she answered.

“I’m Lauren.”

“Hey Lauren.” Her eyes slid to Tate then back to me. “You gonna be in lots?”

“No,” I answered.

“Probably,” Tate answered at the same time.

Wanda leaned toward me. “Sorry, girlfriend, but I’m gonna go with his answer, you know, just ‘cause it gives me hope. We girls, we need hope, even if we’re hopin’ for someone else.”

“By all means,” I invited and she smiled and looked at Tate.

“Next week, we’re havin’ a sale,” she informed him.

“I’ll put that in my calendar,” he replied on a grin.

“You do that,” she muttered and gave us our total.

I dug in my purse and came out with my wallet just in time to see Tate hand Wanda his credit card.

“I thought I’d –” I started, Tate’s eyes came to me and I pressed my lips together and shoved my wallet back in my purse.

“Good call,” Wanda whispered to me and swiped Tate’s credit card.

We’d left Wanda and Maybelline behind with fond (loud) farewells and were walking through the parking lot to the Explorer, Tate guiding the loaded cart with one hand, his other arm around my shoulders, my arm curled around his waist when Tate spoke.

“You wanna explain about Wanda?”

“No,” I replied.

“You know her?”

“Not exactly, except she gave me a mini-counseling session when I came here with Wendy.”

“Come again?”

“Doesn’t matter,” I murmured.

Luckily, Tate let that go.

“You wanna tell me why you know everyone every place we go?” he asked.

“No,” I answered.

“How long you been in Colorado?” he went on.

“Um…”

“Babe,” he muttered and I knew he was smiling.

“I’m nice,” I explained and he didn’t respond so I continued. “And to be nice you have to be friendly so even if someone you don’t know butts into your conversation and gives you advice, you stay friendly. Wanda’s kind of nosy and somewhat inappropriate but she means well. And anyway, I’m nice and I’m friendly and I don’t know how else to be.”

He stopped the cart and me at the back of the Explorer and looked down at me.

“We get home, maybe you can be friendly to me.”

I felt a twinge in three places.

Regardless, I informed him, “You have to install curtain rods when we get home.”

“Right, then after I install the curtain rods, we can close the curtains and then you can be friendly to me.”