Sweet Dreams (Colorado Mountain 2)

“It isn’t.”

“Fuck,” he hissed, his voice so intense it was nearly physical, “wish Dad coulda met you.”

I stared at him, stunned speechless when it hit me my beautiful, badass biker had been broken.

And I’d fixed him too.

“It broke you,” I whispered.

“What?”

“When you lost the game, it broke you. You were on your way to self-fulfilled prophesies too.”

He stared down at me and I held my breath for his reaction.

Then he said softly, “Yeah.”

“You didn’t think, without the game defining you, that you could find a good life.”

“No.”

“And, for whatever reason, I didn’t think I was worthy of something special so I never found it, until you.”

His bizarre response to that admission was, “Thank Christ.”

“Sorry?”

“Babe, you let your college boyfriend show you you were somethin’ special all along, right about now, I wouldn’t be standin’ in my bathroom with you in my arms. I’d be f**ked.”

“Well –”

“Jonas would too.”

“Um…”

His forehead came back to mine but his chin moved down half an inch so his nose was alongside mine. “Makes me a dick, you lived with it for so long, but I don’t care, you still gotta know, I’m pleased as f**k I’m the only one can give you sweet dreams.”

The tears came back and instantly spilled over.

“Me too, Tate,” I whispered.

“Waited a long time to be somethin’ special again, baby,” he whispered back.

“I’m glad it’s me who gets it.”

I watched through wet eyes as his smiled.

“All right, Ace, this is done,” he announced quietly.

“What?”

“These heart to hearts.”

“Oh,” I whispered, disappointed because I kind of liked them. “Okay.”

“We get it now,” he explained. “We don’t need ‘em.”

“Oh,” I repeated, not disappointed anymore because he was right. “Okay.” Then I asked, “Is Jonas still asleep?”

“Yeah,” he answered.

My hand trailed to his abs.

“Good,” I murmured.

“Baby?”

The fingers of my other hand slid into his hair as my hand at his stomach dipped down to cup his crotch.

“Feel like playing,” I whispered.

He grinned.

“Can I?” I asked.

“I’m ready for you to stop playin’ and get serious, I tell you, you get serious.”

“Deal,” I agreed and his eyes grew dark.

“On your knees, Ace,” he growled.

That was when I grinned.

Then I got down on my knees.

* * * * *

Life got pretty sweet after Tate and my final heart to heart in the bathroom that ended in him getting a blowjob from me followed by me getting an orgasm sitting with my behind on the edge of the basin, my legs wrapped around his shoulders and his mouth between my legs.

This didn’t mean we didn’t have dramas.

But all of our dramas revolved around Jonas.

One included Jonas having a ten year old boy fit at the mall, a fit which was backed up by Tate when Tate and I took him back to school clothes shopping. I felt his closet and drawers should be far fuller. Tate and Jonas didn’t agree and felt after we bought two pairs of jeans, a few t-shirts and a pair of gym shoes that cost nearly as much as the picture I bought Tate (slight exaggeration), it was time to go see a movie.

I gave in and, since I knew his sizes, I took Amber, Betty and Wendy to the mall the next day and we augmented Jonas’s wardrobe.

We also augmented Tate’s.

We also augmented Amber, Betty, Wendy and mine.

We also visited Wanda at the home store because Jonas got new towels for his bathroom and Tate and I got a new soap dispenser and toothbrush holder for ours.

We also got new canisters for the kitchen and a new set of earthenware bowls that were heavy, gorgeous, fit snug in each other for easy storage but since they were painted a muted, dusty green, pink and blue, I set them out on the island because they looked cool there.

Jonas, on the other hand, thought they looked girlie.

Tate just looked at them, looked at me, his lips twitched then he walked away so I decided to take that as approval, or at least not objection.

The other drama included Tate registering Jonas for junior league football, something he excelled at and something Tate tried very hard not to miss, either practices or games. However, seeing as fugitives didn’t take your call and wait for you to meet them at the local police station so you could turn them in, this didn’t happen as much as Tate or Jonas would like (I, however, didn’t miss a game, though if Tate was home to pick him up for practice, I let them have their boy time and only picked him up when Tate as gone).

Luckily, the first game Jonas’s team lost, Tate was there. This was lucky because Jonas didn’t like losing. As in, he didn’t like it a lot.

This manifested itself in another ten year old boy fit. One during which Tate ordered Jonas to go to his room, Tate followed, I heard Jonas hollering for awhile then I heard nothing.

I was in the garden yanking weeds when Tate came out after dealing with Jonas.

“He okay?” I asked.

“Still pissed,” he answered.

“It’s just a game,” I muttered.

“It’s never just a game,” Tate replied and I looked at him.

“You can’t win at everything in life, Tate,” I said softly, “He should learn that.”

“You’re right, Ace, you can’t. But you can learn from losin’ how not to lose again. Or at least not make the same mistakes.”

This was true.

“Still, honey, he should learn not to pitch a fit,” I said carefully.

“That intensity is good, he’s just gotta focus it.”

“Did you teach him that?”

“No, but I will.”

I felt my face go soft and I smiled at him.

Tate smiled back.

Then he said, “Probably help, you give him some of your Grandma’s chocolate chip cookies.”

“I’m making Mom’s chocolate pecan pie.”

His smile got bigger.

“That’ll work too.”

“Food isn’t love, Tate,” I teased him with his own words.

He bent over where I was sitting on the ledge, wrapped his hand around the back of my neck and kissed my forehead.