Page 8 of One More Kiss

Jasmine

I offeredup a stiff smile as I set another platter on the table. Much as I tried to rearrange my face into happier lines, worry tugged too hard. I glanced toward the back door, but Steve still hadn’t returned. That was unlike him. Typically, he was the most punctual of us all, but he’d stepped outside while I was still cooking, and now, a good hour later, he was still out there.

“That’s all of it. Why don’t y’all tuck in? I’ll go see what’s keeping Steve.” I wiped my hands on my apron as I walked toward the back door. My steps slowed. I shook my head and forced myself to open the door.

I took a bracing breath of the softer night air. Sure, we got storms from time to time, but this holiday wasn’t one of them. Instead, the air sat like a muggy lake over my skin, causing it to itch.

“Food’s on the table.”

“I’m going to stay out here.”

His deep voice always sent shivers through me, heating my blood—as it had from the very first time. The sensation was unusual. Not that I didn’t recognize it, just that I’d assumed sensuality and sexuality were behind me. Menopause changed a woman.

Damn man had to prove that lovely fantasy a lie. I still had desires, still had needs, and Steve caused them all to flare, bright and hot.

“You will march your butt inside and sit at that table and smile for those kids, Steven Lincoln, because they deserve it.”

He looked at me over his shoulder, and I caught the horror in his eyes. Something haunted him. Something not unlike the years of disrespect and taunts and, finally, abuse of my son I’d endured from Laurence.

“Oh, my dear. What’s been done to you?”

I rushed closer, laying my hands on his arm. Strength and warmth exuded from the muscle. He shifted away.

“I’m not one of the kids,” he said. But his voice was weary. “And I’m not a project. Just…leave me alone.”

My back stiffened and I raised my chin. “One thing my deceased husband found particularly annoying about me was my unwillingness to ‘mind him.’ He told me often I had a nasty stubborn streak. Very unbecoming in a woman, which was why he sought out better specimens of femininity.”

Steve returned to staring out into the thick darkness, but his hands tightened further on the railing so each tendon stood at attention and his skin turned white. “He was a sack of putrid garbage for blaming you for his failings.”

I settled myself next to him with a soft bump of my arm against his. “You’re not wrong. But at least I got a beautiful daughter from that steaming pile of horseshit.”

He chuckled as he shook his head. “I’m not good company.”

“That’s all right. I don’t need good company. I’ve found I prefer silence from most people.”

We stayed like that, touching from shoulder to elbow, but nowhere else. The sound of utensils scraping on plates and Cash’s excited little voice sifted through the walls, mixing with the night sounds.

“My father beat the shit out of my mother. Killed her.”

I tensed but remained staring out into the dark.

“I tried to get him to take out his anger on me…” His voice held steady but his arm shook as he squeezed the railing.

I breathed slow and deep before I said, “Guess that explains the burn marks on your shoulders and thighs.”

He turned toward me so fast, I lost my balance. He caught me by my elbows, cupping them in his large palms.

“You knew?”

I tipped my head back and met his dark, angry gaze. “I suspected.” After a brief hesitation, I said, “I figured you’d talk when you were ready.”

His face shuttered but there was so much feeling in his eyes. He yearned for a caring touch even as he shied from it. When we’d been together that glorious night, I’d assumed I’d mistaken the emotion, projecting my wants onto his.

I lifted my shaking hand and cupped his cheek. My voice was soft but steady. “What was it you called Laurence? A pile of garbage? Seems fitting for the man who refused to father—and didn’t know how lucky he was to be one. Not to mention just what an amazing man you became, even if you are superglued and duct taped back together.”

He barked out another laugh, but some of the tension eased from his muscles. I smiled back, easing my hand away and resettling beside him.

“You’re good at that, you know.”

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