Tools of Engagement Page 13

  “After Marjorie sang the song for me, it got stuck in my head, if that helps.”

  “It does, actually,” she said, letting him see just a hint of her smile, before she turned to walk down the hallway and join the tea party. “Now, ladies,” Bethany said, clasping her hands together. “If I could have your attention, please, I would like to introduce your butler for this afternoon, Wes Dorkingham. He’s taking a break from his duties as court jester to serve the tea.”

  The polite applause from the three girls lasted all of three seconds, before they started waving their teacups in the air and erupted with choruses of “Tea! Where’s my tea, Dorkingham?”

  With narrowed eyes in Bethany’s direction, Wes picked up the plastic pitcher they were using as a teapot and poured lukewarm liquid into each of the cups. When he reached Laura and filled her cup, he didn’t even think, he just leaned down and kissed her on the crown of the head. He hovered there for a few seconds, wondering what the hell had possessed him to do something so . . . fatherly. She’d only cuddled up to him once on the couch—now he was kissing her on the head?

  Laura tilted her head back slowly and smiled at him. It wasn’t the going-through-the-motions smile she’d painted on a lot when he first got to Port Jefferson. Now that he thought about it, he hadn’t seen that one in about a week. This one was bursting with something he couldn’t really name. It was definitely on the happy end of the spectrum, though, wasn’t it?

  Yeah. His niece was happy.

  Was it crazy to think he’d helped her get there?

  Pressure started in his throat and cascaded downward. He almost had to set down the pitcher so he could feel around in his chest for the twisting sensation.

  “What about dinner?” Danielle singsonged, breaking the spell. “We can’t have cake without dinner first.”

  Wes cleared his throat. Noticing Bethany was watching him thoughtfully, he made his voice light. “Dang, girl. You haven’t even tried the tea yet. Are you one of those difficult customers?” On his second pass around the table, he spoke from the side of his mouth to Bethany. “Seriously, though. It’s almost dinnertime and I seriously doubt they want green bean casserole.”

  “Oh God.” Bethany hid behind the fall of her hair, but not before he saw her watching him and Laura with a curious sheen in her eyes. “Um. Which Just Us League member made you that?”

  “Come on, now.” Desperate to lighten the mood, he gave Bethany a light hip-check. “You know I call her Green Bean Casserole.”

  Thankfully back to normal, she snorted. “You’re impossible.” She chewed her lip for a moment. “Go order some pizzas and I’ll stall.”

  “On it.”

  Wes set down the tea pitcher with a clunk and whipped out his cell, which, of course, had the closest pizza place on speed dial. They put him on hold and, with the music playing in his ear, he watched Bethany further work her magic—and that’s exactly what it was.

  “All right, ladies, if we’ve all had our fill of tea, the time has come for the princess ceremony.”

  “The what?” Laura asked, in a trance.

  “The princess ceremony, of course.” Bethany clapped her hands together. “The Queen has brought you all here today to make you all official princesses.”

  Wes was surprised when the roar of excitement didn’t shatter a window.

  Bethany was killing it. And the craziest part of the whole situation was . . . she only seemed capable of enjoying their reactions for approximately two seconds before she visibly started worrying about what came next. Didn’t she know how far out of the park she was hitting this? She claimed to know nothing about kids, but she’d won them over faster than a seasoned babysitter could ever hope to do. He’d put money on it.

  What the hell had made her so unsure of herself? His earlier epiphany that he’d contributed to her insecurities sat in his gut like a lump of lead.

  He wasn’t done making it up to her. Not by a long shot.

  Was it wishful thinking, or did Laura seem . . . happy? Very happy. She’d seemed that way all through the tea party and dinner. Afterward, Megan and Danielle had been picked up by their mother, but Laura didn’t seem to want Bethany to leave yet, asking her to read a story. And seemingly enjoying it. Bethany was struck by how satisfying that was. It was nice to know that someone was content, thanks to her efforts. Instead of wondering if they were disappointed in her or the job she’d done or a million other possibilities.

  She’d felt the same way when she swung the sledgehammer into the wall and turned to look at Wes—

  She really, really needed to go home.

  “And that is the story of how Fancy Nancy triumphed in her quest to find the unicorn,” Bethany finished, closing the book. “Good night, Laura.”

  Laura put her arms up. “Hug.”

  “From me?”

  The little girl nodded.

  “Oh.” Bethany leaned down and let Laura wrap her in a hug that pulled her hair and put a twinge in her neck, but was somehow the loveliest hug she’d ever received. “Would you like me to send in your Uncle Wes?”

  “Way ahead of you,” said the man as he entered the room. “Did Nancy get that unicorn?”

  Laura grinned. “Yes.”

  “Oh good. I’m always worried.” Wes went down on his knees on the opposite side of the bed from Bethany and dropped a kiss on Laura’s cheek, chuckling when she strangled him with a fierce hug.

  “I can’t wait for school tomorrow,” she said.

  A smile was blooming on Wes’s face when he pulled back. “That’s great, kid.”

  Laura snuggled into the sheets, turning onto her side. Almost as an afterthought, she said, “I love you.”

  Bethany held her breath as she watched Wes’s easygoing expression be replaced with dumbstruck awe. “I love you, too,” he said, gruffly. “See you in the morning.”

  Both adults left the room. Before they’d even reached the door, soft snores were coming from the bed. Quietly, they stepped into the hallway and Wes closed the door behind them. Then he just kind of stood there, staring into space.

  “Is that the first time she’s said that to you?” Bethany asked.

  “Yeah.” He scrubbed at the back of his neck. “Shit.”

  “Shit, what?”

  “Shit . . . no one’s ever said that to me before,” he said, dazedly. “Have a beer with me?”

  “I really should go,” Bethany said, too quickly. No one had ever said I love you to this man? She was already having a very hard time remaining detached after watching such a personal exchange between Wes and his niece. Now her fingertips were numb from his admission. He looked like he’d been smacked in the face with a two-by-four and her own dumb heart was pumping like a revved motor in response.

  This whole evening had already been an out-of-body experience, but she’d managed to retain a scrap of objectivity. After all, she couldn’t very well make it a regular occurrence. Reading bedtime stories to the adorable niece and spinning tea party narratives. Honestly, Bethany. Shouldn’t she be home updating her professional social media or tackling a design plan for the flip? Something productive?

  As if he hadn’t heard her response, Wes herded her down the hallway—and she went, feeling a little like a pirate prisoner walking the plank. They stepped over stuffed animals and crayons until they reached the kitchen. Bethany hugged her elbows until Wes handed her an open bottle of beer, clinking his glass neck with hers.

  “Come on.” He padded on bare feet to the back door, flipped the lock, and opened it, summoning her into the backyard with an inviting chin jerk. If she’d sensed she was walking to her doom before, she’d been wrong. The real trouble lay in the romantic outdoor setting.

  Neither one of them was wearing shoes and the damp fall grass threaded through her toes. The beer was cold in her hand, the moon was bright, and the wind held just the right amount of chill. Plus he still had that kind of delighted shock on his face that was so sweet, she almost wished she’d never seen it
. How was she supposed to go back to disliking him?

  Wes tilted his face up at the moon and took several sips of his beer. She was helpless to do anything but watch the silhouette of his strong throat gulping down the liquid.

  He squinted over at her. “Do you think she meant it?”

  “Yes,” she answered honestly, pressing her beer bottle to the unusual tug in her chest. “Did you mean it?”

  A beat passed. “Yeah.”

  She swallowed. “Will you leave right away when her mother comes back?”

  “That’s the plan. Move on and hope I made a small difference.” He blew out a breath. “There were people along the way that did that for me, when I was moving in and out of new homes. Teachers or a good foster parent who turned me toward a certain path and kicked me in the ass to get me moving. It doesn’t seem like much at the time and maybe it was nothing to them, but it was something to me. Maybe . . . for her, it’ll be me who does that.”

  Her stomach jolted. “I didn’t know you were in foster care.”

  He nodded once, but didn’t respond. In the glory of the moonlight, he looked older, more worldly and weathered. Or maybe it was the words coming out of his mouth. She didn’t know what it was, but all of it, everything, drew her closer.

  “So Laura’s mother isn’t your real sister?”

  “She is. Half. We have the same mother.” He seemed to gather his thoughts. “Becky had it a lot harder than me growing up. I could get hired to do manual labor and that made it easier to stay out of our foster home. Out of the way. There are good families out there helping kids, but the one where we were placed together . . . we weren’t as fortunate. Our foster parents had an issue with liquor and fighting. Money troubles, on top of it.” He squinted into the darkness. “Becky used drugs to cope. She stayed off them when she got pregnant with Laura and I thought she’d carved this new life out for herself in New York. But I don’t know. It worries me that she’s run off like this.”

  Bethany couldn’t help but glance back toward the house, where Laura lay sleeping. What would this little girl have done without her uncle? As far as she could tell, no one in Port Jefferson had been aware of any discord between Laura’s parents. Definitely no one had spotted any drug use or she’d have heard. “Thank God you’re here, Wes,” she whispered. “You really stepped up.”

  Her praise earned her a sharp look. A surprised one? “Yeah, well. I’m far from a saint. There’ve been a lot of times I’ve wanted to ignore Becky’s calls. I’ve just learned it’s easier . . . letting people pass in and out without trying to hold on or they just slip through anyway. But I’m glad I didn’t this time.” He made a jerky movement and took another pull of his beer. “This was one of those good stops along the way.”

  “Along the way to what?”

  He winked at her in the moonlight. “Gray hair and sciatica, I guess.”

  She puffed a laugh, though she had a weight on her chest. “This isn’t just another stop along the way for you.”

  He sobered. “It doesn’t feel like I’m supposed to . . . leave here. But I’ve thought that before.”

  “Because of a woman?”

  Now why did she ask that? Bethany mentally kicked herself. But before she could take back the question, Wes looked away from the moon and over at her, a combination of humor and heat snapping in his eyes. “No, not because of a woman.” He set his beer down on the back windowsill and came toward her slowly. “I spent eighteen years in and out of foster care. Lived in single-parent homes, stayed with married couples, retirees. When I was seven, the Kolkers took me in. They were warm and welcoming in the beginning. Happy. I let myself feel secure. But they eventually split over money troubles and I was spit right back into the system.” His throat worked. “I’ve found situations that felt right. Friends, a job, a foster family. I thought that was it. I’d stick. But it turned out I was just a stop along the way for someone else.”

  Bethany could only partially relate to that. Her relationships had never been anything but pit stops, but at least she had a family and friends. They were constants for her. Constants Wes never had. “I’m sorry.”

  Without sacrificing their cemented eye contact, he took out her ponytail and worked his fingers through her hair. “I don’t want sorrys from you.”

  “No,” she whispered, wetting her lips. “You just want me to make this stop along the way more interesting.”

  Conflict tightened his features. “Never lied about that.”

  “No, you haven’t.”

  His mouth was closer now, hovering just above hers. “Goddamn.” His gaze trailed over every inch of her face. “If there was ever a woman I’d stick for, darlin’—”

  Bethany surged up on her toes and locked their mouths together. What was her other option? Hearing the rest of that sentence? No. No, sir . . .

  Oh good God, his mouth felt great.

  He didn’t lead her into some perfected dance or impose his will on her. He just let the kiss happen, let it unfold like an unwritten story. His uneven exhale filled her mouth and his body pressed close, slowly, swaying with the breeze as their lips parted and the tips of their tongues met once, twice. It was the exact opposite of what she would have expected from kissing a twenty-three-year-old man. It was unique to them and the moment and she could barely feel her fingertips.

  Keep your head. Keep your balance.

  Wes sipped at her upper lip and she quite helplessly melted against him, still on her toes, letting him guide his tongue into her mouth, sweeping it across hers. His fingers were gentle and reverent in her hair, his opposite arm finding a place wrapped around her hips, urging her close until their lower bodies pressed and they moaned into each other’s mouths.

  That’s when Bethany expected him to turn it on, to impress his masculinity upon her, but he continued to slant his mouth over hers in savoring slides, rubbing the base of her spine with his thumb and brushing her hair sweetly. His worship of her was too much, too unexpectedly perfect that she started to panic, but he pulled away before she could stop the kiss. “I know you didn’t want to hear the end of what I was telling you,” he rasped, brushing their mouths together. “But I just told you anyway.”

  I’m in trouble.

  He didn’t allow her to acknowledge more than that single coherent thought before he swept her back into the tornado. Their lust had gone from a slow leak to a broken dam and Bethany had no choice but to ride the tide. His tongue played with hers almost tauntingly and when she tried to get a satisfying taste, he tugged away and snapped at her lower lip instead. “Got something else to tell you now.”

  “No,” she breathed. “Shut up.”

  Wes laughed low and husky while walking her backward into the shadows and steadying himself with a hand on the side of the house. “What did I say would happen when I got my tongue in your mouth?”

  His hips pinned hers and she gasped. “That I would feel your, uhhm . . .”

  “My lack of fucks about our age difference.” He captured her chin and tilted it up, his hips cinching forward so she could feel the thick jut of his erection. “Someone is finally paying attention.”

  Her panties grew damp. Or damper, rather. “Don’t talk to me like that—”

  Wes’s mouth stamped down over hers and made love to it. She couldn’t describe it any other way. He owned her tongue with possessive strokes, his hold firm on her chin to keep her mouth pried open. It was nothing like their first kiss and all the better for the contrast. Knowing he could do both, be gentle and demanding, was such a turn-on, her head was going to pop like a balloon.

  After me! called her ovaries.

  Wes broke off with a growl and pressed his open mouth to her forehead. “You feel my lack of fucks yet?”

  Wait, what? How was she supposed to concentrate on anything when he kissed her like that?

  “Guess I better speak a little louder,” he said gruffly, one of his hands leaving the wall, fingers sliding under the strap of her romper. “That what you
want, Bethany?”

  “What are you asking me?”

  He bent his knees and rose, grinding their sexes together. The friction was so raw and welcome and unexpected, she whimpered at the resulting flex of her feminine muscles. “I’m asking to suck your tits,” he said, his hot eyes dropping to her neckline. “Climb on up here so I can play with them. Bet they’re so fucking pretty.”

  “They are,” she asserted, trying to regain some of the control that was quickly slipping through her fingers. “Wes, I . . . This is . . .”

  His fingers slipped back and forth beneath her strap, his hips rocking between her legs. “This is what?”

  The first time I’ve ever been desperate.

  The first time I’ve been so needy I’m not sure I could stop.

  Wes looked down at their lower bodies and Bethany realized she’d wrapped her right leg around him and was meeting his slow bumps and grinds. “Looks like you’re the one telling me something now, baby.”

  “Shut up,” she breathed.

  The corner of his lips lifted. “Words. I need to hear them. You want me licking all over those nipples like I licked inside that smart mouth?”

  Her nod was vigorous and totally involuntary.

  Right.

  “Thank God,” he growled, boosting her up and smacking her back against the house. His big shaft hit her in a new spot between her thighs, but Wes gave her no time to recover from the amazing friction. No, he was already yanking down one strap of her romper, using his teeth to draw down the other. “Show ’em off now. Show me how much you don’t care that I’m younger.” Bethany arched off the house with a moan, her angle causing the top of her denim romper to fall to her waist, revealing two things to him. Her lack of a bra and how hard he’d made her nipples. “Fucking hell, Bethany.”

  “T-told you they were pretty,” she murmured, even as she checked his eyes for signs that he was disappointed.

  His scoff filled the dark backyard. “Pretty doesn’t do them justice. Not sure there’s a word that would.” He leaned down and brushed his lip against her nipples, one by one, groaning when the tight buds puckered all the more. “I’ve finally got you where I want you, baby. Can’t believe it.” He dragged the length of his tongue side to side on top of her right nipple. “Fuck that, it’s where I need you, isn’t it?”