Page 8 of His to Claim (The Rowdy Johnson Brothers)

Mom: Maeve

Mom: Maeve Oliver

Michelle: For the love of God, please answer her.

Maddie: Where’s the fire?

Dad: Your mother won’t stop. I’m about to throw her phone in the toilet.

I take a deep breath before responding. She must know about Whisked Away. I’ve only told my sisters and now JW. I shouldn’t have, but my guard was down and I needed an outlet. What can I say? I’m me and need to overthink and overtalk any and all situations until there’s a solution to the problem.

Me: Yes, Mother?

Mom: Don’t you Mother me. When were you going to tell us about Whisked Away being in trouble? You know we’ll help.

Dad: This is a conversation for another time. You know, face to face like normal people, not through a piece of technology.

I pray that Dad will hold her off. I’m trying my hardest to stay optimistic, and with JW offering to help with the use of Fletcher Wild, maybe it won’t come to asking for financialassistance to keep things afloat until whatever this is blows over or gets figured out.

Me: I’ll come over tomorrow after work, and we can talk. Everything’s okay for now. I love you.

I switch my phone to do not disturb. No more noises or vibrations are going to interrupt my evening dinner, a drink or two, and a hot bath. I’m back at the fridge, pulling out the contents for a charcuterie board type deal.

First thing's first, my drink of choice. I grab a plate and a tumbler, then I go about making my Aperol Spritz. The ingredients are easy, and I keep them on hand—Aperol, Prosecco, sparkling water, and a lot of ice.

I don’t particularly care to cook that often, but I can work with what I pick up at the farmers' market weekly, like fresh produce, dairy, eggs, and sometimes I’ll grab some locally grown meat too. Tonight is not one of those nights. I top my drink off with a couple of slices of orange, then pull out some cut veggies, same with cheese, and a few different fruits. The best part of a dinner like this is the dip. Today’s choice is tzatziki and hummus. Decisions are hard, and why can’t a girl have a bit of both? I finish off my now overfilled plate with crackers, picking it and the tumbler up, and walk through the house.

Whereas Whisked Away always has musicplaying, when I’m home I take comfort in the silence and stillness. Sadly, the only time my brain shuts down is when I’m asleep. Thankfully, none of this mess has carried into that area. The minute my head hits the pillows, the lights are off and I’m dead to the world until the alarm blares the next morning. My one-bedroom, one-bathroom house may be small to some, but it’s perfect to me. This home used to be a single-family style. It was sitting empty for years upon years until a local realtor snagged it for a steal. He wanted to keep the old-world charm and make it available as a rental property. Well, in Arrowleaf, the rent would be too high when most of the townspeople already own a home or live on their family’s ranch. Hence the smaller home I’m in, though I’d say I’m lucky since I’m on the first floor and his other tenants live in the upstairs part. It’s worked for a couple of years now. The front porch and yard are mine, and my neighbor, Erin, gets the backyard and that porch.

The showstopper of my place is most definitely the bathroom. It’s larger than most would be with a big vanity, a chandelier hanging in the middle, and a massive clawfoot tub. I use it as much as possible, especially on nights like tonight. My elbow flips the bathroom switch on, and I take a deep breath. The light and airy feeling helps me release the stress from life. I place my food and drink on the small wooden table next to the tub. You’d be amazed at thenumber of treasures one can find driving down the road on trash day. Half of my house is either from the side of the road which I repurposed, and the other half is from garage sales.

A quick turn of the knobs, using my wrist to see how hot the water is, then pushing the stopper in the drain. Some nights I want the water scorching, but tonight isn’t that night. I want to get in, eat my dinner, and turn on the new documentary being advertised everywhere. This documentary is about a drug lord who goes on a killing rampage, and when he’s taken into custody, his wife becomes the queen.

I strip out of my clothes and drop them to the floor. My terrycloth robe is waiting on the back of the door for when I’m ready to get out. The remote is in reaching distance, and I’m not ashamed to say I’ve got a small television set up on the oversized vanity. It’s completely out of place, and the comments my sisters and Mom give me are out of this world. Dad, on the other hand, looked at the TV then at the tub and shrugged his shoulders. He doesn’t say a lot, but when he does, it’s worthwhile.

It's only when I’m standing in front of the mirror naked, taking in every slope and curve of my hourglass figure, that I go back to thinking about JW’s kiss. My hands cup my breasts, pinching my nipples as I remember his taste, his feel, and how I was ready to beg for more. The worry niggling in my head about making a foolout of myself is long gone, especially since I felt him and what he's packing. It’s not small by any means. My head drops back on my shoulders, one hand slowly creeping down my stomach. Right as my fingers reach the folds of my pussy, I’m snapped back to reality. The steam bellows around me, reminding me that I’ve got water running. And while I’d really like to finish what I started, there’s always later. And I’ve got plenty of material of JW in my spank bank.

NINE

JW

I’ve texted Maeve, I’v called Maeve, and there’s been no damn answer. I pressed down on the pedal going well above the posted speed limit through the more deserted areas and only slow down once I hit downtown. Maeve’s house isn’t far from Whisked Away, a smaller-sized home and even smaller fucking parking. A damn nightmare if you’re not used to driving and parking a truck as big as mine. I parallel park behind her car with one try, phone to my ear, which is where it’s been the whole ride over. Fuck using the Bluetooth; I needed something to keep me occupied, and it helped for the most part. Mae answering would have been a million times better.

I slam my truck in park, pull the keys out of the ignition, and unfold out of my seat. It seems I’m tracking Mae down a lot today. It’d be a hellof a lot better if she’d be at my house and in my bed. Soon, I’ll have her there, very fucking soon.

I’m at her doorstep, knocking on her door and impatiently waiting for Maeve to answer.

“Mae, babe, you here?” I call with another rap of my fist. Her car is here, and I know enough from my sisters that during the week when she’s opening the bakery, Maeve likes to be home and in bed early. The sun is barely set and still nothing. I guess she could have gone with her own sisters somewhere. I doubt it though.

My hand is about to try for the doorknob when I hear my baby girl. “Someone’s asshole better be burning, or I’m going to light the fucker on fire.” I shake my head. She and I are going to have words. Then I’m going to place her over my knee and spank her ass for each cuss word she says to me. I’d do it regardless, watching each cheek darken to a pretty shade of pink. I can’t wait to see if she’ll push herself into me. Whether it be her pussy grinding down on my thigh or her ass reaching for more.

“JW, what are you doing here?” She opens the door, hair tumbling down in a wet mess, cheeks flushed, and in a white robe.

“Told you I’d be here tonight, baby girl. We’re going to have some words about that mouth of yours.” I watch as her cheeks flush a deeper pink with every step I take. My hand catches the door and closes it, and the other wraps around Mae’s waist, pulling her to me.

“And you’re going to do exactly what?” Her head tips back, her short frame pressed against my tall form.

“Just you wait and see.” I flip the lock and dip my head. “What were you doing, Mae? What has your nipples pebbled and your cheeks tinted red?” The flash of bare skin is teasing me with her lapels open, giving me a glimpse of her cleavage while also showing me she’s bare beneath. At least on the top half.