“She’ll be okay, darlin’,” Jim-Billy whispered back.
“I’m gonna get Tate to call Bubba and get his ass home,” I declared and Jim-Billy shook his head.
“Jonas is home which means Tate is home which means Bubba is g-o-n-e, gone. Even if Tate calls him, Bubba won’t be back until Sunday night.”
I felt my eyes get wide. “Always?”
“Yup.”
“But, Tate can’t come down to help if Jonas is here.”
“No, but he can if there’s trouble.”
I felt my lips thin.
I liked Bubba. He was funny and he was sweet and he called me gorgeous in a way that I knew he thought that was true. He wasn’t as good a bartender as Krystal, Dalton and Tate but he knew his way around the back of the bar. He was slow because he saw no reason in life to go fast.
But I didn’t like him taking advantage of Tate or causing Krystal pain.
“Uh… Laurie?” Jim-Billy called and I focused on him. “It is what it is and has been goin’ on a long while. Leave it be.”
“But –”
“Darlin’, listen to Jim-Billy, leave it be.”
“I –”
“Ace!” I heard, jumped and turned to the door.
Tate stood there. I’d been so caught up in Krystal and Bubba I hadn’t been paying attention. My legs started trembling again and I didn’t move a muscle.
“Babe, you gonna stand there starin’ at me or you gonna come meet Jonas?” Tate called.
“Go get ‘im, tiger,” Jim-Billy encouraged, I licked my lips, looked at him, nodded and walked on jellied legs toward Tate.
“Um…” I started when I got close. “Did everything go okay?”
“No,” he answered.
“What happened?” I asked as I made it to him.
His hand came up and curled around the side of my neck. “Tell you later.”
“Hey, Tate!” Krystal called and Tate’s head swung to her. “Laurie’s off. Wendy’ll be in in half an hour to finish her shift. She’s got the weekend.”
I stared at Krystal then I looked at Tate to find he was grinning down at me.
“Good news, Ace,” he said.
“I can always, you know, paint another room or something while you do boy stuff,” I offered.
“How ‘bout we do boy girl stuff, the clean kind durin’ the day, the dirty kind at night?”
I did not need him talking nasty prior to me meeting his son and therefore hissed, “Tate!”
He grinned, slung an arm around my shoulders and propelled me to the door. “Come meet Jonas.”
It was the time of judgment, I couldn’t delay and I couldn’t run so I wrapped my arm around his waist and let Tate take me to his son.
He was standing, shoulders leaned against the passenger side of the Explorer, a video game in his hands, his dark head bent to it.
“Good news, Bub,” Tate called, “Lauren’s got the rest of the day off.”
That was when his head came up and my step stuttered.
He was the spitting image of Tate. There wasn’t a hint of Neeta to be found. He was the most beautiful child I’d ever seen in my life.
Then he smiled at me and my heart turned over.
“Hey Lauren,” he said.
“Um… hi Jonas,” I replied and Tate stopped me in front of his son.
“Dad said you made me a cake,” he told me.
“Red cake, white frosting,” I replied and his head tipped to the side.
“Red cake?” he asked.
“Um… it’s really chocolate but I dye it red. I don’t know why, it’s just, that’s what the recipe says so that’s what I do.”
“It got Moist Factor Five Hundred?” he asked and I knew they’d been talking about me, more than a little, more than likely a lot.
My heart started beating very fast and very hard.
“Yes,” I answered.
“Dad said that’s the bomb,” Jonas informed me.
“The, um… master of Moist Factor Five Hundred works over there,” I pointed to La-La Land, “at the coffee shop. He shared the secret of his success with me.”
Jonas took a step forward and twisted his torso to see beyond the truck to where I was pointing. Then he straightened and looked back at me.
“Cool,” he replied.
“Yeah, um… cool,” I reiterated.
He grinned.
My heart turned over again.
“You look just like your Dad,” I whispered and his back went straighter, giving him at least another inch.
“Be just like him, when I grow up,” he stated proudly.
“A football star?” I asked.
“Nah, a bounty hunter,” he told me.
“They carry guns and hunt dangerous fugitives,” I informed him something he probably knew and I probably shouldn’t remind him therefore I clamped my mouth shut after speaking.
“Yeah, why you think I wanna be like my Dad?” Jonas asked.
“Perhaps you can consider alternate future employment,” I suggested, “maybe an accountant.”
Father and son burst out laughing.
I looked up at Tate. “I wasn’t being funny.”
“I know, babe,” he replied, still chuckling. “That’s why it was hilarious.”
I looked back to Jonas and stated somewhat haughtily, “An accountant would not make his girlfriend worry while he was away at work.”
“Yeah,” Jonas shot back with a smile, “but he also wouldn’t have a milf girlfriend either.”
I felt my eyes round as Tate said in a father’s warning tone but still I could tell from his voice he was smiling huge, “Bub.”
“Dad, seriously, she’s milf,” Jonas returned.
“Think it, boy, don’t say it,” Tate replied.
“Right,” Jonas muttered but he was still smiling at me and his smile was unrepentant.
Jonas had called me a milf. I knew what that meant and I didn’t know what to do with it.
Seriously, Tate from head to toe.
“I think I need a latte. Does anyone need a latte?” I asked then didn’t wait for them to answer. “No? Okay, you boys go on and do father and son stuff, toss a baseball, build a barn, whatever. I’ll get a latte and meet you home for dinner.”
Jonas looked at Tate. “They have smoothies?”
“We’ll find out,” Tate answered and my eyes darted to him because he was moving me toward the sidewalk and, I knew, La-La Land.