Weathering Jack Storm (Silver Strings G Series) (41 page)

“Leave, now.”

Turning on her heal was much easier in her mind than in actuality. For the ceremony itself, wooden walkways brought in guaranteed she and Jack made it from their respective sides to meet in the middle. However, she had abandoned the walkway, as most everyone had, to move toward the concrete lot. Yet, she was still several feet short of being out of the sand.

Her foot caught, and when Kel put out a gentlemanly hand to catch her, she slapped him away, letting herself fall to the sand with her creamy dress billowing about. A collective murmur went up from their guests, and in her peripheral vision, she saw Jack sending up a spray of sand with each sprint.

Kel conversely, knelt, and if a tramp riding reverse cowgirl on him in their bed had not shown just how ruthless he could be, his whisper did.

“You know, Mama, and well just everyone, has been saying how much your little boy looks like me at that age—”

The high-top sneakers Jack had insisted on wearing as part of his tux ensemble stopped directly in front of her chest, and she knew there was no way he had missed that last slanderous exchange.

“Mariss, my honey? You okay?”

“No. I mean, yes. I will be. Just give me a minute.” The breeze was a consistent blow, but she felt Jack’s concern wash over her face in a warm breath.

“Can you stand, honey, or is your foot messed up?”

“I can stand. I’m just embarrassed…”

“Not as embarrassed as he is about to be…” Their words were just low enough to be between them.

‘If my boyfriend looked like Mike Mullholland and it so happened that my kid looked like Mike Mullholland…’
Meg’s hateful words rushed her thoughts, and she wondered what Jack’s sister was thinking despite the paternity test and her subdued apology as Jack and Kel, both tall dark and handsome, stood within a few feet of one another.

“Jack, what he is saying is bullshit—”

“Don’t you think I know that Mariss, my honey?” His breath was a whisper in her ear as he stood her up, and when Kell offered his hand on her other elbow, she almost fell while shoving him away again.

The second she was on her feet, minus her shoes, Liz holding one arm and Liv another to steady her, Kel was flat on his back, eyes bugged out as Jack flexed the fingers of his right hand. A collective gasp when up among the group, and when Kel scrambled like a crab to attempt to right himself, Jack used the other hand to punch him back down.

“You know, you are damn lucky that my son is watching, or I would beat you to shark food and drag you out to the surf. As it is, if you are intelligent enough, which everything I have ever heard of you says to the contraire, you will leave immediately.

Because my wife and I have a couple of things to talk about.” A thumb brushing against her lips and fingers trailing to her cleavage left no doubt that there would be very little talking. “And If I see you here when I get back, you will be flat on your back like a crab again.”

Their exit was graceful, somehow Jack made it that way, and the silence behind them seemed deafening until sporadic giggles, then guffaws broke out.

God bless good friends.

The door to the bus was locked, and Jack gave it a wrench then an impatient knock.

When it opened, they both stood rooted to the stoop.

“Chris! Really dude?”

“We touched nothing, I swear. I will be so glad to be away from this label and end the hiding.”

“Go! Seriously…”

“Again dude, sorry. But haven’t seen her in almost two weeks and you know…”

Marissa threw Chris’s wife an apologetic look, but the moment the door closed behind the couple, she forgot them.

“Jack, I’m so sorry that happened.” The air cooled her back as he unzipped the dress and she spoke of the previous embarrassment. “I mean firstly that he would just show up like that. And then to say such horrible embarrassing crap about Tristan.”

The dress pooled at her feet, and the molten chocolate heat in his eyes was like nothing she had seen. She was glad she had let Olivia, and Randi—yes the two friends had gone out together on a shopping day with her although Liv still didn’t know the truth of Randi and Jack—talk her into the vintage garter belt, complete with snaps, holding up the lace stockings.

Now, Jack paused in his workings of the stretchy lace camisole, and he waited until she looked him directly into the eyes. “Mariss, I don’t know what that paternity test said. I’m assuming that if I were not the blood relation of my son, I would have heard it by now, if not from Meg, then from someone. But, if it turned out I were not, nothing would have changed.”

His forefingers rested on the ribs, just beneath her arms, and his thumbs made lazy circles on the sensitive tips of the curves pushed from the camisole.

“What do you mean?” Nerves of pleasure temporarily dulled as she cocked her head up to his gaze. “Nothing would have changed?”

“I mean that boy is mine. No matter what any paper says.”

Although that sentiment swelled her heart, she persisted, “I never would have sought you out if he hadn’t been…”

“I know Mariss. But I would have sought you out at some point. And, even if Tristan had been born fine. And, if it weren’t too late—if there were no Joel’s, I would have used any power I possessed to sway you.”

“To sway me?”

“Shhh…” His lips were on hers. Do we really have to talk right now?” His tongue swiped her bottom lip before his teeth lightly nipped. “I figure even with everyone running interference for us, it is just a matter of time before tiny fingers begin knocking on the door…or worse, your local news crew.”

Her fingers worked at the buttons on his shirt, kissing each new set of skin exposed before pushing it to the pile on the floor. Dropping to her knees, she unlaced the air Jordon’s or air Nikes, whatever they were, and they made a clunk to the floor. His hands went to his zipper, but she stayed them, doing the job herself, but fell into a bunk pulling him with her, before pulling at the tux pants.

“Mariss, you are beautiful. I never thought I had seen anything as beautiful as you walking toward me to say ‘I do.’ With the wind blowing your long hair, and your dress—holding Tristan’s hand.” He took her in below him, one knee staked between hers, and propped on those inked arms. “But this is pure beauty. Your hair, everywhere. Your everything spilling out, everywhere. That smile that I know is all mine…” His hands went again to his pants, “…and your shoes. I love those shoes. They couldn’t have been easy on the sand…”

As he reached for them, to slip them from her stockinged feet, she raised her legs enough to hook them into the waist of his loosened pants. With a shove, his pants were around his ankles—

The look on his face was incredulous. His mouth crushed to hers as he growled, “Hell that was sexy. Been holding out on me? Mariss, my honey?”

“No. You just always wear jeans way too tight to attempt that little trick…”

THE END

All in all, it had been a great Father’s Day. Leaning up enough to reach for the raspberry lemonade on the little table next to the poolside lounger, Jack watched Marissa clean up the patio. Picking up a few towels, she straightened and shot a sultry look his way. Ah yes, it was going to be a good Father’s Day later too.

The condensation slicking the cup wet his hands as he chugged the tart drink, replacing the many electrolytes sweated out in the Texas sun.

“Need some help?” he asked, but she shook her head as she disappeared into the house.

The area was still a disaster. His parents and Meg and her husband and brood had been over for a barbeque. Getting to his feet, he torpedoed into the water, enjoying the immediate cooling effect. Avoiding the area of the pool where Tristan and his first love were drifting on colorful floats, Jack headed for a far side of the pool to make his exit.

The stonework of the patio was hot on his feet even though they were cool from the pool, and he rushed about cleaning up the last of the abandoned plates and cups, and tossing the pool toys into the closet.

“Hey Dad?”

Tristan emerged from his love bubble and surprised Jack looked him over as he acknowledged his paternal name. Tristan’s legs were so long that his ankles and feet dangled into the water. Both he and his petite girlfriend were wearing shades so Jack couldn’t tell who was looking at who.

“Think you could get us some of that lemonade?”

“Trist! Don’t make your dad do it. It’s father’s day!”

Tristan’s girlfriend, Gabbi, had easily fit herself into their family. Her mother stayed gone on business more than not, and her father had not been in contact since she was a baby.

“Yeah, Tristan. Give your pop a break on Father’s Day,” Jack retorted.

A splash war ensued between Tristan and Gabby, probably because she had come to his defense. From the cooler, he extracted the plastic container and popped open the resalable lid. The splashes stopped and the thank you’s chorused as Jack set the two tumblers on the edge of the pool.

The chill of the cooled house hit him, and he squinted his eyes against the dimmer interior. Mariss stood at the sink with their fourteen month old daughter on her hip, and she raised her brows when he set the dirty dishes on the counter top.

“When did this one wake up?” he teased easing the baby into his own arms when she held her tiny arms out.

“Too soon,” Mariss retorted and continued to transfer dishes into the dishwasher.

“Leave ‘em. I will get them Mariss.”

“Nope. It’s your day.”

A tone sounded, and their daughter’s eyes lit. Jack moved to the booster chair and strapped her in then fetched a bowl from the microwave. Checking the temperature, he took a seat at the table and began to feed her. Like Tristan, June had dark hair and eyes, but she had the lighter complexion of Mariss.

“So you left Tristan and Gabbi alone out there?”

Scraping up another spoonful, Jack curved an amused smile, but knew better than to say anything. Mariss knew the uncertainties of an unplanned pregnancy, and she cut Tristan no slack, keeping a close watch on the young couple even though they were both barely fifteen.

“I’ve got them in my sights,” he assured, glancing out the window.

“So that meeting tomorrow, you have everything together?”

They had taken over the family business, the record label his parents had bought into many years back, and now solely owned. It remained small, but the talent signed was above and beyond the norm. Mariss who had never written a poem in her life, began to churn out lyrics for the catalog with the same ease his mother always had.

“Yeah.” Jack smiled. Dax’s band was going places, literally as of tomorrow. Jack would sign them off on their first European tour.

Jack felt lucky, having everything he could want for. A son that was the best a parent could ask for. A daughter that had come later in their life but was the apple of his eye. And a wife that had somehow fallen in love with him despite their rocky beginning. And his job, if he could call something he loved that much such, allowed him to be home with them practically twenty— four—seven.

After watching a movie with Tristan and Gabs as our son called his girlfriend, Jack put June down for bed while Mariss was on the phone with her father. The night was still early, and he leaned over the bannister making sure he saw two separate heads on the couch before treading to their bedroom.

Whether Mariss would actually go to bed and leave those two downstairs, or pretend to piddle around in the kitchen until Gabbi left at eleven remained to be seen.

Checking the clock on the face of his phone, he resigned himself to watching t.v. alone in bed for an hour and a half. Flipping aimlessly through the channels, he finally found something to stop on, and in boredom kept one eye on the movie and one eye on his tablet while going through his emails.

The baby cam came to life, and he came out of a doze to see Mariss on screen moving about as she changed the last diaper of the night. A press to his tablet showed the time to be ten minutes until eleven, and he ironically wondered if Tristan had managed a reprieve long enough to properly say goodbye to his girlfriend.

“Still awake?” Mariss entered the room closing the door behind her. As if he wouldn’t be. Father’s Day came with special favors!

Something flew through the air between them landing on the bed at his feet, but he was too caught up watching her pull her shirt off to immediately retrieve it.

When she was snuggled up next to him wearing one of his tee-shirts, he pulled the card from the envelope. His fourth Father’s Day card of the day. Which made no sense.

Tristan. June. Marissa. And Marissa again?

“Thanks honey.” He leaned for a kiss, but she evaded it.

“It’s not from me.”

Confounded, he studied her face, searching for some sense in what she was saying. Her eyes were alight with excitement, and a smile twitched at her lips waiting to burst out.

“Are you telling me?”

“Four weeks along. I took the test this morning.”