“Right.”

“Do you get me?” he asked and I didn’t.

“Get you?”

“I’m at a meeting,” he stated, I stared at the ruined clay and then light dawned.

He had words he wanted to say and he couldn’t because there were people around.

“I get you,” I whispered.

“Right. We’ll connect. Promise.”

“Okay.”

“I want my daughter home by nine,” he decreed.

He was such a good Dad. That was study time, dinner time and TV time.

“Okay,” I repeated then added, “And just so you know, you being a good Dad and giving that to Rees and Fin, right now, I wanna kiss you all over.”

More silence then, “Jesus.”

I grinned.

Then I got a, “Later, darlin’.”

So I gave a, “Later, gorgeous.”

I hit the button on my phone, threw it to my side and dipped my hands in the water in order to drip it on the drying clay.

Then I turned on my wheel.

* * *

“In life, am I gonna use geometry?” Clarisse asked Fin, he looked from her paper to her and grinned.

“No clue,” he answered.

“So is there a point?” she asked.

His grin died and he held her eyes.

His were very blue.

“Do you know what you wanna do?” he asked.

“Do?” she asked back.

“After high school.”

On that, she had no clue so she shrugged.

“Right,” he replied. “You don’t know, until you do know you gotta lay the groundwork.”

“I’m pretty certain what I wanna do won’t have anything to do with geometry,” she shared and he grinned again.

Then he said soft, “Not what I mean, Reesee.”

God, she never thought she’d love it, anyone but her Dad and No calling her that.

But she loved it when Fin called her that.

“What do you mean?” she asked soft back.

“You might go to school, college. If you do, you gotta have the grades. You fuck this up, get a shit grade, fucks up your average. You don’t learn it, you can’t answer the questions on the SATs. So, until you get an idea of where you wanna go, you gotta do the work to cover your bases.”

Seriously, he was so smart. She didn’t know anybody like him. Not at school. He was like, practically an adult, he was that smart.

“Right,” she whispered.

They were at right angles at the kitchen table but after she said that word, he scooched his chair around so he was super close.

“Break it down for me, do the work out loud. We’ll try to figure out where you aren’t gettin’ it.”

Oh God! She couldn’t do that! He’d think she was stupid.

She stared at his profile as he stared at her paper, waiting for her to do the work. As she did, she wondered if she was weird thinking he had really beautiful lips. The bottom one was full and both of them had these ridges…

When she didn’t move or speak, his neck twisted and, head still bent, only his eyes came to her.

That close, he was even cuter.

Her belly fluttered.

“Rees?” he called.

Nervous, she blurted straight out, “I don’t want you to think I’m stupid.”

He blinked then he straightened, never taking his eyes from her.

“Why would I think you’re stupid?” he asked.

“I don’t…I mean,” she looked down at the paper then at him. “You’re good at that. You worked out three questions showin’ me how to do it in the time I did one and I got mine wrong when you checked it.”

“Babe, you don’t get geometry, that doesn’t mean you’re stupid. It just means you don’t get geometry. A lot of people don’t get geometry.”

That was a nice thing to say. But still.

Her eyes dropped down to the table. “I don’t get a lot of stuff,” she muttered at the paper.

“Reesee,” he called again and she looked at him.

That was when he did it. Leaned in and got super close. Super close. So close all she could see were his eyes!

“You get shit that matters,” he whispered.

“What?” she breathed.

“You said your Dad was happy. Aunt Dusty was tight with my Dad. They talked all the time. But she’s singin’ and dancin’ and laughin’ and bein’ crazy and it’s crazier than the usual way she does it. You gave her that.”

Clarisse blinked then she said quietly, “You helped.”

“It was your idea,” he reminded her then went on, “You read those diaries and you knew. So you did somethin’ about it. If you do that for your Dad because he’s a good guy and looks out for you, who cares if you don’t get geometry?”

She had to admit, he had a point.

So she smiled at him.

His eyes changed when she did. It seemed they were looking deeper into hers. Then his dropped to her mouth and her belly fluttered again.

Then he moved back a few inches and muttered, “But let’s get you to the point where you can get this enough that you pass this class.”

And she had to admit, if she passed this class, that would make her Dad happier.

“Okay,” she agreed.

“Now, work through it out loud,” he repeated.

Clarisse did what he said.

Fin caught where she was going wrong. He had to explain it three times through the next three problems but finally, she got it.

He moved to his English Comp homework but when he checked her work, she got only one wrong. And she’d worked through fourteen questions.

Clarisse thought everything about Fin Holliday was awesome.

Now she knew he was more awesome than awesome.

She didn’t know what that was. She just knew Fin was it.

* * *

Mike hit the button to disconnect his phone call from Dusty and looked across the desk at Tanner Layne but the question came from his side.

“Whipped?”

Mike turned and his eyes hit the huge, bald, muscled, tattooed, tank top in February wearing, scarily grinning Ryker seated at his side.

“Absolutely.”

The scary grin turned into an ugly smile.

Then Ryker announced with a jerk of his head toward Tanner, “His woman tells my woman she bakes great cakes.”

Mike did not want to do this with Cal.

He definitely didn’t want to do this with Ryker.

Therefore, he stated low and firm, “We’re not doing this.”

Ryker’s grin went satanic.

Jesus.

“Ryker, a little focus?” Tanner thankfully called from across his desk in his office where they were sitting and Ryker’s eyes cut to him. “McGrath?” Tanner prompted.

“I spill, I get cake,” Ryker declared, jerking his head to Mike. “Made by his woman.”

“Done,” Mike replied. “Now, McGrath.”

Ryker looked at him.

Then he laid it out. “He wants that farm, they’re fucked. Go to your woman, tell her and her family to pack their bags. They’re gone.”

Shit, shit, fuck.

“Explain,” Mike growled.

“He’s got ways. He’s got means. His business doesn’t cross my business so I don’t give a fuck. I go my own way. That don’t mean I don’t hear shit,” Ryker explained.

“And what do you hear?” Mike asked.

“That McGrath’s got ways and means,” Ryker answered.

Mike drew in breath, patience eluding him. He searched for it and with effort found it.

Then he asked, “Is he the front man?”

“Dunno. Don’t care enough to know.”

Tanner stepped in at this juncture. “I think, me askin’ you to sit here with Mike, you knowin’ the deal, you get that Mike cares enough to know.”

Ryker looked at Tanner. “Like I said, bro, I don’t know this guy. I don’t know, I stick my nose in, how he’ll feel about that. I stick my nose in, he gets unhappy in a way it ain’t worth cake, I’m unhappy.”

“Tellin’ me he’s got ways and means doesn’t buy cake, Ryker,” Mike told him and Ryker’s eyes came back to him.

“Then sweeten the deal.”

“Name it,” Mike offered and Ryker’s stare got intense.

Then he muttered, “Whipped.”

“Two boys with a dead Dad, a checked out Mom and a legacy they’re powerless to protect,” Mike returned. “You want cake, you want ten fuckin’ cakes, Dusty’ll bake ‘em. She grew up there, her Dad grew up there, her Dad’s Dad and she wants her nephew to work that land primarily because he wants that. We already established I’m whipped. Got no problem with that considering how that’s come about puts me in a good mood. What doesn’t is this bullshit. You can help, you jump in. You want to hold a marker, you got it. You want payback, you name it. You can’t help, don’t waste my fuckin’ time.”

Ryker continued to stare at him intensely.

Then he kept muttering to say, “Think I underestimated you.”

“Brother, anyone who doesn’t wear a tank top and carry a knife, you underestimate. Jesus,” Tanner clipped. “Stop yankin’ Mike’s chain. You in or out?”

Ryker studied Tanner then his bald head swung Mike’s way and he studied him.

Then he said, “Two boys with a dead Dad, one of ‘em’s the shit at playin’ ball, this makes me feel generous. But I get cake. And I need you, I call on you. Firepower without the badge. You with me?”

Shit, shit, fuck.

Mike took a deep breath focusing on sandwiches in bed that never included sandwiches.

“You with me?” Ryker prompted.

Mike held his eyes and replied low, “You call your marker, you burn me, I burn you.”

“Fair enough,” Ryker muttered.

“Then we got a deal,” Mike declared.

Ryker grinned. Again it was satanic.

Shit, shit, fuck.

* * *

It was ten to nine. It was dark. It was cold. Winter was dying, spring on its heels, the temperature was rising but the chill was still sharp.