Craving Rose (The Aces' Sons 5)

My phone rang as I was flipping a couple of corncobs, so I answered, holding it with my shoulder as I continued what I was doing.

“Hey, Ma.”

“Cubby,” my mom said fondly, using my childhood nickname as an endearment. “How are you and my granddaughter doing?”

“We’re good,” I replied, glancing over my shoulder as Kara came outside in her pajamas and headed straight to the swing hanging from an old oak tree in our back yard. “Working like always and soaking up this sun when we can.”

“How’s Kara enjoying her summer? Does she have anything fun planned?”

“She’s lovin’ havin’ no school,” I replied making my mom laugh. “But she’s not too happy that she still has to get up before noon.”

“It’s good that she’s got somewhere to spend her days while you’re at work,” my mom said, a tinge of remorse lacing her tone.

“You and Dad did the best you could,” I said. “I just got lucky with the friends I’ve got. She’s got somewhere to hang with kids her age, and Trix doesn’t mind having extra monsters running through her house all day.”

“That’s awesome,” she replied.

“And she’s got camp coming up, too. She’s pretty psyched for that.”

“The sleep-away camp she was so excited about?”

“Yep. Did some side jobs so I’d be able to swing it. It’s next month.”

“Only twenty-seven days!” Kara yelled from the swing with a whoop.

“Twenty-seven days,” I repeated to my mom, making her chuckle.

“But who’s counting?” she said dryly.

“How are you and Dad doing? Still enjoying tripping all over each other?” My parents never had any extra cash while I was growing up, but the plant my dad had worked for had a hell of a pension. When he retired, they’d sold the little house I’d grown up in and bought a tiny RV outright, and they’d been travelling ever since. They always made it home for Christmas and Kara’s birthday in January, but during the winter months, they were usually somewhere down south, making their way north in the summer. They stopped where they wanted, left when they wanted, and generally had the time of their lives. I couldn’t have been happier for them.

“The RV had a water leak,” she griped. “So we’ve been stuck in this little town in Iowa for a week, but I think your dad finally figured out the problem, so we should be hitting the road soon.”

“Why didn’t he just take it into a shop?” I asked, going inside to get the steaks.

“You know your dad, he wasn’t going to waste money taking it to someone else if he could do it for free.”

“Understandable,” I replied, grabbing the meat out of the fridge. “But you guys have the cash now. Don’t scrimp when you don’t have to.”

“I know, I know,” she mumbled. “But letting your dad do his thing is easier than arguing about it. I pick my battles.”

“Since when?” I teased.

“Since we started tripping all over each other, as you put it.”

I laughed.

“Fighting with someone in a space this small is worse than getting a root canal,” she said, a smile in her voice. “There’s nowhere to escape.”

“Sounds terrible,” I said in mock seriousness.

“Ha!” she laughed. “You’d be right here with us if you could.”

“Damn straight,” I replied instantly.

I was pretty sure that my love of the road came from my parents. My dad’s hips were too bad to ride for any length of time, but when I was a kid, he and my mom used to take off for hours on his old, piece of shit Harley. Knowing what I knew now, I had no idea how he’d kept the thing running—but he had. It was the only escape they’d had when times were tough.

“Well, I was just calling to check in,” she said. “We miss you guys.”

“We miss you, too. Be careful on the road.”

“We always are. Love you.”

“Love you, too. Tell Dad I love him.”

Holding the phone out, I called for Kara. “Your nana’s on the phone.”

Mom always took the time to have a one-on-one conversation with Kara when she called. I knew they hated missing out on their only grandchild’s life, but they made a concerted effort to stay close with her.

As Kara walked away, talking a mile a minute, I threw the steaks on. They only took a couple minutes, so I went straight in to get plates and silverware. When it was nice, we always ate outside. Why bother to be cooped up in the house if you didn’t have to be?

“Gram said to tell you she loved you and she’ll call again soon,” Kara said as she came out to the patio table and handed back my phone. “What do you want to drink?”

“Ice water, please,” I replied, hurrying over to flip the steaks. “Before you ask, yes, you can have a soda.”

“Sweet,” she sang, skipping into the house.