Greetings from Sugartown (5 page)

“Holly, you’re a genius,” I deadpan.

“I know.” She shrugs, and walks away.

“That was sarcasm, Hols.” I call to her retreating form.

“No shit. I’m just waiting for the wisdom in my words to sink in.”

“You’ll be waiting a while.”

“Yes, about as long as you’ll be trying to figure out this shit with Elijah.” She sighs and hangs up her apron. “Stop overthinking it. He loves you, don’t be an idiot.”

“Yeah, yeah. Now go. Get your sexy arse outta here, and go get ready for your date. Wait, where is he taking you again?”

“Out for ice-cream.” She waggles her eyebrows. I really could have done without that visual. When Jack and Holly go for “ice cream”, it’s never really just ice cream. In fact, after hearing—in explicit detail—what my cousin like to do with sundaes, I’ll never look at fudge and sprinkles the same way again.

“Alright, get out of here, you skank.”

“With pleasure.” She blows me air kisses and sashays her butt through the door. I shake my head, and look up from the bench to see the strange guy in the corner booth leaving the shop.

“Hey,” I sing out, attempting to stop him running out on his bill, but he ducks his head and scurries out the door. I glance at the booth as I walk past and notice he hasn’t run out on his bill at all—in fact, it’s the opposite. He left a hefty twenty-dollar tip. I snatch up the money and bolt out the door, hoping to find him and return it, but when I look up the street he’s nowhere in sight.

I glance across the road. Elijah’s in the workshop, his beautiful tattoos on full display as he closes the hood on the junk heap he’d been working on. As if he can sense my eyes on him, he wipes his greasy hands on his jeans and turns around to face me. He smirks and folds his arms across his broad chest, his dark brows raised in a question. I quickly wander back inside before he can lure me across the road. I have pies to make and customers to serve, and God knows how damn quickly I lose my head around that man.

I
COME
in wielding a plastic shopping bag with white chocolate Tim Tams and a handful of ingredients for dinner. Sammy’s at the dining table, colouring in the last
Transformers
book I bought him, and Ana’s in the kitchen with Pepper on her hip, swaying back and forth as she stirs a giant pot of spaghetti on the stove. The rich scent of tomatoes, meat and garlic assaults my nose, and my stomach leaps, but that’s not what has my heart thumping against my chest.

The picture before me is so unbelievably perfect that in a way, it kinda hurts my heart. I mean, there’s nothing spectacular about it—these kids aren’t even ours—and yet they scream family, my family …
ours
. I lean into the doorjamb, and watch her for a minute. Watch the way her ponytail grazes the nape of her neck as her hips sway automatically.

I’ve never met a woman more nurturing and loving than Ana. I know we’ve only been together for a few years, and most of that has been tainted with the past and everything we went through to get to this point, but I just can’t help wanting more. I want all of it, all of her heart and soul, her compassion, her love, her desire, and her incredible pussy. I want all of her, for all the rest of my days.

“Lijhie.” Sammy’s excitement punches through my bubble of sunshine and fucking rainbows. The one where Ana and I grow old together surrounded by kids and grandkids.

Yeah, as if life’s ever been that fucking easy for us.

Knowing the way fate likes to fuck me over, we’d probably get married and lose everything. We’d wind up jobless and living in a caravan park with twenty kids who all hate us. We’d hate each other just as much, and Ana would be screwing the fucking mailman.

I shift my weight, discovering that not only is everyone in the room staring, but that Ana is looking a little flustered as she stands in front of me with her arm outstretched.

“Earth to Cade.”

My brow pinches and I clear my throat. “What?”

“Is that my basil?” she asks, pointing to the bag.

“Er, yeah.” I kiss her forehead and hand it to her, and then follow her across the lino to the stove where she throws a handful of leaves in the pot, all with Pepper still firmly planted on her hip.

“Hey, little ranga.” I collect Pepper’s chubby hand and stoop down so that my hair is within her grasp. She has a thing about hair pulling. It’s best just to go with it if you don’t want your ears to bleed from all the screaming.

“Lija!” she shrieks, and squirms in Ana’s arms, and then basically catapults herself onto me.

“Stop calling her that. She’s going to get a complex,” Ana says as she stirs the pot vigorously, scraping the spoon against the bottom. It sets my teeth on edge.
Jesus, I’m more hormonal than a bitch in heat.
I’m worse than
Holly when she was knocked up and begging for Jack to grow a pair, and fuck her guts out.

I shift Pepper to my side, and head to the fridge for a beer. “How you doin’, pretty girl?”

“Gwood. Sam Sam showed me his pee pee again.”

I twist the top off my stubbie and salute him with it. “Hey, good job, buddy. Get in while they’re young, and then they won’t run away screaming when you’re older and it actually counts.”

“I will hurt you, Cade.” Ana warns, and swats at me as I walk past.

Sammy looks up from his drawing with a big goofy grin. “It got big again.”

Kid’s gonna be the death of all of us.

“Did you bring parmesan too?” Ana asks, clearly desperate to change the subject.

“It’s in the bag.”

“Did you get the good kind this time?”

“I got what was on the list.”

She turns and winks at me. “Good man.”

“I do get some things right,” I say, meaning more than just selecting the right kind of cheese. I know at some point tonight she’ll chew me out for that shit with Nicole earlier, and I’d be lying if I said I didn’t have a few things I wanted to ask her about too.

I walk past Sammy, and ruffle his hair. “How you doing, Sam the man?”

“Pretty good. I thored a goal today in thoccer.”

“No way. Put her there, brother.” I slide my hand out, and he slaps it as hard as he can. I shake out the sting left behind. Little dude’s getting a hell of a lot stronger. He’ll be kicking my arse soon.

Sammy beams at me. He’s been working for the last year and a bit with a speech therapist, and he’s made some obvious improvements, but the doctor warned Ana that he’d probably be stuck with a slight lisp for the rest of his life. Poor kid. Good thing he knows how to work the ladies already, or his adult life would be spent jacking off to Internet porn.
Still, worse things
. “You wanna go watch cartoons with the little ranga here?”

“Yep,” he says.

“Toons!” Pepper shouts and squirms in my arms.

I set Pepper down on the floor and they run off to the lounge room. “Be sure to tell Aunt Holly we let you watch videos of Ana and me, won’t you, bud?”

A wadded up tea towel goes sailing over my head. It misses me by about two feet, but Ana actually manages to hit me with the spaghetti-covered spoon she flings. I pick up the spoon, smearing even more sauce on the lino, and I half expect Ana to yell at me. “Hey, cut it out, or you’ll be wearing that meal and I’ll be licking it off of every inch of your body.”

“Um … eww. I’m pretty sure I could come up with something tastier than meat sauce for you to lick off me.”

I wrap her up in my arms and bury my face in her neck, kissing a wet trail to her mouth. “How bout we forego the food and I just eat you?”

I set my beer down on the bench behind her, and slide my hands into her hair. It isn’t long before her cheeks are turning pink, and her eyes are glassy with desire. I grind my erection into her hip, just to let her know how crazy she makes me. For a half-second, the words are on the tip of my tongue. They’re just a nanosecond away from tumbling out on my next breath. Ana searches my face, probably wondering why I’ve stopped.

“What’s wrong?” she asks.

I open my mouth. I’m going to say it. I’m going to ask her. Holy fuck, I’m going to ask this walking wet dream to marry me, and be mine for the rest of my life. And I’m terrified. “Ana, baby girl … will—”

“Are you a thombie?” Sammy asks from behind me. He’s leaning in the doorjamb like I was, only there’s this creepy
Children of the Corn
look on his face as he watches us.

“What?”

“Sammy, why would you ask that?” Ana says.

“I don’t know. It lookth like he wath trying to eat your fath off.”

Ana laughs and pulls away from me. I miss her warmth immediately and grab for her arm in an attempt to yank her back, but she’s already stepped away so I end up stumbling after her.

“Eww, groth, your doodlth all huge, dude.” I glance down. It’s not like I didn’t know I was making a call on the bone-a-phone, but having to discuss it with a nine year old? Yeah, not gonna lie … awkward.

“Oh my God, Sammy, you can’t say that to people.”

“What? It ith? Look at it. Ith a giant doodle. I bet if King Kong had a doodle that big, they wouldn’t have thrown aeroplanes and shith at him.”

“Sammy, stop talking,” Ana demands.

“No, I think he has a point.”

“Could you not encourage him, please?” She shakes her head and wipes her hands on a fresh tea towel. “Sammy, remember how we had that conversation about things that we don’t discuss with other people, and we said other people’s private parts are one of those things?”

“Can I talk about my doodle then?”

“Absolutely,” I say, at the same time as Ana says, “No.”

Okay. So I might need a little more training when it comes to the
kids
part of this happily-ever-after shit. But that’s what Nickelodeon’s for, right?

After dinner is wolfed down and the kids are tucked up in bed, we lie on the couch. Ana’s back is pressed to my front, and we’re watching some depressing chick flick with an old couple reading from a book that’s making her tear up and sniffle every few minutes. I haven’t a fucking clue what’s going on because I’m so wrapped up in the stunning blonde in my arms. How did I get so fucking lucky? I could live to be an old man and still never know the answer to that question.

I lean forward and sniff her hair.
Shut the fuck up
. Boyfriend status means that shit is not creepy at all.

“Did you just sniff me?”

“Yep,” I say, satisfied.

“Oh my God, you’re a creeper.”

“Yep. Come’re little girl, I got a meat popsicle with your name on it.”

She laughs and throws a pillow at my head. I shift out from under her, unceremoniously dumping her arse on the couch.

“Ouch,” she protests, and when I start growling into the crook of her neck she stiffens, and then shirks her shoulder up to her ear to ward me away from her sensitive flesh. “Cut it out.”

“No,” I say, and cage her in with my forearms pressed into the couch on either side of her head. “How you doin’?”

“I’d be better if this ape of a man would get off me and let me watch my movie in peace.”

“Ape, huh?” I smile. “Well, you heard your brother. My cock is bigger than King Kong’s.”

“I’m not sure those were his words exactly.”

“Baby girl, you’re hurtin’ my feelings here.”

I curl my fist into a claw, and Ana’s eyes widen. “No, no, no, no. Not that.”

“What? The claw?” I dig my fingers into her ribcage. Ana shrieks and then covers her mouth. “What, you think that shit’s gonna wake Pepper? Please. Have you heard Holly and Jack fuck? They could bring the friggin’ house down.”

“Don’t do it, Elijah. Come on, you know I hate that.”

“Ah, see but I don’t think you do. You know why?” I ask, taunting her with fingers that poke up and down her ribcage.

“Trust me, I hate it.”

“No you don’t. You love that shit because you’re always soaking wet afterwards.”

“That is not true.”

“Wanna make a bet?”

“No.” She pushes me away. “I am not going to let you do it just to prove a point.”

“Oh you’re not going to
let me
, huh?”

“Elijah. Cut it out,” she says, more forcefully this time.
It’s cute.
I dig my fingers into her hips and she squeals.