Forgetting Popper (Los Rancheros #3) (14 page)

When we pull away, Batty puts a hand on the
back of my head to bring it back to his lips and kisses my forehead
more forcefully before he’s gone. As soon as he’s at his car, he
looks back at me. “I think three is the magic number.”

“For what?” I ask, confused. Batty
smiles.

“Three dates until you give it up.” I
scowl.

“Three freaking weeks?” I am not happy, but
Batty must think it’s hysterical because he gets a good laugh out
of my reaction.

“You don’t want Mara to think you’re easy do
you?”

“You want me to tell a thirteen year old
about our sex life?” He nods.

“You’re probably right. And besides, you are
easy.”

“With you,” I say quietly. His face gets
serious again.

“Yeah, with me.” I know we’re both thinking
about Maury and his plans for me. “Sweet dreams, babe.”

When I close my front door behind me, I lean
against it and shake my head. That was not how I saw tonight going.
So many things could change because of what happened tonight, but
would it be better if they stayed the same? I liked our
arrangement. Working this new show and being in a relationship with
my boss has the potential to be a paparazzi minefield. They would
chew me up and spit me out faster than he could break up with me.
On the other hand, things are evolving into something I feel like I
might need. Batty is really the only person I can talk to freely,
he knows about most of my life, and wants me to succeed.

As I take the stairs to my room and into my
bathroom, I look in the mirror while I remove my earrings and take
my hair down. That’s when I notice my eyes are green with flecks of
gold. Hazel. Batty’s favorite color.

TUESDAY

Jacque and I have come up with a good
retirement home for my parents. It’s in Cabo and expensive as hell.
But it’s by the beach, and has all of the medical requirements they
need. Now I just have to get them there.

When I’m in Oregon, I make the long drive in
a rental back to the small town I grew up in. I did remember a
jacket this time, but something about the cold drizzle cuts
straight through, anyway. When the doors swoosh open, I catch my
reflection in the wide mirror right inside the door. I run a hand
through my hair to squash the little droplets from being visible
then frown at the greasy look it leaves and reach into my purse for
the beanie I carried for this exact reason.

Farah is at the desk, and I watch her eyes
widen. I smirk and let my purse clatter on the counter. “I’m
transferring my parents. I assume there’s paperwork that goes with
that.”

She stares, her face going pale as she starts
to shake. I watch her bouffant wobble with pleasure. I fucking love
this, but I just raise my eyebrows and say, “Did you need to see my
ID again, or do you know who I am?”

She shakes her head and blinks rapidly as her
chin quivers. She goes to a file cabinet and rifles through files
without a word then hands them to me after several minutes. I take
a clipboard that she didn’t offer me and sit down to fill them out.
When I’m done I hold up the pen. “Thanks for this.” I smile and
tuck it into my purse. “Writes great.”

Farah blinks and a tear escapes. I watch
without remorse as it falls down her cheek just as the swoosh of
the automatic door opens. I turn to see the EMTs I contacted comet
through the door. They will travel with my parents, just in case
the stress causes any health problems.

I shake hands and sign their forms with my
new Oregon State pen and gesture down the hall. Farah is on the
phone but watches the whole time. The director of the facility
meets me in the room, my parents freaking out as she helps the
nurses.

“Oh, Ms. Dinah, there you are. It seems your
parents weren’t aware of the move today. Is all the paperwork in
order?”

I shake her hand then gesture to the EMT
boys. “Yes, ma’am. I just signed everything out front. Here are our
escorts, as promised.”

“Sadie, what the hell is happening?” my mom
shouts.

“Who is this? What’s happening?” my dad asks.
I move to where I’m in between their beds and try to hold their
hands. My mom pulls away as my dad pulls me closer.

“I’m taking you to a place that’s paradise.
No more Oregon rain. No more crappy food. You will love it, I
swear. I meant what I said when I told you I had no idea you were
here. I’m making that right,” I say firmly. My dad is trying to
pull my arm off of my body, or into the bed with him, but I grasp
the bedframe with my other hand and stand my ground. My mother
looks like she wants to beat me with the tissue box she clutches to
her chest.

“What have you done?” she asks starkly.
Surely she doesn’t want to stay here with the woman that ruined our
lives.

“I’ll go anywhere with you, princess.”
Granted, the man trying to cop a feel had a hand in it too. I glare
at him and peel his old wrinkly hands off of mine.

“I’m trying to make up for seven years of
ignorance, Mama. Please let me do this for you.” Mom sits on her
bed heavily, clutching that damn ratty blanket as the nurses and
EMTs go over medical history, and whatever else they have to
do.

Despite my dad not knowing who I am, I watch
him turn his head to catch a last glimpse of Farah as we wheel him
out of the facility. My jaw clenches, then I turn to see what my
mom does. She turns to Farah, sticks her nose up and sniffs. I
lower my head to hide the smirk.

When we get to the chartered plane I hired, I
fight the grimace I want to make. It cost me a shit ton of money,
but no way was I going to Batty for that. I can take care of my
family. This will be worth it.

Two hours later, I’m not so sure. Despite an
oxygen tank, my dad had to walk by the bar to get on the plane and
has been hell bent on getting his hands on some Jack. It takes more
effort than I thought was possible to keep him seated and relaxed.
Finally, after almost bowling over the steward, they decide that
sedating him would be best. The last thirty minutes of the flight
is mercifully only filled with my mother’s protests of anything she
can come up with. The sun is too bright, the engine too loud, the
food stale, she’s cold, she’s hot. She’s fucking anything but
grateful, that’s for damn sure.

When we touch down in Mexico, I want nothing
other than to thrust these people onto the waiting staff. My
accountant—newly hired—is already blowing up my phone with alarm
over the charges. I turn it to silent after the fourth call as we
drive to the beach.

The place is so unlike the penitentiary we
just left, it has to look like heaven to my folks. The place looks
like a resort, but has so much more security I know I don’t have to
fear them wandering into the waves. They’re headed for better
things, and that’s what’s most important to me. Who cares if
they’re grateful? If anyone can give their parents the best last
years, why wouldn’t they?

That’s what I keep repeating to myself,
anyway. I leave them in the gentle hands of overpriced personnel
with a light heart. My dad still sleeps, my mom with a room service
menu in her hand as she ignores me. This is where they should have
been the whole time, and I’ve made it right.

SUNDAY

To say I was excited to get this day over
with was an understatement. My shrink is worried I’m seeing more
than what’s actually there between Batty and I, but this has to be
good, right? At this point in my life so many things are up in the
air, and I’m not sure I want this to be more than it is. But aren’t
relationships ever evolving? Don’t they have to move to get
anywhere? We’ve been in this routine of coping with the little
bodies we see deteriorate every week by proving that we’re alive
with each other. With our bodies. Now that things are progressing
to hours upon hours of kissing and dates, there has to be a melding
of feeling and
feeling
.

For me, I know it’s all an evolution, but to
think that is terrifying. Who knows what that hot piece of
sometimes masked beefcake thinks? As I sit with Mara, I know that I
can only move forward.

“How are you, honey?” I ask. She looks pretty
with a flowery scarf covering her bald head.

“It’s whatever. Still here, that’s what
matters, right?” she asks. I shrug.

“Have they found a match yet?”

“Nope. Still waiting for the magical donor.”
I sigh. One of the first things that came to my attention was that
most of these kids wait for a bone marrow transplant match, and my
blood was in the system. I feel helpless knowing that I can’t save
her myself.

“There’s still time.”

“Not much. I’m running out, Robin. Tell me
about your date.” She smiles, and as I tell her about the next
date, the only thing I think that can bring a smile to this fragile
teen’s cheeks is I don’t regret anything. I give her a night under
the stars I can only hope will come true.

“So tell me.”

I take my mask off, scrub my hair and stall.
“What do you mean?” Batty raises his eyebrows as he shifts gears
and the engine roars.

“What’s the next date, babe?”

“How do you know it was with you? It could
have been this guy I met at a drive-thru. He was at the—” I squeal
as Batty digs his fingers fast into my ribs and tickles me
expertly. Who knew I was ticklish? No one but him, that’s who. “I
could be a playa. You could be just one of many.”

“Spill it, Sadie,” he orders.

I sigh happily. “Fine. But I’m not telling
you how it plays out.”

“How will I know what happens?”

“You won’t. You’ll have to see what happens
and hope I’m not a liar.” I’m nervous about this part. I kept the
tale to Mara PG-13, but God I miss this man in my bed. I don’t know
if I can wait another week to have him inside of me.

When we get to my house, Batty pulls another
shirt from his trunk and I leave him downstairs to pull on a grey
razor back tank that shows my black bra straps, braiding my hair
over my shoulder as I go back down the stairs. My biker boots clomp
with each step, sounding less than graceful.

I lead the way into the kitchen and pull out
a bottle of wine. When I give it to Batty, he lifts an eyebrow, but
twists the opener silently and uncorks the bottle. I pull skillets
out and swallow nervously as I feel my hair being swept aside. My
eyes close when warm lips skim the sensitive skin between shoulder
and neck. Batty’s hands skim my waist before his presence leaves
from behind me.

Batty leans a hip on the counter by the stove
where I’m setting up. His hand reaches for a tendril of hair that
didn’t get braided, and I freeze when he rubs it between his
fingers. “Your hair is so soft,” he says quietly, almost to
himself. I don’t say anything, but pour oil into the pan, and his
fingers slip free. “Are you cooking me dinner, Sadie?” Batty asks
with a smile.

I look into eyes that are so bright, they
sparkle. He looks laidback, the most relaxed I’ve seen him and
that’s including after I’ve blown his mind. I want to watch him
forever. I want to grab my phone and take a picture but I know that
that wouldn’t be enough. A snapshot can’t possibly capture the
twitch of his mouth like he’s trying not to laugh, or the way his
tongue glides over the inside of his teeth.

Finnigan Brennick is all man. Beautiful
inside and out. He’s a man that deserves someone so much better
than me, but I’m a selfish bitch.

“No, I ran out of Scentsy so I’m going old
school,” I reply with my eyes on his, my breath suspended. His eyes
shine, the lines around his mouth deepen, his nose flares the
slightest bit as his chest rises with a breath. Then. There it is.
His head tilts back, his Adam’s apple bobs and the sound makes my
own extinct smile break free. His laugh is husky, masculine in a
way that only he can make it, and rare enough that when he lowers
his head, those steel grey eyes show slight surprise.

“Eau de garlic. I like it.” Batty puts a big
hand on my head and brings his lips to my temple. The almost absent
gesture turns to something else when he doesn’t release my head.
When he doesn’t move his lips. “I like you, Sadie,” he whispers
before taking a deep breath with his nose in my hair before walking
past me to open the refrigerator. “Is there something I can help
with?”

I swallow thickly and have to clear my throat
before anything will come out of my mouth. “You can make the salad
if you want.” I get the cutting board for him and Batty takes a
seat at the island so that we’re facing each other as I cook.

“I could have sworn you didn’t cook. Last
time I looked in your fridge, you had bottled water and condiments
in there,” Batty says as he chops olives for a Caesar salad. I
smirk and stir spinach around in the pan.

“I don’t. I Google,” I say as I move around
the kitchen to grab the premeasured ingredients for the recipe I
prepared that morning, and dump them into a bowl to mix.

“Google, huh? I feel kind of special that you
went to the trouble. Wait, this isn’t you trying to get in my
pants, is it?” he asks with a grin. I just push his wine glass
toward him with a cheeky smile and am rewarded with the music of
his mirth again.

“I got my parents settled this week.”

“That’s great. Did they like the place you
picked out?” I shrug.

“I have no idea. It’s a great place in Cabo
San Lucas, right on the beach. My dad tried to get me into bed or
liquor cabinets the whole time, and my mom was just freaked. I hope
they adjust alright.” I take a sip of wine.

“How did you get them from Oregon?”

“We walked.”

“Sadie.”

“I chartered a plane,” I admit. A muscle
jumps in Batty’s cheek when he clenches his jaw.

“Why didn’t you ask me? I would have given
you mine.”

“Because I didn’t need you to give me your
plane. I can take care of my parents.”