Bare Skin (Skin Deep 5)

Surprisingly, I slept really well after hanging up the phone. Of course, my dreams were filled with her and (not surprisingly) I woke up with a raging hard on that made getting my day started that much harder. (Pun not intended…)

It was Sunday and my mom had deemed it a breakfast day because she hadn’t had her children together for a while. To my mom, a while could mean a month, two weeks, or a day. She doesn’t discriminate like that, but honestly, my siblings and I didn’t complain. It’s nice to have a hot, home cooked meal every now and then that wasn’t home cooked by you. Not that I was much of a cook, anyway, but I had a pretty kickass drawer full of takeout menus.

I made it over to their house in record time, beating all of my sisters and their families. Not by much, though, since Leah pulled in right behind me with Ian. Leah’s a newlywed (so she says even though she got married like three months ago), something clearly evidenced by the fact that she thought it necessary to suck face with her husband for three minutes when they parked. And no, I wasn’t counting. I was estimating, because no way in hell was I sticking around to watch that shit.

I strode into my parents’ house and made my way directly into the kitchen, where I knew my mom and dad would be. Mom was at the stove, vigorously stirring a big pan of gravy while my dad was standing on the other side of the island, reaching for the heaping plate of bacon sitting there. He was doing it in slow-motion, trying not to catch Mom’s attention.

Without missing a beat or even turning around, Mom called out, “Hi, Son! And Ben, if you so much as touch that plate of bacon again, I’ll cut you off.”

My dad snatched his fingers back, grinning and then winking at me in the process. He sounded indignant when he replied to my mom, but she and I both knew he was just blustering. “Woman, what the hell do you mean ‘again’? I haven’t touched the bacon!”

Mom turned, waving a wooden spoon in the air at my dad. “You know damn well what I mean, Ben.” She glared at him, but then winked, which totally ruined the sternness of her voice. Dad just grinned at her and snatched a piece of bacon anyway.

I chuckled. “Dad you’re gonna get cut off and not get any bacon with breakfast,” I cautioned good naturedly as my sister walked into the kitchen, Ian trailing behind her.

Dad shook his head and grinned as mom answered, “It’s not the bacon he’s getting cut off from,” she said, laughter almost masking the words. “It’s-”

“Mom!” Leah cried as I latched my hands over my ears. Ian just laughed, as did my parents.

A few minutes later, Emma walked in with Everly on her hip, Luke following her, and Jenna and her brood bringing up the rear.

“Why is everyone in the kitchen? And did you let Chloe and Allie know its breakfast day, Mom?” Emma asked, automatically handing the baby over to our father, who reached for her just as the baby reached for him.

“Nah, I decided I didn’t like them this week,” Mom replied, pouring the gravy into a huge serving bowl and turning to take the biscuits out of the oven in what seemed like one smooth, practiced motion. Once she was done, she shot Emma an exasperated look before rolling her eyes as she said, “Jesus, Em. You think I’m gonna forget one of my children?”

I held my hand up, stopping Emma from replying. “In her defense, Mom, you guys did leave Leah in that store up in Michigan when we were there for Dad’s bowling tournament.”

Mom gasped, her cheeks turning red as she immediately defended herself. “We had like sixteen kids in the van that day and I asked if everyone was in! You all said yes! And we didn’t really leave her…we figured it out before we got completely out of the parking lot.”

Leah mock-scowled at Mom, a smile twitching her lips, but by that time we were all laughing at the memory. Leah had been seriously pissed off when it had happened, not that we blamed her, though we’d still laughed our asses off about it, but then it became sort of a good-natured running joke over the years.

Dad ambled out of the kitchen, shaking his head and chuckling with Everly chattering to him on one side while he motioned for the other kids to follow him, with the exception of Caleb, Jenna’s newest little one, who I’d grabbed from her when she came in. Otherwise, Dad would have had him in his other arm.

In short time, we were all seated around the table, Chloe and Allie and their tag-a-longs included, laughing, talking, and stuffing our faces, which is pretty much the norm for my family. It had been relatively uneventful (sometimes it happens…just not often) until my sister opened her mouth.

“So, how’s the red-head?” Emma asked, giving me an angelic look.

I glared at her and gave a small shake of my head.

But it was too late.

Every eye turned toward me.

“Moved on already, did we?” Jenna asked, tongue in cheek. “Aw, won’t Buffy, Muffy, and Bunny be so heartbroken?”

“Ha-ha, very funny, Jen,” I said, sarcastically as she cackled at herself.

“Wait, red-head?” Leah chimed in, her eyes narrowing and then popping open wide in shock. “The one at Griff’s? No fucking way! Emma, I told you she would eat him alive, so why the hell…no shit. Really?”

I groaned. “Is it that hard to believe? You don’t even know her and already you assume she’s out of my league.” I rolled my eyes as my mom jumped in and chastised Leah for saying fuck at the table. Not that it mattered, because usually she’s the one that used it more than anyone. Except for the times that Allie’s Nanny came to breakfast. Then it was a toss-up, though Nanny usually out-cussed everyone.

Conversation at the table then centered on me and the mysterious red-head. Emma so kindly shared my visit to her house yesterday, and the guys just shook their heads and smiled. Luke, at least, had the grace to look slightly sorry for me, but Brandon, Ian, and Noah were far too interested in what Emma had to say. Thank God she didn’t have too much information.

Thus was my breakfast, until T.J. came striding in.

“Sorry I was late, everyone. Thanks for inviting me, Mrs. Jensen!”

“T.J., how many times do I have to tell you to call me Jan? Or even Mom?”