Wild Man Read online

  “That’s a big cake, boy. So big I’m thinkin’ I can talk Tess into lettin’ me stay so I can bum a piece,” Cob said to Rex.

  “I don’t know. We were all gonna take quarters,” Rex said back and Cob grinned at him.

  Brock showed, stalked to the end of the bar, and looked between his sons.

  “You guys all right?” he asked.

  Joel shrugged and kept his gaze steady on the cake so I went back to decorating it even though I knew this nonanswer actually meant a big fat hairy no to his father’s question.

  “Yeah, Dad,” Rex mumbled.

  “Right,” Brock whispered disbelievingly but let it go. Then, “Tess?”

  “I’m good, honey,” I told the cake, then asked it, “You want me to get you a beer?”

  “I’ll get it.” Pause, then, “Dad?”

  “Sounds good, Slim.”

  “Boys?” Brock called.

  “We can have a beer?” Joel asked.

  My eyes went to him to see him looking beyond me to where Brock was at the fridge and I saw him grin at whatever look Brock was giving him.

  Then he said, “Okay, I’ll take a pop.”

  “Me too,” Rex chimed in.

  I went back to piping.

  “Wow, Tess, the boys didn’t lie. You can barely see your hands move,” Cob noted.

  “Practice,” I muttered.

  “I can see that,” Cob muttered back.

  Then he said something that made warm gushiness flood my belly and my hands freeze midsquirt.

  “Could be he’s my son but been around men as a whole a long time. Women who can pull off lookin’ beautiful bein’ barefoot in a kitchen wearin’ a T-shirt and glasses and no makeup with their hair pulled back in a ponytail while they decorate a cake that makes your mouth water just lookin’ at it, well…” My eyes had gone to him and he smiled gently at me. “Don’t know a man alive or dead who I met in my sixty-eight years who wouldn’t want that woman above all others in his kitchen.”

  He didn’t need to reassure me after my first acid encounter with Olivia.

  But it was still a nice thing to do.

  “Thanks, Cob,” I whispered.

  “Don’t thank me for tellin’ the truth, sweetheart,” he whispered back.

  Brock’s front hit my back and Cob’s beer hit the counter as Brock set it there while he joked, “Quit flirtin’ with my woman, Dad.”

  This made Rex and Joel emit boy snickers and Cob to mutter, “I’ll try, Slim, but it’ll be hard.”

  “Jesus,” Brock muttered back and I felt him take a swig of his beer.

  I went back to piping but I did it smiling.

  * * *

  “Here you go, Cob,” I said, handing Brock’s father a fresh beer.

  Dinner (and cake) consumed, visit with Gramps (and Dad) over, Brock was off taking the boys back to Olivia and her husband Dade’s house and I was hanging out with his dad at his place.

  Why Cob was still there, I wasn’t sure. I was still there because I was spending the night.

  I curled in the seat across the sectional from him with my peppermint tea and tried not to be obvious as I studied him while he studied the fire Brock had built.

  When silence stretched as we sipped at our beverages and Cob’s look went from reflective to dark, I whispered, “Hey,” and his eyes came to me. “You okay?” I asked quietly.

  Cob didn’t delay in letting me know what was on his mind.

  “When he was datin’ her, I felt joy,” Cob stated and I stared at him. “We weren’t close, still aren’t close, but I was around. Looks like that and sugar sweet,” he muttered, then went on to say, “Turns out saccharine.”

  Oh man.

  He was talking about Olivia.

  His eyes got intense and he said carefully, “Not my place, lost that place and I ’spect you know it but I’m gonna say it anyway and I hope you know I got my son’s best interests at heart. But, like Olivia, you are far from hard on the eyes and, like Olivia, you’re sugar sweet. I need you now, Tess, to promise me what’s under all that frosting”—he jerked his chin at me—“tastes just as sweet.”

  I felt my heart melt at a question from a man who was facing sickness, pain, and possible death and wanted to face it knowing his son had good things in his life and I whispered, “What you see is what you get with me, Cob. I promise.”

  He studied me, nodded, and looked back at the fire.

  Then he said to the fire, “Jill told me you’re a survivor.”

  This unexpected blow caused me to pull in a breath, close my eyes, and look away. I opened them when he spoke again to see he was looking at me.

  “My girls and me, always close. Always been better with females than males, ’cept Fern, but that’s because I been a jackass for forty-odd years. I don’t know where Slim stands but far’s Jill’s concerned, it’s all in the family and what I want you to know is, where I stand, that’s the God’s honest truth.”

  “Okay,” I whispered.

  “A man hurt you?” he asked.

  “Yes,” I answered.

  He stared at me. He did it long and he did it hard. Then I watched with some shock and a lot of other, stronger feelings as his eyes went bright.

  Then he asked in a thick voice, “What possessed him?”

  “I don’t know,” I answered in a thick voice.

  “He pay?”

  I shook my head.

  To this he murmured, “Sweetheart.”

  “There are lots of different ways to survive, Cob,” I defended.

  “Well, honey, you stick with however you’re doin’ it. No judgment here. You get me?”

  I nodded.

  He pulled in a soft breath.

  Then he shared, “Wish my boy Levi’d find a woman like you. Makes him look like Slim looks when he looks at you. Makes him feel however Slim feels that makes him get close to you anytime you’re even a little near. Like any moment a lion’s gonna come roarin’ into the room and he’s gotta be close enough to come between you and it so he can keep you safe. Can die knowin’ my Laurie and Jill got men like that at home. Can die knowin’ Slim feels like that about a woman. Wish I was dyin’ knowin’ that was warmin’ Levi’s bed at night.”

  His words warmed my heart, settled in my soul, and made that tight, coiled snake of poison in my belly shrink near to oblivion.

  “Maybe you’re not dying,” I suggested.

  “A man knows, Tess,” he replied with resignation.

  “Does it hurt to fight?” I asked and he smiled small.

  “Oh sweetheart, don’t you worry. I’ll go down swingin’.”

  “Good.” I smiled small back.

  “Just hope I got it in me to fight back at the same time make peace with my family.”

  “I’m getting to know your family, Cob, and I don’t want to get your hopes up but I see good things.”

  His eyes grew intense on me and he asked, “Slim?”

  I tipped my head to the side, surprised he asked.

  “You just ate dinner with him and his sons,” I reminded him.

  “There’s him lettin’ me in the door and lettin’ his boys know their granddad while they got the chance. And there’s him just lettin’ me in. I didn’t do right by Fern, and in doin’ that, I didn’t do right by all my kids. But Slim bore the brunt of it.”

  “I know,” I whispered and pain shadowed his face.

  “Right,” he muttered, looking back at the fire.

  “Cob,” I called and he looked back at me. Then I told him, “Life is funny. And the funny part is, sometimes out of bad comes good. I don’t like to see you conflicted and, no offense, but it’s upsetting to know things were rough for Brock and Fern and your family growing up because of the choices you made. But because of those choices, Brock is the man he is today. If he wasn’t, I honestly don’t know where I’d be.”

  I leaned toward him and kept sharing but I did it quietly.

  “That’s because there’s a lion in the room, Cob,
and Brock’s standing between that lion and me. If he wasn’t, I don’t know how long I’d survive. You created that, not in a good way, in a bad one but that doesn’t mean it isn’t done. No one can erase mistakes. But in the end, your actions brought them together. They’re close. They love each other deeply. They’re fiercely loyal. They look out for one another and the ones who mean something to them. You had a hand in that and that doesn’t excuse what you did. But I hope that it brings you some peace to know the family you created, well, they’re survivors too even if the thing they had to survive was you.”

  “That’s the loopiest thing I ever heard, sweetheart,” he replied. I shrugged and he went on, “But, I’ll be damned if it isn’t true.”

  That’s when I laughed.

  And after I was done, I told him, “Just FYI, where I stand is, you’re welcome at my bakery and my home anytime. And if you need anything, now or if it gets rough, I want you to know, honestly and I mean it, you can call on me.”

  He stared at me, and while he did his eyes got bright again.

  Then he whispered, “Frosting all the way through.”

  I smiled and whispered back, “Nope, you eventually get moist, rich cake. Even so, that layer of frosting is more like a mountainous swirl.”

  “A mountainous swirl?”

  “Yeah, lavender. Or sometimes pink. Occasionally baby blue or mint green or anything else I can dream up. But always with candy confetti and edible fairy dust.”

  His face cracked right before he burst out laughing.

  When he did, Brock came through the front door.

  We both looked to him as he examined the occupants of the sectional, shrugged off his leather jacket, and threw it on the back of the couch.

  “Something funny?” he asked, moving around the couch making a beeline to me.

  And as he moved toward me, I thought of Cob’s words.

  Makes him feel however Slim feels that makes him get close to you anytime you’re even a little near. Like any moment a lion’s gonna come roarin’ into the room and he’s gotta be close enough to come between you and it so he can keep you safe.

  This life-altering thought was interrupted by Cob speaking.

  “Tess here’s a mountainous swirl of frosting with candy sprinkles and fairy dust,” Cob told his son as Brock folded his long body next to mine on the couch, curled an arm around my shoulders, tucked me close, and rested his boots on the coffee table.

  “Come again?” he asked and I giggled.

  “Nuthin’, Slim, you had to be there,” Cob muttered and I tipped my head back to look at Brock.

  “You want a beer?”

  “You, or me, gettin’ me a beer requires you, or me, gettin’ up and walkin’ across the room. It’s fuckin’ cold outside, my truck’s heat went out on the way home, and you’re warm so the answer to that question is… no.”

  “All right,” I mumbled at the same time I leaned forward, put my tea mug on a coaster by his boot, and then went back and curled closer. Sliding my arm around his middle, I found that he was cold so I gave him a squeeze.

  I looked to Cob to see he’d watched me do this. His face was thoughtful and then it turned guarded.

  “Slim,” Cob started hesitantly, “I know you won’t thank me to point out the obvious but you got a little lady who bakes heavenly cakes and fries a mean beef cutlet. I’m not sure payback for that is makin’ her freeze her ass off anytime she’s in your truck.”

  I felt Brock’s body get tight and it was at that moment I knew why Cob was hesitant and guarded and why he asked about where his son stood. Because his body getting tight told me Brock wanted his sons to know their granddad, he wanted peace in his family, he didn’t like the idea of his father being sick or alone, but he had by no means let him in.

  “Dad—” he started in a warning tone.

  Cob cut him off to say softly, “Get a new truck, Slim.”

  Crackling electricity started invading the room and I got tense.

  Cob felt it, but he thought he was dying so his next words showed he felt he had nothing to lose.

  “You need to deal with that woman,” he announced.

  Brock’s body went solid. “We are not—” he started.

  “No,” Cob interrupted again. “That bitch is… a… bitch. I heard her shoutin’ all the way ’round the parkin’ lot. Tellin’ my boy to go fuck himself in front of my grandsons?” He shook his head, clipped out, “No.” Then he sucked back beer.

  “I’ll deal with it,” Brock growled.

  “When, in a decade?” Cob shot back.

  Uh-oh.

  The voltage of the room ratcheted up to the red zone and Brock took his feet off the coffee table, leaning slightly forward, taking me with him, saying low, “Careful, Dad.”

  “Look at me, son, feel what you’re feelin’ right now and look at me, the man who’s makin’ you feel it,” Cob invited, leaning toward Brock. “I spent my whole life puttin’ off tomorrow what I shoulda done today and you”—he gestured with his bottle of beer—“felt the worst of it. Learn from me, do not make your sons feel what you’re feelin’ right now. I do not know what’s happening in that bitch’s house. What I do know is that seven years ago, I had two grandsons who felt just fine in their skin and now they look like they’re about ready any second to jump out of it. It’s either her or that man she married but it’s somethin’ and that somethin’ is not you. You’re done with that other job. You’re available. Your life is steady. Now you got no excuses.”

  “I cannot believe you got the balls to sit on my couch and coach me on raisin’ my boys,” Brock ground out.

  To that, Cob sucked back a huge swallow of beer as he stood. He bent and slammed his bottle on the table and looked down at his son.

  “No, what I got is not enough time to hope you do not fuck up like your old man and instead do right by your family.”

  The air turned harsh, scratching at my skin, and Cob’s eyes came to me.

  “Nice dinner, Tess, beautiful cake. And honored you talked to me, sweetheart, swear that to my soul.” At these words Brock’s solid body grew rock hard and Cob looked to him. “I’m okay with you bein’ pissed at me because I deserve it. But, Slim, once you stop bein’ pissed you’ll see I’m not wrong. You don’t have to tell me. You just gotta get your shit sorted.” He jerked up his chin, started to the door, and mumbled, “I’ll see myself out.”

  Then he saw himself out.

  I sat immobile and silent, still curled around an infuriated Brock, and I stayed this way because I didn’t want to do anything to tip the edge on that fury.

  I should have moved away.

  “Honored you talked to him about what?”

  I pulled away, removing my arm, tipped my head back, and looked at him. “Sorry?”

  “Honored you talked to him about what?”

  “We, uh…” I started cautiously, too cautiously.

  “Spit it out, Tess. What did you and Father of the Year talk about?”

  Oh man.

  Seriously, the Lucas family needed to work through these issues and soon.

  “He was worried that I was like Olivia and showing you what you wanted to see but was something else underneath,” I said softly and Brock fell back against the couch.

  He lifted both hands and rubbed his face but under them he bit out, “Jesus Christ.”

  “I wasn’t offended,” I told him. His hands dropped and his eyes cut to me.

  “Well, babe, that’s good but I am.”

  “Brock—”

  “That it?”

  “Uh…”

  “Tess,” he growled.

  “He knows what happened to me,” I whispered.

  Brock scowled at me in a very scary way then he snarled, “Fucking, fucking, fucking.” He stood, swiping his father’s beer bottle off the table and sidearm throwing it across the room so it exploded against the wall, beer splattering everywhere as he finished, “Hell!”

  At these actions, I crawled back into
the corner of the sofa and curled my legs tight against my chest, wrapping my arms around them. I watched him standing there, shaking his head and tearing his fingers through his hair all the way to the back of his neck where he left them curved around still shaking his head.

  Then he dropped his hand and turned to me.

  “Which one?” he demanded to know.

  “Which one what?” I asked quietly.

  “Which sister? Jill or Laura?”

  “Brock, I don’t really mind,” I told him cautiously.

  “Bullshit,” he fired back and I had to admit he was right. It was. “That man has no business knowin’ that happened to you.”

  “Your family knows,” I pointed out.

  “Precisely,” he clipped. “And that man isn’t family.”

  “Brock,” I whispered, “he’s your Dad.”

  “He is?” he asked sarcastically and I decided that was a good time to quit talking.

  Even furious, Brock didn’t miss much. He saw me close down, decided to aim at a new target, and thus yanked his phone out of back pocket, hit some buttons, and put it to his ear.

  He started pacing.

  Then he said, “Yeah, Jill, it’s me and, heads up, I’m fuckin’ pissed.”

  Oh man.

  He guessed.

  He kept going. “Why? I’ll tell you why. Because Tess didn’t tell her fuckin’ best friend she’d been raped, not for six fuckin’ years. Martha found out a month ago. Her own goddamned mother and sister don’t know but you know who does? Dad.”

  He paused, maybe to listen, but not for long before he continued.

  “Do not pretend you know by association what that shit feels like. Laura knows. That’s why Laura didn’t fuckin’ share. You had no fuckin’ business spewing that shit to Dad. I left the house to take my boys home, left her with Dad, and he fuckin’ talked to her about it. She’s alone here with a man she barely fuckin’ knows, and bein’ Dad, he thinks it’s his place to have a conversation with my fuckin’ woman about her bein’ violated.”

  Another pause that didn’t last long.

  Then, “Is she okay? What do you fuckin’ think? She’s curled in a ball in the corner of the goddamned sofa because I was so fuckin’ pissed my sister is fuckin’ screwy, the instant I learned, I threw a goddamned beer bottle across the room. And the reason I’m so fuckin’ pissed, Jill, is because she is supposed to feel safe with me. And my own goddamned sister orchestrated a fuckin’ scenario where, my back’s turned for half a goddamned hour, she was sittin’ on my own fuckin’ couch and she was not.”