Page 26 of Property of Riptide
“For the most part, he has things under control,” Zoey states. “If anything, we need to break him from his overindulgence with them. We’re going to have to add on to our house at this rate if he continues buying out the store every time he goes and sees something he thinks they’ll like.”
Indiana whistles. “He took her to the toy store before we left. She liked a doll… one doll! He took that to mean she needed the house, the car, the horse, a new wardrobe, and a friend to shareeverything with. Her closet no longer holds her clothes, it has new shelves for all the damn toys.”
“Where are her clothes?” Van skeptically asks.
“In our closet,” Zoey says, laughing. “I had to move most of my hanging clothes into the dresser. I now have to iron everything before putting it on.”
“Riptide, I’m moving into a two bedroom rental,” Van whispers, sounding worried. “I can’t build any additions onto the house. You have to wrangle him in.”
“Me?” I ask, pointing to my chest. “You ladies would have better luck with that than I would. He questions and debates every order I give him.”
Indiana finds that hilarious and bends over, clutching his stomach. “Isn’t it you who reminded him who the man in charge is?”
“Yeah, but that’s different, Indiana, and you know it,” I grind out.
“Why?” Van asks, confusion laced in her question.
“Because this involves the kids,” I respond. “There’s no reasoning with him or ordering him to stop when it comes to them.”
“Fine,” Van huffs out. “Then I expect you to talk to my landlord and get her to agree to having a play shed put in the backyard because I can’t do clutter.”
“Especially with little G learning how to walk. It’d be dangerous for him to toddle around with toys spread out in his walking area. He could trip and fall,” Zoey explains.
“He could hit his head on the coffee table and need stitches,” Van screeches, panicking.
That visualization doesn’t sit right with me. I can’t even think of him being hurt when there’s something I could’ve done to prevent it. “What’s your landlord’s number?” I ask, pulling out my phone and looking at Van. She smirks at me, grabs her phone, and rattles the number out to me. I put it in my address book and shoot off a text to Slayer. He needs to be aware that he’ll be losing a prospect or two if I can get the landlord to agree. I shake my head because I never thought I’d be bartering with someone over a shed to contain toys and other kid items so the little man doesn’t get injured.
CHAPTER
FOURTEEN
Van
My nerves are shot. Today is the day we say our farewells to my ex, my boy’s father, who once upon a time, was my everything. It’s been baffling for me to differentiate between the man Iknewand the one I’ve been told about—at least, the man who he became toward the end of his life. The childhood stories that have been conveyed with me are closer to the truth of the man I grew to love than the man who backstabbed his friends.
With shaking hands, I try to put my earrings in but they slip from my fingers and land in the basin of the sink, making a clattering noise that has me flinching before glancing up and staring at the reflection of a woman who I don’t recognize, one that has bags underneath her eyes and a frown marring her face. Sleep last night didn’t come easily for me, I tossed and turned for the entirety of the night as bad dreams plagued me. Over and over again, I saw him take a bullet to the chest and the life drain from his eyes.
“How do I say goodbye to you, Gage, when I didn’t know who you were?”
Silent tears gather in my eyes before I shake them away. There’ll be plenty of them shed today, I don’t need to start letting them fall now or I’ll never survive the event. A knock at the door has me straightening my clothes before deciding this is as good as it’s going to get. Issy brought me some western wear last night so I’d fit in with the masses—I’ve never worn jeans so tight in my life, but at least they’re somewhat stretchy around the waist so I don’t have to be conscientious about sucking in my belly.
“Coming!” I holler as I jog down the corridor. Lifting up on the balls of my feet, I look through the peep hole and get butterflies in my stomach when I see Riptide standing on the porch. I swing the door open, and breathlessly say, “Hi, Riptide.”
“Hey, Van,” he whistles. “Damn, woman. You should come with a warning label.” He leans over and kisses me, and like always, sparks dance along my lips.
“Thank you. You look handsome yourself.” I take a moment to admire the man standing before me. He’s in a pair of well-worn jeans that fit him like a glove. A tight white shirt that shows off his toned physique, a pair of boots that look to be broken in, and his cut laid over his shoulders. However, what really has me salivating is the curled brim cowboy hat settled on his head. I never had a thing for cowboys—I’ve always been drawn to the clean cut man but seeing him in this getup has me second-guessing that. I also never thought I’d be attracted to a biker, but I’ve learned since meeting him that all of my prior fascinations can be tossed to the wayside, because apparently, I didn’t know myself as well as I thought I did. My earlier idealisms are something I’ve been questioning a lot since rolling into town. Maybe I read too many romance novels as a teenager, hopingfor that white picket fence with two kids and a husband who came home from the office every day, anxious to see me and our children. But I’ve come to learn that real life can be better than make-believe.
“May I come in?” he asks with a chuckle. “Or would you like me to turn around so you can see the backside?”
“I’ll see the backside as soon as you come inside,” I tease.
“Doesn’t work that way, Van,” he laughs. “Ladies first, so it’ll be me admiring your ass and not the other way around.”
We can add protectiveness and gentlemanly qualities to that check list of attributes I was mentally ticking off about Riptide. Every time we’ve gone somewhere, or he’s come over to visit me and Gagey, he places his palm on my lower back and guides me into the room, watching over me in case there’s danger lurking in the shadows.
I shake my head but do so with a smile spread across my cheeks. “Okay, okay,” I submit, walking ahead of him. My smile broadens tenfold when I hear the door shut and the lock engage behind me.
“Where’s the little man?” he asks as we get inside the mouth of the hallway.
