Kristen Ashley - Jagged

“We’ll have a chat,” Reece said.

“Thanks,” Nina replied. “Now, I’ll have a think about how to move forward after what happened today, and when I come up with a plan, I’ll call you.”

“Right. Thanks, Nina.”

“No problem, Reece.”

They wrapped it up and Reece went into the kitchen, got a beer, got another one for Zara, and headed out to the balcony.

She looked up at him and smiled but the smile didn’t cut through the sadness he knew she was trying to hide.

Silently, he handed her the beer. She took it, chugged what was left in her bottle, and leaned forward to set the empty on the railing.

He dragged a chair close, sat in it, and lifted his cocked legs to rest his feet on the railing.

The chairs were cheap white plastic and every time he sat in one, he was sure it would give out.

At her house, a house that stood empty waiting for the time he gave her the diamond sitting in his nightstand, another expenditure that cut into his nest egg, she had a great deck. Or, they had one.

Big enough for nice furniture, a table, chairs, umbrella, loungers, and a kick-ass grill.

He’d intended to use the money he had left to set them up, create a space for her that she deserved. Build a home. Start to build a life. While doing that, build a family.

Now he was thinking he needed to talk another landlord into voiding another lease because rent on the apartment when they had a house all paid for was something they could no longer afford.

Which meant giving his girl her diamond a lot sooner than he intended, not giving her time to settle into the us he was building them to be.

“Well, at least I timed my magnificently stupid visit to first lay my eyes on my nephew during a day off so I can sulk and drink beer and not lose tips because of it,” she joked to the horizon before she took a draw off her beer.

But Reece smiled.

Even back in the day, with her sister laid up, brain-dead in a hospital bed, she’d found it in her to joke. To smile. To bury the shit of her life and find ways to enjoy it in spite of all that.

It was why he took her to his bed. She was fucking pretty, great hair, fantastic tits, an even better ass, and he’d been thinking of doing it but held back because he thought she was too young. He didn’t need to get hung up on a woman but it was far worse when a woman got hung up on you, and the younger ones were prone to that shit. Extricating yourself from that kind of situation was not fun, so he avoided it.

But when that shit storm hit and the way Zara handled it, he knew she might be young in years but she was not young in any other way, so he took her back and took her to his bed.

When he did, he found out why she’d grown up fast and he hated learning it. But it brought him to the understanding that this pretty woman with her great body, great hair, fast smile, quick wit, and easy disposition was a whole lot more even if that already was a fuckuva lot.

And he wanted it.

So he got it.

And now he had it.

And he had no problem putting a ring on it, even if that meant doing it faster than he’d planned.

But the bottom line was, it was too late, way too late. He’d let her down and done it in the worst way.

He sure as fuck was going to make up for that now.

“Just got off the phone with Nina,” he told her.

“Heard you talkin’ to someone,” she murmured and took another drag, her focus on the mountains, not on their conversation

He bumped her leg with his. “Cookie, you gotta listen.”

He watched her sigh and look at him. “I had one breakdown today, Ham. You know me well, darlin’, but not well enough to know that I’m only allowed one breakdown a week. Sister dead and seein’ Zander, I’m already over my quota. I don’t know what’ll happen if I have another one but I suspect either spontaneous combustion or projectile vomiting. Neither are pretty, so be forewarned about that when you share what you gotta share.”

He grinned before he requested, “Would you stop bein’ funny when I got important shit to tell you? You can go back to bein’ funny after we’re done.”

“Sock it to me, mein herr,” she invited and his grin turned into a smile.

Then he socked it to her, everything, except his asking Nina to arrange a meeting and visitation with Zander. He didn’t want to get her hopes up.

When he was done, she immediately replied, “Right. First part, Dad’s a dick. We knew that already. No surprise. Onward from that, I hope he goes bankrupt paying for an investigator to investigate you, which, incidentally, invading your privacy like that elevates him from a dick to a dickish douchebag, which, I’ll grant, is a vague distinction but I think you get me.”

Reece began to laugh softly, not missing the fact that, unlike Nina, Zara didn’t even question the idea that he might have something in his past that could hurt them. He didn’t. He’d been a traveling man but he that didn’t mean he had anything to hide. But Zara didn’t waste even a single breath to question it.

She wasn’t done.

“And the second part, I’m shocked as shit Kami would be so thoughtful. That’s sweet. And I’d like to celebrate Xenia’s life, but right now, I don’t have it in me. A week, two, maybe we can arrange a big blowout. I’ll get out pictures and invite all her old friends. Now”—she shook her head—“no.”

“You got it, cookie.”

“And just so you know, even though my sister was an alcoholic, that doesn’t mean after seeing my beautiful, obviously popular, smiling nephew today, I don’t intend to use beer as a crutch and drink until I pass out. So advice, keep an eye on that so you can get in there and get yourself drunk sex before it turns unpretty and drunk sex ends with me puking and/or passing out during the act.”

“I’ll keep an eye on that. I’ll also order a pizza so we can draw that out, seein’ as you goin’ down on me rocks my world but when you’re smashed, you ratchet that shit up so it’s so fuckin’ good, I don’t know whether to come in your mouth or fuck you then hold you until you pass out, before I slip out while you’re asleep and buy you a trophy.”

He was damned gratified when she threw back her head and laughed with no sadness hidden behind the sound. It was all genuine.

And Reece took a drag off his beer as he watched her laugh.

Her laughter waned and her eyes focused on his. “You know, of course, that now I really need a Blowjob Trophy.”

“Then I’ll get you one, you earn it.”

She grinned. “Challenge accepted, Bruiser.”

Reece moved his gaze to the mountains, muttering, “Good to hear, cookie.”

She butted her leg against his, not to get his attention, just a show of affection, and he heard her soft giggle before she squelched it to drink more beer.

His girl.

Drama.

Then easy.

Jesus, but he’d fucked up. He could have had that for a decade and, more, given it to her.

Oh yeah. Fuck yeah.

He’d fucked up.

They sat in silence awhile before Reece got up and ordered pizza.

Then they drank, ate, and drank some more.

And, later, Zara earned her trophy.

Then she passed out.

But she did it cuddled close in his arms.

Two Different Things

Six days later…

“You know, Cotton,” I called to the old man’s back as we trudged through the mountains, “they have digital cameras these days. Most of them are small and none of them require film and all this other stuff I’m lugging through the perilous off-trail Rocky Mountains.”

I wasn’t joking. We weren’t on a trail. I had to admit, the views were stunning but still, the terrain was treacherous. So treacherous, the old guy’s easy pace moving through it flipped me out. Then again, he wasn’t carrying a heavy camera bag on his shoulder like I was.

“Did you come to bellyache or did you come to see a master at work?” Cotton asked, not turning back to me.

“I came to see a master at work but, prior to that, you failed to divulge you were a slave driver.”

He stopped abruptly, murmured reverently, “There she is,” then reached an arm back toward me, again without looking at me but snapping his fingers and demanding, “Give me my bag, girl.”

I gratefully pulled the strap off my shoulder and positioned the handles in his hand.

His fingers curled around the handles and he went right to work, unzipping the bag, yanking out his camera, then dropping to a knee with the camera up to his face.

I got close and looked at the view he was shooting.

Then I lost my breath.

All my life, I’d lived in the Rockies and never, not once, did I get used to their splendor.

They might be hard to climb, difficult to traverse, and the weather in them unpredictable, but none of that meant that God didn’t know exactly what He was doing when He created them.

Once I’d drunk in the view, my eyes moved to Cotton.

I was more than pleased that I’d found time to go out with him on a shoot. Or more to the point, I was more than pleased he’d phoned me way early that morning, waking me after a few hours of sleep since I’d had a shift the night before, and telling me to haul my behind to his place to get him because we were going out.

I left a disgruntled but soon-back-to-fast-asleep Ham in his bed in order to have this opportunity.

But navigating dangerous mountain passes was worth the view. More, watching Cotton, who looked like Rocky Mountain Santa with his shock of white hair, white beard, jolly belly, and red nose, focused on creating what I knew once the photos were done would be sheer beauty made it even more worth it.