Lights Out (25 page)

His eyes were headed back up to her face, but stopped for a quick peek at her chest; it moving in time to her breathing, making her perky breasts even more noticeable. He loved her breasts.

“I’ve been thinking,” she said, turning and walking away from him to the other side of the kitchen. His eyes moved to her ass.

She stopped pacing and stood there watching him. He could tell she was impatient with his response. What did he miss? She was staring at him with disappointment in her eyes.

“As I was saying, my dad has a few boxing gyms here in the city. Lights Out Boxing Gyms. You’ve heard of them, right?”

He had and nodded. “Yes.” Who hadn’t?

“I could take Shane over after school once a week. You know, teach him how to protect himself. I learned when I was young—right after I moved in with my father—and so have my sisters. Shane needs to learn, too,” she said.

“What?” he asked, his face watching hers. “You want to teach Shane to box?”

“Sure.” Her expression was earnest, sincere, and concerned. “He needs to learn to protect himself.”

Piper, he was finding, had this uncanny ability to surprise him. It had happened from the first time he walked into her shop. She and her sex-tinged banter had taken him by surprise. The appearance of her sisters was another surprise; then there was the care she gave to Shane, a child that wasn’t even her blood. Now this.

“It’s okay, Piper, I’ve spoken with Mr. Marshall before. Today wasn’t the first time,” he said, pulling his mind back to the conversation.

“So what are you doing about it this time?” she asked.

“I’ll give Mr. Marshall a call tonight. I’ll talk it over with Shane, too,” he added.

“Sometimes you have to knock some heads together,” she said, pushing her hands together in demonstration. “Push back when people push you. Sometimes talking doesn’t always work.”

“I know, but talking will always be my first choice. I grew up with fighting, standing my ground. It’s not always the answer,” he said.

“Sometimes, though, a good punch in the lip can create a whole lot of make nice,” she said.

He laughed. Couldn’t help himself.

“What’s so funny?” she said.

“Nothing. You are. I didn’t know you had this violent side,” he said.

“I’m not violent. I just know how to protect myself.”

“This is new, this kick-ass Piper,” he said, arms folded, leaning back on the counter, smiling.

“I’m tough,” she said, crossing her arms, too.

“Sure you are.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“You don’t have to pay me for keeping Shane. It’s on the house. You give free coffee to that homeless guy. I’ve seen the neighborhood kids come in and take money out of the tip jar for smoothies or whatever.”

“Yeah, so what?” she said, defensive now. “No one should have to go hungry.”

“I didn’t say they should; just that you’re more soft than you are tough.”

She ignored him and started pacing again. “You know we don’t have to sign him up with my dad. I know enough, I could teach him,” she said, and he watched as she demonstrated, taking a fighter’s stance, arms up, on the balls of her feet, punching into the air surrounding her. He couldn’t help it this time. He started laughing.

She just looked at him, bent over in laughter, refusing to join in. She’d been serious about anyone messing with hers, and Shane was included in that group now. He continued to laugh. A few minutes later he slowly stopped, winding down to a few chuckles.

“You done?” He could see he’d offended her.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make light of it, or of you,” he said, closing the distance between them. He reached for her, bringing her into his body, her chest against his, his arms going around her waist. He found her mouth and kissed her before he’d even recognized what he’d done. It was so unplanned, so instinctive. He went with it, though, his mouth moving over hers, forcing her to open, letting himself go, hoping to convey his appreciation of who she was, hands moving over her body, one he’d started to know like his own.

“Does this door close?” he asked, moving her toward the storage room.

“What? The kids,” she said.

“I know, but give me a minute,” he said. “I’ll stop. I promise.” He moved her inside and closed the door behind them. He backed against the door and went back to taste her again.

Her hands moved to the zipper of his slacks and worked their way into his boxers. She found and stroked him once, twice, while her mouth gave over to the onslaught from his. He found her hand a few seconds later, stopping its movement, and removed it to hold in his, as he ended the kiss, resting his forehead against hers until his breathing slowed.

“Soon,” he said.

“Soon,” she replied. He stepped away from the door and opened it. The coast was clear. She walked out. He followed a few seconds later, grinning.

“What?” she asked, gazing at his smile.

“Nothing,” he said, laughing now at them and their urgency. “I know who to take with me if I’m ever in a fight,” he said, going back to their earlier discussion.

“I’m not helping you. You can talk your way out of it, Dr. King, the new man of non-violence,” she said, walking back over to finish putting the supplies away, looking back over her shoulder at him.

“Shane is okay, really?” she asked, serious now.

“Yes, he is,” he said, watching her. “Thank you for caring about him,” he said, serious now too.

“Just doing my job,” she said, startled. That whole smoldering thing was in his eyes again.

“Where are they, by the way?”

“Who?”

“The kids,” he said, laughing.

“He and Taylor are on the computer, working on a project in my office.”

He stood up. “I’ll go see if they’re done and head on home.”

“I’ll come with you,” she said, putting the boxes left to empty away, under the counter in the middle of the kitchen, and wiping her hands on her pants. His eyes followed her movements. She walked through the kitchen door and he followed behind.

* * *

Later on that night Joe removed the stopper from the sink, grabbed his beer, turned and leaned back against the counter. Having finished the after-dinner cleanup, his thoughts turned to Piper. He was glad she’d become his friend, and more. He’d been moved by her passion and commitment on Shane’s behalf today. As someone who had faced his problems alone for much of his life, he was awed by it.

Joe stood outside of Piper’s home thirty minutes later, watching as her sisters lugged out their bags for the trip to her grandparents’ home. Piper was excited; her other two sisters were meeting her there along with her step-mother Margarite.

And exactly how many months was the Thanksgiving holiday, he wondered, examining the sizes of their suitcases. Ken’s was the worst, followed by Shane’s. Taylor had the smallest suitcase; it was probably just filled with baseball caps and video games, he thought.

He’d helped them load the suitcases and now stood waiting for the trips to the bathrooms to end. Piper had insisted.

Shane walked out first. “Thanks, Uncle Joe, for letting me go. Are you going to be okay by yourself?” he asked.

“I’ll manage. I’ll have McKenzie and Pepper with me, and Charlie will help keep me company, too,” he said, looking at the two dogs next to his feet, packed into their cages, ready to go and surprisingly quiet.

“Just invite some of those girls you like over. You’ll have the whole house to yourself. They can giggle and laugh as loud as they want,” Shane said, giving him a wink. And it was a guy wink, an I know the deal kind of wink. Joe looked around, making sure Piper was nowhere near.

Out came Taylor with her usual baseball cap on.

“I want to sit next to Shane,” Kennedy said, following Taylor out of the front door, dressed impeccably in her lovely brown frock with matching boots and tights.

“He’s my friend. He doesn’t have time to hang out with fourth-graders,” Taylor said, walking to the back to push in some extra Xbox games she’d forgotten to pack.

Last out the door was Piper, also in a baseball cap—puffy pony tail peeking from the hole in the back—and jeans and t-shirt that clung nicely to her body.

“So are we ready, gang?” she asked, walking toward Joe and stopping. They both watched as the kids loaded themselves into the car. Shane had claimed the seat by one door and Ken had squirmed her way in the middle. No amount of pleading from Taylor could persuade her to move.

“Piper? Can’t you make her move?” Taylor asked.

“How about you let her ride until we make a stop and then you two can switch? It won’t kill you,” she said. Taylor glared at her but got in.

“That was clearly not the answer she was looking for,” Piper said to Joe, smiling as she looked up into his face.

He was quiet, caught up in her smile. It was a kick to his system. He watched the smile leave her face, replaced by desire that matched his.

He moved closer to her. She seemed startled. His head lowered, looking at her mouth.

“Joe?” she asked, breaking this from-out-of-nowhere pull. What was he thinking?

“Sorry,” he said, a little embarrassed, and stepped back. “You guys call when you get there. Have a good time, and remember, I’ll be here all by my lonesome,” he said.

“Sure, I’ll call,” she said.

He watched her get into her car and pull away.

* * *

Nothing had changed much in Raywood, Texas, since the last time she’d been there. She drove slowly through town, examining it for any changes in the landscape. Nope, none; it was the same as the last time she’d driven through.

She turned left onto the mile-long dust-covered road that dead ended at her grandparents’ property. If all went well, she would arrive without having to get out of her car to shoo away any cows that had wandered onto the road. And why did they always stand in the middle of it, and not on the side? That would have been too easy. She could have driven around them, but no, it was always a get your ass off the road confrontation with them.

She looked over her grandparents’ land, noting the changes that had been made to it.

There it was. The old homestead was coming into view, conjuring up so many good memories of comfort and safety and freedom. Her grandparents’ home sat right smack dab in the middle of the land, about a half mile from the entry gate.

The house was just as she remembered it; a rectangular white wood farm house, trimmed in navy, with a carport extending from the right with room enough for one car to be parked underneath it.

“We’re here,” she said to the three heads asleep in the back seat. They had conked out just outside of Houston. Ken was first, followed by Shane and then Taylor, whose baseball-cap-covered head was propped up by the window now. Kennedy lay across the back seat, her head in her sister’s lap, her feet in Shane’s. That couldn’t have been comfortable. She watched as they all sat up, exploring their surroundings through the window as they came fully awake.

“Is this the prairie?” Taylor asked, stretching her arms out and unbuckling her seat beat.

“It is,” Piper said, opening her car door and standing up, needing a stretch, too.

“Hey, Nanny,” she said, walking over to her grandmother, who had walked out of the side door of the house. She smiled brightly at Piper. Her hair was grey and curly. She reached to Piper’s armpit. Piper had grown tall quickly like her dad, passing up her Nanny when she was in the fifth grade.

Piper turned into that hug. It always had the power to make her feel at home, cared for, and loved. She surrendered to her Nanny’s kisses, bending down to receive them.

“I’m so glad to see you,” Nanny said stepping back, but keeping her hands locked in Piper’s, turning as the kids reached them, standing now at her side.

“Nanny, this is Taylor and Kennedy, my sisters, and Shane, a good friend of ours,” she said, pointing to each of them in turn.

“Well, hello,” Nanny said, walking to hug them each in turn, like she’d known them forever. “I bet you all are hungry. Have they eaten anything, Piper?” she asked, turning and walking to the side door of the house. “I’ve got some pork chops, rice, and gravy on the stove. Y’all come on in, wash up, and I’ll heat you up some dinner,” she said, holding the door open for all three to walk through.

“You look good, Piper,” she said, following them into a small room that had once been one large room but was now divided into two. The right half was used as a den. It held a small TV and a couch. To the left of the den sat the kitchen table, an old wooden one that had been around as long as Piper, six chairs, the room separated from the kitchen by a small half bar.

“Piper, show them where the guest bathroom is,” Nanny said, passing Piper and moving to the kitchen, reaching for the apron hanging from the knob on the wall.

“The bathroom is at the end of the hall,” Piper said to the three children, pointing. She watched as Taylor led the way back into the house. “Where’s Papa?” Piper asked as she followed Nanny into the kitchen.