A Love Story
23)
"He's a lovely young man, Micaela."
She simply shook her head, dumping the eggs onto the plate and poking the food with a fork thoughtfully. Nodding, she clicked off the stove, setting the pan aside and turning to the breakfast table with the two plates. "It doesn't matter, Pa."
He watched her intently, in his jeans and shirt, dark eyes on her shape as she set down the two plates of breakfast; she went back to the counter and got her mug of coffee and his tea, ignoring his sniff of disgust at the sight of the stuff she insisted was good for him. "Honey?" she asked, setting the mug in front of him. His only answer was another sniff and, grinning, she started making it for him.
Honey, a quick stir, a dash of milk and it was done; when he refused to take it, she gave him a glare, and, grimacing, he took a swig, shuddering at the herbal mess. Smirking at how she always won this argument, she finally took a seat, brushing hair from her face as she picked up her fork and began gathering up eggs.
"He could have made you happy, baby… what's with this sudden turn of yours. I thought you two were doing well."
Buck Kincaide never let you drop a conversation, something she'd learned the hard way in their wonderful life together and, with a sigh, she dropped the fork, raising her eyes to meet his. "He wouldn't have made me happy, Pa. He wasn't the right one for me and we both would've wound up miserable."
"You can't know that—"
"Yes," she interrupted him sharply, and he closed his eyes for a moment, knowing it was useless to fight with her when her voice got like that. "Yes, I can know and I do know that we both would've been miserable. He tried pushing into marriage. I don't like being pushed."
"He asked you to marry him, baby. He didn't force you, he didn't hold a gun to your head, and he didn't try conning you into marriage. I don't know how the hell you got this nonsense into your head."
He wasn't being cruel and she knew that; she knew that quality in his voice and, sighing, she pressed fingers against her forehead, wishing it wasn't so hard to explain. "He asked me to marry him like I was supposed to say yes. He asked me like he knew it would be fine and perfect and we'd have a great life together."
"Maybe he was right."
"But he wasn't." Micaela pressed hands flat against the hardwood of the table she had grown up with, feeling the mark she'd created when she'd decided to see if she could sand the table; a long stretch of paler color against the dark varnish of the rest. He'd grown so fond of it that, despite her attempts to hide such an embarrassing story, and he'd refused to let her do anything.
"I want you happy, baby."
That was it, wasn't it? The entire meaning and essence of their lives together as father and daughter. It was the only thing he truly wanted for her, the only thing that really mattered to him. He wanted her happy, happy as he'd been in that first marriage of his, the one he'd had before he'd adopted her.
"He wouldn't have made me happy."
"So, what, you won't even try?"
"Look, I trusted him, I've been with him and then he surprises me with this ring? No… I'm not ready for something like marriage, like… that," she finished lamely, hating the understanding in his gaze from across their table, the table that strangely seemed to fit in their massive home with it's polished woods and fine crystal and Persian rugs.
"Your entire existence shouldn't revolve around me. I want you to find a nice young man and have kids and have them come in on Mother's Day with their badly drawn but so perfect pictures of you and tell you they love you. You deserve that."
"Pa—"
"Not everybody is out to get you, Micaela." Amazing how much a handful of words from her father could disarm her, even after all these years. Amazing how much love he could put into those words, amazing how much she felt that love. She picked at the mark on the table, considering her words carefully.
"I know that but… he wasn't the right one, Pa. I'd have loved if he was but, he wasn't."
"Knowing you, you'd run away from this one you think is out there."
'You don't think there's someone with everyone, Pa?" She already knew his answer to that, already knew his thoughts on the matter; and, he responded like he always did, leaning forward and catching her hand in his, grinning slightly while his eyes grew sharper with memories that had been made before she'd been born.
"Everybody has someone, baby. I just hope you don't bolt from like you've bolted the last three relationships of yours."
"Don't worry… I won't."
Micaela raised her gaze from the floor when she noticed him striding towards her, and was glad she had. Again, as she watched him walk, she had the overpowering urge to tie him down and bring in a troop of chiropractors to fix whatever was wrong with him. Honestly, did he really think he was hiding it that well!
When her eye twitched, she reached up and rubbed her face, hating her inability to not notice the slight limp. It was getting worse, clearly, because he'd been able to walk properly before… he must have run or something or maybe he'd banged himself in the hip on some table? No, probably he'd overexerted himself, at least that's what her instincts told her.
It was natural to be concerned; after all, he was her ride home, wasn't he?
"Excuse me!" She snapped her gaze up from his leg, blinking twice at his look of annoyance and, yeah, that looked a little bit like embarrassment. Even as she stared at him, she caught him resettling his overcoat, hiding his leg from view. Hmm, so he knew that she knew about that little problem with his leg. Intriguing.
"You came all this way to get me from the hotel?" she chirped, arching one eyebrow. At his eye roll, she laughed, and suddenly realized how she was slouched in the chair, legs stretched out slightly, shoulders cocked just right. When she realized what she was doing, she had to resist the urge to jump up and explain herself to him.
She was showing herself off, wasn't she? It was a fact that a woman knew how to show off her better aspects, even if they didn't realize they were doing it. And she was doing it right now; from the way she sat to the way she picked one nail with another. She was showing herself off like any peacock, displaying her nicer plumage.
And she didn't like how much unconscious effort she was putting into it. He stepped back when she stood, pausing to tug down her skirt and gather her wits. It had never bothered her before really, how much she used her wiles in her day-to-day life. Now, though, it truly irritated her, made her want to take a hammer to something and beat out some of this nervous energy.
"Why is your skirt so fascinating, Kincaide?"
She gave him a chilly glance, hands continuing their restless movements across the cream clothe, and trying to ignore the growing energy… she felt like someone had put new batteries in her, like someone had forgotten to pull her plug before she got too charged. She felt, in simplest words, like the Energizer Bunny.
And, she really didn't like that it was JR Chandler who was affecting her like this. Forcing herself to stop her jittery movements, she reached past him and got her work bag, looping it over one shoulder, adjusting it just right. She could feel his gaze on her and, finally, she looked up to meet it, crushing the insane need to kick off her stilettos and tear away from him.
"This is a new skirt, Chandler; I don't enjoy the thought that I damaged it while waiting for your ass to come pick me up."
He smirked, took a step closer and she was thankful that he wasn't like the other men she'd had relationships, that he didn't dump a bottle of cologne of himself; oh, sure, there was a touch of it but, thankfully, not enough to clog up her breathing. It actually wasn't that bad, and, hey, neither was what smelled like breakfast.
And, boom, her stomach rumbled, loudly, and his mouth paused in mid-word, his attention lowering to her middle with a cocked-eyebrow. Damn… she was hungry and now he knew it. JR, head tilted slightly, looked back up her and grinned. "One, I thought you were surprised that I was coming by for you and two, why didn't you eat anything before now?"
Okay, Kincaide, handle one issue at a time… Catching his next step forward, and that big stupid grin on his face, she took a step of her own, back and sideways, skirting him. His attention, however, wasn't so easy to dodge and she found herself still faced with that intense gaze. "One, if you had left me we both knew I would have gotten back to Pine Valley and kicked your ass and two, I'm on a diet."
"You're crazy." He gestured to her with a hand, shaking his head in disgust. "You don't have any extra weight to spare, Kincaide. What do you weigh, hundred and ten?"
"Hundred and nine," she commented proudly and, strangely, he didn't react the way she would've liked.
"God, I'll never get that obsession over having a stick to come home to." He shook his head again, eyes doing an once-over of her frame and she disliked the annoyance he had on his face. "A normal woman is not supposed to be able to slip between bars." He offered her that stupid grin once again, smirking once again. "Real women have curves, Kincaide."
"I am a real woman!" she snapped but, still… damn it, how long had it been since she'd had anything other than a quick meal at McDonalds or something with way too much lettuce and tomatoes? How long had it been since she'd smelled like breakfast? She thought about that, deciding with a huff that she hadn't eaten a real breakfast since she'd left Texas.
Why the hell did he have to smell like breakfast!
"Would you be all huffy and bitchy if I grabbed you something on the way to the airport?" he asked her lightly, and there was such a lack of mocking or humor that she hesitated and then silenced her nasty retort, studying him with narrowed eyes. He was offering her food. And, besides, it would be rude, right, to say no?
"Is that lick of the lips a yes or a no?" She shot him a look, clapping a hand over the offending mouth that had betrayed her hunger. Micaela finally nodded, feeling defeated and wishing, more than anything, that she could stop the next rumble from her middle. He got a hold of her rolling luggage, shooting her that grin of his once more before taking off and she was forced to rush after him, something that was difficult with her little legs and big heels.
"Oh, and Kincaide, don't forget, I'm driving!"
She looked down at the shattered pieces, kneeling on the carpet. Reaching up, she touched a piece of what had been her heart, cocking her head in bafflement as she watched light glint off edges and, sighing, she pulled her hand back, studying the single drop of blood that sat on her fingertip.
Frowning, she jumped when her door opened and then blinked when Zach entered, offered her a smile and headed over, looking down at her where she sat in confusion, nervously protecting the remains of her little heart, even if all that was left was shards. "What are you doing?"
"Protecting my heart."
"Oh." He nodded, and then, crouching, he cocked an eyebrow at her, looking amused. "Here, let me clean this up for you."
She caught his hand just before he got a hold of a piece, locking a small hand around his larger wrist, noting how warm it was with a mixture of delight and apprehension. "No, Zach, you can't touch them… they're too sharp and, um, they'll scratch you." It was almost a plea, desperate that he not even try… what was the point?
He, however, simply snorted and, twisting his wrist from her hold, he began to carefully pick up pieces, setting them in a small pile at his side; hard at work, hazel eyes intense, he picked up each piece and she watched, fascinated, holding her injured finger in her palm. When she heard movement, she looked up and raised both eyebrows at the sight.
"Cluck, cluck," Ryan said and held up a large plastic heart. The fact that he was wearing a Superman outfit was very odd also and she stared in open-mouthed shock, eyes wide as he tried to shove the ugly heart in her direction. "Cluck, cluck," he snapped with more annoyance.
Kendall shook her head, and, rolling his eyes, he turned and left, slamming her door behind him.
"See?"
She looked down, stared at Zach, who had now gathered every piece of her broken little heart and had carefully stacked them. Motioning to them, he grinned at her, looking amused. "See? I told you they wouldn't hurt me." He held up his hands, unscarred by edges, uncut and perfect. "I'm fine."
"Ryan wasn't," she mumbled, and her finger was hurting, she realized. "Ryan said it hurt too much and he said it wasn't worth it."
"Then he wasn't worth it." It was a sentence, a string of words that impacted her very hard, causing her to shiver slightly, wishing it was that easy for her. But it wasn't and she pushed herself away, watching him warily with nervous blue eyes. He was dangerous… he had picked up all the pieces without hurting himself. That made him dangerous, he could hurt her and she couldn't let him hurt her.
"You're cut, honey."
She simply held her wound, little but painful, closer than before, wishing he would leave her alone to lick her wounds. Ryan was still a raw ache and she needed to be alone now, needed to mope and hang her head and wish it would all end. She had to stop having fun with this dangerous man, had to stop trusting him because he could hurt her now, couldn't he?
"Stop being so afraid, here, just let me see the cut would you?" She just continued to stare and, he shifted, moving closer and reaching out to lightly grasp her hand. Pulling it closer, he inspected the cut, head cocked. "It hurts," he commented and she just nodded, biting her lip as he, very carefully, ran a finger over the small slit in her skin.
Huh… she blinked, noting with surprise and pleasure that there was no longer any mark. She looked up at him and stilled, meeting warm eyes and enjoying the feel of her hand in his; she felt his other hand settle on her palm, moving and than stilling, effectively holding her hand in complete safety.
She could kiss him, she thought wildly, and she wanted to… kiss him and touch him and after she could ask him things and he would answer… she wanted to kiss him and, she decided with sudden clarity, she was allowed to… and she did, leaning forward and resting her weight against him, pressing her lips against his.
When he tugged her closer, arms hooking her waist, she responded, obeying the unspoken order; her hands settled on his chest, balancing herself as she leaned forward on her knees, and she loved the heat of him under her palms, through the fabric of his shirt and jacket.
She was fully aware of how his hands roamed over her, how they felt as they ran across her back and then lower, playing over her thighs and then back up, with more pressure. She pulled away, inhaling and then shuddering when his mouth found her collarbone, dragging his lips up and along her jaw line…
"Cluck, cluck!"
She had to ignore it, had to pretend not to hear and she focused more on her husband, sliding hands up his chest and around his neck, pulling him back hungrily and he went willingly, kissing her again, and he seemed to love the taste of her, and, oh god…
"Cluck, cluck!" Ryan yelled and she was aware of him waving that stupid plastic heart, seemingly thoroughly irritated by the sight of her kissing her husband. Why wouldn't he leave, damn it! "Cluck, cluck!" And he was almost screaming, hopping up and down, red cape flapping, trying to get her to take the ugly heart.
And Zach was focused completely on her neck, on that spot that made her insides melt and twist and tighten all at the same time. She groaned, shuddered even harder, fingers clenching at the feel of teeth grazing across his skin, and she pressed up closer to him, and then arched against him, gasping…
"Cluck, cluck!"
And Kendall shot up in her bed with a shriek, something that came from a mixture of hunger, frustration and, more than anything else, an urge to kill herself a chicken. She sat there, panting, eyes wild, hair sticking up, aware of how hot her skin felt and how much she wanted to run across the courtyard, break into his home and have her way with him…
And then she breathed more deeply, inhaling with an effort and then exhaling, closing her eyes as her fingers tightened in her sheets, and a small shiver raced through her… dear god almighty… she hadn't had sex in too long… a dirty dream shouldn't be affecting her like this…
It was embarrassing… or, at least, it should have been… she groaned, holding in a breath for as long as she could before exhaling harshly and, grimacing, she began focusing on how her lungs worked… and it worked, easing the heat that was pumping through her veins, roaring in her ears… good girl, let's calm down, huh?
Finally, with a low groan, she flopped back, sunlight streaming down on her as she lay and punched a pillow like Mike Tyson… she had a craving for chicken and had a sudden wild urge to go hunting for one and beat it down with a mallet… yeah, stupid chicken… she needed to buy herself a mallet…
Two minutes later, she was back asleep, although, sadly, there was no more interaction with her husband… damn it all to hell.
And he complained about her driving!
Sitting in the passenger seat of JR Chandler's rental car, Micaela Kincaide clutched the seat under her perfect ass, eyes wide, panting, nails about to break from the stress. Her foot slammed every few seconds down on the carpet at her feet, and she thoroughly expected the heel to break any second. Outside the window, trees and foliage whipped by, a blur of violent movement.
Her breakfast of eggs and bacon, and coffee and hash browns, was now a painful weight in her stomach and she groaned when it jumped up hard, feeling like a wallop in her chest… he spun the wheel, and slammed his foot down on the gas, and she bit her lip to muffle the shriek it caused in her throat.
I'm feelin' like a bad boy
Mm just a like a bad boy
I'm rippin' up a Rag Doll
Like throwin' away an old toy
At the strangled noise, he looked over; raising that eyebrow he liked so much, he peered at her with amused blue eyes. "What's the matter?"
She just shook her head, panting, and then slammed her foot down again, another shriek bubbling up in her throat when a group of birds exploded in the car's wake… he hadn't hit any of them but they sure hadn't appreciated that loud honk he'd issued, had they? He spun the wheel again, exploding forward and jumping ahead of another car.
There was death in this car, she decided with sudden clarity, looking over at his form, nodding his head along to the music—classic 80's rock—that pounded through the speakers, either not seeing or not caring about her absolute terror at his driving… dear God, any minute now some truck was going to hit them, she knew it!
Rag Doll livin' in a movie
Hot tramp Daddy's little cutie
You're so fine they'll never see ya leavin' by the back door, mam
Hot time get it while it's easy
Oh god… they were on a highway… she shuddered, pressed back into her seat, staring in horror out the windshield, abject terror on her pretty little face at the blur of life that they were roaring past… car, car, trees, car, car… she grunted when he jumped the next exit, surging forward with a sudden burst of speed and… thank god!
Micaela felt faint with relief at the sight of the airport in the distance… had to get out of this Hell car, away from this crazy man! He spun the wheel and down went that damn foot on that damn gas pedal yet again… oh, god… the last minutes of her hell ride proved to be the most terrifying, a drawn-out horror than unfolded itself before her eyes.
Rag Doll livin' in a movie
Hot tramp Daddy's little cutie
You're so fine they'll never see ya leavin' by the back door, mam
Hot time get it while it's easy
And then, very suddenly, it was over and she sat there listening to the last chords of the song in a dazed state… hey, she liked this song… and then she watched, dully, as he got out the CD and put it away in a holder that had been beneath his seat. Then he looked at her and grinned and it clicked…
"You… bastard…" she whispered raggedly, seeing now the evilness of his evil, evil plan. "You… worm…"
"Aw… now you hurt my feelings… and, you know, I didn't get you killed, did I?" At her glare, he laughed aloud, and got out of the car, walking around to yank open her door, and peered down at her in amusement. "Give me your bag and I'll carry it for you." Her legs were too wobbly and, grimacing, she obeyed, watching as he looped it over a shoulder.
She was dazed and slightly annoyed at how well his little plan had worked… she killed his car and he showed her how terrifying a bad driver could be… stupid but sneaky… her legs wouldn't work and she had no choice but to accept his hand… standing, she weaved, feeling dizzy and leaned against him, trying to ignore his snickers at her expense… oh, yeah, she had to kick his ass…
Getting a hold on her elbow, he took off, leading her across concrete; finally, she leaned her full weight against him, groaning in exhaustion and wanting nothing more than to curl up and die… "Aw, Kincaide, just a little while more and then we'll be in the plane!"
"Shut up." Sure, not exactly graceful, but she hoped it got the point across to the gutless worm.
He laughed and she looked up, thankful to see the Chandler jet within walking distance. Pushing away from him, she braced herself and took off, heels clicking against pavement and trying to ignore the sound of his laughter behind her… she was glad she could amuse him so easily!
Rushing up the steps, she felt him at her back, following her effortlessly and the movement was probably Hell on that leg of his. This thought made her want to scream and she beat it back angrily, pushing herself up the last step and into the warmth of the plane, with its perfect upholstery and warm colors.
And the she stopped, cocking her head as the other woman looked up from her book, blue eyes filling with something and she stood, looking both wary and apprehensive. Micaela looked around and then gasped when JR popped up behind her, frowning at her confusion. "Who's that?"
"Dixie Cooney," the woman said as the same time JR said, "My Mom."
Micaela spun back to the blonde woman, cocked her head, "I thought it was Diana?"
"Diana?" JR asked at the same moment the blonde said, "No, Dixie."
Micaela absorbed his other word and spun back to him, smacking him in the chest and receiving a ruffled "Hey!" in response. "'Mom'? What do you mean Mom! You have a Mom!"
Then, very suddenly, like the child she was, the child nearby, blonde and beautiful, jumped up and shouted, "Cady!" at the top of her lungs.
And then there was silence, falling through the plane like heavy air, leaving all four people stunned except for the child, who clapped her hands in glee, squealing and giggling at the hilarity of this new game. Micaela stared at JR, JR stared at the blonde and the blonde just stared… seconds ticked by and then all three burst into conversation…
"Of course I have a mother—"
"Why the hell does she have two names—"
"I only have one name—"
"And this is my mother, my only mother—"
"Who's the Michelle wannabe—"
"And my name is Dixie—"
"My sister is not a Michelle wannabe—"
"You're sister! This is your sister—"
"Who the hell is Michelle and what does my daughter have to do with her!"
Silence once again surrounded the four and they all processed the snippets of conversation that had finally gone quiet. Micaela could only stare at the little girl while JR stared at her and the blonde just stared at them both, looking utterly lost. Micaela really couldn't blame and she could feel a headache building slightly at the cacophony.
She turned, stared at JR and asked, very calmly, "This is your mother?"
"Yes."
"Oh." She turned to his mother, cocked her head. "This is your son?"
"Yes."
"OK… and this is JR's sister?"
"Yes," they both said and she nodded, reaching and smoothing her forehead tiredly as they both stared at her in concern. "OK, I now have a headache so I'm going to go lay down in some dark corner away from this scary, frightening family tree."
"You have no idea—" JR started, and he laughed, stepping forward and looking amused but she moved first, clapping a hand over his mouth and snapping, very quietly, "Not another word, buddy. Not one more freaking word, mister… I need peace and quiet and listening to the twists and turns of your strange family tree will not do this. I am going to go lay down. Do you understand?"
He nodded and, with a sigh, she dropped her hand, turning away and nodding once to the strange woman with two names before calmly snapping the privacy curtains shut on her little corner… strange, strange people from Pine Valley… strange, strange… very, very strange…
AN: My last chapter pulled a few reviewers from lurkerdome and I hope these continue to review, at least every so often. I love this chapter, who else does? Remember, feedback keeps my Muse happy so keep my Muse happy! Review! Thank you!