Home > Sweet Dreams (Colorado Mountain #2)(101)

Sweet Dreams (Colorado Mountain #2)(101)
Author: Kristen Ashley

“Who bought your dining room table?” I asked.

“What?” he asked back.

“Your dining room table. It’s –”

“It’s Dad’s. I grew up in this house, Laurie. Bought a new bed when I took over Dad’s room, made Jonas some space. Other than that, everything here is what he left me.”

“Oh,” I whispered, my mind turning all of this over, all he’d said and all it meant.

“Yeah,” he grinned. “Oh.”

“You’re stuck,” I blurted, his grin died and he blinked.

“Come again?”

I swallowed, sucked in breath and forged ahead.

“I was lost but you… Tate, you got stuck,” I told him.

He stared at me and it took a lot but I braved his stare.

Then he asked, “You up for the job of pullin’ me out?”

“I…” I swallowed again. “No,” I answered truthfully.

“No?” he asked, his eyebrows lifting, his face getting dark, his arms growing tighter.

“I…” I pulled in breath then whispered, “I kinda like it here.”

With a sudden change that made me jump, he threw his head back and burst out laughing, pulling me into a close hug when he did it.

My cheek was smushed to his chest and it was going to stay where it was since his big hand was crushing my head there so I mumbled a smothered, “Tate –”

“Keepin’ you stuck with me,” he said over my head.

“Okay,” I replied.

“Okay?” he asked and his tone had changed again, now sounding slightly surprised.

My arms gave him a squeeze and I answered, “Yeah, honey. Okay.”

He was silent for awhile then I felt his lips against the hair at the top of my head.

Then he stated, “Baby, you know the worst about me.”

I tried to pull my head from his chest but he kept it pressed there so I gave up and whispered, “Tate.”

“Keepin’ you stuck with me, Ace,” he repeated in a murmur against my hair and I shivered because his tone had changed.

This wasn’t just a statement. It was a vow.

“Honey –”

“Bet Jonas likes grape Kool-Aid,” he whispered and I shivered again.

“He doesn’t, I’ll get him the flavor he likes,” I promised.

He let my head go and I tilted it back as his hand slid to my cheek.

“I know you will, baby,” he said gently.

I felt a nervous flutter in my belly.

“You’re sure he’ll like me?”

“Yeah,” Tate answered immediately.

“How can you be sure? Maybe he’ll –”

Tate cut me off. “He’s just like his old man.”

“How like his old man?” I asked and his hand moved to my jaw, his thumb there tipping my head further back as his head bent.

“Exactly like his old man,” he said softly.

“I’m in trouble,” I whispered.

His mouth came to mine and I felt his lips smile.

“Oh yeah,” he muttered then he kissed me.

The knife stayed stuck in the cake for awhile and Tate and I didn’t test out Moist Factor Five Hundred until it was dark. Tate sat on the island wearing nothing but his jeans only half buttoned up. I stood between his legs wearing nothing but his t-shirt. We ate a huge slice he held in his big hand, using our fingers to feed each other. This meant frosting got all over our fingers but cleaning it up was just a bonus to an already delicious activity.

Shambles was right, Moist Factor Five Hundred was a hit. But it wasn’t Shambles secret cake ingredient that made it a hit.

It was my very own chocolate butter cream frosting.

Chapter Nineteen

Jonas

The door to the bar opened, most of my body locked but my eyes flew to it.

Nadine walked in.

I heaved a sigh of relief.

“Laurie, honey, you okay?” Jim-Billy asked and I looked at him.

It was Friday. I was on the day shift. Tate was gone, picking up Jonas. I’d been on tenterhooks since noon, like Tate could step on Scottie’s beaming pad and beam himself and Jonas back and right outside the bar. But now it was nearly three and they could be here at any minute.

I was not ready for this.

Tate had told me before he left that morning that he’d bring Jonas by the bar to meet me then they’d go off and do their thing then they’d pick me up and we’d all go to dinner. I’d wanted to make Jonas a welcome home dinner and maybe buy my way into his heart through his ten-year-old boy’s stomach because I didn’t figure Neeta was a master chef. Though, if I waited until after my shift, they wouldn’t eat until late so going out it was. The diner could cook faster than what I had planned.

I bought all the stuff for dinner anyway because I had Saturday off so I decided to make it then. I didn’t find out until I got in the bar that day that Krystal and Wendy had conspired against me. It was Wendy’s day off but she was coming in to take over for me at three thirty and Krystal had made last minute schedule changes so I had the whole weekend off.

I didn’t want the whole weekend off. I just wanted Saturday. I told myself that this was so I could give Tate and Jonas time together. It was really because Jonas scared me half to death.

The dinner I picked was a specialty of mine, my family loved it but Brad hated it, said it was over the top, said it was so many calories and fat it was impossible to count, so I only made it when I went home to Indiana. Pork chops stuffed with Rice-A-Roni accompanied by real bread stuffing like you make for Thanksgiving and green bean casserole (the gooey kind with the crispy onions in it and on top). This would be followed by red cake with that creamy, white frosting that took a powerful hold on my willpower not to eat it all before I frosted the cake.

I made the cake the night before using nervous energy to do it. Tate had been gone, called away for a few days to round up a bad guy. Luckily, this only lasted a few days. Unfortunately, we’d fought when he’d returned which was the night before, approximately three minutes after I put the final flourishes on the frosting on the cake.

We fought because, until that day, I’d worked nights so I spent the days while he was gone painting his room as a surprise.

It wasn’t me painting the room that pissed Tate off. When Tate came home and saw it, he liked it, a lot if the kiss he gave me was any indication.

It was the invoice for the blinds that Tate saw on the counter after we’d walked out of the bedroom and into the kitchen that pissed him off. I’d had a local man come in, measure and I ordered new venetian blinds. Really cool ones made of a rich, dark wood. They cost a fortune but they would be awesome with the curtains.

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